#And sticking around through the chaotic schedule

[buckiverse]

☆--- warnings: zayne calls you a good girl, fluff, a bit suggestive, (I DESIRE HIM DEEPLY)

yes, I went to the dentist, yes, he called me a good girl, yes, I'm now writing this.

It had been a busy day, with errands piling up because of the demands of your job. With all the rushing around, you’d almost forgotten about your doctor's appointment, and now you were running a bit late.

As always, your appointment was scheduled with your primary care physician, Zayne. Yes, he’s a cardiologist, so a check-up seemed… below the scope of his practice. But he’d insisted on handling it for you, especially given the state of your heart issues. Besides, he was more than just a doctor—he was a close friend, someone who had been there through every rough patch.

“Long time no see,” he said, peeking over his glasses at you, a gentle smile tugging at his lips. You rolled your eyes at his sarcasm. A month ago, you’d been in his office after a major accident during one of your shifts as a hunter. It hadn’t been that long.

“Yes, yes, I just need a routine check-up,” you replied, smiling back. You watched him move across the room, grabbing your chart, and then sliding the rolling chair to sit directly in front of you.

This was all familiar. You knew the routine well by now, given how often you ended up here. As he picked up his stethoscope, you straightened your back automatically, your muscles moving out of habit to give him the proper position to listen to your heartbeat.

You were used to the way he leaned in close, the scent of his cologne mingling with the sterile smell of the room. It always made you feel safe, like things were under control, even if the world outside was chaotic. Maybe it was because he’d been there through every crisis—patching you up after late-night incidents, making sure you took your meds, even sneaking in sweets when you looked tired.

He grabbed a wooden tongue depressor and a small flashlight, and without thinking, you opened your mouth, anticipating the familiar action. It was almost muscle memory at this point, but today, when he gently pressed the stick on your tongue, he said, “Good girl.”

Your eyes widened, and you felt a rush of heat spread across your cheeks. It was so simple, but something about the way he said it… caught you off guard.

Zayne dropped the stick in the trash, tapping your leg as usual, signaling you could close your mouth. “Always so obedient,” he added, his voice light but his eyes watching your reaction closely, almost like he was studying you.

“Shut up…” you blurted out, trying to play it off, but your voice came out a little too quick, a little too flustered. It was embarrassing, how easily he could make you feel like this—like you were transparent, and he could see through every layer you tried to hide behind.

He chuckled softly, swiveling the chair away to grab the next tool. “Mhm, it’s okay if you like that, y/n,” he said, almost nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t just turned your world upside down with a few simple words.

[daisyblog]

Shattered Hearts

Our Story Masterlist Summary: The argument that led to Harry and YN going on a break.

Warning: panic attack, shouting, swearing, arguing, angry!harry, angry!yn, smoking

Walking through the dark and lonely door was hard. YN had been practically living in Doncaster for the last few weeks, helping her grandparents with the older twins and being there as extra support for Lottie and Felicite.

Being surrounded by her family and being their support meant YN had a distraction from her own feelings. She didn’t have time to think about herself because she was too focused on her sisters. Her Nan had told her to go back home for a few days to be just YN.

If she was being honest, she didn’t want to. Being by herself meant she felt more, thought more and cried more.

For the first few days YN was back in London, she managed to keep busy. She had a few work deadlines to complete and walking Teddy as much as she could was a good distraction as she walked around the Heath with her earphones in.

She was missing Harry terribly whilst he was tour. Being in different time zones and his schedule being so chaotic meant they hardly spoke and if they did it was quick conversation before Harry was rushed off the phone.

Life had become so different for YN. She felt like her days were the same, the same routine everyday. She was just existing whilst the world carried on around her.

YN could feel the heavy feeling in her chest all day, but she had done her best to try and ignore it. Keeping herself distracted helped, but it was only a matter of time before the panic struck.

The feeling began in her chest; the tightness felt intense as she sat on the edge of the king sized bed. YN closed her eyes, praying the feeling would go away.

Her heartbeat thumped with no rhythm as she desperately gasped for breath, struggling to catch it has it left her body.

As YN sat on the edge of the bed, she opened her eyes only to see the room spin. The dizziness sparked her eyes to blink in worry. Her hand came up to hold her head, making no difference as her body continued to fight.

“Harry”.

“Harry”.

“Harry”.

The only person she thought could help right now. But no matter how many times she repeated his name, he didn’t come. How could he? He was a flight away.

It wasn’t the first panic attack she’d had, so she knew eventually it would end but waiting for that moment was torture.

Somehow in her fuzzy mind, she remembered the 333 grounding rule that Harry had helped her with many times before.

Identify 3 objects: book, wardrobe, mirror

Identify 3 sounds: the traffic outside, the tv downstairs, Teddy chewing at his toy

Move 3 body parts: head, foot, hand

Breathing gently and calmly, she began to feel her body and mind relax as she came down from her panic. She still felt uneasy but being able to breathe freely was something she took advantage of.

Blindly moving her hand around the duvet next to her, she found her phone. YN quickly found the one name she needed right now. Harry.

Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring.

No answer.

YN’s panic had turned into anger as she needed to feel relief from something. She sat in thought as she waited for her mind to find that fix. She was about to give up, when she remembered Louis always kept a spare pack of cigarettes in the guest bedroom in case he ever stayed.

Her feet trudged along the landing to the guest bedroom. Every draw was searched until her eyes landed on the box she had been looking for. Taking a white stick from its home and placing it between her lips felt unfamiliar but YN wasted no time lighting the end of the cigarette with the lighter.

She breathed in, allowing the smoke to fill her lungs as she let out a shaky breath. And for once, she sat in a room full of smoke trying to blow all her problems away.

---

Harry thought it was unusual for YN not to reply to any of his texts or phone calls but arriving home from tour for a couple of days, told him everything he needed to know.

He opened the front door and the silence hit him. The house was always full of noise, whether that was YN blaring music or clumsily trying to move something from one room to another.

Being greeted by a loud silence raised concern. Harry quickly left his suitcase by the front door, desperately trying to find YN. His search didn’t take long as he found YN spread out on the sofa, smoke surrounding her as she brought the white stick up to her mouth. Teddy’s pleading eyes found Harry from his place in his dog bed.

“Oh look who finally turned up”. Her tone caught Harry by surprise. It was bitter with a tad of sarcasm.

“Babe?”. He was confused. YN would usually be running into his arms, excited to see him. “Why are you smoking?”.

YN scoffed, a humorous laugh leaving her lips. “Of course you’d only focus on me smoking”. She brought the cigarette back up to her mouth before blowing the smoke back out, her eyes not leaving Harry’s, daring him to say more.

“What-What’s going on?”. Harry nibbled on his bottom lip in rhythm to his heartbeat that was pounding against his chest.

YN shrugged her shoulders in stubbornness, pushing the cigarette out against the small glass tray. “You tell me!”.

Harry frowned in confusion, his fingers scratching at his forehead. “Well, I come home thinking I was going to have a lovely welcome and…and here we are having some sort of silent argument…and out of no where you’re smoking”.

“Where were you on Friday night after your show?”. YN asked, confidence heavy in her voice.

“I was out with Jeff, Mitch and a few others from the band and crew”. Harry explained, still standing near the doorway. “Why? What shit have you read this time?”.

YN could hear the annoyance in Harry’s voice, which riled her even more. “I phoned you…you didn’t answer…I thought maybe you were busy or whatever…but when I saw photos of you at the club that night, your phone was in your hand majority of the night…but you didn’t phone me back until the next afternoon”.

Harry threw his hands up in frustration. “For fuck sake YN…you’re in a mood with me over not answering a fucking phonecall…do you not know how fucking ridiculous that is!”.

“I needed you Harry!”. YN shouted out in anger.

“You always fucking need me…you don’t know how hard it is on tour…performing most nights, straight to the studio…early mornings and late nights…someone always needing me for something…you just don’t understand, it’s so fucking hard sometimes”. YN was stunned, almost lost for words at Harry’s outburst.

There was silence between them until YN broke it. “You’re right…I don’t know how hard it is to be doing your job…but I do know what it’s like to have to sit with my little sisters until they fall asleep because they miss Mum…I do know what it’s like to listen to my baby brother and sister ask where their Mummy is…I do know what it’s like to listen to my grandparents crying through the wall thinking nobody can hear them because they miss their daughter…I do know what it’s like to have to step up into that role and try my best to keep them all happy and safe, because that’s what my Mum would have wanted”.

Harry’s gaze stared at the floor as he listened to YN. But what scared him the most was the fact that she didn’t speak with anger, frustration or annoyance, her voice was gentle.

“So yeah…I’m fucking sorry I can’t relate to your perfect pop star life at the moment”. YN watched as Harry stared at her with hurt.

“I’m sorry”. Harry’s voice whispered.

YN knew the next few words were going to cause more upset, but she felt this was the only way that her and Harry were going to deal with their emotions right now. “I think we should go on a break”.

Harry’s head shot up quicker than YN thought it would. “No!”. He shook his head a few times in disbelief. “No…no…we can’t”. The tears picked at the corner of his eyes.

“As much as this kills me…it’s for the best right now…you said it yourself, tours stressful and demanding…and I’m needed back home right now”. YN felt her own tears form in her eyes. “It’s not like the long distance is working, we don’t even talk everyday anymore”.

Harry felt like he was feeling all the emotions right now. He was sad, upset and angry, but the anger took over. “Fine…I’ll go to Gems and stay…but I think it’s silly to break up over me not answering a stupid fucking call!”.

YN closed her eyes in defeat because Harry couldn’t see the bigger picture that they were both going through difficult situations right now. She didn’t want him to feel guilty, she knew he was upset and angry, but that ‘stupid fucking call’ was a cry for help.

She watched as he grabbed his suitcase that sat by the front door. “I called because I was having a panic attack…and you’re the only person that can make me feel safe during them”.

Harry knew he should have said something, ran back to YN and wrapped her in his arms. But with the heated argument and the emotions surrounding them, Harry continued to walk through the door with guilt. Leaving two shattered hearts.

Tag List:

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[movingmusically]

Hello . Can i request a piece where austin and reader gave a slow sunday morning with sex in the shower?

Author’s Note:

If you liked this chapter, you might enjoy a similar one I wrote in my Hank Thompson series, feel free to check it out here!

Word Count: 5,833

Masterlist

Let the World Wait

The morning sunlight spilled softly into the room, warming the tangled sheets and brushing against your skin. You stirred slowly, half-buried in the warmth of the duvet, feeling the comforting weight of Austin’s arm draped over your waist, his long fingers resting on the small of your back. His touch is soft, absent-minded even, but it grounds you, like he’s reassuring himself you’re still there.

It’s one of your favourite things about him—the way he’s always touching you in some way, even without thinking about it. A hand brushing your back as he passes, his knee bumping against yours under the table, his fingers trailing idly along your arm while you talk. It’s like he needs the constant reassurance that you’re there, that this is real. You think about those long fingers now, the way they know exactly how to tease, how to hold, how to make you feel completely his. The thought sends a flicker of heat through you, but you push it aside, letting yourself sink back into the warmth of the moment.

You shift slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of him. He’s still out cold, his face buried halfway in the pillow, his hair a wild mess of blonde waves that stick up at odd angles. His mouth is slightly open, and you can hear the faintest sound of his breathing—steady, slow, soothing.

These mornings feel rare. Most of your time together is stolen in fleeting moments between conflicting schedules, long stretches apart, and late-night phone calls where one of you is half-asleep. The life you’ve built together is wonderful, chaotic, and full of love, but mornings like this—lazy, unhurried, with no reason to rush—are the exception, not the rule. And maybe that’s why you’re savouring it now, letting yourself soak in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

God, you love him. You love the way he looks at you, like you’re the only thing in the world that matters. You love the way he listens, really listens, even when you’re rambling about something inconsequential. You love the way he makes you feel safe and seen and so completely, utterly loved.

You reach up to brush a strand of hair away from his face, trying not to wake him, but he stirs anyway. His nose scrunches in the way it always does when he’s waking up, and your chest tightens because even that tiny, sleepy movement feels impossibly endearing.

Then, slowly, those impossibly blue eyes blink open, still hazy with sleep. His gaze lands on you, and the softest smile tugs at his lips, one side curving up just a little more than the other.

“Morning,” he murmurs, his voice low and raspy, the kind of sound that never fails to send a little thrill down your spine.

“Morning,” you reply, your voice just as quiet.

His arm tightens around you, pulling you closer until you’re pressed fully against him, his warmth seeping into your skin. His lips brush your temple in a lazy, barely-there kiss, and you feel your heart skip a beat.

“Been watching me sleep?” he teases, his grin widening as he buries his face in your hair.

“Maybe,” you admit, a small laugh slipping out. “You were drooling, by the way.”

“I don’t drool,” he replies, his voice muffled against your hair, but there’s laughter in his tone.

“You do, actually,” you counter, shifting so you can look up at him. “I’ve got photographic evidence somewhere.”

“Lies,” he says, his hand sliding up your back, his fingers tracing lazy patterns against your skin. “You just like staring at me. Admit it.”

“Fine,” you say, rolling your eyes playfully. “You’re cute when you’re unconscious.”

“Only when I’m unconscious?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Well,” you say, pretending to consider it. “You’re tolerable when you’re awake.”

His laugh is soft and warm, rumbling in his chest as he shifts to roll you onto your back. He hovers over you, his hair falling into his face as he grins down at you, and your breath catches for a moment.

“Just tolerable?” he asks, his voice low and teasing.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” you reply, your hands sliding up to tangle in his hair.

His smile softens then, the teasing giving way to something quieter, something deeper. He leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, and when he pulls back, his eyes linger on yours.

“I missed this,” he says softly, his fingers brushing against your cheek.

“Me too,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

You don’t say more. You don’t have to. It’s all there in the way he looks at you, like he’s memorising every detail, and in the way you reach up to trace the curve of his jaw, wishing you could hold onto this moment forever.

Because you know how rare this is. His work, your work—it pulls you in a thousand different directions. Most mornings, one of you is rushing out the door while the other tries not to let the goodbye linger too long. But here, in this soft cocoon of warmth and sunlight, it feels like the rest of the world doesn’t exist.

“I don’t know how I got so lucky,” he murmurs, almost to himself, and your chest tightens at the honesty in his voice.

“You make it sound like I’m the catch here,” you tease lightly, but your smile falters when his gaze doesn’t waver.

“You are,” he says simply.

The weight of his words settles between you, and for a moment, you feel like the air’s been knocked out of you. But then he’s leaning down again, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that’s slow and tender and filled with everything he can’t quite say.

When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, and he lets out a soft laugh. “We’re being disgustingly sappy, aren’t we?”

“Maybe a little,” you reply, grinning.

“Want me to stop?” he asks, his hand sliding down to rest on your hip.

“Not even a little bit.”

His laugh is louder this time, and it fills the room in a way that makes your chest feel lighter. He rolls onto his side, pulling you with him until you’re nestled against him again.

Your hand moves to trace lazy patterns over his chest, your fingertips skimming the faint dusting of hair there. His chest rises and falls a little deeper under your touch, a subtle reaction you’ve come to know so well—a quiet surrender to the way you affect him.

His eyes flutter shut for a moment as your fingers continue their aimless journey over his skin, and you can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips. These quiet moments, where it’s just the two of you, feel so precious. Life pulls you in so many directions—work, travel, obligations—but here, in this bed, it’s just him and you, tangled together with no deadlines, no alarms, no need to rush.

“You know, we really do need to get up at some point.” you murmur, though you make no effort to move.

“Do we, though?” His voice is thick with sleep, his words drawled as if he’s only half awake. “I’m not convinced.” His arm tightens around you, and you know neither of you has any intention of leaving the bed just yet.

You laugh softly, the sound muffled against his chest. “We can’t stay here forever.”

“Why not?” he asks, a teasing lilt in his tone. “Bed’s warm. You’re here. I’m here. Seems like a pretty solid argument to me.”

His logic is flawless, and for a moment, you let yourself entertain the fantasy of staying exactly like this all day. No meetings, no calls, no responsibilities. Just the two of you, cocooned in this bubble of stolen time. But then reality nudges at the back of your mind, and with a sigh, you shift slightly.

“Okay, but I need to get up,” you say, though your body remains firmly pressed against his.

He grumbles something incoherent, burying his face in the crook of your neck. His stubble brushes against your skin, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine, and you let out a soft, involuntary laugh.

“What are you doing?” you ask, your voice full of amusement.

“Trying to convince you that staying in bed is the better option,” he mumbles, his lips brushing against your collarbone.

“You’re very persuasive,” you admit, your fingers sliding up to thread through his hair, which is still delightfully messy from sleep. “But I think nature might win this round.”

He lifts his head, his brows furrowing slightly as he looks at you. “Nature?”

“I need to pee,” you confess, your face breaking into a sheepish grin.

A moment of silence passes before he lets out a dramatic groan, rolling onto his back and flinging an arm over his face. “Betrayed by basic bodily functions,” he mutters, the corners of his mouth twitching like he’s trying not to laugh.

You prop yourself up on one elbow, looking down at him with an arched brow. “Would you rather I stayed here and wet myself?”

He peeks at you from beneath his arm, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Not exactly the vibe I was going for, no.”

“Thought so.” You lean down to press a quick kiss to his cheek before slipping out from under the covers. The cool air hits your skin, and you shiver slightly as you make your way toward the bathroom.

Behind you, you hear him call out, “Don’t take too long. I’m not done convincing you to stay in bed.” You laugh, shaking your head, the cool tiles against your bare feet a sharp contrast to the warmth of the bed you just left.

The bathroom is quiet except for the sound of running water as you wash your hands. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror—hair tousled from sleep, cheeks warm with the leftover glow of being wrapped up in him. There’s a small smile on your lips, the kind you couldn’t hide if you tried.

The sound of the door creaking open drifts in, followed by the quiet pad of his footsteps. You don’t turn, but your smile widens, knowing he can’t stand to stay away for long. Sure enough, you feel the heat of his body behind you a moment later, his presence filling the small bathroom effortlessly.

“Couldn’t stay in bed?” you ask, glancing at him through the mirror as you reach for your toothbrush.

He leans against the doorframe, his eyes still heavy with sleep but impossibly warm as they settle on you. “Missed you,” he says simply, his voice low and gravelly, the kind of sound that makes your stomach flip.

Your heart does that little flutter it always does when he says things like that. “You lasted all of five minutes,” you tease lightly, squeezing toothpaste onto your brush.

“Five minutes too long,” he counters, stepping behind you and wrapping his arms loosely around your waist. His chin rests on your shoulder as he watches you in the mirror, his sleepy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

You start brushing your teeth, trying to keep your expression neutral as his hands drift idly along your sides. He’s not doing anything overtly distracting—just little, absentminded touches that make your skin tingle and remind you of how close he is. His thumbs brush gently against your skin, just enough to send a pleasant warmth spreading through you.

He grabs his toothbrush from the counter, staying close enough that his arm brushes against yours. His movements are slow, unhurried, as if he’s content to take his time as long as you’re beside him.

When you finish and rinse your mouth, you turn to find him still brushing, his eyes meeting yours in the mirror. There’s a teasing glint in them, the kind that makes you want to roll your eyes but also makes your chest ache with affection.

“You’re really taking your time there,” you say, leaning back against the counter.

He pauses, the toothbrush still in his mouth, and raises a brow at you, as if to say, And?

You smirk, leaning closer, your hand coming up to rest lightly on his chest. “Nothing. Just seems like an awfully long time to be brushing when you said you missed me so much.”

He grins around the toothbrush, his blue eyes gleaming with mischief. Spitting into the sink, he rinses his mouth quickly, grabbing a towel to wipe his face. Then he turns to you, still standing there with that playful smirk tugging at your lips.

“Oh, I did miss you,” he murmurs, his voice dropping low as he steps closer. His hands find your hips, his thumbs brushing over the bare skin there, his touch warm and possessive as he pulls you closer. “And now that I’ve got you here…” He trails off, his gaze dipping briefly to your lips before snapping back up to meet your eyes.

You raise a brow, pretending to be unimpressed, though your pulse quickens under his touch. “Now what?”

His smirk widens, and without warning, he sweeps you up into his arms. A surprised laugh escapes you as he carries you the few steps to the shower, reaching in to turn on the water before you can protest. The spray hisses against the tiles, and steam begins to curl in the air around you.

“Baby!” you exclaim, your laughter bubbling over as he gently sets you on your feet under the warm stream of water, his body pressing close behind you, the heat of the shower wrapping around you both.

“What?” he replies innocently, his chest pressed firmly against your back. “I thought you’d enjoy starting the day fresh.”

“You know, if you wanted to get me in the shower, you could’ve just asked.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he murmurs, his arms snaking around your waist, pulling you flush against him, his lips brushing the curve of your shoulder. His touch is unhurried, almost reverent, as though he’s savouring the feel of you in his arms. The spray of water glides over both of you, the rhythmic sound mingling with the steady cadence of your breathing.

“I’ve been thinking about this all morning,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice low and rough, his words a quiet confession. “You. This.” His lips linger there, soft and warm, as his hands begin a slow, deliberate exploration of your body.

“Austin,” you breathe, the sound of his name rough and needy on your lips.

“God, I love when you say my name like that,” he murmurs, his voice rough with desire as his hands slide up, his palms skimming over your stomach, then higher, cupping your breasts with a possessiveness that makes your breath hitch. His thumbs circle your nipples, teasing them into tight peaks, and the sensation pulls a soft gasp from your lips.

He hums in satisfaction, his mouth moving to the side of your neck, where he leaves a trail of open-mouthed kisses and his teeth graze the sensitive spot just below your ear. His grip on you tightens slightly, holding you firmly against him as his arousal presses insistently against the curve of your backside.

You turn your head just enough to catch his gaze, your eyes meeting his through the misty haze of the shower. His blue eyes are darker now, clouded with hunger, and the intensity in them sends heat pooling low in your belly. You lift a hand to tangle in his wet hair, pulling him down for a kiss that’s slow and searing, your lips parting to let him deepen it. The taste of him—familiar, intoxicating—fuels the fire building between you.

His hands glide down to your hips, gripping them with purpose as he turns you to face him. The water continues to pour over both of you, sliding between your bodies as you press against each other, your hands roaming over his chest, the slick heat of his skin beneath your fingertips. He’s all hard muscle and sharp lines, his body honed to perfection, and the way he moves, confident and sure, makes your head spin.

“I missed this,” he mutters against your lips, his hands framing your face as he kisses you deeply, his tongue sweeping into your mouth with a slow, deliberate intensity that makes your knees weak. One of his hands moves lower, sliding down your back to cup your ass, squeezing firmly before pulling you closer, pressing your bodies together until there’s no space left between you.

You break the kiss just long enough to catch your breath, your head tilting back as his mouth moves to your neck again, his teeth scraping lightly against your pulse point before his lips soothe the mark. His hand slides between your thighs, his fingers brushing against your slick heat, and you let out a soft moan, your hands clutching at his shoulders to steady yourself.

“Always so ready for me,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire as his fingers tease you, sliding through your folds with practiced ease. He finds your clit, circling it slowly at first, then with more pressure, drawing small, desperate sounds from your throat.

Your hips move against his hand, chasing the pleasure building with each deliberate stroke of his fingers. He’s watching you now, his gaze locked on your face, drinking in every gasp, every arch of your body.

“Look at you,” he breathes, his voice rough with need. “So fucking beautiful.”

His words push you closer to the edge, and he seems to know it, his free hand sliding up to cup your breast, his thumb brushing over the sensitive peak. The dual sensations threaten to overwhelm you, your breaths coming faster as the pressure builds, and just when you think you might fall apart completely, he pulls his hand away, leaving you trembling and desperate.

“Not yet,” he murmurs, his hands gripping your hips as he guides you back against the cool tile wall. The contrast of the cold surface against your heated skin makes you shiver, but any discomfort is quickly forgotten as he drops to his knees in front of you, his lips brushing the inside of your thigh.

Your hands move to tangle in his hair as his mouth inches closer to where you need him most. When his tongue finally flicks out, teasing you with the lightest touch, you let out a sharp gasp, your hips bucking instinctively.

He doesn’t rush. His movements are slow, deliberate, as though he’s savouring every moment, every taste of you. His tongue glides through your folds, finding your clit with precision, and when he sucks lightly, the sensation sends a jolt of pleasure through you, your back arching off the wall.

Your fingers tighten in his hair, holding him close as he works you with maddening skill, his tongue and lips coaxing you higher and higher.

The pressure builds steadily, your body tightening under his touch as Austin devotes himself entirely to your pleasure. His hands grip your thighs, holding you steady as his tongue continues its deliberate, torturous rhythm, swirling around your clit, then dipping lower to tease you further.

The warmth of his breath mingles with the heat of the shower, and the sounds spilling from your lips—soft moans and whispered pleas—only seem to spur him on. His name falls from your mouth like a mantra, your fingers tugging at his wet hair as you teeter closer and closer to the edge.

“Baby, please…” you breathe, your voice trembling with need.

His response is a low, satisfied hum against you, the vibrations sending another wave of pleasure rippling through your body. And then he shifts slightly, his tongue pressing harder, his movements more focused, and it’s enough to push you over the edge. The world tilts as the orgasm crashes through you, your legs trembling as you cry out, your back pressing into the cool tile for support.

Austin doesn’t stop, his tongue drawing out every last ounce of pleasure until you’re left breathless and boneless against the wall. When he finally pulls back, his lips are swollen, his face wet from both the water and you, and his gaze is nothing short of ravenous.

“You taste like heaven,” he murmurs, his voice husky as he rises to his feet, his hands still steadying you. He kisses you then, deep and consuming, letting you taste yourself on his lips. It’s messy and unrestrained, his desire for you pouring into every movement, every press of his body against yours.

You can feel him now, hard and insistent against your stomach, and it stirs something primal in you. Your hands slide down his chest, over the ridges of his abs, until you’re wrapping your fingers around him, your touch drawing a sharp inhale from his lips.

“Fuck,” he groans, his forehead dropping to rest against yours as you stroke him, your movements slow and deliberate, matching the teasing pace he’d set for you. His hands grip your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he struggles to keep himself together.

“Turn around,” he commands softly, his voice thick with restraint. The words send a thrill through you, and you comply without hesitation, your hands bracing against the wet tile as you feel him step closer, his body radiating heat against your back.

He takes a moment, his hands roaming over your body, tracing the curve of your spine, the swell of your hips. “Perfect,” he murmurs, almost to himself, before aligning himself with you, the head of his cock brushing against your slick entrance.

The anticipation is almost unbearable, but he doesn’t make you wait long. He presses into you slowly, inch by inch, letting you feel every part of him as he stretches you, fills you completely. The sensation is overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and heat that leaves you gasping, your fingers curling against the tile.

He groans, his hands gripping your hips as he sinks fully into you. He pauses there, giving you a moment to adjust, his lips brushing the back of your neck in a tender, grounding gesture.

“Move,” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the sound of the water.

And he does. Slowly, deliberately, he pulls back before thrusting forward again, his movements measured and unhurried. His hands guide your hips to meet him, his rhythm steady and deliberate, as though he wants to draw this moment out as long as possible. Each stroke feels deeper, more meaningful, every thrust hitting a spot inside you that sends pleasure radiating through your entire body.

The tension builds gradually, a delicious ache that coils in your core with every roll of his hips. Austin leans down, his chest flush against your back, his lips finding the sensitive spot behind your ear. “You feel so good,” he breathes, his voice thick with reverence and raw need. “So good, baby.”

His words send a shiver racing down your spine, and you arch back against him, giving him better access. His movements grow more fluid, his pace picking up slightly as he presses you further against the wall, the heat of his body enveloping you entirely. One of his hands slides up to cradle your jaw, tilting your head to the side so he can kiss you, his lips devouring yours in a kiss that’s all-consuming, messy, and perfect.

You gasp into his mouth as his other hand snakes around to the front of your body, his fingers finding your clit with precision. The contact is electric, a spark that shoots straight through you and has your hips bucking instinctively against his touch. His fingers move in slow, deliberate circles, matching the rhythm of his thrusts, and the dual sensations overwhelm you, flooding your senses with heat and pleasure.

“Austin,” you manage to gasp, your voice breaking on his name. Your fingers dig into the slick tiles for purchase, your body trembling under the intensity of his touch. He’s everywhere—behind you, inside you, his chest pressed to your back as his lips graze your shoulder, murmuring soft, barely audible words of encouragement that only make the ache in your core grow more unbearable.

“You’re incredible,” he whispers against your skin, his breath hot and ragged. “Every sound you make, every time your body reacts to me—I can’t get enough of you.” His words, so raw and full of need, send a shiver cascading down your spine, and you feel yourself teetering closer to the edge.

His pace quickens slightly, his hips snapping forward with just a little more urgency, pushing you further and further toward the brink. The sound of the water splashing against your bodies is drowned out by the wet, rhythmic slap of his movements and the desperate, breathy sounds falling from your lips. His fingers on your clit press harder, his motions more insistent as he shifts his angle slightly, hitting a spot inside you that makes you cry out, your entire body tightening in response.

“That’s it,” he growls, his voice rough with a combination of restraint and desire. “Let go for me. I want to feel you fall apart.”

Your head falls back against his shoulder, your breaths coming in short, uneven bursts as the pleasure builds to a dizzying crescendo. His free hand slips up to cup your breast, his thumb grazing over your nipple in a way that sends another jolt of heat straight to your core. It’s too much—his touch, his words, the way he’s filling you so perfectly—and the coil inside you finally snaps.

“Come for me, baby,” he murmurs, his voice rough and commanding. His thumb circles your clit in perfect rhythm with his thrusts, and the combination is too much to resist. You cry out his name as your second orgasm crashes over you, your body shuddering against his as waves of pleasure roll through you, leaving you breathless.

He groans at the way your body tightens around him, his movements becoming more erratic as he chases his own release. “Fuck,” he rasps, his hands gripping you tightly as he thrusts into you one last time, his body tensing as he comes. His head drops to your shoulder, his breaths coming in heavy, uneven bursts as the last of his pleasure courses through him.

The two of you stay like that for a moment, the water cascading over your intertwined bodies, washing away the evidence of your passion but not the lingering heat that remains. Eventually, Austin pulls back slightly, his hands sliding to your waist as he turns you to face him. His eyes are soft, filled with a tenderness that makes your heart ache, and he cups your face gently, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks.

“You’re amazing,” he murmurs, his voice quiet but full of reverence. He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, his touch lingering, unhurried, as though he’s committing the moment to memory.

You let out a small laugh, the sound light and breathless, as you wrap your arms around his neck. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

He grins at that, his forehead resting against yours as the shower spray continues to beat against both of you. The heat of the water mingles with the warmth of his body, the closeness making the world beyond the bathroom feel like a distant dream.

After a moment, he shifts slightly, brushing damp strands of hair away from your face. “You good?” he asks softly, his blue eyes scanning yours with a tenderness that makes your chest tighten.

“More than good,” you reply, your hands slipping down to rest on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your palms. “But if we stay in here much longer, I’m going to start looking like a raisin.”

He chuckles, his hands sliding down your back, playful but still gentle. “I don’t think that’s possible. You’d still look perfect.”

You roll your eyes, though warmth blooms in your chest at his words. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“I’m willing to take that risk,” he teases, leaning down to press another kiss to your shoulder before reluctantly reaching past you to turn off the water. The sound of the spray fades, replaced by the soft hum of your breaths mingling in the now-steamy room.

Austin grabs a towel from the nearby rack, unfolding it with a theatrical flourish before wrapping it carefully around you. “Ladies first,” he says, his grin wide and playful.

“Chivalry isn’t dead, I see,” you reply, your voice light as you let him pull the edges of the towel snug around your body. The warmth of the fabric is a welcome contrast to the cool air outside the shower, but it’s the softness in his gaze as he tucks the towel under your arms that makes your breath hitch.

He grabs another towel for himself, rubbing it lazily over his damp hair before looping it loosely around his waist. His movements are relaxed, unhurried, and impossibly endearing as he slings an arm casually around your waist and guides you back into the bedroom.

The sunlight filters through the curtains, painting the room in soft, golden hues, and you sink down onto the edge of the bed, reaching for the bottle of lotion on the nightstand. You squeeze a small amount into your palms, rubbing your hands together before smoothing it over your arms.

Austin watches you for a moment, leaning against the doorframe, the towel slung low on his hips. His blue eyes are bright, taking you in with a look that’s equal parts admiration and mischief. “You’re really going to make me just stand here and watch?” he asks, his voice playful but with a hint of challenge.

“You seemed content to be entertained,” you reply, not looking up as you focus on your task. But when you glance at him out of the corner of your eye, the grin playing on his lips makes your heart stutter.

He pushes off the doorframe, crossing the room in a few long strides until he’s standing in front of you. “Let me help,” he says softly, kneeling down and reaching for the bottle of lotion.

“I can handle it,” you say, but there’s no real protest in your tone. His hands, warm and sure, close over yours, gently taking the lotion from you.

“Maybe,” he murmurs, squeezing some lotion into his palm. “But where’s the fun in that?”

You laugh quietly, unable to stop the smile that spreads across your face as he starts with your legs, his hands sliding down your calves before working their way back up to your knees. His touch is unhurried, deliberate, as though he’s savouring the moment just as much as you are. When his hands reach your thighs, his thumbs press lightly into your skin, and you feel your breath hitch.

“You’re thorough,” you say, your voice coming out softer than you intended.

He glances up at you, his blue eyes glinting with amusement. “Can’t rush perfection.”

You roll your eyes, but the warmth in your chest spreads as he moves to your arms, carefully smoothing the lotion over your skin. His touch is so tender, so full of care, that you feel yourself relax completely under his hands.

“Turn around,” he says gently, his voice low.

You comply, shifting on the bed so your back is to him. His hands glide over your shoulders, kneading the muscles there as he works the lotion into your skin. You sigh softly, leaning into his touch, and he chuckles, the sound vibrating through you.

“Feels good?” he asks, his hands moving lower to your lower back, his thumbs pressing in small, soothing circles.

“Mm-hmm,” you hum, your eyes fluttering shut. “You’re too good at this.”

He leans forward, pressing a kiss to the back of your neck. “You deserve it,” he whispers, his breath warm against your skin.

The intimacy of the moment—his hands, his voice, the way his lips brush so lightly against you—fills the room with a quiet kind of magic. When he’s finished, he shifts to sit beside you on the bed, reaching for the bottle to finish applying the lotion to himself.

You watch him for a moment, the way his muscles move beneath his skin, the concentration on his face. It’s such a simple act, but there’s something about it that makes your heart swell with affection.

“Need help?” you tease, leaning closer to him.

He smirks, glancing at you. “You offering?”

“Maybe.” Your fingers brush against his arm, and his smirk softens into something quieter, something more vulnerable.

His free hand reaches up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin. “You know I love you, right?”

Your breath catches, the sincerity in his voice wrapping around your heart. “Yeah,” you say softly, leaning into his touch. “I know. I love you too.”

The smile that spreads across his face is so full of warmth it takes your breath away. “Good,” he says, leaning in to press a soft, lingering kiss to your lips.

When he pulls back, his eyes linger on yours, and for a moment, the rest of the world fades away. It’s just the two of you, tangled in each other, the morning sunlight casting a golden glow over everything.

“Come here,” he murmurs, his voice low and inviting as he pulls you closer. The bottle of lotion is forgotten as his hands slide to your waist, guiding you into his lap and he presses a kiss to the top of your head. “I vote we stay in bed the rest of the day.”

“Tempting,” you admit, your head resting against his chest. “But I think we’ll need food at some point.”

“I’ll order us something,” he says, his lips curving into a small smile against your hair. “Anything to keep you close.”

You laugh softly, tipping your head back to look at him. “You’re really laying it on thick this morning.”

“Can you blame me?” he replies, his grin widening. “You make it easy.”

Shaking your head, you reach up to kiss him again, your fingers threading through his damp hair. It’s slower this time, less urgent but no less full of feeling.

As the kiss breaks, you rest your forehead against his, your fingers still tangled in his hair. “Fine,” you murmur, your lips brushing his softly, “let’s stay here all day.”

His arms tighten around you, pulling you impossibly closer. “Best decision you’ve ever made,” he whispers, his voice warm and full of contentment.

You smile, sinking back into his embrace as the soft hum of the morning fades into the quiet rhythm of his heartbeat. There’s nothing else to think about, nothing else to do—just the two of you, wrapped in each other, letting the world outside wait.

[hailthegodsong]

TENDER LOVE

~ One Shot ~ Josh Kiszka x Injured Female Reader

Word Count: 9.6k + (sorry i got a bit carried away)

Summary: When a pyrotechnic at the last show of tour malfunctions and ruptures your eardrum, Josh does everything he can to get you home and healing, sticking by you at your absolute worst. Just a plain old (very self-indulgent) physical hurt/ comfort trope. A/N: For some reason this didn't upload properly the first orrr second time so third times a charm!

Content Warnings: Ruptured ear drum, extreme pain, ear infection, loud noises, fire, swearing, mentions of DIG cancelled shows due to Josh's ear injuries, injury, blood and other bodily fluids from injury, nausea, dizziness, caretaking Josh, prescription drugs including painkillers and antibiotics, infection, sleeplessness, anger and irritation, but mostly fluffy fluffy caretaking Josh.

𓂃 𓈒𓏸‪‪

“How do you feel?” you asked softly, tugging the zipper of Josh’s jumpsuit up to its final notch. The bright fabric gleamed under the dim backstage lights, and his radiant smile only amplified the glow. You placed your hands flat against his chest, letting your fingers trace the velvety fabric in a quiet moment of affection.

“Excited… a little nervous,” he admitted, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. As he pulled away, his lips rolled together in thought, his fingers finding the hem of your shirt where they fidgeted absentmindedly.

“You’ll do great, you always do,” you reassured him, your voice firm but tender. “There’s nothing to be nervous about.” Your words carried more weight than usual– this was the last show of the tour. The whirlwind of hotel rooms, airports, endless flights, buzzing venues, and ceaseless movement was coming to an end.

It was bittersweet. Part of you would miss the pace– the constant hum of excitement, the thrill that came with living life on the move. But another part of you yearned for the simplicity of home. You longed for quiet mornings, expensive wine, and lazy days spent dancing around the living room in your pyjamas, just the two of you, free from the world’s demands.

Josh’s hand shifted slightly at your waist, drawing you back into the present. “I know,” he said, a hint of a grin breaking through his nerves. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. Just… festivals are scarier. So many people, so many more eyes.” His voice was quiet, but his eyes, locked on yours, searched for reassurance.

You raised a playful eyebrow, rising onto your toes until your face was level with his. “What happened to ‘fuck fear’? Hmm?”

A laugh escaped him, short and light. He leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a quick kiss before his hands squeezed your sides teasingly. “You’re right. As always.”

“Two minutes, Josh!” Tanner’s voice called sharply from the hallway, his usual pre-show routine to keep Josh on schedule.

Josh rolled his shoulders back and exhaled, his breath tight with anticipation. “You’ll be in the stage wing?”

“Of course,” you promised.

You followed him through the chaotic backstage tents, weaving past crew members and tangled cables, the orchestral opening for Starcatcher echoing through the space. When you reached his brothers, he stole one last kiss before bounding onto the stage with an energy that sent electricity through the air.

From your vantage point in the shadows of the stage wing, you watched them transform. Josh, Jake, Sam and Danny commanded the space with ease, their every movement amplifying the roaring energy of the crowd. And the deafening cheers seemed to fuel them ever more.

You stayed just out of sight, a comforting presence Josh sought with fleeting glances. Every now and then, he’d throw you a sly smile, one meant only for you, a silent reminder that you were always on his mind.

The show was everything it always was– loud, raw, electric. You swayed to the music, smiling fondly at Josh’s antics as he strutted across the stage. Feather boas and sparkly sunglasses were flung his way, and he soaked up the adoration like sunlight.

You stepped a little further to the right when one of the amplifiers beside you blared a little too loud, no doubt attributed to Jake's request. You considered putting in earplugs to protect your ears which were ringing slightly at the volume of the music, but a quick glance at the setlist had you realising that there were only two songs until the end of the show, and you wanted to hear it without obstruction. 

Swallowing back the mild discomfort, you refocused on the music, your heart beating against the rhythm as the song came to a climax. Danny's face twisted in passion as he abused his drums, swinging against the cymbals with fervour. 

At the last few swings, the hot heat of a nearby pyro machine blew off, shooting hot fire into the air, creating a symphony of chaos and raw aggression with the music. 

Each blow delivered had another bullet of fire shooting into the air, and you took a step back to relieve yourself of the burning heat ebbing from the machine nearby. Though it wasn't enough, as when you waited for the last beat to drop, the silence gave way to an unnatural hissing sound emanating from the machine only mere feet from you, awaiting the final beat.

That wasn’t normal.

The next few moments happened in a blur. They passed too quickly for you to decide to move away from the machine, and too quickly for you to truly register what happened. 

Bliding, hot light burst from the little black box, so bright that you lost sight of your surroundings completely. The small explosion was accompanied by a deafening bang, one that certainly wasn't normal, and one that had you cowering away, hands flying to your ears against the vibrations. 

But the damage had already been done. You hadn't realised the song was over, by the way the ringing in your ears deafened you completely. You stumbled back a few steps as a nauseating rush of dizziness overtook you. White, hot, searing pain spread across the side of your face, and you were sure you made a sound of protest had you been able to hear it through the shrill piercing noise that vibrated through your skull.

Disorientated and disabled by the confusion that wracked your body, you turned to the darkness, away from the stage, away from the ringing noise. 

But the ringing did not dissipate. No, in fact, it only seemed to grow louder with each step you took away from the stage. You hadn't realised your eyes had been screwed shut until you walked into something, hard and unmoving, the jolt of your head sending a pang of pain through your face. You had walked into an equipment storage box, you realised as you cracked your eyes open. 

Turning around to gather your bearings seemed to only make things worse, as the area in front of you tilted on its axis, and you were falling with it. Your hands still clutched the sides of your head, palms pressed over your ears protectively as you swayed to the side. 

A crew member you recognised, but couldn't remember the name of appeared in front of you, his face taut with concern as he grabbed your shoulders to steady your balance. 

“Woah, you alright?” he asked. His gaze drifted to the side of your face, looking at you didn't know what. He lifted your hand from your ear and winced. “Oh shit,” he muttered. You looked down at your hand, now hovering between the two of you, palm coated in a curdling mixture of blood and some unknown, yellow substance.

Blood. 

Blood. Blood? Why was there blood? What happened? You couldn't think through the pain that stretched across every nerve in your head, your jaw throbbing and ear aching against every noise that still drifted from the stage to where you stood. 

You hadn't realised the man in front of you had gone until he returned again with a towel, in which he folded and pressed against your ear. You hissed at the pressure against your head, but found yourself grabbing onto his forearm as you stumbled to the side a little. 

What was going on? 

“What happened?” you asked as he led you out of the side stage area, his hand still pressing the fabric against the side of your head. He walked you to the makeup trailer, and carefully sat you down on his makeup chair. 

“Looks like you fucked up your ear,” he explained, wincing as he saw the red soaking through the white fabric. “Don't worry, the set should have ended by now, Josh should be out soon,” he comforted. “I’m gonna go find a medic, just… stay still, try not to move too much.” And with that, he was gone, closing the caravan door behind him gently to alleviate any noise. 

Somethow, the silence in the small space was anything but comforting. Instead, it gave way to the persistent ringing, which now not only pierced the side of your head, but what felt like your entire face. You steadied yourself with one hand on the edge of the dressing table, the other still pressing against your ear as if the pressure would alleviate some of the pain. 

It didn't. 

It sounded as if you had been cloaked underwater, the ticking of the clock by the door muffled yet still pounding against your ears. You tried to focus on a singular point in the room, in a feeble attempt to quell the circus spin of your vision, but it only seemed to get worse, at one point almost knocking you off your idle position in your chair. 

Not long went by before the door to the caravan opened and Josh stepped in, flushed and sweaty, his eyes searching the space before they landed on you. 

“There you are Baby, I’ve been looking all over for you. You okay?” he asked, stepping towards you, his perky expression quickly turning confused at the sight of you, cowering in a chair with a grimace on your face. 

You hissed, not knowing what was worse, the slam of the door against the wall or the ring of his loud voice. You didn't mean to hurt his feelings, but you winced against the noises, each sound like a hammer to your face. 

“Shhh,” you said, squeezing your eyes shut through the intense pain. You felt like you were going to be sick. Josh furrowed his brows and continued towards you until he stood in front of you, crouching onto his knees to lower himself to your eye level. 

“Baby, what happened?” he asked, tilting his head to see the cloth pressed against your ear, a shadow of blood staining the fabric from where it had soaked through. “Is– are you bleeding?” he asked, voice loud in alarm and concern, making you whimper out in pain as you clutched the fabric closer. 

“Fuck! Be quiet, please,” you begged, a hot tear slipping from your eye, running down the crevice between your nose and cheek and landing on your lips. 

Josh’s eyes were wide in complete shock and confusion as well as concern for your health. He nodded frantically, whispering a ‘sorry’ before shuffling closer to you on his knees. 

“Can I?” he asked, voice softer this time as he reached out to touch the towel bunched up against your ear. You nodded, but quickly regretted it as the feeling closely resembled your brain being loosely tossed around your skull and made you wince. 

Josh's frown deepened at your pained reaction, and he tentatively reached up to remove the cloth. It stuck to your skin with dried blood as he peeled it away slowly, blinking at the sight of the oozing yellow substance. 

“Shit,” he whispered, conscious to keep his voice low. “You’ve fucked up your ear drum, Baby.”

He pressed the cloth against your ear again, providing you with a level of protection from the sound around you, and stroked his thumb against your sweaty forehead. 

“How did this happen? Were the amps just too loud?” he asked, planting another hand on your knee. 

You shook your head, only to be met with an overwhelming dizziness, again. You had got to stop doing that. You squeezed your eyes through the spell and felt Josh’s hands steady you by the shoulder. “Try not to move too much, your balance is out of whack,” he instructed. 

“The fire…” you explained meekly, your jaw throbbing with pain when you spoke, “It went wrong or something. Exploded.”

His eyes widened at your words, a panicked look on his face as his eyes addressed the rest of you, “Shit, it didn’t burn you did it?” he asked. 

You hummed a ‘no’, avoiding shaking your head as well as speaking to preserve some essence of comfort against the pain. Although relieved, his frown remained, seeing you in pain being one of the hardest things to watch. 

You rubbed your temples, groaning in pain. “Ugh, it hurts so bad…” you said, mostly unable to hear yourself through the noise being created in your ear. 

Josh pressed his lips together and caressed your hairline with nimble fingers, “I know, honey. I know. It’s going to be really uncomfortable for the next few weeks, but I’ll be here.” Josh looked up to the roof and ran the heel of his palm over his forehead harshly, “Fuck, this is all my fault.”

“Why?” you whispered, a protective feeling washing over you at Josh's self-blame. 

“I asked them to turn the pyros up– wanted it to be extra for the last show ‘n everything. And now you’re hurt– badly, and if I hadn’t just–”

“Josh,” you interrupted, placing a hand on his shoulder, “You didn’t know it was going to do that. This isn’t your fault. It isn’t anybody's fault. Please don't blame yourself.”

He sighed and gave you a small smile, “Okay, Honey, I’m sorry. Let's just worry about you for now, ‘kay?”

You gave him a small sound to signal your agreement, and let your eyes fall shut, breathing deeply through your nose to try and calm the pain.

“I need to go get someone. A medic or something, will you be okay here on your own?” he asked. 

“Someone’s already on their way,” you explained through gritted teeth.

“Alright, good,” he sighed, patting your knee. “Are you comfortable here? Want me to take you to the couch to lay down?” he asked, looking up at you from his kneeled position, hands braced around your body as if you could break at any moment. 

You reached up to knead the side of your thumb into the muscle of your jaw in an attempt to quell the pain. “Yes please,” you answered with a sigh.

Josh nodded and stood quickly, “Alright Baby, just lean on me. You’re gonna feel really dizzy when we stand up, but I won’t let you fall, promise.”

You had almost forgotten Josh had been through this exact injury before, having experienced the pain, the discomfort, the dizziness. Josh helped you stand with a tight arm wrapped around your body, and walked you over to the little couch in the corner of the room. 

You weren't as dizzy this time, with Josh's stability stopping you from toppling over, but the painful waves of nausea still boiled in your throat. 

“There we go, slowly now,” Josh guided, helping you lay down on the couch as he promptly settled a few pillows beneath your head. 

Josh hovered beside you as you eased back onto the couch, his hand never leaving yours as he adjusted the pillows beneath your head with delicate care. His brow furrowed, concern etched into every line of his face. You watched him through the throbbing ache that pulsed from your jaw to your temple, his frantic gentleness almost endearing, if not for the pain clouding your thoughts.

“There,” he murmured, crouching down to your level. He smoothed a strand of hair from your forehead, his fingers cool against your overheated skin. “Better?” he asked.

You gave him a faint smile, though it faltered as the sharp ringing in your ears gnawed at the edges of your sanity. Josh’s expression softened, his thumb brushing lightly across your knuckles.

“You know,” he began, his tone lightening as a flicker of mischief danced in his eyes, “This reminds me of that time I tripped over the amp cable in Chicago. Remember that? Flat on my face, right in front of the crew. You laughed so hard, you fell off the equipment case you were sitting on and sprained your wrist.”

Despite yourself, you chuckled weakly at the memory, but the movement sent a jolt of pain radiating through your head. You winced, your hand flying to your temple.

“Don’t make me laugh, Josh,” you groaned, though there was no real irritation in your voice– just a kind of weary exasperation.

He grinned sheepishly, his free hand reaching out to rest gently on your arm. “Sorry, Baby. I’ll save the comedy routine for when your head’s not about to explode.”

There was a knock at the door, sharp but not overly loud, and Josh raised a brow and turned his head toward it, relief flashing across his face. “That’ll be the medic,” he said, rising quickly. “I’ll grab the door. Be right back.”

As Josh opened the door, a middle-aged woman with a warm presence stepped in, carrying a small medical bag slung over one shoulder. She gave you a professional yet kind smile as she approached, her eyes scanning your pale face and the makeshift towel still pressed to your ear.

“Hi there, Hun,” she said warmly, setting her bag down on the floor beside the couch. “I’m Michelle. I hear you’ve hurt your ear, mind if I take a look?”

Josh lingered close, peering over Michelle's shoulder as she carefully knelt beside you, donning a pair of gloves and reaching for the towel. “Can I remove this?” she asked gently.

You nodded hesitantly, bracing yourself for the volume of the room. She pulled the towel away slowly, inspecting your ear with a practiced eye. Josh winced as the bloodied cloth revealed the full extent of the damage– dried blood mixed with a clear yellowish fluid that trickled from your ear.

“Yep, definitely a ruptured eardrum,” Michelle said, her voice calm but definitive. “The noise volume must’ve done it.” She frowned as she observed the sight, pulling out a flashlight from her shirt pocket and shining it down your ear canal. “There's a lot of fluid buildup…” she commented, mostly to herself. 

“Is that a bad thing?” you asked, and Josh squeezed your calf from where he could reach. 

“Not great… you’re going to have some trouble with hearing, and the pain won't be great, but I can write you a referral for some strong painkillers. Let me clean you up and give you some low level pain relief, honey.”

Josh’s hand found your knee, running his thumb over your skin comfortingly. “How long will it take to heal?” he asked, his voice tight with worry, looking back at his own injury that led to numerous cancelled shows and a painfully long recovery period.

“Shouldn’t be longer than 2 to 3 months to fully heal… as long as it doesn't get infected,” Michelle assured him, beginning to clean the area with a gentle touch. “The dizziness and nausea are from the damage to the inner ear, but they’ll subside as she heals. It’s important she takes it easy for the next few weeks especially, no loud environments, no sudden movements– and no flying either, the air pressure can worsen the injury. You need to keep the ear dry too to prevent infectious growth.”

Josh nodded, having heard the same instructions for his own ear, although he had forgotten about the no-flying rule. 

“Looks like we're gonna have to road trip it back home this time, Sweetheart,” Josh said, his eyes meeting yours as the medic wiped the fluid from where it had dried on your neck. 

You groaned, “We’re gonna have to split it into two days, the drive’s too long to manage at once,” you complained. 

Josh smiled sympathetically, “That's alright, we aren’t in a rush. I’ll book us a night at a fancy hotel along the way.”

“Drive carefully,” the medic intervened as she rummaged in her bag for something, “Driving can be really uncomfortable with all the movements and bumps. Once you’re home I suggest bedrest for at least a week, just to make sure you aren't exposed to any loud sounds. You probably wont want to leave bed either way with the dizziness… and the nausea.”

You muttered a sarcastic ��great’ under your breath, but were surprised when you couldn't even hear yourself, the sound no longer being drowned out by ringing, but some kind of muffled blockage. 

Josh knelt beside the couch to be closer to you, his eyes darting between you and the medic. “That means it's your turn for couch duty, Beautiful. So no arguing when I’m waiting on you hand and foot this time.”

You managed a weak laugh, wincing as the movement tugged at the pain in your jaw. Josh immediately leaned closer, his face a mixture of apology and affection. 

Josh shook his head with a wry smile, his thumb tracing small, soothing circles on the back of your hand. “You’ll have to forgive me. I’m not used to seeing you like this. Usually, you’re the one fussing over me.”

You gave a faint smile, your eyelids fluttering as the medic wiped away the last remnants of blood and discharge from your neck and squeezed a few drops of steroid solution into your ear canal. The cool liquid stung sharply and itched fervently as it travelled into your ear, and you hissed, squeezing Josh’s hand instinctively. His grip tightened in return, grounding you.

“All done,” Michelle reassured, her voice steady. “Just need to write you a referral and give you a rundown of what to watch for.” You nodded blankly, not quite hearing what she had said.

Josh shifted closer as she worked, his eyes never leaving your face. “You hear that? Almost done. Then we’ll get you all set up back at the hotel— blankets, snacks, whatever you want. You won’t have to lift a finger.”

“Josh,” you mumbled, your voice soft but laced with humor despite the ache in your head. “You’re acting like I’ve lost a limb.”

He feigned offense, clutching his chest dramatically. “You’re bleeding out, did you really expect me to react differently?” he joked.

Michelle stifled a chuckle, glancing at Josh. “Well, she’s not wrong— she isn’t ‘bleeding out,’ but it’s good to have someone looking after her. She’ll need plenty of rest and hydration.” Michelle sat back on her heels, peeling off her gloves with a practiced snap. She placed a bottle of pain relief and an antibiotic prescription on the small table beside the couch.

“Take these as directed,” she instructed, her tone firm but kind. “If the dizziness or nausea gets worse, or if the pain doesn’t improve in a couple of days, make sure you see a doctor. And no loud music for a while, alright?”

You nodded slowly, each motion calculated to avoid aggravating the throbbing pain. “Thank you,” you said, your voice faint but sincere.

Michelle packed up her kit and rose to her feet, addressing Josh. “She’ll be alright as long as she takes it easy. If you need anything, let the event staff know– they’ve got my number.”

Josh nodded, standing to see her out. “Thanks, Michelle. Really.”

As the door clicked shut, he turned back to you, his hands planted on his hips as if surveying the situation. “Alright, Missy,” he said, his tone playful but underpinned with care, “You’re officially banned from doing anything but lying here and letting me spoil you rotten.”

You smiled faintly, letting out a long, slow breath. “I think I can live with that.”

Josh grabbed a soft blanket draped over the back of the couch, spreading it gently across you. He settled beside you, his hand resting lightly on your arm. “Anything you need, you just say the word. Want to just lay here and cuddle? Or maybe we should watch one of those terrible reality shows you secretly love while we wait.”

You groaned dramatically, though a small grin tugged at your lips. “I’m not in the mood to see people throwing wine glasses at each other.”

“Well, how about I just sit here and look pretty for you, then?” he offered, leaning back with a mock-model pose that drew a reluctant laugh from you, quickly followed by a wince.

“Josh,” you muttered, “I told you, don’t make me laugh.”

His grin softened into something warmer as he reached out, brushing a knuckle lightly across your cheek. “Alright, Baby, no more jokes. Just rest. Once the crew is all packed up and we’re able to head back to the hotel you’ll be able to sleep. Won’t be long.”

A rough hour went by before someone came in to tell you both that it was time to go, and Josh tentatively helped you stand and walk to the van, messily clambering into the nearest seat with much difficulty. 

Turns out Jake had noticed the pyro malfunction too, with being so close to it like you, he told you his own ears were ringing from the blast, and he had even seen you wobble off stage as you struggled to fight against the dizzy aftermath.

“That's why you should always be on my stage side,” Sam boasted, “Jake's shit is always too loud.”

You smiled fondly at the banter, but couldn't find it in you to react with any semblance of real humour, as truthfully, you were struggling to follow the conversation at all. Their voices were entirely too quiet, and you questioned how they were even able to hear themselves. 

Josh patted your thigh from beside you, and when you looked his way, his mouth moved almost soundlessly. 

“Huh?” you asked, leaning in closer to hear. 

Josh frowned, not wanting to raise his voice so as to damage your hearing even more, but knowing how difficult it was for you to hear through your ruptured eardrum. He mouthed a ‘nevermind’ and sent you a sympathetic smile, kissing your forehead sweetly.

Once back at the hotel, your dizziness quelled. You bid your goodbyes to the others, before sluggishly retiring to your hotel room with Josh, who refused to leave your side. 

After helping you out of your clothes and into your pyjamas without tipping over, Josh wandered into the bathroom to get both of your toothbrushes ready.

“I’ll miss this hotel room, ya know? It was one of my favourites,” Josh said, making his way back towards you with your toothbrush. 

“You’re only saying that ‘cause it has jacuzzi jets in the bathtub,” you argued with a small smile before slotting the toothbrush into your mouth. 

He smiled and knelt before you, “Hmm maybe you’re right.” He tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. “How are you feeling?”

“Mmmph,” you shrugged, unable to speak around the toothbrush and mouth full of foamy toothpaste. You winced when opening your jaw too wide sent a jolt of pain through the side of your head. 

Josh jutted his lip out, “My poor Baby. I’m sorry this happened to you lovely, I know it’s not fun.” You shrugged, feigning indifference despite the discomfort. Josh helped you stand to make it to the bathroom and spit your toothpaste out. You relieved yourself while he changed, and took some medication as he showered, before settling into bed. 

You sighed heavily once under the covers, watching as Josh waddled around, hands busy as he got your phones into their chargers and things ready for the morning, a toothbrush hanging limply from his mouth, and damp hair dripping water buds down his neck. 

“Alright,” he sighed as he messily rubbed his head with a towel before finally slipping into bed, leaning to switch the bedside light off and shuffling across the bed to reach you. He looped his arm beneath your back and pulled your body against his, letting your good ear rest against his chest. “How’s that? Comfy?”

You hummed a half response, never truly comfortable with the ache in your head, but as comfortable as you could be. As the silence settled in, you became painfully aware of a persistent ringing somewhere in the distance. You wondered if it may be coming from the mini fridge, or maybe the air conditioning, but as you lay there against Josh, wide awake, it grew apparently louder. 

“Josh?” you whispered, and he turned his head towards you, pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head.

“Hm?”

“What’s that… What's that ringing? Can you shut it off?” You complained frustratedly, the ringing only making the pain and discomfort worse, nagging you relentlessly. 

“Shut what off?” he asked, and you squeezed your eyes shut.

“The ringing… it's so loud,” you waved a hand around the room, “Hurting my ear…”

He was silent for a moment, listening out for what you may be talking about, before he sniffed, “I don't think there's anything ringing in here, sweetheart. Probably just a bit of tinnitus.”

You huffed frustratedly, grumbling something about how difficult it would be to sleep through the noise, and Josh rubbed broad circles on your back with the flat of his palm comfortingly. 

“Aht aht,” he warned, taking your hand from your ear. You hadn't even noticed it travel to the injured spot, fingers moving to crawl in and scratch away the itch that had been faintly nagging you. “I know it’s itchy, beautiful, but touching it will only make it worse. Just try and rest now.” He spoke softly, whispering small words of reassurance, until he himself drifted off to sleep, no doubt exhausted from the travel, the performance, and caretaking.

Your night was long, and mostly sleepless. You tossed and turned, finding minimal comfort in any position as the fluid in your ear trickled around and throbbed. Your ‘uninjured ear’, although without medical attention, felt awful too. Constantly ringing, itching, and showing obvious signs that it was dangerously close to rupturing too.

By morning, Josh packed your bags and sorted everything out with the rental car, insisting you sat idle on the bed until he was done. Your frustration grew throughout the morning as you found yourself unable to hear him as he spoke to you, careful to keep a low volume to protect your hearing. Nevertheless, you pushed your annoyance aside, and let Josh hold you close as he led you out of the hotel and into the rental car. 

The nausea had mostly subsided, but the dizziness and disorientation remained, as well as the aching pain, but you tried your best to ignore it as Josh pulled out of the hotel parking lot and began the treacherous drive south. 

“Croissant?” Josh offered, handing you the wrapped pastry from across the centre console. You muttered a small thanks as you took the pastry from his hand. Though, when you peeled back the paper wrapping and exposed the tip of the croissant, taking a well deserved bite, a shot of pain spiralled through your jaw to your ear. 

"You alright, Honey?” Josh asked immediately, squeezing your thigh at the sound of your wince. 

“Yeah just… hurts to open my mouth,” you frowned, tearing a small piece of croissant off the pastry and shoving it between your lips, only parted slightly now. You grimaced when even the simple act of chewing hurt, and forced yourself to swallow the half-chewed piece of pastry.

Josh frowned, stealing a quick glance at you before turning his attention back to the road. “You don’t have to eat right now, Baby. I can stop later and get you something softer. Maybe soup or, I don’t know, mashed potatoes or something.”

You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. “Gas station mashed potatoes for breakfast? Sounds gourmet.”

“Hey,” Josh shot back playfully, “I’m just looking out for you. I’d puree the damn croissant if I could.” He reached over again, rubbing his thumb gently over your knee. “We’ll figure it out. You just focus on taking it easy, okay?”

You nodded, letting the croissant sit forgotten in your lap as you leaned your head against the window, staring out at the passing scenery. The world outside blurred as the car rumbled along, each dip and bump in the road reverberating through you, tugging at the ache in your head. You breathed in slowly, willing yourself to stay calm and ignore the discomfort.

But the silence— or rather, the muffled quietness— felt oppressive. Even with Josh humming softly under his breath, you couldn’t escape the incessant, high-pitched ringing in both ears. It was relentless, like a mosquito that wouldn’t stop buzzing near your head. You shifted uncomfortably, rubbing at your temples.

“You okay?” Josh asked softly, sensing your restlessness.

“Yeah,” you murmured, though it wasn’t convincing. “It’s just… I can’t get used to the quiet.” You paused, searching for the right words. “I mean, it’s not quiet for me. It’s loud. I can’t—” You stopped, frustrated by how hard it was to explain.

Josh’s brows furrowed as he glanced at you again. “The ringing?”

You nodded miserably, squeezing your eyes shut as you tried to block it out. “It’s so loud, Josh. It’s driving me crazy.”

His hand found yours on your lap, warm and grounding. He squeezed gently. “I know, Baby. I can’t imagine how frustrating that must be.” He paused for a moment, as if considering something. “You know what Jake always told me when I burst my eardrum a couple years ago and had tinnitus?”

You cracked an eye open, tilting your head just enough to look at him. “What?”

“He got me to focus on something else. Anything else. The more attention you give the noise, the worse it feels. It’s like staring at a bright light– it burns into your vision.”

You frowned, skeptical. “That sounds… too easy.”

Josh grinned, shrugging one shoulder. “Maybe, but it always helped me. Here—” He turned the music on low, just a gentle hum of sound in the background. “Focus on this. Or count the trees we pass, or… hell, count how many times I say something annoying today.”

You laughed weakly, which only earned you a small wince. “It’s not hard to lose count with that one.”

Josh smirked, clearly pleased to see even a faint bit of humor from you. “See? You’re already distracted.”

It didn’t fix the ringing, not really, but it gave you something to latch onto besides the noise and discomfort. The ache in your head ebbed slightly as you focused on Josh’s soft singing over the radio, his voice smooth and steady, even at a whisper.

The hours crawled by, but Josh made sure you were as comfortable as possible. When you stopped for lunch, he insisted on finding a decent place that served soup, running inside himself to grab a warm takeaway container of something creamy and smooth while you waited in the car. He returned triumphantly with a container of tomato soup and a bottle of water, setting them carefully in your lap.

“Nothing but the best for my girl,” he said proudly, settling back behind the wheel.

You smiled faintly, wrapping your hands around the warm container as if it might soothe you. “I feel spoiled.”

“That’s the goal,” Josh replied, leaning over to press a kiss to your temple. “Now eat up. Or... drink up, I guess? I need you feeling better so you can start bossing me around again.”

𓂃 𓈒𓏸‪‪

The drive continued, the sunlight growing softer as the day stretched on. By the time you checked into the hotel halfway home, you were exhausted, the ache in your head sapping the last of your energy. Josh carried your bags inside, refusing to let you lift a finger as you trudged to the room.

As soon as you were in bed, propped up by pillows, Josh settled beside you with a sigh of his own. He reached for the remote, flipping idly through channels until he found some old sitcom playing softly in the background.

“Better?” he asked, nudging your shoulder gently.

You nodded, already feeling your eyelids grow heavy. “Better,” you murmured, letting your head rest against his shoulder.

Josh wrapped an arm around you, his thumb rubbing slow circles over your arm. “Good. Get some sleep, Baby. I’m not going anywhere.”

The ringing persisted, faint and constant, but somehow, with Josh’s steady presence beside you, it didn’t seem quite so unbearable.

And as you drifted off, the last thing you felt was his hand brushing through your hair, his voice a quiet promise against your forehead: “We’ll get you home soon, I promise.”

𓂃 𓈒𓏸‪‪

By the time you pulled into the driveway of your home back in Nashville the next day, you were utterly drained. Josh parked the car and quickly came around to your side, gently helping you out and steadying you as you shuffled toward the front door. Your equilibrium was completely out of whack, the disorienting swirl of dizziness making every step feel uncertain.

As you crossed the threshold, Josh guided you to the couch, his hand firm but careful on your lower back. “Easy, Baby,” he murmured, helping you lower yourself onto the cushions. You leaned back with a groan, closing your eyes to block out the spinning world.

“I’m gonna make you some tea, alright?” he said, brushing his knuckles against your cheek before disappearing into the kitchen. You heard the clatter of mugs and the low whistle of the kettle, the muted sounds only reminding you of your muffled hearing.

Josh returned a few minutes later with a steaming cup of tea and a warm smile. “Here,” he said, kneeling beside you and holding the cup carefully as you took a slow sip. “Good?”

You nodded, managing a faint smile. “Thanks.”

“Have you had your meds yet?” he asked, setting the tea on the coffee table.

“Not since this morning,” you admitted. Josh frowned and immediately got up, grabbing your pain relief and a glass of water from the kitchen. 

“I’ll go to the chemist first thing tomorrow to pick up the prescription painkillers.”

After making sure you’d taken the low level pain relief you had access to, he joined you on the couch, pulling a blanket over both of you. He settled in, gently moving you to rest your head on his chest. “Wanna pick something to watch or are you gonna try and catch some sleep?” he asked softly, scrolling through the options on the TV with one hand and stroking your head with his other.

You hummed, only hearing the last leg of his sentence, before closing your eyes, letting his warmth and the rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing soothe you until you drifted off.

𓂃 𓈒𓏸‪‪

The next couple of days were a blur of rest and quiet, but the pain only seemed to get worse. By the third day, it was unbearable— sharp, throbbing, and radiating down to your jaw and neck. Each time you swallowed or yawned, a pop of air shot into your ruptured eardrum. It had you clenching your teeth against the feeling and only making the pain worse, aggravating your mood alongside. You could barely move without wincing, and after a bit of convincing, you finally allowed Josh to drive you to the doctor.

The diagnosis wasn’t what you wanted to hear: your ear had become infected.

You sat on the exam table, your arms crossed and frustration written all over your face. Josh stood beside you, his hand resting protectively on your knee. “Shit,” he muttered, his brow creased with worry.

You huffed, trying to tamp down your irritation. “This sucks.”

“It’s gonna be okay,” Josh said softly, giving your knee a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll get the antibiotics, and you’ll feel better soon. I’ve been through this before, remember? It sucks, but you’ll get through it.”

You sighed, nodding reluctantly as the doctor handed Josh the prescription and went over the treatment plan.

Back home, Josh wasted no time getting you settled into bed. He handed you your first dose of antibiotics along with some water, watching closely as you swallowed the pills. “How’s your jaw?” he asked, his voice gentle.

You mumbled a faint response, too sore to form proper words. Even the effort of speaking made your jaw ache, and Josh’s concern deepened as he tucked the blanket around you.

“Alright,” he said softly, brushing a kiss against your temple. “Just rest, Baby. I’ll take care of everything.”

You drifted off almost immediately, the exhaustion and pain pulling you under. Josh stayed by your side for a while, watching you sleep with a worried expression before quietly retreating to the kitchen to make dinner.

𓂃 𓈒𓏸‪‪

You woke up around seven in the evening, the smell of something delicious wafting through the room. Josh appeared in the doorway with a bright smile, carrying a bowl of soup. “Hey, sleepyhead,” he said, setting the bowl on the nightstand. “I made your favorite— tomato soup with the little pasta pieces you like. Thought it’d be easy on your jaw.”

You smiled weakly, sitting up with his help as he placed the bowl in your hands. The soup was warm and flavourful, the broth soothing as you sipped it carefully. But by the time you reached the pasta pieces, the effort of chewing sent sharp pain shooting through your jaw.

You set the spoon down, your shoulders slumping. “I’m sorry,” you said softly, guilt creeping into your voice. “It just hurts too much to eat.”

Josh’s face softened, and he shook his head immediately. “No, no, don’t apologize. It’s okay, sweetheart. I just want you to feel better.” You gave him a faint, grateful smile before leaning back against the pillows. He kissed your forehead, his thumb brushing gently over your hand. “Try to get some more rest, alright? I’ll clean up and be right back.”

You reached a hand out to him and whined at this, and he stopped his movements to look at you worriedly. 

“What’s wrong, Beautiful?” he asked, tucking away some hair from your forehead. 

“Can you come and lay with me?” you asked, your voice so soft and broken he thought he would melt. 

“Oh, Honey, of course,” he cooed, crawling over the mattress and situating himself beside you, pulling your body to lay across his. You nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck, and wrapped your arms around him weakly, reaching for any form of connection. Josh soothed you with a flat palm on your back, stroking up and down carefully. 

“I hate this,” you admitted, voice muffled between the pillows and his body, cringing as you felt the sting of tears arrive. “I mean– I haven't even been able to cry about it, cause it just hurts too bad. I hate laying here all day just doing nothing. I hate it so much.”

Josh pulled your body closer, tightening his hold and kissing the top of your head before resting his cheek against it. “My poor girl. Sweet, sweet girl. You don't deserve this. I’m so sorry, my love. Is there anything else I can do?”

You shook your head, breathing in his natural fragrance and sighed, “Just hold me, please.”

You sounded so pained, so lost, and Josh couldn’t help but shrug you a little closer, “Of course, my love. You just need some tender love, I’ve got you.”

Josh continued to stroke your back, whispering soft words of endearment and comfort until you went limp in his arms. He sighed, ridden with distress at the state of you, weak and in pain. He dug through his memories in search for home remedies that helped him the most, but found that at that time in his life, the memories were foggy, clouded by some feverish haze. 

Lifting his hips slightly so as not to wake you, he fished in his back pocket for his phone, and pulled up Jake's contact, typing out a message, ‘I need your advice.’

Jake responded effectively immediately, and Josh slid out from beneath you, careful not to move you too much, and placed a pillow beneath you for you to hold in his absence. Jake's caller ID showed up the second Josh left the bedroom. 

“Hey, what’s up?” Jake asked casually. 

Josh wandered into the kitchen and began preparing himself some food for dinner, “What did you guys do to help me when I fucked up my ear? I can't remember,” he asked, diving straight to the point. 

Jake pondered silently across the line for a few beats, “Uhhh. Well you slept a lot, and we made sure to roll you onto your good side if we ever saw you sleeping on your ear,” he started. “Warm foods, like soups and stews and stuff. You never liked smoothies ‘cause I think the cold made your jaw ache more.”

Josh sighed– these were all things he already knew, and although they were helping you, they just weren't enough. “Is there anything else?” he prodded.

“Look Josh, healing takes time. She’s not gonna get better overnight. You have to give it time and be patient with her.”

Josh sighed. That was not what he wanted to hear. 

“Actually, something else that helped you,” Jake started, and Josh straightened, listening intently. “Danny did some research when our shows were cancelled, and apparently a warm compress with a soft massage on your neck and jaw and stuff really helped ease the pain. You loved it– knocked you out everytime you were up with pain.”

“That’s perfect, thank you.”

“But Josh, I’m serious when I say you gotta be patient. I mean, maybe she’s better at handling it than you, but you were pretty snappy sometimes. Don't take it personally if she gets frustrated with you, just… let her be upset.”

Josh nodded with a sigh, “Okay, I’ll keep that in mind, thanks Jake. And thanks for dealing with me when I was being a dick.”

Jake laughed, “No problem, keep me updated.”

“Will do, love you.”

“Love you too, bye.”

𓂃 𓈒𓏸‪‪

The next morning, Josh woke up with you still curled up beside him, your face scrunched in a frown even in sleep. His heart twisted at the sight, wishing he could shoulder your pain instead. He lay there for a moment, gently brushing his fingers over your arm before you stirred awake, blinking slowly as if even that small action was an effort.

“Good morning, baby,” he said softly. “How’re you feeling?”

You let out a small, hoarse sound that wasn’t quite a word, shifting slightly under the blankets.

He sat up, concern etched on his face. “Would you like me to make you some breakfast? Your meds are due in a couple of hours, and I don’t want you taking them on an empty stomach.”

You murmured, “Mmm, not hungry,” your voice faint and muffled.

Josh sighed, his hand resting gently on your shoulder. “I know it hurts to eat,” he said carefully, “But I can make some porridge or oatmeal, so you won’t have to chew.”

Your eyes welled up at his kindness, the frustration of the past few days bubbling to the surface. You nodded slightly but winced at the movement, and Josh winced right along with you, his expression pained as though he could feel it himself.

“‘Kay,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“Alright, sweetheart,” he murmured, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your temple. “I’ll be right back.”

Josh returned a few minutes later with a small bowl of oats, the hot bowl carefully balanced in his hand. But when he saw your tear-streaked face, his heart broke all over again. Your eyes were red and puffy, and you sniffled quietly, trying to compose yourself.

“Oh, my sweet girl,” he said, his voice thick with emotion as he set the bowl down and sat beside you. He gently wiped away your tears with the pads of his thumbs, his touch impossibly tender. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured, settling beside you on the bed. He watched you for a moment, so sad and defeated, and he knew only one thing could make you feel better in this moment. “Is it the cooking? Be honest,” he teased. "I mean, I never prided myself on being a great cook, but surely it's not bad enough to make you cry?"

A watery giggle escaped your lips despite yourself, and he grinned, clearly pleased with the small victory. “There it is. That’s what I needed to see. Don’t let this thing win, okay? You’ve got way too much fight in you for that.”

He reached over, wiping your tears with his thumbs before pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. “You’ve survived worse things. Remember when you sat through that whole documentary on the making of The Godfather? Yeah, this infection has nothing on that.”

You laughed softly, the sound barely there but enough to make his grin widen. “There’s my girl,” he murmured. “Now, let’s get you fed so we can put this mean old infection in its place.”

You nodded faintly, and he helped you take a few spoonfuls of the porridge. It wasn’t much, but it was enough, and soon after, he helped you take your medication.

𓂃 𓈒𓏸‪‪

About an hour later, you stirred from a restless nap, your body tense with discomfort. “Josh?” you called softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

He was by your side in an instant. “What do you need, baby?”

You hesitated, embarrassed. “I… I need to pee.”

“Okay,” he said gently, sliding an arm under your shoulders to help you sit up. “Let’s get you to the bathroom.”

You swayed as he guided you to the bathroom, his arm steady around your waist. By the time you reached the toilet, you were too exhausted and in too much pain to care as he helped you sit down, his movements respectful and careful.

“Take your time,” he said softly, stepping back into the bedroom to give you as much privacy as he could while still being there to support you.

When you were done, he helped you back to bed, tucking you in with a concerned smile. “Want to watch a movie?” he offered, his voice light but tentative.

You let out a faint hum of agreement, snuggling close to him as he pulled you into his side. The warmth of his body and the steady beat of his heart were comforting, though he couldn’t ignore how quiet and weak you seemed.

It broke him to see you like this, so far from your usual self, but he stayed strong for you, scrolling through options before settling on Gilmore Girls.

A few minutes in, you tilted your head toward him. “Can you turn it up? I can’t hear it.”

Josh reached for the remote and turned up the volume a couple of notches. “How’s that?”

“More, please?” you mumbled, frowning.

He paused, looking down at you with a worried expression as he gently brushed a strand of hair from your face. “It’s already pretty loud, baby,” he said softly. “The doctor said to keep things quiet until the infection’s gone at least, remember?”

You huffed, your frustration clear as you turned your face away slightly. “Fine,” you muttered, saying nothing more.

Josh pressed his lips into a thin line, still watching you. After a moment, he offered gently, “How about I turn on the subtitles?”

You blinked up at him, your hearing so muddled that you asked, “Turn on what?”

“Subtitles,” he repeated patiently.

“Oh. Okay, yeah,” you said, your voice tinged with exhaustion. He turned them on, and though it helped a bit, you were still annoyed by how much effort it took to follow the show.

Midway through the episode, you dozed off again, your body giving in to the fatigue. Josh watched you for a moment, his heart heavy with worry and love. He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead as he whispered, “Sleep well, my love.”

𓂃 𓈒𓏸‪‪

The next morning, Josh woke to find you already awake, sitting cross legged at the head of the bed with your shoulders hunched, your fingers pressed against your jaw. He frowned as he sat up, hair sticking out in messy tufts.

“Baby,” he mumbled, voice raspy with sleep. “What are you doing up so early? It's barely light out.”

You glanced over at him, eyes heavy with exhaustion. “It hurts,” you whispered. “And it’s so itchy, Josh. I can’t stand it.”

Your hand drifted toward your ear, but before you could touch it, Josh was already moving. Gently but firmly, he caught your wrist and pulled it away.

“Hey, no,” he said, his voice a mixture of concern and gentle authority. “You’re not supposed to scratch or touch it, remember? Doctor’s orders.”

“It’s itchy,” you whined, a tear slipping down your cheek. “And it hurts so much.”

“I know,” he soothed, letting go of your wrist to brush the tear away with his thumb. “But the itching means it’s healing. I promise, baby, you’ve just gotta let it be.”

You sighed heavily, your hand falling limply into your lap as you fought the urge to argue. “Fine,” you muttered, clearly irritated but resigned. “Can I at least have some painkillers or something? My head is pounding.”

Josh nodded immediately. “Of course, my love. I’ll get them for you.”

He slipped out of bed and headed to the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with a glass of water, two pills, and a peeled mandarin.

“Here,” he said, setting everything down on the nightstand. “But you need to eat this first,” he instructed, holding the mandarin out to you. You frowned at him but took one slice of the mandarin anyway, biting down gingerly. Almost immediately, you winced and set it back on the plate.

“I can’t, it hurts too much” you said, frustrated and reaching for the pills, “I’ll just take them.”

He shook his head gently, moving the pills from your reach and causing your frown to deepen. “Not on an empty stomach,” he said patiently. You rolled your eyes. “You know that. It’ll make you feel worse."

"I don't care, Josh, just let me take them," you insisted, rather angrily, leaning to grab them, only for Josh to pull them further from your reach, knowing you would be too dizzy to move and get them yourself. Frustration boiled and bubbled in your chest.

"How about I grab you some soup to eat instead?” he suggested.

“I don’t want soup!” you snapped, your voice sharper than you intended. “All I’ve had for the past week is soup, and I’m sick of it! Just…” you trailed off, struggling to find the words that explained your frustration. You hated this, but you hated being mean to Josh even more.

Josh froze for a moment, startled by the outburst. Then, instead of reacting defensively, he exhaled slowly and sat back on the bed, his expression softening.

“Okay,” he said quietly, his voice calm and measured. “I get it. You’re tired, and you’re hurting. Let’s try something different.”

You looked down at your hands guiltily. “I’m sorry, that was mean. You’re only trying to help, I just–”

“It’s okay, Sweetheart. I get it,” he said softly, stopping you from dwelling.

“Hey,” he said, reaching out to touch your arm gently. “Why don’t we take a minute to ease the pain first, hmm? Jake told me a warm compress should help, and then we’ll figure out something for food. Yeah?”

You didn’t answer, but you didn’t stop him as he left the room. When he returned, he had a heat pack in one hand and a reassuring smile on his face.

“Alright, sweetheart,” he said, climbing onto the bed beside you. “Let’s get you comfy. Lay down on your tummy for me.”

Reluctantly, you shifted to lie on your front, your head resting just beside his thigh against the mattress with your bad ear facing up, just as the doctors had advised you. He gently tugged at the collar of your shirt, pulling it aside to expose your neck and shoulder.

“This might feel a little warm at first, tell me if it’s too hot” he warned as he pressed the compress against your jaw. The soothing heat spread immediately, coaxing a small sigh of relief from you.

“Good?” he asked softly, his fingers beginning to work along your jawline.

“Mhm,” you mumbled, the tension in your body starting to ease as your eyes fluttered shut against the sensation.

Keeping the compress balanced over your jaw, he pressed his thumbs, warmed by the heat pack, over the taught muscles of your neck. They moved in slow, deliberate strokes, kneading the muscles that had been tight with pain. He worked up your neck, towards the base of your skull, his touch firm but gentle, careful not to press too hard.

He smiled as you sunk into the mattress with a groan. “There we go,” he murmured, his voice low and comforting. “That’s my girl. Just relax for me.”

You whimpered softly in relief as his fingers found a particularly tight spot near the base of your neck. He chuckled lightly, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple.

“Sounding like you’re enjoying this a little too much,” he teased, a playful smile on his lips.

“Shut up,” you mumbled, your voice muffled against the side of his leg.

He laughed quietly, clearly relieved to see even a flicker of your usual self as his fingers moved to your shoulder. He worked on the knots there, his hands strong but tender as he massaged away the tension.

“I’m just saying,” he continued, his thumbs working magic along your shoulder blade, “if I ever quit the band, maybe I’ll open a massage studio. What do you think? ‘Josh’s Soothing Touch’— catchy, right?”

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you. “You’d need a better name. Sounds like a brothel.”

He gasped dramatically. “Wow. Critique from my number one client already? Tough crowd.”

You smiled faintly, the combination of his warmth, humour, and touch making the pain feel a little less overwhelming. After a minute, he replaced the heat pack from your jaw to your neck, reaching round to grasp your face softly with his hand, the pad of his thumb gently kneading into the muscle of your jaw.

He massaged you there for a little while, before moving the heat pack back to your jaw, and continuing massaging your neck instead.

“Thank you, my love. For taking care of me. I love you,” you whispered, your voice soft but sincere as you broke the comfortable silence.

“Anything for you, my sweet girl. I love you too, Beautiful,” he replied, pressing another kiss to your temple as his fingers continued their careful work. “Now, no more talking, just relax, okay?”

And as the loving magic of his touch pressed in against the overwhelming pain you had been fighting, you finally began to feel a little more like yourself again.

𓂃 𓈒𓏸‪‪

Tag List ~ @allof--mylove

Complete the google form here to be added to a permanent taglist for any future fics!

[ducktoo]

Syncing Dream [Aespa x M!Reader]

19. Supernova

Note: they’re making up with…what now?

Masterlist here

Y/n’s absence wasn’t something that could be shrugged off easily. When he walked out, it left a gaping hole in the routine aespa had grown so accustomed to. He’d always been there—whether it was guiding them through their most chaotic days, managing schedules, or simply being a familiar, calming presence. But now, with him gone, they felt the full weight of just how much they relied on him.

It wasn’t that Minji, Jihoon, and Joon weren’t capable. They were more than competent and had helped Y/n on countless occasions in the past. But the dynamic had changed. Y/n understood them in a way that went beyond professionalism. He knew how to read Karina’s quiet moods, Giselle’s tendency to get lost in thought, Winter’s bursts of mischief, and Ningning’s boundless energy. He’d perfected the balance between keeping them on track and giving them the space to breathe.

Without him, cracks began to show.

It didn’t take long for the first problem to arise. The choreography rehearsal for their upcoming comeback, “Supernova,” was scheduled to start, but Karina was still tangled in a back-and-forth with one of the stylists. Normally, Y/n would have stepped in, smoothing out the disagreement with his usual diplomacy, but now the responsibility fell on Karina.

“We can’t wear these for the teaser photos,” Karina muttered, her frustration barely masked as she held up the outfit in question. “This isn’t the vibe we discussed.”

The stylist frowned. “But these were approved by the team. I can’t change them now.”

Karina sighed, glancing around the room. No Y/n to mediate. She felt the pressure of having to juggle leadership roles she wasn’t used to.

Meanwhile, Giselle was struggling with the rehearsal schedule. Y/n had always kept them on track, gently pushing them when they needed it and easing off when they were exhausted. Now, the balance was off. They were either running over time or ending practice too early, with no real direction in between.

“I don’t even know when we’re supposed to finish today,” Giselle muttered, flipping through the calendar on her phone. “Y/n would’ve had this sorted by now.”

“Can we text him?” Ningning suggested, only half-joking. “Just ask him to come back?”

“Not yet,” Karina said quickly, shaking her head. “He needs space. We can handle this.”

But even as she said the words, Karina didn’t feel confident. Every time something went wrong, she felt the absence of Y/n’s quiet guidance more and more.

-

As days passed, the struggles only deepened. They were scheduled for a variety show taping, something Y/n usually prepped them for with background information, ice-breakers, and pointers on how to engage with the hosts. Without him, their nerves were high.

He might be an idiot, but Y/n did juggled with plenty of odd jobs.

“What if I say something dumb?” Winter asked, glancing nervously at the rest of the group as they waited in the green room.

“You won’t,” Giselle assured her, though she didn’t sound too sure herself. “Just stick to the script, and we’ll be fine.”

Ningning sighed. “Y/n usually helps us come up with witty stuff. I’m not good at winging it.”

The show went fine, but not great. They missed a few cues, didn’t hit the flow of banter like they normally would, and the energy wasn’t the same. It wasn’t a disaster by any means, but they knew something was missing—their manager, their anchor.

The strain of trying to hold everything together was beginning to show, particularly in Karina. Her responsibilities as leader had doubled without Y/n’s presence. She was trying to handle the logistics, manage the group’s morale, and still give her best performance in rehearsals. It was too much.

“Unnie, you’re going to burn out,” Giselle said one afternoon after practice. “You don’t have to take on everything. We can help.”

Karina ran a hand through her hair, exhaling slowly. “I just don’t want us to fall apart without him. I feel like I’m the only thing keeping us from...”

She didn’t finish her sentence, but everyone knew what she meant. They were teetering on the edge of chaos. Despite their efforts, things were starting to slip through the cracks. Deadlines were missed, rehearsals felt scattered, and worst of all, their performances were beginning to suffer.

-

Late one evening, after a particularly frustrating rehearsal, the group gathered in the dorm, slumped on the couch, feeling the weight of Y/n’s absence. Karina was more distant than usual, lost in her thoughts. Winter, sensing the tension, finally broke the silence.

“Unnie, you’ve been pretty quiet,” she said, nudging her.

Karina sighed, staring at the floor. “I don’t know, I just… I keep thinking about what happened.”

Giselle glanced over from the other side of the couch. “About Y/n?”

Karina nodded, her voice soft. “I feel like it’s my fault. If I hadn’t pushed him so hard, maybe he wouldn’t have needed to leave.”

Winter sat up, her expression turning serious. “It wasn’t just you. We all contributed to it. He was under a lot of stress.”

“But I was the one who argued with him,” Karina replied, her guilt surfacing. “I should’ve known better. He’s always been there for us, even when we were struggling, and I didn’t appreciate that. Instead, I snapped at him.”

Ningning, always the voice of optimism, scooted closer. “Unnie, it’s not too late to fix this. Y/n’s still around. Maybe he just needs to hear that we miss him.”

Giselle smirked. “And what better way to reach him than a challenge?”

Karina frowned, confused. “A challenge?”

“League of Legends,” Giselle grinned, clearly amused by the idea. “He’s probably drowning in games right now to avoid thinking about all this. What if we challenge him to a match? Karina versus Y/n. If you win, he comes back.”

Winter burst out laughing. “And if he wins, we’ll leave him alone and never mention it again?”

Karina chuckled despite herself. "I'll think about it. Does sound unique, though."

-

Later that night, after everyone else had gone to bed, Karina lay awake, staring at the ceiling. She replayed the events in her mind—the argument, Y/n’s frustration, and the way he had walked out. She wanted to fix things, but how could she?

Giselle’s earlier suggestion kept coming back to her: a game of League of Legends. It was silly, but Y/n always found comfort in games, and it might be the easiest way to break the ice. But more than that, she wanted a real conversation with him, one where they could both lay everything out on the table.

The next morning, Karina gathered the girls in the practice room before the day’s rehearsals began.

“I’ve been thinking,” she started, pacing slightly. “I want to talk to Y/n. I think it’s time I apologize properly. I was too hard on him, and I didn’t realize how much pressure he was under.”

Giselle nodded, leaning forward. “Do you want us to be there?”

Karina shook her head. “I think it’s something I need to do on my own first. But once I talk to him, I’ll let you guys know.”

Winter smiled softly. “Good luck. And if it doesn’t go well, we’ll challenge him to that game. It’s impossible to stay mad while playing.”

Karina smiled “How did you know my plan?”

-

While the group was struggling to manage without him, Y/n was spending his days in solitude, reflecting on everything that had led him to this point. He replayed the fallout in his mind, regretting how he had let his frustration build up to the breaking point.

It wasn’t just the pressure of managing a comeback that had weighed on him. Over time, he had started to feel the invisible line between being their manager and their friend blur. He wanted to be there for them as a professional, but he also cared deeply about each of them, and that emotional investment had begun to cloud his judgment.

So where was he currently if he moved to live with Aespa?

Well, right after the fall out, he managed to crash at his friend's place for a few days. She didn't ask why but Y/n was glad he didn't. Otherwise, she would kick him out to apologies to them.

But he wasn't ready just yet.

He hadn’t opened their messages, still unsure of how to face them after everything that had happened. But as he sat in the quiet of his apartment, the phone buzzed again, drawing his attention.

Karina:

Hey. Can we talk?

Y/n blinked, surprised by the straightforwardness, followed by a chuckle. "Damn, I'm such a pathetic ass". After a few moments of hesitation, he typed back.

Y/n:

Sure. What’s on your mind?

It wasn’t long before a reply came through.

Karina:

It’s about everything that happened. I want to apologize properly.

Y/n sighed, already sensing where this was going, but he typed back:

Y/n:

Alright. When and where?

-

Later that evening, Y/n found himself back in familiar territory—sitting in front of his computer, loading into a League of Legends 1v1 match. He couldn’t help but smirk at the absurdity of the situation. Karina had suggested playing a match while they talked—it was, after all, how they used to blow off steam together.

“What the heck, Rina…” was the only sentence he could say at this rather unique meeting. “Oh, and she plays Seraphine, great…”

Once they both entered the lobby, Y/n started off casually. “You sure about this? I don’t go easy even when I’m playing Blitzcrank.”

Karina chuckled, though there was a hint of nervousness in her voice. “I can handle it. You’re already using handicaps.”

“Well, otherwise you will destroy your laptop after getting killed so many times.” Y/n chuckled.

As the game began, the usual back-and-forth banter started up, easing some of the tension between them. But soon, Karina broke the silence with a more serious tone.

“Y/n… about everything. I’m really sorry.”

Y/n’s fingers stopped as he thought about how to respond.

He sighed. “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have let things build up like that. I didn’t mean to walk out on you guys."

“You didn’t walk out on us.” Karina shook her head “We pushed you away. I pushed you away. I should’ve listened when you were feeling overwhelmed.”

For a few moments, the game was forgotten as they both took the opportunity to finally clear the air. Y/n leaned back in his chair, taking a deep breath.

“You were under a lot of pressure too. I just… I didn’t want to let anyone down, and then I ended up letting everyone down.”

Karina hesitated.

“You didn’t let us down. We miss you. I miss you. And I don’t just mean as a manager. We miss you—your sarcasm, your advice, the way you always make sure we’re okay.”

Y/n stared at the screen, feeling a lump form in his throat. He hadn’t realized just how much his presence had meant to them. It wasn’t just about the work; it was about the bond they had built despite the months being short.

“I miss you guys too. It’s weird not being around a bunch of goofers like you 4”

“Hey, we’re not goofers!” Karina complained. “We’re just eccentric lads.”

The game continued, but the tension between them was slowly unraveling. Y/n could feel the weight of the past few weeks lifting, replaced by a sense of relief.

As the match neared its end, with Y/n inevitably winning, Karina asked the most important question she wanted to ask before the final push.

“So… you coming back?”

Y/n smiled, his fingers moved with certainty.

“Yeah. I’m coming back…after one more game with you.” He replied as the victory screen displayed.

-

A few days later, Y/n walked back into the practice room. The familiar scent of the dance studio, the sound of music echoing off the walls—it felt like he hadn’t been gone at all. Yet everything felt different.

The moment the girls saw him, they rushed over, surrounding him with hugs and excited chatter. Winter was the first to tackle him, practically jumping into his arms.

“You’re back!” she cheered.

Y/n laughed, ruffling her hair. “Yeah, I’m back.”

Giselle grinned from the side. “And you didn’t even give Jimin-unnie a chance in that game, huh?”

Karina crossed her arms, rolling her eyes but smiling nonetheless. “I knew he’d win.”

Y/n smirked. “Of course I did. Didn’t even try with her even with handicap”

But the teasing quickly faded into something more serious. Karina stepped forward, her expression soft but sincere. “Y/n, I just… I really am sorry. For everything. I didn’t realize how much pressure you were under. I shouldn’t have pushed you like that.”

Y/n shook his head, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry too. I should’ve spoken up sooner. I was trying so hard to handle everything on my own that I forgot I wasn’t in this alone.”

Karina nodded, tears threatening to spill from her eyes. “Can we start over? As a team and as good friends?”

Y/n pulled her into a hug. “Yeah. Let’s start over.”

As the rest of the group joined in, wrapping their arms around both of them, Y/n felt a sense of peace he hadn’t felt in weeks. He was back, not just as their manager, but as a part of their family. And this time, they were ready to face anything—together.

“…guys, guys, tap out.” Y/n slapped their backs. “You’re squeezing me too much.”

“You’re not going anywhere this time!” Giselle declared. “We ain’t going through that again without you!”

“Yea! What she saids!” The other three followed suit, which could only bring a big smile on Y/n’s face.

[honey-riley]

Love You To Death || S.R.

WARNINGS: Military themes, guns, weapons, violence, detailed gore, mentions of Simon's past.

A/N: This contains an OC :) her name is Honey Tailer (my user is after her 🫡), she's German, so I hope you brought your google translate or other translators. There are more descriptors of her in the story itself <3

A/N pt.2: I'm learning German, and for most of the dialog in German, I use a translator. So, if anything is incorrect in German, don't behead me pls.

wc: 5.9k

1 || 2

War.

That's all that ever ran through him. A traumatized, mean, brooding war machine. Ever since he was little, that's all he could remember. The war within his household, the constant abuse that his father passed around. The constant abuse he endured as a child had profound and lasting effects on him. It shaped his worldview, eroded his sense of self-worth, and left him with deep emotional scars that manifested in his brooding and mean demeanor. The war within his household became the war within himself, and it consumed him every day.

He had never truly felt warmth. Sure, he had happy moments, moments where he could forget the trauma, moments where the gray cloud looming above him would clear. But only for a moment. He was human after all. The impact of his traumatic childhood on his relationships was profound. He struggled to form deep connections with others, always keeping them at arms length, afraid of being hurt again. His fear of vulnerability and his need for control made it difficult for him to trust and open up to others, resulting in a cycle of loneliness and isolation.

Riddling himself with routines, sticking to schedules, running everything in a timely, comfortable manner is what he loves. What he thrived on. It was something that he knew he could rely on. Every morning, he would wake up at the exact same time, following a strict routine that he had meticulously planned out. From the moment he opened his eyes to the moment he closed them again at night, every minute of his day was accounted for. He found solace in the predictability of his schedule, as it provided a sense of control and stability in a chaotic world. His routines became his lifeline, a way for him to regain some semblance of order in his life and protect himself from the unpredictable nature of human interactions.

So, the day that someone broke that routine for him, that was a day that he was going to remember.

Preparing for a mission, he went in with his normal routine - shower, get his gear on, put the mask on, prepare mentally, head to base, scan in, have breakfast, pack his tactical vest, check his gear, clean his weapons, and head out to the chopper by 0400.

This time, when he got to the chopper, there was a new face. Striking green eyes, long black hair that was slicked back into a regulatory military bun, fair skin, and God, was she short. Standing at four feet, eleven inches, just barely meeting the height requirements.

"Lieutenant." Laswell nodded as he approached. "This is Sergeant Honey Tailer, hope you don't mind her joining you today." She added with a smile. Ghost stuck his hand out for Honey to shake, which she accepted, giving him a firm shake back.

He took in her appearance one more time, noting her black, polished boots, her uniform, which wasn't digital camo, but more like spotted camo. She had a German flag on her shoulders and on her tactical vest.

"My pleasure, Lieutenant." She smiled softly, her German accent apparent in her words. It wasn't strong, it was subtle, she sounded like she had been speaking English her entire life - but she hadn't.

"It's great to meet you, Sergeant." He nodded, releasing her hand.

"Honey's going to be your DM for today. She'll provide surveillance, make sure you guys keep your heads." Laswell grinned as she looked over at Honey. DM, or designated marksman, was a good position to be in - a position that they needed in the team.

The team then loaded into the chopper, strapping into their seats. Honey's rifle sat on her chest, the barrel pointing to the tin floor of the chopper as she looked out of the window. She stared off, lost in thought, devising a plan on how she would go about this. It was an in and out mission, quick and easy - if things went according to plan.

Honey would provide recon and examine from a distance, while the team went in, gathering intel, hopefully going undetected, then Soap would plant the bombs, they would all get back onto the chopper, where Soap would detonate them.

"You'll do just fine, kid." Price's gruff voice snapped her out of thought as he patted her on the shoulder. Honey shot him a small, tight lipped, slightly nervous smile. She was used to this kind of stuff, but to work with a team she had never met, find her groove all over again, and to do it in time, was nerve wracking.

"This isn't your first time, right?" Ghost grunted as he looked over at her, his voice deep, almost like a growl.

"No, sir. I've been deployed multiple times." She replied with a nod.

Ghost took that in an almost snooty, stuck up way. Like she was so young, and she had all this experience, and she sounded like she was bragging about it. That irked him.

Instead of saying anything, he stayed quiet, crossing his arms over his chest. To pass the time, Honey put her AirPods in, and turned on some music, letting out a small sigh as she leaned back into her chair.

There was something about her that Ghost didn't find appealing. Something about her annoyed him, but he couldn't tell what it was.

The metallic sound of her ring clanking against her rifle as she tapped her fingers to the beat of the song she was listening to only made his annoyance grow.

"Wha' song are ye listenin' to?" Soap asked, nudging her.

"Oh, Love You To Death by Type O Negative." Honey said, looking over at him with a small smile.

"Damn, gothic stuff." Soap chuckled, cuing Honey to nod. "Yer pal, Ghostie over there loves that kind of music." Soap chuckled, nodding towards Ghost, making him let out a small scoff.

Not only was Honey now annoying him, she also had the same taste in music? That felt like it wasn't going to fly with him for whatever reason. He was already annoyed that his routine had been disrupted, and now, her presence alone annoyed him more.

"Alright, team. We're landing in Verdansk, just to refresh, you are to take out Makarov. He's in a highly guarded area, with plenty of people surrounding him." Laswell said over the comms.

"Copy." Honey replied, letting out a small sigh. She was the one who was tasked with disturbing the hive - taking out Makarov. She had already been filled in on why they needed him dead, and all the other necessary things such as his identity, where he would be at, his rank, what he looked like.

Once the chopper landed Price divided everyone into partners, and one trio. Ghost and Honey were tasked with surveillance. Ghost was Honey's spotter.

'I'm gonna be stuck with this annoying, snooty, stuck up bitch?' Ghost thought to himself. He kept his opinions inward, thankfully. Usually, with new recruits, he was very vocal about his disdain for them. This time, he kept his mouth shut, just wanting to get the mission done quicker.

Honey established a sniper's nest, and laid on the roof of the building opposite of where the team would be infiltrating.

"What's the drag?" Honey whispered, looking through her iron sights, ready to set her rifle up.

"Not a clue." Ghost grunted as he looked through the scope of his own rifle, adjusting accordingly. He did know, he just wanted her to struggle a bit, make her more 'human' in his eyes.

"You're no help." Honey muttered under her breath, looking down her iron sights again. She glanced over at Ghost for a moment, turning to her own rifle, contemplating something.

She deftly reached over, sliding the scope off of his rifle.

'Now she's trying to fuck with my gear?' Ghost scorned in his own mind. He looked over at her, his brows furrowed under his mask before he snatched his scope back, sliding it back on.

"Du erzeugst ein Glitzern." She growled, taking it back off.

"English." Ghost muttered under his breath, starting to get pissed off.

"You're creating a glint. There's people in that building that can see you because of your scope." She growled, looking over at the moon for a second before looking back at him. She subtly lifted her hand, pointing at the opposing building, and indeed, a faint reflection from the scope could be seen if you knew where to look.

He let out an audible scoff, rolling his eyes. He adjusted his rifle, getting used to just using his iron sights.

"It's a 42 meter separation, the wind is blowing south-east. We're facing north-west. The wind is 6 knots. Light breeze." He replied, telling her what she would need to adjust her rifle.

"Any visuals on Makarov?" Laswell said through the comms.

Honey glanced through a pair of binoculars for a second, seeing Makarov working at a table in an empty room, his back turned to the window.

"Positive. Black, short hair, suit, I can't tell how tall he is, but Ghost can verify that it's him." Honey replied through the comms. "It's him, Kate." Ghost muttered into the comms. "Permission to take the shot?" Honey asked Laswell.

"Granted." Laswell replied.

Honey put down the binoculars and Ghost picked them up, ready to watch Honey shoot Makarov.

Honey lined up her shot, calculating the drag, and the possible path that the bullet would take once it hit the glass. Doubt nibbled at the edges of her mind, raising its voice as her finger hovered over the trigger. But she pushed it away, reminding herself of the countless hours of training. She took a deep breath, pulling the rifle tight to her shoulder, holding her breath so that the shot was steady. She loaded her chamber, taking the rifle off of safety, and slowly squeezed the trigger.

Ghost's heart raced. He felt a pang of jealousy, mixed with a swirl of emotions. 'This should've been mine,' He thought, his chest tightening. 'This is my team. What does she think she's doing, muscling in on my territory?' His fists clenched around the binoculars, sweat dripping from his temple.

The bullet shattered through the glass, sending a gory red mist into the air as Makarov's head exploded. Ghost's jaw clenched as his anger bubbled, the realization of what just happened setting in.

Honey laid her rifle down, staying on her stomach as she glanced over to Ghost. She could see the tension in his body, the balaclava clinging to his face with each heavy gasp for air. Unsure of how to respond to Ghost's obvious displeasure, she gave him a small, tight lipped, reassuring smile.

Ghost glared back, his eyes filled with the intensity of his rage. 'She's taken everything from me,' he thought. 'I can't let her win. I can't let her take this from me too.'

In the aftermath, the team sat in stunned silence, their gazes fixed on the lifeless body now sprawled on the floor. The reality of their success hung in the air, a weighty, shared accomplishment that lingered, tainted by Ghost's bitter resentment. This was a man that they had been tracking for years and Honey came in and shot him like it was nothing. Like it was the easiest thing in the world. And God, that smile afterwards pissed him off so much more.

'What the fuck is she doing? This was supposed to be my job. What the hell does she know about shooting?' Ghost fought with himself internally. He hated this. He ha=ted everything about her.

The pair watched as the team infiltrated the room, occasional gunfire sounding through the air. Honey watched as Soap went in, took a laptop and all the needed files, planting a few bombs on his way out.

Honey stood up, grabbing her rifle, unloading the chamber and putting it back onto safety. Ghost stood up as well, grabbing his own rifle, storming his way back down the flight of stairs to the ground floor.

"Ghost." Honey said as she followed him, her rifle slung over her back. He didn't bother waiting for her, or even listening to her. He silently stormed his way back to the chopper, getting in, and buckling himself up.

Honey set their things back where they belonged on the chopper, ensuring that nothing would fall out. There was an awkward silence as they waited for the rest of the team to get back to where the chopper was. Nikolai sat in the cockpit.

"How was the mission? You finally nail him?" Nikolai grinned, his thick Russian accent apparent in his words as he looked back through the door, glancing at Ghost.

"Honey did." Ghost muttered, his fists balled under his biceps as he crossed his arms. "Her shot was just luck." He added, looking outside of the chopper, avoiding eye contact. He knew it was more than luck - it was skill, but he didn’t want to admit it.

Honey winced at his words, looking over at him, her eyes narrowing slightly. She glanced away, keeping her eyes off of him. She had always been doubted. She had worked her entire life for this moment, and the entire time, she had been doubted. She didn't know why it even hurt at this point - she should've expected it. But, she was going to stand up for herself for once - even if it didn't work.

Honey looked at him, her brow furrowing. "Luck?" She asked, her voice slightly hurt. "I took the damn shot, calculated it. I did everything I needed to. And it's just luck? I’ve worked my entire life for this, I’ve worked my ass off. Making sure that I could make a damn shot." She added. Honey wanted to get frustrated, she wanted to argue, but she took a deep breath, keeping her mouth shut.

Ghost's jaw dropped slightly at her response. His glare softened, his unwavering anger faltering for the first time. He didn't know what to say to counter her words, her confidence - and for once, he found himself at a loss.

'All of my years of practicing, honing, just for it to be chalked up to luck? Fuck this guy.' Honey thought to herself, letting out a sigh. She wanted to be on this team, she had worked for it for years. She wanted to be on the top - the best of the best, and this was her chance. She wasn't going to ruin it.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the rest of the team getting into the chopper, carrying files, laptops, and USB sticks. Everything that they could get their hands on that could be important, they took.

"Let's watch this puppy blow." Soap chuckled as he buckled into the chopper. Nikolai lifted the chopper off the ground, getting it a distance away before Soap pressed the button, making the entire building explode and collapse in on itself.

Honey watched as the orange and yellow flames licked the air, huge billows of smoke and debris shooting up into the air.

"Christ." Honey murmured, watching the smoke shoot up. The blast wave then hit the chopper, making it sway and vibrate. Nikolai quickly corrected, starting their flight back. The flight back to base was almost silent, everyone processing what had just happened, and why it had happened.

'Why was Honey the one to kill Makarov? Why was this new recruit the one who got to end the man we had fought to kill for years? And why was it so easy for her?' Ghost was furious at the thought of it.

'Why did she get the pleasure? The satisfaction?'

When they got back to base, Ghost just wanted to get his report filled and then think things through in his quarters, but of course, Laswell had other plans.

"You and Honey are bunking together." Laswell said as she opened the door to his quarters. Honey stood behind Laswell, her bag slung on her shoulder as well as a few other things in her hands - two pillows and a blanket.

"What about Soap?" Ghost asked, looking over at the other bed in the room - the bed where Soap slept. That side of the room was blank, Soap moved rooms.

"Soap bunked with Gaz. We don't have another room for Honey, so she's going with you." Laswell said, turning around and walking away. Honey came in quietly, her steps silent.

She placed her things on the bed, avoiding him. She busied herself with the task of getting her things set up - making the bed, putting her things in her dresser and closet.

"There are rules here." Ghost grunted as he watched her, his attention drawn away from his paperwork.

"Keep your shit on your side of the room, keep it clean, keep it neat, and don't talk to me." He added. Honey didn't do anything but nod as she folded her clothes. Pajamas, uniforms, dress uniforms, civilian clothes - they were all put away neatly.

There was something about her, something that kept his attention away from his paperwork. Something that kept him from focusing. Maybe it was the rage towards her, maybe it was the envy - there was something. Something that he hated. Something that Simon despised. Ghost hated it more.

What do we think of the first part, y'all? Do we love it? Hate it? Eh? Lmk what I can work on as well! My ask me is still open :))

[charlie-the-ghost64]

Ooookay. There’s a few differences in my version of Mario from when he lived in Brooklyn and after he got settled in the Mushroom Kingdom.

I explain it more under the cut. Just didn’t want to force everyone to have to scroll past that list lol.

Pre-Mushroom Kingdom

When Mario and Luigi were just starting out in their own place, Mario was very obsessive when it came to the bills. To the point that he checked their bank account daily. He’d always be looking for a cheap trick to try and save a few extra dollars. Sometimes he used the wrong trick and ended up using more money.

Mario and Luigi tended to get into small arguments over these tricks. In Luigi’s mind, it would pay off in the end to spend a few extra bucks on something they needed rather than it breaking in a few weeks because it’s so cheap. Mario on the other hand refused to accept that they could afford good products, even if Luigi set aside money for whatever they were buying. Mario usually “won” these fights due to Luigi not being as stubborn as his brother.

Mario doesn’t like to talk about work with their family. He tries to keep conversations focused on everyone else. Mario didn’t want to admit just how much time he spends working and how much of his life it takes up. He especially avoids talking about it with Luigi.

Speaking of work, he does that far too much. It worried Luigi endlessly, to the point that he’s had nightmares of Mario not being able to drive home because he’s too exhausted. He tended to sneak back out after Luigi has fallen asleep to go work some late jobs around town. Most are in fairly dangerous parts of town, so he and Luigi keep a family tracker on their phones just in case. Due to working too much, he’ll also occasionally miss a meal. It’s a price you sometimes must pay when you won’t give yourself a break.

Mario has major anxiety. I feel it’s a given judging by what I’ve already said, but I wanted to be more specific. He primarily is worried about Luigi. His brother has really bad social anxiety, sometimes making it hard for him to speak to customers. Mario tries to stick with Luigi whenever his brother is also working.

Mario’s tells that something is wrong is: tapping his foot, constantly checking that Luigi is next to him, and crossing his arms over his chest. More subtle than Luigi’s stuttering and fidgeting.

Post Mushroom Kingdom

The first week or two of being in the Mushroom Kingdom was very chaotic and eye opening to both brothers. Both go through a lot of change, though Mario does the most of it. The most immediate change was learning that Luigi is not as helpless as he may seem.

Mario discovers just how good of a fighter he can really be, helping rid some of his anxiety when the two are apart. He knew now that Luigi is capable of protecting himself, and fairly good at it too. He also learns to trust him more with billing and tells him the truth about how poor off they’d been. The two end up having a very long talk about how they needed to be fully honest with each other about serious stuff if this was going to work. Luigi can’t help him stay rational unless he knows how bad it really is. Mario apologized for lying to him during this conversation. Luigi, of course, forgave him.

Since the two no longer have money issues (those toads pay surprisingly well for plumbing), Mario’s cut back on the cheap tricks. Sometimes Luigi will catch him, but as long as it isn’t anything big, he lets him get away with it. It didn’t hurt. The brother’s relationship has healed a lot around the month mark. Fights are a very rare thing, and even when they happen, the two are able to resolve those very quickly.

Mario tends to be quite the chatterbox when it comes to telling his family about the Mushroom Kingdom (especially Peach). Their family is always happy to listen, teasing him about how much he talks now compared to only a few weeks ago. He’ll always get embarrassed.

He’s also on a more stable work schedule. Given toads are willing to pay a lot more here, and they’re getting consistent jobs, Mario didn’t need to work overtime anymore. Due to that, he’s been getting proper sleep and no longer skips meals. He’s started a new habit with Luigi around this time where the two do a bunch of meal prep together. It’s a good way to ensure they’re both eating enough and to spend time together, something Luigi’s been wanting outside of work. Another bonus is he no longer felt exhausted all the time. It’s caused him to be more talkative.

His anxiety’s better than it used to be. He still has it of course, but he’s been considering going to therapy after Peach’s suggestion. He’ll have to give that Dr.Toad a call.

And that should be it for this post! I’ll be making a Luigi one sometime in the future. If anyone has any constructive criticism, please share! It’s been a long time since I’ve done something like this and I appreciate any and all tips I can get to be a better writer! Thank you for reading!

[inkyminx]

I couldn’t resist so have a character that appears in most adaptations of JTTW cause I like the concept and that it’d be fun instead of sticking a character to one series.

Experimental & whatnot. R.I.P spine and sleep schedule BUT HEY— IT FUN.

Have Some Trivia ~

The name’s Kaihua Haizi!  开花孩子

Kai Zi for short.

Panamanian White-Face Capuchin.

Gay, He / Him

Is a mystic, not born from stone.

Born on Flower Fruit Mountain.

Be loyal or kneecaps be backwards, sassy, strong-willed, brutally honest, curious & aggressive.

May have broken someone’s bone in an arm wrestle. Or two. Or ten—

A singer & performer: mostly ballet & acrobatics.

Has some kind of romance or camaraderie with Wukong (depending on the version) & often a mentor for successors and young.

This guy will make a sh!t ton of movie references (mostly Emperor’s New Groove) .

Kind of a busy-body.

Pretty much an older sibling type/guidance for the younger monkeys in FFM.

That or the guy that trains said youngins and newcomers, often times the kiddos being dragged back by him unconscious later.

Is a tad older than Macaque and Wukong. (Headcanon: Don’t know if it’s proven, but to me- Macaque is older than Sun Wukong) (more related to LMK) .

Gained Immortality through witchcraft and that one time Wukong stole the longevity peaches.

Possesses appearance manipulation, flora & black magic.

Uses hairpins, needles & a Guandao-like blade.

Was burned with an iron as punishment by the Heavens for being connected to Wukong and taking part in his war against them (hence the mark on his chest) .

Will Lion King his own kid (MK, Destined One, Fruity & Chenxiang watch out) .

And for the adaptations, continue under the cut!

Mei Hou Wang

Was raised alongside Liu’er by the former king after losing his parents as an infant (Headcanon, not sure if proven) .

Nicknamed “Hua Hua” by Shihou right after meeting him.

In a kind of love triangle with Liu’er & Shihou as they got older.

It’s unknown how their ending will go but it remains lighthearted and fun regardless (fvck off Nine Headed B!tch) .

Close friends and dance partners with Yutu.

Accompanied Liu’er during his training with the deer master (more so to keep an eye on him/babysitting) .

May have spied on Liu’er much after noticing something was up after his first encounter with the Nine Headed demon (can’t remember his name, sorry) .

Definitely hung Ginseng on a tree branch a few times as discipline.

Likes to tease Havoc and the monkey generals for days on end.

Nicknames Shihou “Shidi” for fun.

Started wearing his hair with a braid after Liu’er started it one day while enjoying the sunshine.

Played a LOT of pranks on the generals as a cub.

Was born with the mark on his chest as a symbol to his power in flora in this version.

Was taught singing and dancing to “ease his buffoonery” by the former king.

Kinda went the other way but still kinda worked?

Owns a flower-made promise ring Shihou made for him.

~

LMK

Calls Macaque “Shidi” to mess with him in this version.

In their youth, Kai & Sun Wukong were in a relationship for a couple of years (basically a friends-to-lovers situation) .

PET NAMES ARE A TRADITION.

Introduced the shy Macaque to Wukong.

BOI this version’s chaotic tendencies go through the Heavens compared to the others (minus one) .

Was friends with the Brotherhood and often hung around together, getting drunk most times (minus Peng) .

Sorry Macaque, gonna have to drag TWO drunk primates back up the mountain this time.

Pranked tf out of Peng and lesser demons in his youth.

Got into an argument with Wukong right before the Brotherhood’s attack on the Heavens, leaving some strings torn.

“I’m not gonna stand on that battlefield and watch you die!”

Stayed with Macaque on FFM until his fight with the King.

Left FFM after his friends’ battle.

Now lives in the mountains of The Red-Buttocked Horse Monkey (Headcanon as seen in Sheng’s story) .

Plays a similar role to Macaque with MK in S1 but doesn’t try to uppercut the kid.

In fact, this guy is a pretty frequent customer of Pigsy’s Noodles before this but hid his history during that time.

Kinda.

Tang: YOUR THE MONKEY KING’S LOVER! 🤩 Kai: Ah sh!t, here we go again.

Makes up with Wukong after season 3, seeing him interact with MK and Macaque, and his change.

While not back together completely, the two go DAYS being menaces & buddy-buddy once more.

MK: Your technically my fifth dad, right?  Kai.exe Stopped Working.

~

Reborn

Is Sun Wukong’s close friend & comrade instead of pursuing a full relationship.

Appeared briefly in the town during their search, covering most of their face to hide themself.

Was caught by Fruity at one point in the town but the monkey not carefully shoved the baby in the pile of a vegetable stall.

Was hinted by Wukong when Fruity asked if he had someone waiting for him back home.

This guy is a lot more…mysterious & dark vibes in appearance than the usual chirpy but still holds that prankster/fun vibe.

Aside from that, there’s not much about him in the movie since he only appears in the background and is only mentioned verbally once.

~

1996

TBA

Will be created once I finally find a decent translation without signing for a subscription and whatnot.

~

Black Myth

Like most, Kai and Wukong were close comrades and eventually started a somewhat more intimate relationship before the Journey.

MANY years later, Kai plays a supporting role and guide for the destined one (similar to Zhu Bajie) .

In this version, Kai does appear as an elder (though not as much as the old monkey in the beginning) but does revert back to his true age near the end.

Age Appearance Manipulation do be like that.

Lost his right arm & left eye a period after Sun Wukong’s death.

Kai, to The Destined One: “When I was your age—“  Zhu Bajie: *repeats in spongebob mocking*

Despite not actually being able to be so GOD does this guy have a great time being an old man/monkey.

To Destined One: “FVCK ‘EM UP, SONNY!”

~

Havoc In Heaven / Lotus Lantern

This version doesn’t really do much in the story of both aside from what’s already been said, including an intimate relationship w/ Wukong, mentoring and taking care off the young monkeys, etc.

Their romance is more subtle in this version.

His design is more of a mix of the opera & ballet, but simplified to match the style of the animation.

If you thought LMK PeachSong (yea) was a chaotic pair, BOY LET ME TELL YA—

In the latter, Kai is sometimes seen either behind the lotus Wukong sits on doing his own thing (mostly just listening & basically giving off the “old married couple vibe” or being a guardian type to Chenxiang as he trains.

Grandpapi & Grandpapa be here wrecking so much havoc (badum chsss) .

[kathlare]

balancing act

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: A glimpse into the whirlwind of Amelie and Lando's intertwined lives, balancing their thriving careers and personal moments amidst the chaos of London. Through playful banter, demanding schedules, and quiet shared moments, their bond is a testament to finding stability and joy in the fast-paced world they navigate.

Wordcount: 2.1 k

Warnings: just fluff

request over here!

July 2nd, 2024 - London, United Kingdom

The early morning sun filtered through the thin curtains of Amelie’s cozy London apartment, casting golden streaks across the wooden floor. The faint hum of traffic from the streets below mingled with the occasional meow from Benny, who stretched lazily on the windowsill. His brother, Björn, darted around the living room in pursuit of a stray piece of crumpled paper, his antics filling the space with chaotic energy.

Amelie sat cross-legged on the floor, her laptop balanced precariously on her thighs as she typed furiously. A half-empty mug of coffee rested beside her, forgotten in her focused haze. Benny sauntered over and plopped himself onto her lap, purring loudly as he demanded attention.

—Benny, cabrón, not now,— she muttered with a laugh, gently scratching behind his ears.

The door to the bedroom creaked open, and Lando emerged, still rubbing sleep from his eyes. His curly hair was a mess, and he wore a McLaren hoodie that was clearly one size too big for him—her hoodie.

—Morning,— he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. He shuffled toward the kitchen, glancing at the chaos Björn was causing. “Jesus, your cat is feral.”

—That’s not news, babe,— Amelie replied without looking up. —He’s been like this since the day I got him. Maybe he gets it from me.—

Lando snorted as he poured himself a cup of coffee, adding an ungodly amount of sugar. —Doubt it. Benny’s more your spirit animal.—

The early morning banter set the tone for their day. Lando leaned against the counter, sipping his coffee, his gaze softening as he watched Amelie wrestle with Benny’s insistence on being the center of her universe. The apartment was a mix of their lives—her eclectic taste evident in the mismatched throw pillows and vintage posters, and his influence peeking through in the occasional F1 memorabilia scattered around.

—You’ve got that radio thing at ten, right?— Lando asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

—Yeah, and the magazine shoot after. You?—

He groaned, running a hand through his curls. —Interview at Silverstone. Something about “British pride” or whatever. Then another one in the city later. Can’t wait to be asked for the fiftieth time what it feels like to drive a car.—

Amelie chuckled, closing her laptop. —Poor thing, living the dream sounds exhausting.— She placed Benny gently on the couch and stood, stretching. —Well, at least we’ve got lunch to look forward to.—

—You mean we’re actually sticking to the plan today? Miracles do happen.—

She rolled her eyes, swatting at him playfully as she headed to the bathroom. —Go shower. You smell like yesterday.—

By nine, the apartment was a flurry of activity. Amelie’s glam team had taken over the living room, their chatter mingling with the buzz of curling irons and the faint strains of her album playing in the background. She sat in front of a mirror, her makeup artist deftly applying a bold eyeliner as her hairstylist curled strands of her dark hair into soft waves.

Björn leaped onto the counter, knocking over a bottle of setting spray.

—Björn, hijo de tu madre!— Amelie exclaimed, reaching out to grab him before he could cause more chaos.

Lando, freshly showered and dressed in his signature black jeans and a Mclaren tee, watched the scene unfold from the doorway, amused. —Your cats are more dramatic than you are.—

—Takes one to know one, Norris.—

—Touché.—

He wandered over, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of her head. —You look nice.—

—They’re not done yet.—

—Still.—

Her stylist smirked. —He’s a keeper, Mila.—

Amelie met Lando’s gaze in the mirror, her lips quirking into a soft smile. —Yeah, he’s alright.—

By noon, their schedules had dragged them in opposite directions. Lando was seated in a glossy studio in Silverstone, fielding a barrage of questions about his hopes for the weekend, the car’s performance, and his thoughts on the iconic British Grand Prix.

—It’s home turf, so yeah, there’s always pressure. But honestly, I’m just trying to enjoy it and give the fans a good show.—

The interviewer leaned forward, grinning. —And is it true you’ve been spotted around London with a certain Oscar-winning actress?—

Lando’s cheeks flushed, a boyish grin creeping onto his face. —Uh, yeah. Amelie and I are dating. But you already knew that.—

—Lucky guy.—

—Tell me about it,— Lando replied, a spark of pride in his voice.

Meanwhile, Amelie was stationed in a chic Soho café for a photoshoot, balancing a steaming cappuccino in one hand and answering questions in between poses.

—Your album Short n Sweet drops next month. What inspired the title?—

She tilted her head thoughtfully. —It’s kind of an inside joke. I’m not exactly known for being concise, but this album is. It’s a snapshot of where I am right now, you know?—

The photographer motioned for her to shift, and she adjusted her position, her heels clicking against the tiled floor.

—And where’s that?—

She smiled, thinking of Lando. —Happy.—

At 1:30, the two of them met up at a quaint bistro tucked away in a quiet London alley. Lando had beaten her there and was scrolling through his phone when she arrived, her presence announced by the clink of the bell above the door.

—Hey,— he greeted, standing to pull her into a quick hug.

—Hey yourself. Survive the morning?—

—Barely. You?—

—Björn didn’t burn down the apartment, so I’m calling it a win.—

They settled into their seats, the hum of conversation around them providing a comforting backdrop. Amelie reached for the menu, her fingers brushing against Lando’s in the process.

—What?— she asked, catching his amused look.

—Nothing. Just happy you’re here.—

Her heart skipped a beat, but she played it cool, flipping open the menu. —You’re such a sap.—

They spent the next hour laughing over shared appetizers, swapping stories about their hectic mornings, and stealing bites off each other’s plates. Despite the whirlwind of their lives, these moments felt sacred—a reminder of why they worked so well together.

As the waiter cleared their plates and brought the check, Lando leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed lazily over his chest. His eyes glinted with a teasing mischief that Amelie had come to recognize all too well.

—So, did they ask you about me today?— he asked, a grin playing on his lips.

She rolled her eyes dramatically, reaching for her purse. —Of course they did. Apparently, being in a relationship is my entire personality now. Forget the album, forget the acting, it’s all about Lando’s girlfriend.—

—Sounds like great PR to me,— Lando quipped, leaning forward to grab the bill before she could.

—You’re not paying, cabrón,— Amelie shot back, tugging at his hand.

—Too late,— he teased, holding the receipt just out of her reach. —I already made up my mind.—

—Lando!— she groaned, but the playful frustration in her voice only made him grin wider.

—Relax, you can pay next time.—

—There won’t be a next time if you keep this up.—

He laughed, leaning in to kiss her cheek. —You love me too much to mean that.—

She rolled her eyes again but couldn’t hide the soft smile tugging at her lips. He’s infuriating, she thought, but he’s also kind of right.

The afternoon saw them go their separate ways once more. Amelie returned to her apartment for her final interview of the day—a candid sit-down with a popular podcast host. Her team had transformed the living room into a cozy set, fairy lights twinkling against a backdrop of bookshelves and her own album cover prominently displayed.

—Welcome to the show, Amelie!— the host began, their voice warm and inviting.

—Thanks for having me,— she replied, tucking a stray curl behind her ear.

The conversation flowed easily, touching on her creative process, her inspirations, and how she balanced her career with her personal life.

—You’ve been incredibly busy lately, movies, music, and now you’re performing at the Summertime Ball. How do you stay grounded?—

Amelie paused, her thoughts drifting to the curly-haired boy who’d teased her over lunch. —Honestly? It’s the people I surround myself with. My family, my friends, and, um, my boyfriend. They remind me of what really matters.—

—Lando Norris, right?—

She nodded, her cheeks tinged pink. —Yeah. He’s been great. Super supportive. Even when I’m all over the place, he’s just…there.—

Meanwhile, Lando was back at Silverstone, fielding another round of questions under the hot lights of a press conference.

—So, Lando, you’ve got the British Grand Prix this weekend and your girlfriend’s album dropping next month. Will you be celebrating both?—

He smirked, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. —Of course. I’m her biggest fan, so if she wins a Grammy someday, I’ll be taking all the credit.—

The room erupted in laughter, but Lando’s grin softened as he added, —Honestly, though, I’m proud of her. She works so hard, and she’s amazing at what she does. I’m just lucky to be along for the ride.—

By the time evening rolled around, Amelie was packing for her trip to Paris. Her suitcase lay open on the bed, a mix of chic outfits and comfortable staples spilling out. Benny lounged on top of her folded clothes, his soft fur a stark contrast to Björn’s wild leaps across the room.

By the time evening rolled around, Amelie was packing for her trip to Paris. Her suitcase lay open on the bed, a mix of chic outfits and comfortable staples spilling out. Benny lounged on top of her folded clothes, his soft fur a stark contrast to Björn’s wild leaps across the room.

Lando appeared in the doorway, holding two steaming mugs of tea. —Need a hand?—

—If you can convince Benny to move, sure,— she said, gesturing at the cat.

He set the mugs on the nightstand and walked over, scooping up Benny with surprising ease. —Come on, mate. You’re in the way.—

Benny purred contentedly as Lando scratched behind his ears, and Amelie couldn’t help but smile.

—You’ve got a way with him. Björn, on the other hand…—

—Björn’s just misunderstood,— Lando joked, dodging as the mischievous cat pounced toward him.

They spent the next hour together, folding clothes, sharing stories about their day, and stealing kisses in between. The cozy atmosphere of the apartment felt like a refuge from the whirlwind of their schedules.

As Amelie zipped up her suitcase, she turned to Lando, her expression soft. —You know I’m going to miss you, right?—

He pulled her into a hug, his chin resting on the top of her head. —I’ll miss you too. But it’s only a week. Then I get to see you light up Wembley.—

She smiled against his chest, letting his warmth settle over her. —You’re coming, right?—

—Wouldn’t miss it for the world.—

They stayed like that for a while, the sounds of the city fading into the background. For all their chaos, these moments of stillness reminded them why they worked. They were each other’s calm in the storm—a love as steady as it was electric.

[luvhughes43]

Clingy | Luke Hughes x reader

Request: Heyy can I request a Luke hughes fic where him and the reader are dating (long term) and she tends to get really clingy and overly emotional when she’s about to get her period, and she over hears him calling her clingy to the boys as he’s forgotten it’s that time? 

word count: 0.7k

you and luke had been dating for 2, going on 3 years now. you had thought he’d understood you perfectly, but you guessed you thought wrong.

every month like clockwork, when you were about to get your period you would start getting extra clingy with luke. He never seemed to mind, and you two would enjoy spending days cuddled up in his or your bed. but now that his schedule was more chaotic, and he and you have been going out more, you guessed he just got sick of how clingy you were.

“guys I can't even do anything anymore… y/ns been so clingy this past week!” you heard Luke tell his teammates as you stood outside the boys living room. you came to the house to spend some more time with Luke but he clearly was sick of it. “I swear I can't even go out without her sticking to my side all night!” Luke continued and your heart broke. “she can't seriously be jealous or something right? like honestly it’s getting so annoying” he finished.

It was then that you stepped into the living room. “You think I'm annoying…” you trailed off, clearly upset. the boys quickly noticed the tears building in your eyes so they hastily excused themselves to their rooms. 

“baby i just-“ Luke started but you cut him off.

“I'm just going to go” your voice broke. you couldn’t believe he thought you could've been jealous and that you were being annoyingly clingy. you just wanted him.

Luke let you go. 

a few days later he finally texted.

lukey🌷🫶: I’m really sorry about what I said. Can I see you?

y/n: i don’t want to talk to someone who thinks i’m annoying srry.

lukey🌷🫶: Please just talk to me? I swear if you want me to go I will.

y/n: fine .. meet me at my dorm in an hour?

lukey🌷🫶: I’ll be there

read 2:05pm

just as he promised, Luke was knocking on your dorm door an hour later. you reluctantly got off your bed and opened it. Luke looked a mess. you could clearly tell he felt bad about what happened. “I uh.. I got you a coffee "Luke spoke up, showing you the iced coffee in his hand. you took the coffee from him and opened up your door a little wider. He stepped in and sat on the edge of your bed. “I just want to tell you I'm sorry for what I said, y/n.. I just got frustrated", Luke started to apologize.

“Why did you tell your friends?” you cut into his apologies and he looked up at you surprised.

“I uh-“

“No seriously. If you thought I was being super clingy and annoying why didn’t you just tell me? it’s so embarrassing that’d you’d tell them! I seriously thought you didn’t mind me being clingy and to find out that you think I'm annoying by overhearing you talk about it with your friends… It really hurts luke! You should’ve told me yourself.” you started tearing up midway through your speech. you felt so embarrassed. 

he looked down at his hands, “I know, I shouldn’t have done it. I just needed to tell someone and the guys were there and… I don’t even know what to say” you sniffled. 

“I just feel like all this time you’ve been resenting me for getting clingy and I don't know…” you trailed off quietly. 

Luke got up off your bed and walked over to you, taking the coffee out of your hands and pulling you into a hug. He placed your coffee on your desk before he trailed his hands up and down your back. You rested your head in the crook of his neck. “I’m so sorry. I love you y/n” Luke whispered as he brought one hand up to stroke your hair, the other still rubbing up and down your sweater clad back. 

“I’m sorry too..” you whispered into his neck as you tightened your arms around him for a second before relaxing your hold again. 

Luke dragged you into your bed and you both caught up on the few days you were apart. You were still a little upset about him talking to his friends about you, but he assured you that next time he would talk to you first about issues regarding your relationship. 

[patron-saints]

Also if you want a modern rhaenicent au idea...rival PTA moms or Dance Moms if you're familiar with that show's structure at all.

okay i know this is the five fun facts prompt but i immediately cracked myself up with:

“alicent, please be serious. the WHOLE bake sale doesn’t need to be gluten free just because your eldest thinks he has celiac.”

“he DOES have celiac. i cannot believe how insensitive you’re being right now, rhaenyra!”

“he ate THREE burgers at my house and was FINE. we can have a gluten free PORTION.”

“why, exactly, are you feeding aegon burgers at your house?”

“christ, alicent, i WASN’T it was a team dinner they bought it themselves!”

—

i imagine instead of friends to enemies it’s enemies to lovers, meeting as moms with kids that don’t get along with starts them off at odds. alicent and her kids just moved from out of town, where she ran the pta there, but rhaenyra has been in charge of various ptas in this district since her kids were in elementary school, which causes some.... conflicts and differences of opinion.

but i think over time they’d start to realize they’re more alike than not and, importantly, more aligned than not.

i think rhaenyra’s husband (not laenor) left her for a man and alicent’s (not viserys) died, and they’re both starting at place of heartbreak and loneliness, and struggling with single motherhood, and they’re able to help each other a lot through it all.

—

i wrote the above on my lunch break and thought about this for the rest of my shift so have some more:

maybe if he's not her ex, laenor is rhaenyra's best friend. he has custody of the twins, after laena died he petitioned for it ("sorry rhaenyra, i know he's your uncle" "i love him but you're fine he's a shit dad <3") and goes to a grief group regularly, both for himself for the loss of his sister but also cuz he wants to teach the girls healthy coping mechanisms. one day alicent shows up at the start, and then doesn't even stick around for the intro, but it's enough for laenor to spot her, realize she's going through it(tm) and is probably not as much of a bitch as he and rhaenyra assumed. but he doesn't want to just Tell rhaenyra so he finds other ways to get them to talk to each other lol

(also it's important to me that rhaenyra gets along really well with helaena and that's one of the reasons alicent starts to trust her)

—

also @topthagomizer and i were also talking about what things are like after their household combines and how chaotic figuring out all of their kids extra curriculars are and the driving schedule which made me laugh thinking about how busy and overly involved all of them would be! and then also thinking about just.... how much of a relief it would be for both of them, not only to have each other but to lessen the burden on both their eldest kids and have slightly less things for them to do since there's another adult around now.

i am SO sure i am going to be thinking about this for ages now so let me know if you have any follow up questions

(and sorry i haven't seen dance moms but i was delighted by this one!)

[heyjude19-writing]

hello! i've got some writing questions! Do you outline? what's your writing process like? any writing advice? any books about writing or dialogue or plot that you would recommend? thanks! love your fics <3

hello there! i love writing questions.

1.) I do outline! it's actually my favorite part of the writing process. every writer probably has a different preference for outlining, and mine is on the more chaotic end, i think. it's chronological, but mostly bullet points and dialogue snippets, half-formed scenes that excite me, etc. i feel the most free, creatively, at this point. anything i think up gets thrown on here and then when i feel like there's enough of a story to pursue, i go in and write right within that outline to flesh it all out and string it together.

2.) my writing process involves a lot of daydreaming and thinking through scenes ten different ways before I go write them down. I make a story playlist. I dig into the vibes i want to feel while reading and writing this story. then, per my outline response, i go into my outline and see what excites me about the story and where i'd like to focus my energy. i generally won't fully commit to a story idea unless i have a beginning and an end i want to work towards.

3.) writing advice: find what works for you and throw the rest out. for me, writing sprints are a HUGE motivator for me to get words on a page. i also dont always write a story chronologically, but skip around my outline based on what interests me. i have to have music. don't box yourself into a particular method or style just because it works for one writer. you may need complete silence, or a designated spot in your home to work, or maybe even a schedule. try out some routines and see what sticks.

4.) im not one for books on writing, so perhaps others can weigh in on any that might have helped them. i will say that for dialogue specifically, listening to transcripts has helped me a lot. pay attention to speech fillers when you hear real conversations and don't be afraid to have your characters speak imperfectly (bc you want them to sound like real people, right?). also one of the best dialogue tips i ever read was the 'pass the potatoes' tip. basically, if you're having a meal scene, it probably makes sense to have some of the conversation revolve around the setting, to make it feel more natural/immersive and less like your characters could be talking anywhere.

even though i don't read technical books, another tip would be to read widely and pay attention to what writers you admire do in their work. im constantly impressed by writers who are skilled at leaving narrative white space, or who can master large character casts, so i focus on what i want to improve and look for that when im reading novels/fics/magazine articles.

i hope some of this helps you on your writing journey, always happy to chat about writing 🥰

[thewritingofamadwoman]

Bet’s On

Okay, last post of the day. Love when the creative juices are flowing and the stories just come to me. Please enjoy & feel free to request!

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Sickeningly sweet fluff, Eddie and Robin being chaotic at the end. We love them

“I love you, Lisa. I’ve always loved you. Will you be my girlfriend?”

My heart soared at the sound of Steve’s voice, deep and smooth like honey. His brown eyes stared into mine with such adoration that my legs felt weak.

“I love you too, Steve. So much.” I said back, as Steve’s hand reached up to cup my cheek. His palm was warm and I nuzzled gently into his hand. Steve’s eyes sparkled with joy as he leaned forward.

“Can I kiss you?” He whispered and at this point I was sure my heart could be seen thundering through my sweater. My breath caught as nodded and as he leaned in closer, my eyes shut instinctively. I couldn’t believe this was happening. I couldn’t believe that Steve was finally going to kiss me. I couldn’t believe that—

“Lark. LARK. Are you even listening to me?”

I blinked a few times as the sounds of lockers slamming left and right and suddenly I was brought back to reality. Eddie Munson leaned against his locker in front of me, waving a ring clad hand in-front of my face.

“Have you gone comatose? Do I need to get the school nurse?”

I actually shook my head to clear my thoughts and looked back at Eddie.

“What?”

Eddie turn to see where my gaze was initially and groaned out loud.

“For fucks sake Lark, when are you going to tell Harrington that you’re in love with him?”

I shut my locker loudly to block out the sound of Eddie’s voice in case anyone around us heard him.

“Shut up, Munson! I am not in love with him. He’s my best friend, that’s all.”

Eddie let out an unattractive snort and looked at me in disbelief.

“Please. The way you look at him is so sickeningly sweet, but also like you’re about to rip his clothes off. And the way he looks at you? Get a fucking room,” Eddie began making obscene gestures with his tongue and I shouldered past him to get to class. He laughed and followed along.

“Anywayyyyyy, are you coming to D&D after class? I need Lady Lark to join me on the quest to defeat the m-IGHTY VECNA!” The last part of the sentence was shouted unnecessarily loud as we walked by a group of cheerleaders who waved at me and gave Eddie disgusted looks. ‘Lady Lark’ was the name of my Druid Princess and the nickname was one only Eddie used when speaking to me.

“I’d love to but I’ve got cheer practice with Chrissy and then I’m pretty sure I have a tutoring session scheduled with YOU. There’s no D&D today bud, just you, me and Trigonometry.”

Eddie grabbed his heart, pretending to have been stabbed. I giggled at his dramatics and turned to face him, hugging my books to my chest.

“You wound me, sweet lady. But fine, I’ll see you later,” Eddie looked passed me to something behind me before a mischievous smile appeared on his face. “Oh shit, you’re gonna thank me for this later,” I didn’t even get a chance to react before Eddie gave me a sloppy, wet kiss on my cheek and winked before walking away.

“Ewww! Fuck off Munson!” I shouted, laughing and wiping my cheek. Eddie responded by sticking his tongue out and giving me the middle finger with both hands as he walked backwards before turning around and barking playfully at a group of freshmen who looked petrified of him.

Still wiping my cheek, I barely registered an arm being tossed over my shoulders. I turned my head to find Steve looking at me, eyes bright and wide.

“I don’t know why you hang out with that Munson kid, Lees. He’s a freak. And did he just kiss your cheek?” Steve looked back down the hallway, glaring.

“He’s my best friend Steve, second only to you. He means well. And don’t call him a freak please,” I roll my eyes and nudged Steve with my shoulder. He sighed and smiled at me, a beautiful smile that made my breath hitch.

“Fine, I won’t call him a freak. I don’t know what you and Dustin see in him. Anyway, are you going to Tina’s annual Halloween party this Friday?” We continued to walk towards our last class of the day, his arm still around my shoulders, squeezing me closer. Whether unconsciously or not, I wasn’t sure. Maybe Eddie’s smooch made him a little more possessive.

“I don’t know, I have a few tutoring sessions and then I’ve got babysitting duty with the kids. What about you, I thought you swore off parties after Tina’s last Halloween shit show?”

I hated to remind him of the heartbreak he faced a few years ago at Tina’s party but after everything with the demo dogs, demogorgans, Russian’s and worst of all, his girlfriend leaving him for someone else, I figured Steve would avoid all Halloween parties from there on out.

“Meh it’s whatever. Time heals all wounds like they say. And besides, Robin won’t shut up if I don’t ask you to come with us. So will you? I promise to dress up as whatever you want me to dress up as.” Steve gave me his best puppy dog eyes, smiling sweetly as we stopped outside of my chemistry. He looked so handsome, staring at me with the sweetest expression I had ever seen. Even if I had plans and wanted to say no, I didn’t stand a chance.

“Fine, I’ll go. But what about the kids? I’ll have to bring them with me to the party,” Steve rolled his eyes teasingly. “Those mongrels are highschool freshmen, they’re 14. They don’t need a babysitter,” Steve paused for a second before giving me a quick once over.

“Actually, if I had you as my babysitter then maybe I wouldn’t complain,” He gave me a playful wink and a sweet smile that had me blushing. I nudged his ribs since his arm was still on my shoulder.

“Oh stop it. And you’re right, they ARE freshmen, meaning they’ll love going to a senior party. They deserve a bit of fun after all the shit they’ve been through.” I smiled at Steve and for a second it looked like he was dazed, his returning smile small and his eyes glazed over.

“Alright, alright fine. They can come. But if any one of them gets my car dirty they’re walking home,” Steve laughed. I scoffed playfully, knowing full well that he would never leave those children without a ride.

“Oh yeah, and what if I was the one who got your car dirty? Gonna make me walk home at night?” I teased. Steve looked at me again with that softened gaze that had me blushing.

“You? Never. I’d never let you walk alone at night. You’re too precious for that. But I thought you’d want to go with Munson,” Steve grumbled, before realizing what he said. His face turned red and he coughed as if he was clearing his throat, pulling his arm off from around my shoulders. He was jealous and embarrassed, and it was so incredibly endearing.

“Nah, parties aren’t really Eddie’s scene. And I want to go with you anyway,” I said sweetly. I looked back down the hall and realized I was going to be late to chemistry. “Hey so I’ve got to head to class, but I can’t wait for Friday. Am I gonna have to fight the kids or Robin for shotgun?” I teased, hugging my books tightly to me to control the way my heart was racing. Steve smiled back at me and shook his head.

“Uhh nope, that spot is reserved only for you.” It was my turn to blush and I decided to take a quick leap of faith and leaned up and gave Steve a quick peck on the cheek. His face instantly blushed and he seemed dazed. His hand came up to touch his cheek and he smiled down at me. Before he could say anything I turned around and quickly made my way down then hallway. I rounded the corner and bumped into both Robin and Eddie.

“Pay up Buckley, told you my girl would make the first move,” Eddie grinned. “Atta girl!” I felt my cheeks heat up as I pushed passed them, but not before I heard Robin’s response.

“No way Munson. Ten bucks says my boy is gonna kiss her by the end of the party.”

“You’re on.”

I laughed to myself and walked into chemistry class right before the final bell rang. As I sat down and pulled out my notes, only one thought crossed my mind:

God, I hope Robin’s right.

[in1-nutshell]

Hey, if your open to it

Anything with Brainstorm from mtmte. It's criminal how little fanfiction there is of this little shit.

It could be romantic, like Buddy is just pining, and Brainstorm is just oblivious until someone points it out.

It could be familial, like Buddy is Brainstorm's sibling.

Or just some good ol platonic shit, just two chaotic idiots being pals.

We just need more of this mad scientist fuck and in this Ted talk I will-

I have been waiting to get to this one for a while! You're right too about Brainstorm not having too much content out there. It was hard trying to choose just one of the options so by the power of random finger pointing, we got the prompt.

Hope you enjoy!

Brainstorm having Twin sibling

SFW, platonic, familial, Cybertronian/ Bot reader, injuries mentioned

MTMTE/LL

Buddy’s alt-mode is a car, and they have a book nerd personality.

Comparing Buddy to Brainstorm was one of the funnier things to do.

Brainstorm the ever-talented scientist.

Buddy the archivist.

To totally different fields of work and yet they made things work. Brainstorm wasn’t too experienced in Buddy’s field and Buddy wasn’t too into the science field despite Brainstorm trying multiple times to get them into it. Buddy just didn’t seem to have the science touch like Brainstorm did.

“What do I do now Brainstorm?”--Buddy

“See that green wire?”--Brainstorm

“Yeah.” --Buddy

Snip

“Don’t cut that one.”--Brainstorm

“…What happens if I do, in a hypothetical situation?”--Buddy

“Then I suggest you run in the opposite direction NOW!”--Brainstorm

The war was already on its way when the two were around. While Brainstorm opted to become a triple agent, Buddy saw fit in communications and records sectors.

“I still don’t understand why you can’t move stations. Its such a pain to travel between stations and breaks are way too short!”--Brainstorm

“Stormy, I love you and all but you’re forgetting some key facts.”--Buddy

“What?”--Brainstorm

“One, I don’t belong in the science branch, especially nowhere near Project Solar storm.”--Buddy

“True I guess…”--Brainstorm

“And the second reason, I need to do my job Stormy. These messages aren’t going to deliver themselves.”--Buddy

“…”--Brainstorm

“Stop frowning Brainstorm. I always come back on time.”--Buddy

“I’m not frowning. You can’t even tell, I have the mask on!”--Brainstorm

“Stormy, I know when you have the frowny face.”--Buddy

Buddy is one of the few bots that can see through his façade in an instance. They also developed a sixth sense where they can tell if Brainstorm was making a new and possible dangerous invention. Which was almost every time.

Brainstorm putting together a highly unstable and dangerous weapon.

Ping!

Brainstorm answers his comm.

“Hello?”--Brainstorm

“Don’t. Even. Think about it Brainstorm.”--Buddy

“What—”--Brainstorm

“I know what you’re doing is probably not sanctioned, so drop it.”--Buddy

“…buzz kill…”--Brainstorm

“What was that?”--Buddy

“Love you too Buddy!”--Brainstorm

Brainstorm himself wanted to know if this was some sort of outlier ability.

“Brainstorm I swear—stick that prod into my joints ONE MORE TIME!”--Buddy

“This would be easier if you would just stay still!”--Brainstorm

“NO!”--Buddy

It wasn’t.

Brainstorm is constantly asking for Buddy whenever he has free time. It’s already bad enough that Buddy can’t be with him all the time, but they have a completely different schedule than he does and work so far away.

He hates having so much distance between them.

It’s a couple more years of these short communications when all lines go dead. Brainstorm was panicking inside. Buddy designation gets added on the MIA list after the sector had been ambushed by a Decepticon attack.

Brainstorm went on to create the Buddy finding machine. A machine that would detect where Buddy was nearby

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon! Work you machine!”--Brainstorm

“Results: No Buddy.”

“AAARRRRGGHHHHH!”--Brainstorm

Time skip after the time travel incident.

Brainstorm was recovering from everything.

From the trial.

From Quark.

From Buddy.

He made a detour while doing his time travel mess to at least see Buddy one more time in case he accidentally erased himself from existence. He was so tempted in reaching out for Buddy and to warn them of their fate… but he ultimately knew they wouldn’t have wanted that.

He let them go.

But things were getting better. The crew had stopped at a nearby planet after receiving a distress signal.

The ship was buzzing with noise when the crew came back and with someone with them.

“What’s going on?”--Brainstorm

“The away group came back with an injured bot.”--Nightbeat

“Oh?”--Brainstorm

“Yeah, heard the poor bot’s legs where chewed off.”--Skids

“Chewed off?”--Brainstorm

Brainstorm tried to see them but the crowd was too thick and opted in seeing the visitor later. Brainstorm was going back the lab as the crowd dispersed.

He didn’t make it far as Chromedome was hot on his tailpipe.

“Brainstorm! Brainstorm slow down!”--Chromedome

“Chromdome? What are—HEY!”--Brainstorm

“No time to explain! You’ll thank me later!”--Chromedome

He just grabbed his hand and went to the med bay.

“Chromdome what happened?! Is it Rewind?”--Brainstorm

“Domey! You guys are here!”--Rewind

“Guess not. Wait is it Perceptor? Is he hurt?!”--Brainstorm

“Why would I be hurt?”--Perceptor

“PERCY! You can’t just scare a bot like that!”--Brainstorm

“My apologies. Chromedome, does he know?”—Perceptor

“Do I know what?”--Brainstorm

“Not yet, I just hauled him over here. Kind of wanted to surprise him.”--Chromedome

“Surprise me?”--Brainstorm

“Well Nautica has been keeping them company since they came back online.”--Rewind

“Who came back online?”--Brainstorm

“Should we leave when he sees them?”--Rewind

“No, anyways he might faint, someone needs to catch him.”--Chromedome

“I am standing right here! And why in Primus’s name would I faint? Who’s with Nautica? Who came back online?”--Brainstorm

“I spoke with First Aid—”--Perecptor

“WILL SOMEONE PLEASE--!”--Brainstorm

“We’re clear! Good luck Brainstorm!”--Rewind

“… sometimes I wonder why you are my best friend.”--Brainstorm

“Same here now go.”--Chromedome

Brainstorm shrugged the animosity and walked in half expecting Ratchet to throw a wrench in his faceplate after he used the anti-gravity gun on Ambulon last week. And to be on the record that was on voluntary grounds, sure he didn’t explain that this was only his third time testing it and how was he supposed to know he’d be stuck in alt mode too?

He heard giggling and some hushed whispers; he went to find the source to find Nautica and some other bot on the med bay chatting away.

“And as an apology, Brainstorm gave me this multi-purpose wrench!”--Nautica

“You have to show me the button though.”--Bot

“Of course—Oh, look who’s here!”--Nautica

The bot in question spots him and goes quiet, Nautica took notice and looked at Brainstorm quickly moving out of the way so he could have a full view of the bot.

The bot was all scratched up, in desperate need of a new paint job, two legs missing and had a huge dent on the left side of their helm.

“Hey Brainstorm.”--Bot

“…Ummm… Do I know you?”--Brainstorm

He nearly regretted saying that after seeing the crushed look on their faceplate. Nautica and Chromdome were ready to knock some literal sensing into him.

“So… how that data pad of random poems going?”--Buddy

“What did you say?...”—Brainstorm

“The data pad of all the random poems? You know?”--Buddy

“…Buddy?”--Brainstorm

 “We were reading them every other cycle?”--Buddy

“Buddy?”--Brainstorm

 Wait, did you throw it away? I told you—”--Buddy

“BUDDY!”—Brainstorm

Brainstorm is hit by the reality brick when he realizes the bot was Buddy.

He squeals and practically jumps on top of them trapping them in a fierce hug that was sure to cause more dents.

He’d suffer Ratchet’s wrath later; he was sobbing up a storm as Buddy reciprocated the hug.

The others took this moment as a time to leave.

Brainstorm did in fact suffer Ratchet’s wrath later.

Brainstorm tried to scold Buddy in going on the mission, but he stops and begins asking where in Primus’s name where they this whole time.

As it turned out Buddy had managed to escape the ambush because they left the base a few minutes earlier. Why did they do it? They don’t know but they were glad they did.

After that they just ended up on the run after a few drones managed to find them. Buddy managed to run fast enough to make it to a jump ship and randomly punched in some coordinates before the rest caught up to them.

The ship then crashed into the planet below which conveniently knocked them into a stasis pod which only now reopened after a few rouge Insecticons began tearing the wreckage apart and one was very interested in their pedes and took them.

Brainstorm makes a mental note to find the Insecticon later. Brainstorm then gets Buddy up to speed with other things going on with the ship as Nautica gave them a brief rundown.

He wants to make Buddy’s new legs with built in guns.

Ratchet and most of everyone on board says otherwise. Brainstorm is glued to Buddy’s side during and after recovery.

He refuses to leave their side at all.

Buddy has to put up some boundaries to keep him from doing more dramatic things.

Aka blackmail.

Primus forbids someone having a crush on Buddy, brainstorm already has a questionnaire and 4 exams for them to complete for them to even begin to think about dating.

“Oh, you think you can just have them?”--Brainstorm

“Umm… yes?”—Random Bot

“Well, if your miniscule processor can get through these measly exams, then maybe you’ll have a chance with them.”--Brainstorm

[metaphoricgibberish]

Dawn: Chapter Nine - Born to Die

"For once in Javier's life, there was no clear path laid out in front of him, there was only the blood-soaked road of his past, screaming at him, urging him to turn around and clean up his mess."

pairing: javier peña x ofc rating: 18+ mdni word count: 7.2k a.n. hello lovelies - i can't believe we're almost at the end of this fic. i feel like i've been slaving over and loving and fighting with these characters for so fucking long now, i'm going to miss them so much. i'm not sure when the next two chapters will be out, but thank you for sticking with me through my chaotic updating schedule. when this fic concludes, i have a joel/tlou fic i'm going to start that i'm really super excited about. more info on that here. ily all, hope you're happy and healthy <3

Read on AO3

[ducktoo]

Syncing Dream [Aespa x M!Reader]

10. Day off becomes show off

Note: hope you know how to fight

Masterlist here

(Side note: i fcking love this gundam armoured aespa fr)

The morning sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting a warm glow over the dorm as Y/n checked his phone. As usual, his mind was prepped for the day’s chaotic schedule, expecting back-to-back appointments, rehearsals, and meetings. But as he scrolled through the group’s calendar, something strange caught his eye.

No rehearsals. No interviews. No photoshoots.

A day off?

Y/n blinked. It had been ages since they’d had a full, unscheduled day since MAMA, and for a moment, he didn’t believe it. After double-checking to make sure he wasn’t missing anything, a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

This was the perfect opportunity to give the girls a break—away from the stress and cameras.

Throwing on a hoodie, he knocked on each dorm room door, rousing the group from their sleep.

“Wake up, everyone! I’ve got something planned.”

Giselle was the first to emerge, hair sticking out in all directions, still wrapped in her blanket. She rubbed her eyes groggily. “Is it breakfast? Tell me you made pancakes…”

Y/n chuckled. “Not quite. But get ready. We’re going to the park. I made a lunch basket for us.”

The reaction from the rest of the members was similar—confused but intrigued. Winter poked her head out from her room, eyes half-closed. “A park? What are we, in a drama? And why is it sound romantic” She yawned loudly.

Karina followed suit, still looking half-asleep. “A park sounds… nice, I guess?”

“Hey, we can't just stay indoors when the sky is this nice.” Y/n grinned, clapping his hands together. “Now, let’s get moving.”

An hour later, the group found themselves standing at the entrance of a quaint city park. It wasn’t grand or flashy, just a small, peaceful spot nestled away from the usual bustling city life. A winding path led to a pond, ducks paddling lazily in the water, and a few bicycles stood nearby, available for rent.

“A park, really?” Winter raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “This was your big plan?”

Giselle stretched, taking in the scene. “I’m not complaining. It’s nice to have some quiet time.”

Y/n held up a tote bag filled with snacks. “Look, we’ve been running around nonstop for weeks. A relaxing day in the sun will do us all some good.”

Karina eyed him suspiciously. “What kind of snacks?”

Y/n smirked, pulling out bags of sandwiches. “The good kind.”

That seemed to do the trick. With renewed enthusiasm, the girls grabbed a few bikes from the rental stand, gearing up for a leisurely ride along the park’s paths. Y/n followed, feeling confident this would be a simple, peaceful day.

Well, until Ningning almost ran over a duck.

“Watch it!” Y/n called out as the youngest member veered off course, narrowly avoiding the waddling creature.

“I swear these bikes are taller than I remember!” Ningning complained, trying to steady herself. “Or maybe I’ve gotten shorter?”

Meanwhile, Karina wobbled dangerously as she tried to pedal forward, clearly struggling. “I think I forgot how to ride one of these things…”

Before Y/n could offer help, he was too busy dealing with his own issues. As soon as he pushed off, his bike’s front wheel jerked violently to the side, and he lost his balance, crashing into a nearby bush. The sound of his spectacular wipeout echoed through the park, causing an eruption of laughter from the girls.

“Nice strike, Y/n!” Giselle called out, barely able to contain her giggles. “You’re really setting a great example for us!”

Y/n groaned as he disentangled himself from the bush. “Okay, fine. Maybe I suck.”

It took a few minutes—and a lot more laughter—but eventually, they all managed to get moving smoothly. The group cycled leisurely along the park’s paths, the fresh air and rare freedom lifting their spirits. Despite the shaky start, the atmosphere was light and carefree.

At one point, Giselle and Winter challenged each other to a race, leaving the others trailing behind. Y/n, never one to back down, joined in—only to accidentally steer himself and Giselle straight into a patch of tall grass, much to the amusement of Karina and Ningning, who were practically in tears laughing.

“Maybe stick to managing, Y/n,” Karina teased as he pulled his bike free from the grass.

“So mean, Jimin” Y/n grumbled, but he couldn’t help grinning. “I’m just warming up.”

After a while, they parked their bikes near the duck pond and wandered over to feed the ducks. Y/n handed out snacks, though he wasn’t entirely sure feeding crackers to ducks was the right move.

Karina tossed a few pieces into the water, watching as the ducks swam around, fighting over the crumbs. “You’re supposed to give them bread, right?”

“I think we’re not supposed to give them anything, actually,” Y/n replied, scratching his head. “But... they seem happy enough.”

"Yea, they're the presences of their own kind." Winter joked. "Idiots…"

"I heard that, crybaby."

The group spent a good portion of time by the pond, laughing at the antics of the ducks. One particularly clumsy duck kept missing the food, prompting Ningning to point and say, “That one reminds me of Y/n.”

"See? I told you Ning." Winter chimed in, clearly amused by the comparison.

Y/n rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t stop smiling. For the first time in a while, it felt like they could just be themselves, without the constant pressure of schedules, rehearsals, or fans.

Well, except for one fan.

His eyes landed on a figure standing not too far away, partially hidden behind a tree. The person was wearing a hoodie, the hood pulled up over their face. It could’ve been anyone—a park visitor, maybe—but the way they lingered, half-concealed, raised alarm bells.

Y/n’s stomach tightened. He’d seen this kind of behaviour before. Sasaeng.

“Everything okay?” Karina asked, noticing his shift in demeanour.

Y/n kept his voice low, not wanting to alarm the rest of the group. “Don't wanna scare you, but there’s someone following us. Don’t look, he’s at 5 o’clock ”

Karina’s expression darkened. “Sasaeng?”

“Probably,” he confirmed, his eyes never leaving the figure.

Karina let out a frustrated sigh, clearly fed up with the constant intrusion on their privacy. “Can’t we just have one day? Just one?”

Y/n nodded grimly. “Unfortunately, no. But I’m going to check on him.”

Karina hesitated. “Be careful. Some sasaengs... they don’t exactly handle being confronted well.”

Y/n glanced over his shoulder, noticing that the figure had gotten closer. It was now or never. “Ehhh..I’ll be fine. Just stay here with the girls.”

As he approached the sasaeng, his heart raced, but he kept his voice calm and steady. “Hey, my guy, can I help you with something?”

The figure stiffened but didn’t move. Up close, Y/n could see they were holding a phone, angled just enough to capture footage of the group from a distance.

“I’m just a fan,” the person mumbled, their voice muffled under the hood. “I’m not doing anything wrong.”

Y/n clenched his jaw. He didn’t want to escalate the situation, but he also couldn’t let this slide. “Hey hey hey, I understand you’re a fan, and that’s fine. But right now, the girls are trying to enjoy some time off. This is their personal space. Please respect that.”

The sasaeng’s eyes flashed with something Y/n couldn’t quite place—frustration? Defiance? Either way, they didn’t budge. “I’m not leaving. I just want to see them.”

Y/n’s patience was running thin. “I understand, but they just want a breather from the public for today. Please don’t make this a bigger deal than it needs to be.”

The tension hung thick in the air, and for a moment, Y/n wasn’t sure if the sasaeng was going to back down. But then, with a huff of annoyance, they turned and started walking away, though Y/n couldn’t shake the feeling that they weren’t done.

He returned to the girls, who had been watching the whole exchange from a distance. Karina must've told them.

“Did they leave?” Giselle asked quietly.

“For now,” Y/n replied, though his gut told him this wouldn’t be the last time they saw that particular fan.

Winter’s expression softened. “You handled that well, you know.”

Y/n shrugged, trying to play it off. “Part of the job.”

When the fun resumed, Ningning was busy trying to feed a particularly stubborn duck while Giselle and Karina lounged on the grass, seemingly forgetting tension that had just passed.

“You good?” Karina asked, her tone casual, though Y/n could tell she was watching him closely. "You've been tense since that happened."

“Yeah,” Y/n nodded, giving her a reassuring smile. “Everything’s fine.”

But as the day went on, Y/n couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that they were being watched. Every now and then, he’d glance over his shoulder, half-expecting to see the sasaeng again.

It wasn’t until they were packing up to leave that he caught another glimpse—this time, from a different part of the park. The same hooded figure, lurking in the shadows, watching them.

Y/n’s stomach twisted. That guy hadn’t left.

As they piled into the van, he made a mental note to stay vigilant. Today had been fun, but he knew the peaceful days were always short-lived when it came to protecting the girls.

As the van pulled away, Karina, sitting next to him, gave him a sideways glance. “You think we’re safe?”

Y/n forced a smile. “We’re always safe... as long as I’m around.”

"Damn, Oppa is confident now." Ningning teased.

"That's how I blitz through things, Ning-ah."

But deep down, he knew things were getting more complicated. Being their manager was more than just keeping track of schedules and rehearsals. He had to protect them, even on their days off.

And something told him that this wouldn’t be the last time he’d face off with that sasaeng.

-

The fan meet was supposed to be the highlight of the week—one of those heartwarming moments where aespa could connect directly with their fans.

However, things were rarely so simple for Y/n.

The chaos of his daily life as the group’s manager had become his new normal, but today was different. He could feel it in the pit of his stomach, a gnawing anxiety he couldn’t quite shake.

It wasn’t just the usual nerves, either. Ever since the incident at the park with the sasaeng, Y/n had been on high alert, his senses sharper than ever. Though the obsessive fan hadn’t made a direct reappearance, there were subtle signs—cryptic messages left on social media, strange accounts following aespa’s every move, and more importantly, a lingering presence. Y/n knew they hadn’t been forgotten.

It already has issued into SM, but Y/n was still definitely on high alert.

Still, today was about the fans. The usual logistics of organizing a fan meet were challenging enough, but this time, Y/n had to be even more vigilant. He’d personally gone through each gift from the fans, carefully making sure there were no suspicious items. Everything seemed to be in order, and the meet was progressing smoothly.

The girls were laughing, chatting with their fans, and signing albums while cameras flashed, capturing every moment. Y/n was supposed to be standing off to the side, handling minor hiccups as they came. But the real trouble began when the gifts started piling up backstage.

“Y/n, can you help me move these?” one of the staff members called out, struggling with a box of gifts that had been left near the entrance. Y/n nodded, quickly setting aside his tablet and running to help.

The problem? He hadn’t exactly been paying attention to where the gifts were being taken.

Somewhere between moving boxes and juggling event logistics, Y/n realised he had lost track of the pile of fan gifts meant to be distributed to aespa later. By the time the fan meet was in full swing, fans were asking about their gifts, only for Y/n to feel a rising sense of panic as he scanned the backstage area, the gifts nowhere in sight.

“Where are they?” he muttered to himself, running his hands through his hair in frustration.

Giselle, noticing his distress, sidled up to him with a teasing grin. “Lost something, Y/n?”

"…maybe?"

"Oh." Giselle replied nonchalantly. "Surely not the fan gift right?"

He sighed heavily, rubbing the back of his neck. “I may or may not have misplaced the gifts... all of them.”

Giselle let out a snort of laughter, causing Ningning, who was standing nearby, to join in. “Seriously? All of them? Haven't seen you messed up majorly for a while.”

Y/n groaned. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. But this is bad. The fans are going to freak out.”

Ningning shook her head, still giggling. “Don’t worry about it. Fans love sitcoms—it’s relatable. They’ll probably get a kick out of it. You know, seeing their gifts disappear into the void, never to return.”

Y/n managed a weak smile, appreciating their attempts to lighten the mood. “You’re probably right. Still... this is not my best image yet.”

The girls, seeing how genuinely stressed he was, huddled around him in support. “Don’t sweat it,” Karina said, giving him a reassuring nudge. “We’ve dealt with worse. Besides, the fans are here to see us, not obsess over some missing gifts.”

"Confident much?"

"Someone did say that's how he blitz through life." Karina mocked. "Now I thought about it, it was you, Y/n"

He appreciated their positivity, but the uneasy feeling in his chest refused to go away. The gifts were one thing, but his gut told him that something far more sinister was on the horizon.

As the fan meet began to wind down, Y/n made his rounds, keeping a watchful eye on the crowd. Most of the fans were energetic and cheerful, thrilled to be interacting with aespa, but he couldn’t help scanning for any suspicious faces.

That’s when he saw the guy.

Near the back of the room, hidden among a cluster of fans, was the same hooded figure from the park. His blood ran cold. It was the sasaeng, and they hadn’t come empty-handed.

"Guards on standby, we got a Code S." Y/n talked over the radio. "Please don’t cause a scene and find him."

Without causing a scene, Y/n subtly moved closer, positioning himself between the sasaeng and the girls. As he did, he noticed something glinting under the sleeve of the sasaeng’s hoodie—a knife.

His heart skipped a beat, and the world seemed to slow down. This is it.

Y/n had been trained for situations like this (he said trained, but he only had a taekwondo certificate a while ago), but nothing could truly prepare him for the moment it actually happened. He quickly scanned the area, assessing his options. Security wasn’t close enough to intervene immediately, and he didn’t want to alarm the fans or the group.

With a deep breath, Y/n locked eyes with the sasaeng. “Hey, you, nice seeing you again,” he called out, his voice steady but firm. “I need to talk to you.”

The sasaeng’s eyes darted to Y/n, and for a split second, Y/n saw it—the sheer obsession, the dangerous mix of admiration and delusion. The sasaeng clutched the knife tighter, their knuckles white.

"Ah fcking damn it…" Y/n muttered.

There was no time to wait for backup.

Y/n lunged forward, grabbing the sasaeng by the arm. The fan reacted immediately, swinging the knife wildly in his direction. He narrowly dodged the blade, adrenaline coursing through his veins as he wrestled the weapon from their grasp. The crowd hadn’t yet noticed the struggle, too focused on aespa.

The sasaeng fought back, landing a punch to Y/n’s side, but he didn’t let go. He managed to twist the fan’s arm behind their back, forcing the knife to clatter to the ground. Finally, security rushed in, pulling the sasaeng away and detaining them.

Panting, Y/n stood there, clutching his side, still trying to process what had just happened. The girls had noticed by now, their faces pale with shock. Ningning and Giselle were the first to rush over.

“Oppa! Are you okay?” Ningning asked, her eyes wide with concern.

Y/n nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah... yeah, still alive.”

The fan meet was quickly wrapped up after that, with security escorting the sasaeng out and the remaining fans ushered toward the exits. The event had been going so well until that moment, and the sudden chaos left everyone rattled.

Later, in the safety of their van, the girls were silent, the weight of what had happened hanging in the air. Winter was whimpering after her intense bawling from worrying about her childhood friend. Y/n could just only chuckle at his adorable best friend.

“You saved us,” Karina finally said, her voice quiet but full of gratitude. “That could’ve been so much worse if you hadn’t been there.”

Y/n shook his head, still processing everything. “I was just doing my job.”

But the gravity of what he’d done wasn’t lost on anyone, least of all him.

-

The next day, Y/n rolled out of bed with a groan. His body still ached from the scuffle with the sasaeng, and while he wasn’t one to complain, the dull throb in his side was a constant reminder of yesterday’s chaos. He stretched, wincing slightly, before getting ready for the day.

Today was supposed to be business as usual—another trip to the SM building for rehearsals and meetings—but nothing about this day felt normal. After all, it wasn’t every day that you made headlines for tackling an obsessed fan. And while Y/n wasn’t exactly thrilled about the attention, he knew it was inevitable. He’d been in the industry long enough to know how fast news spread, especially when it involved something as dramatic as a knife-wielding sasaeng.

When he met up with the girls during breakfast in the living area, they were already buzzing with energy. Kind of wild that they moved on from the incident that quickly.

Ningning grinned at him, clearly enjoying the spotlight this incident had brought to their usually quiet manager.

“Ready for your big day, supernova?” she teased, nudging him as they walked toward the van.

Y/n shot her a look, shaking his head. “Please, no, Ning. Can we not make a big deal out of this?”

“Too late,” Giselle piped up from behind, her voice full of amusement. “The whole building’s probably talking about you right now. Yunjin and Somi is gushing in the gc at the moment.”

As much as Y/n wanted to protest, he knew she was right. Ever since the news broke, he’d been flooded with messages—both from fans and people in the industry. It was surreal, really. He’d never expected to be at the centre of attention, especially not for something like this.

When they arrived at the SM building, the atmosphere was different. Usually, the bustling halls were full of staff going about their daily business, but today, there was an undeniable buzz in the air.

As soon as they stepped inside, heads turned. The receptionist, who usually gave them a polite nod, smiled broadly at Y/n, her eyes twinkling with admiration. “Good morning, hero,” she greeted him, her tone playful.

Y/n blushed, ducking his head awkwardly. “Morning…"

The teasing only got worse as they moved through the building. Other managers, particularly Minji and Joon, came up to him, clapping him on the back and offering words of congratulations.

“Hey, Y/n! Saw the news—man, that was some serious balls. How are you feeling?”Joon asked, giving him a firm pat on the shoulder.

“I’m fine,” Y/n mumbled, trying to downplay it. “Just... doing my job.”

“Doing your job?” Minji laughed. “You tackled a guy with a knife! I’d say that’s a bit more than your typical day’s work.”

Before Y/n could respond, a familiar voice called out from behind him. “There he is—the man, the myth, the legend!”

Y/n turned to see Taeyong and Mark from NCT walking toward him, grinning from ear to ear. Taeyong immediately pulled him into a friendly hug, his eyes twinkling with pride. “We saw what happened, Y/n. That was insane. Are you sure you’re not secretly an action movie star or something?”

Mark nodded enthusiastically, his smile wide. “Dude, you’re like the coolest manager now. Everyone’s talking about how you saved the day.”

Y/n’s face flushed with embarrassment. “I secretly invested my stats in strength.”

But the teasing didn’t stop there. As they made their way up to the practice rooms, other idols—some Y/n had trained with back in the day—came up to him with wide grins and playful jabs. It was overwhelming, to say the least.

The final straw came when they passed by one of the SM rookies who was clearly too shy to approach him directly. The young trainee whispered to their friend, their eyes wide with awe as they looked at Y/n. “Is that him? The manager who stopped the sasaeng? He looks so cool...”

Y/n sighed, shaking his head as the girls stifled their laughter. He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks, but there was no escaping it. He had become the talk of the building, whether he liked it or not.

By the time they reached the practice room, Y/n was ready to crawl into a hole and hide. But the girls, ever perceptive, noticed how uncomfortable he was and rallied around him.

“Look,” Karina said, giving him a rare smile, “you might hate the attention, but we’re really grateful for what you did. That was seriously brave.”

“Yeah,” Winter added, her voice soft but sincere. “You're maybe an idiot, but you were genuinely cool back there.”

Ningning, of course, couldn’t resist adding her own playful twist. “Plus, now you’re famous! Maybe you’ll get your own fanbase.”

Y/n groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Please, no fanbase. That’s the last thing I need.”

But despite his protests, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride. The girls’ words meant more to him than any praise from strangers. They were the ones he had sworn to protect, after all.

As they settled into their rehearsal, Y/n leaned back against the wall, watching the group with a small smile. The chaos of the past few days had been overwhelming, but it had also solidified his place in their lives. He wasn’t just their manager anymore—he was part of their family.

Just as he thought things had finally calmed down, the door to the practice room burst open, and Seulgi from Red Velvet, his bias, poked her head in. “Ya, Y/n! Heard you’re the building’s new hero! When’s the movie adaptation coming out?”

"Seulgi-noona, not you too…"

The girls burst into laughter as Y/n groaned again, knowing he’d never live this down.

But deep down, he didn’t mind. He faced down a knife-wielding sasaeng, after all. He could handle a bit of teasing.