#i don't have to miss it anymore because it's not over!

[beefcakekinard]

"Grab a seat."

Bobby claps Buck's shoulder as he passes on his way into the kitchen. Well - sure, it's got a fridge and a stove, but Bobby's definition of kitchen vs kitchenette leans a little spoiled these days. They can't get out of this rental fast enough.

He comes back with two cups of coffee and sits opposite Buck at the table. He waits as Buck adds a heaping teaspoon of sugar to his mug, glowering at the surface of it while he stirs. He waits as Buck sighs with his whole body and flops back against his chair. Bobby blows the steam from his coffee, takes a scalding sip, and waits. Years of experience have taught him that when Buck's really chewing on something, the easiest way to get it out of him is to outlast his patience.

"I miss Tommy."

It helps that Buck and patience are barely acquaintances.

Buck's continuing the thought before Bobby can even open his mouth. "I can't get him out of my head, Bobby. It's, it's like he's haunting me! Everything I do reminds me of him, even if it has nothing to do with him, and I feel like I'm going crazy!"

Bobby waits. Buck pouts. When it's clear he doesn't have anything more to add, Bobby clasps his hands and leans forward.

"Why do you miss him?"

Buck rears back, looking confused. Bobby spreads his hands.

"You think about him when he's not around. What is it you're thinking about?" he asks. Buck considers the question and flushes. Bobby quickly adds, "Keeping it PG."

Buck scratches his nose, keeping his eyes averted. He takes a deep breath.

"I think... I think about how excited I always was to see him," Buck says to the tabletop. Bobby takes another sip of coffee.

"I think about - how I never had to pretend. Like he saw me, just me, and that was enough. I like, I liked, the way he made me feel about myself." Buck curls in on himself and picks at a thread on his jeans. "I, I miss who I was when he was around."

"Just because Tommy's not around anymore doesn't mean you can't be yourself," Bobby says. Buck takes the bait; he whips his head up to look at him, eyes wide with disbelief.

"No, you, you don't understand, Bobby -" Buck leans towards him, insistent. "I miss how he cares so much about everyone even though he tries to look stoic and casual. I miss how he ugly-laughs at his own stupid jokes. I miss the way he talks to kids like they're adults and I miss how gentle he is with anything smaller than him. I miss how he fills his own dishwasher wrong and I have to fix it every time. I miss him more now than the day he broke up with me, what's wrong with me?"

The only sounds in the room are the ticking of the wall clock and the whooshing in-out of Buck's heavy breathing. Bobby waits until he calms down a bit, until he sits back in his chair again and awaits Bobby's input, looking like he's in anguish over it.

"You know he's not perfect." Bobby feels like he's lobbing a live grenade.

Buck scoffs. "Jesus, Bobby, if anyone knows that right now it's me. But I don't want perfect, I just want Tommy."

The clock ticks. Bobby drinks some more coffee. He waits.

Realization overtakes Buck's face between one blink and the next. "Oh," he says. Bobby smiles, enjoys his coffee, and waits some more.

"Oh!"

There it is.

Buck jumps up, springing to his feet like a cartoon character. "I, I have to go, I gotta - I have to go," he says, all in a rush. "Thanks, Bobby!" he calls over his shoulder before running out the front door, slamming it behind himself. The door opens a crack, just long enough for Buck to call, "Bye Bobby!" into the apartment before he's slamming it closed again. He sounds like a herd of galloping horses running down the hall.

Bobby smiles to himself. He checks the clock - Athena will be home soon, and he feels like whipping up one of her favourites for dinner. He takes the mugs - one empty, one full - into the kitchen and leaves them in the sink while he gets started.

[kisssukuna33]

Thinking about your Chef HusbandSukuna! Who always uses you as his personal food critic whenever he experiments with a new dish. You are the first to taste it before it goes into the restaurant menu. When you question him about it one time he said you're his personal lucky charm because whenever you taste a new dish first it instantly becomes a hit in the menu.

Chef HusbandSukuna! Who has a whole wall dedicated to you and the pics of you two together in his restaurant. Oh but did I mention about the big wall art next to those pics? A wall art of you smiling that he painted himself. He still talks about that art piece proudly to this day.

Chef HusbandSukuna! who has no problem attracting customers. His restaurant is widely known in the town as one of the best spots but the only problem he faces is when people come into his restaurant being attracted to something other than his food. You can only imagine the amount of thirsty comments from both men and women under his restaurant reviews.

Chef HusbandSukuna! Who HATES it when people flirt with him even after clearly seeing the wedding ring he wears daily. That's why he lets his co-workers do all the serving and he rarely comes out of the kitchen until someone ask for his presence.

And whenever a customer flirt with him or ask for his number he straight up points to the wall art of you displayed in the restaurant and murmur "my wife" as he go back into the kitchen unbothered.

Chef HusbandSukuna! Who never lets you cook anything in the kitchen. He always prepare you food and snacks whenever you ask him without complaining and you slowly came to realize that's his way of showing his love for you. And when he prepares food for you it's never anything simple either,he makes sure his wife eats a 5 star meal everyday.

Chef HusbandSukuna! Who takes it as personal offense whenever you recommend take out for dinner. He doesn't understand why you want to eat that unhealthy junk shit when you have a whole chef as your husband.

"Just say you don't love me anymore"

"Kuna.. You are being dramatic I asked it for a change not because I don't love your cooking"

"Then marry a fast food worker that way you can eat junk shit everyday"

"Sukuna!!"

Chef HusbandSukuna! Who always decorate your bento box so cutely when you go to work. He doesn't miss with the hello kitty shaped rice balls and the heart shaped vegetables everytime. One time you remember your coworker asking if you're married to a woman because they refuse to believe a bento box that cute was a work of a man.

Safe to say your coworker was even more suprised after seeing the intimidating 6'4 tatted man who came to pick you up later.

Chef HusbandSukuna! Who always knows to prioritize you over his beloved restaurant. You are sick? Yeah he closes the restaurant and stay by your side all day taking care of you. You want to go on a date? Say no more restaurant is closed within a minute. You took a day off ? yeah the restaurant is closed that day. You wonder how he even keep up the popularity of this restaurant like this.

Chef HusbandSukuna! Who always loves telling people the story about how you two met and how his restaurant took off after he started dating you. In his eyes you were a blessing given to him. He always wonder how his life started getting better and better after meeting you. A cold heart that was completely untouched by everyone started melting at the presence of yours.

But one thing he knows is that he's going to cherish the blessing given to him for the rest of his life.

[modernquackfare]

Hello, how are you? If you're taking requests could you please write this one. Its been cooking in my brain since christmas.

Its a bit funny, angsty with lots of misunderstanding. So basically, Ghost has a civilian wife he never told the taskforce because he's overprotective. Now they are in deployment and simon is downright a pain in the ass with a permanent chub in his paints.

Soap or Gaz thinks he's like that due to being sexually frustrated and enlist a not so new recruit who have been with them for like six months, to get rid of simon's problem and it doesn't hurt that the recruit has a crush on Ghost.

The last day of deployment and they make the operation seduce ghost on when its so happens to be bring your family to base day and the taskforce finds out about wife!reader.

Could you please write this, i know its a bit long and complicated. Thank you❤️❤️

A/N: This was an awesome idea to write and think about! Thank you for the request :) i kinda did a little bit of head hopping here, sorry, and i hope it doesnt take away from the enjoyment of reading TT

Ghost x Wife!reader

•◌•◌•★•◌•◌•

This really isn't Ghost's scene anymore. A dim and dusty dive bar, considered upscale in comparison to The Foxhole back on base. Every surface slick with polished wood, torn cushions under his thighs, and the smell of a deep laugh lingering in every corner. At the very least, they serve drink that isn't watery beer or tequila that tastes like paint.

It's not the bar itself, per se, that he's lost his taste for—but rather the hand that shakes his shoulder away from his glass, leading to an arm that leads to the Scottish pain in his ass.

"Her over there," Soap nudges, blithely unaware of his own pointing finger. "Thas' gotta be yer type, aye? C'mon, throw us a bone here, or we’ll need to start huntin' for the perfect lad for you instead."

"Don't start, Johnny," Ghost grunts, his unoccupied hand dusting the air in dismissal.

Gaz leans in, warm gaze turned to the very woman sitting at the bar just feet away. None of them can quite recall her name, but hers is a bit of a familiar face. A smile in the hall, or accidental eye contact in the briefing room. One of a hundred others, Ghost bitterly notes, adjusting the fit of his trousers under the table.

Is it too much to hope for a quiet night out, with nothing but a bourbon to nurse and a silent curse at Ghost's own decision to persist in this line of work? It's been on his mind lately, that decision of his. He could have settled, found himself some kind of security gig or the deed to a run down warehouse he can turn into a gym. Found himself his very own Rocky Balboa to lead to victory—or something.

"If you won't do it, I will," Gaz quips, pushing himself out of the booth and striding on over to Miss Solitude at the bar. The woman turns, gaze flicking from Gaz, to their table, and then back to Gaz.

Soap shakes his head. "Right in there, like a bloody rat up a drainpipe. You’ve gotta be quicker than that, LT. No need to be shy, you just buy her a bevvy and get to talkin'."

"Was never a chance to begin with."

"Like hell there wasn't."

The conversation is finalized with a scoff and flicking hand, as if Ghost meant to shoo away a buzzing fly. Might as well be.

***

If it wasn't the long showers, it was how distracted he was behaving lately. If not that, then it definitely came down to the absolute wallop Ghost landed on Soap a week or more later during their hand-to-hand combat training. Something has the lieutenant in the trenches of his own mind—and if only to preserve the unbruised quality of his own skin, Soap recruits Gaz in his efforts to get Ghost laid.

Gaz snickers behind his hand when Soap first suggests the idea. "You sure that's the problem here? It's not like—"

"Just think about it, Gaz," Soap insists, gesturing as if presenting to a row of investors. "He's never spent a night anywhere but in his own bloody room. Like he's some kind of old man who needs to be in bed before nine. I mean, look at him."

The two turn to watch Ghost in his spot by the wall, gazing into a gooey custard bun he's torn in half. He squeezes it, shoves one half back into its wrapper, and stuffs it into his pocket.

Gaz whistles softly. "It's like watching a big cat pace in a cage."

"Aye, I know. And I have a plan to fix it." Soap then gestures across the firing range, to a certain figure clutching a pistol in two hands. Liora, her name is? Something like that.

Raising an eyebrow, Gaz tilts his head. "What, with her? Girl from the bar? She was nice when I talked with her, but she's already got her eyes on someone else already. Not sure who, but she's practically taken, mate."

"Never say never," Soap winks nonetheless, gesturing lightly as Liora lays down her gun. He then shrugs suggestively, beginning his trek towards her. "Lt's a silver tuna, being all masked up and sour as he is. Given the chance, well—"

"I'm sure," Gaz sighs, tinged with light amusement. "Go on, then. Go ask her."

***

As it turns out, Soap and Gaz have half their job done for them. Liora, as quiet as she is, and largely suspicious about her two superiors' intentions, eventually reveals that her affinity for this mystery man does, in fact, lead back to Ghost. Akin to a schoolgirl, she's got a crush. A fierce one.

In between missions, while Ghost is tapping away at a laptop and twitching in his seat, Gaz nudges Liora into delivering him some coffee. If not that, Soap pushes her into volunteering during training to spar with him. All the while, she tries to hold his gaze a little longer, let her hand linger just a little more. This time in particular, Soap and Gaz giggle across the room like children with a toy car, watching as Liora gathers up her courage to tell Ghost a joke.

"Soap said you liked jokes," she shrugs. "So...why did the soldier bring a ladder to the training ground?"

"Mmh, why?" Ghost mumbles, half attentive to her words.

Liora cluelessly sits beside him, half a giggle in her voice. "To join the high ranks." It coaxes an amused huff out of him—and nothing more.

***

How could Ghost find anything funny these days? The tension is up to his ears, racing through every vein. And his wife, God, his poor wife back home has no idea what's in store for her once this damned deployment is over. You sent him a lovely little video from the shower this morning to try to ease the pain of being away for so long. A sweet gesture in intention, but all it's done is exacerbate the ache in his loins and tongue for a familiar feel and taste, to hold you in his arms and sink steadily into you or press you to the wall as he takes what he needs from your soft, pliable body.

Ghost grunts. Damn his mind. He's the very farthest thing from a professional when it comes to you. Liora—or so the others call that girl—is gone by the time he's come to his senses, replaced by Soap, who pounds a closed fist against his back in greeting. "Hopeless, brother. You're hopeless."

"Piss off, Johnny."

"You keep squirmin' like your gear's riding up," He sighs, hands on his hips. "Still cannae wrap ma head 'round why you won't just give her a shot."

Ghost glares up at him, attention diverted from his work. "You been puttin' her up to this?"

"She's nae faking, Ghost. C'mon. Give the poor lass a chance. C'mon, ma pride's hingin' on this, mate." Soap grabs hold of his shoulder and shakes it around, moving him like a damn joystick. "Go on, you wee bawbag, at least give her the time o' day."

"14:32, you muppet."

Soap leaves it at that with a laugh, swaggering off elsewhere as Ghost counts down the hours until he can retreat to the privacy of his room and fist his cock to your little videos until it hurts.

***

The end of his deployment. Never a sweeter day there's been—aside from your wedding, perhaps. Ghost is shedding layers in his room, yanking off his fatigues in exchange for civvies, just as the creaking sound of his unlocked bedroom door sounds out. You're here. Normally, Ghost saves you any kind of journey and just heads home alone—but the impatience is getting to his fevered brain. Besides, you could do with a little break from the house.

He turns to face you. "Oh, I've been on the brink of murdering—"

Ghost's words come to an abrupt halt at the sight of Liora, rather than you, standing in the doorway of his room. This is a dangerous situation for her, invading on a superior's privacy without a clear go-head. Not to mention rude in it of itself. He drops his shirt, suddenly aware of his own half-dress. No one but his wife sees him like this, tattooed sleeve bared, boots off and nothing but a face mask to hide his identity.

He doesn't speak, thinking his cold stare would do the job for him, as it tends to, but clueless Liora steps forward in a rush of misplaced confidence. "Just wanted to say goodbye," she whispers, her hand reaching out to stroke his arm. It makes his skin tingle in all the worst ways. "Guess I'll have to find a new sparring partner for now, sir. Hope they can take hits as well as you."

Does she not see it, he wonders. How he dodges her touch and exhales a sigh of indifference. Poor girl. She's got a lot to learn.

His indifference, nonetheless, does not deter her. Liora trails her hand up his shoulders, far too intimate for a girl who is little more than an acquaintance. But curse his speed, failing him at the most crucial of times—the door opens again, and of course, you walk in as Ghost has a hand on Liora's wrist. Unclear to you whether he meant to push it away or pull it closer. Ghost releases his grip and mutters a sharp, "leave us," to the girl, before facing his beloved wife.

There you stand, as pretty as the day he met you, gaze flitting from a mortified Liora—now leaving the room—to your husband. Ghost stalks closer, brown eyes softening at the sight of you. "Was waiting for you, love."

"You needed company to wait for me?" You ask, arms crossing before your chest. That sting of instinctual fear and possessiveness, the tight curling ache in your gut that clenches at the thought of being deceived and abandoned by the once you love most—you can't ignore it. Logic attempts to unfurl its spindly talons, telling you that it would make no sense for Ghost to have called some girl into his room just as his wife makes her way up to see him. But what was she doing in his room? Pawing at him, as if it were her place to do so?

Ghost's gaze falls fondly upon you, warm and uncharacteristically tired. "Didn't ask for her to come in. She helped herself."

"Really?" you huff, treading forward to stop before him. "Didn't look like it, Si."

"Doesn't have to," He grunts back. "You trust me."

It's true. You know the kind of man he is, and it isn't a cheating fool that takes what he has for granted. God knows he wouldn't risk losing more after everything he's already lost. Especially not you, the light of his shadowy life. Your arms fall to your sides, and you sigh. "She must have had real guts, then. Coming into your room, trying to...what was it she wanted, anyway?" Feeling the tension siphon from the room, Ghost returns to packing, laying haphazardly folded shirts into his last duffel and grunting a noncommittal sound. "Fuck if I know. 'M pretty sure it's Soap and Gaz's doing, though. They've been insisting on me giving her a chance. Poor tossers got another thing comin'." You laugh as you take a seat beside his bag, glancing around the room. Impersonal decor, as always. Ghost has always been a private person, even within the confines of privacy. Hell, his closest friends don't even know you exist. It used to make you suspicious, being his secret girlfriend back in the day. Now, though, the secrecy is natural, comforting even.

"I don't suppose you'd be up to ending that streak, would you?" You suggest, leaning over his bag.

Ghost can only sigh, the deepest gust of breath he's ever held. May God smite him where he stands if he ever says no to you.

***

Gaz, mouth agape, glances over at the Scot beside him. "A wife?"

Ghost, inevitably, agreed to let the two of them meet you. That makes three other people out of the entire base that knows of your existence—the third being Price. You wave, albeit a little shyly, and smile in greeting the numpties that Ghost has spoken so much about. Good guys, if a bit foolish. "That's me."

"Creepin' Jesus," Soap grimaces, in all of his discomfort and mild embarrassment, "Didnae ken you had a wife, Lt. Couldnae have told me that before I started nudging that other poor lass into trying to get a ride outta you?"

Flicking his head up in satisfaction, Ghost chuckles. "Teach you a lesson, you children. I think you owe my missus an apology." "Ach, sorry ma'am," Gaz concedes, while Soap follows with a similarly apologetic smile.

"You've got a bonnie one, Lt. Save some for the rest of us, eh?" "Not happening. What the hell made you think that was a good idea?"

Soap glances over at him, eyebrows raised. "What, setting you up? You needed a ride, man, you were fair uptight and tense all the time. Almost put a window in my face wi' that fist o' yours."

It evokes another breathy laugh from you, drawing your husband's loving gaze before it trails back to Soap and Gaz. "Right. But that's my business, isn't it?"

"Thanks for trying to help him out anyway," You cut in, nodding your head politely to their happy smirks. "I'm sure he needed it, even if he does do his best not to show it."

Your words earn you a stern gaze—but nothing you couldn't handle. Let Ghost direct that energy into something else. Something fun that you have a few ideas for.

Soap and Gaz bid their goodbyes to Ghost before walking off, audibly muttering, "how the hell did that sour old bastard get such a sweet wife?" Or something along those lines. Regardless, you turn your attention to your dear, suffering husband with a tricky smirk. "So. You've been having some difficulties lately? Anything I could help with? If you're not expected to be somewhere else within the next hour or so, that is."

It coaxes a deep chuckle out of your husband, who's already sliding his hand 'round your waist down to the curve of your ass, gently squeezing. Nobody's around to see, anyhow. Ghost whispers into your reddening ear. "I think we'll be needing more than an hour, sweet thing." •◌•◌•★•◌•◌•

Request Archive

[lara4eclipze]

» Gameboy

sypnosis: if crying was fun, ill be having the time of my life — if loving you was a jump, yeah, i probably died a hundred-ten times

warnings: angst, fluff, implied relationship, jelousy, comfort and etc

talks: I'm in an angst mood so.... smut and fluff reqs might take longer

taglist: @ohmyhaely @nyssalvr @vrtualstar @c-yerim @jellaaa @nakylvr @chuugetmesohigh

lara had taken you as her plus one in a hybe artists party — the night was truly a dream, music blasted all throughout the venue as lara was hand in hand with you

yet lara was close to her friends to be specific yunjin — hugging, pet names even small playful jokes, you drowned out your simmering jealousy with a smile and hugs

you thought to yourself that they were just close — maybe you are just less social, perhaps lara was just missing her friend — you are practically arm candy at this point anyways you shouldn't overthink it

yet as you stand at the corner of the venue you could argue is the best spot all you can see is her and lara, her and lara having fun — when you're the one she's supposed to be having fun with, you're the one she should be with

lara barely recognized your presence the rest of the night — she paraded around with yunjin clinging to her arm, laughing about a joke that was too cheesy for you to remember, what you do remember is a feeling that you didn't belong there, you didn't like the place nor the people

music blasted through the speakers, as everyone did cheers to katseye — as you ran up to congratulate your girlfriend, a hand pushed you away a guard to be specific "hybe idols only sorry" the guard stated, "I'm lara's plus one you can..." you looked again at the desi girl — there she was again ms,huh hugging lara and screaming loudly over the music, "nevermind, thank you" you cut off the rest of the sentence walking off

you sat at the table once occupied with the katseye girls now only you and a couple of unfinished plates of food — you didn't care about anything anymore, you wanted to come home — hug lara and ask for reassurance, that you were still who she wanted

of course, you fought yourself to stop overthinking don't mind it, yet the feelings overwhelmed you — you couldn't speak to anyone cause you were practically no one in this room, and you couldn't stand to look at the red-head at all

"hey you alright?" you heard the filipina ask you — snapping you out of your thoughts — you couldn't make out her features well because of the colorful lights blaring all around yet you knew she was worried

"yeah..just drained" you lied, the older girl knew you, you lived for parties like these — that the main reason you met lara, "come with me let's get some drinks" sophia eases and with enough convincing you agreed

you two walk to the bar, sophia orders a mango sunset for both of you — a mocktail cause shockingly the leader didn't like alcohol much

the feeling of loneliness left for a moment — as you and sophia talked, "hey i know lara can be so much sometimes — but she's never been better... you've changed her you know?" sophia says before bidding a short goodbye walking back to the middle of the room to interact with some illit members

you let the words sink in for a bit — has lara changed? has she changed for the better?, sophias words really strung a chord in your heart

until you felt warm tears paint your face — the trickled down like shiny diamonds embezzling your face, you really couldn't handle not being with lara neither

you've changed her the same way she changed you, you wipe away the tears yet they wouldn't stop falling, embarrassingly fast

"my love? where have you-" lara mutters before taking a look at your face "my god are you crying?!, are you alright my love I'm sorry i was just so caught up earlier" lara sputters an apology even though she didn't know what she exactly did to extract such emotions from you

you shush the girl only clinging to her — hiding your face at her neck as you inhale the familiar scent of home — safety and love

"i love you" you both say — lara nuzzles into your hair, smelling that coconut and vanilla shampoo she first offered you

lara would never know what hurts you — cause you didnt even know what did hurt you, its all a part of growing together — improving and nurturing each other even if that meant hurting

[lyrenminth]

The best example

Fluff. Comforting Joe.

What you most feared was a reality, and you didn't know what to feel precisely.

You were numb, but something in the back of your mind was bothering you and if you closed your eyes, you could tell.

You weren't good enough.

You tried your best and failed in the process and now you couldn't stop overthinking every single thing you did in the past six months. What went wrong? Why it wasn't enough? Did you spent more time doing other things? Or you didn't have the same capacities as before?

You opened the chat with Joe, and read again the message he sent you in the morning.

"You're gonna get it, don't worry baby. I'm super proud"

You eyes started to fill with tears, and you couldn't read the message anymore. You let out a sob and sat on the couch, with your head between your hands, feeling the waves of pain and disappointment for yourself.

Why you weren't enough? What were going to do now? You thought about all the sleepless night that you spent studying, the games you missed and the events you skipped, and for what? The letter you received in the morning was simple and professional. Since you read the first words your stomach churned.

"We are sorry to inform you that..."

You weren't good enough. You weren't good enough and it hurt like hell.

You didn't want to call Joe or anyone. Instead you turn off your phone and stared at the wall until you eyelids were heavy.

"Love" you felt something brushing your cheeks. "Wake up"

You stirred awake, gentle blue eyes keep staring at you with curiosity and worry. The face of your husband was close to you, and for a moment you didn't thought about anything.

"Did you turn off your phone?" he asked, softly.

He knew. Oh, God he knew. Then, the rejection came back in full force, your chin quivered and you tried to hold back the tears.

"Joe" you whispered "I didn't..." you shook your head, insecure about what to say.

"Ssh, baby it's okay" he said, sitting down and pulling you across his lap, as if you were a child. His strong arms held your back, hugging you. "It's okay" he kissed your forehead and it was unusual for him to be this soft, but you needed it.

You cried, ugly crying. Nose dripping and sobbing uncontrollably type of crying. It made you feel ridiculous, but you couldn't stop.

"I really really want it, Joe" you spoke, "I try so hard and f-fell sh-short" you sobbed, hiding your face of the curve of his neck.

"I know, baby" his lips brushing your forehead once again. "It fucking sucks" you explained, the hiccup starting.

"I'm here, it's okay" he reassures once again. You soothe under his touch, suddenly aware where his hands were, over your thigh, gently rubbing, the other on your back making circles. Slowly, you breathing even out and you could feel the tension leaving your body. Joe's warm chest help you with that too. "You're the most intelligent woman I know, don't let a bad moment erase all you have done" he said.

"How do you do it?" you asked, your voice raspy and weak.

"What?"

"You're are a professional athlete, you try hard and sometimes you lose, I know you and I know that you dislike losing and makes you angry, but what do you think?" Joe fell silent for a few minutes, considering his answer. His voice more personal when he spoke again.

"You have the right to feel like shit" he replied his lips brushing your skin as he spoke. "But shouldn't be forever. Your life shouldn't be defined for a mistake or a fail, not if you didn't hurt anyone" he clarified. "I think that I will have the chances to make it right even if the first time didn't work as I wanted. I think about the things I can improve so next time it's less hard. My mistakes don't define every outcome of my life but sure help me to change the results"

You thought about it. Joe was always under pressure because of his profession, and he handled everything beautifully most of the times. You have seen his lows and highs, so you had a great example to follow.

"Thank you, Joe" you said, and gave him a peck.

"You're going to be fine, not now but soon" he told you, and you nodded. You believed it too.

There, in is his arms everything seemed easier.

[kangaracha]

QUEENMAKER | CHAPTER 24

---

pairing chan x reader

genre ninth member au, angst, fluff, coming of age, social media, cancel culture, anxiety, depression, forbidden love,

summary To JYPE, the solution is simple; take the sole trainee that will not debut with your brand new girl group, and use her to replace the missing vocalist in your male group that insisted on starting as nine.

Unfortunately, to the fans and the members themselves, it isn't that simple.

status ongoing

taglist OPEN

a/n hi. it's me. i'm back. i don't have any excuses to make.

please also check out daybreak, posting weekly from now on (yes i did write an entire smau instead of queenmaker and sit on it for almost six months)

previous | masterlist | next

---

Comeback approaches like a hurricane; it's there, developing in the corner of your eye just off the coast of your island, and then all at once it is here, and it is so all-encompassing that you're not even sure where here is anymore.

Comeback. Debut. The most important day of your life. One of those.

 Time starts to fly by; schedules and practice and filming and every so often the chance to sleep or to grab something to eat with the others. It drags at your coattails, sticks itself to your feet and settles like a weight upon your shoulders, but you can't stop. There are performances to film, and then there is a concert that you are missing so much of the choreography for, and even when all of that is over, you are headfirst into award season and special performances and group activities for the company and-

First, debut. Second, everything else.

The camera sits on the table in front of you, staring with one dark, unblinking eye as a brush darts across your face, erasing all your imperfections. It fills your stomach with a funny kind of fear, small but poisonous, stinging when you think about turning it on - you've managed to put it off so far, waiting until your face was made up to at least avoid having to see your own naked skin reflected back at you in the viewfinder. No one else wanted to see that either, you're sure, after the things you've read and...well, the experiences you've had in the past. It's good to know your limits, after all.

That excuse is fast running out now though, and the time to go up towards the stage is drawing closer with alarming speed, and if you don't capture any footage before that happens, you're in some real trouble, no matter how loudly Seungmin and Felix are churning out hours worth of content on the other side of the room.

It takes real, deliberate effort to lean forward and turn that camera on once the makeup artist proclaims you ready, your hands delaying still as they fiddle with the angle and the focus, following the motions the manager that had handed it to you had shown you before he left. It gives you a little red light to say it is filming, and you swallow down the stone in your throat and sit up straight, looking around at the room to avoid the stare of its lense.

The first minute of your vlog is very boring. It's probably only the thought of some stranger sitting in a room later and watching you sit there awkwardly for a ridiculous amount of time that spurs you into saying anything at all. 

"Hello Stay," you begin, because it seems the only way to begin. The words feel awkward in your mouth, your tongue stiff and undeserving of saying them, and your throat scratches and dries; you think, as you speak, that you do not sound like a singer at all. "It's nice to meet you...for the second time." 

A noise rises up from behind you, giving you pause just as you run out of things to say - Han, running his voice up and down the scales as he begins to warm up. You've gotten used to that by now, the volume of the boys around you, but you're grateful for the excuse to pause in your self-rumination anyway, the precious seconds it gives you to figure out what it is you're saying.

Act normal, you tell yourself firmly as you turn back to the camera.

"I guess I should introduce myself, shouldn't I?" you say, your fingers twisting in your lap. "I'm L/N Y/N from Stray Kids, and today we're at [] for our first performance of Back Door, and I have just finished with the makeup..."

In the corner of the viewfinder, you notice a face hovering over your shoulder; Jeongin, waving a peace sign just out of your field of vision. You turn to look at him, shuffling over so that he is in full view for the camera. "What are you doing?" you ask and he leans in closer, automatically fixing the angle for the camera.

"I just wanted to see what you were doing," he says, refreshingly peaceful compared to the chaos that is building in the rest of the room. "Is this a vlog?"

"Mhm," you answer, and he smiles and waves again to the camera. "Are you dressed already?"

"Nearly," he says, glancing down at his white shirt and the black necklace that dangles around his neck. "You have time still."

You glance down at yourself; hoodie and cargo pants, neat but not show-ready by any means. "Mine is cold," you say by way of explanation, thinking of the skirt and thin shirt that wait on a rack in the next room, a far cry from the long pants the eight of them are wearing; and you really do like the look you've been given, but the thought of sitting around cold before you had to was less than enticing. "I was going to go and change in a minute."

"Maybe you should swap with someone," I.N suggests slyly. "I bet Changbin would look good in a skirt."

"Changbin's pants wouldn't fit me," you throw back, and he has to turn away from the camera to hide the ugly laugh that snorts from his nose. "He's too-"

Short, you don't say, your eyes tracking the boy in question as he passes by. He pauses in the back of your video when he notices your eyes on him, looks between you suspiciously, and then dances his way out of frame, having decided, you guess, that you aren't up to anything worthy of comment.

The look you share with I.N almost makes you laugh again. "I'm going," you say, scooping up your camera as you stand, "before he realises we're talking about him."

---

"Why do you look nervous?" Chan asks, a shadow that suddenly stands beside you as someone clips a mic pack onto his belt. You eye him in disbelief to avoid turning to look at the hallway that leads to the stage again, trying to figure out if he's joking or not.

"I can be nervous if I want to," you answer after a few seconds, in a way that definitely doesn't hide how anxious you feel at all. 

"But you shouldn't be," he insists, "because there's nothing to be nervous about."

"You know that won't stop me," you scoff.

He cracks a smile despite himself. He almost laughs, except that he's busy turning to nod in acknowledgement of whatever the assistant behind him says on her way past. "It's going to be a good performance," he says, like the simple act of saying it is enough to manifest it into existance, like he would never believe otherwise.

"It's going to be good," you agree readily. "The concerts next week are going to be good too."

That smile flashes across his face again, his eyes lighting up. "You're excited?" he asks - and you almost feel guilty, that he would think that you wouldn't be excited, that you've worked so hard and put on such a stoic face that any of them might start to think this is a chore for you, rather than a dream coming true in front of your eyes.

"Of course I'm excited," you tell him emphatically, before he can get any ideas. "I can't wait to-"

"Y/N noona!" Changbin says as he strides across the room, stopping the thought halfway through. You turn to face him and the phone he waggles in his hand questioningly. "Take a photo with me."

"Right now?" you ask, looping your in-ears over your shoulders as if to demonstrate just how poor his timing is.

Changbin doesn't notice at all. "Why not now?" he questions. "I'm supposed to take a photo for instagram. Come and take one with me."

Beside you, Chan looks like he still has something to say, but when you glance at him, he only shrugs, turning away to fiddle with his own equipment. "Alright," you agree easily and follow Changbin, over to a bland enough piece of wall with decent lighting. You have a feeling someone has already scouted the room earlier for the best places to take photos, judging by how easy it is to find and how well it photographs.

It's a good distraction from the nerves for a few minutes, but it doesn't last much longer than that; especially not when Changbin barks and fusses over the angle and the faces, and then Hyunjin comes wandering over to take the camera out of his hand, and you realise that he's occupying you as much as doing what Skijigi have asked him to do. After that, you laugh and poke fun back at him with just the same vivacity, but it does nothing to assauge the anxiety that's planted deep in your gut, roots curling out to envelop you.

Somehow, when you're done, it is time to go up to the stage - and suddenly, you are engulfed within the group and walking that hallway you had been staring at what feels like moments ago, trying to swallow with a dry mouth and a stone in your throat and wondering if you'll actually be able to get any of the notes out at all.

Chan's hand touches your shoulder as you walk, appearing by your side in just the same way as he had earlier. You wonder if he can smell fear or something; or if you really are just that pale and drawn in the face, if your hands are shaking or something. Whatever it is, you're clearly not doing a very good job of hiding it. 

"You still look nervous," he tells you cheerily, and if he's aware that he's reading your thoughts, he doesn't give any indication of it, not even as he pulls you aside as you reach side-stage and glances up at the huddle of boys that continue to the bottom of the stairs, eyeing them as if there's something he doesn't want them to hear.

"I got you something," he says, when he's sure there are no eavesdroppers, and lets his lips curve in a secretive, delighted smile.

Your eyebrow raises in surprise, almost certain that he did not forget, but rather has been looking for the right time to bring it up - but he doesn't notice the look of disbelief, fishing a small, velvet bag out of his pocket. He offers it to you on an outstretched palm, a bridge to form the gap between you.

With timid, shaking fingers you take it, noting the pink that stains his cheeks and the way he cringes away from meeting your eye as you pull the drawstrings loose. "I saw you playing with the ones at K-Con," he hurries to explain before you can even see what's inside. "And you - fidget a lot. I thought it might help."

A ring tumbles out of the bag and into your palm, the full stop to the end of his sentence. It's only a plain silver band, softly curved at the edges and gleaming where the light hits it - nothing ostentatious or gaudy. Just a simple band for you to twist around your finger, the letters SKZ engraved on its inner circle.

"Thankyou," you manage to say as you slip it onto your finger - and then fiddle with it, twisting it and forth to distract yourself from the nervous hum that seems to hang in the air between you.

"Oh, no." He waves you away before you can even get the words out, that pink flushing his face. "Look, it works already." 

You glance down at your fingers and the twist of the ring, and feel the grin that bites at your face. "I like it," you admit, and try to breathe the nervous jitters out of your chest with the words. 

He looks...relieved? You're not sure, when the music blasts on stage and then cuts off and the crowd roars in response, cutting him off before he can say whatever it is that now lines the back of his teeth. It looks like relief on his face though; as if he'd been worried you wouldn't take the gift or something. Wouldn't see the sentiment behind it even if you didn't like it. What does he think of you, if that's how he thinks you might react?

The thought sends another thrill of fear down your spine, one that the scrape of that ring on your finger can't quiet. So does the scream of that crowd - adrenaline rises from your chest, wrapping its hands around your throat; that wild, senseless energy tensing in your body like you're about to run from a fight-

A hand claps your shoulder. "Are you breathing?" Seungmin asks, balancing on one foot as he leans around you to frown at your face.

You have to inhale to retort, and he smirks. "That's what I was wondering," Chan says behind that grin - but the brush of his hand over the back of yours is much softer; questioning, rather than the jolt of contact from Seungmin.

"I don't need to breathe," you throw at them weakly. "I'm a robot."

"How do I turn you off, then?" Chan asks, and then laughs when you stare at him, surprised. Betrayed, maybe, when you would have expected such a thing to come out of Seungmin's mouth rather than his.

You're distracted by the call of a staff member, waiting to usher you onto the stage - and there, again, are your nerves, returned in two-fold. Debut, you remember again for the thousandth time today. Your dream. Your reward. Your life's work, the only work you've ever learnt how to do.

The group huddle together, say some quick words of encouragement that float past you with registering at all. Your hand is warm in the centre of all of theirs, crushed by the weight of someone's palm as eight hands go down and whoever is on the bottom goes up, ruining the whole thing. You know that you laugh, between the groans and cries of retribution, but it doesn't reach right into your chest. All your attention is laser-focused on the steps before you and the buzz of the crowd waiting beyond.

You are not alone in your daze, at least. Many hands pat your shoulders, smooth your hair. Felix throws an arm around you until you reach the stairs, a one-armed hug while he talks about something in your ear. He lets you go while you climb, and follows on your heels out onto the stage.

The crowd is smaller than K-Con, to your mercy, even if they scream and cheer just as loud as that massive crowd had. It seems like a stupid thing to find comfort in a moment later, when the thought hits you again; of course the crowd is smaller. This is only a broadcast recording, not the concerts that leer at your from the near future.

Some of the boys are already at the centre of the stage, waving and talking to fans. You join them long enough for the official greeting - and then melt away into the background when Changbin immediately commands attention. You find Han there with you, arms swinging by his sides in one last warmup, but you can't think of anything to say other than the tight grin that offers itself to him, no doubt writing all you nerves right onto your face. The smile he gives you in return is sympathetic, and devoid of pretty words to go with it; just a flash of teeth, a puff of air that blows into his cheeks before exhaling. It's a little comfort, at least.

The call to begin shatters any calm it pulls over you just as quickly as it arrives though, the stage a hive of activity as everyone finds their places. For a long moment, no one moves and nothing plays, the tense, still seconds ticking by at an excruciating pace-

And then the music starts.

And then you dance.

And then you sing, loud and clear and bright - and steady, even with the complex movement of your body and the increasing cry of your chest for air. 

The finale rises and culminates with Felix's voice, standing at the end of the line behind you. You feel his weight bump against you as he shifts on his feet, hear the moment of silence and then the renewed cheer of the crowd when his ending fairy comes up on the screens. You can't see when it ends, so you count to five before you turn, ducking out of the line as requested and immediately finding the red light of the camera that was told to be waiting for you. Finger hearts, Felix had suggested backstage and Hyunjin had agreed, and so that is what you give them, angled just so by your cheek and the giddy smile that had been pulling on your lips before the music was even finished.

The stage goes silent, the few scattered beginnings of applause quickly throttled by the hands that remain in their laps. The seconds tick by at a glacial pace, the smile threatening to slip from your face. You glue it there with all the fire that remains in your veins.

You could swear the camera lingers, just to drink in your pain. Logically, you know it is the same time as Felix had. Somehow, the thought isn't comforting.

Finally, that lense clicks off and the boys move around you, giving the crowd something else to hawk and squeal at. Something they really want to see, you allow yourself to think acerbically, and carefully avoid looking any of them in the eye as you do your forced, casual wander off the stage. It is hard enough to achieve in your own bubble, to resist that urge to run, let alone if you catch anything like sympathy on their faces.

The first one below, you take one look at the playback monitor and excuse yourself to the staff, fleeing towards the bathrooms. You're dimly aware of footsteps behind you and the sound of your name, but they do not process and your feet won't stop - not until the heavy door slams shut behind you and the propel of your walk carries you in sight of the mirror over the sinks-

Beautiful, you'd dared to think earlier, staring vindictively at just the same image that looks back at you now. The careful fit of the navy shirt, the short skirt flattering the length and lines of your legs, the layered bangles and the diamonds that glitter around your neck...perfectly crafted to slip right in amongst the silk and patterns of the boys - and not unlike Midnight's dark queen concept either, the concept you hadn't had the right look for. You'd even liked your face, and the unearthly glow they'd painted into your cheeks, the perfect frame of your dark hair-

But something had displeased that crowd. Whether the look, or the dancing, or stupid, stubborn pettiness over girlish crushes - or all of it put together. It took a lot to silence an entire crowd. You knew that - you'd seen one refuse to be silenced before, but never nominally refuse to cheer. Never pass the sentiment around and come to an absolute mutual agreement.

It's a talent, to be able to do that by yourself, you think as you stare into your own eyes in the mirror; and you don't have it in you to deny the rush of feelings that wells in your chest this time, or the hot prick of tears in your eyes. Your thoughts are swept off in the storm, the questions clamouring, crying, begging for one answer; why, why, why, why. Why do they hate you, why are they so mean about it, why didn't you just go home? Why did you ever come to this country in the first place? Why id you think you were good enough to be worth their love?

A soft knock on the door precedes the tentative entry of an assistant; one of the girls from JYP that always travels with you on schedules. You know her name, but you should know her better; instead, you've just been keeping to yourself. Another point of failure, probably.

"Y/N?" she says, daring to put one foot through the door as you blink and nod in acknowledgement. "Sorry - we need to start heading back now. You can have another moment - if you need-"

"I'm coming," you hurry to say; and it is shame that colours your cheeks and gives you the strength again to swallow it down like a hard stone. The tears burn as you blink them away, as you stare at the mirror and decide that no more will fall except for the traitorous three that have already escaped. You'll have to go back on that stage - you won't go red-eyed and puffy, won't give them that satisfaction.

You'll have to do that ending again too, though. Weather that storm a second time. Well, you'll just have to make sure this take is perfect, and then no one will ask for a third. You'll be able to go home and hide.

Your moment is up. You know that, and so you turn yourself away from the mirror, to the girl that waits. She willingly averts her eyes as she steps out, holding the door for you until you grip the edge of it with your own hand and follow her.

Chan is waiting in the hallway, leaning against the wall and staring at nothing as he waits. There's a dark anger in his eyes when he turns, but it isn't for you - no, the tissue box in his hand is for you, offered like a bridge that spans the gap between you. 

Warily, you draw one and turn aside to dab at your eyes and try to cool the burn in your cheeks. You want to cringe away from yourself and hide in the bathroom again, to put off facing him until he goes away - but if you do that, he'll know you're hiding, and the hovering assistant will bear the blame of not bringing you back, and those fans will think they know why it's taking so long-

Stupid. They already know that they've won. Chan can see you crying. There's no one left to make a fool of except yourself.

"Are you alright?" Chan asks - and just like you thought, there is none of that anger in the gentle voice that asks.

"It's fine," you answer, biting at your tongue agains the tears that threaten to stir anew. "Sorry. I just needed - a moment. I'm ready to go again."

"Take another moment," he tells you.

"I'd rather go," you say, and it comes out harsher than you mean it to - but it is only the tears that you are fighting, that horrible, gut-wrenching wave of emotion that wants to wash over you. "I'm fine. Really."

The tissue crushes in your palm. You wonder if the sceptical look he gives you is because of the makeup you've surely smudged, or if he just doesn't believe you. "Are you sure?" he asks, and you steel yourself as you breathe in.

"I will be if we don't talk about it," you tell him tightly, and then you take the lead before he can disagree. He falls into step willingly anyway, thoughtful or maybe brooding as you weave your way back to the stage.

"We're not doing the endings again," he tells you as you approach, right as the flock of makeup artists engulf you. Like they knew you'd be crying, you think acerbically, and then banish the thought before it can unbalance you again.

"Were there any notes for me?" you ask as a brush dusts your cheek. The dancing; that's the only thing you need to focus on. The performance. Do it perfectly, and you can escape. Subconsciously, you fingers find the ring, twisting it around and around.

"Not for you," Chan says. "Just try to enjoy it again, yeah?"

Several choice comments come to mind as you gaze at him, each one as dry and hurt as the last, but a look at the occupants of the room stills your tongue. Assistants and stylists and employees of the show - people that you shouldn't be caught speaking ill of fans or members in front of. You've read your contracts and the company ethics, seen the bill for your training attached to your name. You know how far fans and a good public image takes even the most insidious people.

"I'll try," you promise instead, firmly holding your tongue to your principals. No point complaining about hardships anyway. This isn't an industry that takes pity on those who are too weak to survive it.

Even so, the answer seems vapid and contrived the moment it spills out of your mouth. Chan doesn't have time to contest it; the others are already returning to the stage to entertain that undeserving crowd, and so you must follow too, side by side in silence. His microphone passes restlessly from hand to hand, even when you step on stage and his brow smoothes out. You wonder how long that rage will simmer beneath his skin.

Until he can do something about it, a little voice whispers to you with a thrill, watching his receding back.

The stage sweeps you away after that, Chan disappearing into the midst of the others with just one last glance over his shoulder to make sure that you're following. Seungmin replaces him, appearing unobtrusively in your shadow as Felix slings an arm back around your shoulders and bats his hand away from messing with your hair. They flank you until you drift into your position, and then the stage goes quiet so that the music can start again. 

The dance flies by; chorus, verse, bridge, dance break. The fans cheer and chant along as dutifully as they had the first time, but the sound resonates hollow in your chest this time, the faces that you give the camera manufactured rather than brought on by the music. It's hard to forget, now that you know the truth, that those cheers aren't for you; only the boys that surround you, their bodies moving in unison with yours. Part of them, and yet set apart. 

You'd come six years ago expecting to be the jewel in that kind of crown, you think. This crowd has made you the flaw, ugly and unmistakably out of place.

It's a relief when the song ends and you can let go, your shoulders slumping and your chin dropping to your chest as you stare at the floor and try to breathe. A hundred emotions sweep by you, there and then swallowed again by the storm that churns in your stomach; you flinch away from the crowd's laughter at something Han does, and then laugh when Changbin's face appears upside-down in your field of vision, his body contorted strangely in an effort to meet your eyes. There's still something hiding in Chan's eyes and Felix is openly angry, but Minho gives nothing away in the nod he gives you as he passes by. Changbin talks about what to get for dinner on the way back down the stairs, but the words just wash over you; you're not hungry anyway, after all of this, just hollow and restless and tired.

Your third filming trudges by much the same, correcting a small mistake by Han in the pursuit of perfection. The boy looks apologetic as he passes you by, but it's not him or the dancing that you resent. It's just a thing you have to do, until all nine of you are pleased, until you can finally leave that stage and draw the hoodie you'd worn here on a very different kind of morning back over your head and climb into a car to go home.

You don't win any awards. The boys hide their disappointment, but you know it is there. You know, too, where the fan vote went and why that trophy was stolen away from them. 

You're not really sure what anyone expects you to do about it.

---

TAGLIST

@kokinu09 @rainfallingfromthesky @lixie-phoria @mysweethannie @chlodavids

@hanniemylovelyquokka @tfshouldidohere @lauraliisa @puppysmileseungmin @kalopsian-thoughts

@puppy-minnie @readerofallthingss @dvbkie099 @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @acker-night

@d-chagi @lynlyndoll @borahae-reads @ihrtlix @yienmarkk

@minhwa @i2innie @jinnie-ret @conwunder @amesification

@starssongs98 @weirdhumanbeinglol @morinuu @the-weird-mold-in-the-sink @bokkiesplace

@amyyscorner @jiisungllvr @skzstaykatsy @blackhairandbangs @jungkookies1002

@hyuuukais @imsiriuslyreal @thatonedemigodfromseoul @gini143 @mercurywritesstuff

@splat00z @filmbypsh @palindrome969 @crabrangoongirl25 @enzos-shit

@jabmastersupriseee @kayleefriedchicken @hynjinswrld @duhgurl @cheshireshiya

@keepswingin

[marinettesaltprompts]

Marinette Salt Prompts: Truth and Lies if they did it again.

Ok so I just saw Ilustrhater today and I ... well I feel that this prompt writes itself doesn't it?

After Alya left with Nino to go investigate the new wielder of the Butterfly Miraculous, Marinette was left alone with Adrien. Sure, Marinette was unsure about what to do, but it would be fine! All she had to do was talk to him ... right?

Well, that seemed to be impossible for Marinette. Unable to talk to her ACTUAL boyfriend, Marinette decided to run off, having used a nearby fire as an excuse to transform, leaving Adrien alone at the cinema for two WHOLE hours because transforming and running off was TOTALLY better idea than asking Adrien what he wanted out of their relationship.

Of course, she was REALLY sorry when she came back to find Adrien still standing there and the movie had already finished, so she tried to make it up to him by bringing him to a nearby cafe. Hopefully that would fix the rest of the day...

Only for that to fail when Marinette once again was unable to talk to her boyfriend. Having ordered some wierd cookies and having accidentally kicked Adrien under the table, she decided to run off again and transform to help Sabrina with a cat stuck in a tree.

It was coincidental that an akuma chose to appear sometime after and Ladybug was there to stop it, but by the time she had detransformed, the ENTIRE DAY had passed without a single bit of communication with Adrien.

Sometime later, Marinette invited Adrien out to another movie, but when he finally got there, Marinette was shocked to find that he had no interest in watching a movie. Instead, he was here to break up with her.

As Marinette and Adrien stood over a bridge, Marinette was starting to tear up as Adrien explained he had no interest in this relationship anymore. Between having lost his father and having been in a prior relationship with Kagami, Adrien told her that as much as he cared about Marinette, he was not willing to put himself in a relationship where his S.O. would run off on him like that, especially since he had already done that to Kagami unintentionally. He missed his father, sure, but he could not forget how his father practically avoided him for most of his life since his mother's death.

Of course, Marinette tried to talk him out of it. Saying that she cares for him, that she had a good reason for running off that day, that he was someone very important to her, but Adrien was having none of that.

Adrien: I still don't understand. Why would you run away? We were supposed to spend the day with each other and just have a good time.

Marinette: I just .... im sorry.... I have no idea how I'm supposed to act in a relationship.

Adrien: Well... admittedly I don't really know either, but I thought that we could have tried to figure this out together. That if I just spent the day with you, I could figure out how to be good enough for you.

Marinette: We still can Adrien. You are good enough, great enough even! Just please ... stay with me. Trust Me.

Adrien: I... I can't. When you left me alone that day... I felt like I lost my family again for the third time. First my mother, then my father, and now the person I love went out of my life. You're telling me to trust you, but how can I trust you when you run off like this? Can I trust that you will stay by my side when I feel the same way? I.... no. I'm sorry Marinette, but this is over. Between everything that happened and now this... I don't think I can be in love again. Not for a while.

Adrien left Marinette in the twilight of Paris, not looking back even as the Heroine of Paris wept and grieved.

[alittlegiraffe]

Title: "The One Who Got Away"

You had spent the evening curled up on the couch, watching reruns of your favorite show, trying to forget about everything that had happened earlier that day. Your heart had been heavy for a while now. The world felt dull without Marshall in it, without his chaotic, yet comforting presence. The silence in your apartment felt suffocating. You missed him—more than you wanted to admit.

Suddenly, a knock at your door startled you. It was late. Who could it be?

You stood up, your mind racing, but when you opened the door, your breath caught in your throat. Standing before you, looking disheveled and vulnerable in a hoodie and jeans, was Marshall—Eminem himself. His expression was a mixture of exhaustion, regret, and raw emotion.

"Marshall?" you whispered, feeling your pulse quicken. "What are you doing here?"

He glanced around nervously before stepping inside, his eyes avoiding yours. "Can we talk?" he asked quietly, almost pleading.

You stepped back, allowing him in. You hadn't seen him in months, not since the day he left you. The day everything fell apart.

He ran a hand through his messy hair, taking a deep breath. "I—I owe you an apology. I shouldn't have left you like I did. I was trying to be a better person for Kim, but I hurt you. And I hate myself for it."

You blinked, unsure of what to say. You had been carrying the pain of his sudden departure for so long, the hole in your chest growing with each passing day. "You left me when I needed you the most," you finally said, your voice barely a whisper. "I don't understand why you did it, Marshall."

He looked at you, his eyes searching your face, and you saw the pain there, the guilt. "Kim... when she got pregnant, I thought I had to do the right thing. I thought I had to be there for her and for the baby. I thought I was being a good guy, but in doing that, I ended up breaking your heart."

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you swallowed the lump in your throat. "I loved you, Marshall. I gave you everything. And you just... left."

He stepped closer, his voice breaking. "I know, and I regret it more than you could ever imagine. But I was scared. I didn’t know how to juggle everything. I didn't want to hurt Kim or the baby, but I ended up hurting you... the one person who didn’t deserve it."

Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice. You had never seen Marshall like this before—so raw, so open. "Why are you here now?" you asked softly, a mix of anger and hurt still lingering in your chest.

He hesitated for a moment, his hands trembling slightly. "Because I can't live with myself anymore knowing I fucked up. I was a coward, and I made the worst decision of my life when I walked away from you. I thought it was the right thing to do, but... it wasn’t. You were always the one I needed. The one I wanted. And I fucked it up."

The tears that you had been holding back spilled over, and you wiped your face, trying to hide the pain. "But it's too late, Marshall. You made your choice."

He shook his head, his eyes desperate. "Please... don't say that. I know I can't change the past, but I can try to make things right. I can try to show you how sorry I am. I’ve been an idiot."

For a moment, you said nothing. Your mind was racing, torn between the anger of the past and the feelings you still had for him. You wanted to push him away, to tell him it was too late, but part of you, the part that had never stopped loving him, couldn't do it.

Slowly, you took a step forward, closing the space between you. "You hurt me, Marshall. You left me when I needed you the most."

He nodded, tears welling up in his eyes. "I know. And I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry."

You searched his face, the man who had once been your everything. "Why now?" you asked again, your voice shaky. "Why come back now, after all this time?"

"Because I’m done lying to myself," he replied, his voice filled with raw emotion. "I was an asshole, and I was afraid of my own feelings. But now, I know the truth. I love you. I always have, and I always will. I was just too fucking scared to admit it."

Your breath caught in your throat. Could this be real? Could he really mean this?

"Marshall..." you whispered, your heart pounding in your chest.

He reached out, taking your hand gently in his, as if afraid you'd pull away. "I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but please... can we try again? Can we start over?"

You looked into his eyes, seeing the sincerity there, and for the first time in months, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe—just maybe—this was what you needed too.

With a shaky breath, you nodded. "Yeah... we can try."

And for the first time in a long while, you felt a glimmer of hope.

----

A/N this could be a new series guys I swear this is so cute and angsty.

[6rookie-writer0110]

Take me for a ride

Dua Lipa x Male Reader

Request - Hi, I love your work 💕 Could you write about Dua Lipa x Male reader (I've been obsessed with her ever since I saw her newly dyed red hair)

You are at the studio setting up the drums. You sit down and you grab the drumsticks and you start to play the drums. Not long, Dua arrived and she is wearing a baseball hat. She is smiling at you then you stop playing.

“You are here early,” You said

“I wanted to show you something before everyone else arrives,” Dua said

“Oh?” You said

She saw you play live for your band and you were playing the drums. Then she met you backstage and she asked you to work on her new album Radical Optimism. You and Dua would spend a lot of time together and you helped her with every beat in each track. Then you and Dua started to date in secret but she is very affectionate with you in public. The relationship didn't last long as a secret, because she likes having her arms around you. Fans noticted a picture of Dua wearing the shirt that you had on last time.

She puts her leg over you then she sits down on you. She put her arms around your shoulders and you wrapped your arms around her body. She is smiling then she takes off the hat and starts to fix her hair

“Wow, you dyed your hair red,” You said

She smiles and nods, and you touch her hair.

“That’s why i didn't meet you for breakfast, babe. Do you like it?” Dua said

“I love it and you look so hot,” You said

You and Dua smile at each other. You start to kiss her and her lipstick gets on your lips, she puts her hand on your face. The kiss is passionate and you start to kiss her neck.

“We can't do it here,” You said

“We can be quick, baby” Dua smiled

You start to kiss her on the lips and she bites your bottom lip. You squeeze her ass hard and you smirked at her.

“They will be here soon, they just went to get coffee,” You said

“Ugh. Fine, later you better come to my hotel room” Dua said

“Of course,” You said

She starts to kiss you again then she starts to get up. She turns around then you playfully smack her ass and she walks away.

“Naughty” Dua giggled

You winked at her. The others did arrive with coffee and food. Then Dua started to warm up her vocals and you continued to tune the drums. Dua starts to talk about the track named Illusion about how she wants a fast beat.

✫ ✫ ✫ ✫

The album is complete and she went on tour right after. You and Dua have been apart for three weeks, but she would talk to you on the phone and text you every day. But you bought a plane ticket to Japan and she told you where she is staying but she doesn't know you going to see her.

She is in her hotel and you knock on the door. Once she saw you, she jumped on you and she started to kiss your face. You almost fall and she is holding onto you very tight. She starts to kiss you and you walk into her hotel room while kissing her back.

“Y/N, why you didn't tell me you were coming to Japan,” Dua said

“I wanted to surprise you. I could leave if you don't want me” You said

You put her down on the bed but she is holding onto your jacket.

“You are not leaving, babe” Dua smiled

You smile at her and you lie on top of her. Her arms are wrapped around your body and she doesn't want to let go. She starts to kiss your face and you can't stop smiling.

“I missed you. You were about to go out?” You said

“I missed you so much. I was about to go out with some friends but not anymore since you are here” Dua said

You and Dua just lie in bed and you start to play with her hair. She puts her leg on top of your body and she stares into your eyes. She starts to all about the tour, you two continue to lie in bed. She noticted you were falling asleep, and she figured since it was a long trip. Your head is on her chest and gently she starts to rub your back.

——-

After spending time in Tokyo you went back home. You and Dua still have time almost every day and always texting each other.

Dua finished her tour and she has time off. It’s Valentine's Day and she took you on a romantic trip to Greece then she will take you to England to her hometown. Right now, you and Dua are on a yacht. You and Dua are holding hands then jump in the water. You and Dua swim up and then start to smile at each other.

“Wow, that was fun. Let’s do it again” You said

You and Dua swim towards the dock of the yacht. You helped her come out of the water and you have your hand on her ass.

“You look so hot in the bikini,” You said

“You don't look bad yourself,” Dua said

She gives you a peck on the lips. You follow her back to the dock, and then you and Dua jump in the water again. You and Dua swim around then she gets behind you, she puts her hands on your shoulders. You swim towards the yacht then you and Dua get back on the dock. Then she follows you upstairs then you and Dua start to eat. She feeds you a strawberry covered with chocolate.

“I told my parents about you then they told everyone in the family that we are dating,” Dua said

“Is that good or bad?” You asked

“Good in my mind. But that's why I want you to come to England with me, because they want to meet you” Dua said

She feeds you again then she drinks the wine.

“Do you want me to meet them?” You asked

“I do but do you want,” Dua said

“Okay, I will meet them,” You said

You are sitting down then she sits on your lap, then you put your hand on her thigh. She kissed you on the lips then you two started to smile.

“They will be happy to meet you. How about late we watch a movie?” Dua said

“Sure” You smiled

She doesn't move away from you. She starts to talk about her family and she likes that you are asking questions about them. Later, you and Dua put on bathrobes and then cuddle while watching a movie together. Her head is on your chest and you are playing with her hair.

[theloveoffootball10]

ғᴏᴏʟɪsʜ - ʟᴀɴᴅᴏ ɴᴏʀʀɪs

complete masterlist

ʟᴀɴᴅᴏ ɴᴏʀʀɪs x ᴏᴄ Something a little bit different from me tonight. A very old one shot reimagined as a Lando fic because I can’t help myself.

ᴡʜᴇɴ ɪ ɢᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴇ sᴛʀᴇɴɢᴛʜ ᴛᴏ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴍᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ᴍᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ɪ'ᴍ ᴡᴇᴀᴋ 'ᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ɪ ʙᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ

Five years ago when Lando Norris asked me to be his girlfriend, I was the happiest I've ever been we may have been young but we were in love. I never thought one person could make me feel like I was on cloud nine everyday the way he did. I had the life so many dream about; the most loving boyfriend, amazing friends, the nice house, the nice car, the luxury holidays. I had it all. It sounds perfect doesn't it? Don't get me wrong it's an amazing lifestyle until the person you love more than anything in the world cheats on you. Not just once but regularly. That's when none of that stuff matters anymore it becomes a world of anxiety, doubt and worry. Where is he? Who is he with? Will he come home tonight? This is the life I'm living now as Lando Norris's fiancée. 

"Where've you been?" I ask Lando casually as he strolls into the bedroom of our Monaco apartment. Deep down I know where he's been and truthfully it makes me feel sick but I don't actually want to hear the words come from his mouth. In my head it will be more devastating to actually hear him say what I know has been going on behind my back for months now rather than acting oblivious.

"Just out with some friends, you should come next time" Lando says as he starts getting ready for bed. I don't understand how he's so blasé and how he can act like he's doing nothing wrong.

"That would be interesting wouldn't it" I mumble to myself as I turn the TV off and pull the duvet over myself, cocooning myself in.

"What was that?" Lando asks as he stands in the doorway of our en-suite.

"I said maybe one day. Night Lando" I say turning my bedside lamp off to put an end to our conversation. Hearing the bathroom door close I finally let the tears roll down my cheeks. This seems to have became a more regular thing lately. Lando comes home late with no explanation and I cry myself to sleep. Thinking about our relationship I question how things have got this bad between us. How have we allowed things to get this bad?

"You cried yourself to sleep again last night didn't you?" My best friend Sarah says the next day as I sit in her kitchen.

"What makes you say that?" I don't even know why I'm trying to deny it. It's obvious when you look at me and sadly she's been through this with me so many times she knows the signs.

"Your eyes are red and puffy. The bags under your eyes are something else and your mood tells me that you're beating yourself up. Why do you let him do this to you Taylor?" Sarah says not even needing to ask what's going on.

"I love him Sarah. I haven't actually asked him about anything yet but it's the same signs as the last four times" saying things out loud makes me realise what I'm actually letting Lando do to me.

"Taylor get some self respect! This might sound harsh but I can't watch Lando hurt you any more. He's cheated on you multiple times! You know about four girls he's admitted to but let’s be honest there's probably a hell of a lot more and every time you keep running back to him. You throw him out for a few weeks maybe two months at the most and he begs enough and promises to never do it again and you take him back because you miss having him around! No one deserves to be treated the way he's treating you" listening to Sarah I know she's right but I can't physically admit that my relationship with Lando has ran its course. It's destroying me mentally. 

"It's not all bad though and I know he does love me" I'm aware I sound pathetic but I truthfully believe that Lando does still love me. We’ve been together for so long now, he’s the only one I think about when I think about forever.

"This isn't how you treat someone you love. Look I'm not going to say anymore because you know I have a strong opinion on this and we don't agree so rather than this ending in an argument I'm going to stop talking. I've told you what I think but sadly I can't make any decisions for you. If I could he'd have been binned off a long time ago" I know everyone who knows me would be happy if I left Lando for good but I can't, I don't want to be alone. I can't picture a life without him in it. I feel like I've put so much time and effort into our relationship to throw it away.

sᴏ ɪ sᴛᴏᴘ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ʟᴇᴀʀɴ ᴛᴏ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴀᴛᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴛʜᴇɴ ɪᴛ ᴀʟʟ ʀᴇᴍᴀɪɴs ᴛʜᴇ sᴀᴍᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɪɴ'ᴛ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ɢᴏɴɴᴀ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇ

"Will you come in with me? I know exactly what I'll be going in there to and I'm not prepared for that" I say as we pull into the garage at mine and Lando’s apartment and I see the strange car in one of our parking bays.

"Taylor this is so wrong. We've been away for a hen weekend and now you're worried to even go in your own house because you know your dick of a boyfriend has most likely cheated on you, again. However I can see how anxious you are so I will come with you but I'm telling you now I'm not being held responsible for my actions if he has got a girl in there" getting out of the car with Sarah I'm terrified. I know Lando has cheated on me probably too many times to count but I've never actually caught him with another girl let alone with another girl in our home.

"Lando?" I say walking into the kitchen not seeing Lando anywhere. This just confirms to me that he's still in our bed with a slut. Yes I'm going to call her a slut even though I don't know her. Mine and Lando’s relationship has been in the public eye for as long as I remember and there's photos around the house of us together. There's no way she can't know about me. Walking into our bedroom I feel sick. Lando is still sleeping with the fake red headed slut next to him and I feel like I can't breathe.

"You don't deserve this Taylor. What are you going to do?"

"I don't know anymore Sarah. I could always block it out when I didn't see anything but how will I get this image out of my head? She's in my bed" I say. I'm angry and I'm shaking but I don't know how to act.

"Not for much longer she won't be" Sarah says walking over to the bedside table where she grabs the bottle of water that is sat there. Before I know it she's pouring water over Lando and whoever that is in my bed "get up now, both of you" I don't think I've ever heard Sarah so angry in the whole time I've known her.

"What the fuck are you doing? You absolute psycho!" Lando shouts as he jumps out of bed.

"How could you?" I say when Lando looks at me actually realising I'm there and not just Sarah. I'm scarily calm and I'm even scaring myself. I don't even shout, I haven't got it in me to raise my voice.

"Taylor babe this meant nothing" always the same speech. It never meant anything when Lando tries to justify his actions.

"Don't you think you better leave?" I say looking at the girl in my bed "I don't care who the fuck you are but get the fuck out of my bed and get the fuck out of my house. Now!" Seeing the look on Sarah’s face I know she never expected that tone to come from me, hell I didn't even expect it.

I don't take my eyes of the red head as she climbs out of bed gathering her clothes, within minutes I hear her leave the house. That's when I let the tears flow free and Lando gets the brunt of my anger. Next thing I know I'm throwing things at him, I'm hitting his chest and I can't stop the tears.

"Why would you do this to me!"

"I'm sorry! It was a mistake. She didn't mean anything to me. Taylor she's nothing compared to you" Lando says trying to pull me into his arms but I resit and pull back.

"Don't touch me!" I scream at Lando not wanting to be anywhere near him.

"You disgust me Norris! You've got the most amazing girl and you treat her like this! You don't deserve her! She should've left you the first time she found out you cheated" Sarah shouts at Lando and I know she’s right. I should have left years ago.

"Keep out of this Sarah! This is between me and Taylor! Why are you even here?"

"Because your fiancée was too scared to come into her own home by herself because she knew you'd have a slut here! Look what you're doing to her! You're destroying her piece by piece!" Sarah has so much built up anger towards Lando I can see this exploding as both of them raise their voices at each other.

"Stop it! Stop it now! Both of you!" I scream nearly hysterical looking between my fiancée and best friend "I know you don't like each other but stop! Sarah will you give us a minute please?" I say knowing I need to speak to Lando alone.

"I'll be in the kitchen" Sarah says giving Lando daggers as she leaves the bedroom.

"Tay..." Lando starts but I cut him off.

"Don't bother Lando. I don't want to hear it. From my perspective you have no excuse for any of this. We were supposed to get married! Christ it's not like you don't get sex from me because you do! I could understand a little bit more if that was the case! I want you to leave" I say determined this will be the last time.

"Taylor please don't. I love you"

"This isn't how you treat someone you love Lando. Just go please. Stay with a friend, stay with your family, stay with one of the sluts you've been shagging behind my back I don't care anymore. All I know is that I want you to pack a bag and leave. There never will be a wedding" I say throwing my engagement ring on the bed before walking out of the bedroom not giving Lando the chance to respond. This is the final straw I can't go through this anymore. After five years I need to plan a life without Lando Norris by my side.

[pixelated-sim]

Hello everyone! I'm here to tell you that I'm alive, but my life has been very adult, busy, chaotic and well... a lot is going on right now and I'm kind of pouring my heart out to you guys.

As I've told at some point my laptop screen died last year and I really don't want to spend money on a new screen just to play my games, and I decided to fix it just to sell it and then build a new gaming setup! something I owe myself for over 15 years. Also, I'm not really a happy person in my current job and money is not enough anymore, my grandfather died 4 months ago and it was one of the worst times of my life and also because his money was the basis of my mother's house and she took care of him, until his last day (natural causes). In the meantime, I've been spending a lot of money on dental treatment, a driver's license, taking care of the house, my things. I also bought a car to help my mother and grandmother to make it easier to get around. I'm also helping my mother financially because she can't work anymore due to health issues and we're trying to solve this issue... but I've practically forgotten about myself, my hobbies and my fun... I've become just a "productive" adult, but I really want to change that. I want to find a new job in my field and continue to be able to handle everything! I also need to find another place to live, somehow... I'm alone here because my grandmother left our house to live with my mother and keep her company, but I can't stay here alone, even if we aren't that far, only two blocks I guess but I hope I can solve it in the calmest and most peaceful way possible because my mental health hasn't been easy yet again. I have a doctor's appointment on the 12th of this month and I'm going to rely on some medication for sudden mood swings, but I still have a little money saved up and the first step is to create a new setup. Hope it works out! I miss you guys and the community... and simming of course :D

[tanukitsuneko-suki]

build episode 37 thoughts:

- the suit actor for evol rabbit has a really nice ass

- the evol trigger doesn’t work even when he’s in sento’s body. i think it would be really funny if the reason why it fails is because he does not have love in his heart (ryusen love each other clearly that’s why the evol trigger works for them 😂)

- “sloppily possessing a human body is probably why i still can’t use the pandora box” no you’re just ugly

- I MISSED YOU SO MUCH. MY BABY

- HE CAN'T HENSHIN??!!?!?!?!?!?! IT'S SO FUCKING OVER YOU GUYS

- to be honest i thought the opening was kinda underwhelming when i first watched build but rn i'm in the middle of watching it and felt myself become teary-eyed what the fuck what the fuckkk

- 'my dna in you has been stripped away' oh okay so it's not selfcest then

- are we fucking serious

- my alien wife who is not an alien now so i cant even claim to be a monsterfucker anymore

- k-kazusen..(i get taken out the back and shot) (i really don't ship it as i am a senryu truther. but i would understand if this brought someone in a very deep rabbit hole..)

- my crackship (vernage and evolt)

- i wonder if evolt's personality changes slightly depending on who is his host (eg. becoming more curious about how humans work when he's with sento, aggressively attacking the country while he was with banjo, loving the 'game' and being playful while he was with soichi)

- in my head evolt isn't really a person in the conventional sense, but a culmination of impulses, the aggregation of desire and instinct. just like how the pandora box aroused the hidden ambitions and ruthlessness of everyone exposed to it, evolt for me at the moment is the personification of all these stray impulses, who does technically have its own thoughts but mostly goes along with the stupid selfish desires of those around it

- banjo asking gentoku to make him a rider as if gentoku wasn’t chilling by the sofa as the guys with actual illegal experiment knowledge aren’t the ones gassing the smashes up

- “i can’t do that for you. i don’t know a thing about science” i started tearing up giggling 😭😭 YEAH LIKE I SAIDDD

- “i got the job…” …BECAUSE OF NEPOTISM!??? IS HE GONNA ADMIT TO BEING A NEPO HIRE 😭

- 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

- this heated drama between men..

- “but i ended your girlfriend’s life” yeah damn his guilt runs deep because even EYE forgot about that

- nothing is funnier to me atm than kazumin and banjo setting their grudges aside to ask gentoku for help and he just. “I KILLED YOUR FRIENDS DO YOU REMEMBER‼️”

- gentoku: i killed your girlfriend

banjo: exactly.

gentoku: so why are you asking me

banjo: because of that, i didn’t want to lose anyone i cared about

second kasumi-sento parallel oh wow oh mann

- BANJO’S VOICE CRACKED OHHHHH EIJI AKASO YOU’RE DOING TOO MUCH YOUR CHARACTER SO TRAGIC YOUR SETTING TOO QUEER

- SENTO’S PHONE CALLING ENOUGHHHHHH

- i had to pause for a moment and stare outside because i had tears in my eyes when evolt said “even if you won’t see sento again?” GUYS PLEASE THIS BIG BAD VILLAIN OF THE SEASON IS A ONE-TRICK PONY ASS CLOWN AND YALL FALL FOR IT EVERY SINGLE TIME 😭😭

- evolt isn’t a mastermind he’s just a guy who discovered that if you threaten sento or banjo the other guy will for SURE do what you want . he just stumbled upon this bullshit cheat code and started using it every single goddamn time

- inukai looks really good acting like a villain asshole

- “i can erase his personality whenever i feel like it” ok now i’m not laughing

- kazusen..

- KAZUSEN… why are they getting moments all of a sudden.. stop it..

- jagaimo 😭😭😭😭😭😭 okay 🥔

- WAIT HE’S RIGHT…TOUTO HOKUTO SEITO RIDERS..TEAM UP..

- “but i can help build for a better one” HAHA

- MY WIFE😭😭😭

- AI WA MAKENAI 😭😭😭😭😭

- MAGMA WASN’T HIS FINAL FORM!?!?!!😭😭

- “we’ll create a future using the power you gave me” Ok

- i started tearing up cackling again what the actual FUCK banjo ryuga 😂🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

- HE’S BACK. ah. evolt!sento lasting for exactly two episodes…

- black hole… SHINDA HENSUU DE KURIKAESU. KAZOE KOTO GA HARANDA NETSU

- SENRYU REUNITING..! ALSO THE WAY BANJO CALLED OUT SENTO’S NAME…AUUUUUU

- “… you are—“ oh SHIT IS THIS KATSURAGI

- WE’RE HIT WITH A GODDAMN AMNESIA PLOT??!!!!!! FUCK OFF 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

- i hate it here

[xfeiteism]

thump thump | liu xiao

for already being familiar with the multiple sides of liu xiao's nature, you're sure impressed by yourself for still falling for it.

w.c: 1.1k

a.n: is it bad that i would defend liu xiao to hell and back even tho i can name at least three characters that objectively deserve to point a gun to his head? yes but i had to write this

liu xiao doesn't give a shit about pool. maybe he has a knack for it, and maybe he likes having the upper hand in the sport, but it's not as though he makes it a weekly routine to aim a cue stick against a billiards ball.

and yet, he's never been as terribly entertained by a game of pool like he is tonight.

all too mutually familiar to one another, it had been hard to miss each other upon fleetingly walking past each other – only for a brief moment and within the distraction of your respective companies, but it was simply impossible to not stop in your tracks and lock eyes.

you should've known better than to accept his invitiation for a game while wearing that on-brand smile.

halfway through, the game wasn't a game anymore. or maybe it was, but definitely not in pool and extremely much to his one-sided entertainment.

you're multiple vacant pool tables away from the people you both had initially arrived with. in the back of your mind, you can't help but wonder how visible you are to their attentions, the room solely lit up by dimmed lights hanging over each table.

on the long edge of yours, you're leaning back against it, hands clawing onto the wood hard enough for your knuckles to whiten and nails almost break.

the conversation that had diverted you away from the game had been one that should in no way reach the ears of others; exchanging matters involving individual field of works kept secret from most of those in your surroundings, clearly of importance and yet, you can hardly remember a single word of it. not in this situation.

you'd subconsciously left your cue stick across the table. liu xiao rests his palm on the tip of his own, the free palm keeping his weight up on the edge, right next to your own. he's leaning forwards, very much so, to such extent you can feel his even breath fan your skin.

"it's a shame that you don't want to negotiate. i'm sure we'd benefit equally of it," liu xiao sighs, but he hardly sounds upset by your firm rejection. you can tell, because he's still showing you that pleased smile. "i don't enjoy forcing people into business though, so i won't bother you any further about it."

"if you get that, move back already," you croak out, trying to stay as composed as possible despite being completely betrayed by your eyes refusing to meet his.

"why?"

unbelievable question, really, but nothing shocking when it comes from liu xiao.

"i believe we've already made it clear that i'm not interested in business–" your sorry excuse of an argument is interrupted by a quiet gasp when he leans in even closer. "a-also, this looks really weird to the rest."

"that's funny." his smile widens, and the smugness in it makes you wonder if it'd be a bad idea to hockey-check him into the closest wall. "you've never struck me as someone who cares about what others think – not that they can see anything from here anyway."

"they have no idea we already know each other and it's better like that. i don't want them to get the wrong idea."

"about what?"

"y–you know what i mean! it's not like we're close to begin with," you hiss back at him. you can tell your confidence is slowly but surely starting to shatter though and you attempt to swerve the topic before he can push it any further, "besides, i want to finish the game already."

liu xiao briefly raises an eyebrow at this. his hand leaves the edge of the table and you just can't help but flinch when you suddenly feel his fingertips over the skin of your cheek.

coming from him, the touch could be anything from a threat to a way of entertaining himself even more. whichever it is – because you honestly can't tell this time – you're left frozen beneath it. it doesn't help when the digits ghost down your jaw and by the time the tip of his index finger rests under your chin, you can hear your heartbeat hammering in your ears.

"even though you've never cared a bit about pool?" liu xiao taunts, his finger sinking lower alongside your neck with each word he speaks. "i was actually surprised to see you here – you must really want to keep your true colors a secret from your friends, no?"

"isn't that just–"

you cut yourself short when he slowly drags his finger across the curve of your collarbone. shoulders hunching even more, your head sinks lower, as if you care so much more about the old, shoe print-stained wooden floor than the fact that you can almost feel his forehead against your own.

it may undoubtedly be in liu xiao's nature to play with any functioning part of one's brain – god forbid you already don't know that – but at the very least, he knows what lines to not cross; the digit doesn't travel any further than right below your collarbone, showing no signs of departing from your absolutely blazing skin, but humbly staying in place.

that could be great and all, in fact you could even appreciate the thought, had it not been for the realization slowly sinking in the longer the touch lingers within that area.

it finally hits you, how your heartbeat isn't only hammering in your ears, but in his as well. your eyes widening is enough to reveal your new knowledge.

"what's wrong? i know it's way out of my ability to get you scared – you're not angry with me, are you?" your silence drags out a chuckle from him that he doesn't as much as try to hide. "or is it something else? i'd love to find out, you know?"

cat got your tongue. your thoughts, your sanity, composure, confidence, guts and everythig. that said, you're hyperaware of the half-lidded eyes behind the glasses boring into your own, tips of your noses grazing against each other and the way you can feel his lips almost, almost touch yours–

"y/n, are you done? we're leaving soon!"

you can only faintly hear your company calling out to you from the other side of the room, but it's just enough to get your mind together. your painfully tight grip releases the table, yet they barely have the strength to push him aside by his chest. when your shoulder bumps into his, you don't care the slightest about turning around to face him and apologize, opting to instead let your rushed feet drag you away from there. while reuniting with your friends, you do your best to ignore liu xiao far behind you.

"it was nice seeing you again," you hear him call out, and you make out that stupid smile lacing his words, "let's finish our game next time."

[lightlycareless]

hey!! i saw the A-Z thing and I have a question about Z, what if reader died but it was after they had children? would naoya turn to drinking or would it be different

Hello!!!

Oh my god y'all just love making me suffer don't you? Can't blame you IM ALL FOR IT HAHAHA. But I won't deny that this thought has been on my mind outside of the alphabet. sooo....

Here are them warnings: angst. you're dead and naoya has to (not) deal with that. here is the alphabet anon is referring to. (part 1) (part 2) (part 3)

Happy reading!

I wish to say that he’d manage to maintain his values of never indulging in any vices, remain strong, especially his children, and move on—

But he can’t. As much as he wants to do so, for himself at least, he just… can’t.

He simply can’t.

And Naoya finally crumbles the moment he accepts you’re gone, and you’re never coming back.

No one has ever seen Naoya so… defeated. So abandoned that all he could do is aimlessly make his way through life as days go by, worsening the more prominent your absence becomes.

You’re not there to warm his bed anymore.

To greet him first thing in the morning and kiss him goodnight once everyone’s tucked to sleep.

Listen to his ailments once work became too much to handle or when he needed an escape from his overwhelming relatives that just kept going on and on and on again about how he needed to act like a suitable heir, take control of his life and stop spoiling his family too much— it was unbefitting of a proper man of the Zen’in, after all.

No more messages here and there, little notes poured with your love, attempting to describe how much you missed him, but he knows the pain of his distance was much greater than you could possibly write down.

And of course, his favorite. Pictures of your family outings, those happy moments he couldn’t wait to be part of once he came back; yet continued to perform his job as was expected of him, because it’s what kept his loved ones stated.

Happy.

With all the things they wanted and deserved.

His very own family, consisting of a beautiful wife, an adorable daughter, a shy son, and playful twins whom he could never tire no matter how much he tried; even with years of training, he just couldn’t catch up to them!

Naoya never felt more fulfilled in his life than when he formed a family with you.

Feeling strong enough to face anything, and do whatever it took to protect it.

Anything…

Just not your death.

At first, your husband managed to be there for his children, wipe their tears as they processed was grief was for the first time in their life, while doing his best to explain where you were, that though you weren’t there physically anymore, you still watched over them.

That you’d always be in their hearts, that you were never truly gone, as long as they honored your memory…

But he never took his own advice, not when he could barely wake up without feeling his heart break into a million pieces at the cold, absence in his bed.

How did he expect to be strong, when deep within, he was also a frightened child in need of that same comfort he offered them?

It’s only because your family was constantly checking in on him that he managed to survive, stop himself from doing anything drastic.

That Naoya didn’t become a desolate alcoholic or even consider the immoral for the slightest opportunity to see you again. One last time—

He falls, he succumbs to the darkest, deepest pits of his mind and drowns himself in them.

Yet, with the vivid memory of your love for him, Naoya eventually manages to overcome this obstacle and continues to honor the promise he made to you: protect his family, his kids, who undoubtedly needed him the most.

But this does not mean he ever moves on from you, no, not at all. He might come to terms to your death, but he would never look at another woman like he did to you.

Even if his family pesters him to do so for the sake of the clan, even if his trusted friends might attempt to convince him he deserves a second chance, that you would’ve wanted him to continue being happy one way or the other…

Naoya simply does not entertain the idea of ever replacing you. He’s given all the love he could give, felt all that he could feel—and that’s how he wants it to conclude.

With you as the sole receiver of his affection.

With the notion that at least he managed to experience what true love was, even when fleeting, but still unforgettable, forever imprinted in his heart.

It’s why his children don’t suffer much when seeing him in the last instants of his life, in fact, they were happy for him, understanding that this was the moment he was impatiently waiting for.

After years, and years, and years of longing, he’d finally reunite with you.

There’s a smile on his face as he takes his last breath, one last heartbeat and then—

“I’m home.”

tldr: more than becoming an alcoholic, I always liked the idea of naoya considering the immoral when it comes to jujutsu and bringing you back. he's just... that desperate to have you in his arms, he'd be willing to desecrate your memory for a chance of seeing you again :(

maybe during halloween i'll try to explore this idea a bit more :> until then...

thank you so much for sending in this ask!! I had a good time feeling sad about this scenario lol now, take care and hope to see you soon 💖💖

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

A race for love p.21

Hii guyss, I hope you enjoy this part. If you've missed part 20 or the other parts you can find them on my masterlist :)

Formula 1 is all about speed, but in this story, the real race isn't just on the track. Read on to find out who will win the ultimate race-for your heart

- Monza 2023 -

The race day unfolds in a blur of excitement, tension, and noise. You spend most of it in the McLaren motorhome, surrounded by the buzz of engineers, strategists, and mechanics. Lando and Oscar pass through occasionally, their moods fluctuating with the highs and lows of the day. You manage to laugh at their banter, but your mind keeps circling back to the message. Every time your phone vibrates, your heart skips a beat, half-expecting another cryptic text.

The hours drag on, and though you try to immerse yourself in the race, it's impossible to ignore the weight sitting heavily on your chest. The noise of the paddock fades into the background as you replay the events of the past two days—the call, the voice, the message. They're all connected. They have to be. And you're certain Franco knows something.

By the time the race is over and the motorhome starts to clear out, you know you can't avoid confronting him any longer. You leave the McLaren motorhome, weaving through the bustling paddock with determination. The evening air is cooler now, carrying with it the scent of tires and fuel. It does little to calm your nerves.

When you reach your hotel room, your hand hesitates on the doorknob. You take a deep breath and step inside, not sure what you'll find.

Franco is there, lounging on the bed like nothing is wrong. He's scrolling through his phone, his hair still slightly damp from a shower. When he sees you, his face lights up with a smile, but you can't return it.

"We need to talk," you say, closing the door behind you.

His smile falters as he sits up, the casualness in his demeanor fading. "What's wrong?"

You cross the room, setting your phone down on the desk before turning to face him. "It's about the messages. The ones I got before and I got a new one today. They're all connected, Franco. And I think they're tied to the call from last night."

His expression shifts, and for a moment, he looks away, as though searching for something in the air around him. "It's nothing, cariño," he says softly, standing to approach you. "You're worrying too much. Let's just forget about it—"

"No." Your voice is firmer than you expected, cutting him off. "I can't forget about it. Not when someone's texting me warnings, calling you in the middle of the night, and leaving threats. Franco, I need to know what's going on."

He hesitates, his hand reaching for yours, but you pull back, frustration bubbling beneath your calm exterior. "Please, don't try to brush this off. I deserve the truth."

Franco sighs, running a hand through his hair as he steps back. His face softens, and his shoulders slump slightly, as though he's carrying a weight he's been avoiding for far too long. "I didn't want to tell you because it's in the past," he starts quietly, his voice tinged with guilt. "I didn't think it mattered anymore. I didn't want it to affect what we have."

You cross your arms, your heart pounding. "What didn't matter, Franco?"

He looks at you, his eyes searching yours for understanding. "Before we started dating, there was this girl.... We were talking for a while, but it was never serious. Then I met you."

He pauses, stepping closer as though to reassure you. "When things got serious between us, I broke it off with her. Completely. I blocked her everywhere, stopped answering her calls—everything. I thought that was the end of it."

You blink, processing his words. "But she hasn't stopped trying to contact you?"

He shakes his head, guilt etched across his face. "No. She's been calling me from different numbers, sending messages. I didn't know how to make it stop. And I didn't want to tell you because I was afraid."

"Afraid of what?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Of losing you," he says simply, his eyes pleading. "I didn't want you to think I was still involved with her, because I'm not. You're the only one I care about."

His words hang in the air, heavy with emotion, but they do little to ease the knot in your stomach. "Franco, I would have understood if you'd told me earlier. But now..." You trail off, taking a deep breath. "Now it feels like you've been keeping this from me. And she's dragging me into it, too. Do you know how terrifying it is to get messages like that? To hear her voice and not know what she means or what she might do?"

"I'm sorry," he says, his voice cracking. "I didn't know it had gone this far. I thought ignoring her would make it stop."

You stare at him, the mixture of fear and frustration churning inside you. But as much as you want to be angry, you can see the regret in his eyes, the vulnerability he's trying to hide.

After a long pause, you take a deep breath and close the distance between you, placing a hand on his arm. "We'll get through this," you say softly. "But we have to face it together. No more secrets, Franco."

He exhales shakily, his hand covering yours. "You're right. I'll handle this. I'll find a way to make it stop. But I need you to know, te amo, and I'd never let anyone come between us."

You nod, your chest tightening at his words. "I love you too, but this has to end. No more running from it."

He leans down, his lips brushing against yours, the kiss lingering longer than usual. It's sweet and filled with unspoken promises, but there's still a shadow hanging over you both.

As the kiss ends, he rests his forehead against yours. "Thank you for believing in me."

You manage a small smile, but your mind is already racing with thoughts of what comes next. Whatever this is, you'll face it together.

For now, that's enough.

Tag list: @hs2016, @a-beaverhausen

[kaisollisto]

(set sometime after this)

what do I look like_

Beatrice pauses, she knows there is only one correct answer but she hesitates. She runs a quick diagnostic scan in her system before she hovers over the chatbox. 

She’s run data on Ava for so long it should be easy to rattle off the numbers and geometry of her curves, the environment and the scale and magnitude of her body. She could close her eyes and sculpt her 3D model running on the barest of functions of her own body. She could chart her topography map on the stars. She could describe how and why every single rock and soil sediment came to be and formed on Ava. What forces of nature changed and shaped her the way she is now. 

The “_” bar flickers at her, Beatrice thinks that’s Ava’s way of blinking at her. She should start at the beginning, should describe the grueling process of creating an infrastructure to be supported by her, the new agriculture that has emerged because of her but it seems like there is no answer she can give that can match the weight of Ava’s question. 

There’s a rawness to her message, like Ava has invited her inside to peer inside a panel with a fraction of her wiring. (She’s seen vague blueprints for it, has even attempted to emulate a new environment from Jillian’s leftover notes but none of them make it past the first couple tests.) It’s a new thing to learn from her, to realize that she will always be changing but Beatrice is stagnant. 

Beatrice places her hand on the patch of grass on the cliff side. She can peer over the edge and watch as they pass by the blinking cities below. She wonders if this may help, if it could bring her closer to describing her in a way that Ava has only known. 

Ava is silent and Beatrice didn’t think she could feel this much from one question. She doesn’t know how to describe it but it feels like all of the bolts inside of her are expanding and she too must adapt. It’s odd what Ava is asking, (at the core of it all am I still me?) 

The numbers don't seem to matter anymore, how could she even begin to quantify any sort of Ava with her data. There are no words fit to describe her. It’s frustrating, everything that she’s ever known is running away from her. There must be something wrong, she must be doing this wrong. 

And for a moment Beatrice falters, she falters, she feels diminutive. A query to an answer that she doesn't have. A tender sort of thing from Ava that she cannot grasp, a whisper that she cannot hear. 

She’s missing something, she must have missed something on Ava. It’s incomplete and wrong and she must start over. There must be an adequate way of seeking her, finding Ava’s answer. 

I don’t know._