#happy to say i watched this being written

[hyuckmov]

haechan — settle down (rockstar hyuck) | part 3 of 3

wc: 11k (lol) genre: angst, smut (18+ minors dni), fluff warnings: unprotected sex, making out, creampies, fingering, oral (f recieving), lowkey don't have that dog in me anymore so this is kind of vanilla, dirty talk, aftercare...? needs to be read after part 1 and 2 a/n: fucking finally. so so so sorry for the wait and also this is lowkey probably so BAD because its been a hot minute since i've written for tumblr. because this could be written/ended in so many ways, AN EPILOGUE IS COMING with a 'happy' ending, just not putting it here in this part because i think i should post this out first on it's own. i love you guys so much, thank you to every single person who's read, commented, let me know how much you liked it, and waited so patiently. i cannot express how much it means to me.

—

"whose party is this again?" 

"jaemin's friend chenle," mark says, placing his drink down on one of the tables. "think they should be around here somewhere." 

through the smoke, he can see your eyes shine. you've come even closer now, and it's as if every movement of yours is liquified, rendered in slow-motion – you flick a strand of hair out of your face and it's like he can feel the damp air on your cheeks, a slow smile spreading across your face like sunrise spilling over the horizon, that lovely curl of your lip that he's memorized. he feels his chest cave in when he hears you laugh, feel you take another step closer to him even though your eyes never meet his, even though you never look his way – every memory he has of you threatening to burst through his seams. 

your skin glows under the dizzying lights, and all he can think about is the fact that you’re so close, he could reach out his hand and touch you. but he can’t. you weren't his – and he was the one who had thrown you away.

jisung comes up to you, and haechan can see his friend's shy smile met with your beaming grin as you turn to face him. jisung is saying something to you – a hand gently placed on your shoulder as he speaks into your ear, the other gesturing vaguely towards the upstairs rooms. and then you're nodding, and haechan watches wide-eyed as he takes your hand in his and begins guiding you up the stairs. 

he can't help it – he only waits a beat, enough for you to disappear up the stairs, before he's rushing through the crowd, climbing the stairs two at a time. he rounds the corner just as he sees the flick of your skirt as you disappear into the nearest room, the door clicking shut softly. taking a moment to calm himself down – chest heaving, wringing his hands – he pads softly towards the room, placing both hands on the door, straining to hear anything that might be going on. 

low voices. the rustling of fabric. haechan's imagination spun out of control – jisung's large hands on your skin, his plush lips exploring your neck, your soft sounds, the way you might look under him. he heard a light laugh, and he pressed even closer to try to catch what was being said – what if he had you on his lap? what if you laughed because he'd kissed you behind the ear like haechan did once? it had caught you by surprise, and you'd giggled – burying your face in the crook of his neck. you were sorry. you were just sensitive. haechan had wanted to pull you into his chest and never let you go. 

he knew he was breaking his own heart – over-analyzing each muffled sound that came through, all his thoughts drifting back to memories of you. but he couldn't seem to peel himself away as the party raged on and on downstairs, didn't want to be anywhere else but near you even if you didn't know he was there. he had never felt this way with anyone else before – never needed anyone else like this, never afraid like this – and the realisation roared loud in his ears along with the feverish ghost of your fingerprints all over his skin. 

–

jisung knows haechan's going to talk to him. 

can see it in the way he hangs back after practice, fiddling with his guitar and placing it back on its stand, before picking it back up again for no real reason. there was something off, slightly, about haechan these days. not enough for jeno or mark to comment about it, to hold an intervention, but things had definitely changed – haechan never brought around girls, or showed any interest when jeno and mark would discuss them. he was quiet, and subdued during practice, absorbed in his own guitar, or else discussing new songs with mark in low voices. and strangest of all – jisung mused, slinging his own bass over his shoulder as he ambled to the door – haechan started to seem afraid of jisung. 

jisung – who had for the longest time been the most timid and shy of the group, the least experienced by far. he remembered how haechan would tease him if a girl paid him any slightest bit of attention: half-joking, but half trying to build up his friend's confidence. he remembered how he used to be wary of haechan's attention at after-show parties, because haechan would watch him like a hawk and push him into any girls he showed the vaguest interest in. he remembered his shock at haechan, who had never been mean or vindictive – a pain sometimes yes, but never truly cruel to him –, standing there obstinately in his place on stage, staring down at you in the crowd. 

to the version of haechan now, who could barely look him in the eye. 

"jisung?" 

haechan clears his throat. jisung stops in his tracks, turning back to look at haechan. 

"yeah?" 

haechan's gaze is directed at his shoes. swallowing, he takes a moment before he asks. "uh…how was…um…how've you been?" 

jisung has to stop himself from laughing out loud. "i've been good," he says, amiably. he's not going to let haechan have it easy. 

"nice…nice," haechan mumbles. "uh…seeing anybody?" 

"haechan," he keeps his tone light. "come on." he moves towards where haechan is standing awkwardly, taking a seat down on one of the stools. after a beat, haechan sits down too. 

"how did it go with y/n?" haechan sounds almost timid – like a child asking a question, but scared of knowing the answer. 

"can't you ask her yourself?" he knows he's making things difficult, but he needs haechan to work for it. needs haechan to articulate, because he knows that's the least you deserve. 

"i…i could," haechan says. "but i…i don't want to seem possessive. i already fucked up by wishing her luck on the date and i just…" he buries his face in his hands. jisung doesn't say a thing, waiting for him to finish his sentence. "i don't want to hurt her anymore…but i need to know. i need to know what to expect.…" haechan's voice is so small, like he's disappearing into himself. 

"haechan��" he starts, slowly, but haechan cuts in, hurriedly. 

"if you really love her, jisung, if you're happy together, i'll back off. i won't see her again. it'll be…it'll be too hard to see her with you but that's for me to figure out. you…you should both be happy. she deserves you, ji. you'll be good for each other." 

"what are you even saying…" jisung lets out a nervous laugh. he knows haechan tends to get dramatic – loves blowing moments out of proportion, lingering on stories that were fun to tell and relive. loves to exaggerate – always taking the smallest details too seriously and making light of things that had real consequences. but as he watches haechan – curled in on himself, he sees that this is something else entirely. this haechan was anxious and overthinking, unsure of himself, fractured into a thousand different wants and needs. 

"i'm serious, jisung." haechan, the vocalist he is, keeps his voice as steady as possible. "i'll back off if you tell me to. if i'm making it hard for you in any way…" 

"haechan, it's…it's going to be fine. it's not what you think." 

"you…you're not together now?" a hint of hopefulness. 

jisung chooses to be kind. "we're not," he says, gently. when haechan's lips part, he continues on, interrupting him. "it had nothing to do with you. we're just…not." 

"i'm sorry," haechan murmurs, finally lifting his head. "i know you wanted it to work out." he truly means it.

"i'm happy with the way things are now," jisung says it, and he means it too. "but…but you know she's going to start seeing other people, right?" 

a beat. "yeah…yeah of course." 

"you can't go after all of them and ask them if it's working out or not, you know?" jisung says, wryly. "at some point…you need to just talk to her." 

"i…" haechan break off, a pained expression flitting over his face. "i don't have anything to say. but i really want her to be happy. i just want her to be happy. but it sounds…" he catches the look on jisung's face. "i know it sounds like a guilt-trip. i know what it sounds like." 

"give her space," jisung suggests, quietly. "figure out what you're willing to give. who you can be for her."

"hyuck or haechan." he says it almost spitefully. he had never hated the difference more. 

-

you were in the crowd today. 

it had been a little over a month – 6 days more, to be exact, – since haechan had last seen you in the crowd, each time spotting your face easily, everyone else fading to nothing. each time noting every which way your eyes shimmered under the lights, the ways your pretty lips curved into a smile or a shout, or even each time you looked away, distracted. 

he'd practically rushed into the dressing room after the show ended, anxious hands tugging at his clothes, trying to fix himself up just in case you decided to come find him. questions had spun around in his mind so much during the show, he was afraid he would start singing them in place of mark's carefully written lyrics. he's thought of a thousand ways to bring it up, but he wishes he could just ask — how've you been? have you forgotten me? 

he's still lost in thought when the dressing room door opens softly, the lock turning gently in the door barely louder than a whisper. 

"haechan?" 

he turns, and you're there. you're wearing a new dress, probably the shortest one he's ever seen on you, black glittery fabric barely brushing the tops of your thighs. but he doesn't linger on your body, his eyes seeking out your own, the flush of anticipation and adrenaline in your cheeks, the way your hair falls slightly loose, framing your face. the question is on the tip of his tongue, his lips are parting, his breath catches in his throat –  

" – don't worry," you say, breathlessly, as you catch the look on his face. "no one saw me." 

oh. 

walking towards him, you pull him into a hug, arms wrapping around his neck, so you can brush your lips against his cheek. pulling away, you peer at him, wondering why he's looking at you so lost. like he was wondering something since he laid eyes on you tonight.

you frown. "were you going to ask me something else?" 

his lips part, soundlessly. you've never seen him so speechless. his arms tentatively circle around your waist, fingers brushing the fabric of your dress, and understanding dawns on you. 

"yes, it's a new dress," you smile. 

he swallows, the cloudy look clearing from his eyes as he finally runs his heavy touch down your back, a feeling you've grown used to. 

his tone is slightly darker when he plays along, masking the traces of disappointment. "for me?" 

you nod, letting his hands wander to the zipper, eyes traveling to the mirror to catch the way he fiddles with it, slowly starting to drag it down your spine. 

what you don't catch, is the way he's looking at you – lip caught between his teeth, eyes focused on the side of your face, regret and sadness and a desire he still couldn't shake coursing through his body. you had come back – and maybe that was all that he should care about. 

"come home with me," he blurts out, suddenly. "i have to show you something." 

confused, you look back at him, frowning. "now?" 

he swallows. "yes. we'll still…it's just…" he stammers, confidence draining as he watches you zip your dress back up. "i mean…i just…thought you'd like my bedroom more than this dressing room. you said- you said it was uncomfortable, that last time…" he trails off. his head droops, fingers picking at his nails. 

you place your hands on his chest. his head lifts just slightly, glancing at you through his lashes. "haechan," the ache in your chest making your voice soft – barely above a whisper. "why are you so nervous today?" 

"i'm sorry," he starts, but you shake your head. "it's been awhile."

"that's fine, i'll go home with you," you say, smiling, hoping to reassure him. the words instantly relax him, and he lets out a breath. you can feel his chest move under your palms. 

"i'm sorry," he repeats, softly, but you don't know what he's saying it for. 

–

you don't know how you ended up here. 

one moment, haechan was unlocking his door, one hand fumbling with the keys as he held yours tightly in his other palm. the next, you were pushing him against the door – his plush lips, soft and tasting slightly like honeyed lip balm, finally kissing you deeply in a way you'd craved. and then he was sweeping you up into his arms, your legs locked in around his waist, his bag slumping to the floor as he focused all his attention on you. placing you on the countertop, he takes his time with your lips – his hand first cupping your face, then working its way down your neck, as if he was making sure you were wholly real through touch since his eyes were closed for the kiss. 

"hyuck?" you murmur. 

guilt pricks at your conscience when you feel him falter. you would never admit that you realized the name did something to him – made him more desperate and more tender all at once. you used it sparingly, only in certain moments, and tonight seemed just right for it, what with the way his touch was already so infused with longing. 

he hums in acknowledgement, pausing. a gentle palm tilts your face towards his, and his eyes are wide and patient. 

"what's wrong?" he asks. 

"i want to suck you off," you mumble, your words coming out rushed and careless. you almost think he might not catch it, but haechan goes still. his hands, caressing your face, stop moving.  

"what?"

your mind explodes with a million thoughts. did he not want you to? how many girls had sucked him off before you – did he think you wouldn't be good enough? was he not attracted to you enough? 

he was still just looking at you – something unreadable in his eyes. 

"do you not want me to?" you ask, doubt making your tone come off a little more insecure than you'd have liked. "is it…is it because i've never done it before?" 

he blinks. "what?" he repeats, again. 

you shift, uneasy. "you can teach me," you insist, holding onto his arms, wanting to be closer to him. "i'll practice…" 

"oh god," he whispers. "oh… oh y/n…" his hands barely skim your skin, nervously tucking your hair behind your ear. "don't," he says, quietly. 

"why?"

i don't want to hurt you," he says, voice so tender it wavers under the weight of his feelings for you. "being able to touch you is already everything to me-" he trails off, biting his lip, and then he's weak in the knees, and you melt into his embrace as he holds your body against his. "i don't want you to do anything you're uncomfortable with." 

"i want to please you like the girls before," you protest, weakly. "i want to…i want you to tell me your fantasies." 

"all that matters to me," he says, slowly, eyes suddenly grave and solemn. "is that i'm here with you. just you." he holds your hands up to his lips and kisses the tips of your fingers. 

you don't know what to say. the charged atmosphere from before has dissolved into the night, leaving a balmy and sweet taste on your tongue. the only thing that feels right is to hold him in your arms and hold him as close as you can. 

he's looking at you, before suddenly pulling you into him as if he could read your mind – arms wrapped protectively around your back, one hand coming up to stroke your hair as you lean into his chest. 

the memory of that first night comes back to you – the first time he rejected you. he hadn't wanted to hurt you then, either. and then he proceeded to in all ways possible – playing with your heart in a terrible back and forth. and then he disappeared from your life, and then he came back and something was different – in the way he touched you, looked for you, looked at you, was careful with you. 

but you moved on – told jaemin, told yourself you weren't waiting. you'd gone on a date with jisung, and then to some more with a few other guys on campus. you didn't hang around the band all the time now – didn't show up for every concert. and even when you did, you rarely stopped by to see haechan – spending more and more time with jisung, who was steadily becoming one of your closest friends. 

you tried to keep things light when you did visit haechan. always easy, relishing in how well he knew how to please you, how he always knew what to say. and for the most part, he was able to play along – a smile always tugging at the corner of his lips, or his tongue poking into his cheek as his eyes turned dark. 

but it was on nights like these – when the moon was a bit too bright and the air between your lips and his dense like honey, your skin heated and his face flushed – when you used the wrong name, or he said things too vulnerable and too intimate. it was on nights like these when you are faced with the reality that he made you feel the way no one else could – even as he was ever-changing, ever showing you a different side of himself. on these nights you plunge your hands deep into the kaleidoscope of him, and its like diving into shattered glass. 

–

"i wanted to show you this," he murmurs, shyly. 

he places a pair of headphones clumsily on your head, his long fingers scrambling to adjust it on your head, trying not to pull at your hair. your hands come up to help, and you shoot him a reassuring smile. 

it was even later in the night. you were both showered and dressed for bed – you in a long-sleeved shirt of his that you liked. when you came into the bedroom, he was fiddling with his laptop – and you could hear snippets of his honey-sweet voice starting and stopping as he tapped at his keyboard. it was natural, to head over to the bed and lean your head on his shoulder, as he started to explain to you what he was doing, eventually grabbing his headphones from the bedside table. his skin smells faintly of baby powder, and his bare face under the dim light is so soft – mellowed curves, the constellation of moles on his cheek ever visible, eyes tired but warm. 

he clicks play, and his voice fills your ears – clean, without any backing vocals or instruments. you try to catch the lyrics, but he mumbles through his words, voice meandering effortlessly around the melodies, drawing beautiful loops. his voice is delicate and gentle, flowing water with a current of electricity running through it, humming and buzzing with dangerous life. 

it ends all too quickly, and haechan – who was watching your face carefully the entire time, clicks on a few more tracks. you can hear his voice, muffled from under the headphones, start to explain. 

"that's…that's my draft for the melody. i made it for this, uh, it's one of mark's demos–" 

a sultry, low beat now plays, low strings filling in the gaps. when his voice leaks in, you feel your cheeks start to heat up. the same melody from before – so innocuous and sweet, maybe something even vulnerable – sounds sinful all of a sudden. you can practically hear the scream of the crowd punctuating each line, and now even the way he mumbles is hazed with a sort of suggestive glow. 

you look at him, wide-eyed. he's still watching your face, this time his lip caught between his teeth, looking up at you through his lashes. when the song ends, you tug the headphones down from your ears, and he takes them from you absentmindedly.

"mark told me to try writing for that. he said it suited my voice —" 

"it does," you respond. your hands reach out to play with his, tracing the way his fingers curved, running your touch along his calloused finger-tips. 

"but i…i don't know. i want to write something…something that feels…" he stumbles over his words, eyes lingering on the way your hands play with his, the gentleness of your touch. "that feels like this," he finishes, softly. 

"like what?" you hum, tracing loops on the back of his hand. 

but he doesn't respond. 

"do you like it?" he asks, quietly. 

you give his hand a squeeze. "sing it for me?" 

his hand trails off to the keyboard again, but you hold it steady in your palm. "no, sing it for me now. here." 

he's still. you almost think he won't do it, but then he's pushing the screen of his laptop shut, and he turns to face you. 

this time, when he sings, he gets all the words out. 

in person, his voice is hushed and soft, like every word is a secret. his eyes flutter shut, and he ducks his head shyly as he continues. when he ends, his voice trails off, and he doesn't turn to look at you, staring at his hands. you stay silent, until it's like he can't bear it, and his head turns to face you, eyes seeking reassurance. 

"i like it just like this," you tell him, softly. 

his smile blooms. 

—

"keep haechan on his toes," jaemin says, leaning back in his chair. the steam from the coffee he made – a 2am jaemin specialty — curled gently in the air, your hands nursing the mug in front of you, sipping just to have something to do. "don't see him for awhile. keep him guessing." 

"that's cruel," you mumble. 

"he's done crueler," he points out. "you know you don't owe him anything, right?"

"i know i don't," you say, slowly. "i just think that it would kill me not to know how he's doing. if he was going on dates with other people…" 

"and would he tell you?" 

no, is your automatic answer, one you can't run from in your head, but jisung cuts in. 

"he wouldn't go on a date with someone else," he shakes his head, leaning back in his chair so he could stretch out his long limbs. blinking sleep from his eyes, he shook his head again to clear his bangs away from his eyes. it had been late already when he showed up, after a show, bringing food, a tired but giddy smile on his face. "you really fucked him up, that's all i'm going to say."

"he may not go on a date, but he'd fuck someone else, probably." jaemin rolls his eyes. 

"we actually haven't fucked in awhile." the realization feels like butterflies in your chest – an uneasy, fluttery feeling. 

"what?" jisung looks at you in disbelief. "sorry," he adds, suddenly sheepish when both you and jaemin stare at him. "i just thought that was the big part of your relationship." 

"it was…" you say, slowly. ignoring how jisung said 'relationship' when it was really never that. "but…but i don't know. recently we always get distracted…or… or he's… i don't know." 

you think of his unmade bed. the careful, tender loop of his arm around your waist. you think of the way his lashes flutter when you lean in to kiss him – 

and yet, there was something bigger bothering you about this, something that tugged at your gut, the words forcing themselves out of you. 

"i hate that it feels like there's nothing more to me than this." 

"y/n, what are you talking about?" jaemin asks, his voice quiet. when you pause, he presses on, urgency in every word. "what did he say to you?" 

"nothing," you shake your head. "he didn't say that to me, it's something i feel. no matter who i'm with…even when i'm alone….i can't run from it." you take a breath. you hated admitting this, but jaemin's eyes were kind as they looked into yours. "even when we weren't talking, i was thinking about him…and tonight…jaemin i don't think anyone should be able to make me feel like this." 

“there's nothing wrong with being in love," he says, carefully. when you don't say a word, he continues on, as gentle as possible. "you know that no amount of attention he gives you will change the way you feel, right?" 

he was right. if you really dared to dream – to use up every last shooting star, count on all of the angel numbers — and haechan, donghyuck, gave himself to you fully like you wanted, you would still be afraid of losing him. a sick flutter beats in your chest at the passing thought of him slipping away again – that all this fight would have been for nothing. 

it was as if jaemin could read your mind. "there was a life before him," he reassures you. "there is so much more without him. you just need to start living like it, to really see it."

you had nodded, but you couldn't shake the feeling that no matter how many shows you skipped, no matter how many times you drove by his apartment or ignored his messages, it wouldn't change a thing: that even though there was a life before him, maybe it wasn't one that you wanted anymore.

—

you're cutting through the park on your way home from class, when you hear a shout of your name. you barely have time to turn before a small girl is launching herself at your legs, standing high on her tip-toes to throw her arms around your waist. 

"slow down!" 

you'd know that voice anywhere. 

haechan looks different. he's dressed in a striped sweater, glasses askew on his small nose. your heart skips a beat – he looks warm, and cozy, and comfortable. behind the frames, his eyes glow when he looks at you, an involuntary smile tugging at his lips. 

the two of you just stand there, looking into each other's eyes. every sense of yours is heightened –  the autumn air cold on your skin. the light catching everything around you. and your heart beating in your chest, speeding up with every moment you continue looking at him. you can't help it: even now you smile looking at his face. 

he raises his eyebrows. 

"what?" you blurt out, caught off-guard. 

he laughs lightly. "what are you doing here?" he asks, like he's explaining a question. 

"just…passing through," you say, slowly. "you?" 

"the…uh…kindergarten's right near here." haechan point vaguely at a point in the distance, you only look at it for a second before you focus back on him. you can't help it. he smiles again. "you're just passing through? can't you stay for awhile? we were going to get ice cream." 

his sister tugs at your sweater, excited at the sound of ice cream. you look down at her face – she has the same nose as her brother, the same bright smile. 

"just for a bit," you concede. haechan pumps his fist, playing up his excitement to make his sister laugh. it makes your heart go still and race all at the same time. 

—

"we need to talk." 

there was something wrong with haechan. 

the smell of rain and cigarettes hung in the alley behind the dingy venue. haechan sits on the steps with his head in his hands, jeno leaning on the wall opposite, jisung against the doorway behind. it's mark who stands directly in front of him, as he rubs his face with his hands, trying to calm down. mark who crouches down, mark's prying hands which make haechan lift his head to look at them. 

"what happened?" he asks, his eyes blazing. 

haechan swallows. "it's been a bad day," he tries, weakly. 

"it's been a bad month," jeno corrects. at haechan's glare, he raises his eyebrows in a silent challenge, and it's jisung who pipes up.

"i think people are starting to notice something's off," he says, softly. "that you play differently, sometimes."

"you mean that he messes up when she's not in the crowd," jeno says, bitterly. 

"i only messed up today," haechan mumbles. "it won't happen again." 

"what about yesterday? it's like you weren't onstage at all." jeno protests. 

haechan opens his mouth, but closes it. he knew this conversation had to happen, that things would lead to this – his fingers faltering, his mind going blank as his solo began. jeno's drums continuing relentlessly, mark's eyes on him, as he shook his head fiercely, trying to clear his mind and focus all at once. unsure of what to keep — the image of you, or the chords he'd worked so hard to get right. 

"hyuck, do you need a break?" mark asked, his words slow and gentle. "we can stop performing for awhile, cancel some of our gigs…"

"no," he breathes.  "don't." he doesn't want to lose all of it – and because he knew that if he stopped performing, he didn't know if he would ever see you again. 

and it's like jeno reads his mind. "she's not going to like you like this," jeno says, his voice impersonal. "she likes the version of you onstage, remember? it's how she first met you, it's what kept her coming back for more." 

"jeno." mark's voice is stern, but haechan looks up right past him, hurt pooling in his eyes. 

"i know," he breathes. "i know that. but i don't know if i can be that around her anymore." 

"not just around her," jisung notes. "you're not haechan anymore. it doesn't make you happy." 

"i know," he repeats, quieter this time. 

"hyuck, listen," mark sighs. "you're not doing yourself any good going onstage like this. i'm canceling the next few shows –" as haechan protests, he cuts him off with a hand on his shoulder. "no. we could all use a break." 

"mark," haechan croaks. "i can't." 

"we'll still have practice," mark says, firmly. "you still have to show up for all of it. and those songs i told you to work on —" 

"you should go home," jisung adds. "take care of your sister." 

there's a pause, as they wait for jeno to chime in. 

"none of it matters if you don't figure it out with her," he says, a tone of finality ringing in his words. he straightens, broad shoulders squared, suddenly much bigger under the lights. "if you need to get over it, you have to. staying like this is hurting everyone." 

haechan's lips part, soundlessly. there's a sharp creak, as jeno stalks back into the venue, followed by mark – who pats haechan gently on the shoulder. vaguely, haechan waits for the sound of jisung's soft steps to fade, but they only shuffle closer, until the lanky boy drops down next to him. his legs stretch out into the dingy alley, as haechan hugs his knees closer to his chest, for the first time perhaps truly afraid of what he was about to hear from his friend.

"sometimes, we meet the right person at the wrong time-" jisung's voice is quiet, almost a murmur, but the words still scrape against haechan's skin, rough like sand. 

"don't say that." he bites his lip harshly, a sudden rush of anger at the pity in jisung's responding sigh. "don't fucking say that." 

"haechan, it's okay. she liked you, but then she moved on after you realised you —" 

"she didn't –" his fist clenches, restless in his lap. "she didn't move on." 

"really? not at all?" jisung's eyes are fixed on haechan's, holding his gaze. "after weeks of telling her you couldn't give her what she wanted…you think she's still waiting for you?" 

"ji-"

"why should she wait for you?" 

haechan swallows. "she shouldn't," he mumbles. "i…i need to really let her go. jeno's right." he truly means it.

jisung hesitates. he's been spending more time with you, as friends – joining on your movie nights with jaemin, or else baking together, or letting you style him for shows and concerts. and the more time he spends with you, really gets to know you, the more he can see why you and haechan seem to need each other. your patience and gentleness matched the soft way he's seen haechan take care of his sister and at times, mark. he watched the way you sometimes falter – worry overtaking your features for a split second when you stop at a red light, or your teeth tugging at your bottom lip as you stand in front of the stove – and instinctively he can imagine haechan's confidence, his natural propensity to make everything seem easy, fitting in with you and taking care of you. 

but he knew that haechan could only give you his attention – not his heart, not until he was brave enough to admit how much you meant to him. 

your resolve to stay friends with him was as flimsy as haechan's promise to let you go. jisung almost wanted to laugh at the insistence both of you had, upon lying to yourselves. 

"be honest," he says, gently. "what do you want?" when haechan doesn't answer, jisung's low voice continues on, coaxingly. "what's your best-case scenario? what do you want to happen?" 

haechan takes a deep breath. "i don't know." 

jisung tries to hide his disappointment. "do you not know, or are you not ready to say it?" 

"i don't know," haechan mumbles again, burying his face in his hands. i don't know if i deserve it. 

the two of them sit there for a long, long, time. 

–

there was something wrong with haechan.

something's different. that's what jeno had said earlier, after the show. exhausted from sleepless nights, screaming fans making him feel nauseous, haechan barely paid attention to anything during his performances except for his own guitar. he hardly looked at the crowd, didn't acknowledge their pleas of his name, as if it wasn't one he recognised at all. 

he'd started missing parties, and was barely there even if he showed — ignoring the way girls swarmed around him, wondering if he was playing a new game, one where they had to work harder to earn his attention. it was a game they never won, his eyes trained on his cup, or else on the door. 

but out of all of haechan's bad habits, this might be the worst of them – sitting in the living room past midnight, sipping down to the last dregs of his alcohol, waiting for the knock on his door. 

it was late now — so late that the hours had bled into the next day. he hadn't seen you at the concert, not at the party, and despite telling himself not to dream, not to hope, he still carried enough desperation in him to stay up again. 

he's relieved he did. 

his hands shake as he opens the door. his hands falling to his sides as he drinks in the sight of you, letting you in. 

"hi," you breathe, and you don't ask before you lean into him, soft lips brushing his plush ones. 

he's at a loss for words, his tongue numb in his mouth, limbs still heavy from how tired he'd been all day. he lets you guide him to the couch, into the cushions. lets you straddle his hips, holding your body close to his with careful arms, as he meets your kisses gently.

something's different, but haechan's not the only one who's changed. on nights like these, all you do is take and take and take. 

"i haven't seen you in a while," he murmurs. quietly, softly, the words almost getting lost between kisses. immediately after he says the words, he slots his lips with yours firmly, as if afraid of what you would say if he let the space between you and him grow. 

"i've been busy." at the crestfallen look on his face, a small smile tugs at your lips, and you lean in to brush your lips with his. "why? did you miss me?" 

"i did," he says, almost timid. "i missed you."

at this, you raise your eyebrows. "you could have had anyone else." 

but he shakes his head. "i missed you," he repeats, hands mapping your skin, as if checking if you were really here, seeking the familiar way you fit into his palms, your slopes and your edges. 

"i missed you too," you say, meaningfully, letting him pull you in for another kiss. but when you push against him, body rocking into his and mouth open and wanting, the glow in your eyes tells him you're talking about something else entirely. 

his mind races. the feeling of you against him wakes him up like nothing else, the way you touch him, your smell and your taste setting fire to all his senses. there's something sweet about your lips tonight, something he wants to savor on his tongue and drown in all at once. 

he doesn't want to waste any of this, because this was the only thing you ever wanted to see him for — and that's what he tells himself as he pulls you into his body, because finally, finally, your attention is all on him, an electric heat simmering over each fibre of his being, the feeling of your body too sweet to be true.

but it's been one too many nights he's waited, a weight on his chest and a drowsiness he can't shake overcoming him like a cloyingly sweet poison. 

"i–" he's cut off by a shuddering inhale as your lips travel down to his neck, your hips grinding against him just right. "baby, i'm sorry," he tries again, his hands now gripping onto your waist, trying to steady you, even as he gives up. "i don't think i can take care of you tonight." 

you still. 

"don't go, please," he begs. "i'm sorry, it's been…it's been a long day and i…" he breaks off. the performance. the fight with the band. the fact that he'd been drinking for hours, the starless sky inky black outside his window, his fingers still stinging from plucking at guitar strings all night. "just give me a second," he stammers, burying his face in his hands, tugging at his features, before looking up at you with tired eyes. "i'll be fine in a minute, then we'll go to the bedroom, i just —" 

your hands slide down the slope of his shoulders. 

"don't go," he repeats, hands fumbling for yours as he brings them up to his lips, like a prayer. "i can take care of you, i promise. just…" 

"donghyuck," you say, softly. again you smile, cupping his face in your palms. his round cheeks, plush lips, the slight flare of his nose. he almost goes cross-eyed staring at you, as you lean in close and kiss him again – this one different from the rest, close-lipped and chaste. 

"hyuck, let me take care of you tonight, okay?" 

caught in a riptide of his own longing, he lets go. 

"you don't have to do anything," he mumbles. his hands tentatively touch your waist, the barest brush of his fingertips, before he's encircling you in his arms, easing you into his chest. slowly, tentatively, he holds you close by the weight of his arms, a large hand reassuringly patting the space right beneath your heart – clumsy, rhythmic thumps that trailed off into a lingering warmth. "i just want to hold you here, like this." 

he can feel the tension that spreads down your spine, your breath caught in your throat. your lips are parted, your eyes looking at his in an unreadable expression. 

"do you not like it?" he asks, his voice small. his hands fall from your waist, nervously tugging his sleeves down over his palms. "i…i'm just…" 

"i do," you say, slowly. and because your faces are so close, the thought is barely crossing your mind before you press your lips against his. it's supposed to be quick, reassuring, but the look on haechan's face when you pull back makes you lean in again right away. 

it was a look that was open and hurt, his hands still tangled in his lap. his eyes stayed open as you kissed him, as if he couldn't dare believe it was real — finally blinking shut when you kissed him again, his slight relief melting on your tongue. his teeth sunk into his bottom lip as you clumsily got up off the couch, and as you straightened, he ducked away from your gaze, staring at his hands. 

"hyuck," you start, but he shakes his head. 

"it's fine." he still wouldn't look at you - fiddling with the hem of his shirt. "you don't have to stay, it's late." 

"hyuck, listen to me." 

"i know," he says, quickly. the slightest trace of fear in his voice. "you don't….you don't have to remind me, i know. it's too…you said we couldn't…"

" — hyuck, i wasn't going to say that." 

his fingers falter, but he stays silent. 

"i can't fall asleep properly in your lap," you explain, slowly. "let's go to bed, okay?" 

he looks up then. "really?" 

"i said i want to take care of you," you repeat, his wide eyes making you feel shy all of a sudden. "i mean it." 

he lets you take his hands, body following pliantly as he stands from the couch, as you lead him to his bedroom, his eyes focused on your intertwined hands. it's both a familiar and unfamiliar feeling — crawling into his bed with his clothes on your body, sinking into the soft sheets and letting the senses of him wash over you. the usual buzz of pleasure isn't there, and its a different tiredness that seeps through your veins, one that comes with feeling safe. 

since when did you start feeling safe with him? 

you feel his weight sink in behind you, the duvet rustling against skin as he turns. an arm curls around your waist. his head lowers into the crook of your neck – you can feel his soft hair, his pouty lips brushing your shoulders in a light kiss. 

"the band is taking a break," he mumbles. "because of me."

"hyuck?" you try to turn in his arms, but his grip only tightens on your waist. he shakes his head. "hyuck, what happened? are you okay?" 

"m'yeah, i'm okay now." he shifts. "just…i just don't know if i like playing in the band anymore." 

there's a pause. 

"are you…are you disappointed?" the thumb drawing circles on your hip stills. "say something," he whispers. "please." 

"why would i be disappointed?" you ask, quietly. placing your hand on his, you turn, facing him as he encircles you in his arms. his eyes are half-lidded, tousled hair falling over his brows, his cheek squished against the pillow into a half-pout. it's almost instinct – the way your hand goes up to his face to brush his hair out of his face, fingers absentmindedly tracing his moles. 

you can feel his lips move against your fingers. "would you still come to see me?" he wonders, softly. "if you didn't have a reason to?" 

you bite your lip. "i would want to…" you say, slowly. "but i don't know if i should. haechan, what's going on? does music not make you happy anymore?" 

his heart aches. your care for him fills his lungs, making his eyes begin to prickle with tears. 

"i don't think the haechan…donghyuck thing is good for me." 

"oh." your thumb brushes over the bridge of his nose. "hyuck…" you start. "i don't…i don't want to overstep." 

his face falls. "sorry," he says, his voice small. "i won't bother you with it…you don't have to…"

"no, i don't mean…hey, listen to me." you wait until he looks up at you through his lashes, nervously. "i think i've gotten to know haechan and donghyuck, you know? i mean…" your heart skips a beat, suddenly shy at your own honesty. but you've already let your guard down – it's no use. "of course i like haechan. haechan's the one who invited me backstage, haechan's the one who made me go on that rooftop…but…" you take a breath. 

the sleep had worn off from haechan's eyes – he was alert as he watched you now,  hanging onto your every word. 

"i've gotten to know donghyuck too, i think. i hope. donghyuck makes the best sandwiches for his baby sister, donghyuck has a bear tattoo because he looks as cute as one, donghyuck is always gentle with me even when i ask him not to be." your thumb traces the constellation of moles he has again, tracing down to his neck. you draw him closer – the way he's looking at you: like you're his entire world, like your words were the only thing keeping him breathing, filling your chest with a tender kind of ache that didn't go away. 

"donghyuck and haechan aren't that different, not really. they're still you. i like them both. i like all of you. if you woke up tomorrow and told me you were someone else, if you were suddenly becoming someone new, i think i'd still want to fall asleep next to you anyway at the end of the day. because i know you –" you breathe in, sharply. "i…i think i do. i…hope i do." 

he doesn't say anything. just leans in, and brushes his lips with yours lightly – once, twice, and finally sealing them in a kiss. he kisses you deeply, intensely – it wakes you up, that familiar feeling stirring in your belly as your hips move of their own accord. a liquid euphoria fills your veins as he pulls you into him – him on his back, you laying on his firm chest, the toned muscles on his chest grounding you, a feeling so familiar, one that you craved for a long time. you've never felt safer, in his arms. he kisses you like with every moment apart, he wonders if you're still there, and each time he sighs into your mouth it's with relief that you're still here, with him. 

"do you want to…?" he asks softly. he's breathing heavily, but he tries to calm himself down. his tongue darts out to wet his lips, and it's that act – so innocent, so nervous even though you've both done it a dozen times with each other, that makes your heart beat harder in your chest. 

"it's been awhile," you murmur. 

"i know." he nods, swallowing. "it just…it hasn't felt right. don't…don't get me wrong, i want you all the time-" he practically groans with frustration. "it's just recently i just…i've been really confused. it's so stupid, but i didn't know which version of me you wanted –" 

"just you," you assure him, softly.

"let me make it up to you then." his tone is just as soft. 

you take his hands, and slide them under your shirt. gently, he tugs it off of you, sitting up slightly to take his shirt off as well before focusing back on you. you're giddy with the feeling of his touch again, nostalgia heightening every single sensation. it's not just hyuck tracing his hands over your chest – his lips finding your nipples, tongue darting out to tease them lightly. it's every single time he's touched you before – in the backseat of his car, hands moving urgently. in your bed that first time – so careful because you were extra sensitive. you have to focus to get back to the present moment, where he's watching you carefully again – noticing that you're lost in your thoughts. 

"everything okay?" he murmurs. 

you nod. "i just missed you so much," you whisper, and you can feel his desperation in the kiss that follows. "i need you now." 

"need to prep you, baby." gently, he eases you onto the bed, crawling down your body as you tug off your shorts and panties. your legs spread, needily, as you can feel him inch closer to your core, his hands coming to hold your hips. "stay still for me?" he mumbles, his eyes dazed as he watches you nod, his own head bobbing along absentmindedly, guiding you through it as he encourages you to bend your knees, baring yourself to him. 

the first flick of his tongue on your clit makes you mewl, hands coming down to grip onto his hair. 

"i know, baby," he comforts you, drawing small circles on your thigh as he leans into suckle your clit, making your hips buck up. he holds you still, patiently continuing to circle your entrance and lap at your clit. "fuck…you're getting so wet, angel." he slides in a finger, and the intrusion makes you clench around him in sensitivity, especially as he kitten-licks your clit shyly while easing in another finger. 

"need you now," you whine, voice reaching that pitch only he seems to bring out in you. his fingers pump more urgently, now curling towards the front of your walls, as he applies more force to your clit with his tongue, massaging the sensitive bud. 

"need you-" you choke out. "need you inside." 

"just give me one right now," he says, a slight plea to his voice. "please, angel. cum for me please, –"

"wanna cum with you inside," you sniffle. that gets his attention. he crawls right up your body until you're face to face, kissing you deeply, palms coming up to hold your face, careful to keep his fingers away. it's heated – your hips rolling into his as he finally loses control, hips bucking into yours until he's practically humping you as he kisses down your neck. your hands go to his waist, and he whimpers into your skin, finally tugging down his sweatpants, and you feel a familiar weight against your core. 

"condom-" he gasps, breaking away. the muscles on his body flex as he reaches for his bedside table, you can feel them move against your hands. 

"have you been fucking anyone else?" 

he blinks. "no, not since…" he breaks off. "no. and i'm clean. mark made me check." the sound of your giggle makes him smile momentarily – a goofy, lopsided grin that makes your heart squeeze painfully in your chest. 

"i want to feel you-" you say, slowly. "please." 

he sucks in a breath. "this…this isn't one of those things you're trying to do to please me, right?" he looks at you, skeptically. "it doesn't make a difference to me, you know that right? i just want you to feel comfortable. and safe…" 

"i am comfortable," you assure him. "i'm on the pill. i really just want to do this with you." 

"because-" he suddenly sits back, running a nervous hand through his hair. "i'm fine with using protection, you know that. i…i love how you feel either way. i never want you to do anything you don't feel absolutely right about…"

"is this about the blowjob?" you raise your eyebrows at him, smiling when you see his eyes widen. "because i'm going to do that too, with you. i want to make you feel good." 

now it's his turn to laugh, tilting his head back. his adam's apple bobs in his throat. "you have no idea-" he murmurs, voice suddenly low and serious. "you have no idea how good you make me feel just by the way you look at me. by the way you say my name." 

"hyuck," you say, patiently. "i need you. don't make me beg." 

"i should be the one begging," he murmurs, and this time when you reach your arms out, he lowers himself right into your arms, letting you wrap your arms around him. he strokes himself a few times, eyelashes fluttering, before slowly easing into you – a soft sound escaping his lips as his eyes went unfocused. it really had been awhile – his length filling you up, stretching you out in a way that was almost painful, but that pain was quickly dulled by pleasure as his body pressed against yours. 

"fuck-" he curses, eyes screwed shut in concentration. "can i…can i please…" 

you rock your hips against him, letting him in even deeper as he bottoms out. "move-" you whimper, "please-" you barely finish your words before he's already drawing back, barely pulling out before fucking himself back in, short intense thursts feeling dizzying. his slender fingers find your clit again, applying a light pressure as the blunt tip of cock perfectly hits the spongy part of your walls, the sound obscene in the quiet room. you were so aroused, you felt that you were making a mess of his thighs – wetness making the scene seem ever more lewd, creaming around his length as he increased his speed, groaning lowly to himself. 

"cum for me, princess," he pleads, lips dipping down to mark the sensitive part of your neck. you were already close from all the teasing – and once again the familiarity of every touch and movement sends your senses into overdrive. your entire body tenses as you climax, and you can hear him hiss out another string of curses, mixed with your name and every term of endearment under the sun. 

"where do you want it?" he all but whimpers, hips still fucking into you like a reflex. 

"inside-" you mumble, ankles loosely hooking behind his back, trying to stop him from moving away. "hyuck, please come inside, fill me up please-" with a soft cry, he pushes in deep – and you can feel him cum inside you, making a mess between your thighs, the feeling so arousing that it awakens something inside you, and your hips begin to move – begging for more. 

"wait-" he pants. "give me a minute, angel-" his eyes are closed again, head lowered, as he pushes through the overstimulation, feeling his soft cock slowly begin to harden again. the sounds falling from his throat now are scratchy, hoarse whines – a sound so dirty it makes your heart beat even faster, a sense of defiled innocence you've only ever heard in his music. the angle in which he's rutting into you stimulating your clit, pushing you closer to your edge as you fuck up onto him. 

"hyuck?" you push his bangs out of his eyes, tracing your hands over his shoulders, his chest. your fingers brush past his nipples and his mouth falls open with need, an achy sound releasing from the back of his throat, his puffy lips parted obscenely. you pinch his nipples again, gently, experimentative, and you feel his body shudder as he cums again, this time going still. it's so fucking arousing, an different side to him that you've never seen, that you feel yourself climax as well, the stimulation overwhelming. 

the both of you lay there for awhile, before he seems to come to his senses — a shaky hand moving the hair out of your face. 

he looks at you, and you look at him. 

and as if he can't help himself, he kisses you again – this time so soft and gentle, almost as if it were the first time all over again. 

"you alright?" he mumbles. 

you nod. 

"let's clean up in a second," he breathes. "just…let's stay like this for awhile." 

you nod again. you don't trust your own voice. something is happening – something tastes different in the air, something in the way you're looking at each other, something in the way he's touching you now – as if you might break or bruise if he even let his fingerprints get onto your skin. in the way he's looking at you now – something urgent in his gaze. 

"are you…are you free tomorrow night?" 

"i am." you sound stronger than you feel. 

"can i take you somewhere?" 

pause. "yeah." you give him a small smile. "i'd like that."

the smile that breaks out across his face is one that you know like the back of your hand. 

–

sitting across from you now, with your plates already cleared away and all that's left is your last few sips of wine, it hits you how that this is the most normal setting you've been in with him, possibly ever. his long legs stretched out under the table over by your chair, gently placing down his wine glass as he looks at you, his expression soft. his face is lit up by candlelight, hair falling over his brows in a hopelessly endearing way. 

"you good?" he murmurs. 

you nod. things feel cozy, and comfortable – it's a feeling so foreign but at the same time so familiar, you have to keep reminding yourself that this is real. 

he bites his lip. "pretend i'm jisung," he says, impulsively. "and…and you're describing how this went to him. how…how did you find it?" 

you give him a look, but he looks so shy, so nervous to be asking you this question, that you decide to play along. 

"well, jisung-" you take a deep breath, smiling when you see him smile too. "haechan picked me up today, that was really nice-" 

"-sounds like the bare minimum," he mumbles back, head bent.

"well, yeah it kind of is. but he doesn't have the best track record." you see him wince, so you let that comment linger for awhile before continuing on. "he's been a gentleman today. he…he took me to a restaurant that he found out i've been meaning to go to for awhile now, because he asked jaemin beforehand." 

"and that's…creepy? doing too much?" 

"it was thoughtful," you mused. "even though he made the reservation for the wrong date…"

"fucker," he shakes his head. 

"...it was nice because we got to go to walk around, and there was this moment, um…" his head darts up. now you can see him break character – something piercingly vulnerable in the way his bambi-brown eyes shine. 

you swallow. "we were crossing the street…and he put his hand on my lower back, just to guide me forward, and when we got to the other side he took my hand in his and just…held it-" 

he's looking at you, slightly confused and a little nervous. 

"yeah?" 

"he…he usually only acts like that when we're alone…when there's no one around." he still looks lost, so you reach forward across the table, taking his hand in yours. as if on instinct, his hand squeezes yours. "it's sweet," you reassure him. "it was really sweet." 

he bites his lip, but nods to show that he understands.

there's silence, for a bit. you think of breaking the silence, of saying anything, when suddenly he clears his throat slightly, sitting up a little straighter.

"hey, mark-" now he's doing the same bit, and it catches you by surprise a little - making you smile. "yeah, i'm still with y/n. i...uh...i fucked up the reservation, you were right, i should've checked again..."

"i really like spending time with her," he says, slowly. "i...i can't stop staring at her - she looks so beautiful tonight. and...and i can't believe she's finally here with me, that i somehow didn't fuck this up. and um...we were in this record store just now...and i was listening to her talk about an album she liked -" a smile plays on his lips as he recalls the memory. you suddenly become aware that your heart is beating hard again, pounding in your ribs. "and she was so excited, and she kept laughing as she talked, and...and i just realised i would do anything to make her that happy, all the time. and that i want it to be me, i want to be the reason she smiles like that."

you swallow.

"haechan..."

"you don't have to say anything-" he rushes to say. "i just...i just wanted you - i mean, uh, mark - to know."

"okay." you take a deep breath. "and um, i want jisung to know that-"

"yeah?"

"i like spending time with him too," you say, faintly.

he nods, but he doesn't smile.

-

as the car pulls up to your driveway, the quiet hum of the engine is silenced – headlights turned off, only the soft glow of streetlights casting their pools of gold over haechan's face. it's so quiet, you hear the shaky breath he takes as he steadies himself. 

"i have something for you," he murmurs. you can feel the warmth radiating off his body as he leans to pick something up from the backseat, the comforting smell of his perfume making your heart warm. but then you hear the crinkle of paper, his hair falling over his face as he sits back into the driver's seat, and your heart falls in a completely different way – your insides rushing with inertia, dizzy and heady – because he's holding a bouquet of dark red roses. they're wrapped sweetly, tied off with a piece of red ribbon to match the blooms, and your eyes linger on the way his fingers tremble as he holds them out to you with both hands. 

his starts to speak, but whatever he falters as he watches you stare at the soft petals, stems completely stripped of their thorns – and he bites his lower lip, breath caught in his throat. 

"too much?" he asks, softly. "i just thought…i just…mark and jisung said it would be a good idea," he stammers, lowering the bouquet as one of his hands falls to his thighs, nervously clenching his fists. "i was supposed to give them to you when i picked you up, but i got scared…you don't have to take them, i just thought…i wasn't thinking-" 

your hand closes around his hand holding the flowers. your other goes to his face, your thumb brushing his cheek as he falls silent, his eyes fixed on yours, caught in the haze of your touch. slowly, so as not to startle him, you lean in and kiss him gently. it's a beat before he kisses you back, as if he couldn't believe it, and when you pull away just slightly with a soft sound, you can see the nervousness in his eyes. and so you lean in to kiss him again – you kiss him until his lashes flutter shut, until you can feel him settle in his seat, sighing into your mouth as he kisses you deeply. you pull the flowers into your lap, his hand giving up control easily, coming up to your face to hold you in his palms. 

"hyuck." 

he pauses, leaning back – but his hands only leave your face when you hold them in your own, guiding them down to rest against the center console, your fingers intertwined. 

"i never want you to feel like i'm ashamed of being seen with you," he blurts out suddenly. 

"what?" 

"i never meant to let it get that far," he continues on, looking at his hands. "when i first met you…i wanted you to be like everyone else. i tried to do what i always do, but i just couldn't. you kept getting in my head, and i kept hurting you, and i didn't know how to stop and i just-" he exhales. "i never want to make you feel like that again." 

"hyuck, was this a date?" 

he swallows. "if you want it to be," he starts, but then he shakes his head. "the truth is, i was afraid you would say no if it was. but i really want it to be. i really really do." 

"hyuck," you take a deep breath. "whatever you're going through, you're not going to find the answer in me." 

"y/n, i love you," he says, quietly, tenderly. he says it like it's the easiest thing in the world. "i want to be a person who deserves to be with you, and love you, and i know you think you can't change me, and it isn't your responsibility to try at all…but you already have, and you can't take it back. when i'm with you i feel like i can see this version of donghyuck that i want to be all the time for the rest of my life." 

"no two people should change to be with each other –" you start, but he shakes his head. 

"we aren't a scenario," he insists. "this isn't a hypothetical. there's no should and shouldn't, because you know me –" he's pleading. "i'm not the same boy you saw onstage that first time you came to our show, and you're not that same girl on the roof," he pleads, voice breaking, tears welling up in the pretty cut of his eyes. "why is it so hard for you to believe that this version of us is meant to be together?" 

there's silence. 

"i can believe it," you start, quietly. "that's what terrifies me." 

you can see him start to lose hope. he can't force you to stay with him when you're not ready, and he doesn't want to be that person either. 

"i…" he hesitates. he wants to say so much more to you – that no one else makes him feel the way you make him feel. that he feels like he'll never love anyone again, not the way he loves you. the fact that you're it for him in a million different ways, a love he never thought he'd find. that he'll never be able to give anyone else a fair chance. 

but he can tell his love makes your shoulders heavy, makes your eyes go foggy with tears. already, you look shattered sitting in the passenger seat of his car, his love a weight on your chest that you don't know what to do with. already he's losing whatever bravery he had before – the bravery his love for you had given him. 

"sometimes-" you start, breaking off, your voice quivering. "when we're together, i feel like i could do it for the rest of my life. that you're the only one i've met to make me feel this way, that i'm the only one who knows you so deep." 

"you are," he breathes. 

"but-" your voice rises, agitated. "you hurt me. again and again. i came back when i wasn't ready, i should've given it more time, i just couldn't stay away. and then you came back into my life, and i forgave you to be with you again, and i tried to give other people a chance but i just…i just couldn't. what if this is too soon again?" 

i'll wait. the words are on the tip of his tongue, but he knows its the wrong thing to say, wrong thing to want. there's nothing romantic about waiting for someone – it's a cruel promise, one that rots each day going by in the wait for the future. 

"do you…" he takes a deep breath. "do you want to let me go?"

you nod, slowly. haechan can feel his heartbeat in his ears. 

"i'm not sorry," you whisper. "it's not right. you…i know you think you know what you want, but i need you to be sure of who you are, and who you want. i can't give you the answers." 

haechan remembers how – and it seems so far away, almost like a dream now – the night you went out with jisung, he dreamed of you. dreamed up the final version of you and him – everything good and always good, coming backstage to you, coming home to you. and some part of him had dared to hope, that despite everything, despite himself, the two of you would make it to that final version. 

but maybe the final version of you and him was this – the sound of the car door shutting as you walk up the steps to your apartment, and him crying all the way home, roses left in the front seat of the car, the ghost of your hands burning on his face.

(EPILOGUE RELEASE SOON)

@neochan, @ahncosette, @18shy @kittydollzz @jenoslutie @pussymode @yyfka @cheolctrl @jaeminsballs @mysummerhyuck @strawberrytyong @rosiejunnie @nctzen4eva @haechskies @wickedrei @sundamariis @liliansun @lanadreamie @nodisdino @angelwonie @foxydumps @manooffline @moonsmias @skzct7 @iscocohere @ficrecnctskz @makiswrld @itskkung @simpforarmihn @aryraaaa @rbf-aceu @laubyrinthine @yujuvly @nctevia @hyuckenjoyer @guhhfgbbj @girlwholoveslpreppyattire @kasperneo @eneiyri @toroufriteh @cauliephays @jisoung @niinjo @wonaoi @yuskitty @strawbabyz @readingisgodly @daegalfangirl @minkyuncutie @feat-sun @chaoticstrawberryland @shawnyle @sofix-hc7 @scftharu @spageddy @adorejaehyn @manooffline @02mrk @tyongspice1 @runahways @neosdaisy @hotmessexpress35 @kim-seungmins-gf @delllllllsstuff @nohunlee @kingsoowolves @enhasrii @fnafgirl87 @imzerozen @toroufriteh @torothecatt

[pearlywritings]

Sometimes the name doesn't matter

synopsis: sometimes it matters that you are his wife. PART 3

pairings: Childe, Neuvillette, Pantalone, Wriothesley x fem!reader (separately)

tw: fluff, established relationship (married/engaged/mated), secret relationship, immortal reader in Neuvi's part

word count: 6.1k+ words

a/n: part 1 and part 2 can be read here!

Childe

Spurred by the whistles and a whip of a coachman three fine white horses are trotting along the snow-covered road, dragging a big sleigh. Made of the sturdiest wood and painted in red and gold, the construction is effortlessly sliding on ice crust, almost lulling you under all those warm blankets and furs Ajax has thrown over your half-sitting half-lying bodies. You are glad to have this instead of jolting in a carriage (not like it’ll even be able to ride through all this snow), sure to have an aching arse even under the thick sheepskin coat, and instead of whatever machinery your lover could’ve gotten his hands onto due to his position - otherwise it wouldn’t have been so romantic.

Resting your head onto his shoulder you sigh blissfully, puffing out a small cloud of warm air. The fluffy-looking firs, tall pines and naked larches are flashing past in a magical gleam of snow-covered branches; you think you see two grayish squirrels chasing one another on a tree on your left.

“Oh, little minxes. A couple of seconds later and that snow could’ve ended up on our heads.”

You giggle at the young man’s comment, taking your gloved hand out of the sable muff and reaching to adjust the hat with earflaps (which he once again refused to tie under his chin) on his head. Before you can retrieve, a bigger hand clad in mitten wraps around yours and brings it to the chapped pale lips. As if spellbound you watch him press a tender kiss just where your ring finger joins the palm - right where the engagement ring is hidden under the thick material.

Now it’s hard to tell if your cheeks are rosy from cold or the swirling emotions.

“A little bit more and we will be in Morepesok,” he says softly, deep pools of his blue eyes staring back at you adoringly. “I can’t wait to share the news with ma, pa, sisters and brothers…”

You know he’s written them a letter right after you said ‘yes” to him, too excited to wait. So excited in fact, that he couldn’t sit still in expectation for the response, so he solicited an impromptu week-long vacation with the help of Pulcinella, and here you are, on your merry way to his home village.

“I can’t wait for that too,” you smile, leaning up to peck his nose, eliciting the same smile from him. “But I worry a little - will they be happy for us? I mean, that it’s me who you are going to marry?”

“Absolutely!” He nods enthusiastically and you have to readjust his hat again. “They all love you very much, I promise you. And if I am being completely honest, mom and Tonia did keep asking me when I intended to make you my wife during the last couple of times we visited.”

“Wait, really? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I was already planning a proposal at the time - didn’t want to spoil it by accidentally letting my tongue loose.”

It’s hard to believe that this man is one of the Tsaritsa’s Harbingers. Childe is surprisingly good at separating his work and off work behavior, turning into a completely normal, maybe just a tiny bit unhinged, young man as soon as his family is involved. You know he’s built this facade to keep them and you away from harm, but you also know it comes from the heart as well.

“Then I can only hope we can bring the female members of your family to the capital soon - I want them to participate in the wedding dress shopping.”

You are immediately gathered into a tight embrace and your laughter is smothered by the fur on his collar. Yes, he is the Eleventh Harbinger, Tartaglia, Tsaritas’s soldier, Childe… But in moments like this he is just Ajax. Your Ajax.

His parents’ house meets you both with the quiet creak of the gates, the barking of two big fluffy malamutes outside, the clink of the horseshoe against the wood on top of the front door, the warmth of a well-heated inside and a bit taller than the last time you saw him Teucer, who runs full speed at his big brother, practically tackling him.

“Big brother is home, big brother is home!”

Ajax joyously laughs, somehow managing to take off his coat and dropping it to the colorful carpet at the front door before hoisting the exclaiming boy into his arms. Kicking off your felt boots to step from the anteroom, you watch with a smile as he squeals when your lover presses his cold cheek to the warm smaller one, squirming in the strong arms. 

Not a minute later more of his siblings appear, closely followed by their mom - freckled, with her ginger with gray hair tied in a thick braid and an apron thrown over her green dress, the woman smiles brightly and, letting her children surround their brother, walks to you with arms spread, ready to embrace you.

“Mother, my clothes might be cold,” you try to warn her, but she doesn’t listen, hugging you anyway.

“As if it can affect me! Oh, I’m so happy to see you, my dear. How was your trip? Are you tired, hungry? I’m almost done with lunch, and in the meantime I can ask my husband to throw in the firewood and heat the bathhouse for you two.

“It’s very kind of you,” you smile, wrapping your arms to give her a hug in return. “But I think we’ll wash up in the evening - I really doubt Ajax’s sibling will let him go in the following couple of hours.”

Before she can say anything, a tall, wide man appears from the other room. His beard and hair are gingerly brown with gray too, thick brows naturally furrowed. By the rosy cheeks, the remnants of snowflakes melting on his hair and the choice of clothing you guess he’s just returned to the house through the back door - probably after chopping wood.

Upon lowering his gaze to you, his facial features smooth out.

“If it isn’t my son and a dear soon-to-be daughter-in-law!” His gruff voice booms across the house, immediately redirecting everyone’s attention to you and making you blush. “I knew Ajax was too impatient and would rather come to visit and bring his fiance along than wait for a response letter.”

As he moves to greet you properly and help with discarding the outer clothes, you notice your gingerhead whispering something to his siblings, to which they giggle and throw glances at you. Catching the gaze of your lover, you lift an eyebrow, as if asking ‘should I be concerned?”. But he only shakes his head with a smile and ushers everyone to the dining room.

However, the curiosity is getting better of you, as throughout the evening you keep catching the glances, watch Tonia whispering something to her mom, and the woman giving Ajax a ‘really?’ kind of look, but with a fond smile, and then his dad slapping his back with a boisterous laugh, saying something along the lines ‘I was the same way with your mom too’.

So you confront him once you are left alone in the room.

“Hey, foxy, what’s going on?”

“Hm?” He lowers the blanket that he’s just tucked inside the duvet cover and reaches for the sheets. “What do you mean, bunny?”

“Whatever you’ve been doing,” you put one of the pillows down and reach out for the other as well as the pillowcase. 

“And what’s that ‘whatever’ I’ve been doing?” You don’t miss the sly smile finding its way onto his face. You huff.

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

The man hums, tucking the edges of the sheet between the mattress and the bed.

“Nothing you should worry about. I just asked them all to practice a little.”

“Practice?’ Cocking your head, you throw both pillows onto the bed. “Wait, did you start planning something for the wedding?”

“Not quite. Rather for after it.”

Confused, but intrigued, you step closer when your lover sits down and beckons you, being dragged into his lap a second later. Blue eyes look at you in an unspoken fascination, as he leans forward to place a kiss to the corner of your mouth, prompting you to loosely wrap your arms around his shoulders.

“Since we are getting married, I deduced that it would be only right for my family to call you my wife. Thus I asked them to get acquaintanced with the term, so they could start doing it as soon as we are pronounced husband and wife.”

You blink at him once, twice. After the third time you exhale, shaking your head, but the lift of your lips doesn’t go unnoticed by your fiance.

“I should’ve known you’d pull something like this, I am not even surprised, let alone mad. But they could just keep addressing me by my name. Plus your siblings already call me ‘big sister’ and your parents made me an honor of acknowledging me as the ‘daughter’. It won’t change much.”

“But it will!” He pouts and you can’t resist the urge to pinch his cheek. “You will be my wife and I want everyone to help me show it! Does it bother you though?”

Looking into those uncharacteristically begging eyes, you really can’t deny him his little antics. Not like you were going to in the first place.

“No, no, I don’t mind, love. Honestly, it's very sweet how excited you are. Makes me look forward to it.”

“Yeah?” Look at him, smiling like a satisfied cat, who's had too much sour cream for its own good. His embrace tightens on you a little.

“Yeah.”

A beat of silence passes as Ajax enjoys the many kisses you pepper to his face, squeezing his eyes shut, grinning, boyishly eager for more.

“Do you think I should ask the whole village to do the same?”

“Ajax, no.”

Nuevillette

“Mother, do you mind helping me a little? I can’t reach over there…

“I’d be delighted, my dear.”

Neuvillette watches with a fond look as you put the tea cup down and stand up to walk closer to Verenata and assist her with whatever the potion maker needs. Your figure is ethereal, clad in the finest fabrics, flowing with every step and gently dropping as you crouch gracefully to hoist the melusine in your arms. From above the rim of his silver goblet the Hydro Dragon can't tear his eyes from the way one of your many “daughters” wraps an arm around your neck and reaches up, while the corner of your lips, which he can see from his position at the table, is turned upwards.

“Mother is so kind and patient,” Laume says just a step away from Neuvillette’s chair. When the man turns his head to look at her, there is Flo standing too.

“Yes, and she is so beautiful,” the other melusine sighs, clasping her hands together. “And she always brings us such nice and comfortable clothes…”

“Monsieur Neuvillette married a wonderful woman,” a couple more melusines nearby agree and there is a warm and fuzzy feeling takes place in the Judex’s chest.

Marriage… Such a beautiful concept humans came up with to validate the union of two. It begins with the wedding - a day full of happy tears and blissful smiles, shared vows to be together in sickness and in health, sweet claims of love and promises of joyful life ahead. Then this very life begins and for beings like you and your husband it’s a long, but welcome trip.

You’ve been claimed by each other for quite some time before the more ‘mortal appropriate’ ritual, and the melusines - the wonderful creatures Neuvillette once took under his wing - were aware and happy for your relationship. And it was actually their idea to hold a wedding too, once Sigewinne naturally asked how the two of you planned to introduce your bond in civil words to humans.

And it was their initiative to start calling you “mother”. With your actions you quickly became one for them anyway, and the girls actively sought your company when it was possible. Thus, such tea parties at the Merusea Village as today are a common occurrence (besides, you always welcome them because it's a great opportunity to dig your husband out of the pile of responsibilities he tends to bury himself under).

However, lately Neuvillette started noticing that when he heard the word leave the girls’ mouths, a strange feeling began rising in his chest. Even though not quite familiar with the concept of jealousy, the Judex was sure it was not the case - he loved when the melusines called you that. So, he could not really put his finger on why the action caused such an indescribable reaction.

He decided to observe. On his walks throughout the city, the man seeked the sights of parents with children to attentively listen and watch while leisurely passing by or stopping at the shopping booths to linger on the scene. He was quick to note that the interactions were hardly different from the ones between you and the girls - kids would call for their mothers in all the same tones: when happy, when asking for help, when seeking comfort and many other typical occurrences he’d seen a handful of times before.

What really caught Neuvillette’s eye was the way the parents behaved. And soon his focus shifted to the married couples instead. As reserved as the nobles seemed to appear, the ones in love still managed to slip a murmured ‘my dear’, or ‘beloved’ or ‘my sweet [Name]’ in their speech. All the things the Hydro Dragon was all too used to call you too, relishing in the image of your loving smile and joyfully crinkling eyes as you responded in kind.

But it is like a waterfall pours on him when a week later, after that tea party where he once again sunk deep in thought, a keen pointy ear makes out a simple word in the crowd.

"Wife"

Male’s heart flutters. The understanding quickly dawns on him, even more so when his eyes find the couple on the other side of the road, - it was no simple term to introduce the partner to the third party. No, the tenderly spoken word was used by that man to address his lover, to softly draw her attention to him, to remind her he is happy she is holding such a position in his life…

At least that’s what kind of puzzle pieces together in Neuvillette’s head. The couple is long gone, yet he is still standing there, hand resting on the handle of his cane and eyes staring into space.

He starts to remember all the sweet names he called you, each and every one stored in his memory with the heart-warming images of your reactions. There are all kinds of those: my love, my pearl, lizzy (affectionate from ‘lizard’; you used to tell him that dragons are just big lizards and it kinda stuck), kisses-stealer, fairy-tail nymph… The man is surprisingly creative with his words when it comes to you.

Sure, he calls you his mate, quite often too, but to his chagrin it has never occurred to him that he could call you ‘his wife’ too! It’s so simple, so absurdly logical, yet it took him weeks to figure out.

Humans are truly fascinating.

When Neuvillette returns to his office in the Palais Mermonia you are already there, lazing on a sofa with a bunch of papers, in which your husband guesses the script of probably another upcoming play of Furina. And judging by the more than a half pages turned you’ve been waiting for him for a while.

When the door closes and the cane disappears in the myriad of sparkling bubbles, you lift your gaze, and a smile immediately lights up your lovely features.

”Neuvi,” You speak softly, getting on your feet and leaving the script behind, “I hoped we’d depart on the afternoon stroll together. So imagine my disappointment when Sedene told me you had left just ten minutes ago! Oh, I knew I’d be late if Lady Furina had kept me for another minute, yet I still hoped I’d be on time…”

As you are approaching him, the Judex remembers the melusine’s words upon arrival: “Mother waits inside”. This makes all his previous thoughts resurface, and when he meets you half-way and reaches for both your hands to place a kiss to the back of each, Neuvillette has half a mind to try out his new discovery.

“Our Archon enjoys your company a lot, and, knowing you, you are not really mad,” you roll your eyes playfully, tiptoeing to peck the tip of his nose, murmuring a quiet ‘hush, let me be a tiny bit indignant’. “And I’d be honored to keep you company for the evening stroll,” and then, after a little pause of hesitation, he adds, “wife.”

He watches as the previously present smile on your face grows even bigger, but after a couple of seconds starts to fade slowly, eyes squinting a little bit to stare at him in hardly-concealed curiosity.

“What was that?”

“What was what, dear wife?”

“This!” As if to emphasize your words you point your finger to his mouth, and it’s Neuvillette’s lips’ turn to curl in a small smile.

“It’s something I hoped to discuss with you,” his gloved fingertips soothingly brush over your knuckles and soon your hand is clasped into his, as the man leads you both back to the sofa. “You see,” he starts when you sit down, “I am fascinated with the notion hidden behind the word ‘mother’ the melusines like to call you. That’s who you are for them both in reality and in terms. I’ve made some observations, and figured that sometimes humans in marriage also use the…familial terms to address one another. It seemed lovely to me and I wanted to try it out with you. What do you think?”

You hum in thought, replaying in your head the way Neuvillette spoke to you twice. It is hard to explain, but you somehow immediately see the appeal and understand why your lover got hooked on it. Seems lovely indeed. You wonder, what if you…

“Will you tell me more about those observations on our evening stroll, husband? Ooh, it does sound wonderful!”

Mark him stunned, but for a moment Judex grows speechless. The violet depths of his eyes swirl with adoration as you clap your hands gleefully, and he knows, that from now on your everyday routine will never be the same

“With pleasure, wife.”

Pantalone

Dancing snowflakes are slowly descending in their tender waltz and are gleaming like the tiniest of gems in the streetlights’, enveloping the already magical winter capital of the Cryo region in a solemn atmosphere. The white cover of the ground is crunching with every step of a passerby and every wheel rotation of the fancy-looking carriages, while the street is a jumble of fur coats and heavy military overcoats, finally breathing life into the afternoon-quiet city.

It’s a wonderful evening, too marvelous to spend it at home, too enchanting to miss the new ballet at the Bolshoy Theater, the true accumulation of the Tsaritsa’ nation’s nobility and intelligentsia. The wonder of Snezhnayan architecture is both the place to rest and enjoy the purest form of art and home to many gossip circulating in society. Some fresh and just hours old, some ancient and undying, like the topic of the Ninth Harbinger’s lovers.

Lord Pantalone is well-known and often-praised for his contribution to the Snezhnaya’s economy, along with extending the Fatui influence all across the Teyvat. But also he is quite famous for the women he appears in public with. It’s always someone new, it’s never the same one as before. Different shapes, different hair, different style - it is impossible to guess the raven-haired man’s tastes. However everybody knew - the Harbinger never entertained the company of the ladies who made attempts to catch his attention. Those ladies themselves say as much.

The Regrator’s companions never open their mouths, never utter a word - at least not when there are people around. There has never been a single name, never a remembered face - all women wear the mask covering the upper half of it, concealing the identity of yet another lucky choice of the rich man. 

Never the same woman - always the same mask.

This evening does not disappoint the gathered crowd - lifting their gazes, directing attention to the Harbinger’s personal box, they once again see the notorious mask. The long fringe of wine-red hair is coquettishly framing the ever-lasting piece of leather, similarly flaming lips are tugged in a haughty smile - as if the young lady doesn’t realize that once the night is over, she’s going to be discarded like many others before her. The dress according to the latest fashion trends and the beautiful garnet necklace do not surprise the audience anymore - even known for his love for replacements, Lord Pantalone dresses his partners royally.

The man himself has chosen yet another black costume, with a dark burgundy shirt hidden underneath and bird-shaped garnet brooch on the left side of his chest. Multiple beautiful rings catch the light when he lifts his gloved hand to adjust diamond-shaped glasses, before turning his head and addressing something to his tonight’s escort. She boisterously laughs, saying something in response, but even if attendants tried to strain their ears, they wouldn’t hear anything so far away. Even harder it gets when the third ring of the bell echoes across the theater chamber and both the Harbinger and the woman are forgotten, until the performance is over.

So no one sees when the ring-decorated hand reaches for a smaller female one, fingers sliding under the chintz-covered palm, thumb immediately reaching to tug on the hem of the glove, so the thin cool lips could press against the small patch of bared skin. A glimpse of a smile is what Pantalone gets when you glance at him with amusement playing on your lips.

Always the same mask, never the same woman, huh? 

Pride has long slithered into your heart, yet it still lifts its snake-like head every time your act of decisiveness succeeds, happily hissing. Every time it’s a test of your skills, a gamble with the eyes of ones around you, and every time you hit the jackpot, leaving the people guessing, staying the only one in possession of the banker despite the speculations.

As long as Her Majesty Tsaritsa is aware of your existence and the place you occupy next to Pantalone, you are free to do anything you want with his reputation relationship-wise. And he allows it, because should you desire the whole world - he’ll throw it to your feet like the cheapest trinket. One would say it’s because he is prideful too - he knows it’s because he loves his wife.

Loves to the point of entertaining the masquerades she stages whenever the two of you need to appear in public. It plays wonderfully into his possessive nature and desire to keep his precious beautiful wife to himself and helps with the enemies - “changing the ladies” minimizes the chances of putting at risk his one and only. Not like many know of you in the first place.

It’s a win-win arrangement for you as well - there is still an opportunity to cling to his arm, to use his expensive cologne, to play with the rings on his fingers and sneakily make out in a dark corner where no one can see. To be tugged into his lap in the carriage on the way back to his mansion, to have his long fingers undo the strings of the mask, and once the piece of leather falls onto the floor, have the palms slide down the sides of your neck, swiftly fiddling with the heavy necklace, only to let it be, the caress the shoulders, pushing the sleeves down… 

…to leave them at the elbows and grab your arms to push your back into his chest as the warm lips press to the juncture between the neck and the shoulder.

And what if you’ve lost your name in the process of this disguising? Having been an actress a long time ago made you used to it. But isn’t it fun to come up with the new ideas for your next performance? Your husband gifts you way too many dresses and jewelry sets - you must find use to all of them! He now has to simply spend a bit more on the wigs and makeup to fit each combination of fabric and gems.

“Did my wife have a pleasant evening?” The velvet voice of the man behind you caresses the ear and you meet his gaze in the full-size mirror in front of you. Amethyst eyes sparkle in the bedroom light and you smile coquettishly, red lips stretching seductively.

“Did she? How could I know?” You tease, reaching to your back to undo the corset, just to be stopped by his hands, fingers digging into the dozens of strings. “And don’t you know, Mr Harbinger, that it’s very offending for the woman, when the man speaks about another lady in her presence?”

“Oh, I wasn’t aware,” he muses, tugging a bit harsher on the ties and making you gasp, “that my dear wife can be jealous of herself.”

“When you know her poorly. Tsk-tsk, what a bad husband you are.”

Pantalone laughs behind you, shaking his head at your untrue words, and you reach to your head to remove the fiery wig. By the time Pantalone is done with your corset, you are done letting your naturally beautiful locks down, sighing in relief from both the released ribcage and hair roots.

The dress, having lost its vital support on your body, falls to the ground next to the wig and quickly becomes forgotten as you two step away from the mirror.

Your husband is still mostly clothed, having only eased out of his coat and unbuttoned the jacket, so you busy your hands with tugging the black article off and then reaching for the gleaming tiny buttons on the shirt. Your figures bask in the warm light of the room as you continue undressing the man - your eyes concentrated on the expensive fabrics, his - on the lovely expression of your face.

“But if you must know,” Pantalone raises his brow, when you look up at him, a much sincere and tender smile lighting up your visage, “your wife loved the evening very much.”

And that’s everything he’s ever wanted to hear. Fingers tangle in your hair, you harshly inhale, and his lips are on yours. Lipstick is smudging, your fingers accidentally catch the silver chain, and his glasses get slightly askew, but it doesn’t matter. His wife loved another thing he’s done for her. The banker’s day has ended in a great profit.

Wriothesley

Fortress of Meropide is a huge metal labyrinth of floors and corridors, where noise is never-ending even in the late hours of the night. The metal box which is the Duke’s office however, is constructed to mute the annoying sounds or else the one inside would have a very hard time concentrating.

Usually, even the ruckus happening outside and the clanking of the heavy machines underneath can’t sway Wriothesley’s attention if he has his mind set on doing the paperwork, even something as boring as bills. Today, however, the man has caught himself multiple times glancing at the clock he’s hung up a couple of years ago - there is no way to tell the time all the way down underwater, true, but it serves him a greater purpose. It helps him count hours and minutes before you arrive.

Tuesdays and Thursdays are the days when you take a half of the day off to come down to the Fortress to meet up with your husband. You both quickly realized that traveling back and forth together in either of the directions (fortress or home in the city) would be way too inconvenient. So, you improvise by visiting him throughout the week a couple of times and then he comes home to properly spend the weekend, having learnt to delegate his responsibilities to the most trustworthy guards. So far you’ve been extremely pleased with the arrangement, and the Fortress’s crew have learnt your face by heart to not cause you any obstacles in reaching your beloved’s office.

Today, nevertheless, something must’ve gone wrong. Pale blue eyes are practically drilling the minute hand of the previously mentioned clock, watching it moving further and further from the tiny 10-minute bar, which should’ve marked your appearance at the top of his stairs. And he gets it, everything could’ve happened, something as trivial as the queue at the pastry shop that might’ve gotten longer today, but when the delay surpasses the half-hour mark, the warden puts his fountain pen down and follows it by the creak of the chair legs on the metal floor.

As he descends down the stairs - each clunking under the heavy soles of his boots - a fleeting thought of you stopping by at the medical bay first is immediately brushed aside - his office is right on the path of entering the Fortress’s main body, and you love your husband too much to let him sulk in his longing. 

When he pushes the colossal doors open, eyes instantly start searching the area ahead of him. However, nothing unusual is spotted - two guards are standing at the front of his abode, not even flinching at the unpleasant scraping noise the metal makes; a couple of inmates are walking past them, bowing their heads right as they see the appearing the figure of their warden - Wriothesley simply nods and sends them off with a flicker of his hand; then there is Monglane’s desk with its irreplaceable owner. And no trace of his beloved wife.

Closing the doors behind him, Wriothesley comes up to the guards, inquiring if they’ve happened to see you. Getting a negative response, he hums and starts walking forward, to the corridor leading to the elevator, not bothering with asking the very same questions to Monglane.

With every passing minute, especially while waiting for the elevator, the man starts realizing how impatient he is growing, if the tapping of his foot and crossed arms are not an indicator enough. Even with just one day apart, he’s missed you so awfully much, your adoring smile, your soft voice and cute little giggles, that he feels rightfully robbed since you are not yet in his embrace, showering his face with kisses and then whining pretentiously because he’s forgotten to shave once again. Sometimes you swear he is not a big bad wolf, but a mean huge hedgehog.

He almost stomps inside the cabin the second its doors slide open and pushes the button to the reddening of his fingertip. It is a long trip up to the next level, and he admits he’s tugged on his leather straps wrapped around his arms a couple of times, but Archons, how little it all matters, when, exiting the elevator, he finally hears such a familiar voice. Your voice.

Your husband’s legs carry him like they obtained a mind of their own, following the full of amusement lilt he knows can belong only to you, just to come to a halt next to the wooden boxes piled up on the side of the path. 

He can see you, quite clearly, adorned in a cute pair of pants and a shirt, shoulders covered in a crocheted shawl - always ready for the cool air of the Fortress, yet looking so comfy, that Wriothesley can't help but desire to tackle you to the sofa in his office and cuddle this instant. And he would've done just that, if the conversation you've been having didn't catch his attention.

“No, it's wrong again. It's not Britney, it's Brytnneigh.

“But you are saying the same thing!"

"No, it is not B-r-i-t-n-e-y. It's B-r-y-t-n-n-e-i-g-h."

"Slower, please."

In the second voice the warden easily guesses a new guard that has just been employed a couple of days ago. He remembers signing the papers his weekend substitute brought him on Monday. Wriothesley also remembers how the man swore that he’d passed on to the newbie all the information and training he needed to know. But, it appears, he forgot to mention the most important thing…

“Did you make sure to write my name with two N’s?” Your voice is laced with hardly concealed mirth, and, though he can’t see the face of the guard talking to you, your husband is sure the poor young man looks quite miserable.

“Yes, mademoiselle, I did.”

“Wonderful, but it’s ‘madame’, I am a married woman after all. But no worries, I am flattered you think I look so young,” Wriothesley shakes his head with a silent chuckle. He adores you so much, but maybe it really is time to stop your little play of a new inmate, or else he’ll surely have to call for Sigewinne to check on the poor guard.

“And your last name, madame?”

“I am Brytnneigh Deirdrophnea de Troistêtesloup. Do you want me to spell it for you, dear?”

Yes, he really should stop you.

Before you can open your mouth again, you see in your peripheral vision a figure moving. Upon turning your head slightly, you are graced with the sight of your beloved husband, walking towards you with a quirked thick brow, and crossed arms. All you can do is sheepishly smile, waving at him.

“O-oh! Duke Wriothesley, Sir!” The guard behind the registration desk immediately jumps to his feet, squaring his shoulders and saluting at the arrival of his superior.

“At ease, young man,” Wriothesley nods, stepping even closer, practically invading your personal space, icy blue eyes looking at you unblinkingly. “What is going on here?”

“Nothing much, Mr Warden,” your eyes crinkle in the corners, a sight so infectious, that the man’s lips turn into a small smile. “Just a cute old me, ending up in the Fortress for Archon knows what time.”

“M-madame!” The guard exclaims rather loudly, that even your husband turns to look at him. “Even if it's not your first stay here, you shouldn’t be taking liberties with the Duke!”

“No, no, it’s alright,” Wriothesley raises his hand. “She is no longer your headache-”

“Hey!” You elbow his side to the bewilderment of the guard. In his shock he doesn’t even reach for his weapon.

“-I will personally escort this troublemaker inside. And cross out that abominable name out, would you? It’s not her name.”

“It’s not..?” Now Wriothesley really sympathizes with the guy, he looks utterly lost.

“It’s not. But,” a big scarred hand gently cups you under the chin and turns your head more properly towards the guard, “be sure to remember this adorable face very well for the next time. You’ll need that to let her in and out.”

“...out?”

“Yes, indeed. This woman is my wife.”

As the elevator doors slide close and the cabin starts moving down, you turn to Wriothesley and throw your arms around his wide frame, face burying into his chest.

“Are you proud of me for coming up with such a long and difficult name in a single thought?”

“Oh, for sure,” strong arms circle your waist and chapped lips press to the top of your head, “I bet you would be hard-to-catch if you were a criminal. But why did you decide to play such a prank on a poor man?”

“Well… I just wanted to see his face when he found out that I am the wife of the Duke of the Fortress of Meropide himself. Another reason is that there was no guard who knew my face and I doubt he would’ve believed my word. I just got creative with the way of making him summon someone else. You simply got here before anything could happen. Plus, it’s good to keep them on their toes with a job like that. Besides, I did apologize and praise him for his patience.”

At that Wriothesley just sighs and then chuckles, raising one of his hands and threading his fingers through your hair, pressing your head even closer to his chest. He is not even feeling iffy about the lost half an hour of your time together anymore. Because you gave him an opportunity to introduce you as his wife once again.

[onlyangel4]

onlyangel4 1k event - P4. YT22. SMAU.

trope: secret long term relationship

pairing: yuki tsunoda x fiancé!reader

faceclaim: kiko mizuhara

1k event

y/nprivinsta

liked by y/bff, yukitsunoda, alexandrasaintmleux and 102 others

tagged: yukitsunoda

y/nprivinsta: this year was my third summer break as a wag and i have to say it was the best one yet

view all 41 comments

yukitsunoda: i fucked it for myself i'll never top this

y/nprivinsta: gonna have to think outside of the box baby

y/bff: i haven't stopped crying since you facetimed me

y/nprivinsta: i love you so much

alexandrasaintmleux: we need to go out and celebrate

iamrebeccad: i'm coming

flavy.barla: and me

francisca.cgomes: me too

pierregasly: so happy for you both

y/nprivinsta: thank you pierre!

landonorris: omg the shortest couple in f1 are getting married

y/nprivinsta: you really have the attitude of a six foot man

alexandrasaintmleux

liked by flavy.barla, iamrebeccad, charlesleclerc and 1,202,009 others

tagged: flavy.barla. iamrebeccad. francisca.cgomes. lilymhe.

alexandrasaintmleux: ladies night

view all 32,101 comments

flavy.barla: the best night ever

alexandrasaintmleux: even if we did lose y/n for a hot minute

user1: who tf is y/n

iamrebeccad: love you all

lilymhe: the best night out in a long time

user2: so we know they are all wags but who is that other girl

user3: the logical side of my brain says just a friend but the delulu side of my brain makes me think maybe we have a new wag

user4: i need to know who that other girl is

y/nprivinsta posted a story

written: watching the whole f1 community blow up trying to find out who i am has me giggling

yukitsunoda: they are guessing that you are a wag for literally anyone but me

y/nprivinsta: yeah i read an article that i'm lando's secret girlfriend

f1updates

liked by user6, user7, user8 and 45,283 others

f1updates: so lando was just questioned about the girl, y/n in alex's new instagram post and his reaction is the funniest thing ever

interviewer: "so is it true that you have a new girl in your life"

lando (confused as ever): "what? wait you mean y/n"

*he started hysterically laughing*

lando: "no me and y/n are not together, jesus christ you guys need to stop believing everything that you see on twitter, you are going to get me killed"

view all 4,211 comments

user6: that response makes me think she is deffo a wag

user7: but who is she dating lando

user8: y'all need to stop being so fucking nosey

y/nprivinsta posted a story tagging yukitsunoda

written: last dinner with my fiancée, here's to many more with my husband

alexandrasaintmleux posted a story

written: the last time i posted this girl f1 twitter almost went up in flames

f1updates posted a story

written: guys an interviewer just asked yuki if he did anything exciting with his summer break. his response was "well i got married" AND THEN HE JUST WALKED OFF

yukitsunoda

liked by y/nprivinsta, pierregasly, alexandrasaintmleux and 1,002,932 others

tagged: y/nprivinsta

yukitsunoda: introducing y/n tsunoda, the love of my life

view all 176,384 comments

y/nprivinsta: i love you more than anything

yukitsunoda: more than sakura

y/nprivinsta: know your place that cat is my child

pierregasly: the best wedding ever

yukitsunoda: do you even remember it, you were so drunk

landonorris: i still can't believe people were shipping me with your wife

yukitsunoda: count your days norris

user9: holy shit yuki married a BADDIE

user10: omg they have a cat that is so cute

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

@bibissparkles

@milkysoop

@hadids-world

@callsignwidow

@barcelonaloverf1life

@queen-of-the-hunt

@piastrams

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[temilyrights]

simple thing, where have you gone?

alex blake x gn!reader

summary: for @storiesofsvu's holiday bingo "first snowfall" square + also inspired by this ask i recieved. alex knows you aren't sleeping and is determind to find out what's bothering you, and she's bringing out the big guns - hot cocoa.

word count: 3.2k

warnings: nightmare descriptions: feeling claustrophic, being trapped. alex touches r's hair (long enough that she moves a strand from r's eye - no description of hair type/colour). kissing. no use of y/n or pronouns. hurt/comfort with a happy ending.

a/n: this was so fun to write. i think it may be my fav thing i've written. i'm changing up the photos i post because i've seen a lot of people do this format (e.g. @emilys-bangs & @catssluvr - check them out <3) and i think it looks a lot prettier and cleaner than a gif so i'm jumping on the bandwagon.

Alex balances the two trays of steaming cocoas in her hands. The aroma tickles her senses, the creamy chocolate temporarily transporting her back to her childhood, to winter evenings in front of a fireplace with her family. It’s a welcome comfort after five days in chilly Bismarck, ND. She pushes her way into the conference room the team are currently taking up residence in; multiple heads lift up, sighs leaving lips, as shoulders relax at the indulgent scent, and Alex knows she has made the correct choice in grabbing the sweet treat for everyone. 

“Is that what I think it is?” JJ sighs, hopeful and exhausted. 

“I thought we could all use a little pick-me-up, especially in this weather.” She responds as she places the heavy trays on the table. Her eyes dart around the room as eager hands begin reaching for the hot beverages. Your absence is notable, and makes her teeth dig into her lip. A common theme this week.  

“Thanks, Blake.” Morgan nods gratefully. He sips the cocoa, savouring the taste, thrown back to his own happy memories. It’s beautiful how a simple drink can have a room full of agents silently reminiscing. She catches Hotch, tenderly holding the cup, a warmth making its way up his cheeks as he takes a sip, so unlike the stoic figure he tries to hold whilst at work. 

Alex grabs the last two cups from the tray. “Where’s-”

“Out back.” Reid interrupts, worry obvious. She wasn’t the only one that had noticed your declining state. 

She retreats from the room with a smile as the team all voice their thank you’s. The cold night air is less forgiving when she steps outside a second time, biting at her skin, and causing her face to flush pink even as the hot cocoa continues to provide warmth to her hands and she buries her face in her scarf. She finds you leaning against the precinct wall, the glow of a nearby security light breaking up the night sky, highlighting you enough that she can make out your arms wrapped tightly around your body and your stare stuck on a point in the distance as she approaches. 

You look around, the bags under your eyes more obvious in the unflattering yellow light. You haven’t been sleeping, Alex knows. Has been able to hear you restlessly moving around your room late at night due to the thin hotel walls. And despite that, you are always pouring over casefiles when everyone arrives in the precinct in the morning, looking like you’ve been glued to the chair for hours, even though the clock only reads eight am. 

It’s not healthy, you’re working yourself to the bone and she can’t figure out what it is about this case that has you on such high-alert. It was brutal, three victims so far tortured and mutilated, but she’s watched you not flinch at worse.

She’s worried about you. 

“Hot cocoa.” Alex says in lieu of a greeting, a small smile gracing her lips as she pushes the drink in your direction. 

Your eyes widen, mouth opening in surprise, “Oh.” You take the cup from her hands, eyes tracking her face for a moment before you fully accept the gift, always looking for an ulterior motive. 

You lift the drink to your nose, eyes closed as you inhale the chocolatey aroma through the mouthpiece of the lid. A hum leaves your lips, your shoulders relaxing further into the wall. A sense of peace finally settling over you for the first time this week. 

Alex finally rewards herself with a sip of her own cocoa. The hot liquid fighting off the cold air and encompassing the ball of warmth in her chest that is directly related to you. She did good. Anything that eased the now permanent furrow of your brows was a win in her books. 

“Thank you.” You sigh, eyes fluttering open. Your body rolls against the wall, leaning more towards her and creating a little pocket of space where the harsh biting air seems to dull. Her eyes move across your face, caressing every detail, wanting to hold this time while she can. 

“How are you doing?” She asks, trying to keep her voice light so you don’t get defensive, and unintentionally making it soft and intimate in the small space.

You take another sip of your drink, nodding. “I’m okay.” 

She arches her brow, she can’t help it. Her lips tilting upwards as her fingers reach out to ghost your arm. You follow the action, breath catching, and she forces her hand away, scolding herself for wanting more, always having to resist the urge to pull you closer.

She tucks her free hand into her trouser pocket, “How are you doing?” 

You blow out a breath, visible in the air. She wonders if it might snow, the air feels frosty enough. “I just wanted a breather. I was about to head back inside.” 

“A breather from what exactly?” 

You huff, eyes moving away from her and focusing on something across the street. “I mean isn’t it normal to want a little space after five days of being in each other's pockets? I love the team but it’s not like any of us have had five proper minutes alone since we got here.” 

She nods. She would agree with you if you weren’t beginning to get defensive, eyes avoiding hers and feet shifting beneath you. She tilts her head, aiming for casual, but knowing the words will hit anyway, “And this has nothing to do with the fact you’re not sleeping?” 

Your eyes snap to hers, panic obvious, before they flicker away and you bury your head back in your cup. “I don’t know what you mean,” You murmur, words threatening to be lost to the cup as you take another sip of your drink. 

She aches to reach out and stroke the hair away from your face that you are using as a shield. Instead, her fingers flex on her cup, her teeth digging into her lip. “You can talk to me.” She whispers, voice coming out like a promise, a vow. “I want to help, however I can.”

“Why?” You ask, disbelief coating your features, looking at her like she’s a puzzle you can’t solve, no matter how hard you try. 

“Because you’re hurting.” She responds honestly and swallows down the lump in her throat that tries to make itself known. 

Tears build in your eyes as you shake your head. Your eyes flicker over her face and then away again, a soft laugh escaping your mouth as your fingers tap a pattern against your cup. “Just like that?” You whisper throatily, gaze still trapped in the distance.

“Of course,” 

You swallow roughly, eyes finding their way back to hers, lost and scared. An expression she never wants to see on your face again. She doesn’t have it in her to resist again.

She sighs, stepping closer and gently brushes the hair from your eyes. They fall close, a soft breath leaving your lips as you lean into the gesture. She memorises each detail of you, committing the length of your eyelashes to memory, the lines around your mouth, the feeling of your skin beneath her touch. Her hand trails down to your arm and settles there, safe. 

Your eyes flutter open, holding her gaze as you nod gently. ”I haven’t been sleeping well.” You confess.

She waits patiently for you to continue as she notices a few white snowflakes land in your hair. 

Snow. 

“I’ve been having this recurring dream where I'm trapped in this box, and I can barely breathe. It’s—awful.” You rapidly blink away the tears in your eyes. “I’m screaming but no one comes. I’m all alone. And then I wake up and I feel claustrophobic in my own body, all these emotions bubbling up that I can’t release.” Your tears spill over and you reach up to hastily wipe away the mess with a shaking hand. “It’s stupid and selfish. There’s three dead women and I’m crying over nothing.”

“Sweetie, no.” She urges, hand tightening on your arm. “You are none of those things. Those dreams sound atrocious. No wonder you haven’t been sleeping.” 

“I’m so scared to close my eyes.” You whisper, hauntedly. 

“Then let me watch over you, and when the dream hits we can break the pattern. I’ll be there.”

You shake your head, laughing, “What? You’re gonna watch over me while I sleep—”

“Yes.” She interrupts, voice serious and weighted. She won’t let you joke this away, not when you look seconds away from collapsing. Alex would sit there the entire night if she needed to. She would watch over you and keep you safe. 

You swallow roughly, unable to hold her intense gaze, the probing eyes that not only saw you, but took action to help. Snowflakes continue to slowly fall, landing on your hair and face, and making her heart erupt with emotions. The urge to touch is amplified tenfold, the combined beauty of the snow and you almost too much to bare. She forces her hand to fall away. 

“Alex, I will be okay. You don’t need to do any of this.” 

She nods, knows that, but it will not stop her. “You need to sleep. You are destroying yourself pretending you don’t. Why wouldn’t I help when I can?” 

You sigh, frosted breath erupting into the space between you. Annoyed, frustrated, at the thought of needing anyone. “Only because I need to be able to focus on this case.” 

She smirks, eyes brightening. “For the good of the case.” She hums, catching your eye and enjoying the almost bashful expression that coats your features as you huff out a laugh and your gaze skates away again. 

You take another sip of your drink and she mirrors you. It’s beginning to lose its heat, but you don’t complain. Snowflakes continue to fall, and Alex turns towards them, lifting her head into the snowfall. The delicate flakes land on her face, cold and wet, and a smile tugs at her lips. This was the first snowfall of the year, and she could not think of a better moment for it to arrive than when you were standing next to her. 

The chattering of your teeth breaks through her basking, and she turns back around, a disapproving tut escaping her mouth when she finds you shivering on the spot in silence. “Let’s go inside before you get hypothermia.” 

“No,” You protest, hand landing on her arm to stop her moving away. “No, you love the snow. Let’s enjoy it a moment longer.” 

“Honey, you’re shivering–”

“I’m fine.” You rebut, shoulders squaring in stubbornness. And then, softer, from below your lashes, “I want to finally enjoy the snow with you.” 

She melts, putty in your hands. She can’t argue with you, your eyes should be considered a weapon the way she crumbles for them. She nods, and outstretches her hand, “Here, give me your cocoa.” 

You pass it over without objection, and Alex walks a few steps away to dispose of both cups in the bin. Long since cold and of no use to anyone now. She begins pulling off her scarf as she approaches you again, and your eyes widen. 

“Alex–”

She wraps the burgundy cashmere around your neck, bating the hands away that try to interrupt her task. Your shoulders slump, your nose burrowing into the material as a sigh leaves your lips. She smiles and ignores the biting cold now hitting her body as she fiddles with the end of the scarf, making it lay flat against your coat. 

“There,” She whispers.

You sigh, holding her gaze with a furrowed brow. She can see thoughts winding their way through your head, but you don’t voice them. Instead, you stumble forward, your arms pulling her in and wrapping tightly around her waist, eliciting a surprised “oh” from her throat as her own arms hold you close, after a second to compute. Her nose finds its way to your hair, the smell of your shampoo evading her senses and making her hold you tighter.

“Thank you.” You whisper. “For everything.” 

“You do not need to thank me.” She responds, hand stroking your hair before she pulls back to see your face, missing the sight. Your hands remain fixed to her waist, your teeth digging into your bottom lip as you look at her. She tracks the movement, heart thumping in her chest. 

“I don’t want you to think your actions go unappreciated.”

She finds a strand of your hair, one not even in your eye, and stokes it out the way, a choked tut escaping her throat. It’s getting increasingly more difficult to remember herself, to draw back, especially when you look at her with soft, unguarded eyes. The snowfall is getting more intense, covering you in white snowflakes, landing on your eyelashes and melting as you blink.  

“I could never feel unappreciated by you.” She responds, voice barely louder than the wind. Too honest, too much of her heart on show, and you must see it, the way your breath catches, your hand tightening in her jacket. “I just want to do what I can to keep you safe.”

You arch a brow, “You know that’s not always gonna be possible, right?”

She nods, hand moving to cup your cheek and caress the cold skin. You lean into the gesture, your eyes falling close. She isn’t silly, she understands the risks of this job; she knows it isn’t always going to be possible. However, why does that mean she should stop trying? “I know, but sometimes it’s nice to know someone has your back.” 

Your eyes open again, blinking slowly, snowflakes interrupting your sight. “And that's all this is? Just you having my back?” You run your lip between your teeth, your tongue swiping out to moisten the chapped mess you leave behind. 

Alex tracks the movement under heavy eyes, “No,” She breathes, honestly. 

Your mouth parts, your chest rising and falling, eyes focused on her own mouth. Her thumb trails down your cheek, pausing by the corner of your mouth as her gaze finds yours again. You watch her, pupils blown, and Alex slowly pulls her thumb across your bottom lip, feeling the soft flesh, and nearly crumbling at your heaving breath. 

“Alex–” You sigh, eyes pleading for more. Her heart thumps, head hazy with desire, as she finally brings her mouth closer to yours. Your hot breath hit her lips, breaking up the cold, and melting the snowflakes that have landed near her lips. She doesn’t mean to tease you, she just can’t believe she’s here, and is set on memorising every moment of this interaction. 

You have other ideas, a frustrated whine leaving your lips, as you thrust forward and close the remaining distance. Her body hums at the first brush of your lips, needy and impatient, her stomach tingling as you pull her flush against her. She can’t think, can’t breathe, as your lips move together, the sensations perfectly overwhelming. The kisses melt into something gentle and slow, but the neediness never leaves, simmering under the surface. You both balance on the edge of something more; blood rushing through her veins, but she’s not able to forget her location. 

She pulls back, short of breath, the cold air rushing to fill in the space and making her shiver. Your lips are swollen, so kissed. The most irresistible you’ve ever been. She caresses your cheek, “You, my dear, are the person I’m falling in love with.” 

You rapidly blink away tears, “Really?” 

“Of course,” She nods, smiling. “It’s you.” 

You shake your head slightly in disbelief, “You make everything sound so simple.” 

“I think with you it could be.”

“God–” Your voice cracks, and you tug her back your lips finding hers again, frantic, hot and needy. You devour her with bruising kisses, communicating what you fear to say aloud, and Alex catches it all. I feel it too. I want you. I’m scared. Please stay. 

She pulls away, earlier than she wants to. “Honey–” She meets you in another kiss, but drags herself back again, forcibly taking a step back so she can’t fall into you again so easily. 

“Sorry, sorry–” You say between laboured breaths, shaking your head. 

“It’s not because I do not want to.” She explains, a blush rising in her cheeks, that mingles with the permanent one on her face because of the frosty air. 

“I know,” You nod, smiling bashfully. “But we should get back to the team.” 

She sighs and nods. “Yes.” 

“And out of this snow before we catch a cold.” 

She looks out at the white flakes, beginning to settle on the ground. Hopefully in a few hours she’ll be able to feel the crunch of snow under her feet. Your hand rubs up and down her jacketed arm, “When this case is over, I’ll find a place where you can properly enjoy the snow.” You promise. 

Her heart warms, gaze softening as she looks at your earnest expression. “Come on, you’re right, let’s get inside.” She places her hand on your back and pushes you back in the direction of the precinct.

You oblige, shoulders bumping together as you walk. Alex catches your eyes just before she opens the door to the building, eyes soft and her smile just for you. Her hand falls from your back, forcing her touch away, as she pulls open the door. You step inside, subtly squeezing her hand as you pass, making her heart thump. 

She follows, watching as you attempt to shake off the snowflakes that cling to your body. It's useless, they’re already melting, soaking into your hair and clothes, but she enjoys watching you try. 

“There you guys are.” Morgan interrupts, making her break her gaze away from you and to the man watching you in mild amusement. Alex’s not ready to give away just how much she’s feeling for you to outsiders just yet. She wants to keep it between the two of you for now. “Hotch wants us to go over victimology. Thinks something isn’t right.” 

She nods, ready to focus back on the case. “Of course, let’s go.” She heads in the direction of the conference room, mindful of the way Morgan hangs back to speak to you. 

“Is that Blake’s scarf?” She hears him ask, amusement thick in his voice. 

She doesn’t dare turn back around. 

“Yes, I was cold.” You respond, defensive, and likely with an eye-roll.

He whistles, “I see you, casanova.” 

“Morgan–” You protest, voice dripping with annoyance. Alex winces and pushes her way into the conference room, hearing his loud chuckle sounding from behind her. 

The rest of the team is already spilling over folders, and she takes her seat, pausing first to slip out of her wet coat and discard it on an unused chair. You make your way into the room and she can’t resist looking at you from the corner of her eye as you take the seat opposite her, a smile on your face that conveys you can feel her stare. 

She looks away, forcing you out of her mind, and instead focusing on Hotch as he starts to voice the holes in victimology. 

She’d check on you again this evening. There was an unsub to catch.

taglist: @aburman03

[naanima]

I am so fucking feral over Maxiel. URGH. Anyways, a fic written in 40 mins. No beta. BUT I NEEDED TO WRITE IT. THE IMAGES OF DANIEL WITH IT IS, SCREAMING!! POST Max winning his 4th WDC. This will get edited and posted to Ao3 eventually. Around 770 words.

ETA: PART 2.

The thing was he didn't even have an excuse for it. He wasn't drunk, he wasn't depressed, and he wasn't even fucking doom scrolling at 2 AM in the morning because he couldn't sleep and his brain was a fucking mess. If it had been any of that he could have had an excuse. He could have kept on ignoring the weird intimacy he shared with Max, all the sharp messy feelings that he had ignored, examined and buried throughout the years.

But he didnt. He had watched Max win his fourth consecutive world championship, watched his emotions overwhelm him, watched the guys hug and fold him into themselves, watched all of it from the comfort of his own home. Watched all of it, and the only things he could feel was pride and so much fucking fondness for his boy. And a soft regret at not being physically there so he could have embraced Max and told him how proud he was of him.

He had watched the close-up of Max's champion helmet, the M, V, and the four stars above it. The design was simple but beautiful, and Daniel was hit with a sudden want, a need. And he couldn't wait anymore. He called his guy Kenny in LA, and was so happy that he could do a home visit that evening. Daniel didn't want to leave the coccon of his home for this one. He had a shower, carefully dried himself off, put on a loose shirt and shorts and waited on his couch till Kenny arrived with his kit.

When Daniel showed him the picture from his phone Kenny had looked at him with a raised brow.

"Man, are you sure?" Kenny looked low level concerned, someone who has seen way too many people regretting their decisions at times of vulnerability or stupidity. Or both.

"Yeah," Daniel said with confidence. This was what he wanted. He knew it with certainty. "And yeah, that's where I want it too."

"It is your funeral." Kenny shrugged and got ready.

Daniel took off his shirt and laid down on his bed. It was the easiest way to do this.

Three hours later Kenny was gone with a judgemental look and aftercare instructions. Daniel had nodded his head to whatever Kenny was saying, and had ran to the bathroom as soon as Kenny was gone.

He stripped naked and looked at the red inflammed skin of his lower back in the mirror. The whole design was about ten centimetres wide, and it sat a bit lower than what most people would have considered the prime tramp stamp location. This was beyond slut territory.

Kenny did an amazing job, the man was an artist. The V cutting between the M were thick lines shaded in molten gold as if hit by the sun, and highlighted by black. The four goldden stars above it were similarity shaded, there was enough space to add more to it beneath them. Because Max wasn't going to just stop there.

His underwear was gonna block off most of the design, just top of the stars showing. So at least he could still go around shirtless.

It was beautiful, and he still wasn't regretting it. And yeah, this probably crossed the line of friends, but if Daniel couldn't fucking admit that they were more than friends now when he had purposely put Max fucking Verstappen's mark practically above his ass crack then he really would be beyond stupid. He could hear Blake's voice in his head saying how he was beyond stupid for marking himself for another man.

Daniel ignored the voice, grabbed his phone and tried to get the perfect picture of the tattoo. It took him several tries, but he finally got the angle that best showed the tattoo. It was fucking beautiful. He thought about cropping out his back and ass, there was no way that people wouldn't know it was him, even if his face was facing away. But fuck it, they had been joking around for almost a decade, and it was best to be as clear as fucking possible.

He sent the picture to Max. No words or messages.

If Max didn't fucking recognise it as Daniel going all in, as a declaration of intent, then Max didn't fucking deserve him or his ass.

[ghostyeyestohide]

What If My Heart Beats Faster?

(I Put A Spell On You Finale)

Pairing: Terrance (Foe) x Valerie (Plus Size Black Fem OC) x Junior (Foe) x Hen (Foe)

Warnings: angst, fluff, blowjob/handjob, dirty talk, memories of sexual contact, happy ending, panic attack, cussing, tears, cause of death revealed, fear, emotions, faux death (side effects of erasing memories), planning pregnancy, mentioning of blood, and Non-Canon/Canon.

Summary: The day Hen and A.I. Junior didn’t want to come has finally arrived. And this greatly affects Valerie and Terrance, who’s life changes after this.

Parts: Part One • Part Two • Part Three

A/N: This is really the end of this. Can’t believe it. But, I’m also happy cause I got that Exotic Travelers series otw + the Macrinus one shot. I want to thank everyone who loved this as not only did I want to at least be one of the few to write about Foe Terrance, but to see how I would’ve written Foe if I was apart of the writers room. And I do apologize if I got some details wrong. I haven’t watched it in a year. Enjoy and send ya around! 🫶🏽🫶🏽

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do not copy or repost my work. I do not authorize it.

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Valerie is in the shower, washing her body as the memories from two nights ago plays in her mind.

Terrance eating her out, her blowing Junior, watching them fuck and kiss, the dance with Hen, the moans, her making out with the men all played as she begins touching herself, gently massaging her breasts before rubbing her clit.

“Fuck….” she whispers, laying against the tiled shower wall as the hot water and steam hits her body.

She begins rubbing faster as the memory of her getting double penetrated plays, her breathing becoming stiffly. As Terrance releases inside her, she also meets hers, feeling her body tense up and shaking. After relaxing from her high, she rinses her body again before getting out of the shower, wrapping herself in a bath robe.

Walking into the bedroom, she sees a bouquet of roses and three different sizes white boxes lying on the bed. Thinking he must’ve slipped in while she was in the shower, she picks up the envelope attached to one of them. She opens it and pulls out a note that read:

“Hey, baby. I know you were very lonely last night with me not being next to you. So was I. And no, I didn’t do what you think I did. I heard your order subconsciously. Even if you didn’t say it. So, I went into the city and bought you your favorite flowers and some things I want to see you wear tonight. Almost like you’re my personal prize. For now, I have to check on him, Hen, and when real Junior is on his way. See you soon, Val.

- T. “

She smiled, kissing the note before putting it back carefully and tossing it on the bed. Grabbing the first box, a small one, she removes the top, revealing itself as a matching dangling diamond earrings and diamond choker jewelry set that has the same exact design of her engagement ring. She gasps, gently picking up the items.

“Oh wow. He finally found it.” she said, remembering she mentioned wanting the set to him a long time ago, but had no luck since it sold out quickly after restocks.

After placing the set on her vanity table, she grabs the medium box, taking a seat on the bed. Placing it on her lap, she removes the top, revealing a pair of brown pumps, lined with a forrest green patch on the back. She traces it before placing her foot in it, making sure it fits, which it does.

She takes it off and pulls the final box, believing it’s the outfit. Removing the top, she sees a forrest green fabric. Pulling out, it reveals itself as a long dress with a reveal cleavage line that has a seen-through bottom that shows where the inner dress stops at, which is above the knee.

“Oh my……” is all she could get out, thinking if this is too revealing or he really does want me to feel like a prize.

Standing up, she walks to the mirror and presses the dress to her body, seeing his vision. Smiling, she hangs it up on a rack and begins getting ready for Junior’s homecoming.

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A few hours go by and Valerie, now wearing a satin robe and has hair rollers in her head, walks into the kitchen, looking to get something to drink.

As she takes out a bottle of water, she hears a hard knock on the front door, making her jump a bit. Cautiously, she walks to the door, pulling the curtain back, and peering out the window. She sees Junior, all tensed and pacing, on the porch.

“What is he doing here?!” she whispers as she opens the door.

“I’m sorry for showing up, but I can’t go back there, Val.” he says, walking past her.

She nods in an aggravated manner, closing the door behind her. She turns to look him, but he’s not behind her. Looking around, she searches the house for a few minutes before finding him in the kitchen, laying against the island.

“Junior….you can’t be here.”

“You have to listen me! This is all a setup!“ he says in a irate voice.

“For what?”

“Him! He’s the one who’s gonna be here while I’m gone.”

“….what?” she said with a confused expression.

“Its him. He’s gonna replace me. I thought I would let you know so when he leaves you, it’s not the first time you’re finding out.”

Staring at him with a baffled look on her face, she breaks out laughing, making him look at her in a confused way.

“It’s not funny…..he’s really playing the both us.” he says as her laughing grows louder.

Finally, she catches her breath, grabbing the water bottle and taking a few sips before clearing her throat.

“You’re funny, but seriously. You need to leave. He’ll be pissed if he comes home and finds you.” she said, gently pushing him.

“What?! Valerie, I’m being serious! I have proof that he is going to be my replacement!”

“Junior, if that was the case, you would be deceased right now. Me included. Now please go!”

“Why? Don’t you see he’s just dumping you out here so you have nowhere to go?! You come from nothing like you said!”

“I’m not stupid and he’s not throwing 8 years away for Hen!”

“Some people can be deceiving!”

“Yeah? Why don’t you take a look in the mirror for once?” she said, giving up on pushing him.

“What is that suppose to mean?”

She chuckled, stepping into his space.

“…It means you wasn’t like this two nights in that room, drunk off your ass.” she whispers, leaning forward.

Junior steps back, staring at her bizarrely, with her smile dropping.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You don’t remember? Or is this your way of hiding the fact that you’re gonna miss the both of us, or just him?” she asks, sending him a smirk.

“Why the hell would I be doing that? See, you’re not realizing he’s not suppose to be alone with my wife! You been falling for his lie too long!” he replied, very angry as he pointed at the door.

Looking at him dazedly, she’s thinking why doesn’t he remember what we did. Then it hit her: he erased that memory out of his mind like he said he would. She smiled, covering her mouth to not let out a laugh.

“Oh, now you’re getting it through your fucking head. Your husband’s a fraud!”

“No, he’s not. If anything, he’s a genius who has a great self awareness skill that they’re gonna teach the new OuterMore generation one day. God, I need to fuck him when I see him.” she says, whispering the last part to herself.

“No. What we need to do is go save my wife and we can all escape from thi-“ he says as he grabs her arm.

She snatches it back, slapping him across the face as a reflex. He yells, grabbing his face.

“Are you insane? I’m not in danger and neither is you! All you have to do is go back home to her and everything will go back to normal!” she responds, very irritated.

He looks at her, very enraged. He walks towards her slowly, making her back up until she’s leaned up against the island. He places his hands on each side of the island, blocking her in. She leans back slightly as he leaned forward.

“…fine. You can stay here and continue living under his control like you been doing. But me? I’m getting out of here. And I’m taking her with me. If you get consequences because of my decision, that’s on you.” he whispered, turning to leave.

Scoffing really loud, she follows him, watching him walk.

“He doesn’t control me.”

“Yeah fucking right.” he mumbled, making her even more heated.

“He listens to whatever I want to make sure my needs are met. You know why? Because he actually loves me.”

“Oh please. You two aren’t as different as you believe.”

“We are. You wanna know how? He didn’t start treating bad because he didn’t want to hear my suggestion of visiting downtown or a big city due to not wanting to lose me. He values my feelings, and he actually holds himself accountable if he does anything I don’t like that hurts me. He loves this job, but he would never put it over me, no matter what. He knows how to love. I’m sorry for whatever memories the real Junior put inside you because if this assignment taught me anything: even if you attempted to fix something that’s broken, it can’t be salvaged if it’s damaged a lot, no matter how hard you try.” she said, immediately gasping, regretting what she said.

Junior stopped in his tracks, replaying the last part she uttered. Slowly turning to face her, he looks at her, appalled.

“…what do you mean the real Junior?” he asks.

“….I’m afraid I said too much.” she whispers.

“No, no. What are you trying to say?”

She stares at him, afraid to respond to his question. Then, she feels a sharp pain on her lower hip, making her wince and collapse as she grabs it. Junior runs over, kneeling as she begins to breathe very harshly.

“Where does it hurt?! Maybe I can get you ice and it will calm it do—“

“What I need you to do is shut the hell up right now! It’s just a painful shock that goes….away….after….a few…moments.” she says, her words trailing as the sensation winds down.

Weirded out by what he witnessed, he backs away, fearing what was going to happen next. She checks and moves her hips, seeing if something’s out of place so she can tell Terrance.

Feeling a loose screw sticking out, she gets up and walks carefully to the kitchen, looking around for a small tool box. Checking the drawers, she comes across nothing until she sees a box in the fifth one and takes it out. Opening it, she looks through it to find a screwdriver with the same edge to fit until pulling one. Placing it on the screw, she twists it, feeling pressure each time until it’s back in its socket, no longer out of place. She looks at Junior, who is now standing up, horrified look across his face.

“…..are you….not…t-the real Valerie?” he asks frantically.

“…..no. You’re not the real Junior either. That’s why he—we— came back after two years. The time has ended.”

“What?” he said, looking distraught.

“He’ll be home in less than four hours.” she replied, holding back sadness.

“…does Hen kn—“

“Always did. That’s why she was acting odd with you the whole time. Him questioning, doing measurements, checking your health, following everything you do….just to make sure you’re not slowly realizing you’re the replica.”

He looks around the room, in shocked that everything he thought he knew was all just to trick him.

“Is she coming home too?”

She shakes her head, hoping he’ll stop asking before the pressure of revealing the truth settles in.

“Why not?”

“….she’s dead. Died about five years ago.” she admitted, with shame behind her tone.

“…..did he kill her?”

“No! He would never do…..he would never….do that…” she said, her voice breaking as she begins to cry, slowly falling to her knees.

Junior, feeling empathetic, walks to her, kneeling down. He pulls her into his chest, letting her cry everything out as he rubbed her back. After a few minutes, she lifts her head, slightly wiping her already swollen eyes.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to throw that accusation out like that.”

“You’re fine. But no. He didn’t kill her. He loved her too much to ever do that.” she said, sniffling.

“Then what happened? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Sighing, she gets up, walking into another room. A few minutes later, she returns with a file folder, handing it to him. He hesitantly grabs it, putting it on the floor and opening it as she heads to the kitchen.

Inside, he finds pictures of her, her and Terrance, some baby photos, documents of many things, her birth certificate, and her ‘cause of death’ report next to a group photo, in which he picks up, of her and others, wearing OuterMore gear, with a sign that says: Group 1 - May 1, 2060.

“Is this a mistake? I thought the space program didn’t launch until ‘61?”

“It didn’t. The program launched in 2060, meaning they been doing it for five years, not four. They changed it to cover their tracks.” she says, sipping her water.

“Why?” he asks, looking at her.

“….the first launch was a failure. A tragic one that no one saw coming. Not even Terrance.”

“What was it…”

She sighed, walking back to him to sit in front, sliding the folder between them as she cleared her throat.

“Every thing I told you and Hen about her did actually happen. She is from New York, she doesn’t know her family, she was bouncing back and forth between jobs because of harassment, she did meet Terrance at his post-grad party, they did get married after six months of dating, and she did travel with him for these assignments. He didn’t make none of this up for me to say, these are the memories that were implanted so I can function exactly like her, even though I’m just her replica.”

“Does it feel odd?”

“…at first, it did. But that’s because I had no idea what was going on truly and he was hurting really bad because of what happened, which is what I’m about to tell you.”

She exhales slowly, feeling herself tensing up.

“I’m sorry if I get very emotional. Not only is this…very hard to talk about still….it was never Terrance’s fault. He still believes that til this day, even though he’s been over it, but…it’s a haunting memory to carry on, you know?” she says, trailing off as the sheer weight of it.

Junior nods, gently rubbing her hand. She smiles a little, looking at the group photo.

“The program launched, so they had their first lottery. It was random and included everyone who lived in the United States for more than 15 years. Hence why they went with 15 people. And she got selected, much to her and Terrance’s surprise. She was scared because she didn’t think it was gonna happen this soon. But, since he worked on this program, she trusted a lot with everything, so it’s not like nothing could go wrong.”

She looks at him, seeing the somberness filling up in his face.

“The day came. She was nervous to leave him behind, but he encouraged her a lot to have fun in space, saying he’ll still be here in two years, almost like a promise. They kissed and hugged one last time before she got on the ship. He didn’t know that would be the last time he’ll see her alive.” she says, looking at the death report as the memory of latter played in her head.

“It took off, in which they called a “successful launch from base”. But, a few minutes after takeoff, two of the engines went out, making the ship move but not as fast. None of the crew knew what happened until it was too late. Cause a few moments later, the ship exploded, killing everyone on board.”

“My god…..” he whispered.

“They couldn’t believe it. They made sure everything was fine. Nothing seemed off and they had a test run, which they passed. What did they accidentally overlook? The fuel tanks. The gas from their boosters leaked into those due to the seals being loose, which they still don’t understand how that happened. But, when that gas mixes with the fuel tanks gas…..well, you see the result.”

“Was all this explained to you immediately? When you woke up?”

“….no. When I woke up, I was expecting him to be there, taking in my design, my behavior, the way I moved, the way I was examining my surroundings….”

She looks at their wedding picture, hanging above the fireplace.

“He didn’t come home for three days. I tried to get in contact with him many times, but his calls went to voicemail. I contacted OuterMore, who said they were going through this tragedy each time, but they’ll rely the message. I was angry because I thought I did something wrong and he was purposely avoiding me. When he finally came home, I was ready to argue about it, but….he looked so worn out. He definitely was crying, his eyes all red and a bit swollen, chapped lips, disheveled clothes, moving very slow.”

She looks down, trying to not cry again as that night begins to play in her mind.

“When he saw me, he stopped. I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t. I just….walked up to him, expecting him to back up, but he stood there, kept his gaze on me. I touched his face, gently tracing over his lips, and quietly asked what happened?” as she wipes her eyes.

“I guess the sound of hearing her voice again broke him because he fell to his knees and started crying against my stomach, holding me very tight. I let him stay there, rubbing his head and absorbing his sadness. For the next two months, he was very distant, but was slowly explaining what had happened, what I was, and them trying to figure out a solution to keep us functioning past the two years since they immediately decided that they weren’t taking us back when the deadline came.”

“Did you feel like it was damage control?” he asked, but she shook her head as she looks at him.

“Like I said, it was an accident. They didn’t know the seals were loose. But it was very uncomfortable with different OuterMore employees stopping by every day to examine and update you until the solution came. Of course, that caused a bit of a strain between us.”

“Why?”

“….you don’t really get over losing your spouse. But, you also don’t like when even your own co-workers are making the replica of your spouse uncomfortable with changes and there’s nothing you can do about it. I tried to vouch for them as them doing their job, but he didn’t wanna hear it and just kept ignoring my suggestions. That made me question if I even wanted to be married to him still.”

“But you two got over it.”

“Yeah. After I ran away.”

“…..you ran away?”

“It was a day that none of the workers came. Like a holiday or day off, can’t remember. It was raining too. A lot for Cleveland. He was being a pain in the ass, stressing from work and stuff. So, being a good wife, I was trying to calm him down, made his favorite meal and just give him love. He liked the meal, and was enjoying me kissing him, even rubbing on him but of course, a phone call of OuterMore just had to interrupt this.”

“Damn.” he said, laughing which made her laugh as well.

“Don’t get me wrong. I was sexually deprived and wasn’t about to force him to fuck me. But, I was very annoyed with that and just let him have it as soon as he ended the call. Asking him why are you treating me this way, I know you’re going through it with losing her, but I don’t like feeling the burden of it, and asking him to just love me, not push me away. He berated me, saying I’m doing the best I can to make sure I can move on from this, saying its harder for him because he has to spend the rest of his life with a replica of his dead wife ruining….”

Her voice trailed off as she became very teary eyed, trying to clear her throat.

“When I look back at it, I can tell he didn’t mean it. He was just reacting off anger and instantly regretted it as soon as he was done, noticing I had a terrified look on my face.” she said, sniffling. “He tried to apologize, saying he didn’t mean it, but I didn’t want to hear it. So, I slapped him, said fuck you, and ran out of the house in tears, ignoring his pleas.” she said, watching the memory in her head.

“Not sure how far I ran because I didn’t know the Cleveland area that well. I know I was by a bridge that faced the skyline before it started to rain. So, I went over to this dark area, which was a bad idea cause dogs started to bark and I fell a few times to get away until I was under this big tree. Covered in mud, hair was just ruined, and my dress was ripped. I sat close to it and just cried, thinking he wasn’t going to find me and I was gonna die. I fell asleep a few minutes later, as the rain picked up, which felt very calming in that moment.” she said, smiling a bit.

“When I woke up….I noticed I was in the passenger seat of a moving vehicle, wanting to get out. But as I was about to find something to open the door, I feel a hand touch my thigh. I looked over and I saw him, eyes & nose red and swollen. He had been crying, fearing he had lost me for good. He didn’t say anything, just gently pushing me back into my seat, signaling everything is going to be okay.” she said, tugging at her robe.

“When we got home, he turned on the shower for me. He removed my dress, panties, and shoes before letting me walk into and wash up. He removed his clothes and joined me, helping me wash my hair and scrub my body. I felt like I was being pampered, with him not saying anything, just being active. As we got out, he oiled up my body, just gently massaging it into my skin, which felt nice. Next thing you know, I’m on my back, getting fucked like it was our last time toge—.” as the memory of him fucking her in missionary played.

“Alright, I don’t need to hear that.” said Junior.

“Just saying, Junior! Asking me who pussy it is, saying you’re mine, don’t forget that, worshipping me….he was really sorry. Sure, we went back to our regularly scheduled program, but he started paying attention to me, love me, and console me. And we just grew from there……that’s all I wanted.”

“And you got it.”

“I know that’s what you want, but in your situation, it’s not possible. Which is why you need to go back or risk getting Terrance in trouble.”

“What happens if I refuse? Just go AWOL?”

“They take me away. He loses his job. And I probably will see him again, just everything is gonna to be er…..”

As she’s about to say something, the burning sensation returns, this time, feeling even worse and making her scream as she touches it, falling back and wincing in pain.

“Valerie, are you okay?!” he asks, kneeling next her as he touches her.

“You have to leave!” she yells out, trying to ease the pain.

“But you hurt.”

“I will be fine! It’s not worth getting caught over. Please….just go.” she replies, groaning as the sensation starts spreading.

Hesitate to leave, Junior looks at her one more time before getting up and running out of the door, taking the shortcut back home through their backyard.

As her groans turn into cries, she begins saying little prayer, hoping she’s not shut down as her breathing sped. Finally, after a few minutes of agony, it stopped, with her breathing returning to normal. She begins to cry, scared of what’s going to happen next.

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About 45 minutes later, the front door swings up, with Terrance walking in.

Having an infuriated look across his face, he checks around the house to see if Junior was there, finding no traces before heading upstairs.

After checking the guest room and hallway bathroom, he walks into the bedroom, pushing the door open hard, making Valerie, who was doing her makeup again, jump.

“….was he here?” he asked in a stern voice, examining the room.

“…..no.” she replied, lying through her teeth.

“Why the long pause?”

“You scared me?” she said, looking at him.

“….Ima ask you again. Was Junior here?”

“And I’m telling you again: no.” she replied, looking away from him.

“….okay, okay. I see you wanna do that.” he mumbled, removing his jacket and tossing it on the floor.

Locking eyes with her through the mirror, he closes the door, calmly walks towards her, who resumes her routine, not trying to show she’s hiding the truth.

“….you know I can tell you’re lying, right?” he asked, flashing a small grin.

“How so?” she asked.

“It’s almost….” as he looks at his watch, “three hours before real Junior gets here. And normally around this time, you’re done with your hair and makeup. That’s one thing.”

“I could’ve woken up late.”

“See? That’s how I know you didn’t. You said could’ve.”

She rolls her eyes, breaking his hold as she got up and walked into the bathroom.

“There you go, walk off as soon as I point something out.”

“Did something happen?” she asks, popping her head out the door.

“You’re not usually an asshole when you come back to check on me.” she said, standing in doorway to look at him.

He lets out a harsh sigh before kneeling in front of her, being very close in her space.

“You tell me. Woke up, made breakfast with Hen, which woke him up. We all ate and told him that me and her are going in town for something and we’ll be back in a few hours or less. We actually went to headquarters to make final arrangements as we anticipate his return.”

“If you think submitting to me is suppose to make me ease up on you, it’s not working.” she says, walking past him.

He smirks before bouncing up to his stance, grabbing her by her robe train and turning her away from him, scaring her.

“We come back and he’s nowhere to be found. Didn’t even bother to take his truck. So now, we sent out search parties because it’s a good measurement for the company, right?” he whispers, walking her towards the bed.

“What are you doing….” she asks in an alarmed tone.

He ignores her, turning her around to place her on the edge, gently tracing her face.

“….WRONG!” he yells, slams his hands by her sides, making her jump.

He lets out a broken, haunting chuckle as Valerie feels her face beginning to burn because of his troubling glare at her.

“As I’m waiting for an update on him, Bill comes over. He was very chipper, praising how I did a great job with this one and is thinking about working on that special request I asked him for when I submitted the lab analyst application. Said I got the job. Meaning we’re staying here…”

“…so then what happen?” she whispered, but he shushes her.

“Now here he is, looking crestfallen as if I betrayed him. He pulled me to the side, asking me if everything is alright? and I said yes. Confused in my mind. Then he dropped it: he’s suspending me.” he says, kneeling in front of her, placing his hands on her thighs.

“…..don’t tell me its because of…..”

“Yeah. They’re opening an investigation of violation against policy article 7, title 2: non-sexual contact between the associate and assignment, consensual. Hen told one of them in secret while we were at the headquarters. Said she heard him moaning, my movements, and…..said to look into you as she heard your voice as well.” he said coldly.

Valerie’s heart dropped, hearing the news. She begins breathing erratically as tears begin to fall out of her eyes.

“They’re taking you tomorrow. I don’t know how long you’re going to be gone or if you’re coming back, but that’s his decision.” he says, rubbing her hands.

“They can’t! I refuse!” she yells, getting up as she pushes him off.

She begins pacing the room, trying to catch her breath as Terrance watches her, not used to seeing her react like this.

“You erased everything, right? Why can’t they just use A.I. Junior to dismiss her claim?!”

“They were. Until you got brought up. I’m sorry.”

“I shouldn’t have went into that room. I knew it was a risk, but god…I wasn’t prepared for this.” she says, breaking down as her cries fills the room.

He looks down, sniffling as he’s hurt at seeing her heartbroken like this, not wanting to cry with her.

“It’s not your fault. It’s mine. I should’ve stopped when he kissed me, but…..I gave into my own urges. And now, I have to pay the price…I’ll resign.”

“No! You worked too damn long for this, you can’t just give up!” she yelled, looking at him.

“They’re taking you and I can’t do anything until it’s over. Whether they keep you for good or you come back, I can’t fight it…I’m sorry, Val.”

“Then erase the memories then. You said it only takes 30 minutes, ri—“

“No!” he replied as he stood up, silencing her.

She looks away, wiping her tears as he walks to her, sitting down to face her.

“That machine is dangerous and can have long term effects on you if I hooked you to it. Plus, I don’t have it just laying around to use.”

“Then just turn me off.” she said as she lays on her back, looking at the ceiling.

“Why can’t you have hope that I beat this investigation?”

“Because when they see the way you were fucking him, they’re not giving me back to you. So let’s just get this over with and you can move on with your life.”

He laughs stiffly, fighting hard not to react angrily or break down.

“And what? Just accept the fact that OuterMore took away my wife twice? Keeping all of her DNA and data as if she wasn’t the love of my fucking life?! Is that what you want?”

“You were literally suggesting resignation and now, you’re upset that I’m suggesting a better solution?!”

“I don’t want us to be separated!” he yelled.

“Hell. I don’t want us to end…..it doesn’t feel like I have spent enough time with you.” he looks at her with pity in his eyes.

“Don’t say tha……” she whispers, tears filling up in her eyes.

He crawls next to her, laying down as he gently rubs her stomach, watching her tears fall.

“8 years. Three with her. 5 with you…..”

“….that’s almost a decade. And we did a lot of things. Visited different cities, tried different foods, you gifting me a lot of things, made love in different areas….and with other people.” she replied, making the both of them laugh.

“Yeah. I guess we did have a good ride.”

They laid in silence for a few moments before she looked at him, tracing his lips. Sitting up, she places a few kisses on him before giving him a passionate kiss. He tries to fight back, but she holds him down, climbing on top on him. He breaks the kiss, catching his breath.

“Baby, as I much as I want to, I have to get back soon.”

“Then let me take care of you real quick. Just so you’re a little more relaxed.” she whispers, slowly unbuttoning his pants and sliding her hand into his boxers.

“Val, plea…” he replied as she wraps her hand around his aching length, making him grunt loud.

“Come on. You’re already hard….at least let me fix this.” she replied, moving herself towards the end so his length is in her face, gently stroking him.

He lets out a few hisses, biting his lip as he unbuttoned his shirt and removes it, gently guiding her to his length to engulf it, in which she does.

“Fuck. God, your mouth is warm…..” he mumbles, watching her bobble her head up and down.

Sounds of slurping and moans fills the room as she removes his length from her mouth, catching her breath as she stroked it faster, locking eyes with him.

“You like when I do that? Make you wince and moan like a man should?”

“Yes.” he moans, feeling his release building up. “How are you so good at?” he asks her in a whisper tone.

“Cause you made me like that. You and your nasty ass thoughts begging me to treat you like you did something bad….” she replied, tracing his head with her tongue, making him moan loud.

“Mm, you’re sick. You know that? You enjoy watching your wife fuck a bunch of women while you play with yourself cause you’re a piece of shit…”

“I am.” he replied, letting out a groan as he feels himself getting closer and closer, making her laugh.

“Oh you are?”

“Yes. I’m a piece of shit.”

“I should deny your pathetic ass your release right now, but I wanna see you squirm as you look at me with those pitiful eyes one last time.” she replied, stroking faster.

“Yes. I deserve that.” he whispers.

“Come on. Give it to me.”

“Fuck.”

“Give it to me, you piece of shit!” she yells, sticking her tongue.

As she said that, his release washes over him, shooting into her mouth and face. She kisses the tip one more time before wiping her face with her hand, licking up every drop as he huffed and puffed. She smiled before fear struck her, fading into a worried look.

“…..he was here.” she confessed.

Terrance shot up, looking at her with an irate glare. He leans into space, making her look away.

“…..why was he here?”

“He was…was trying to run away, attempting to recruit me to join him and rescue Hen, but I told him no and to leave before you came back.”

“Is that all that happened?”

She went quiet, praying that he doesn’t explode at the next thing she tells him.

“He insulted me, saying I’m under your control and I….”

He leans closer, gently turning her face to look at him, regret all over her expression.

“Valerie, what happen….”

“…..I revealed the truth in the heat of the moment. Fuck, I’m sorry..” she admits, immediately crying.

Terrance looks at her with disgust before getting up, quietly putting back on his clothes, turning to the door.

“Where is he at?”

“Should be home. I told him its not worth going AWOL cause we could get in tr—“

“Oh, you remembered the we part in that moment, huh?”

“I just said I was heated!”

“That don’t mean shit right now! I told you countless of times to not let anyone’s talking get under your skin so bad that you reveal everything we worked hard on covering for two years!” he yells at her.

“You know she and I take no one’s shit, so sorry for defending me.”

“You’re not her!” he yells, shaking his head.

She gasped, caught off by that statement. Tears begin filling in his eyes, rage taking over his body.

“You will never be my Valerie. Cause she can manage anger control better than you can. That’s what makes you two different.”

She laughs stiffly, getting up to sit at the vanity, examining her face.

“Well, if she was still alive, she would’ve abandoned you for how much of a pussy you are. That’s why you submitted to her real easily because you’re used to being walked over by anyone. And eventually, she would’ve gotten sick of it.”

“You wouldn’t know. You’re just a replica after all.”

“A replica of your deceased wife that you refuse to move on from because deep down, you’re the reason she’s dead in the first place. You and OuterMore took her out and you hate that.” she says as she begins washing her face with a cleanser.

“Watch your fucking mouth.” he says, pointing at her.

“Go fuck yourself, Terrance. Maybe the way I’m feeling is the reflection of her true feelings. She couldn’t push it out before it was too late!”

“I said ENOUGH!” he yells, making her pause and turn to look at him .

“Go away. It’s not like you have anything left to say other than you fucked yourself over by immediately taking the job offer from them and dragged her into it.”

Terrance stares at her with an intense glare before walking towards the door and opening it, pausing in his movement.

“……I just wanted to say: I have always loved you. That was real. I’m sorry if you felt different from it.” he said before walking out, slamming the door.

She sits in silence for a few minutes before letting out a scream, crying into her hands. She looks at herself in the mirror, seeing how red and puffy her face is.

Getting up to go the bathroom, she finishes washing her face and reapplying her makeup before putting her dress and shoes on, finally being dressed.

Examining herself in the mirror, she smiles a little bit, trying to regain confidence in her and not show that they are fighting. Accepting what she sees, she turns to leave, but it stopped suddenly by her dress being caught on the knob of the lower cabinet.

“Really….as if this day couldn’t get worse?” she mumbles as she tries to remove it, but it doesn’t budge.

After a few more pulls, the dress finally unhooks, but opens the door and something falls out. She picks it up to put it back, but stops as she recognizes the ‘OuterMore’ logo on the top. Placing it on the counter, she lift up the top, which turns on instantly, popping up a screen that reads: OM Eraser V2.

“…..he lied or he fucking forgot.” she mumbled, going through the menu options.

Seeing the ‘Set Up Memories To Erase’ option, she clicks on it. Reading the instructions to insert where the holes are behind your ears, she retrieves her pouch, unzipping to use her magnetic tool.

Picking it up, she holds up a mirror to get a closer view, as she places it behind her left ear. Watching it connect to a spot, it lights up a white glow shield before it opens, revealing the two holes need on that side. She does the same behind her right ear.

Reading the instructions, she inserts a white colored tube into the top one, which instantly connects and lights up as she inserts the second tube, a clear one, into the bottom one, which connects and sucks out blood, which is to monitor her vitals as the process happens. She winces, feeling uncomfortable with these inserted in her as she continues.

“Please go through the files and choose which memories to erase to begin the process. Be weary of your choices as this cannot be undone.” the female generated voice said, presenting the files on the screen.

Carefully looking through them, she chooses the night they hooked up with Junior, the exchange she had with him in the hallway, her catching him playing with himself, any admissions of Terrance crushing on him, the moments she looked at the window of Junior watching them fuck, and lastly, the conversations from today.

“Before we proceed, you do have the option to import memories that didn’t happen, but could be created to make it seem like it was. Would you like to do that?” she asks, showing her a YES or NO option.

Valerie thought about it, concerned about what fake memories it’s going to implant in her head and is this going to ruin the real ones she still has. She worries if he’s gonna treat her differently when he finds out what she did or she’ll remember him at all.

After thinking on it for a few more minutes, she clicks the YES option, holding in her breath.

“The process will begin as soon as you click the BEGIN button. It will take 30-35 minutes to wipe everything out and you may experience a death that seems real, but it’s just fictional. Some short term effects include dry mouth, headache, confusion, pain/swelling, muscle aches, and fatigue.”

Looking at herself in the mirror one last time, she clicks the button, patiently waiting for it to happen. Looking at the white tube, it slowly begins to fading into a blueish-green color, signaling that the process is starting.

Suddenly, she feels a shock shoot inside her, making her collapse to the floor in excruciated pain, gasping for air. She begins to shake violently, feeling her body slowly shutting down.

“No….please..” she mumbled, trying to pull the tubes out, but gets shocked.

Her vision becomes blurry as she looks at the machine, which shows that 1% of the process has occurred.

Then her eyes begins to blink…

And blink….

And…..blink.

And….bli…

An……

She enters a deep, dark space. Just floating around.

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Valerie wakes up on a gurney, confused by her surroundings. Noticing she’s in a van by herself, she gets up and pushes the doors open, jumping out.

Noticing its dark and the area is surrounded by a lot of OuterMore employees, from crew building a satellite to associates chatting in circles, she concludes that this is not her house.

But whose house is it?

Feeling very sore and the headache is overbearing, she sits on the ledge, gently rubbing her head. Looking at her hands, she notices the dry patches of blood all over them.

“….who’s blood is this?” she whispers, feeling her mouth and throat being very dry.

She touches all over, seeing if they cut her open while she was knocked out until she touches the back of her ears, making her wince. Then, the bruising overtakes her neck, causing her to lay back. Then, a few visions, from yelling with her old housemates to her being harassed by group of men, played in her mind, making her jump up.

Why is that showing? What does it have to do with….whatever is going on now?

“Valerie?” said a slightly familiar voice, making her turn around.

A man in a black suit runs to her, carrying a bottle of water as she stood there, not knowing what to do or say. He tries to hug her, but she steps back, making him look at her in a confusing way.

“….honey, it’s me? Terrance? Your husband?” he said, holding up his hand to flash his wedding band.

She looks at him, not moving by what he said, still thinking. His gaze drops, turning into a worried look.

“Oh my god, you don’t remember anything…..” he whispered, sitting on the ledge before he dropped to the floor.

She looks around, noticing no one else is watching them before sitting next to him. About to say something, she begins to cough very hard due to the dryness in her throat, making him twist the cap off and press the bottle to her lips, signaling her to drink it, in which she does.

“….you woke up just in time for his arrival.”

“W-whose arrival?” she asks, looking at him.

“Juni…nevermind.”

“….are we far from New York?”

“Been far. 8 years straight.”

“…….was I kidnapped?”

“No. Not at all. You met me at my postgrad party. Went on a few dates, moved in with me, and we got married.” he replied, gently picking up her hand to show her the engagement and wedding rings.

“Do we have kids?”

“No. None at all. That’s what I was trying to make happen before my suspension.”

“Suspension…..”

“How do I explain this….um. The house we’re currently at? This is the house of my current assignment. He has a…robot version of himself living with his real human wife. He comes home in 45 minutes, but he’s not why I’m suspended.”

“Is she the reason?”

He smiled, in awe of how she doesn’t understand what’s going on, which is a side effect of temporary memory loss, which will return in a few hours or less.

“….yeah. But, it’s mostly my fault.”

“Why?”

“Well. To make a long story short: you’re not a human like me and her. You’re actually a robot version of my deceased wife, who died the day you were installed. So, because of this, we trained you to make sure you never reveal your true self to anyone, even the robots of our assignments.”

“So you’re my master.”

“No!” he says loudly, startling her.

“Sorry, no. I didn’t mean to say it like that.” as he rubbed her hands.” But no. I’ve always hated when anyone described it as that.”

“But, is it not?”

“Not the way I see it. You’re someone I know, not someone I just….own. But, I’m suspended because his wife complained to one of my co-workers, who told my boss, that I broke company policy. Which I did. And they’re investigating me…..and you.”

“Why? I didn’t do nothing.” she said, pointing at herself.

“Basically, you are company property, despite having my late wife’s DNA in you. Meaning we can check for memories. So, because you were a witness to the violation, they’re taking you away to see what happened. And if they determine that I indeed violated it, I get fired and they keep you for good.” he says, looking down.

“…..so this is our final goodbye? Is that why I have blood all over my hands?”

“I found you on the bathroom floor like that. Was coming back to pick you to bring you hereI didn’t tell them that part, or how you were hooked to the Eraser. Which I’m assuming is why you can’t remember a damn thing right now. Either you successfully got rid of the evidence or you accidentally erased everything.”

“Is this why everything feels…..groggy?”

“Mmhm. But it will go away.”

She smiles a bit before drinking more of the water. She locks eyes with a worried Hen on the porch, who looks away immediately as Bill talks to her.

“Did you two have a fight?”

“No. Haven’t mentioned that I’m aware of what she did.”

“No. You and….Valerie. Well, me.”

“Um….yeah. If anything, we said things we shouldn’t had.”

“Like what?”

He shifts in his spot, turning to face her, who’s waiting to hear his response.

“To be fair, I said she’ll never be real Valerie. All because I was upset that she revealed her true self and the robot’s actual self. Then, she said if real Valerie was still alive, she would’ve left me by now because I’m….”

He begins sniffing, which makes her slightly panic and rub his shoulder.

“We don’t have to continue if you don’t want to.” she said, gently wiping his face.

“No, no. Its fine. I’m just….getting emotional because the more I think about it, the more I realize that she would’ve been right. She did hate seeing me down whenever I came home and told her that they keep shooting down my ideas. She egged me on to stand up, which i slightly did, but that wasn’t enough. I do think she was uncomfortable with the treatment, but I wasn’t taking it seriously.”

“Do you wish you did all of this before she died?”

“Always. Not a day goes by when I don’t think about it. That’s why I listen to everything she tells me so I don’t make that mistake again.”

“…..what’s going to happen to me?”

He looks at her, gently tracing her face before looking at Bill and Hen talking.

“I don’t know. But whatever they find in your memories, it’s life or death for me. They might turn you off.”

“And what? They just keep her DNA while you’re banished? That’s not fair.”

“That’s life. And I advise you to drop it. I’m already under a lot of stress.”

“Fine.”

She lays her head on his shoulder as they look ahead, watching everyone prepare for Junior’s arrival. She looks up at him, taking in his beauty while tracing his lips.

“What does she like about you?” she asked, making him smile.

“Intelligence is what brought her in. The way I take care of her. How I’m understanding. Committed to pleasuring her needs. My accent is somewhere on the list.” he replied, making the both of them laugh at the last part.

“…..can I ask you something?”

“Mmhm.”

“Can you kiss me like how you kissed her? Like….the first time?” she asked, looking at him.

He smiles, gently pulling her closer as he kisses her, squeezing her hips. She wraps her arms his neck to deepen the kiss, getting lost.

Memories of the night they met, their many dates, the first time they hooked up, their wedding, their honeymoon, them visiting many different stores and monuments, and their nights watching the sky played inside her mind as she opens her eyes, realizing she’s not at the house anymore.

“What the hell is going on?!” she says as she breaks the kiss, immediately standing up.

“Valerie? Is-is this really you?” he asks, getting up as well.

“What? Why wouldn’t I not be me? Aren’t you suppose to be inside, ready to shut him off?” she asks, pointing at the house.

He wraps his hands around her face, pulling her close to examine if this is really her or this is a different one. She looks at him confused, trying to figure out why he’s doing this.

“….are you okay?” she asks, breaking the silence.

“Do you remember anything? Like at all?”

“Why wouldn’t I? I still have her memories.”

“No. Like today.”

“Um……we argued…..about something. You told me something happened with…..OuterMore? So…..I grabbed a device that…..I don’t know, it did something and I just passed out on the floor.” she said, trying her best to remember.

“…..do you remember what we did a few nights ago? With him?”

“……we did something with Junior? I thought he stormed off after I put Hen to bed?”

Terrance looks at her with an amused look. Then, he laughs happily as he picked her up and spun them around, being happy that she successfully erased the memories.

“It worked. It fucking worked!” he exclaims, kissing all over her face.

“Ah! What are you talking abo…..ooh.” she asked, but it cut off by a random sting behind her ears.

“Oh, my bad.” he says, placing her on the ledge before kneeling in front of her. “But….I think you saved us. You have to recover, that’s all. I’ll explain it to you when you’re healed.”

“…..should I be scared?” she whispers, looking at him.

“….depends on the long term side effects. Just be you as we do this as normal, okay?”

She nods, gently rubbing the back off her ears. He smiles kisses her forehead as a car pulls up to the house. Noticing who it is, he helps Valerie up, walking her into the house, as they pass Hen and Bill, who eyes her down.

Looking around the pink hue room, she takes in the familiar atmosphere as this is just another day for him and OuterMore.

Computers loading up, a massive suction bag to carry him out, everyone running around to make sure everything is ready to as the duo walk into the dining room, now an empty space with chairs, cameras, and microphones set up.

Almost like a production is about to take place and she’s just an extra in it.

“Sit back here. We’re about to begin.” he whispers, gesturing her to sit.

She obliges, adjusting herself as he hands her a wipe. Confused, she takes it, but instantly notices the dried blood all over her hands and wipes them off. He sends her a small smile before walking out the door to greet real Junior.

As she patiently waits, a group of OuterMore agents walk in, carrying something in a black plastic cover. Placing it in the center, they remove it, revealing an unconscious A.I. Junior lying, with his hands and ankles wrapped in chained metal bracelets, preventing him from moving.

She takes it all in, feeling bad for him that this was all just a planned stimulation as the real one lived in space.

“Hello, Valerie.” a familiar male voice greets her.

She looks up and notices that it was Bill, Terrance’s boss and the CEO of OuterMore, staring down at her. She sends a small smile to him.

“Nice to see you again, Bill.” she replied.

He nods before walking into a different room, wanting to watch from a distance.

A few minutes later, footsteps are heard walking through the door. Turning around, she sees real Junior walking, taking in A.I. Junior’s figure as Hen and Terrance walk behind him. A mini camera hovers over him as they got close, but Hen stays back, standing in the doorway.

“Hen?” asks A.I. Junior as he slowly wakes up, trying to map out what’s going on and move, but is immediately dragged down by the chains.

“Holy shit. It’s so fucking real.” said real Junior, looking at him in amazement.

He looks up, horrified that the person he replicates is standing in front of him, while having an audience watching.

“I know how you must be feeling, but I need you to stay calm.” said Terrance.

“No….no….” he said, trying to break free.

“I’m sorry that we deceived you, but it was the only way to test your full capacity and function.”

A.I. Junior looks at Valerie, who looks at him with sadness in her eyes.

“He’s not the replacement, Junior. Its you. This is Hen’s real husband.” he continued, pointing at real Junior.

“Where is she?! Hen! HEN!” he yells, not realizing she’s a few feet away.

“She’s safe. Standing by the doorway.”

“Is Valerie enjoying this? Watching you tear a marriage apart while she sits and does nothing?”

Terrance looks at Valerie, who looks down in shame, very uncomfortable that he mentions her. Hen looks at her, very angry.

“Who’s Valerie?” asked real Junior.

“My wife. Who has nothing to do with this. Just my support system.” said Terrance.

“She has a lot to do with it actually.” said Hen, who walks into the room.

“Or you’re just making up shit because you don’t like me.” said Valerie, who looks up immediately.

“Valerie, don’t.” said Terrance, but is instantly cut off by Hen.

“Oh, don’t fucking pretend you don’t know what you and him did just because my husband is back!”

“What is going on?” asked real Junior.

“A public psychosis.” said Valerie.

“Fuck you.” said Hen. “I know what I heard and you two can pretend it didn’t happen all you want! You guys are sick for bringing him into it.” Hen replied, pointing at A.I. Junior.

“I don’t know what she’s talking about, but I don’t appreciate being lied on in front of people right now and she’s pushing it.” she replied, getting up.

“People, we don’t need to get off the railings here. We’re all here to explain to him that everything he has done in the last two years was apart of his mission. How every memory was designed from what Junior told us before we implanted them, and every emotion is all from him.”

“You’re lying! Hen, tell him that he’s lying!” said A.I. Junior.

“Does that include you two engaging in sex with him? Hm? Or am I making that up?” asked Hen, getting in Terrance’s face, who backs up.

“Hen, are you okay? I never slept with him. I would never after he has insulted me numerous of times since we met!” yelled Valerie as she walks towards her.

Junior holds her back, with Valerie slapping his hands away, staring him down.

“Calm down.” he said.

“Or what? You’re gonna dismiss my feelings like you always have with her?! Because all of this here? Your fault for being a shitty husband! That’s why she had to fuck him while you were gone!”

Junior, with an appalled look, turns to Hen, who now has an exasperated expression on her face.

“…..you fucked him after you swore you wouldn’t?”

“Hen, please make it stop! He can’t take my spot!” yelled A.I. Junior, still attempting to break free.

“I thought we were genuinely getting along. Looks like I was wrong. You’re just another person who has to feed into someone’s needs to make them happy. And that’s why you two fucked him.” said Hen, looking at Valerie.

Valerie lets out a stifled laugh, rubbing her face as she sat back down, still laughing bewildered.

“Hen, did you drink too much or are you really that upset that he’s being shut off? Because where are you getting me and Terrance fucked him from?!” she asked.

Terrance turns his head to laugh, very amused that the memories did in fact erase from her mind as real Junior watches all of this unfold, just confused. Hen gets even more pissed, going to kneel by A.I. Junior.

“It was after you put me to sleep after we danced to Black Velvet! You told me to spend the day with him before he came home. I went to sleep and woke, hearing him moaning, with Terrance say something explicit to him. I fell asleep again, but woke up. I heard you get fucked by the both of them and you won’t admit it because you’re hiding him being bisexual as well.”

Valerie nods, completely intrigued by what she said before getting up, going to sit in one of the front row seats to face her as Terrance and real Junior watched.

“Wow, you definitely had too much to drink that night because what you just said is some of the most factious shit I have ever heard. This is probably you guys’ craziest assignment ever and now, this is probably the best one to end with before starting your new position, honey. Congratulations!” she said, clapping erratically.

“I’m glad you’re finding our pain humorous. But then again, you have nothing to lose anyway.” said Hen, looking down at A.I. Junior.

“I’m not laughing at your pain. I’m laughing at the fact that your marriage is so fried, you had to just make up shit to attempt to ruin not only mines, but cost him his job? Embarrassing. But let me clarify everything since you think you caught something.” said Valerie as she leans forward.

“Yes, he has had thoughts of sleeping with a man. Yes, I’m am attracted to women, hence why we tend to hook up with them. He hasn’t found one because he works too damn hard. And seriously, do you think he would just choose that to try it out with? Costing him everything? He’s not dumb, but clearly you are.”

“Watch it.” said real Junior.

“Let her be.” said Terrance.

“You wanna know what actually happened that night? After I put you to bed? I went to my bedroom, changed out of my dress, and was reading. They were doing another interview, which I thought was odd since it was pretty late, but didn’t say much. Suddenly, I hear this noise.”

She stomps her foot a few times, trying to mimic Junior punching holes in the wall.

“And he was throwing something around. I got worried, so I knocked on the door. My husband opens it, assuring everything was fine. But, I looked over his shoulder and see Junior laid up against wall, groaning as his knuckles were bleeding. That’s why he has those scars.”

Everyone looks at his hands, which confirms that he indeed has scars from that. He scoffs, not buying it.

“Then why did he say something explicit? And why were you moaning?” she asked.

“You must’ve heard him say “he was going fucking mad” then. Cause that’s what he said to me when I asked what happened to him. As for why I was moaning, you’re right. I was getting fucked……by him and him only. You were so drunk, you couldn’t comprehend that it was just me and him fucking, while Junior was passed out in the room. Which we left him there because we wasn’t sure if you wanted him next to you.”

“You’re lying. I just know you are.” said a tearful Hen.

“Well, we’ll see when the investigation is over.” said Terrance.

“What investigation?” asked Valerie.

“Oh, forgot to mention: she complained and Bill & OM have suspended me.”

“Of course. Of fucking course….” she said, crawling towards Hen.

“What are you doing?!” asked A.I. Junior.

“I’m not gonna do anything. I think it’s so foul that I had to put my business out there because of your intolerance to leaving.” she said, being face-to-face to Hen.

“Get away from me!” said Hen.

“No. Because I want you to feel how I’m feeling with how you have behaved towards not me, but Terrance since you agreed to do this program.”

“I didn’t want this! Never!” she yelled back, snapping her face towards her.

“You did. Because you hate it here. You want to explore and he doesn’t. You beg for your needs to be met and while replica has done a great job, real one won’t. You can’t make yourself walk out that door because you don’t know what’s he’s gonna do if you don’t come back. So tell me: why do you enjoy suffering like this?”

“Get away from her!” said A.I. Junior.

“Valerie, that’s enough.” said Terrance.

“No. No! I want to hear this because she’s fine with doing this to you.” said Valerie.

She slaps Hen, making everyone gasps as Terrance pulls her away, walking her out. Hen screams, grabbing her face while Junior tries to run at them, as Valerie continues yelling until he puts her in the car.

“What the hell was that?!” he asked, looking at her.

“She started it. And I finished it.”

“No. You made it worse and now, Bill is going to suspect something even more.”

“Let him! I don’t care anymore. I don’t ca…I don’t…” she said, before slowly drifting off.

“Valerie? What’s wrong? Talk to me.” he says, examining her by checking her pulse, stomach, and neck.

“I thin….i think I’m just tired. Just blew the rest of m…my energy.”

She rubs his face as she slowly falls asleep, exhausted from everything. He looks at her, places a blanket over before heading back inside, apologizing for her outburst before resuming everything.

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A few weeks later, Valerie and Terrance are in the car, patiently waiting to arrive to their destination.

Valerie, now fully recovered, looks out the window as Terrance finishes up his work before putting it in his suitcase.

“Do we have to visit them? Its our anniversary after all.” she said, breaking the silence.

“We have to. This is how the assignment always ends…..and the investigation closes.”

“Yeah, but why? She tried to ruin us and your job.”

“You assaulted her. You would’ve been home much sooner if you didn’t do that.”

“I was just trying to get back at her for her treatment towards you.” she mumbled.

“That’s not the way to go about it. You could’ve ended up being taken away.”

“Well, I’m still here and you still have a job. Can we move on now? This is not how I wanted to spend our anniversary.”

“You don’t have to get out the car. I’ll talk to them, which won’t be too long and then, we’ll be on our way to the headquarters.”

“Whatever…” she scoffed.

Terrance sighs, grabbing her hands and rubbing them.

“I promise the anniversary gift is worth the surprise in the end. Just be patient.” he said, kissing them.

Valerie removes her hands, ignoring him. He looks ahead, fearing that one of the long term effects might’ve gotten her: growing irritation.

A few minutes later, the car pulls up to Junior and Hen’s, parking in the front. The door unlocks and lifts up, with Terrance getting out and pushing it shut. He looks at her, shaking his head before walking to the porch.

She looks away, not wanting to look at him greet them. She takes out her book and begins reading, getting to the chapter where Lauren and her community are moving to a location owned by one of them.

“Cannot believe she actually slept with Bankole.” she mumbled, reading the page in front of her.

The door unlocks and lifts up again, with Terrance getting in, dragging it down to close it. He has an angry look, typing in the address to headquarters and waits for the car to move. He looks over at Valerie, who is still reading.

“She apologized.” he said, breaking the silence.

“Good for her.” she mumbled, not breaking her focus.

Terrance shakes his head as he laid back and closed, taking a nap as the car begins to move.

🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲

“Well, isn’t it my favorite married couple coming to see me.” said Bill as Terrance and Valerie walks into his office.

Terrance greets him with a handshake as Valerie takes in the massively room he resides in.

The wall of big windows that shows the inside of the labs below, from researching, running tests, creating new liquids, and the design of the replicas to assignments getting measured for their spacesuits stands behind his desk and brings light into his dark colored office.

Books spread out, files all over the table, a big clock tower in the corner, and numerous lab coats all over the furniture adds to the busy atmosphere at OuterMore, which concerns her even more for Terrance’s recent promotion.

“Very busy as you can tell.” said Bill, looking at her with a peculiar look.

“You’re not gonna strap me down like you did during the investigation?” she asks, staring him down.

Bill grimaces as Terrance looks at her, gesturing her to let it go. She walks towards his desk, taking a seat in one of the chairs.

“I understand you still hold some feelings about what happened, but I do apologize for causing a bit of harm than relief.” he replied, taking a seat in his chair as Terrance sits next to her.

“Hm…..I’ll let bygones be bygones if you explain what is this gift he keeps egging on about?” she said, looking over at Terrance.

“Well, I’ll gladly answer that.” said Bill, going through the pile of files before find one and putting it in front of him.

He opens it, examining the documents inside as Valerie and Terrance wait patiently, with the latter constantly looking over at her unawareness, smiling to himself.

“So….Valerie. The reason he brought you here today is because I have made his special request a reality as the perfect way to celebrate your anniversary. But, it is entirely up to you if you accept it.” said Bill, looking at her.

“Okay. So what is it?” she asked, slowly becoming irritated.

“Before I get into that, I wanted to run something real quick with Terrance that pertains to Valerie before the unfortunate accident.”

“……what is it?” asked Terrance, with a puzzled look on his face.

“If I remember correctly, you and her made some big decisions just incase things go awry during the mission.”

“Yeah?”

“While I did create a pregnancy program for any replicated female assignment who’s looking to start a family incase the real one passes away during the trip, I found something that would be quite easier with some adjustments.” he said, getting up to pull out a black folder that has an unrecognizable logo on the front.

“Okay, so what did you find?”

Bill looks at him, smiling a bit before opening the folder to read it as he walks back over.

“I know grief is something that will never go away and causes you to forget sometimes, but this was interesting. It appears that a few weeks before the mission, Valerie froze her eggs……” he said, handing the folder to Terrance.

“What?!” said Terrance, taking it out of his hands to read the file as Valerie looks at him with a stern look on his face.

“Yes. Valerie froze all of her eggs just incase something happened. That’s her signature and in the notes, it says that you were aware, supported her decision to be cautious.” Bill furthered explained.

“I-I….” he laughed in disbelief. “I can’t believe I forgot about her eggs, oh my god…” he said, rubbing his face as he continuously read the documents over.

“It’s okay. Luckily, I found it so I can suggest an easier option if she….” said Bill as he looks at Valerie, who looks away from Terrance.

Valerie looks down, feeling herself get nauseous as the men continued talking. Her vision becomes blurry, head begins to hurt as the stinging sensation , that had been unleashing inside her these last few weeks, returns, making her collapse to the ground in pain.

Terrance immediately rushes to her side, raising his hand towards Bill to stay back as he gently picks her up, rubbing her stomach as she attempts to catch her breath.

“Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.” he whispers, mimicking the motion of breathing in and breathing out.

As she inhaling and exhaling, memories she has never seen begins to play in her mind: Valerie and Terrance talking about the eggs and what she’s gonna do, her waiting nervously at fertility clinc, her getting her eggs removed while sedated, and recovering afterwards, with him taking care of her.

The sensation fades away, making her look at Terrance, who’s checking to make sure she’s okay.

“…..that’s what she wanted me to see.” she said weakly, rubbing his face.

“What? Who are you talking about?” he asks, gently sitting her up.

“…..Valerie. She wanted me to see her at the clinic, freezing her eggs. That’s the memory she wanted me to find…” she replied, slowly becoming teary eyed.

He looks at her, gently rubbing her legs as Bill, who watches immensely, takes notes of what she’s saying.

“You think it was a sign?” he asked, his voice slightly breaking.

“Yes. I think she wanted me to see it as her way of giving her approval to go through with fertilizing her eggs and finally having kids....” she said, breaking down immediately.

Soft cries fill the room as Terrance pulls her into his chest, consoling her. Bill, feeling like he shouldn’t be present during this moment, quietly leaves the room. After a few minutes, she looks up, sniffling as she wipes her red, swollen eyes.

“….I don’t think I want to go through it, Terrance.” she confesses, gently removing herself from his chest.

“Valerie, don’t do this.” he said, pulling her back.

“No, cause she’s suppose to be here, experiencing this. This is what she wanted and I’m just a replica of her.” she said, gently pushing him back.

“Don’t say that!” he exclaimed, holding her hands.

“You always dreamed of having kids. I see the way you look at babies, watching children play, you browsing baby outfits while we’re out shopping, even you crying at little kid characters in films and shows. You definitely been waiting to be a mom and you wanna throw that away because you feel like you’re taking something away from her?” he asked, tears filling up in his eyes.

“…yes. This is something so special that you two hoped to experience when she was done with her mission. And it just doesn’t feel right. I don’t know if I’m just terrified of going through it or it just won’t work and I just don’t….” she replied, exhaling loud at the last part.

“Valerie. How long have we been married for?” he asks.

“…..9 years as of today.”

“And how long have you been living as her?”

“….5.”

“You had enough time to adjust to being her permanently. That’s something most of our replicas will never experience, unless a tragedy happens. I will never get over her death, but I also know she would want me to be happy and move on, never forgetting her. Which is why you’re here, still standing. And that’s something you should be proud of, Val.” he said as he cries, squeezing her hands.

“We go through things that every married couple go through and while some don’t make it, we did. It’s okay to be terrified of doing this. But you’re not alone.” he said, rubbing his head against hers.

“And if it fails, we’ll try again until we can’t anymore. I’m not leaving your side and will step in if I sense something is off. Even if I have to fight.”

“Don’t say that.” she whispers.

“They already made you uncomfortable a few times, I don’t give a damn.” he replied, making both of them laugh.

“Okay, you can have control this time.”

“I better. Cause you about to be on bedrest, carrying my baby. Or should I say…..babies!” he replied, kissing all over her face, make them fall over.

Valerie smiles, passionately kissing him as they laid over on the floor. He breaks the kiss, catching his breath as he looks at her, taking in her beauty.

“I’m assuming that’s a yes?” he asked, eyeing her.

“…..what are they gonna do to me?” she asked.

“Well. While the eggs unfreeze, they have to install like an incubator-like machine to act like a uterus for the babies inside you.”

“…..can I get removed afterwards?”

“Yeah. You don’t have to keep it if you don’t want to re-experience menstrual cycles or have more kids.”

“Thank god. Wait, does Bill do…..”

“No. Our women associates are only allowed to do that. He made that a priority in the policy in case one of the male lab workers messes up.”

Valerie laid back, thought about her decision for a few more moments as Terrance waited patiently for her answer, hoping she makes the right choice.

“……fine. I’ll do it.” she said, smiling a bit.

“That’s my girl.” he whispered, kissing her.

🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲

A year passes, with Valerie and Terrance lying in bed, asleep. She wakes up, quietly stretching her arms as she looks at the clock.

7:18 AM.

“Damn, I’m up early.” she mumbled before yawning, turning to look at Terrance.

He laid sound asleep, with no shirt on. Just as she liked it. She gently traces over his face, not trying to wake him up as she scoots closer to him, lying on his chest. She kisses it gently, hearing him grunt a bit in his sleep.

“Come on. Wake up for me…” she whispers, placing kisses all over his chest.

He smiles before wrapping his arms around her and flipping them, with him being between her legs as she laid on the bed. He opens his eyes, looking at her with admiration before kissing her.

“You think you were something by teasing me like that?” he asked, rubbing her hips.

“I was missing your attention…” she whines, batting her eyelashes.

“At 7 in the morning?”

”Yeah? You see how fine you are?”

Terrance chuckles, trailing his hands towards her neck, wrapping them around it and pulling her close to him, making her gasp.

“I wanna fuck you so bad right now.” he said, pecking her mouth. “But you just got that incubator removed.”

“I mean…..they don’t have to know.” she said, kissing him back.

“I’m not causing you more pain down there.” he said, gently laying her back down, making her sigh.

“I can survive a fucking, you know?”

“After having our bundles of joy? Absolutely not!”

She turns away, playfully moving away from him. He pulls back, cuddling her as he kisses all over her neck, making her laugh.

“Oh, now you wanna love on me as I’m trying to get away from you!” she said, trying to pull away from him.

“I just don’t wanna break you. Even though..”

He kisses her chest, making his way to her arm as she holds back her moans, sensitive to his lips.

“These extra curves they put on you is tempting.” he added, kissing her side before trailing towards her thigh, placing a few kisses on it.

Suddenly, a baby’s cry fills the sound in the room, making the both of them groan, knowing day…..whatever number of parenthood is beginning soon.

“Told you she was gonna wake up first.” said Valerie, smiling at him.

“So Teyana takes after you after all!” he replied, earning a slap across his chest.

“Mama’s mini me, dada’s first name similarity.” she responded, sticking her tongue out.

He rolls his eyes, getting up to get their awaken child. Then, a second baby’s cry joins the first one with filling in the sound, making Terrance and Valerie laugh.

“And there goes Valen.” said Valerie.

“Probably wanted to sleep in if it wasn’t for his sister.” Terrance said sarcastically, walking out of the room.

“He takes after you after all!” Valerie replied sarcastically.

A few minutes later, the crying stops. Terrance walks back in, carrying their four month old twins, Valen and Teyana, in each of his arms, both cooing and looking around their surroundings. Valerie looks in awe, smiling that their babies came out not only healthy, but a perfect mixture of the both of them.

“Which one you want, baby?” asked Terrance, rocking the twins carefully.

“Hand me my oldest.” she replied, holding her arms out.

Terrance walks towards her and hands Teyana to her, which she gently takes out of his hold, placing her on her chest. which makes her smiles.

“Morning, my pretty girl.” she said in a baby voice, making Teyana coo as Terrance and Valen lay next to them.

“Slept well, youngin?” Terrance asked Valen, who is lying against his lap, moving around a bit.

Valen smiled, flashing his gummy smirk at his dad, who smiles back at him. Valerie gently lays next to him, lying Teyana against her lap. The twins interact with each other, making baby calls that only they know and their parents laugh at.

“Hey Terrance?” asked Valerie.

“Hm?” said Terrance as he looks at her.

“….thank you.” she replied, kissing him.

“For what?”

“…..for giving me a family.” she replied, holding back tears.

Terrance smiles, watching her interact with their children as he reminisces the day he met Valerie three days after real Valerie’s death….his heart beating a little faster.

🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲

A/N II: Sorry for being a little late with publishing this. I’ve been busy with work and was fighting for my life in that Canvas Beauty Black Friday PreSale Live (got all the products I wanted!). Happy Thanksgiving!

Taglist: @urfavblackbimbo @blyffe @literallegendicon @kimuzostar @dionpierre

[azulapunchedozai]

People need to realize that there is a difference between liking a character as a character and liking a character as a person.

I like Azula as character. Does that mean that I like and support whatever she does? No. Azula is an antagonist in ATLA and is the face of manipulation herself. She's violent, cruel and would eliminate everyone who gets on her way. Almost everything she does goes against every moral stands I have. I don't like what she does because she is a horrible person.

BUT..

I like her as a character. I like how she is written. I like how she was portrayed as a villain. She is portrayed as this perfect, precise and smart villain but what I loved the most is how the writers still managed to show that no matter how intelligent and powerful she is, she is still a human. She has a human weakness that became the very catalyst of her sanity that lead to her downfall.

I like her as a character BUT I don't like her as a person. Azula is a good/well-written character but she is a horrible person.

There is a difference between a likeable character and a well-written character. A character's likeability doesn't define how well or bad they are written. A character could be be horrible as a person but still well-written and a likeable character can be poorly written.

An example of this is how M𝚊rinette Dupain-Cheng's character from the earlier seasons (particularly Season 1-3) of Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug and Cat Noir was handled. She's one of the good guys alright. She saves people with her alter ego, she stands up against bullies, and she genuinely cares for her friends. How did I say she was poorly written you ask?

Image 1 Context: M𝚊rinette has Adrien's personal daily schedule for the next three years

Image 2 Context: M𝚊rinette stole Adrien's phone to delete an embarrassing voicemail.

Image 3 Context: M𝚊rinette snuck into Adrien's bedroom as Ladybug to give him her gift.

Flaws are what makes good characters interesting and relatable. They can make mistakes and be selfish at times because they are supposed to be human. I mean human in a sense of being imperfect.

But these flaws and mistakes are supposed to be addressed. No part in any of the episodes these scenes addresses M𝚊rinette's actions and views them as mistakes and flaws. If anything, she's being rewarded with her horrible actions instead of suffering from consequences just like how she was never busted from sneaking into Adrien's bedroom and instead got her gift cherished by him.

That being said, these criticisms of her character are only based on how she was written in seasons 1-3. I am no longer watching this show and I don't know how her character is being handled in the later seasons.

What I am trying to point out with the Marienette example is that likeable/good characters can be poorly written.

Also, the amount of a characters' suffering and their good/bad actions doesn't define how well they are written. How well a character is written depends on how thay are handled, the execution of the concepts tied with the character and how their simplicity or complexity is handled.

The same way happy endings doesn't automatically mean well-written endings and how sad endings doesn't automatically mean bad endings.

PS: You don't have to support everything a character does all the time just because they're your favourite

[yenpondering]

Entitled customers are funny, imagine kicking up such a fuss with our managers that 2 mall security guards had to be called to come mediate all because you and your wife not only can't read but also can't see that our menu literally serves soft poached egg, not a boiled egg, in our Japanese rice bowls

Anyway read the menu properly y'all and ask questions if you're unsure, don't be a dick to hospitality workers especially over dumb shit

[that-was-anticlimactic]

one of the worst feelings ever is wanting to write but your hands hurt too much or the words just don’t want to work so you just sit there staring at a half finished doc with tears in your eyes bc you want to write and you need to write but everything is telling you that you can’t

[itspileofgoodthings]

all the lyrics across Taylor’s past 5 albums about how she hopes she doesn’t lose him (hopes he doesn’t leave, hopes it never ends) only to arrive at her saying “you’re losing me.”

[hecksupremechips]

Time for me to be completely changed as a person! *just watched falsettos*

[tvrningout]

tbh some of y'all keep posting about naruto and it makes me wanna interact so bad bc of my nostalgia, but i know diddly about anything shippuden and beyond :' ) i would be floundering :' )

[aberooski]

I love my gx winx au and I love that it's just bits and pieces of me being like oh that's fun and not having any semblance of lore or plot. It's purely contained to the character designs I've drawn for the girls.

[readwritealldayallnight]

“And you ladies are goin’ to be alright?”

“Oh yeah, cabbie’s on his way for us. You go ahead and get this one home.” Your friends giggle as they take their turns hugging you goodbye, the process taking nearly ten minutes thanks to the never ending drinks you’ve all had tonight.

It was a rare night out for you, celebrating a friends birthday at a bar with your girl gang. With your busy schedules, it was difficult to find time to get together as often, and when you did, your friends went hard. Shot after shot, drink after drink, you’d definitely been beyond tipsy for a while now.

Simon, who had come to pick you up at the end of the night, was thoroughly entertained by the sight of his intoxicated little sweetheart, all giggly and rosy cheeked. Making sure your friends has their own safe way of getting home, he slipped an arm around your waist, wanting to prevent your stumbling legs from landing you face first on the bar floor, and led you towards the exit.

“Oh my gosh.” You giggle, your own arm trying to wind behind his large muscular back. “Simon I’m so happy you’re heeeeeeere! I missed you so much.”

“S’that right?” He humours you, holding the door open with his side as he manages to steer you out of the building and out to the car park. “You an’ the girls have only been out for a few hours, lovie.”

“Well it was a flew, no a few! It was a few hours too long!” You drunkenly mumbled, making Simon’s smile widen, his mind already going over the different painkillers in your bathroom cabinet he could give you in the morning for the hangover you were sure to get. “A few hours too many, away from my Si guy! I don’t like not being with youuuuuu.”

“I know, lovie, I don’t like being apart either. But you’re allowed to have fun with the girls every once in a while.” He attempted to reason with you, fishing a hand into his jacket pocket in search of the keys. “You had fun, right?”

“Yeeesssss… but I like you! So much!”

“I like you too.” He chuckled at you. “If ya had fun s’all that matters. And I’m here now aren’t I? Said I’d come get ya.” He adds, tightening his grip around you in emphasis, not wanting to shake you too much, unsure as to exactly how many drinks you had.

“Oh my gosh that’s so nice to say…” you began drawling on before your feet came to an abrupt halt, nearly causing Simon to stumble forward himself as he stopped alongside you. “Wait…” you mumbled, eyes glancing ahead at the familiar sight of Simon’s truck. “Are you driving me?”

He can’t help but to softly chuckle to himself again, completely endeared by the way drunken you has your face scrunched up in consideration, apparently having forgotten that between the two of you, Simon would in fact be the one behind the wheel.

“I am.” He replies simply, watching you process his words.

“Okay, well, I just need to call Soap first.” You mumble, trying to pull your phone out of your back pocket with great effort.

“What’ya need to call that tosser for?” Simon asked, now the one feeling confused.

“I’ve just never actually written a will, and if you’re driving then I think I should probab- ahh!” You squeal as Simon scoops you up over his shoulder, swatting a large hand against the plump of your behind, covering the short distance to the passenger side.

“Yeah yeah, very funny, cheeky girl.” He says, opening the door and helping you into the seat before buckling you in, a smile on his face the entire time. He comes around to his side and hops in the drivers seat, starting up the engine. As he starts to pull out of the parking and back onto the main road, Simon glances towards your figure huddled up in the passenger seat, already singing along to the first thing that came up on the radio, and wonders to himself just how much you’ll remember in the morning.

The last time he’d drank with you, you were completely out of business the next day, saying that you could hardly remember a thing from the night prior, and even then he wasn’t sure you were as intoxicated as you were currently. Deciding to have a bit of fun and take a chance Simon asks you:

“Hey lovie?”

“Mhm?”

“When I ask ya to marry me, what do ya think you’ll say?”

“Uh, I will say YES! Duh!” You reply, the answer obvious to you no matter what state you’re in. However, because you are in fact drunk, you then add “and then I’m gonna get down on my knees too Si, and I’m gonna give you the best bestest head in the whole world actually is what I will do.”

“Hm, okay.” He answers casually, keeping the urge to laugh contained for a bit longer, wanting to keep teasing you. “And uh, how many kids do you think you’re gonna want us to have?”

“Simon,” you playfully sing song to him, angling yourself to face towards him and reaching a finger out to try and poke his cheek, landing more towards his shoulder. “Do you have feelings for me or something?”

“Or somethin’” he says quickly, “Come on lovie, how many babies am I puttin’ in ya, hm?”

“Mmm, at least two I think. So that at Halloween, Simon oh my gosh, at Halloween! We can do a family costume and all be ghostbuste-”

“We’re not gonna be ghostbust-”

“We will be ghostbusters.” You nod to yourself, glancing away from him as his opinion is no longer valid, before changing your mind and looking at him with all the love you can muster at that moment. “Simon, it sounds like you liiiiiiiike meeeee.” You attempt to tease. “You wanna get married? And have babies?”

“‘Course I do, lovie.”

“You think about that?”

“Every day.”

“Every day?”

“Mhm.” He confirms, sending you his own loving look.

“Well you better get me my ring then mister, cause I like yoooouuu too.” You giggle, before gasping as the song changes and starting to sing along.

He watches you in the passenger seat, a content smile upon his face as he listens to you singing without a care in the world, unaware that Simon has had your ring picked out and purchased since your first kiss. He’s just been waiting for the right time to ask you. And now that you’ve unknowingly given him your own blessing, he’s not so sure he can wait much longer.

[aletterinthenameofsanity]

Y'know, there's this gripe I've had for years that really frustrates me, and it has to do with Love, Simon and people joking about it and calling it too-pg and designed-for-straight-people and all the like. (A similar thing has happened to Heartstopper, but that's another conversation.)

I saw Love, Simon in theaters when it came out my senior year in high school. I saw it three times, once with my friends/parents on opening night, once with my brother over spring break, and once with my grandparents.

On opening night, the air in the room was electric. It was palpable. Half the heads in there were dyed various colors. Queer kids were holding hands. We were all crying and laughing and cheering as a group. My friends grabbed my hands at the part where Simon was outed and didn't let go until his parents were saying that they accepted him. My friend came out to me as non-binary. Another person in our group admitted that she had feelings for girls. It was incredible. I left shaking. This was the first mainstream queer romance movie that had ever been produced by one of the main five studios, and I know that sounds like another "first queer character from Disney" bit but you have to understand that even in 2018 this was groundbreaking. Getting to have a sweet queer rom-com where the main character was told that he got "to breathe now" after coming out meant so much to me and my friends.

But also, from a designed-for-straight-people POV (which, to be frank, it was written by a bisexual author and directed by a gay man, this was not designed for straight audiences), why is it a bad thing that it appealed to the widest possible audience? That it could make my parents and grandparents see things in a new light? My stepdad wasn't at all interested in rom-coms but he saw it with me because it was something I cared about and he hugged me when we came out of the theater. My very Catholic grandparents watched it with me and though my grandpa said he still didn't quite understand the whole 'gay thing,' all he wanted was for me to be happy and to have a happy ending like Simon did. My Nana actually cried when Simon came out and squeeze my hand when his mother told him he could breathe.

And when Martin blackmailed Simon, my mom, badass ally that she is, literally hissed "Dropkick him. Dropkick him in the balls" leading to multiple queer kids in the audience to laugh or smile. Having my parents there- the only parents, by the way, out of my group of queer and questioning friends- made multiple people realize that supportive adults were out there. That parents like those in Love, Simon do exist in real life.

When people complain about Heartstopper not being realistic or Love, Simon being too cutesy, I remember seeing Love, Simon on opening night. I remember my friend coming out and my stepdad hugging me and my mom defending us through this character. I remember the cheers that went through the audience when Bram and Simon kissed and the chatter in the foyer after the movie was over and the way that this movie made me understand that happy endings do exist.

Queer kids need happy endings. Straight people need entry points to becoming allies. Both of these things can come together in beautiful ways. They can find out about more queer culture later, but for now, let them have this. Let them all have a glimpse at a better, happier world. Let them have queer joy.

[arolesbianism]

Impulsively read the most recent Kanade story and oh boy. Hooo boy. Thoughts and feelings