#TWENTY SIX TOOK ME LIKE 6 MONTHS.

[autixel]

TWENTY EIGHT HOURS, MATT DINNIMAN??? ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL AUTIXEL??????

[sungbeam]

nonidol!jeong yunho x f!reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sure. Easy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure.”

“Calm down, man.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You softened. Oh, he was really nervous.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blinked. “What does that mean?”

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

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

“Oh yeah, you're gonna love—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe,” Wooyoung giggled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sighed. “I hate you guys.”

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

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

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

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

“Jongho, protect me.”

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

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

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

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

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

Everyone at the table paused in confusion.

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

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

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

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

Regardless, you remained positive.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your eyes cracked open slowly. “Yunho.”

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

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

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

You hummed in reply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“In-fucking-sane.”

“You're telling me.”

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

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

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

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

“No, Seonghwa did when he overheard.”

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

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

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

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

“Not cooler than me though, right?”

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

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

“Oh, I wouldn't dream of it.”

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

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

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

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

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

Yunho froze. “What?”

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

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

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

“Hey?” He laughed.

“I'm proud of you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uhm… hey?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hyung—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I miss you already,” you whispered.

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

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

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

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

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

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

“And I’m Oprah,” she deadpanned.

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

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

“But—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

(It was not a 24-hour fever.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

Could things get any worse?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You know what? I'm flying home—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You swear on your life?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A nod. “Yeah.”

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

Yunho's quiet was answer enough.

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

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

“Have you guys talked since last week?”

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

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

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

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

I love her.

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

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

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

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

Yunho nodded. “Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And awake, you definitely were.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A beat passed, and then, “NO.”

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

“Jeong Yunho, put your damn tongue away.”

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

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

You didn't need to be told twice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You deserve it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhm?”

“Could we… talk about something?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I did not yell at you!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

atz m.list

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

[moneymasnn]

Who Had A Cookie?

Blurb: One where you're the f1 drivers manager, and when all the boys seem to have eaten a 'magic cookie' you're the one who needs to clean up all the mess.

Notes: I was inspired by the one greys anatomy episode lol but I thought this was a funny concept. This is also my first fic I’ve posted in 6 months!! I found it in my drafts and decided to post! Enjoy xx

Warnings: well mention of drugs, might be some swearing but other than that nothing lol Platonic!reader x f1 drivers and a little bit of reader x Charles leclerc

Who had the cookies?

You loved charity events, especially f1 charity events. You loved your job for giving you the opportunity to attend these events. A very easy night if you say so yourself, babysitting twenty grown men, what could go wrong? Especially when cameras and fancy investors are around they behave all on their own, leaving you to relax, and indulge in some free champagne.

“Y/n.” your name was mumbled behind you, startling you as your attention now shifted to your assistant.

You knew something was wrong by the way she was twiddling her fingers, her black nails contrast to her white dress as she brings her left index nail up to hold between her teeth.

“Jenny? Spit it out.” You stood up straight, urging your assistant.

She stands up straight as if she's trying to muster up some sort of courage, she looks around before she leans in closer to you, you can almost hear her shaky breaths.

“There were some cookies… and erm, well they were placed in the drivers dressing room, and I don’t know how they got there. I mean, I certainly didn’t sign them off so this is no way my fault and-“ she was talking a mile a minute you couldn't even understand her.

“Jenny!” You took her hands that were waving in the air and bought them back down to her chest.

“Take a deep breath and tell me what’s wrong?” you said sternly. 

“Don’t fire me… please.” You could see the tears brimming in her eyes, but the anticipation was killing you, you windened your eyes and stayed quiet so she could carry on.

“There were compromised cookies gifted to the driver's dressing room.”

“And?”

“And- and now the tin is empty, as in they've all gone. The cookies have been eaten y/n. Cannabis cookies.”

Your hands ran to your mouth as your eyes immediately darted around the room to look for anything out of the ordinary.

The room was spinning as you whipped your neck around in different directions.

George russel was the first to catch your attention.

He looked fine…he was leaning against a wall, chewing…

He was chewing on a cookie.

“Oh my god.” You started to push through the crowd of people in the hall.

“George! Drop that cookie!”

George’s eyes lit up when he saw you, one of his many managers. You could see the cookie crumbs falling from his mouth as he smiled, chocolate smudged around the corners of his lips.

“Y/n, you have to try these cookies!” He desperately said, holding up his half eaten cookie. But much to his dismay you slapped it out of his hand, letting it fall right to the floor. George’s lips downturned and your name fell in a groan from his lips as he looked at his cookie on the floor.

“Spit.” You held your hand out, as gross as it was.

“I will not!” He sassed you as you pointed your finger at him, eyebrows furring trying to be as intimidating to the six foot man as possible. George sent you one of his signature smirks as he swallowed the mouthful of cookie in one large gulp.

“George, those are not regular cookies-“

“Tell me about it! Send from the heavens.” he smiled, almost robotic, like the smile didn't reach his eyes.

Your own eyes widened as you realised one of your clients was stoned.

Completely and utterly stoned.

You were fucked.

You could feel Jenny breathe behind you, she let out a small giggle at George's actions causing you to turn and scowl at her.

“Grab him and take him to the dressing room, and don’t let him talk to anyone. lock him in there and then come back to help me gather anyone else who had had a cookie.”

She nodded as she grabbed George’s arm, telling him they were going on an adventure, George happily complying.

You sighed as you looked for anyone else.

You were at a very high class charity gala in Monaco. This night was about to be ruined and you were about to be fired for letting your drivers get out of control and well, high.

You decided making an announcement on the stage was your best bet, walking through the crowds of people you felt someone grab your arm.

“Y/n!” Lando Norris. 

He giggled as he said your name. Making him repeat himself.

“Y/nnnnnn.” He covered his mouth to stop the giggles. “Sorry, just, why does your name sound so weird?”

You had to try so hard to keep your face straight at the boy's child like giggles.

“Why are you laughing like that?” Carlos walked over, playing his arm over his wobbly ex teammate.

“Carlos!” you and lando both said in unison.

“Your hair is so soft, like fur.” Lando said as his hands made their way into Carlos's long brown locks. Carlos eyes widen as he looks at the boy then back at you, trying to pull Landos hands out of his hair.

“Carlos, did you have a cookie?” You eyed up the Spaniard.

“What cookie?” He frowned at you.

“Ugh, thank god! Landos had a erm.” You leaned into him so no one around would hear, “Some of the drivers have eaten cannabis laced cookies.”

Carlos’ head turned as he looked back at Lando, eyes widening.

“Take him back to the dressing room please, just lock him in there with George, and if you see anyone else take them with you.” 

Carlos just nodded, letting his mate lean on him as he dragged him to the back of the room.

You let out a sigh of relief, that was three out of a possible twenty.

Only seventeen more to find.

You walked up to the stage, grabbing the mic, tapping it slightly.

“Hello, everyone. I hope everyone is having a good night, erm, could all formula one drivers that have eaten a cookie this afternoon please meet back in the dressing room, important meeting. Thank you.” You smiled at the crowd, you could hear the whispers as you stopped off the stage. 

“Y/n?” 

Max. 

“I had a cookie, and I don't feel too good, like - like i'm not here, i've been over there.” He pointed to the corner of the room, “and I thought I was dreaming y/n. I dont know whats happening to me?” He looked panicked as he clutched onto your upper arm.

“You're okay max, you had some magic cookies.”

“Magic cookies?”

“Just come with me okay?”

He nodded his head vigorously as he followed you though the crows, clutched to your hand like a toddler. 

You noticed Daniel on the way, opting to grab him too.

“Danny!”

“Hello.” he had, in a very nonchalant tone, unlike his bubbly self. He was definitely stoned.

“Are you okay?”

“I feel great.” he smiled, but his eyes didn't quite catch up to him.

You grabbed his arm and dragged him along with max.

“Y/n? Where are we going?” Max asked anxiously.

“To sit down.”

You dragged them both into the room, when you got in there you could see George sat curled up on the window seal, lance was sat back against the wall staring at the floor. Seb was giggling at Mick who had all of a sudden become hyper aware of his body, saying he could feel his ‘skin’.

Pierre was touching his face in the mirror while Yuki was at the snack table. 

You let out a relieved sigh as Jenny had managed to capture some of the drivers, a few turning up after hearing your announcement. 

“Okay boys go play.” You pushed Daniel and Max into the room. 

“Dan, dan, danny, daniel.” Pierre called Daniel over to the mirror. “Why don't I look like me?” Pierre asked daniel. 

Pierre gasped and turned to a very relaxed Daniel, placing his hands on his shoulders.

“Daniel, do you think I look weird?” Panicked. 

“Coolllll.” Daniel replied as he smiled straight though pierre.

“You're right, I'm too cool to care.” Pierre nodded and turned back to the mirror to straighten out his shirt.

“This room is full of some very… high men.” Seb looked at you with raised eyebrows.

“Seb? Please tell me-”

“I didn't. Don't worry. I'm watching my weight.” he winked at you. “I'm happy to look after these guys while you get the others?”

You replied a quick thank you as you quickly shut the door, bolting back into the hall. Then you realised, opening the door back open and peering through, 

Where were Lando and carlos?

You rushed back out, looking down the bottom of the hallway, choosing to search the rest of the building, you came to the fire escape stairs where you found a curled up charles rocking back and forward. 

“Charlie?” you gently called out as you crouched down next to him, placing a hand on his knee.

“Y/n?” He quietly replied. 

“It's me, it's just me. How are you feeling?” you gently asked him.

“I- i don't know, i've never felt like this before.” He said raising his head, his eyes bloodshot and skin pale, he had a cookie.

You smiled at him as you brushed his fallen hair back from his forehead.

“You're going to be alright, come with me okay?”

You pulled him up to his feet where he looked down at you, sniffing before a little smile climbed his face.

“You're so pretty y/n.” You giggled at the boy as you took his hand and made your way down the steps to the drivers room.

“Like a princess.” he added, his hands waving in the air.

“Thank you, charlie.” you giggled.

“Charlie,” he smiled, “have i ever told you how much i love it when you call me that, charlie.” he smiled and repeated the nickname again, leaning his head on your shoulder as you both made your way down the stairs.

Charles lightly sighed as you pushed him into the drivers room, “Where are you going?” Charles whispered, pulling on your arm.

“I'll be back in five minutes okay, Seb will look after you.”

Charles nodded his head to look for seb, you both grimace when you saw mick with his head in the trash can, seb rubbing his back as pierre and yuki giggle at him in the corner. 

You walked back out the room when Jenny was running up to you, “Y/n! Huge problem, Carlos and Lando are on the stage!”

Ou barge past her and walk into the room to see Carlos with a mic in his hand, Lando leaning into him in fits of laughter.

“All I'm saying is, I race really fast cars, like that's super cool, right? There's only twenty of us that do that. So cool, im so cool, im a cool guy.'' Carlos giggled as he spoke about himself on stage.

“You could die? I could die? Imagine that! The world would be so sad, my smooth operator.” Lando giggled at the nickname and then started to sing. 

And before you knew it they were two verses deep into smooth operator, Carlos opting to show off his opera skills at one point. 

You jumped on the stage taking the mic out of Carlos' hands and putting your hand over it so you could whisper shout in his ear, “You said you didn't have any cookies!”

Carlos snickered as he looked at Lando who gasped and held his hand over his mouth.

“You lied to y/n?” Lando giggled. “Oh man you're in so much trouble.” Landos face dropped as he leaned into carlos’ face, “she looks mad, we should probably run.”

Carlos nodded along with the boy when you grabbed both of their arms, “Nope. No more running, you're coming with me.”

Carlos shook his head like a caught child and both men giggled as you pushed them off the stage, apologising to the crowd before handing the mic back to the dj. 

“Y/n!”

You sighed as your name was called for about the fifth time that night, this time though, it was serious.

Zac Brown made his way over to the three of you, a scowl on his face and his arms crossed over his chest. Lando straightened his posture as Carlos crossed his arms and impersonated Zac, Lando caught onto this and all of a sudden the boys were in crying fits of laughter again. You winced as Landos cackle echoed through the hall, catching the attention of people around.

“What. The. Hell?”

“I can explain.” you winced at the man.

“What is going on here?” He eyed up his driver and ex driver, who he presumed had too much to drink.

“They're high. Someone laced some cookies and I'm so sorry, I have the situation under wraps, they won't be a problem anymore.”

But when Zac started to laugh along you realised maybe it wasn't just some of the drivers who had had some cookies.

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me.” You grabbed Zac as well as Lando and Carlos and dragged them back to the dressing room.

“Y/n, Your back!” Charles made his way over to you, engulfing you into a hug.

“Y/ns back!” Max screamed as he fell off the sofa, plunging his way into your arms along with charles.

“Hey get off her, she's my manager!” Max shoved Charles hand that was loosely placed on your shoulder. 

“She's mine too!”

While the two men started to fight over your attention you scanned the drivers that were in the room. Jenny had managed to catch the majority and even some of the drivers that weren't high had opted to help.

Max shoved Charles in hopes he would let go of you, instead causing you to stumble back into the arms of someone else.

“Okay okay, we get it, she's pretty but you're suffocating her, and she won't be very pretty when she's dead on the floor.” a spanish accent can be heard behind you. 

Fernando unwrapped both men as they both started to profusely apologise about ‘nearly killing you.’

You rubbed your hand over your head after smiling at Fernando in a thank you as he sent Charles and Max to the food table.

“You look stressed.” he said with a smirk as you both watched the men in the room.

“I need a cookie.” you joked, your eyes on mick who was still throwing up.

“I could always make you some.” he shrugged.

You laughed at the man before your eyes widened in realisation, you turned to him, face like thunder, “You!”

He threw his hands up in the air, “In my defence i didn't mean for anyone to eat them. It was a total accident.”

Your mouth agape you turned to look at the Spaniard ready to scream every curse word you know. He sensed your anger, “it was an honest mistake y/n, trust me. You think I would have wasted all of them cookies on these people on purpose.”

Your eyes darted daggers and Fernando understood you were really mad, in an attempt to lighten the mood he pointed at Yuki and Pierre who were having the time of their lives giggling like two school girls in the corner.

“You have to admit, it is kinda funny,” he said.

A smile crept on your face as you giggled, it was kinda funny.

Yours and Fernandos giggling soon stopped when you saw Max and Checo arguing in the corner.

“I think Max is about to punch Checo for taking the last slice of pizza.” you said.

“Shit.”

[bloatedandalone04]

In The Way I Need You | Part 6

Series Masterlist

➪in which clay messes things up after he regretfully lies to his mother about his intentions with you, and you decide to start looking for another job.

PSA: strongly suggested to read the warnings before proceeding.

WC; 3.9k | Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

In the twenty seven years he’s known his mother, Clay had never seen her this angry.

Well, except for the time Sam walked out, but this was a close second behind that.

Lilith Beresford, in all her glory, stood in front of the couch, home a mere day and a half earlier than she said she’d be. She towered over the two of you, and Clay quickly discovered that you hadn’t woken up yet when he glanced down and saw you still peacefully sleeping against his side. 

Clay couldn’t even have a second to take in how cute you looked all cuddled up with him before he was sitting up a bit. “Mother,” he greeted in a surprised tone, making her raise her brow. “You’re home early.”

“I am,” she said before reaching down and tapping your shoulder. 

You stir a bit and open your eyes, instantly looking up at Clay with a tired smile. Then you looked over and, too, noticed his mom. “Mrs. Beresford,” you sit up immediately and put a cushion of space between you and Clay. “I didn’t know you were coming home today.”

His mother smiled down at you, and Clay knew that smile like the back of his hand. It was her pissed off smile. “I got everything I needed out of my trip,” she replied. “Would you mind giving me and my son a minute alone?”

You scratch at your jaw and look over at Clay with an uneasy expression. “Of course not,” you answer and stand up. “I’ll go wake Joey up and get him ready for school.”

“No need,” she stopped you before you could leave the room. “I’ll be home all day, so we won’t need your services.”

She was being so cold to you and Clay wanted to say something but had no idea where to start. His heart ached a bit when you gave him a look that practically begged him for help, but he stayed silent. “Okay,” you murmur, giving her a forced smile. “I’ll just go pack then.”

“Okay,” his mother said before she turned back to face him. 

“Mom-” he tried but she held up her hand and waited until you were out of the room and up the stairs before she dropped her act. 

“Clayton, have you lost your mind?” She asked loudly, clearly not caring much about the fact that you could still probably hear her. “Don’t you remember the last time you slept with the help?”

Clay glared at her as he braced his elbows on his knees. “It wasn’t like that,”

“Oh, well, I sure hope not,” she rasped. “Samantha left you all alone with a boy who wasn’t even six months old yet, do you remember that? And now I find you sleeping with the nanny.”

“She’s not the nanny, God, mother, would you drop it?” He muttered and dropped his gaze. “And we weren’t sleeping together. Not like that, anyway.”

Lilith crossed her arms. “Don’t act all innocent, Clay, damnit. What were you doing with her?”

“We just fell asleep!” He loudly answered as he stood up. “That’s it. We were watching a movie together then fell asleep, that’s all. She’s twenty, mother, what do you think could happen there?” He hated the words that were currently leaving his mouth, but he wasn’t ready to have his mother control another relationship of his.

He wasn’t even being truthful, not at all, but he needed to get her off his back. Clay had just begun whatever this is with you, and you needed to have a proper conversation about it before he was able to let himself reveal that he had feelings for you to his overprotective and sometimes overbearing mom. 

Lilith narrowed her gaze, and he knew she wasn’t really buying it. “Don’t lie to me, Clay. I mean it,” 

He took a breath as he felt his heartbeat quicken a bit, and when he met her eyes again he could see the concern in them. “I’m not lying, mother,” he says, surprised at how calm he sounded. “I promise. That will never happen again. Nothing is going on between Y/n and I.” 

As soon as those words left his mouth, you poked your head into the living room, an unreadable expression on your face as you adjusted the strap of your bag on your shoulder. “I’m heading out,” you told them, your gaze cold and hard. “Mr. Beresford, your son is up. He’s asking for you.”

Even your tone was cold, and Clay had a horrible feeling that you had heard what he said. “Okay,” he quickly responded, walking around his mom and towards you. “I’ll walk you to the door.” He offered, hearing Lilith clear her throat from behind him.

“Shouldn’t you be getting Joey dressed, Clay?” She asked, and when he turned to face her once he was next to you, he saw that her annoyed expression had returned as she crossed her arms.

He opened his mouth to respond but wasn’t able to say anything before you turned around and headed for the stairs. “I’ll only be a minute,” he spoke quickly before following after you. “Y/n-”

“Thank you for letting me stay at your house, Mr. Beresford,” you cut him off as you descended the stairs with him right behind you. “I hope I helped you out a bit while your mother was away.”

Clay’s brows furrowed as you both reached the bottom. “That’s not…you know you did- Y/n, wait,” he rasped and gently took your wrist in his hand, turning you to face him. “I’m sorry about what I said. I don’t know how much you heard, but-”

“I didn’t hear anything,” you lied, shaking your wrist free and putting a few steps of distance between you. He wanted to close the space again, but the look you were currently giving him had him refraining from doing so. “Are we done here?”

Clay looked at you for a few more seconds before nodding, not at all being done here but understanding that you didn’t want to be around him right now. He broke eye contact and reached into his pocket, guilty pulling out his wallet. “Here, I’ll pay you extra-”

“No need,” you brushed him off. Jesus, he probably just made you feel like an escort or something. Could he fuck this up any more than he already has? “Just save it for next time.”

So there will be a next time. “Okay,” he hesitantly agreed, adding, “Can you pick him up from school tomorrow?”

You nod quickly and he could see the way your eyes watered with unshed tears. Fuck, he felt like a complete asshole. “Sure,” 

You open the door but before you could step out, he stops you again with his hand on the frame. “Y/n,” he called softly, but you didn’t look at him. He didn’t blame you. With a sigh, he asked, “Let me know you got home okay?”

It was the early morning and probably the safest the streets could be, but he still wanted to know that you had made it home. “Okay,” you answer and leave the house the second he takes his hand off the door and allows you to open it. 

Clay stands there and watches as you begin to walk down the street instead of calling for a cab, and he knew you probably needed the walk to clear your head. He had no idea how far away you lived from him, but he still wouldn’t feel any better if he did know, anyway. 

He looked down at his wrinkled button up and huffed, closing the door with more force than he needed to before heading upstairs and walking right past the living room, where his mother still stood. 

-

Your face burned in embarrassment as you let your apartment door slam shut. Your eyes stung from the tears you held back during the entire thirty minute walk home from Clay’s place. 

You should have never kissed him. You should have never let yourself get so close to him. He didn’t want you. He thought you were too young and immature for him. He didn’t want you. 

You drop your bag onto the carpet in the entryway as you press the heels of your hands against your eyes. What was wrong with you? Why did you ever think for a second that this guy - who clearly has his life figured out - would ever want you as something more than a fling? He has a kid, for fucks sake.

Humiliation takes over your body as you make your way to your bedroom. You toss your phone onto your dresser and fall onto your bed, your face pressed against your pillow as the tears finally leave your eyes. 

Things should have never escalated past a professional relationship, and now you were left stuck in the most awkward situation ever. You were his kid’s babysitter and had indulged in a heated makeout with him on his couch, then fell asleep on him an hour or so later. 

Why did you kiss him? Twice? Why didn’t he stop you? 

If he didn’t want anything to happen with you, why did he let things go that far? 

You squeezed your eyes shut tightly as you thought about how you were supposed to act like he hadn’t totally crushed you with his words when you babysit Joey tomorrow? How were you supposed to face him after that?

He was right, you’re just a child compared to him. Someone who has no idea what she wants to do with her life and someone who had no business trying to pursue something with her employer. 

God, you are so embarrassed.

You weren’t sure how long you cried for, but when you woke up a few hours later you wanted to cry again at how pathetic you felt. You had literally just cried yourself to sleep over a guy. You hadn’t done that since you were seventeen and were sure that your boyfriend at the time was the fucking love of your life, when in reality he was just an immature teenager. You were sure you looked similar to that in Clay’s eyes. 

Your phone going off from where you left it on your dresser makes you jump slightly, and you have just enough self control to wait until it goes to voicemail before you push yourself up and make your way to it. 

As you unlock it, you are met with a few unread texts and a missed call from Clay, and your heart ached even further.

7:19 AM

Clay Beresford: I’m sorry about how things went before you left. I didn’t know she was coming home today, otherwise that whole thing wouldn’t have happened. 

9:23 AM

Clay Beresford: Hey, it’s been a while now and you haven’t let me know you got home yet. Just checking in.

10:01 AM

Clay Beresford: Please tell me you made it home okay. 

Tears gathered in your eyes again as Clay was a genuinely nice guy, he just simply didn’t want you in the same way you want him. You’d have to get over him, and you could only hope that happened as quickly as it started. 

You inhale sharply as you text him back.

Sorry, I fell asleep as soon as I got home. Don’t worry about it. See you tomorrow. 

You turn your phone off after that and set it aside as you sit down at your small kitchen table and open your laptop. While you planned on getting over your crush on Clay, you still knew you wouldn’t be able to work for him for much longer, so with another quick inhale, you begin your search for another job. 

-

Clay fucked up, that much he knew. 

He sat at his desk at work, his eyes glued to his phone as he reread your text. You had become so short in your responses to him, both over the phone and in real life. You had called him Mr. Beresford. Multiple times. 

He tossed his phone aside as he leaned back and sighed, running his hands down his face as he heard his computer go off with another incoming email. 

It was only ten in the morning, and he was already done with the day. 

He was out of line when he was talking to his mom earlier, and had he known that you were able to hear what he was saying, he would’ve never said it. He knew his words hurt you, and he was sure he fucked up any chance with you now since he was just a coward who can’t stand up to his mom. 

You probably wouldn’t want to be with him, anyway, if you knew that he was pretty much momma’s boy. Truly, you deserve someone more mature than he was, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want you. 

He really did. He hasn’t felt this way since Sam, and even then he couldn’t remember feeling like this. Clay hadn’t thought about her at all lately, and he knew it’s because of you. His mind is constantly consumed with thoughts of you and Joey, and how much his son had grown attached to you. 

If you stopped babysitting because he is a fucking idiot, it’ll break Joey’s poor heart, and that would probably break Clay’s. 

Other than Lilith and Rick, you are the only other person who was a constant in Joey’s life, and your sudden absence from it would surely be confusing for the four year old. 

Clay ended up going home early and picking Joey up from school two hours before it ended, simply because he was really the only person that brought him comfort, with the exception of you, but that was only a recent thing and he already fucked it up. 

He was on his back on the living room floor, the expensive rug making it a bit more comfortable as Joey sat on top of him and played with his stuffed bear Lilith had gotten him for his second birthday. “I miss Y/n,” he mumbled as he pulled at the blue bow the bear had around its neck.

Clay gave his son a small smile, both at his sweet words and at the way he was getting better at pronouncing your name. “I miss her, too, bub,” he said and meant it. Having you over for two nights was amazing and walking into the kitchen to see you and Joey already in there felt strangely normal. He can’t believe he fucked that up. 

It had only been a few minutes since he got home when his mom walked down stairs and stopped once she glanced into the living room and saw both her son and grandson in there. “Oh, you’re back early,” she observed, looking over at the clock as she entered the room. “It’s only one thirty.”

“I know,” Clay responded, reaching up and running his fingers through Joey’s hair. “It was a slow day.” He lied, and avoided eye contact with her since he knew he couldn’t actually lie to her. 

“Uh huh,” she said and crouched down next to them, smoothing out the mess Clay made of Joey’s hair. “You should be in school.” She said in a lighter tone, making Joey smile up at her. 

“Daddy said he missed me,” he said back. 

“Did he?” She asked, looking down at Clay with a raised brow. “I was the one who was gone for four days and you’re the one he missed? That’s not very fair, is it?” 

Joey laughs and holds the bear out to her, and she takes it with a smile. Then he got up and reached out to her with both arms, making Clay sigh as she picked him up. “I hope you aren’t still upset about this morning,” she says, holding Joey on her hip. “I warned you about that girl, Clay. The last thing we need is another Samantha Lockwood.”

Her name had Clay sitting up with a grimace. “She’s nothing like Sam, mother,” he defended you even though you weren’t here to witness it like you were this morning when he excused you as if you meant nothing. “Y/n’s nice, and she’s great with Joey. He loves her already.”

Lilith nodded with a knowing glint in her eyes, “Yes, the Beresford boys fall for people quite fast,” she replied. “Just as long as you haven’t.” She added and left the room, heading towards the kitchen with his son in her arms. 

Clay huffed as he moved to sit on the couch, taking out his phone once he was settled against the backrest. He wanted to call you and try to explain why he said what he did, but he was sure you wouldn’t understand. Or you wouldn’t care. 

He didn’t really deserve to call you right now. He deserved to wallow in the guilt for way longer than just a few hours.

You will be here when he gets home from work tomorrow. He needed to try and get you to listen to him before you left again. 

Until then he will give you space and try not to piss you off more than he has already. 

-

“Y/n!” Joey excitedly says as he runs over to you. “I missed you!”

You bend down and wrap your arms around his little body. “Hey, buddy,” you say back. “I missed you, too.”

He pulls away with a smile as his small fingers play with your bracelet. “Daddy says he misses you, too,” your own smile dropped a bit at that as you ran your hand up and down his back. 

“He did?” You ask with a forced laugh. “That’s nice, huh?” 

You stand back up and take his smaller hand in yours as you lead him towards the car. “Yeah, and he picked me up from school yesterday,” he told you, making your brows furrow a bit as you get him situated in the backseat of Rick’s car. 

He probably meant that Clay had picked him up when the day was over instead of having Lilith or Rick do it himself. Still, your forehead sported a crease the whole drive to Clay’s house at the fact that he left work early enough to be able to pick Joey up at three. 

Once you have the front door locked, you take Joey’s hand again and grab his bag with your free one as he tugs you up the stairs. You unpack his lunchbox as he snacks on the cheese and crackers you got out for him, and when you pull out his work from today your smile returns. 

He had drawn you again, but this time it was just you and him holding hands, with a teddy bear in his other one. “This is cute, Joe,” you tell him as you sit next to him at the kitchen table. 

Joey looks up and gives you a big smile as he points at it. “That’s for you,” 

Your smile falters once again as you look between him and the drawing. “For me?” 

He nods as he chews on a cracker. “I made it for you,” 

You press your lips together as you look over the drawing again, noting the little details that showed it was you. Your hair color, your eye color, the bracelet on your left wrist. It was represented by a simple black line on your wrist, but it still had you reaching over and wrapping your free arm around him. “I love it,” you say with a wavering voice. “Thank you, babe.” The name slipped out before you could even realize it, but the big grin Joey gave you afterwards had you feeling less embarrassed about it.

You had spent a good portion of your day yesterday looking for another job, but now you were dreading leaving this one. Sure, it wasn’t very ideal to consider babysitting a job, but it was your source of income for now. 

Joey was so damn cute and so nice for his young age, how could you just up and leave him? Even though he wasn’t old enough to realize that his own mother had abandoned him, the thought of being like her made your skin crawl. You couldn’t do that to him, but things with Clay were so awkward and full of tension, how could you stay after what he said about you? 

You were so embarrassed, you weren’t even sure how you were going to face him when he got home later. Maybe you could slip out quickly as soon as he entered the house? Yeah, you’ll do that. 

You sit at the table with Joey for a long time, talking about nothing and everything as you share a coloring page. Gone were the cheese and crackers, and when he looked up at you with a pouty lip, you knew he was hungry for dinner. 

Standing back up, you set the drawing aside and get started on dinner, which was a simple ground beef and pasta casserole. Joey finished it quickly and hopped off the chair, heading in direction of the living room as you put away the leftovers. 

“Daddy!” You hear him call and pause, your fingers wrapped tightly around the plastic container as Joey laughs somewhere in the hall. You look over at the clock on the stove and see that it is only six thirty. Clay was home early. 

Well, at least earlier than he had been for most of the days you’ve been babysitting Joey. 

You hear quiet footsteps near the kitchen and slowly turn, meeting Clay’s eyes as he stands in the doorway with Joey in his arms. He looked nervous as he held his son against his chest, his forearm pressed firmly against his back. “Hey,” he said cautiously. 

Turning back around, you secure the lid on the container before walking over to the fridge and putting it inside. “Hi,” you answer shortly and feel the tension start to grow. “You’re home earlier than I expected.” 

Clay sets Joey down as he says, “Yeah, I rushed through most of my meetings today,”

You nod and grab your bag from off the table, slipping the drawing inside as you do so. “Well, I guess I’ll be going now,”

“Wait,” he calls softly, gently nudging Joey in the direction of the living room as he looks at you with pleading eyes. “We should talk.”

You give him a shrug and a forced smile. “There’s nothing to talk about-”

“Yes, there is,” he cut you off and when you met his eyes again, you could see what looked like desperation in them. You break eye contact as soon as you make it and play with the strap of your bag. “Please.”

You don’t say anything as you stare at the floor, your face burning when you feel your eyes sting. 

“I’m going to go get him ready for bed,” he started, making you hesitantly glance up at him. He looked hopeful as he asked, “Will you stay? And after I put him to bed, we can talk…please? I feel awful.”  

You bite down harshly on your lip as you shift uncomfortably. With a sigh, you walk past him and towards the living room, feeling Clay follow close behind you. Joey smiled at you as you sat next to him on the couch, and when you set your bag down again on the floor, you could hear the quiet sigh of relief Clay let out. 

“Come on, bub,” he held out his hand. “Bath time.”

Joey got up and gave you a quick hug before running over to his dad and taking his much bigger hand. When Clay looked back at you as he guided Joey upstairs, all you did was give him a small, barely-there smile, and that seemed to be enough assurance for him. At least for now.

[hsficrecommendation]

Hello Everyone! This is masterlist #4 (June of 2023!) for the all fics I have reblogged on this side blog I hold super close to me. Remember to leave feedback and reblog all the writings below!

Also, a huge thank you to all the writers mentioned, I adore you so very much and I hope you keep writing for yourselves <3

••• JUNE •••

Valentine's Day | Y/N receives a special candy gram on Valentine’s Day. - @nationalharryleague

French Fries | Harry kept glancing at her as he drove. “M’sorry about our date,” he whispered. “I don’t know what you’re apologizing for,” she shrugged and reached over to squeeze his arm while he held the steering wheel. “I had a lovely time.” - @1d1195

Shy | Close | Motherly Love | Don't Leave Me | Mother's Day | ♡ When Harry runs into a perfect stranger at a supermarket, he doesn’t know what to expect. After having been single for over a year and raising Amelia without a mother, dating somebody new feels impossible… that is, until she wins over the heart of his daughter. - @harry-writings

Vogue Beauty Secrets | Actress!Y/N does the Vogue Beauty Secrets video, and Harry decides to help. - @astranva

Gonna be Better in the Morning | Jeff and reader get into a fight and Harry takes Jeff's side. (As always, there is a happy ending with lots of comforts) - @harryhoney-bee

Work of Art | A cute little fluffy artist!Harry piece with a hint of angst! - @nationalharryleague

Update | The Best Present | Harry falls for a mysterious girl from YouTube. - @watchmegetobsessed

When The Levee Breaks | You're a waitress and Harry is being stood up. - @songbirdstyles

Playball | ♡ The reader owns a bakery and hates baseball, but what happens when her town’s bigshot MLB player walks into her bakery and she finds herself catching feelings unaware of his occupation? - @writingsbymarie

The Con Artist | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | ♡ You're a wanted criminal and when Harry Styles, the detective on the case, finally catches up to you- he finds it difficult to resist your charms. - @gurugirl

Baby Steps | You’re Harry’s son's therapist, and he isn’t the only one you end up helping. - @enthusiasticharry

Mute | ♡♡ Where Harry doesn’t talk and falls in love with Y/n. - @harry-writings

Score and Smash | In which their university holds an annual boy vs girl football match, the highly anticipated game of the year has arrived and Harry and Y/N hate each other just as equally until Y/N is under Harry.

Quid Pro Quo | Another lawyer!Harry. Technically six years before this piece. Enemies to lovers with plenty of angst! - @talesofstyles

Six Months (Part 23) | ♡ Layla desperately needs a vacation and her Aunt and Uncle come to her rescue. So, at twenty two, she packs her bag and jets off to America. Harry took a break from education and is now a full fledged content creator on OnlyFans. At twenty, he makes more money than almost all of his friends. What ensues when these two meet and realise the windows in their rooms face each other? How will paper airplanes bring them closer together? - @fishnets-fingers

2022 : Masterlist #1 , #2 , #3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8. 2023 : Masterlist #1, 2, 3 (June masterlist would be continued in the next list!)

My official writing account in case you'd like to check out my fics too: @0oolookitsme :)

[bluesworldd]

PT1. Infunami !

↳ pairings: miles 42 x reader

↳ cw/tw: cursing, like 70% proofread, miles going through it, pet names: my love.

↳ genre: angst.

↳ synopsis: miles missed one too many dates and the truth comes out. poor miles

↳ blue says: lets just act like i didn’t disappear for a few months, thanks! enjoy

spoilers ahead !

┄┄ ︰ ┄୨୧┄ ︰ ┄┄

fuck

…fuckkkkk

10 missed calls…

miles rushed to get his suit off. fuck how many times has this been? he couldn’t help but think. five..? no five was to little… maybe 10? quickly he called the familiar number.

…ring

…ring

“please leave a-”

fuck. miles had no clue on how he was going to comeback from this one.. its been six months since the two of you started dating and within those six months miles had only took you on about twenty-five dates (yes he counted). now hear him out, 1. the two of you are teenagers and its not much two teenagers can do. 2. it would be way more if you considered cuddling together in your room as a “date”. look miles wasn’t proud of it ok? he s been busy with school and the prowler stuff so hes had a lot on his plate and trust, he does love you, more than you think, but its been a rough couple of months and he cant even remember the last time hes had over six hours of sleep. But fuck it, that was besides the point, now he had to focus on trying to not lose the person he loves….again

quickly he sent a text.

hey..im so sorry about tonight.

he checked the time…only 10:25, you should still be awake. miles knows that because your a bit of a night howl and just like him its hard for you to get sleep most nights…but for different reasons.

anyways.

idk if your still up but if you are just know im coming over.

fuck..im sorry seriously

just please text me back…

after a minute of nothing, in more suitable clothes, miles quickly ran out of his window and straight to you place. ok morales think… maybe a gift? no. miles knows you better, he tried to do that last time and he quickly realized he couldn’t buy your affection back. man that was a shitty three weeks, you had ignored him for a long time before he was at your door for hours begging to talk with him.

miles waited on the sidewalk before a cab stopped near him. getting in he was consumed by his thoughts. so what then? will they even buy the being at work bullshit again?

“kid where to!?” quickly snapping out of his thoughts miles told the cab drive your street address. only 10:33…fuck where did the time go? recently time for miles seemed to be slipping away and fast. never a slow moment to catch his breath or sit down and focus. that seemed to always be the case, especially after…anyways. maybe he could just tell the truth? he chuckled silently to himself. yeah..like thats a fucking option.

“where here” “oh yeah thanks” pulling his wallet out he handed the driver a twenty and a five. “just keep the change” exiting the car miles immediately headed for the back of your apartment where your fire escape was. he couldn’t bother going to your front door, after 6 p.m, no visitors, or rather no boyfriends were allowed in, specifically your mothers orders.

ok morales, just pray you don’t lose your relationships tonight, worry about the rest later. after climbing to the fourth floor he was meet with your window. please be open, please be open, please be- he lifted up the window.

thank god. miles made sure you weren’t in your room before climbing in. ok…now or never. going over towards your door miles knew this was risky. on the off-chance that you mother was up he would be really fucked. before he could open the door someone opened it first.

…miles let out a sigh of relief as he saw your face.

“what the-?!”

he quickly grabbed your wrist and pulled you into the room, shutting the door behind him. “….fuck?” you let out a disappointed sigh. “miles..what are you doing here?” a trick question he knew that you knew he was here to apologize but he didn’t say that part out loud, being a smartass would get him nowhere. “look i am beyond sorry-” “yeah i know miles” damn he could hear the hurt in you voice. you had your back turned to him now, focusing on getting you vanity in order. “…if you allow me, i can make it up to you this weekend” “yeah, i know miles…” is that a yes or…? “so…what day do you want to-” “i can always trust that you’ll make it up to me miles but what after?” ok..what? “what do you mean my love?” sighing you turned around to face him again. you couldn’t help but to roll your eyes, quickly mumbling “why do i even bother”

“ok look miles ill um talk to you later ight? it’s getting late anyways” you made your was towards him trying to get to you door. miles stopped you. “fuck, look i know i fucked up but please dont shut me out” he went to grab your hand but you stepped back. yeah, im fucked. “just please hear me out…” “you’ve released ive been hearing you out four times this month right?!” you said, your tone slightly rising. “and im beyond grateful my love, seriously i am, but if you can just hear me out one more time i can explain” turning back around you went to sit down. “well the floors all yours morales” usually, in any other instance, petty comments like that would have pissed him off but he had no right to be upset as of this moment.

“right…ok, i was called in late today. my manager said it was important and i couldn’t just bail on him you know..?” you slightly chuckled. “even you don’t believe that miles” ok yeah thats fair. “just please let me make it up to you my love.” he took a small step towards you “i already said i know that you will” now he was just confused “yeah so what does that mean? you’re saying nothing and everything at the same time” “it means i know that you will make it up to me miles, you always do, but what about after?” “will anything change…?” you voice grew smaller. miles wanted to respond but practically couldn’t. the room was left silent before you spoke up again “right, if thats your final answer than i think you should just-” “no, no, no. i promise i can change, you just have to be…” you glared at him “right…look i couldn’t be more grateful to have you as mine and i seriously dont want to lose you, just please..”

…a silent pause filled the room.

“than tell me the truth” you replied quietly. another silent pause followed. miles couldn’t do that, or else he would definitely lose you. “i..i cant do that.” your face contorted in confusion with a bit of anger. “and why exactly cant you?” you two stared at each before you made up your own conclusions “i see, maybe your too busy entertaining someone else ?” you huffed out. bow it was time for miles to be confused. “what?? why would i-?” miles sighed “no of course not i would never and you know that!” “so than whats the problem miles?! why exactly can’t you tell me the truth?” your voice gradually got louder, your patience clearer at its end. “if i do than you’ll be upset with me, so upset that you’ll most definitely break up with me” miles said quietly, a slight wobble in his voice although it was still prominent enough for you to hear. now you couldn’t help but be concerned. miles rarely got emotional during intense fights between the two of you, thats not to say miles is emotionally unavailable, just that he always stayed cool under pressure and fights.

“miles i cant be more upset with you than i already am, plus im the one asking for the truth so i can’t be mad at you, no matter what it is” you were slowly walking up to him now. hoping to reinsure him. “ok…listen, i cant tell you the full truth but please know im being completely honest when i say that: most times when i cant make it to our dates its because of my work..” you two stared at each other, miles was unable to read your face, although if you asked him, you looked pretty conflicted. as if you were deciding if he was telling the truth or not. after a small pause you came to your conclusion. “you know what miles? if its so hard to just-“

“fuck, ok im the prowler does that help?!”

the room grew silent as before, neither of you uttering a single word.

┄┄ ︰ ┄୨୧┄ ︰ ┄┄

©️bluesworldd 2023 || All rights reserved. Do not repost, reupload, translate, modify, copy, or claim my work as your own.

[abrcmswrld]

Treacherous | Mike Schmidt x Reader

Summary: Reader and Mike have been best friends since childhood. After a fight, Reader is given a surprise visit.

Warnings: General Angst, General Fluff, a suggestive make out scene in the nude but nothing too crazy, mentions of feminine clothing in one part but overall gender neutral

Author's Note: IM EDITING THIS RN SO PLEASE JUST IGNORE THE MISTAKES AND LIKE DUMB STUFF This is my first fic for Mike so bear with me! I tried so hard to adhere to the movie timeline but if it seems shaky please just ignore it lmao. I'm also bad at pacing sorry. I’d love to make this a series cause I’m in love with a good friends to lovers trope.

Mike had always been a bit of a mess. All of the time that you've known him, this has never changed. You can recall times on the playground of boys calling him names for his sensitivities. How were they to know the gravity of his situation? How were you to know? But you always felt called to stand up for him either way.

So you'd hound them off. You'd grab his hand and pull him off the dirt and to a quiet corner of the playground. The two of you would sit on the wooden border, picking at the grass and watching the other kids play.

His sensitivities would quickly turn to a certain hardness that you'd never fully come to understand, even in your late twenties. He'd open up the tiniest bit in high school, after his mother had passed away. He was only 17 years old. You were still children.

You have memories of standing uncomfortably in the dress your mother had insisted you wear to the funeral. You didn't know how to approach him then. He sat alone in a chair on the far side of the funeral home, a blank expression on his face. You couldn't say a word as you took tiny footsteps towards him. And he didn't say a word either, just looked up with bloodshot eyes. You'd hugged him then, feeling his shoulders shakes against you.

Soon it was time for the two of you to start thinking about college and your lives outside of the scope of small town high school. Talks of plans to find something new and excited were quickly stomped out by the failures of his father. You can recall a 23 year old Mike begging for your company on late nights when his father's drinking had reached a climax.

And you'd gladly show up for him. Abby was only six by that time, and Mike was all she had. Mike spoke about his father with disdain to you. Never crying the way he had as child, but you could see a sad anger within the conversations. And really, you couldn't blame him.

You can remember a night on the roof of your childhood home. It wasn’t your first time sneaking Mike through the window of your bedroom. It was a cold December night, and you were home for the holidays.

“I don’t think my dad’s coming back.”

Your knees were pulled up and under your chin as you rest your head and listened to his worries. “What do you mean?”

He sighed. “I mean, he hasn’t been back for three days and I think this might finally be it.”

You furrowed your brows and met his gaze.

“I’ll move back here.”

In that moment he had begged you not to. You were so close to finishing your degree and he insisted that he could not be the reason you didn’t finish. So you heeded to his wishes. You finished your final semester.

In the 6 months that you were gone after that night, his dad had not returned. Mike had stepped up to be a guardian for his sister. Family court would later assure this in legal documentation.

You had hugged him tightly the first night you were home and assured him that you would be there, for the both of them.

━━━

You would prove that to him when his original babysitter had ghosted him.

“Probably got tired of not being paid.” He had said when you asked why.

You don’t ask for pay. You had a day job that kept you stable enough to live. And as Mike’s hours were night shift, there was really no problem with the arrangement.

It would go on for a few weeks. You hadn’t seen pay, but you didn’t mind. Mike would cook you breakfast when he got home. That was payment enough for you.

But you could notice he wasn’t doing well. Dark circles had formed under his eyes. He had confided in you about the actions of his Aunt Jane. He showed you the papers with bold letters proclaiming a request for a change of custody. His stress and worry made sense to you now.

He would have to prove he was fit, a big ask in a court setting, especially for someone like Mike. You had encouraged him the best you could.

But everything had come to a head on a night when Mike had intended to actually pay you.

He woke you from your light sleep on his couch, alerting you that he was home. He sat his tired body on the recliner.

“There’s a 20 dollar bill in my jacket pocket.”

His eyes are closed as he speaks. It seems the night has been a rough one for him. “You don’t have to, but thank you.” You find the jacket lying on the kitchen table. You feel slightly bad as you reach your hand in to find the bill, but your guilt falls into confusion as your fingers brush the tiny bottle inside.

You let your eyes travel over the orange bottle in your hands. You furrow your brows. You turn to face the recliner he sits in.

"Mike."

He turns his head to face you, tired eyes falling on yours. He sees the bottle in your hands and you can see a sense of uncertainty and dread fall across his features.

"What are these? Sleeping pills?"

He immediately tenses, as if he had been avoiding this topic with everyone. But he responds quietly, “Yes.”

You fall silent for a moment, unsure of what to say. Realistically, there was nothing wrong with sleeping pills. People use them all of the time to sleep. But Mike seems hesitant to cover the topic of these pills and why he uses them.

An additional concern comes up in the way he had stuffed them in his jacket pocket. Why was he taking them to work? You hate the way your thoughts sound like the micromanagement of a mother, but all you can see is the bright yellow of the custody papers and Abby’s sweet face in your mind.

“Have you been taking these at work?”

He’s silent. It’s enough of an answer for you. You sigh as you sit the bottle down on the kitchen counter. You’ve known he wasn’t well. The incident that had gotten him fired from his last job, the dark circles under his eyes, the hardness about him, it all worried you. But you had always chose to let him live. Let him make his mistakes.

“Mike, talk to me. What’s going on with you?”

He lets out a spiteful scoff as if the conversation is beneath his worries at the moment. He lets out a shaky sigh. “I feel connected to him there. I don’t know why, but I do.”

There’s no doubt in your mind who he is referring to. His baby brother. The one he couldn’t save. You let him continue.

“If I can put myself into the right state of mind, I can see it. I can watch it over and over. And if I try hard enough maybe I might see who took him.”

He voice drifts off to a quiet and weak tone, “That’s all that matters to me.”

You can tell he’s hurt by the way that his voice comes out strained and weak, and it hurts you too. It’s not as if you couldn’t understand the pain of the situation. He’d cried to you all those years back when it first occurred. What you can’t understand is how he could let it ruin his relationship with Abby. Abby who is alive and well. Abby who, even if discreet, sees Mike as the moon and stars.

“And what about that little girl who sits around and draws you all day long?”

It makes you feel like a bitch to even say such a thing to him, but if it gives him a shake maybe it’d be worth it. “What about her?”

He stands still as a statue, emotions shifting across his face as he processes the words you’ve shot at him. You’re sure they strike like a bullet. His mouth opens and closes again, so you speak again.

“I know how badly you want to bring him back, Mike. To bring him back and be able to pretend none of that ever happened.”

He furrows his brows and you can the see the hurt flood his expression.

“But you’re going to lose them both if you don’t get your shit together.”

You sigh. You hate the way you sound like a mother scolding a child. You take a shaky breath. “Do you think that this job is really good for you? I mean-“ He cuts you off with a scoff and a laugh.

His tense attitude has you uncomfortable and defensive. You hate the way your voice becomes strained as you speak. “I just think it’s taking a toll on you.”

“I need this job, otherwise I’m never gonna see her again.”

And of course you know that. He needs a job to look good for a court that’s supposed to be able to decide if he’s right to take care of his sister. But what good does a job do on paper if the court can clearly see the way his mental stability is shaky? He hesitates and meets your eyes with a tense look as he speaks,

“You’re here to babysit Abby, not me.”

You stand silently in front of him for a moment before grabbing your coat. You turn toward him. You can see the quirk of regret on his expression, but he doesn’t speak, doesn’t take it back.

“It’s gonna take more than a shitty job that drives you crazy to keep her. I think you should find somebody else to babysit Abby.”

There’s malice in your tone and you hate it. But you can’t make excuses for him. You ignore his voice as he says your name quietly. You just let the door close behind you a you walk to your car. You wait for the door to open again behind your back. It doesn’t.

He doesn’t text you either. In fact, you don’t hear from him for another week and you wonder if he’s already replaced you and plans on holding the grudge.

You assume he must have. He must have found another babysitter for Abby. It seemed he was saving money to actually pay whoever took that role.

You can’t stop yourself from becoming more and more sad as the week goes on. You find yourself worrying more and more about Mike. And Abby. There’s no doubt in your mind that Jane was still adamant on proving in court that Mike was an unfit guardian.

You don’t know why you feel as though your presence could somehow remedy that. You don’t know why you feel an ache so deep in your heart. Friendship breakups are common. But Mike was different.

You still don’t let yourself text him. You would give him the power to choose that route. To choose you and the friendship you had given him since you were both children. And by the end of the week you have to force yourself to sleep.

And by the end of the week you get what you had secretly hoped for.

━━━

The knock on your door is urgent. You're half asleep as you rise out of the comfort of your bed. Your feet press against the cold floor as you rush to see who it could be. As you glance through the peephole you're met with those familiar black curls.

You open the door swiftly, shivering at the cool breeze that flows in. He looks like hell. Abby stands at his side. You're stunned, "Oh my God." You open the door wider and usher the two of them in.

Abby seems to be physically uninjured, while Mike's face is bloodied and bruised. You whisper to Mike,

"What the hell happened?"

He looks to Abby before he answers. "Abby should get some rest while we talk." You nod immediately. "Of course. She can sleep in my bed while I patch you up."

You lead the young girl to the bed and ensure she's tucked in. She thanks you quietly before you leave the room. You grab some first aid supplies from the bathroom cabinet on your way back.

"Sit."

You point Mike in the direction of the couch. He winces as you wipe the open cuts with alcohol wipes. You raise an eyebrow, “ You look like hell, Mike.” He scoffs in response.

“So you gonna tell me who did this to you, or am I just gonna have to keep wondering?”

Mike hesitates. You stop your movements to look at him with concern. He shakes his head, “You’re gonna think I’m crazy.” You sigh,

“Mike, I know you. Just tell me.”

And so he does. He explains everything down to the little details he can remember. It sounds crazy, it absolutely does. But you can’t bring yourself to think he’s faking it.

“I know it sounds crazy, but I know what I saw. She knows what she saw.” He points in the direction of the room Abby was soundly sleeping in.

“I believe you.”

He closes his eyes and exhales a large breath. You continue to clean the cuts along his face and head. “I don’t think you’ll need stitches.” He nods. There’s still an awkward tension between the two of you. He’s upset with himself for letting you leave the way you had, and you’re ashamed of yourself for letting him push you away. You break the silence at the same time,

“You know-“

“I’m sorry-“

You can’t help but laugh a little, and he smiles weakly back at you.

“It’s okay. I’m sorry too.” You continue.

He shrugs. “You were just looking out for me. I understand that now.” It means a lot coming from Mike. He’s stubborn, not usually one to admit when he’s wrong. It makes the moment all the more sincere. You smile slightly, letting a hand brush his cheek where a bruise is blossoming under the skin.

“I wouldn’t have said what I did if I didn’t care about you.”

He nods slowly and leans his cheek into your caress. You can feel the warmth of his hand as he lets it fall to your hip. His voice falls to a whisper.

“I care about you too.”

You smile and swipe a thumb over his bottom lip, where the plush skin has split from impact and smeared blood across his pale chin. He groans as he leans up, it’s only then that you notice the large gash on his side.

He attempts to stand, hobbling on his injured leg. “Mike,” He turns toward your bedroom, ready to grab Abby and get out of your hair. When he turns his back, you can see the blood seeping through his shirt and the large tear across his back. You grab his hand,

“Mike.”

He faces you again, letting a quick glance fall to your now connected hands. “Let her sleep, she’s alright. Let me help you.”

He stands awkwardly in front of your bathroom counter. His muscles flex with each touch of your fingers around his wounds, his fingers gripping the counter until his knuckles are white.

“I think it’d be best if you took this off.”

You’re awkwardly fiddling with the hem of his long sleeve shirt. He meets your gaze in the mirror and you feel small. Your voice is nearly a whisper, “I- I just can’t see.”

You stare at the floor as he pulls the shirt over his head. The gash is messy, but not deep enough to require stitches. Regardless, it’s covered in a thick layer of blood and sweat. You usher him to turn, and you see that the cut on his side is not better.

He can see the way your eyebrows screw together. “Is it that bad?” His voice has a touch of dread hidden in its tone. “I mean,” You glance at him.

“I don’t think you’ll need stitches, but you need to clean them or they’re gonna get infected.”

He swallows and nods. You walk to the shower, turning the knobs and adjusting the water to an appropriate and comfortable temperature. You clear your throat, “Here. I’ll, uh, I’ll let you…do your thing.”

You turn on your heels to give him privacy. As soon as your fingers touch the metallic surface of the doorknob, his hand catches your free hand, pulling gently. You turn toward him, meeting his eye. He pulls you closer and carefully pulls you into an embrace. You’re worried you’ll catch his wounds with your hands so you let them hover above his skin, not actually touching. But you want to.

You can feel his breath on your neck where he’s buried his face. He speaks into the sensitive skin, “Thank you. I don’t thank you enough.” That’s the moment you finally let your hands rest on his skin.

“You don’t have to thank me, Mike. I do it because I care about you.” You gently brush your fingers across his upper back, avoiding his cut. “Besides, you’d do it for me.”

He pulls himself from your neck, and you drop your hands from his back gently, expecting him to pull out of the embrace. But he stays close to you and only pulls back enough to see your face. Your cheeks are so hot. You can feel it and you know he can probably see it. He keeps his hands at your sides, just above your hips in a way that feels respectful. You allow yourself to put your hands on his forearms, thumbs resting in the bend of his elbows.

“Your water is gonna get cold.”

It’s a whisper as it comes out. He simply nods but doesn’t drop his hands from your sides. You smile shyly at him.

“Come with me.”

Your face is instantly hot and you’re suddenly hyper aware of the steam that’s building in the room and around the two of you. With your eyes wide and your mouth opening but no words coming out, he looks at you with hesitation, like he can’t believe the words actually left his mouth.

You can see the fear building on his expression the longer the silence drags on. Thoughts are racing through your head. You’d be lying if you said you’d never thought of this. You loved him. There’d always been a flutter in your stomach and a heat in your cheeks that let you know that perhaps it could be more than a friendship. You want that. But is this really how it’s going to happen?

You imagine the two of you going from childhood friends to becoming well acquainted with each other’s bodies in the span of one stressful night after not speaking for nearly a week. But there are no alarm bells going off in your head. You can’t bring yourself to feel ashamed.

So you kiss him. With his arms still around you and the heat from his bare chest creating a sense of protection from everything. With the whirl of water hitting the tub filling your ears. With the image of Abby sleeping soundly in your bedroom in your mind.

When you pull away, he looks at you with a sense of longing you’ve not seen on him before. You don’t want to say a word, not right now. It’ll be complicated. You know it will be. And you’ll have to have that conversation eventually, but right now the only thing you want is the heat of the water and the silk of his skin against yours.

So you finally unwrap yourself from him to begin working the buttons on your shirt. You’ve turned your brain off momentarily. Your fingers are on autopilot as they remove each article of clothing. If you allowed yourself to think, you’d surely turn in on yourself from the shame.

But when you’re finally bare and displayed in front of him, he doesn’t speak. He only looks with a fondness in his eyes that goes beyond a lustful stare. He slowly works his pants off his injured figure, wincing in the process, and soon he’s just as bare as you.

You’re shaking and cursing yourself internally for doing so. God, why were you shaking? You know he notices as he reaches his hand out to touch your arm lightly, grounding you in reality, and speaks, “Are you okay?”

You nod. More than okay.

The water feels heavenly as it beats against the skin of your back. Mike hobbles into the shower after you. He’s hesitant as you usher him to switch with you. It’s gonna hurt, but it’s necessary.

Your fingers lightly brush the wound on his back. He'd already been wincing slightly from the sting of the water, but your touch has him tensing immediately. You grab a cloth and dampen it enough to be effective in cleaning the general blood and grime from the afflicted wound.

The moment your cloth cover hand touches the  wound, he cries out through closed teeth, "Fucking- fuck!" His hands are planted against the shower wall in front of him. He bites his lip, holding in the whimpers of pain, trying his hardest not to wake Abby.

"Shh. It's okay, Mikey."

You let a gentle hand fall to his non injured side, brushing his skin. You're trying to sooth his tense and pained form as much as possible.

Soon enough you have both gashes cleaned up and ready to be bandaged. Mike turns to face you in the shower. His face still has a slight touch of discomfort to it, but he smiles weakly at you.

“Thank you.”

You smile back and nod. You’ve hardly said a word outside of attempting to sooth his pain with sweet words. The cold is starting to seep in from the tiny crack in the shower curtain. You can feel tiny goosebumps beginning to form on your skin. He frowns slightly and breaks the silence again.

“Did I cross a line…with this?”

Your head is already shaking before you can even comprehend the question. Like your body knows the answer before your mind does. “No, Mike.” He hesitates in his response, standing still and quiet before stepping towards you.

He seems to be able to move around a little better. You’re not sure if it’s the water cleaning the previously irritated wounds or if it’s the adrenaline pumping through his body. Either way you’re thankful as his hands are grabbing at your face and pulling you into another kiss.

It’s sloppier than the previous kiss you had shared, and he’s pushed you back so far that your back is hitting the cold tile of the shower wall. A fog has taken over your mind as you reach around his shoulders, digging your fingers into the plush muscle of his back.

The feeling of his tongue swiping into your mouth has sent you entirely mad. You’re whining slightly at the feeling and your eyes are half lidded. You can’t even think of the fact that this is your childhood best friend kissing you. Making you shudder. You can’t find it in you to care, you want him.

“Mikey…”

It’s a whispered moan as you let your head fall back against the tile, exposing the delicate skin of your neck to his wandering mouth.

Despite his injured form, his hands are tight around you. You'd thought of this before, in the heat of the night alone in your high school bedroom, hormones taking over completely.

You'd imagined the strong grip of his hands and the contrast of his plush lips. The bite of white teeth and soothing warmth of the hot water.

It’s absolutely divine, you think. He is divine. You know you’ll have dark bruises on your neck from the way he bites. You can’t help but run a hand through the hair on the back of his head and tug slightly. The moan is elicits rumbles through your neck and you want more.

You’re absolutely drunk off of the feeling of his body being this close to yours, nearly intertwined. You don’t even think when your nails swipe the cut on his back. That is until he lets out a yelp in the crook of your neck and promptly jump back.

You’re wide eyed immediately, realizing what you’d just done.

“I’m- I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Mike.”

You can still see the remnants of a wince on his face but he laughs. And you find yourself letting out a nervous laugh with him. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

You laugh again, holding the palm of your head to your forehead.

“We should probably get out. It’s getting cold.”

You nod.

━━━

You manage to sneak past Abby’s sleeping figure long enough to grab old clothes from your room. You find yourself thanking the universe than Abby is a heavy sleeper.

You’re also thankful that you hadn’t given Mike back an old t-shirt that he had left in your home years ago. He smiles at you when you hand it to him. He puts it on and examines the familiar print on the front.

“You’ve been holding this one hostage, huh?”

You gently nudge his shoulder and let out a chuckle. “Shut up.”

You’ve layered blankets in the middle of your living room floor. You speak as you lay pillows down on the makeshift palette. “Abby is sleeping peacefully, I’m not letting you drive home tonight, and there’s no way I’m letting you sleep on my tiny couch.”

You point exaggeratedly at the “bed” you’ve created for the two of you. “Ta-da.” You let yourself fall back onto the layers of pillows and blankets. It’s surprisingly cushioned. You sigh. “Actually not that bad, Mikey.”

He watches you with a smile from his seat on your couch. “You’ve really out done yourself.” He slides off the couch and into the layers of blankets and pillows next to you. He turns to rest on his uninjured side, facing you. It’s dark in the room, but you’ve left one lamp on. You can see his features glow under the warm light. You brush a hand on his cheek lightly.

“I’m glad you didn’t die tonight, Mike.”

He snickers, but you’re serious. The thought of his face on the news, just another tragedy at Freddy’s, haunts you. “I’m serious.”

He simply stares at you. “You’re not gonna go back there, right?” He closes his eyes and shakes his head slowly.

“I don’t know how I’m gonna take care of her. I can’t keep a job.”

Your thumb brushes at his cheek, soothing his tension. “I’ll help you. When have I ever left you alone in this?” You shiver as you think of the only time you’d walked out on him after that heated argument. You push the thought away and close your eyes.

“Really love you, Mike. You’re my best friend.”

You open your eyes hesitantly and you can see the shine of moisture in his. “Love you too.”

You place a kiss on his lips. It’s chaste, but full of a deep warmth. It leaves you wondering what comes next.

You tuck yourself in close to him.

“Goodnight, Mike.”

[blouisparadise]

There were some amazing bottom Louis fics posted or completed during the month of January. We really hope you enjoy this list and show these fics love. Happy reading!

1) Strawberry Cake | Teen & Up | 1,789 words

When Louis gets stuck in a bad situation at a bar, Harry steps in to help.

2) Intoxicated | Mature | 2,156 words

“Could, I-uh- get a drink, perhaps?” The stranger asks. Louis snaps back. Quickly closing his mouth and attempting to respond to the deep and surprisingly demanding voice. “Oh, I’m sorry but we are closed for the day” Louis responds. In all honesty he could have made the man a drink, but the lack of supplies Louis had thus far prevented him from offering anything but a half drunk bottle of beer. “But the door was open.” The person retrots. Inviting himself further into the establishment and seating himself down on one of the tables. Louis knits his eyebrows together out of confusion. He also stops admiring the man and feels annoyance building up instead. “Yes, the door was open, but my bar is still closed.” Louis replies. Annunciating the fact that he was in charge so his words could be taken more seriously by this customer that was turning from charming to sour.

3) I’ll Love You When The Oceans Dry, I’ll Love You When The Rivers Freeze | Explicit | 2,515 words

Harry and Louis are on vacation with their friends. Louis gets very drunk so Harry takes him back to his hotel room. He sees text exchanges about Louis liking some guy and he gets jealous so snoops more and realizes it is him. In the morning, Louis realizes that Harry snoops and secrets are revealed.

4) Powerless (And I Don't Care) | Explicit | 4,061 words

Everyone on tour calls each other daddy, don’t ask why. And Louis is so used to calling everyone “daddy” that, when he finally comes home, naturally he calls Harry that.

5) Now You Hang From My Lips | Explicit | 6,292 words

Louis gives him an appraising look—starting at the soles of his expensive shoes and ending at the top of his head. “Just a drink,” he answers, because he loves this part—the chase. He loves having someone hanging on his every word and if there’s one thing for sure he’ll make somebody work for it. If H isn’t down for that, if he gives up too easily then it wasn’t meant to be anyways. Because that’s the other half of it, Louis also wants someone who will put him in his place. “Well in that case, I’ve got room with a minibar. Why don’t you come upstairs with me and you can have whatever you want.” Bingo.

6) Mother In Law | Mature | 8,070 words

Harry has been watching Louis from afar for about a month, but he refuses to call himself a stalker. He just admires him, not following him like a creep. Until one day, Louis approaches him. They have sex. Harry finds out that Louis is rich and he feels insecure. He decides that he needs to let Louis go. The problem is Louis falls deeper.

7) Behind Smoke Stained Curtains | Explicit | 19,054 words

It was a particularly lonely night when Harry walked through his door with a flurry of snow. He was a little rough around the edges with a trucker hat pushed down over untamed long hair. He looked a little greasy, a shower definitely not in his recent past. His tan Carhartt work coat was smudged with dirt and oil and caked with grime, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. The scent was overwhelming as soon as he walked in, unmasked alpha from days on the road stewing in a cab of his own pheromones. Louis was sure it was so deep into the fabric of his coat that no amount of washing would ever truly remove the stench. The worlds align when Louis meets an alpha from the road with as many secrets as he holds himself.

8) Sunshine (You Temptress) | Explicit | 26,870 words

All it took was one idiotic dare, one boy, one night. He’s twenty eight years old, six months fresh out of possibly the worst break up you could ever imagine, and his Friday nights are spent fucking a nineteen year old stranger. He’s still not completely sure how it happened.

10) The Road Not Taken | Explicit | 35,285 words

Louis’ not paying attention as his phone unlocks, and he’s shocked when the thread opens and there’s only one message there from an unknown contact. I’m home. For a minute he assumes it’s got to be a wrong number, and before he can decide whether to just ignore it or send a response the three dots show up and then a second message. It’s Harry by the way. And finally a third right after that. Are you busy tonight?

11) You Could Be The One That I Love | Explicit | 39,797 words

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Niall waved off. “Now, let’s talk man to man to man. You two have had a crush on each other since uni. Now’s your chance to finally get something going. I could see the sparks and connection and attraction back then and I can still see it now, God damn it! You’re just denying fate at this point.” He looked impassioned, his blue eyes wide and imploring. Louis shook his head again and chuckled. “You can’t just snap your finger and expect us to, like, get it on.” “I’m not,” he reasoned. “I’m merely telling you to do something about it.”

12) Paradise Is Getting Closer | Mature | 52,685 words

Louis hated his life, which consisted only of death and destruction. Despite the lives he had saved and continued to save, a part of him couldn't feel satisfied. He had been the one who gave up a normal life and although he knew what was to come, the loneliness had never left him in all these years, not even for a second. He felt it in his heart every time he approached a target, he felt it in the few minutes before falling asleep in his dingy car or while he allowed himself a few hours of sleep before setting off again, and he felt it every time he closed that door behind him.

13) Don't Want No Other Shade Of Blue | Explicit | 58,638 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

“I know you’re putting on an act,” says Harry after a moment, and Louis scowls when he realises the prince is actually amused. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” says Louis. “All I’ve heard over the past couple of years are rumours of Prince Louis’ kindness, and generosity, and oh, he’s so handsome I can barely pour his tea without shaking!” says Harry, putting on a silly, high-pitched voice for the last bit. Louis’ scowl deepens. “I would already know if you were just another selfish, bratty omega prince. You can’t fool me, darling, but I admire your efforts.” “As you said,” Louis grits out, “those are only rumours. I assure you, I’m a terrible person.”

14) Men Are Shit | Explicit | 77,728 words

Welcome to Louisland. Here you'll find fluffy socks, chaos and always enough alcohol to toast the fact that all men are shit.

15) You Were My Because | Explicit | 109,089 words

Note: Please remember to check tags for any trigger warnings.

Louis has battled the demons of his past for years now and has little hope of finding happiness for himself. Especially now that a school reunion is taking place and the memories of his school days are suddenly coming back with full force. But after rain always comes sunshine, in Louis’ case in the form of his old schoolmate Harry. A story about healing, friendship, finding trust and love.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

[inawickedlittletown]

We've Got A Long Way To Go (BuckTommy) - 6/?

Summary: A few months after the break up, Buck picks up a call that changes everything. Tommy has his own regrets, and an unexpected meeting and a change in Buck's life will bring them together. Fix-it fic. Words: 2.9k Read on Ao3 Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five

-

Chapter Six

The reality hit him pretty hard after getting up from his much needed nap. It hit him when he remembered the whole of the last twenty four hours. The call to the hospital. The doctor pulling him into a room and sitting him down to tell him Connor was gone followed quickly with the information that Kameron was gone too. Lucas was alive but getting a cast put on his arm. 

Buck almost rushed out of bed as soon as he remembered, but he knew it would be a while before he was back home once he left for the hospital. So, he took a shower and shaved and he took his time dressing and he told himself it had nothing to do with Tommy being at the hospital with Lucas and everything to do with showing Maddie that he wasn’t a mess about everything. 

On his way home in the uber Tommy had forced him to take, he had called Maddie again. She immediately asked if he needed her to go to the hospital.

“No. I’m not there. Lucas is getting discharged tomorrow, but I’m exhausted so I’m going home to get some sleep.” 

“You’re not driving, are you?”

“I’m not. Took an uber. I just…I’m doing this, Maddie. He’s my kid and I’m going to be his father. There’s a lot to figure out, but I’ll do that. You can give me a ride back to the hospital when I wake up, how about that?” 

“You left him all alone,” Maddie said. “Maybe I should go and sit with him so he doesn’t wake up to no one.” 

“You’d be a complete stranger to him. Anyway, he’s not alone. He’s with — there’s someone there with him. I’ll call later.” 

Lucas was with Tommy. Buck actually fully didn’t think he would have left if Tommy wasn’t there to watch over him. He did feel a little guilty about it, if he were being honest, but Tommy had offered and Buck was tired enough to accept. 

On the way back to the hospital, Maddie filled him in on everything everyone had gotten together for him. Hen and Karen had the most considering how many foster kids had gone through their house. Buck read through his texts, finding nothing from Tommy, but plenty from everyone else. 

It was as they were parking that she turned to him. “Are you really sure about this?” 

“Why do I have to keep saying that I am? I’ve always wanted to have kids, Maddie. Maybe this is not the best way for it to happen, but it’s happening.” 

“It is,” Maddie said. “I just don’t want you to regret it and—”

He was glad they were parked, because it meant he could get out of the car. Maddie followed right after him right away, but those seconds meant that he didn’t yell at her. 

“And what, Maddie, become like our parents? That’s not going to happen. I know what bad parents are like and I’m not going to be a bad father.”

“No, I know,” she said and he could tell that she was close to tears. “I just worry, alright. You’re going to be doing this on your own and I’m not exactly going to be able to help you in a few more months. Your best friend moved to Texas. You don’t have a partner. You’re going into this all alone.” 

“And if I’ve learned anything from Eddie, it’s that it can be done,” Buck said and then he waved his phone at her. “And if I was so alone, then why is everyone already offering to help me with this. You’re the only one pushing against me doing this. Why?” 

Maddie leaned back against her car. “Because kids are hard,” she said. “You’re not going to just be fun Uncle Buck anymore. You have to get that.” 

“I do. I’m in my thirties, Maddie. I really don’t know why you can’t just be supportive about this. Why you can’t just be happy for me even if it happened because Connor and Kameron are—” 

Maddie pushed off the car and she grabbed his shoulders, pulling him into a hug. Maddie had only recently started properly showing and he felt the roundness of her stomach while they hugged. Lucas would have two cousins soon. Buck hadn’t even thought about that, but the idea warmed him. He couldn’t wait to introduce him to Jee-Yun. 

“Evan,” Maddie said, pulling out of the hug, “I just…you haven’t been in a great place lately and bringing a kid into that might make it worse, especially a kid that just lost his parents. I just worry that you’re not ready to dive into something like this and that it will hurt you and the kid both.”

“My son. Not the kid. My son. I don’t want to fight with you, Maddie, and if you’re not going to support me then you can just go. I should get back to my son. I already have enough to deal with. I just want to go and see Lucas, now. Come if you want, but stop trying to change my mind.”

He walked away from her and not a moment later heard her footsteps coming up behind him. 

“I’m your older sister, I’m allowed to be worried. I won’t try to change your mind again. I want this to work out, Evan. Really. You have me and Chim for anything you need. He’s my nephew, after all. You’ll have everyone at the 118 too.” 

And Tommy. Maybe. He didn’t mention Tommy to Maddie, but he thought that maybe he did have him even if it was only as a friend. 

-

It was late afternoon when Evan returned. He had Maddie with him and she looked shocked to find Tommy there. 

“Hi,” she said. “Buck didn’t say you were here.” 

Evan rolled his eyes. “I said I left Lucas with a friend.” 

“I didn’t think that meant—” Maddie trailed off. 

Evan looked a little more put together. Fresh clothes, his hair looking like he’d put some product in it. He’d shaved too. It didn’t manage to take away the dark circles under his eyes, but he did look a little more rested. 

“I guess that means I should go,” Tommy said. “He, uh, woke up a couple of hours ago. Nurse came in to change his diaper and then he ate before falling back asleep.”

“He was awake,” Evan said at once. “Why didn’t you text or call?”

“I was a little distracted,” Tommy said. “And he fell asleep pretty quickly after drinking his formula. And, I didn’t want to wake you.” 

Evan frowned a little, but he seemed to shake it off, his attention already on Lucas. He was going to be such a good dad. Tommy got up from the chair and offered Evan a smile, not sure if there was anything else for him to give. 

“Thank you,” Evan said, turning to Tommy, “I really needed that sleep.” 

“I could tell,” Tommy said. 

He didn’t know what else to say. What was he allowed to say? He could feel Maddie’s eyes — her glare.

Lucas made a noise and Evan’s attention was on the boy at once. Maddie looked between him and Evan and then settled her eyes on her brother who was helping Lucas sit up and talking to him. 

“Evan, if you need anything at all just let me know, alright?” 

Evan glanced back at him once, but he looked away just as fast. 

“Bye, Lucas,” Tommy said and waved. 

Lucas waved back. Why did he have to be the most adorable kid that Tommy had ever met.

“It was good to see you again, Maddie,” he added in Maddie’s direction, but he didn’t think it changed much of anything with her.  

He felt a heaviness settle in his chest as he took the first few steps to the door and then out of it. The hallway felt like it went on forever, but he walked it. At the reception desk someone had apparently dropped off piles of baked goods. 

-

When they walked into the hospital room after dropping off a box of baked goods for the nurses to share, it felt like a relief to see Tommy was still there. If it wasn’t for Lucas waking up, he didn’t know what Maddie would have said, but he did know that he’d wanted to ask Tommy if they could talk. He’d wanted to ask him if he would stay, but Maddie was there and…well, Maddie didn’t know the whole story. 

Lucas seemed a little confused coming out of his nap, but he didn’t seem bothered by Buck or Maddie when Buck introduced them, even if he did ask for his mom again. That was not going to stop anytime soon no matter how it stabbed at Buck’s heart. He was going to have to tell Lucas about his parents soon and he had no idea how to tackle that. 

“He looks like you,” Maddie told him. 

“I know,” Buck said. “I didn’t expect it even though he’s mine.” 

“Is it just his arm?” Maddie asked. 

“Yeah. He, uh, he got lucky. Tommy actually brought him in. It’s why I ran into him and then he told me he’d stay while I went to get some sleep. It was…I was glad to have him here.” 

She nodded slowly. Buck was glad that with Lucas more awake than he’d seen him since arriving at the hospital, he offered a buffer between him and Maddie. He didn’t know what Maddie wanted to say about Tommy, but Buck knew he wasn’t going to like it. The thing was that Buck hadn’t been able to really explain everything to her. The words just didn’t want to come out. So, all his sister — all anyone knew — was that Tommy had broken up with him just after their sixth month anniversary. 

Maddie was a mom, at least, so she was the one that realized Lucas probably needed a change of diaper. Buck had enough experience with the many times he’d babysat Jee-Yun, but he didn’t mind that Maddie followed into the bathroom to help. There was one of those wall mounted changers in there and supplies. 

It was after Buck settled a newly changed Lucas back in the bed that Maddie finally said what she’d been thinking. 

“You were angry at Tommy yesterday.” 

“I wasn’t a father then,” Buck pointed out. 

“I’m just saying he hurt you and you just left him here with your kid.” 

“He offered and we said we could be friends,” Buck said. “What does it matter, Maddie? Last night you were also telling me to call him.” 

She sighed. “So you could talk. So you can put this behind you.” 

“Put it behind me? What does that even mean?” 

“This is like the Abby thing all over again. You’re stuck on him and instead of doing anything to move on, it’s like you want to keep feeling the way you feel even if it’s breaking your heart.”

Buck didn’t know how to reply to that. So, he focused on Lucas. Lucas who had lost everything and probably didn’t even know it well enough to fully comprehend and who Buck would be entirely responsible for. So far with the medications and with being in the hospital, Lucas probably hadn’t even processed anything yet and Buck was waiting for that to happen. 

“I think dating is the last thing on my mind,” he finally told Maddie. “Tommy is not the bad guy here. It just…it didn’t work out and now I have Lucas to focus on. I think…I think it’s for the best. Maybe I’m not meant for romantic love, but now I’m not alone.” 

He’d seen what it was like for Eddie to date as a single dad, but that wasn’t even the only reason, but he didn’t want to admit to Maddie that he was definitely still very much not over Tommy and not likely to be over him any time soon. He just didn’t really have any time to think about any of that when there was a literal child being put under his care. 

Buck couldn’t be angry at Tommy running out on him. He couldn’t be sad and confused and upset about how despite being together for six months, Tommy had still somehow expected them to have some kind of end date. How while Buck was dreaming of the future, he was already planning for when Buck would break up with him. He had to pack all of that away and focus on the things that were more important and more pressing. Lucas, namely. 

Maddie had done him the favor of bringing some of Jee Yun’s toys with her. Lucas seemed happy to play with them even if he could only really use one hand. 

“Want help?” Buck asked. 

Lucas tilted his head to look at him for a moment before he gave a nod. 

Buck helped him stack and knock the blocks down and Lucas seemed to enjoy himself. When he giggled, Buck felt his heart soar. Maddie sitting in the chair Tommy had vacated just smiled at him. Lucas did babble a little while they played with the blocks, but it was mostly unintelligible. He did seem to respond to Buck talking to him, though, which was promising. 

When Lucas looked like he was getting tired, Buck picked up the toys and put them back in the bag Maddie had brought them in. Lucas seemed to get a little grumpy at that, which on his face just looked adorable. Maddie handed him the teddy bear and that seemed to help. 

“Nap time,” Buck announced. “How about a book?” 

Maddie had also brought books and Buck grabbed one of them from the bag. He arranged Lucas in the bed and sat next to him. If You Give A Mouse A Cookie was silly, but the pictures caught Lucas’ attention and as Buck read to him — read to his son — he did start to nod off a bit and before Buck had even finished the book, Lucas was passed out, leaning into Buck. 

“He’s adorable,” Maddie said. 

“I know,” Buck said as he laid Lucas down onto the bed in a more comfortable position. “I think he still thinks his mom and dad are going to just walk into this room any minute. Instead, I get to take him home tomorrow. There’s so much to do, Maddie.” 

“Start a list and we’ll see how we can get it done,” Maddie said. 

Buck did just that, right on his phone. He was sure he was forgetting plenty. First on the list was babyproofing the loft. The stairs were going to need some kind of gate. Then there was getting Lucas clothes, somewhere to sleep, and other necessities like diapers and all of the baby specific bath stuff. A car seat. Formula and other baby food. 

“Some of this you don’t need to worry about,” Maddie pointed out, looking over his shoulder. “I’ll go to the store and get a few things for him, though. Are you going to get any access to his stuff? His clothes and crib…any of that?” 

“I don’t know,” Buck admitted. “I guess that would be a question for their lawyer. I don’t know what will happen with any of that. I don’t even know who their lawyer is, so I guess I have to wait for them to call.” 

Maddie nodded. “Alright. Well, I can go shopping and get some stuff together. Have to prove myself as a favorite auntie.”

Buck rolled his eyes. “His only aunt.” 

“I bet Hen and Karen would argue otherwise,” Maddie said. 

Maddie stood up, but she paused at the door. “Look, I know you think I wasn’t being supportive, I was just trying to make sure this is really what you want to do. No one would blame you if you didn’t.” 

“It’s what I want, Maddie.” 

“I get it,” Maddie said. “Looking at him in person, I know you’d never walk away from him.”  

Not long after Maddie left, Bobby arrived. Buck was glad to see him and as he explained everything that had happened, Bobby just listened. Buck even told him about running into Tommy and letting Tommy stay with Lucas for a while. Bobby barely reacted. 

“Well, I think you’re doing the right thing, Buck. Athena and I will help however you want us to. Babysitting included.” 

“Thanks, Bobby. I, uh, I take him home tomorrow. This is so surreal.” 

“I think all new parents feel that way, Buck, but I know you can do this.”

“Maddie had her concerns,” Buck admitted. “But I couldn’t—”

“He’s yours,” Bobby said. “Have you told your parents yet?” 

Buck hadn’t even thought about them if he were honest. He had been a bit busy and mostly reeling from everything that happened. He remembered how supportive they had been when they found out about him being a donor and he knew they loved Jee-Yun. They’d likely embrace Lucas, too. He just didn’t know how they would react to the way Buck had gotten Lucas or to Buck doing it on his own. 

“I think that answers that question,” Bobby said. “You can tell them when you’re ready.” 

“Right,” Buck said even though he didn’t think he was ready or would be ready any time soon.

[chimivx]

ghosting ↠ txt

now playing ↠ ghosting • txt

He left you with letters. Envelopes that took you five years to finally read, acknowledge. They take you back through your past, forcing you to make moves not only for yourself, but for your family, for your children… His children.

part four of six ~ masterlist

word count ↠ 1561 warnings ↠ (same for all parts) 18+. mentions of drugs, alcohol, smoking. swearing. explicit sexual content. these people have kids, there’s family talk, pregnancy talk. absent dad, messy family ties. stepsib shit, stepcest. infidelity. if any of these things bother you, please keep scrolling . if i missed anything PLEASE let me know!! a/n ↠ if you are new to this story, don't start here! please go to the masterlist! major thank you to everyone who's read this story. <3 xo posted ↠ 6/15/24 ~ 3:20 pm est.

~ december 2017 ~

Brushing your nose against his bare shoulder, your cold fingers slid down to his waist, the chills erupting over his skin making you giggle. Turning toward you after a jump, snaking an arm beneath your head, tucking you into his chest, the sound that came out of him only made you laugh harder.

“Mm, sure,” he grumbled, sneaking out a laugh of his own. “Is’so funny.”

Nuzzling your nose into his neck, pressing a kiss there after, you whispered, “Sorry.”

In the shadows, the dark of his room, you laid in silence, the buzz of a high just beginning to wear off as the two of you started to fall into a slumber. His hands were warm against your back, the boy always a degree hotter than you. The fingers on his right hand danced along your skin, soothing you as the rhythm of his breath relaxed you, your body rising and falling against his.

You’ve slept in this spot for a month. Over the last thirty days you’ve occupied this side of the bed, stealing kisses in the dead of the night before waking up and making horrible decisions between shifts at Haven.

Twenty was years in the past now, a distant memory, a part of you you’ve separated yourself from. A part of you that took work to separate yourself from. And yet, somehow, despite the self-hatred, the guilt, the shame, it was too damn easy to slip back into.

Sliding a leg up his side, you hooked it around his waist and moved even closer to him, if it were possible. Nudging his chin with the top of your head, you brush your nose along his jaw and look up at him with blurry eyes. With a deep breath he looked down at you, pressing his forehead to yours, the smallest smile gracing his lips.

“Hi,” you whispered.

“Hi,” he whispered back to you. His fingers pressed into your skin, holding you tight.

Little space remained between you, just the shared air falling from your lips. The first week or so you spent nights back to back, not daring to cross the boundary that seemed to split the bed in half. Even after you’d spend your days stripped half naked with two of them too intoxicated to process what you’d been doing, the two of you didn’t take it further. That’s how it began.

Somewhere in the middle of it all something happened, fate maybe, and it turned into more than just hooking up. The time in between was spent together, just the two of you. Cooking together, dancing about his kitchen in nothing but his t-shirt, visiting his mother in the care center she lived in now, bringing her new books to read and her favorite snacks. He told you he hadn’t seen her smile as big as she did the first time you came since his brother last visited with his daughter.

The nights, like the one you were spending with him now, turned into days of domestic behavior you’ve only experienced with one other person.

“What are you thinking about?” you asked, your voice barely audible, like it’d disturb the peace of the night.

He was quiet, taking his time to respond. The glimmer in his dark brown eyes warmed your heart. “You,” he breathed, nudging your nose with his. His hands slipped lower over your hips, squeezing the curve of your ass. “This.”

A laugh escaped you both as you wriggled in his hold. “Beomgyu!” A gasp ripped through you. Situating his hands over your back where they were, he smiled and closed the inches between your lips, catching them in a heated kiss.

Pushing you backward into the mattress, he dipped down, his chest meeting your own, keeping you close to him. It amazed you how clingy he’d become over the time you’ve spent here with him, he could rarely let you go. If you were in the same room he had to be touching you somehow, and if you weren’t he’d hunt you down and stick to your side.

Things between you two were left unsaid years back, after everything with you and Taehyun had gone down, it was as if an unspoken wall had been built between you and Beomgyu. Neither of you spoke of it, but you knew it was there. You could blame the pain of the break up, the exhaustion behind the reason you never jumped into something that was standing right there.

Over time you boiled it down to him just being your friend. You valued that side of him more than anything else, and you didn’t want to lose it. For a couple of years it was just the two of you, hand in hand, watching your step-brother, Beomgyu’s best friend, live his amazing life. Though on top of that, Beomgyu seemed to reject whatever you’d throw his way, using his age-old excuse of how you belong to Taehyun, or something.

With the way he spread your legs open with his knees in this moment, maneuvering a hand between your bodies to push himself into you, you wondered when he finally got over it. You wondered if Taehyun knew. If he cared.

Head thrown back, cries falling from your lips, you wondered if any of it mattered. You and Beomgyu, you devoured one another night after night, day after day, and no one seemed to care.

Taehyun knew you were here, he knew you spent nights here. He knew you left Soobin and had been living here for over a month. He’d drank with you, he’d brought you pills to take, he’d been inside of you, he’d kissed your lips. He’d done it all, sneaking away from a life he’d created on his own to ruin yours, stripping you naked, taking you everywhere around the house he pleased as long as Beomgyu came along, and he always did. It was that way for two weeks.

It was only once that Taehyun had you to himself, while Beomgyu worked. He had snuck in like he was eighteen all over again, like he’d gone back in time and turned back into the boy who’d loved you so deeply, so unlawfully. Walking through the door into a dimly lit house, barely saying a word as he took your hand, an uncertainty written all over his face, his lips unmoving, yet trembling with a weight only you could understand. His body moved without a thought, like yourself, tumbling headfirst back into a comfortable life that had the power to burst your heart into flames. You knew him, you knew his body, you knew the things that he could do and the things he could make you feel. You loved him, and that night was the last night you got the chance to.

You haven’t seen him since.

Now edging the fifth week, he was happily at home with his family. His wife, his children.

And you were here, in Beomgyu’s bed, where you maybe should’ve been from the very start.

And though you were content here, very content as Beomgyu flipped you over on top of him so he could press his thumb to the place that’d make your eyes roll back and your toes curl, that small piece of you that you buried deep within your subconscious seemed to grow a little each night. The slightest ache. A crack in the sureness that this was what you missed, that this was what you wanted.

Something was missing. Something wasn’t right.

You loved him, you loved every single manic bit of him. But, it wasn’t it. He wasn’t him.

He wasn’t Soobin.

He was chaos in more ways than one, a constant whirlwind who hadn’t learned or obtained any sort of stability in his adult life, not that you could blame him. It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t ever his fault.

You loved him, deeply, truly you did, but a life like this, like the one you’d been away from for years… It wasn’t one you could live in anymore.

10/7/2022

…Holy shit you’re growing so fast. I blinked and you turned into little men. Four years old. It’s been four years. Four years and I still can’t get it right. Shit, that’s not what this is about, this is about you and you being four. You know my niece is eleven, your cousin, Tzuyu. Getting to watch her grow up makes me wonder what you’re like, because in some ways she’s part of me. The better parts because she came from Jungkook, but still. I bet you’re funny. I already know you’re smart, so smart. Your personalities are a mystery to me. Even though I’m dying to know what you’re like, it’s better this way. For now. I know I said I’d get it straight soon, and I didn’t, but I promise I’m doing my best. I won’t let you down. I can’t let you down. I hope and I pray that you understand that, or that someday you’ll understand it. It’s bad right now, I don’t even know if I should tell you that, but I need to be honest. That’s one of the steps, one of the things we have to do. Be honest. Well, it’s to make amends of sorts. I don’t know. I’m still trying to keep them in line. Love her, please…

☼ AO3 | wattpad | support | share with me ☼

thank you so much for reading. <3

[sweetrevxnge]

Like Phantoms, Forever

Chapter Twenty | Across the Stars

Pairing: Ben Solo x Reader

Summary: Your destiny had never been clear to you, only becoming so when it led you to leaving behind the life you knew to train with the galaxy's sole Jedi Master, Luke Skywalker. His Jedi Academy became your new home, bringing with it the promise of someday becoming a Jedi Knight. While navigating the ways of the Force, an inexplicable connection forms between you and a fellow student—the heir to the legendary Skywalker bloodline, Ben Solo. Together, the two of you must face your destinies and forge the path to your true selves.

What to expect: fluff, violence, sexual content, general angst, mentions/descriptions of injury and death

Additional info: this story is set in 28 ABY, six years prior to the events of TFA

*concurrently being published on AO3 and Wattpad as well!

Masterlist

Spotify Playlist

Word count: 6.4k

Chapter-specific CW: NSFW, descriptions of drowning

A/N: yes, I took 6 months to update this. no, I don't have any good excuses. but if you're still here reading along, know that I appreciate you so, so much and am trying my best to write more often :') ALSO... since starting this story, Lucasfilm has officially stated that Luke's academy is located on Ossus, so I'm going to edit the story to match that!

───────── ⋆ ☆ ⋆ ─────────

“Geegee, set course for Ilum.”

Ben’s voice echoed through the steel ship as you watched the Academy fade into the distance, lost in the green expanse of Ossus. You stood at the back of the ship’s hull, choosing to watch your departure from a narrow viewport rather than the cockpit.

“Right away, Master Solo,” said the droid, joints squeaking as it tottered to the cockpit.

As the roar of the ship’s engines lowered to a hum, unease crept in. While the thought of venturing into the galaxy to find a kyber crystal once filled you with excitement, it now made your stomach churn. It’s going to be okay, you told yourself, trying to make it true.

Leaving the safety of the New Republic’s surveillance was hard enough on its own, let alone voyaging to a foreign ice planet in the Unknown Regions. It wasn’t all bad, though. Knowing that Geegee automatically transmitted a signal back to the Academy provided you some comfort.

Behind you, you could hear the clicks and whirs of the control panel as Ben prepared the hyperdrive. You turned around, finding him hunched over the panel, muttering something about the motivator. Despite his frustration, he carried an air of confidence as he worked. Shoulders relaxed, hair pushed back from his eyes. It was a stark contrast to the first time you had flown with him in the Grimtaash.

The memory flashed in your mind when your eyes landed on the co-pilot’s seat—the same seat that cradled your bruised, bleeding body the night you escaped Zeffo. Just the thought of it was enough to make you doubt this entire journey.

Ben sat down in his chair, letting out an accomplished sigh as he rested his hands on his knees. With the coordinates entered and the drone of the engines steadily growing louder, you knew what was coming next.

“Everything alright over there?”

Ben’s voice snapped you from your trance. You let out a sharp breath, unaware that you had been holding it for the duration of your reverie.

“Princess?” he said louder this time, craning his neck to meet your gaze.

Whether it was your unconvincing nod or your failure to meet his gaze after his question that gave your apprehension away, you weren’t sure. Regardless, in a matter of seconds, he had jumped out of his chair and come to stand in front of you, hands clasped over yours in a firm—yet comforting—grip.

“Talk to me, princess.”

It came in pieces. The pounding in your temples, followed by the pungent taste of blood coating your tongue. But the memories weren’t strictly physical. Defeat and desperation replaced your climbing anxiety, polluting your senses with the stench of utter fear. All from just looking at a piece of furniture.

Just before you could unravel, Ben’s grip on you tightened, pulling you from your thoughts. It wasn’t until your name spilled over his lips, drenched with concern, that you pulled your gaze away from the co-pilot’s seat. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t–”

“Stop it.”

You stiffened. “Stop what?”

“Saying sorry all the time,” he said with a tsk. “I’m going to start charging you five credits every time you do it.”

“Well, the joke’s on you then. I don’t have any credits,” you said dryly.

Ben cocked an eyebrow at you and, without him saying a single word, you gave in. Exhaling a long breath, your nerves settled.

“It’s just hard being in here again, even under the best circumstances.” Without realizing it, you found yourself squeezing his hands in return, holding onto him like a lifeline. “Not to mention what would happen if I were unable to find a kyber crystal. Master Skywalker would send me into exile and I would be forced to live a life veiled in shame and failure–”

“Okay, I get it,” he said, fighting back a laugh. “But that’s not going to happen. It’s going to be okay, I promise,” he said, releasing your hands as he sat down again. “Now, we need to make the jump to hyperspace, which is unfortunately something you need to be sitting for. It’ll just be a moment, okay?”

You nodded in understanding, moving to sit in the co-pilot’s chair. But before you could lower yourself into the seat, Ben’s hands locked onto your waist, spinning you around and pulling you to sit on his lap.

A gasp escaped your mouth, earning a deep, amused laugh from the pilot. You whipped your head around, shooting him a disapproving look.

“What? I didn’t specify where you had to sit,” he said, squeezing your hips lightly. His gentle touch eased your nerves, calming you in a matter of seconds.

“You’re an infuriating man, you know that?” you said with mock ridicule.

“So I’m told.” Dimples framed his smile, melting away any remaining concern. If you didn’t know any better, you’d almost believe that his charm was more effective than any sedative a medical droid could offer. Almost.

Ben leaned forward, toggling a few more switches on the control panel. The feeling of his lips grazing the shell of your ear pulled you from your thoughts.

“Will you do me the honor?” he asked, weaving his fingers with yours as he guided your hand to the slender chrome lever in the center of the dashboard. The hyperdrive.

“Are you sure I’m qualified?” you asked.

With a peck on the cheek, he replied, “Absolutely.”

Your heart slammed into your ribs, causing your hands to tremble as you grabbed the rod. It was natural to be nervous about flying—especially when you were in the pilot’s seat. But the big arms wrapped around your torso assured you that you were safe.

As you pulled back on the lever, the engines roared in crescendo, launching the ship into hyperspace. The momentum pinned you against Ben, forcing you to grab onto the armrests for support. In the blink of an eye, the stars surrounding you transformed into blinding streaks of light before morphing into the swirling blue blur of deep space. To say it was exhilarating would be an understatement.

“Look at you,” Ben cooed, planting another kiss on your shoulder. “Before you know it, you’ll be piloting this thing all by yourself.”

You scoffed. “I seriously doubt that. I can barely operate a landspeeder without endangering myself and others.”

“Well, there’s only one way to get better, and I assure you, I’m a much better teacher than my uncle is.” Ben lowered his seat to a more comfortable position, pulling you back with him until you were resting against his chest.

“Is that so?” You couldn’t control your wandering hands as they crawled up the pleats of his robes, peeling back the fabric along his chest and neck.

He clasped your hands in his, holding them in place. “I mean it. After everything that happened, I want you to be comfortable piloting if you need to.”

There it was again, that horrible cloud that hung over your head at the mere mention of Zeffo. As if sensing this, Ben sighed and brought your fingers to his lips.

His warm breath spreading over your skin and his big, brown eyes peering up at you softened your resolve, leaving you no choice but to agree. “Fine. I’ll think about it.”

“I think you’ll find that I can be quite persuasive,” he said as he kissed the tender pads of your fingers, slowly working his way from pinky to thumb. He lingered on the last digit, dragging it over his plush lips. “Want me to show you?”

You nodded, mind turning hazy as you watched his lips, keenly aware of his other hand creeping under your tunic.

“Ben, we really shouldn’t,” you said halfheartedly, trying and failing to pull your hands free.

“Why not?”

“Because…” You drew the word out, motioning with your eyes to the empty hull of the ship. “This ship isn’t exactly private.”

He followed your gaze. “I see. Here, allow me to fix that.”

Without taking his attention off you, Ben flicked a switch on the control panel, causing the sliding door of the cockpit to close, hissing as it sealed you in.

“Better?” he asked, slipping his other hand under your robes, leaving a trail of gooseflesh behind as he inched towards your bra.

You breathed a sigh of relief as you rolled your hips forward, pressing down on his growing desire. “Much.”

He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth. “Now, we need to address a different issue. You’re wearing too many clothes.” His wandering hands stopped at the clasp of your bra, undoing it in one swift motion. “Let’s fix that.”

Raising your arms over your head, you let him peel away the heavy cloth, kicking off your boots as he did the same with his robes. Arousal burned through you as you undressed in the small space, cursing the confines of the cockpit. Still in his uniform pants, Ben pulled you onto his lap again, eyes raking over your newly exposed skin like it was the first time he’d seen it.

All that remained now was your underwear, the only barrier between you and the rough cloth of his pants as you straddled his hips. “Why do I always end up more naked than you?”

“Shh…” A smirk ghosted his lips as strong hands moved to grab fistfuls of your ass, squeezing with a bruising force. “We wouldn’t want anyone overhearing us, would we?”

The heat simmering low in your belly quickly transformed into a wild flame, demanding attention. Lacing your fingers through his hair, you kissed down the curve of his neck, running along the taut muscles until you reached his collarbone.

“I can’t make any promises,” you said, teeth grazing his skin.

A low moan rumbled in his chest, vibrating on your lips. “Fuck,” he said under his breath, snaking a hand up your spine and doing the same to your hair. Tugging your head back, he leaned in close to your ear and whispered, “Then I’ll have to find another way to keep you quiet.”

With that, his grip loosened, fingers moving to trace over your jaw until his thumb slid over your bottom lip. “Open,” he ordered, trailing kisses down your chest, coming dangerously close to your breasts.

You obeyed, squirming in his lap from the anticipation, seeking any relief for the ache growing between your legs. As you parted your lips, he pushed his thumb into your mouth.

“Good. Now, suck.”

Head spinning with arousal, you swirled your tongue over his digit, earning a groan of approval from him. You stifled a gasp as he took a nipple into his mouth, alternating between sucking and rolling his tongue over it. Beneath you, you could feel his cock stiffening, causing your arousal to burn hotter.

Wanting to encourage this, you sucked harder, allowing your moans to rumble around his thumb. When his cock twitched against you, you beamed with pride.

A moment later, he released your nipple with a pop, free hand fumbling with the waistband of his pants. “I need to fuck you,” he said, practically begging as he worked his pants down.

Every nerve in your body was alight, needy for attention. He pulled his thumb away, watching in awe as a string of saliva fell from your lips before running it over the head of his cock. Pupils blown with lust, he wasted no time, dragging your underwear to the side and spreading your desire around your entrance.

With a grunt, he paused, searching your eyes. “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” you said breathlessly, aligning yourself with him. “Please.”

You both let out a sigh as he pushed into you, lips clashing together. Before long, you relaxed around him, sinking your hips lower, relishing how he stretched you. He moved slowly at first, giving you control as he closed his eyes and tipped his head back against the headrest. Dark locks of hair fanned over his face, clinging to the beads of sweat forming on his skin.

True to his word, he kept quiet, concealing his groans of pleasure as heavy breaths. The same couldn’t be said for you, who was letting out wanton moans with every thrust. It wasn’t for a lack of trying, though. The desire coursing through you had addled your mind, leaving you unable to control yourself.

A particularly loud gasp caught Ben’s attention, causing him to slow his movements. “Careful, princess.”

Nails digging into the armrests, you held back another moan. “Sorry—I just can’t—help it.”

“I know you can’t.” The corners of his lips twitched and before you knew it, his thumb was seeking entrance to your mouth again. “Now, be a good girl for me and stay quiet.”

Running your tongue over his thumb, you welcomed him in again, heat rushing to your core as you sucked. Ben’s breaths grew erratic as he continued to fuck into you, eyes trained on your lips. He effectively silenced you, but the few moans that managed to escape were now muffled by his thumb instead.

“That’s my girl,” he said, sliding his finger free and dropping it to your aching clit. “I think you deserve a reward.”

“Don’t tease, Ben,” you whimpered, eyes fluttering shut as he slowly applied pressure.

“Didn’t plan on it,” he said, drawing tight circles around your bud. 

The sensation was enough to drive you insane, hips rolling involuntarily against his hand, demanding more. Insatiable as ever, you pleaded for him to go faster, earning his cooperation.

“Fuck—baby—you look so good riding me.” His words were broken by quick breaths, evidence of his mounting pleasure. Your thighs burned from straddling his, trembling as your own pleasure threatened to wash over you. Every second you spent teetering on the edge felt torturous, stretching for eternity.

Desperate for release, you rolled your hips harder, forcing more pressure from Ben’s hand. A string of expletives fell from your lips as your resolve shattered, allowing the ecstasy bubbling beneath the surface to flood in. You bit down on the back of your hand, lost in the waves of euphoria that rippled through your body, your cunt pulsing around his cock.

With one last thrust, Ben gripped you tight, pulling you against his chest and burying his face into your neck. He littered your skin with sloppy kisses as he regained his composure, slowly leaning back into the seat.

“I wish we could stay like this forever,” you whispered, resting your forehead against his as your fingers traced over his rattling chest.

He let out a long sigh through his nose before agreeing. “Me too.”

Time passed like the stars swirling around you, and before long, the Grimtaash snapped out of hyperspace, revealing the ice planet of Ilum before you.

With a striking, silvery atmosphere, and patches of white storms riddling its surface, Ilum was truly a sight to behold. Unlike Dantooine and Ossus, there was no distinction between the terrains, only a vast, pale landscape.

“You weren’t lying about the snow,” you said, standing from your seat to get a better look.

“That’s what the coats are for,” Ben replied with a wink before calling back to the hull of the ship. “Geegee, prepare the landing sequence.”

The two of you had traded your robes for thermals and jackets in anticipation of landing, but despite the layers, a chill traveled down your spine. If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought it was from the planet’s atmosphere radiating through the ship, but you knew what caused it. The prospect of adventure, traversing the unknown with the person you love by your side.

The realization felt like a blow to your chest, upsetting your balance as you reclaimed your seat. A string of beeps behind you pulled you from your thoughts. Master Skywalker’s astromech had come out of rest mode, now serving as a well-timed distraction.

Ben laughed under his breath. “No, Artoo. Your wheels will freeze to the ground if you go with us.”

The droid fired back, warbling as he rocked side to side on his wheels in defiance.

“You know I’m right! We can’t just sit around all day waiting for you to defrost.”

Another rebuttal from the droid, one that made Ben’s mouth fall open. “Just… stay on the ship, okay?”

R2-D2 concluded his argument with another string of beeps before spinning his head and body around and leaving the cockpit.

The low hum of machinery permeated the silence as you sat back in your seat, arms crossed over your chest. You would’ve given anything to know what R2-D2 had said to get under Ben’s skin the way he did.

Ahead, the Grimtaash entered the planet’s atmosphere, causing the ship to lurch as it sliced through the storm clouds. The floor beneath you no longer felt solid as the turbulence rattled the ship like a leaf in the wind, dread stirring in your stomach.

“Hold on tight—it’s going to be a rough landing,” Ben said, hunched over the control panel as he completed the landing sequence.

“Yeah, I gathered that!”

With knuckles blanched around the armrests, you squeezed your eyes shut and waited for the chaos to settle. When the ship finally touched the ground, you relaxed, letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

Running a hand through his glossy black hair, Ben smiled at you. “Welcome to Ilum.”

All the furs and thermals in the galaxy couldn’t have prepared you for the cold of Ilum. It was visceral, threatening to turn every drop of blood in your body into crimson ice. White flurries engulfed you, blinding you to your surroundings. If it weren’t for his hand clutching yours, you’d hardly be able to make out where Ben stood.

“Lovely weather this time of year, isn’t it?” he joked, voice raised over the howling wind.

You opened your mouth to respond but stopped when the chill spread through your teeth, prompting you to pull one of your many layers over your nose for coverage. “I didn’t think it was possible to be this cold.”

Shielding the snow from his eyes, he leaned in closer. “Once we get inside the caves, it won’t be so bad.”

From the depths of his coat pockets, he retrieved a small cylindrical device, struggling to activate it from the confines of his leather gloves. Finally, a blue digital map appeared in the center, displaying a system of caves and tunnels northeast of where you’d landed.

“There,” he said, his breaths strained from the weather. “The closest entrance is less than a kilometer away. Follow me.”

Wordlessly, you did as you were told, careful to step in Ben’s footprints to avoid sinking through the snow. The two of you were uncharacteristically quiet as you trekked through the tundra. You daydreamed about beams of sunlight, steaming cups of caf, and hot showers—just to name a few. More than just a coping mechanism for the intense cold, it also served as a distraction from the task awaiting you.

A natural opening in the crag served as your respite from the elements, inviting you to explore the labyrinth within. Despite being encased in frost and ice, the alcove felt warm, if only from the vapor of your breaths.

“So, where do we go from here?” you asked, voice hoarse from the wind.

“That’s kind of the problem,” Ben said, peeling off his wind-beaten jacket. “The Empire gutted this place, making it unstable in some areas. For now, we’ll follow the charted tunnels.”

“Why am I not surprised to hear that?” you grumbled, doing the same with your coat. It came as no surprise to learn that the Empire plundered the Jedi’s sacred planet, destroying the ancient temple housed in its caves as they did. Twisting the knife in the Jedi Order’s back.

“It’s what they did best. But that’s why we’re here,” he said, a smile tugging at his rosy lips. “To rebuild.”

To defend, you thought. Your heart sank at the idea of your efforts being in vain. What good would a fledgling Jedi Order be against a rising empire? If the old Order crumbled at the height of its power, Master Skywalker’s Order didn’t stand a chance.

You cleared your throat, pushing your thoughts aside and refocusing on the task at hand. “Right. Well, then. Where should we start?” you asked, glancing at the glowing holomap in his palm.

“That’s not my decision to make.” His eyes twinkled from the blue light of the map as he placed it in your hand.

As much as you wanted to reject it, you didn’t. He was right, after all. This was your journey; he was just here as support.

“Fine,” you said with a sigh. “But I don’t want to hear any complaints if we get lost.”

He smiled down at you. “Sure thing, princess.”

You nodded, holding his gaze for a moment longer. It was impossible to ignore his frostbitten beauty. Tendrils of hair clung to his forehead, the result of melted frost and sweat. The cold highlighted his sharp features more than ever, coloring his cheeks and nose in a peachy hue. Under different circumstances, you’d be happy to help him warm up.

Heat rushed to your face as you refocused on the holomap. Now was not the time—and most certainly not the place.

You examined the details of the holomap, trying to make sense of the labyrinth of grainy blue pathways. The crack you’d slipped through was just one of many that led to the caverns within, like veins tracing back to a heart. From what you could tell, the path you were on eventually let out into a central chamber, which then branched out into a handful of different tunnels. It was as good a starting point as any, and with a deep breath, you set out.

Ben followed behind you as you navigated the tunnel, with only the occasional drop of water breaking the comfortable silence. Stalactites adorned the ceiling, each bearing a unique state of damage. Every inch of the slate walls shimmered with ice crystals, reflecting in all directions as the blue glow of the holomap passed by. Slivers of clouded sunlight squeezed through cracks in the cavern’s walls, illuminating your footpath.

“What was your first time here like?” you asked over your shoulder, studying the mining scars etched into the walls for any sign of kyber.

“Loud,” he said, sighing. “I mean, just imagine a dozen teenagers running around a place like this. It’s a miracle we didn’t drive Master Skywalker insane.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the image he painted. He, Tai, Hennix, and to your surprise, Voe came to mind, a decade younger than they were now, squealing as their feet slid across the patches of ice. And Master Skywalker, futilely trying to reign them in.

“Maybe that’s why he wasn’t keen on coming back,” you said with a scoff.

He chuckled. “Maybe.”

A beat passed before you asked, “How long did it take you to find your crystal?”

Another sigh. “I’ll tell you once you find yours.”

Where you had hoped his answer would provide you with some comfort, you were only left with doubt. What if you couldn’t find one today? Or tomorrow? Or at all?

“Of course you will,” you muttered, watching your position on the holomap as it gently pulsed, showing that you were approaching the end of the tunnel.

The cave ahead was larger than you’d expected. With a ceiling that blended with the hanging darkness, you would’ve thought you’d stumbled upon a rune crafted by ancient men. But the crags and formations embedded in the walls proved otherwise. Water trickled freely down the jagged mineral, echoing throughout the room and filling the space with a fresh fragrance—rather than that of stale air.

Veins of opaque, white crystal ran through the stone walls, and for a moment, you wondered if this was it. There was only one way to find out.

Carefully, you approached a thread, setting the holomap down on a patch of ice. With trembling hands, you peeled a glove off and brushed the surface. The cavern immediately siphoned the warmth from your fingers, turning them numb before you could determine if the ore was made of kyber.

Finally, you conceded. “I don’t feel anything,” you grumbled, working your hand back into the glove.

Ben came to stand behind you, chest pressed flush against your back as his hands slid down your hips. “That’s okay. It’s just quartzite ore.” His breath fanned over your ear. “You’re not the first person to mistake it for kyber, and you won’t be the last, either.”

You spun around, still locked in his embrace. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

He smiled. “We’ve been looking for all of twenty minutes. Don’t give up yet, princess.”

Despite everything—the weight of the unknown, the frost forming within your lungs, the lingering doubts you held about leaving the protection of the Academy—you found yourself savoring this moment. Deep in the heart of Ilum’s caves, wrapped in Ben Solo’s arms, you were content.

The vision of Coruscant appeared in your mind. Of you and him on the balcony overlooking the crowded hyperlanes of the planet home to so much life that it had become life itself. A place where anyone could blend in. Or disappear.

You blinked, wiping away the dream. “What if I never find one?”

Ben raised an eyebrow. “I’d say that’s pretty unlikely. The Empire took what they could, but that doesn’t mean that they were thorough.”

“No. I mean…” You dropped your gaze, holding his hands on your waist. “What if we left now? Before I find a crystal, and before you undergo the Jedi Trials.”

At that, his face fell. “This is your fear talking. You’re not thinking rationally.”

“No, just… listen to me.” You guided yours and his hands over your heart, acutely aware of its relentless pace. “Is this our destiny? To steal moments under the cover of darkness? Away from the eyes of the galaxy?”

Ben was silent for a long moment, his honey eyes searching yours, full of conflict. “What if it is?”

Your breaths mingled, dancing to the tune of your heartbeats. His words told a different story than his heart—the heart you shared.

“I know you don’t believe that,” you said, running a thumb over his rosy cheeks. “So, what’s stopping you?”

He untangled himself from your grasp, raking his fingers through his hair as he paced the room. “I can’t just leave. The galaxy is on the brink of another war—the same war my family dedicated their lives to ending. I’ve spent the last thirteen years working to become a Jedi Knight, to protect the people of the galaxy from conflicts like this.” He pinched the bridge of his aquiline nose, shaking his head lightly. “I’ve come too close to throw it all away now.”

He was right. The galaxy was in jeopardy, its future dependent on the New Republic’s ability to snuff out a fire before it became an inferno. War was likely, and when it came, you both needed to be there to serve the light. To serve justice.

You realized then just how polarized the two of you were. Ben, the son of a Skywalker, burdened with the weight of a legacy imposed upon him from birth. Hailing from a family that ensured he would follow the Jedi path, just as his uncle and grandfather had.

And you, the daughter of a traitor. With no one left to turn to. Whose family legacy was that of deceit and treason.

It was unfair to ask this of him; you knew that. But in the same breath, you couldn’t imagine continuing to live like this.

Before you could apologize, Ben’s hands seized your face, his lips crashing against yours. His kiss felt like a flame breathing oxygen, burning hot and powerful, rendering you senseless.

“But I can’t lose you, either,” he said, resting his forehead on yours. “You are the stars in my sky. Without you, I’d be lost in the dark.”

Your heart skipped at his confession, and yet, words eluded you. The three you’d long wanted to give voice to felt too constrictive. What you shared with him went beyond anything under the definition of love alone. It was so much more than that—a connection that tied you to one another. The Force itself granted you this insight when it bridged your minds, creating the bond you shared. To call it love would be a disservice.

“Then come with me,” you whispered, pulling away to look at him. “It doesn’t have to be today. Just someday. Tomorrow holds endless possibilities for us.”

He pursed his lips as he let out a long breath, leaving you in agonizing suspense as he prepared his answer. “Okay.”

Elated, you reached to cup his face, eager to return the kiss he’d given you moments ago. Except his hands stopped you before you could.

“But only after you’ve finished your training,” he added, hands gliding down your arms. “And when the galaxy doesn’t need our help.”

It was a fair compromise to make—no different from you asking him to leave his life behind. Most of all, it was a compromise you could live with. 

“Promise?” you asked, looking up at him through your lashes.

“I promise.” He breathed the words rather than whispered them, stoking the fire in your chest. Before you could, he closed the distance and kissed you again, more gently this time—perhaps than ever before. It was the manifestation of his word, and yours in return.

When he eventually pulled away, the ghost of his touch lingered, burning through your very soul. A vortex threatened to consume you, chipping away at your rationality, seeking to swallow you whole. But now was not the time. In this moment, you knew what you needed to do, and even if it required the strength of all the stars in the galaxy, you would do it.

You cleared your throat as you reached for the holomap, forcing yourself to be interested in anything other than tearing Ben’s clothes off. “It looks like this path here branches out into three smaller ones.” Using the dial on the base of the map, you magnified the projected image, looking to Ben for reassurance. “We’ll follow it through.”

He nodded. “Lead the way, captain.”

The two of you continued down the cavern’s narrow and winding passages for hours, only stopping when an unexpected gleam of light caught your eye. Out of the twelve times you’d hoped to find kyber, eight were quartzite, with the other four being shards of scrap metal left behind from the Empire’s demolitions. Each disappointment chipped away at your morale, feeding into your belief that you were unworthy of being a Jedi.

Ben must have recognized this as he suggested stopping for a break, digging through his pack for an energy ration. You came to stand beside him, dragging your feet across the ground as if they had turned into blocks of ice.

“Here,” he said, offering you the ration he’d fished out. “You need to eat. This will tie you over until we can get back to the ship.”

“At this rate, that could be days from now.” Your fingers had lost all dexterity as you tried to unwrap the ration, mouth beginning to water at the thought of food. “I just want to go home.”

As you took the first bite, your vision turned white, but only for a fraction of a second. It startled you, causing you to drop the chocolate-coated ration onto the icy floor.

“Hey! Careful with the Endorian cocoa. That stuff’s hard to come by nowadays,” Ben said as a deafening shriek pierced the silence of the caverns. 

You twisted your neck, trying to identify where it originated, heart hammering against your ribs as you lifted a trembling finger to your lips.

Ben grabbed the crook of your arm, turning you to face him. “What are you doing?” His tone was stern, seemingly unfazed by the cry that still echoed through the caves.

You wrested your arm free, lowering your voice to below than a whisper. “Are you deaf? That noise—the scream. We’re not alone.”

“I didn’t hear anything.” His dark eyes were wide, suspicious. “And we are alone. If we weren’t, the holomap would pick up their heat signatures, too.”

You lowered your eyes to the map, finding only yours and Ben’s forms in shades of red and yellow. But before you could consider any logical explanations for the sound, another cry rang through the tunnel, this time coming from the unexplored end of the path. Shrouded in darkness, the path beckoned you, drawing you closer like a magnet. The voice was deep and distorted, yet familiar. You closed off your other senses, focusing only on the voice as it came to clarity. Someone—or something—was calling for you.

“Come to me…” it said, nearly clear enough to be mistaken for another person in the room. “My love.”

Your breath hitched and tears welled in your eyes, rolling down your cold cheeks and onto the exposed fur of your jacket. It was a voice you wouldn’t soon forget.

“M-mom?” you asked, like a child searching for comfort in the night.

Ben stiffened at the word. “Princess, there’s no one else here.” From the volume of his voice, you could tell he was wary. He must have thought you were in a hallucinatory state, and truthfully, you couldn’t blame him.

“I know, but I can hear her calling for me,” you said, voice cracking as you stepped towards her voice. “I have to follow it.”

“No, you don’t.” He reached for you again, pressing the back of his hand to your forehead. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay? Maybe you caught something in the infirmary or–”

“I’m fine,” you snapped, pulling away. “I just… feel like this is something I need to do.”

“Well, you’re not going alone,” Ben insisted, trailing behind you. “I promised Master Skywalker that I would keep you safe, and I can’t do that if we’re separated.”

You ignored him, turning on your heels and reaching into the Force to guide you in the right direction.

Beyond the shadows was another frost-lined chamber, and as you entered, the world around you fell silent. No voices, no footsteps, no ambient drops of water. Only the sound of your breath.

Your boots squeaked on the icy ground as you shifted your weight, glancing back to find Ben. To your surprise—and horror—you found yourself entirely alone. Not only that, but the chamber itself had become something unrecognizable, with no exits and cramped walls.

Panic swelled in your chest and as it did, the ice beneath you gave way, plunging you into dark, freezing water.

You were numb in an instant. Struggling against the weight of your clothes and the fear consuming you, you tried to swim, limbs heavy as bricks as you willed them to move. Unable to process what had happened, your thoughts were overtaken by instinct.

Slowly, you pushed forward, following the only source of light spilling through the black water. With no end in sight, you wondered if you would even make it, lungs growing tight, burning more with each passing second.

The light was pure, preternaturally so, blinding you as you swam into its glow. You resisted the urge to draw a breath, knowing that doing so would only seal your fate. You couldn’t die like this, not now. Not after the promises you’d made in these caves.

As the light engulfed you, you thought of Ben. Where was he? Could he sense that you were on the verge of sinking into oblivion? Would he mourn you when he realized?

With that last question, you used what was left of your energy to call to the Force, pleading for its aid. It wasn’t long before its familiar warmth came to you, an invisible hand grabbing yours and guiding you to the surface. 

As you approached the rippling plane of water, you could hear your name being called, dampened by the roar of blood rushing in your ears. It came again, louder this time, synchronous with your hand breaking through the water.

Cool air kissed your skin, welcoming you back to life. You thrashed at the surface, coughing up the water you’d taken in when you fell, nearly heaving from the force of it. As you opened your burning eyes, you found that the hand holding yours wasn’t invisible at all, but tangible, as real as your own.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” your mother said, lips unmoving as her words permeated the air. “You’re safe now.”

She looked ethereal, a backdrop of white light painting her like a vision of an angel. For a moment, you were sure that you’d arrived in the afterlife, reunited with your mother at long last. It wasn’t until her hand slipped away and yours hit the hard stone floor you realized you weren’t.

The brilliant light vanished along with her presence, leaving you blanketed in darkness. Desperate to escape the freezing water, you clawed at the jagged stone of the opening, mustering the strength to prop yourself up on your elbows. Your nails dug into your palms as you pushed yourself out of the water, crawling only a few inches before falling onto your back, muscles screaming. The layers of wet clothing clung to your skin, sending a violent chill through your bones, but you didn’t care. All you could focus on was your breathing, the sweet sting of air filling your lungs.

The Force lingered around you as you lay there, fists slowly unfurling as the adrenaline waned. As your fingers relaxed, something rolled out of your palm, hitting the wet stone with a soft clink.

Your eyes shot open at the sound. Scrambling to sit up, you searched for the object in the dim light, but it didn’t take you long.

Beside you was a glowing crystal, pulsing with a heartbeat of its own and humming a soft melody attuned to your ears. You blinked in disbelief as you reached for it, tears blurring your vision.

A blue heart of kyber, calling to you.

[andreafmn]

In the Heat of the Moment | Part 6

Word Count: 9.7K

Pairing: Jake Sully x Fem!Omatikaya!Reader, Neteyam x Fem!Omatikaya!Reader

Story Description: Every month female Omatikayans go through their heat whilst men go through their rut. It’s a time for mates to engage in the most animalistic desires. But when one of the two is gone, it can be a rather painstaking endeavor. With Neteyam gone on a hunting trip, (Y/N) has to go through her heat alone for the first time. Or does she?

Warnings: SMUT (+18, minors DNI), infidelity, p in v sex, face riding, oral (fem and male receiving), very vanilla sex, feels [also: cringe use of the words -> make love to me; sorry but they fit the story 😬]

A/N: read at the end of the story for this last part😬😬 I meant to post this a lot earlier than this but I overexerted myself and had a flare-up that took up a lot of my day, but it's here, it's long, and it might break and mend your heart. Hope you enjoy, and all constructive criticism is encouraged.

My content will always be free, but if you’re feeling particularly generous, you can leave a tip on any of my posts to support me and my love of writing or buy me a coffee

Dedicated to every single person that read, liked, or reblogged this story! It was such a joy to write and I will miss it💖

Follow 😊 -> TikTok • Instagram • Business

If you’d like to be tagged in any other story: click here Make sure you have my notifications on so you know every time I post!

<- Previous

In the Heat of the Moment | Part 6

That split second felt too short as the glistening rays of the sun shone on Jake’s eyes. He stirred awake, careful of the body that was cuddled on his. She was still asleep and he did not dare to wake her. Not just yet. 

Her eyelids fluttered as her mind played dreams in her head. She looked peaceful, magnificent, divine. And most importantly, she was still in his arms. (Y/N) belonged to no other man but him. Under the sunlight and the watchful eye of the Tree of Souls, she was his. 

He traced her body with his fingers, barely touching her skin, afraid to wake her. Jake followed the expanse of her skin. From her delicate shoulders to the side of her chest, to the dip of her waist, to the mountain of her hip. Every part of her that he had claimed for himself, but could never truly be his. 

Jake had known from the moment he entered (Y/N)’s nest that night that he could never go back. That she would be the reason for his undoing, dismantling everything he has carefully built with a simple touch. There was no more a beginning or end of who he was with her, he now simply was. He belonged to her, never the other way around. 

Deep down, he knew it would never be that way. Belonging to someone meant giving your entire being to someone, even if they wouldn’t give you theirs. And that’s what he’d done with (Y/N), he’d given everything he was to someone that already belonged to another — he thought he had done the same many years before. 

For that moment, though, he could trick himself into believing she has chosen him. As he stared at her sleeping figure in his arms, he allowed himself to believe that from that night forward they belonged to each other. Maybe then what he was feeling would not be wrong. Even if he hadn’t been her sign, she was his. 

She stirred beside him as sleep left her body. She turned to face him, staring at him through hooded eyes, and she smiled. A smile so bright he felt it warm his body, more than the sun itself. 

“You look as radiant as ever, sevin,” he smiled, caressing and cradling his cheek with his hand. “How did you sleep?” 

“Too comfortably,” she chuckled. “It’s the last day.”

The lingering timer that had been following them since the first day showed, in glowing red numbers, that they had less than twenty-four hours until their world would reset. Every decision they had made would be buried, deeper than six feet under ground. It would be hidden in the deepest, darkest parts of their souls and they would carry it with them for the rest of their lives. 

“You’re right,” he sighed. “But we still have tonight, and I’m gonna make sure it’s a night you’ll never forget, baby girl.” 

“But what happens after, Jake?” (Y/N) looked at him with pleading eyes. “What will happen to us — this — after tonight?”

“We’ll pretend it never happened. We will carry this with us for the rest of our lives,” he said, sadness slipping through his voice. “But we can look back to these moments with fondness and excitement. We will dream about it, we will daydream and pretend. We will be the only ones to know. It will be the souvenir of our time.” 

“Do you think that is possible?” Her yellow eyes stared into his, tears pooling at the corners as her lower lip quivered. “To live with what we’ve done as if we didn’t… do what we did. Could you live with that?” 

“I could,” he responded quickly, no qualms in his voice. “Because I don’t regret a single thing that has happened between you and me, and I never will. I can carry this because I will now and forever yearn for you.” 

“Jake…” (Y/N) sat up, her hands landing comfortingly on his knee as he followed her suit. 

“I probably know what you will say,” he smiled sadly. “But I don’t want to hear it until it’s absolutely necessary. Let me live in this fantasy where you do choose me and we run away together because nothing else matters. Let me just pretend for this last night that it’s me.” 

(Y/N) remained quiet for a moment. It was the first time she was the one wiping away tears from the man’s face. And she finally understood why he didn’t feel burdened by their decisions. Jake did not believe this to be a mistake.

“I couldn’t possibly do that to you, Jake,” she spoke softly, her hand now the one cradling his cheek. “I can’t let you trick yourself into thinking that. It’ll hurt too much in the end. Maybe, last night should be the last time. If you’re feeling this way…”

“No, please,” he interrupted her. “One more night. That’s what we said. The last time and we’ll forget all about each other. Everything will go back to normal.”

“Could you do that? Forget all of this ever happened? Forget the way you feel… a-about me?” 

“Don’t ask me questions you don’t want the answers to.” But her eyes pleaded for an answer. So, he lied. “Yes,” he responded sternly. “I can forget everything that happened.”

“Then I’ll see you tonight,” she breathed in relief before kissing him softly. “Right now, I must meet with Mo’at, and you must prepare for tomorrow’s arrival.”

“Can’t we just stay here for a couple more minutes?”

“You know we can’t,” she chuckled. “Now, up you go. We have work to do today. I know you can hold off until tonight.”

After they parted ways, (Y/N) felt herself implode. Her head was hazy and her stomach was in knots. She felt worry and concern dizzy her mind. She had never wanted for things to get so complicated, emotions to get entwined with the physicality of the moment. 

By the grace of Eywa, her body walked the path to Mo’at’s tent. Her vision was blurred and her breathing was heavy. Jake’s confession had thrown her for a spin. With so few words, he had been able to crumble everything she believed. 

She had gone to sleep trusting that he would give her the perfect solution to their problem. That she could end this journey unscathed and could go on with her life as if nothing had occurred. But he didn’t see it as one. Jake had seen this as an opportunity, and he’d continued to do so. 

The last thing she wanted to do was hurt anyone. At first, she worried only about Neteyam and how he would react if he found out. But she never thought she had to worry about Jake as well. That he would be one of the people to be upset when this was finished. She thought their minds were aligned, but they couldn’t be further from each other. 

“My child, are you alright?” Mo’at called the girl’s attention as she walked through the flaps of the entrance. 

(Y/N) heard her voice far away, even though they were standing almost face-to-face. She tried to speak, but all the sounds got stuck in her throat. Her hands reached out to the woman, needing something —anything— to stabilize her. 

Then everything went black. 

She felt calm, at peace. Surrounded by nothing but darkness and no sense of impending doom. (Y/N) wanted to stay there. It was quiet and comfortable. And she didn’t have to face all the problems she had created for herself. Maybe if she tried hard enough, that’s where she could stay until everything magically resolved itself. 

But a sour smell filled her nose and triggered her head to start waking.

(Y/N) fought it at first. She truly wanted to stay asleep. To forget the reality that she had made for herself. Yet, there was no way to keep running – she couldn’t. Life had a way to catch up whether she wanted it or not. Sooner or later, she would have to confess. At least to Neteyam. 

Her eyes struggled to adjust to the light that flooded her. The warmth of the day was suddenly too overwhelming to her body. She felt suffocated and choked, her breathing staggered and haphazard. It almost felt like bile was threatening to escape her throat. 

“Let it out, my child,” Mo’at cooed. She rubbed the girl’s back comfortingly as (Y/N) emptied the little contents of her stomach into a bowl. “Good, good. Let it all out.” 

(Y/N) coughed as the acidic liquid passed through her. It sloshed in the receptacle beside her until she let out the last drop. She fell back onto the mat once she finished, slowly starting to feel better. She wiped away the beads of sweat that had formed on her forehead. 

“Drink this,” the healer instructed. “It’ll help ease your stomach.”  

“Thank you,” the girl smiled in relief after she downed the liquid that was handed to her. “I have no idea what came over me. I was feeling odd yesterday but nothing to warrant this reaction. I don’t understand.” 

“You were dehydrated, my child. Exhaustion and dehydration.” As the woman spoke, a smile crept onto her face. A smile that the girl mistook for pity. “Well, there is another reason as well.”  

“What is it? Is everything okay?” Worry took over her mind. Every worst-case scenario ran through her head. Maybe this was Eywa’s answer to her prayers. A well-deserved punishment. “Is something wrong?” 

“On the contrary, (Y/N),” the woman beamed. She took the girl’s hands in hers as she braced for the information she was going to share. “These are news to celebrate.” 

“Oh, then, what is it?”

“You are with child, (Y/N),” Mo’at said excitedly. “You are pregnant with the new heir of the Omatikaya clan. Congratulations, sweetheart.” 

A breath hitched in (Y/N)’s throat as the word escaped the healer’s mouth. It took some time for her to process what Mo’at had said. It was almost unbelievable… had it not been for the past few days. If she hadn’t already emptied her stomach seconds before, she was sure she would be doing so at that moment. 

Her hands flew unconsciously to her stomach. Inside, there was a life growing. A life that four days before had no chance of existing. She felt conflicted. Without Jake, there wouldn’t have been cells multiplying inside her. Regardless, it was happening. Her firstborn. 

“There’s a baby growing in here?” (Y/N) worded it as a question, but she knew it was a fact. “I’m going to be a mom.”  

“You are,” Mo’at simpered. “You and Neteyam will be magnificent parents. This child will be brought into a home of love and warmth. They will be strong and talented, just like their parents. This is a blessing from Eywa, my child. She had answered our prayers.” 

“Could you keep this a secret until Neteyam comes back?” the girl blurted. Tears were stinging the back of her eyes, threatening to spill as she felt herself coming loose by the seams. “I want him to hear the news from me. Once he knows, we will announce it to the village.”

“That is completely understandable. A child is a gift to new couples. I understand wanting to relish in this new life by yourselves,” she said. “Consider my lips closed.” 

“Thank you, Mo’at.”

“Why don’t you take the rest of the afternoon off,” the woman continued. “You need the rest.” 

“That would be splendid,” the girl forced a smile. “I will say I am still a bit tired.”

“Of course, my child.” Mo’at helped her up and walked her to the entrance, leaving in her hands a  net filled with utumauti and a vial of water. “Congratulations again, (Y/N). May Eywa continue blessing you.” 

(Y/N) couldn’t leave the tent faster. As soon as the woman disappeared back into the healing tent, the girl took off running. Her mind was going a million miles an hour, faster than any day before. She was unraveling as everything in her world came tumbling down. 

She knew the chances of this happening were high, but she never imagined it would happen. Not this quickly. Neteyam and her had been trying for a whole year, and by the grace of Eywa, his father had done the impossible in a couple of days.

“Maybe it’s not in our journey to have children,” (Y/N) had told Neteyam one night, a week before he left. “Maybe it’s not Eywa’s will for us.” 

He had ran his hands through her hair, brushing it comfortingly as she rested her head on his chest. “Maybe,” he echoed, kissing the top of her head. “Doesn’t mean we can’t keep trying.” 

“Neteyam,” she chuckled. 

“There’s the laugh I was looking for,” he responded. “It’s not like the family name ends with us. We can leave the creation of heirs to Lo’ak. It’s about time he finds himself a mate.”

“I don’t think I could even imagine your brother settling down. He’s only a year younger than us but he’s so childlike.”

“It doesn’t matter, though,” he boasted. “I’ve got the best woman already.”

Worry swirled and hooked its claws into her soul. The very fiber of the morals and rules she had been brought up on had been dismantled by the pleasurable feeling of fulfilled carnal desires. The overwhelming sensation of feeling her body be taken apart and put back together through kisses and touches were far greater than reason. And it was hard to let go of it. 

Everything came into hyperfocus as she sped through the village in search of one man. 

Leaves crunched under her feet, loudly cracking under her quick steps yelling who she searched for. The wind whistled in her ears, whispering all of her mistakes and wrongdoings. She tried to quiet the air, afraid that everyone would know what had happened. But how does one quiet nature? 

Her eyes blurred over as they focused only on one face, everyone around her merely a blue body in her way. Her voice was asking for his name, but her ears could not hear it. Her hands reached for others, but she couldn’t feel them. She knew her body was moving, that her legs were transporting her, but the normal burn that accompanied the movement never came. 

She thought maybe that’s how it felt to be a dream walker. Things happened to your body but it didn’t entirely feel like it was real. She felt as though someone else was in control of her body as her mind watched it all unfold. 

Tears pricked at her eyes and (Y/N) had no idea when she had started to cry. But now, she was more than aware of the streams that fell down her cheeks, falling to the ground as she moved. It made her lungs ache as strangled sobs escaped her at the same time she tried to breathe. The rash influx of every emotion drowned her quickly, taking with them whatever thread was holding her to sanity. 

Suddenly, she crashed into a body and strong arms steadied her. Yet, her eyes could not focus on the figure that held her. All she could do was hold on as her eyes continued their downpour and her lungs pleaded for more air. 

“(Y/N),” they called. The voice felt familiar but so far she could not decipher who it was.” (Y/N). What’s wrong, baby girl? Talk to me.” 

She took a whizzing breath in, the air eating at her bronchioles. Still, she had found him. Somehow in her blinding haze, she had found the only person she could confess all her sins to. The only man that knew the darkest thing she had done because he had been right alongside her to do them. 

In her silence, or rather her futile attempt at speaking, he pulled her from the center. There were too many people and he was sure he knew what was weighing heavy on her heart. It had her panicking once more, trying to cogitate the immorality of their choices. 

He felt bad that she was carrying the whole burden of their wrongdoings on her shoulders whilst he was simply glad he had been able to have the moments they shared. Jake wished he could take all the worry from her brain and carry it himself, untether her from any and all bad sentiments that had planted themselves in her because of him. Because she deserved only happiness and joy to course through her veins. 

“Alright, sweetheart,” he spoke softly. “Breathe with me. Okay? I need you to breathe, beautiful.” 

He placed a comforting hand on her cheek, forcing her eyes to focus on him. He emulated the breathing pattern he wanted her to follow, breathing deeply in through his nose and out through his mouth. He established an easy rhythm allowing her to follow in tandem. 

Their chests rose and fell at the same pace soon enough. The girl settled as she stared into the yellow irises of her father-in-law – now, the biological father of the baby that would grow inside her. She envied his calmness. How he could remain collected as she felt their world was crumbling down around them? 

Her fingers dug into his arm softly, needing the reminder that she was there. That she was in control of her body again. She needed tangible evidence that Jake was standing in front of her and she could breathe again. She could breathe.

Breathe.

Breathe.

Breathe. 

“What is it, baby girl? Huh?” Jake cooed at her. His thumbs caressed her face and memorized the way her eyes fluttered as she melted into his touch. “What’s wrong?” 

“I-I-I,” she stammered. “I just… Mo’at… and now…”

The words were stuck in her throat, clawing at the walls, unwilling to spill out. She could feel as they tried to climb down and settle in the deepest parts of her soul. To join the other secrets that had made their home inside her. 

“Just breathe, (Y/N). Tell me what’s wrong.” 

Unexpectedly, a commotion broke out in the village center. The sounds were unmistakable. Ululations and screams of excitement rang out as the sounds of the flap of various ikrans’ wings filtered through the air. 

The hunting party. They were home early. 

Panic flashed in her eyes as every plan they had crashed into the ground. They were supposed to have one more night, less than twenty-four hours to give themselves closure. They had allowed themselves one more night to live in their fantasy and shut the book for good. 

“It’s okay,” Jake smiled comfortingly as he cleaned her face of any tears. “Everything’s going to be okay.” 

He kissed her forehead before they went separate ways, emerging nto the center by themselves, ready to put on the biggest performance of their lives. 

A group of ten ikrans descended from the sky and landed gracefully on the ground as the tribe cheered for the group of hunters that had come back home. The younger Omatikayas were the first to dismount, their excitement spilling out of them as they searched for their families. Their voices muddled as they recounted stories from the trip, the thrill of their first hunting expedition. 

Suddenly, two more banshees thudded against the hard ground. The duo was unmistakable and, easily, the biggest animals of the group. Between their claws, they carried a net that had landed before them. A net that held a massive srakat, the prized kill of the hunt party. 

Neytiri was the first one off her ikran, flashing the tribe a massive grin as her eyes searched for her family. She nodded toward (Y/N) as her eyes met hers, and the girl swallowed as she returned a smile. But once her gaze fell on her husband’s, her smile grew. The woman raced toward Jake, wrapping her arms tightly around her neck. She pulled him toward her tightly, basking in the warmth of her mate, the man she had missed deeply the time she was away. Unaware of how little he had missed her. 

She was followed by her first son. Neteyam pushed himself off his banshee and his eyes quickly found the eyes of his love. He hurried toward her, ignoring the people that tried to congratulate him on his hunt. He had one thing, and only one thing, on his mind. And it was her, it was always her. 

“(Y/N),” he breathed as he reached her. “Eywa, how I missed you.” 

He placed his hands gingerly on the sides of her face and pulled her to him. Neteyam crashed her lips onto her, trying to convey through the kiss just how much he had missed her. Then, his arms fell from her face to her waist as he twirled her in a tight embrace. 

And though her heart was with him at that moment, feeling as though her being was complete, her eyes were focused on someone else. They were trained on Jake as everything flashed in her head. The yellow irises held all the panic and worry she had been expressing the past few days. They searched his eyes for any sign that everything would resolve itself. That in their silence, life could simply go on. 

“I’ve missed you too, darling,” she whispered to him. “You have no idea how much.” 

Neteyam pulled apart from her, needing to stare into his wife’s eyes, and found tears falling down her cheeks. “Oh, baby, I’m here now,” he smiled as his thumb wiped away the streaks on her skin. “And I’m not leaving you ever again.” 

He kissed her once more on the lips, then the corners of her eyes. His fingers traced the features of her face as if it was the very first time that he had seen her. He studied the lines and dots on her skin, he studied the amber in her eyes, he studied the soft skin of her lips. She was as beautiful as the first time he had seen her. 

“Tonight we celebrate these young hunter’s first prey,” Jake’s voice boomed across the air, calling the focus of every single person in attendance. “ We also celebrate, my son, Neteyam’s courage as he faced a srakat and brought it home. Tonight, we feast!” 

All hands were on deck. The tribe got to work to prepare the center for a revelry. Some started preparations for the food – the hunted meat as well as fruits, vegetables, and fungi to serve with it. Others started building a bonfire where later in the evening the young hunters would retell their stories facing their first mark. They would dance and celebrate, and everything would be perfect. No one would find out the indiscretions of the chief and his daughter-in-law. 

But (Y/N) would and it was already eating at her from the inside out. She helped to the best of her abilities in the preparation of the food as well as the clearing of the village center where the bonfire was being set up. But dread squeezed her heart every time Neteyam would sneak a glance at her and would smirk, or when his hand traced her hip when he passed by her, or when he whispered into her ears that they would have their own kind of celebration after the feast. 

She felt the air leave her lungs every time he was near her with his loving touches and teasing words, with his glances filled with adoration and his mouth spread in a smile. It broke her, how he could continue to love her as she was without knowing what she had done. Living with the secret would end her, but she didn’t know how she could confess. Not when he looked at her the way he did. 

Her head was spinning once more. Even more so surrounded by people celebrating her husband and telling her how lucky she was to have Neteyam for a mate. (Y/N) knew she was lucky. She knew she had struck gold when they had chosen each other as partners. That being with him granted her stature and respect, and that there was no better option for her than him. And four nights of pleasure could take that all away. 

The sun had already set, and the chill of the night was starting to set. Music swirled through the air, mixed with the joyous voices of the Omatikaya and the mouth-watering smells of the food. That night was a sight to behold. The clan joined as they rejoiced and celebrated the up-and-comers and the future Olo’eyktan. 

(Y/N) could not celebrate, though. Not without having a plan. Not until she had a way to continue with her life, with her child’s life. She could not continue with the farçe until everything was laid on the table with the person she had started this. 

Her eyes met his across the bonfire and she motioned for him to join her. From the distance, he could see her eyes were reddened and tears were threatening to spill once more. Jake wanted nothing more than to run to her, wrap her in his arms, and tell her that there was nothing for her to worry about. But he couldn’t. Not in front of the village… not in front of his wife. 

As (Y/N) started to walk away, getting lost in the sea of people, he knew exactly where she was going. He kissed Neytiri’s cheek and excused himself, claiming he would be going around to talk to the families of each of the new hunters. She smiled in return, continuing to speak with another woman. 

Disappearing between the people as the girl had done proved to not be difficult. Everyone was moving around, impossible to keep still. It was a celebration at the end of the day. He followed the step he knew she had taken, walking slyly down the path. It had become second nature to him, the journey to his salvation. 

Jake could hear her sniffling before he entered the tent and he felt his heart sink. Her pain destroyed him, and him being the reason for it finished him. Happiness was all he ever wanted for her, even if it wasn’t with him – though he hoped that she would want it with him. A small part of him still prayed that she chose him in the end. 

“What’s wrong, baby girl?” he cooed as soon as he entered the nest. “What did you have to say?” 

“I’m scared, Jake,” she croaked out. “Things have gotten so messed up and I don’t know what to do. I’m so lost. And now…” 

“What happened, (Y/N)? What’s changed since this morning?” 

The same panic that had overtaken her hours before pinched her insides. It cut off her air supply and she felt herself growing faint. But she couldn’t keep running. Not anymore. Not when there were no more nights to wait for, no more mornings to sleep on it. She had to do it here and now. 

“I had been feeling sort of ill since yesterday, but it was nothing to worry about,” she started. “This morning, when I got the healing tent, I fainted.” 

“Are you okay? Mo’at didn’t say anything.” 

“Everything’s okay. It was only dehydration and exhaustion,” she calmed him. (Y/N) stared at her fingers, suddenly far more interesting than holding Jake’s line of sight. “But she did tell me some news.” 

“(Y/N), please,” he groaned. “You’re killing me here.” 

“She told me I was pregnant, Jake,” she whimpered. “And I’m certain that it’s your child.” 

Silence fell upon them and (Y/N) was sure he would curse her out. That what he had promised the first night they had been together, had spilled out in the heat of the moment. That everything they had gone through had been done simply in the heat of the moment. 

Instead, he planted a passionate kiss on her lips and twirled her in an embrace. He peppered her face with kisses, tasting in his lips the saltiness of her tears. He kissed until there was nothing left and his mouth to her neck, where he kissed until she laughed. 

“Jake,” she chuckled. “Jake, stop.” 

“Here,” he said, placing a hand on the valley of her stomach. “It’s my child.” 

“Yes, Jake,” she smiled sadly. “And this is not something I can hide from anyone. This is not something I can hide from Neteyam.” 

He could see the despair in her eyes and once more he wished he was the one carrying all that guilt. He wanted his eyes to be the ones crying those tears for her. He wanted his heart to feel the pang of fear hers did. He wanted all the pain to be felt by him, and only him. 

“Then, let’s run away,” he blurted. “Let’s leave right now. Just you, me, and our baby.” 

“No, Jake. That’s not the solution. You can’t do that to your family – your children. And I can’t do that to Neteyam,” she cried. “I’ll just have to tell him the truth and… I don’t know, hope.” 

“What happens if he rejects you, (Y/N)? What happens if Neteyam can’t live with what we’ve done and casts you aside?” 

“Then, I accept the consequences of my actions. It wouldn’t be wrong of him to do so.” 

“But I’m giving you a way to not have to go through more pain, sevin,” he countered. “I’m giving you an easy escape here. A way for us to be together without any trouble – the three of us. Don’t you want that?” 

“You already know what –who– I want, Jake. This should have never happened, and I should not have allowed this to go on for this long,” she responded. “I never meant for you to feel this way. Not about me. I thought…”

“Don’t ask me to regret this, (Y/N). Don’t ask me to repent over what happened between us,” he pleaded. His eyes kept searching hers for the answer he wanted. That, maybe, in the deepest parts of her soul, she wanted him just as much as he did. “Don’t ask me to give you up without a fight.” 

“I was never yours to fight for, Jake. Not in the way you want,” she said. “I gave you my body in the most desperate time in my life, and for reasons beyond me, I kept giving it to you. But it was only that. I can’t give you my heart because it belongs to someone else.” 

“He couldn’t even give you the one thing you wanted more in this world!” he cried. Tears fell from his eyes as desperation coursed through his veins. “You even told me he couldn’t touch you in the ways that you wanted. It was me, (Y/N). I showed you everything you could have. Everything you can still have. All you have to do is choose me.” 

“And, what, you leave your family behind? Your children? Your wife? They don’t deserve that, Jake. They need you.” 

“They have their mother and they’ll have their brother,” he retorted. “It can be as easy as that, (Y/N). You, me, and our baby against the world.” 

“I can’t do that to them,” she lamented. “I can’t let you do that either.” 

There was so much distress that surrounded them, clutching at their lungs and their hearts. There had been so many words unsaid, left for a later time, and they came bursting out. Neither of them wanted to hurt the other, to break their hearts. But they had tried too hard to keep things buried and they had festered for far too long. 

“Then say it’s his,” he let out dryly. “Make him think the baby is his. And we can keep going as though nothing has happened. We will forget we were together –that it all started with your heat, devolving in more– and we will take it all to our graves that the child is mine. I can let go that you don’t want me, but I can’t lose you completely. I won’t let that happen.” 

“I don’t want to keep lying to him, Jake. He deserves better than that –better than me.” 

“There’s no one better than you, oeyä hì’i ‘awpo. If there was no Mother Goddess on my Earth, I’d believe it was you. If I had not met Eywa on this planet, I’d believe it was you,” he spoke in devotion. “So, please, grant me this prayer. And maybe I can go back to my life.”

(Y/N) kept quiet as she drank in his words. They pricked at her heart as she muttered her apologies to him quietly. She was breaking his heart, and she was hurting someone she cared for. “Alright,” she sighed. “I’ll tell him that the baby is his, and that will be the end of us.” 

Though his heart had been shattered, Jake wanted nothing more than to be close to her again. They were supposed to have one more night together and he had the opportunity to do just that. He snaked his hands to her cheeks, committing to memory the warmth of her skin, and pressed his lips to hers. 

“Jake,” she muttered against him. “You have to stop.” 

“One more night,” he responded. “We were supposed to have one more night.” 

“Stop, Jake,” she repeated as his kisses didn’t relent. “We don’t have one more night. It’s over.”

“Please, sevin. Just one more.” 

“No, Jake. We can’t. You need to go.” 

“Get your hands off my fucking wife,” a voice grumbled. 

***

Neteyam had been searching for his wife for the better part of the bonfire, but no one had seen her in some time. He looked through the crowd twice, but could not find her beautiful face. The face he looked for in his darkest times, the face that brought her peace and solace with a simple look. 

He was in love with her since the moment he knew what love was. He knew she was his past, his present, and his future. That nothing could ever push them apart. 

“Yo, little bro, have you seen (Y/N)? I can’t find her anywhere.” 

“Check your nest, dude. She’s probably there,” he waved him off, too engrossed in whatever game he was playing. “She’s been tired these past couple of days.”

“Alright, thanks.” 

He ran in the direction of their tent, eager to find his wife in the privacy of their home. Hopefully, he’d find her still awake and they could have some private fun. He had spent six days without her and his body could feel it. His arousal had pent up and he needed to let it out. For the past few days, all he could do was think of (Y/N). The swell of her breasts, the dip of her waist, the rise of her hips, and the sweet, warm embrace of her insides. 

It wasn’t just the physicality of the moment. He needed her like he needed to breathe. He needed to hear her laugh, to see her smile, to fall asleep in her arms, he needed all of her – heart, body, and soul. The same way he was sure she needed him too. 

But he could have never imagined he would hear what he did when he reached the tent. A mind-shattering confession that made his blood boil. 

“Then say it’s his,” Neteyam heard his father say. “Make him think the baby is his. And we can keep going as though nothing has happened. We will forget we were together –that it all started with your heat, devolving in more– and we will take it all to our graves that the child is mine. I can let go that you don’t want me, but I can’t lose you completely. I won’t let that happen.” 

“I don’t want to keep lying to him, Jake. He deserves better than that –better than me.” 

“There’s no one better than you, oeyä hì’i ‘awpo. If there was no Mother Goddess on my Earth, I’d believe it was you. If I had not met Eywa on this planet, I’d believe it was you,” his father spoke in devotion. “So, please, grant me this prayer. And maybe I can go back to my life.”

After a moment of silence, (Y/N) responded. “Alright,” she sighed. “I’ll tell him that the baby is his, and that will be the end of us.” 

Then, he heard a kiss. Followed by another and another. 

“Jake,” she muttered. “You have to stop.” 

“One more night,” he responded. “We were supposed to have one more night.” 

“Stop, Jake,” she repeated as his kisses didn’t relent. “We don’t have one more night. It’s over.”

“Please, sevin. Just one more.” 

“No, Jake,” she cried. “ We can’t. You need to go.” 

Neteyam couldn’t hold it in anymore and slipped into the tent. His hands were balled into fists and his teeth were gritted as he grumbles, “Get your hands off my fucking wife.” 

(Y/N) and Jake startled and jumped apart, fear flashing through their eyes. This was it. Neteyam had found out the truth in the worst way possible and they were sure this was the end for the both of them. 

Instead, he stepped between his wife and his father, a hand protectively in front of her. “I think she’s said her piece,” he said. “(Y/N) has asked you to leave.”

“What’re you gonna do, Neteyam?” Jake spoke. “Look, son, I don’t know what you think you’ve heard, but…”

“I heard that you fucked my wife,” he snarled. “That you took advantage of the fact that she was in heat to fuck her. And now she’s pregnant.” 

“Nete,” she breathed. She placed a hand on his outstretched arm, making his head snap back, his eyes softening as he looked into hers. 

“And… she had asked you to leave.” 

“I won’t,” Jake dared. “That child she’s carrying is mine.”

“No, dad. It’s mine,” he growled. “Everything that happens to her, happens to me. Every fiber of her being belongs to me, just like I belong to her. Nothing that you did will ever erase that. You may have fathered this baby, but I’m the one that will raise them. I’m the one they will call father. That child is more mine than it will ever be yours.” 

“(Y/N), please,” he pleaded to her. “We can…”

“Not another word, dad,” Neteyam spat. “Here’s what’s gonna happen,” he took a deep breath and continued. “You’re gonna leave our nest and go back to the bonfire. You will go back to your wife and your children, and you will enjoy the rest of the night. After that, you’ll never speak of this event again. You won’t even mutter about it in your sleep. You will only speak to (Y/N) when absolutely necessary. If not, you’ll tell me. This child will be ours and that’s what they will know. You will be a proud grandparent and nothing more. They will carry the family name, but not because of you. It will be because of me. (Y/N) is my wife, and she is my family. You will never interfere again. Do I make myself clear?” 

“(Y/N)...” 

“I said, am I clear, dad?” 

“Crystal,” Jake spat. 

“Good.” Neteyam gifted him a spine-chilling smile. “Now go enjoy the rest of your evening.”

Jake tried to catch another glimpse at (Y/N) but his son stood in the way. So, he admitted defeat, and with slumped shoulders, he left the tent, and his heart, behind. At any other moment, he would have been proud that Neteyam had stood up to him. But he was taking everything from him. His newfound reason for being, his heart, and his child. An ending to his and (Y/N)’s story he could have never imagined. 

The moment Neteyam was sure his father was far away, he turned to his wife, his gaze softening once more as he looked at her. She looked frail, defeated, and it saddened him. The last thing he ever wanted was to see her in pain. 

“I’m sorry, Nete,” she broke down, slumping against his chest. His arms tightened around her in a comforting embrace and he lovingly shushed her as she repeated the same words. “I’m so sorry.” 

“You have nothing to be sorry about, my love,” he comforted her. “This… this is all my fault.”

“How could it be your fault, Nete?” she sobbed. “You haven’t done anything wrong. Ever.”

“You were supposed to go on the trip with us,” he sighed. “Mom told me to ask you, but I thought you wouldn’t want to come. Since we had that talk a week before we left, I thought it would have been best for you to take this time to rest.” 

“Nete…”

“Instead, I left you here, vulnerable and alone.”

“I’m not innocent in this, Nete,” she stated, locking her eyes on his. “I could have stopped at any point, but I didn’t. And now we’re in this mess because of me.”

“It’s only a mess if we let it be,” he responded. “I meant what I said, baby. I will raise this child because it is a part of you and you belong to me as I belong to you. One mate, for the rest of my life. Our souls are bound together for eternity, (Y/N). No matter what.” 

“I don’t deserve you, Nete. And you deserve better than me, than what I’ve done to you.” 

“Oel ngati kameie, (Y/N).”

“Oel ngati kameie, Nete,” she smiled between tears. “I love you.” 

“I love you more,” he chuckled, kissing her temple. “I love you more than life itself. I love you, I love us, and I love the life that is growing inside you.” 

He pressed his lips softly onto hers, his hands cradling her jaw. Neteyam pulled her close, his body flush with hers. He wanted to comfort her. Even at that moment, he could not think of anything other than her solace. His heart had broken at her infidelity, yes. But he was angrier at the fact that he had left her and that he wasn’t doing enough to keep her body. 

“Show me,” he mumbled against her lips, a grin spreading across his face. “Show me what you need, baby.”

“W-what?”

“I want to give you everything and more than what he gave you,” he breathed. “So, tell me and show me what you need.”

“Nete…” 

“Please, my love. I want nothing more than to please you,” he groaned. “I want to find all the places he did and claim them back. I want to discover all the places he didn’t and leave my mark. I want your body to belong to me as it once did.”

(Y/N) took her lower lip between her teeth. How could he still want her? How could he stand before her and speak words of love when all she’d done was take him for granted? She wasn’t sure if it hurt more that she had done what she did or that he could so easily forgive her. 

But as his lips took hold of her lips, then her jaw and her neck, she couldn’t help the pooling between her legs that grew in tandem. There was something different in his kisses, a different kind of passion than the one she shared with Jake. It wasn’t fevered. It was natural and welcoming, it simply felt right. 

She took his hand in hers, guiding it to where she needed him the most. “Here,” she breathed as his fingers traced her loincloth. “I need you here.” 

With her free hand, she untied her garment, baring herself in front of him as she had done many times before. Yet, it felt like the first time. Their chance to renew and start over. She guided his hand, whispering in his twitching ears what to do with his fingers.

“Like this?” Neteyam whispered as he did as told. Always the perfect rule follower. “Is this what you need?” 

“Yes,” she moaned. 

His fingers grazed over the aching bundle of nerves, teasing and learning her. He stared at every reaction from her, no matter how minuscule. Neteyam traced her, grazing over the bud, using her wetness to glide over it. He drew shapes and added pressure. He studied her sounds, edged on by her beautiful melody. 

“Don’t stop, Nete,” she mewled. “I’m close.” 

His smirk grew as she moaned against him. Her fingernails trailed his arms, looking for any form of stability. She was unraveling under his touch, coming undone by the agility of his fingers. A skill she had yet to experience from him, but he had already proven to be a fast learner. He moved as though he’d done it a million times before. As though he knew all along what she needed and had been waiting for her to request it. 

With the right pace and the correct among of pressure, (Y/N) was moaning out his name and growing weak at the knees. Her nails dug into his skin as she grew weak, holding onto the only thing she could. Her breath hitched in her throat, unable to steady her breathing. It was like the very first time she had felt this sensation – double the pleasure. 

“Very good, baby,” he cooed in her ear as he peppered her face with soft kisses. “What else? What else do you want?” 

Through hooded eyes, she smiled at him. She got down on her knees softly, never breaking her gaze from his eyes. She untied his loincloth, allowing his erection to spring free. Her hand grasped him by the end of his shaft and he followed every move she made. From the kisses she placed on his stomach to the way her tongue lolled out of her mouth to lick a stripe from the base to the tip, a move that had him sucking in a breath. 

(Y/N) opened her mouth, stretching to allow his length to fully enter her. She lowered her head softly, twirling her tongue against the skin as she took him completely. She hollowed her cheeks and bobbed her head, moving at a painfully slow pace, teasing him to speak up. Because just as much as he wanted to please her, she wanted to please him. To unlock the deepest desires of his body. To give herself completely to him. 

“Oh, Eywa,” he groaned. “That tongue.”

She chuckled against him, sending reverberating vibrations rippling through his body. His hands landed on her hair. In complete juxtaposition to his father, he brushed her hair lovingly, keeping it off her face as he let her set the speed she desired. 

His eyes rolled to the back of his head as he could feel the tightness in the pit of his stomach grow. Between the sight of his wife on her knees for him and the way she used her mouth around him, he knew there was no chance for him to last long enough. His breathing grew staggered as his sensitiveness heightened 

With the expertise she had acquired, it didn’t take more than a few bobs of her head to have Neteyam spilling his release inside her as he let out a guttural moan. But he grew impatient with being so far from her. He pulled her to her feet and crashed his lips onto hers, using her surprise to slip his tongue into her mouth. He tasted himself in her mouth, the salty essence of his release still present in her. 

She moaned against him, her arousal reaching unfathomable levels. (Y/N) felt as though she was going in heat once more, her hunger insatiable and untamable. She felt warmth rushing through her, making her skin feel like it was on fire. She needed more, she needed everything, she needed all of him. 

Their kiss grew hungrier as their hands searched each other’s bodies. Neteyam removed her necklace, exposing the last bit of her to him. He kissed her jaw, then her neck, and kept traveling to the mounds of her breasts. 

“There,” she breathed. “Kiss me there.” 

He smirked at her and took one of her stiffened peaks into his mouth. He ran his tongue flat against one as his hand pinched and tweaked the other. He hollowed his cheeks just as she had done with him, and circled her. He lapped until a string of moans fell from her throat and her hands nestled between the strands of his hair. He switched from one mound to the other, neither was left unattended for more than a few seconds. 

“Nì'ul, Nete,” she whimpered. “Oe kin nì’ul.” 

“Pseng, (Y/N)?” he murmured. “Peng oe pseng.”

Instead of using her words, (Y/N) guided him toward the mat, laying him completely flat on his back. She grinned mischievously at him as she crawled over him, her legs on either side of his chest.

“There is something I wanted to try,” she confessed meekly. “Something I’ve never done before.”

“Anything you want, baby,” he grinned. “I like where your head is at. Now come here.” 

Neteyam curled his arms around her thighs and guided her to his face. Although it was a position that was new to them, he was guided by carnal instinct. He breathed her in, her scent as familiar as the day he knew what it meant. He stared at her wetness for a moment, admiring the pulsing core in his gaze before he attached his mouth to it. 

He ran the tip of this tongue from her folds, parting them and tasting her essence, to her clit, where he remained. He swirled against the bud, reveling in the sounds that were expelled from her body. As he listened to the sweet harmony, his tongue journeyed from the swollen mound to her entrance, pushing through and exploring her insides. 

(Y/N) let out a strangled breath as her husband’s tongue pierced her. He pistoned into her at a teasing rate, chuckling as she groaned. He was exploring her, learning of her from the inside out. But, once he added his thumb and circled her clit, the girl was screaming in pleasure. 

At the rate he was going, it was no surprise when she was spilling all over his tongue a few seconds later. Her weight fell onto his face, the pleasure too much as her body shook. The suddenness of her contact took the breath out of Neteyam’s lungs, making him moan at the sensation. A sound that ran through her body, making her grow more aroused, even in her starting stage of exhaustion. 

“I need you, Nete,” she keened. “I need to feel you inside.”  

“Me too, baby,” he answered as she climbed down his body, her face close enough to kiss. “I will claim you the same way I did when we got married. Just like the same way when we promised ourselves to each other before Eywa.” 

At the memory of that night, tears fell from (Y/N)’s eyes. It was a reminder of the vow she had broken, the one rule Na’vi mates lived by. She remembered saying those words, promising Neteyam that she would give herself completely to him and only him. But she had gone back on that statement for a few days of pleasure. 

“No, baby, don’t cry,” he comforted. Neteyam sat up, sliding her body down to his lap, and wrapped her in a warm embrace. His cock very prominently pressed against their stomachs, a fact he was trying to ignore. “I said that because I want this moment to feel just like we felt that day. I want to erase everything that happened these past few days and replace it with the memory of us. With the feeling of my cock deep inside you.”

“I’m sorry, Neteyam,” she whispered against his neck. “I’m sorry for being so weak.” 

“No, (Y/N). You are not weak. You’re the strongest woman I know,” he said before he kissed her lips tenderly. “The most beautiful.” Another kiss. “The most perfect woman I have ever laid eyes on.”

“Make love to me, Nete,” she cried. “Make me forget there was ever anyone else inside me.” 

He kissed her deeply once more before moving her to align himself with her entrance. But before sinking onto his length, (Y/N) took hold of both of their queues. As she lowered her body onto his, the tendrils at the ends of their braid made their connection. 

They both gasped deeply at the overwhelming touch. It was what was always missing for (Y/N), the spiritual connection that bonded their hearts and souls together. A feeling that overtook every other sensation in their bodies. It synched the beating of their hearts, their breathing, their thoughts. It was a promise not only to themselves but to the Mother Goddess that their entire beings belonged to her creation. 

“Oel ngati kameie, (Y/N),” Neteyam breathed. 

“Oel ngati kameie, Neteyam,” she muttered in reply. 

(Y/N) was the first to move, her hips grinding down on his lap, the initial pain of the stretch gone in the blink of an eye. In its stead was the feeling of fullness –completeness. This was the reason it felt good with Jake, but it never felt quite right. The older Sully did not complete her, and he never would. He was experienced in the art of sex and he had been able to teach her things she never thought imaginable. But she simply could not give him her heart because it did not belong to her anymore. 

Neteyam spoke her name like a prayer, the only word that could guide him to salvation. She was the air in his lungs, the blood in his veins, the thoughts in his head. (Y/N) was his everything and he could never stand to lose her to anyone. He would show her every day of their lives why their lives had been entwined. 

With Neteyam, there was no learning the areas inside her that had her screaming and squirming. He knew exactly what to do, the right buttons to push. He knew where to kiss, where to nip, where to thrust.  

At that moment she understood. The reason she had needed so much from Jake was not that Neteyam was lacking, it was because she could not live with just the physical connection. (Y/N) truly yearned for the way souls connected in the act. He may have known how to fuck her and get her to finish, but she did not see him. 

This is what her heart truly yearned for. Her and Neteyam’s bodies were connected, in more ways than one. They fell into a perfect rhythm, their moves perfectly choreographed, the pace beautifully synchronized. At that moment, they were one. 

“I’m close, baby,” he groaned into her neck, their bodies flush in a tight embrace. “I’m so close.” 

“Me too,” she groaned. “Just… keep going.” 

His hips met hers, his cock pressing on the most sensitive part of her insides. They were breathless, panting as they chased together their finish. A couple of more angled thrusts and their releases were mixing deep inside her. It felt like electricity coursing through them, passing through their limbs until it finished where they were joined. 

(Y/N) slumped against her husband, her lips leaving soft kisses against his neck as Neteyam kissed the tears that had fallen unconsciously away. Still connected, the pair lay on their mat as the exhaustion of the night started to wrap its claws around them. 

“I don’t want you to ever feel sorry for what happened with him,” he whispered to her as he drew comforting circles across her back. “There is absolutely nothing you could do that would ever push me away. At the end of the day, I know you will choose me because I would do the same. You are my reason for living, (Y/N). You are the reason that Eywa allowed my creation. I love you more than I love life itself.”

She kissed him in response. The kind of kiss that mended wounds. The kind of kiss that spoke where words could not. Because it was more than that. It was a promise. That she would be the kind of woman that deserved a love like the one Neteyam was giving her. She would, now and forever, be the woman he was so in love with.

That night was the ending of a sentence and the start of a whole new chapter. They would remember that week as nothing more than a nightmare, a distant memory that could have been just their imagination. Because it could not be real, not to them. 

But for Jake Sully, it would become a constant reminder of what he had grasped so tightly in his hands. It was the realization that his heart beat a different tune than it had decades before. He did love Neytiri. She had given him a new life and she was the mother of his children. There would always be love in his heart for her. But somehow he was no longer in love with her and there was nothing he could do about it. 

Somehow, (Y/N) had made her way into his heart, a place he did not know was vacant. He thought, he prayed, he wished that she would have chosen him. That his fears that she loved his son more than she could want him were not true. He had allowed himself the fantasy that in another life it was her and him and their baby. But it wasn’t real, and it was clear that it never would be. 

She had chosen Neteyam, just as she had said she would. And it shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did. From the beginning, it was just a game to pass her through the week. But in the heat of the moment, love snuck in between and changed the rules. Rules that only affected him, and they would continue to do so for the rest of his life.

A/N: I'm lying, this is not the last part. There's an epilogue coming in a few hours cause it's already 1 am where I am😈😈 it's short but it's worth it! honestly thought I'd be able to post both today but I'm exhausted

Taglist: @uwunuggetchan @ellabellabus07 @sweetllamaparadise @crazy4books1 @jake-sullys-whore @saltedcoffeescotch @laylasbunbunny @atxara

Next -> (posted at 2:30 am)

[thepopesbastard]

play me (like i’m stuck on repeat) obikin | explicit | 14.6k

The same city, twenty-six years apart. Side A - Life as the full-time roadie and sometimes guitarist to the galaxy's most beloved Jedi rock band, Negotiator, isn't easy, but it’s been worth it just to learn from the band’s bass guitarist, Obi-Wan Kenobi himself. And then Coruscant happens. Side B - Twenty-six years, eleven studio albums, and five and a half galaxy wide tours later, Anakin, now the lead singer and guitarist of the Emperor’s Right Hand, has everything he’s ever wanted. Almost everything at least. And then Coruscant happens. Again. Or. A band au that’s not really about a band or an au.

pitch under the cut

this bad boy features: ➡ not one but TWO chapters ➡ beautiful art by ayce ➡ old man sex ➡ old man pussy ➡ anakin gagging for that old man pussy ➡ non old man sex ➡ ballless obiwan ➡ mommy issues that are never discussed but heavily implied ➡ 22 usages of the word kriff ➡ beautiful(??) prose that explores two people’s inability to move on through narrative parallelism ➡ so much more freakshit ➡ and now! a playlist.

cons: ✖ this fic has a target audience of 2 (the author and their pronis) so if you like it, we might have to get married immediately ✖ it took me like 6 months to write this so enjoyers will have to content yourselves with rereading it a million times before i write anything else ever again ✖ ???

[chicago-pd-is-weird]

Day 6: Solitary Confinement

@the-three-shits-whump

@andgry4 and @kamryn1963 can vouch for how bad good this one is. :)

Find it at the AO3 link above, or read it below the cut:

Hank was put into solitary confinement in jail. Apparently, since he had defended himself from being killed in gen-pop, he deserved this. They let him loose in a cell with only a toilet, a table and stool (both attached to the floor and wall and made of metal) and a bed. It didn’t even have sheets on it. Just a pillow and a blanket that was sewn into the mattress. They sure made it hard to hang yourself.

Hank was in this cell, alone, for twenty-three hours a day. They would only bring him out for an hour each day to shower, call his lawyer and maybe take a stroll around the cell block. Otherwise, it was back to his hellhole.

The first few nights were okay, but as he slowly realized he had six months left on his sentence, it started to take a toll on him. At first he scream, begging to be let out, especially when the slot in his door opened and a meal was pushed through. He tried to reason with the guards and beg them to let him out. He pleaded. He cried. It took a deep toll on him and his mental state.

That’s when the insomnia started. A few weeks in, Hank laid on the mattress, curled up. He couldn’t sleep. Time passed by so slowly, it felt like days in between every 23rd hour. He thought maybe they were doing it on purpose to torture him more. Rocking back and forth, Hank had had a lot of time to think about how he had gotten himself there. What he would’ve done differently. It all made him sick to his stomach, but moreover, made him sick in the head.

Luckily, his lawyer was able to get him out after two months, but it was too late by then. Hank had already fallen victim to paranoia, anxiety, depression, and had even had some hallucinations while in there. He often had seen Camille, talked with her, and even reached out and touched her. She felt real, despite Hank feeling nothing at all.

When he was allowed out, his lawyer was there to pick him up, asking him where he wanted to go. Hank grunted in reply, thinking for a moment, but shrugging. “Home.”

So, his lawyer drove him home. He went inside, looking around. It looked like someone had been there in the past year, taking care of the house. It wasn’t until someone came in the back door that Hank realized it was true. He walked quickly to the back, glaring at the door to see who had been living in his house.

Trudy Platt and Alvin Olinsky came in. Trudy gasped when she saw Hank, as he had scared her, but she rushed over to hug him, setting the paper bag on the counter. “Hank!” She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. “Hank, we had no idea you’d be out so early.”

Hank tensed when Trudy hugged him. He wanted it, he wanted to reciprocate, but couldn’t. He pushed her away, less than gently. “Get off me.”

Al frowned as Trudy stumbled back. “Hank, you alright?”

“Why are you here?”

“We didn’t know you were coming home so early. We were going to make dinner for you. A real, home-cooked meal,” Trudy replied. “We thought you weren’t out until later tonight.”

“Well I’m here,” Hank replied, taking a step back as Al and Trudy stepped forward. “You’re in my house.”

“We’ve been taking care of it,” Al said, putting a hand on Trudy’s back comfortingly. He knew Hank’s behavior was hitting her hard. “So that you had a home to come back to. We knew you’d get out.”

Hank grunted again in reply, looking around, then walking through the house. Everything has been exactly as he left it, albeit, cleaner.

Trudy frowned and looked at Al when Hank walked away and up the stairs. “What the hell is wrong with him?”

“No idea,” Al replied, matching her deep-set frown. “Why don’t you start cooking? I’ll see what I can get out of him.” Trudy nodded and Al followed Hank upstairs. He was standing in his bedroom, looking around. Al walked in behind him, making Hank jump and nearly punch him. “Whoa, hey man, it’s just me,” Al said, backing up with his hands up.

Hank grunted again in reply, looking around the room once more before his eyes settled on Al. “You’re still here.”

“Yeah, man, we’re not leaving you… We’re here to help you, you know, re-integrate. Whatever you need.”

Hank put a hand to his head. He huffed. For some reason, the urge was so strong that he wanted to…

No, Al was his best friend. He couldn’t do that.

Hank walked past Al, bumping his shoulder on the way as he inspected the rest of the upstairs. After being confined to a room half the size of his bedroom, he had no idea what to do with all the space. He enjoyed walking up and down the hall and through the rooms, which he did several times as Al stood at the top of the stairs and watched.

Al sighed. “Hank, what the hell happened to you in there?”

Hank stopped, eyes meeting Al’s, then quickly flickering away. “Jail.”

“Yeah, you were in jail, but what happened inside? They hurt you?”

Hank grunted again, as he wasn’t used to carrying on full conversations with anyone but himself or Camille anymore.

“Hank.”

Hank glanced at Al, then pushed past him and down the stairs as the fragrance of dinner started to waft to him. He did a few laps downstairs, even going outside and taking a few laps around his house, smelling the fresh air mixed with a whiff of dinner every now and again.

Al went downstairs and to the kitchen, frowning. “Trudy, he’s real fucked up.”

“The hell they do to him?”

“I don’t know, but he can’t even carry on a conversation. He just… grunts at me.”

Trudy frowned, stirring the hamburger meat, then covering it for a moment and turning to Al. “He’s freaking me out.”

“Me too, but… we agreed we’d be here for him, you know?”

“Maybe he just needs some space to re-acclimate.” Trudy sighed.

“Maybe, but let’s do dinner, then we’ll give him the night.”

Just then, Hank came back into the kitchen through the back door, eyes landing on Trudy and Al as they both stared at him. He huffed. “What?!” He snapped at them, looking like he was ready to fight.

Trudy looked away, tears coming to her eyes. How could they have hurt Hank this badly in prison? She’d heard bad things about being inside, but whatever they put Hank through made him into an animal.

Al put his hands up. “Hank, we’re not here to fight or to hurt you. We just want to help.”

Hank grunted again, then stalked through the house, looking around until he found a picture of Camille. He relaxed, slowly grabbing it and looking at it, holding it close to him. “Camille,” he mumbled. “I love you.”

Al kept an eye on Hank. His best friend had always been… threatening, but never toward him or Trudy. He was afraid Trudy was going to get hurt, and he would never let that happen. He couldn’t lose another friend. It seemed that Hank was already lost.

They ate dinner in an awkward silence, Hank staring at the picture of his wife, which he’d since set on the table beside him, as if she were there. Al and Trudy talked with their eyes, both agreeing they needed to leave as soon as possible, for their own sanity, despite not wanting to leave Hank alone. They both weighed the options and decided it was better that they left for the night after dinner and the dishes were done. They left some extra food in Hank’s fridge, but after dinner he got up and went to his bedroom without saying a word, taking the picture of Camille with him.

—

The next few days had been the worst for Hank. He had some kind of itch he couldn’t scratch deep in his brain. He took the picture of Camille everywhere around the house, even talking to her when she “appeared.”

In the nighttime, he either didn’t sleep at all, or the nightmares plagued him over and over again, like a repeated slap in the face. He spent his nights screaming or waking up ready to fight. He even kept a large knife beneath his pillow in case the demons came for him. He had to protect Camille.

Alvin and Trudy frequently stopped by and brought over meals or supplies, seeing as they quickly realized Hank never left the house, except to walk a perimeter around it. Hank didn’t talk much to them, and Trudy would never come over alone. Hank scared her too much. Alvin, on the other hand, often came alone. He wasn’t scared of his best friend. He often came and sat with him in silence, seeing as Hank didn’t like to talk. He sometimes prompted Hank, but only got curt responses or simple grunts in reply.

Not too long after Hank was released, Trudy had found out exactly what Hank went through inside - solitary confinement. One night, while Al was with Hank, she decided to go to Molly’s, where she knew Dr. Charles often sat. She had a very interesting chat with him regarding solitary confinement and what it did to a person.

“It could make him aggressive, especially if he feels threatened, and he won’t behave like a normal person. He might talk only to himself, or not at all, or he might talk too much about nothing in particular. It affects everyone differently. Truthfully, there’s no way to know until you find out. Often, it comes with nightmares and some kind of PTSD, along with depression or anxiety. He might want to interact with people, but might not know how. He could also have insomnia and paranoia, or neither. It’s hard to know, but those are some common symptoms.”

Trudy took in all the information, realizing Hank’s behavior made a lot of sense. What she couldn’t figure out was the picture of Camille, but Dr. Charles figured it was some kind of coping mechanism. Trudy thanked him, then went to Hank’s house.

When Trudy knocked, Al got up to answer it, Hank gripping the picture harder, as if someone was going to take it away. Al let Trudy in. He told her that him and Hank had been sitting in silence in front of the TV, with it off. She explained a short run-down of what Dr. Charles had said and about what Hank went through inside.

“Makes sense,” Al replied softly as he hung Trudy’s coat up. “I’d probably end up a similar way if I spent months alone like this.”

“I don’t know how to help him. There’s not much we can really do besides force him into counseling.”

Al sighed. “He’s not going to like that. He doesn’t even like it when I get up without saying something first.”

Trudy hummed, walking over to the living room and sitting beside Hank, though somewhat afraid of him still. “Hey, Hank?” She smiled softly, slowly reaching out to put a hand on his arm.

Hank looked at her, never meeting her eyes, just grunting, trying to shrug her hand off.

“Hey… I found out what happened to you in there… I’m so sorry…” she said, leaning in a little closer to him. “Maybe… Maybe we can find someone who will help you, okay?”

Hank huffed, standing up to get away from her touch. “No.”

“Hank, man,” Al said, looking at him as he stood. “It’ll help you to get back to where you were.”

Hank grunted and pushed past Al, clutching the picture of Camille as he went to the kitchen, getting a yogurt from the fridge. It was familiar. He had yogurt in prison.

Trudy and Al looked at one another, then walked together into the kitchen. Hank had set the picture of Camille on the counter, staring at it as he ate the yogurt. Al walked over and leaned on the counter. “Hank… I know a great doctor who can help you.”

“No,” Hank replied, pulling the picture away and turning to the other side of the counter, propping the picture up on the window.

“Hank…” Trudy said, walking over and putting a hand on his back. “We just want to make you feel better.”

“No!” He cried, flailing his arms to get Trudy off him, accidentally knocking the picture off the sill in the process. It fell into the sink and broke.

Trudy gasped and took some large steps back, Al coming to her side as Hank looked down at the sink, dropping the yogurt and spoon on the floor. “No! Camille!” Hank cried, tears coming to his eyes as he tried to pick up the picture frame, which was shattered. He looked at his wife through the broken glass, his eyes darkening. He reached over as Al tried to comfort Hank.

“We can fix it,” Al said, trying to take the picture from Hank’s hand. “I’ll fix it for you, Hank, I’ll-“ Al was cut off when a butcher’s knife was pushed into his abdomen, looking up at Hank, finally meeting his eyes. There was nothing behind Hank’s eyes but hatred. Blinded fury.

Hank pushed Al back onto the ground, still holding the picture of Camille in his opposite hand, getting on top of him and stabbing him over and over and over again. Trudy screamed, moving quickly toward the front door, but she never made it, as Hank had caught her quickly and tackled her to the ground. “You won’t take her away from me! Nobody will take her away!!” He stabbed Trudy in the back multiple times until she stopped screaming and moving. He got up, panting and grunting, walking back and forth between the two, making sure neither moved again.

—

A few hours later, Dr. Charles, having decided to pay a visit to Hank’s house to asses his condition after talking with Trudy, walked up the stairs. He knocked on Hank’s door. When he didn’t get a response, he knocked again. After knocking a third time, he tried the knob, which was unlocked. The lights were all off, and it was nighttime. “Voight?” He called.

No answer came from inside the house except a low grunt, more of a growl.

[coimbrabertone]

Indycar at Thermal

So, Thermal happened. For those who don't know, the NTT Indycar Series had a non-points exhibition, vaguely all-stary race at the Thermal Club, a private racing club in southern California. This was billed as the "$1 Million Challenge" for ironic reasons that I'll get to in a moment. Anyway, for the event, the field was split in half with two ten-minute heat races, the top six cars transferring from each heat into a final. In the twenty lap, twelve car final, the drivers would race for $500,000, because they couldn't even get that part right.

The first heat race was pretty good, with drama off the start leading to Romain Grosjean getting spun out and collecting Rinus Veekay, while Indycar legend Scott Dixon was penalized out of contention for starting it. Felix Rosenqvist led, but Scott McLaughlin was hunting him down at the end.

The second heat was a bit more mixed. The Chip Ganassi Racing cars of Alex Palou and Marcus Armstrong controlled the pace, but the McLarens put on a show fighting for the final transfer spot. Callum Ilott filling in in the #6 started just outside the transfer spot, but then got swallowed up by his teammates, Alexander Rossi and Pato O'Ward. Rossi and O'Ward proceeded to put on a show fighting for the sixth and final transfer slot, with Alex winning out in the end. CGR's pace was ominous, but McLaren kept it entertaining.

Then the race hit rock bottom with the first half of the feature race. The $1 Million race was twenty laps, but it was divided into two ten lap halves, with a ten-minute break in the middle, and drivers weren't allowed to change tyres in the middle. Knowing that, the teams figured that they would just save their tyres in the first half knowing the field would bunch up for the second half, meaning they'd have more tyre to attack with in the second half. So, on a long, twisty road course without many passing opportunities, we had to watch the drivers one by one decide that they couldn't push any further so they should just save for the second half. Colton Herta was the first to do it, then Agustin Canapino, then Alexander Rossi...soon enough, everyone all the way up to Graham Rahal in seventh was driving seconds off the pace saving their tyres.

Then we get to the ten-minute break with the NBC commentators practically pleading with the viewers that the race was going to get better in the second half. Alex Palou finished lap ten, and then the race just kept going because Pietro Fittipaldi was evidently underfueled and it took him about three minutes to cross the finish line. Then, in a strange, quiet mid-race break where nothing else seemed to be happening, Graham Rahal retired with a technical issue and Pietro Fittipaldi was disqualified for not having enough fuel. The fun, all-for-money, twelve car all-star race was down to just ten cars.

Nevertheless...the second half was better. Alexander Rossi pushed his way up the field, clashed with Josef Newgarden, and both went wide while Colton Herta went underneath them both for the position. Cars were actually racing now! Herta charging up the field and Rossi hanging on a few cars behind made it look like this saving strategy might actually amount to something after all...only for Alex Palou to dominate the race anyway. This was better, but for most of the fans, the damage was already done.

Indycar twitter was dominated by people talking about this race being a terrible mistake, rock bottom of Roger Penske's series ownership, and a horrid waste of time. Me? My reaction was mostly to just disassociate and laugh at the trainwreck. I love Indycar, I want Indycar to do well, I love Indycar so much I'm writing a novel-length fic about it on AO3, so it sucks to see a dud of an event like this. The worst part in my opinion is that we're stuck with this being the most recent race for a month, because the Long Beach Grand Prix isn't until April 21st.

It's been a rough offseason as an Indycar fan, and seeing an uncharacteristically dull St. Pete race where Josef Newgarden dominated following by this confused little Thermal Club event where reigning champ Palou came out on top...it's not great. I just hope Long Beach brings a return to normalcy, with good, hard, unpredictable American open wheel racing...in a month.

[twistedappletree]

Hiiii apple is it okay to ask for a bit of the sect leader fic? It’s so exciting to see the babies grown up lolol i can’t wait to read 🩵🩵

As the lovely person who gave me the fic idea, you absolutely can Koi-Koi 😘

I think you’ll like this part. It takes place 6 months after Jin Ling and Lan Jingyi officially become sect leaders and Lan Sizhui leaves to travel and cultivate with Wen Ning.

However, Lan Sizhui never contacts either of them after promising to keep in touch and the only information they’ve received about his wellbeing has been from Hanguang-Jun, who simply says, “He’s fine” every time they ask.

So Jin Ling pesters Lan Jingyi to play Inquiry because he’s afraid something bad has happened to Lan Sizhui.

•

“Can’t you just trust Hanguang-Jun?”

“I need to know for myself.”

Lan Jingyi sighed and sat cross legged on the ground, setting his guqin over his lap. The quiet sounds of the forest and the chill of the night air made him feel lonely, despite Jin Ling nervously pacing back and forth beside him. “You do realize you’re basically asking me to contact my best friend as if he’s dead, right?”

Jin Ling stopped pacing and frowned. “I don’t like it any better than you do which is why I’d rather rule out the possibility.”

“Hanguang-Jun wouldn’t lie,” Lan Jingyi countered.

“And he also has no way of knowing where Sizhui is every minute of every day.” Jin Ling hugged himself as a cold breeze rushed past him, his mind wandering to the memory of Lan Sizhui disappearing into the horizon when his boat left the docks of Jinlintai. “A lot can happen in a minute.”

“Fine,” said Lan Jingyi, “But I’m doing all the talking whether it’s Sizhui or not. Last thing we need is you scaring off spirits with your attitude.”

Jin Ling rolled his eyes and plopped down next to him, keeping his arms crossed and his nose upturned. “Whatever. Let’s just get it over with already.”

Lan Jingyi took a deep breath before plucking the notes of Inquiry on his guqin. Though his spiritual energy was nowhere near as strong as Hanguang-Jun’s, his guqin language had come quite a long way in his short six months as a sect leader.

As the world around them ignited in glowing hues of teal and ghostly blue, Jin Ling stared intensely at the guqin’s strings, almost willing them to stay silent. He knew the best response would be no response at all, so he genuinely hoped nothing would come of this night.

“Okay,” Lan Jingyi said. “Time to start aski—“

The guqin’s strings hummed involuntarily, the notes sounding both determined and desperate. Tendrils of spiritual energy reached out like waiting arms to Jin Ling who stumbled back in shock. The tendrils soon retreated back to the guqin, not strong enough to pursue him.

“What—why is it doing that?” Jin Ling’s eyes darted around, looking equally perplexed and mortified.

More notes rang from the guqin and Lan Jingyi furrowed his brow at Jin Ling. “Don’t be scared,” he translated. “They’re talking directly to you.” He’d never encountered such an intensely talkative spirit before. Whoever it was seemed insistent on speaking to Jin Ling.

“Could… could it be…” Jin Ling frowned, wondering if they’d made contact with one of his late family members instead.

Lan Jingyi seized a quiet moment between the spirit’s contact to ask quick, basic questions: are you male or female? Male. How old are you? Twenty. Are you a relative? No. Are you a friend? Yes. Where are you? Too far. I can’t reach you.

When Lan Jingyi translated the last question’s answer, Jin Ling’s mind was invaded by a flashback of his recurring dream—Lan Sizhui bleeding from his qiqiao, eyes plagued with horror while saying, I can’t reach you over and over.

Jin Ling almost fell over scrambling towards the guqin. “Sizhui?!”

Lan Jingyi protectively held his arms over his guqin’s strings the second he saw Jin Ling reaching for them. “Are you insane?! Don’t touch them in the middle of Inquiry, you’ll mess it up!”

A weak but willful tendril of spiritual energy gently snaked its way around Jin Ling’s hand and through his fingers before disappearing into the night air. Soon, all of the spiritual energy around them absorbed into the earth and the guqin fell silent.

Jin Ling’s face hovered above the guqin’s strings, lips trembling and eyes wide, glazed with oncoming tears. “Bring him back,” he whispered hoarsely. He narrowed his eyes and lunged at Lan Jingyi, aggressively grabbing him by his robe’s lapels. “Bring him back!”

Lan Jingyi grimaced and clutched Jin Ling’s wrists, ripping his hands away from him. “Will you calm down?! We don’t even know if that was him!”

“It was!” Jin Ling finally broke into tears. “It was him, Jingyi, I know it was! You need… you need to bring him back. Play Inquiry again and bring him back!”

“I can’t! If it was him, he’s the one who broke communication! Spiritual energy can only last so long, do so much. If I try to bring him back now, he’ll be too weak to communicate—“

“Then what’s the point?!” Jin Ling drove his fist into the ground with enough force to make a small crater in the dirt. His hair fell into his face and his entire body quaked with a mess of complicated emotions.

Lan Jingyi frowned and sat up straight, slowly covering his guqin in its cloth. “Look… I know it’s frustrating but we can’t force this. We need to give ourselves—we need to give him a break. We can try again tomorrow, okay?”

Jin Ling stayed silent for a moment longer. He wiped his face with his sleeve then pushed himself to his feet, too exhausted by his outburst to argue. “Fine.”

Lan Jingyi watched him turn and walk away without another word, leaving him alone in the woods with his guqin and a few remnants of spiritual energy flickering on the ground. He looked down at his guqin and furrowed his brows. “You’re not dead,” he whispered. “I know you aren’t. So don’t mess around next time.”

Lan Jingyi tucked his guqin under his arm as he rose to his feet and took one last glance at the fading energy peppering the earth’s soil. “You left me too, remember?”

•

Lan Sizhui opened his mouth to call his name but he had no voice to call him with. Lan Jingyi was nothing but a silhouette in a thick haze that turned and disappeared, leaving Lan Sizhui surrounded by a never ending, impenetrable fog.

Finally, the last of his energy depleted and broke him out of his dreamlike state. Lan Sizhui was pummeled back into reality, lying on the cold damp floor of a cave surrounded by a magical cage. He was too weak to sit up but he knew he’d be free soon. He just had to hold on a bit longer.

“I’m sorry.”