#and eventually they ask Mic to let them help out

[kingmakerpod]

Might be an uncouth subject, but I was wondering if you'd be willing to share some insight on what kind of money goes into producing audio dramas (specifically when it comes to reaching out to/compensating vocal talent.) I know a lot depends on what tools and connections you already have; I'm just looking for a flexible baseline to start from and make sure I'm not cheating or insulting folks by asking them to work for peanuts. Having a target to save up for would be a huge help. Thanks so much!

(And yeah, I'll totally admit this is partly just me wondering how you fine WANA folks managed to nab Jonny Sims and Tiana Camacho for Killjam XXX; let me know if this is a question better posed via email and I'll get out of your hair, sorry for bothering!)

This isn't an uncouth question at all. It's actually a great question and we'll be happy to answer it!

It's hard to give a definitive baseline for budget beyond the cost of web hosting and audio equipment, which in itself can vary quite a bit. The yeti mic and arm set we (Meg and Henry) bought for Less is Morgue (and still record a lot of Killjam and TKH on) cost about 200 dollars. If I remember correctly the hosting costs for Less is Morgue were about 30 a month, and for Kingmaker it's 14 dollars a month. Those are the only two things you absolutely need to spend money on, so it's definitely possible to make a good quality audio drama for under a grand. In fact, we would absolutely not recommend going over a grand at this point. You definitely don't want to shoot too high with the budget for your first project. Spoken from experience, you will end up spending it on things you'll later realise weren't worth it.

The most important thing is just to put something out there first so the actors can tell that the project is real and you're not just stringing them along. The few episodes of Less is Morgue were pretty much all done in-house with a cast that was mostly people we were already friends with, and we didn't do any open auditions until midway through the season. Another way to do it is to start off as a single narrator podcast then gradually introduce a full cast as the show goes on. Other shows have released a pilot episode to the public that then serves as an advertisement for what the rest of the show will sound like. Once you have a sample of your work out there, you can start reaching out to actors.

When it comes to how you compensate your talent- just be upfront about how much money you're working with. The best way to not cheat or insult folks is by giving them realistic expectations. Don't promise money you don't have, and don't ask them to do work for something that you won't be able to finish. If you're honest and easy to work with, a lot of voice actors will be willing to adjust their rates or work for free. Speaking from a voice actor's perspective, Addison said she would be willing to work for free on a first time indie project if it seemed fun and interesting and she could tell that it was something the creator was really passionate about.

As for how we got some of our big names- it really is all about cultivating a reputation for being cool to work with. Maybe not the most useful advice for a first project, but it will be useful later, and it is true. At this point the WANA core four have been involved in The NoSleep Podcast, Congeria, Less is Morgue, The Kingmaker Histories and Mayfair Watcher's Society, and that's only counting the stuff that more than one of us have been involved with. Every project we try to make loads of friends. Eventually you will have enough mutual friends with enough people that you can just hit up Jonny Sims and Tiana Camancho, because someone you know worked with them on some other thing and they're willing to vouch for you.

[decarbry]

I love Yambureme so much, and I love the story! It got me thinking, how does 1-A react to their teacher being a Nomu now? How do they cope with losing their homeroom teacher and likely needing a replacement?

We'll see a bit more of their individual reactions in this next chapter but in general most of class 1-A use it as fuel to the fire of becoming heroes. It puts a much more dire spin on their education, especially immediately after during the sports fest. Everyone is fired up and serious and unfortunately find it difficult to enjoy themselves.

Midnight and All Might take on a joint homeroom position for the class in his absence. It really helps the class keep it together because Midnight can tell them stories about Shouta when he was young (even though he might be a little cross with her for it) and bolster their confidence that his self-built strength will keep him alive until he's brought home.

[sunrizef1]

Baby Blue

Pairing: Logan Sargeant x fem!reader

Warnings: Slight cursing, not edited

Word count: 3.8k (this was supposed to be short 😭)

Summary: Logan had just misspoke, shouldnt have been a huge problem, right? Wait, what do you mean he said he had a daughter? And is that his girlfriend?

Authors Note: Surpise, not a whiv chapter but instead, an uncharacteristically sweet fic.

Logan had fucked up. Royally. And he knew that, which is why, the second the words had left his mouth, he was grimacing, gaze quickly switching over to Oscar who was sat a few yards away with wide eyes.

It was the United States Grand Prix. Austin, Texas. Logan had been put on the media panel that day since he was the only American present and had the most connection to Austin, Daniel Ricciardo not included.

By pure luck or maybe by sheer will, Logan had been sat next to Oscar, both grateful to have a friend next to them. Fortunately, on Oscar’s other side was Max, a driver who’d always been respectful toward the American. Lewis completed the quartet, another driver that Logan wouldn’t have to worry about in terms of kindness.

When the panel started, almost none of the questions were for him. He’d expected that, he wasn’t exactly having an overwhelming season. Especially compared to the joys and successes of the Red Bull world champion or the unexpected high-placing finishes of the Aussie next to him. And his woes were nothing to write home about when placed next to the declining team performances from the 7-time world champion and future Ferrari driver.

So, as he had expected, most of the questions were asked to his left.

But he’d been put on the panel for a reason, and eventually an America-related question did arise, signaling that maybe he would be of use today.

“Good morning,” the reporter calls out toward Logan and he smiles with a nod toward the darkness where the reporters are all sat.

“Morning.”

“How’s it feel to be back racing in America? You have any family or special guests in the garage this weekend, giving you that extra boost?”

Oscar nudges his knee with his own, causing Logan to let out a small laugh as he glances over. He actually did have some special guests in the garage, not just his own family, who’d come from Miami for this, but also, you, his Fiancée. And his 4-year-old daughter, of course.

Your entire family lived in Texas. So whenever you werent following Logan around the world, you landed back home in Texas, the family home being the best place for your daughter to grow up. It helped that your parents loved her more than the world, constant presents being rained down on the little girl every time you’d bring her. He hadn’t seen you in about two months, not having had a time to come back to America since summer. So having you in his garage for the first time in a while was all that much more of a motivator for him.

He raises the microphone to his lips to say a paraphrased version of that, your relationship not being a very public one yet. Logan wanted to get the wedding done before he paraded you around, not wanting to add the stress of the public on your already existing stress from wedding planning and taking care of your daughter.

“It’s always great to get back home, you know? Uh, got to stay with some family out here for a few days, got some good southern food in me, which was great,” Logan laughs lightly, watching as the reporters grin widens, “And it always feels different when you’ve got important people in the garage, cheering you on. People who don’t usually get to make it, so that’s really nice.”

The reporter nods as Logan puts his mic down, but she raises hers to further the questioning, “Anyone specific? A lot of people were curious about a few different people in your garage.”

Logan nods, your family was pretty well known, especially in Texas. You weren’t famous or anything, but you’d grown up like Logan and when people have that type of money, their names get spoken pretty often.

“Yeah, some close family and friends. You’re probably asking about the l/n’s and I, um, knew them growing up so it’s really nice to see them out here supporting me,” Logan pauses slightly. The internet was pretty sure he had a girlfriend, not that he’d confirmed anything. It wasn’t hard to figure out though, as he almost never shut up about you. But it wouldn’t hurt if he mentioned having a girlfriend, right? Everyone already knew that anyway, it couldn’t do too much damage, “My girlfriend’s here, as well. Really happy to have her here, she hasn’t been to a race in a while.”

Oscar snorts, making Logan glare at the Aussie. Oscar knew you were more than his girlfriend, having been present at the engagement. He also knew Logan was leaving out a key family member in his list, a certain baby being completely unmentioned.

“Well it’s always nice to have your family, right?” The reporter nods with a kind smile, jotting something down on her notebook.

Logan nods with a matching smile, eyes shining as he thinks about you and your family in the garage, “Yeah, and I mean, my daughter-“

Logan pauses, stomach dropping as he takes in the slip-up. He glances over to Oscar whose eyes are wide with shock, mouth dropped open slightly. Max leans forward to lock eyes with the American from Oscars other side, eyebrows furrowed. Lewis looks his way as well, but his expression is soft as he takes in the younger man’s evident embarrassment.

Logan had fucked up.

His cheeks are bright red as all the eyes in the room stare at him, questioning looks on their faces. Logan laughs slightly, rubbing the back of his neck as he looks back out toward the reporter who’s now wearing an incredulous smile, “Shit.”

This breaks some of the shock in the room, laughs ringing out from in front of him. Logan shakes his head with another embarrassed laugh, “My girlfriends gonna be so mad at me.”

Logan drops the mic next to him, reaching his hands up to shield his face in order to avoid some of the embarrassment. Oscar, still laughing, reaches over to pat him on the back, his free hand stifling the laugh threatening to escape his throat.

Luckily for Logan, they run out of time before the questions can get back to him and the surprise child he just revealed he had. He’s quick to rush out of the room, only pausing to allow Oscar to catch up before he’s gone again, practically running to Williams.

He can hear Oscar struggling to keep up behind him, shocked laughs occasionally echoing out as he runs.

“Logan- Come on, slow down man!” Oscars calling out toward the blond, Logan continuing at his fast pace. He only slows when he makes it to hospitality, Oscar slamming on his brakes in order to avoid crashing into the taller mans back.

Logans eyes scan the room in search of you, Oscar reaching a tired arm up to rest agaisnt the distressed Americans shoulder.

Oscars groaning as Logan walks off, apparently having caught sight of your family.

“Hi, Mrs. L/N,” Logan says shyly as he walks up to your mom, a sheepish smile painted on his flushed face. Your mom turns toward him with a smile but after taking in his guilty demeanor, she looks at him suspiciously.

“You’ve known me for 18 years and you’ve never called me Mrs L/N,” your mom looks your fiancé up and down, eyes narrowing as she catches sight of an equally nervous Oscar, “What did you do, Logan? And why did you drag Oscar into it?”

Logan laughs nervously, glancing back at Oscar who ducks his head, looking away from the interaction, “Do you, maybe, know where y/n is? It’s important.”

Your mom pauses, suspicion still rolling of her in waves. But, sensing Logan’s urgency, she nods, “She’s in your room with Nat.”

Logan can’t help the smile that shows at the mention of your daughter’s name, sighing slightly with relief, “Thank you, I need to go talk to her.”

Your mom just nods, watching as Logan starts to walk quickly away, moving toward you in his room. Oscar moves to follow but your mom is calling him back before he can take a step, “Stay here, Oscar. Let him go, you’re going to tell me about the season. Either that or you’ll be the one to tell me what Logan did.”

Oscar, having had plenty of conversations with your mother while growing up, sighs, accepting his fate, “It’s been good.”

Logan, though, has made it to his room, opening the door quietly as he reaches it. He smiles once he looks inside, being met with you dancing around with your daughter, music playing from your phone on the table. As the door opens, your daughter looks over, a grin breaking out on her little face as she practically lights up, “Daddy!”

Logan grins as your daughter jumps up, sprinting over to jump into her dad’s embrace, giggling as he lifts her up into the air, clutching her gently to his chest, “Hi, baby. You having fun with mama?”

Your daughter nods, smiling brightly as she turns to look back at you, “Yeah! Me and mama went to see the cars and they let me sit in it! I wanna be a driver like you, dad.”

Logan grins, looking over to where you’re stood, a small smile on your face as you watch the interaction. When you catch Logan’s gaze on you, you speak up, “They let her sit in your car. They told her about how her daddy races every weekend and she decided that that’s what she wanted to do. She said you’re the coolest person she knows, now.”

Logan laughs, warmth filling his heart as you recap your daughter’s words, “Just don’t tell her Oscar races, too. Can’t have her thinking he’s cooler than me.”

You daughter looks up at the statement, confusion crossing her face, “Uncle Os drives fast too?”

Logan hums, nodding as he sways, your daughter resting her head on his chest, “Yeah, he does. He’s not as cool as me, though.”

You daughter hums, “I think he’s pretty cool.”

You laugh, moving toward the father-daughter pair, a serious look crossing your face, “He is, baby. Do you want to go see him so I can talk to daddy?”

Logan grimaces but lets go as your daughter nods, letting you set her down. She wraps her small hand around one of your fingers, swaying happily at the idea of seeing her Australian uncle.

You push the door open to go find Oscar but when you look up, you see Oscar’s already stood there. He looks exhausted and Logan knows that a conversation with your mom was no doubt the reason why.

“Uncle Ozzy!” Your daughter’s small voice calls from below you, causing a bright grin to burst onto Oscar’s face as he picks her up, the small girls hands immediately moving to push against his face. Oscar laughs, moving an arm to support the small girls weight as she pushes his face around.

You smile at the pair, laughing as your daughter grasps Oscars hair in her small fists and pulls gently, just watching as his head rolls around, “Can you watch her? I have to talk to Logan.”

Oscar smirks, glancing over your shoulder to see Logan standing sheepishly, “Someones in trouble.”

You hum, small smile on your lips, “Can you just hang with her for a minute?”

“Yeah, I can,” Oscar says, smiling down at your daughter in his arms, “Anything for my favourite American.”

You hear Logan mumble “rude” under his breath, warranting a snort from you as you watch Oscar walk away, no doubt about to parade your daughter around to anyone who'd listen.

You turn back around, coming face-to-face with Logans grimacing form, “Saw the panel.”

Logan winces, rubbing his hand along the back of his neck, “Yeah?”

You hum, stepping across the room to reach your fiance, “Mhm, I did.”

“Im sorry,” Logan sighs, looking anywhere but at you.

You can't help the small laugh that escapes you at his clear distress. Logans head snaps up, confusion crossing his face at your apparent glee, “What?”

“Im not mad, Lo,” you laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck. He stares at you, a puzzled look stuck on his previously fear-stricken face.

“You’re not?”

You smile up at him, shaking your head, “I mean, it's not how I would’ve wanted to announce it but I don’t mind too much.”

“Really?” You giggle when you catch the relief on his face, his shoulders dropping dramatically.

“Mhm,” you tangle one of your hands in the hair at the nape of his neck, his head tilting slightly back into your touch, “It was nice to be private for a while during the engagement. We didn’t have concrete wedding plans and Nat was so young. But the weddings basically planned and Nats old enough to handle herself in public, I think it’s a really good time, actually. Do you want to say something official?”

“I will, but until then I’d be happy to not have to hide you guys,” Logan grins, a hand reaching up to grasp the side of your face. You blush as he presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

“That sounds lovely,” you say, untangling yourself from his hold, “But, for now, I think you have interviews to attend to.”

“Yeah, yeah, I do,” Logan replies, but his gaze is still locked on you, love filling his eyes, “I’ll see you in a minute, I love you.”

“Love you too, Lo. Go do your interviews,” Your soft smile shines, lighting up your face.

Logan nods, moving to exit the small room, stopping to send you another grin. You laugh, pushing him out of the room, the door sliding closed behind him.

He moves on practical auto-pilot, feet carrying him to the media pen, thoughts of his family stuck on his mind. He reaches the pen quickly, spotting a group of about 8 drivers all huddled together in a chat. He thinks about walking the other direction but Max spots him first, gesturing for the younger driver to walk over. Logan agrees reluctantly, making his way to his fellow drivers.

“Logan!” Max calls, a smile on his face as he greets the Williams driver warmly.

Logan nods, smiling at Max politely, “Hey, Max.”

Max grins, throwing an arm around the blond driver, “How are you doing?”

Logan hums with a small smirk, knowing exactly what Max was eluding to, “I’m great, actually. Thanks for asking, Max.”

Max tilts his head with a wide smile, raising an eyebrow, “Yeah?”

“Yeah, I mean, you know how my morning went.”

Max seems to catch that Logan’s allowing him to publicly address the situation in front of the other drivers, turning his attention to the slightly confused drivers around them, “How’d the Mrs feel about it?”

“She was fine with it,” Logan smiles, “Honestly kinda happy to be open about it.”

“I didn’t know you had a girlfriend,” Lando says from across the small circle, a confused look occupying his face.

Logan shakes his head lightly, arms crossed across his chest, “Fiancée, actually. Been engaged for like a year now.”

This sends a wave of shock around the group, Daniel being the only one to pipe up, a huge smile on his face, “I know what this is about!”

George turns to the VCARB driver, a questioning look laying beneath his dramatic sunglasses, “What are you talking about?”

Before Daniel can explain, a high-pitched voice yells out from behind Logan.

“Daddy!”

Several drivers turn, being met with the sight of a small girl sprinting her way toward the group, a smiley Oscar trailing along behind her. The girl giggled as she approaches her father, skipping along happily as she gets near him. Logan leans down, opening his arms to let her walk into his grasp. She wraps her arms around his neck and Logan holds her tightly as Oscar stops behind him.

“Hey baby,” Logan says to his daughter as he looks down at her, “Have a good time with uncle Osc?”

The small girl nods excitedly, grinning as she looks back over to the man she’d spent the past 15 minutes with, “Ozzy took me to the orange garage, um, papaya I think actually, and I got to sit in another car!”

Logan hums, running a hand through the girls hair, trying his best to swipe it back into place, “Yeah?”

“Uh huh, it was really fun!”

Logan smiles, turning back to thank Oscar for looking after the girl. He turns back around, catching the gaze of about 8 different F1 drivers, all with varying levels of shock painted on their faces, “I don't know if you guys saw, but, um, I accidently revealed i had a daughter this morning and, um, this is her?”

Max is the first to laugh, having already been through his shock about the young girl currently attached to her father. Logans face heats as the drivers stare, Nat burrowing her head in her fathers neck as she tries to discreetly glance at the men around her without having to make any eye contact.

“Congrats, man,” Daniel grins, moving over to clap the younger driver on the back. Logan chuckles slightly as your daughter finally moves her head away from him, her curiosity at the Aussie overtaking her shyness.

The honey badger smiles at her, nodding his head. She smiles gently, reaching a small fist out toward the man. Daniels eyes widen at the gesture, eyes glancing between the girl and her outstretched arm before he reaches his own hand up to fist-bump hers. She nods with a satisfied smile, turning back toward Logans neck.

“He’s kinda cool, I think,” She mumbles and Logan smiles glancing over to see if Daniel has heard her words. Based on the increased grin on his face, Logan figures he had.

The rest of the drivers take their turns congratulating Logan on his fatherhood and introducing themselves to the small girl, her favourites being Daniel, Max, George and Alex, who she’d already met in the Williams garage over the past few months.

Eventually, all the socializing caused her to fall asleep against her father's chest, her tired eyes slowly drifting closed. Logan sways slightly, trying his best to soothe her in her slumber.

Once she's fallen asleep, he turns to Oscar, "Do you know where y/n is?"

Oscar nods, "I think she'd fallen asleep when I went to drop Nat back off. Didn't want to wake her so I just brought her over here."

Logan nods, glancing over to see the other drivers getting pulled into interviews. He didn't want to wake you, knowing how little sleep you'd been getting lately with all the wedding planning and your daughter. Anyone else in your family would be too hard to find on such short notice.

So, when his pr officer calls him over to do interviews, he holds Nat a little bit tighter, hoping the interviews don't wake her.

He smiles at the shocked interviewer as she hands him a microphone which he holds in his free hand, trying his best to support your daughter with one arm.

"Morning," Logan nods, voice low.

The interviewer nods slightly, shaking herself out of her shock so she can ask the American some questions.

"Good morning!" Logan thanks his lucky stars as the woman catches his drift and tries her hardest to stay cheerful while keeping her voice relatively quiet, "I had a couple questions about the panel from this morning but it seems you've answered them yourself before I could even ask."

Logan laughs, glancing down at his girl before bringing the microphone to his lips, "Yeah, my girlfriend was asleep and I didn't want to wake her so this girl is joining us today."

The interviewer smiles warmly, "Before this I saw she was hanging out with some of the other drivers?"

"Yeah, yeah, she was. She, uh, had a good time getting to meet some of the grid. But, you know, all the socializing tired her out."

The woman in front of him nods again, glancing over his shoulder at who Logan knew to be Max, getting asked questions across the pen, "How'd they react?"

"I think they were pretty surprised, you know? I don't think a lot of them saw the panel from this morning and even then, I didn't really give much of an explanation. Don't think Max even believed me until Oscar brought her over," Logan laughs, grinning lovingly at the girl starting to stir in his arms.

"Hi baby," Logan says gently, watching as the little girl rubs at her eyes, trying to pull the tiredness from them.

"Hi Dad, where'd Ozzy go?"

Logan glances over his shoulder, looking for the Australian in question. He eventually sees him, turning his body so Nat can see him as well,

"Uncle Osc is just over there, angel."

The girls nods, a frown still on her face from having to wake up, “What about Maxy?”

Logan grins, happy that his daughter was already comfortable with his fellow drivers, even going as far to seek Max out. Logan turns straight around, pointing behind them at the Red Bull driver, "He's there. And Danny's next to him."

The girl nods, a satisfied look on her face as she spots her new friends. Logan turns back to the interviewer, the grin not leaving his face.

Max, meanwhile, is in the middle of an interview when he notice the interviewer looking over his shoulder. Max looks at the man in front of him with a confused look, the man quick to explain.

"Think the newest addition to the paddock is looking for you, Max."

Max looks over his shoulder to see a small girl, chin resting on her dad's shoulder as she stares back at Max. When he turns to see her, she grins, moving a small hand to wave excitedly at the driver before moving to tug at her father's hair, looking for his attention.

Max grins, waving back as Logan looks over, indulging the girl. She laughs happily, getting even more excited as she spots Daniel beside him.

"Maxy! Danny!" Max looks beside him and sees that Daniel hasn't noticed your daughters yelling and he quickly leans to the side, poking the Aussie. Daniel turns to the side to see what Max wants but is instead met with Max pointing vaguely across the pen. Daniel glances over and grins when he sees Logan and his daughter, the smaller of the two waving hurriedly at the pair of drivers.

Daniel waves back, a grin practically splitting his face. The interviewer sends him a questioning glance and he laughs lightly, "Seems we've got a new cheerleader, then."

The interviewer laughs, quickly returning to the questions. Max, after waving bye to your daughter, turns back as well.

Your daughter, now properly noticed by her new favorite drivers, turns back around, letting Logan get back to his questions. She wraps her arms around his neck gently, smiling in satisfaction as she leans up to tell him something.

"I like your friends, dad."

Logan smiles warmly, happy to see her getting along with his coworkers, "I'm glad, baby."

———————————————

@casperlikej @evie-119

[haikyu-mp4]

Potty mouth

word count; 356 – f!reader

You were surprised when Kenma entered the living room one day with a glass bottle of your favourite soda and an unusually cartoonish smile. He asked you to please join him for his stream tonight, as he agreed to play against a popular American gamer to broaden both of their audiences.

Due to falling in love with a Japanese streamer at university, you settled in Tokyo despite being a foreigner, deciding you would probably stay for good. However, you were still nearly fluent in English.

You saw no reason why you couldn’t agree to help him.

It went well for a while, helping Kenma laugh at appropriate times to the other player’s comments, or rather making sure he didn’t laugh inappropriately.

Slowly but surely, you got invested in the game, eyebrows gradually furrowing as the foreign team ganged up against Kenma, throwing out nicknames for him that he wouldn’t exactly approve of if he properly understood them. He would probably also be too shy anyway.

Eventually, you had enough of Kenma silently taking all the comments. You grabbed the microphone from Kenma’s cheek and tilted it out to your mouth while you leaned in. “HEY!”

Several groans on the other end confirmed that they had their volumes up. Taking an artistic break, you wiggled your brows at Kenma’s monitor for some damage control on his faithful audience who were about to see your ugly side.

“MY GRANDMA COULD PLAY BETTER THAN YOU, YOU FUC-“ Let’s not write every single insult that fell from your lips any time anyone shot at your partner. Seeing his audience cheering you on and having you add comments for Kenma to get them, motivated him like never before as he plucked each of their heads and left himself the sole winner.

Chuckling softly, he took the mic back before ending the call. “Sorry. That was my wife.” His English wasn’t particularly good, but those words were said confidently.

As the stream ended, the Americans thoroughly embarrassed at their poor performance, Kenma slung his arms around you and let out a soft chuckle. “I didn’t know you were such a potty mouth.”

masterlist

[godslino]

IN BLOOM | jisung first date series. second chance lovers.

pairing: jisung x fem!reader word count: 13.2k genre: childhood friends au, angst, fluff, songwriter!jisung, florist!reader warnings: swearing, minor character death, grief/loss (nothing to do with any of the members!) summary: it's february. the tulips are in bloom. jisung is back.

chan | minho | changbin | hyunjin | jisung | felix | seungmin | jeongin · · · ♡ series masterlist · · · ♡ taglist · · · ♡

a/n: *taps mic* hello?? is this thing on?? oh good. yes. hi. hello! it's been a while, as most of you can tell. thank you all SO MUCH for sticking around. if you've been reading my asks you'll know that march and april were rough months for me personally. shout out to my anons and mutuals who kept my spirits high and made my days brighter. uhhh, this was originally supposed to be a stand alone fic but i figured hey, what the hell, and made it into jisung's first date chapter. it's pretty heavy stuff. lots of feelings, lots of love. i hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as i did writing it! again, thank you so much for waiting for me. i'll be back soon with more updates! all the love <3

also thank you kenzie for being such a light during all of this. i hope all my screaming in your messages was worth it!

“All of these had to be pulled.” Hyunjin huffs, dropping a few crates just past the doorway. 

“Again?” you ask, hands on your hips as you stare at yet another wasted supply. “I don’t understand, they sold so well last year.”

Hyunjin gives you a sad smile. “It’ll pick up eventually, don’t worry. I mean the holidays just finished and business usually slows down in the months after anyways.”

He’s being sincere, you know that. But there’s a part of you that also knows it’s a lot more than just the usual ebb and flow of sales. He’s being nice for your sake.

“Maybe we could try coming up with other ideas?” he suggests, because Hyunjin is nothing if not kind. Always willing, always finding a way.

He moves past you to grab a fresh pair of gloves. The ones he’s wearing are dirty, pollen-stained and ripped at the edges. 

“You’ve always been really good at basket arrangements. We could try to make some for Valentine's Day. Different sizes, maybe? The big ones will probably do well for online orders since they’re more optimal for things like office deliveries and stuff like that.”

You hum in approval. “True. I mean, I was kind of worried we would have to skip out on deliveries this year since we don’t have the manpower to handle all of that, but I think Jeongin’s been looking to pick up hours around here again. He said something about his program giving them a month of independent study, so he’ll be home for a bit.” you say, scribbling down a reminder in your notebook. “I could ask him to help with driving the truck in his free time?”

Hyunjin lights up– he always does when Jeongin is mentioned. 

It’s been a lot quieter ever since he left for college. There were so many tears and so many hugs that were met with countless 'you guys are dramatic's in return. But it’s hard to not feel sad when people leave town; when they decide the borders lined with apple trees and rice fields aren’t enough to stop their dreams from blooming into more than what’s capable of being pursued here.

That, unsurprisingly, is something you know all too well.

“Can’t believe he’s driving.” Hyunjin laments as he wipes his floral scissors with a rag. “I used to spend my days changing his diapers and spoon feeding him redbulls– but now? Driving? My baby is all grown up.” he fake sniffles. “By the way, I’m gonna take my fifteen after I’m done snipping these tulips.”

You snort, bending down to take the crates of wilted flowers to the back for disposal. Hyunjin moves to help but you shake him off.

“Sounds good. Also, don’t let Innie hear you say that. I’m about a thousand percent sure he has the strength needed to throw you into the dumpster with one arm now.”

“My baby would never do that to me!” Hyunjin calls out as you round the corner, bumping open the back door with your hip. 

February brings a lot of rain in Jeju. Today is no different; fat drops landing on your head as soon as you stumble out into the alley behind the shop. Footsteps heavy on wet brick, you curse under your breath as you run as fast as you can to the dumpster.

There’s still a few supply boxes from yesterday’s shipment laying around. You meant to bring them in, but you were so exhausted that it slipped your mind while you struggled to make sure everything inside the shop was figured out.

Scrambling, you haul them in one by one, shoes squeaking against the floor as you alternate in and out, soggy cardboard pressed against the front of your apron. 

Hyunjin’s on break. A necessary one at that. You can’t bother him, especially not when he’s done enough by taking on more responsibility both as a physical worker and a newly actualized business partner recently. A few stacks of boxes and wet hair seem like a fair trade off for what he’s had to sacrifice in the past year now.

“Idiot,” you mumble, cursing yourself for carelessness. Your slip ups have been more frequent lately, evident in the way you constantly forget things and can’t seem to push away the haziness clouding your mind. 

If it weren’t for the timing of it all, you’d blame it on the weather. The gloominess. The overcast skies probably have some sort of hand in your lack of clarity. Shrouded.

But it’s February. And in Jeju— it rains.

By the time you make it back inside, you’re drenched. 

“You look like you just got dunked in a pool.” 

You frown, ringing your hair out into the trash bin by the door. It’ll definitely take time to dry off, both your hair and your clothes are soaked through.

Hyunjin watches with an amused look, arms crossed as he leans his back against the counter.

“Might as well have. It’s insane out there.” you sigh. “How was your break?”

You look up to find that his face has gone unreadable.

“Yeah, about that…” Hyunjin trails off, voice suddenly smaller than before.

“Everything okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah it’s just–” Hyunjin chews at his bottom lip.

You push past him into the supply room to switch out your apron just as he says, “Do you mind if I leave a little early today?”

You scoff, turning to face him. “Hwang Hyunjin,” you scold, lips twitching when he visibly startles at your tone, “You don’t have to ask me that. We’re partners now, remember? We run this place.” 

He shifts on his feet, still unsure.

“Besides,” you huff, tying a knot behind your back, “We were friends way before that, too. You don’t have to be all proper with me. Of course you can leave early. It’s slow today, I can take care of it.”

Hyunjin sighs after contemplating for a second. “Are you sure you’ll be okay, though?” 

When he stares at you for a moment too long, you know the real reason for his hesitation. It makes something twist deep in your gut.

Guilt, maybe, amongst other things.

“Of course.” you shrug, doing your best to seem nonchalant. 

Hyunjin’s ability to read people is kind of intense, a little scary at times. You happen to be one of his favorite subjects in that regard.

“Have fun. Tell Minah I said hi.”

He pales, sputtering around words as he struggles to say something. It’s cute, his plump lips opening and closing, eyes wild.

“I’m not going to see her! I’m–it’s just a movie! How did you—God, you’re so annoying. I should’ve made you trim the tulips. Hah!”

You giggle. “It’s funny that you think I wouldn’t know, especially with the way you love to actually make yourself look busy whenever she stops by to say hi.”

“I am busy.” he mumbles, looking away. “I just emphasize it a lot more when she’s here.”

“Sure,” you roll your eyes, “Let’s go with that.”

He whines a couple more times, trails after you around the shop and laughs when you swat him away with a rolled up newspaper that’s used for wrapping vases.

It’s loud. Easy. Hyunjin is a gentle reminder that normalcy still exists in your day to day, even if it’s hard to find. 

When he finally decides to leave, he lingers for a moment, triple checks that you’ll be okay. You roll your eyes for what feels like the millionth time today, but deep down you’re grateful. 

“Love you,” he says, one foot out the door. “Call me if you need anything.”

You shake your head, ignoring him. “Love you too.” 

And then he’s gone, a skip in his step as he heads down the sidewalk, leaving you with nothing but freshly-trimmed tulips and the sound of rain. 

“Herb snips, shears, tape…” you mumble, scanning the supply shelf. 

There’s not much to do in-shop right now. Almost all the arrangements have been tended to by Hyunjin already, his specialty being his keen eye. That’s why he handles the appeal of the shop, leaving you to figure out all the logistics. Learning it all was easier said than done.

In reality, it was never your intention to take over the shop at all. 

“When I die,” your grandma would always say, ignoring the way you groaned and begged her to stop bringing it up, “Sell this place. Use the money for something worthwhile. A trip to Greece, maybe?”

“Nana,” you would scold, glaring at her where she stood next to you, trimming a batch of roses.

Wrinkled hands that still held all the skill of youth. Fingers moving at a speed others could only ever dream of having– you included.

Your grandma handled flowers with the same amount of care she did everything else. It’s no wonder that when they grew they would lean in her direction, drawn to her like they would be the sun. 

“I’m not selling this place. It’s too special, too important. A vacation only lasts so long, Nana. This is forever.”

She would smile, turn petals over in her hand. Sometimes the marigolds would match the glow in her eyes, a testament to the belief you harbored as a child that she had the ability to sprout blossoms from her fingertips.

“The one thing you shouldn’t do, my dear, is rely on forever. Because that, too, is uncertain.”

You wish you hadn’t been so hard headed. Wish that you would’ve believed her, taken the time to listen, cherished the moment a little bit longer instead of relying on the promise of tomorrow.

I’m sorry for your loss.

Your grandmother was a wonderful woman.

She’ll be with you in your heart, forever.

Oh, what a lie forever is.

The shop stays empty for the rest of the day. There were a few passersby, all of whom simply stopped to scan the arrangements along the windows before giving a polite nod and carrying on their way. 

Realistically, the shop has no problem with attracting customers. It’s a sight to behold: mid-floor to ceiling windows with various displays, hanging baskets of winding greenery, countless arrangements that fill the shelves and add a pop of color, and a wide assortment of flowers for each season. 

The real issue lies in your inability to sell. Most people regard the place as being good for nothing more than window shopping and the usual photo-op.

Business has slowed since your Grandma passed; since you took over as the sole owner and were suddenly face to face with the task of making decisions in the shop’s best interest– both integrity wise and from a business standpoint.

“I know, I know,” you say around the pen cap between your teeth, “You used to be the brains around here, not me. I’m not creative enough for all of this, you know? No matter how much I try to be.”

You look up from where your notebook lays open, dozens of scribbles for arrangement ideas and planning. The picture on the wall stares at you, unmoving, eyes as bright as marigolds.

“Don’t give me that look.” 

She stares. A gaze that holds all the answers while also saying nothing at all.

“Ugh.” you groan, leaning your palms on the desk.

You allow your head to hang forward, defeated, exhaustion flooding your bones. 

Just as you’re about to speak again, to complain about yet another thing that probably has her rolling around in her grave, the bell at the front counter dings.

The clock on the desk reads 6:55pm, five minutes until close. You hadn’t even heard anyone come in.

“Be right there!” you call out, rushing to grab your apron from where you’d thrown it on one of the chairs. 

In your haste, the box of seed packets you’d been inventorying goes tumbling to the floor.

“Fuck,” you mutter, bending down to pick everything up. One more thing to add to the list today. 

Off-kilter. Disoriented. Exhausted. 

You sniffle a few times, blinking against the sting behind your eyes as you stand up to put the box back in its place.

One deep breath, a shake of your shoulders. Just enough to chase it all away until later. 

“Sorry about that,” you say cheerily, pushing past the hanging beads that separate the front of the shop from the back. “How can I help you?”

There’s a stranger, his back turned, attention focused on a batch of tulips. Freshly cut. White, blue, purple.

You realize, belatedly, that you’d forgotten to grab your apron in your haste to clean up the seed packets. Another slip up. Nana always prided herself in her apron, wore it like a badge of honor, raised you to do the same.

Just as you spin around to grab it, the stranger says, “It’s okay. I just, um, I wanted to say hi.”

You freeze. There’s a long moment where his voice rings loud in your ears, reverberates against the walls of your brain until it travels through your blood, the feeling like wildfire in your veins until it settles deep in the pit of your stomach. 

Slowly, you turn, heart clamoring in your chest, threatening to stop altogether as soon as you come face to face with the one person you never thought you’d see again.

Because there, at the front of the store, is Jisung.

Jisung, with wide eyes and parted lips. Jisung, with hair that still curls at the ends and falls in shags around his face. Jisung, broader, more actualized, now grown into his features but still undeniably soft around the edges. Jisung, with thick framed glasses pushed up his nose and silver hoops dangling from his ears. 

A stranger. But undoubtedly Jisung. 

“You look…nice.” he says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly with his free hand.

Three words is all it takes. Ice turns to fire. The blood that had drained from your face returns with the blaze of a thousand suns, anger burning your throat. 

You reach forward, grab the remote for the neon Open sign and click the power button. Jisung watches in confusion.

“The shop is closed.” you manage on a shaky breath.

Jisung sighs, something heavy. “Listen, I’m—”

“The shop–” you try again, louder, “–is closed.” 

Jisung stares. His eyes are still the same velvety brown; big and round and just as you remember. 

There was once a time where the sight of Jisung in your Grandma’s shop made your heart sing. A soft tune, the thrum of a thousand harps, a song only for him.

His heart-shaped smile as he helped her hammer some of the shelves onto the wall. The sound of his laughter whenever you’d enter a sneezing fit from accidentally rubbing your face with a gloved hand. His rosy cheeks, burnt from the wind whipping past his face as he ran on foot to make sure you were okay the one time an angry customer smashed a vase on the floor and you called him crying.

But now, seeing him here, a stranger in a body you once knew like the back of your hand— it feels wrong. 

“I…” he trails off, registering the way your fists are clenched at your sides. 

“Okay,” he resigns, licking his lips. “I, uh– have a good night.”

He gives you one last look, bottom lip pulled tight between his teeth, and then slips out the door. You watch his retreating figure through the glass panel, dark gray skies muting the sound of your rattling heart.

It’s February. The tulips are in bloom. Jisung is back.

And in Jeju– it rains.

There’s an apple tree in the middle of town where Jisung told you he loved you for the first and last time. 

Off the corner, a few minutes down the road from where your houses stand a mere five hundred feet away from one another.

Your grandparents were farmers. Your grandma started her floral business a few years before you were born, a dream she always had that your grandpa urged her to pursue once he decided to sell the animals to a younger, more capable couple that could take care of them. 

Jisung’s parents, new residents on the island, looking to settle down and start a family. 

That’s how it happens. Yours and Jisung’s story, two authors of the same book, destined since the start.

Jisung was born on the same night your mother left you at your grandparents’ doorstep. One note, an apology, is all you’ve ever known about her. Your grandma never cared to indulge you. You’re glad in a way. She provided more than enough love to make sure you never felt an absence in her wake. 

The townspeople used to say you and Jisung were soulmates. Something about the heavens knowing he would need a friend, hence why you were delivered that night. From that moment on, the two of you were inseparable. 

Attached at the hip, you and Jisung grew up together. First steps, first birthdays, firsts for everything under the sun.

Jisung was there in the morning to walk with you to school and he was there at night when the two of you tucked into bed, sleepovers a regular occurrence, both of you counting the pale green stick-on stars dotting his ceiling until you fell asleep. 

Jisung was always around. He held your hand and walked with you to the nurse’s office the first time you got stung by a bee. He wiped your eyes when the boy you liked told you he only ever saw you as a friend, your first rejection. He sat with you under the stars the night your grandpa died, your face tucked into his neck as you stained the collar of his shirt with tears until you were too tired to cry. In the years that followed, he took care of you and your grandma like the two of you were his own. 

Jisung, for lack of a better word, was your first forever.

“You could come with me, you know.” 

Under the stars, real ones that time, Jisung had turned to you and offered the world. 

The air was cold. The apple tree was bare.

“It’ll be fun. We’ll be together, we’ll experience new things. I can do music and you can study all that history stuff you like to learn about. You know, nerdy things.”

“They’re not nerdy things, Ji. Don’t you know everything we have now is because of what’s happened before us?” you’d asked. “Doesn’t it make you wonder? Learning about the past helps us better understand the present, and ultimately the future.”

Jisung had hummed softly, an agreement. “I don’t care about the future, though.” he’d said. “I care about right now. You, me, this.” 

When you turned to look at him, he propped himself up on one elbow and stared down at you from above as the moon casted a halo around his head. 

“I love you,” he whispered, “And I want you to come with me.”

Jisung, with all the stars in his eyes and a heart full of dreams. Jisung, with the world at his fingertips and the ambition to make it his own. 

You, with all your hopes stuffed tight into a suitcase and chained to a boulder, thrown into the ocean. Sinking and sinking until it hit the bottom.

“I love you too,” you whispered back.

Images of marigolds flashed behind your eyes when you closed them, a tear rolling down your cheek. Jisung’s mouth was soft when he kissed it away, salt on his lips. Burning. 

“But I can’t.” you choked. 

Under the apple tree, Jisung told you he loved you for the first and last time. He promised that the distance would be no match for him, that he would traverse oceans to find his way back. He promised forever.

It was February. The tulips were in bloom. Jisung left to pursue his dreams with a guitar on his back and your heart in his hands. Your understanding of forever was shot at point blank. The bullet passed clean through you. 

And in Jeju– it rained.

“I think you should talk to him.”

The sun is out today. Perfect weather for another field harvest. The distributor had called you early in the morning to ask if you’d be willing to accept a drop off even though it’s the weekend. You’d agreed, calling in your most reliable help for the job.

“And I think you’re not helping.” you huff, snipping the head off another hyacinth.

“Agreed,” Hyunjin parrots from beside you, currently in the middle of putting together an arrangement, “This guy sounds like a total dick.”

Chan sighs from behind the two of you, his knees knocking against the legs of the desk when he swivels back and forth in the chair. 

Besides Hyunjin and Jeongin, both of whom moved into town after you’d already graduated, and of course, Jisung– Chan is your oldest friend. 

Chan was also a neighbor of yours. Three years older than you and Jisung, he was the one who acted as a role model for the two of you when growing up. Nowadays he helps his parents run the largest orange grove on the island during the day and DJs one of the clubs in the tourism hub at night. 

“Jisung’s not a dick, he’s just–”

“An asshole.” you finish, smirking when Hyunjin cackles. 

Chan sighs. Again. “Yeah okay, I’ll give you that one.”

“Listen, I know I’ve never met him, but isn’t it weird that he just, like, showed up?” Hyunjin asks, setting down his scissors. You continue trimming the hyacinths, listening halfheartedly.

“I mean, think about it. Dude disappears to pursue music, right? He’s gone for what– three years?”

“Four.” you correct.

“God, even worse.” he grimaces.

“But yeah, okay, four years. And then boom! He just strolls in through the front door without so much as a word during the time he was gone? No letters, no phone calls, not even a damn visit. Nothing! All so he can pop up and go ‘oh, you look nice’? Come on.” he scoffs, crossing his arms.

You wince, caught off guard because you’ve never really heard it phrased as bluntly as Hyunjin put it just then. It’s no surprise that he’s annoyed, having only just heard the full story thirty minutes ago. He’d been shocked, partly because you never told him and also because he just couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Okay, yes, he was wrong for that. But isn’t part of you even just the least bit curious as to why?” 

You pause mid-snip, mulling Chan’s words over in your head.

The most frustrating part about it all is that you are curious. You wish you weren’t, though. Not when you’ve spent the past four years trying to convince yourself that you don’t need to know what Jisung’s been up to, don’t need to know if he’s been okay since he clearly held no concern for you in that regard anyways.

“What?” you ask when you realize that both boys are staring at you. 

“Well?” Hyunjin pushes. “Are you?”

You shrug. “No, not really.” 

There’s a total of five seconds that pass before Hyunjin is stomping over and hauling Chan up out of his chair, pushing him towards the front door as he protests.

“Out! Out, out, out, we have important business matters to discuss.”

“But we were supposed to get lunch—!”

“We’re taking a rain check!” Hyunjin fights back, shoving him out of the shop before he has a chance to answer. He drops the shade to cover the glass, Chan��s sad figure left alone on the other side.

You gape at him. “What was that for?”

Hyunjin scoffs. “You think you’re convincing? Think again.” 

He hops up on to the counter and gestures for you to do the same. When you do, he pulls you closer, grabs your hand in his, and pushes your head down until it’s resting on his shoulder. 

“Tell me the truth now,” he says, soft. “I know there’s more to it.”

Hyunjin’s warm to the touch. The heat seeps through the fabric of his shirt, igniting the skin of your cheek until you feel like you’re standing too close to the sun. A star. Hyunjin is a light in your tunnel.

“I am curious,” you start, “About him, I mean. I’ve– I don’t know. It’s been so long. I tried to pretend I didn’t care when I saw him, but the minute I looked into his eyes it was like I was eighteen again. Eighteen and happy and looking at someone that I always thought would be there, you know?” 

Hyunjin hums but doesn’t say anything. He squeezes your hand once, a signal to keep going. 

“I’m scared, though. Part of me doesn’t want to know.”

Hyunjin takes a deep breath. “What are you scared of?”

Through the gaps in the beads you can see into your office, the picture of your Grandma hanging on the wall. She stares at you, unblinking. 

“What if he tells me that it’s true?” you ask, lifting your head to look up at him. “What if he says that I was right, that he didn’t care? That he left and didn’t want to call because it no longer mattered to him? That he loves his life there and only came back to clear his own conscience?” 

“Oh honey,” Hyunjin soothes, pulling you into his chest. You hadn’t realized you were crying, that the anger and fear had bubbled over until there were tears falling down your cheeks, wetting the fabric of Hyunjin’s sweater. 

He lets you cry for a while. It’s nothing new; Hyunjin has seen you break down countless times. He’s been there through the worst of it, held your hand even in the aftermath. He’s picked you up off the floor more times than you can count, has grounded you when you felt like the world was gonna open up beneath you and swallow you whole. Salt of the earth, returning you to its core.

Once you’ve quieted into nothing more than shallow breaths and a few scattered hiccups, Hyunjin speaks again.

“Can you be honest with me?”

You nod, the hair stuck to your cheek with tears rubbing against his shoulder. 

“Do you love him?”

It nearly knocks the wind out of you. This concept, so foreign to you now, shoved to the back of your mind to make room for the things that matter most. Hospital visits, labor cuts, wage increases— none of it left any room for love, let alone the thought of someone else. Especially someone as all-consuming as Jisung.

Slowly, you inhale, breath shaking on the exhale. Hyunjin squeezes your hand to remind you that he’s there.

“I don’t think I ever stopped, Hyune.”

The silence stretches thin. The realization is dizzying. Years of suppressed emotions, of telling yourself and everyone around you that it wasn’t a big deal. The sad eyes of the townspeople whenever they’d see you sitting beneath the apple tree. The gentle touch of your grandma’s hand when she’d find you on the front steps alone, staring at the stars. The soft hum of the radio in the shop, set to a playlist of all the songs he’s written, the only reminder that somewhere out there he was doing well.

The final crack in the dam, its water pushing until it gives way.

“Then you owe it to yourself,” Hyunjin says. “You owe it to your heart to get an answer. Free yourself from this pain, love. Don’t let yourself suffer forever.”

Forever. That word again. No matter how many times you’ve tried to escape it, it always comes back.

“It’s gonna hurt.” he sighs, tightening his grip when you sniffle. “It’s gonna hurt so fucking bad, babe. But you can take it. You’ve got people who love you enough to stand in front of you and soften the blow from time to time. But you’ll be okay. I’ll make sure of it.”

He hops down from the counter and moves to stand in front of you, right between your legs. Placing both hands on your shoulders, he pushes until you’re sitting with your back straight and lifts your chin. 

“You deserve an answer.” he says, with conviction this time. “Okay?”

He lets his thumb swipe beneath your eyes, smiles softly. Unconditional— that’s what he is. Hyunjin burns brighter than any star in your sky, the heat wrapping its arms around you like it’s too scared to let go, to watch you freeze and die out like so many others. 

“I don’t deserve you, though.” you say, laughing wetly when he rolls his eyes.

“Shut up,” he chuckles, pulling you in for a hug, “You deserve everything and more.”

When Jisung comes into the shop two days later, you’re ready for it. 

Chan had talked to him. No surprise, really, not when he’s been letting him crash in his spare room ever since he figured out that he was holed up in one of the hotels out in the tourism hub. 

If there’s one thing about Chan, it’s that he’d rip the shirt off his back to clothe anyone in need. Housing a friend is nothing, especially when that friend is Jisung.

“I don’t know how much of a consolation this is,” he’d said nervously, watching as you regarded him with an expectant look, “But he’s pretty cut up about you not wanting to see him. Which, I know, is stupid. He is the one who fucked up. But I just– I don’t know. I’ve never seen him like this, I guess.”

It’s not a consolation, not really. Knowing that Jisung is struggling is far from anything you want to hear. 

Sure, there’s anger present. Anyone would be stupid to not feel the least bit frustrated with what’s happened. Years lost, time stripped away. But you’ve long since come to terms with it, the anger turning to sadness in the meantime.

“Also, he leaves tomorrow.” Chan smiled sadly. “He really wants to talk to you before then.”

Hyunjin left early again today to give the two of you space. Not before making a show of his own though, threatening to incite violence with his arms that are supposedly ‘shredded’ from years of lifting boxes filled with petunias. 

The shop is slow again, not many sales nor a lot of foot traffic. Usually when the sun is out there’s more to do; people to see, smiles to give. But there’s nothing, just the chirping of birds and the sound of cars rolling by. 

Maybe the world knows that this is what you need. The calm before the storm. 

Five minutes until close. You’ve spent most of the day pacing back and forth. Waiting. Anticipating. 

Chan had said Jisung planned on stopping by, trying again. You’d told him that was okay, and his eyes lit up. Too much hope, maybe, that something might come of this. 

You’re seated in the back office, staring at marigold colored irises when the front door opens. You hear it this time, ears fine tuned, waiting. 

Slowly, you stand, make your way to the front. You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until you pull back the beaded curtain and Jisung’s figure comes into view. 

He looks the same as he did the other day: curled hair, thick glasses, parted lips. His sweater, fluffy and striped, hangs off of his shoulders in a way that boxes off his tapered waist, one that you know is hidden beneath all the layers. The sleeves are way too long judging by the way it curls over his fingers. 

“Hi.” he breathes out, watching as you step into full view.

You blink. “Hi, Jisung.”

His name feels weird on your tongue. Bitter. It’s been years since you uttered it, forbidding yourself from the luxury out of fear that it would make his absence more real. Talking about him in the past tense always scared you off before you could even get the chance. 

“How– How’ve you been?” he chews on the inside of his lip.

You want to scold him, tell him to stop the habit just like you always would in the past. He’d make a joke then, tell you to kiss him so that he had something else to do instead. You would laugh, feign disgust, but in the back of your mind you’d wanted it more than anything. 

You’d waited for it, the day you could kiss him without warning and melt into his touch as he kissed you back. Another stupid bet on forever; the belief that you had all the time in the world for things to get to that point.

“I’ve been better.” you say, taking a deep breath. “What about you?”

Good, you think. He’s been good. He looks good. He doesn’t need this place.

“Me too.” he says instead. “I’ve been better.”

You don’t know what to say to that. Silence fills the room, heavy on both your chests. The anticipation feels like it might kill you before anything else does. 

“I’m sorry that–”

“Is that all you came here to say?” you cut him off.

“What?” he asks, confused. “No, I– no.”

“What, then? What is it you want to say, Jisung?” your voice is firm. He winces when his name leaves your mouth. “Because, honestly, I’ve waited all this time to hear literally anything from you, and if all that comes out of this is that you’ve ‘been better’ I might actually lose my fucking mind.”

The words tumble out faster than you intend. You can’t help it, not with the way anxiety has been bubbling over in your chest since the moment you woke up this morning. You could barely sleep last night, not when you were playing out every possible scenario in your head, the anticipation of it all making your sheets feel scratchy against your skin and the lumps in your pillow more discernible. 

“No, no, of course I wouldn’t do that.” he says quickly. “It's just that I didn’t know where to start. I don’t know how much you’ll allow me to say, what the boundary is here. I didn’t want to just barge in and demand you listen to me. You don’t owe me that. You don’t owe me anything. Not after what I did.”

What I did, his voice rings loud in your ears. He’s aware of it, of the pain he caused. 

He takes a step forward, and then another, again and again until he’s right up against the front counter, an arm’s length away. 

Your breath catches then, when you see him up close for the first time in four years, see the way he’s grown and changed with your own eyes. 

Stubble dotting his chin, laugh lines around his mouth, the dip and curve of the bow above his lips that you always loved. Brown eyes, soil and stardust. 

“Tell me what your conditions are,” he says quietly, “And I’ll give you every explanation I have.”

The sincerity on his face is blinding. Your stomach twists at the thought of hearing what he has to say, that same fear brewing in the pit of it. You take a deep breath, feel the phantom ghost of a hand squeezing yours and a crescent moon eye smile. 

“I waited four years for you.” you say.

“I know.”

“I trusted that you’d be back. That you would keep in touch during the time you were gone.”

“I–” his voice cracks. “I know.”

“You lied to me.”

Jisung tips his head back then. Swallows down a lump in his throat. Blinks rapidly at the ceiling, veins of ivy crawling along the expanse of it.

“I know.”

“So you owe me everything. I deserve that. I deserve answers.”

When he brings his head down to look at you, it’s unreadable. A mix of emotions that you aren’t familiar enough with anymore to decipher. Fear, guilt, sorrow. Hope, too. Maybe.

You stare at him head on, fully letting your eyes meet for the first time in what feels like an eternity. He holds your gaze, unwavering. Determined. The sight makes your heart clench. 

“Okay,” he says after a beat of silence. “Okay. I can do that.”

Despite the ever-growing mountain of things to address, you decide that the first thing you want to hear from Jisung is about his time in Seoul. 

You’re only human, after all.

Best friends from the start– you can’t stop yourself from wondering what life has been like for him. Jisung’s always been good at storytelling, animated in his features and gestures to the point that you’d be rolling around and clutching your stomach from laughter. It’s one of the things you missed the most, just talking and being present in one another’s lives.

The two of you end up at one of the diners down the road. The owners, an elderly couple, coo as soon as they catch sight of you.

“My flower girl,” the old lady, Mrs. Kim, greets.

“Mrs. Kim,” you beam, moving in for a hug. When you pull away, Jisung is behind you, hands clasped behind his back and feet together like he has his tail between his legs.

“Halmeoni,” you say, gesturing at him, “Do you remember Jisungie?” 

His eyes go wide at the nickname, and you try to ignore the heat creeping up your neck, avoiding his gaze and instead watching as Mrs. Kim blinks in surprise.

“Oh! Oh my goodness, our Jisungie? Honey! Honey, look, Jisung is here! Oh you crazy boy,” she scolds, rushing forward to hit his shoulder and pull him in for a hug. “Where have you been? It’s been ages!” 

Jisung lets out an oof! as her body slams into him, all of his anxiousness dissolving into laughter as he hugs her back. 

“Hi Mrs. Kim, how have you been?” 

“Me?” she asks, pulling him away to hold at arm’s length, “Nevermind about me! I’m old! How have you been?”

Good, you think again, a mimic of earlier. Jisungs eyes flit over to yours for the smallest of moments before he answers.

“Better,” he says. “I’m doing better.”

Once both Mr. and Mrs. Kim are done doting over the both of you, they seat you by the window.

The island is always beautiful on sunny days: trees swaying, golden rays painting the rooftops in hues of pink and orange, the indigo shimmer of the ocean off in the distance.

“So,” you say, catching Jisung’s attention, “Tell me about Seoul.”

He hums. “It’s busy. Stinks. Lots of people.”

“Dream come true, yeah?” you joke, taking a sip of your water.

Jisung chuckles. “You could say that, I guess.”

“I mean, it was yours.”

“It was.” he sighs, looking down at the table. “I don’t know. It’s nice. I met good people, made even better connections. I live in this one bedroom studio apartment just outside of Itaewon, so I’m close to where all the foreigners hang out. I’ve learned a lot, gained a lot of inspiration for my music.”

You follow along, staring at him intently. His mouth, still heart-shaped, twitches when he catches you in the act.

You clear your throat, glancing away. “Yeah, I’ve– uh, I’ve heard some of your songs.”

He raises his eyebrows, almost like he hadn’t expected you to say that. “Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, I hear them on the radio sometimes.” A lie. “It usually takes me a second to realize that it’s you.” Another lie. “But they’re good, you’re doing well.”

Pink dusts the tops of Jisung’s cheeks as he turns back to the window, clearing his throat.

He looks younger like this, like he’s still the same boy who would sit across from you all those years ago. Cherry-stained lips and a smile so bright it put the sun to shame.

He talks a bit more about his music, about how he’s with a good company that gives him creative freedom and enough support to pursue more if he desires.

His eyes light up when he tells you about his studio, a small room on the fifth floor of a building in the middle of the city where he does all of his writing. It’s equipped with an entire soundboard, full of instruments that he says he’s been able to get signed by artists that come in and out. Most notably, his guitar, the same one he left with. 

Slowly, like a flower blossoming, petals opening one by one, you feel yourself falling back into step with him.

Everything is so familiar: the curve of his smile, the tilt in his voice when he gets excited, the rumble of laughter when he recounts an embarrassing run-in with an A-list celebrity in the company’s cafeteria. He shares stories that fill your heart as the two of you fill your stomachs.

But with the ease comes something more, something you recognize as longing. You hadn’t realized how much you longed to be there through this part of his life, how you wished you’d been the one to answer a video call as he showed off his apartment the first day he moved in, his company badge when it was newly issued, every moment of happiness that you’d been absent for just as much as he was absent for yours.

He seems to share the same sentiment then, when he sets down his fork and stares at his empty plate. 

“You run the shop now,” he says, “How’s that been?”

You purse your lips, nodding your head slowly. You knew this conversation would happen, that it was coming.

“It’s good, I guess. Been almost a year now since, uh, it was left to me.” you shrug. “I’m not alone though, Hyunjin is a big help. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

Jisung noticeably bristles. Eyebrows pulled together, staring more intently at a crumb on his plate. It looks like there’s a lot he wants to say, like he can’t find the words to say them.

So, naturally, you do it for him. 

“I assume Chan told you so I wouldn’t have to, by the way.”

He looks up then, as if he wasn’t expecting you to address the very obvious elephant in the room.

“He did, yes.” Jisung says after a while. His voice is quiet, gentle, like he’s walking on eggshells. “I– I didn’t know how to bring it up. I assume you’ve heard it all already but– I really, really am sorry to hear about Nana.”

The way her name sounds coming out of his mouth turns your mind to static.

Suddenly you’re in the hospital again, monitors beeping, hands as soft as petals cradled in your own and wishing that you could bury your face in a familiar neck as you cried and watched the marigolds wilt. 

“I don’t need an apology for that.” you croak, blinking back tears. Jisung is somewhere in your periphery, your vision blurry around the edges.

“It wasn’t sad. Her life, I mean. It was full. Of love. Of light. She left this place happy. That’s what she told me, at least.”

You take a deep breath. “So don’t be sorry about it.”

Jisung sniffles, and the sound shoots straight through your chest. 

“I know. I just– I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I should’ve been. I had no idea that–”

“Nobody did, Jisung. Don’t punish yourself for that.”

He sees it then, when you finally meet his eyes, the acceptance. You’ve come to terms with things a long time ago, have fought tooth and nail to come out on the other side of all the guilt and resentment and grief alive. Scathed, but alive nonetheless.

“You’re right.” he sighs, wiping at his eyes quickly. “She’d probably yell at me for saying that.”

You laugh, suddenly, the noise startling him. Jisung looks at you like you’re crazy.

“I think she has a lot more to yell at you for than being sorry that she died.”

The bluntness punches a chuckle out of him, and you giggle at the thought.

Your grandmother was always such an outspoken person. She always said what was on her mind, speaking it loud. There’s no doubt that if she was here she’d be berating Jisung, smacking him upside the head before pulling him into a hug and cooking his favorite meal. Tough love, but still, love.

“She would’ve loved to be able to see you.” you say once your laughter dies out, the air a bit lighter between the two of you. “She always wondered if you’d grow your hair out without her around to nag you about keeping it short.” 

He reaches up to run a hand through his curls, the strands falling around his face in a way that has your heart stammering in your chest.

“Well, clearly I don’t know how to listen.”

“No, you don’t.”

Jisung smiles softly. “Maybe I’ll cut it now. You know, since I’m here. And because I know she’d want me to.”

You watch him carefully, searching his eyes. For what, you don’t know. All that’s in them are stars. 

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “You’re here.”

By the time the two of you leave the diner, stomachs full and enough bags of extra side dishes hanging off of your arms to last you at least two weeks, courtesy of Mrs. Kim, the sun is almost fully set. 

The ocean is calm, the evening breeze just barely brushing the surface of the tide. Jisung walks in step with you down the street, one side of his face cast in a glow from the sun’s fading rays. 

“Do you think you’d maybe want to stop by the arcade that Old Man Park runs? Just for a little?”

You snort. “Why? So I can embarrass you?”

“Hey!” he puts a hand on his chest, offended. “I’ll have you know that I let you win all those times.”

“How do you let someone win after spending hours practicing while I worked at the shop?”

“I was being nice!”

“Uh huh.”

“Don’t believe me?” he grins. You try not to look, afraid of how bad your blood pressure might spike from the sight. 

“I’ll have you know that I’m one of the best Kart Rider players in the PC Bang scene back in Seoul.”

“Jisung,” you scold, “That’s a computer game. These are coin-ops. There’s way more skill needed.”

“No there isn’t!”

He knocks his shoulder against yours, tucking his chin to his chest to hide his smile when you try to fight back.

It’s easy. Nice. There’s a soft melody echoing in the dust-covered chambers of your heart. You still know all the chords.

Old Man Park’s arcade is a few doors down from the shop. You stop there to drop off the food, spare a glance in the mirror hanging in your office to fix your hair.

Your grandma’s picture stares at you from the other wall, eyes bright.

“Love you,” you say, kissing the skin of your fingertips and pressing it gently against the frame.

Jisung is toeing at a few rocks on the sidewalk when you walk back out. He doesn’t see you, too busy with his eyes casted down at the concrete, hands shoved into his pockets. 

It’s still hard to believe that he’s here. Flesh and bone. For a long time it felt like he was nothing but a distant dream, someone who only existed in the memories that you kept locked deep within your heart, the key somewhere on the streets of Seoul.

“Ready?” you ask.

He looks up, his glasses moving when his cheeks round into a smile.

Something passes across his face– a myriad of emotions in just a fraction of a second. Hesitantly, he holds out his hand. Long, delicate fingers.

You stare at it, swallowing roughly around the butterfly wings flapping inside your throat. 

The one thing you shouldn’t do, my dear, is rely on forever. Because that, too, is uncertain.

Forever isn’t promised. But even then, there are things you know for sure:

It’s February. The tulips are in bloom. Jisung is here. Living, breathing, in the flesh. 

So you take his hand, watch as relief floods his features, and let yourself feel.

The wind in your hair, the calluses on Jisung’s palms, and the warmth radiating out of the smile that threatens to split his face into two.

And with that certainty, the two of you start walking. A silent agreement to focus on the now.

You. Him. This.

“God, I can’t believe everything is only one coin.”

You laugh, watching as the multi-colored lights cast a glow on Jisung’s face. 

“Stop acting like you don’t remember this place.”

“I don’t!” he argues, smiling. “We stopped coming here, what, in middle school? Once Chan hyung started driving? We would always ask him to take us to the other one out in the big town!”

Chan’s first car was an old Camry with leather seats and enough room for the three of you to pile into after school. Used, but still with enough juice to satisfy three young kids who felt like they were on top of the world.

You used to sit in the back, the wind whipping your hair every which way while yours and Jisung’s hands lay side by side in the middle seat, pinkies brushing but neither of you willing to take it further. 

“Oh, shit!” Jisung gasps, letting go of your hand as he runs up to the space invaders machine. 

“Here we go,” you sigh, following after him. He’s like a kid in a candy store, face filled with innocent wonder and joy.

“Aren’t there, like, I don’t know– things better than this in Seoul?” you ask as he shoves a coin into the game.

Jisung turns to look at you with a devilish grin. ���Obviously,” he says, “But I can’t beat anyone’s high score over there. Here though? Ha! This place is ancient. I can finally be at the top of the leaderboard in something.”

“We’ll see about that.” you mumble, the noise of the game booting up drowning you out. 

Jisung sticks his tongue out when he focuses really hard on things. It’s cute, the way the end of it sits between his lips, spit-slick and parted just a little bit.

He’s glowing, probably because of the lights, hues of red and green and blue flashing across his face. But then again, Jisung has always shined brighter than anything. 

The game beeps to signal that he has one life left. He grunts a few times, his fingers tapping the buttons madly as his other hand handles the joystick in a frenzy of movements.

When it ends, he groans, throws his hands up in defeat.. 

You shake your own head knowingly, watching his eyes bug out of their sockets as soon as the leaderboard appears on the screen, the 8-bit letters blinking at him. 

“You’re joking.” he laughs in disbelief, turning to stare at you. “Please tell me you’re joking.” 

There, on the screen, is your name. The highest score. Jeongin and Hyunjin’s names sit just below you, respectively.

“What was that again about finally being able to be at the top?” you mock him, smirking.

“Since when did you get good at this?”

You shrug. “Had to find something to do in my free time.”

“No,” he says, rolling up his sleeves. “Nuh-uh. No way. This is not happening. I will beat you.” he holds out his hand for another coin, to which you roll your eyes and place one in his palm. 

“You might as well give up now. We’ll be here all night.”

“In your dreams.” he scoffs, assuming his position as another round loads onto the screen.  

Jisung has always been competitive. It’s one of his more hidden characteristics. 

It persists still, you realize, as you watch him burn through the styrofoam cup of coins that Old Man Park had given the two of you. Free of charge for old time’s sake.

Fort-five minutes. All he’s managed to do is bump Hyunjin down to fourth.

“Ugh!” he groans, kicking the machine lightly with his foot. 

“Look at you throwing a tantrum.”

“I’m not throwing a tantrum.” he pouts. You raise an eyebrow.

“Okay fine. I’m throwing a tantrum.” 

“Thought so.”

“Can you blame me?” he asks. “This is, like, our first date. And I’m sucking. Hard.”

“Our–” you stop, eyes wide. Jisung mimics you, almost like he didn’t mean to say what he did. 

Heat rushes to your cheeks. Your mind goes blank. But the world doesn’t end. Time keeps moving. Jisung is still here.

“I didn’t–”

“I like the sound of that.” you say quickly. “Of this being our first date, I mean.’

He smiles. Slow and sweet like molasses. Blinding.

“And the fact that you suck.”

The moment is shattered, his resulting whine echoing throughout the arcade.

“Come on you big baby,” you laugh, grabbing his hand. “I know a game you can beat me at.”

He lets himself be pulled, pretending that he’s upset, but you can see the smile tugging at his lips when you lace your fingers together.

The feeling is still new, this ease you have with him. The wounds you sported all those years are still healing, some more fresh than others. But with each laugh that comes out of Jisung’s mouth and shared glance, every note that your heart sings, you can feel them beginning to fade. A balm to soothe the burn.

The Pac-Man game is situated in the back corner of the arcade, right next to the jukebox. It used to be your favorite, because Jisung would always use his own coins to play songs for you while you tried to score higher than twenty-five thousand points. 

When you get there, he frowns. “The only game you think I can beat you at is Pac-Man?” 

“I don’t think,” you say, grabbing a coin before shoving the cup into his chest. “I know.”

The game boots up instantly, and you smile softly to yourself when Jisung moves wordlessly behind you, slips a coin into the jukebox.

“Play something good, Jisungie.”

He freezes. Out of the corner of your eye you watch him stare at you for a long moment. And then he smiles. Stardust.

“You got it.”

In a matter of seconds, Lovers In A Dangerous Time by Bruce Cockburn rings throughout the arcade, the speakers on the ceiling fighting past the static.

An old song. The same one your grandparents would dance to in the mornings, eggs on the stove and love in the air.

Your grandma used to say it was written for them, because when they fell in love the war was at its peak and she didn’t know if he’d ever come home. 

After he passed, she still played it, except those times it was Jisung who twirled her around and painted a smile on her face as you watched from the same spot you grew up in. Always there.

Jisung, Jisung, Jisung. 

When the game starts, you try your best. It’s hard. You’ve always been terrible at anything involving quick decisions. Focusing on everything at once isn’t easy for you, that much is still true. 

“Shit.” you mumble, the top right corner of the screen reading ten thousand points as the ghosts run into you.

Jisung lets out a low whistle. “Harsh.”

“You wanna go back to space invaders and waste the last of our money?” you raise an eyebrow. 

He holds his hands up in surrender. “Sorry, sorry. Go ahead.” he says, holding the cup out for you to take another coin. 

You try a couple more times, failing each and every one. You can tell that Jisung is growing more and more amused with every attempt, and the smugness radiating off of him is starting to rub you the wrong way.

“If you’re so good,” you say after a particularly sad attempt, turning to glare at him. Jisung has his lips pulled tight to stop himself from laughing. “Then why don’t you try?”

He chuckles then. “I’d rather help you, if you’ll let me.”

“How are you supposed to do that? We only have one coin left.”

Jisung doesn’t say anything. He puts the cup down, the last coin held between his fingers. You watch as he slips it into the machine, move to get out of his way once he’s done, but he stops you by grabbing your hand and spinning you back around, his fingers placed over yours on the joystick. 

With your back flush against his front, caged in by his arms on either side, Jisung takes a deep breath.

“This okay?” he asks right next to your ear, the curls on the side of his head brushing your cheek when he leans down to get a better look at the screen.

Warm. He’s so warm. The material of his sweater only worsens the heat, and the faint scent of vanilla makes your head swim.

It’s more than okay. Great, even. It’s Jisung. Everything and more.

“Yeah,” you say, letting him control your hands as he flicks the joystick. “It’s okay.”

The hair against your cheek moves when he smiles. “Good.” he says, and then hits the start button.

The game begins but you’re barely processing what’s happening, too aware of the feeling of his body pressed against yours. 

A firm chest, different from what’s observable on the outside, what with the fluffiness of his sweater and soft features. His arms too, encasing you, the bulge and flex of his biceps every time he moves.

It’s all so intoxicating, so much so that you don’t even realize you’ve beaten the highest score in the system by the time he loses his last life. 

“What?” you blink. “What the hell?!”

You laugh, spinning to face Jisung who’s grinning from ear to ear. In your excitement, you jump, flinging your arms around his neck. He’s surprised, but catches you nonetheless, circling his arms around your waist.

“Holy shit how’d you do that!” you squeal while he swings you around, feet off the ground.

“Magic, I guess.” he chuckles. 

The closeness of his voice brings you crashing back down, suddenly aware of what position you’re both in. You pull back quickly, clear your throat, and watch as his face falls from the loss of contact.

It’s been a long time since you hugged Jisung. The thought transports you to that day four years ago, standing under the apple tree, the future uncertain. Forever promised.

Things are different now.

“Sorry,” he backtracks. “I didn’t– um, I wasn’t trying to–”

You cut him off by throwing yourself at him for a second time. Intentional. Breathless. Tired of running and acting like it’s not the thing you want most in the entire world.

Jisung doesn’t react until he feels your face against the skin of his neck. On instinct, he hugs tight, hands around your waist, breathing in the smell of your hair.

“Hi.” you whisper against him. 

One word. Simple. However the weight of it sends a chill down his spine. It feels like home. 

He tightens his hold. A silent understanding. The two of you never had much of a need for words anyways. 

“Hi.” he whispers back.

The apple tree is much bigger now.

Long, thick branches, a wide trunk, a slight tilt in its shape.

It’s bare. The season is long gone. But it’s okay, because it means that the view of the stars isn’t blocked when you and Jisung lay beneath it.

It’s the same but it isn’t. There’s gaps– periods of time where the two of you grew separately. There are moments and memories tucked away that neither of you know about, whole lives to discover. 

But even so, it feels right. His arm wrapped around you, your head on his chest. The stars and the moon. You and Jisung.

It’s nice. Perfect, even. But there’s a conversation that needs to be had. One that can’t be put off any longer.

“Ji.”

“Hm?”

“Can I ask you something?”

Jisung shifts beneath you, tightening his hold. The grass is damp. Neither of you care, too caught up in each other to stress about whether or not it’ll stain.

“Of course.”

“Am I ever gonna see you again?”

He takes a deep breath. “Yes.”

“You said that last time.”

“I know.”

“So what makes this different?” you ask, sitting up. He watches you carefully, eyes trained on every movement like he’s scared you’ll get up and run away.

When he realizes you’re waiting for an answer, he sits up too, pulls his knees to his chest and wraps his arms around his legs. 

He doesn’t say anything, just wordlessly reaches into his pocket. Silently, he hands whatever he grabbed to you. A guitar pick.

It’s white, a marbled design. Golden flecks infused into the lines. There, on the front, is a singular marigold. When you flip it over, you’re met with a tulip. 

“Do you remember that one time, when you called me crying at midnight because Nana told you that she didn’t know if she’d be able to afford school in the city?”

You nod silently, still turning the guitar pick over in your hand. 

It was one of those nights where the rain was relentless. Monsoon season always tagged on to the tail end of the school year, bringing with it a more intense gloominess than usual. 

You’d been angry. Stressed. Irritated that other kids at school were making plans to go to the mainland for college and you were stuck helping your grandmother trim foliage and wrap vases in newspaper.

“You told me that you couldn’t do it anymore.” Jisung whispered, staring up at the sky. “That you were tired of being here. That you needed to get out.”

You remember. Jisung had walked through the rain to show up at your window. Had climbed in with muddy shoes and sat on the floor of your room with you until the downpour stopped and your tears dried.

“And I said that I would make it happen, that I would invent a way to live amongst the stars so you could be as far from here as possible.”

“So what?” you ask, looking at him. “Did you finally do it, then? Is that why you came back?”

“Don’t be like that.”

“No, Jisung, I’m gonna fucking be like that.” you scoff, rising to your feet. 

There’s a fire in your veins, stoked until the embers are burning hot against your throat. Too good to be true. You should’ve known that there was no explanation left for him to give.

Jisung scrambles to his feet. “It wasn’t like I wanted to–”

“Oh like hell you did.” you say, turning to face him. “Four years, Jisung. I waited four years and you just– you come back and decide to tell me about some make-believe bullshit to save yourself and feel less guilty about the fact that you left.”

“It wasn’t make-believe to me,” he argues. “It was real. Everything I said was real. I left and I tried for years to make something of myself so I could come back here and get you.”

“Oh so it’s my fault? I made you leave, is that it?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“So then say something else!” you yell. The stars rumble, threatening to fall out of the sky. “Say something else, then, Jisung. Why didn’t you call? Huh?”

“Because I–” he stops, licks his lips. “God. Fuck. I couldn’t face you if I had nothing to show for myself, okay? It wasn’t fair to you for me to leave you behind just so I could fail.”

“Ha!” you laugh, running a hand through your hair in disbelief. “So you decided to go radio silent instead? Decided to not only leave me alone but let me suffer and wonder about where you were because that’s so much better than telling me that you were struggling, right? Great choice, Jisung. Really.”

He blinks a few times, watching as you pace back and forth in the grass. 

Anger bubbles deep in your gut. This whole time, he knew. It was a conscious decision. Jisung deliberately didn’t contact you because he chose not to.

“Did you ever even love me?”

The words tumble out before you can stop them. Jisung’s entire body goes rigid, his face falling and eyes hardening within a fraction of a second.

“Watch what you say.” he says, his voice low in his chest.

“I wouldn’t have to if you’d just be honest.”

“I’m trying.” he pleads. His eyes are glossy. Big and round behind his glasses. Illuminated by the moon. 

“I fucked up, okay? I prioritized myself and the way I felt over you and fucked everything up. But I tried. I tried so fucking hard. And I’m sorry it took me so long but I wanted– no–  I needed to make sure that I had everything figured out before I came back. I promised I would.”

“No, Jisung, you promised me that–”

“I’m not talking about you.” he says then, taking a deep breath. “You weren’t the only one I made promises to back then.”

Before you have a chance to speak, Jisung says, “I promised her. I told her I’d get you out of here. That I’d give you a life that you deserved, because she knew she couldn’t.”

You drop to your knees when the first sob hits, the force of it racking your body so hard you feel like you’re drowning. Jisung catches you on the fall, holds you up, lets you bury your face into his neck like he had so many times before.

“She told me you believed in forever. She wanted me to give that to you. I’m sorry it took me so long.”

Jisung lets you cry. He holds you through the storm, your wails as loud as thunder and tears as heavy as rain. Four years in the making; the sky and the earth colliding until the dirt and layers of sediment give way to the molten core that’s been hiding beneath the surface all along.

Pain. Grief. All of it pent up and leading to this moment. 

“You should’ve told me.” you cry, beating a fist into Jisung’s chest. “You idiot. You fucking idiot. You should’ve told me.” 

Jisung pulls you in closer, takes each hit as long as it means that it’ll soften the blow on your heart. He whispers apologies in your ear, runs a hand through your hair. 

When it quiets again, the worst of the storm gone, he shifts so that your head is in his lap, his legs crossed and tucked beneath him. A few stray tears wet the fabric of his jeans, your eyes focused on the field of flowers across the street.

“I won’t ask you to come with me.” he says after a long while, when your breathing has evened out. “I know that things are different. You have a life here that you’ve made for yourself, responsibilities to bear as well.”

He pauses to push a few strands of hair out of your face. His fingers are gentle against the skin of your cheek.

“But I promise it’ll be different. I spent too long away from you, was too selfish for my own good. I won’t disappear again. I’ll call every day. I’ll visit. You’ll get every part of me that I kept away from you all this time, and I’ll get every part of you in return.”

Your heart thrums. The thought of having what you’ve wanted for so long. Of having Jisung.

“And when you’re ready, when you feel like you can’t do it anymore, there’ll be a place for you.”

His voice is firm. Confident. More sure than he’s ever sounded before in his life.

When you turn to face him, he’s already staring back. Jisung, with all the stars in his eyes and a heart full of dreams. Jisung, with the world at his fingertips and the offer to make it yours.

Under the apple tree, Jisung leans down and kisses you for the first time. Twenty four years in the making, soft and slow, his lips a perfect fit against yours. A starboy and his flower girl. His glow is so bright it makes blossoms sprout from her fingertips.

Soft curls tickle your eyelids when he pulls away to rest his forehead against yours. You reach up to run a hand through them, smiling softly when he presses a kiss to the tip of your nose. 

“I love you.” you say first this time. 

He reaches out a hand, closes it over your fist that’s still clutching the guitar pick. A marigold and a tulip, both working together to make a perfect harmony. 

“I love you, too.” Jisung whispers back. “Forever.”

Jisung stops by the shop early to say goodbye.

There’s less tears this time, less of a reason to be sad. But still, when he wraps his arms around you, vanilla filling your nose and curls against your face, you feel your composure crumble.

“Every day.” he says, repeating the same thing he did all night. “I promise. Morning and night. Also at lunch. Oh, and on your days off. Matter of fact, you can call when you’re on the toilet too.”

The last part earns him an elbow to the ribs, his laughter bubbling up and out of his throat as he tries to dodge any and all subsequent attacks.

He kisses you stupid before he goes, Chan rolling his eyes from his car out front. You flip him off blindly, Jisung’s lips still attached to yours, earning a loud honk in response.

When he leaves, the shop is quiet, the only sound being the buzzing of your phone as Jisung blows it up with text messages the second the car pulls away.

You’re too busy replying, giggling to yourself when a slew of cute emoticons start appearing one by one, that you nearly fall over out of your chair when Hyunjin bursts through the door.

“Jesus Christ Hyune, did you have to–”

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asks, breathless. 

“Uh,” you blink, glancing round. “Working?”

“Is Jisung not on a damn plane right now?”

“I mean he’s on his way to the airport. Chan is–”

“Chan hyung told me that Jisung wanted you to go with him.” Hyunjin says, brow furrowed.

You sigh. “He didn’t want me to go with him. Well, okay, he did. But I told him I can’t just pick up and leave. He knows that. Nana left this place to me and–”

“You are so stupid.” Hyunjin sighs. 

“Excuse me?” you ask. You stand up, crossing your arms as you walk closer to the counter. 

“Come on. We have to go.”

“Go where, Hyunjin? I’m not leaving to–”

He cuts you off, places an envelope on the wooden surface. “And I am not letting you stay here and pretend that this is what you want.”

“What is that?” 

“A plane ticket.” he says, pushing it towards you. “To Seoul.”

Your mouth opens and closes, lost for words. Hyunjin is already moving around the counter, pushing past you with an expression the most serious you’ve ever seen on him.

“Hyunjin I– I can’t– where did you even…?”

“Chan hyung has a friend.” he mumbles as he begins pulling stuff out of the office. Your planning notebook, your apron, the picture of your grandma off the wall. All of it thrown into a small box he managed to snag from somewhere off to the side.

“His name is Seungmin or something. Met him out in the tourist hub. Dude’s super rich with tons of miles and apparently owed Chan for a drunken night where he needed to be escorted to his hotel. So thanks to him, you’re leaving.” he explains as he grabs the box with both hands and starts walking towards the door.

“Wait.” you stop him, watching as he turns to regard you with a look that says his patience is running thin. 

“I told you I can’t leave, Hyunjin. This place is where I need to be.”

He huffs, places the box on the ground in front of him. His hair falls in waves around his face, a shimmery dark brown beneath the rays of the sun poking into the room. 

“Can you be honest with me?” he asks. 

You nod, slowly. 

“Do you love him?”

Hyunjin watches you with careful eyes. Reads you like a book, something he’s always been good at. You don’t doubt that it’s written on your face. Star-kissed cheeks and eyes as bright as marigolds. 

“So much that it hurts, Hyune.”

Hyunjin smiles, eyes watery. “Then you deserve to go. You deserve your chance to be free. Don’t worry about this place, I’ll take care of it.”

The familiar sting of tears sits behind your eyes. Your heart swells full of love for this friend, this light, this beacon of unconditional love in the shape of your best friend.

“I don’t have clothes.” you manage to say around the lump in your throat.

Hyunjin shakes his head, tears spilling down the bridge of his nose. 

“I’ll send them to you.”

“There’s a lot to do around here for just one person. What if you need me?”

“I’ll manage.” 

You round the corner quickly, throwing yourself into his chest. He catches you with ease, wraps his arms around your body as the both of you cry into each other.

“I’ll miss you.” you say weakly.

Hyunjin’s throat bobs against the top of your head. “I’ll always be here in our little corner of the world.”

The two of you stay like that for a while. Hyunjin’s warmth seeps into your skin, lights you ablaze. By the time he pulls away, his hands on your shoulders, you feel like you’re floating. Unreal.

“I don’t have a way to get there.” you say quickly, glancing at the clock. 

Jisung’s plane leaves soon. The airport, the only one on the island, is a thirty minute drive. You’re at a disadvantage the more time you spend not moving. 

“Don’t worry,” Hyunjin chuckles. “I’ve got that taken care of.”

You open your mouth to ask him what he means when you’re cut off by the sound of honking from outside. Confused, you run to the door, your jaw dropping as soon as you realize who’s waiting for you.

“Hurry up people we don’t have all day!” Jeongin calls, his upper body hanging out of the window. He’s parked outside in a beat-up truck, arms waving wildly when he spots you.

“Innie!” you scream, pushing through the door to run at him. He jumps out of the truck just in time for you to barrel into his chest, laughter loud in your ears as he spins you around. 

“You’re here! Oh my god I thought you weren’t coming for another two weeks.” you say in disbelief once he puts you down.

He looks older, more sophisticated. His hair is rusted and falls past his ears, the ends just barely touching his shoulders. 

“Yeah, well,” he shrugs. “I figured I’d show up earlier. You know, see you before you leave, catch up with my parents, help Hyunjin break into your house. The usual.”

“Help Hyunjin break into my what–” you say, but you stop when your eyes fall on the small suitcase in the backseat. Your own bag, the one that’s been sitting in your closet untouched for years now.

“For the last time,” Hyunjin says from behind you, carrying the box in his arms. “It’s not breaking and entering if I have a key. Which, by the way, I told you would come in handy one day.”

He sets the box down next to the luggage and dusts his hands on his pants. When he turns to face you, he’s smiling, eyes disappearing into crescent moons.

With tears threatening to spill once again, you stare at the both of them, your heart bursting at the seams. “I love you guys.”

Jeongin grimaces, opts for getting back in the driver’s seat as you laugh. Hyunjin rolls his eyes and ushers you inside of the truck.

“Yeah, yeah. Save it.” he says. “Right now, you have a plane to catch.”

The airport is crowded. 

There are tons of people everywhere, some saying hello and some saying goodbye. Hyunjin explained the gate system to you before you left him and Jeongin on the curb, and you keep glancing down at your ticket to make sure none of the information has changed in the past thirty seconds since you last looked. 

Thankfully, your gate isn’t far. With twenty minutes to go until boarding, you can feel the sweat building up beneath the hand that’s curled around your suitcase handle. 

It’s scary thinking about the fact that this is it. That you’re finally leaving. 

It’s bittersweet, too. There’s an excitement in the pit of your stomach as well as a feeling of dread in your chest, both of them meeting in the middle somewhere. 

You let your eyes scan the crowd, searching for wavy hair and thick-rimmed glasses. However, the first thing you see is the familiar neck of a guitar, strapped right on to a back that you would know and recognize anywhere without warning.

Jisung is seated near the gate, his eyebrows furrowed and lips set in a pout as he glares down at his phone. You realize that he’s probably wondering why you won’t answer, why all of his emoticons are going ignored. 

Quietly, you come up behind him, reach into your pocket, and say, “Excuse me? I think you dropped this.”

Jisung startles, his eyes falling on to the guitar pick being held out in your hand. Slowly, he lets his gaze follow upwards, wide-eyed and shocked.

“What– what are you doing here?” he asks. 

You place the pick in his hand. “I'm on my way to Seoul. There’s a guy there that I’ve been trying to find for a while.” you say. 

Jisung catches on quickly. “Oh, really?” he asks, moving over so you can sit beside him. “This guy must be pretty great if you’re leaving for the mainland.”

The rain starts hitting the tarmac outside right as you sit down. “Hm, yeah. He is. He really likes the stars. He says that he found a way for me to live in them, too.” 

He laughs, the sound making your stomach flip. “Sounds like you’re excited.”

You nod. “I am. He promised me that we’d do a lot together, experience new things. Apparently he’s gonna write songs and I’m gonna be a nerd.”

Jisung snorts and reaches across to link his hand with yours.

“He’s really lucky.” he says, leaning over to plant a kiss on your lips.

You smile into it. “So am I.” you whisper into his mouth, your heart stuffed to the brim with flower petals. 

And when Jisung smiles back, his other hand coming up to cup your cheek and give you another kiss with the force of a thousand suns, you feel the key you’d been searching for finally click into place. 

Salt of the earth. Soil and stardust. A boy who glows so bright that his girl sprouts blossoms from her fingertips. 

Forever isn’t promised. But then again, with Jisung by your side, there are things you know for certain:

It’s February. The tulips are in bloom. In Jeju– it rains.

And no matter what, despite all odds, you and Jisung will always find your way back to each other in the place where marigolds grow.

[tags: @skzstarnet @snowyquokka @palindrome969 @summergirlsmj @n1staytiny @drhsthl @strwbrrychannie @shays-library @giuliadesu @iknowyouknowminho @linocz @pynchkilledme @jisunglyricist @itsgghowitsgg @alician87 @skzms @meloncremesoda @ilychee08 @allaboutsan @legally-lixs @stayceebs97 @candyquokka @chans1aptop @liknws @realrintaro @beeracha @vxllxnsworld @feelikecinderella @caitxx1 @lilac13 @sebastianswhore13 @classiclitandmemes @hyunverse @linosazuna @lastgreatamericandynasty1 @bubbly-moon @cookiesandcreammy ]

[dwaekkicidal]

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ summary: inspired by chan's part in this

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ word count: almost exactly 1k words lol (993)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ warnings: gn!reader; nicknames: honey, pup(py), kinda pervy!3racha but chanxreader, not really bratty but super whiney reader, soft chris until he talks dirty, kinda dacryphilia?, creampie & no protection (don't be silly wrap ur willy also pee after sex pls), exhibitionism, not a warning really but I switch between calling him Chan/Channie & Chris

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ notes: @chvnmax im so sorry (im not that ask put not normal thoughts in my head.) idk if this is actually full on corruption kink like the og post but it sent me into a pervy skz spiral

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

Picture this:

Stray Kids recording day for their next comeback. You’re their cute little 9th member and they always have you do your set of lines last so that they can take their time with you. Everybody but 3racha has already returned to their assigned dorms. Changbin and Chan are sitting in the office chairs while Jisung lounges on the couch (probably asleep).

They watch in awe as you nail most of your lines until you get to one that’s a little too hard. After multiple takes not coming out well, you’re so busy moaning and groaning into the mic out of frustration that you’re chronically unaware of how crystal clear your sounds are coming out for them. Eventually it even gets to the point where you bounce in place out of pure agitation. You’re in a low-cut top and the clear view of your collarbone has the 3 men on the other side of the glass in an absolute chokehold.

“Honey.. You gotta calm down.” Chan says softly into his own mic, adjusting his dick in his pants. You pout and cross your arms across your chest, accidentally pulling your shirt lower as you toss and turn in a fit. Jisung is basically drooling from his spot on the couch and it’s honestly his breaking point. Changbin and him decide to take a 'walk' and say they’ll be back in an hour with food, while Chan says that he’ll stick back with you to help perfect your lines.

It’s all going well until you get to another bump in the recording and you complain into the mic to the point where your eyes water. With the sight of your watery doe eyes and deep pout staring at him from the other side of the glass, Chris really starts to get bothered by the tightness in his pants.

“Come out here, Pup. Let’s take a break.” He says with only pure intentions as he stands and stretches. Little to no ulterior motives while you rush out the room and throw yourself into his arms, rubbing your chest onto him and looking up at him with those pretty eyes again. Completely innocent motives until he glances down to where your bodies meet, his eyes catching a glimpse of your pretty nipples thanks to your shirt dipping even more.

Deciding that he’s had enough he closes his eyes and loudly groans before meeting your eyes again and holding a death grip onto your hips. He leads you to the couch as you look up at him with an innocent look.

“Channie..?” you ask out sweetly. You expect a response but he silently turns you around and bends you over the couch, one of your knees rest on the bottom cushions while he squishes your face into the back cushions.

“You just have to be a little brat, huh. Just can’t be a good puppy for one goddamn day.” He teases and pulls the skimpy booty shorts you wore. He pulls your underwear down to your knees before freeing himself from his stupid jeans. Wanting to skip the prep and knowing you were still loose from the events in the storage room a few hours prior, he pulls out a travel sized bottle of lube from his pocket before squirting some onto his dick.

He gives you no time to react before he rubs himself against you and thrusts into you, setting a fast pace right off the bat. The tears from earlier return and are quickly soaked up by the couch when they finally fall. You whimper apologies into the cushions as Chris lets out filthy comments from behind you.

“It’s never your fault, is it baby?”

“Always a big cry baby until Daddy stuffs his dick inside your pretty little holes.”

“Fuck.. Walk around like a little ‘innocent’ thing when in reality it’s your fault I'm this hard. Rubbing all up on me like a little slut.”

After what feels like forever of him bullying himself into you, the pair of you hear the two loudest mfers in the planet return, getting closer to the door before being stopped by a staff member. They’re right outside the door and you moan loudly into the cushion at the thought of them hearing what's happening behind the unlocked studio door just feet away from your spot on the couch. You're almost thankful for Chris’ big hand that keeps your face on the couch, but that quickly changes as he pulls you back into him by placing a hand on your collarbone. Once your back is to his chest, his hand moves up to trail along your lips. He sticks 2 fingers against your tongue as you hear him speak up from behind you.

"Shh... You want them to hear you?" you clench tightly and his hips stutter "… fuck You do, don't you?.. Yeah? You want them to join us too baby? Want them to help me fill your greedy holes?"

When you cry out into his hand and cum at the thought, he laughs into your neck before chasing his own high. You’re pulled back into reality as you hear the boys finishing up their conversation. Chris pulls out and wipes himself down with tissues, then pulls your underwear back up and smooths down your clothes before returning to his chair.  He takes his seat right as the door knob turns, and he smirks at you as the boys settle the food bags on the coffee table (oh and look at that no more tight pants for either of them lol).

“Eat up, baby. You need to refuel before we continue.” Chan says with a playful look in his eyes. You blush and nod before taking bites of your meal. You watch as Changbin re-records a few adlibs and you swear you can feel something warm dripping out of you.

[stupidlittlespirit]

THOUGHTS ON PANTY SNATCHER FORD [holds out mic]

yes.

but not 'intentionally'.

*puts on lab coat and taps clipboard*

I think purposefully stealing underwear is a Stan thing, but that Ford would accidentally seize the opportunity if it arose. (for some reason I think of both of them when I think of this one specific behaviour, idk why)

Ford considers himself to be above things like that. He tells himself he isn't weak of the flesh or however he wants to phrase it, and he wouldn't be caught dead engaging in something so perverted.... Except.....

I'm going to set this in the MTB au to illustrate what I mean.

Remember what I mentioned in Spores that Reader will take care of the house when Stan and Ford are away at sea? Well, perhaps they stay over for a night or two (normal, allowed, they're just keeping an eye on things) and they do some of their laundry there. Let's say they accidentally, carelessly, leave a pair of their underwear in the laundry room and don't even notice it.

So they go about their day-to-day none the wiser (it's just one pair, they're probably not gonna notice) and leave etc.

And eventually, Ford and Stan return home.

Ford goes to wash some of their clothes from the trip and uh oh! accidentally discovers Reader's underwear in the drum of the washing machine.

He's embarrassed, of course, and is initially like 'oh no, I'll have to expertly craft some kind of scenario where I can get these back into Reader's possession without them noticing'. And he means that, he really will try and return them to Reader, but then he holds them and feels them and studies them for maybe a little longer than he needs to..... He imagines things and then berates himself for doing so, and just as he's about to force himself to tuck them away somewhere and carry on with his task, Stan is shouldering his way into the laundry room to ask Ford something unrelated.

Panicking, Ford then pockets the underwear because he doesn't want his brother to see them and accuse him of something unsavoury or be gross himself about it.

They talk about whatever and Ford forgets all about it.... Until, that is, later that night.

Ford is locked away in his bedroom, undressing for the night, and as he takes off his jeans, the pair of underwear falls from the pocket of them and onto the floor.

He abruptly remembers and snatches them up, putting them on his nightstand and telling himself he'll return them first thing; he'll call by Reader's house or have them over for a 'welcome back' dinner or something and find an opportunity to slip them into their bag or whatever.

But once he's in bed, he just finds his eye drawn back to them time and time again. He can't help himself. He can't keep his mind off of them. It's driving him nuts.

So he gives in a bit. It's just curiosity, right? If he allows himself to look them over fully then it'll be sated and he can just forget it and move on. Except. Now that he's got them in his hands again....

Now he's wondering what they look like when they're on Reader.... Do the bands dig into the soft parts of Reader's hips? Do they ride up when they wear them? Whilst he's been at sea, have they wandered around the house in just these?

Have they gotten themselves off whilst wearing them?

And fuck fuck fuck, now he's hard. Great.

Cue twenty minutes of him arguing back and forth in his head about how this is wrong and weird, and he's not some creep or low life like his brother (affectionate), he's not going to jerk off over his housekeeper's underwear! Gross!

Unless....?

It's not like anyone will find out if he did, is it? He has plausible deniability ("no, I haven't seen any of your things laying around the house, I've been at sea for three months, why do you ask?") and it's unlikely Reader will come straight out and say they left their underwear here, so he's probably not going to be questioned on it.

So without even really being conscious about it, he sneaks a hand under the band of his briefs and leisurely, he starts to touch himself with them. He starts slow because he's still not sure if he wants to back out of it, but after a few minutes, he realises it feels too good to stop.

I mean, if he's been at sea with his brother for months, with no time to himself and no opportunity for privacy, he's probably fairly pent up and looking for release of some kind. Who can blame him if his thinking is a bit illogical, right?

The next thing he knows, he's ruining them completely and cumming so hard that he has to bite his pillow to keep himself quiet.

And the guilt eats him up afterwards, of course. He knows it's wrong and he can't believe he's done it, he feels terrible about it. He scrambles to clean up the evidence and dispose of any traces of his 'crimes', and he knows he'll need to deal with the underwear itself, too.

But he can't quite bring himself to get rid of them, either. After all, it's not like he can return them to Reader, even if he launders them, so his only option really is to throw them out.

Still, that seems like such a waste, doesn't it? They're perfectly good (once they're clean) and surely Stan would see them in the trash anyway.... So maybe he'll just have to keep them safe in the bottom of his dresser drawer....Maybe he'll have to make sure no real perverts get their hands on them if they go rifling through the garbage.... Really, he's doing this to protect Reader, you see. It's all for the greater good.

Little weirdo. I love him.

[crazyunsexycool]

My Little Love

Chapter 38

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x enhanced!Reader

Word Count: 6.4K

Warnings: I don't want to add to many warnings and give away the plot so read with caution, Henry and Charlotte being the sweet little duo they are, crying

A/N: the time has finally come to see what's going to happen next with our favorite family.... Idk how to feel about this chapter but it needed to happen so we can keep moving forward.

Series Masterlist:

Henry laid awake after you left. He worried about you. Even at his young age he could tell something was not quite right with the way you had been behaving. He also didn’t like the fact that his dad didn’t know you’d be going on a mission. 

There was only one thing he could do and he only hoped you wouldn’t be mad at him. But Henry would rather have an angry mama than none at all. So he slipped out of his bed and Lottie’s grip on his shirt so that he could put shoes on. 

“Bubba?” Lottie’s sleepy voice called from behind him. “Whe-uh you going?” 

“I have to do something for mama.” 

“You call daddy?” 

Henry sighed and turned to look at Lottie, she was now sitting up in bed and rubbing the sleep from her eyes with the back of her hand. 

“Yes. I think mama is going to need help.” 

“I go with you?” Lottie asks, getting out of bed. 

“You should stay here with grandpa.” 

Lottie shakes her head. “I go with you.” 

“Fine, go get your shoes and be as quiet as you can.” 

“Kay.”

Henry meets Lottie in the hallway. He takes her hand and turns them both invisible before quietly going down the stairs. In the living room Eddie has the tv on even though it’s still dark out. His head is tilted backwards resting against the back of the couch while he snored peacefully. Henry places a finger of his lips to make sure Lottie knows she needs to be quiet. They leave out of the front door.

“Ok baby, I’ll give you a piggyback ride because we have to be fast.” Henry tells his sister before turning and lowering himself. 

Lottie climbs on Henry’s back and locks her legs around her brother’s midsection. Her arms wrap over his shoulders. 

“You ready?” 

“Am weady.” Lottie says with a nod.

“Ok, hold on tight.” Henry says and he starts running towards the compound.

****

They knock furiously on the door to the communications room. It’s only after a few minutes that it swings open. 

“Hi Ms. Maria.” Henry looks up at Maria Hill who’s in charge of running the operation from the comms room. 

“Henry, what are you two doing here? Where’s Y/N? Is Lottie having another vision?” 

“No but I need to talk to daddy. It’s important.” Henry’s eyes are pleading and Lottie is matching him. 

“Ok, come in but you’ll have to wait, they’re still on the mission. I’ll let you talk to him as soon as I can.” Maria says, opening the door wider and ushering the kids in. 

It takes a few minutes but eventually they hear Steve’s voice crackle through. 

“Mission was a success. Everyone’s back on the jet and we’re on our way home.”  

The small group in the room cheered. Maria heads to one of the stations and speaks to the person manning it before picking up the mic and headphones. 

“Sergeant Barnes, please switch to channel 3.” She says. 

“Everything ok Hill?” 

“I’m not sure, Henry needs to speak to you and it couldn’t wait.” Maria says before handing the mic and headphones over.

“Daddy?” 

“Hey bubs, what’s going on? Where’s mama?” Bucky tried not to let his panic be heard in his voice. 

“Mama went on a mission. She told me not to tell you but baby had a vision about it and I’m worried. Baby said there was a mean lady.” 

Bucky sucked in a sharp breath. It couldn’t be who he thought it was but he also had to trust your judgment. 

“Daddy?” 

“Hi doll. Can you tell me who you saw?” 

“Daddy it was mama’s mama. I membuh fwom my biwthday.” 

Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to take some calming breaths but that was only getting attention from the team. 

“Do you know where she went?” He asked anyone who was listening. 

“She took a jet Barnes. We are sending you the location now.” Hill jumped in. 

“Thank you, Hill. Kids, is grandpa watching you?” 

“Yeah.” Henry said quietly after taking the mic back. 

“I’m assuming he doesn’t know where you are. Please go back home. I’m gonna go help mama and I’ll see you later. And don’t tell grandpa anything about this, it’s a secret for now.” 

Both kids say their goodbye and the line drops. Hill tries her best to give them a reassuring smile. The kids leave and sneak back into the house and Henry’s room without their grandpa ever noticing they were gone. 

“Well it took you long enough to come find me.” Your mother says. She has a pleased look on her face as she takes a seat. “Did you finally come to your senses? Or are you going to kill me?” 

You stare at her for a moment, really taking her in. It’s alarming to realize that this is who she always was. She had never hid herself behind the role of a sweet and loving homemaker, at least not in front of you. 

“I’m not going to kill you.” You say calmly. 

“Still weak I see. No matter, we can work that right out of your system this time.”

“Yeah, how will you manage to do that?” 

Your mother’s smile is sinister. It sends a shiver down your spine. 

“Do you really think I didn’t know you were here before I walked in? You tripped an alarm. At any moment my backup will be here.” She laughs as if she’s won, as if she has the upper hand. “I have so many plans for you. Things I didn’t get to finish the first time round.” 

You smile back. From one of the pockets of your utility belt you pull up four different dog tags, all of them covered in blood. 

“You mean the idiots that live down the hill? I mean, lived down the hill. I paid them a visit first and I cut the alarm in the cabin just in case there was anyone else wandering around.”

Lorraine’s face morphed from smug to absolute rage. She was fuming and you were satisfied that you’d managed to catch her off guard. 

“What were you planning to do with Luke and the twins? Were you going to kidnap them? What about Olivia?” You ask, you motioned to the files on the coffee table. 

“I’ve had to come up with backup plans. Since you’ve been nothing but a disappointment.” She spat with all the fury she had. She stands and tries to loom over you but the tactic doesn’t scare you anymore. “You would’ve been dead if it wasn’t for me. I gave you the only thing that makes you special.”

“You’ve done nothing but abuse me. You are a sick and twisted person.” 

“And you’re an ungrateful brat.”

Her right hand came up to strike you across the face but you blocked and batted it away before pushing her back. It was hard enough that she tripped and fell over the coffee table taking some of the files with her. Metal ropes slithered across the area rug from you to her. They wrapped around her arms, neck down her back and around her waist, lifting her back onto the couch. The now solid metal kept her in place. 

“For as much as you loved to call me pathetic, look at you now. You’re nothing. Hydra is nothing.” You growled, standing up from your seat. 

“Hydra will rise again. It always does and they’ll come for you and your stupid little family. We will have what is rightfully ours again.” 

“No! Hydra ends with you. It ended a long time ago you and the rest of those maniacs were just grasping at straws. You are nothing, no one will ever remember you because you didn’t do anything great.” 

“I am the greatest mind Hydra has.” Lorraine screamed, writhing as she tried to break free. With each movement the restraints got tighter. 

“Then why did they send you to have babies for them? You were useless to them. You had no purpose your own father thought that.” 

She stopped moving. Lorraine was panting as she stayed still, eyes closed. 

“Your father didn’t think you were anything special. You were ordinary, just one of the bunch. He thought the world of Henry though, didn’t he? Same thing with Lottie. They were his pride and joy. He saw them as the true future of hydra. They were everything he wanted in a child. Before he died he even treated them very well. But you? You were the disappointment of the family. He had no use for you, at least not until you got pregnant. I read all about what he thought of you. How he was glad to finally get rid of you so he could focus on what he had created.” You say. Your voice is eerily calm, it sounds strange to your own ears. There’s a sense of satisfaction in watching the woman who tormented you for years breakdown. You lean down into her space and look her in the eye. “How does it feel that even your own husband and children would prefer them over you?” 

 She lets out a blood curdling screech. “I did what I had to do in order to prove my loyalty. You would be nothing if it weren’t for me and this is how you repay me? You wouldn’t have your precious family and your precious Bucky if it weren’t for me.” She grits out. “The things we did to him. The way he cried and screamed and begged. He was such a great little play thing. Almost as fun as you were. But it doesn’t matter, once I’m done with you I’ll get my hands on him and those snot nosed brats and then I’ll really make them suffer. I’ll make you watch so you learn what I’m capable of.” 

That had you seeing red. It was bad enough to understand what they went through but to hear it from your own mother’s mouth made you sick. Instinctively the metal you were holding her back with tightened even more. She gasped for air before she began laughing. It was bone chilling and sinister. 

“I-I knew you h-had...” She begins but cuts herself off by coughing. “Had it in you.” Blood pools in the corners of her mouth as she finally looks at you. Her eyes are bewildered, as if she finally had gotten what she wanted.

“What?” 

“You we-re always me-meant to be the p-p-perfect killing machine.” She stutters before she laughs again. “We are the same, we-we are both killers now. The p-p-pride of Hydra.” She cries what you assume are happy tears. “O-our lega-legacy w-will live th-through you.”

As you realize what she meant you gasp. The metal that had been restraining her falls to the ground in small round pellets. She lay motionless on the couch. Some blood drips from her nose and mouth. 

You fell to the ground. Your eyes stuck to your mother’s motionless body. How could you have done that? Sure you had killed before but it had been in self defense. This time you let her get under your skin like she always had. You thought you had the upper hand but she played you. How would you tell your family?

**** 

You spent a few hours in a daze. Unsure of what to do. You didn’t even realize there was movement in front of you until two hands wrapped around your neck. 

“Weak and pathetic. You couldn’t even finish the job. I didn’t suffer through childbirth and family holidays and school and those stupid recitals and sport games just for you to quit on me now.” Lorraine, your mother was choking you. Part of you didn’t know if you should fight back. It was so surreal. “Do it. Turn into what I made you.” 

You scrambled to your feet in an effort to have the upper hand. Her grip was tight, nails digging into your flesh. You slipped your fingers in between her hands and your neck. The look on her face was terrifying. She sneered, her eyes almost black from rage. You weren’t sure where she got the strength to hold you down.

“Stop.” You hissed.

“Make me.” Lorraine leans in, her face inches away from yours. “We could rule the world. There is so much you’re capable of and I can teach you. You are meant to be the new fist of hydra. You’ll bring us into a new age but only if you give in.”

“It doesn’t have to be like this. You don’t have to do this. I can get you help, you can see our family again. Do you really not care about them? Hydra doesn't care about you but we do.”

Lorraine scoffs. “No one has ever cared about me. You don’t have to be a lost cause. You just can’t see what I do. The world could lay at our feet, we could rule everything. We could be the most powerful people in the world. Why must you settle if you were made for such a great purpose? You could influence the ways of the world, hydra could continue to live through you.” She states. It’s all she cares about, the power and influence. She was a lost cause long before you were ever even born.

You stare her down for a moment and shake your head. “Hydra dies tonight. If it has to die with me, then so be it.”

Lorraine lets out a mixture of a groan and a screech of frustration. One of her hands lets go and she reaches behind her. You put your focus on the metal that is lying around and pull it towards you in order to use it to defend yourself. Lorraine holds a blade and brings it down toward your chest.

Pop.

Pop.

Pop.

Three quick gunshots. Two to the heart and one to the head. Lorraine’s eyes widen for a second and then she drops at your feet. From the darkness of the hallway Bucky steps out, gun still in hand. 

“Are you ok?” He asks hesitantly. 

You nod. “It’s over.” You murmur in disbelief.

Bucky rushes over when he sees the tears in your eyes. He doesn’t hesitate to bring you in for a comforting hug as you start to sob. 

“It’s ok, Sugar. I got you.” He murmurs. 

It took you some time to compose yourself. But in your defense you had gone from thinking you killed your own mother to her trying to kill you to your fiancé killing her instead. You didn’t even want to hurt her, that hadn’t been your intention at all. 

“Let’s get out of here.” Bucky didn’t give you a chance to protest. He manhandled you and took you outside. 

Taking gulps of fresh air, you began to cry again when you saw Steve standing a few feet away. Bucky pushed you in his direction before going back to the cabin. 

“Are you hurt?” Steve’s words are dripping with concern as he makes his way to you. “Whatever you need, I’m here for you.” 

You didn’t answer. No one you knew had ever been in this position so they wouldn’t understand. You watched as Bucky walked out with your mother’s body wrapped in a blanket. He was gentle with her as he set her down and headed back inside. It made you want to throw up and you did. Steve held you up, offered you a bottle of water from a bag he had been carrying. It didn’t stop the sick feeling in your gut.  Bucky walks back out with all of the files in hand. 

“Let’s go.” Bucky says, handing Steve the files and trusting he’d help you back to the jet while taking the responsibility of carrying your mother. 

You sat quietly in the jet. Every few minutes you’d look to the side and see your dead mother laying there. The more you looked at her the angrier you got. Everything she’d put you through was just for power.  

“Hey,” Bucky called softly as he sat next to you, blocking your view. “How are you feeling?” 

“I don’t know. Sad? Angry? Relieved?” 

Bucky’s hand cups your cheek, his thumb moving back and forth. You can see the sadness reflected in his eyes. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to do that but when I saw that knife I had to act fast.” 

“It’s not your fault, you were only protecting me and I’ll always love you for that.” You say quietly before turning your head and kissing the palm of his hand. “How did you know I was here anyways?” 

“Henry went to Hill and asked to talk to me, he told me everything. He was worried about you. Lottie had a vision of your mom. Hill tracked the jet.” Bucky responds. “We had the team redirect here. Steve over there just had to join me to try and steal my thunder.” 

“Hey, she was my friend before she was the love of your life.” 

You give him a small smile. Steve gets up from the pilot’s seat and sits across from you. He pats your knee reassuringly. 

“Bucky told me about your mom. I’m sorry you went through all of that. Especially when it was someone that was supposed to protect you.” 

You give him a small nod. There wasn’t  much you could say. Your thoughts were on how and exactly what you were going to tell your family. The relationship you had with them could change forever in the next few hours. 

“Everything will be ok. I’m staying right by your side.” Bucky murmured as he pulled you in. 

Steve and Bucky looked at each other for a moment, a silent understanding that they’d need to be there for you. While Bucky held you Steve went back to the pilot’s chair. It would be a few more hours until you got home and then you’d have to face your family.

You turned the corner into the long hallway that led to many conference rooms with determination. Towards the end of the flight you’d decided that what’s done is done. Lorraine had made her choices and you’d made yours. The only thing you could do was tell your family the truth and give them the evidence you had and let them decide what they wanted to do. You couldn’t control their reactions but you could control yours.     

Halfway down the hallway Henry and Lottie sat outside one of the rooms. Their feet kicked back and forth as they waited. Lottie was mumbling something and patting Henry on the arm in a comforting manner. It made you genuinely smile to see them like this. 

Lottie saw you first and jumped off her seat in order to get to you. Her arms open wide, her pink teddy bear in one hand. Lottie launched herself into your waiting arms. You pulled her close and even gave her a little squeeze. She rewarded you by peppering kisses over your cheek. 

“You is kay mama?” Lottie asked once she pulled back. Her finger traced your cheek, up and over your brow and down your nose before ending the delicate touch with a small ‘boop’. 

“I am more than ok now my sweet Angel.” 

She smiles when you lean down and kiss her forehead. Your attention then turns to Henry who is standing not too far from you. The telltale signs of his nervousness present as he fluctuates in his invisibility. You reach out for him and he slowly makes his way to you. As you hold him, his form stays visible and he relaxes into your hug. 

“Mama, I’m sorry I know you di-“ 

“Never apologize for doing the right thing.” You cut him off while pulling away to look at him. “You followed your instincts and it was the right call, ok?” 

Henry nods before giving you one more hug. 

“Can you stay out here with your sister while I talk to our family?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Thank you, sweet boy.” 

You stand and take a deep breath. It was now or never. You had asked Bucky to make sure your family was at the compound by the time you got there. Steve was still with you when you walked in the room but he stayed in a corner, he was there more for moral support than anything else. 

With Bucky’s help you managed to get the blood off of you but you didn’t look great. Eddie was the first one out of his chair to hug you. Luke, Sofia and Josh followed soon after before settling back down in their chairs. You sit across the four of them and you feel sick to your stomach knowing what you have to do. 

“So before I start you have to know that what I’m going to say is very serious. I’m not joking about this situation. It’s going to be difficult to understand and even accept but I have proof to back up what I’m going to tell you.” You take a deep breath. “I also need you all to listen to everything I have to say.” 

“Kitten, what is going on?” 

“I need to tell you about what happened to me when hydra captured me last year. Specifically I need to tell you about who was responsible for everything.” You say as you grab the laptop in the middle of the table and connect the usb with all the evidence. 

You look over at Steve and then Bucky. Both of them giving you a nod to reassure you that they had your back. With one more calming breath you turn back to your family and begin to explain everything.

****

“So our mom and her family were involved with hydra?” Sofia asked after everything was said. By the tone in her voice you knew she had trouble believing you. 

“Yes. They were involved for generations. They were responsible for Henry, Lottie and the other kids. They were trying to create a new generation of soldiers.” 

“And she had us with the intention of using us to create more soldiers?” It was Joshua’s turn to question you.

You can only nod in response. Meanwhile Luke sits silently as he looks through the files you had given him. One for him, Molly, Olivia and their unborn baby. In the margins were the plans Lorraine had for them. 

Next to Luke sat your father. It looked like he was going to be sick. It was one thing to learn that your wife had treated one of your kids differently but it was another to realize you didn’t know the monster you had married. As he read his own file and even glanced over at Luke’s, Eddie wished he didn’t know any of this. 

“Dad?” You called him softly, worried that he might actually be sick. Maybe his heart couldn’t handle this. 

“Y/N,” he said quietly. It hurt to hear him call you by your name and not the affectionate nickname he had given you. “Why didn’t you tell us sooner?” 

“I was scared. I didn’t have enough evidence and I needed for you to believe me. Especially after I was taken. She was power hungry and she was willing to do anything to gain control of hydra.” 

“But you could have said something to me.” 

“Would you have believed me?” You ask. “Would any of you have believed what I said after I was rescued? I had been mentally and physically tortured. My autonomy had been taken from me. Anything I said at that time would have been questionable.”

Your family didn’t say anything. The tension was slowly rising in the room and then the one question you didn’t want to answer was asked. 

“Where is she now?” Sofia asks. 

You take a deep breath and close your eyes. The pain you felt from her death would surely be different than theirs but part of you still felt the loss in some weird way.

“She’s gone.” 

“What do you mean? Did she escape or something?” Joshua speaks up. 

Joshua and Sofia had been treated the best by her. Maybe she had found a little bit of maternal love for them in the cold and twisted heart she had. 

“No, I mean she’s gone, she died.” You deliver the news as gently as possible.

The truth hangs in the air and for the first time since reuniting it feels like your family is broken again. Your eyes stay glued to the table as you wait for their reactions. The only comfort you have is Bucky’s hand in yours. 

“You killed her.” It wasn’t a question or an accusation. Eddie just came to the realization much more quickly than your siblings had. 

“How could you kill her? She was still your mother.” 

“I-It’s complicated. I only wanted to bring her in. I gave her a choice.“

“But you killed her.” Sofia accuses.

“I killed her.” Bucky speaks up and everyone’s attention turns to him. “It was a life or death situation and I had to choose between Lorraine and Y/N. I did what I had to do to protect Y/N.” 

“You couldn’t have knocked her unconscious or something?” 

“She was choking Y/N. If I didn’t act fast this would be a completely different conversation.” Bucky defends himself. “Y/N’s safety was my priority. I’m sorry I really am but I did what I had to do.” 

Sofia gets up first, followed by Joshua and Luke. They take the files you gave them and leave, not saying another word to you. It crushed you to see how Lorraine had broken your family. Finally Eddie gets up and starts to walk out. 

“Dad?” 

“Let me handle this, I’ll talk to you soon.” Your father says and follows your siblings. 

Bucky pulls you into his chest. He comforts you while you cry. He whispers sweet reassurances as he guides you out of the conference room. The kids follow as Bucky takes you home. 

Bucky had ushered the kids into the playroom before pulling you along to your shared room. He didn’t say much as he helped you undress and sent you in to take a shower. Once you walked out Bucky got you into bed. He’d offered to stay with you but you wanted to be alone so he gave you space. 

It had been a difficult few days. Bucky could see the worry and anxiety grow with every moment that you didn’t hear from your father. You paced, you zoned out and you slept, nothing else. Not only was Bucky worried but so were the kids and the team. He’d even taken over making the final decisions on some things for the wedding. Not that he minded but he missed the excitement in your eyes as you talked about how great the day was going to be. All Bucky could do was be there for you, hold you while you cried and reassure you that you did nothing wrong. He shouldered the burden of having killed your mother so that you wouldn’t feel guilty about it for the rest of your life. But if you asked him, he’d do it again as long as it meant that you were safe by his side.

The kids also saw how down you were. They missed their mama. It was actually Henry’s idea to do something to cheer you up. So while you’d been sitting outside at Bucky’s insistence, he and the kids prepared a surprise for you. When you walked into your room you were surprised to find Henry and Lottie running out of your bathroom giggling. 

“What are you up to?” You asked with a small smile for the first time in days. 

“You’re just in time mama. Come look.” 

Henry takes your hand and pulls you into your bathroom. You find Bucky putting some finishing touches to a bubble bath. 

“What is going on?” You ask while looking around at the lit candles and bathtub. 

“We wanted to do something special for you.” Henry says before holding his hand up for you to see what he’s holding. “You can even use my boat so you don’t get bored.” 

“An my duckies mama.” 

You turn around to see Lottie holding up her little basket of rubber duckies. Most of them are dressed as the Avengers, your own duckie included. You wanted to cry again. For as much as you worried that your siblings hated you again, your family was right there showing you all the love you could ever need.

“The-uh you go mama.” Lottie says after dumping the duckies into the bath. 

Bucky ushered the kids out before telling you to relax and giving you a quick kiss.

****

Downstairs Bucky, Henry and Lottie rushed around trying to get another surprise ready for you. This had been Lottie’s idea. She had seen what happened and had been distraught but having you home eased her worries. Now all she wanted was to see her mama happy. 

“Hold this here.” Bucky held up a string of lights for Henry.

“Like this?” 

“Just like that bubs. Doll, grab that pillow and put it over there.” Lottie rushed around doing as she was told. 

The three of them freeze when they hear the door to your room open and close.

“It’s not weady.” Lottie looked at Bucky, panicked.

“I need like a minute. Go distract mama.” Bucky tells Lottie and she rushes out of the living room. 

She finds you at the bottom of the stairs. 

“Mama wook ovuh the-uh.” She points to a random spot behind you. 

You turn to look at the wall and try not to laugh. Then you turn back to look at her with furrowed brows. 

“What am I supposed to be looking at?” 

“Uh,” Lottie looks distraught as she tries to think of something. “It’s just so pwetty?” 

“The wall is pretty?” You say teasingly while looking back at the blank wall. 

You hear whispering but you can’t see where it’s coming from so you assume Henry is just invisible. Lottie looks up at you and smiles. 

“Kay mama come on.” She takes your hand and pulls you in the direction of the living room. 

You stop in your tracks when you see the lights and pillow fort. Bucky and Henry stand in the middle of the room smiling at you. The tv was on and an episode of the Golden Girls was ready to go. 

“Is this for me?” 

“Yeah.” Lottie nods as she looks up at you. “It’s a suwpwise. I don’t wike it when mama is sad.” 

That alone made you want to cry again. Instead you scoop Lottie up and hug her while walking towards Bucky and Henry. They join in on the hug and then you all find a comfortable place to sit. 

Lottie stays on your lap, Bucky sits next to you on the floor while Henry lounges on the couch behind you. He has his arm hanging over your shoulder. Even Alpine joins in for cuddles. The show plays but you can’t focus on it. All you can do is think about your sweet family and the fact that they’d do anything to make you happy the same way you'd do it for them. So you sit back and enjoy the moment pushing all the bad memories from the last few days out of your mind. 

The sun was starting to set as you were all still sitting together in the living room. You’d changed the show for a movie while the kids did some coloring. Your head was resting against Bucky’s shoulder as you yawned. Bucky was just about to suggest calling it a night when the doorbell rang. 

“Who the hell could it be at this hour?” Bucky mutters as he stands and makes his way to the door. 

There’s a hushed conversation before Bucky walks back. Behind him is Eddie. You tense and immediately you turn your gaze away from him. The kids, who usually ran towards their grandfather, stayed put. Everyone could feel the heaviness in the air. 

“Can we talk?” Is all your father asks so you get up and lead him outside to the back porch. 

Both of you sit in silence side by side, not knowing what to say. His expression was unreadable. It was one of the few times he ever concealed his feelings from you.

“How are they?” 

“How are you?” 

You asked at the same time. Eddie looked over at you, taking in your profile. He could see the tension in your shoulders and the way you clenched your jaw. He could see how exhausted you were. 

“Kitten.” Eddie said softly and you finally looked at him. You had never seen him look this tired or defeated. 

“How are they?” 

“Upset, confused, angry.” 

You nod and look away. “I’m sorry for not saying anything but you have to understand why I did what I did.” 

Eddie pats your shoulder before pulling you in for a hug. This time you don’t cry though. You’re done crying over this. 

“Kitten, I’m not blaming you.”

“They are. And I get it, I do. I’d also understand if you did too. She was your wife and you were together for so long.” 

“That woman was not my wife.” Eddie says. His tone is sad but resigned. “I was married to a stranger my whole life. She was a great actress though, I’ll tell you that much.”

You didn’t reply. What could you possibly say to him to ease the pain he was surely feeling? 

“Lorraine brought this on herself. As long as you tried to bring her in, alive, you have nothing to feel guilty about. She wasn’t a good person, kitten. I can see that now. You did what you had to do as an Avenger trying to protect innocent people and then as a mother trying to protect your family. You gave her a choice and she chose wrong. That doesn’t fall on you.”

“Thanks dad.” You say between quiet sniffles. He hugs you tighter. “As long as you don’t hate me.” 

“I could never hate you, you’re my girl.” 

You close your eyes and smile. He’s told you that all your life. The two of you sit in comfortable silence, holding each other and watching the sunset. 

“The funeral is tomorrow.” He said quietly, long after the last rays of sun had disappeared. 

“Oh.” 

“You should come, be there for your siblings. I think it could be good for the four of you.” 

“It wouldn’t.” You pull away from him. “She was their mother, not mine. I think I would just make it worse by showing up.” 

Eddie nods. “I understand, Kitten. I thought I would offer just in case. But don’t worry, your siblings will come around soon. They love you all.” He pats your thigh before getting up. 

You have one question. But you aren’t sure if you should ask. If it’s even appropriate. But seeing as your father knew you well, he stops before opening the door and turns to you again. 

“I hope this doesn’t change anything for the wedding. I’d still love to walk you down the aisle.” 

You look up at him, tears in your eyes and a smile on your lips. You give him a small nod. Eddie gets closer again and places a kiss on your forehead and leaves. 

Inside, Bucky meets Eddie at the bottom of the stairs after putting the kids to bed. Eddie stretches his hand to Bucky who seems surprised at the gesture.

“Thank you for bringing her back.” 

“Of course. I know it must be hard on Luke, Joshua and Sofia to just accept the death of their mother and not be able to bury her.” 

Eddie looks at Bucky confused before shaking his head. “No, I meant Y/N. I knew you’d keep her safe.” 

“With my life Ed. Listen about Lorraine- I really didn’t-“ 

Eddie raises a hand to stop Bucky. “You don’t have to explain yourself, you were protecting our girl, that’s all that matters. From what I’ve read in those files, she had it coming. If you hadn’t done it Lorraine would have kept coming after her. You not only kept Y/N safe but the rest of my family.” Eddie places a hand on Bucky’s shoulder and looks him in the eye. “You protected our family. Never apologize or feel guilty about it.” 

Bucky only nods understanding that Eddie was including him as part of his family.

“To be honest, and I mean this in the best way possible, I’m glad it was you that did it and not her. She would have carried that guilt for the rest of her life.”

“I’d do it again, if I had to.” Bucky reassures the man in front of him. 

“Good. Well I’ll get going now. See you at the wedding.” 

Bucky smiles and nods, following Eddie to the door and closing it behind the older man. When he turns he sees you walking around and turning off lights before making your way towards him. He smiles as you throw yourself into his arms. 

“Let’s go to bed.” He says softly, feeling as you take a deep breath and exhale. 

You practically melt against Bucky as you nod. Bucky kisses the top of your head as his hold on you tightens. He doesn’t let you go, instead Bucky leans down and hooks his hands around the back of your knees. You wrap your legs around his waist as he makes his way up the stairs while carrying you to your shared room. 

Bucky lays you down and you laugh while he tucks you in. “Do you want me to read you a bedtime story?” 

“Shut up and get in bed.” 

“I keep telling you this is where Charlotte gets her attitude from.” Bucky mutters as he takes off his shirt and settles beside you. 

You laugh as Bucky pulls you closer. With a sigh you lay your head on Bucky’s chest. 

“Is everything ok?” He asks.

“I guess. The funeral is tomorrow.” 

“Do you want to go?” 

“No. I’m done with everything that has to do with Lorraine. I have more important things to focus on.” 

“Yeah?” Bucky looks down at you and smiles. “Like what?”

“Like marrying the love of my life.”

“Well that does sound like it’s super important.”

“It is.” You snuggle closer to Bucky. “I can’t wait to marry you.” 

“I can’t wait either, Sugar.” 

Ch. 39

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[streamafterlaughter]

Soundtrack to Disaster

Chapter I: I Can Still Hold A Knife

masterlist | playlist | pinboard | prev.

song(s) for this chapter: funny you should ask - the front bottoms

a/n: aaaaaand we’re off! Thanks for joining me on yet another can of worms i’ve opened! use comments/ask box to join the…

tag list: @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @kellsck @faggotinie @xplrnowornever

chapter tags: language, swearing | fic tags: enemies to friends to lovers, slow burn, modern!au, angst, time jumps, fem!oc!reader x eddie munson. this fic is rated 18+ MDNI

DISCLAIMER: I do not consent to having my work fed to AI engines, or reposted in any way, shape, or form on other websites. Unless otherwise stated, this is the only account that features and contains this work, and any replication was done without my consent. Please let me know if you see my work elsewhere. Reblog to support authors!

—

present day

The Hideout is busier than usual for a Saturday. The floors are slightly stickier, more drinks spilled than swallowed by your usual crowd of drunks, and it’s a lot louder. It’s partially your doing; the virtual fliers are plastered all over the bar’s socials, reading WELCOME HOME CHRIS in big, block letters over a picture of your brother smiling widely, a beer in one hand and a joint in the other. The last few years had been hard for you without him, but compared to your shared group of friends, you’d probably had the easiest time.

The day he’d gotten arrested, you were moving into your apartment across town, finally out from under your parents’ roof after repeatedly assuring them you’d be extra careful. It wasn’t that they didn’t trust you, but they were extra protective of their only daughter. The hovering only increased when Chris got locked up.

In the six years without him, though, you’ve grown into your independence, adapting to the abandonment with ease, resentment festering in your gut.

”Beebs!” Your mother summons you back to the present with her affectionate nickname, and you pivot to where she stands on the stage, adjusting the mic stand.

”Yeah, Ma?”

”Can you come check the levels for me, dear? I gotta sign for the cake.”

You nod, and take her place onstage, mumbling into the microphone while Mark plays on the soundboard. Eventually, he gives you the thumbs up, and you retreat back behind the bar before any of the regulars can start a conversation.

-

“Okay, Chris just called, he’s five minutes away!” Your mom makes the announcement to your guests with false confidence. You know your mother, and she’d never admit it, but she’s one hundred percent freaking out about your brother coming home. Her only son, her firstborn, possibly destroyed by the traumas of prison. You won’t be the one to tell he was probably running the place after six months. The guests, Chris’s friends as well as yours, take their hiding positions as your mother goes about dimming the lights. You duck behind the bar as your heart rate increases, your throat closing, body shaking.

“He’s coming!” Someone whisper-yells, and follows it with a “SHHH!”

You hear the door creaking as it swings open. “Ma? Why’s the light off—?”

”WELCOME HOME, CHRIS!” The room erupts in cheers as the lights are flicked on, revealing what you can only assume is your big brother, standing in the doorway. He’s bigger, more muscular than the day he’d left, but he still wears that smug grin and that eager mischief in his green eyes. The smile on his face stretches when he catches your eye, and you can’t help but return it with a big, cheesy one of your own. He turns to your mother, enveloping her in a suffocating hug before turning to where you stand.”Hi, Beebs.”

You roll your eyes as he smothers you in a hug. “I’m too old for that nickname.” You mumble it unconvincingly into his jacket.

“Oh, my apologies. What would you like me to call you?”

You ignore him, instead inhaling your brother’s familiar scent of smoke and leather. “I missed you, Crispy.”

“Missed you too, kiddo.”

-

Two hours later, and the party’s still in full swing. It seems the entire town has stopped by to congratulate your brother on his freedom, despite half of Hawkins’ residents despising him. You’re tending bar, trying to keep track of who you’ve already cut off, and which patrons are on which tabs. Cold glasses leave condensation behind on the sticky wooden counter, The Hideout has never been fancy enough for coasters.

The doors swing open again, and the faces you’ve yearned for all night enter your eye line. You can’t help but squeal as you run from behind the bar as your mom begins taking your friends’ coats.

“Oh my god, Bee!” Robin Buckley opens her arms and you practically fall into them. “It’s so good to see you, what’s it been? A hundred years?”

You snicker. “Close! Six weeks.” You let go and move to the man next to her. “Hi, handsome.” You wrap your arms around Steve Harrington’s waist, and he drapes his around your head.

“Hey, beautiful. How’s your dad?”

“He’s good, the usual.” Your parents had divorced shortly after Chris’s arrest, your dad moving to New York to escape the judgment of the neighbors.

You soak in the sight of your friends, beaming at them. They haven’t changed a bit, save maybe for a haircut and a few more smile lines on their pretty faces. You can’t imagine how you must appear to them, face worn with age and worry.

Before you can catch up, though, the bar door flies open again. The sight before you knocks the wind from your lungs, your jaw unhinged and falling to the floor. Your tongue feels heavy, uncomfortable in your mouth, and your palms start to sweat. A vision of faded denim and worn leather, noisy chains clanking on his jeans, silver gaudy rings catching the dim lights of the bar as he nervously wrings his hands together. His hair is windblown, and an unlit cigarette is clenched between slightly crooked teeth. The bar has gone almost completely silent.

“Hey, everyone.” Eddie Munson finally speaks, and your fists clench.

“Now that feels like a hundred years ago.” Steve mumbles, and Robin stabs him with her elbow.

-

It takes everything in you not to scream as you approach your mother, who’s taken your place behind the bar to satiate the patrons no longer interested in your brother’s arrival.

“Mom!”

“Hi, baby! Can you come help me back here?” She’s fighting with the soda nozzle. “I think this one’s empty.”

“Mom, why is he here?” You’re speaking low, afraid of someone overhearing.

“Why is who here? You’ll have to be more specific, dear.”

“Please don’t play stupid. Why is Eddie here?”

Your question stops her fiddling with the soda gun. “Eddie’s here?”

You gape at her, practically seething. “He walked in like ten minutes ago!”

“Honey, I had no idea he’d show up! Chris must have invited him. Are you alright?”

It puts you at ease knowing your mom had nothing to do with this sabotage, but you’re filled with rage at hearing your brother might have. “I’ll be fine. Leave it to Chris to piss me off as soon as he’s a free man.” You take the soda nozzle from your mother, needing to let out your aggression. You shake it like you would a snake attempting to sink its teeth into your flesh, wrestling with the piece until something gives, spraying club soda all over you and the bar top. “Shit!” You throw it down, and it continues releasing into the space around you, as if aiming for your wet, sticky downfall. “God dammit.”

Your mother bites her top lip, holding back a cackle. “I think we lost this battle, babes.”

“Ma!” He hops over the counter, less than gracefully, landing right in the puddle. “You cool if we play a couple? For old time’s sake?” Chris widens his eyes, giving your mother his best sad puppy look.

Your mother rolls her eyes. “Only if your sister’s okay with it.”

You drop your jaw in mock offense. “Why me?!”

“Please, Birdie!” Chris turns to you, that same stupid look on his face. “I know you miss it too.”

You groan, caving to your brother’s wish. “Fine! But I’m staying at the bar.”

He chuckles at you. “Yeah, we’ll see about that!” And he’s off, gathering his friends by the side of the stage. You look to your mother, who only motions to the crowd forming as Chris climbs on to the stage. Behind him are three more boys clad in denim and leather, chains and zippers catching the lights. You catch Robin and Steve making their way into the crowd, and you follow them before you can think better of it. They greet you with a cheer, Robin with a slightly cocked eyebrow. “How’d they convince you to come over here?”

You scoff. “Chris pulled the got out of jail card.” It earns a laugh from your friends.

“Hello, Hideout!” Chris speaks into the mic, earning the attention from the whole room. “My name is Chris L/n, and as of this morning, I’m a free man, baby!” The room shakes with whoops and hollers, wolf whistles of approval, or just drunk excitement. You clap along, heart thumping irrationally out of your chest for a reason you can’t pinpoint, that is until the house lights dim.

Chris, though charismatic and charming, is not a front man. When he’s on that stage, he’s the brother you remember; focused, driven, passionate. You’ve never seen someone play the drums like him, never been so interested in the drummer until you had a chance to watch your brother. When he sits behind his kit, though, the attention of the crowd is drawn elsewhere.

You're not special, you know that. Just like everyone else, you can’t help but watch the spectacle in front of you. The spotlight hits him as he climbs the stairs, guitar draped across his torso, frizzy curls already stuck to his skin with sweat. You clench your fists, nails digging into your flesh to ground yourself. He approaches the microphone as the music swells, a drumroll building as distorted guitars wail in unison.

“It is so nice to see all of your familiar, sweaty faces.” He starts, voice low and breathy, and you roll your eyes at his dramatics. “Welcome to the show. My name is Eddie. We are Corroded Coffin, thanks for comin’ out!” They go into their first song, and the crowd starts jumping, hands in the air. Even Robin, who’s stood by you these past six years, is letting her guard down, head bobbing to the rhythm. You try not to glare at your best friend, you know she can’t help it. You barely can, the music is painfully difficult not to move to.

It’s then he catches you, far too close to the stage to avoid his eyeline. “I see you, Bird. I know you wanna dance.” Robin nudges you, nose wrinkled with glee as you let the tension melt, head rocking back and forth as the music swells to its peak, signaling the end of the antics. Chris crashes his symbols, and they fade seamlessly into the first song, successfully convincing the crowd to move. A pit opens up towards the back, and you stand on the edge as Steve and Robin two step together, smiles stretched across their faces.

-

It’s 2am when you ring the last call bell, only to be answered with disappointed groans. You start pouring ice water into tiny cups, lining the bar with them for the exiting crowd. When the last stragglers step over the threshold, you’re approached from behind.

“Need some help cleanin’ up?” The voice sends a chill down your spine, so close you feel his breath on your neck.

Normally, you’d insist you didn’t want his help, but it was a busy, rowdy night. Your shoes stick to the floor, and you could use an extra set of hands, regardless of house calloused.

“Grab a rag.” You lazily point to the sink behind you, and Eddie eagerly hops to it.

“You like the set tonight?” He’s talking to you. Why is he talking to you? You respond with a “Hmm,” suddenly extremely interested in cleaning the bar.

“Felt pretty good to be back up there, y’know with the whole band.” You don’t respond, scrubbing a particularly sticky spot on the edge of the counter. “Saw you dancin’ out there. You look good. It’s nice to see you.”

You snap. “Enough. Stop talking to me. Clean the damn counter.” He chuckles, fucking giggles. Your irritation doesn’t phase him, but he obliges and sprays the counter down. The rest of the night is spent in silence, save for the low music humming from the house speakers.

-

“Get home safe, Tweety.” He has the gall to use the nickname he’d given you in high school, rolling off his tongue like an old friend. Before you can respond, he’s crossing the street to where his van is parked, cigarette hanging between his lips. When you’re sure he’s out of earshot, you let out a guttural groan, effectively shredding your vocal cords for the rest of the night.

Once in your car, your safe place, you scream.

[hischierswhore]

JUNO PERFORMANCE

warnings: slightly suggestive content (insinuations of it)

author's note: this is inspired by this segment of sabrina's concert. also this is part 1, there will be a part 2 eventually :)

You jog towards the center of the stage to your designated spot for this bit of the show. You quickly adjust your hair just as the lights dim, as you barely had enough time before the spotlight snaps back on and focuses on you once more.  

“How is everyone doing tonight?” You shout into the mic, and an eruption of cheers comes from the audience. You smile as you slowly pace the stage, trying to kill some time before starting the next skit. “I’m so glad you’re all enjoying yourselves!” Your eyes sweep the crowd as you speak, and then they land on him: Nico. He’s standing in the VIP tent with a pastel pink VIP pass around his neck. He’s wearing that baby blue polo shirt you love on him. He’s surrounded by your brothers, his fellow teammates, and your parents. When his eyes meet yours, he sends a little wave towards you, and you can’t help the smile that forms on your lips.

As you tear your gaze from him and turn towards the other side of the stage, you continue your little speech. “I just want to thank you all for coming tonight!” The crowd roars in response, and you take it all in for a moment before heading back to where you previously stood near the tent. Your steps became slower and more deliberate. You were given the queue to begin this skit through your in-ears. 

You stop at the edge of the stage closest to the VIP tent as your heart thumps. This bit always made you nervous, but you felt more nervous now than all the times before. 

“Oh my god, girls, come quick!” You exclaim, signaling toward your backup dancers to come to you. “I think I just saw my future husband!”

The crowd screams in excitement at your statement. You watch as they all look around to try & figure out who you’re referring to. Mia and Kate, your backup dancers, do a little jog over to where you stood. Mia pulled the fuzzy pink handcuffs out from her pocket and began twirling them in her hands.

You dramatically point at Nico, your grin widening as you watch his face go white at the sudden attention. “Look at him right there!” You say before looking back at Mia and Kate, who are doing their best to hide their extremely surprised expressions at your selection.

“Oh my god,” You breathe out, dramatically fanning yourself as the crowd’s cheers grow louder, still clueless about who you picked. Nico’s face is completely red now. 

“Sir, you are under arrest for being too hot,” You say as you simultaneously bite your lip and giggle while the red and blue lights flash across the arena. The audience goes wild.

You lock eyes with your boyfriend once more. “What’s your name?” You ask playfully. The jumbotron and main screen on the stage switch to a view of the crowd, slowly panning as it finds your chosen “suspect” for the night, building up the suspense.

Being Nico, he’s embarrassed at all the attention he currently has on him. Not to worry though, the rest of the Devils in the tent shout towards the stage “Nico!”

“Nico!” You shout back, fanning yourself once again. Your reaction makes the crowd scream even louder. The camera zooms in on his face, and the arena erupts in cheers and claps as the fans finally catch on to who exactly you’ve chosen.

“Nico what?” You ask, pointing the mic in his direction, despite it not being able to pick up any audio coming from him. He jokingly rolls his eyes, a smile spreading across his lips, before shouting, “Hischier!”

You  let out a little giggle before dramatically exclaiming, “Y/n Hischier!” You hold your hand up, examining your ring finger as if imagining the size 6 wedding band already there. The fans are beside themselves, giggling along with you.

“Y/n Hischier’s got a nice ring to it, don’t you agree girls?” You watch as Mia & Kate nod their heads playfully and laugh through the bit. “I’m thinking so many dirty things right now. The polo, the hair, the eyes, the beard—oh!” With a dramatic gasp, you watch as your maxi skirt drops to the floor, revealing your matching mini skirt. “Oh my gosh, my clothes are falling off for you, Nico!”

Mia hands you the pink fuzzy handcuffs, and you crouch down to hand them to the security guard. “Hand these to the gorgeous man in the tent” He remains stone-faced as he hands them to your boyfriend. “These are for you, cutie,” You say before blowing a kiss in his direction, earning even louder screams from the crowd.

You stand back up, flipping your hair over your shoulder as you walk to the top of the main stage. “Jersey, help me sing this song for my new husband Nico!” You scream into the mic. The intro to “Juno” begins to play and the crowd’s energy is at an all-time high as you prepare to give this performance your all.

“Also, Mom, Dad, and my brothers, you might wanna turn around for this next song” You wink towards the tent before getting into position. 

As you reach the pre-chorus, you lock eyes with Nico again, the playful smirk painted across your lips never faltering. You dance across the stage, your body doing the choreography involuntarily at this point.

"You make me wanna make you fall in love..." You sing as the crowd sings along, but you’re only focused on Nico. “Oh, I hear you knocking, Nico. Come on up!”

Your lips curl into a grin as you reach the next verse, "Wanna try out some freaky positions?" You hold the mic in one hand as you run to the elevating heart platform of the stage, quickly dropping into an undeniably suggestive pose. You lock eyes with Nico, and his eyes widen and a blush spreads across his face once more. 

"Have you ever tried this one?” You hold eye contact with Nico & bite your lip before coming up to rest on your knees to hit the next note. 

The crowd is losing their minds at the interaction. You wink at him, standing up slowly to continue the song. 

The lights begin to dim as the final chords of Juno play out, and you blow Nico a final kiss before stepping off the platform. You can feel his eyes on you, even as the roar of the crowd increases.

“New Jersey, thank you so much for tonight! I had the time of my life with you all. I’ll be back soon!” You yell into the mic as glitter falls to the floor.

The energy backstage is at an all-time high, but you just want to see Nico. You spot him the second you step backstage, leaning against the door to your dressing room.

"You were amazing out there," Nico mutters into your ear as he engulfs you in a hug. 

"You liked it?” You smiled into his chest before pulling back. “Of course I did. The guys were in there dancing and everything. And a certain someone was having a bit of fun teasing me mid-performance” He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips before opening your dressing room and shutting it after you. 

"Couldn’t help it. Plus I think you enjoyed my teasing" Your voice drops to a whisper as you wrap your arms around his neck. He smirks, his hands settling on your hips as he pulls you even closer. "Maybe," he says, his voice low. "But you owe me for putting me through that in front of everyone".

“Well that was already part of my plan”

taglist: @lovelynikol7 @ashloveshockey @chiblackhawks @puckinghischier

if you’d like to be added to the taglist, let me know !

[cheriladycl01]

Better than me - Charles Leclerc x Reader Part 1

Plot: You are a rookie in your first f1 season, adding to the ever-growing amount of Brits performing in the grid.

"And we here at Audi on our debut into Formula One are happy to announce our line up for this year. We have taken on Alexander Albon, and a new driver from the last F2 season to keep the youth of the grid, Y/N Y/L/N, the first female Formula One driver of the century" Andreas Seidl announces and cameras flash all around the press conference.

"So Alex is moving from Williams to an Audi, after not having a great seasons from 2021 in his reserve roll in Red Bull to him moving down as a Williams driver, why have you put your trust in a driver that hasn't been performing?" the interviewer asked. Andreas shuffles in his seat a little leaning closer to the mic.

"Well Alex's performance in Red Bull were phenomenal especially for a rookie. Unfortunately Red Bull decided to pull their finances into one car and one driver which led to Max over-powering many of his team-mates, which was one of the reasons Ricciardo switched to Renault. We want to give Alex the chance to prove his skills in a well-made car that once on the track will rival the Red Bull, Mercedes and Ferrari's" Andreas says looking towards Christian Horner who didn't look pleased at all.

"It's good to see Albon given the chance, as we saw George Russell improve the minute he joined Lewis Hamilton in Mercedes. There's also talk that there was an offers for Lando Norris and Charles Leclerc what happened there" another question is thrown out.

"We sent offers to anyone we thought would benefit from a contract with us, so Leclerc and Norris were both on that list"

"And you ended up choosing Albon, or were the offers rejected?"

"We chose Alexander before Norris and Leclerc turned the offer down. Norris is out-performing in his McLaren and as part of their young drivers scheme, he wants a win for them before ever moving on if he does. For now he is comfortable there. As far as Leclerc goes, he has dreams in Ferrari that they unfortunately aren't helping him pursue, which we hoped we could. The Volkswagen Group is an open arms family and our relationships with all drivers are ones we hold a lot of respect for" he explains nodding at the man who was asking the questions.

"Obviously Audi have now not only kept up with the youth of the grid but have added the first female since Lella Lombardi. Where did this choice come from, and did the other drivers know before today?" he pushes and Andreas smiles looking over towards you at the back of the room, hidden by your Audi cap.

"Well, she won the last F2 championship and she's a very promising driver, she has a degree that she completed three years ago in Aerodynamic Engineering and has some great opinions on her car and knows it very well. I'm sure her rookie season will be one nobody will want to miss" he smirks and the cameras click for more photos, you could already see the amount of headlines.

Now it was time for your first race of the season. Your first race was Bahrain and you were extremely nervous, you could see the camera on your left filming you as you pulled up the fireproof race suit over your shoulders. The mix of red and white fabric had your sponsors over it, as well as the four rings of your teams logo.

You eventually got into the car rubbing your hands together waiting to be handed the wheel by an crew member. You check that you radio is working with your engineer and give the pit crew a nod.

"Okay lets make this a good lap! Looking to try and get P12 or up" your engineer voices as you as you come out of the pits.

You had a good start, going into turn one slower, wanting to just test the waters. Turn two and three were similar, the car was wider and more powerful than that of an F2 car and even pre-season testing didn't help settle your nerves.

"Need to speed up on this straight to make up the time from the turns, stop overthinking and just drive. We believe in you" you hear your engineer and release a breath that you didn't even realize you were holding. You fly down the straight managing to still keep up quiet the speak into the sharp turn 4.

"Coming into sector 2 now, your currently in a predicted 14th place so we really need to catch up in Sector 2" he explains again.

You speed round the turns up until the hairpin on 8, breaking later and managing to overtake Russell who was slightly ahead of you on the track.

"Nice Y/N, you've got Lawson and Ocon ahead of you, if you can catch up to them you'll be in the top 10. Lets get you flat out on that straight in sector 3 yeah?"

As you get through the second hairpin with a little skidding from your misjudgment and managed to make up for time in turns 11,12 and 13 before putting your foot down so you sailed down the straight.

After another go you were called back to the pits.

"Well done, you got P9. That's amazing for your first drive"

"What position was Alex in?" you ask, hoping your team mate was getting on well in his new car.

"He was P4, Hamilton, Leclerc and Perez all infront of him, Verstappen P5 along with Norris, Piastri and Alonso just a few seconds ahead of your time. Wonderful driving" he says as you pull into the pit. You jump out the car, looking to see who was now out and didn't make it into Q2.

"Well done Y/N, you did do well! P9 is crazy!" Alex said rushing up to you pulling you into a teammate hug.

"Let's go get a drink, you wanna go toilet?" Zahara one of the crew asks. I nodded immediately realizing how i hadn't gone to the toilet before hand.

Q2 went a little worse, you crawled in P11, not making it into Q3. You'd made the typical rookie mistakes which is what angered you the most. You slapped you hands onto your halo in annoyance as your engineer tried to explain that P11 was amazing for a rookie, and if you had a good pace tomorrow you'd be able to get within the top 10.

You watched Alex compete for his position headphones on and seeing his overtake Norris who was currently in P5.

Eventually tomorrows start was set, Leclerc P1, Hamilton P2, Perez P3, Sainz P4, Alex P5, Verstappen P6, Norris P7, Russell P8, Piastri P9 and in P10 ahead of you was Alonso, he wouldn't make it easy for you tomorrow.

You hug Alex, congratulating him on a great start to the weekend and a great start to this season. You headed to your drivers room, changing out of your suit and into your Audi shirt and shorts. You head out and get to your R8, a benefit of working for the Audi team.

"Hey, Y/N right?" a voice calls you before you can even open the door to the car. You whirl round, worried it was a fan that had somehow managed to follow you to the carpark. In turn you actually saw the racer who finished in P1 today, Charles Leclerc.

"Oh, hello" you smile nodding you head down awkwardly in greeting.

"I just wanted to let you know, you did well, this wasn't my first race in F1 Australia was but you finished ahead of where i was in 2018, so take this as a win" he smiles placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

"Oh, thank you. I didn't even think I'd be here this year, I was shocked when Audi reached out to me. I'm just annoyed at the mistakes i made in Q2, I could have made it to Q3 if I had just ..." you admitted softly, until he interrupts you.

"You've already had your debrief and you know what you did wrong, move on from it and come back tomorrow and get into the top 10" he smiles at you. He starts to walk away but stops when your hand wraps round his wrist.

"Thank you Charles, i needed to hear that. Congrats on P1 today, see you on the track tomorrow" you smile, letting go of his wrist before jumping into your car. You sighed revving the engine, thinking of the kindness you'd just been shown. You knew that people would probably be looking for you from other teams, as most people were still there but everything was a little overwhelming for you right now.

[blacktofade]

Gemtho (rpf) prompt: mutual masturbation over discord audio calls (but no video)

Happy Friday! I probably should've posted this on AO3 since it's so long, but I'm lazy. Enjoy the spice!

---

Etho’s the only other person on the server when Gem logs in, which feels about right.

Uh oh, he writes in chat, quickly followed by, Can’t sleep?

No, she types back, thought I’d make good use of my time.

She’s actually been awake since three that morning, but after forty minutes of tossing and turning, she’d got up.

Group? he asks, and she eyes her microphone wearily.

Six months ago, she would’ve easily said no, but since the end of the last season, it’s felt like Etho’s found more and more ways for them to hang out and talk — something she enjoys more than she probably should.

When she checks the audio options, he’s already in a voice chat, just waiting for her to join.

She sighs, dragging her mic closer and unmuting.

“Hey,” she says quietly, well aware that she has a bad case of morning voice.

“Hey hey,” he answers, not sounding at all tired. “Can’t sleep?”

It doesn’t seem to matter that he’s just typed it.

She yawns. “Nope. Jetlag. You still up? What are you working on?”

He hums distractedly, not answering. “Sometimes a warm drink helps.”

“Yeah,” she agrees, gaze sliding across to her almost empty mug of tea, which hasn’t helped at all.

“Or maybe some of that meditation stuff.”

Gem snorts quietly. “Yeah, maybe.”

She’s sorting through shulkers, trying to find the items she’ll need for the build she’s planning to work on.

“Or something to tire yourself.”

“Didn’t know you were in the business of offering free advice,” she tells him after a moment. “I should’ve joined the server earlier.”

Etho lets out a breath of laughter. He’s used to her teasing now.

“You think I’m just gonna start doing jumping jacks in my office?” she asks when he doesn’t defend himself and she almost startles when she turns the camera away from her shulker and finds his character lingering nearby in her storage room.

He’s found her.

“No,” he says and she hums thoughtfully, moving her character around him to get to her chests.

“Push ups?”

“There are other ways to tire yourself,” he tells her. “It doesn’t have to be exercise.”

For a long moment, the suggestion of his words doesn’t even register.

But then it does.

She laughs before she can stop herself, and when he lets out his signature laugh — low and breathy — she realizes he said it purposefully. It’s not just unfortunate phrasing.

Worst of all, there’s still no one else online, no one else who might overhear. That’s a joke specifically for her.

“That’s inappropriate,” she tells him, heart fluttering, and when she moves her character, the head of his shifts, following her with his gaze.

He laughs again, like he's well aware, and it makes her want to get him on the back foot.

“What makes you think I haven't tried something already?”

That shuts him up. But as she continues moving around, he still watches her.

“Because you’re here,” he says eventually. “It sends me to sleep almost every time.” 

Gem freezes, doesn't dare breathe or make a sound, but as much as she’s trying to stay calm, all she can think about is Etho tossing and turning in his own bed.

She wonders how long he usually lasts before he gives in and slips a hand into his underwear.

“I shouldn't have said that,” he says, voice strange, and his character doesn't move, like maybe he's taken his hands off his mouse and keyboard. Maybe touching his face in embarrassment or regret. “I'm sorry, Gem.”

The words continue to buzz around inside Gem's head.

Of course Etho jerks off. He’s only human. As a single woman, Gem understands more than anyone. Masturbation is normal.

But the confirmation that Etho isn't some faceless, sexless being…

Gem presses her thighs together.

“Are you still there?” he asks after a moment, and his voice is tentative, unsure.

Gem swallows and takes a leap of faith.

“Almost every time?” she asks, bravado paper-thin. “With results that good, I should try it, huh?”

His silence is pointed and Gem shuts her eyes, hoping for the best.

If he doesn't immediately log off and leave her hanging, maybe she'll finally get an answer for whether or not what he's been doing over the last few months could be considered flirting.

If he's into her, he might let her push things as far as she can.

“If you’re that tired,” he says, clearly aiming for nonchalance, but his voice is tight, “it's worth a shot.”

“Okay,” she agrees, like it's the easiest thing she's done all day.

Etho's character continues to stare at her, and not for the first time, she wonders what his expression is behind the screen.

She wonders if he’s imagining her with a hand between her legs.

“If I log back on, you'll know it didn't help.”

She opens up her game options, ready to disconnect from the server.

“You don't have to log off,” he tells her and Gem suddenly can't breathe.

“I — ” she starts without finding direction. “Yes I do. People — ”

“No one will hear,” Etho says as though reading her mind. “We're in a closed group.”

She thinks that might count as premeditation.

He got her alone in a closed group.

Though Etho would have to assume she wouldn’t back down from his suggestion, that they would end up at this moment.

A heavy silence fills the voice chat and Gem hesitates, starting to make assumptions.

Because there’s a strong insinuation that although other people shouldn’t overhear her, Etho should.

But Gem isn’t going to jump to conclusions. Not with this.

“Should I mute?” she asks after a long moment. “Is that what you want?”

“No,” he says, so definitively that Gem knows his panic was for show. For in case she immediately rebuffed him and he needed to backpedal.

This most likely is all going according to plan for him.

She feels lightheaded, and more awake than ever; the opposite of what she’d been searching for.

She swallows, one hand coming up to her braid, a nervous habit.

“Unless you want to,” Etho offers, like a liferaft in an endless ocean.

He’s giving her an out.

But Gem thinks she’d be stupid to pass up the opportunity.

“Give me a minute,” she says, and she’s up, away from her desk before Etho can even respond.

She heads upstairs, heart racing, hands shaking as she makes it to her bedroom, pulling open the bottom drawer of her nightstand. She doesn’t have a huge toy collection, but she has a vibe she knows will make her come quick and easy — something she thinks she'll need knowing Etho will be listening.

She’s never done this for anyone before. She doesn’t want to get halfway through and realize she has to fake it.

She almost expects Etho to have dropped from the voice group when she returns, maybe too much time alone with his thoughts, to realize how stupid they're about to be. But his character is still motionless in the corner of her storage room, his icon still on the left side of her screen, ringed with white, as though his mic is picking up noise she can’t hear.

“Back,” she exhales, trying to cover up how out of breath she feels from running up and down her stairs.

“Second thoughts?” he asks, like a challenge and she shakes her head before realizing he can’t see.

“Grabbed something to help.”

He doesn’t have a reply for that — which pleases her — and she wonders what he’s imagining. Probably something large and obscene.

She checks the server list again, a last ditch effort to judge the risk of being caught, but it’s still only the two of them online.

Carefully, she shifts in her chair, nudging at her sweatpants and underwear, knowing if she stops to think about it, she’ll lose her nerve.

“You should — ” he begins, voice rough, sounding a little uncertain, as though not sure if he’s actually allowed to speak.

“What?” she asks, spreading her legs, one hand on her bare thigh, not daring to touch herself yet.

“Adjust your mic,” he says. “The settings.”

“What?” she repeats. “Why?”

“Disable the noise canceling.”

Gem’s stomach flips. He wants to hear everything.

“I don’t — ” she says, not sure what she's trying to argue, because she's already shifting to her other monitor to pull up the settings.

“What mic do you have?” Etho asks. “I can look up how to — ”

He's definitely more desperate than she is.

“I got it,” she tells him, and she does.

She disables everything, increasing some of the levels, even knowing it’ll be a pain in the ass to reconfigure later for her videos. At that moment, it doesn’t seem to matter. She needs to give Etho everything he wants before he changes his mind.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” she says and he grunts, but doesn’t complain.

She sets her hand back on her thigh, adjusting to get more comfortable.

When she finally touches herself, she’s not surprised that she’s already wet, but she’s surprised by how much she wants it, how good it feels even with the numbing nervousness of having Etho right there.

She exhales shakily and Etho makes a soft noise.

She draws the arm of her mic down, closer to her lap, working at herself and hoping Etho can actually hear.

“Is that okay?” she asks quietly, out of breath, but he doesn’t answer.

Instead, she suddenly hears him exhale — not particularly loudly, but like he’s done it directly into her ear — and she realizes he must’ve turned off the noise suppression of his own mic.

She shuts her eyes, head tipping back against her chair as she lets herself imagine what he might be doing. What he might want her to hear in return.

She slips two fingers into herself, the noise of it loud with how wet she is now.

“You sound — ” Etho starts, confirmation that he can hear too, but he doesn’t finish the thought, doesn’t tell her how she sounds. She just has to hope it’s what he wants.

Etho’s breathing stutters and she has the sudden realization that he really is touching himself while listening to her.

For some reason, she never assumed it would be reciprocated. She thought he just wanted to listen.

But there’s an unmistakable noise in the background of his mic.

She can hear the sound of him jerking off.

“Oh god,” she whispers, knowing she won’t need her vibe to get her the rest of the way there.

Just knowing Etho is on the other end of their call, touching himself because of her — that’s enough.

She moves her hand faster, and she’s always quiet while masturbating — an unlearned habit from living with other people — but she lets soft ahs escape her every time her fingers shove in as deep as they can get. She wants him to hear, to know how good it feels.

“Are you,” Etho starts, pausing as though swallowing or maybe trying to catch his breath. “Are you using the sex toy?”

“No,” Gem tells him. “Just my fingers.”

He lets out a noise Gem’s never heard him make before and Gem finds herself squeezing around her knuckles, wishing they were his instead.

“I want to see,” he says, and Gem thinks if he pushes, is insistent enough, she might actually be stupid enough to send him something.

“Use your imagination.”

She smooths the pad of her thumb across her clit and knows she’s close.

“I am,” he promises and she can hear how wet he sounds, how easy his strokes are.

Whatever he’s thinking, it’s good.

“Etho,” she pleads, because she has no idea what to imagine for him, but she wants him to have broad hands, long fingers, a cock big enough to satisfy her. “Tell me to — ”

She can’t get the words out, but it doesn’t matter.

“Let me hear you, Gem,” Etho says.

She doesn’t stand a chance.

She comes, three fingers stuffed deep, palm rubbing over her clit, shaking her way through an orgasm that has no right being as good as it is at five in the morning.

She pants loudly, not caring if it blows out the sound from her mic, because she can hear him — the way he’s clearly starting to lose control. His stroking isn’t as rhythmic, as steady, and he’s quietly repeating her name like he doesn’t realize he’s doing it.

He goes silent, and if not for seeing his icon light up on her screen, she’d think he’s muted.

But then he exhales in a rush, like he’s just come all over his own knuckles.

Gem genuinely can’t believe it — she’s listening to him and still doesn’t believe it.

Her brain feels foggy, and not just from her orgasm.

“Fuck,” she says, and means it in every way.

There’s another long silence, something twisting in her stomach — not quite regret, but a realization of what they’ve done.

She just listened to Etho jerk off while he listened to her fingering herself. Whatever’s been building between them for the last six months is now an entirely different beast.

“Fuck,” he agrees, and a surprised laugh slips out of her before she can stop it.

She reaches for the box of tissues she keeps on her desk, using one to wipe at her fingers before carefully moving her mic up again. Her whole body trembles as she pulls her panties and sweats back into place, and she wonders if Etho’s feeling the same way.

She can hear noises, the clink of a glass maybe, like his mouth is too dry and he's taking a drink of water, and then after a long minute, the head of his character on screen moves.

She half expects him to immediately log off, too full of shame or guilt to even say anything else, but then he clears his throat and lets out a soft laugh.

“Um,” he says, and that feels about right.

“Yeah,” she agrees, rubbing at her heated face with her clean hand. “That was — ”

“Good,” he finishes for her unexpectedly, and he’s not wrong.

It was good. Better than good even.

But having him confirm it, that she’s not going crazy, gives her a flicker of hope that maybe they can build something from this.

“Feeling tired?” he asks after a moment, and she suddenly remembers what this has all been about — helping her sleep.

“I don’t know, I — ” She’s interrupted by a yawn so wide her jaw clicks, and she blinks at her screen. “Huh.”

Etho laughs again. “I told you — works every time.”

“Well, what about you?” she asks, not quite accusatory, but she can almost hear the smile in his voice.

“I was thinking about logging off anyway.”

“Huh,” she repeats, watching his character move from side to side.

“Y’know,” he says eventually, “we still haven’t finished that tunnel between our bases.”

It's one hell of a segue and she feels a little lost until he continues.

“Maybe we could work on that tomorrow — later, I mean — when we’re both awake again?”

Even after that, he wants to spend time with her.

She finds herself cautiously smiling at the thought.

“Yeah,” she agrees. “We could do that.”

“Cool,” he says, and she can’t believe he’s this way after just coming. She can’t help but wonder what being in bed with him — in the afterglow of sex — would be like.

She thinks he might be fun.

“Cool,” she echoes, letting him hear her amusement.

He watches her a moment longer, exhaling quietly.

“Sweet dreams, Gem,” he tells her, and before she even gets a chance to wish him the same, he’s gone — from their chat and from the server.

Without a thought, she follows his lead and logs off, pushing her chair back as though needing the extra space.

She can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation — head tipping back as she stares at the ceiling.

And after a moment, she yawns again.

Maybe his advice is sound after all.

[wonysugar]

keep talking | aeri uchinaga

synopsis : your best friend, aeri, was on tour with her fellow aespa members. she missed you a whole lot though, so you guys get on call and she asks you to talk about your day, to ramble, and to just keep on talking<3

pairing : idol!giselle x fem!reader

genre : best friends to fwb, phone call, smut!!

tags : phone sex, giselle is pretty subby in this, so yknow reader is kinda dommy, long distance, bffs to fwb, fingering, clit rubbing, dirty talk, you talk her through it ehehehe, aeri is still an aespa member, they’re on tour, and aeri has practice later help, what a bummer :((

warning : none just horny smut lol

word count : around 1.2k

a/n: this has been in my drafts since july,,, SO sorry,, but anyways i hope you enjoy this :] thank you

“a-s-a-p, babyy, hurry up, don’t be lazyy”

you heard the ringtone from your cellphone, immediately jumping on your bed from excitement as you quickly accepted the anticipated call, not even bothering to read the contact name. you’ve been planning to call her ever since she’s left the country, but she’s just been so endlessly busy recently, you couldn’t help but miss her.

immediately greeted by the voice of your best friend, aeri, a playful “heyyyy.” is what came out of your speaker.

“heyyyyy.” you sang back just as playfully, earning a giggle from her. “how is it in the uk? you having fun?” you ask, occupying your fingers by twirling and playing with your hair as she hummed. her and her band, aespa, were currently on tour. today, they landed in london, and were now getting ready for their concert tomorrow.

“it’s fun!! we landed only a few hours ago but i’m already loving the city so farrr. i went grocery shopping with ning earlier and, it was like.. so fun for no reason??” she told you, you could visualize her smile just from the way she spoke. “it would be so much more fun if you were here though, y/n..” she added, now probably pouting.

you chucked, “it’s okay, aeriii. it’s not like we’re completely separated, we have each other’s number. worst case scenario, we text a couple of times in a day.”

“but it’s not the sameee.” she whined, “seeing your best friend in person and seeing them through a screen is not the same thing at all.”

you tried reassuring her that the tour wasn’t gonna last that long, and that you both were gonna hang out as soon as it was over. she eventually agreed and shrugged the feeling off, asking about your day and how you’ve been.

“to be honest, it’s also been kinda lonely without you so i’ve just been at home in my freetime, sometimes going on walks. though i should say! listening to your music while i’m at work does help, like girl.. that shit gets me so hyped up like m-m-mamba-“ you rambled on and on, confident that she was listening to everything you were saying due to the responsive mhms she let out.

they progressively became less frequent, however, and then, at some point, they just completely stopped. you started worrying, wondering if the signal was gone or something..

“you there?” you ask.

“h-huh? y-yeah i’m still here.” she replied with a slightly shaky voice.

that didn’t sound very convincing.. was she feeling okay? before you could ask, a small noise escaped her lips. a noise that sounded like… a whimper. a whimper that was trying to held back.

“you know, we can call some other time if you don’t feel too well right no-“

“fuck y/n please don’t hang up… keep talking about whatever i don’t care but just.. please k-keep talking. i’m sorry, i’m listening i p-promise.” she interrupted in such a desperate voice, kinda whining in the process as she was breathing heavily into the mic.

you were dumbfounded. this was all so strange.. was she in danger or something? why would she ask you to just keep talking if she was, though? you just sat there for a moment, silent, a confused look plastered on your face.

until it clicked. oh.

oh.

the heavy panting.. the shake in her voice.. begging for you to keep talking.. the slight whimpering??? your stomach pleasantly twisted at the thought, was she actually..?

a smirk began to form.

“aeri..” you pause, contemplating actually asking the question. then,

“are you touching yourself right now?”

no response, just a desperate sigh. she was probably trying to think of an excuse. oh that poor girl. “oh my god you totally are.” you said, feeling like teasing her some more.

“i’m sorry y/n, i - fuck - i just missed you so- mmh..so much i couldn’t help it i’m sorry-.” she whined out.. you were imagining the look she had on her face right now, head probably buried in the pillow.

yet in another whiny voice, “this was a bad i-idea i have practice later and.. fuckfuckfuck-“ is what comes out of her mouth, almost inaudible due to how quiet she was being, careful as to not let the other members next door overhear.

you couldn’t lie, you weren’t expecting her to act like this. she never would say kinky shit to you directly, let alone do it in your company. you guys were close, so you talked about sexual things sometimes, but it was all in good fun. having her masturbate on a call got you unexpectedly and indescribably turned on.

“fuck practice aeri, describe what you’re doing.” you asked, getting undeniably hornier by every small noise she let out.

she exhaled, “i’m - ah - fingering m-myself..”

you slowly unbuttoned your jeans as you were listening to her response, “with how many fingers?” you add.

“t-two..” she panted yet again, your hand already getting into your panties and closer to your cunt.

“are you imagining they’re mine?” you spread apart your pussy lips, gently rubbing on your folds, feeling how wet you already were from her. you exhaled from relief.

she whimpered and squirmed at your words, knowing her, she was most definitely feeling embarrassed right now. then, she let out a needy mhm in response to your question as she was pumping her fingers in and out of herself.

“words, baby.” you added.

“fuck y/n - yes i am..” she quietly moaned out.

“good girl.” you praise, earning a cute little whimper from her. fuck, you couldn’t help it, hearing her pretty moans and knowing that she was touching herself to your voice made you lose it.

you inserted your own fingers into your aroused cunt, letting out a sigh of relief as you were finally doing something about the pool that was growing in between your legs ever since you figured out that your best friend was masturbating to your voice. holy shit, not even the greatest porno ever made could get you this aroused.

then, you heard a chuckle from the other side of the line. “d-did i get you horny?” she teased.

“no shit you did.” you shakily confessed as you could hear her quietly moan, “you sound so good.” you added.

“fuuck i wish i was there with you right now.” she confessed back, her voice obviously still very shaky.

“what would you - mmh - do if y-you were?” you wanted her to explain every little detail, to ramble on and on about what she was thinking of right now.

she slowed down on the fingering, as if it was really going to maximize her thinking, “w-well.. for starters..

i’d probably pin down you on the bed.. get on top of you and m-make out with you, slowly letting my - god - hands roam your entire body as i move my mouth further down. feeling the pressure from your knee in between my thighs..”

her voice started getting shakier while your cunt got just as wet hearing her describe the scene, god you needed to see her face, you needed to see how she was probably squirming at the sensation, how desperate she was getting just from imagining all of it. you needed to see it for yourself.

“aeri.” you shakily let out.

before she could even choke out a response,

“can you get on facetime?”

[skele-bunny]

Water Dew my beloved....

I personally interpret him as an accidental summon after Delta. Papa Terzo simply forgot to close the portal fast enough and it pulled something out. This small, hissing ghoul that just like Delta couldn't move their legs and just kept shrieking before Alpha came into view and calmed them down.

Pretty, long black hair that seemed blue that matched with equally black horns. Oceanic eyes with the soft blue, and gloss like bubbles, scales underneath their eyes with bioluminescence freckles and streaks. Just the prettiest thing Alpha's ever laid eyes on.

Come to learn his name is Dewdrop, just this quiet water ghoul that peeks around corners and waits his turn to speak. He's kept around as an extra should anything happen to Delta, so they get to see his true personality when he gets to practice with them. All smiles, bouncing, and happily moving in time with them.

Hidden behind the curtain and assigned miscellaneous chores while he waits; Tailoring is his main. If you look at a lot of Era 3's pictures, those uniforms are WACKED man... Barely fits, too big, too wide, too tight, etc. Dew doesn't have a lot of material or equipment but he does a damn good job. He's wearing one of Pebble's only spare uniforms so if he needs it, he'll wear Delta's next while fixing the original issue.

While they do soundchecks he'll clean up the bus, or get the care station ready with waters, basically anything stagehands/techs or Papa asks him to do. He doesn't mind it, really! Enjoys being in his own world while listening to his mates play.

Although quiet, still viscous. He just let himself get comfortable as the pits have always been him fighting, he doesn't see why he needs to fight now. Has absolutely helped rid of "problems" while touring, because after all, who expects the small and quiet one? He's more talkative and interactive on the road rather than the abbey, and keeps getting nicknames as their good luck charm.

The ONE time Dew got sick and couldn't be backstage for them, it seemed like everything went to shit. Delta twisted his ankle, their equipment got wet, the bass kick ended up with a hole in it, even Papa's mic cutting out more than twice. Just so... Much.

Silently had a "comforter" role. The one to intervene arguments, calming the aggressor down. Curled up against sides, sitting on laps, whispering how amazing they did if they feel they didn't do enough. Being the one to give affection and just make everything better.

Loved singing for them when asked. Delta had the same trance and effect, but even he preferred Dew. It was usually after a restless night he'd be tucked away in his bunk with the curtain open. Just slowly caressing over his own tail as he eases nerves with his voice, eventually giving them sleep they couldn't find before.

Something something Dew who has such a big personality change. But still the quiet angelfish he's always been

[evelynsturn]

Forgive Me?

Parings: Matt Sturniolo x Fem!reader

Summary: Matt hasn’t been spending time with you for a few weeks and it was really starting to bother you

Warnings: cussing , a bit of angst , slight smut at the end , mentions of y/n ,

Your boyfriend is always on the game. Always. Normally you wouldn’t have a problem with it but its been becoming a routine for him. He’d leave during the day to go run errands or to film with his brothers and stay out for hours but once he comes back, he just turns on his computer and gets on the game with Chris and Nick.

It was fine at first since you knew how busy he was and didn’t really get time to himself but now its starting to bother you since Matt hasn’t been paying much attention to you. Yeah he’ll say good morning and go to sleep with you but by the time him and his brothers get off, you’re either extremely tired or already asleep and you were getting tired of him not acknowledging you and not giving you attention but you didn’t say anything since you didn’t want to come off as clingy.

You were laying on Matt’s silky brown sheets with his blanket wrapped around you as you scrolled on your phone and tried to distract yourself from how loud Matt’s screaming at his brothers on his mic was. Having to listen to Matt screaming everyday really did annoy the shit out of you so you always did something to keep you entertained and help drown out your boyfriends screaming, even if it was sitting on his bed reading or picking up the house a bit but no matter what you did, you were just getting more annoyed by the second.

You turned your phone off and leaned against his bedframe as you stared at the back of his head and his monitor, trying to fight the courage to say something, but Matt felt your stares and pulled his headset off one of his ears so he can hear you before he asked “you okay?” You didn’t reply to him.

You felt annoyed by him and a bit mad that this is how its been for the past two weeks. You just continued to stare at his head and stayed quiet.

“y/n?” He said and you didn’t answer again. He sighed and put his headset back over his ear before he turned his attention back to his game, not that he ever turned his attention to you in the first place.

You were a bit hurt that he couldn’t even look at you for even a second and just decided to lay back down before you pulled the blanket to your face and let a few tears fall out your eyes until eventually you fell asleep.

You woke up a sudden movement behind you and felt arms wrapped around your waist, you didn’t even need to turn around to know it was Matt. You tiredly pushed his arms away from your waist and scooted closer towards your side as you pulled the blanket over you.

“y/n?” You heard your boyfriend say in a bit of a tired voice. “hm.” you lazily hum. “whats wrong?” he asked, obviously sensing you were upset. “nothing.” you said flatly before Matt just sighed again. You thought was going to be the end of it but you suddenly felt his hand on your waist and before you could blink, you were pinned down against his mattress with his hands wrapped around your wrist with Matt towered over you.

“What the fuck Matt” you tried you move your wrist but he had a strong grip on them. “You’re not gonna go to sleep acting like a brat, so you can either tell me whats wrong or you’re not going to sleep at all” his tone was a bit harsh and a bit raspy because of how much he screamed at his brothers and his tone kind of scared you but him calling you a “brat” pissed you off.

“why do you want to start giving me attention now.?” you asked in a monotone as you stared up at him.

“What are you talking about?” He asked cluelessly and a bit annoyed since he’s tired.

“Matt. You haven’t given me attention in weeks because you’re too busy gaming. You haven’t even realized it bothered me until right now” you admitted in a tired tone. Matt went quiet for a minute as he started to realize he really hasn’t been showing you much affection recently.

He looked down at you for a minute before he let go of your wrists and flipped you guys over so he could rest you on top of him. You didn’t resist, you just allowed yourself to be held by Matt since you’ve wanted his attention for a while.

Matt ran his fingers through your hair as you buried your head in his chest and wrapped your arms around his neck. “I’m sorry ma. I didn’t realize it bothered you that much” he whispered in a gentle tone as he rested his chin on your head.

“of course it bothered me” you mumbled, not picking your head up from his chest.

“I know, please forgive me” he whispered again and gently rubbed your back. You hesitated for minute, unsure if you could forgive him but right as you were about to reply but you looked down and saw the imprint of his dick through his sweats and it gave you a idea.

You brushed your thigh against him and earned a small sigh from him. Your ears perked when you heard him and just continued to rub your thigh against him as you slightly picked up your head from his chest and watched his facial expressions while he groaned. He looked down at you with a slightly confused look and you gave him a slight smirk before you whispered “I don’t think im ready to forgive you yet…”

a/n: This is my first time writing and posting a fic so bare with me😭

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Could you do Platonic Yanderes Endeavor (reformed), Aizawa, Present Mic, with a child darling who wears a mask and basically said screw hero life and became a vigilante + them finding out there a kid under the mask

Child Vigilante Reader | Yandere Boku No Hero Academia

They recognized that you were short and the words you’d say sounded funny in your deep voice modulator. But it still came as a surprise when they pulled that mask off your face to reveal the lightly battered face of a young child:

Aizawa Shota

Just by your height and general instinct as a hero he’s always putting a protective arm in front of you

And he figures your young with your insistent yells that ‘you’re not a kid’ 

Only to pick up your injured body taking off your mask to check if your okay

Only to be filled with an overwhelming urge to protect you as he registered how little you are

You’re his kid now 

No questions asked

He takes you to his home, having had you checked up by the doctors

He’ll do his research find out what you’re homelife is like

when you don’t show up and a fuss isn’t raise he takes it upon himself to officially adopt you

“You’re not my dad!”

“Your papers don’t say so!”

“Then give ‘em to me I’ll burn it now!”

“No!”

He’s used to dealing with rowdy kids

And he’s willing to deal with your now unpowered fits

And most animosity is cleared up when he gives you some food

You’ll try to run away but he catches you everytime

And eventually you’ll fall into a cycle

Where you join him as you fight crime 

Then you go home and live the domestic life with Aizawa

He doesn’t stop you until he feels like its too dangerous and when you’re lured into a false sense of security

“Sorry kid, I can’t have you getting hurt. Trust me this is an act of love.”

Hizashi Yamada

He probably quietly follows you at the end of a long day

Doing the thing he’s never doing around you: Being Quiet

Usually he doesn’t mind working with you 

After a couple attempts to bring you in he doesn’t anymore

And instead just works in harmony with you 

Usually joking and bantering with you to turn down all his jokes

But he’s horrified to know that your a kid

Young enough to be his kid is so nonreactive to his animated actions

What made you so serious!?

He does the same as Aizawa 

Finds out your homelife and legally takes control

“Whazzup kiddo! Guess who’s your new daddy!?”

“A bumbling frat boy idiot-hero?”

“Ack! H-how do you even know to insult me like that!?”

He’s not the best at catching you if you try to run away 

But you’re so lucid you’ll end up willingly moving in with him

because child services

He tries 

He really does

But you’re such a little adult you end up teaching him how to properly take care of you

He doesn’t really restrict you because you seem like you’re so smart

You usually outsmart him enough to keep doing your vigilante work

But the one time he outsmarts you, he might get some help you’re stuck

At least for this major battle you were prepared to die defeating

“Sorry baby bird, but I can’t have you getting hurt. That’s for your papa to deal with!” 

Todoroki Enji (Reformed)

“And you’ll be going away for a loong time.”

“Yes…thank you for your help with this one.”

“Of course! Always happy to help!” 

“...”

“...”

“...Now reveal yourself to me!” 

“Hey!? Let me go!”

He’s suspected you were young from the beginning 

And it infuriates him now

That some idiot father of yours would let you run around like this

They’re probably as bad as he was 

And he can’t let that be

So he’ll go to your family’s home

And tear them a new one 

Practically bullying them into signing adoption papers or at the very least making you meet up with him weekly daily

He’s such an old man

Lecturing you about how you dress 

Scolding you when he finds you fighting villains

He’ll force a bunch of tracking devices and bugs in your room 

So that he can keep you safe

And when it gets real he doesn’t mind locking you wherever he decides is best

“I’ve done…a lot of horrible things. I’ve hurt my family. I’ve hurt my fans. And you’ll probably hate me but you need me to protect you, to guide you. So trust me, this is for your own good.”