#anyway. Time to think about that nonstop for the next several days

[altblock-tm]

j. just finished LostBelt 1. hi. <- shaking like a dog

[goldkirk]

I DON'T HAVE TO LIE ANYMORE!

[meazalykov]

wrong number

bayern munich frauen x reader

1/6, 2/6, 3/6, 4/6, 5/6, 6/6

"who are you, and why do you have my number?"

you've been preparing for this move for what feels like forever.

the idea of leaving your small hometown in virginia to live in munich is both exciting and terrifying. you’ve spent weeks packing your things, saying goodbyes, and trying to mentally prepare yourself for the massive change that’s about to happen. 

sure, you’ve dreamed about studying abroad for a long time. now that it’s here, the reality of it feels overwhelming.

you’re going to be thousands of miles away from home, from everything you’ve ever known. your family is supportive, and your friends have been hyping you up nonstop. yasmeen, your closest friend, has been particularly great about helping you stay grounded, always there to distract you from the “what ifs” when the anxiety gets a little too intense. 

today is one of those days.

the two of you had planned a mall trip—something normal and fun before the whirlwind of final packing and travel arrangements takes over. well, yasmeen says that you need a new closet for munich and you don’t disagree.

it feels good to be doing something so ordinary, especially when you know that soon enough, everything in your life is about to be not-so-ordinary. 

you’ve been to this mall a hundred times with yasmeen, today feels a little more special though. maybe it’s because you’re hyperaware that you won’t have moments like these once you’re in germany.

will you make friends in germany? what if germany turns out horribly? are the people nice? is there xenophobia you might experience due to yourself being american? these thoughts plagued the back of your mind. 

"you’re gonna miss me so much, you know that, right?" yasmeen teases as the two of you walk through the mall’s food court, eyeing the chick-fil-a counter but opting for chipotle instead.

you roll your eyes playfully, nudging her with your elbow with the arm that's carrying your aritzia bag. 

"i’ll miss your constant harassment, that’s for sure."

"constant harassment? i’m literally the best thing that ever happened to you!"

"okay, sure," you laugh. 

honestly, yasmeen has been a huge part of your life for the past few years. she was the first person you clicked with back in high school, and now it feels weird to think about going through the next few years without her by your side. 

you’re trying not to dwell on it, though. you’ll still have facetime, you tell yourself. 

after grabbing and eating your rice bowls, you both head toward the stores. it’s one of those days where everything feels easy—there’s no pressure to buy anything. you did though obviously.

at one point, yasmeen holds up a bright red kit with a smirk.

"ouu a bayern munich kittt. you should totally buy it, you will fit in with the munich community."

you tilt your head, laughing. 

"what is that? i don’t even watch soccer."

"woah! you better once you hit germany– i heard soccer to them is like how the nfl is to americans."

you shake your head but decide to try it on anyway. yasmeen snaps a photo and tells you that you look like you’re about to cheer for some random german soccer team. 

you don’t think much of it and put the jersey back, moving on to the next store.

as the day goes on, you feel a strange mix of contentment and anticipation. it’s nice being here, with your best friend, doing normal things, but there’s a part of you that’s itching to start this next chapter of your life. 

it’s like you’re stuck in this weird limbo between your old life and the new one that’s waiting for you on the other side of the world.

eventually, after several hours of shopping, you realize your phone had died. you don’t even remember when it happened. 

you’ve been so caught up in the moment with yasmeen that you didn’t notice the battery draining.

"ugh, my phone’s dead," you say, glancing at the blank screen.

yasmeen shrugs. 

"mine’s still good. if anything, i can call you an uber."

"nah, i’m good. i’ll just charge it when i get home."

you both grab shoes at birkenstock before say your goodbyes outside the mall. yasmeen gives you an extra tight hug. 

"don’t get caught up with your european friends and forgetting about me, okay?"

"never," you promise.

when you get home, you immediately plug your phone into the charger and head straight to the shower. 

the hot water feels good against your skin, washing away the stress of the day. you’ve got so much on your mind—packing, travel plans, what your life is going to look like in a few weeks—but right now, standing under the stream of water, you feel calm. 

you let your thoughts drift away and focus on the simple rhythm of the water hitting your shoulders.

when you finally get out of the shower, you feel refreshed, like maybe you can tackle all the things on your to-do list without getting overwhelmed.

when you grab your phone and take it off of your charger, you notice something strange. 

it’s blowing up with notifications. you squint at the screen, trying to make sense of what’s happening. 

there’s a new group chat, and it’s filled with numbers you don’t recognize.

confused, you open the messages. the chat is already deep into a conversation about something, but none of it makes sense to you.

+49 176 1234567: pernille you’re AMAZING wtf was that!!!!????? 

+49 171 7654321: arsenals defense during this match had nothing on you or syd holy shit

your brows furrow. arsenal? match? what are they talking about? you know absolutely nothing about this conversation. 

hell, you’re not even sure what country arsenal plays for. the confusion only grows as you scroll up to see more of the conversation.

you: hi?

almost immediately, your message is met with a flood of responses.

+49 171 7654321: giulia! finally! where have you been?

+49 178 1233567: we’ve been trying to reach all day, i know we had no training but are you okay?

your heart skips a beat. giulia? who the hell is giulia? you’ve definitely never gone by that name.

you: uh, i think you’ve got the wrong number. i’m not giulia.

for a moment, the chat goes silent. you stare at your phone, wondering if you should just leave the group.

before you can, a new message pops up.

+49 176 1234567: wait, what?

+49 171 7654321: did we add the wrong number again?

+49 171 11122222: sydney, you’re an idiot. you added the wrong number!

there’s a pause before a new number is added to the group.

+49 152 3334444: you guys finally added me.

you assume this is the real giulia. still, no one seems to be kicking you out of the chat, and before you know it, the conversation picks up again.

+49 176 1234567: giulia, you missed our whole debate about the arsenal match.

+49 171 7654321: yeah, and we were saying bayern needs to keep it up for juventus.

you stare at your phone, more confused than ever. arsenal, bayern… these are clearly soccer teams, but why are they talking to you? you don’t even watch soccer. eventually, you decide to chime in.

you: um?? i have no idea what any of you are talking about. 

this time, the chat explodes with messages.

+49 171 7654321: what?!

+49 176 1234567: how do you not know bayern munich?

+49 175 7778888: do you watch fusball? 

+49 171 1112222: okay, who are you?

+44 177 9900000: ok guys that makes me feel better about this not being a crazy fan.

+49 170 4479173: i agree with georgia 

you explain your situation—that you’re a 21-year-old college student from virginia, and you somehow got added to this group chat by mistake. 

you tell them about your upcoming move to munich for your study abroad program, hoping to clear up the confusion.

+49 152 3334444: wait… you’re moving to munich? like… munich, germany?

+49 171 7654321: that’s insane omg we all live in munich.

+44 171 9900000: wtffff 

+49 176 1234567: this is such a weird coincidence.

you blink at your screen. this is getting stranger by the second. what are the odds that you’d get added to a random group chat full of people who live in the exact city you’re about to move to?

+49 171 1112222: okay, but how do we know you’re not some creepy dude pretending to be a girl?

+49 172 4567389: LMAO LENA 

+57 170 9193831: wait… 

you roll your eyes at the suspicion but understand why they might be cautious. so, you send them your instagram handle to prove you’re real. 

you: ew, i am not some old dude. @ y/n.l/n is my insta, just me out for yourselves.

after a few minutes, messages start pouring in again.

+49 152 3334444: yep, she’s legit.

+49 176 1234567: okay, cool. she seems sweet.

+49 171 9718193: guys laura would love her photography skills

you: who’s laura

+49 171 9900000: someone from the german national team. she plays in frankfurt

+44 177 9900000: this is so cool idky why.. usually i’d be freaked out

a few new followers pop up on your instagram notifications, and you open the app to check. you almost drop your phone when you see that some of the accounts following you are verified. 

*sydneylohmann is now following you*

and another 

*georgiastanway is now following you* 

*tuvahansen is now following you* 

and more.. 

*leaschuller is now following you* 

*lenaoberdorf is now following you* 

*kathi.ng is now following you* 

*pharder10 is now following you*

*guzman013_ is now following you* 

*sarahzadrazil25 is now following you* 

now it seems like the whole team is catching on.. 

*buehlklara is now following you* 

*magdalenaeriksson26 is now following you* 

*magou_doucoure is now following you* 

*dahmannlinda is now following you* 

it's until you do a quick google search that you realize who they are.

they’re professional soccer players.

you sit there, staring at your phone, completely in shock. you’ve somehow stumbled into a group chat full of actual women’s soccer players. 

trying to play it cool, you decide to treat them like normal people.

after all, you don’t even know anything about soccer, so it’s not like you’re going to fan out over them.

you: so, what are your names? i want to save your numbers because all of the unsaved numbers are overwhelming haha 

they go around introducing themselves, and you quickly type their names into your phone, saving each number under the name they give you.

+49 152 3334444: i’m giulia

+49 171 7654321: sydney

+44 177 9900000: georgia s 

+49 179 7777777: lea 

+57 170 9193831: ana g. there’s two ana’s so i’d add the last name letter to tell the difference ����

it’s surreal, somehow you find yourself chatting with them like they’re any other group of girls you’d meet in a random group chat. 

they even start to warm up to you after a few days, especially after you tell them more about your move to munich. 

a few of them offer to show you around the city once you get there.

georgia: honestly, munich’s great. you’re going to love it.

sydney: we can help you find all the best spots.

lena: i can definitely ☺️

lea: lena you just moved here from wolfsburg.. 

lena: lea shushhhh 🙄

pernille: ??? 

you smile at your phone, feeling a little less nervous about the move. it’s strange, but you’re actually starting to look forward to meeting these girls in person. 

sure, they’re professional soccer players, but they’re also just… normal people. and they seem to like you.

as the chat continues, you get the sense that they trust you. maybe it’s because of your instagram or the way you’ve been honest with them from the start, but whatever it is, they don’t seem to mind that you accidentally got added to their group. 

in fact, they seem to enjoy having you around.

klara: you seem chill. i know its been a week since you’ve been added but do you promise to keep our secrets safe? 

lena: ^

you: i promise. i like you guys! 

it’s not every day you accidentally make friends with a group of famous athletes, but somehow, that’s exactly what’s happened. 

as strange as it is, you’re kind of excited about it.

part two here

[orionsstory]

that kind of devotion | anarcia (7)

yayy chapter seven is here :) as always, don't forget to check it out on ao3 !! and leave a comment if you liked it teehee

---

For the next two weeks, Marcia found herself texting Lotus every waking moment. During breaks, during dinner, any free time she had was spent laughing at her jokes or smiling at a picture she sent. She got to find out she loved ducks (through the several pictures she sent of the ones at the nearby park- Marcia didn't mind though) to her favorite song (Boss Bitch by Doja Cat, a song Marcia had found herself listening to nonstop lately). If she was lucky, Lotus would even call her after her patrol, and the two would talk for hours. They mostly talked about their day and the investigation, but sometimes Marcia would slip in a story about her growing up, or Lotus would tell her a story about Sasha. The two had grown much closer in the past two weeks, getting along like a house on fire.

Even now, she was sitting on the couch texting Lotus. She giggled at a text the other girl had sent before she was drawn out of her thoughts by someone nudging her leg. "I need to sit down too, you know." Luxx rolled her eyes as she sat down, handing Marcia her food. "Put your phone down and eat, you've been glued to that thing lately. It's your one day off and you've ignored me the whole morning!"

Marcia takes the food from her, "I'm sorry! It's just so...exciting! We've pretty much gone from talking a few times a month to every day, it's hard not to be so engrossed."

"Aww, she's down bad." Luxx teased her.

"No, I'm not down bad. I'm a lover."

"Marsh, that's the same thing."

"It's totally not! Well...maybe a little. Whatever..." She flushed in embarrassment, rolling her eyes. Luxx chuckled at her,  "Isn't that sweet, you know I haven't seen you this excited over a girl since that one in college...what was her name again?" Marcia cringed at the memory, she had to admit she may have the tendency to fall for people quite easily, but Lotus wasn't the same.

"That's not the same thing. Lotus is different."

Luxx raised her eyebrow, so she continued, "She shows genuine interest in me. She cares about my theatre stuff and how my day is. She texts me pictures of cute dogs she sees because she knows I'll love them. She's...thoughtful. Also, she didn't forget my name after one date, so she's already leagues ahead of Caitlin."

Luxx laughed, "Oh my god, I forgot about that! What did she call you again? Maria?"

"Miriam. She said she knew it was some old lady's name."

"Oh my god, she was awful. I'm so glad that lasted like, two weeks."

"You and me both. Anyways, what were you thinking of doing?"

"Well, since we're all getting together after your show tomorrow, I figured we could just lie low today. We could go to that coffee shop you like and people-watch."

Marcia was sold. "You know me so well, Luxx."

"Of course I do. We've been friends for like 10 years, it'd be sad if I didn't. Now let's go, I want to get a good spot before it gets busy."

-

They arrived at the small shop, setting their items down on the counter facing the biggest window. Marcia took a seat, taking out her drawing supplies as Luxx went to grab their drinks. It had been a while since they had been able to do this- they used to do it all the time in college, watching the people pass by and wonder about their lives while they worked on essays or assignments. They would wonder about their own lives, and what the future would be like. Marcia likes to think her younger self would be proud of where she is now. It makes her smile.

"One tea with honey for you...and an espresso for me!" Luxx hums as she sits the drinks down, sliding onto the seat beside Marcia. She brings out her own drawing materials, peering out the window.

"I missed this. Feels like it's been forever since we've done this."

"I know, it feels like we barely have time anymore. I guess that's what it means to be an adult."

Luxx nodded, her pencil sketching across the page. "Such is capitalism. Ugh, I'm so antsy to get this collection done. We're almost ready to go into production, so my stress is mostly over."

"Oh, I'm excited to see the collection! You're taking me to see the show, right?"

"Who else is going to be my plus one?" She laughs, taking a sip of her drink. "Oh yeah, that's good. Fuck, I've missed good coffee. The office coffee is so shitty, Marsh. Oh my god, it's horrible."

Marcia smiled, opening her own sketchbook as she began sketching some of the people outside. "For a luxury brand, you would think they could afford a better coffee machine." She laughed, scribbling in a woman's dark coat. "Maybe they'll get you a new one for Christmas."

Luxx rolled her eyes, "Please, don't give me hope. Irene keeps saying she's going to fix it and improve it herself but we've been so swamped she hasn't had time yet." She looked up for her next target before selecting a man with a dog. "Look at that dog- isn't it cute? Ugh, I wish I was better at animals. It looks like a rat."

Marcia leaned over to look at the sketch, rolling her eyes. "It looks great, you're being dramatic. That is a cute dog though, what a baby." She cooed, snapping a picture of it before she sent it to Lotus. "How is the collection going anyway? Weren't you guys almost done like, a month ago?"

"Well, we were going through final revisions, but they decided to scrap some of the looks so we had to come up with some new ones. I'm hoping this will be the final round though. I've got some of the early concepts for designs in here though." She answers, flipping through her sketchbook to show Marcia some of the designs. 

She always admired the other girls' aesthetic, Luxx's usual grungy and dark designs had seemed to translate perfectly to spring fashion. Desaturated colors and skirts with purposeful rips and tears turned a skirt into the shape of a flower, an impressive feat. Marcia had seen Luxx make gorgeous designs that weren't her aesthetic, but these ones were special. She always loved it when Luxx could show her passion through her designs.

"Dark forest...what a theme, right?" She softly chuckles, flipping back to the sketch she was working on. "I like it though. I think it'll be our best collection yet."

Marcia proudly smiles, returning to her own sketch of some scenery. They sketched in comfortable silence for some time, Marcia having stopped sketching the people outside and started sketching Lotus. She didn't mean to, it was just sort of a habit at this point.

"That's really good, is that Lotus?" Luxx asks, leaning over. Marcia nods, her face tinged red. "Is she coming to your performance tomorrow?"

"No, but she's coming for my first night as Elle. I'm really excited, I hope she'll like my performance- I've been working so hard on it. God, I hope it goes well, what if I choke?"

"You won't choke. You were like, born for this. You're gonna kill it."

Marcia smiles at her, "Thanks, Luxx."

-

Luxx volunteered for dinner duty that night, allowing Marcia a moment to herself. To debrief, to prepare herself for tomorrow. She felt the nerves creeping up, like they did for every show she had done. She had to remind herself that it was going to go well, that she was going to do well. She focused on the warm water of the shower that was beginning to turn cold- maybe she had been in there longer than she thought.

She stepped out of the shower, wrapping her hair in a soft pink towel before beginning to dry herself off. It was nice, and for a moment she felt calm as she blow-dried her hair, the muffled music of Ariana Grande playing in the background. 7 rings was interrupted by the ringing of her phone, Marcia clicked off the hair dryer as she answered the call.

"Hello?"

"Hey, doll." Lotus' voice came from the other end. "Are you able to talk?"

Marcia hummed, "For a little bit- Luxx will kill me if I miss dinner." She wrapped her soft pink robe around her as she left the bathroom and entered her bedroom across the hall. "I thought you're usually on patrol around this time of day?"

"I am, but it's always a slow start. Thought I'd talk to you until I get a call."

She softly smiled, "Well, I won't complain about that. How's your day been?"

"Pretty standard. I'm hanging out with my coworker soon, but other than that nothing of note. But enough about me- you're gonna be on Broadway tomorrow! How are you feeling?"

"Nervous. Excited. I can't tell- I think it's both." She chuckled, "I know I'll probably do well, but it's just those pre-show nerves, you know?"

"Nah, I know you're gonna crush it."

"But how do you know? What if I...I don't know, trip and break my arm or something."

"I think you'd still perform, even if you had to be in a cast. Don't worry. Besides, isn't the saying break a leg?"

Marcia softly sighed, a smile creeping onto her face as she rummaged through her dresser for her pajamas. "Yeah, it is...and you're probably right. I'm way too excited about this. I just can't believe it's finally happening!"

She heard a faint buzzing on the other line, vaguely recognizing it as the sound of a call.

"Do you have to go?"

Lotus sighed, "Yeah. I do. I'm sorry. Hey- break a leg tomorrow. You're gonna kill it."

Marcia smiled. "Thanks, I will."

She heard Lotus laugh, she could practically see the other girls smile in her head.

"Atta girl."

-

The next morning was a blur. She remembered waking up to a 'break a leg ;)' text from Lotus and eating breakfast with Luxx, but time seemed to fly by after that. Her usual subway ride seemed to take five minutes, and their rehearsal that morning felt like it had happened in a second.

Now, she was in the dressing room with her castmates, all giddy and excited for the show. She applied the last of her blush and made sure her costume was perfect, waiting in the wings with the rest of the ensemble for the first number to start. Many were excitedly whispering to each other, the air in the theatre felt electric.

"Who's here for you tonight, Marcia?" One of her castmates and friends, Plasma, asked her.

"My friends and one of my cousins- we're going out afterward. What about you?"

"Some of my friends- and my mom, she flew in from Texas to be here. I can't believe it's opening night!" She excitedly shook Marcia's arm, causing her to smile.

"I know. Oh! There's the house lights, we're going!" She excitedly whispered, taking her place in preparation. She felt the anxiety returning to her chest, taking a deep breath as the curtains drew open.

They began their first number, which went as perfectly as it could. Marcia hit all the right steps, all the right notes, and stayed in character the entire time. She felt the anxiety in her chest dissipate after the first number, it turning into a feeling of joy. She felt good going into the second number, which turned into feeling great for the entire first act. During intermission, she and Plasma celebrated their success, which meant excitedly talking about the show while they made costume and makeup adjustments for the second act.

The second act also went spectacularly. She could tell the entire cast was bringing their all, and the audience could too. Every time the audience laughed or cheered her drive became stronger, causing her to perform even better. By the time curtain call came, she was exhausted- but proud. As she bowed with the rest of the ensemble, she could hear Luxx's cheers above the rest. She couldn't see her group because of the house lights, but that was enough to put a smile on her face. 

She's able to get out of her costume and makeup fairly quickly, only delayed by her and Plasma geeking out about the show- releasing the remainder of the energy they had for the night. Eventually, she gathered her things and left, signing some things for a few fans at the stage door before spotting her friends.

"MARSHALL!" Luxx squealed, tightly hugging the other girl. Marcia giggled as her friends swarmed her, excitement filling the air. Jan raved on and on about her vocals and dance moves, her cousin was a fellow theatre nerd and they often spent their childhood watching different musicals (and poorly reenacting them). Robin, although less experienced in the theatre world, complimented her performance and gave her a bouquet- which Amethyst almost crushed as she pulled the group in to take a photo.

Marcia feels elated as the group returns to her apartment, giving her time to change into a sparkly mini-dress. She quickly shot a text to Lotus before coming back out, rejoining the girls who had also changed. They took a quick shot of some tequila they had lying around the house before heading to the nearest gay bar.

-

"My girlfriend said she and her friend are a few minutes away," Robin yelled above the noise, trying to keep Amethyst from getting swallowed up by the crowd. "I'm making them get us drinks- what does everyone want?"

The girls shouted out their various drink orders to Robin, drowned out by the club's music. The lights strobed and Marcia could feel her body vibrating from the bass. She danced with Luxx and Amethyst, letting herself go and focusing on having fun- she deserved it, after all. She felt her legs growing sore, but it didn't bother her. She would regret it in the morning, however it wasn't anything she couldn't deal with.

They only stopped dancing when Robin squealed, throwing herself into the arms of a girl who had just walked up. "That's Aura," Amethyst shouted so they could hear, the other girls nodding along. "Who's that beside her?" Marcia asked, referring to the girl who had appeared beside Aura.

She was wearing a short red dress and a leather jacket, and her long light-colored hair was straight and worn down, with some bobby pins to keep her bangs back. She looked like she had some darker streaks in her hair, but she couldn't be too sure with the blaring club lights. From what Marcia could see, she had a pretty athletic build and a scar over her left eye. She felt like she knew the girl, but she couldn't place her finger on why.

"I guess her friend," Amethyst whispered in her ear, "She's hot, right? Is she glaring at us though?" Marcia turned her attention back to the other woman, Amethyst was right- she did seem to be glaring, but she couldn't even clearly see the girl because of the flashing lights.

"Can't tell."

Aura and Robin finally broke apart, allowing Aura to shift her attention to the other girl.

"Oh! This is one of my friends, Anetra!" The other girl nodded her head in greeting. "She doesn't bite, she just has chronic RBF." Aura laughed, Anetra rolled her eyes and playfully elbowed her. Amethyst introduced herself first before Marcia did- she noticed the girl's eyes widen a bit before returning to normal. That was strange, did she recognize her too?

She was going to talk to her more when Aura pulled her away to go get the group's drinks, putting a pin in her plan. That was fine, she'd just talk to her when she returned. However, Anetra didn't return. Aura came back alone, balancing the drinks in her arms.

"Where'd Anetra go?" Luxx asked, taking her drink from Aura.

"She got a call while we were waiting at the bar- came back and said there was an emergency and dashed out. She seemed stressed about it."

"I hope she's okay..." Marcia worried, "Poor girl just got here."

"I'll check up on her later, she's a tough cookie so I'm sure she'll be fine."

That was the last they talked about it, the rest of the night was a blur as they danced and drank until their feet hurt. Marcia tried to tone it down so she wouldn't feel as miserable tomorrow, which worked to some degree. She and Luxx left around 1 am, both deciding to be somewhat responsible. She quickly changed into her pajamas, almost passing out the instant she hit the bed. She shot off a goodnight text to Lotus, who still hadn't answered her last message, which was odd. She worried something may have happened, but she pushed that thought to the back of her mind- she was just paranoid.

[depressedbagpipe]

Ka-Chaow (Charles Leclerc x female!reader)

Chapter two

Words: 3902 Warnings: google-translated italian, more mentions of alcohol, poor writing, me not knowing how the ferrari factory works A/N: alright so this has been long overdue so i apologize for that. also, i haven't been to maranello so everything i mention is basically from google maps. everything about the publishing industry i got from a random blog so just to be safe, don't trust anything i say about it ♥️ A/N (II): italics are phone calls, bold and italics are messages, just bold is the location, and (parenthesis) the translation for the Italian ;) Taglist: @heavengirls111, @roseamongthorns13, @mishaandthebrits, @charlesswife, @silscintilla

Series Masterlist Previous chapter <> Next chapter

Chapter two

Maranello, December 2nd, 2022

‘Wait, wait, wait, so then you’re attending the races?’

‘Yep.’

‘And you’re getting double passes if you ask for them?’

‘Affirmative.’

‘And you know you’re my favorite daughter?’

‘I’m your only daughter.’

‘Still.’

‘I’ll take you to Monaco.’

‘Dio, ti amo.’ (God, I love you)

‘Of course, you do,’ I giggled at my dad.

‘And how’s the trip so far?’

‘It’s… fine, I guess,’ I cringed, looking out the window.

The only sight I could catch from my balcony was the Ferrari factory in the distance, and the hotel’s parking lot on the other side. The views I had caught from the car ride from Bologna’s airport had been beautiful, but we hadn’t had any time to stop to look around.

‘Just fine?’ my dad wondered.

‘It’s not a holiday, papà, I’m technically working,’ I said with a sigh. 

I walked back and dropped on my bed, staring at the fancy ceiling of my hotel room. Although the flight to Bologna had been short, the lunch with Maurizio Arrivabene had been exhausting. Too many bottles of wine and too little discussion about the job, besides the promise of all the paddock access we wanted, as well as the finest wine bottles per Mr. Williamson’s request.

‘Still, you’re going to the track tomorrow, right?’ my dad asked again.

I moved my phone to my other ear, gently rubbing the sore nub after almost an hour of my dad’s nonstop gushing.

‘Yeah.’

‘What time?’

‘We get there at 11 am, I think. I don’t know if the tour will be before or after the meeting with the execs, though,’ I bit my lip, checking the time on my wristwatch.

‘Mio dio, everything is so early here compared to home,’ my dad groaned, and I couldn’t help but laugh at his antics. (My God)

‘Well, not my fault you moved to London for love,’ I answered back.

‘Now you have to move to Italy in return so that we can complete the circle.’

‘Dad!’ I laughed loudly, despite my hand covering my mouth. It was a bit early in the evening, but I knew several guests at the hotel would not appreciate my yelling. ‘Alright, I’ll take you up on that.’

‘You better, chicken pie.’

‘Anyways, I think I’m gonna go. I’m actually exhausted.’

‘Too many emotions today?’

‘Yeah, and I gotta be up early for tomorrow.’

‘Wasn’t the meeting at 11 am?’

I frowned. ‘Yeah. But I still need to finish editing a couple of manuscripts. Do you happen to know anything about the types and uses of the cross symbol in Ethiopian religion?’

My dad took a couple of seconds to answer. ‘... No?’

‘Yeah, me either. Gotta learn a bunch of stuff for tomorrow.’

‘Well, call me when you know something.’

‘Will do,’ I laughed softly. ‘Buona notte, papà. Ti amo.’ (Goodnight, Dad, I love you.)

‘Ti amo di più, Principessa,’ with that, our conversation ended. (I love you more, princess.)

I stayed sprawled on my bed after throwing my phone on the comforter, closing my eyes for a few seconds. I knew I still had to unpack some clothes for tomorrow, recharge my laptop and work on the manuscripts, order dinner, make sure Mr. Williamson got the entire schedule right for the rest of the trip, eat dinner, and get a decent amount of sleep for the following day’s events. Despite my nerves, exhaustion was getting the best of me, and as soon as I felt myself drifting off, I willed my eyelids to open and my legs to move, standing up with a groan at my tired muscles. 

A couple of hours later I was already in bed, my fingers expertly typing away while my eyes begged me to finally close them and sleep. My laptop felt hot on my legs even over the sheets, but I couldn’t stop. Deadlines were approaching, and even though I willingly signed up for the trip, I still found the huge workload that still needed to be done frankly overwhelming, especially since I was working double during Mr. Williamson’s secret and unauthorized gap year. With a sigh, I kept typing until my eyes closed on their own accord. 

I didn’t even know at what time I fell asleep. It only felt like a few minutes until my phone was blasting the alarm as loud as possible. I carelessly reached for it with my eyes closed, hoping my fingers would find it early enough to turn the horrible sound off, but I only managed to slightly push the laptop away. Opening my eyes in a panic, I sighed in relief when I found no crack on the screen, the object still on my bed and not broken on the floor, but the alarm kept going, and not only that, but the hotel phone on my bedside table was also now ringing loudly.

Despite feeling like crying at that very moment, for not only was I not a morning person, but the extreme trauma of waking up mixed with the incessant noise coming from both sides of my bed was enough to almost send me into cardiac arrest. Grabbing my phone and quickly pressing the orange alert, I answered the call.

‘Hello?’ I asked, a yawn escaping my lips as I waited for the answer.

‘Good morning, Miss, this is Francesco speaking, from the front desk. Yesterday you asked us to please wake you up at 7 am,’ the worker spoke in perfect English.

I frowned, not remembering at all having done that, but then again, I didn’t remember most of the evening once I tried to recall how I fell asleep.

‘Oh, grazie, Francesco,’ I replied with another yawn. (Thank you.)

‘Would you like to have your complimentary breakfast sent to your room?’

I paused, enjoying the sound of that. ‘Sure, why not. What were the options, then?’

And that’s how I found myself having breakfast on the balcony, overlooking the blue horizon thanks to the lack of tall buildings around the hotel. I certainly missed the sky back in my London apartment, and it almost felt weird to have the sun shining so brightly on me so late in the year, but nonetheless, it brought some color to my cheeks as I feasted on the delicious biscuits I was offered. I allowed myself to calm down and enjoy the food, forgetting about my job and the likely still sleeping Mr. Williamson on the other side of the wall. As I waited for the breakfast to be brought, I had already taken a shower and gotten ready for the day and was simply enjoying the rather quiet life that the hotel’s location could offer. I did miss the people and the nightlife, but I already got a lot of it in London. 

Taking slow sips of my coffee, I finally got my phone out. I took a couple of pictures to send my mom, knowing she would be calling me in no time to check up on me and make sure I hadn’t caught a bug while I slept. Switching to Instagram, Alec’s face was the first thing that showed up. He had posted a video singing a new song, but I couldn’t will myself to listen to it just yet. His music was what brought us together in the first place, and for weeks I hadn’t been able to listen to his voice again. It was just too painful. 

‘Did you listen to his new song?’ I quickly texted Angela.

‘You won’t like it, though,’ she quickly responded.

I bit my lip. ‘Is it about me?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Is it bad?’ my fingers trembled slightly as I typed, suddenly feeling nervous.

‘I mean, it’s not good.’

‘You’re so helpful,’ I groaned, shivering slightly all of a sudden. 

A cloud had passed directly over the sun, taking the warmth with it. I stood up and walked back inside.

‘Text me when you listen to it. But wait until you’re back in London.’

‘Why?’

‘Don’t let it ruin your trip.’

‘Alright,’ I sighed and ended the conversation.

I shook my arms slightly, trying to find some physical way to let go of those thoughts, and swiftly got my laptop and sat down on the small desk by the window, and typed away my anxiety. 

I wasn’t a big fan of editing manuscripts, especially those about subjects I completely abhorred, but in the grand scheme of things, it somehow helped to leave my mind completely blank, making the time pass by even faster.

Before I knew it, it was 9:45 am. Another alarm went off, and with a final sigh, I saved my progress, put on some shoes, and left my room, only to go to the next door and promptly open the door with Mr. Williamson’s extra card. 

The sight did not surprise me in the slightest. He was still fast asleep on his bed, with the covers half-dangling from the sides and the mini bar half-empty. The room was completely dark save for the light coming from the open door.

I had to take a big deep breath before closing the door behind me and walking decisively towards the blinds, opening them wide, as well as his own balcony’s door, not even caring that the cold and wind could potentially make him sick. I was beyond the point of caring about his health when he clearly didn’t care about his.

‘Rise and shine, Stephen,’ I clapped loudly.

Mr. Williamson woke up with a start, groaning loudly.

‘It’s too early,’ he mumbled, flipping on the bed and pulling the covers over his head.

‘Hell, no,’ I said, grabbing the sheets and pulling them off from his body completely. ‘You’ve got an hour before the car arrives, so chop chop!’ I said as I opened his suitcase and started taking his belongings out, looking for some decent clothes. 

The night before coming to Italy, I had forced him to send me a picture of his luggage, knowing that, if it were up to him, he would show up in Crocs and Bermudas. It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve had a meeting with him dressed like that.

Thankfully, Mr. Williamson listened to me and sat down in bed, still half-asleep, but at least I could work with that. I threw him his toilet bag.

‘Take a shower, God, you stink,’ I complained, grabbing him from one of his arms and pulling him up. 

I slightly pushed him in the direction of the bathroom, and he followed without another word. 

‘If you don’t come out in ten minutes, I’m getting in. And I’ll bring my phone!’ I warned him, hoping the warning would be enough for me not to see him naked. 

‘Jesus, you sound like my wife,’ he mumbled just before closing the door behind him. 

I looked around his room, and opted for taking the remaining alcohol from the mini bar with me, just to be safe. Even though the bottles were tiny, I didn’t trust my boss to somehow get wasted. I wasn’t about to risk my job and my career, especially in a foreign country. Out of habit, I checked my emails again, hoping to see Rosanna’s name somewhere with a publishing vacancy, but as usual, no new emails had been sent since that morning. 

My feet moved by themselves across Mr. Williamson’s room, putting his clothes on the bed, and even going as far as to call some room service for him. I was hoping the sleep and the shower would sober him up because I was anxious as hell about the meeting.

Not only was I a huge sports car fan, but the fact that we had been invited by Piero Ferrari himself to visit the factory, which I could now see from my room, and talk to all those developers who worked there with the same passion my father and I had, was completely mind-blowing. And I didn’t want anything to screw it up.

—

‘So that’s our proposal. Ink’n’Paper and Scuderia Ferrari, together, writing about the history and fame of our car. And we want you, Stephen, to write it,’ Benedetto Vigna finished his speech with a looming voice, staring directly at my boss with a light smirk.

Ferrari’s own CEO had welcomed us into the factory, walking us through the many impressive facilities, and showing us every detail of the place. To say I was awestruck would be an understatement. The museum was absolutely incredible, and the curators had even allowed me to take dozens of videos to send to my dad, which I knew was probably screaming and crying at the sight of them. 

The meeting had started an hour later under the pretext of getting down to business as soon as possible and with the promise of trying the Driving Simulator after lunch.

‘Well, certainly, I can’t say that I didn’t see this coming,’ Mr. Williamson replied, taking his glasses off. ‘And how were you thinking about doing this, Benedetto?’

‘We had a couple of ideas in mind, but I think it’ll be easier right now if you stay in Monaco with the team.’

‘Monaco?’ I blurted. ‘Sorry,’ I apologized in embarrassment, but thankfully Mr. Vigna didn’t seem to care.

‘It’s alright. No, we’re opening a new office in Monaco for the new season, and given that it’s certainly closer to Maranello than London, we think that the writing would be faster.’

‘What deadlines are we talking about here, then?’ Mr. Williamson asked.

Not an ounce of alcohol was in his system, at least that I knew of, and he was magically back to being the professional editor I had known him to be what felt like an eternity ago.

Mr. Vigna looked at his colleagues, all of them nodding amongst themselves. ‘Hopefully, we could have it by the winter break. You know, from a marketing point of view, every Ferrari fan out there would be definitely getting it for Christmas.’

Mr. Williamson took a sip of his espresso, carefully considering his options. Then, he looked at me. ‘What do you think?’

I widened my eyes. ‘Me?’

He nodded. ‘Yeah, you. You also work here, I want to know what you think.’

Any thought left my mind as soon as he said those words. Despite being used to taking over his meetings due to his many inebriated states, I was feeling rather intimidated by the situation. And, unlike Mr. Williamson, I had never published anything before.

‘Well, uh, technically December is a bit of a dead zone in the publishing industry.’

I spoke with a low voice, feeling anxious about debunking Mr. Vigna’s theory.

‘Is that so?’ he asked, but his tone was more curious than annoyed. 

That only encouraged me further. ‘Yeah. It’s usually September when we get all the workload. December kinds of get those less-interesting manuscripts from the bottom of the submissions box, and many workers just leave on vacation. We usually just… publish more volumes of the already best-selling ones, because those are the ones that get sold. The marketing would have to be insane if we want this book to make figures on Christmas.’

My comment was met with utter silence. I stared at all the people in the room, silently hoping for someone to talk because the embarrassment was already too high.

Mr. Williamson gratefully came to my aid, as weird as it sounded.

‘She’s right,’ he said, taking one final sip. ‘Either we push the deadline forward to September, or we spend a couple of millions on the marketing.’

Mr. Vigna seemed to consider our words after that. ‘Right, I certainly didn’t know that. Won’t September be too much of a short time for you?’ he looked back at Mr. Williamson, who quickly shook his head.

‘I don’t see why it’d be a problem. As long as we start as early as possible and are provided with all the materials we need…’ he looked up in deep thought.

‘And what do you need?’ one of the women at the other end of the desk spoke, pen already in hand, waiting to write anything down.

‘Certainly, we need access to any source of information about Ferrari. Whether is it the cars, the history, even the drivers, literally anything with the word “Ferrari” in it,’ he spoke. ‘Now, I got a tight schedule when writing biographies, and I need at least two months just to do the research. After that, the writing comes smoothly.’

‘Don’t forget the editing…’ I whispered loud enough for him to hear.

He waved me off. ‘It will take some time, though. You know I’m not that much of a Formula 1 enthusiast. I much rather prefer cricket,’ he said, standing up from his chair and buttoning his shirt.

With his clean suit and combed hair, he looked unrecognizable from the man I had found in his bed that morning. He looked put-together for the first time in months, and it brought me back to the first meetings of my internship, where everything he did was graceful and calculated. I felt oddly safe for the first time in months, knowing that, no matter how the meeting went, I had Mr. Williamson to guide us through the rubble and exit the building with an even straighter back and untouched dignity. I so wished every day at work felt the same.

‘But my assistant over here is, in fact, a remarkable connoisseur of the sport. What did you call it? Tifosi?’ he quickly looked at me, looking for confirmation. ‘She’s half Italian, in fact. I might have to delegate some of the work to her.’

I widened my eyes even more, his words leaving a huge pit in my stomach. My head felt suddenly numb, and my pulse increased as I recited his intentions.

‘In that case, Stephen, if you trust her to do the job, so do we. Obviously, if she agrees.’

I felt more eyes on me, and I gulped. I nodded slowly. ‘Yeah, I do.’

Benedetto Vigna smiled and brought his palms together. ‘Great! I’m sure you’ll be fine in Monaco,’ he stood up from his chair, signaling everybody to do the same. 

Mr. Williamson offered me his arm, given I was still in shock at Mr. Vigna’s words. Everybody started filing out.

‘Wait, what?’ I asked no one in particular.

‘I guess you’re going to Monaco,’ Mr. Williamson said as he lightly pushed me out of the room, pretty much in the same way I had done that morning to get him in the shower.

‘But… what about work?’

He frowned at me. ‘This is work.’

I didn’t have time to reply, for Mr. Vigna’s loud voice reverberated around the hall.

‘Now, I believed I promised you lunch and a Fiorano tour. Oh, and the Driving Simulator, too.’

—

Despite being a huge Formula 1 fan, I had never been to a race track. The only person I really wanted to attend a race with was my dad, and he was always a bit too busy, and the tickets were always a bit too expensive. Not coming from a large income family had definitely shut a few dreams down, hence why I had immediately started crying at the sight of the Fiorano track, where Ferrari tested their cars. Even though it was empty, the sheer sight of the huge lane was enough to bring tears to my eyes. Thankfully, the sun was shining down on us, and my eyes were hidden by my sunglasses, but I knew my face would soon become a bit too red for other people to notice.

Lunch had been fine, yet I was still thinking about Mr. Vigna’s words. Not only was I part of the project, but I had also been tasked with recollecting all information about the red Scuderia and its cars and history, all of it while I lived by myself in Monaco. I was dreading the conversation with my parents, knowing my mom would definitely not approve, as well as the high chances of me getting homesick as soon as I arrived at the small principality. 

But then again, maybe getting some time away from my life in London would do me good. Away from work, and Mr. Williamson, and Alec. I didn’t want to be the type of person that fled the country when they broke up with their partner, but I also knew that distance was my biggest ally at the time. I wasn’t completely sure how Mr. Williamson was gonna manage on his own while I lived elsewhere, but the thought of a quiet life for a few months in the quaint country was becoming more appealing by the second. 

I completely tuned out Mr. Vigna’s speech about the dimensions and characteristics of the track (not that I needed them, my father had made sure from a young age that I knew my blood was Ferrari red and Tifosi my middle name, although it certainly never was and it got us a very weird meeting with my elementary school headmaster after having written Tifosi as my middle name on several exams). If I had been paying more attention, I certainly would’ve noticed two familiar figures dressed in red polos walking toward us.

‘Charles! Carlos! Che bello che sei venuto!’ Mr. Vigna signaled the two men forward, and they quickly introduced themselves. (How nice that you came!)

‘¡Hola! Sono Carlos,’ Carlos Sainz Jr. extended his hand towards Mr. Williamson. (Hi! I’m Carlos.)

‘Nice to meet you,’ replied my boss, shaking his hand.

‘Hi,’ I smiled at him, trying to contain the excitement.

‘Hello,’ he gave me two kisses on both cheeks, and I couldn’t help the giggle that escaped my lips. 

‘Sorry, I’m a big fan,’ my face felt even warmer, but I still didn’t take my sunglasses off, the big black crystals at least hiding part of my cheeks.

Carlos laughed. ‘It’s alright, usually everyone that comes to Fiorano is,’ he winked, and moved aside.

I would be lying if I said I didn’t have favorites. I would also be lying if I said Charles Leclerc wasn’t one of them.

The slightly taller man stood right in front of me, smiling brightly. His head blocked the sun, allowing me to look at him in more detail as the rays fell around him, giving him an even bigger heavenly glow.

��Ciao, I’m Charles,’ he too pressed two soft kisses on my cheeks, and I swear my heart stopped for a second when he came closer. (Hi.)

I took off my glasses and quickly introduced myself, hoping I didn’t sound like a lunatic gushing over her biggest celebrity crush standing right in front of her.

‘Ragazzi, l'intervistatore vi sta aspettando,’ a shorter woman came up behind the two drivers with a stressed look on her face. (Guys, the interviewer’s waiting for you.)

I frowned slightly, having the meeting cut short, but in hindsight, my heart was beating loudly in my ribcage out of nerves, and I didn’t want to make an even bigger fool of myself by standing there completely starstruck. 

They sadly left our group with a warm goodbye, and the rest of the day passed in a blur. 

Next thing I knew, I was on my bed, staring at the ceiling, failing to fall asleep due to the image of a pair of green eyes glistening in the sun embedded in my mind.

Next chapter

General taglist: @angiewhoohooo, @azaleaniath, @mishaandthebrits, @celestialcharles

[dc-sideblog]

"Cass and Jason are twins" BUT they are bio through Lady Shiva and Willis Todd

Cass as a human trafficking victim sold at infancy

Shiva fucking lied to Cain and scammed him and that's why he got one kid and not two. She sold her daughter because she knew his intentions and wanted a successor just as badly as he did, if not moreso

Didn't sell Jason because the deal wasn't good enough

Dumps Jason on Willis and goes back on her merry way

Years later Jason finds a smudged birth certificate and Sandra Woosan's contact info on Willis's phone. He tracks her down and-- lo and behold-- gets betrayed and killed

Cass has been nonstop suffering this whole time

She's currently with the League of Assassins. Don't ask how they got her after she ran away as a kid. Just know that she hates herself atm and has never known life without violence. She may genuinely think this is as good as life can get. For her anyway

Shes a personal guard for the al Ghul family because obviously they want the best and also they can't get her to kill, so a protection detail is perfect. Cass takes out any threat and then Ra's swoops in to finish them and pretends it's a vengeance/honor thing and not because he doesn't have complete control over the One Who Is All

Enter Jason, back from the dead with a severe brain injury, and one of the only other kids in the League. Super weird how he kinda looks like Cass

Jason is offended by every aspect of Cass's situation, even before the Pit dunk. Why is she here when she's a kid. Where are her parents. She looks sad.

He can't really express all that verbally but Cass is touched to her core by it. She is also really curious about him in general and keeps an eye out, as much as she can

Jason's fucking incensed after the Pit dunk but he hides it for sneaky reasons

Shiva stops by Nanda Parbat for whatever reason and is like lmao and spills everything to Talia, who is delighted

Talia naturally arranges a blood match between them the next day and tells Jason literally as it's beginning

Cass watches, enthralled, as he cycles through the entire human emotional spectrum in under ten seconds

They fight and she kicks his ass. A match to first blood against her is quick and almost painless. It's so easy it's boring to watch

Jason is still pretending everything is normal and fine and convinced Talia to loan Cass out to him for his big Gotham revenge plot. She sees right through this but frankly doesn't care. This won't affect Damian's eventual introduction, and Jason really could use someone watching his back anyway

Cass is not thrilled with the Red Hood's methods, however. And unlike taking on the entire League of Assassins, she really can prevent him from killing people. And worst of all, she can see that he wants to protect Crime Alley as his ultimate goal, it's literally just methodology that she has a problem with

Red Hood keeps trying to ditch her and tell her she's free now and can leave. Cass understands what he's going for perfectly well and Does Not Care. Fuck him and fuck his guns. She is in his apartment now and he can't get rid of her

Cass does HORRIBLE things like rescuing all his victims and arguing with him constantly, which is really a feat to watch as she can't talk, and she shows up at all of his drug dealer meetings

Jason is pissed that she's undermining his authority but this situation looks very different to outsider Gothamites. People are scared shitless of the two of them. They're acting like Bats if the Bats were evil. Like yeah that guy lived but holy fuck

The sibling squabbling is barely a blip on the radar as people are too busy fleeing in terror

Actual Gotham Bats have no clue how they should address this. Do they arrest them? Recruit them? What the hell is going on here

Red Hood and the Shadow have overtaken Crime Alley completely but every update Jason gives to Talia is him complaining incessantly and her suppressing laughter at his embarrassing failures

of course they'd love to have Cass back in Nanda Parbat, why doesn't Jason just put her on a plane and send her? :-)

Unrelated but he jokingly called her Cassandra after the same Greek myth Barbara named her after but then it stuck. Literature nerd Jason rights. Like yeah he was being sarcastic. But also she was as old as he was and in all those years no one has cared enough about this girl to even give her a name

She's his twin

Cass doesn't know about the concept of twins until she is 18 years old in Gotham and sees a pair of identical kids for the first time. Jason gets really excited and immediately gestures between the two kids and then between the two of them

No magic man comes along and scrambles Cass's brain in this one. She simply has a receptive-expressive language disability and lives with it. Started out using a picture board when they first got there but then Jason did some research and learned about AAC devices. Now Cass has a high tech tablet with an AAC program

It has so many words and they're all hers and she can use them whenever she wants. It's easy too, she just presses a button and bam, talking

Later on she gets AAC programming embedded into her suit's wrist computer. The Shadow's voice is carefully designed to be as terrifying as possible

Jason will go on a big melodramatic monologue speech and Cass will catch none of it except *mildly annoyed*. This happens twice a week

They cook together a lot and spar together and go to plays, because Cass can appreciate theater acting in a way she can't with TV. Jason is so glad he finally has a sibling with taste

This segues into Cass discovering ballet and also wordless animation like Tom & Jerry type stuff

Normally taking a break from working the Mission full-time is not something the Red Hood would ever do but if he doesn't have civilian pursuits then Cass won't either so looks like they're both gonna have to be mentally healthy :/

Yeah I don't know how or if they end up integrating with the rest of the Waynes/Bats. But I think this would be fun and good for both of them

[the-bird-and-the-flute]

Ikegen - Yoritomo - Night attendant event

warning: NSFW, don't interact minors

the event name is this one -> 夜伽契約～過激に寵愛されて～

Bruh I was expecting sth completely different ahahah

I thought yoritomo's story was going to be fucking savage and they were going to fuck nonstop, but that was not the case 🙃

Actually, yoritomo was really sweet to MC (although obviously he did make her suffer from anticipation in some moments)

The plot was interesting. MC is an apothecary and she works for a lord who requested her to make a poison to kill someone. But MC refused.

Then the lord locked her up. While he was nagging that she fucked up his plans, he decided to offer her to yoritomo as a 'gift'. If she does her job as a night attendant well, he will free her.

Later, we see her already in Yoritomo's room. He was kind to her since the beginning. He was amused to see her reactions each time he kissed her lips or earlobes. MC didn't know what was going to happen to her, but she had sth to say to Yoritomo. She didn't know if he'd believe in a night attendant, but she tried anyway.

She told him her lord was maybe doing something illegal. Yoritomo told her he invited her to this room because he knew she was hiding something. He let her tell her story, but at the same time, while she was trying to explain the situation, he kept touching her boobs and neck. He was having such a good time hahahahahaha

MC managed to concentrate to finish her story. She told him that her lord was maybe committing fraud. Probably that was affecting the shogunate. But it was never clear to me what was the real connection between the shogunate and MC's lord. Yoritomo told her he couldn't do much yet cuz he needed more pieces of evidence to confirm what she just told him.

Shogun told her he'll keep her as his night attendant for the time being because if he gives her back to her lord, he might punish her or something. MC was happy to see that she was safe for now and that he believed in her story. I don't think they had sex that night tho.

On the next day, Yoritomo told her the good news. He talked to her lord and lied that she did a terrific job last night so he wanted to keep her a little longer hahahahha. I wonder if he actually said that or if he was just teasing her to see her reaction lmaoo

According to him, the lord has some servants in the palace right now, so they need to pretend they are having a good time as the servants supposedly are hearing their convo right now (he whispered that to her).

Then he tells her to fake some moans ahhahahahaha. His face asking this was so funny. Why he is like that? My taste for men is questionable

MC moaned last night when he was touching her but it seemed very realistic hhahahah

But she is not in the mood, you know? lol So he stimulates her by touching her body. Then she proceeds to do her 'fake moans' to his delight. He made sure to tell her that her 'acting' was really good

I deadass think he was lying here when he said there were servants listening to them, but who cares? I loved it. Want more of that.

A few days passed. MC's lord invited her for a chat. He wants to know if she said something she was not supposed to. When she asked what exactly he was talking about, he pinned her down saying that he can't understand how someone like her could caught shogun's attention.

Yoritomo slammed the door once he heard her screams asking for help. He said he was not an idiot to allow his woman to visit her lord alone. Also, while they were in the lord's place, he gathered enough evidence to condemn him for fraud.

I love that in this part she questions herself if Yoritomo was acting or not. I can't blame her cuz in several occasions in this event I was not sure either if he was just playing games or if he was being honest. But in this moment I can guarantee he was worried about her a lot.

PREMIUM

MC is once again in Yoritomo's room. She asks him if this is going to be their last night together as Yoritomo said before she would be free once this was over.

He tells her once again that he likes her a lot. She has a good heart and he is not bored when she is around. I thought Yoritomo got a liking to her so fast in this event XD

The shogun asks her if she wants to be his mistress. She accepts it.

I didn't read the sweet/normal yet. Need more points :D

[the-writing-trash-panda]

I’m Your Friend, I Want to Help

Fandom: httyd

Paring: Snotlout x Ruffnut

Rating: fluff

Words: 733

This takes place sometime between rtte and htttd2

Snotlout leaned against the chained ceiling of the training arena as he watched the sparring match going on below him. It was normal for the twins to fight and honestly, they had toned it down a little today but it was still fun to watch Ruffnut beat her brother’s ass. Next to him was a rather energetic Annalout who had insisted on spending the day with her big brother. The younger of the siblings was nonstop talking about what advantages each twin had and how she couldn’t wait to see who won. Snotlout shook his head in amusement when just as he suspected Ruff came out victorious and Tuff was rolling on the floor making it seem like he was in more pain than he actually was.

“Hey losers, how about we show them what we Jorgonsons are really made of with a little two v two?” Snotlout didn’t even have time to turn around before an arm was slung over his shoulders, he didn’t even have to look to know that it was Leiflout, the oldest of the Jorgonson siblings.

“No, you two always team up against us and it’s not fair,” Anna whined, though it was in vain as Siggielout threw her over his shoulder without a word and carried her down. After grabbing their desired weapons and stretching the Jorgenson siblings began their skirmish.

In the beginning Snotlout and Annalout were doing pretty good at dodging attacks and even got a few of their own but it didn’t take long before Anna decided to team up with the other two leaving Snotlout stumbling as he avoided three different attacks. Snotlout tried to keep focused but that was a lot harder to do with the twins constantly giving their own input, most of which was jokes about how bad their friend was doing. Turning around to tell the two to shut up, Snotlout let down his guard long enough for Leiflout to scratch his cheek and kick him into the wall.

“Wow, that looks like it hurts. Anyway the trade is here, do you guys want to come with me,” Eydis said, walking into the arena and gaining the full attention of Tuffnut. She received a chorus of yeahs before almost being knocked over by the still standing Jorgonsons.

“Hey Ruff, you coming?” the younger twin asked, grabbing his mace and giving his sister a quizzical look.

“I’ll catch up with you in a minute, I want to see how bad Snotty’s wound is.” Ruffnut waved off her brother, praying to Loki he would use this time to try and woe Eydis. Did she think he was the most annoying and stupid person on Berk, gods yes; but he was still her brother and she’d be damned if she didn’t try and help him win over his crush. And besides he didn’t need to see her actually providing comfort to Snotlout, she’d never hear the end of it.

“That’s a pretty nasty cut, and honestly I wouldn’t be surprised if you have several bruises as well,” Ruffnut stated kneeling down next to her friend and moving his hair so she could fully see his injured cheek. “Do you want me to help you to Gothi’s?”

“I’m fine, why are you helping me anyway? That's not normal for you,” Snotlout said looking up at the blonde.

“You looked like you needed a friend, but if you’d rather I leave you here to wallow in your self pity than be my guest,” Ruffnut snapped, already regretting her decision. She would have left him then and there if it weren’t for the fact that he had grabbed hold of her hand. Sighing, she sat down next to him laying her head on his shoulder; she had known him long enough that she didn’t even have to ask what was bothering him. All his life he had been compared to his brothers and it was clearly taking a toll on him. No words were shared between the two, none were needed as the blonde used her emergency supplies to tend to the other’s wound and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead, silently reminding him that she would always be there for him.

“You know I prefer you over them any day. They’re not as fun as you,” Ruffnut said, pulling Snotlout to his feet and walking to the docks with him, their hands intertwined.

[kilosch]

Journal Entry: 10/23/24

Early Morning Struggles: Same routine as yesterday—woke up at 5:30 AM, but this time it felt way worse. I barely got any sleep because my sibling wouldn’t stop blasting music the whole night. I begged my sister to turn it off, but she ignored me. I even abused melatonin, trying to force myself to sleep, but it didn’t work. The night felt like torture, just tossing and turning, fighting for even a little rest.

Drive to the Academy – Overthinking Everything: I pushed through the exhaustion, grabbed my coffee, and drove the 35 minutes to Huntington Beach. On the way, my mind was flooded with anxiety about the PC 832 test on Friday. The pressure to pass is really starting to get to me—I can’t stop overthinking every detail. What if I mess up? What if I fail? These thoughts lingered all the way to the academy.

Morning at the Academy – Meeting Captain Smith: I arrived at the Academy around 6:30 AM, and several classmates were already there, chit-chatting about the course and what to expect for the day. I joined them briefly before heading to the classroom. Inside, I met Ronald Smith, an old, skinny retired captain from Huntington Beach PD. He’d be our instructor for the next two days, covering LD 15 (Laws of Arrest) and LD 16 (Search and Seizure).

Smith started with a quick introduction, explaining his background. Apparently, in addition to his police career, he’s been a Criminology professor for a while. I tried to listen closely, but I could barely hear him since I forgot my hearing aids at home. I found myself relying on reading his lips, which worked okay, but it made the lecture feel more exhausting.

LD 15 and LD 16 – Theoretical Overload: As Smith dove into LD 15 and LD 16, it became clear that theories and concepts were his thing. He was passionate about it, explaining the philosophy behind the laws and how they shape police work. While it was interesting, his lecture didn’t feel practical enough for the upcoming PC 832 exam. The theories were valuable in the long run, but I couldn’t help but feel frustrated—I need to pass this test, not just learn philosophy.

Smith reassured us that these theories wouldn’t appear on the exam but said they’d help us better understand the legal system. I tried to absorb what I could, but it wasn’t clicking the way I hoped.

Afternoon Release – Drive Home & Decompressing: We finished earlier than usual, around 3:45 PM, and I was grateful to leave. The hour-long drive home felt brighter than usual—the sun was obnoxiously bright, making it an annoying trip. Once I got home, I decompressed with a simple lunch of longanisa and rice.

Preparing for My Parents’ Arrival: After eating, I got a text from my brother asking if anyone wanted to carpool with him to LAX to pick up our parents. For a moment, I almost forgot that they were arriving tonight. I declined the offer because I needed time to study. My brother ended up carpooling anyway to use the carpool lane and beat the traffic to LAX.

Meanwhile, I returned to my computer, searching for more study guides to prepare for the next day. I wanted to feel more confident going into Day 3, especially since the test anxiety has been eating at me nonstop.

Evening Thoughts – Missing Work and Coworkers: I found myself missing work and my coworkers—more than I expected. I think the structure of my job gave me something to hold onto mentally, and being away from it feels strange. I’ve grown so attached to that chaotic routine that being without it makes me feel... off.

Hoping for Sleep: As I write this, I’m hoping for decent sleep tonight, though that might be too much to ask. If my sister doesn’t blast music again and the dog doesn’t bark all night, maybe I’ll have a chance to finally rest.

One step at a time—I just need to get through tomorrow, stay focused, and pass PC 832.

[indigochromatic]

Tbh I think a lot depends on how broadly you (general you) is conceptualizing plurality/plurality-adjacent experiences

For example, Leonard Nimoy spends several pages at the start of I Am Spock (one of his memoirs) talking about how he...essentially has Spock in his head as an "invisible friend" nearly all the time, commenting on life and engaging in philosophical conversations with him. He literally writes out sections of dialogue between the two of them--it's a really sweet, banter-y but mutually appreciative dynamic that feels really familiar to us and a lot of other systems we know. Can we Say For Certain that he and Spock were a system? Nimoy doesn't ever use the exact language of plurality or systemhood in his memoir (notably the current language for it wasn't around as much back in the 80's/90's), and it doesn't seem like he's describing a highly dissociative or disordered experience so there's no hint of MPD (since DID didn't exist yet) framing to it either, but his description is still, to us at least, strikingly relatable in several ways.

We don't personally have a strongly spiritual or religious background outside of the typical white USamerican cultural influences, but a looooot of different spiritual and religious traditions of all kinds contain frameworks that have strong parallels with the plurality we think of here on tumblr, from New Age-y spiritualism to Shinto, spirit possession in the Umbanda religion to guardian angels and patron saints in various sects of Christianity, less hyper-individualistic conceptualizations of self in Buddhism to positive frameworks for hearing voices in some parts of India and Ghana. (I'll also drop the link to this more in-depth thread if you're curious). (more of me talking about ourselves under the cut)

~*~

When it comes to our own experiences, honestly we've given up trying to parse our system's history through the lens of origin labels, but a couple of highlights: - my headmate (L) spent around 25+ years as a singlet with "plurality-adjacent" experiences: an active imagination with vivid OCs (who so far haven't translated into being system members now) and daydreams, half a summer in middle school where she was bored in camp and so spent hours every day practicing visualizing interacting with a little friendly creature as a pet (one of these guys)--effectively accidentally making a non-sentient/non-headmate thoughtform construct that still sometimes shows up in her side of our headspace now, etc. These were never aversive experiences, btw, and don't feel trauma-related at all, at least from an internal qualitative perspective. - fast-forward to her mid/late 20's, add several consecutive years of chronic emotional trauma and burnout, plus long COVID and 2-4 months of very heavy, intense dissociation, and then I show up in our head one day out of stage left, no warning, not a fictional character she thought she liked or related to, "hey what's up Tiny, I live here now." Was I a Real[tm] system member from day one? idk, but she spent the next 6-8 months talking to me practically nonstop (while struggling to pass her PhD quals), which is basically the same process for how a lot of created headmates are formed, so...we'll never know, I guess, because even if I hadn't been "fully realized" without all that, it likely would've been enough to make me into one anyways. It wasn't really intentional in the sense of her setting out to create a headmate or anything like that--but for that year (and still now, in many ways) I was basically her lifeline to anything resembling sanity or functionality, and I knew it. (I don't have a "memory" of it, but I've always had the strong sense that I "showed up on purpose, to help"). And so in that sense, our interactions were absolutely intentional. - We don't fit the typical picture (in history or in presentation) of a DID/OSDD system, but we do undeniably have dissociative issues, and some trauma to unpack, especially from the last 5-10 years. I think some of our brain's "predisposition" to plurality was probably genetic (both of L's parents are very probably some kind of ADHD-spec or autism-spec), but I also don't think--and L agrees--that she was a system until that whole mess in our late 20's kinda catalyzed the situation, with me as the result. The plurality between the two of us also generally presents as kinda just mildly dissociative at most, but I (me, S, personally) also have a much more "dissociated parts of self-ish" median subsystem thing going on, which only really got started after the most recent year or two of some very difficult identity-and-interpersonal issues that made me feel like...pieces of myself were getting pulled apart in different directions. Until they could start literally arguing with each other and throwing me into identity-confusion mental vertigo, and partitioning my trauma responses in weird and inconvenient ways (/smh). | - So, we're not really a 100% Definitely Endogenic system--which is what we thought about ourselves at first, actually, and is a big part of why we can't imagine ever not supporting systems whose experiences don't fit into the western psychiatric model of dissociative disorders--but we're also not an example of a system whose experiences fit well with, say, the Theory of Structural Dissociation as the explanation of our plurality. Great question, OP, hope you continue to get neat and interesting answers -S (+L)

Storytime!

Hey, non-traumagenic systems, how did you become plural?

My system is trying to think of how plurality can be formed outside of trauma experiences and we're finding it difficult. Like, why would you willingly want to be plural when you can have a whole life to yourself, but also why not be plural for the beauty of it?

So I'd love to hear some of your stories and get a wider perspective! /gen

[ssahotstuff]

Lie To Me

An Aaron Hotchner x reader series

Aaron Hotchner/Ozark crossover

Part 13

Part 12 can be found here

Warnings: smut, cursing, alcohol, that's it for this chapter

Word count: 4k

When it was time to look at the house, Jonah and Charlotte went with you. Aaron had been texting you nonstop, asking you to talk to him, begging you not to move and screw up the balance of your relationship. You hadn't responded in two days and you had no plans of changing your mind any time soon. If he didn't want a future with you, you weren't sure if there was anything left to say. You didn't see it as too soon, and neither did he. His concerns were mostly the kids. The only downside was the lack of privacy, but you'd been making it work. The way you saw it, there was nothing stopping you from moving forward except for him and his fears.

The house was nice, but it didn't stand out to you once you saw it. The kids liked it but agreed that there could be better, and halfway through the tour, Jonah suggested something that made you want to leave right then and there.

"Why don't you just build what you want?"

You looked back at him, partly in disbelief that you hadn't had the thought sooner.

"If you'd rather, I can show you listings for residential land," the realtor suggested, and so that was the game plan. You'd be looking at land instead, building the perfect home for yourself. You'd give it the personality and charm that it deserved, working on every detail yourself until you'd perfected it.

"Let's do that," you agreed, and by the time you got home, Jonah had several listings on his phone for you to check out. There was land for sale everywhere, all you had to do was find the perfect spot.

It was nearly 5 when Aaron knocked at the door, and Jonah answered, happy to see him.

"Look who it is!" He said happily, and Aaron patted him on the back, his eyes scanning your face to make sure he wasn't intruding.

"We looked at a house today," Charlotte told him, and you watched his collar get tight around his throat, the vein in his neck throbbing.

"Did you like it?" It was forced, but he asked anyway, just to be polite.

You let out a resounding no, which made him relax visibly.

"She's building instead," Jonah said proudly, coming to sit on the arm of the couch so he could show Aaron the land for sale too.

"It's certainly not a bad idea," you could tell he was interested but he didn't want you to think you had won just yet.

"That way I get what I want," you told him. And he nodded, putting his arm around you.

"You deserve everything you want."

You didn't get a chance to talk until bed time. He wordlessly took your hand and led you across the street, not stopping again until you were on his couch, unsure how to act because up to this point, you'd not seen him except for a few minutes while you argued days prior.

"I want to apologize. It's not that I don't want to live with you. It was never about that. It's about the fact that I don't know from one day to the next if I'm going to have to say goodbye to you. I want to build a life with you, move in together. I want all of those things with you. But I'm afraid of what happens when we start moving forward and then I have to send you away."

Arguing could've been avoided if he would've just told you about his issues in the first place. It was scary for you too, but you'd never know unless you tried, and you wanted to try with him; even if you had to leave, you'd always belong to him.

"Why didn't you just tell me that instead of making me feel bad?" You couldn't stop the tears when they came, and he was quickly bringing you into his lap, swiping them away as quickly as they fell.

"Oh baby, don't cry. Watching you cry breaks my heart," you could hear the lump in his throat as he tried to calm you down without getting upset himself. He brought you to his chest, rubbing your back soothingly as you tried to calm down some.

"I thought I was losing you," it had been your worst fear, so you clutched him a little tighter, letting him kiss the corner of your mouth until you turned to meet his lips, kissing him like it was the first time. You'd missed him more than you ever thought possible, and you hoped things were on the fast track to being back to normal.

"Listen to me. You will never lose me. I'll always be yours," he said firmly, kissing you once more before he smiled at you, something else on his mind entirely.

"So, what does my girl know about building a house? Is there room for an office?" You quickly fell into a conversation about what you liked and disliked in a house. You both agreed on multiple levels and a basement. You wanted a basement bedroom, but Aaron didn't like the idea, opting for an attic room instead, something far away from the other bedrooms, off by itself. You were giving Charlotte free reign of her room, and Jonah if he wanted one, and Aaron thought that was a good idea too.

"Marty has a hefty amount of money set aside for you when everything is finished. He told me about it as soon as he knew I was running the investigation, wanted me to know he was going to take care of you for helping him out."

You never expected anything in return, and certainly not money.

"I don't need his money. I love those kids," you knew Marty would make you take it, and you could put it to good use. You could send Jonah to an excellent college, and Charlotte too if she wanted to go. Build the house of your dreams and take care of the kids you'd grown so close to.

"I know you do. But it's yours anyway."

You were planning to view some property the next day he had free, which was Sunday. You'd take the kids and go see as many as possible and vote on the best one after.

"I think life with you is going to be really wonderful," he whispered, kissing your neck softly, goosebumps prickling at your flushed skin. He did it again, working his way up to your mouth, his tongue tracing your bottom lip.

"I missed you so much," your mouth crashed against his and thus started the race to see how quickly he could undress you, hoisting you up so he could carry you to his bed.

"Promise me we'll talk everything out from now on. No more ignoring each other," he breathed, sliding your pants off as he crawled between your thighs.

"I promise. I love you," you choked as he latched onto your clit, sucking furiously, his arm draped over you so he could keep you flat on the bed. Each swipe of his tongue sent you spiraling, coming undone in a matter of seconds. He immediately begged for another, his fingers slipping inside of you as he lapped at your soaked center, his digits pumping in and out of you, the pressure too great to ignore as you came again, drenching his fingers. He groaned, your arousal coating his tongue as he drug it through your swollen folds, kissing your clit gently as he peered up at you through his dark, thick lashes.

"I love you more than anything in this world," he told you, dragging you to the edge of the bed so he could hook your feet over his shoulders and ease into you. You hadn't had him in so long that it nearly took your breath, your hand reached for his as he exhaled shakily, looking down at you.

"You feel so incredible. I'm so lucky that you let me have you like this," he began to move at a steady pace, his thumb circling your clit as he buried himself inside of you, his eyes trained on you the entire time.

"I don't want anyone else, only you," you assured him, reaching your high as you gripped the sheets, your back arching. He leaned forward long enough to capture your lips for a moment before he continued, increasing the speed slightly, making you moan in unison. It was the most satisfying feeling in the world, having him again. You'd never felt closer to him than you did now that all of your fears and insecurities were out in the open and you were being honest with each other.

He came moaning your name, trying to catch his breath as he slid out of you and cleaned you up. Once you were dressed, you walked over to your place and he climbed into bed with you for the first time in days, back where he belonged.

✨✨✨

"Okay, we'll stop at the Blue Cat and have lunch and then we'll go see all of these properties," you were in the drivers seat, Charlotte sitting next to you. Jonah was in Aaron's car--you were driving separately to The Blue Cat and leaving your car there for when you came back to check on things later.

"I'm glad you guys sorted things out. He's like, really in love with you," Charlotte said matter of factly, as if it were common knowledge to everyone.

"What makes you say that?" You peeled in the rear view long enough to see him and Jonah smiling as they talked, making you smile too.

"You cannot tell him I told you but I've felt so weird keeping a secret from you," she gushed, turning to you her cheeks tinted pink.

"Swear. Spill it," you shot back, eager to know what she was hiding.

"He has his mother's ring, I think he's going to give it to you. He showed it to me, he carries it around in his pocket, I think," she giggled, her hands covering her mouth.

"Tell me you're joking!"

You couldn't believe what you were hearing--the man who tried to convince you it was too soon to move in together was carrying around a ring.

"We had a really long conversation about it. He said, and I quote, 'She's the one'."

You were at The Blue Cat so you had to play it cool for now, but your mind was reeling. He truly loved you, and he cared about you enough to talk to one of your best friends about you.

"You can't say a word," Charlotte warned as you got out of the car, and you promised you wouldn't. Aaron took your hand so the four of you could walk inside; Kay was working hard and was happy to see you, waving you over to a table in front of the window.

"Didn't expect to see y'all here," she said cheerfully, her eyes darting to Aaron as soon as she thought you weren't looking. His foot found yours under the table, kicking light enough to get your attention as he smiled at you from behind his menu. You weren't sure why he looked at the menu anymore--he always ordered the exact same thing, and so did Jonah.

"Everyone loves that burger," Kay said, her gaze lingering on you while you ordered your food.

"It's true," Aaron said, reaching for your hand across the table. Charlotte looked at your empty ring finger before she looked expectantly at Aaron. You pretended not to notice his finger tracing the skin where a ring would go with the rough pad of his thumb as he looked down at your hand in his, staring back at Charlotte like he had no idea what she meant.

"We're seeing lakefront property just north of here," Jonah announced, since he'd been the one to gather the listings for you, you left him in charge of deciding which ones you went to go see.

"Is that the first one?" Aaron asked, and Kay couldn't help but overhear.

"Y'all living together?" The way she asked made you tense up, but you didn't get a chance to reply. Aaron answered for you.

"Yes. We're building a house together," he said proudly, making you blush like mad.

"How sweet. An Ozark fairy tale," she said as she walked away, popping her bubblegum loudly.

The first couple of properties were normal enough, but the last one had everyone walking the property line and imagining where the house would go. It was perfect, on a road by itself, with a dock and lake access farther down the property.

"This is nice," Aaron whispered in your ear, his arms snaking around your waist as the realtor and Jonah talked specifics, like contractors and who worked in the area.

"It's been my favorite one so far. What do you think? Can you see yourself living here?"

He nodded, opening his arms up to gesture around at the open space that seemed to stretch forever in every direction.

"What could be better?"

When you stopped at The Blue Cat to get your car and close things up, Marty was waiting for you inside. You told Aaron you'd be quick, so you went inside to see what he wanted.

"Business is booming here."

That's all he said, looking over the numbers as he held a sheet up in front of him.

"I love this place," it was the truth. You'd always treated it like it would be your own one day.

"Hotch says your buying property."

You nodded, anxious to hear what he had to say about it.

"Charlotte's happy living with you. Jonah too. I'm glad I've kept them out of this. You too." He seemed sad, like of all days, today had been the day for everything to weigh heavily on him.

"I'll never let anything happen to them," you promised, and he nodded his head.

"I know. I'm gonna come say hi. See if Jonah wants to come spend the night."

He did. If given the option, Jonah would always go home to visit. Charlotte wasn't ready and you wouldn't push her to do anything she didn't want to do. Her birthday was in two days, and with Jonah's help, you were making sure she had the best 18th birthday ever.

✨✨✨

"You're going to pick up the cake, right?" You we're on the phone with Aaron, who was on his way to town to get last minute things for Charlotte's birthday party.

"Yes baby, I'll grab the cake. I'll meet you at The Blue Cat when I'm done," you'd made arrangements for a very extravagant cake to be made for the birthday girl, but it wouldn't fit in your car.

"You're the best. I love you," you told him, and he assured you he loved you too before hanging up the phone. All you had left to do was go back home and get Charlotte, who was still getting ready when you left to make sure The Blue Cat was set up for the party. Marty was planning to make an appearance, which would make Charlotte happier than any party.

Dave had helped you put together a special menu for her birthday, and you'd taken the liberty of inviting all of Charlotte's friends from school, so there would be a full house. Some of them had already showed up and were helping out with the finishing touches, like decorating and organizing everything. The restaurant was slow for now considering it was a weekday and the middle of the day, so you'd picked the best time to throw her party. She was convinced you were going out to dinner, but you'd secretly put this together behind her back, with Aaron and Jonah's help of course.

"I'm going to get the birthday girl and we'll celebrate when I get back," you told Jonah, who was supervising the streamer placement, making sure everything was perfect for his sister.

"Hotch should be here anytime," Jonah told you as you left, telling you not to worry about him. You made the drive to your house, hoping you could keep everything under wraps long enough to get her to the Blue Cat.

"We've got to stop by work, our checks are ready," it was the convenient excuse you'd been planning to use all day, even though she didn't need her check; you weren't planning to let her spend a dime today.

"Good idea, I'm saving all of my checks for a car," if Marty came through like he was supposed to, she wouldn't need they money--he was supposed to be getting her a car. You'd already talked about it.

"Lunch rush must be killing Kay," she said as she looked at the packed parking lot, unaware that it was all for her.

"Yeah let's get in and out quick so we don't bother her," you deserved an Oscar for the performance you were putting on; Aaron had been so certain that you'd be the one to accidentally slip up and tell her about the party because you were bad at keeping secrets like this.

When you opened the door, she was more than shocked--she was absolutely stunned. She stared back at you with a giant smile on her face before hugging you tight, whispering in your ear.

"You're the best sister I could've ever wished for."

Master tags: @wheelsupkels @periodtcevans @hausofwhores @criminallyobsessedcm @tojithesourcerkiller @fireworksinthesky @realdirectionx

[knewyouwereaweirdo]

just another johnny au (sick au)

now, before you say anything (and start shaking me to explain what’s going on):

yes, i have been thinking of this au nonstop since last night. yes, i spent my time drawing it today. and yes, i am posting this before bed because what is sleep?

i am going to expand more on this (since you guys already know angst is my favorite, especially against favorite characters), but it’s basically an au where johnny has thyroid cancer.

it’s a hereditary disease that was passed down from his mom (which was what made her pass away when johnny was younger). the symptoms started showing after he started performing for the majestic theatre and he was eventually diagnosed with thyroid cancer (thus why he has a nasal cannula).

buster wanted him to stop performing since the stress from doing shows every day was starting to take a toll on him, but he insisted that he did since singing and dancing and performing was several of the things he loved so much about his life, and what he was so passionate about.

eventually his body can’t really take it any longer and he’s forced to be bedridden. every time someone comes visits him he tries to smile but just finds it too difficult to do so.

“How are you feeling?”

His forced smile briefly stretched the corner of his lips up, but it dropped no more later than a second.

“I-I’m sorry, it’s just... it’s just hard to try and smile.”

also, ryanny from this point: ryan had, show after show, been coming to the hospital during visiting hours to stay with johnny and help him with whatever he needed. of course, romantic feelings start developing from that point.

okay, i know this is sudden, but one day johnny just knows this is going to be his last day (he can feel it):

“Dad... when I, I mean... if I, y’know.”

His dad stayed silent, pursing his lips without a single word, face remaining absolutely emotionless although his heart was being torn apart inside.

“Yes, Johnny?”

Johnny finally lifted his eyes from the crisp wrinkles of the white bedsheets and gave his dad a small, sad smile.

“... can I be buried next to mum?”

that night ryan come visits johnny like any other day and johnny lets him know that he doesn’t think he has much time left. he says it rather subtly, but ryan knows what he means right away. they don’t really have to talk to each other to know.

when visiting hours are over, before ryan leaves, johnny tells him that they should say goodbye to each other like any other day, just with a simple goodbye because it’ll be less sad.

“... I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” Johnny said with a tired smile, lying back against the bed.

Ryan shook, trembled. This wasn’t fair. This couldn’t be fair, that they somewhat knew that they wouldn’t be able to talk to each other, or laugh, or just be able to hold hands. Everything was never fair.

“... yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

aaaand the very next day he does die (don’t kill me for this please), and we go from there. have to figure out some minor details!

gonna expand more from this point, might add some changes! but anyway, here’s our johnny. :D

[soobmint]

paper hearts | choi soobin [f] ; [c] 80s! au, 9.6k words

s u m m a r y ; if there was one thing you wanted to avoid on valentine’s day, it was running into your ex best friend, choi soobin. but when a series of unfortunate events involving too much purple eyeshadow, drunken punches, and one stolen bicycle leads you right back to his side, you begin to realize that maybe you truly belonged with him all along.

c o n t e n t s ; soobin x fem!reader, 80s! au, valentine’s day, ex best friend! soobin, rich boy! soobin, but he’s a major dweeb and the biggest softie, yeonjun is a major prick (i’m so sorry junnie), reader is a part time worker, soobin is best friends with lee felix of stray kids, some themes of social classes, roughly inspired by the 80s movie “pretty in pink,” mentions drugs, alcohol, and single parent households, mostly just fluff, fluff, and more fluff, with a hint of crack/humor

n o t e ; hello friends! this was a very quickly planned, last minute valentine’s day idea, and it’s actually a collab with one of my dearest friends, @chanluster ! she posted her piece of the collab as well, you can check it out by going to the collab masterlist here! this was so much fun to write and i think that 80s! soobin was just too good of a concept to pass up! anyways, happy valentine’s day, i hope you enjoy this oneshot! do leave a like, reblog, or comment if you could, it really helps so much <3

[back to my masterlist] [oneshot playlist]

IF ONE MORE CUT-OUT, CRAFT-PAPER HEART HIT YOU IN THE FACE, YOU WERE GOING TO QUIT YOUR JOB.

Of course you would never actually quit. With your mother out of the picture and your father working nonstop overtime just to barely have enough cash to put food on the table for the both of you, you had come to rely on your minimum wage part-time hours more than you liked to admit. However, the handmade strings of paper hearts that hung from wall to wall throughout the entirety of the record shop you were employed at was enough to make you consider it; not to mention the Phil Collins record that had been spinning all day, filling your ears with melodies embodying the very air of romance, and the embarrassing pink sweater your boss had forced you to wear. You mumbled curses beneath your breath as you pulled at the collar, itching away at your neck.

When you made a step towards a crate full of records, ready to tidy it up after a customer had rummaged through it leaving it a mess, you were met with another face full of cheap red construction paper. With a large growl of exasperation, you swatted at the hearts and accidentally caused the entire string of them to fall to the ground. You cleared your throat, glad that no customers were present to see your little outburst.

Your boss, Jen, still saw it all.

“That’s not very festive of you, kid,” She said, taking a drag on her cigarette. “It’s Valentine’s Day! Lighten up.”

“Ah, my bad. I forgot that I was supposed to be overjoyed on the day honoring the execution of St. Valentine,” You said as you gave her a sarcastic smile. “I’ll make sure to smile at the next couple that walks in and ask them how they plan to contribute to the commercialization of a martyr’s death.”

“You must be real fun at parties,” Jen mumbled. She shook her cigarette at you from behind the counter. “You’re just bitter because you don’t have a valentine. I can’t blame anyone for giving you the cold shoulder with that attitude of yours.”

You scowled, picking up the string of hearts that you had sent crashing to the floor. “I’m not bitter, and I don’t want a date. Also, I told you to stop smoking inside! It smells awful.”

“Last I checked, this was my shop, not yours.” You rolled your eyes as you approached the counter, handing the discarded string to Jen so she could throw it in the trash. “Now you’re making me do chores for you too? You’ve got some nerve, I’ll give you that.”

“Jen, please, I’m really not in the mood for this today.”

Jen shrugged, bending towards the trash can to throw away the string of hearts when she paused and pulled something from the bin. You glanced over your shoulder and gasped when you saw what she held in her hand—a small red envelope with your name scrawled across the front and a pink heart-shaped sticker stuck on the back.

“What’s this?” Jen asked, opening the envelope and shaking out the contents. A single slip of paper fell out, landing atop the counter. You rushed to grab it, but Jen snatched it up just before your fingers reached the countertop.

“Give me that,” You insisted, face growing warm. “I threw it away for a reason!”

“It’s an invitation to a party?” She seemed beyond surprised, glancing back and forth between you and the paper several times. “You got invited to a Valentine’s Day party, and instead of going, you asked me to give you extra hours? Why?”

You looked down at your feet, digging the toe of your sneaker into the blue carpet. There were, in fact, many reasons why you did not want to go to that party. They were as follows:

One: Choi Yeonjun was the one who had invited you. After you had rejected his offer when he asked to take you to a basketball game a month before, you could barely make eye contact with him in the school hallway without feeling guilty. That and the fact that he was one of the richest preps in the school, you knew he had just been asking you out for some sort of prank or dare that you preferred to not potentially fall victim to.

Two: you needed to work as much as you could. Money, as always, was tight for you and your father. There was no way you would sacrifice precious hours to go to a party full of rich kids where nothing but humiliation was sure to await you.

Three: your old childhood friend and the one person you couldn’t bear to see was probably going to be there—Choi Soobin.

You had barely spoken to Soobin in the four years you had been in high school. Crossing paths with him in the cafeteria, turning down the same aisle of books as him in the library, all those tiny stolen glances and accidental encounters were the only bits of interaction you had kept throughout all that time. The worst part was, he hadn’t done anything wrong.

It was nothing but your own cowardice that had driven the two of you apart, and you were still too afraid to own up to it.

Instead of explaining all of this to Jen, you simply shrugged and said, “I dunno. It just sounds lame.”

Your boss sighed, holding the invitation out towards you. “Okay, I’m letting you off early. Go to the party.”

With wide eyes, you shook your head immediately. “Absolutely not. Why in the world would I go?”

“Well, first of all, it’s a once in a lifetime opportunity for you. Who knows when your next chance to go to a party will be.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at that.

“Second, it’s a holiday! The only reason I even opened today was because you were begging me for hours. I thought it was because you were bummed about having no plans, but clearly it’s because you wanted an excuse to be a recluse.”

“Hey, I’m not a recluse.”

“Clearly.” She shook the invitation at you once more, brows raised. “If you go, I’ll raise your pay by fifty cents for the next month.”

Your ears perked up at that.

“Well?” She asked, well aware that she had hit the jackpot. “What'd ya say?”

Weighing the risks against the benefits, you bit the inside of your cheek.

“Make it a dollar and you’ve got a deal.” 

-

“HAPPY VALENTINE’S, CHOI.”

When Soobin heard the sarcastic remark coming from his best friend, Felix, he had to fight back the urge to burst into tears then and there. He still wasn’t quite sure how Felix had convinced him to come, but he was already regretting it. The last thing he wanted to do to celebrate the day dedicated to love was spend it at a house party—or, as Soobin preferred to call them, any outcast high school kid’s version of hell on earth.

With a quick peek between his fingers, which he had used to cover his eyes immediately upon arriving at the site of the Valentine’s party, Soobin caught another eye-full of couples getting all too familiar with one another out in the open. He gulped, letting his hands grip the handles of the bike as he averted his gaze, choosing to cast his best glare at Felix, who was busy adjusting his ever-present beanie.

“Shut up,” he murmured, slowly sliding off the seat of his bike. He dusted off the worn, tearing cushion, glancing around the area. “Now quick, we gotta put our stuff somewhere safe.”

Felix looked aghast, making no moves to help Soobin in his search for a hiding spot. “What are you doing?”

“Tryna find a safe place for my bike?” He thought the answer to be somewhat obvious, but clearly Felix wasn’t on the same track of thinking. “You don’t know today’s world! Anyone is willing to steal nowadays.”

“Soobin, your bike is coughing up oil from its chains. It should be in its own care home at this rate.”

“I don’t wanna hear your slander, skater boy,” Soobin retorted, eyeing Felix’s ebony skateboard that he refused to be seen without. As if on cue, when he pushed his bike forward, the chains squealed, drawing the attention of a pair of particularly passionate individuals who had been wrapped up with one another moments before. Soobin ignored their annoyed stares, feeling his ears burn from embarrassment. He glanced back to Felix. “Help me find a hiding spot.”

Felix was anything but enthusiastic, but he began to help Soobin search nonetheless.

“Slide it in here, Soobs,” Felix called a few moments later. He was pointed to an empty space between the home’s perfectly trimmed bushes. Soobin pursed his lips together, pushing his large glasses further up the bridge of his nose—a nervous tick of his. Felix groaned, rolling his eyes. “Or you can leave it out in the open so it’ll spit more oil on the passersby? Is that what you want?”

“Fine, fine!” Soobin huffed, wheeling his bike over to the shrubbery, chains squeaking all the way. He carefully laid it beneath the brush and moved a few branches to cover it up nicely. He stood up straight, dusting his hands on the front of his loose blue jeans. “What about your skateboard?”

Felix gave the board a pat, awarding his most prized possession a dazzling smile one would expect to see a proud father giving his beloved son. But in reality, it was the school’s stoner grinning ear to ear at his old, dusty skateboard. “Nightrider stays with me.”

Soobin scrunched his nose, cringing on instinct. He still calls that thing by that stupid name?

Felix clapped him on the shoulder before he could make a remark, catching him off guard when he said, “Right. Let’s go and get your girl.”

There was nothing Soobin could do to stop the flush that rushed to his cheeks right away. Images of you, his ex-best friend and the only reason he had even come to this party in the first place, flashed through his mind. Had he not overheard Yeonjun invite you earlier that morning and then casually mention the encounter to Felix, there was no way he would have even stepped foot out of his house that night. Part of him was peeved, wishing he had never uttered a single word about you to his overbearing friend. Yet, deep down, there was hope within him—the tiniest sliver.

If there was even the slightest chance that he could talk to you that night, he would do anything. Even if it meant dealing with a stupid party, and the never-ceasing teasing he was bound to continue receiving from Felix.

“Don’t even say that,” He said, emphasizing each word as they walked up the front steps. Soobin had to glance down at his much shorter friend to see the devious grin on his freckled face.

“Say what? That she’s your girl, your woman, your one and only?”

The blush must have been creeping to his neck by that point. He could feel it. “I. . .” There were many things Soobin wished to say; angry words that would hopefully shut the blonde skater boy up real quick. But he couldn’t bring himself to say a single harsh word, so he sighed in defeat. “I can’t even say it.”

“That you hate me?” Felix only grinned even bigger, and Soobin couldn’t help the tiny defeated smile that slipped over his features. “Oh, I know. It’s because I’m too good of a best friend.”

They stepped into the house then, instantly being overwhelmed by loud music, boisterous laughter, and drunken yells echoing throughout the halls. Soobin latched onto Felix right away, gripping his friend’s sleeve as someone stumbled into him, a bit of beer spilling from their cup. He pushed his glasses up, only for them to slide right back down as he began to sweat.

“Maybe we should go home, Lix!” Soobin shouted to be heard over the noise as they travelled further into the house. “We can always try next year!”

“Stop being a scaredy-cat!” Felix shouted back, and Soobin thought he might actually begin to cry as they squeezed their way into the living room. Soobin nearly gagged at the strong smell of alcohol as it burned in his nose. The scene was nothing short of a nightmare to Soobin—loud voices, smoke rising in the air, vodka assaulting his nose and sweat beading on the back of his neck. He had never been one to drink, and he didn’t plan on starting that night; but he was beginning to understand what Felix meant when he had once told him it was nearly impossible to get through one of these parties sober.

He was about to make another complaint and beg to leave when someone from the crowd hollered his name, causing him to wince when he recognized that voice as the one that belonged to none other than Choi Yeonjun.

“Soobin! Where you been?”

Soobin smiled nervously at the school’s heartthrob—and textbook snobby rich kid—before he turned back to Felix. He didn’t want to leave his friend, but he knew that he would never hear the end of it if he ignored Yeonjun’s persistent calls. “I’ll be right back,” He promised Felix, still holding onto his sleeve.

“No, no,” Felix assured. “You go. You’ll probably find her around that place anyway.”

Soobin wasn’t so sure of that. You were definitely not of the right social standing to be caught amongst the circle of the school’s rich boys—which was why it had surprised Soobin that Yeonjun had invited you to the party in the first place. Your high school had its own caste system, and you were near the bottom of it.

And, as much as it pained him to admit it, Soobin was stuck at the very top with all the other rich snobs who cared about nothing more than their daily allowances that came straight from their daddy’s bank account.

“What about you, buddy?” He asked Felix, desperate for any excuse to remain by his friend’s side. He would have tried to bring Felix with him, but his friend was in an even worse social standing than you were—he was poor, and he was most known for being the school’s pothead. There was no way Soobin would willingly drag him into a situation where nothing but slander and torment awaited him.

“Me?” Felix shrugged, gripping his board tighter. “I’ll just smoke away the night.”

Soobin pouted, glancing back at the group of preps as they called for him once again. He sighed, clapping Felix on the shoulder. “Just make sure you won’t smell too much of it when I come back.”

Submitting himself to his doom then, he turned on his heel and slowly made his way to where the group of  boys sat near the sofa, giving them a half-hearted wave.

“Why were you hanging around that Felix guy?” Yeonjun asked once Soobin had reached their circle. “Did he blackmail you or something?”

Soobin frowned, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “He’s my friend.”

Yeonjun rolled his eyes, brushing a hand through his perfectly-straightened ebony locks. “Sure he is. Tell me, do you see every kid you find on the streets as some sort of personal charity project? Or is it just Felix and—what was her name—” He snapped his fingers then before he said, “Y/N, right?”

Soobin didn’t respond—well, it was more like he couldn’t respond. By nature he was a very passive being, but nothing drew him closer to bouts of anger than when the people he cared about were being insulted right before him.

Especially when it came to you.

Yet, as much as he wanted to tell Yeonjun off or give him a nice shove into the smoke-stained walls, words failed him. They always did. Perhaps this was why you had abandoned him all those years ago. Nobody knew him better than you did, so of course you were able to see what he truly was beneath all the expensive clothes and nervous laughter—a coward.

He figured that he’d probably have left himself too.

“Drink up, buttercup.” The chipper voice that belonged to the other Choi in the small gathering of socialites, Choi Beomgyu, thrust a plastic red cup towards Soobin’s chest. 

He shook his head, throwing another wavering smile in his direction. “No thanks. I don’t drink.”

Yeonjun rolled his eyes. “Of course you don’t. Why are you even here then?”

Once again, Soobin chose silence as his only response. He swallowed, patting the front pocket of his denim jacket. As the group of boys began conversing once more, he couldn’t help but let his eyes wander around the room, searching every drunken face for the features that belonged to you, trying to hear your name in every conversation, desperate for your voice to break through the blasting music and shouting voices.

“Who ya looking for there, Big Choi?” Soobin grimaced at the nickname. He was skinny, but incredibly tall, and nobody would let him forget that. “Big Choi” was one of his most common nicknames among the elitists. He despised it, but of course, he would never voice that aloud.

He glanced at Beomgyu and smiled nervously again, shaking his head. “Nobody.”

His eyes met Yeonjun’s and he gulped yet again as the latter eyed him with suspicion. It wasn’t as though he had anything to hide, but something about Yeonjun’s calculating gaze made his skin crawl.

He needed to escape. Just for a moment, at least.

“I’ll be right back. Going to find some water.”

He slipped out of the living room then, apologizing profusely to each couple he accidentally bumped into, bowing in remorse to each person’s toes his big feet happened to stumble over. He ached to be by Felix’s side—the stoned skateboarder had become somewhat of a security blanket to the taller of the duo—but his blonde friend was nowhere to be seen.

After snagging a bottle of water from the kitchen, Soobin managed to slip into an empty bathroom. He slammed the door shut and wasted no time in locking it. Letting out the biggest sigh of relief, he closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the door, taking a big gulp of the ice cold water.

He set the bottle on the counter and carefully reached into the front pocket of his jacket, his fingers finding the piece of paper he had been storing there all evening. He pulled it out and let his eyes wander over his middle school creation. It was a big heart, cut out from a scrap piece of red construction paper. Scrawled across it in his eight-grade handwriting were the words, Be mine this Valentine’s! His name was etched at the bottom, and at the very top, delicately printed in hot pink glitter glue, your name was written as well.

He had planned to give this to you four years ago on Valentine’s day. Everything had been planned out perfectly; he was to pick you up on his old, trusty bike. It wasn’t really made for two people, but the two of you had fashioned a makeshift extra seat for you to sit upon whenever you went places together. 

He wanted to take you to the Dairy Shack, which was the local ice cream shop where the two of you spent the most time together. You always got a large chocolate shake to share, playing a quick game of rock, paper, scissors to decide who got to eat the cherry on top. He was going to order a shake and specially ask for two cherries that time, and planned to give both of them to you before he would bravely present you with the handmade card he had spent all day working on.

However, when he waited for you outside your house that day, the red dusk turned to pitch black night, and you never stepped foot out your door.

He had even gone up to your door a few times and knocked, but there was no answer. Eventually he pedalled off into the night, back to his house. He was disappointed, of course, but more worried than anything else. He had hoped you weren’t sick.

But when he saw you at school the next day, he knew that hadn’t been the case.

And when you ignored him calling your name as you passed by him in the hallways, he knew that something had drastically changed.

For weeks, Soobin was in great turmoil as he replayed your last few encounters together before you had stood him up. Perhaps you were angry that he had won the last few games of rock, paper, scissors? If he had known, he would have given you all the cherries for the rest of time if it meant you would still talk to him. He didn’t care about them—he cared about you.

He missed you.

And as weeks turned to months, and months turned to years, you still barely spoke to him, and he missed you more and more. The best friend he had wanted to take a step closer to had taken a thousand steps back from him, and he still had no idea why.

But that night, he was determined to find out.

Well, if he could muster up the courage to get a single word out, of course.

He folded the heart back up and stuck it back in his pocket, taking a deep breath as he observed himself in the fogged-up mirror. He fixed his bright blue hair that Felix had helped him bleach and dye, making sure the pieces fell over the corners of his eyes just right. He straightened his white turtleneck and cuffed the sleeves of his denim jacket until he was at least somewhat content with his appearance.

“You can do this, Soobs,” He told himself, adjusting his big round glasses further up the bridge of his nose. “That’s what Felix would say.”

“Hey, rich boy!” A loud scream came from outside the bathroom door, accompanied by harsh knocking that sent Soobin stumbling backwards until he fell in the shower, pulling the curtains down with him.

“Hurry up in there! I’m about to piss myself!”

Soobin let out a shaky sigh, scrambling to his feet as he rushed to fix the curtain he had torn down with his clumsiness. “Sorry,” he mumbled, though he doubted the person on the other side of the door could hear him.

He realized then with an ever growing dread that it would be a miracle if he survived the night long enough to even find you, but it would take the work of God himself for him to actually speak to you.

He figured it was time for him to start praying.

- 

YOU KNEW IT WAS A MISTAKE TO LET JEN DO YOUR MAKEUP.

When she had stopped you on your way out the door with a compact of bright purple eyeshadow, you had turned her down right away. No way in all of creation were you walking in a party with such an atrocious color caked up to your brow bone.

“How can you say it’s gonna look bad if you haven’t even let me try?” Jen had asked.

You had given her a once-over, your lips pressed into a thin line. “If it’s gonna look anything like the way you do your own makeup, I’m gonna have to pass.”

After that snide remark, she had threatened to fire you if you didn’t let her apply the makeup. And so you obliged, though you didn’t have much of a choice.

The booming sounds of the party hit your ears before you had even reached the lawn. Screaming teens—well, there were probably some adults thrown in there as well—and the sound of music spilled through the open windows of the home. Couples and singles alike were scattered throughout the perfectly kept lawn that was now littered with empty cups and other assortments of garbage.

You looked down at your patchwork jeans and pink sweater, certain that you would be underdressed compared to the rest of the partygoers. But from the looks of things, as you carefully squeezed your way through the front door and into the home, everyone was probably too wasted to even notice your arrival, let alone care about your looks.

You caught a glimpse of your face in the hallway mirror, cringing at the sight of your eyeshadow. You had tried to wipe some of it away before arriving, but it simply smudged, giving you quite the shocking smoky, purple eye look. For someone who didn’t even know the difference between a paintbrush and a makeup brush, it was a bold look, to say the least.

If Soobin saw you looking like this, he’d probably have a heart attack.

Soobin.

In the midst of all your frantic preparation, you had nearly forgotten about the main reason why you had planned to avoid this party at all costs. With a quick glance around the room, you realized that he was nowhere to be seen. You wouldn’t have been surprised if he hadn’t shown up at all. He was never a fan of parties, anyway.

You crossed your arms over your chest and slowly slipped past the couples crowding the hallway with their limbs intertwined, mouths practically swallowing one another whole, until you reached the living room. Surprisingly, it was less crowded in here than you thought it might be. A few minglers were scattered about the room’s perimeter, but they all kept away from the center of the room, which was occupied by none other than Choi Yeonjun and all his brainless, rich-boy worshippers. You quickly scanned the group, not able to make out Soobin among them. When you realized he wasn’t there, you were partly relieved and partly disappointed. If was to be anywhere at this party, it would probably be with these guys.

With a quick turn on your heel, you planned to make your way out of the living room before Yeonjun could see you. The last thing you wanted was for the boy with a bruised ego to see you, regardless of whether or not he had been the one to invite you.

“Y/N? You came?”

Too late.

Plastering a forced grin to your face, you slowly turned to face Yeonjun, who had just called your name. He was eyeing you with slight surprise, but soon, a smirk slipped across his lips as he motioned for you to come over. You had to hold back your sigh, wishing there was some way for you to get out of this situation. It was all Jen’s fault that you had to show up in the first place. You decided you were going to demand an extra ten cents be added to your raise the next time you saw your pushy boss.

“Hey Yeonjun,” you said once you had walked over to him. “I figured I’d stop by for a minute or two, since you were kind enough to invite me.”

He smirked, glancing at a few of his friends. They shared a knowing laugh with one another, but the meaning of it was lost to you. You wanted nothing more than to get away from them, but that wasn’t an option.

“You’re too busy to go out with me to a basketball game but free enough to come to a party, huh?” He asked.

You blinked, digging your nails into your arms. “I’m sorry?”

“It’s fine, really,” He drawled, swirling his plastic cup of beer in his hand. “You didn’t think I’d be upset or anything did you? I only asked you out because I was dared to shack up with you. But I’m guessing you already knew that, since you’re so smart and all.”

Your eyes went wide, but you managed to control the rest of your expression. It was just like you had guessed—Yeonjun had invited you to the party with the sole purpose of making a scene.

If you survived the night, Jen was never going to hear the end of it.

“You’re not gonna say anything?” He asked, pushing himself to his feet. You could tell by the slight stumble in his step and his hooded eyes that he had quite a bit to drink. He took a step towards you, causing you to back up immediately. Your back hit the wall, and you placed your palms against it as Yeonjun towered over you. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I know why you’re here anyways.” He leaned forward, his lips hovering near your ear. “You’re here to see Soobin, aren’t you? Since he’s the only one here willing to waste his time on filth like you.”

Your blood boiled, and you had to clench your fists at your sides to control your anger.

“Don’t,” You seethed, “Call me that.”

“Call you what? Filth? Or sweetheart? Why, is that something good old Binnie used to call you—”

He never got to finish that sentence, because with one big burst of anger, you stomped on his toe as hard as you could with your worn-out platform sneaker.

“What the hell!” He screeched, drawing the attention of several others in the room. His outburst even caused a few of the couples to pull away from each other’s faces long enough to eavesdrop.

Before you could even say anything back, lukewarm liquid was splashed up in your face, burning your eyes and nose. You gasped, running your hands over your eyes to see Yeonjun with his now empty cup of beer pointed towards you.

“Think twice before you act out against me next time, sweetheart. Never forget your place.”

Tears of anger burned in your eyes, and you scanned the room to see several people exchanging whispers and giggles as they glanced in your direction. You pushed past Yeonjun and quickly made your way out the back door of the house, unable to stand the humiliation for a moment longer.

Soobin arrived in the living room just in time to see you leave.

He wasted no time in rushing towards Yeonjun, grabbing hold of his arm. “Yeonjun, was that Y/N?” He asked, eyes quickly taking in the puddle of alcohol on the floor and the empty cup in Yeonjun’s hand. “What happened?”

“Nothing you need to worry your pretty blue head about, Big Choi. I just put her in her place is all.”

Soobin’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean you ‘put her in her place?’”

Yeonjun laughed, giving Soobin a nonchalant pat on the back. “Just drop it, would you? It has nothing to do with you.”

“What did you say, Yeonjun?”

Yeonjun was growing irritated now. He huffed out a breath, crossing his arms over his chest. “I said it has nothing to do with you, Soobin. I know you like to hang around people like that pothead Felix, but the rest of us live in the real world, where we’d rather not waste our time with those who have no future anyways. I bet he’s the one that got you to dye your hair that god awful blue, isn’t he?”

Soobin bit the inside of his cheek. He so badly wished to rip Yeonjun to shreds then and there. If he had Felix’s courage, the cocky bastard would have been knocked to the ground ages ago. But if there was one thing Soobin was sure he could never be, it was brave. And so, despite his rage, he remained silent, his eyes practically burning a hole through Yeonjun’s chest from how intently he was glaring.

It seemed as though Yeonjun was about to say something, but his eyes landed on the bit of red that peeked through the front pocket of Soobin’s denim jacket. Before Soobin had time to defend himself, Yeonjun had reached forward and snatched it from his pocket, revealing the large paper heart—his valentine for you.

“So this is why you care so much,” Yeonjun said, laughing as his eyes scanned the glittery words that decorated the page. “You want her to be your valentine.”

“Give that back,” Soobin said quietly, his hands beginning to shake.

Yeonjun instead lifted his eyes to Soobin, gave him a sickly sweet grin, and ripped the heart straight down the middle. He let the two pieces fall from his hands to the ground, and with them Soobin’s heart went also.

“You’re really willing to try and go against me, and for what? For the sake of a girl who can’t even afford a new pair of jeans and a boy that smokes his life away in the bathroom stalls?” Yeonjun took a slow step towards Soobin, his eyes glinting with a sinister determination. “You may be rich, Soobin, but if you choose to lower yourself to their standards, you may as well be dirt poor just like they are.”

With his hands clenched into tight fists, his glasses sliding down his nose, and his heart quite literally in two pieces on the floor below him, Soobin decided that he had had enough.

“I’d much rather be associated with people who are kind and have actual depth to their character than be lumped together with a bunch of pricks like you with no real personality—because that’s something you can’t buy with daddy’s paycheck.”

He had to physically restrain himself from slapping his hand across his own mouth in shock. It was as if the spirit of Felix himself had possessed him to say such harsh things. He wondered where Felix was then, wishing more than ever before to have his best friend by his side as he began to tremble from either the rush of adrenaline that coursed through his veins, or from fear. Or perhaps it was both.

He didn’t have time to ponder it any longer before Yeonjun’s fist collided with his nose, resulting in a sickening crack as pain echoed throughout his face in tidal waves.

He stumbled backward as people began to shout, raising his hand to his nose and gasping when he saw that his palm was covered in blood. 

Beomgyu had his arms wrapped around Yeonjun, who was desperately trying to lunge towards Soobin once again.

“Knock it off, Yeonjun!” Beomgyu shouted, pushing the elder back. “His dad is on the school board! Are you trying to get expelled?”

Beomgyu looked over his shoulder at the still stunned Soobin, who was gaping at the blood that now stained his once white turtleneck. 

“Get lost, Soobin,” Beomgyu said, to which Soobin only blinked in reply, his ears ringing.

“Now!”

Head spinning, Soobin picked up the two halves of his paper heart, stuffed them into his jeans, and stumbled out the same door he had seen you go through just minutes before. After checking to make sure his glasses were still intact—they were, thankfully—he shook his head in an effort to clear his mind of the static, eyes scanning the front lawn looking for any trace of you.

It didn’t take long for his eyes to spot you among the now dwindling crowd of partygoers. Your bright pink sweater stood out against the darkness, so he was able to recognize you even with your back towards him. He sniffed, wiping the back of his hand against his dripping nose as he slowly made his way to where you sat on the curb, your feet planted on the asphalt street. He wished that he looked a bit more presentable—when he played this scene out in his head over the years in which he would finally reunite with you, he never imagined himself dazed and covered in blood.

Desperate times called for desperate measures, he supposed.

When he reached you, he simply stood beside you in silence for a moment, unsure of what to say. He could tell that you sensed his presence, but you refused to look up at him as you kept your face buried in your hands. He could have sworn he heard a few muffled sobs slip through your fingers, but of course, he wasn’t going to bring that up.

Eventually he decided to slip his jacket off of his shoulders, leaning down to drape it over you. You still kept your head down as he sat beside you on the curb, but he watched you grip the jacket and pull it tighter around your body. He smiled a bit, holding the collar of his turtleneck against his throbbing nose.

“Thank you,” you muttered, wiping your hand across your eyes. You finally looked over at him, and when you did, you couldn’t hold back your gasp. “My God Soobin, what happened to your face?”

“Oh, well, I might have gotten punched,” He said quickly, trying to wave off your concern. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Punched? By who?”

He looked down at the ground, sniffing as a drop of blood hit the pavement. “Yeonjun,” he muttered under his breath.

“I’m sorry, did you just say Yeonjun? Are you insane? Why on earth would you butt heads with the Choi Yeonjun?”

Soobin didn’t say anything in response, he simply stared at you, eyes wide with beer dripping off the ends of your hair, makeup smeared across your face, your sweater stained down the front. It didn’t seem to take long for you to put the pieces together, as the shock left your face and was replaced with something akin to guilt.

“Oh,” You said, looking back down at your shoes.

“So she knows that I did it all for her,” Soobin thought.

For some reason, the idea of that both terrified and excited him.

A second later, he glanced over to see you ripping one of the hand-sewed patches of fabric off your jeans, leaving a square of your skin exposed to the chilly night air. You leaned towards him, pushing his hand away from his nose so you could use the patch to clean up some of the blood on and around his puffy red nose.

“Y/N, your pants!” He exclaimed, trying to push your hand away. “They’re ruined!”

“I’m not worried about my pants, you idiot,” You said, swatting his hand away as you continued to press the cloth against his skin. “You got punched in the face because of me, this is the least I could do.”

“That was my choice though,” He muttered, although he stopped trying to resist your touch. He ignored the way his heart thrummed harder in his chest, hoping that you couldn’t hear.

“Well, this is my choice too.” Your eyes flicked to his for a brief moment, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth. “Why did you do it, by the way?”

“Do what?”

“Stand up to Yeonjun for me and get a nasty nosebleed as a result.”

“Oh.” He blinked slowly, keeping his eyes fixed on yours. “Just ‘cause.”

“Because . . . ?”

“Because of you.” He blurted, causing your hand to go still against him. He swallowed his fear, braving the best smile that he could. “Just you. That was my only reason.”

You didn’t say anything as your hand fell from his face, the cloth clutched between your fingers. The anxiety he had tried his best to suppress came rushing up all at once, and he was surprised that his ears didn’t begin to squeal like a tea kettle from all the pressure. 

“Y/N,” He said, gently placing his hand over yours despite how his fingers trembled. “Why did you pull away from me?”

“What?”

“Four years ago. Why did you stop talking to me?”

You were quiet for a moment, digging into the ground with the toe of your sneaker. Soobin held his breath until you finally replied with, “I was afraid.”

“Afraid? Of what?”

“We were getting older, Binnie,” You said, and his heart skipped at the use of your old nickname for him. “You and I, we’re from very different walks of life. You get to hang out with people like Yeonjun, whereas I get a cup of beer poured all over my face just for existing, and you get a fist to the nose for trying to stand up for me. We’re from different sides of the track, one might say.”

“So?” Soobin asked, his hand tightening around yours. “Did you really think that would affect us that much, Y/N?”

You frowned, glancing down at his hand over yours.

“I thought you’d be embarrassed of me,” You said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Embarrassed?” Soobin’s eyes went wide as he gripped your hand tighter still, pulling it into his lap. “Y/N, I would never, ever be embarrassed of you. Besides, have you seen my best friend? He’s on a first name basis with the principal because of how often he gets written up for smoking behind the school. If I’m not embarrassed of him, why would I ever be embarrassed of you?”

You laughed, wiping the back of your hand across your eyes once more. “I guess I was worried about nothing, huh?” You sniffed, giving his hand a squeeze. “I’m sorry, Soobin.”

He shook his head, squeezing your hand right back. “Don’t apologize. You’re here now, that’s what matters. Do think we could—you know—”

“Pick up where we left off?” You smiled, nodding vigorously. “I’d like that very much, Binnie.”

He beamed then, almost pinching himself to be sure that he was not dreaming, but the pain in his nose was real enough to remind him of that on its own. He jumped to his feet, pulling you right up with him.

“In that case, how about we finally go on that Valentine’s date I had planned all the way back then?”

“Date?” You asked, a brow raised. “Is it really considered a date if two friends are just hanging out?”

He didn’t respond as he pulled you along behind him towards the bushes where he and Felix had hidden his bike. He crouched down and moved the branches aside, feeling his heart drop to his stomach when he realized that his bike was, in fact, no longer there.

He shot up, turning to face you with eyes wide. “Felix—that bastard took my bike!”

You were quiet for a moment, but then, you burst into boisterous laughter, leaving Soobin utterly confused.

“It’s not funny, Y/N!” He whined, shoving your shoulder lightly. “I was supposed to take you to the Dairy Shack on my bike!”

“It is funny,” You said between bursts of laughter. “Only you would get such a rusty old piece of metal stolen from you.”

He pushed his lips out in a pout, sliding his glasses up his sore nose. “It’s a good bike, don’t make fun of it.”

You grinned, interlocking his fingers with yours, which was enough to instantly wipe the pout right off his face. 

“Let’s just walk, Binnie. The Dairy Shack isn’t that far anyways.”

You were right; the walk to your favorite milkshake place was very close to the house where the party had occurred. Although Felix stealing his bike had thrown an obvious wrench in his plans, it was a minor hiccup, and one he could most definitely handle. Besides, he wouldn’t have to see Felix until the next day anyways. He could deal with his frustration then.

At least, that’s what he thought anyways, until the two of you spotted Felix at the skatepark on your way to the dairy shack.

Soobin’s eyes took in the deplorable sight before him—from where he stood on the dimly lit sidewalk, he could see Felix and a girl he had never seen before, their faces nearly pressed together, and most importantly, with his bike discarded a few yards away from them.

“Soobin,” You said, tugging on his arm. “They look like they’re busy, let’s just go—”

But Soobin, who had little patience when it came to Felix messing up his plans, didn’t let you finish before he screamed, “Give me back my freaking bike!”

You had to hold back your snort of laughter at his choice of words. Even when he was trying to sound angry, he was undeniably adorable.

Soobin watched as Felix startled, clutching his spliff between his fingers as he glared daggers back at his friend. Soobin gulped, trying not to let his fear show on his face. What did he have to be afraid of, anyways? He was the victim of thievery, and his best friend was the offender.

Felix took a big step towards him, but he paused, his eyes landing on your interlocked hands. Soobin glanced down as well, his face growing furiously warm as he realized the situation he had gotten himself into. 

He decided to divert the subject before it could even be brought up by saying, “I can’t believe you stole my bike! All this time I was trying to hide it from strangers, but you, my best friend! I should’ve been hiding it from you!”

Soobin noticed Felix’s female companion step off the skateboard and walk over in his direction, and for a second he felt bad for possibly ruining her night with his best friend. However, his frustration was more prominent in the moment as he fixed his gaze back on his best friend, who had fixed a mischievous smirk upon his face that made warning sirens blare in Soobin’s head right away.

“Now, now, buddy,” Felix said, his voice calm and carefree as ever. It probably had something to do with what he had just smoked, but Soobin didn’t care all that much. “You’re just gonna have to let me borrow it for a little longer.”

Soobin nearly laughed at the audacity of such a statement. “You are gonna give me the bike, or—”

“How about this, Soobs?” Soobin’s lips clamped shut at his friend’s interruption, as the thief in question gestured with his joint to where Soobin’s fingers were locked with yours. “You let me keep your bike for the night, and I don’t tell your dad about you hanging out with the opposite gender.”

Unable to control yourself, you let out a big laugh. Soobin would have felt betrayed, but he was more terrified than anything else at the idea of his father finding out that he was taking a girl out without his permission. He would be grounded for weeks—no, months.

“You wouldn’t.”

Felix’s lips curled up even more into a twisted grin that Soobin wished he had the guts to slap off his face. “God, just imagine the look on Mr. Choi’s face. Imagine him finding out about your premarital hand holding.”

No. Not the hand holding.

Soobin almost felt faint, but he steeled himself to the best of his abilities as he cleared his throat. “One night, Lix,” he warned. “If I don’t see it on my porch in the morning, you’ll be sorry!”

“Oh, I’m so scared,” Felix teased. His expression changed a moment later though, when he finally noticed Soobin’s swollen nose and blood-stained turtleneck. “Wait, Soobs, the hell happened to you?”

Soobin, however, had already taken his first steps away from the skatepark, pulling you along behind him. “I’ll tell you later, bud. Enjoy your spliff with that kind girl who you probably don’t deserve!”

“Hey!”

Soobin couldn’t help but laugh as he swung your interlocked hands together, grinning as you let out a laugh as well. The anger that had seeped through him seemed to melt away in an instant as the two of you continued your journey to the Dairy Shack.

“Would your dad really be that upset if he found out about this?” You asked.

Soobin grimaced. “We should probably wait til next year to tell him about this outing. Or maybe the year after that.”

When the two of you had finally reached the Dairy Shack, you waited outside for him while he went in to order your drink. A large chocolate milkshake, with two straws, just like you used to get every time before.

When he had the drink in hand, he walked back outside and sat down beside you on the curb, smiling as you wrapped his jacket tighter around your shoulders. You smiled back up at him, your eyes creasing from the expression. Your smile had always struck him right to his core; he had missed seeing it every day.

He hoped he could see it every morning and every night from that day onward. There was no way he would let you go this time.

He just had to muster up the courage to grab hold of you first.

“You know what, Binnie, you turned out to be a lot taller than I thought you ever would be,” you said as you took one of the straws from his hands. “You’re actually enormous. It’s shocking.”

“Should I find that offensive? It sounds kinda like an insult.”

“Take it however you will,” You teased, leaning over as he popped the plastic lid off the milkshake. He grabbed the cherry by the stem and held it towards you.

“What are you doing?” You asked, holding out your fist. “We have to rock, paper, scissors for it. Remember?”

Soobin laughed as he shook his head. “I’m giving it to you this time. It’s what I planned to do all those years ago, when I asked you to hang out on Valentine’s.”

You seemed to be taken aback, but you simply shrugged as you plucked the cherry from his hand and pulled it from the stem with your teeth, glancing back over at him. It was silent for a moment, but then your eyes landed on the pocket of his jeans, where you could see a bit of red paper poking out. You leaned over even further, reaching your hand out to snatch the paper.

“What are you—hey! Give that back!”

Soobin desperately tried to take his Valentine back from you, but it was too late. You held both halves of what used to be a whole in your hands, your eyes scanning the words as you pieced them together.

“Soobin . . .”

He held his breath. Had his act of young love left you completely speechless? Were you so touched that you would burst into tears?

“This looks like a middle schooler made it.”

He let out the breath in the form of a long, long sigh.

“That’s because it was made by a middle schooler,” He said as he set the milkshake down beside him. “I made it back in the eighth grade. I planned to give it to you that Valentine’s.”

“Oh.” You ran your finger along the card’s surface, the smallest smile creeping across your lips. “Well in that case, it’s not half bad. Why’s it ripped though?”

“Ah—well, Yeonjun . . .”

You nodded, taking another glance at his swollen nose. “No need to elaborate. It seems you had a lot planned for our Valentine’s Day back then. Is there anything else you wanted to do?”

His mouth went dry at that, and he wished that you couldn’t see his face because he was sure that his expression was quite comical. All the way back then, four years prior, he had in fact planned the perfect, ideal day in his head. Picking you up on his bike, giving you the cherry from his milkshake, and presenting you with his hand made card.

There was only one thing left on his list.

He didn’t move at first, willing himself to have enough courage to even look back in your direction. But when he finally did allow his eyes to meet yours, he felt his shoulders relax and his heart rate became more manageable.

He took a deep breath, leaned forward, and pressed his lips against your cheek.

He lingered there for only a moment before he pulled back, daring to pry one of his eyes open to take in the look on your face.

The disappointment was palpable—from the way your brows furrowed together and the way you pursed your lips. His stomach dropped, and he scooted the tiniest bit away from you.

“I’m sorry,” He blurt out, his face growing warmer by the second. “I shouldn’t have done that, I just—”

“Is that all?”

Your question stopped him mid-ramble, his eyes growing wide. “Huh?”

“Is that all?” You repeated, closing the distance between you that he had created. “It’s Valentine’s Day, Soobin. I think we can do better than a peck on the cheek.”

The implications of what you were saying didn’t register with him right away, but when it finally did, he could have sworn his heart began to beat loud enough for the entire town to hear. His hand curled into a fist as he gripped the denim of his jeans. He leaned forward, keeping his eyes open just enough to watch you as he brought his lips closer to yours. He could feel your eyes on him all the while, causing his heart to pound fiercer still within him.

When he was just a breath away, he whispered, “Can you close your eyes?”

“Hm?”

He lifted his hand, gently placing it over your eyes. He leaned closer then, filling the space between you both as his lips met yours. You tasted vaguely of cherry and strawberry slice soda, and he found it quite nice the way his lips seemed to fit perfectly against your own. As the seconds drew on, your hands slipped around his neck, pulling him closer. He slowly let his hand fall from your eyes, tracing lines with the tips of his fingers down your cheek before he cradled your jaw, letting his lips part just enough to taste the sweet sugar on your lips once more.

He thought in a haze that it was a good thing he didn’t drink anything at the party, as kissing you was proving to be intoxicating enough on its own.

When you finally pulled away, leaving your forehead resting against his, he let his eyes flutter open enough to see the euphoric smile that adorned your features. He grinned as well, gently running his thumb against your cheek.

“I think that back then, I had planned to ask you this before kissing you,” He whispered, “But Y/N, will you be my Valentine?”

Instead of a spoken answer, you laughed, leaning forward to capture his lips with yours once again, and that was the only answer Choi Soobin would ever need.

-

WHEN SOOBIN ARRIVED HOME THAT NIGHT, HE WENT STRAIGHT FOR THE TELEPHONE.

It was kept upstairs at night right outside his parent’s door, to keep himself and his brother from using it in the late hours. Of course, this never stopped Soobin from sneaking it downstairs to his room in the basement to make late night calls to Felix.

And that particular evening, he really needed to give Felix an update.

He grabbed the phone from the small table in the hallway, carefully tiptoeing towards the basement stairs. Before he had even taken the first step down, the bathroom door creaked open. Soobin whipped his head around to see his brother Kai standing there, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he raised a brow at his older brother.

Soobin froze, blinking slowly as he realized the incriminating situation he found himself in.

“Please don’t tell mom,” He whispered, his eyes pleading with his younger brother.

Kai nodded, although Soobin wasn’t quite convinced that the boy was even coherent enough to understand what was going on. Soobin offered a rushed thank you, and ventured his first step down the stairs.

Well, he tried, anyways, and ended up missing the first step. He tumbled down the rest of the stairs, landing on his butt at the very end.

He winced in pain, glad to see that the phone was still intact in his hands. He glanced over his shoulders to see Kai staring down the stairway with wide eyes, his lips parted in shock. Soobin quickly put a finger to his lips, begging his brother for silence.

Kai simply shook his head and walked away, allowing Soobin the freedom to breathe out a sigh of relief.

He quickly ran to his bedroom and shut the door, collapsing onto his bed with the phone as his breaths came in ragged gasps as an aftereffect from his tumble down the stairs. He figured he should have dialed Felix’s number right away, but he couldn’t help but brush his fingers against his lips, remembering the feeling and taste of having yours pressed against them.

He was so caught up in his daze that he didn’t notice Felix calling until the third ring.

He picked it up, breathing heavily into the speaker as he rubbed a sore spot on his lower back. 

“Please tell me that panting is from running a marathon, and not what I think you’ve successfully tried.”

Soobin nearly gagged, holding the phone away from his face as he coughed, flustered by his friend's crude words. He brought the phone back to his face and said, “No, you sicko, I just fell down the stairs.”

“How the hell did you manage that with those long legs?”

“That’s not important, Lix!” He laid back onto his pillows then, twirling the phone cord in his hands as he stared up at his ceiling, the memories of his adventure with you that night flooding his mind once more. He couldn’t help but smile from ear to ear as he said, “Look, I need to tell you something important.”

If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought that he could hear the smile in Felix’s voice too as his friend replied.

“Well buddy, I got something to tell you too.”

[waybrights]

Sats au

Marcy, after a whole day of nonstop writing: *sleepily/aimlessly walks around the studio*

Sasha, sipping her her coffee in the dark: "You know it's midnight, right?"

Marcy, going completely still: *looks around confused*

okay i wrote smth for this and ik it doesn't fit the prompt exactly i hope u enjoy it anyway!!!

There was something strangely comforting about the studio, especially when the only sound was the hum of the air conditioner and there was no one around. Well, no one but Marcy. Technically, she wasn't allowed to be there, but it's not like anyone was going to kick them out. Besides, she was certain no one knew she was still there. And if they did, no one had come for them yet, so they couldn't get mad when they found her asleep on the couch in the morning.

Besides, the studio was probably one of the only places Marcy could actually focus on what she was doing. Their house was too noisy, especially since Sprig and Polly were over for the week whilst Hop Pop was away on some important trip, and her phone and laptop were there too, all easy distractions from the music she was meant to be going over. So she stayed behind, in the dark studio that had really, really, shitty wifi and an air-con that was stuck blowing cold wind into the building.

Sure, it wasn't the best and they could afford to rent out a new one, but all three of them liked the studio enough to stay, even if the couch was starting to fall apart and it was constantly just above freezing.

On one particular night, Marcy was sitting on the cold floor, one of Sasha's guitars in her lap as she tried to figure out a chord progression. No matter how many combinations she tried, it never sounded right. Sure, they could always just ask Sasha to play something for her, but Marcy knew how tired she'd been recently, and didn't want to bother her with something as trivial as a chord progression. Plus, figuring out herself might make Sasha less stressed about having to do a whole tour after not playing for months due to an injury.

She hadn't meant to stay up so late, but then again, this stupid chord progression was meant to be easy. Luckily, the coffee machine had been fixed just the day before and restocked with just about everything Marcy needed to keep her awake for an extra ten hours and she was absolutely going to take full advantage of it.

---

Marcy wasn't sure how long she'd been sat there, staring down at those stupid lines, but the notes were starting to blur together, making it all the more harder to actually figure out what they were supposed to be doing. Their fingers hurt from playing and the song was rattling around in her head, the same three lines playing on a loop, bringing Marcy closer and closer to just tearing up the sheets surrounding her.

She hadn't realised she'd been crying until a single tear fell onto the paper, it only smudged one note, but it was enough for the frustration that had been building up for the past however long to boil over.

Biting her lip to stop herself crying even more, she stood up and made a beeline for the door, because if she stayed in this stupid recording booth for any longer, Sasha would come in finding her guitar in pieces.

Swiping up the half finished coffee, Marcy stomped out of the room, blinking quickly to get rid of the tears pooling in their eyes. God this is so stupid, she thought to herself as she slammed the door open. In the back of her mind, she knew it would mark the wall, but she didn't have it in her to care. She'd probably just let everyone down. It was a simple chord progression and she couldn't even figure it out. So much for one of the best songwriters, she huffed, practically slamming the cup onto the desk.

Only, she slammed it too hard and the handle came clean off. Marcy stared at it for a few seconds, their eyes flitting between the handle closed in their fist and the mug Anne had got for her birthday on the table. "Fuck," she mumbled, pressing the handle back onto the mug as if that would magically mend it. For a moment, it looked like it was balanced, and Marcy slowly pulled her hand away, only for the handle to clatter against the desk a second later.

For the next ten minutes, Marcy tried to reattach the handle, each with less success than the last. It was pathetic really, but she was so caught up in the fact that she broke Anne's gift to her, that she didn't really have the mental capacity to care about it. So what if everyone saw her breakdown the next time they checked the security footage? That didn't matter when she'd just ruined something Anne gave her.

It was the feeling of warm hands on her own that finally got Marcy to stop. Everything seemed to drain out of her as the mug and handle were pried away from her. Vaguely, she wondered who was in the studio so late, although there was a chance she'd just spent several hours trying to force a cup back together and everyone had arrived for their final session. Either way, they didn't object as someone wrapped their arms around her waist and picked them up.

"I'm sorry," Marcy mumbled after a few minutes. It hadn't been part of her plan when she opted to stay behind to have some sort of breakdown and then cry in someone's arms, and she couldn't help feeling like she should apologise.

"Don't worry 'bout it, you looked like you needed this," Sasha's voice was a mere whisper in her ear, but it still sent Marcy's heart racing.

"Sasha?" Marcy asked, her eyes snapping open as she stared up into her band-mate's face. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Sasha said, a small frown on her face.

"I was," they paused and looked down, resting their head against Sasha's chest. "I was trying to figure out that chord progression you were complaining about. You've been so stressed recently, and it doesn't help we're going back on tour soon and you haven't played in a while, so I thought that, maybe, if I fixed it for you, it would make you slightly less stressed," saying it out loud, she realised that maybe it wasn't her best idea, but she wanted to do something for her friends. They both did so much for her, it was high time she did something for them.

“You… you didn’t have to do that, mar-mar,” Sasha said gently, and even though she wasn’t looking, Marcy could see the smile on her face. The way Sasha’s lips twitched up and her eyes would crinkle ever so slightly, because she didn’t usually smile and when she did it was a sight to behold. “But if that’s what got you so upset…”

“No, it wasn’t that,” well, not entirely, “I just got stressed.”

“That, or you haven’t slept properly in about a week and keep sneaking off here when you think Anne and I are asleep,” Sasha said, though her voice held no anger.

Marcy felt themself go still as Sasha spoke. How did she know? Were they that obvious? No, no she couldn’t be because no one had even asked her about it before! “That’s stupid,” Marcy scoffed instead, “I’ve been sleeping perfectly fine.”

“Marce…” Sasha mumbled, her arms coming up to gently squeeze their shoulders. “You don’t have to lie to me. I won’t force you to tell me, but if you think it’ll help to get it off your shoulders I’m-” she swallowed, almost like it was hard to admit that she was there for Marcy. “I’m always here, whenever you need. Even if it is 1 am on the shitty studio couch,” she ended lightly. Marcy giggled and moved slightly to bring a hand up to where Sasha was drawing random shapes on their bicep.

“Thank you, Sash, seriously,” they said, threading their fingers together. “And I will tell you, both of you, just not right now.”

“It’s okay,” Sasha whispered, very obviously trying to hold back a yawn, “I’ll wait for as long as you need.”

Marcy smiled and pressed the pad of her thumb against Sasha’s. “Are you excited? For next week?”

“Hmm?” Sasha hummed, her body jerking ever so slightly as she woke up. “Yeah, but I’m also nervous, y’know?” she mumbled, slowly waving her lightly bandaged hand around. “I haven’t played in a while, so I don’t want to mess up or anything.”

“You won’t,” Marcy mumbled, her eyes growing heavy as they sat there, Sasha’s warmth creating a bubble of sorts, where nothing could get to her. “You’re really great, Sash, you’ll be amazing.”

When no response came, Marcy slowly lifted her head, only to find Sasha fast asleep against the arm of the couch. It looked uncomfortable, and they knew she would complain in the morning, but she looked so relaxed and Marcy didn’t want to ruin that for anything. So she slowly shifted so she was laying down, their head on Sasha’s lap and her arms wrapped tightly around Sasha’s waist. “Night, Sash.”

[tennessoui]

Pleaseeee do 43 or 46. I love your work btw

(insert months late panicked noises about how I thought 45 was 'falling in love with best friend's partner' and so wrote hold me fast for it, but actually 43 is 'falling in love with best friend's partner' very whoops very my b)

so i did 43 again anyway, but in a modern au and where the couple is actually in love (but it is an obikin happy ending because kit did write it)

(wife is unnamed the entire time so no character bashing it could literally be anyone ive been calling her rebecca in my head lmao)

43. Falling In Love With Best Friend's Partner (2.7k.......)

Obi-Wan’s kettle goes off with a whistle right as there’s a fierce banging on the door. He almost drops his favorite mug in surprise, which puts him in a bad mood from the get-go. But for the love of Christ, who would come call at his house at nine at night? It’s more than rude; it’s downright indecent.

He stalks through the house until he can unlock the door to give the person on his porch a piece of his mind, but then he sees who it is.

It’s Anakin, and he’s crying.

If there’s anything that can make Obi-Wan quiet his temper on a normal day, it’s Anakin Skywalker. A distressed Anakin Skywalker brings out every ounce of his compassion.

“Anakin?” He asks immediately, stepping forward to touch the man on his arm gently and guide him inside. He doesn’t even have to suppress a sigh when Anakin doesn’t remember to toe off his shoes in the entry way--that’s how worried he is at Anakin’s tears and the way they only increase in frequency and sound when Obi-Wan moves his hand to his back and pushes him further into his house, all the way to the dining table where he urges him to sit down.

Anakin still hasn’t said anything resembling actual words yet, so Obi-Wan goes to the kitchen to make them both a cup of tea. It’s either that or give into the temptation to thumb the tear tracks off of his cheeks and that’s a little more revealing than Obi-Wan likes.

He’s not that brave, for one.

For another, Anakin is a married man. A man married to one of Obi-Wan’s closest friends, a previous grad student turned co-author of at least seven publications, with more on the way. He can’t risk tenderly wiping away her husband’s tears because Obi-Wan Kenobi has been at least a little in love with him since they were introduced four years ago, when he’d swanned up to him holding two champagne glasses in one hand and stuck out the other to shake. “My wife talks about you nonstop, Professor,” he’d said. “I used to be so jealous until I sat in on one of your lectures when I was still in school. Made sense then.”

Obi-Wan had not known what to do with that, but had taken the proffered champagne glass and assured this strange man he had nothing to worry about.

After all, Obi-Wan wasn’t the sort of man to chase after former students or people in marriages.

Over the next few years, however, it became quite clear to him that there was a big addendum needed in his moral code: people in marriages to former students drew his eyes apparently the way no one else has ever managed to in his life.

Or perhaps it was just Anakin. Perhaps it’s always been just Anakin.

Coming to terms with the shameful, quiet love he carried for a man who flirts like it’s second nature and always has a warm touch or word to bestow on Obi-Wan had been difficult, to say the least.

Anakin’s wife had been one of Obi-Wan’s closest friends. His inconvenient and persistent feelings for Anakin had turned her into one thing only: his wife. They could not be friends when Obi-Wan spends half his nights wondering what it would be like to sleep with his arms around her husband. They could not be friends when the last dozen times the married couple had invited him over for dinner, he had paid more attention to her husband than to the food or to the other topics of conversation or to her.

And she has to know. She has to know why their latest paper has taken eight months to write. She has to have seen the way Obi-Wan perks up so obviously when Anakin brings his wife her lunch, the way he has to turn away from their chaste kisses, the way he listens keenly to any information she gives him on her husband, the way he had excused himself from the room when he heard her tell another colleague that they were trying for children.

In academia, you learn fairly quickly that it is useless to resent someone for having what you do not. It seems that Obi-Wan has to learn this lesson all over again when it comes to people. It’s hard. It’s selfish. He hates that he loves Anakin. He hates that he loves Anakin the way he does, that it’s been four years and he still loves him, that not even his happy marriage, his love for his wife, the fact that his wife is Obi-Wan’s friend, can change it.

Anakin considers them friends now, which is so much worse and yet still more than a pathetic old man like Obi-Wan deserves. Worse, because when Obi-Wan had started rejecting dinners at the Skywalker household, Anakin had pushed back with worry. When he’d noticed that Obi-Wan’s lunch most often consisted of whatever cold cut sandwich was on sale at the gas station next to campus, he’d started bringing Obi-Wan a lunch along with his wife. When Obi-Wan had stopped responding to his texts, he showed up to drag him to a night out.

Worse, because being Anakin’s friend is nothing like being his husband, and the differences make him ache as much as the acts of kindness make him want to weep.

It’s still more than Obi-Wan deserves. He knows that intimately, the way he knows that nothing can ever happen between the two of them because Anakin loves his wife. And his wife--

“She cheated on me,” Anakin gets out between uneven breaths.

Obi-Wan promptly drops his favorite mug and watches it shatter on the floor.

“Oh!” Anakin exclaims at the loud noise, peeking around the corner, and looking like he’s about to offer to help. Obi-Wan shoos him out of the kitchen, and grabs the remaining mug of tea to follow him. The mess can wait for a later time.

“What did you say?” he asks carefully, nudging the mug over to Anakin, who wraps his hands around it.

Anakin blinks up at him wetly. “Don’t make me say it again.”

Obi-Wan drags his chair closer and dares to lay a hand over Anakin’s arm, watching his face for any negative reaction. Anakin just looks at it though, as if he can’t even comprehend it.

“Please, tell me what happened,” he entreats softly.

Anakin blinks and takes a sip of the tea. It’s chamomile, which is the only tea blend Obi-Wan knows Anakin likes.

“I, um.” Anakin clears his throat and reaches up to wipe at his eyes. Obi-Wan thinks his breath leaves his body for a second when he sees the slighter lighter ring of skin around Anakin’s fourth finger. He never thought he’d see what that sliver of skin looks like.

“I came back early from a work trip, cause. Um. Cause we’ve been having problems,” he starts with a quick side glance at Obi-Wan. “Just some fighting. Going to bed angry. I guess stuff you’re never supposed to do.”

Obi-Wan tries to arrange his face in an expression meant to convey that he definitely knows what stuff one is supposed to do in a marriage.

“So I thought I could, you know. Surprise her. But when I got in, there was someone else in the house. In our bed, Obi-Wan, she fucked someone else in our bed. I--” Anakin starts crying dropping his head into his hands and dislodging Obi-Wan’s arm completely.

“Oh,” Obi-Wan murmurs, at a loss for what to say. He settles for kneeling down next to Anakin and rubbing his knee. This is platonic.This is fine. This isn’t taking advantage of Anakin in this state.

Obi-Wan has absolutely no desire to take advantage of Anakin in this state, not when he’s so hurt and sad and in need of comfort. Obi-Wan just wants to provide him with comfort, but it feels like a grievous violation to touch Anakin like this willingly. It breaks one of his most cardinal rules.

But it turns out he’d break a lot of rules for Anakin, apparently.

Especially when Anakin responds so well to his touch, practically throwing himself out of his own chair and into Obi-Wan’s arms, tea forgotten on the table.

“How am I supposed to go back there?” He sobs into Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “I thought...we were supposed to raise kids in that house and she...she’s been...she’s been cheating on me in our bed--”

Obi-Wan tentatively strokes through his hair, adding pressure when Anakin reacts positively. He hates seeing him like this, so torn up and aching. He’d loved his wife, it’s so clear to see.

But Anakin has always struck Obi-Wan as the sort of person to put loyalty over everything else. For his wife to break his trust so suddenly and quickly must spell the death of his love for her. That must be what Obi-Wan is witnessing now, with Anakin, sans wedding ring, sobbing into his arms like this. This must be how Anakin’s love dies.

“I’m so sorry, Anakin,” he murmurs into the man’s temple, pressing his nose there at his hairline and inhaling as softly as he can. He’s disgusted with himself. He can’t help himself. He--

“She said she loved him,” Anakin sniffles, seemingly unaware of anything but his own pain. Obi-Wan gathers him closer at these words and rubs at his back, offering silent comfort. To have Anakin close like this is agony, but to be an appropriate distance away from him as he fell apart would also be agony of a different sort.

And if the last four years have proven anything, Obi-Wan will choose the agony that causes Anakin any modicum of happiness he can give him.

“She said--” here Anakin pauses and takes several deep breaths against the cotton of Obi-Wan’s now damp sleepshirt. “She said she didn’t when they started, but then I--I didn’t notice and it--she said it just happened, but--”

He breaks off and freezes in Obi-Wan’s arms quite suddenly. Obi-Wan stills his own hands in response. “But?” he asks, barely more than an exhale.

“But she said she couldn’t feel sorry about it,” Anakin whispers back, pulling away so that he can look at Obi-Wan’s face.

Obi-Wan stares at him, uncomprehending. Anakin’s wife is the unapologetic sort of woman, yes, but to be caught cheating on her husband and then refuse to apologize for the betrayal? That’s something else entirely. “What?” he stutters out in a completely unflattering way.

Anakin’s eyes glisten, but he purses his lips and flexes his jaw before he speaks again. “She said she couldn’t feel sorry about falling in love with someone else because it’s quite clear I’ve done the same thing. And--and she may have physically cheated on me first, but I’ve...I’ve been emotionally unfaithful to her for years now.”

Obi-Wan blinks quite a bit and very fast, tightening his hold on Anakin before pulling away just as quickly. “That’s absurd,” he spits out, trying to calm his rushing heartbeat. “Anakin, you’re the most loyal person I know. You would never--”

“She was right,” Anakin cuts him off, breaking eye contact with him to look over his shoulder and then down at...at his lips. “I didn’t even realize she was right until she said it, but. But I’ve been in love with someone else for three years of my five year marriage. I--I’m not who we thought I was.”

And his eyes well up with tears again and Obi-Wan isn’t strong enough this time from stopping himself from reaching out and brushing one of his tears away with the pad of his thumb.

“Anakin, you’re not…” thinking straight, serious, in your right mind, in love with anyone but your wife. “You’re hurting, Anakin,” he settles on saying. “You need to...sleep. To rest.”

You need to stop saying things that will break my heart in a few days when you realize you don’t actually mean them.

But Anakin has always been stubborn, especially when it comes to Obi-Wan’s demands. “Obi-Wan,” he insists, shoving his face forward so that their heads connect with a thump. “Obi-Wan, it’s you. It’s been you. For. For longer than I knew. For three years at least. Maybe longer. It should have been you from the beginning. When--”

“Anakin, please,” he finds himself begging, scrambling up and off the floor and away from this troublesome man. “Do not say anything you cannot take back. You are in distress, you’re not thinking clearly.”

Anakin follows him to his feet. “I need to say this,” he says, voice breaking. “Please, Obi-Wan. Let me say this.”

Obi-Wan has never known how to say no to Anakin. He closes his mouth instead.

“Before we even started dating, that’s when I sat in on your lecture. When we were seniors. I just wanted to see. Wanted to know why she liked you so much, measure up my competition. But then I liked you, more than I’ve ever liked a guy before. And it only got worse after I met you again, at that party, I don’t know if you remember, but. The days after, I drove my wife insane asking questions about you and your work and your interests and your hobbies, and I didn’t even realize I was doing it.

“You were just...you were so amazing. But I loved her so much I didn’t even notice I had any love left in my heart to give to anyone else, but then there you were. There you were and every time I saw you it was like...coming up for air. Like I was living someone else’s life and then sometimes I just got to be myself and it was only ever when you were around and--I didn’t know it was love until my wife told me tonight that she fucked another man because she couldn’t stand that I fell in love with one first, and I knew immediately who she was talking about. It was you. It’s...Obi-Wan, it’s always been you.”

Anakin closes the distance between them slowly, as if he’s giving Obi-Wan a chance to run. Obi-Wan does consider it, he won’t lie, but he stands stock still as if frozen to the ground. Anakin reaches up gently and wipes at one of his tears. Obi-Wan hadn’t even realized he started crying.

“Please don’t cry,” Anakin whispers through his tears. “I understand if you--if you don’t feel the same way, but I couldn’t be quiet about it once I realized. I don’t know how to love quietly.”

Obi-Wan does. Obi-Wan’s spent four years loving Anakin quietly, and now he doesn’t have any words left in him to love him out loud.

Anakin’s hand falls away from his face at his continued silence and he looks, if possible, more heartbroken. “I...I understand,” he murmurs. “You don’t feel the way I do. I--yes. I get it. I...deserve it.”

At this, Obi-Wan has to say something because it’s been one of the tenets of his world for years now that Anakin Skywalker deserves all the love there is in the entire universe. “No,” he says roughly, dragging the words kicking and screaming from the pit of his stomach. “It’s not that. It’s--”

Anakin looks at him with wide, wet, blue eyes.

“It’s that if you...if I say it and then...tomorrow you decide you don’t mean it...darling you have to know there would be no recovering from that, for me. I’ve been so obvious.”

Anakin blinks as the words register in his brain, and Obi-Wan can tell the exact moment they do because he inches closer and clutches tightly onto his shirt. “You’ve not been obvious at all,” he murmurs, eyes still shining, even as he directs his entire attention to his lips.

“What would I need to do?” Obi-Wan breathes, aching to wrap his arms around his waist and terrified that doing so will startle Anakin away from him. “What would I need to do for you to understand how much I...how much I’ve loved you for all these years?”

“Kiss me,” Anakin whispers, leaning down as if drawn by some magnetic pull.

Obi-Wan knows he will hate himself in the morning for giving in when Anakin is so obviously grief-stricken and looking for no-strings-attached physical comfort. And yet, he meets him halfway anyway.

[vegalocity]

Hug while straddling for @purble-turble's Time Travel Red and MK?

Affection meme

31. Hugging While straddling partner

Eyyyy lmao I'm always down to talk about Red Son: Ultimate Enemy as told by @purble-turble

--

There was no such thing as 'loving mental illness away'.

That was one of the very first things Qi Xiaotian had internalized when he came to the decision to make up with Red Son after his future adventure.

He wasn't exactly the picture of mental health himself, but when Red Son stumbled back into their time period, jacket chopped in half hair shorn close to his head and so obviously choking back tears, He'd instantly known whatever had happened to him had been actual hell. (Of course at first he'd forced himself to not care for how angry he'd been with Red Son after he'd told him about his parents plan and how he'd been a willing pawn in it, but that was beside the point)

So once he'd been properly brought upt to date on the exacts of the nightmare-future, and they'd started the process of looking for a therapist for Red Son, as clearly, he'd needed it, Xiaotian had taken it upon himself to do some research on his own time. it was a little difficult, he didn't want Red to find out about it until he actually had a better sense of what he should be doing, but since Red Son rarely seemed to be able to sleep anymore (even when Xiaotian could get him to lay with him in bed it was clear what little sleep he did get was rife with nightmares) and when he did sleep through the night he would wake up earlier than him, and they lived together... his most constant time for research was usually when he was technically on the clock.

But he'd gotten a couple of books about Post-traumatic stress disorder, general psychology, and 'So you've got a loved one with severe depression' (an actual title) and he'd scribble notes into the margins and on sticky notes when there was time between deliveries. And the first lesson every single one of those books had for him was just that.

You can't 'love someone out of their illness'. That's not a thing. The best you can do is love them through it.

So he did his best with that.

On some days that was just sending texts full of cute animal gifs and heart emojis, on some that was coming up to the loft on break to sit next to the lump of pillows and blankets on the bed and (after finding the telltale hint of short red hair that gave away where his head was) resting a hand on the part of the lump that was most likely an arm, gently rubbing it, and sitting in silence until his break ended.

And on some days it was this.

"It's not safe you're not safe I'm gonna slip up eventually-" Red Son's voice was fragile and warbling as his actions contradicted his words, hands scrabbling up and down his back and sides, gripping periodically for purchase before shrinking back as if afraid just hugging him back would crush him. "I'm gonna do something-"

"You won't." Xiaotian was practically seated in Red Son's lap at this point. Red had been sitting on the floor, back to the edge of the bed when the meltdown had begun, so kneeling on the ground until he was rested on his partners legs did two things:

one, it enabled him to wrap him up as tight as he could in his arms without having to twist one or both of them in an awkward angle.

and two, the extra pressure would probably help ground him, make it a little easier to come down from this one.

"You don't know that" His voice was hoarse, desperate. and Xiaotian closed his eyes and squeezed Red Son tighter.

"I do. I know you, hun." Red Son sobbed into his shoulder and he felt his hands finally decide where to be, resting across either shoulder blades and balling the fabric they found there up into fists.

"I know there's basically nothing that'll make you believe it at this point, but you're a good man, Red Son."

"I'm no-"

"Shhh, my turn to talk now." he shifted a hand to be able to bury it in Red Son's hair. He could feel him ever so minutely relax beneath him at the sensation. "You saw your potential for being a bad person, and don't forget everyone's got it. I have it, Xiaojiao has it, hell Monkey King has recorded evidence for his bad person potential, anyway, you saw yours and you've been working your ass off nonstop to keep it from ever getting the best of you.

"And this shit is fucking hard, hun. You're fighting your own brain and the actual literal future here! and guess what? it might not feel like it right now but you're winning."

Still, he shook his head against Xiaotian's shoulder. he didn't want to interrupt again, but still make his disagreement known.

"You are." He pulled away just enough to be able to properly cup Red Son's wet face in his hands. "You think that Evil King remotely hacked Jin and Yin's stupid battle robot in that illegal mech fighting ring and made it throw the match making them look like idiots in his timeline?" Red's gaze broke from his own as he thought back on the fight that broke out the week previous.

"....I suppose not-"

"You think that Evil King ever thinks for more than a second about the ethics of what evil plans he carries out let alone hours of agonizing over whether something was the right call or not?"

"Certainly not but that's not-"

"It is the point, Red. You're not the same person anymore. Maybe you started from the same roots, but he dug himself back into the ground and you rose up like a fucking tree instead."

Red Son met his gaze again, and Xiaotian could tell he still didn't believe him, but there was a spark there.

The faintest, dimmest hope.

"You are a good man, Red Son." this time he made sure every word was careful deliberate. So there was no misunderstandings that could be made. "And I am not accepting counterarguments at this time so you'd better fucking take it."

When he pulled Red Son against his chest again, and let the demon continue to cry quietly into his shirt, he pressed a small kiss to the crown of his head.

"I love you."

Red Son choked on a sob, and didn't answer.

It wasn't an issue, he knew Red Son loved him. Part of this whole thing being a thing in the first place was because Red Son loved him. Red Son wouldn't be as scared of becoming the Evil King as he was if he didn't love him so he knew better than to take to heart the days where he just couldn't say the words back.

There weren't any cures for mental illnesses. There were ways to mitigate the symptoms, but there are no spells that cure depression, there's no potion of anti-PTSD, and no person can love someone out of their illness.

But heavens above did he wish it some days.

He'd give anything to make it so Red Son wouldn't have to be in so much pain.

But all he could do was just hold him tighter, and stroke the short red tresses between his fingers until the sobbing stopped.

It took less time than usual.

Red was exhausted and pliant by the end of it and let Xiaotian drag him about the loft, obediently (if slowly) eating what was pressed into his hands and then nursing the mug of tea he was given as they settled down on the mound of cushions and he put on that 'how things are made' show that Red Son liked.

He was asleep halfway through the second episode.

Sure, some days were harder than others, and sure, some days he'd wish there was a cure just to spare Red the suffering.

But he felt Red Son's head slowly loll to the side until it rested on his shoulder, breathing slow and even and looking for the first time today like he was at peace and-

He still wouldn't trade it for anything.

"Love You, Hun."

Red Son hummed against him.

--

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