#i’m leaving this in the tags but i’m actually the youngest one in my family - the youngest older sibling is 15 years older than me 🤪

[chaoticbardlady99]

She’s My Religion (Part 2: She Needs This Love Just as Much as Me) Astarion x F! Reader

Author note- totally not sure how I feel about this, but here we go! I hope someone enjoys this lmao.

I’m really tired and so this has been edited once and I’ll add the link for part 1 later. If you asked to be on my tag list- I am going to be adding you tomorrow simply because I can barely keep my eyes open right now.

CW: Domestic violence, physical abuse, emotional abuse, mentions of torture, violence, angst.

Picture does not belong to me and is not mine. I cannot for the life of me remember where I got it so I apologize in advance.

“You’ve been doing WHAT!?”

Astarion sits staring at the forest with his head hung with guilt and shame. Shadowheart sounds furious with him and admittedly, Astarion is also raving mad at himself.

Astarion miscalculated terribly- his plan was completely, utterly doomed from the start. Shadowheart is pacing back and forth in front of him- reading him the right act.

Astarion is zoning out as Shadowheart goes on and on saying all the things he’s already said to himself- he begins to drift to the first time he had ever met you about three years ago.

Astarion had been in solitary confinement for what had felt like forever when Cazador let him out. It was probably the only time Cazador had looked somewhat close to nervous with some sick twisted affection behind his eyes. He simply told Astarion he was to accompany you around the grounds and that you needed to be treated with respect. Your step-father did not want you to be present after dinner.

“You are allowed to take her to do what she wants- within reason. Do not let her leave the mansion grounds and make sure she is content,” Cazador said stiffly, “I am trusting you, boy. You know the consequences if you step out of line.”

Later, before you had arrived, Dalyria had made him privy to you and your… temperaments. Astarion relished in knowing you made a fool out of Petras. Someone needed to give the prick a wake up call.

It was also, supposedly, no secret to anyone in your family that you are the one Cazador wishes to marry, but due to your lack of royal blood, it would ruin his alliance with the Von family entirely. So Cazador is stuck with a woman named Daisy Von (who he cannot stand) and Astarion felt like it was the perfect karma for Cazador- the one time he wants something or someone, he absolutely cannot have it.

You were (still are) wildly different from your obnoxious step-sisters and step-brothers.

“Wild.”

“Rebellious.”

“Boorish.”

“Trouble maker.”

It was all this annoying group of people could seem to talk about- how terrible and horrible you were. What a disappointment. What a nuisance.

Dalyria told him beforehand that this was the norm and that it really only gets more embarrassing for them every time. You were kind, headstrong, ambitious, and beautiful according to Dalyria- when she had stepped in for Petras that night at the last minute, you had treated her like a person. You had asked her about herself, engaged in her hobbies by asking questions, and you had made a point of showing her all the medical books in Bridril Von’s library (you even let her take one, Bridril never goes in the library). Astarion had just stared at her in disbelief- she had to be playing a trick on him.

You stood on the farthest end next to the youngest girl and Bridril had scowled so aggressively, Astarion thought his face may cave in on itself. You are far more captivating than any of Bridril’s children could ever wish to be. No wonder Cazador wants you so badly that he’s willing to do anything to make sure you come over with them or that you show up for dinner at your own home- undeterred by the inability to actually make a proposal for your hand.

You looked positively irritated everytime Daisy opened her mouth and he was too. The woman is dense and over-the-top. Dinner had been awkward and you had barely even touched your food, but drank three goblets of wine- every time Bridril leered at you for getting another glass, a sly smirk would cross your lips. Your own silent rebellion.

Your demeanor and attitude resembled that of a bird trapped in a cage- wings clipped and feathers plucked. It made Astarion feel bitter- in what world were you trapped? You get to live in a nice mansion and go to dinner parties in nice clothes- Astarion just woke up in a TOMB after being in there for WEEKS. How dare a pampered princess such as yourself pretend that you are provided with anything less than perfection.

His bitterness (and biases) hadn’t lasted very long- it lasted for about 5 parties. Your relationship started out with a lot of bickering and miscommunication. Both of your words towards each other were passively laced with venom, but you never complained so he kept being assigned to you. It was never an option really either. Cazador insisted you be a part of every dinner despite Bridril’s grumbling.

The 6th meeting had changed everything. You had not arrived for the party your step-father was throwing and Bridril told Cazador that you were sick before hurriedly rushing off to talk to a local Magistrate. Cazador, naturally, wasn’t satisfied with this explanation so he had sent Astarion to find you.

Astarion had found you sleeping- bloody, battered, and bruised in your bedroom. There was a thick black banded bruise on your neck. The walls were empty, there was only a bedroll in the corner, and the book you had been reading the last time he was there was destroyed and in tatters on the floor. You had woken up when he accidentally slammed the door out of rage and you had looked around disoriented, but skittish and alert all the same. Your eyes softened when you realized it was just him.

You told him you had lost a competition because you hadn’t been sleeping well- too many bad dreams. Bridril had been so embarrassed that he had beaten you for the last several hours before- completely forgetting the mass amount of guests that he had invited to his home that evening. You weren’t allowed to leave your room. Astarion had been wrong. You were a trapped bird in a cage.

It was the one and only time Astarion ever willingly went to Cazador and told him what he had witnessed. You never had a scratch on you again at any future gatherings, but you always looked more tired than the time before. Bridril would boast about all the competitions you had won over the last month- Archery, jousting, mock combats, javelin throwing, etc, etc, etc. The list went on and on- you looked closer and closer to vomiting or keeling over from exhaustion with every activity he named. Life returned to your eyes when you and Astarion went off to dick around.

Escorting you around the Crimson Palace or around the Mansion quickly became his favorite part of those stupid dinner parties or any of the events Cazador threw or went to. You are complex and didn’t grow up in nobility. You despised it, but you were stuck because Bridril had enchanted your mother. You told him she breaks sometimes, but you rarely recognize the woman that pretends to be her nowadays.

You admitted to Astarion you thought he was a pompous bastard when you first met, but he is pretty so you let it slide. Astarion told you that he thought you were a spoiled brat, but because YOU were pretty, he also let it slide.

You had smiled at him, “I guess we are both wrong.”

“But not about being pretty.”

“Oh most certainly not.”

One evening, the two of you had had ‘too much’ fun according to Cazador. You had snuck him into the library and you had sat reading for the entire 6 hour affair. You had asked if it was okay if you sat near him and that eventually led to you leaninging against each other. Astarion had felt like he had been physically, painfully ripped from you when it was time to go. You had kissed Astarion on the cheek before he left and he kissed your hand. Cazador had flayed Astarion for that one night.

Astarion had felt some guilt regarding his resentment toward you after the incident. He knew he wasn’t helping his own situation by giving into your whims and your touch.

If Astarion didn’t know any better, he would think Cazador loved you, but he learned quickly that Cazador’s “affection” for you comes from a place of obsession and possessiveness. You looked like a previous lover of his from a lifetime that Astarion knew very little about. You were different from this woman, but it was not unwelcome in Cazador’s eyes- he has always liked a challenge. He could make you submit.

Cazador had wanted to send someone else to be your escort after you had begun to show an interest in Astarion- this was quickly squashed when you looked like you were going to light Cazador and his entire world on fire if he dared to volunteer another person. He had brought Leon, Astarion, and Dalyria and when Cazador volunteered Leon- you simply said, “No, I want Astarion.”

Cazador was infuriated, but he wanted- no needed you to be happy and to like him. Cazador had told Pale Petras that if he could win your favor, he was sure you’d just willingly come to him and ask to be his consort. Daisy could be thrown out entirely and maybe he’ll have negotiating room. The thought had made Astarion’s stomach turn- he wouldn’t be able to bare watching you become a lifeless consort under Cazador.

However, he always pushed those thoughts away when he was around you so he could stay in a good mood. You would flirt back and forth with Astarion, talk about irrelevant bullshit from the week, the gossip around the mansion, and you both mimicked and complained about how pathetic it was to watch Daisy grovel at Cazador’s feet- a lamb to the slaughter. You referred to the slaughter as being marriage, he referred to the slaughter as Cazador.

It had been a wonderful year of Daisy entirely failing at keeping Cazador’s attention, but she was determined and Astarion admittedly hoped that you may remain a consistent part of his life- the tiniest ray of light to look forward to once or twice a month. And if Cazador marries Daisy? Well, Astarion may never have to be that far away from you permanently.

Then, one night at a party, he had been in the Von mansion’s dining room- Cazador had instructed him to find you. He eventually gave up after he couldn’t and figured you would come to him eventually. Astarion was right, but not in the way he had originally hoped.

You had snuck into the second floor dining area and you locked it behind you. Astarion had been relieved to be in your presence again, but the state you were in… His relief was swallowed up when he had seen how bruised and beaten up you looked. Astarion had surprised you by his presence and you surprised him with your plan. You were escaping and instead of stopping you like a very massive part wanted him too- in spite of Cazador’s command to keep you from leaving the property having been shoved down Astarion’s throat, Astarion helped you tie the rope to propel down the side of the building.

Astarion can still remember the earnest look you’d given him- the way you begged him to leave with you. Gods he wanted to. Astarion remembered all the days that followed after where he kicked himself for not being selfish, but for whatever reason, he didn’t want there to be any way for you to be caught. Astarion knew if he went with you, neither one of you would ever get to know what it means to be free. Cazador would be able to find you through Astarion.

Astarion had told you “no”, struggled to get you to understand between tears, but then you promised him that you would be back. You would kill Cazador and he would be free- you just need him to wait for you. You didn’t know Cazador was a Vampire Lord at the time, but he still believed you. You said give you at least four years- you need time to prepare. He agreed.

Astarion never forgot your promise, clinging to it like a divine wish. There were only 2 more years left- then the Mindflayers kidnapped him.

Astarion had never felt more angry or defeated in his whole life. Astarion would have been free, but now he’s going to turn into a Mindflayer of all things.

Except it had been the best stroke of luck he’d ever had. You were there! In front of him after two years! Your softer noble appearance has been replaced with a scar that shows you dodged just in time to not lose an eye, an Oath of Vengeance sigil plastered to your chest, piercings along your ears, and a large beholder tattoo on your neck. Still beautiful, just far more authentic.

Astarion knows his initial plan to seduce you, sleep with you, and manipulate your feelings was a fucked up one-especially because he knew having you in every way would destroy Cazador without thinking of how it would make you feel. Astarion also acknowledged that a part of him had been doing all this for his own selfish pleasure- no one was in the way of keeping you from getting closer and Astarion didn’t want to have to share your affections with others in camp. And besides, he had been there first.

Oh and Astarion took every advantage of having you to himself. Talking to you, making you laugh, kissing you, being entangled with you while you sleep, drinking from you- fucking you until you only smell of him, leaving bite marks to show you are Astarion’s only.

What Astarion hadn’t anticipated was how much he would also want to be yours. He had been pushing down the feeling for a long time and he always brushed off Shadowheart’s puppy love jokes. Astarion was not smitten with you- he merely knows you and that’s why it’s all so easy. You had shown him simple kindness and you had a history together- you were the obvious choice to go to for protection.

Then the fight with Yurgir happened and Astarion watched you die.

The battle had been hard- brutal even for Astarion’s standards- and the constant bombs being dropped wasn’t helping the situation.

You were up top with Karlach, facing Yurgir head on while Shadowheart and himself tried to pick off the other attackers going after you both.

It had felt like hours, but in reality, what happened next lasted mere seconds.

Yurgir had made you and Karlach lose your balance, but Yurgir was focused on you. Astarion watched in despair as you were flung into the wall, crashing to the ground with a pained scream, a sickening crack, then nothing but blood pouring out of your head. Suddenly, a bomb exploded above you, the rocks began to pour down from the ceiling, and buried you.

The screams that had erupted from Karlach and Shadowheart had snapped him into action. Astarion didn’t remember the rest of the battle, just that it had been a bloodthirsty blur and now he, Karlach, and Shadowheart were clearing the rubble. Astarion had been the one to find you and your face was a bit bruised, the back of your head still seeping with blood, but you looked so peaceful and your skin was so so cold.

When you were completely uncovered, it was evident that you were dead- that this was a job for Withers or a scroll of revivify. Your neck was snapped in half, your limbs were broken- some even shattered. Shadowheart was able to heal and reset your neck so that the whole ordeal was slightly less grotesque. After, he had cradled you in his arms until Karlach and Shadowheart were sure there were no enemies between themselves and the exit.

Astarion had refused to let Karlach take you, holding your broken form against him as his silent tears spilled onto your hushed expression.

You had thankfully not been beyond the point of no return, but Astarion had realized that he needed to have a conversation with you. You are more than an upper hand to him, more than someone fun to tumble around with in his tent- you have somehow become his reason for going forward. Astarion had resigned himself to dying if you weren’t able to be revived. The thought had surprised him after wanting to be free for so long, but would his freedom be worth having if he couldn’t spend it with you? Astarion would rather take his chances and hope you end up together in the same afterlife.

That is what has led him and Shadowheart to having this conversation. Astarion wants to ask you to be something real to each other. Shadowheart had initially been confused, stating that you had “always been real?”, then he told her everything.

Whenever you left Astarion behind, he’d pass the time getting drunk with Shadowheart (if she was left behind). The last time, she had to ask Astarion if his entire conversation catalog is just about you because you were brought up every other word- he had felt incredibly embarrassed, so much so that he had gotten up and hid in his tent.

“Astarion- you never shut up about her, you’ve been following her around like a lost dog since day one- Hells you looked halfway to smitten on the DAMN BEACH!” Shadowheart says with a shrill voice, “What do you mean the entire time up until yesterday that it was all a lie!?”

“It wasn't yesterday only, my favorite wine drunk Sharran” Astarion stated matter-of-factly, “I just… didn’t want to acknowledge that I wanted more. After I first met her, I didn’t see her again for two years- it was bearable, but that had come with the promise of her coming back. She almost didn’t yesterday and I realized that, even after this is all said and done, I don't ever want her to go away. In any capacity.”

Shadowheart shook her head at him, “She’s going to be furious. Heartbroken even.”

“I know,” Astarion says thickly, “but I’m hoping she will forgive me or at least let me prove to her that I’m serious about us.”

You weren’t due back for at least another hour so they had begun working on the speech immediately.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“Whatever we are,” you are glaring at him, your voice coated in venom, “or whatever you were pretending I was to you- it’s over.”

No. No. No. NO!

Astarion didn’t think it was possible for his heart to feel like it’s been shattered since it barely beats at all.

It’s over?

It can’t be over! It’s barely begun and you only have half of the story. Astarion knows you’ll listen- you’ll see sense. You have to… right?

“Darling, pl-”

“No! I hate you so much!,” you sob into your hands, his whole body hurts looking at you, “I hate you more than I thought I could ever hate anyone- undead, dead, or alive! I trusted you and you used me for your own gain- so unkindly, go fuck yourself!”

Astarion wants to grab you as you turn around and walk away. He wants to get down on his knees and plead to you- pray to you until you don’t leave him- that you take it back. You’ll give him a chance, even if he loses privileges like getting to hold your hand, cuddle with you at night, or even kiss you for a while, that would be far more bearable than losing you altogether.

Astarion falls to his knees, ruptured and humbled.

“Astarion,” Shadowheart says softly, squatting down in front of him, “it will be okay. She’ll forgive you. She just needs a second, okay? You knew and I knew that this was a toss up to begin with.”

Astarion nodded numbly and got to his feet. Shadowheart gives him a squeeze on the shoulder before going into her own tent and Astarion briskly begins to walk back to his. He makes eye contact with you as Wyll enters your tent and the look on your face when you saw him makes this whole nightmare all too real.

Once he secures the tent flaps, Astarion crawls onto his bedroll and lets the sadness consume him while being surrounded by your scent. This may be one of the worst days he’s ever had in the last 200 years- at least from what he can remember.

If Astarion wasn’t so afraid for your safety, he would have packed up all of his things and headed back to Cazador with his tail between his legs, but he can’t because all that does is put you in danger.

Astarion slowly peels himself off the bed roll and hugs his knees to his chest. He lets himself stare off into nowhere as he lets himself be consumed with the agony and vexation- it’s not like there is any wildlife to go take out his pain on.

Astarion gets up and rolls his shoulders. As much as he wants you, you are done with him and he needs to respect that. Astarion decides he’ll leave you alone, but remain in the background. He’ll stay until you tell him to leave and never return. It will hurt so terribly to not be near you like he was, but he’ll just have to be grateful for the time he did have- the time he took for granted.

Astarion begins to get ready for the long night ahead of him when an open letter on one of his books catches his attention.

It’s addressed to you, torn open and stained with tears. Astarion opens the envelope. He reads the note so many times he feels like he may go on a homicidal rampage. Not only was your mother dead, likely at the hands of your step-father, you are officially considered engaged to be married to Cazador fucking Szarr.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Astarion had waited until morning to try to talk to you again-giving up on leaving you alone. He knows that you have a very long cool down period when your feelings are hurt (he has made this mistake less severely in the recent past). If there is any hope of you hearing Astarion out- it would be today.

Except you had already left with Karlach, Gale, and Lae’zel by the time he has finally built up the courage to leave his tent.

Astarion spent the day with Shadowheart and actually attempted to help with camp chores. Astarion bounced ideas off of her, but he didn’t tell her about the note. It felt like that was information for you to share if you wanted and you probably hadn’t intended on him learning about this information in the first place.

Shadowheart looks at him after awhile, a troubled look on her face. Shadowheart turns towards Wyll.

“Hey Wyll, they should have been back by now right?”

Wyll walks over to Shadowheart and Astarion with the same troubled expression.

“Yes, it was just a quick supply run to Last Light Inn before we take a day to recooperate,” Wyll says slowly, “I’m wondering what has held them up this long…”

Their pondering and questions were quickly interrupted by the sound of foot steps racing towards them.

“SHADOWHEART! HALSIN!”

You and Karlach were screaming their names in unison. Karlach is supporting Lae’zel and Gale is slack against you as you fight to keep him upright. The usually wonderful smell of your blood is now making him ill as you come closer to camp.

Across your sides were long, bloody scratch marks- in fact, there are claw marks all along your arms and your armor. One side of your face has a superficial scratch. Karlach appears to be in better shape, but just as scratched up nonetheless.

“We- we were ambushed by an Absolute Cultist,” Karlach exclaims breathily, “a Fist named Marcus. He was trying to bring Isobel back to Ketheric.”

Astarion watches as you help lay Gale down near Halsin and Shadowheart so they can begin to get to work, Lae’zel being laid down next to him. Shadowheart catches your wrist with her hand and gives you a Superior Healing Potion- the soft smile you offer her makes Astarion think he may have a chance.

Astarion walks back towards his tent and toys with the letter on the counter. Does he bring it up? Does he just bring it back to you and not acknowledge it? What would you even want him to do?

The noise outside had diminished as Lae’zel and Gale were recovered enough to be moved and healed in their individual tents- Shadowheart healing Gale and Halsin healing Lae’zel. It must be an early night for everyone. Astarion takes a deep breath and opens his tent flap, ready to confront you- but it looks like he didn’t have to travel very far to confront you.

There you are, cleaned up now, standing in front of Astarion’s tent looking nervous and heartbroken. In his shock, Astarion offers you his hand and gently pulls you inside, closing the flaps behind you.

“What did I do?” you blurt out, tears streaming down your face as fast as words are coming out of your mouth, “I can be useful again. I can do whatever you need me to- be whoever you need me to be.”

You take a jagged, heart wrenching inhale and he can hear you fighting the lump in your throat.

“I can’t do this alone- I just can’t,” you sob and look down at your feet, “I know what I said. I know I’m a fool for crawling back here begging you to keep pretending, but please. I can be what you need me to be, I promise. I’ll be- perfect for you. Please.”

Astarion bridges the gap between the two of you and puts your face between his hands, guiding your melancholy eyes to his.

“Darling, you have always been perfect. I have never needed you to be anything more or less than what you are. You are a Godsend.”

“Then why?” you whisper, “Why would you practice breaking up with me? What did I do?”

Astarion sits there and looks at you with bewilderment- practicing breaking up with you? He was practicing trying to ask to be with you!

He chuckles despite the tears that are slowly spilling from his eyes, “You insult me, my Love. I have no issues with breaking up with people- I think. Never really had the chance and I had no desire to end our relationship yesterday.”

You look at him with regret and guilt in your eyes. You go to move away from him- evidently worried about him rejecting you and hurting you. He moves with you, not letting you go anywhere and he kisses your forehead, one of his hands moving to the small of your back while the other remains on your cheek.

“What I was trying to tell you, my Dear,” Astarion softly whispers, “is that, regardless of my original intentions, my plan failed terribly.”

“How so?” you whisper in return.

“It was all so simple- seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you’d never turn on me. It was easy- instinctive. 200 years of instinct had kicked in. All you had to do was fall for it and all I had to do was not fall for you.”

Astarion traces your bottom lip with his thumb, pulling you into him by pressing into the small of your back. You gasp gently at the contact.

“And that is where my nice simple plan fell apart,” he says woefully, “you’re incredible. You deserve something real. I want us to be something real.”

Your eyes search his face for any signs of ingenuity or deception.

“I do too, more than anything,” you say breathlessly, “but what about everything I said yesterday? Everything I said was terrible.”

“It was,” he ponders, then he says teasingly “if my feelings weren’t so hurt and if I wasn’t the one on the receiving end- I dare say I would have been proud of you.”

“Well I learned my dramatics from the best after all.”

“I didn’t know Wyll was such a great teacher- I’ll have to ask him for tips some time,” he quips.

Your laugh lifts the painful fog that has been smothering him in his tent for the last day. Astarion pulls you down with him into his bedroll, you curl up around him and he spreads the blanket out. You lay your head on his chest and he pulls you into him tightly- inhaling your scent and savoring the thrumming of your pulse underneath his finger nails.

“Those nights when we were together,” you ask, peering up at him with worry, “did they not mean anything to you then?”

Astarion freezes before he releases a deep sigh. This may be the part where you change your mind and he is mentally preparing for it- taking account of the way you feel against him just in case this is truly the last time.

“I don’t know what real looks like,” he confesses, “being close to anyone-any kind of intimacy- was something I performed to lure people back for him.”

He feels you flinch at the mention of Cazador.

“Even though I know things between us are different, being with someone still feels… tainted. Still brings up those feelings of disgust and loathing. I don’t know how to be with someone- no matter how much I’d like to.”

“I care about you deeply- we can be together without having sex for however long you need,” you pause, “you are so much more to me than sex and I adore you for so much more than just your body.”

“Really?” the shock in his voice is blatant.

“Really,” you say with a smile before laying your head back on his chest.

“I don’t know what we’re doing,” he says giddily, running his hands through your hair, “ but I know that this, this is nice.”

You hum in agreement and he draws circles on your back. Astarion basks in your presence and sits in the relief that you are back in his arms again.

“Astarion,” you break the silence, “I have to tell you something- I got a letter. It’s not… good.”

“I know, Darling,” Astarion says tightly, “you left it in here. Unfortunately I let my noisiness get the best of me.”

You both sit in the heavy silence that fills the air.

“I’m to be married off to him, Astarion,” you choke out.

“I won’t let him have you, “Astarion snarls, his voice coming out much harsher than he intended.

“But what if there isn’t a choice? What if it would protect yo-”

“No.”

He is looming over you, you are now flat on your back staring up at him. Astarion feels like a coil ready to spring. If it’s ever between him and you regarding who goes to Cazador- he’d serve a thousand life sentences before he’d ever let that vile man so much as look in your direction.

“Astarion-”

“No,” he says between clenched teeth, “you will not sacrifice yourself for me. I don’t care if you marrying Cazador and being his consort would make me mortal again. You will not be his- he cannot have you.”

You look up at him with bleary, adoring eyes, “okay.”

Astarion kisses your trembling lips and he tastes the tears staining them. Astarion pulls away and strokes your cheek softly. He lays back down and you turn towards him, tangling your hands into his hair, gently detangling it. Astarion rests his hands on your hips, using his fingers to delicately adjust you until your legs are entangled in his.

“My mom is dead, Star,” you say remorsefully “she’s gone. She was all alone and probably so afraid. I never even said goodbye before I left her to her fate- I was a coward.”

The hurt in your voice is raw and bleeding- it breaks Astarion’s heart all over again.

“I am so incredibly sorry for your mother and your loss, Little Love, “Astarion says softly, “but you are not a coward. You did what you needed to do. You were always planning on coming back.”

“I was,” you whisper, “I was going to get her first and then you.”

“Foolishly enough,” Astarion chuckles, “I never lost faith in you. I felt like if anyone could do it, it would be you- the glimpse of sunlight amongst the secondhand embarrassment that is Daisy Von.”

You giggle and press your face into his chest- the vibrations fills his chest with warmth. Astarion is so incredibly happy you are back where you belong- here with him.

“I am hardly comparable to the sun,” you say, “I think I’m a candle. Ordinary, accessible, there when you need it.”

Astarion turns over your words in his head- he agrees with the statement but disagrees with the reasoning entirely.

“You are a candle,” he says slowly, “but a candle has always been a luxury to me. It allowed me to sew or read- to have a tiny piece of my humanity back. It was nice to have a break from the dark, huddled around the small flame.”

He pauses, “ I suppose that is why I am so drawn to you. You make me feel like a person again and you are a luxury I never thought I’d be lucky enough to afford outside of those monthly visits.”

“Well, then I promise I will remain here,” you say with adoration, “your humble candle- for as long as you need me.”

“Be careful what you promise, Little Love,” Astarion teases, “if you aren’t careful, you may be stuck with me for eternity.”

“Gods, I hope so!” you say with flourish, “everyone else is terribly boring and does not appreciate my predisposition for shenanigans.”

“How ungrateful!”

“Entirely ungrateful!” you agree.

Astarion pulls you in for another kiss, a grin forming as you gasp at the suddenness of his actions. Astarion kisses the tip of your nose, both of your cheeks, and your forehead. You settle into him and he strokes your hair- your breathing evens out and you are slack against him.

Astarion takes in your sleeping figure and feels another surge of protectiveness enveloping his body. He doesn’t know how accessible his thoughts are to Cazador, but he hopes Cazador hears this one.

You cannot have her- she is mine.

_________________________________________________

Author note- should I do a part three and four with the Cazador confrontation? I’m torn- let me know your thoughts pleaseeeeee

[v1nsmoke]

𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐕𝐀 // 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐘 𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

oneshot - sonny corleone (the godfather) x reader

tw: a creep guy :(

summary: at your best friend's wedding, somebody helps you out - that somebody might have a thing for you, too

fandom: the godfather

a/n: mention of elvis presley, so uh… the timeline doesn’t match well, but i hope yall dont mind  <3

tags: -

wc: 2.4k

Connie Corleone’s been one of your close friends for a while now. And we’re talking about a really long while here. At this point you were close to being considered her family. This brought other events, and most importantly other people in your path. You were very familiar with her family members, she considered you a sister since she didn’t have one. Brothers, on the other hand…

She had a whole bunch of brothers, at first you were even surprised by it, but with time, you managed to successfully bond with them. There was Tom, the adopted one, and Fredo, the one that everybody thought was adopted but actually wasn’t. Then there was Sonny, who didn’t even try to conceal his attraction towards you, and last, there was Michael, the youngest.

Over the years, you all grew close, but undeniably, Sonny was your favorite out of them all. 

The day of Connie’s wedding had finally arrived. Of course, you were among the many guests. Out of them all, you barely knew anyone, or more like anybody. An unfamiliar face appears next to you. It was an about five and half feet tall, round man. 

“I’m so glad you’re here,” He greeted you. To be fair, you had no intention of talking to him.

The man takes quick steps as he gets closer to you. His eyes slightly narrowed at the sight of you. 

“Hey,” you softly smile. No words beyond that. “It’s nice seeing you here. That’s your uniform on you?” You ask, your pointing finger motioning at his clothing. 

“You’ve got quite an eye,” he sighs with a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“I always did have an eye for nice things.”

“Undoubtedly. Where’d you find yours?”

It wasn’t that he hated it. No, quite the opposite. He liked it. He liked it because it was on you, and it fit.

“A thrift store,” you replied. “Dress to impress, they say.”

“Who’re you trying to impress, sweetheart?” 

Not you, that’s for sure, you thought.

“It hugs you perfectly, too tight, innit?” He grins. Yeah, no way you wanted to talk to him.

“It’s fine. Now, I reckon that other people are waiting for your company, so I’ll leave you to it,” you smile awkwardly at him, trying to brush him off.

“No, I’d rather spend my time with you,” he chuckles, grasping your wrist as you try to scurry away from him.

You shoot an anxious glare at the man, who refuses to let you go, even after you attempt to draw your hand out. 

“Let me go. Now,” you demand, your soft attitude now gone. 

“Don’t give me that attitude. I’m just trying to look out for you. That dress, it doesn’t seem too comfortable.”

“It is. So leave me alone. This is just harassment.”

The man rolled his eyes, scoffing slightly as his grip on you got a bit tighter.

“Seriously? I’m the one harassing you? That dress on you, to me, feels like pure harassment.”

“Don’t get cocky there, old man, I reckon you should fuck off now, before I shout it out that you’re harassing me.”

The man grabbed your waist, and now his face was mere inches from yours, his dark eyes bored into yours as he glared into yours.

“Harassing you? No sweetheart. Trying to keep those damn pests off of you? Yes.”

“You’re the pest that should be kept off of me!”

He huffed, his grip tightening, almost as if he was holding you captive.

“You better keep that smartmouth attitude of yours to yourself,” he whispered, leaning closer to your ear.

“Let me go you creep,” you grunt, trying your best to twist out your arm from his grip.

“For the love of God, will you stop? I’m just protecting you.”

“This isn’t protecting! You’re here preaching about other men looking at me, but what you’re doing is much, much worse!”

His eyebrow twitched at the name calling. He looked around to see if anyone was paying attention before looking back at you.

“Keep. Your. Voice. Down,” he huffed out through gritted teeth.

At this point his fingers were so clenched around your wrist, leaving imprints on your skin.

“What now? Scared that somebody will notice this? I hope someone does, and they get you off of me.”

“Keep your mouth shut, or see what happens.”

Enough bullshit. You bit his arm, your teeth digging deep into his skin. Why wouldn’t you? It was fucking deserved, from the start. 

He hisses in agony, releasing his grasp as he pulls his arm back. With his other hand’s palm, he runs his fingers over the tiny, fresh marks on his skin. His skin became paler in those spots. 

Without a word, you run off, making your way through the crowd of people.

You didn’t care where you were even going, as long as it was far away from that unknown man. Everyone here was unknown to you, not just that man. The only familiar face around the crowd was Sonny, stalking over to you. You could only hope that he didn’t want to talk to you at that moment. What would you even say? Was the previous event visible on you?

Sonny was making rounds, checking on the guests. That was, until he spotted you. Even from that distance, he could see that you were distressed. With quick steps, he pushed himself through the mass of guests gathered around in the garden.

“You okay?” He speaks in a soft tone, a concerned look on his face. “You look like you’ve been crying.”

“Oh, I haven’t been, I’m just on the verge of doing so,” you flash him a weak smile, trying to play it off. This was your best friend’s wedding, for God’s sake. “How you doin’?”

Sonny raised an eyebrow. He clearly didn’t believe you.

“Uh huh. Sure you haven’t. I’m doing fine. I’m not the one that looks like I’m gonna cry any second now,” he teased.

Of course, this moment couldn’t last an eternity. Make a guess who appeared behind you. I dare you.

“There you are,” the same man from before hisses through his teeth, almost getting a hold of your wrist again, but this time, you know better, and manage to pull your hand away just in time.

Sonny’s always been quick to react. Before the man can reach for you again, he steps in between the two of you. 

“Now what’s with you?” He demands, looking the man straight in the eye. One of his hands was protectively covering you behind him.

“That bitch bit me!” The man roars. 

Sonny looks over his shoulder, his brows knitted together, watching in anticipation, waiting for confirmation. There’s no way you would-

“I did. And it was well fucking deserved!” You lean forward lightly, almost unnoticeably, your finger pointing at the man. “He was harassing me!”

Confused, Sonny turns his head back at the man. 

“He did?” He asked, the question aimed at you.

“You think I would bite some man for no reason?”

That was all it took for Sonny. He clenched his fist, and with a swift movement, he flung his arm towards the man, landing a punch straight into his face. The man staggered back some steps, even bumping into a random guest.

“Who the hell do you think you are?!” Sonny snarls at him viciously.

Not wanting the situation to escalate even further, you grab his arm, getting his attention. This was Connie’s wedding, no need to ruin it for her with this. 

“Hey, enough. It’s nice of you, but I don’t think this is the time for this.”

He pants, looking into your eyes, nodding lightly as you speak. He, too, came to the realization that his sister’s wedding wasn’t the appropriate place and time to cause mayhem.

You found a quiet refuge under a tree, your lone self could finally be at peace. It was a big event, more people attended it than a literal Taylor Swift concert. It was loud, with many people. Overwhelming.

“Hey there,” the oh-so-familiar face trots up to you.

“Sonny, hey. I know I probably asked you this before, but how you doing?”

“Just doing rounds, making sure the guests are okay. Making sure the food is good, the whole shindig” he answered as he let out a sigh, his eyes now looking out into the party area. “I’d much rather be here, making sure you’re okay

“How heroic of you! No, really, I appreciate it. But shouldn't you check whether the food grew legs and ran off?”

Sonny chuckled at the comment, a smirk appearing on his face as he bumped his shoulder against yours.

“Very funny, smartass. But the food is well-behaved.”

“Did you train it personally?”

He snickered at that, a lighthearted chuckle escaping him.

“Nope, I just told them that I would eat them if they even think about running away.”

This time, you let out a chuckle too. Sonny’s always been kind to you.

“There’s the smile. I’m glad I’m getting laughs out of you,” he comments. “Y’know, for an introvert like yourself, you’re pretty damn good at being around rowdy people like  my family.”

“The only rowdy person in your family is you. Michael barely even speaks.”

Sonny let out a scoff, a feigned annoyance on his face.

“Hey, that is absolutely not true! Have you seen Fredo when he’s drunk?”

“No, fortunately.”

He smirked at that, rolling his eyes jokingly.

“You’re lucky then. Fredo, when he’s drunk, is the loudest and rowdiest person ever! Especially when he starts to sing…”

You couldn’t help but smile at his words.

“And you? When you’re drunk, are you louder than usual too?” You ask.

Sonny chuckled slightly at the question, a cocky smirk on his face as he sat up again and leaned over towards you.

“No, no. I’m already loud as it is, sweetheart. Me drunk? People would be going deaf if I got louder” he joked with a playful tone.

“Oh, undoubtedly.”

“Now, why’d you gotta say it in such a nonchalant way?”

“Because I can. Now, get back in there, this is your kinda thing. Enjoy it while it lasts, y’know.”

“And you’re going to be sitting here on your own?” He asks.

For a moment, you were deep in thought. Yes, because you knew almost nobody. Yes, because the Corleones were all busy doing their own thing.

“Seems like it,” you blurt out calmly, a smile on your face.

Sonny hummed in acknowledgment, his expression turning more serious as he looked you up and down.

“If any of these idiots bother you, you come get me. Understand?”

“Understood, sir. I just didn’t plan on involving you last time.”

“Sweetheart, these bastards are my family. That makes them fair game for me to hit any day. I said come get me if you need me. Don’t let my dumbass cousins ruin your night. So, you better keep that promise. I’d hate to see someone upset such a pretty face.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you reply with a gentle smile.

Sonny gave you a smile back, the cocky smirk replaced by a sincere one. He paused for a few seconds, as if contemplating something, before speaking up again.

“Actually, before I go back over there and drown myself in alcohol, I have a question for you”

“Speak your mind.”

Sonny bit his lip slightly, a rare look of uncertainty coming over his features, as he shoved his hands into his pockets. He looked at you for a few more seconds, as if debating with himself, before he spoke up again.

“Why’d you wanna sit here, all by yourself?” he asked the question softly.

“Why, I’m no good out there in the crowd all alone. You know the feeling when you’re lost in a crowd? That would be me.”

Sonny nodded in understanding, a small frown on his face. He knew you weren’t the biggest fan of big social gatherings, especially by yourself, so he could understand how lonely you felt here tonight.

“Don’t you have anyone to hang out with?”

“I wouldn’t say.”

He stayed quiet for a few seconds before he spoke up again.

“You can’t just sit out the whole night like this, all alone. C’mon, why don’t you hang out with me instead?”

“Oh, I’d scare those girls away,” You smile as you say jokingly.

“Sweetheart, even if you stay out here all night those girls will still crawl all over me. I’m just that handsome” he said, his smirk turning cocky again.

“Oh, you casanova.”

Sonny chuckled again, shaking his head at the nickname. He ran his hand through his hair, the smirk on his face never leaving as he looked over to you again.

“You know it,” he said with a playful tone, before his expression turned more serious again “but I’m bein’ serious. C’mon, sit with me instead of sitting over here all alone.”

“If it doesn’t bother you, it doesn’t bother me.”

Sonny nodded his head, a smile on his face again as he lightly bumped his shoulder against yours.

“Nah, of course it doesn’t. Better to talk to you then get hit on by some random girl all night.”

You squint your eyes, a suspicious look on your face.

“Wait…”

“Is something wrong?” Sonny raised an eyebrow at the sudden interjection, a confused look on his face as he leaned over towards you a bit.

“This isn’t the Sonny Corleone I know! There's no way, not a single way, that you would prefer talking to me than all those girls!” You chuckle. 

Sonny chuckled again, a smirk on his face as he rolled his eyes again. He shook his head slightly, clearly amused that you thought that.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever smartass. I’d rather go one night without some random chick drooling over me and actually have an intelligent conversation instead.”

“C’mon then. They’re playing Elvis,” you say quietly, almost whisper-like.

Sonny nodded his head, slowly standing up from the ground and holding his hand out to you.

“C’mon, then. Let’s go watch ‘em play some Elvis.”

© v1nsmokes 2024. Do not modify, translate or rewrite.

[rags-writes]

Fandom: Call of Duty

Pairing: Ghost & Reader (Platonic)

Tags/Warning: Hurt/Comfort

Requested by @bombshe77

A/N: I really hope you enjoy it and thank you for requesting it. here it is on Ao3.

Summary: You're the youngest on the 141 squad, yet you've been with them for two years and they still treat you like a rookie. Hell, they still call you the rookie callsign but you don't let that bring you down. Then you go home and when you come back, you're different. That spark you had disappeared and Ghost is determent to get it back even if it means he actually has to talk.

Lean On Me

 Ghost always prides himself on seeing what others miss, in anything. Which is why he’s disappointed that he didn’t see your potential. Well, you were just a rookie and the youngest in the squad at that. No one expects much from you, but you did last longer than the other, but your call sign hasn’t changed from rookie or rook. Honestly, he saw you as a joker, like soap. Sure you did whatever was ordered of you, but you always made a joke or some smart-ass comment. You never seem to shut up, always talking up a storm after a mission.

 Luckily he never had to deal with you directly, mostly just overhearing convention, like now.

 “I can handle the package without a babysit.” You call over the headset, and your voice is light, yet there is an irritation to it.

 “Listen, rook.” Soap says, causing a groan to leave you. “We just want to make sure you don’t drop?”

 “We are sitting down and it’s in my pocket.” You sigh out, “Stop with the rookie call name?”

 “You got to do something impressive to get a different call sign, kid.” Price answers with a chuckle.

 “You mean dealing with Soap for two years isn’t impressive enough?” You shoot back, causing a wave of laughter over the plane and Soap shouts, ‘hey!’

 Even Ghost huffed a small laugh at the joke, no one heard, of course. And highly unlikely he would ever admit to it either. It was Gaz who spoke up next.

 “We can call you kid if you want.”

 You send a glare his way, growling out. “I’m only two years younger than you, ass.”

 Soap, of course, hop on the thought with, “maybe you like, tot or rug-rat.”

 Ghost sees your hand wave and rightfully assumes you're flipping off Soap. Someone calls out, “What about clumsy?”

 “O, come on,” you shout. He could hear your eyes rolling as you continue. “I drop one grenade, which was a dud, because it was a field test.”

 The plane erupts into another fit of laughter at the memory of you pulling the pin and winding up to third the grenade when it slips from your hand. You looked like a deer caught in headlights as it when off behind you. No one has let you have a moment of peace about it, one way or another it gets brought up again. Soon he begins to tune out the conversation as it goes on about different call signs for you.

 After getting to the base Ghost watch you head to Laswell’s office to drop off the thumping drive with Soap tailing behind you saying he was just there to give you support. that just made you try and swat him and walk fast, practically running to Laswell’s office to get away from him.

 Ghost’s eyes move off you as Price comes up to him and asks. “What’s the plan now, cap.”

 “We sit tight and wait for the intellect department to decrypt the thumb drive and we can figure the best point of taking down the network.”

 Ghost just nod and walk to his room and change her gear before grabbing thing from the mess hall. It was only a day’s wait before they got word on the thumb drive and unfortunately the best time to strike the network was in nine weeks when most if not all the drug lords would be meeting. They decide to let everyone have a month to go see their family before the mission. Ghost, and a handful of others, choose to stay for any other mission not related to the thump drive. So the next couple of days were hectic, most people were trying to get off as soon as possible but he notices a strange thing. You.

 Normal you are one of the first ones on the plane heading out but he has seen you at the practice range. after looking at the roster he finds that you volunteer for the last flight out. he asks around, well more like interrogate soap, finding your excuse was that you need the extra training time but he didn’t completely believe it. Seeing the crestfallen look on your face with ever no was around but your spark was there whenever someone was near so he wasn’t too worried. soon you went with your smile, so he wasn’t to worry about you.

 But when you came not even three weeks later. you came and he knew instantly that something was wrong, the spark was no longer in your eyes. he didn’t what to do, you no longer laugh and smile as you use to. sure you follow any orders but without your usual quip or smartass comment.

 It affected everyone, even soap wasn’t himself, he tried the most to get you to creak a smile but you never did. Weeks passed and the mission to take down the network came. everyone was grim, if they fail this who knows the damage that could happen.

 But they didn’t, thanks to you, the network wouldn’t be able to recover from it fully. everyone was celebrating, all smiles and laughter filled the mess hall, and even Ghost creak a smile under his mask. the only person he didn’t see at the party was you, you disappear as soon as Price told every that drinks were waiting for them.

 Ghost decided he was going to find and snap you out of whatever the hell was going on. he began his search in the quarter but your room was empty as was the shared space. next was the small dining room/kitchen but it was empty as were the next three places. stepping outside for a cigarette, and he rounds the corner to the spot where no one bugs him and he can get a moment of peace, and sure enough, you were there.

 He goes to shout your name but stops as he notices tears streaming down your face, there’s a picture in your hand.  Walking to you, carefully until he steps on a twit and your head snaps to him, a hand quickly wiping the evince of tears from your face. You shout a weak. “L.T. what are you doing here?”

 Ghost doesn’t let the twig pause his steps, goes leans against the wall, and answers. “Well taking a break from looking for you.”

 Your head drops as you say. “Sorry L.T.”

 “It’s fine, saved me from soap, who set up the Karaoke machine.” Ghost across his arm and sight as the joke didn’t even get a chuckle from you. A hand reaches out and takes hold of your shoulder and he says. “You don’t have to do it all yourself, you know.”

 You bulk at the work, trying to shrug off his hand and turn away from him but he doesn’t let you. Grabbing your other shoulder and forcing you to face him as he tells you. “I don’t know what’s going on with you but you can talk with me.”

 Lips tremble at his works as the tear you have been holding back bursts out. Hand covers your face as you sob, as you choke out. “Sorry, ghost, I’m a mess.”

 “What’s happened?” Ghost asks, removing one hand and leaving the other for comfort. Sniffing a bit before wiping your face with the sleeve of your shirt before you hold up the picture. Looking, Ghost sees it’s of an old man, who in a bed with all sorts of wires attached to him but he’s still has a smile full of life on his face.

 “This is my grandfather.” You explain, “he passed away.”

 “I’m so sorry for your loss.” Ghost, not knowing if those were the right words but he had nothing else to offer. You give him a genuine smile, tinting with sadness as you whisper.

 “Thank you but he pass the last time I was home, three days after the photo was taken.”

 You couldn’t see but Ghost’s brow furrows in confusion and he questions you as gently as he could. “Then what’s going on with you?”

 You huff a strangled laugh and reply with a heartbroken tone. “My grandfather was my only supporter in anything I did. The rest of my family never accepted me and my life choices and when I join the military well I was part-way disowned.  They never fully said it because they didn’t want grandfather to cut them from the will.”

 Your foot drags back and forth on the ground, making a little trench in the ground back, and hesitantly continues talking.  “I thought that maybe after things settled down that they would come around but...”

 You trail off and Ghost finishes the sentence for you. “They never did.”

 “I came home to my stuff thrown out of my grandfather’s house.” You sob out, hand coming to cover your mouth.

 “They’re fucking idiots.”

 The statement makes your head snaps up with shock and stare at your Lieutenant with mouth agape. He just rolls his eyes and adds. “You one of the best if not the best soldier.”

 Hand scratches the back of your head as you try to argue he cuts you off again. “You prove that today, because of you we completed the mission with zero casualties. Sure people got hurt but they didn’t die.”

 He grabs your shoulder, looks you directly in the eyes, and tells you. “Here at the 141, you are family. Never forget that you are not alone, you can lean on us, anytime.”

 You close your eyes, throw your head back, and laugh, for the first time in weeks you truly laugh. And when you open your eyes again, Ghost sees the spark back in them. Smile under his mask and tell you with mischievous, “You know soap grease up the grenade that day.”

 “The one he has been making fun of me for months now.”

 Ghost nods in confirmation, leading you to nod your head back as you say in a playful tone. “Well, I’m going to go kill him now.”

 This makes Ghost laugh as you walk away, but before you disappear around the corner, you call out. “Hey, Ghost!”

 “Yeah.“ He answers while pulling out his box of cigarettes.

 “Thank you.”

 He pulls up his mask and before placing a cigarette between his lip, calls out. “Anytime, Sparks, Anytime.”

Thank you, everyone, for reading, and let me know your thoughts. If you have a request, go here.

[youhavehitawall]

Usually I turn on anon when I drop into someone’s ask box for the first time, but forget that

I’ve looked through your Backwater Downs tag, and I’m hooked, a gay OT3 with a mute character? Sign me up right now, I need more of them immediately, and I mean need, hand ‘em over, this is a robbery

Also, I’m assuming Backwater Downs is in Australia, but I haven’t seen it explicitly stated as such, definitely a place you can disappear and be pronounced dead when you’re still living in a town with what constitutes as “civilization”

Also also, I’ve only gotten a little taste of your lore on Ratchet’s family, and I’m curious as to whether or not all his siblings actually want him dead? I’m a sucker for complicated family dynamics

YAAAY im so glad you enjoy them theyre like my favourite ever guys in the whole universe :D :D (gets robbed) The main OT3 is so so real. Reg's laid-back lifestyle and artistic hobbies help Ratchet and Austin to find peace and rest after long eventful lives. Ratchet's fiery competitiveness encourages them to explore and push their endurance. Austin's quick wit and mule-like stubbornness keeps Reg and Ratchet mentally sharp and out of harm's way. They balance each other perfectly.

BWD is set in australia! It's deep in the Outback, vaguely inspired by the Grawin opal fields, but more in the West. the closest town is probably Halls Creek, and it's still a few hours from BWD, which is not on the map and never will be. It's not really called "backwater downs" - thats just what the residents call it. BWD is more a mining / farming patch of land where a few dozen cars have congregated for companionship. And yes, it would be very easy to disappear there and be declared dead forever! Especially if your family is on the other side of the planet.

Ratchet has five siblings, the oldest being Robyn and the youngest Firestorm. Robyn wanted him dead because the alternative was him leaving her, and she couldn't stand that. Her production siblings - Turner, Hawk, and Belle- follow her lead even if they don't agree.

Ratchet is four years younger than Robyn and her production, and Firestorm is two years younger than Ratchet. Their parents are not in the picture anymore. Of them, only these three remain. Ratchet doesn't know three of his sibs are dead and gone. Firestorm doesn't know his favourite big brother is alive. Robyn doesn't know much of anything, anymore, and spends her days in a listless haze travelling the far northern stretches of America completely alone.

Firestorm is the most affected. He loved all his siblings dearly. He organised a six-month search for Ratchet when he disappeared and organised his funeral after the second year, when Firestorm was only twenty-two. He's had to plan three funerals since and each one broke his heart. His oldest son, Rico, is named after Ratchet (whos legal name is actually Ricochet.) He doesn't know that Robyn tried to kill Ratchet, and he keeps in contact with her as much as he can. She's guilty and she lets the phone ring out.

Firestorm would welcome Ratchet home openly, any time, any condition. Even a body would be preferable to the endless sinister 'what if?' that lurks in his mind every single day. He held a funeral with an empty grave and after more than forty years he still expects Ricochet to be in the next room. Robyn knows Ricochet is alive and she knows he's terrified of her, and she knows Firestorm misses him and it's her fault. She wanted to keep her siblings close and now they're all split apart. She lets the phone ring out.

[sing-me-under]

YOUR ART IS SO PRETTY! :) also as a fellow dsmp/batfam lover I was wondering who would be who if you made an au of the other? (From batfam to dsmp or dsmp to batfam, you can choose!) me personally Tommy gives a bit of Damian,,

Hello hello! Thank you very much ✨✨✨ I’m glad you like my art!

About the DSMP x Batfam AU…. I really had to think this one through. I love both of them, but they have such different character dynamics and ideologies. Even the very worlds they are set in are like complete opposites. However, I have also read like so many (so many) superhero AU fics for the DSMP (before the fandom tag got overwhelmingly oversaturated), so I have some thoughts on…

DSMP Characters as The Batfam

You’re right. c!Tommy does feel like he’d be a good match for Damian. Loves animals? Feral? Stabby? Genuinely good? Artistically-inclined? The youngest? If we’re going by characters traits, Tommy would absolutely be Damian… But if I did that, I’d spend way too much time comparing characters who can’t be compared… So my list is going to be based on vibes. Same vibes are also why I’m choosing to make L’Manberg the main members. I’m completely disregarding age, motivations, personality, etc. This is all (mostly) vibes. There is some justification for them.

I wasn’t able to think of a match for everyone, but I got a decent chunk.

Wilbur as Batman

Fundy as Nightwing

Quackity as Oracle

Tommy as Red Hood

Tubbo as Red Robin

Jack as Spoiler

Niki as Batwoman

Ranboo as Black Bat

Slime as Batgirl 2 (also Cass but specifically Batgirl-era)

Eret as Talia

Philza as Ghostmaker

Kristen as Martha and Thomas

Technoblade as Azrael

Karl and Sapnap as Harley and Ivy (who’s who? Idk)

Dream as the entire Rogue Gallery — every single rogue just compressed into one blob of a man

I felt compelled to draw Tommy as a Robin and Red Hood.

Notes under the cut. They’re explanations for what little of my thought process can be converted into comprehensible words. It’s long. I ramble A LOT. Read at your own peril.

I’m pretty sure the obvious explanations are Wilbur, Tubbo, Techno, Karl&Sapnap, and Dream.

c!Wilbur is so much like Bruce Wayne — it’s kind of not funny. There’s the obvious “led children to fight a war” thing, the “compulsively acquiring children because they won’t leave him alone” thing, the “becomes evil immediately after crossing the no kill thing” thing, and the “sad little meow meow wet rag of a man but still extremely charismatic” thing…

c!Tubbo and Tim Drake are the closest 1:1 of this entire list.

Okay, okay. c!Techno as Jean-Paul. The vibes are wrong if we’re talking about canon Azrael, but I’m specifically thinking of fanfiction/“goes to family dinners WFA-style” Azrael.

c!Karl and c!Sapnap have such “married anti-villains befriending the heroes” vibes. I love them so much in superpower AUs even when they’re not with c!Quackity. As I’m writing this, I’m remembering that Schlatt and Quackity are also very often written in a Joker x Harley Quinn situation, but we’re talking about Batfam!

Dream is like the caricature of a Gotham Rogue(TM). He’s got the sympathetic motivation sticky noted onto a decades’ worth of terrorism with only the vaguest hope of redemption that he’ll probably never actually get because he’s too popular as a villain. I could make a point for any character interpretation (both fanpn and canon) of c!Dream as Ivy, Penguin, Riddler, Scarecrow, Black Mask, Joker, etc. (also, not a Rogue, but Ra’s too)

The thing about the DSMP is that it almost feels like a reversal of DC. It’s like a mirror, the same solution from a reversed conclusion. That also means DSMP characters appear un-traumatized and naive then get completely fucked over by the sheer horror that is the SMP, meanwhile DC characters appear fresh from traumatized and find themselves in a position to believe in goodness. The late-stage DSMP was filled with isolation while DC heroes always end up in found families.

It’s why I couldn’t think of a proper match for Damian.

What I loved about late-stage c!Tommy is that he keeps (disguises) that hope and love for people despite everything. Meanwhile, Damian’s character development is learning all that from the ground up. The vibes are similar but not the same. Honestly, for a hot second, I considered Purpled as Damian but alas, not enough Purpled content. If I were to project my own timeline of events upon the DSMP, Purpled would make a great Damian-esque match.

But that does not change the fact that Tommy as Red Hood has the best vibes.

No one else is quite as “doomed by the narrative and irreversibly changed yet somehow still painfully compassionate” in the same way Tommy and Jason are (also the “rejecting their father/brother but still loving them unconditionally). Their vibes are truly something.

I’m also very stern in my belief that c!Tommy should never kill because it would negatively impact his character development, but he very very easily could have gone the Red Hood route. By technicality, it’s more like Tommy as Robin 2, but I so dearly love the potential of villain! and anti-villain!Tommy. It’s such an underutilized concept. (Also I wrote a protege AU like way back and it makes me think of Red Hood now lol)

But originally, I flip-flopped between Fundy as Red Hood and Tommy as Nightwing, but I dunno. The logic was there but the vibes weren’t.

If we were considering a timeline of events, Tommy would make a great Robin 1 with Fundy as Robin 2 . Dick Grayson was the OG child hero, much like Tommy. He was angry and craved justice but he was also full of Light. Meanwhile, c!Fundy grew up in Tommy’s shadow.

However, Fundy also has that “if I can’t make them smile, I’ll make them cry” thing that Villain Dick Graysons also tend to have. Dick is always like four steps away from flipping a switch and becoming a supervillain. He tries so fucking hard to do good, but if he ever determines that “being good” isn’t enough to “do good,” he takes over the world. But Dick would also like step away from toxic energy by holing himself up in his apartment filled with depression, which is exactly what Fundy did.

Fundy and Dick are more “blood-soaked wet cats with strained smiles and bowling alley carpet polos” and Tommy and Jason are more “dramatic Greek tragedies.”

The Batgirls and adjacent female Bat vigilantes came to me immediately, but it’s not as long as the above.

Quackity as Barbara Gordon. He followed Wilbur filled with Hope and Justice. Quackity makes an excellent Batgirl 1. His Las Nevadas arc would then be Oracle but Lawful Evil and also completely isolated from any friends, family, or rational support. Quackity isn’t inherently bad. He still has good intentions, and he’s still good at heart, irregardless of how he portrays himself. He’s the classic femme fatale, including the whole sexist Hollywood “he needs a strong male love interest to take care of him” thing because he is absolutely spiraling on his own. Anyway, I am a fiancés shipper, so this would lead to a Birds of Prey-esque team up of LN and Kinoko.

Jack Manifold has Stephanie Brown’s “glitter bomb in the face” and “functions entirely on spite but also is just really tired of being hurt” energy. Jack isn’t quite Stephanie, but his dynamic with Tubbo made me consider him as Spoiler. Also consider: Jack and The Nuke being Steph’s Robin 4 arc.

Slime is so much like Batgirl-era Cassandra. There’s a lot of “innocent vs naive, manipulated by those with intentions, both evil and morally just” going on. Batgirl!Slime and RH!Tommy would have such a dynamic. I think about Fort Big a lot.

It is literally a crime that c!Jack Manifold and c!Slime never interacted in the DSMP.

Ranboo as Black Bat. I don’t know how to explain it, but Tim Drake and Cassandra have such a great dynamic (albeit one that I’m only familiar with in fanfics). I was originally going to say Ranboo as Orphan, but I don’t think he’s quite there. Maybe GhostBoo as Orphan.

Speaking of ghosts, GhostBur as Carrie Kelley’s Robin. He’s in the wrong places at the wrong times and (unknowingly) shoves himself in situations, and he’s got that unfair “why” going on during Doomsday. Unfortunately, GhostBur suffers from memory loss and is often willfully ignorant. I think in an AU space where’s he’s an actual character and not the echo of an idea, he’d make a great elseworld-type Robin.

c!Niki is a WLW revolutionary war veteran with a very close relationship with Wilbur. There’s more, but again, Vibes.

Now here’s where my hot takes truly lie: Philza as Ghostmaker and Eret as Talia.

We all like Dadza but c!Phil? Absolutely not a Dad. If you actually look at c!Phil without the rose-tinted lens of his content creator’s dad energy, c!Phil and Ghostmaker aere weirdly similar? I really don’t know how to explain it exactly, but I think that Phil would have brought Wilbur up as like this weird amalgamation of BTK-era Bruce, Phantom One, and Clownhunter, leading to Wilbur eventually being… not abandoned because Phil wanted Wilbur to have more independence… but struggling to make it on his own. Eventually, Wilbur would follow his parents’ (Mumza would be Martha AND Thomas) footsteps and become something that’s essentially the same but different. Like how Ghostmaker is basically Tynion’s Batman OC but somehow more edgy except Wilbur is in the opposite direction. Like how Martha and Thomas saved people through philanthropy and surgery and Bruce wanted to save people in his own way too. Phil and Kristen influenced Wilbur towards fighting crime… Also I could totally see c!Phil becoming a crime fighter as a fun and challenging art form rather than any genuine interest in being a good person. c!Phil’s got that immortal dilemma where he’s basically a sociopath running purely on an ingrained and steadily eroding moral code.

Now… Eret as Talia. Where do I begin? I love Talia. She’s such a badass but also she’s a kind person who believes in Bruce’s cause but she’s also extremely loyal to her father’s cause but she loves her family so much but she’s also a assassin princess but the world is against her and everything she is will only continue going downhill until she either becomes straight up evil or stands her ground. I love the characterization of Talia who chose to side with “the greater good” against the person she loves and more has to live with the burden of this decision for the rest of her life and continue to do what needs to be done even, for better or worse… Did I say Talia? I meant Eret. Wait, no, it’s both. That applies to both. Talia’s choice is betraying Bruce to aid her in running a global assassin cult and killing people. Eret’s choice is betraying his revolution to run a monarchy and enforcing taxes. Yes, the vibes are the same.

This has been my TED talk. Thank you for reading this far.

[flyawaymind]

Encanto AU idea

Notes: Yes, I am still thinking about Encanto. It is a big comfort movie for me, and the characters (especially Bruno) are good for projecting onto, and I don’t think I will ever stop thinking about any of them.

You should know that this is nothing like what I usually write for this fandom, even though this is the only thing I feel is ready to post. I believe that all of the characters are flawed, and that even though Alma loves her family, her trauma influences her actions and that leads to her making many mistakes. I don’t believe for even a second that any of the adults in the movie are abusive or bad parents/tíos, and none of what I’ve written here is actually part of my headcanon for them. This idea was just too much to stay in my head, so I’m dropping it here. It’s also on AO3.

READ THE WARNINGS. This isn’t a happy one, folks.

Content warnings and tags: angst; so much angst; implied/referenced child neglect; implied referenced child abuse; good dad Agustín Madrigal; good tío Bruno Madrigal; bad tío Félix Madrigal; bad tía Pepa Madrigal; bad mom Julieta Madrigal; bad abuela Alma Madrigal; traumatized Alma Madrigal; traumatized Julieta Madrigal; traumatized Bruno Madrigal; black and white thinking; insecure Julieta Madrigal; insecure Bruno Madrigal; Bruno Madrigal leaves after Mirabel’s gift ceremony, Alma Madrigal Bashing, angry Bruno Madrigal, angry Agustín Madrigal

Mirabel’s ceremony stays the same. She touches the doorknob, the magic door disappears, the candle flickers, making Alma panic and ask Bruno for a vision. He sees Casita crumbling, his family in danger, and Mirabel at the center of it all, and the only thing he can think of to keep her safe is to go hide in the walls to watch his family from afar.

This is where things go wrong. Maybe he makes too much noise, or doesn't close the painting all the way, or gets caught getting food at night. Maybe he does everything right, but Dolores tells the family about how she’s been hearing something in the walls, something bigger than a rat.

Whatever happens, Bruno is found not long after the failed ceremony, and subsequently the family learns what he saw in the vision. It goes even worse than he had expected it to, starting with this: Alma takes the fact that Bruno tried to hide this from her as proof that Mirabel is already tearing the family apart.

Bruno tries to tell her that she’s wrong, but Alma is scared, traumatized, and she has been spending forty years protecting her home and her family. She isn’t about to risk losing it all again. Instead, she doubles down, saying that Mirabel is dangerous, that she can no longer be trusted.

Agustín thinks that the whole idea is ridiculous. He can’t believe that they were even having this discussion. His youngest daughter has been absolutely distraught about everything that’s happened, and Agustín can’t make himself believe that she would ever hurt her family. He fully expects Julieta to back him on this; after all, she’s been right there with him comforting Mirabel in the aftermath of her ceremony. He’s more than shocked when she quietly tells him that her mother might be right.

Julieta has always carried a huge weight, and it was placed on her shoulders when she was the same age Mirabel is right now. No doctors had followed Alma and Pedro into the jungle. Before the triplets got their Gifts, the town just made do. For thirty-five years Julieta has been the only thing standing between the entire Encanto and medical disaster. She has spent all of her life around the sick and dying, has seen all sorts of horrific injuries. If something happened to the miracle, if she isn’t able to heal everyone anymore, how long will it take for them all to just die off? Part of her knows her reasoning is illogical at best, but fear and shame are powerful motivators, and her mother has been wielding them against Julieta her whole life.

Stunned, Agustín turns to Félix, believing that surely the other Madrigal in-law would see that this was wrong—but Félix shakes his head.

“The Encanto needs the magic,” he tells his cuñado, “It’s the foundation of the whole area. Who knows if the land will even hold up without it?”

He sounds so sad as he says it, like he’s already mourning the loss of the youngest Madrigal. As though there is no avoiding what is about to happen.

Pepa is practically tearing her hair out as she runs her hands down her braid, trying to keep the hail and freezing rain that is buffeting her shoulders from affecting the rest of the room. She doesn’t want to lose any of her family, but she has known Bruno for longer than Mirabel has been alive. He and Julieta are her triplets, three parts of a whole, and if she has to choose between them and her niece, her siblings will always come out on top. Still, she thinks of her little Camilo, not even a year older than Mirabel.

“Maybe there’s a way to change the prophecy, change the future,” she says, “Maybe there’s something less extreme that we can do to stop Mirabel from destroying everything.”

She can’t meet anyone’s eyes, and voice is weak and shaky. It’s clear that she doesn’t believe what she’s saying. Not even Félix can bring himself to support her argument, though he wraps a comforting arm around her waist.

“No,” Alma says, voice sharp and cold as a blade. “All of Bruno’s visions come true. All of them. We must deal with this problem now, before it can take root.”

It’s two against four. Desperate, Agustín turns again to Bruno, pleading with him to find a solution. “Hermano, I know your visions aren’t always clear. There must be some loophole, maybe some detail that you missed?”

Here’s the thing: although the stakes have never been this personal, this argument isn’t new to Bruno. In the past his mamá has used his visions to dole out punishments well before any crime was committed, and Bruno knows word for word how the fight will go, so he tries a different approach. If he can’t change their minds, maybe he can at least make sure his sobrina isn’t punished too harshly for what he had seen. Maybe he can still keep her safe, or at least, safer.

“What are you even planning to do?” he asks his mother, “You can’t just kick a little girl out on the streets, especially not your own granddaughter. Even aside from how cruel that would be, there’s no way she would be able to survive on her own, and none of the villagers would be willing to help her, not if it meant going against you.”

This is what finally makes Julieta speak up.

“Surely Mamá isn’t thinking about kicking Mirabel out entirely,” she says. “Maybe we can just keep her isolated until the danger is past. Casita can make a new room for her. The Mirabel in the vision was a teenager, no more than sixteen at the most. I would rather spend a decade or so with my daughter locked away under the same roof than a lifetime without knowing where she is.”

Alma rests a gentle hand on Julieta’s shoulder. “I understand your concerns,” she tells her. “The love of a mother is a powerful thing. But you cannot allow your own selfishness to bring harm upon the miracle. As Félix said, there are many more lives at risk here than just our family. The needs of the many must outweigh the needs of the one. This is no different than separating a contagious person from others to keep the disease from spreading.”

Julieta doesn’t have a counter argument for that, and the tiny spark of rebellion in her eyes goes out before it can catch flame. She closes in on herself and cries quietly, muffling the sobs in one hand and using the other to grip Agustín too tightly for him to pull away. She doesn’t notice that he isn’t holding her hand in return.

“This isn’t a disease they’re talking about,” Bruno says, desperate to make his family see sense. “She’s a little girl, barely five years old, who is just as scared as we are. It was her door that faded away, after all, and she isn’t even old enough to comprehend the potential ramifications, let alone bring down the whole Encanto.” His voice is shaking with barely contained rage and old hurt as he continues. “Mirabel isn’t some kind of curse. She isn’t bad luck and shouldn’t be shunned because of a bad vision. She’s just a child, just a kid. She’s done nothing to deserve any of this. It’s not like she can create the future.”

The argument goes on as emotions become more and more fraught, each person trying to speak over the others. Each person except Alma, that is. She hasn’t taken her eyes off of her son, and after a few moments she raises her hand. The gesture is enough to make everyone fall silent once more.

“Bruno is right,” she says, and Agustin lets out a sob of relief. “The jungle is too dangerous for a young child, and although the future is unavoidable, Mirabel isn’t the one who set it in stone. That is why Bruno will go with her.”

The response is immediate and loud. Pepa and Julieta argue that there has to be another way, that they can’t lose their little brother again. The short time he spent in the walls was painful enough.

Agustín is yelling, swearing, asking how Alma can banish two members of her own family, her own son and granddaughter, based on something that won’t even happen for another ten years.

Félix is quiet, but he has turned to glare at Bruno, as though this was just a repeat of his and Pepa’s wedding, as though the prophet wasn’t one of the only people trying to stop this in the first place.

Bruno has gone pale, his breath knocked out of him by his mother’s words and the clear message between the lines. His mother believed that he was to blame for his niece’s future, for the potential downfall of the family and the miracle, and so he would be punished along with Mirabel. Somewhere under the shock and hurt, Bruno feels a little bit of relief. At least he knew what she thought of him, now. At least she wasn’t pretending to care for him anymore. No more masks, no more condemnation thinly disguised as encouragement. He hears himself speak as though through a long tunnel.

“Fine,” he says, the single word cutting through the noise. “If all of you are willing to let your fear rule your actions, then Mirabel is no longer safe in Casita. I always swore I’d never let any of the kids turn out like me, and if I have to protect Mirabel from our own family, then I will. Clearly neither of us are welcome in Encanto anymore, but I’ll be damned if I let Mirabel go out there on her own.”

Agustín tears himself away from Julieta and clings to Bruno, pleading with him not to take his daughter away, to wait a day, to give everyone a chance to come to their senses, or to at least let Agustín leave with them. Bruno’s ceyes are sad as he brushes off his cuñado’s hands.

“You have to stay here,” he says.

He doesn’t tell Agustín that the others could turn on any of the other kids just as quickly as they have turned on him and Mirabel. He doesn’t say that they can’t take them all, that they’ll never make it past the mountains with so many children and so few adults. He doesn’t say that the rest of the kids need at least one person in their corner, should something like this ever happen again. He doesn’t need to say any of it. Under the shock and panic and heartache, Agustín already knows that he has to let this happen, to let the man he thinks of as a brother leave with his youngest daughter. He knows, and it hurts him all the more.

There are a few more weak protests from Julieta and Pepa, but the decision has been made. Bruno and Agustín go to Dolores’s room, where all of the children had been sent so they wouldn’t hear the arguing. Agustín begins to cry when he takes in the way they’re all curled up together, with Mirabel right in the middle of the pile. The sound wakes Dolores from her light sleep, and her movement wakes the other kids, like a little line of sleepy dominoes.

Bruno isn’t doing much better than his cuñado, but he gives a watery smile as he informs the kids that he and Mirabel need to leave the Encanto. No, he isn’t sure how long. No, no one else is going with them. No, this isn’t because of anything that any of the kids had done. No, he isn’t sure when they’re coming back.

“Sometimes grown-ups make bad choices,” he tells them, barely disguising the bitterness in his voice. “It’s better for me and Mirabel if we go, to put some space between us and the Encanto.”

Dolores speaks up for the first time that night, even before she had been sent to bed with the others. “Will you be careful, Tío?” she asks, “Will you protect her?”

Bruno swallows against the lump in his throat, wonders if her room is as soundproof for her as it is for everyone else. “Lola, I swear that I’m going to do everything I can to keep her safe. To keep us both safe.”

By now all of the kids are crying, confused and scared. They’ve never seen Agustín so upset, have never seen him cry like this, no matter how badly he’s gotten hurt. Isabela, Luisa, and Mirabel are clinging to each other, and even though Camilo is held tight in Dolores’s lap, he has one little fist clenched in Mirabel’s dress. Agustín kneels down to detangle his daughter and pull her away, giving her one last tight hug and a kiss. For a long moment he just keeps her close, breathing her in, petting her hair, feeling her weight in his arms, trying to cement everything about his little girl in his memory. She is trying so hard to be brave, but he can see the way tears are rolling down her cheeks and how her bottom lip is trembling. Through it all, she pats his cheek.

“Don’t be scared,” she tells him, “Tio Bruno is really nice, and we’ll be back home before you know it, okay?”

It’s the same thing that he and Julieta tell their daughters whenever they don’t want to go to school, to reassure them that their teachers are kind and that at the end of the day the girls would come back home. Agustín clutches Mirabel to his chest and sobs into her hair, his whole frame shaking. He feels a hand on his shoulder and desperately turns away, but Bruno moves with him and gently lifts Mirabel from his arms. The prophet is crying now, too, but for Mirabel’s sake he still clings to a brittle smile.

“I’ll take good care of her, Gus,” he says, “And hey, Mira and I will try to write as soon as we get settled, okay? Let you know all the news from our new place.”

Agustín nods and does his best to paste on a smile, but both men know that even if they found a way to get a letter back to Encanto, Alma would never allow it to reach the rest of the family.

They make sure each of the other kids says goodbye to Mirabel before leaving the room to find Julieta and Alma in the courtyard with two old suitcases. Agustín ignores them, instead going straight into the kitchen for the strongest bottle of alcohol he can find. It doesn’t escape his notice that although Julieta looks worried and upset, neither of the women are crying.

Bruno won’t let go of Mirabel, so Julieta has to awkwardly hug them both goodbye at once, her brother tense and angry in her arms. He refuses to let Alma come anywhere near them, even to say goodbye, and rejects Julieta’s help as he uses an old blanket to tie a still-sleepy Mirabel to his back so he can pick up the suitcases. Leaving his mother and sister with one last withering glare, Bruno walks out the door, forcing himself not to look back as he and Mirabel leave the warmth of Casita and go out into the night.

He hopes that by leaving the valley, he can break the prophecy and change the future. He hopes that Mirabel never has to step into this town again, but if the vision holds, he hopes the death of the miracle tears this place to the ground. If she does come back at some point, he will make sure he’s right beside her, keeping her safe.

[triviadaechwita]

how to be a good boyfriend | jjk x f!reader

pairing: jjk x female reader wordcount: 1.5k words status: ongoing, part 1/? tags: overall fluff, domestic

A little something I wrote for @jiminiesmoke's birthday (and that I'm still writing)

Jeon Jungkook is going to be away for Y/N's birthday but luckily he wrote the manual on how to be a good boyfriend.

Jungkook couldn’t believe his eyes when his managers and agents placed the schedule in front of his him. He had to go to Qatar for the promotions of the World Cup during Y/N’s birthday week. When he looked up and glanced at the men sitting across the table, he knew he couldn’t say no even if he wanted to.

                  “Why not Hobi?”

                  “He’s busy with other promotions,” his manager Sejin said softly. “It’s only a couple of days. This shouldn’t interfere with your future album”

                  “Still,” he frowns.

                  In a way, Jungkook acted like the spoiled, youngest child of a family and knew he could do whatever he wanted. Everyone had his back, but when discussing the situation, everyone also knew his popularity would drop once everyone knew he had a girlfriend. A few years back, when there was a weird photo going viral of him and a lady who happened to be a friend of his (former, for obvious reasons) tattoo artist, the Internet went crazy. Y/N included, at the time.

                  “Tomorrow. 8 am. Private jet.” Sejin gave him another file with all the details and things to pack. He was stern, his eyes focusing on Jungkook. He simply complied as he grabbed the files and put them inside his bag.

*

 “I’ll be back as soon as possible,” Jungkook explained. Y/N wasn’t that great at hiding her disappointment. She always bit the corner of her lip and avoided eye contact, which hurt Jungkook each time.

                  “I want you to come with me but we’re going on a private jet, so I have no idea how to make you my personal assistant to the entire team. I could get you tickets though, I could–“

                  “Jungkook,” she interrupted him, “it’s fine. I’m not that excited to turn 22 anyway.”

                  “Well, I am,” he folded his arms and looked at her. “Your birthday matters to me. So I’ll figure it out. You just gotta trust me, please.” His frown and eyes were basically begging Y/N to trust him. Y/N only nodded, turning back to her iPad.

*

Y/N woke up with the plushie in her arms and before she could even ask where Jungkook was, she found a piece of paper on her desk.

                  “Good morning. Get some breakfast. I love you.” His handwriting was so neat and the drawings around the note were just so him. Next to that note there were 50,000 won which basically was almost 50 dollars. Y/N had to laugh – what kind of breakfast was he thinking for her?

                  When she stepped into the bathroom to brush her teeth, he found a note on the mirror which read: “You look beautiful.” She had to hide her blush as if Jungkook was actually there to tell her these words. She knew what he was doing, and she knew he felt guilty, so she shot him a message as soon as she grabbed her phone.

                  Y/N: I saw the notes. I love you <3 You'll do great in Qatar. See you when you come back!

*

Jungkook would read that message about 10 hours later. He arrived completely exhausted and with many people waiting for him with flowers and gifts. He heard fans screaming his name from a distance but all he wanted to do was to get in his hotel room and check his phone.

                  As soon as he did that, he saw the first text from Y/N, but also the ones following it.

                  Y/N:

                  !!!!!!!!!!!? Why would you leave me another 50,000 won for lunch??? Where do you think I will eat my lunch???????

                  Y/N:

                  Jeon Jungkook!!!!!! Why would you hide another 50,000 won for snacks??!??!?!?!

                  Y/N:

                  Okay hehe this is what I ate! I also bought something that kind of reminded me of you with that money… that’s what you get for leaving me! Boo!

                  Y/N:

                  Text me when you read this :) love you

                  “I didn’t have my wig on!” She whined on the other side. Jungkook laughed harmoniously, throwing his head back.

                  “You look cute, with or without a wig.” He nods. “I see you saw some of my notes?”

                  “Some?! There are more?! And why would you leave me 150,000 won?”

                  “There should be more money.” He chuckled mischievously. Y/N hated it when people spent money on her, but now she didn’t have the chance to fight him for it.

                  “Jungkook!”

                  “I miss you already,” he responded with a smile. “How was your day? Tell me about it.”

                  “It was productive, I studied, I bought a little friend,” she showed him a tiny Cooky plushie that had a keyring to attach to a bag. “All thanks to you, of course.”

                  “I’m glad you treated yourself and that you ate well. I hope you’re not missing me so much.”

                  “I am,” she pouted on the other side and Jungkook wished he could give her a kiss. “But I know it’s work, so…”

                  “If you keep pouting like that, I’ll honestly just leave and get to you.”

                  “No, you can’t do that,” she quickly reprimanded him and Jungkook could only smile. “You complete your schedule and you come here.”

                  “Even if I miss your birthday?”

                  “Mhm. Even if you do.”

*

                  Y/N would never tell him that she needed him. She hated being clingy and needy while Jungkook loved feeling needed by her. Those were things she knew she had to work on, but she also thought that no matter how much effort she put in it, she could never get used to having such a loving boyfriend. Jungkook always strived to become better and better and she always wondered whether that could be possible. He did his best even when the odds were against him. He was in Qatar, but she didn’t feel alone. She felt okay. She knew he was still with her, in spite of the miles separating them, and that was okay.

                  That first night she talked to him for hours until she fell asleep. She could figure that even then; he would stay online for a while before he decided to hang up. He always did. And though she missed him dearly, he was always present like a gift that keeps on giving.

*

                  If there was something he would never do, that would be missing her birthday. He managed to get to Seoul a day earlier than expected, making sure people saw him showing up at the airport, only to get back on a plane. Events like these were an usual occurrence. He had to make sure nobody saw him getting on another plane - this is how he always managed to visit her. 

                  Chicago was colder than he expected and he was wrapped up in an aviator leather jacket, a black mask and a beanie that pressed his dark locks against his forehead. He stopped by to get breakfast first (her favourite: some yogurt, granola, and strawberries) but he also got her some sweets that she would complain about. His love didn’t understand limits, and his language was to give. Always. Even if receiving wasn’t on the menu, he would always give.

                  By that time, he imagined Y/N would still be sleeping. Nevertheless, he climbed onto her window and knocked on it, hoping for her to open. Sure, there were doors and her mother would have probably happily opened it - but wasn’t this way more romantic? Jungkook thought so, at least.

                  “Jungkook!? What the hell are you doing?!” She was more concerned for his safety rather than the fact that he flew all the way from Qater (and Seoul) to come here. taking twice longer.

                  “Happy birthday, princess. May I come in?”

[good-night-space-kid]

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My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

I really want to watch the Netflix documentary about the kids that got stuck in that cave in Thailand but I’m so claustrophobic 😭

17 notes - Posted October 25, 2022

#4

Someone: hi!

Me: *physically restraining myself from giving a ten minute speech on the turnip winter during wwi and how the blockage prevented fertilizers from getting to Germany thereby preventing them from growing staple crops* hi!

18 notes - Posted September 3, 2022

#3

Does Porche know about Porsché’s obsession with Wik/Kim??? Like did he know about it beforehand or is this something that came up after he left??? Does he have any idea that his brother is head over heels for the youngest son of the main family?????

18 notes - Posted May 29, 2022

#2

“Despite being New Jersey there are actually some nice white sand beaches along the coast” wait until I tell you about the sand mining and ecological destruction that makes this possible

23 notes - Posted December 6, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

tumblr still doesn't have a poll feature but i have an important question so please leave your response in the tags. if you're going to drink a pop, what is your ranking from best to worst: can, plastic bottle, glass bottle, fountain

personally i think can, glass, fountain, then plastic bottle

50 notes - Posted December 4, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[marmot-bee-person]

I’m bored so hi

I’m gonna just go on a tangent about Keiza and Miyara (my OCs who anyone who may be reading this can find in 2-3 earlier posts). Not Banhi because Banhi’s storyline has too many secrets to reveal right now.

So I guess I could discuss Miyara and Keiza’s lives before they met.

Miyara first.

Miyara’s father is Hakoda’s younger brother (I think I mentioned this in my original post but anyway) Ido, and her mother was a descendant of escaped airbenders, Laya. When Miyara was about 18 months old, her parents were both taken prisoner by the Fire Nation. She doesn’t know what happened to them (though obviously we know that Laya had a kid with a Fire Nation soldier). She lived with her maternal grandfather, [name undecided], until he died when she was five. Her mom has two siblings, Isha and Nalen. Isha took Miyara in until Isha died when Miyara was 8 (also Isha had a kid, Sio), and then Miyara lived with Nalen until Nalen went with the other men and so did Sio’s father, so then Miyara and Sio (at this point ages 9 and 6) went to live with Gran-Gran to Katara and Sokka, even though Sio isn’t actually related to Gran-Gran or Katara or Sokka. This whole time, Miyara has been an airbender but it’s a really big secret because her grandpa was like, ‘don’t let anyone know you’re a bender, look what happened to all the other airbenders’ and then she’s dragged fishing with her cousins and they find another airbender (y’know, Aang) and at that point she doesn’t even know how to start that conversation and then Aang doesn’t find out until the North Pole.

Keiza, on the other hand, is Ursa and Ozai’s youngest kid. I always liked the idea that Azula and Zuko are almost exactly a year and a half apart in age, and I heard somewhere that most firebenders are born in summer, so Azula being a summer baby and Zuko having been born in the dead of winter (though they’re pretty near the equator, so I’m not sure how much weight this theory holds) is what I’m gonna say. Keiza was born 3 days before Zuko’s 3rd birthday (my sister was born 3 days before my 2nd, which is where I got the idea). But now I’m on a tangent within a tangent. So anyway. Keiza was a pretty nice kid growing up and got along pretty well with Zuko and their mom, but she was a pretty good firebender (also she learned archery cause she was 5 and begged until Ozai was like, ‘ugh, fine, but you’d better stay good at firebending’). Keiza was kind of Azula’s tag-along-little-sister, kind of their friend (like I’m undecided but pretty sure in the Zuko Alone flashbacks she’s playing with Azmailee) and also got along real good with Zuko. Ozai couldn’t even be bothered to remember her name half the time. Then their mom disappeard and she developed a deep-seated, deeply-buried anger at her mother, which boils over the course of the show until the search. She was like 8 then. Then Zuko spoke out at the war meeting and she was at the Agni Kai, watching in morbid fascination (she wanted to look away but found it oddly fascinated). This is when she actually realized that her family was fucked up. Then she, being 10, thought it would be a good idea to climb over the barrier and run to him. This did not go well, as she stopped about two yards short and threw up. Then she spent 3 years on a boat with her crazed brother, slowly realizing that the war was also fucked up, and by the time she was 13 she was ready leave. And then Zuko captures Aang and she’s like ‘screw this!’ So she joins team avatar.

Also Keiza and Miyara are BFFs (which I think would literally be ‘best friend forevers but anyway).

I feel like one or both would come across as ADHD but that might just be that I have ADHD.

[to-hold-the-line]

V; Main - takes place during or after Jedi: Survivor. Cal is 23 and a Jedi Knight. Threads that take place after the events of the game will also be tagged as v; Tanalore.

V; Fallen - Takes place toward the end of the game. Cal has fallen to the Dark Side as a result of Bode’s betrayal and the stress of constantly fighting the Empire. He is not completely evil; there are still people he holds dear and things he won’t do, but in combat, he shows no restraint or remorse. He’s become a vengeful nihilist, hellbent on slaying those who have wronged him. First Bode, then Vader, and the whole of the Galactic Empire. The only things that matter to him are ensuring that all of them burn and keeping his very few friends safe. (Side note: this AU is largely inspired by how Cartoonz played the game after Bode’s betrayal, and I thought it would be fun to actually project his rage onto Cal. 😈)

V; modern - I don’t have specifics yet, but I do know that I want a verse where Cal is just the most normal earthling dude…or at least as normal as I can write him. He has a very helpful emotional support cat named Bede (pronounced like BD), drives a motorcycle but can’t drive a car, is very involved in his local HEMA chapter and well trained in both mixed martial arts and medieval weaponry, and likes to garden in his spare time. Cal is a historian by trade, and often has to travel abroad for work. Young as he is, he has some trouble getting colleagues to take him seriously, but it doesn’t diminish his love for the job at all.

V; Wednesday - Due to shenanigans, Cal manages to crash land the Mantis not only on earth but right in the backyard of a very creepy, kooky, mysterious, spooky, and altogether hooky family, shortly after they return from dropping Wednesday off at Nevermore Academy. He survives, and while the Mantis is mostly in one piece, she’s badly damaged and in need of some major repairs before she can fly again. In true Addams fashion, Gomez and Morticia welcome him into their home and do their best to help him recover from his injuries. He very quickly insists on helping them out in return, mainly by assisting Lurch around the house or keeping Pugsley company after school. He comes with them to meet Wednesday at Nevermore for parents weekend. (Anything can happen from there, although I won’t ship Cal with underage muses. This takes place at the beginning of Jedi: Survivor, after Cal leaves Coruscant, so Cal is 23, and a Jedi Knight, and still dealing with the loss of his crew. Bode and BD-1 will probably appear as NPCs for interactions with Wednesday/Addams Family characters. Also, this is just a fun little AU that I had rolling around in my brain.)

V; pirate - Y’know I gotta do it. Cal Kestis is the youngest captain the Mantis has ever had, having just inherited the bonny ship from his newly retired captain, Greez, and now sails the Caribbean, nay, all the seven seas! Treasure is a fine goal, of course, and Cal has always been partial to searching for historical artifacts, but what his heart truly desires is adventure. He’s a lovable rogue, hailing from Ireland, and the son of a sailor and a governor’s daughter. Saltwater flows through his veins. He has a pet parrot named Beady who’s very good at fetching things. (Again, he’s 23, but he’s a little more morally questionable in this verse. Very much against the British Empire. And honestly, all empires. I’m open to plotting out crew related stuff!)

V; Royal - Cal is a prince…or rather, a former prince. He was leading a massive research effort to uncover more of his nation’s ancient past, and right when he was about to make a crucial discovery, his best friend (possibly Bode, but could be anyone. I’m open to plotting) betrayed him by calling in an ambush. Cal barely managed to escape with his life and made it back to the palace…only to find it under siege. He was soon met by a scout who delivered a message from his father: ‘Do not come back. Run. Just save yourself. Follow your stars.’ Prince Cal did just that, though it broke his heart to leave. Shedding his noble title, Cal went on the run with his familiar, Bede (BD), eventually getting to a point where he had to become a sellsword and artifact hunter in order to survive. Currently, he’s a bit more rugged, having been on the road for the past five years, and he finds it hard to trust others, but he’s still a very compassionate man, and will always do his best to help others.

[brewinkel-blog]

Drowning

How do you keep up? My house is a mess, my kids have been sick off and on the last two weeks, my homework is behind, and my brain is fogged and shut down. I just can’t seem to keep up with life. 

Recently, I decided I needed something for me. A sense of community. People that I could talk to, lean on, and socialize with. Even if it’s just for one day a week. My daughter has been begging me to take her to church since she does Awana every week anyway. We chose a church I thought would be inclusive and understanding of the many needs of our family. Last week, there was a potluck. I took a desert and took my oldest and middle child to the service. Of course, they didn’t sit still or really listen. They colored, ate snacks, and whispered to each other almost the entire time. At the end of the service, I had my husband drop my youngest off for the potluck.

There wasn’t much there that the kids wanted to eat but they tried most of the food. Once they had decided they were done eating, they wanted to go play tag with another little girl that was there. They attempted to do this near everyone that was eating. I told them that was unsafe and sent them off to the open space across the way. They took this as the chapel itself. I immediately went in and put a stop to this and told them again to go to the empty room across the way from where we were eating. They did. At this point, an elderly woman came over to them and informed them that “This is God’s house. We don’t run in God’s house. He doesn’t like children who run and disrespect his house like that.” Shortly after, the kids were told they could run outside. Obviously, they did. I decided it was time to leave at this point. 

For a church that is full of elderly people, you’d think they would enjoy the sound of running laughing children. I was watching them and ensuring they didn’t break or harm anything. I didn’t let them run in the chapel. I sent them to the open room that was clearly unused. Now, I’m finding it hard to want to return next Sunday. I wanted a place where my kids would be loved, accepted, wanted, and adored. I wanted an extended church family for them since we lack a biological family. 

When we lived in North Carolina with my grandma, I took my daughter to their church a few times. She was passed from lap to lap. Everyone wanted to hold her, talk to her, and love on her. During the service, she would walk up and down the aisles and the pews stopping to chit chat with all the other parishioners. They would hold her while they sang hymns and dance with her while they praised Jesus. She never stopped smiling. She giggled all the time. She genuinely enjoyed going. And even though she was so tiny, I really think that is the reason she keeps asking me to attend church here. She wants that same interaction. Unfortunately, I don’t know if we will find it here. 

I talked to my grandma about the situation. She said most churches have one busy body who just doesn’t really like kids. She thinks we may have just happened across that person. She could be right. None of the other parishioners said anything but praises to our children. But I struggle with how they really feel. Around here, you don’t say what you actually mean to people. You are nice to their face and then talk shit behind their back. I don’t want to be at a place we aren’t truly welcome. 

I feel sorry for a church that doesn’t cherish children. Eventually, they will fail. The current parishioners will die off and they won’t have any young blood to fill the chapel on Sundays. 

If we do attend again, I will only take my oldest. I won’t take my other two children. Maybe they aren’t old enough. Maybe they need more time to learn how to sit and listen. You can’t learn that unless you practice it. 

[astrxlis-archive]

—This ask is for your reply that was posted on [ March 27 2022 ] !! (i apologize for replying this v late;; since we always tend to have a new topic every reply tbh 🤣)

First of all, i def appreciate you still replying to asks despite your busy sched 😭💖 i'll be always treasuring your messages so your effort wouldn't be wasted 🥰

I do think the reason why it's always mine is because there's a lot of asks that i have sent you with + tagging those posts with my alias— it's still interesting to me even after you told me that 🤭

For fridays, we only have half day classes however it's in the morning (vs. our usual sched in the afternoon) :DD and i'll do my best avoiding not sleeping 🤧 i just happen to not get tired always (but i got drained so fast)!!

i do see your point about xiao being confused that you don't seem to be like the people who goes like "omg an adeptus 🤩🤩" (ngl i cracked up reading this 😭😭) maybe because you treating xiao just like a normal person to talk to will ease his heart 👀

My shyness, hmm it's always been there actually 😌 but i try to not be shy when i have to seem confident. This is one reason why kokomi is quite a relatable character to me?? She's an introvert, however as a leader and divine priestess of watatsumi she have to act confident around her people.

If you do think you need to learn from me on that aspect, i do think i have to learn about how you get in touch with people using your ~emotional intelligence~ which i lack,,😔

Very much relating to how we become a hypocrite of our own words too, but well i think we just don't have enough motivation to be a man of our own words 😩 but it's nice to know that you're still trying your best!! That's one of the things that matters ngl 💗💕

About my diagnosis... I have informed you about this earlier so i see no need to put it here again 😌👌i think you asking more about this isn't intruding since i think you just wanna be more aware you know 😤💕 and thank you for your kind words, Fox!! Around this week, i'm starting to get better too! :D I can function little by little now + i have told our class adviser about this too (bc i think one of the side effects of the meds can cause sleepiness?? + I slept so late that i was sleeping like a log) yesterday since i failed to attend our friday classes 😌 i woke up at 12 nn around that day.

Truly, my reaction to you saying i have a way with words is the first time i heard of that compliment towards me??!? 😤😤😤 So i of course need time to process it and see my self at your own PoV 😅🤭

MOST IMPORTANTLY: when i was reading this message before, i cant help it but smile and giggle(?) due the fact that you said you kinda considered me as a friend echoes in my brain for days 😩 like i was just sitting in piece and then i remembered this part of your message reply— it made me go like "omg,,, they called me a friend??🥺 their friend,,,😳 omg,," i feel so honored 😭😭 i'll do my best as your friend 😤💞

Interesting to know you had a uquizzes phase too 🤣 i feel so sad i have taken almost all quizzes that's interesting to me,,,,, yandere bnha quiz 😱 that's wild 🤔🤣 the description must be very detailed 😰 i'm sorry for finding this funny 😭 hmm i don't draw anymore because... The flame of the candle has long been burnt out ever since. Meaning that my passion for it have vanished, yet i still posseses the creativity skill within me. And i hope the moment i join genshinblr, i would not quit writing too, given the fact that i would usually pick a new hobby then suddenly abandon it <///3 i dont really do fanarts back then but before i do original and half-assed random artworks 👌

i'm also glad that you have read a new take or perspective about noelle's situation 🥰 i do wonder about that too..

it was nice knowing that you're getting comfy with me as well 😌 💖

me 🤝you

Having trouble with the opposite "x" aspect in the "INxP".

Ngl your messages gives me so much warmth (in a good and loving way) like i think to myself how you connect with others 🥺💗

Ooooh pediatrics ?? Now that's another interesting thing,, but i'll be looking forward to what field in medicine you're going to choose in the future !! 😚 Im just here cheering up on u! 🤔 i can't give you any tips in dealing with kids if i were to recollect my hazy memories when i was a kid bc im a well behaved kid b4🤩😭 what i can only remember is that i had tantrums outta nowhere lmaos 😔😭

same with what you said, i think infp and intp are quite a good pair of friends 👀💞✨

Please do share stuff you've learned in your class/es!!🤩🤩🤩 i'm very much in for what you had learned, so you can let your med student self to talk about those :> i, of course, cannot relate much but i try my best to understand it as much as possible :D

Also, don't think about not explaining stuff or defining some words, google got my back !!👌

i definitely enjoy your questions especially that they help continue the flow of the conversation 🥺♥️ it's obvious that in my replies i just really answer your questions and not ask anything 😩 i just have no idea what to ask ;; it may not seem to you that you're thankable for it but i feel like telling you these simple nice things you've done that made my heart so warm <33

here it is again 😩😩 "i like talking to you" guest what, me too!! 🤩😤🥰

Please kindly break it to me about the accounting and business stuff 👀 i wanna know about it more 😩 once again me 🤝 you in terms of getting rich by doing absolutely nothing 😌✨

Also i didn't expect that reply 🥺 thank you for considering my safety and privacy (even if i wouldnt mind but still thank you for being do considerate 🥺)

one thing i have to say about the stroganoff in your reply is that: i dont know how to cook 😭😭 shh i cant also explain why i cant because i also dont know 🤣 but maybe i should overcome my fear of turning on the stove- 😌 idk i always feel like if i handled the stove our house might explode 🤔 and i have experienced being blamed so many times (especially as the eldest) and is so tired of it 😌

i've also viewed the IG acc you follow 👀 the page is full of so many fluffy pets 🥺💞 i get it now why it is named jupiter and friends 😤 idk but,, jupiter surely got so many friends to accompany it😂🥰

thank you for your support too!! I'll be sure to let you know (i might forget btw;;;) if ever i have joined the genshinblr community 😚 let's grow together and support each other!! ♥️

Well i may not be knowledgeable about the html stuff in here,, but i could give you a few ideas based on how you would like things to look like, things you are interested in (like Nier) or your favorite kind of aesthetic and vibe >:3 i remember trying to plan what theme i want my blog to be remembered of, or how can i be unique from the rest of the blogs,, because my theory for this is that if your blog is unique or nice looking you have more chances of getting remembered. 🤔🤔

And yoimiya 😳 (i have to admit i love her as a character ) that's really interesting to me!! 😳 I get your point of associating her with me too, but one thing i could assure is that: im not good with kids unlike her 😂 dont worry about not being very good at understanding, because i feel the same way 🥺and do let me know if you have another character you associate me with!! i'm very curious about it 🤩

I haven't seen turning red yet, but i've seen many people are talking about it👌 i might watch that when i have the time!! Very glad to here that you took a break from studying to watching a movie instead😚🤩 it's like treating yourself too for working hard in your studies💗

Abt that quiz, even if i chose the same answers i have selected before i got jean too(so many times) and idk what on earth happened bc my actual result there was supposed to be diluc- 💀 this is the start where i question if i do kin him 😌

Idk how it is for your sisters but maybe we do relate about being the eldest/elder one 😂

Take care Fox!! 💕💕💕

— 🍰.

hellooo 🍰!!!

first of all, thank you so much for still replying to that 😂 it’s alright if it’s late, so dw!! we somehow keep the conversation going 🥰

yep, i agree with you! it’s probably because of that, but it’s also a comfort to me? like, you’re a consistent person around here and that means a lot. thank you! 💕💕

oh gosh, days where classes only happen in one period are such a blessing. i’m so jealous, even if it’s in the mornings. also, i cracked up too, especially because i keep reading the “omg” like the third vine, so i’m just here like 😂😂😂 anyways… i just want my little xiaoxiao to be happy 🤷

okay so i finally did kokomi’s quest (because the new event MADE me do it, not because i planned to – the things i do for primos and xingqiu istg) and i can def see your point clearer now. maybe it’s a good thing i took a while to reply. she’s also overworked, much like jean, because she has such an important role in watatsumi… i swear i wanted to let her sleep for a while longer 😔 maybe (hopefully) we can teach each other a little bit more about our types of intelligence! ☺️

i was really happy to read you were feeling better, and it still warms my heart to read it again 🥰 i still haven’t checked dan’s blog for your diagnosis, but i will! it’s in my to-do list once midterms are over. i’m glad you told your class adviser! having someone know what you’re going through, even if it’s just medication side effects, can help a lot. and dude?? you absolutely do have a way with words?? like, how come no one has told you this before? 🧍🧍🧍 this fox is too stunned to speak

about doing your best being my friend, all we gotta do is be honest about our feelings and talk things out, you know? i think it’s the best way to support each other! 💕 but let me know what you think abt this!

no worries for finding it funny LMAO tbh i was a bit creeped out by the results and i giggled like crazy bc dang, the person who made that quiz went all out 👀 my uquiz phase come and go tbh 😂 since you sent me those two quizzes i've been sorta checking the website for new ones 🤭🤭

and yeah, i can relate to that – the passion for something burning out. i’m sorry you went through that with drawing, but it’s nice to know you still draw sometimes instead of dropping it completely. and hey, even if you do end up joining and quitting, what matters is that you were here! and i’m sure people would be delighted to have you around as a writing blog as well. 💖💖

about my specialty – i’ll let you know 😂 and thanks for cheering me on!! tbh not even i can give myself advice on how to deal with kids bc i’m not good with them but it makes me so happy when i wave to a random kid and they wave back or say hi fkndkssn 🙈

aw man 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 look, i’m just really glad you take time off your day to come here and talk to me, so like– yes!! please tell me stuff!! related to me or not 💖

so, this is me breaking it out to you: you’re so so so wrong about not having to work in that field 😩😮‍💨😩😮‍💨 THEY WORK SO HARD— listen i took two (2!!) months of business management and i quit because sweet jesus the amount of theory they have backing their practice???? just. no. not for me at all. and sometimes i think people in that field are overworked. but it’s a major that opens doors, absolutely. you can work anywhere. about accounting, my mom has a degree in it and there’s a lot more theory than i ever thought; it’s like business but with math. sorry if i crushed your hopes ☹️

if it helps, i only recently learned how to cook 😂😂 which is why i go to my sister’s for food sometimes. take your time overcoming your fear, though!! the stove is not going anywhere (and it’s not going to explode 😂) and maybe you can blackmail your sibling into cooking with you so if stuff goes wrong you’re not alone 👀

juniper’s account gives me life sometimes 😂 the fact most animals are (unreleaseable) wild animals is very informative about what they’re like too. and i’ll remind you to let me know when you join! consider this your first reminder! 😂😂 let’s goooooo 💖

i’m not very knowledgeable with html either, so we’re on the same boat, but please tell me your ideas!! you’re absolutely right about your aesthetic being how you’re remembered (along your writing if you're a writing blog–)

about yoimiya – getting along with kids was not the first thing on my mind tbh 😂 especially bc i remembered you saying stuff about your sibling 👀 and after kokomi’s quest, i started to see the ways i can associate you with her, but i still need a better grasp on her personality 😅 let me know what you think of the movie when/if you do!

so, as requested, i’ll send any questions i have in my reply for the next ask (probably tomorrow) 😩

i hope you’re doing well, 🍰!! 💛💛💛

[wolf-na]

Amazing — Carlos Sainz Jr (part 2)

PART ONE

summary : in which carlos always gets shy around you and it kills you on the inside.

A/N : thank you so so much for all the love on the first part, i didn’t think you all would like it this much! i’m soooo sorry it took so long to update, i just got caught up with work :( a third part is on the way so, again, hit those comments if you wanna be tagged in the next part!

You dropped all the grocery bags on the large kitchen table and sighed in frustration, “I can’t believe that this is the start of my summer break...”

Your mother discreetly chuckled, “Por favor, could you go get the—”

“Nope!” you interrupted, “I ran errands for two days straight, I actually have somewhere to be,” you checked your phone and gasped at the clock, “And if I don’t leave now, I’m going to be late!”

You grabbed your bag and rolled your eyes at your mother and sisters snickering at your frantic behavior as the youngest one wiggled her eyebrows, “You’re meeting the guy you’ve been texting 24/7?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” you deadpanned before walking out and slamming the door.

You took a quick look at yourself in the mirror near the house’s front door and shrugged at your flushed cheeks and simple outfit before leaving the family house. You were supposed to meet Carlos for coffee downtown and, at this point, you didn’t really care if your outfit wasn’t the most impressive. After all, you were never one to show up with the fanciest outfits or crazy makeup looks, and you were meeting up for coffee, not at a fancy restaurant.

The sun was burning your skin and each step bringing you closer to the location where you would meet the Ferrari driver made your heart beat a little faster in your chest. You had been texting Carlos almost everyday ever since you both finally engaged in a conversation at dinner in Monaco. 

Sometimes you would just send him Formula One memes —preferably in Spanish, but you two would mainly talk about anything and everything. You had also obviously been very keen to show your support before the race in Azerbaijan and to congratulate him after, even though you knew he wasn’t really satisfied by his result. In all honesty, this race probably had to be your favorite of the season so far, mainly because your best friend Pierre had finished on the podium and that the battle between him and Charles by the very end of the race had brought you back to childhood when you would be in the stands and watch them battle it out in karting competitions.

You recognized him for afar, noticing how his white t-shirt emphasized his naturally tan skin. You blinked a few times and took a deep breath before walking towards him, trying to look confident even though you felt weak in the knees simply by looking at him from a distance.

His eyes lit up when he saw you and he rose to his feet, being quick to open his arms and give you a warm hug, “Hi (Y/N)!”

He pulled out the chair for you and you gave him a bright smile as you sat down in front of him, “Hey! You had a nice trip back?”

Carlos vividly nodded, “I slept all the way through, I was so exhausted.”

“Yeah, I bet! I honestly don’t know how you guys do it all the time.”

He shrugged, “Habits, I guess. What about you though?”

You cocked your head to the side, “What about me?”

“How was work and everything?”

And that was something you had learned to appreciate from him. Ever since you both started talking regularly, you had found out that he didn’t want the conversations to be mainly about him. He actually wanted to know how your day was going, what you had to do at work, what your hobbies were and he would gladly listen to you for hours on end even after a long day of training.

If you weren’t deeply infatuated with him before that, this part of him had you now in the palm of his hands.

“Quite uneventful actually,” you confessed, “I could’ve easily worked from home on that one. So... I don’t really know why they flew me to Italy but, yeah, it was alright.”

“So, you’re saying you could’ve come to the race?”

You chuckled, “I mean, yeah... but I can’t afford to travel that much, my bank account isn’t endless.”

“You know, that can be fixed by adding your name to a list.”

“You don’t think Charles and Pierre didn’t try that one trick before?” You asked, “I’m not really into the trophy wife type of thing. I mean, not that it’s a bad thing or whatever... Plus, I’m not dating any of them but, like—”

“Yeah, no, I understand,” Carlos interrupted, now feeling stupid for offering so bluntly something like this.

Just like at the restaurant where you had actually started talking for the very first time, a waitress made her way to your table and you could tell she had recognized the Formula One driver. She had a light twinkle of admiration in her eyes and a shy smile at the corner of her lips. You could so relate to the feeling, recalling the very first time you had met Sebastian Vettel as you had been obsessed with him for years when you were younger. Of course, Charles had exposed you and it had led you to wanting to dig a hole and disappear under the surface of Earth but, now, crossing path with Sebastian was just as normal as ever. You still felt immense admiration for the man but you two were very friendly and he was always looking forward to your little chats on the paddock.

“Are you two ready to order?” the waitress asked.

Carlos looked in your direction and you nodded at the girl, “Yeah, I’ll just have a latte with oat milk, if you have that.”

“Yeah, we do!”

Carlos shot you a surprised look, “Oat milk?”

You chuckled, “Yeah, you should try it, I promise you it’s good.”

Carlos squinted his eyes as if he was trying to see you flinch but you simply raised an eyebrow and smirked as the longing eye contact made your heart skip a beat. It wasn’t like you didn’t know what you were doing, in fact, you were pretty self aware that hanging out with him and texting him every day would only cause your crush to grow bigger and stronger. You just never thought it would go that fast. It was like you were seventeen again and that your brain would make up new scenarios every second —with crystal clear details, involving the man sitting in front of you.

Right now, your brain was offering you this beautiful movie scene where you and Carlos would be exactly there, waiting for your coffees, except you could feel his knee gently rubbing against yours and his hand would casually grab yours, entertwining your fingers before bringing it to his mouth and pressing a soft kiss on your knuckles. It was simple but it was sweet and it made your heart flip in your chest.

“Okay, I’ll take the same thing.”

The waitress nodded and was ready to walk away but she spun on her heels and scratched the back of her head, “Hm… I’m, I’m a big fan. Could we… take a picture?”

“Oh, yeah, yeah, sure!” Carlos replied with a smile.

The waitress pulled out her phone with a shaky hand and you were quick to extend your hand, “Here, I’ll take it.”

You leaned back on your chair and made sure to snap as many pictures as you could, trying to find the best angle and praying the girl would be pleased with the result. Secretly, you were glad that this girl had asked for a picture with Carlos because your cheeks were flushed from that imaginary scenario and that phone in front of your face was surely covering it.

You handed her the phone, “Here!”

She was blushing like crazy and, again, you could relate, “Thank you…”

And, as you had predicted, Carlos loved the drink and you made a mental note to make him try absolutely every single thing you would order if you were both finding yourselves in a similar situation in the future. You spent most of the day together, just walking around the city and enjoying the sunny day together. As expected, Carlos was approached by many fans and, even though he appreciated all the support, he kept apologizing because you were being interrupted but you were quick to reassure him every single time that you didn’t care and that you had gotten used to it since being best friends with Charles and Pierre had put you in this situation many times before.

By the end of the afternoon, Carlos had offered to walk you home. You were about to reach your house that you felt your phone buzzing in your pocket. You frowned at the whatsapp notification :

chaaaaaaarles added you to the group “monaco break baby!¡!”

- (y/n) i hope you’re ready to be on team loser for golf because i’ll never forgive you for last year

You didn’t contain the chuckle that escaped your lips as you couldn’t believe Charles was bringing up this golf “tournament” he had set up during the previous summer break. To your defense, you couldn’t golf and Charles had proven to be the worst teacher on the planet. Probably because he wasn’t a good player himself but that was something he would never confess.

“Wait, you’re going to Monaco too?”

You looked away from your phone to see Carlos had his own in his hands as notifications kept popping up on his screen. Glancing back at your screen, you realized that everyone in the group chat was currently texting, making your phone buzz incessantly, “So, you’re going, uh?”

“Yeah, Charles invited me.”

You internally cursed, knowing all too well that even if the two Ferrari drivers were good friends which could explain the invitation, Charles was probably thrilled to know you two would be spending an entire week together in Monaco.

You looked at your feet for a second, praying Carlos couldn’t sense your body tensing, “Well, I guess I’ll see you in Monaco then?”

Carlos nodded and the two of you stood in front of your house, uncertain as to how to say goodbye. It wasn’t like you two had been hanging out for the longest time but it would be a lie on your part to say you wouldn’t want a hug from him.

The awkwardness slowly faded to become something a little electric. As if something invisible was happening between your bodies as neither of you knew exactly what it was or what to do with it. For a split second, you swore you saw Carlos was ready to step forward, as if he was seeking a way to get closer to you but you saw him glance behind you and his body froze.

As if something had disrupted your privacy.

Carlos scratched his throat, returning his shy self, "Hm, it was really nice... Today."

Your heart sank in your chest in disappointment, "Yeah, it was."

"So... see you in Monaco?" Carlos said, "You can be on my golf team if you want."

The grimace that contorted your face made him laugh, "Yeah, I’m not sure you want me on your team, I’m awful at golfing. Like... really awful."

"I’ll teach you."

You bit your lip as your mind was quick to create a scenario in which Carlos was being your private golf instructor. You mentally cursed yourself and blinked a few times to stop your brain from taking things a little too far, "Deal."

Once you step foot into your house, you released a heavy breath you had been unconsciously holding in for way too long. You rubbed your sweaty palms over your legs and let out a small shriek at the sight of your sisters smirking at you.

"So... Carlos Sainz, uh?"

"You stupid bitches watched the whole thing through the window, right?" you accused, now understanding why Carlos had decided not stepping closer earlier.

Your younger sister raised her hands defensively, "Don’t know what you’re talking about," as your other one grimaced, "Guilty..."

… … …

You walked out of the bathroom all dressed up for the night awaiting you and all the people who had been invited to spend the week in Monaco.

Charles had rented a massive mansion that gave a wonderful view of the city and you remembered how your jaw dropped when you discovered the place. The previous years, Charles’ house was big enough to fit in all the guests. This time though, Charles had to invest a little more in this vacation since most of his friends were now in serious relationships, meaning some girlfriends would join and that the couples would want some privacy.

You had been graced with a wonderful bedroom with your own bathroom and you had felt obligated to offer some financial compensation which had led Charles and Pierre to laugh at your face, clearly turning down your proposition.

"Uh, I’m sorry but I could pay, you know?" you retorted as you dramatically dropped your bag on the floor.

"Oh, I know," Charles said, "I just don’t want you to."

"Yeah, I’ll just transfer you money," you said before locking yourself in your room.

Next thing you knew, Charles was banging on your door, "No, you’re not!"

When you finally walked downstairs, the living room was loud and filled with people.

Charles, Pierre, Daniel, Max, their respective girlfriends and some of your childhood friends were there, all chatting before heading out to the restaurant.

You were wearing a red and white tweed suit with the first few buttons opened, revealing just a bit of cleavage without overdoing it. Sensual but chic at the same time.

Daniel shot his eyes wide open and let out a loud whistle, "Alright, you’re snapping heads tonight, damn."

You chuckled, praying that the compliment didn’t show off on your skin, "Stop it, Dan."

Soon enough, you were all making your way to the restaurant where all the other guests were already waiting for your group.

Charles was walking beside you, a smirk growing on his lips as he noticed someone already staring at you from the other side of the room. He leaned into you, "Yeah, you got him in the palm of your hand."

You frowned, "What?"

But Charles being Charles, he decided to just walk away, wiggling his eyebrows at you before sharing a warm embrace with Lando.

And you finally made eye contact with Carlos. When you spotted him, he was already looking at you and he carefully walked in your direction as you did the same thing.

He was wearing a casual outfit and you couldn’t help but tell yourself that white really suited him. You also noticed jewelry dangling around his neck and you had to look away from his hands, too caught up by the rings he was wearing and the effect it had on you.

He hadn’t even said a word and you were already a mess.

Awkwardly, the two of you stopped in front of each other, simultaneously saying "Hi!" and you looked around you, feeling flustered by the moment.

Carlos had his mouth slightly opened, very rapidly eyeing you up and down, as if he wanted to say something but before you could say anything, you were all called in to sit at the large table.

This time though, you were sat next to Charlotte and Katerina as Carlos was on the other end of the table, way too far for you to engage in any sort of conversation.

During dinner though, you could feel him glancing at you occasionally and you didn’t mind the way your heart would beat faster every time it happened.

Ever since that time you two met in Madrid, the texting hadn’t stopped. It had become a habit for the both of you and it was like you always had something to talk about. It was thrilling and it felt like the beginning of something beautiful.

You still couldn’t figure out if Carlos was flirting with you sometimes but it definitely had something to do with your own self confidence. Not that you didn’t like yourself, you appreciated the person you were but you hadn’t dated anyone in awhile and your last relationship had wrecked you more than you would ever admit.

And to top it off, pictures of you and Carlos had invaded the internet and now people assumed you two were dating.

You were trying to keep your composure but your thoughts were flowing in your mind at an incredible pace, the whole situation making you nervous when a notification popped on your screen.

carlos

you’re okay?

The text brought a smile on your face and you looked at him, nodding gently. He stared at you, trying to see if your smile was genuine. His gaze was strong and intense and you had to blink a few times in ordee to control your increasing heartbeats.

y/n

yeah, i just spaced out ✨

A few minutes later, you excused yourself and made your way to the bathroom, enjoying this alone time to relax. You had been hanging out with Formula One drivers for years and you had grown somehow popular in the community, even though it had never been part of your plan. You only ever wanted to be there for your best friends but quickly realized being low key wouldn’t be an option in this environment.

You heard the bathroom door opening and remained quiet, not really caring for a bathroom chat with a girl who would want access to the table filled with famous drivers. You didn’t mean to judge every woman by that thought, you just knew how Monaco could be sometimes.

And you were right this time.

"You’ve seen all the photos going around recently?" a girl asked.

"What photos?"

The first girl gasped, "Of Carlos and Y/N, wait let me show you."

Your heart could not beat louder in your chest and you suddenly felt nauseous, feeling like you were back in middle school, walking fearfully down the halls for a bully to pop out of nowhere and throw you against a locker.

And the laughter began. Snarky and mocking and for a second you wondered if you hadn’t made an unwanted trip to the past where these sounds felt demonic and seemed to follow you everywhere.

"Wait, are they dating?" the second girl asked.

"I really hope not," her friend spat in disgust, "I don’t get why she’s even friends with them, seriously."

Your head started spinning and you knew, deep down, that these two girls were just jealous. Jealous because you hung out with famous, attractive and rich men on the daily. Maybe also jealous because you didn’t perfectly fit the standards and that you were never once pressured to change the way you dressed or presented yourself to stay near them. Probably jealous because you could be seen on Pierre and Charles’ social medias all the time and that you could call most of the drivers real friends.

But once they left and that you finally walked out of the stall, you were facing your reflection on a mirror that could deserve some cleaning and you hated what you saw.

In a matter of seconds, you had been torn to pieces by two women you had never seen in your life and you hated that strangers could have that effect on you.

You tried to compose yourself and finally made your way back to the table, completely oblivious to the words Charles and Pierre exchanged when they glanced at you.

Because, no matter what, you would never be able to hide anything from your best friends.

taglist : @piceous21 @tamaraudvardy @starjane312 @gods-fools-heroes @shes-homeward-bound @miahelen @oyesmendes @f1thirsttraps @honeybadger03 @blacpiink @d0ntjudgemy50shades @sticksdoesart @dr3lover @readerselegance @whyamihere1014 @ninnypoosworld @soleilgrec @starlightoctavia @lyra0024

[scuttling]

Stay at Home DILF

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 5,863 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Dad Bod Hotch, Insecure Hotch, Oral sex, Fingering, Unprotected sex, A little angsty by accident Summary: Aaron retires from the BAU when the new baby is born, but a year later the lack of structure, sleep, and time for himself means changes to his body he's not very proud of. When the thought of having another child is brought up, how will he and his wife work through his insecurities to make the perfectly imperfect, happy family? *Requested by anon Link to A03 or read below! “Honey, I have to get going—do you need me to drop Jack off at school, or are you good?” Professor Hotchner slides her foot into a flesh-toned pump, leaning against the kitchen table for support and stealing a grape from Jack’s fruit salad. He narrows his eyes, then sticks out his tongue, and she does the same. “Do you want me to starve, Jackrabbit?”

“You won’t starve. Get your own grapes.” So full of sass, that one. Seven is such a fun age. She decides to blame the mixture of Aaron’s genes and Haley’s, and she pulls out her phone to send Haley a quick text.

Your son is a menace in the morning.

Haley: Gets that from his dad.

Aaron enters the kitchen, holding their one year old daughter Mia, and he sticks her in her highchair, puts her breakfast in front of her, and leans toward his wife.

“I’m good, I’ll take him,” he says, and kisses her lips. “Mia and I will take big brother Jack to school, won’t we?” Mia is obsessed with Jack—her first word was Jack, or rather, Ack, which was super cute—so she giggles happily, and her mother can’t help but smile. Their little family is absolutely perfect.

She leans in for another kiss from Aaron, and then another, and then maybe one more...

“You’re getting distracted,” Jack says, and she looks over at him with a raised eyebrow, then back to Aaron. He shrugs.

“It was on one of his vocabulary sheets.” Figures.

“Well, maybe I find my boys distracting. Let me give you kisses and we’ll find out!” She launches herself at him, kissing his head and his cheeks, and he laughs, and she knows she’s going to be late for work, but she can’t pass up moments like these, she just can’t.

She gives him a hug and tells him to have a good day, then she kisses Mia, and then she puts her arms around Aaron’s neck and kisses him goodbye. Before she pulls away, something comes over her—the warmth of this perfect morning, the overwhelming love for both of their sassy, silly kids, or maybe the fact that they’ve been too busy for sex lately and she’s constantly horny for him—and she looks up at him and whispers, “we should have another baby.”

Aaron grins immediately.

“Yeah we should.” They kiss a few more times, quickly, smiling against each other's lips, and he pats her hip because he knows she has to go. “We’ll talk more later, but yes. I want to. I love you.” He takes her face in his hands and kisses her deeply, and she sighs, grabs her bags, and heads out the door. Work is work; as the youngest professor in the English department, her schedule is jam packed with classes, lectures, morning office hours, but despite all that, it seems that Aaron is having the more difficult day.

They both love that he was able to retire from the BAU early to be a stay at home dad when Mia was born—he does consult for them occasionally, but has no official title, doesn’t have to travel—and he’s amazing at it, but she knows her baby can be a handful even on a good day. The texts she’s been getting all morning only solidify that knowledge.

Aaron: FYI - Mia hates bananas this week.

Aaron: What do they put in this applesauce, crack? She’s tearing around here like a bat out of hell.

Aaron: Okay, she’s your child, I officially renounce her. I put on The White Album and she started crying.

Maybe she prefers Abbey Road?

Aaron: No. Unlike her mother, she has taste.

You wound me, Hotchner.

She works through lunch, grading papers on The Call of the Wild, but when Aaron’s name lights up the display on her phone, she puts her pen down and smiles, puts it on speaker.

She’s sorry she did, because Mia is wailing in the background, and it’s very clearly her, I’m exhausted, asshole, leave me alone, cry, which makes her wonder why she’s not taking a nap. She knows she resists Aaron sometimes, doesn’t want him to leave her alone in her room, which is so sweet and also so, so annoying.

“Hi, sweetheart. Are you having a little trouble over there?” He takes a deep breath and sighs.

“She won’t go down, baby, even if I sit in the rocking chair beside her. It’s been twenty minutes.” Wow. He put up with it longer than she would have.

“Put her in her crib with Stuffy Bear and just let her cry; I know you hate that, but she’ll give up eventually.” He groans softly.

“I can’t; I feel so bad.”

She smiles. Her warm-hearted man.

“She does this because she knows you’ll give in and do whatever she wants. I promise you, she’ll be happier for it; she sounds miserable.”

“I don’t know…” he says, and she can tell he’s not going to do it. She picks up her pen and skims the paper she abandoned.

“Are you tired?” She doesn't wait for an answer, because she knows he is: Jack had a bad dream last night and woke them both up, and Aaron went to lay with him until he fell asleep because he knew she had an early morning. It was almost time for her alarm when he made it back to bed. “If you want to try to nap, she’s going to have to nap. Do it for her, yourself, me, a combination of the three of us. She won’t be mad at you; she won’t even remember.”

“What if I give her abandonment issues?” he presses, and she closes her eyes for a moment.

“Aaron, I love you so much. You’re such a great dad, and our kids are lucky to have you. But you have to loosen the reins just a little, especially if… if we are going to have another baby.” The thought makes her smile, and she can tell he’s smiling down the line, too.

“Right. Loosen the reins. Just put her in her crib,” she can hear that he does that, “and give her Stuffy Bear, and let her cry.” He blows out a breath, and she can hear the door click shut behind him as he leaves her room. She’s proud of him, but she also knows he’s going to sit in front of the video monitor and watch to make sure she falls asleep, and that he’ll probably work on laundry after that and not actually take a nap of his own.

He insists he’s doing fine when she brings it up, but the way he sacks out like a corpse when they get into bed doesn’t exactly have her convinced.

“I love you, and miss you,” he says when it’s slightly quieter, though she can faintly hear the cries through the monitor. “It made me really happy this morning when you said we should have another baby. We make perfect babies, have you noticed?” She hides her grin behind her hand, because if anyone walked by her office they’d think she’s insane with how widely she’s smiling.

“I have noticed, but since we only have the one and I can’t take any credit for Jack, I figured we should probably make another. Maybe the same way we made Mia…” They’re both convinced it was a weekend when Jack was at Haley’s and the two of them went to town on each other, true marathon sex where they only stopped for food and water and she coaxed him to hardness so many times she felt like a damn sex goddess.

“Hmm. I remember that with fondness, and would love to do that again. You know Haley said she’d take Mia on one of Jack’s weekends if we ever needed her to.”

Her life is pretty damn perfect, with her gorgeous, caring husband, and her two awesome kiddos, and a job she loves, but the most unexpectedly sweet part is that Haley is so comfortable with her, and that she and Aaron were able to get past the ugliness of their divorce to eventually become friends again. It’s not something they take for granted.

“Maybe we should take her up on it this weekend,” she says, trying to sound a little sultry. “We’ve both been so busy; it’s been a while since you pet my kitty.” For some reason, this particular phrase makes Aaron blush and get insanely horny, and she’s hoping to tease him so much the rest of the week that their weekend is one neither of them ever forget, so she’s pulling out the big guns.

“It’s been far too long, and I’m sorry. I can’t wait, baby. I’ll call her here in a few; I know you have to get to your next lecture.” She looks down at her watch, and it is about time to clean up and head over. She sighs happily down the line.

“Okay, I love and miss you; try to take a power nap. I promise, she’ll be fine.”

“I will.” He won’t. “Talk to you soon.” When she gets home, Aaron has dinner ready; she told him to hold off, that she’d help when she got there, but he has always been an overachiever.

Mia is already in her high-chair, waiting patiently for once in her little life; she kisses her forehead, breathes in her sweet baby smell, and then makes her way to her husband.

“Looks good, honey,” she says as he sets the table, and she leans up for a kiss, but when she presses her hand to his stomach like she always does, he pulls back a little. “Is everything okay? Did you have a bad afternoon?”

“No, it wasn’t bad after the nap fiasco,” he responds, but he sounds distracted. Maybe he was asked to look at a case, or something, and that’s still on his mind? She leans against his shoulder, puts a hand on his back and attempts to push up his t-shirt, to skim her hand up along his spine, which always comforts him, but again, he shifts away from her touch. She sighs and steps back.

“You're going to give me a complex, Aaron. If I did something to upset you, please tell me so I can apologize and try to make it better.” He turns to look at her face, and his formerly tense jaw softens a little; he presses his lips to hers, just a peck.

“No, you didn’t do anything. I’m just a little tired, that’s all.” He smiles softly, and she’s sure he is tired, but this seems like something more.

“You’d tell me if something else was bothering you, right? You know I’m here for you.”

“Of course I would, and of course I do. I love you,” he breathes against her mouth, and then he goes in for a longer kiss and she gets, as Jack said earlier, a little distracted. When the kiss breaks, she sighs happily.

“I love you. Missed those lips,” she murmurs, and then she runs a hand over his hair. “If the kids wake up again tonight, I’ll get them. You need to rest.” He shakes his head.

“You have another full day tomorrow,” he counters, and it’s so sweet that he keeps up with the schedule she has posted on the fridge, but still. She puts her hand on her hip.

“And you don’t? It’s my turn. Let me help.” He looks like he wants to argue, but she gives him the glare he knows means she will talk about this all night if he doesn’t agree; she’s not the sponsor of the university’s debate team for nothing, and even his prosecutorial ways have nothing on her.

“Okay,” he sighs, and she smiles and kisses him and then goes to get Jack and make sure he’s cleaned up for dinner.

That night when the two of them are getting ready for bed, she’s surprised as hell when he stops her from pulling one of his t-shirts—her typical sleepwear—over her head. She sets it down, arches her brow, and he guides her back onto the bed with a grin and puts his hands on her hips.

“What’s happening right now?” she asks, because before Mia, sure, Aaron would treat her to all manner of orgasm-inducing behavior at random, and she would do the same, but since Mia—especially in the last six months or so—their sexual encounters have been few and far between. It’s no one’s fault, and they’re both very clearly still attracted to each other; it’s just one of those things that falls by the wayside when you have a new baby and a hectic life and you don’t get enough sleep.

Needless to say, she is a little confused by this turn of events.

“I’m attempting to worship my gorgeous fucking wife,” he murmurs, and he leans up and kisses her stomach, licks a long line up from her belly button. Her breath hitches. “Gonna put another little baby in here—but it’s always beautiful.” He slowly moves his lips higher, over her ribcage, and holds her there. “You’re perfect, you know?”

“Aaron.” Her fingers come up to sweep through his hair; her heart aches with love and tenderness. He moves up, presses open-mouthed kisses to each of her breasts, then covers them with his hands and squeezes. She’s a panting, dripping mess, and more than anything she wants to strip him naked, pull him closer, get him inside her.

“I love you just as you are; I want you just as you are. Always have, always will.” He smooths his hands up over her throat, and brings her mouth to his for a deep, soulful kiss. She hadn’t even realized she’s been feeling repressed, but his touch tonight makes her feel so beautiful and special… It's incredible how close she is from only that.

“Make love to me,” she whispers, and he kisses her again, but then he slides back down her body.

“Want to taste you,” he says instead, and he gets his hands on her hips again and his mouth on her pussy, looks up at her while he licks and sucks like he’s gone without for ages—which he has, she figures, but it’s blowing her mind, her fingers scratching at the sheets, her neck arched. He massages her hips as his tongue works, as he grinds against the bed, and she comes with a whimper, because her body is so overwhelmed by how good she feels that she can’t even properly vocalize it.

Aaron comes up, just a little, rests his head on her stomach, and she smooths her hands over his hair and his shoulders, since that’s all she can reach.

“Come up and let me touch you—or you can come inside me.” She will happily take either option, but he just kisses her belly and shakes his head.

“No, I’m good. Just really tired.” She frowns, can’t recall a time in her life when they didn’t both get off during sex; he catches her expression and runs his hands up her body. “Really, I’m okay. I just wanted to do that before I passed out.” He smiles, and she doesn’t like it, but he climbs off of her and goes to the bathroom, and she pulls on the t-shirt and crawls into bed. Two days later, she’s sitting in her office grading tests when she hears a knock at the door. She looks up, and it’s Aaron, of course, looking so gorgeous in a black polo and jeans.

“Hey, what are you doing here? Where’s Mia?” she asks with a smile. He leans against the doorframe with his arms crossed.

“She’s with her Aunt Penelope for a few hours.”

“Why? Is everything okay?” Penelope is at work, she knows, because she texted her earlier about something unrelated and she’d mentioned that she and Spencer were having coffee and that he said hello.

“Everything‘s fine,” he assures her, and he enters the room fully, closes the door behind him… and locks it. “Can’t your husband come visit you during your super secret not-really-office-hours?” She raises an eyebrow, both at his question and the fact that he locked the door. What exactly is he planning to do, she wonders?

“You can, but you don’t. I guess I’m just surprised.”

“Well today I decided to. I missed you so much.” He walks around her desk and leans over her for a couple of kisses. “Have you missed me?” She rolls her eyes, smiles.

“Of course I missed you. I miss you every second I’m away from you.” She reaches out, wants to hug him, pull him closer, but he takes a step back and crooks his finger, encouraging her to follow him.

He’s being really weird, but he’s also being really hot. She decides to play along.

She stands, walks over to him, and he carefully clears a spot on her desk, knows she has a system and doesn’t like a mess; when she’s within reach, he puts his hands on her waist and lifts her up onto it, her ass where a stack of tests had just been. Fuck.

“I want to get this dress off of you,” he says, voice low, and he takes her face in his hands and kisses her, rough and deep. “Can I take it off, baby? Can I make you come?”

Everything is happening so fast her head is spinning—it’s not like him to just show up at her office, to try to have sex with her there, especially when their dry spell has been, up until recently, like the damn Sahara.

He must sense her confusion, her apprehension, because he kisses slowly along the side of her throat, down the v-neck of her dress, making her eyelids flutter.

“The door’s locked, and no one even knows we’re in here. Can I take it off?” She pants, thinks about this for a second, but then he slides a hand over her thigh, pushing her skirt up, and she gets a little distracted. She nods, and he kisses her hard and unties the sash of her wrap dress, pushes it off her shoulders. She’s glad she wore a matching set of bra and panties, because this is like prime fantasy material and she wants to try to remember every detail.

He kisses her mouth, soft and sweet, then tugs the straps of her bra down her shoulders, pulls the cups down so her breasts fall out of them. She moans, a little startled, and he dips his head to mouth at her nipples, rests one hand on her lower back and one on her stomach—probably because she looks like she’s about to slide off the desk and onto the floor like a blob of jelly. She knows that’s how she feels.

When he’s gotten her thoroughly worked up, almost trembling with the need for more, he pushes her panties aside and presses a finger into her, and she whimpers, wraps her hand around his neck for support when he starts to pump it deeply inside.

“What has gotten into you?” she breathes, and her hips chase the pleasure he brings; the hand on her back moves to her ass, squeezes it.

“I love you and I want you. I want to make you happy, I want you to feel good.”

“Me—me too,” she gasps as he moves faster, staring right into his eyes. “I love you, want you. Want to make you happy, feel good.” She cards her fingers through his hair and stretches for a desperate, eager kiss. “I want you so badly, baby, please.”

“I’m right here. You have me,” he murmurs, but that’s not what she means and he has to know it. Just in case he doesn’t, though, she makes herself loud and clear; relationships are all about communication, after all.

“I want you to put your cock in my pussy, I want you to come in me. I want you to fucking ruin me, Aaron, I want you to shove your dick in me and keep shoving.” She sounds unhinged, but she can’t stop.

He adds a second finger—not what she wants—and roughly gropes her breast—it feels so good, but it’s not what she wants. Why won’t he give her what she wants?

“Shh, just come on my hand, it’s okay. I’ll fuck you later, in our bed, baby,” he promises. “Just come now, okay? Right here, right now for me.”

She does, because even if he’s being unnecessarily aggravating, it’s still Aaron. She’s desperate for him, always has been, always will be. She comes loud and high and she clutches him tightly and he kisses her and coos words of love and affection into her ear. She gets cleaned up, and they go for lunch, and they can’t take their eyes off each other.

Something’s very wrong, and she can’t quite put her finger on it.

That evening when she gets home, Aaron is feeling guilty. She’s not sure why, but he’s executing all of his patented guilty trademark behaviors: he offers her a glass of wine, runs her a bath, rubs her feet, even though he’s been the one home with the baby all day. She’s tempted to ask if he’s cheating on her, as a joke, but that’s never funny, especially when she knows he’s being shifty and weird about something.

When they’re laying in bed, he sets down his book and looks over at her.

“I meant to tell you, Haley isn’t able to take Mia tomorrow. Maybe the weekend after, we can have our special alone time.” She won’t say she’s not disappointed, but she doesn’t want to inconvenience Haley, when she’s already being so great. She smiles softly, covers his hand with hers.

“That’s okay. It was short notice, anyway. I’ll still enjoy my weekend, with you and Mia.” He smiles too, but it doesn’t quite touch his eyes.

The kids sleep through the night, but she doesn’t. On Friday, she picks Jack up from school and takes him to Haley’s, who sends him to wash up so she can make him a snack. When he’s gone, she smiles warmly and invites her into the kitchen for coffee; she takes a cup, and they make pleasant small talk like they always do.

“Are you sure you don’t want to bring Mia over?” Haley asks after a few minutes. It sounds like she’s double checking. “It’s really no trouble.” She frowns, sets her cup down.

“I thought you weren’t able to watch Mia this weekend. I thought… I thought that’s what Aaron said. I must have misunderstood him.” That’s the only logical conclusion, because Aaron wouldn’t lie to her. He wouldn’t.

“He was being a little weird on the phone the other day. He asked me if I would watch her, and I said yes. He told me about your plans,” she says with raised eyebrows, “and then I told him, you know. That he better treat you right, because you just had a baby not that long ago and you might be a little self-conscious about jumping back into the sack like that; not that you should be, because you look amazing.” She racks her brain for the first time he started acting strangely, pulling away from her, and it would have been after his conversation with Haley. She asks, just to confirm.

“Is that when he got weird?”

“Actually yeah. He changed his mind, said you might not need me to watch her after all, but I told him the offer stood. He was pretty quick to get off the phone after that.” She would sip her coffee, but she’s pretty sure her hands are shaking. Why would he lie about that?

“You know, I should go. I’m sure Aaron’s pulling his hair out with her, she’s been a devil today. Tell Jack I love him and I’ll talk to him tonight, will you?”

“Of course. If you change your mind about Mia, just let me know,” Haley says, and she gets into her car with tears stinging her eyes.

When she gets home, Aaron is playing with Mia on the living room floor. He looks up at her with a smile that abruptly falls when he takes in her facial expression.

“What’s wrong?” She composes herself, takes a deep breath. They vowed a long time ago not to argue in front of Jack or Mia. She tries to sound conversational.

“You lied to me. You said Haley couldn’t take Mia this weekend.” He swallows and looks properly guilty. She’s not sure how he was able to lie to her in the first place; he’s never been any good at it.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have. I just didn’t know how to say it.” She looks up, shakes her head, wills her eyes not to water while she’s trying to have this conversation.

“You didn’t know how to say what? What is it that’s made you distance yourself from me?” She recalls him physically pulling away, then doing a complete 180 and initiating sex, but never penetrative sex, never letting her touch him or return the favor in any way. “Haley told me about your conversation. So do you think I’m unhappy with my body, or are you unhappy with my body?” He has the nerve to look confused, gets Mia set up with some toys she can play with safely on her own and stands up, comes close to her. She’s not sure she even wants his touch right now, which is saying something; when she’s unhappy, that’s usually all she wants.

“Neither of those things. I swear to god. I love you and I love your body; you’re so beautiful. Too beautiful for me, you always have been.” He’s looking down at her so seriously, and she wants so badly to believe him, but how could she, when faced with the evidence?

“Okay. If it’s neither of those things…” Her voice is small when she says the one option that hurts her most. “Did you change your mind? Do you not want to have another baby with me?” He sighs, deflates, and she takes a deep, shuddering breath.

“No, listen to me. It’s not that I don’t want that; I want that more than anything, but it will… further complicate, things...” He trails off, and she tries to follow what he’s saying. “The problem isn’t you in any way. It’s me.” She huffs, squeezes her eyes briefly shut.

“You? How can it be you, when you’ve been the only man to catch my eye for years? From the moment you set foot on my campus looking for your bad guy, I’ve been attracted to you, aroused by you, wrapped around your finger. You’re so perfect for me: perfect husband, perfect dad, perfect lover. My best friend. Never a day has gone by where I haven’t wanted you.” He wets his lips, sighs.

“Surely you’ve noticed that since I quit my job and started staying home with Mia, I… I don’t look the same. I’ve… let myself go.” His brows are deeply furrowed, and he’s clearly struggling with this; she reaches for him, no longer angry—at least for the time being—puts a hand on his arm.

“I’ve noticed that you don’t quite look the same. Doesn’t mean you’ve ‘let yourself go,’ or that I’m not still attracted to you; you just have a dad bod now instead of an ‘FBI guy who punches people for a living’ bod.” Her other hand hovers, then comes to rest on his stomach, and she smiles. “I’m actually really into the way you look now. I’ve been fantasizing about it for ages. I wish I’d known you were feeling self-conscious.”

“I’m not used to feeling… self-conscious, vulnerable,” he breathes, but he presses into her touch, so she considers that a good thing. “I didn’t know how to handle it.”

“I get that baby, I do, but this is me. I would have done anything I could to make you feel better. You didn’t have to hide it from me. You didn’t have to lie. We could have talked about it.” She moves the hand on his arm to his face, guides him down for a loving kiss. “We’re equally to blame, because I know you haven’t been getting good sleep, and I know you barely have time for yourself, and I didn’t step in; but you never let me help. If roles were reversed, and it was me staying home with Mia, you would never expect me to do all the cooking and cleaning and homework and bath time without your help. So you need to let me help, Aaron, please.” She looks up at him, eyes warm and sincere, and he nods, bends to press a kiss to her lips.

“I’m sorry. I still don’t feel great about… myself, but maybe I could. If I let you help. If I took some time for me.” She nods and wraps her arms around him—finally—for a hug.

“I love you so much. Just like this. Big, cuddly papa bear, taking care of our babies, making our home a safe and happy place for them. How could I not love the body that brings me so much happiness? That makes me excited to get in my car and come home at the end of every day?”

They kiss some more, deep, healing kisses and soft, sweet kisses, but she doesn’t get distracted by them. She’s very focused, caresses him and brushes loving fingertips over his chest and arms and sides. But speaking of distractions…

“Were you doing all those sexy things to try to distract me from wanting you to get all up on me?” she asks, pulling back, and at least he has the decency to flush.

“Kind of? I figured if it was sex you wanted, you’d be happy to get off however it happened; it was great for me too, don’t get me wrong, I just didn’t really want to be touched, feeling the way I felt.” She frowns, rests her head against his chest and holds him tighter.

“That makes me sad. What I wanted was an intimate moment with my husband, and while yes, what you did for me was great, because you’re super hot and very capable,” she says, leaning back in his embrace with a soft smile, “it’s not what I’ve been wanting. I want you all naked and sweaty and heavy on top of me, going to pound town.” He presses his lips together and raises his eyebrows.

“Pound town? What are you, twelve?” She grins, shoves his chest, and he laughs.

“I’m surrounded by college kids all day, please forgive me. I think it got my message across though.” She touches his cheek, looks up into his eyes, and sighs. “Can we take Mia over to Haley’s and give it a shot? I’ll do anything to make you feel happy and comfortable, any position that makes you feel better—though what I’d really like most, if you’ll trust me, is to suck your dick, and then hop on your dick, and then later when we’re ready to go again, we do the pound town thing and make another goddamn baby.”

She’s so serious, and he looks so serious, and then he kisses her and says yes and they pack up their kid and take her to his ex-wife’s so they can get it on, which sounds so much crazier than it actually is. She gets him out of his clothes, doesn’t move slow or spend lots of time focusing on what he thinks are flaws; instead, she proves how desirable he is by practically tearing his pants off and pushing him against the bed and swallowing around his dick just so she can hear all those delicious moans she’s been missing.

After that, she rides him hard, kisses him harder, plants her hands on his chest and stomach and moans and groans against his mouth. “So fucking hot, seriously so fucking hot, Aaron—if I saw you across the room today I wouldn’t change a goddamn thing, I would still pursue you, I’d make you blush like I did back then. I’d be so forward because I wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about how good this would feel.”

She’s rocking his world, no doubt about that; it’s written all over his face, in the hardness of his hands on her hips as she grinds down on his cock, in the way his chest is heaving despite not actually doing any of the work at all. He comes first, and then rubs her clit while she continues to fuck him until she finds her own orgasm; she scratches her nails down his stomach, and he leans up and grabs her face for a rough, perfect kiss.

They take a break, cuddling and kissing and enjoying the feel of bare skin, comfy bed, soft lips. Aaron touches her cheek, tells her how much he loves and appreciates her.

“I’m so sorry I’ve been keeping this inside, and not being truthful. It’s hard, when you’re as perfect as the day I met you, and I’m…” She presses a finger to his lips, shushes him, kisses him.

“You’re as perfect as the day I met you, too. More perfect, even, because every day since then you’ve chosen me, and our family. I could not ask for a better man. Simply could not, Aaron. And if you want me to come home early so you can go to the park to run, or to the gym, then that’s what I'll do, but if you look like you do right now, forever, I’ll be happy with that too. Whatever makes you happy.”

They snuggle and kiss and talk and laugh, and then laughing becomes sex in that way everything becomes sex when you’re genuinely obsessed with the person in your bed.

He gets her on her back, kisses all over, teases her—“mmm, rubbing your kitty, baby, how does it feel?”—and then puts her legs over his shoulders, plants his hands, and fucks, taking every ounce of his pent-up frustration out on her, and it’s incredible.

“Yes, Aaron, yes, baby, oh, god.” Her head is thrown back, and she’s torn between laughing, because she’s been wanting this for months and it’s exactly as awesome as she’d dreamed it would be, and crying, because she fucking loves him, so much it puts a lump in her throat.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, speeds up, sweaty and gorgeous and smiling. “You’re going to come with me—not just for me, but with me, so my come gets deep inside, so it works and we get another perfect baby who never lets us fucking sleep.” She nods frantically, presses her hips against his, and it’s not simultaneous, but it’s a near damn thing, when they both come groaning each other’s names. A little less than a year later, they have Mason. Aaron is at home in his dad bod, Mia doesn’t cry at naptime, Jack is still a menace in the mornings, and their perfect little family got a little more perfect. Taglist ❤️: @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul

[darlingshane]

7 Days of Swaino

Day 4: The Swainos

Pairing: Terrance Swaino x F!Reader

Content: Established Relationship. Family. Crack. Fluff.

Warnings: Language. Cheesiness.

Word Count: 1k

Summary: A dinner at The Swainos lead the two of you to consider and have a talk about the next step in your relationship.

You're meeting Terrance's family for the first time a few days after Christmas. You bailed on that day to be with your own family, but you promised him that you'd at least meet them before new year's.

It was about time. You’ve been dating since January. You actually met him last year, right before the holidays, when you went picking a Christmas tree at the tree farm. He was a worker there and helped you transport and secure the tree you chose on top of your car. Of course, him being Swaino was flirting with you the whole time and easily charmed you into giving him your number before letting you leave. You hit it off quickly after that…

And here you are now, climbing up the stairs to the front door of the house he grew up in.

You can hear the chaos Terrance described behind the door adorned with a wreath. It's not as bad as your boyfriend says, it's actually just loudness over all, of happiness and family, behind well lived walls covered on a fresh coat of paint of a dark green hue on the sliding boards surrounding the double-decker.

“Ready?” he clears his throat, placing a hand at the small of your back, “say the word we can go get burgers or something, we don't have to do this.”

It's actually cute that he's more nervous than you are, it eases you up.

“I'm not backing out now, Terry Bear,” that's your pet name for him.

“Yeah, maybe don't call me that in front of them? So help me God, I'd never hear the end of it.”

You chuckle a little as his palm slides to grab your hand, lacing his fingers with yours as a lifeline before opening the door to the other side.

Before serving dinner, Terrance introduces you to everyone. You know most of their names and faces from pictures he's shown you, but he recites them again as a reminder. There’s only two of his sisters with their significant others and kids. Too many kids for you to handle at the same time, running around you like a whirlwind, playing a game of tag. One of them tries to climb up Swaino’s leg, and he ends up throwing the four-year-old over his shoulder, protecting him from being tagged. At that height, the little kid is covered. Him not so much. He's so preoccupied with the conversation going on that he doesn't see one of his oldest nephews charging a fist directly into his crotch.

“Motherfucker!” he shouts unexpectedly, followed by a string of threats, managing to at least handing you the little kid off his shoulder before chasing his attacker around the house.

Everyone breaks into laughter, some rooting for Terrance, others encouraging the kid to run faster. Eventually, he catches up with his nephew, and doesn't go easy on the little rascal. He picks him up, turning him over with his legs hooked to his shoulder until the kid's face turns red, and his mom ends up yelling at Swaino.

“You could've gone easier on him, he's just a kid,” you try not to laugh when he takes a seat next to you on the couch.

You've been handed his youngest niece, Debbie, a one-year-old that sits on your lap tugging at your necklace and hair.

“A kid, my ass! He knew what he was doing,” he grouches.

“Like you haven't ever done something like that when you were younger.”

“I’ve never done anything like that. It's this new generation of Swainos. They're savages.”

“You sound like— OW,” the baby pulls your hair a little harder and starts giggling.

“What did I tell you? All savages,” he coos at Debbie, tickling her sides, “yes you are, lil Dare Debbie.”

“She's just a baby,” you push your hair back and bounce her on your lap to keep her entertained.

“At least our kids will have your genes and turn out half-civilized, if we're lucky,” he blurts out.

You give him a questioning, genuinely-shocked stare.

“I didn't mean to say that out loud… Too soon?”

“I uh… I don't know. I haven't thought about it. I didn't think you wanted to-” you swallow anxiously, eyes darting between him and the baby.

“I wasn't sure I'd ever either, but…”

You put a pin on that as you are called for dinner.

You can feel yourself tensing up as you take a seat at the table. You've never really considered having kids with him until now. Sure, maybe you've pictured a couple of times, but it's not something that is necessarily on top of your list.

Now, there's a new possibility, a conversation to have later with him. Pondering about that distracts you from his family grilling you during dinner. All the attention makes you nervous too, they're fast talkers, so you do your best to keep up with their rhythm in between bites.

Swaino gets clearly annoyed when they start digging all the dirt from when he was a kid. In an attempt to make him feel better and letting him know that you don't care about any of it, you slide your hand over his thigh and squeeze softly.

It's later that you finally get to the car, and it's just the two of you, sitting quietly for a couple of minutes, both holding your breath about that conversation. You stare at your hands in your lap, fidgeting with a couple of your rings, as Swaino looks out the window.

“We don't even live together,” it's the first thing that occurs to you.

“We practically do.”

It's true, you either spent days at his place, or him at yours.

“Maybe we should.”

“So, you've thought about it?”

You nod, capturing his eyes, “It was never something that I've desperately wanted, but yeah, I thought that maybe one day down the road… we're doing good right? It just makes sense.”

“We're doing real good, sweetheart. I'm sorry that I freaked you out earlier. I thought I blew it.”

“I'm still a little freaked out that you said that out loud like that, but you didn't blow it.”

“C'mere,” he leans over the center console, extending one hand to cup your jaw, and presses his lips tenderly against yours, “I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you, Terry Bear.”

Credits: Divider by @firefly-graphics​

[timextoxhajima]

Accelerate [Dana’s 600 Special]

Track: Feel It by Michele Morrone / Drunk-Dazed by ENHYPHEN / Insanity by THE BOYZ

Member: I swear he’s not even my bias

Genre: i-ion know-

Word Count: it’s pretty damn long so please don’t make me write a part two

Taglist: @hyunjaethereal​ @lsangyeons​

The first time you laid eyes on Lee Hyunjae, you were both in Italy as he was being blinded by a billion flashes in his face. The light reflects off his dark hair - which was once a brighter color - as he maintains that polite, miniscule smile on his face. Most of the photographers and interviewers were male, for the sole reason that female photographers and interviewers would be too stunned to continue at their job. 

Not that the males rushing to get a shot of his face or a string of words out from him now weren’t stunned themselves. 

Despite being hailed for looking like every woman’s wet dream, Lee Hyunjae was more known for being South Korea’s youngest first class F1 racer. Sure, if he ever bothered to utter a single syllable of speech to you, you could pass out on the spot. 

But right now, all you wanted was to get an exclusive modelling contract from Louis Vuitton to his manager. Not Lee Hyunjae, not his bodyguards, his manager.

“Lee Hyunjae! Do you have anything you want to say before your final race of the season? How do you feel about being so close to coming out top?”

His manager stands a step behind him to Hyunjae’s right, and gives the racer the green light to respond. The flashes and sounds of clicking from the cameras were so overwhelming, it’s impossible for you to even imagine how it felt like being in the spotlight.

But the celebrity couldn’t receive the question any less gracefully, and offers one of those swoon-worthy smiles before leaning into the microphone.

“I feel nervous but I’ve prepared for this. Consistency is key and I believe in myself, so if that answers your question...” 

“Do you have any other plan other than racing? Word has it that you’ve received offers to be the face of Gucci and Louis Vuitton!”

The contract in your briefcase is still ironed out safely in its file when you pull it behind your legs, away from plain sight.

Hyunjae turns to look at his manager when the question posed obviously isn’t one of those in the list prepared, so the manager steps forward, and coincidentally spots you at the back of the crowd. He recognises you from the meeting he had with your higher-up.

“My apologies but Mr Lee isn’t permitted to answer to any of these, so if this is all then we must be going. Thank you for coming to the conference tonight.” 

Lee Hyunjae and his manager step back away from the microphone and bow for the press to continue their aggressive, merciless snapshotting. You wait patiently for the duo to disappear behind the conference area, and for the press to switch their attention to the pictures they have on their camera before you make your round backstage. 

The 5-star hotel is grand in all the ways possible: chandelier, white wines and champagnes being served in waiting areas and water was served sparkling. Finally fishing out the tag that you were given at the registration for entry to the event, you hand it to the lady at the meetings’ conference registration counter.

You wonder how the Louis Vuitton logos on your clothes and briefcase had gone unnoticed earlier at the showcase. Even on the tag, the ‘LV’ logo was so apparent. How far does the company need to go in order for them to have the logo printed in some shiny, golden print on the tag-

“Welcome to the F1 internal press conference and meeting, Miss l/n!” She pulls a sticker off a page and presses it onto the tag below the LV logo. “If you need anything at all, please just approach one of our staffs. All waiters and staff concerned will have a red tie tonight.”

“Alright, thank you,” The tag gets slid across the table to you. “Where’s the nearest washroom?”

“Oh, she’ll show you the way,” The lady gestures behind her for one of the staff members with a red tie to accompany you. 

“Oh-” Slightly taken aback by the aggressive escorting, the younger female grins at you before holding out her arm in the direction of the washroom. “Thanks.”

The hotel’s grandeur only gets more and more apparent as your heels click through the hallways and corridors. For an event night, the hotel’s pretty desolate. Then again, the press conference happened outside where all the photographers and journalists were. The one you were here for was an internal press meeting, and last you checked, there were fewer than 10 names on that list. 

“I can find my way back to the main hall after,” The slight panic in your voice humors you when the staff member seemed ready to wait outside the washroom. “Thanks.”

She bows and takes her leave only after you enter the bathroom; you can tell from the sound of her shoes echoing down the corridor. The scent of lavender is so overwhelming, you could almost taste it. Walls of cream and silver strokes cut through the tiles, a vase made of bronze sits in the corner of the platform where the sinks were, filled with roses.

The crisp reflection of yourself stares down at you in the mirror; it’s one of the few times you were dressed in branded goods head to toe. None of the articles of clothing you were wearing right now, you owned. Usually, you’d be gaping in awe at how beautiful these places where - after all, you were in a five-star hotel in Italy. 

But no, after almost five years of working with Louis Vuitton as a brand ambassador and subsequently becoming an assistant model-scout has numbed your habit of wandering eyes. 

The LV briefcase gets set on a dry area of marble, your fingers automatically clutching the edges of the sink as the jewelry on your ears, neck and hands twinkle under the fluorescent lighting. The makeup looks close to perfect - because someone had done it for you. Your clothes and shoes fit right down to your skin - because they were tailored for you. 

You were more upset you couldn’t sell it off and donate the money over having actual ownership of these fabrics. 

News of the orphanage had reached you hours after you touched down in Italy, and your heart yearns to stop the ache that seeps through you. They had run out of funds to continue the orphanage, the kids already enrolled would be split and sent to other organizations instead. 

What you had once called your home was going to be non-existent in another years’ time. Those whom you called your teachers, mentors, parents... were going to be in places you were not familiar with. The children that you always bring back food, clothes and toys for were going to be separated into different cities and states. As if not having a family was not bad enough, the people you now called your family was going to be split apart. 

You hadn’t noticed your eyes were closed until you opened them, the weight of the makeup on your face urging you to rub your eyes and skin but the discipline written into your hands stop you from doing so. 

Standing back to fix your posture, your eyes land on the one garnish on your body that doesn’t belong to Louis Vuitton - the ring on your middle finger. A gold band that looked more like a wedding ring than anything else. 

It had the name of the orphanage engraved on the inner side, so it feels lighter on your hands than it would otherwise be. 

A deep breath expands your chest as you take your briefcase and step away from the sink, attention scrutinising yourself more than you actually would.

The corridors of the hotel collect you back into its wealth again, drawing the thickest line between the realities of people like you and those who enjoy the luxurious life. 

The racer’s manager was sitting at the end of the meeting table when you enter, and you immediately recognise half the list of names you had seen before. Gucci’s manager was here personally. Another racer and his manager were here too. Stefano Domenicali and Michael Masi were here. 

Why were they here? Their names weren’t on the list.

“Ah, Miss l/n!” Masi gets off his seat and holds out his hand. “Such a pleasure to meet you!”

“Honor on my part,” Reaching out a palm, you smile the most graceful smile you can find in the muscles of your face. 

“Can I get you a drink? We’re still waiting for Mr Lee before we begin our discussion on the collaboration.”

Collaboration?

“Pardon my ignorance but... I thought I was here for a sponsorship or a model-contract request for Mr Lee... I wasn’t expecting your attendance or... a collaboration.”

Domenicalli chuckles heartily at his seat as he whirls around to gesture to one of the staff members in the room. “Will you get her a Mojito?” 

Then he stands up and pushes his glasses up his nose bridge. “We’ve been looking for a company that’s willing to do a three-way partnership with us and Mr Lee’s agency. Right now, it’s boiled down to both Louis Vuitton and Gucci so... it depends on which contract Mr Lee’s agency is more interested in.”

“Oh... Um, if that’s the case then I’m not entirely sure if the contract I have with me right now is appropriate-”

“Oh, it’s not. LV has already told us you’d sell them better unscripted than if planned,” Masi leans forward and mutters away from your ear. “Don’t tell Gucci though. Their manager’s only here because they panicked.”

He pulls away and before he can say anything else, the door clicks open with a staff member pushing the door open for the star of the night. 

“My apologies,” He’s changed out of his formal suit and is in a more comfortable set of hoodie and baggy pants now. “Did I keep everybody waiting?”

“No, not at all!” Masi throws his hands up into the air and beckons you to meet Lee Hyunjae. “Might I introduce... Miss l/n from LV. She’ll be the one pitching the collaboration for LV today.”

Hyunjae’s eyes are wide and clear, despite his fringe covering his eyelids. “My pleasure,” He holds out his hand and you take it to shake, but he doesn’t stop there.

Lifting the back of your hand to his lips, the contact is soft and gentle on your skin. 

Your hairs stand against your will and goosebumps erupt all over your neck when he pulls away, eyes now locked with yours. Nobody else in the room bothers to provide a reaction - it’s like he’s done this before and it’s perfectly normal. 

The rest of the evening is spent listening to your own pitch, and Gucci’s, but you couldn’t really keep your head in the game when... all that was in Lee Hyunjae’s head was... you.

You’d be lying had you said you were comfortable with how much he was glancing at you across the table, obviously not listening to Gucci’s pitch at all. His manager was the one busy jotting down all kinds of things, almost like it was an act of dictation. But the racer’s eyes fail to leave you for any longer than five seconds, and it was becoming glaringly obvious that he wasn’t really paying attention to the pitch. 

Gucci’s pitch finally finishes, giving you some kind of escape because now his manager is pummeling him for not listening to the benefits provided as Gucci’s ambassador. The contract document from LV was sitting before you, very single term and condition now inapplicable because you had just pitched something that wasn’t in the instruction manual.

God help me not to get fired.

“Mr Lee has some to a decision,” Masi claps his hands together, earning the attention of everybody in the room. “The Formula One federation would like to officially welcome Lee Hyunjae as the brand ambassador in a stellar collaboration... with Gucci.”

The Gucci ambassador scout smiles with triumph as the room provides a round of applause, you included. 

“Thank you so much, Miss l/n, for coming down. Your pitch was nothing short of commendable and I will make sure your manager will hear of that, alright?” Masi and Domenicali take turns shaking your hand. In your peripheral vision, you watch the Gucci ambassador shake hands with both Lee Hyunjae and his manager. 

Masi and Domenicali finish up with you, and Lee Hyunjae’s manager approaches you for the handshake with his client behind him. “That was a stellar... impromptu pitch, Miss l/n.”

A gentle chuckle rolls off your tongue as you pull your hand away, tightly clutching the briefcase. “I work better when things aren’t planned, so...”

“We’ll... we’ll keep in touch, LV. You’re an excellent scout with marvelous presentation skills. It makes me sad Mr Lee didn’t choose you.”

Your eyes drift to Hyunjae’s and he’s already looking at you like he hadn’t eaten in three days and you were a bowl of soup.

“Of course we’ll keep in touch. He’ll still be valuable asset and ambassador after his contract with Gucci ends,” Ignoring him, you return your attention to his manager. 

“Now, let’s hope the Prince of Korea doesn’t screw anything up, yeah?” His manager grins as he pats Hyunjae on the back. “Anyway, it’s been a mighty pleasure. We’ll be in touch.”

You lower your head as a small nod, turning on your heels to exit the room. Even then you can feel his eyes on your back. 

By the time you’re back in your hotel room (which was in the same hotel as you had the internal meeting), your feet are half dead from the heels you were wearing and the makeup on your face was starting to wear off. It took a nice, warm bath and a rather long conversation with your own manager on the phone as he congratulated on pulling through an impromptu pitch. 

He finally finishes, and you drop your phone into the towel by the bathtub as the steam fogs up the mirror. But your peace is cut short when someone rings the doorbell of your room. 

“Room service for Miss l/n!”

Tightening the robe around your waist, you pull open the door and watch the hotel staff hold out a bottle of wine and an envelop. “Mr Lee Hyunjae sends his regards, Miss.”

Surprised, you receive the bottle. The hotel staff bows and leaves, letting you turn around and the door click shut. 

To: Miss l/n

I apologise for the inappropriate staring earlier this evening. This is an attempt to compensate for my behaviour. I’ll be leaving Italy the day after tomorrow so if you could do me the pleasure of having dinner with me tomorrow... I’d like to be acquainted.

I’ve made a reservation at La Terrazza for 7pm. I’ll meet you in the guest lobby downstairs at 6.30 to pick you up. 

Love, 

Lee Hyunjae

You can see how the material of the paper trembles a little between your fingers. The thought runs, So he’s a creep and a national treasure. He can’t hurt you, right?

Again, the evening gown is more than fitting on you. It’s been tailored to hug all your curves at your chest and your hips and thighs and it exposes your leg where the slit is. It’s like LV knew you had an important evening appointment coming up and had you pack all these different sets appropriate for the event. 

The usher standing by the guest lobby nods when you head for the door, and he pushes it open to reveal only one person in it: Lee Hyunjae. 

On the phone, he whirls around when he hears the doors swish against the carpet flooring. His eyes are glimmering under the soft, rosy lighting and the glossy collar of his suit looks like plastic from the reflection. 

“I gotta go, I’ll call you back.”

The phone clicks to black before he opens his blazer and slides it into his inner breast pocket. 

“I’m gonna guess that’s your manager,” Your fingers wrap around the clutch tightly as he takes a few steps toward you, obviously very stunned by how different you looked compared from the previous day. 

“Uh, no, actually,” That million-dollar smile gleams at you. He reaches up to his forehead and scratches his brow. His hair is styled upwards so seeing the glory of his forehead was pretty enticing. “My mom. Making sure I’m doing well and fine here.”

He stops a safe distance away from you, finished with taking in whatever of you his eyes and memory can allow him. “Not gonna lie, I thought you were gonna stand me up.”

“I think LV would fire me if they knew I stood the Lee Hyunjae up.”

Hyunjae licks his lips then purses them together, attention finally peeling off your face as he reaches for your hand. He presses his lips into the back of your palm, then casually hooks your arm around his while he walks to your side. “Ready to go?”

At a loss of words for his flirtatious mannerism, all you can afford is a nod.

But as if your vocabulary bank wasn’t already exhausted, you can’t help but stare in complete astonishment when you are led to the matte black Sian Roadster already waiting at the drop-off point right outside the lobby. 

“Have them send the Dior package to Miss l/n’s room by 9pm,” He instructs the bell boy by the hotel entrance as he reaches for the vehicle door. 

“Wait, what?” 

“Yes, Mr Lee.”

“Thanks.”

“Wait a minute,” Your vision is finally peeled off the car when Lee Hyunjae pulls the door open. “What Dior package?”

“Just a token of appreciation from me, that’s all,” He releases your arm as he guides you into the vehicle. “I knew if I gave it to you over dinner, you’d reject, so...”

Twitching his eyebrow, he smirks and retreats, closing the car door. 

Flirt.

The vehicle moves off with a sharp rev of the engine, and you almost feel guilty for being able to be comfortable in in your clothes, shoes, sports car and on the way to a fancy-ass restaurant. 

If only things could be like that for everybody and everything. 

“So, when are you leaving Italy?”

“Oh, um... tomorrow too actually,” Rome’s lights are wondrous on the outside, some of them blinding you. “I have... something to attend.”

“Hmm, that’s... vague.”

You turn to eye him at his silent call for clarification. “I’m attending a closing event; help out with administrations.”

“Like... a pet store or something?”

“Yeah, ‘or something’.”

“That confidential, huh?” He lets out a soft chuckle. 

The gut in your abdomen tells you not to look at him. He’ll see right through you, figure out that there’s something more to it than something ‘confidential’. 

“Yeah,” You mask it with a sigh. “Funds and things.”

You can feel his attention sink into your back as silence befell the atmosphere. 

There’s a kind of light in his eyes when he talks about racing. When he’s describing the feeling of adrenaline in his fingers, gripped around the steering wheel. He’s unexpectedly kind to the service at the restaurant, then again he was a celebrity and he had a reputation to uphold. 

It’s the kind of light that made you panic throughout dinner, because there’s no way this specimen of a man would ever pay you a second thought. Maybe you were going to be his Italy fling that he would boast about to his friends and colleagues and they’d laugh at you without you even knowing. 

What was a rich, handsome racer even doing, single? It was too good to be true, and even if it was, you? Of all people?

Dream on.

“It’s been... an amazing night. Thank you so much for dinner.”

Lee Hyunjae walks you into the lift, letting you press the button to your floor first. 

“I’ll walk you back. I have time.”

Standing with your feet together, in the safety of your gown, your hands are holding your clutch like your life depended on it. You could tell that he wasn’t the most comfortable now, not with his hands over one another and placed politely on his abdomen.

When the lift door dings open, the silence remains. He trails behind you as you walk your way to your room, hands fumbling through your clutch to search for your keycard. The slick of the door is fast and you push the door open, with a black and silver box with the label ‘DIOR’ printed on it sitting at the foot of your bed. 

“Oh, my God!” You rush in and grab the box, eyes widening as you turn to him, who has one arm extended to keep the door open. The box was almost as big as a pillow.

There’s a soft, warm smile on his face. A stark contrast to all his flirty ministrations throughout the evening. “Goodnight, Miss l/n. Sleep well and have a safe flight.”

“Wha-” Then he lowers his head, and turns around. “Wait!”

Without another moment of hesitation, he disappears down the corridor and the door swings shut. 

It feels ironically empty. Your hands are carrying this Godforsaken box of a gift and yet you cannot think of a way to properly thank the person who gave it to you. With slight reluctance, your fingers find the edge of the cover.

It’s a beautiful Dior blazer, packaged with a perfume and a cosmetics set. The cream letter in it is handwritten and signed the racer himself.

I wish we had more time. Love,  Lee Hyunjae

The nauseating sensation of your heart sinking in your chest beats all the logic in your brain when you find yourself reaching for the door handle. The box is mindlessly thrown back onto the bed as you rush out, kicking off your heels in the moment of folly. (Of course, remembering to use the door latch to keep the door open.)

“Hyunjae!” You call down the corridor, and he was just about to enter the lift. He turns, providing you with a gorgeous view of his jaw. 

It feels like a fairytale, when you run down the carpeted corridor, barefooted and still in your gown. The urge to throw your arms around him far supercedes your brain yelling at you not to, but you do it anyway. 

He catches you by the waist as your rest your forehead in his blazer, arms already struggling to meet the height of his shoulders. 

A whisper. “I wish we had more time too.”

He pushes you back by your upper arms, tucking one bit of your hair behind your ear. “If time is what you want, then I’ll make time.”

“But... I- Will you get in trouble?”

He looks you dead in the eye and subtly shakes his head. 

Time stops. 

Fear. That’s what you’re feeling. 

Then he tilts his head and slowly leans in. 

“I don’t think I’d care if I do.”

His breath hits your upper lip and your instincts flutter your lids shut. 

White wine and strawberries from dinner. That’s what he tastes like.

Warmth radiates off his palms and into your cheeks as he holds your face close to his, unable to resist the satisfaction and sweetness you were providing him. In this moment of intimacy, he loses all sense of realism and urgency - all he wants is you to himself, for the rest of the night until the sun rises. 

Then he’d have to worry about never seeing you again because his manager had chosen Gucci over LV. 

But right now, he has your heart and soul in his hands, as does his in yours. 

Being the romantic and (probably) egoistic man of a celebrity he is, he lowers himself and slides his arms where the back of your knees would be, somehow never breaking the kiss. The material of the gown dribbles over the cotton of his suit and your arm circles behind his neck, only minimizing the distance between the two of you. 

It feels like you’re getting married in this black and gold sparkly evening gown when he pushes the door open with his back. The scent of the room is inviting, but definitely none in comparison to the scent of his cologne beginning to stain your hands and your clothes. 

Gently resting you into the cool sheets of the bed, he pulls away to remove the Dior package off the bed, placing it on the mini coffee table by the bed. 

You were never one to deal with one night stands. Hell, the only person you’d ever slept with was some stupid kid back in the orphanage when your stupid teenage hormones were running-

He pulls off his blazer and leans in again, picking your awkward hands and resting them on the knot of his tie. His fingers are grazing the skin on your upper arm, trailing down to your cheek and then your hairline where he combs his hands through your hair. 

The knot on the tie comes undone with some slight tugs, and you slide it out from under his collar. Undoing only the first one, you rest your palms against his chest, creating a small rift where the air rushes to your lips where his should be.

He’s slightly stunned at the slightest breakage, but he is overwhelmed with more care and concern than he was upset. “Why? What’s wrong?” He traces your jaw and rests his fingers on your chin, noses almost touching.

“Are you sure... You want to do this? I can’t risk you losing your career,” Your index finger traces the likes of his cheekbone. “You barely just started.”

Hyunjae shakes his head subtly, taking your hands to his lips and pressing them into the back of your palm. “When I saw you in that room, I was... star struck. You’d think being the celebrity in the room would mean everything, but I felt like I was nothing if I didn’t know you, much less be able to get close to you.”

And for someone who hasn’t really had a biological family to love, his words stuck. 

“I just... knew. There are some things in the world you can work for, but I don’t think any amount of effort can give me you.”

His brown orbs find your gaze and it melts you thoroughly. Like ice cream on a hot day; like the way the ocean washes against the sand by the beach, taking grains of sand away with it - the same way Hyunjae was winning you bit by bit, if not already all of you. 

Your hands find his collar again, and it tightens around the stiff material to pull him back down. He smiles into the kiss, hands pressing into the mattress by your hair while you undo the rest of his buttons. His skin is hot under the shirt, blood running on the adrenaline and tension he was riding on from the intimacy. Muscles pumped and heart racing, you finally get his shirt off and he does you the honor of dropping it to the ground. 

He gives you time to gasp for air while he dips his nose into your neck, inhaling your perfume and the scent of the hotel shampoo in your hair. His back muscles tense up under your cold fingertips as you run them along his spine. It’s almost beast-like, when he flexes his arms and every single move shifts his shoulder blades under his skin. His lips leave gentle pecks in your neck and your exposed collar bone, letting goosebumps erupt all over your skin. 

His hand caresses your waist as a way of request, and you arch your back just enough for him to find the zipper on the back of your gown. The vibrations of the zip being pulled downwards already feels like little bolts of electricity up your spine, and the straps around your shoulders loosen with every inch unzipped. 

He’s done, when his fingers return to your shoulders to push the straps off. The cool air kisses your skin in spots where he isn’t touching with any part of his body. The silk of the gown gently slides off with every inch of a movement you make, more and more of your torso exposed to him. 

Sliding one of his arms under your lower back, he pulls you out of the dress instead of stripping you of it as he helps you further up the bed. Your hands press into the mattress in a bid to help him shift yourself without breaking the sloppy, messy kiss. Your back finally meets the pillows and he pushes the gown off the bed with his leg. 

Chin tilting to the ceiling, he finally creates some distance between the two of you, eyes drifting down to your collar bone and chest still covered. His palms are hot around your waist as he trails butterfly pecks on your cleavage, while your fingers find his hair to tousle and grip. 

Goosebumps start to surface when his breath is heavy on your stomach, then he reaches your underwear and it’s almost embarrassing to have him kiss you. 

Your clouded vision is manually stuck to the ceiling when you can feel your face burning with adrenaline. The tickle of the material when it gets pulled off your hips and down your legs bring your cheeks more color, and before you know it, Hyunjae has your breath hitched in your throat. 

He rests your thighs on his shoulders as he works his way around, the bare minimum sanity left inside you decides to grip onto the sheets instead of ripping out his hair. 

Chills shoot up your spine mercilessly, emanating in the form of lewd mewls directed into the air. The crown of your head meets the cushioned head board of the bed when his grip on your thighs tighten to keep you from squirming too much. 

Without warning, he drags a finger down your sensitiveness and slides it in easily, the sensation erupting a more-than-shameful groan from you. Pulling away, he adds another finger before shifting his attention back to your upper body, now eyeing the last piece of material covering your chest. But he captures your lips first to earn your attention, and your arms naturally find your way around his neck to keep him close. 

His free hand goes around your back to unhook your lingerie, and it’s nothing but a new addition to all the clothes on the carpet now. He removes his fingers, and breaks the kiss first, for the sole reason of giving you a perfect view of him licking his glistening skin. 

You can feel your brows furrow with frustration now, the warmth from him dissipating when he leans back on his heels in a kneeling position. By providing you a gorgeous view of his being while he undoes his belt, he’s only adding more fire to the fuel. 

It’s significant enough to stretch out the material of his boxers, and so he climbs over you as he removes his last bit of clothing. He harshly yanks you downwards into a lying position by your ankle, and the sharp friction against your back is an addition to the heat between the two of you. 

His breath is heavy on your lips as he rests his palms by your ears, weight pushing in the mattress. “Tell me if it hurts, love.”

Then he presses his lips into yours, like his life depended on it, and in one swift motion, he buries himself inside you like it was the most natural thing to do. 

You suck all the breath out of him as you gasp into the kiss, and he finds your arms to hook around his neck and shoulders. 

If you could feel the taste of honey throughout your body, this must be how it feels. 

He gives you some moments before he starts grinding his hips slowly, his palms finding your thighs and digging into your flesh as he hooks them around his hips. 

Breathless, you pull away first, whimpers in the back of your throat louder than what you would’ve expected. His nose dips into your neck again, arms now stretched out to use the headboard as support when he picks up the pace. 

Cursing under your breath, you feel guilty for the bliss that was spreading through you. Your nerves are all heightened by the adrenaline and your vision is blurred from the sole nature of the intimate act. 

He’s not fast, but every spot he’s hitting feels like cloud nine over and over again. 

Like a spark in the dark, the sacred spot reveals itself in the form of harsher breaths and groans. Your fingernails dig into his back and your thighs are losing stamina to remain wrapped around him. 

“That’s it,” He breaths into your ear, pressing a kiss into your lower jaw. “Come for me.”

Tremors burst through your body like lightning in a storm upon his request. He helps you ride it out with a few more thrusts before he pulls out himself, releasing on your stomach, chest heaving. 

Resting his forehead on yours, he smiles. “Let’s hope that one day I wouldn’t have to worry about pulling out.”

You scoff, slightly tired. “We’ll see.”

You are woken up by the unfamiliar warmth you normally don’t have under the blanket. White sheets and tousled hair come into your field of vision before you can process the face, partially hidden, but eyes wide open.

“Jesus,” Your morning breath billows out between your lips and you swallow to dampen your dry throat. The room looks too damn bright for it to be morning. “What time is it?”

“7am. Don’t worry, we have plenty of time. My manager hasn’t called me so... we have time to spare.” 

You shuffle around under the sheets and your arms slide under the pillow where its cool. He shifts and pulls out his arm to rest on his tricep, palm under his ear and hair as he perches up his head. 

“What?” You pull the blanket up to your face and inhale the scent of it. It smells like him now. 

“You look pretty when you’re asleep.”

“What?” You frown, but a smile is on your lips. “How long did you watch me sleep for?”

“Not long, don’t worry. I’m not a perv.”

“Well, considering we just slept together after 24 hours of knowing one another-”

“Hey, we’re both about to be deported back to Korea to work. Give us a break, would you?” He groans and shifts again, this time trying to pull you into his chest. 

“Ah,” Snorting, you let him cradle you in his arms, his bare skin pressed warmly into yours. “‘Deport’? That’s what you call your job?”

“Only because you’re involved now,” He pecks you on the lips. “So... can I ask about your ‘administrative matters’ you said you needed to attend?”

Right. The orphanage is closing down. 

The guilt washes through you again. 

“Oh,” A look of seriousness overtakes your facials, and he notes the change in expression. “Um... I- Well... It’s an orphanage. It’s closing.”

He blinks at you, gaze filled with wander. “Were you a volunteer or...?”

Silence. 

You can’t bring yourself to say it. 

Unable to bear the incoming judgment he might provide you, your eyes dart away. 

“Hey, hey,” He finds your chin and tilts it back up to his attention. “What’s wrong? I don’t see anything wrong with being who you are. Why are you ashamed?”

“I... I’ve lived all my life with that label. ‘Orphan’. It only got better when I came out to work.”

“Is that why you are so worried? That... we might affect something and possibly implicate that?”

“Maybe.”

He sighs, thumb stroking your cheek as he shakes his head. “Nah. It shouldn’t matter.” Pulling your head into his chest, you can hear the steady thumping of his heart through his skin. “’Administrative matters’, huh? Are you like a... committee member or donator?”

“I’m an unofficial sponsor ambassador from LV. Well, LV was supposed to arrange for official funding, but they just never really had the time or resources to build the rapport. The orphanage was doing too badly for any company or brand to want to help and invest their attention on.”

“Mm,” He hums, stroking your hair. “I’m sorry about that. I truly am.”

“It’s okay. Nothing could’ve been done about it anyway. All I hope now is for the kids to be safe, no matter where they go.”

It feels empty again, having Hyunjae being ripped from your side at the airport once the plane touched down. The manager was surprisingly not surprised to know that you had spent the night together, the only question he had asked being something that concerned a future pregnancy, which the two of you have already confirmed negative. 

It’s late when you reach back your apartment, and you ready yourself for the private meeting with the committee members of the orphanage. Though tired and severely jet-lagged, you cannot miss this meeting. It’s the last time you’ll see all the caretakers and members of the organisation in the same room.

You shift into the taxi in a new set of clothes, but topped with the Dior blazer and smelling like the Dior perfume, you feel like you were probably going to get slapped once you reach the meeting.

The building of the orphanage looks so run-down, it could be mistaken for a prison had it not been for the words HILDA’S ORPHANAGE in big, block letters above the entrance. Before you can exit the taxi, your phone starts vibrating in your purse.

It’s the President of the orphanage.

“I’m right outside the building, going in soon,” You push open the car door and thank the driver. 

“The meeting has been cancelled. Someone bought the orphanage and we’ll be managed under a new system.”

“What?”

“Surprise.” 

You turn around and see the last person you’d expect to see here, in his hands, a folder of documents and a small bouquet of flowers. 

“Um,” Your eyes are stuck to Hyunjae, but you’re still on the phone. “The buyer... Does it have anything to do with Gucci or F1?”

“Yes, it’s an F1 sponsorship but there will be more details into the managerial and planning system. Some things will have to change.”

“I’ll... I’ll call you back.”

Hyunjae watches you lock your phone in shock, attention unrivalled. He takes a few steps towards you and you now realise he’s still in the same clothes he was in on the plane. His eyebags are obvious but the prideful grin on his face makes him glow. 

Stopping about an arms’ length away from you, he holds out the folder.

“I checked with my manager and he checked with F1. They green-lit it, but on a few conditions. I heard them out before I told them it would be more likely than not you’d accept it, so here are the legal documents. All the terms and conditions and sponsor contract are already in here, so you and the President can sign it when you deem fit.”

Taking the folder, you didn’t even notice your hands are trembling as you flip through it. 

But your eyes flitter up from the page when you notice the printing: 

OWNER’S SIGNATURE (Y/N L/N): ____________________

“It’s yours if you sign it.”

Now, he holds out the bouquet. “I thought of putting it under my name but I don’t want you to think you owe me a favour and have it bugging you all the time.”

Gently shaking your head, as if you could shake out the surprise, you close the file and look to him in awe. “But I’ll still owe you, big time. This is... this is everything, so thank you.”

He sucks in a deep breath and shakes the bouquet of flowers a little. 

“You can return the favour by going out with me. Properly, whenever I have time, and I promise, no Dior packages.”

Taking the bouquet into hand, you throw your arms around his shoulders, tears welling in your eyes.