#no I don’t have a good explanation for this | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gyubakeries · 3 days ago

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𝗶𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗺𝗲 | k.sy

a/n: i kid you not. this fic was busted out in like 24 hours. dont ask how im capable of this sorcery bcs idk myself. on a much more angsty note, soonyoung im so sorry ilysm :( writing angst is my default mode, and i had literally no other ideas. writing this fic was a wild journey, and a little part of me broke because of all this angst, but maybe im just dramatic

thank you ro ( @shinysobi ) for telling me i should twin with our fics, because writing angst is like second nature. thank you rae ( @nerdycheol ) and yuki ( @eclipsaria ) for jumping onto this shipwreck with me and helping me save it (also for being my personal google throughout this fic) major shout-out to kirsten ( @naniwatig3r ) for coming in clutch with the finishing touch i needed to end this monster of a fic.

lastly, thank you bella ( @bella-feed ), sana ( @sanaxo-o ) and catalina ( @dokyumms ) for hosting this event and giving me a chance to write this fic! im usually always writing mingyu, so this was a good challenge :)

word count: 7.8k contents: soonyoung x f!reader , idol!au , idol!soonyoung , designer!reader , inspired by the song if you leave me by seventeen , angst , lots of angst , two (2) angsty rain scenes because rae encouraged me , friends to maybe lovers to wtf is happening dawg , reader is not likable , reader lives in self destruct mode , hurt no comfort , no happy ending , sorry hoshi my tiger baby

soonyoung is never the first one to leave the practice room. he’s the one that stays back after everyone’s gone home, practicing every step of the choreography down to it’s finest details.

lately, however, jihoon has been noticing the way soonyoung is the first to pack his things and leave the practice room, and it confuses him.

he doesn’t probe into this unusual behaviour. the smile soonyoung has on his face as he runs out is something he hasn’t seen much of either, so he lets it slide.

today, too, jihoon sees seungcheol walk up to soonyoung to invite him over for dinner and drinks, but soonyoung barely gives much of an explanation before he’s shaking his head, grabbing his bag, and leaving the room.

“weird boy,” seungcheol mutters to himself, and jihoon couldn’t agree any more.

. . . . .

“y/n! wait up!” a loud yell stops you in your tracks, and you turn to see someone run towards you, their hair covered with a cap, and a mask hiding their face.

other people walking past you on the sidewalk wouldn’t be able to recognize the person, but you could easily tell from the worn-out pink flannel shirt and the expensive sneakers that it was kwon soonyoung, a.k.a hoshi from seventeen, calling out your name.

“you idiot! why are you yelling in the middle of the street,” you whisper-yell when soonyoung is close enough to hear you. “what if someone recognizes you?”

“don’t worry, i’ll take care of it,” he replies, as enthusiastic as ever. “i’m sorry i’m running late, dance practice took a lot of time to wrap up. shall we go?”

it takes you a split second too long to realize that soonyoung is now holding your wrist and gently tugging you along with him towards the restaurant you both are now very familiar with. any other day, you would’ve told him to stop instantly, but today for some reason, you let your hand be held by the person you want but can’t have.

seokmin is sure he’s never seen soonyoung like this: prescription glasses hanging off his nose, new tablet clutched in his hands, and his tired body sprawled across the couch in his apartment. even his flatmate, hansol, shrugs his shoulders when seokmin silently gestures towards soonyoung.

“dokyeom-ah, i need your help with something,” soonyoung calls out, and seokmin warily approaches him, taking a seat on the couch and leaning over soonyoung’s shoulder to take a look at his screen.

“what are you doing?” seokmin asks, thoroughly confused by the poster displayed on soonyoung’s screen. “don’t tell me you’re leaving seventeen to become a graphic designer.”

“and leave you in BSS with seungkwan? no chance,” soonyoung laughs. “you have a good eye for designs and stuff, so i needed your opinion on this. doesn’t it look like it’s missing something?”

“what is this even for?” seokmin questions, eyes running over the words on the poster. “do you have a side hustle at a magazine?”

“it’s…. for a friend,” soonyoung says, not revealing much. “i told them i’d help them out, and i need you for that. i’ll buy you dinner tomorrow if you help, please?”

seokmin agrees easily, but he can’t help but wonder which friend of soonyoung’s is so close to him that they have him designing posters. he also can’t stop thinking about how soonyoung’s face had turned pink at the mention of this ‘friend.’

seokmin wonders if soonyoung’s friend is just a friend.

. . . . .

“this is genius,” you say, looking at the file soonyoung sent you. in the seat across from you, soonyoung squirms with happiness, his chest swelling with pride. “you really didn’t have to do all this, soonyoung. i thought you said you were only going to look for inspo pictures on pinterest.”

“i just had a random stroke of creativity,” soonyoung shrugs. “it’s not that big of a deal. besides, i haven’t forgotten about our deal.”

your shoulders deflate with the sigh you let out. “soonyoung, i never agreed to that deal. you know we can’t— we can’t be like that. and if you’re getting the wrong idea from all this, we can’t keep meeting anymore.”

you don’t think you’ve seen this much fear in soonyoung’s eyes, not since his trainee days, when he wasn’t sure if he’d even debut. but today, he looks scared, almost desperate, when he places his hand over yours just as you’re about to leave the table.

“don’t. don’t leave,” he shakes his head. “i’ll stop with the deal and everything, i promise. just don’t say you won’t let me see you anymore.”

you don’t hesitate to agree, not when every muscle in your body keeps you rooted to the chair at the restaurant that has seen you more than your parents have.

when soonyoung walks you home later that night, you almost blurt out an apology, but you know that apologizing for your own cowardice only proves that it’s real.

“are you done taking what you need?” junhui asks, looking down the aisle to see soonyoung waddling towards him, arms full of snacks and drinks.

“yep! all done,” soonyoung nods, carefully placing all the items in his arms in the basket junhui is carrying.

“when i said i’d pay for you, i didn’t intend on buying out the entire snack aisle,” junhui sighs, carrying the basket over to the cashier and placing it on the counter with a loud thud.

“you love me, and so does your wallet,” soonyoung replies with a cheeky grin, making exaggerated pouty faces at junhui.

junhui only rolls his eyes at soonyoung. he watches the cashier scan every item, when he notices something unfamiliar.

“wait, did you accidentally get the sour lemon gummies? i thought you didn’t like sour stuff?” junhui asks, and soonyoung’s eyes widen like he’s been caught stealing food off mingyu’s plate.

“it’s not for me,” soonyoung replies awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. he’s saved from further questioning when the cashier reads out the total bill amount and junhui fishes his wallet out from his pocket.

later, when they’re outside the convenience store, junhui reaches into the grocery bag to retrieve the lemon gummies. “so, who is this for? is it your token of appreciation for me?”

“you wish,” soonyoung scoffs, snatching the packet out of junhui’s hands. “it’s for someone else.”

“and is this ‘someone’ the ‘friend’ you were helping out last week?” junhui raises an eyebrow at him. “seokmin told me about it.”

“how does it matter even if it is?” soonyoung crosses his arms defensively. “they’re just a friend, that’s all.”

the sigh that leaves soonyoung’s mouth after that sentence makes junhui think that maybe a friendship isn’t what soonyoung wants from his ‘friend.’

. . . . .

“wait, you remembered i like these?” you gasp, seeing the packet of lemon-flavoured jellies in soonyoung’s hands when he meets you at your usual restaurant.

“well, friends remember things about each other,” soonyoung states matter-of-factly. “good friends do at least, because you don’t seem to remember a thing about me.”

“i never said i was going to be a good friend to you,” you retort, holding back a laugh at soonyoung’s unconscious pout when you tease him. “anyway, i didn’t say i needed any help today. why did you ask me to meet you for dinner?”

“you came, didn’t you?” soonyoung challenges. “it’s a routine for me now, anyway, and i didn’t feel like breaking it.”

you feel taken aback momentarily, realizing that no matter how much you’re always shutting down soonyoung’s advances, you almost always say yes to him. clearing your throat, you say, “since you called me, it’s your treat.”

“i don’t mind paying,” soonyoung chuckles. “go on, order whatever you want.”

after dinner, and after soonyoung has walked you back to your house, you lay in bed and stare up at the ceiling. your phone is lazily clutched in your hand, fingers itching to pull up soonyoung’s contact and text him, i remember. i remember things about you. i remember the way you scrunch your nose when you want to stop yourself from sneezing, the way you push your hair back with your hands when you feel frustrated, the way you smile at someone when you’re in love with them.

—

to: kwon soonyoung

i remember how much i loved you| i remember how much|

i remember|

dinner on monday? need to design the monthly magazine’s cover page

sent at 2:46 a.m.

from: kwon soonyoung

i’ll be there :)

sent at 2:47 a.m.

“what are your dinner plans?” minghao asks soonyoung. the fitting for their upcoming tour outfits just got over, and all the members are leaving in groups for dinner.

“nothing much,” soonyoung shrugs. “want to go get kimchi jjigae?”

there’s a good restaurant at a walking distance from the hybe building, but the heavy rain pouring down when they’re about to exit the building makes minghao and soonyoung take one of the company cars to the restaurant instead.

they’re in the elevator alone, going down to the basement, when minghao decides that it’s a good time to interrogate soonyoung on his recent behaviour.

“you know, everyone’s been thinking you’re acting… different,” minghao starts casually, not wanting to alarm soonyoung abruptly. “is everything alright?”

“what? i’m still the same,” soonyoung laughs. “more importantly, why have you all been discussing me?”

“we’re not discussing,” minghao shakes his head, the elevator doors opening to the basement. “you’re just acting unusual, and we’re noticing it. if you wanna talk about it, you can—”

“wait, what date is it today?” soonyoung interrupts him just as they’re about to open the doors to the car.

“uh, the twenty-eighth,” minghao says, checking his phone, and he watches how soonyoung’s face drains of all color as he realizes something important.

“shit, i need to go,” soonyoung mutters to himself, pulling out his phone and rapidly typing something on his screen.

“go where? i’ll drop you off,” minghao offers, but his words fall on deaf ears. soonyoung is already running back to the elevators, which take him up to the lobby of the building, and out on the street.

the rain doesn’t let up in the slightest, but soonyoung doesn’t seem to care much about it as minghao watches him run like a madman when the car pulls out on the street.

he should lower his window and yell at soonyoung to get in the car, but he’s never seen him this frantic to get somewhere. minghao decides to trust soonyoung’s crazy antics this time, and silently shakes his head at the driver when he asks if soonyoung needs to be picked up.

. . . . .

“is this what good friends do?” a scoff from you has soonyoung’s heart crumbling. “you left me waiting here in the rain, on my birthday, and you couldn’t even call, or text—”

“it’s not like you’re waiting for it!” a cornered soonyoung isn’t a rational one, and the words leave him before he can process them. “you’re always telling me how i shouldn’t be meeting you, have feelings for you, or contact you, yet you’re the one giving me shit for not texting you?”

“i just—i assumed you’d show up,” your voice is considerably softer, now that you really understand what soonyoung is saying. the loud rain doesn’t do much to mask your voice, however, because soonyoung hears you loud and clear.

“well, that’s where you’re wrong,” soonyoung chuckles mirthlessly. “you’ve just taken me for granted all over again, y/n. you think that you can get me to do whatever you want just because i like you and you know i’ll never say no. i’m really fucking tired of all this.”

“soonyoung, it’s not like that—”

“i don’t want to hear another stupid explanation from you, not when you’re always deflecting whenever we get close to being something real,” soonyoung cuts you off. “you’re always the one making decisions for me, for us, and i’m done with that. my feelings for you are my own, and you can’t tell me i’m wrong or that i can’t have them.”

at this point, the salty tears running down your face can’t be differentiated from the raindrops hitting your skin, but you keep your head bowed down, so that soonyoung can’t see your tears. despite not looking at him, you can still tell that soonyoung himself is crying, if his choked voice and hurt tone are anything to go by.

“you’re not going to say anything?” soonyoung tries, and he sounds like he’s giving up now. “why can’t you just take the chance with me? why won’t you trust that i’ll do anything to keep you safe?”

“go home, soonyoung,” is all you say, gathering the courage to look him in the eye. “you’re going to get sick, and with the tour—”

“you don’t give a fuck about the tour, and you certainly don’t care for me either, so cut the crap,” soonyoung sounds angry, and you know he has all the right to. “if i go home now, without anything from you, it’s the last you’re going to see of or hear from me.”

those words have you snapping your head up. you look at soonyoung, fists clenched and teeth gritted together. the image of an younger, much happier soonyoung is superimposed on top of the version of soonyoung you see in front of you, and he looks entirely different.

you don’t see the carefree, happy, and silly soonyoung anymore. you see a man who you’ve managed to break with how much you’ve pushed him away. you see a man who’s scared to love you, even though that’s all he’s done for all these years.

you see the results of your own cowardice, and you know that the bravest thing you could do is end things, right then and there.

“goodnight, soonyoung,” you say, not caring that you’re letting your facade finally slip in front of him when your voice cracks under the weight of your emotions. “i won’t bother you anymore.”

you don’t have to look at him to visualise the look of betrayal and heartbreak on his face, but you sneak a glance anyway, and it’s just as heart-wrenching as you expected it to be. still, despite every inch of your body wanting to stay here, with him, you force yourself to turn around and walk away.

you’re not sure if soonyoung sees the way your shoulders shake when you finally give in and sob loudly. you’re not sure if soonyoung hears the thousands of apologies leaving your lips in broken whispers. but you do hope that soonyoung doesn’t; you’ve already hurt him enough.

“where have you been?” seungkwan gasps when he sees soonyoung at his front door, soaked in water from head to toe. “minghao-hyung told me you suddenly ran away, and all of us have been trying your phone but you—”

“seungkwan-ah,” the tremble in soonyoung’s voice makes seungkwan pause his rant. “i’ve lost her for good, this time.”

“lost who?” seungkwan furrows his eyebrows. “i don’t know what you’re talking about, just come in quickly and shower. i’ll get you some dry clothes.”

within fifteen minutes, soonyoung is now seated on the couch, clean and dry, and seungkwan hands him a cup of warm milk. he sits down next to soonyoung and notices how soonyoung just stares off into space, eyes filled with a kind of sorrow he hasn’t seen before.

“is it her?” seungkwan asks, and soonyoung turns his head to meet his eyes. “the girl you were talking about when you came here?”

“y/n, yeah,” soonyoung nods. “i didn’t know you guys were talking again,” seungkwan says. “i mean, we all thought that during the break when we were trainees, she randomly disappeared without a trace.”

“i thought so too,” soonyoung admits. “but we happened to bump into each other a few months back, and—god, i feel like such an idiot for thinking that we could ever go back to the way we were before.”

“wait, backtrack,” seungkwan holds his hand up. “you’ve been seeing her for the last few months? is that why the members keep saying you’ve been acting different? tell me the whole story, kwon soonyoung.”

the last thing soonyoung wants to do is recount the details of everything that’s happened, but he doesn’t stand a chance against seungkwan’s inquisitive gaze, and so he caves.

. . . . .

you’re definitely going crazy. it’s the only rational explanation for the situation you’ve found yourself in.

three days ago, after you left soonyoung in the rain, you had received a text from an unknown number, which went like: this is seungkwan. hyung is down with a fever. i thought you should know.

you wanted to reply and argue that you shouldn’t know about soonyoung’s health, not when your heart and mind were both ready to drop everything at once and meet soonyoung, no matter how stupid the excuse. instead, you left the message on read and spent the next three days driving yourself crazy while contemplating if you should go and apologize to soonyoung.

in the end, the part of you that craved the comfort soonyoung brought you with just his presence won, and you found yourself in front of soonyoung’s house, plastic bag filled with medicine gripped tightly in your right hand.

you raise your left hand to ring the doorbell, but something in you makes you pause. what if soonyoung doesn’t want to see you? you wouldn’t blame him, after everything you’ve put him through, but seeing disgust or hatred for you in his eyes might just be the thing that shatters your heart for good.

the thoughts running in your head are chaotic, and you wish you just had the courage to knock on his door, face him, and apologize so that he actually hears you, but you’re a mere slave to the crippling fear that fills you at the thought of wanting something real with soonyoung.

you decide against facing him. you place the bag of medicine by the door, ring the doorbell, and run towards the end of the hallway as fast as you can, hiding behind the wall to make sure soonyoung won’t see you. it’s childish and immature, but you’ve come to realize that you’re never rational when it comes to soonyoung.

you need to cover your mouth to muffle the cries leaving you when you hear soonyoung open his door, step out, and call seungkwan to ask him if he sent him any medicine.

you take that as your sign to leave, but the burning question doesn’t leave you: what would soonyoung think if he ever finds out that you were the one who brought him medicine but didn’t even have the courage to hand it over to him yourself?

your relationship with soonyoung had started many years ago, when you both were still in middle school and trying to understand long division.

back then, soonyoung was your best friend. he was the boy who always asked for an extra serving of rice at lunch, because you were too shy to. he was the boy that made sure you walked on the sidewalk when you were going back home after school. he was the boy who choreographed silly dances to make you laugh whenever you were sad.

he was the first boy you fell in love with.

it all had happened very quickly; all the girls in your grade had started discussing crushes and boyfriends, and soonyoung was the only boy in your life who made you feel ‘butterflies in your stomach’ and ‘fireworks whenever he’d touch you.’

after that revelation, it felt like the entire world had become much sweeter. you had exchanged your glasses for rose-tinted ones, and with every moment you spent with your best friend, you only fell in deeper.

one evening, under a starry night sky, fifteen-year old you had taken the leap of faith and pressed your lips against his. it was clumsy, and his nose bumping into yours hurt, but it was the best thing to ever happen to you.

what had followed the kiss was the worst news you’d ever receive.

—

“i’m moving to seoul,” soonyoung says, his hand holding yours gently while he drops a bomb.

“what for?” you ask, and you feel a lump forming in your throat. although soonyoung hadn’t revealed much, you could tell from the way his eyes were welling up with tears that the news couldn’t be good.

“i’m leaving taekwondo for good,” he starts. “i recently got into dancing, and i love it. i want to get better at it.”

“there’s dance studios in namyangju,” you point out. “why seoul?”

“i…. i auditioned for a few companies,” soonyoung confesses, the words spilling out after weeks of being kept secret. “i got into some, and i want to…. train professionally.”

you might just get an award called ‘worst best friend in the world’ for your reaction to soonyoung’s words. you barely stop yourself from saying, “that wasn’t our plan. we were supposed to stick together, even if we got sick of each other.”

what you do say is, “oh. that’s… that’s really cool.”

“you don’t look too excited,” soonyoung’s smile falters a bit. “why aren’t you excited?”

“i mean, of course i’m happy for you,” you laugh, although there’s nothing you find funny in this situation.

“i feel like there’s a ‘but’ that’s going to follow,” soonyoung looks at you warily. “what is it?”

there’s so many things you want to say, but you bite your tongue. you just shake your head with a smile. “no ‘buts.’ i’m happy for you, i really am.”

“really?” soonyoung asks again, just to be sure, and you nod. he seems convinced with the act you’ve put up, because he smiles brightly at you, and your heart skips a beat.

you try to bring up the kiss, and what it would mean for the both of you, but soonyoung says, “i should go home, it’s getting late.”

“yeah, it is,” you reply, swallowing down the urge to tell him to stay. “goodnight, soonyoung.”

—

for years to come, you regretted everything you did that night. you regretted letting him go that easily, not telling him how you felt, even the fact that you kissed him.

this regret had such a chokehold on you, that after soonyoung had packed up his things and moved to seoul, you cut off all contact with him.

you didn’t reply to his emails and didn’t answer his calls. whenever his parents visited your house, you’d lock yourself in your room, scared that they’d ask you about soonyoung and you’d have nothing to say.

it was your first heartbreak, and it was messy and painful. you would cry yourself to sleep every night and wake up in the morning, fighting the urge to call soonyoung and ask how he’s doing.

you had managed to convince yourself that now that soonyoung had left, there was no chance of him coming back, much less to meet you. it took you a year to make peace with it, and another year to try and move on, but one night set you back on your progress and had all your walls breaking down.

—

it’s a rainy night and you’re alone at home. your parents are out of town for your dad’s colleague’s wedding, and you couldn’t be bothered to join them.

you’re on your phone, watching pixelated figures on your screen laugh and scream. you’d never admit this to anyone, but you had secretly kept up with soonyoung’s activities ever since he’d left for seoul. for the last few months, he’d been part of a tv show along with other trainees, practicing in a room with green walls and awaiting the day their names would be picked to be a part of a new boy-group.

seeing him dance and goof around with other trainees always made your heart sink a little, but you were glad that at least one of you were enjoying their youth.

you’re in the middle of a compilation of funny moments from said tv show, when your doorbell rings. you’re skeptical as to who would show up in front of your house in the middle of the pouring rain and this late in the evening, so you equip yourself with a tennis racket and head to the front door.

you slowly twist the door knob and pull the door open, but when you see who’s standing at the door, the tennis racket slips from your hands and clatters loudly against the floor.

“what—what are you doing here?” you ask, suddenly feeling weak in the knees.

“did i do something wrong?” soonyoung fires back. he’s completely drenched in rainwater, and his shoulders seem to droop, not just with the weight of the wet clothes clinging to his body.

“soonyoung, that’s ridiculous. what do you mean?” you sputter. “i think you should be telling me why you’re miles away from seoul, in front of my house, soaked in rain. what were you thinking?”

“it’s been two years, y/n,” soonyoung scoffs. “two years since i left and you never called, texted, nothing. did you really not care about me leaving?”

“i just got busy,” you lie, looking away from him. “school got tough, and unlike you, i need to actually focus on—”

“wait, pause,” soonyoung cuts you off, and you wish you could slap yourself for letting those words slip out. “what do you mean ‘unlike me’? what, you think you’re better than me because you’re going to school and i’m training to be an idol? is that why you cut off all contact with me?”

“i didn’t mean to say that, and you know i’d never do anything like that,” you deny.

“do i? do i know you anymore?” soonyoung runs a hand through his damp hair, just like he does whenever he’s annoyed. “i thought we were best friends, but all of a sudden, you go radio silent and give me no explanation at all.”

“i was having a hard time too, okay?” you raise your voice, and you hate how shaky it sounds. “it was tough for me to get used to living without you here, and—”

“don’t give me that bullshit,” he says, voice cracking near the end. “i needed you too, and you completely abandoned me. just like how you kissed me that night and never said anything afterwards. why do you always leave me in the dark?”

you’ve relived that first, innocent, clumsy kiss, multiple times in your head for the last two years, and hearing soonyoung bring it up makes the memory sting even more.

“soonyoung, i—i tried to, but i didn’t think that it was the right time to bring it up,” you sigh, defeated. soonyoung’s gaze softens at that, and he inches forward to be closer to you. he raises his right hand to cup your cheek, and the contrast of his icy fingers against your warm skin makes you shudder.

“you think too much,” he says, looking into your eyes. “it’s just me; you can tell me whatever you want the second the thought crosses your mind. you know i’d always listen.”

“i know,” you nod, and the air between you two feels charged with tension that has been simmering for the last two years. your brain is working at full speed, trying to decide what your next move should be, and soonyoung seems to pick up on the hesitance in your eyes, because of which he exhales loudly and whispers under his breath, loud enough for you to hear, “fuck it.”

before you can predict what he’s about to do, soonyoung leans forward to crash his lips onto yours. you can feel soonyoung shivering in his wet clothes, but the kiss feels warmer than anything you’ve felt before. you give into your temptations and kiss him back.

it’s not as awkward as last time, but it does take you a second to realize that in the time he’s been away, soonyoung has grown up from the lanky and lean boy he used to be. his shoulders seem to be broader, and arms considerably more firm from the constant, rigorous training he’s going through.

you take your time in running your hands up his arms, until they finally wrap around his neck, pulling him in close. the wet material of his hoodie meets your dry t-shirt, and the foreign cold sensation is what snaps you back into reality. you’re kissing the boy you tried so hard to move on from, and you’re kissing him despite knowing that you’ll never really have him.

pulling away from soonyoung hurts a lot more than you expected. he looks disoriented for a few seconds, but then his eyes focus on you, and he knows something has changed.

“we should talk about—”

“no,” you shake your head. “let’s just call this a weak moment, and forget about it.”

“are you being serious right now?” soonyoung huffs. “why are you doing this? am i just a mistake to you?”

if you were it wouldn’t hurt this much, you think to yourself. to soonyoung you say, “i think we’re better off as friends, soonyoung.”

soonyoung walks away again, but this time you’re the one who pushed him away, and he’s the one that wanted you to stay.

—

you didn’t think you’d ever meet soonyoung after that night. for months after, the pain you felt every time you thought of soonyoung was fresh and raw, but over the years, he moved to the back of your mind as you got busy with trying to cope with the real world.

you had decided to major in design in college, and with your degree, you managed to land a job at a famous magazine publisher as a designer, and you’re somewhat happy with it. it’s tough to get recognition in a creative field, especially as a new employee, but earning money easily outweighs the need for validation, which is why you gritted your teeth, plastered on a smile, and continued working for people who never acknowledge you.

that’s when life decided to give you another unexpected surprise.

—

you just got off work, and it’s almost midnight. you haven’t had much to eat the entire day, not when the company is downsizing and you need to work your ass off to keep your job.

your stomach grumbles loudly, and you feel frustrated too. you’re sick of eating convenience store food for most days of the week, but there’s not a single restaurant open at this hour in your area, and you may just have to settle for ramen again, when you stumble across your saviour.

it’s a hole-in-the-wall joint with a small LED sign outside it, displaying the name of the restaurant. there’s not more than four tables inside the restaurant, yet the aroma of delicious tteokbokki is enough to lure you in.

you push the door open, and an elderly lady with a kind smile welcomes you. “oh, my child, you look absolutely famished,” the lady coos. “come, take a seat, i’ll get you food.”

“thank you so much,” you gush, bowing deeply before sitting down at a table. while the lady brings you food, you take the time to rest your tired feet and exhausted eyes. you’re rubbing your aching forehead, when the door to the restaurant opens, indicating that another customer has entered.

out of curiosity, you look to the side to see the new customer, but when you see his face, you’re considering that the universe thinks you’re a joke. because, sitting at the table across from you is none other than kwon soonyoung.

memories from the past crash into you like a truck, and you’re almost ready to sacrifice a decent meal and flee from the restaurant, when the lady approaches your table with a huge tray in her hands.

“here you go, sweetheart,” she says, setting down bowl after bowl on your table. “enjoy your meal.”

you’re not sure how much of an appetite you’ve got left after you’ve literally faced your past. the shock on soonyoung’s face still hasn’t faded, and you’re debating if you should just avoid any further eye contact, finish your food, and leave the restaurant as quickly as possible.

it seems like that plan needs to be abandoned as well, because after a very awkward meal and paying for your food, the second you step out of the restaurant, soonyoung calls your name.

“y/n, wait,” you can tell that he feels awkward just from the way he’s fidgeting with his shirt, and it only makes you feel even more uncomfortable. “it’s… been a while.”

“it has,” you reply casually, as if he didn’t go on to become a worldwide sensation, while you’re stuck being mediocre. “it was great to see you again, but i really should—”

“let’s catch up some time?” he asks, chest heaving with anticipation.

“i don’t know if that would be a good idea, soonyoung,” you say, vaguely gesturing at the distance between the two of you. “after what happened last time…”

“you said we’d be better as friends, right?” he tries, still enthusiastic, and it makes you want to cry. “we should try again. to be friends, i mean. what do you think?”

—

agreeing with him had been simultaneously the best and worst decision of your life. meeting soonyoung nearly every night after work, eating dinner at the same table in the restaurant you both met at again, and spending hours listening to him talk about everything and nothing was something you never thought you’d get to experience again.

it had started to feel like he was your best friend all over again, just like all those years ago when you both were naive teenagers who could never imagine that their relationship would change this much.

the downside to all this was that your old feelings for soonyoung, feelings that never really faded away, had come to life again, and soonyoung smiling at you like an idiot in love, like an idiot who didn’t choose to run away from you the first time you hurt him, wasn’t helping either.

having to shut down his constant flirting, his abrupt confessions, ‘deals’ he’d strike with you to make you go on a date with him whenever he helped you with work, all of it was killing you slowly, and you didn’t know if you could tell soonyoung to back off without hurting him more than you already have.

as the weeks fly by, you started letting your guard down around soonyoung. he held your hand as he walked you home, carried your work bag even if you weren’t that tired, and even texted you first thing in the morning. you had promised to yourself that you wouldn’t let soonyoung get that close to you again, because dealing with the fallout was something you didn’t want to deal with again.

still, like icarus, you let yourself fly close to the sun that is soonyoung’s affections, selfishly hoping that the day your wings of wax melt didn’t come too soon.

it was all just wishful thinking, and the fragile bubble you had started to live in burst on the day of your twenty-ninth birthday. like every other day, you had expected soonyoung to meet you at your usual restaurant for dinner, but hours passed, and there was still no sign of soonyoung.

when soonyoung finally did show up, and after you left him alone in the rain, you couldn’t help but curse yourself for believing that something so flawed from the start could ever work out, no matter how much you tried.

“is it weird that i still feel nervous before concerts?” mingyu sighs, massaging his legs after their last rehearsal on the stage.

“i don’t think that feeling will ever fully go away,” wonwoo chuckles, panting as he lays sprawled out on the floor of the green room some of them are gathered in. its the day before the first concert on their world tour, and backstage is buzzing with various members of staff running around, making sure everything is perfect.

“i don’t think soonyoung gets nervous, though,” wonwoo teases, nudging soonyoung’s leg with his foot.

soonyoung, too engrossed in his own thoughts, doesn’t even hear the jab. he’s busy staring off into space, and it puzzles the other members.

“hey, what’s on your mind?” mingyu asks, shaking soonyoung’s shoulder to snap him out of his trance.

“i don’t know,” he sighs. “i have a bad feeling about today.”

“hey! don’t jinx our concert with your negativity,” seungcheol quips. “whatever has you distracted, you need to get it out of your head. we need tomorrow to be perfect.”

the restless feeling that has been bothering soonyoung all morning finally makes sense when his phone buzzes with a notification.

it’s a text from you, after radio silence since your birthday, and soonyoung hates how he’s sprinting out of the green room towards the company cars at the drop of a hat.

in his rush, soonyoung leaves his phone behind, and when mingyu picks it up from the couch, the text displayed on the screen reads, can we talk? one last time, i promise.

everyone has a feeling that soonyoung doesn’t want to be meeting you for the last time.

. . . . .

soonyoung feels a little foolish for standing outside the restaurant alone, frantically looking around. he’s forgotten his phone at the concert venue, leaving him with no way to contact you to find out if you were even coming to see him.

but when he sees your figure at the end of the street, walking towards him, the anxiety he’d been feeling gets multiplied by ten.

when you come to a halt in front of him, you seem a bit surprised. “i didn’t expect you to come. not after…”

“i know it was you who left the medicine outside my house that day,” he says. “i decided to come so i could thank you for that.”

“you don’t have to,” you shake your head. “i didn’t do that as an apology.”

“so, you’re not going to apologize for any of it?” soonyoung tilts his head. “why’d you call me here? for your own amusement?”

“i called you here to tell you that i’m leaving for good, soonyoung,” you have to force yourself to blurt the words out, because the lump forming in your throat is slowly starting to choke you. “i got a new job, and i’m leaving korea. i’m not coming back.”

“what?” soonyoung doesn’t sound like he believes you. “what do you mean you’re leaving?”

“i need a fresh start away from all this, away from you,” you can’t hold your tears back anymore, and the thought of never seeing soonyoung again is a comforting yet terrifying thought. “this thing we have, whatever we’ve had for all these years, it hurts to live with. i know i was the one who went and messed everything up, but i—i didn’t know how else to deal with you leaving. i do apologize, soonyoung, for every time i’ve made you feel like i hate you, or i don’t want you, and i want you to know i didn’t mean any of it.”

“if you didn’t mean it, why did you do it?” soonyoung’s face is red with anger and the look of realization that he can’t do anything to salvage this situation is heartbreaking. “i told you, y/n, you don’t have to think so much when you’re with me. you don’t need to worry about everything that can go wrong, not when i’ve got your back. why could i never earn your trust?”

“how could i trust in something that was doomed from the start?” you let out the thought that has been gnawing away at you for years. “the moment i realized i loved you, you left, and i couldn’t do anything about it.”

“is that what the first kiss was about?” soonyoung asks. “you loved me since then?”

“i did,” you nod. “and don’t you dare try to apologize for leaving, because it’s going to make me feel even worse. there was no way on earth i would’ve asked you to stay for me, and you wouldn’t have listened anyway.”

“what about after that?” soonyoung says, and you notice how it’s his left hand rising up to push his hair back. it used to be his right hand before, and you will every cell in your body to stop thinking about what the difference means. “i came back to you, why didn’t you tell me then?”

“you had enough on your plate back then, soonyoung,” you shake your head. “i’ve always kept up with your journey, since before your debut, and i know that expecting a relationship from you then wasn’t right of me. it would’ve made things worse.”

“why not now, y/n?” soonyoung yells, tears of frustration running down his face. “do you have an excuse for that too? what, i’d be too busy touring the world which is why you never said anything? if you love me, and i love you, why couldn’t we just let that be the reason? was love never enough for you?”

“i can’t—i can’t answer that, soonyoung,” you sob. “all i do is hurt you, don’t you see that?”

“there you go, making decisions for me again,” he scoffs. “you can’t be the one to decide if i want you, even if you’ve hurt me.”

“i’m deciding for myself,” you sniffle, wiping your tears with the back of your hand. “we’re too far gone to fix things, and i don’t want you to get your hopes up for me. i don’t think i’ll ever be ready for anything real with you, and i feel like it’s the best way to leave things.”

“you’re leaving without even trying to fix anything,” soonyoung seethes. “your apology is just another slap to the face, and i can’t believe that i’d still do anything for you, no questions asked.”

“i’m asking you to let go, soonyoung,” you choke out. “it’s what’s best for us, and you know it too.”

“you make it sound easy,” soonyoung’s laugh is dry and hollow. “letting go of you means letting go of my heart. it’s not that easy, y/n.”

“i’m sorry,” you let your head hang low, too ashamed to look at soonyoung. you’re surprised once again when you feel his hands reaching forward to hold your trembling ones.

“is there nothing i can say to make you stay?” soonyoung tries again. his anger seems to have dissipated, and the look of desperation on his face matches the one on yours.

“i’m leaving tomorrow night,” you let yourself savor the feeling of his rough hands enveloping yours. “i can’t stay, you know that.”

“i’ll try anyway,” he exhales. “come to the concert tomorrow.”

“soonyoung, i can’t—”

“please.” he sounds dangerously close to begging. “i need to see you one last time, please. if it’s the last time i’m seeing you, i want it to be tomorrow.”

“i can’t make any promises, soonyoung,” you shut your eyes.

“don’t make any,” he says. “i’ll get you a ticket, but if you don’t want to come, don’t. just know that i’ll be looking for you in the crowd.”

“don’t expect me to be there,” you say, looking up at him. he’s close enough for you to see his eyes glittering with tears, and the knife in your chest twists in deeper.

“can’t make any promises,” his words come out in a whisper, and before you can remind soonyoung of the consequences of kissing in the middle of a street, where anyone can recognize him, he pulls you in.

the kiss doesn’t last long, but it makes you feel like your body is on fire. it makes your heart ache at the thought of losing this warmth forever, and it takes everything in you to stop yourself from pulling soonyoung closer to you.

he pulls away first this time, and you can see it in his eyes that he knows you won’t be there tomorrow. still, he says, “come tomorrow, please.”

he leaves before you can respond. which might be better for him. because you don’t know if you can handle the fact that the last thing you’ll tell him is no.

the opening notes of the song play, and now that all the members are finally sitting down after hours of dancing, soonyoung takes a moment to scan the crowd.

he thinks about the ticket he’d sent you through text, and how the message hadn’t even delivered. he thinks about the flight that’s about to leave the airport soon, taking you far away from him.

if you leave in the distant future i probably won’t be able to live

he thinks of the last kiss, and it’s enough to make his eyes water.

chan finishes singing the first two lines, and with a shaky hand, soonyoung lifts his mic to his lips.

it’s not in the distant future i just don’t want to think about it

you’re not in the crowd tonight, and even though you didn’t make any promises, the last look he had at you felt like a promise in itself. a promise that said, i won’t be there, no matter how hard you look.

still, soonyoung feels like you’re watching. he wants to imagine that you’re in the waiting room at the airport, waiting to board your flight, clutching your phone and watching the livestream of this concert. he wants to imagine that the tears in his eyes make you want to cry too.

if you leave me (what can i do?) all my days (you’re the reason i’m alive and breathing)

fans recording clips of this concert are going to share this particular clip of soonyoung singing the chorus of the song with tears streaming down his face. they’re going to say things like, who hurt him? and soonyoung is really professional; he pours so much emotion into each song.

they don’t know the truth behind the tears. they don’t know that soonyoung was once a boy, who was, and still is, in love with a girl. and they’ll never know, neither will you, that soonyoung will always continue to love you, even if you’re oceans away from him.

soonyoung won’t ever know this: you do watch the livestream of the concert. you’re sitting in the airport lounge, and soonyoung’s eyes staring straight into the camera feels like he’s really looking at you, after he failed to spot you in the crowd.

he won’t ever know this, but ever since that first kiss at fifteen, you had doomed your own fate. even if you ever found love in any other person, you’d never love them as much as you love soonyoung, and you decide to continue being selfish and keep this secret locked away in your heart for good.

the airport speakers announce that passengers flying to new york may start boarding their flight, and you shut your phone just as the song ends.

i want to hold your hand, just stay with me.

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wonderjanga · 2 days ago

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Adoption

One day, Marvel suddenly came in with a baby. He’d had it strapped to his chest, muted with a spell as he let it chew on his fingers while he listened to the meeting. Eventually, when it was over, somebody asked where in the world he got it from and they received a very convoluted explanation in response.

Marvel: “…So, yeah! I found him in a dumpster and I’m kind of taking care of him now!”

A small silence filled the meeting room. There were so many questionable things in that statement. Why was Marvel close enough to a dumpster to hear a baby crying? WHO left the baby there? Also, most of the JL are pretty sure Marvel isn’t human either so… how does he plan to raise a human baby??

Surprisingly, none of those questions were the one asked.

Flash: “Cap, aren’t you a little young to have kids?”

Marvel: “Uh… maybe? But it’ll be fine. I’ll just have to cut back on expenses in certain areas but other than that, it should be good.” *holds the baby at arms length so he can look at it*

Supes: “You have an actual job?”

Marvel: “Yes?”

*silence*

Batman: “Captain, you talk as if money is tight. What will happen if you can’t afford to take care of the baby?”

Marvel: “Wha— Of course I can!”

Batman: “Yes, but what if you can’t?”

Marvel: *hesitating* “I dunno. Would you take him?”

Batman: “If it had to come down to it, yes.”

Marvel: *super casual* “…mmm okay then. When I get all the documents in order, I’ll make you his Godfather or something.”

While Bruce didn’t mind becoming the godfather to Marvel’s ward, he was just wondering how he was going to explain this to Alfred, to his kids, and to literally everyone.

Marvel: “Oh, but you can’t make him into a Robin until he’s 12, okay? 12 is the minimum and nothing earlier.”

Batman: “I’m more surprised you’d actually let me if he came into my custody.”

Marvel: *shrugs* “Heroism runs in my family. Even if we aren’t biologically related, I wouldn’t be surprised if he asked to become Robin.”

Eventually, when it was just Marvel and Bruce alone. Bruce asked why Marvel was so keen on adopting the kid.

Marvel: “It’s just, he was thrown out, like me. He’s even younger than me when I was thrown out too! I don’t want him to grow up the way I did.”

Batman: “Homeless?”

Marvel: “That and bouncing through foster homes for a bit.”

Batman: “…I see. They had foster homes in Ancient Greece?”

Marvel: “Something like that.”

#billy batson #shazam #dc captain marvel #captain marvel dc #fawcett city #fawcett #fawcett comics

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philosophicalparadox · 2 days ago

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Agreed. Though actually confident characters are quite rare in my neck of the woods lollll

Storytelling at large doesn’t tend to include them (anymore) as primary characters because of the view above. That they lack depth or more so because it removes an element of conflict in their character.

But they do exist. And sometimes you do gotta hit it from a different angle because yeah, reducing them to the same old same old does get a little bit boring at times.

That said. There’s different kinds of confidence.

My Fiancé is actually a perfect example of that. He’s very secure in many respects; certainly he’s secure in his masculinity and personhood, and knows exactly what he’s worth without hubris. To most people, he comes off like a confident and put-together guy. Which never fails to impress because he’s only 25.

But he still has struggles. He’s got an IQ of 165, and it makes communication difficult with most normal people sometimes. He can do it, but it’s exhausting. He’s a supervisor and therefore in charge of other people, which is a position he never wanted but is well suited for. It tires him out, having everyone rely on him, which extends into home because he’s the main breadwinner to a household of disabled adults.

He cries if you yell at him. He’s exceptionally emotionally intelligent (EQ) as well as being problem-solving smart (IQ) and that scares him. He’s a confident person, yes, knows who he is and what he wants, etc. But he’s still terrible at boundaries because he’s always been the guy to respect other people’s, without ever being taught he was allowed to have his own. It’s not a source of insecurity for him, nor caused by it, it was simply an oversight in his social education, which was well rounded, but kinda forgot to include him in the discussion.

His mom is physically and mentally disabled, and they can’t communicate effectively hardly at all. They get along fine, and on the surface have a good relationship. But their IQ are too far apart to have meaningful conversations where everyone understands each other, and that lead to a lot of misinterpretation on his part about…a lot, of things. Left to its own devices his brain came up with some fascinating explanations for how things worked lol 🤣 it’s a good thing he wasn’t raised religious

The point I’m making is that yes, he is by all accounts a secure and confident person, in his personhood, but he definitely has things that can create conflict and story beats. Like the fact he was quite literally never made to do chores, ever. Which you would never guess meeting him because he’s a very respectable and responsible person. He just doesn’t know how to do chores. He’s very much the opposite of your run of the mill manchild, mind, he just literally was never made to do domestic stuff. And I had to fight with his mother to let him do them. I’ve taught him how to: vaccuum, sweep properly, how to use a towel to clean up spills, how to mix batter, how to do his own laundry, and how to walk a dog without getting his shoulder dislocated lol. Among other small things, like how germs work and why there’s a difference between washing and sanitising, etc.

So yes. There’s many more ways to make a confident person multidimensional. Most writers don’t really go there, though. I’m not one to insert insecurities where there aren’t any (unless I’m doing it for a specific reason, obv, sometimes the Barbies need to get chewed on by a dog 🤷‍♀️) in the canon character, but frequently there is in fact profound insecurity there, or a type of insecurity anyway. You can be insecure as a person in your personhood or insecure about a specific thing, or particular character traits, etc. The fundamental nature of insecurity is itself multifaceted, so there’s a lot of grey area, and everyone has something.

hello tumblr user. in front of you stands a confident and outspoken character. your challenge today & forever is to consider the possibility they may simply have self-confidence and are not just faking to secretly cover up massive insecurities. good luck

#writers

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dearstvckyx · 22 hours ago

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── Reaction to you sleeping in the floor (Short Fic ? ) / F1 , Soccer , NHl

IB :: maevebarnes on TikTok

⋆°•☁︎ CHARLES LECLERC ☁︎•°⋆

Charles walked in expecting to find you in bed, but stopped short when he saw you asleep on the floor—curled up in his hoodie, half-covered by a throw blanket, with the laptop still playing your movie on mute. He blinked, confused, then let out a quiet laugh. “You have an actual bed, you know,” he whispered, crouching beside you. With a soft sigh, he brushed your hair back and scooped you into his arms, careful not to wake you fully. “Only you would fall asleep like this,” he murmured, kissing your forehead before carrying you to bed. Once you were tucked in, he slid in beside you with a grin. “No more sleeping on the floor, mon amour. I forbid it.”

⋆°•☁︎ FRANCO COLAPINTO ☁︎•°⋆

Franco froze in the doorway, panic spiking in his chest when he saw you asleep on the floor. “¿Estás bien?” he whispered, rushing over. It wasn’t until he noticed your steady breathing and the blanket around your legs that he let out a shaky breath. “Dios… you scared me.” He sat beside you, slipping his hand into yours as his worry slowly faded. You always picked the strangest places to nap, but this one had shaken him. He leaned in, kissed your temple gently, and murmured, “Don’t ever do that again, okay?” even if you couldn’t hear it.

⋆°•☁︎ GEORGE RUSSEL ☁︎•°⋆

George stopped in the doorway, brows furrowing when he saw you curled up on the floor with a blanket and no explanation in sight. “Really?” he sighed, stepping closer. He knelt down beside you, gently brushing a bit of hair from your face. “You’ve got a perfectly good bed right there, love.” You didn’t respond—just let out a soft breath, completely out cold. George shook his head with a fond smile, dropped a pillow next to you, and draped one of his hoodies over your back. “Alright then,” he murmured, sitting beside you. “But only because you look cute doing it.”

⋆°•☁︎ KIMI ANTONELLI ☁︎•°⋆

Kimi stepped into the room and froze, eyes wide for a moment when he saw you curled up on the floor like a little kid, wrapped in a blanket and clutching one of his hoodies. His heart squeezed softly—he wasn’t used to feeling this protective, but seeing you so peaceful and small made something inside him melt. He crouched down quietly, brushing a gentle hand over your hair like he was afraid to wake you. “You shouldn’t sleep here,” he whispered softly, voice almost tender. But instead of moving you, he just settled down beside you, wrapping an arm around you like he wanted to keep you safe forever. “I’ll stay with you,” he murmured, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

⋆°•☁︎ LANDO NORRIS ☁︎•°⋆

Lando burst into the room and stopped, eyes going wide as he spotted you sprawled out on the floor like you’d just given up on life. “Oi, what’s this? You starting a new floor-napping trend without me?” he joked, trying not to laugh. He crouched down and shook his head with a grin. “Mate, the bed’s right there—you sure you’re not trying to annoy me?” He plopped down next to you, grabbed a pillow, and tossed it under your head with a theatrical flourish. “Alright, floor queen, you win this round,” he said, grinning as he pulled a blanket over you. “But tomorrow, we nap together—on the bed, yeah?”

⋆°•☁︎ MAX VERSTAPPEN ☁︎•°⋆

Max opened the door and saw you fast asleep on the floor, your breathing slow and steady. He just sighed softly, not wanting to disturb you, and without a word, he grabbed a soft blanket and gently covered you, careful not to wrinkle it. The room was quiet except for the faint hum of the evening outside. He then reached for the stuffed animal Charles had given you after your surgery a few years ago and placed it tenderly beside your head, like a small guardian watching over you. Leaning down, he pressed a quiet kiss to your hair and whispered, “Welterusten, schatje,” before slipping out silently. Minutes later, sounds of your gentle soft snores were met with the audio from Max playing his sims.

⋆°•☁︎ OLLIE BEARMAN ☁︎•°⋆

Ollie was spending the night for the first time, and as he took a shower, you realized your bed might be a little too small for both of you. So while he was in the bathroom, you grabbed extra soft blankets and pillows, building a little nest on the floor—a cozy fort just for him. You wanted him to be comfortable, even if it meant sacrificing your usual space. When Ollie stepped out, ready to ask you a question, his eyes immediately caught the makeshift nest you’d made. Then he noticed you already curled up, asleep on the bed, and the softness you’d arranged on the floor. Smiling, he crawled down beside you, surprised by how gentle and thoughtful your setup was. Wrapping his arms around your waist, he murmured, “Thank you, beautiful,” before settling in close, feeling grateful and at home.

⋆°•☁︎ OSCAR PIASTRI ☁︎•°⋆

Oscar walked in after a long day, expecting to find you tucked into bed—but instead, he found you sprawled out on a blow-up mattress on the floor, looking far too comfy given the circumstances. The bed frame had finally given out after the last time you’d seen each other, and he couldn’t help but shake his head, laughing quietly. “Five months apart will do that, huh?” Without missing a beat, he pulled out his phone and started ordering a tougher metal frame and a reinforced bed box. “This one’s getting an upgrade,” he said with a grin, kneeling down to kiss your forehead. “No more broken beds for us.”

⋆°•☁︎ ARTHUR LECLERC ☁︎•°⋆

Arthur quietly stepped down into one of the boat’s bedrooms, the gentle rocking of the waves lulling everything into a calm rhythm. He spotted you asleep on the floor by the big windows looking out into the deep blue, colorful fish and crabs drifting lazily past, some even swimming close to the glass as if curious about the girl watching them. The camera you’d been recording with—the one he’d bought you—rested softly in your hands. Smiling softly, Arthur whispered, “Sorry, guys, she fell asleep,” as he gently turned off the recording. Then, careful not to wake you, he draped a thin blanket over you, knowing it was warm but wanting you covered. Quietly, he carried on the vlog with a gentle wave to the camera, promising the rest would be muted. Before settling down beside you, he even brought Leo down to curl up next to you both, making sure you weren’t alone in the peaceful silence. “Ciao,” he whispered to the camera whilst shutting the audio of but the camera streaming, he ends up wrapping an arm around you both.

SOCCER

⋆°•☁︎ CHRISTIAN PULISIC ☁︎•°⋆

Christian stepped inside, still buzzing from a long day shooting the ad, but the moment he saw you curled up on the living room floor—blanket loosely draped around you, your head resting on a soft pillow and a … game controller in your hand? —his tiredness melted away. He took a glance at the remote and to the tv that’s paused on fifa, the one game his girl never wins at, he smiled softly, shaking his head with gentle disbelief. “You’re ridiculous,” he muttered under his breath. Without a word, he knelt down and carefully pulled a warmer blanket over you before sitting beside you, brushing a stray hair from your face. His fingers gently traced your cheek as he whispered, “I’m home now. Sleep tight, love.” Then, quietly, he leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to your forehead before resting his head beside yours, not wanting to disturb your peaceful sleep.

⋆°•☁︎ GAVI ☁︎•°⋆

Gavi’s mom had told him you were asleep on the floor, and though he thought she was exaggerating, he went upstairs to check anyway. When he pushed open the door, there you were—curled up quietly, surrounded by the small things she’d brought you as a promise to pay her back later. You looked peaceful, the soft glow from the window casting a gentle light over you. Grinning, Gavi quietly pulled out his phone and snapped a picture before sitting cross-legged beside you, careful not to wake you. He settled in, watching over you like a quiet guardian, feeling strangely at home in the stillness of that moment.

⋆°•☁︎ PEDRI ☁︎•°⋆

Pedri opened the door and immediately stopped, eyebrows drawing together as he saw you asleep on the floor. “¿En serio?” he mumbled under his breath, rubbing a hand down his face. “Why are you like this… the bed exists, mi amor.” He crouched down, muttering something about back problems and how floors weren’t made for humans while gently slipping his arms under you. You stirred just a little, but he shushed you softly. “No, no, don’t wake up just because you’re stubborn,” he whispered with a fond sigh, lifting you up like it wasn’t the first time he’d had to do this. He carried you to the bed, laid you down gently, and pulled the blanket over you before muttering one last time, “Ridícula… but you’re my ridícula.”

NHL

⋆°•☁︎ COLE CAUFIELD ☁︎•°⋆

Cole walked in, humming some random tune, only to freeze mid-step when he spotted you asleep on the floor, face smooshed into a pillow and a blanket tangled around your legs. He blinked. “Bro… what is this?” he whispered to absolutely no one. He crouched down dramatically, inspecting the scene like a detective. “Are you okay? Did the bed betray you? Blink twice if it’s holding hostages,” he joked under his breath. Then, grinning, he gently placed one of his oversized hoodies over you like a blanket and whispered, “Alright, floor goblin, sleep tight.” Before walking off, he snapped a pic for future roasting purposes—and possibly to make it your contact photo.

⋆°•☁︎ JACK HUGHES ☁︎•°⋆

Jack opened the bedroom door, expecting something normal—and immediately let out the most dramatic sigh when he saw you curled up on the floor like it was the most natural thing in the world. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered, one hand on his hip like a fed-up sitcom dad. He walked over, crouched down beside you, and shook his head with a crooked grin. “Why? Just… why the floor? We own furniture.” Still, he draped a hoodie over you, mumbled, “Unbelievable,” and gave your cheek the lightest tap with his knuckle. As he walked away, he called over his shoulder, “I’m not carrying you—but if you wake up with a sore back, I will say ‘I told you so.’”

⋆°•☁︎ LUKE HUGHES ☁︎•°⋆

Luke walked into the room, saw you asleep on the floor in a cozy little blanket pile, and his face lit up like a kid on Christmas. “No way,” he whispered, grinning as he dropped his bag and flopped down next to you without hesitation. “You’re a floor person too? This is destiny.” He grabbed one of your extra pillows, tucked it under his head, and shuffled close enough that your knees touched. “Honestly, beds are overrated anyway,” he mumbled happily, already halfway to sleep himself. Before closing his eyes, he reached over, poked your arm, and whispered, “Floor buddies for life.”

⋆°•☁︎ MATT REMPE ☁︎•°⋆

Matt had knocked out early, curled up beside you on the floor after insisting he didn’t mind the nest of blankets you’d made. You were tucked into his chest, one of his arms lazily draped over your waist, and despite his size nearly swallowing the setup whole, he looked completely at peace. Soft snores, messy hair, and a hint of a smile—it was the kind of quiet comfort that didn’t need words. Later that night, Alley peeked into the room and stopped dead in her tracks at the sight. Her face split into a grin as she silently pulled out her phone, snapping a picture of the two of you tangled up like a rom-com ending. Without a word, she sent it straight to your phone with a single message: this is disgustingly cute.

⋆°•☁︎ MITCH MARNER ☁︎•°⋆

Mitch quietly unlocked the door, Zeus trotting in beside him, leash in one hand and a Timbit bag in the other. He spotted you asleep on the floor immediately—blanket half over you, one arm curled under your head—and before he could even react, Zeus was already beelining toward you with his tail wagging like mad. “No, no, no—Zeus!” Mitch whispered harshly, dropping to his knees to grab the dog’s harness just as he tried to pounce. Zeus let out a soft boof, clearly offended, and Mitch gave him a look. “She’s sleeping, bud. We don’t wake her up unless it’s for emergencies or snacks.” Still holding him back, Mitch smiled softly at you, then leaned over to place the Timbit bag near your pillow and whispered, “We’re back, babe. Sorry your son tried to tackle you.”

⋆°•☁︎ NICO HISCHIER ☁︎•°⋆

It was a warm afternoon in Switzerland, the kind where the sun made everything feel slow and quiet. Luca was heading back to the house when he spotted something on the lawn—someone, actually. He squinted, then let out a quiet laugh when he realized it was you, fast asleep on a picnic blanket, shoes kicked off, a book resting open on your chest. He ducked into the house and called out, “Nico? Your girlfriend’s napping in the grass like a fairy tale character.” Nico blinked, then followed him outside—and when he saw you, a soft smile instantly pulled at his lips. “Of course she is,” he said under his breath. He knelt beside you, gently brushed your hair back, and whispered, “You couldn’t have picked a better spot.” Then, quietly, he laid down next to you, letting the sunlight and the moment wrap around the both of you.

⋆°•☁︎ QUINN HUGHES ☁︎•°⋆

Quinn walked into the bedroom and froze when he saw you lying on the floor, tangled in blankets with a sleepy, confused expression. His eyes widened, and panic hit him instantly. “Pretty, did you fall off the bed? Are you okay?” he asked, voice thick with worry as he crouched down beside you. He gently brushed your hair from your face, scanning you for any signs of injury. “You need to be more careful,” he murmured, his tone soft but firm. Then, wrapping an arm around you, he helped you sit up slowly. “Next time, I’m setting up a mattress on the floor just to be safe.”

AN a similar post will be posted later for the YouTube guys and marvel men

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houndofllove · 2 days ago

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SAY YOU WILL — lessons

cw. simon riley x f!reader. situationship.

#05 guilty pleasure | masterlist | #07

You’re in bed when Simon finally asks.

The anticipated question, both curious and confused all the same. You figure for him it means something different to how others ask it, a want to understand you and the patterns of your life. Maybe even entirely selfless as he asks, waiting there, looking up at the ceiling as you do the same and not pressing or demanding or turning to try and gouge every wrinkle and twitch of your face.

It’s what compels you to give him that explanation, sighing deeply next to him, dragging a hand over your face as you figure out where to begin.

“It was the first guy,” you smile to yourself, bittersweet. “You know he was great, first love kind of thing. Thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with him. We had everything planned out, the house and kids and careers. Even what pets. I loved him and sometimes I think that I still do, but we outgrew each other. I’d known him since we were teenagers, and that time we spent together was good but by the end we were different people. We needed space to grow.”

You hear the faint sound of the pillow rustling next to you, feeling the way Simon nods and then hums after a few seconds in acknowledgement.

“And then, you know, after that it’s never really been the same as the first time.”

“Yeah,” he whispers.

He doesn’t ask for more from you, the air thin as he remains still, mimicking your body language as though to make you feel safer. You get the sense that he’s still mulling over your words, piecing together fragments of your life like a puzzle and working out why the pieces connect the way they do. Always calculated in that sense and somehow it makes you more curious about him.

Simon’s like a clamshell that you can’t pry open no matter how you try. Shoving a knife between the slips in his facade has nudged him slightly, only for the faintest sign of weakness to clamp him shut again. You’ve tried, God knows you have, and although you respect his space you can’t conceal your own curiosity. Spending nights without him savouring little details he’s given you. Warm smiles, cups of tea, a chain around his neck that disappears somewhere a few minutes after you’ve seen it, the scars, God. The scars all over his body. The muscle. The turmoil. The bulk of him.

“How about you?” A shot made in the dark.

“Oh,” he exhales. It’s quiet for a long while, something you expected yet can’t bear to deal with. An urge to crane your head and watch him: just the way you’ve despised others doing to you in anticipation of their judgement. You wonder what you’d see if you did give in. The colours of longing written over his features or maybe a glint of hope, sparkling so bright in his eyes.

“There was someone,” it comes out breathy, followed by a small laugh. “Long ago. But her parents didn’t really see me in their daughter's future.”

Your heart sinks and thumps that much harder against your ribcage all the same. “I’m sorry, Simon.”

“Don’t be,” you can sense his smile in the words. “Learned a lot of lessons from that. You know, we tried so ‘ard to make it work. Both of us sneaking out at night. She thought she could convince them, y’know. That I was good enough. Not that I ever mistreated her.”

“Mhm.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to get carried away.”

“No, it’s okay. I want to listen.”

“There’s not much else to say really.” He sighs. “One night I was helpin’ her back into the house through the window and her dad was waiting for us. Never thought there’d be a day where I’d run as fast as I did that night.”

You huff, amused, your hand on your chest rising and falling with your heavier breaths: more aware of the way your body’s reacting to his stories.

“Got a phone call the next day and it was over. Parents sent her off, can’t even remember where anymore. Never spoke to her again.” A pause, him shifting, then repeating your own sentiment: “It’s never been the same as that first time.”

Smiling you reach for his hand across the bed, fingertips brushing over cotton until they reach his forearm, working down until you find the roughness of his knuckles. He twists his palm and then makes space for your fingers to link together, hand hot and heavy in yours but grounding.

“It’s easier like this,” you say, turning to face Simon, the long profile of his face darkened. There’s stubble dotted along his jaw that you know he’ll shave away before he gets in the shower; the purple trace of the scar that he’s yet to tell you about. Your gaze must disturb him, his head falling to the side so his cheek presses into his pillow, amber irises burning through you.

You watch with strange happiness the way his face moves when he speaks.

“Without the labels?”

“Yeah,” you nod slowly. “Yeah, I mean. I don’t want to go on a tangent but it’s like, all these guys I’ve been on dates with, they don’t see value in themselves if I don’t say I love you. It’s like I could give them everything they want, but if I don’t mention love they can’t understand why or how I do these things. I don’t know….I just get frustrated with them after a while because they expect it from me like it’s a requirement for a relationship. But I don’t think they even understand what love is, you know?”

He rolls his lips together, says: “I think so.”

The room falls quiet and you notice your heartbeat in your ears, how warm you feel now even though it’s cold outside. You watching Simon. Simon watching you. An unrecognisable force telling you to move closer towards him: so you do. Shuffling closer and closer until your body is pressed against him, not a single protest made against it.

“I like this,” you murmur.

“Yeah?” Simon smiles.

“I do, really. You’re really nice, Simon. And cool.”

He chuckles then, squeezing your hand in his, folding it upwards so your hands are close to his lips, wet breath over skin. “I dunno about cool.”

“Cooler than any other guys I know.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Clearly don't kno’ a lot of guys then.”

Faking exasperation you roll your eyes. “I know enough, trust me.”

He brings your connected hands up to his mouth, placing a kiss on the back of yours, cracked lips somehow so soft against your skin. You sigh, content, closing your eyes. Then you feel his lips brush over each eyelid and you melt into the bed.

In your ear he whispers I trust you.

#say you will #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x oc

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wannabepoeticischiya · 3 days ago

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sunshine arrives with you

ao3: sunshine arrives with you pairing: anaxagoras x f! reader genre: romance wc: 2.8k status: one shot art by: kanann_x on twt/x

I once believed it couldn't be true. Love. But I know now that it's real because you exist.

And you are filled with love.

Anaxagoras was certain, even in that little grove in time so long ago. He thought to himself: there was beautiful… and then there’s you.

Anaxagoras didn’t know how to put it into words, which felt strange because people around him usually talked about how he didn’t know when to shut his trap.

He didn’t know what to make of the world when she was near, or how to lasso back the colors when everything starts to drift away until she was all that he could see. When the ichor of the sun god bled in the shape of her, or when the wind sang in melodious orchestras just so they could dance across the threads of her hair; he didn’t know who to be, where to be just so he could feel the planar distance between them dissipate for even the transient of moments.

Just so he wouldn’t have to spend what little time he has for himself wondering how he could have been good enough to be at the receiving end of her light.

She was as radiant as the endless sky, colored in all the shades of life—draped in the infinite freedom far beyond the hands of the cosmos.

Anaxagoras was certain, even in that little grove in time so long ago. He thought to himself: there was beautiful… and then there’s you.

Her smile shone like a thousand suns, the zephyrs catching the ends of her clothes as her sandaled feet cut through the meadows of flowers. Her laughter rang across the plains, resonating over the mountain tops like the world itself wanted to keep her soul here forever—burying a fragment of her soul that she may exist beyond ever after.

Even now as she waved at him despite being so very far away, her sleeves dragged by her frantic movements of delight, Anaxagoras couldn’t see any of those hurtful resentments—the ones he had grown so used to—as if with her… they never existed at all.

“Anaxagoras,” she calls him happily, and every jagged edge of his name scattered with the light of her voice—of the way his name sounded so safe when she was the one calling him.

Her steps were muted as she climbed the hilltop Anaxagoras occupied for himself, and now he broke a piece of that space to give to her.

"Look! This new shop opened up in the village and they were selling these sweet things!" She handed him a small bowl with some milk custard pudding inside. "Try it!"

And there it was again, like he was adrift across the nothingness he knew existed beyond this finite space; that she was the only anchor he had across the plane that didn’t wait for anyone.

Anaxagoras nearly abandoned all his logic, all the things he held in such high regard, because there was no shackling explanation for this. No grounding theory that will make his heart stop its relentless drumming against his chest. He thinks that maybe the seasons gathered by the borders to confuse him—have him see for himself how the world looks like, how the world feels if he was treasured by someone like her.

He didn’t know what to make of it all, it was as if summer came during winter and spring took the place of autumn.

The world paled in comparison that’s why the gods were playing tricks on him, changing up the weather just so it could appear in its grandest form to woo him to their side. Because as he saw it… nothing in this bounded existence could ever be as beautiful as her.

Don't smile at me like that, he wanted to tell her. Don’t be kind to me. Don’t—don’t look at me like that. ‘Like what’, he reckons she’d say, tilting her head in that curious manner Anaxagoras was certain even she had no knowledge she was doing. Like you could love me…

“Hey.” At the sound of her voice, his eyes gravitated to her. “What’s wrong?” Her warm palm drapes over the hills of his cheek, thawing the frosted look on his face.

Anaxagoras had an unpaintable look decorating his being, torn between wanting to live the life he wanted to share with her and restraining his selfish wishes because he knew nothing good would come from living a life with him.

He knew that.

Anaxagoras knew… painfully so, how unnecessary all these feelings were yet they remained. Stubbornly digging their roots to the desolate lands of his mind. He knew and yet he could never understand why his heart ached for every moment he spent without her near, why it rejoiced in joyful praise whenever he laid eyes on her.

If his wishes were self-serving, why was his only thought when he was surrounded by everyone he knew… was her? Beauty meant less when she wasn’t there to share it with him. He discovers something amazing and his first thought drifts to her, that she ought to share this joy with him as well.

“Anaxagoras?”

If all his reason was telling him this was selfish… why did the idea of making her happy bring him so much joy?

A deafening silence settled in the space between them, nothing but the rustling of leaves and grass scattering across the sapphire skies.

“If it’s not to your liking, I can get you something else,” she offers, smiling softly at him with all the gentle assurance that made this feeling of falling through the clouds all the more prominent. Her hand stretched to retrieve what she had given him, worried that Anaxagoras might not be so fond of the popular confection.

Anaxagoras refused to give it back.

He places the small basket behind him, looking to check for certain that it was far enough that she couldn’t take it away. He breathed in, willing everything in the planes of his soul to cease their tremors—all the undeniable flutters and the barely suppressed fires always threatening to set his veins and his face ablaze.

Anaxagoras dared to steal a glance at her, patiently waiting for him to say what was on his mind. Maybe… maybe she could give him an answer. Perhaps the woman plaguing every corner of his mind was aware of just how haunted he was by the ghost of her, of how increasingly difficult it was becoming to pretend that he didn’t want to share this life with her and all the next ones to dawn.

Maybe she could silence the cacophony of uneasiness, have the waves cease their relentless roaring—silence them so they may never echo in the midst of the midnight mellowness. Perhaps she, alone, could bring him peace.

He searched her image, wanting to find even an inkling trace of contempt, a hint of disdain, or a trail that led to rebuke—all the things he has grown to ignore; all things he has gotten good at pretending that it didn’t bother him—if she looked to him with such resentment maybe everything will cease, but there was this twisting feeling in his stomach, whispering withered words about how his heart couldn’t possibly bear the weight; that the world could forsake him, and he would take it… so long as it was not her who abandoned him.

And he found none.

Anaxagoras faltered, such a strange thing for him to do. His oxygen taken away from the coves of his lungs. The words get stuck, his breath freezing in the tunnels of his throat.

Questions were things he loved, all things he treasured. But this… this one was something he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer to.

It was one simple thing, really. One he couldn’t really find the right words to convey until all he could say was, “Why?”

Anaxagoras calls her name, he calls her and he asks her one simple thing.

He refused to meet her stare, far too ashamed that he was even questioning her in the first place. His gaze traced the lines of the horizon where the setting sun was cradled halfway beneath the waves.

Everything in the world was doused in gold, from the leaves perched atop this tree to the snow covered mountain peaks that bordered them from the rest of reality, and finally him—Anaxagoras… Anaxa, whose eyes were like the mirrors of the sky that reflected a garden of neverending flowers. Anaxagoras whose hair was the color of newborn vines crawling on her windowsill… Anaxa who is followed by daylight—Anaxa who shines brighter than a thousand suns.

Anaxagoras… whom she loves more than there were stars in the infinite skies.

“Why are you so kind to someone like me?”

Her heart broke at the sound of his voice; of hearing those words be spoken at all.

She knew of his troubles with others, how they labeled him a lot of things because he was being who he was. She saw how his curiosity was painted as treacherous, a dangerous thing to wield—something to be at the end of everyone’s contempt; that they pushed him to the shadows every time he would touch the light.

She heard the screams, the anger, all the world's away echoed simply because he wanted an answer. She watched as he pondered endlessly, silently wondering what he did wrong… if his question was foolish or if they reacted like that because it was him who asked.

She saw how he broke apart the pieces and reformed them to make something new, she knew of his joys—of the nigh immeasurable happiness it brings him; fortunate enough to share some of this glee with him.

She knew how he once saw the world, feeling like he was stuck behind an invisible barrier, watching everything unfold before him—there, painfully present but never truly belonging.

She looks at him—at Anaxagoras as he tries to gravitate his stare to anything that wasn’t her eyes. She notes the way his shoulders tense, his jaw clenching from how often he swallowed, even the way his entire body moved like he was bracing for impact. Fearful she might be annoyed by him; that she, too, will shut him out without ever telling him why.

But the silence passed and the wind continued to rhyme, and as the last of the golden sunbeams were seized by the ocean, Anaxagoras finally gathered the courage to look her in the eye.

She doesn’t condemn him for his curiosity. She doesn’t rebuke him for his question. She doesn’t get angry. And she doesn’t yell.

She just sits there with him in quiet understanding, gathering all the honest answers she could scavenge in this boundless plane of existing right beside him. She takes his hand in hers, anchoring him before he could have the chance to drift anywhere else, almost as if she’s saying: I’ll cut my heart out open for you and have you live there so you may never inhabit another. I’ll lay it bare for you to take—to break if you must, so long as you can see the way I love you. And by all the gods I swear to you, if you knew just how much I adore you… you will love yourself in ways that will make you forget why you didn’t in the first place.

“Do you remember when you carved a droma for me when we had to sell Milo?” She catches his stare from the corner of her eye and catches that brief glint of recognition.

She smiles remembering the exact moment in time when her family had to sell their droma named Milo. She remembers crying, for days on end she cried, begging her mother to get him back—even promising to forsake all her snack times to buy Milo’s food. She didn’t understand then… why Milo had to leave. She didn’t understand that Milo was going to be leaving either way and that selling Milo was easier than having to see him die before her eyes.

She reckons Anaxagoras knew that, being the smart boy he is. He knew that Milo was dying and that’s why he had to leave, but Anaxa also understood that the droma’s departure also hurt her deeply.

So, a week after Milo went off on his adventure, Anaxagoras showed up in front of her windowsill. The same aperture covered in vines dyed the same shade as his hair. He met her tear-stained gaze and hesitated, fearing that he’d make her cry even more if he were to proceed with this plan.

But Anaxagoras remembers how she stood by the village gate every afternoon waiting for Milo to come back. He remembers how she still keeps his trough filled with water and how she always sets out redsoil in case he comes back when she wasn’t there and he was hungry. He remembers all the times she has welcomed him to look at Milo, how she smiles so kindly at him every time he asked if he could see the droma.

Anaxagoras threw his gift through her window and ran, not wanting to see how she’d react.

“I still have him,” she tells him, fishing out a worn wooden figure out of her pocket.

Now that he saw it, his younger self’s crafting skills were awful compared to his sister’s. His sister offered to help him back then, but stubbornly he insisted that he could do it himself. He did accomplish his quest albeit the rewards looked a little… funky.

She laughs at his horrified expression before settling the little figure between them.

“You might not notice it, Anaxa… but I should be the one asking you that. Why were you kind to me?”

She watches as his brows furrowed, mouth opening and closing as he skims through the archives of his mind for a viable answer.

Twilight veiled the canvas overhead, remnants of the sun’s colors lingering in the space nearest to the waters of the sea.

She didn't wait for his answer, she knew he would not find one just as she could not discover one for herself.

“If you think about it now, we didn’t know each other well enough back then. I was just the girl who had a droma living at the back of her house. I was happy to share him with you, and I knew you loved Milo just as much as I loved him.”

She looked at him, the way the shadows lingered behind him, never quite touching; never truly leaving. Perhaps that was why they were kind to each other.

“We didn’t ask for happiness, just for a little less pain,” she traced the lines of his face, remembering the creases and the hints of aureate kindness hidden underneath the blades of his sharp words. She memorizes the colors of his eyes, the way his hair draped across his shoulder in a loose tie, she takes them all in—kept them buried in the depths of her soul so she may never forget. “And you gave that to me… you taught me to be kind. To give it freely because the world would be a much better place if others feel safe in it.”

They say one cannot be kind and clever at the same time—

But she was.

She was every bit as kind as she was clever. And all the golden sunlight and the melted stars that flow across the obsidian sky bears witness to that truth.

It made him love her more, far more that the gods feared they would have to reform the heavens so his adoration could be caged by the finiteness of this world.

“Kindness… I got it the moment you loved me.”

Anaxagoras mapped the face of the woman he loved, remembering everything he loved—every fragment of her being, all the pieces of her soul. He remembers them all, swore that even if the heavens and the stars collide he would never forget.

He was kind because of her, because she never gave him a reason to think that kindness wasn’t warm smiles and welcoming embraces. She never made him feel like it was a curse to ask questions; gave him no reason to believe that anger was something that came at the price of curiosity—answers at the cost of rebuke.

Anaxagoras turned his head to gaze at her as they crossed the meadows on their way home. A thousand shimmering lights unveiled in the form of fireflies, mirroring the canvas of the obsidian sky.

He watches as she laughs, the sound clear as the waters of the heavens, warm like the breeze that came with the afternoon haze, the fires of her verity threading through the spaces she couldn’t occupy as if someone had bottled all the stars in the universe and cast them free underneath the dome of this planet through the shape of her laughter.

I once believed it couldn't be true.

Love.

But I know now that it's real because you exist.

And you are filled with love.

Kindness is real because I know you exist.

And it gives me more reason to believe that sunshine arrives with you.

I love anaxa so much 😭 I literally returned to hsr after two years for him and luckily I got him and his light cone. also, if he seems ooc or anything it's because I actually haven't met him in-game yet 💀 I quick started the amphoreus quest cuz I'm still on xianzhou last chapter. But what really had me resonating with him was the fact that other people wouldn't answer his questions, and when he was little he just watched the rest of the world from afar, also that he gets joy from creation (you can probably tell I dumped my own experience there). the droma part though, now that was sad 😭 I gotta admit I sobbed like a baby while writing this. I was coughing too lmao (I'm literally on the verge of getting a cold bcs of the stupid weather changes). I hope you liked it 💚

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formulafanfics13 · 2 days ago

Note

Hi Evie

I have another request sorry if this is too much / too dark

What if y/n says her safe word and when she is subspace she has a panic attack and lance has to guide her out /through it because I read you last lance flick and loved it ❤️❤️

I love you. All of you. - LS18 🔥

masterlist

Summary During a night of slow, intimate sex, the reader enters subspace and suddenly panics. Lance immediately stops when she says her safe word, gently calming her through the panic attack without pushing or questioning. He holds her, reassures her, and reminds her that trust is everything — and she did nothing wrong. They fall asleep wrapped in safety, love, and understanding.

Warnings subspace, panic attack, safeword use, emotional aftercare, vulnerability, soft dom Lance, comfort-heavy content, anxiety response, emotional intimacy.

The sheets were already tangled when it happened. When your body was pliant, your brain warm and blurry in that heady rush of subspace, your breathing shallow from the rhythm of Lance’s hips against yours, every thrust careful but deep, his voice a low murmur at your ear.

"You're doing so good for me," he’d whispered, mouth brushing the shell of your ear, fingers tangled in yours above your head. "So fucking good, baby."

You moaned softly, eyes fluttering closed as his lips grazed down your jaw. His grip on your hips tightened slightly, guiding you where he needed you. You’d been so quiet all night, nodding and gasping, letting your body answer in place of words. Trusting him. Following him.

But then it shifted. You didn’t realise how quickly the edge blurred into panic until your lungs stopped cooperating. Until your mind started spinning and the pressure in your chest built like a vice. His rhythm stayed steady but your heartbeat did not. Your hands went from clinging to his to suddenly pushing weakly against his shoulder.

He didn’t hear it the first time. “Red,” you tried again, voice barely a whisper. “Red.”

And then he froze. Everything stopped. Lance pulled back immediately like the mattress had scorched him. His weight disappeared from your body, his hands gentle but fast, gripping your shoulders and easing you upright into a seated position. “Breathe, baby. It’s okay. You're okay.”

You were shaking. Your breathing had turned into short, shallow gasps. Panic clawed up your throat with no warning, no explanation. You wanted to say you were fine, that it wasn’t him, that you just got overwhelmed, but your tongue didn’t work. Your lips parted but nothing came out. Just tears now.

Lance slid back onto the pillows, pulling you into his lap so softly you barely felt it. His arms wrapped around your back, one hand settling behind your head, cradling you to his chest. He rocked you without rushing. His heartbeat was steady against your cheek.

“You’re safe,” he said softly, again and again. “I’ve got you. We’re done. Nothing’s wrong. You’re safe, angel.”

He didn’t ask what triggered it. He didn’t tell you to breathe. He just did it for you, grounding you with his voice, his heartbeat, the gentle stroke of his thumb at the base of your neck.

“You’re doing really well, baby. I’m right here. Just feel me, okay? Just feel me.”

And slowly, painfully, you came back to yourself. Back to the scent of him, warm skin, leftover cologne, your perfume still lingering on his collarbone. Back to the hotel sheets twisted around your waist, back to his chest rising and falling against your cheek. Your breathing slowed. Your body stopped trembling. You were crying still, but the worst had passed.

“I’m sorry,” you finally whispered, so small it made his heart break.

“Don’t,” he said immediately, holding you tighter. “Don’t ever apologise for telling me what you need.”

“I ruined it.”

“You didn’t ruin anything,” he said, pulling back just enough to look at you. “You said your safe word. That’s good. That’s fucking perfect. That means you trust me.”

You swallowed hard. “I don’t know what happened.”

“You don’t need to explain. But I’m here if you want to.”

You curled into him, pressing your forehead to his chest, listening to his heart. And then, quietly, “Sometimes when I feel too good for too long, I think my brain… flips it. Like I panic because I’m not panicking.”

He nodded gently, rubbing your back. “That makes sense. Your body’s trying to keep you safe. Even if it’s wrong about the danger.”

“I hate it.”

“I know,” he said softly. “But I love you. All of you. Even the parts that get scared.”

You looked up at him. “Even when I make things weird?”

He smiled, brushing a piece of hair from your face. “Baby, you didn’t make anything weird. You let me in. That’s what this is. That’s what we are.”

You sniffed, blinking back the last of the tears. “Can we just lie here?”

“For as long as you want.”

Lance adjusted the sheets and pulled the duvet up over both of you. His arms never left you. He kissed your forehead once, then your temple, and then pressed his lips against the top of your head with a lingering softness you swore you could feel in your bones.

When you fell asleep minutes later, curled into his side, your fingers wrapped loosely around his, your chest finally steady, Lance stayed awake a while longer, watching you, brushing slow circles into your back with his thumb. Because loving you wasn’t about the perfect nights. It was about all of them. And he was never going to make you do it alone again.

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfiction #f1 fic #f1 grid x reader #f1 fluff #formula 1 fanfic #f1 smut #ls18 #ls18 x reader #aston martin f1 #aston martin #lance stroll #lance stroll x reader #lance stroll imagine #lance stroll fanfic

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maxillness · 2 days ago

Text

Drivers (Current/Retired) favourite positions

Feat (In order) :: Mark Webber, Logan Sargeant, Daniel Ricciardo, Sebastian Vettel, Nico Rosberg, Kimi Räikkönen, Micheal Schumacher, Romain Grosjean, Pierre Gasly, Fernando Alonso, Charles Leclerc, Jules Bianchi, Lance Stroll, Kevin Magnussen, Jenson Button, Yuki Tsunoda, Alexander Albon, Zhou Guanyu, Nico Hülkenberg, Esteban Ocon, Max Verstappen, Lewis Hamilton, Mick Schumacher, Carlos Sainz, George Russell, Oscar Piastri

Benatton/Williams!Mark

I can imagine him being more a fan of blowjobs than penetration.

RBR!Mark

He still loves a good blowjob, but man he'd rather want to eat you out instead. Australian kiss and everything

Logan

Pegging Missionary

Daniel Ricciardo

Daniel likes missionary, but he makes it a lot more steamy than what it’s stereotypically is

Sauber/Toro Rosso!Sebastian

He's too inexperienced to want anything other than you riding him

RBR!Sebastian

Reverse cowgirl. He's an ass man, and he needs to see it.

Ferrari!Sebastian

Doggy. Ferrari makes everyone depressed, and Seb just needs to take some frustrations out

AM!Sebastian

Missionary. All of his major stress got away, so now he just needs to make love and not fuck his wife

Williams!Nico Rosberg

Anything. Anything that you like. Man is what we call a slut people pleaser

Merc!Nico Rosberg

(Reverse) cowgirl. Man loves when you ride him. Sometimes he wants to see your face and tits, and sometimes he wants to see that ass

Kimi Räikkönen

He does not give a shit. What ever he feels like in the moment

Benetton!Micheal Schumacher

Anything where you can have your fingers in his mouth

Ferrari!Micheal Schumacher

Any way where you’re bent over

Merc!Micheal Schumacher

Any positions that acquires you to ride him- preferably with you facing him

Romain Grosjean

Before his accident, he loved to finger you, like, I’m talking every opportunity he gets, but now, the pain would get to him at some point and prefers something a little more easy going

Pierre Gasly

As long as you’re in charge, then he does not give a fuck

Renault!Fernando Alonso

Any position where he can hold your thighs hard enough to leave marks the day after

Ferrari!Fernando Alonso

He's getting that mouth to use for sure

AM!Fernando Alonso

Any threesome durable positions, 'cause Lance is for sure joining

Sauber!Charles Leclerc

Missionary, but only so he can suck your tits in the meantime, he'd still want you in charge even though

Ferrari!Charles Leclerc

Cowgirl. There's you're tits, and it's easier for you to be in charge

Jules Bianchi

This man devours your body like you're fucking Aphrodite. As long as he can do that, he gives no fuck

Lance Stroll

He is always on his knees for you

Kevin Magnussen

Missionary, and it's so soft and intimate

Brawn!Jenson Button

Doggy. I don't need to give an explanation

McLaren!Jenson Button

Reverse cowgirl. He's getting older and stuff, but he still ikes to see your ass

Yuki Tsunoda

No matter if your his height or taller, this man loves cowgirl

Alexander Albon

Missionary. I don’t know why, but he gives off that vibe

Zhou Guanyu

Zhou prefers to give/receive head, but he enjoys any position where you ride him as well, because he’s a fucking sub

Nico Hülkenberg

Doggy.

That’s it

Esteban Ocon

Anything where you can face him and pull his hair

Max Verstappen

Anything. Literally anything

McLaren!Lewis Hamilton

Hard-fucking-core missionary

Merc!Lewis Hamilton

Bend over on the closest surface

Ferrari!Lewis Hamilton

🫱( # )🫲

Mick Schumacher

Mick will beg you to peg him, and he prefers it doggystyle

Carlos Sainz

Dry humping… Don’t ask questions

George Russell

He does not give a fuck, he just wants to be gagged

Oscar Piastri

He wants you to ride him hard

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pillowgazed · 3 days ago

Text

Interviewing Drew! @ The Dior Show

The day was important,your first chance of stepping into the spotlight-well,not really but being in a full room of celebrities meant something right?you were made for this,always dreaming of being a journalist and being able to show your work to people, and you got lucky when your friend hired you for her company,almost 2 years ago.

Now,You sat in your chair next to your manager as the make-up artist worked on your appearance.

“Are you nervous?” Your make-up artist Adi asked you with a gentle tone and a smile—

“Yeah,kinda”you responded nervously but maintained your anxious smile on your face—

“You don’t need to worry,i know how dedicated you are to your job and you’ll do great”

god bless her,she calmed your nerves down like noone — “thank you adi” you replied gently.

Being able to talk with big crowds and studying fashion/almost everything was hard,due to being anxious about large crowds but somehow easing up whenever you started talking.

You wore Dioriviera’s Cropped Jacket with the matching straight miniskirt,excited about the fact that the team sent you such beautiful clothes.

Fixing your last touches and grabbing your papers,with a tiny microphone that you had fun picking out you got into the car.

Arriving to the show were the beautiful scenery was presented,you were in awe,this was it.

You almost freaked out but tried calming yourself down when celebrities started arriving,going through the security and walking in.

After the show you walked around and interviewed many of the actors and actresses that were present for the event.

You then saw him Drew Starkey,present with his sister Brooke,you admired his work from the start so this was a big step,approaching them with a gentle demeanor as you greeted:”Hi,i apologize for the disturbance,—

my name is y/n from the outlet:Mediko,would you be able to give us a little interview?,a couple of questions about the event and how the show went”you said softly,not missing how he smiled and nodded along—“of course no worries” as the two of you moved to the side to talk.

“First of all i just really want to say that i love your work,Queer was amazing”you exclaimed softly before putting up the camera.

“Thank you so much,yeah,i had lots of fun and experiences during the filming,it was really good”he replied,—god he was such a soft talker,you forced yourself not to buckle right then and there.

after setting up everything you straightened up,smiling like an idiot when he complimented your outfit,—“thank you so much,i’ve been following fashion too,and safe to say i love your choice of clothings everytime”. Did you sound like a fan?well who cared if you did,he was Drew Starkey,after all.

you noticed how he chuckled and fiddled with his earring,thanking you again.

“I’ll just ask you about your thoughts on the show plus the new collection,no hard questions,just like a little gossip sesh”—you explained and smiled.

“No problem,sure.”—nodding to his words you started the interview.

“Hello everyone my name is y/n and we’re here in Paris at the Dior Show,as expected we have a special guest,Drew Starkey”—you didn’t miss his smile as he greeted the camera and looked at you again.

“So what are the vibes?—how are you feeling today?”

“yeah i’m feeling,great,it’s such an honor being here and seeing so many amazing artists and creators here and—of course Jonathan Anderson he’s —he really is amazing at what he does”.

“Could you run us through your outfit for today?—little fit check for the people out there watching”

Nodding his head as he looked down to his shirt and accessories—“i’m wearing double denim as we see,the pants are flared like uh- pepper flair and this green Dior bag which I’m matching with my sister as you can tell” nodding to his explanation with a smile

“Well you look ravishing,it really suits you”—you said and looked up at him,not missing a glint in his eye—“you look good too yeah,i like the uh,the skirt it matches”

Hold on.

Did he just compliment you?. You.

Resisting to burst into smiles you lightly laughed and thanked him.

“I’m flattered Drew”you said while smiling

“Well, Mr.Starkey,there’s only one question that the fans are dying to know,if you’re up to share it for us”—you said cheekily and winked slightly.

—not missing your energy he laughed it off and nodded “alright let’s hear it”.

“What’s your ideal date night?” You asked almost shyly,this was fan picked,but you asked it as if you were curious(you were)

“Mh i think maybe a movie night?i think yeah— movie has to be involved somehow,you know?”

“What kind of movie,may i add?”

“Definitely a horror movie,yeah i love a good horror movie”he replied with a laugh and looked at you.

“Would you prefer to ask someone out or be asked out on a date?”—“i think..maybe be asked out?yeah asked out on a date” he said while laughing as you unknowingly smiled while listening.

“Well thank you so much for your time Drew,it was great to meet you”you said and finished off the interview,turning off the camera as he handed you back the microphone.

“i have to agree to your taste about the movie night,mostly couples pick comedy or romance,a good horror movie is top tier”—you said as you packed up your bag,you just couldn’t resist talking to him.

“yeah i agree”—he nodded and helped you with the camera.

After the video aired the comments started flooding as you couldn’t wait and opened them

User6440:The way he looked at her?!!🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

Drewsfan55:i just love how he looked so comfortable with her

Obxgossip2U:is it just me or do they look together

↳madscam:they so do

You were screaming internally,you and drew? This looked and sounded like those wattpad stories,making you instantly laugh out.

Until your laughter stopped.

Ding!

↳@ DrewStarkey liked the reel you’re tagged in.

↳@ DrewStarkey just started following you.

Thank you for stopping by!🍬

Written by:@Pillowgazed ! Hugs and Sprinkles<3

Likes&reblogs are appreciated

a/n:the question was based off of drew’s interview🪽

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nqrancia · 2 days ago

Note

hihi! hope you’re doing well :D

could i request the bucciarati gang trying to set up Bruno with reader? reader is a fellow mafioso who works for Passione but is a loner type who operates right outside of Naples and because of their proximity they often meet up with the bucciarati gang for business stuff and the occasional friendly meal. how would the different members try (and fail) to set the two up after discovering Bruno likes reader?

tysm :)

𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 : bucci-gang including trish

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 : how would the bucci-gang help their leader get set up with the person he loves? and are they helpful?

𝐚/𝐧 : sorry this took a bit, anon! i honestly had a bit of a hard time deciding with this. anyway, love the buccibaddies always <3

𝐋𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐀. - oddly enough, yes

✦ | Abbacchio is not the most well versed man in romance, so he tends to sit back and relax as he watches the drama unfold. He honestly finds it hilarious that the smooth Bruno Bucciarati is fumbling so hard. If the others start teasing Bruno, he might just join in on the fun, but only for a little bit. However, it does get to a point where he’s so tired of watching Bruno admire you from afar that he does say something.

───

There Abbacchio sat watching Bruno stare at you with love sick eyes for the umpteenth time, this was getting repetitive. It didn’t matter what you were doing, whether it be calmly listening as Narancia explained a comic he had read to you, Fugo info dumping you with random knowledge he had picked up over the years, or Trish explaining Drag Race to you; he was looking with the eyes of a man in love.

Abbacchio was tired, so tired. This game of beating around the bush was being taken too seriously for his taste, so he simply spoke his mind. “Why don’t you just tell them you love them already?”

Bruno ceased his behavior, turning to question his friend. “What ever do you mean?”

The white haired man scoffed, “You can’t lie to me, Bucciarati. I see that look in your eyes.”

He glanced over to the sight his friend had been admiring. With a soft smile on your face, you listened intently to Giorno’s explanations of how to properly take care of certain plant species. He’s a sweet kid, that’s what you were thinking. You were good, and good for Bruno. “Just tell them how you feel, that idiot reciprocates. Anyone is smart enough to see it.”

───

𝐆𝐈𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐎 𝐆. - yes

✦ | Giorno is the most helpful of the bunch, he doesn’t overstep and he subtly helps. While out on missions, he might spot a nice restaurant and point it out to Bucciarati as a way to hint he should take you there. Or he might slip a flower into Bucciarati’s hand as he’s speaking to you. If he’s feeling mischievous, he might also casually slink away from the two of you while you’re out.

───

To Giorno’s luck, this day was a beautiful one. Perfect for helping a certain someone with his romantic issues. While Bucciarati was a good man, he was at times too good. He didn’t like the idea of pressuring you to go out with him, that was understandable. But, it had reached the point that no one thought he was going to make the first move. Someone had to act, and that someone had to be Giorno.

The summer air was warm and crisp, the day practically called for ice cream. So, he asked if Buccirati and yourself would like to go for some, to which you both agreed. As the three of you approached the ice cream shop, Giorno decided to drop his hint. “I heard that the new restaurant just down the street is quite high quality.”

Bruno then piped up, “Interesting, I also happened to hear that they have delicious squid pasta.”

From beside him, you pointed towards him. “Isn’t that a favorite of yours?”

“Why yes, it is,” he smiled, happy that you remembered something so small. “I’m glad you remembered.”

You responded with another smile. “Perhaps we can visit it sometime.”

“That’d be lovely.”

Behind the two of you, Giorno smirked. Mission: Sucess!

───

𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀𝐂𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐀 𝐅. - somewhat

✦ | While he is one of the first to recognize the attraction between you and Bruno, he’s not the first to act on it. He doesn’t want to get involved in another’s love life as it felt invasive to do, especially since it was the love life of a man he greatly respected. But like many others of the group, he grew impatient with the amount of pining Bruno was doing.

───

Another successful mission, thank god. Fugo was ready to relax and unwind with a good book and a delicious meal, but he knew that wouldn’t be possible, not with the group he was with. His two friends, or at least one of them, did not know how to read a room. He recognized the way you and his team leader had migrated to the back of the group, smiling and speaking about whatever topic you came up with.

Even a pigeon could understand that there was a more than friendly relationship brewing between the two of you.

Seeing this, he turned to his other companions. “C’mon, guys. Let’s go ahead and sit down.”

“But, I need to finish explaining how amazing Tupac is!”

The younger boy sighed, “Narancia, I swear to god.”

“What-” Before he could finish his sentence, Fugo had grabbed his ear and began dragging him to their usual table in the back. “Dude, this hurts like hell!”

“That’s the point, you dolt!”

Mista followed them, “Ladies, ladies, please. You’re both beautiful.”

The two boys quickly turned to face him, “Shut up!”

───

𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐃𝐎 𝐌. - somewhat

✦ | As we know, Mista is a bit of a lady killer. Yet, he takes a long time to realize the romantic feelings shared between you and his team leader. Once he realizes, he is so frustrated yet so relieved that he now understands your relationship. Now, it makes sense why Bruno would linger a little longer than normal when giving you greeting kisses. Every now and then, Mista would make innuendos just to mess with you two.

───

It was another long day of work and the group had decided to unwind at Libeccio, once again. After having heard that their food was delicious, you decided to join them for dinner. While the group did enjoy the food served at the restaurant, it wasn’t the only activity they engaged in to relax. They loved to play card games.

However, it could get serious quite fast. Friendships were almost lost over a few games that had occurred in the past, but that was a part of the thrill. Mista was a major fan for it having won several times, much to Fugo’s annoyance.

So, as you all were in the middle of a game, Mista was able to pull a few cards. Though, as he was reaching for another, “Oh shit, dropped a card.”

As he was reaching under the table to get a grip on the card, he released a loud gasp. There you and Bucciarati sat, leg to leg. Neither of you moving to avoid touching the other, and oh was Mista eating this up. It was like a Victorian man seeing an ankle for the first time. Then, he quickly sat up.

“You two sure are close,” he smirked as he crossed his arms, leaning against his chair.

A concerned glance was shared between you and Bruno, “Yes?”

Until, Narancia just had to ask. “Mista, what are you doing?”

The older boy quickly retaliated, kicking him in the shin. “Shut up!” He whispered, almost screaming. The pressure was now getting to him.

He was met with a glare from Narancia, “Geez, I’m just wondering what you’re doing.”

A few moments went by before Mista released a heavy sigh and shoved Narancia's head underneath the table, revealing to him what he had just witnessed

“Holy shit!”

Once again, Mista kicked him in the shin. “Narancia, you’re gonna blow our cover!”

───

𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐀 𝐆. - he’s trying

✦ | Narancia is the last to know out of the group as he is oblivious to romance, most of the time. Fugo and Mista had to be the ones to tell him that there was a growing romance between you and their team’s leader, and oh was he pissed. He means, if he had known longer, he would’ve helped you all get together sooner! Most of the attempts he makes are ideas from comics he’s read, but they don’t always turn out the way he wants them to.

───

How did Bruno end up here? He honestly didn’t know, much had happened in the past few hours. First his group was assigned a mission to sniff out a mole in the mafia, with you as their guide to the right location. A great help you had been, as always. Then, he was personally assigned a mission to deliver paperwork to a fellow capo. Finally, Narancia had asked Bucciarati to follow him somewhere.

The request itself was suspicious, he should’ve known from the beginning. While Narancia was one of the more predictable members of the group, he had his moments. Luckily, with Fugo and Mista following along with them, it eased his worries if only a little bit.

When they arrived, a familiar building came into view. Your apartment building.

“Okay, Bucciarati. I need you to use Sticky Fingers, open up a zipper portal on their balcony, and kiss them like you mean it!”

Bruno’s eyes widened, “Narancia, this is absurd.”

“Trust me, this will work!”

Fugo only stared with a look of disgust and shame, “Narancia, this is a terrible idea. They’re going to think this incredibly creepy.”

Then, Mista piped up. “Even I couldn’t think up something like this.”

“Just trust me! It worked out for Spider-Man, didn’t it?”

A deadpanned look formed on the younger boy's face as he slapped his face with his hand, groaning. “He’s a superhero from a fictional universe, he has supernatural powers that allow him to shoot webs from his hands.”

The shorter boy shrugged, “So? We have supernatural powers too, have you not been paying attention?”

Fugo had to be held back from decking him across the face.

───

𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐇 𝐔. - yes

✦ | Trish is almost if not as helpful as Giorno, she likes to give subtle pushes to the both of you. She might mention something one said about the other as a way to try and give you more confidence to confess, but she also grows impatient similar to Abbacchio. She just hates to see how much love the both of you share without there being a step taken, and maybe that was okay. But, she couldn’t take it any longer.

───

She did it. She was finally able to convince Bucciarati to take you out on a date after weeks of consistent asking, or as she liked to call it, giving him a push. She even insisted on helping him get ready for you, so he could look his very best.

One look at him and you could tell he was nervous, a feeling Bucciarati was often good at hiding. Your presence did something to his heart, made him feel things he had never before. A part of him was hesitant, what if the relationship the two of you shared changed negatively post date? He didn’t want to lose you, you were too precious to him to lose.

Trish recognized this, it was a feeling that many characters in her favorite movies would feel. It was a natural feeling to have, anyone would agree. While change might not give us what we desire, we must accept it to continue living. But, there were many cases where taking a leap to make the change had a good result. Trish believed that Bucciarati could attain that result.

As she lightly patted down his suit for wrinkles and dust, she quietly whispered, “Just be yourself, they like you the way you are.”

The man widened his eyes as she then reached for a bottle from his bathroom counter. A blue glass bottle of cologne was then gently shoved into his hands, “Here, and wear this too. They like this cologne on you, or so they told me once.”

Then, she sent him off with an encouraging grin. No one could properly predict what would happen on this date, but one thing is for sure; that she better get some credit for getting you two together.

@𝐧𝐪𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐚 ݁₊˚⊹☆ - please do not translate or plagiarize my works.

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itsmyfix · 1 day ago

Text

Don't Put That in My Chart

@drarrymicrofic | words: 366 | prompt: welcome

Harry grimaced at the pamphlet begrudgingly, the overly cheerful bubble letters mocking him.

Welcome to the first day of the rest of your life.

What a load of bollocks.

He took a deep breath, reminding himself why he was doing this.

“–and of course your safety and privacy are of our utmost concern here at St. Mungos Rehabilitation Center.”

The facility director went on, though Harry was barely paying any attention.

A knock at the door roused him from his halfway slumber.

“Come in,” the director chimed. “Ah, nurse Draco!”

The rest of the conversation was muddled by the ringing in his ears as he gawked at the rosy cheeked blonde standing in the doorway.

As soon as the door latched shut, Harry clumsily stumbled to his feet.

“Actually, I’m not so sure this is a good idea–”

“Harry, Harry, please, sit down,” the director soothed. “I don’t understand, why the sudden cold feet?”

Harry stared at him like he just grew three heads.

“That’s Draco Malfoy.”

“Oh yes, you know dear Draco? A remarkable young man, he’s come so far since his first stay here, truly an asset to our facility.”

“Uh huh…” Harry uttered skeptically. “Right it’s just—we have this sort of—you see in school—he—well, he’s kind of my arch nemesis.”

The director raised an amused brow, but Harry was too lost in thought to notice.

He sure has gotten quite fit since the last time I saw him.

“I thought Voldemort was your arch nemesis.”

And his hair is much longer. It looks so… elegant.

“Who?” Harry blurted, blanching when the director’s words caught up to his distracted brain. “Oh, erm, right. Well… it’s complicated.”

The director leaned back in his chair, his eyes glinting knowingly.

“Why don’t you enlighten me.”

So Harry did, only stopping once half way through his explanation when the director sent a quick patronus to his secretary to cancel his next meeting.

By the time he finished, the director was rubbing at his chin, deep in thought.

“I think I understand now,” he nodded solemnly.

Then, he slid another pamphlet across his desk over to Harry.

Coming to Terms With Your Sexuality | LGBTQ+ Resources at St. Mungos

#lol poor harry #so so gay #drarry #harry potter #draco malfoy #draco x harry #harry x draco #hpdm #hpdm fanfic #drarry fanfic #drarry microfic #drarry microfic prompt

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baldursghaik · 3 days ago

Note

Junus I was talking about this on discord with a friend.

In one of your tags you mentioned you align The Emperor as "evil". And although I disagree based purely on personal interpretation and being a soft-hearted wimp, plz write me an unhinged ramble on your thoughts and opinions UwU 💖

(also I'm slowly trying to give ALWF proper attention I'm just very slow because everything happens so much but I really like it so far. Your prose is very good which is always an awesome bonus with a fic)

You know, I thought of several ways I wanted to tackle this question. I thought about writing a more “tumblr acceptable” answer, but honestly, you asked me to give it to you unhinged, so here it is. Before I get into it, genuinely thank you for this question. I value the ability to disagree politely, and I really do love to see a wide variety of takes and opinions, as I consider them vital to the fandom ecosystem.

With all of that said, these are merely my opinions and interpretations, and I do not think that I am objectively “correct” in any way. I genuinely enjoy softer and kinder reads of the Emperor, but this is my own take on its morality.

Full response below the cut. This is going to lean dark, so read on carefully.

I have a lot of potential responses to this, but I’m going to cut to the most obvious part first: Belynne Stelmane. Specifically, the scene where the Emperor reveals the true nature of their “partnership.” This is old and well-trodden ground where most Emperor fans are concerned, but what I don’t ever see people talk about are the sexual undertones of this scene, where both the PC and Stelmane are concerned.

I don’t think it’s a coincidence that this truth only triggers when the Emperor is propositioning the PC for sex. Similarly, I think it was an intentional design choice to introduce Stelmane laying in bed, gasping and groaning as the Emperor is taking control of her. Even the framing of the scene positions the Emperor above her, in a position of indisputable power and dominance.

In the following scene, you see the two working at the Shield headquarters (not unusual, though certainly more sinister than it had originally shown), but much more telling is the scene that follows. The Emperor wasn’t content just operating the Shield together—it also forced her to sit and drink with it, to be social with it, in a gruesome parody of camaraderie and companionship. There is no work related explanation for that scene, and you catch a glimpse of the same scene even in the Emperor’s original telling of its life story at the end of Act II. In that same Act II dialogue, that’s the specific part where it tells the PC that it was “happy”.

Following the scene, the game cuts back to the Emperor, now standing shirtless over the PC, not dissimilar to how it was framed with Belynne Stelmane. The Emperor is absolutely mean spirited in what it says next: “Did you like it - the truth? This was the alternative relationship we could have had. Aren’t you glad I finessed my methods?”

We all know what comes next. It tells the PC that they are its puppet, and that, without the Emperor, they have no value.

Now I’ve heard a lot of counter arguments to this scene, ranging from “you were an asshole to it by rejecting it so cruelly” to “it didn’t actually mean that, it had to protect itself”. Which is fine, as I stated above, my interpretations are my own. But to me, neither of those defenses hold water. I think “you shouldn’t have pissed it off” isn’t exactly the defense Emperor fans want it to be, because that paints the Emperor in an even worse light! I think a person should be able to reject someone (or some squid, as it were) as callously as they like, and the worst they should receive in return is “fine, fuck you too”. Not a fully raw display of the Emperor abusing someone else, and then overtly threatening to do the same to the PC if they don’t fall in line.

“If I must, I will force you.”

Call me a bleeding heart, but I don’t think that’s a good thing that good people say!

I was a full on Emperor defender right up until I saw this scene after my first playthrough. And honestly? I found it pretty difficult to stomach watching. This was such a dramatically different face from everything I’d seen on my first run. When you’re polite and deferential to the Emperor, it’s never anything less than sweet and kind. It will even tolerate a fair amount of insults and abuse before it cracks—but once it does crack, that mask comes all the way off.

On my second run, I really paid attention to the Emperor’s words and actions, and it was like playing a completely different game. A good example of this is what the Emperor does after your meeting with Raphael in Sharess’ Caress. On my first run (and second run, that replicated the first), I hadn’t bothered to hear out Raphael’s offer. I trusted the Emperor, and this damn devil wasn’t going to convince me otherwise. But the Emperor’s reaction to this is extremely telling—it will pry into to the PC’s memories and read their mind to figure out what happened. If you didn’t hear out Raphael, you don’t even have the option to try to stop its intrusion, it just does it. I hadn’t thought to question this at all on my first run, but on my second, I could see how insidious this scene truly was. Especially in light of the alternative dialogue that happens if you did hear Raphael out: the PC has the option to tell the Emperor that if it trust them, it will stop this. And the Emperor doesn't even immediately relent, you have to pass a skill check to prevent it from forcing your mind wide open. And even if you do pass it, the Emperor is very up front about the fact that it's done this begrudgingly.

Either way this plays out, I think it's one of the Emperor’s darkest moments in the game, because you catch a stark glimpse of the nature it hides from the PC, just for one moment. This is blatantly abusive and two-faced behavior. It’s manipulative, and will even tell you as much when pressed at the end of the game, before Orpheus is either consumed or freed.

And all of that doesn’t even get into my belief that Balduran was awful too. He extorted and enslaved people, all in his pursuit of money. The Emperor would continue this trend into its new life as well—the Shield is a fundamentally evil organization, built on preying on others to amass wealth, and further contribute to the enormous economic disparity of the Gate. The Emperor (and Stelmane by extension, because she is certainly no saint either) was not turning and giving this money to the poor. They were functionally robber barons of the Sword Coast, happy to exploit and plunder their way to riches untold.

So now we come to the heart of your question—does this paint the Emperor as evil? In my eyes it does. I would consider these to be unforgivable crimes… in real life. Thankfully, the Emperor is fictional, so to me this makes it an utterly fascinating and well rounded character. Yes, it’s capable of evil, but it’s also capable of so much good. This is where I feel that people come to blows over the Emperor. They want it to be either saint or demon, and in reality, I think it’s no different from characters like Astarion, Lae’zel, or even Shadowheart. It’s a complex and layered character, and it has evil under its belt, but that doesn’t mean that it lacks all virtue. I think the Emperor is considerate, attentive, and sincerely caring of both the city the PC, assuming they treat it decently. It’s a fantastically well written character that contains multitudes, and its divisiveness only speaks to how brilliantly Larian handled it.

So, to anyone who bothered reading this, I hope that shed some light on why I believe the Emperor is evil, but a very layered and dimensional evil. I don't think it does anything for the sake of being EVULZ, it's not harmful for the sake of fun, but it's utterly Machiavellian in the way it operates, and it isn't afraid to manipulate or abuse people to achieve its goals, which I think is fundamentally opposite of being "good".

#Ghaik Thoughts #thank you again for this question #I really did have a delightful time doing a deep dive answering it #additionally thank you so much for reading ALWF and I truly hope that you enjoy it if you continue on with it

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my-rose-tinted-glasses · 3 days ago

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Hope you all had a lovely pride month! There are so many shows airing right now and more to come. Some tough decisions will need to be made. But Japan has finally woke up from its slumber and I'm thrilled. As usual, spoilers and opinions below, read at your own risk.

QL - Currently Watching

🇯🇵 Ayaka Is in Love with Hiroko 2nd Stage [1/6] - I like these characters but I’m not crazy about this storyline.

🇹🇭 Boys in Love [11/12] - I really liked this one until about halfway through but now it feels a bit repetitive, the two young couples just seem to be repeating patterns, which I guess since they’re young it kinda makes sense but it’s boring me now. I wished we had more of the teachers but to be fair I'm glad we have as much as we do.

🇯🇵 Depth of Field [3/6] - Welcome back angsty Japan. How I missed you… I like everything about this show except the length. Only six episodes??? Why must you be this way? I love Hayakawa. The way he puts on those fake smiles wrecks me every time. I wanna know more about Konno, so please Japan, do not let me down and give me the change in POV that you do so well.

🇯🇵 Even Though We're Adults [10/12] - This continues to be such a weird show. I wouldn’t call it a ql, more like a family drama and I can never tell what the characters will do next and what their motivations are.

🇯🇵I Became the Main Role of a BL Drama S2 [3/6] - I love that I get to see Robin be funny and chaotic. This show continues to be a blast, but I really wish the couple would actually couple.

🇹🇭 Knock Out [8/12] - It’s fine. I don’t wanna rain on anyone’s parade so it’s fine.

🇹🇭 Memoir of Rati [2/12] - This could be such a good show if only gmmtv spent some money and cared about things like historical accuracy and a plot that goes beyond couple moments. Since that's not the case, I'm here for the actors and the scenery. It's all very pretty.

🇹🇭 Reset [5/10] - Armin, you are really pretty but you need to chill. Like, we get it, you have your reasons but be careful that your future this time doesn’t become a self fulfilling prophecy. Ok, so here’s the thing, I love the concept here and lord knows I am shallow enough to watch just for the pretty, but I’m getting increasingly convinced that the reset bit was nothing but the trigger and this is going the way of other high concept thai bls where it doesn’t take its concept seriously enough and instead will focus only on developing the romance and the timey wimey stuff is just flavour.

🇨🇳 Revenged Love [4/24] - Unhinged, everything and everyone. This cannot be overstated. But I am not bored. I am partial to the side couple though.

🇹🇭 Suntiny [3/10] - I am living for Max in this. He looks incredible. This is just a fun show and I don't expect them to go too deep into the bigger stuff, but the body swap is actually a clever way for our couple to get closer, literally putting them in each other's shoes to understand one another.

🇰🇷 Sweetheart Service [8/12] - It’s cute but ultimately kinda shallow and uneventful.

🇹🇭 The Bangkok Boy [10/12] - Not that there aren't enough of those, but if ever a BL boy needed to kill their father, it's Peace. That man should be taken from the earth. I feel rage emanating from me whenever he's on screen. I love our mains and when they are tender with each other, it's like I can breathe again. But that never lasts long. I need them to be happy. Like really, it's a need at this point.

🇹🇭 The Ex-Morning [5/10] - Not a fan of the fact that they got back together already. It's really hard for me to root for them without knowing what happened. Phi apparently forgave him but I don't have to, not yet. I need an explanation before I'm fully on board.

🇹🇭 The Next Prince [8/12] - What a mess. The show has lost the plot and I am getting increasingly bored by whatever is happening every week. There's too much happening, so threads are dropped and picked up randomly, and I'm losing whatever connection I have with any of it.

🇹🇼 The Promise of the Soul [2/12] - If anyone had told me I would love this one and even be lowkey obsessed with it, I would have called them as bonkers as the premise of this show. And yet, here we are. I adore them an unreasonable amount. And I mean that. There's no reason I should like this show as much as I do, but they are so precious to me already and I am completely ignoring the bonkers bit and just shutting my brain off because they are so freaking cute and I wanna see more of them.

QL - Finished

🇰🇷 Ball Boy Tactics - First four episodes I was ready to put this one next to Semantic Error and Dating Sim as one of the better kblss out there, and then they dropped the ball. The conflicts felt contrived, we never had any insight into Jiwon's internal monologue, and so the resolutions felt rushed. I love them but I don't know if they actually will make it in the long run. I can appreciate the fact that people love a long nc scene, and to be fair, it was beautifully executed on all sides, but in a show with this length those seven minutes could've been used to just make the story a bit tighter. Or you know, let the sides make out. Whichever.

🇹🇼 Fight For You - It was good. It wasn't perfect but it was good. The mains had amazing chemistry and I'm happy I got them happy for a full episode complete with proposals and oh so many kisses. I wish we got a bit more on the sides just because it felt like an afterthought.

🇨🇳 Moon and Dust - It’s all just so chinese bl. But at least nobody died. Small victories.

🇹🇭 Sweet Tooth, Good Dentist - A mess all the way through. This show never really knew what it wanted to be and I feel bad we finally got Mark in a main role just to have it wasted here. He did a good job all things considered, but this was very disappointing. Honestly I already forgot most of it.

🇨🇳 Trapped in Osaka - I need them in a full show this instant! I know it was short but the ever-present tension was delicious. They were very good together and broken boys are my weakness, and these two were so beautifully broken.

QL - Dropped / On Hold Will binge when finished - 🇹🇭 My Sweetheart Jom [4/12] 🇹🇭 My Stubborn [6/12]

Non QL - Finished

That's all for now. Will update if there are more announcements. My inbox is always open. Happy watching!💜

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owletstarlet · 2 days ago

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tsubaki

Tsubaki: (1) camellia japonica. In confucian tradition, a symbol of devotion and loyalty. In Japanese tradition, a symbol of courage. (2) a bestselling budget haircare line.

[@natsumeweek Day 2-- Domesticity/mending. Vague spoilers for special 23, about tanumom. Not at all necessary to have read for this fic, but I recommend the wonderful @fuanteinasekai's script translation.]

Ao3 Link

Figures, Takashi thinks, mouth twisting, as his fingers catch once more in his own damp hair. He hadn’t thought to check, when he’d slumped against that tree at the little park near the school, the plum tree that had bloomed brilliant red back in February but now made for a cool and leafy place to doze off.

And sticky, apparently.

He’s still tugging at it, absently, as he makes his way back to Tanuma’s room. Tanuma’s in his pajamas already, dark green and slightly threadbare, cross-legged on the bed and squinting down at his phone over the glasses he never wears out of the house. His mouth is taut, and he’s got the phone held sideways in his hands.

“Are you practicing?” Takashi asks, and Tanuma looks up. He smiles faintly, shrugs, and pats the sheets beside him.

“That’s one word for it,” he says, as Takashi drops down onto the bed, their shoulders brushing as Tanuma tilts the phone so he can see. “It keeps opening some selection screen when I try to attack, and when I do manage it I guess I’m not fast enough?” He hums, tapping a menu option. “I think some spells are meant to be quicker to use than others, but…” A bemused smile. “Not sure I’m much use as, ah. What was it?”

“Guild member?” Takashi prompts, honestly surprising himself that he even remembers that much when he’d dropped his phone on his face nodding off.

“Right, that.” He taps another few buttons before his character screen pops up. “I know Nishimura said this looks fine as is for now until I’ve practiced more, but. Even if the character’s meant to mostly be casting spells, shouldn’t he be wearing more than just his regular clothing? I keep dying. Um, really fast. But I guess all the actual armor’s locked.” A little divot forms between his brows. “Not sure how you’re meant to level up in the first place if you can’t protect yourself, but…” he trails off, letting his phone rest between cradled fingers.

“I don’t think I remember how it works either, but we can practice together tomorrow if you want,” Takashi says, the words catching on the edge of a yawn. Tanuma glances down at him, then drops his phone on his knee, scooting closer so he can drop his cheek down onto the top of Takashi’s head. There’s a fluttering in his chest, restless but soft like gossamer moths’ wings behind his ribs, and it’s not so bad. Just, new. Still new. He feels himself smile, even as he says, “My hair’s not dry yet.”

He feels Tanuma’s shrug. “Mine isn’t either.”

“Ah, wait—“ Takashi reaches up, plucking slightly at the matted bits. They’re more on the left side, not near Tanuma’s face, or the parts where their hair overlaps slightly, but it’s enough to make him fidget. Tanuma shifts beside him.

“What’s the matter?” He frowns, taking in Takashi’s hand hovering near his head. “Headache? I know you had a long day—“

“No,” Takashi’s quick to reassure him, but not relishing the idea of offering the required explanation just yet, either. “The bath helped a lot. I’m not all that sore anywhere.”

“Good,” Tanuma says, and he seems to mean it. But he’s also watching Takashi’s face, waiting. Quietly, with no presumption, and Takashi knows Tanuma would drop it completely if he asked. That knowledge alone has Takashi willing to bite the bullet.

It doesn’t mean he can stop the heat that creeps its way into his cheeks when he mutters, “There’s sap in my hair.”

To Tanuma’s credit, he does sort of smush his lips together to try and mitigate the amusement on his face, but his eyes crinkle around the edges when he asks, “How?”

“The plum tree. At the park.” Takashi sighs. “I didn’t think to check. It didn’t wash out.”

“Can I see?” Tanuma turns to face him fully. “I didn’t notice before, so maybe it’s not so bad?”

Takashi gives the offending chunk of hair one last dubious tug before obliging and turning his head. “Hope so.”

Tanuma hums, plucking up the snarled mess and turning it in his fingers. “It’s a…bit bad,” he concedes, after a moment.

Takashi feels the involuntary slump of the shoulders but keeps his voice light as possible when he says, “It’s fine. I’ll just cut it out if I need to.”

Small mercy that Sensei’s not present for this conversation. The temple, he’d long since pointed out, is arguably a safer place for Takashi to be staying the night than his own bedroom, so he has very few qualms about taking off for evenings of inebriated revelry before coming back to hog Tanuma’s bed in the wee hours.

“You don’t need to—” Tanuma starts, then chews his lip a bit as he gives the strands another critical tug. “I mean, let’s see what we can do first. I have something that may help.” He untangles his fingers, gently, and as he starts to stand Takashi feels the loss of warmth alongside the barest of tugs behind his own sternum.

“Did you use conditioner?” Tanuma’s asking now, turned towards the bedroom door.

“A little.” Takashi hadn’t even known to use it, back when Touko-san had first started buying it for him. After she’d shown him how, he’d discovered that a small amount was more than sufficient to get his hair reasonably brushable, and the type currently sitting on the edge of Tanuma’s bathtub has an even richer consistency. But he likes the smell, something adjacent to tart candies, to Tanuma’s pillowcase.

“You can use more if this doesn’t work,” he calls over his shoulder, then ducks out of the room.

Takashi leans forward, elbows on his knees. Everything aches less out of the shower, but all his limbs feel leaden, the core of him soft and yielding as wagashi. It’d been an assessment day for his class in PE, and though he hadn’t embarrassed himself quite so thoroughly as he’d anticipated—Nishimura had loudly bemoaned his own dismal scores in the sprint and distance run categories, and had been just as loudly delighted to learn Takashi had ranked decently, slightly above the class average. They’d both dragged their feet and just barely navigated the rest of their classes in some kind of aching fugue state. But one school bell and two cans of terrible coffee later Nishimura had been the one practically dragging Takashi along by the arm to the park, singlemindedly dedicated to recruiting him, Tanuma and Taki into his and Kitamoto’s current favorite game’s guild. Takashi wishes he’d had it in him to pay better attention; though Nishimura’s been going on about it for the better part of a week at lunch, without looking at his phone Takashi can’t even remember the title of the game.

Tanuma re-emerges with a squat plastic bottle that fits neatly in his palm, a towel slung over his arm and a thin folding comb tucked between his fingers. He returns Takashi’s weary smile with a small one of his own.

“It’s hair oil,” he says, dropping back down beside Takashi, and angling the bottle for him to see. “We’ll see how it does against tree sap, but. My hair’s thicker than yours, and sort of…” He tugs at a strand above his own ear. “Difficult, if I don’t stay on top of it. But this stuff is pretty helpful.”

He passes it to Takashi, who turns it over in his hands. “Camellia,” he reads, trying and failing to determine the color of it through the deep red of the bottle.

“Among other things, probably,” Tanuma says, with a shrug. “It smells more like soap than flowers to me, but. I use it every couple days, and it keeps it from frizzing up or tangling too badly when it dries. So I hope it can at least loosen it up for you.”

Two minutes later finds Takashi sitting cross-legged on the bed, angled half towards the pillow, the towel spread out between them. He’d expected pulling, thought it inevitable when his hair was so thoroughly gunked up, but he can feel that Tanuma’s holding the offending strands away from his scalp with one hand, working the product in with the other. It warms him, the sheer care of it, as much as it makes him glad that Tanuma can’t see whatever his own face is doing right now.

He starts at Tanuma’s voice behind him.

“You can, uh.” He feels a fingers release his hair, a brief touch to the shoulder. “You can relax a little. I’ll warn you if I start having to pull or anything.”

“Ah,” Takashi mutters. “Right. Sorry.” He drops his shoulders, does his best to keep them dropped.

“Did you want to look at the game?” Tanuma offers, after a beat. “I’ll warn you when you need to keep your head upright but it’s fine for now. This can’t be that interesting for you.”

“Or for you,” Takashi counters, with a faint grin.

“You could tell me what you’re doing as you do it,” he says. “Not that I’m going to have any idea what you’re talking about, but. Nishimura did say something about giving you and me both an intensive crash course in the next couple days.”

“We’re that hopeless?”

Tanuma hums. “I guess that’s not a fair assessment, for you at least. You can’t be bad at a game if you weren’t awake to play it in the first place, but. Yeah, safe to say I’m hopeless.”

A good few minutes on and Takashi thinks ‘hopeless’ is a pretty apt descriptor. He’s managed, thus far, to somehow change the color of the character’s entire outfit to a fairly offensive shade of orange, lose about six battles on what’s purported to be the game’s training mode, and somehow spend ¥299 of Tanuma’s actual money on some fancy spell or other that he doesn’t even remember selecting in the first place (a charge which Tanuma vehemently refuses to allow Takashi to refund). Once, the game had glitched out, shutting the app down abruptly just as Takashi’s character was about to suffer another spectacular defeat, and Tanuma’s phone is starting to feel overly warm in his palms.

It might be easier to play, he thinks, if the sensation of endlessly careful fingers and soft snick of the comb’s pointed end teasing out the knot in his hair wasn’t taking up a significant portion of his attention.

Or maybe it wouldn’t. He lets the phone drop onto his knees. It’s at 23%.

“How did you,” Takashi starts, then flounders a little in the silence of the room. Tries again. “How did you know to use hair oil? On yourself, I mean. I don’t think I knew it existed.”

He’s reminded, suddenly, of Touko’s eyes, when Takashi had admitted he didn’t know what conditioner was for. Widening in fleeting surprise, before filling just as quickly with a quiet kindness that Takashi had not yet known not to mistake for pity.

And maybe he shouldn’t have asked.

But then Tanuma says, “My mom showed me.” His voice is quiet, but there’s a thread of warmth strung into the words.

Takashi glances behind him. Tanuma’s gaze has dropped to the bottle in his hand, a soft set to his mouth.

Takashi knows Tanuma won’t elaborate unless pressed. A consideration. A kindness of his own.

So Takashi presses.

“Your mom?”

“Yeah,” he starts, diffident, searching Takashi’s face as Takashi turns to look at him properly. Takashi just waits. The space of a breath, and then he lets out some quiet sound between a huff and a laugh. “I was…I couldn’t have been older than six or seven. Before starting elementary school, my hair was actually pretty short.”

“Really?” Takashi can’t help his own smile He tries to picture it, eyes lingering on the dark tumble of his hair, still damp and a little unruly from a vigorous towel-drying, spiking up a bit around one arm of his glasses and the tip of an ear now flushed pink.

“Yeah,” he says, catching Takashi’s eye, returns the grin with a small one of his own. “Dad’s got the photo evidence. And would sort of stick out all over the place even then.” He plucks absently at it, rich black strands twisted between pale fingertips. “And he used to just cut it for me himself, back then, but. I don’t know. I kept asking him to wait longer and longer between trims, and to take off less, and it’s basically looked like this since.”

“Any particular reason?”

The faint flush of his cheeks deepens, and his expression shifts. “I mean. Maybe not a great reason, but sort of.” He doesn’t look unhappy, just unsure, eyes fixed somewhere near Takashi’s shoulder now. “I remember that elementary school was…a lot, for me, when I started. Not so bad,” he adds, quickly, as though remembering himself, his audience. “But way more people in one place than I was used to. And it sounds odd to say it, but I remember not liking the fact that everyone could see all of my face all of the time.” He shrugs, yanks at that same strand of hair. “Hard to explain.”

“Well it suits you,” Takashi says, a little abruptly, before he loses his nerve or the moment or both. Because now would be the time to say so if ever there was one.

Tanuma’s eyes flick back up to meet his. His lips twitch. “Yeah?”

Takashi nods. They’re both red in the face now. It seems a bit unfair, that they’re both still so easy to fluster; he’d have thought they’d have run the gauntlet of mutual embarrassment by now. But even kissing him is easier than this, when there’s no breath to be spared between them for the exchanging of words, for what should be a casual compliment. No eye contact involved.

But the apple-flush of fair skin across his cheekbones makes Takashi’s mouth dry as sand.

“Well. Thank you,” Tanuma says, swallowing just a little like he’s having the same problem. “Anyways. I may have preferred it that way, but. My hair’s got a texture to it that can make it sort of difficult to manage, it you’re not careful.” He reaches out, catches a strand of Takashi’s own hair not far from the knotted bit, twisting it gently. “Mine’s thicker than yours, and it can dry out pretty easily. It feels like straw, at the worst of times. And it’d get tangled up really easily, back then, especially if I ever slept on it wet. Dad would try to help, but sometimes it got so bad that there wasn’t anything we could really do at that point but cut a chunk of it away and be done with it.”

And Takashi can relate, there. But he doubts it would be constructive, his own hazy recollection of a plastic comb with missing teeth going missing from his box of belongings between one relative’s house and the next. Not when he can picture, even more clearly, a dark-haired little ghost of a boy who wished to sink right through the walls of his own classroom.

“What did you do about it?” he asks, instead.

“Well that’s when Mom stepped in.” Tanuma’s fingers trail over the printed text on the bottle’s front, gentle, near-reverent. He shakes his head a little. “I think Dad must’ve called her. There was a really bad knot right at the back of my head at the time, maybe the worst I’d ever had, and if he’d cut it out it would’ve been really obvious. He suggested I just try wearing it short again, but I said no.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I think I might’ve cried when he said that, actually. He felt awful afterwards.” A pause, a glance towards the soft sleepy dark of the window. “I am…glad Ponta’s not here.”

“I’d have kicked him out,” Takashi mutters.

“I appreciate it.” He taps the bottle. “By the time I showed up for the visit we’d planned that month, she’d already prepared some things for me. Better shampoo and conditioner. Some oil, and a nicer comb. She’s always worn her own hair long, and she says it tangles up if you even look at it the wrong way, so. She sorted the big knot out, and then taught me how to take care of it myself.” He turns the comb over between his fingers, running his thumb along the spine of it like it’s something precious, gilded silver instead of brown plastic. Takashi can see a few shedded strands of his own hair threaded between the teeth, catching the light. “I’ve only had to cut knots out myself maybe twice since then, so I guess I’ve managed well enough.”

“Did she give you these?” Takashi asks, a taut humming sensation behind his ribs that’s somehow both overfull and not unwelcome.

“No.” He grins, flips the comb over. Taps the tiny Daiso label on the handle that Takashi hadn’t seen. “She still sends me things from time to time, especially if she’s found something new that she’s tried for herself, but when I’m buying I tend to just go for the discount versions.” A shrug. “They work fine, I think. She prefers products with camellia, and that’s not so hard to find.”

“I’m glad you’re not having to use up a gift, anyhow,” Takashi says. His hand hovers near the knot behind his own ear. He doesn’t want to touch, doesn’t want to undo Tanuma’s progress.

“I think she’d have been pretty delighted to hear about it if I did,” Tanuma says, fondly. “She might ask if I took before-and-after pictures, though.” He reaches for Takashi’s hair again, this time holding the entirety of the knot in his palm, cradled absurdly like a baby bird, turning it a little to inspect. He offers Takashi a soft moonrise of a smile. “It might be too late to get a before-and-after, but I could still get a progress shot. Not to send her, just. In case we need it. For future reference.”

“….future reference.”

“Yes.”

Takashi feels his nose wrinkle. He holds up Tanuma’s phone. “I’ll hide this.”

“There’s still my film camera,” he counters, peacefully.

“I’ll hide myself.”

“But then I couldn’t help you.” He sets the comb down between them like a greasy little peace offering, and holds his hands up.

Takashi feels the wobble in the set of his own mouth, but he doesn’t break eye contact until he’s tucked the phone firmly away beneath Tanuma’s pillow.

“I don’t need help,” Takashi informs him. But he his own hands up to meet Tanuma’s still-raised ones, the traitorous grin finally leaking through when Tanuma immediately laces their fingers together, an unwieldy half-hover of hands clasped midair.

“No,” Tanuma agrees, and snorts lightly when Takashi’s forehead bumps against his shoulder. “But you want it, I think.”

“Mm,” is all Takashi can muster in reply, his arms looping themselves around Tanuma’s waist. There’ll be oily spots on Tanuma’s shirt from this, maybe. He should probably move.

But Tanuma just shuffles closer, the warm weight of his arms around his shoulders to draw him in, so Takashi resigns the shirt to its fate. Beneath him, the sharp end of the comb pokes into Takashi’s leg.

“‘Future reference’?” Takashi asks, muffled by the shirt, after a moment. “For what?”

“In case of, you know,” he starts, smile shaping the words pressed into the damp crown of Takashi’s head. “Trees. Spirits. Tree spirits.”

“Tree spirits,” Takashi echoes, drily.

“You never know.”

***

#fun date ideas: untangle your boyfriend's hair #this is in part a love letter to the products that saved my perm for the last 2 years #sillies being soft #tanunatsu #tanumom #natsume yuujinchou #natsume's book of friends #natsume takashi #tanuma kaname #natsume week #owlet's fanfic

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jaystexastornado · 2 days ago

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Austin City Limits 3/?

Texas Skies

Summary: When the readers first ever first class flights gets delayed, a water soaked backpack, and a handsome stranger later, everything changes.

Word count: 5348

A/N: It’s fiction. It’s fine. 🩷

Jared and Genevieve sat waiting for them for over an hour, going over every possibility they could think of as to what was taking them so long. The girls were restless, Jared was complaining, but Genevieve was waiting. She'd seen Y/N walk across the hall and back thirty minutes ago she looked like she was laughing. That was a good sign, but why did she have a white box? And where did she disappear to? She looked over to Jared who was staring at at the door like he was trying to make them walk out before he moved sitting up.

You were laughing at a story Jensen had told you about Jared years ago as you both walked to the front door, while you cleaned up from the day, Jensen was a child in the chair spinning, when you realized you had a spare key in the office. Horrible to have inside but smart for the situation. Your purse was slung over your shoulder. Unlocking the door Jensen pushed open letting you walk out first. A bright smile from Gen met you both.

Jensen chuckled, while you squinted your eyes at her. "My keys really?"

"I had to, best friend intuition, you were gonna run."

"I wasn’t actually." You folded your arms over your chest with a smirk. "I’m wearing boots and I trip way too easily. I’m not stupid."

Neither of you had realized the sun was going down inside, you noticed that then, and Jensen's hand resting on your back, the questioning looks Jared and Gen were giving you both, were almost worth not saying anything. And his hand moved. Down just slightly but you felt his pinky on your skin, right above your hip.

"We just gonna stand here or can you release the hostage and we can all get out of here?" Jensen asked. His tone was warm, casual, his hand moved again and you felt your face heat up.

"We will release the hostage when we know what happened in there." Jared laughed making Jensen shake his head.

"He wants to negotiate what do we do?" Jensen whispered making me giggle.

"I’m taking JJ and Jensen back to Jensens house then I’m going home and getting hair dye off my hands." It wasn’t a total lie. You would be taking them home. After you went to dinner. But they didn’t need to know that.

Not yet.

But your explanation got JJ back, and you’d quickly remembered you had a DVD player in the second row because you kept tour. Niece and nephew from time to time. She had a blast picking a movie, you’d made Jensen drive because, well, honestly you didn’t want to. You didn’t know where he was taking you, only that he couldn’t believe that the DVD player had JJ silent and not asking him for her iPad.

"Think they put those in trucks? I swear I can’t get her off that thing" he said softly one hand on the wheel, the other on the door by the window.

"I might know a guy that can install one. If he ever answers his phone. My brother owns Walker Concepts downtown. It’s what they do." You explained Jensen looking at you with a raised brow. "What?"

Shaking his head he let out a breathy laugh, looking back at the road. "All of the Walker clan own businesses in Austin?" He smirked we were in the middle of traffic coming out of Bee Cave, and the sun was setting behind the hills, it was good to be home you thought. Looking back at Jensen. Focused on the slow-moving traffic, "Bode and I do, Miles is- honestly we don’t know where Miles is. She was 15 when they died, my grandparents tried getting custody of her, but she ran, and we haven’t seen her since. But we do know she isn’t in Austin or most of Texas."

Jensen sat on that for a moment. She’d talked about it like it was the most normal thing in the world. And maybe it was, to her, but it didn’t make him any less sad for her. She was looking around unaware Jensen was looking at her. She would smile randomly, for awhile she was watching the lane beside us move a little faster counting the cars on her fingers in her lap, or, like she was currently doing bobbing her head to whatever the hell movie JJ picked out in the back seat, and he’d been busted, she froze seeing him looking at her with a grin on his face.

He didn’t care. He thought it was cute. But she froze seeing him watching her. His grin turned into scrunching his brows and a frown, "you okay?" His voice was soft, traffic slowly disappearing around them, it was almost completely dark now, and she was just sitting there.

"Uhm. Yeah, uh. Sorry, I don’t-" she stammered looking back out of the window. Resting her chin on her hand. He didn’t like that. He knew what that was. He’d done it. Without even thinking he knew why she reacted like that. And he didn’t like it. Not one bit, he wasn’t him, just like she wasn’t her. They’d probably run into this for a little while. Few years or not, being open, and completely yourself after being forced to be reserved that shit took time with someone new.

So He didn’t say anything at first. Once they were freely moving again, he pulled over into the first parking lot he saw, unbuckled his seat belt, and got out of the SUV. JJ was asleep in the back seat, when he opened the passenger door you looked at him like he had three heads.

"C'mon." His voice was soft and smooth, he wore a small smile and he held his hand out. You could see the stars in the sky, and the moon was big and bright, traffic was gone, and JJ was asleep. So you unbuckled your seatbelt and followed him.

She didn’t know Jensen knew exactly where he’d pulled into. But at the back of your car, you saw the valley. One of many in Beecave. Houses built on those hills lit up, the faint chill in the air, even in November, Texas was still a little warm, so the cool air felt nice. Jensen was standing close, his shoulder brushed against the back of yours. It was quiet for a moment, comfortable, and when Jensens hands found your arms you realized he was now fully behind you.

"I thought it was cute. Little head bobbing thing, and the counting cars, and smiling at whatever the hell you were smiling at. I’m not him, or whoever didn’t like those things, and I’m not gonna be. Because I like them. And- and I like you. Quirks and all." His voice was so soft, his deep rumble making it even smoother. And you let yourself lean into him then, your back pressed against his chest. As the quiet settled again around you.

It was new but dammit If you didn’t trust it. Trust him. You felt so small against him but safer than you’d ever felt. Fuck he was good. And you let yourself have it. Because when you leaned into him, his hands moved. Wrapping his arms over your own. You didn’t know where the future led, or when bliss would crack a little and fights would happen. But right now, he saw you. He’d understood. And you couldn’t be happier.

Jensen hasn’t stopped touching you since that moment. In the car when you left, his hand was laced in your own. He’d told you about his marriage, how it fell apart, how exactly he knew what you did earlier. But it was quiet now, as he found a parking spot at a small barbecue restaurant, you’d been there before, he’d do it was a favorite of his. Tucked off the beaten path separating Austin and West Lake, he hated waking JJ up, and honestly, you did too. But he didn’t take no for an answer, as he parked you held his hand a little tighter whispering his name before he got out. He paused looking at you.

"My turn." You whispered. He sat back a little looking at you. Head rolling to the side against the headrest. "You didn’t deserve any of that. And your past doesn’t define you, I don’t know the masked version. But I really, really like the unmasked Jensen." I could see the corners of his lips rise and the small crinkles by his eyes, he looked down resting his free hand on our laced hands.

"This is who you get sweetheart. Now, I ain’t perfect, but, I got sense. I don’t want any of what I had before ever again. I like this, getting to be me and knowing you aren’t looking at me like I’m insane."

Dinner was quiet, not because you weren't talking, but because they knew Jensen. And even though the back patio overlooking the lake was closed, they opened it up for him. And JJ was coloring pictures, and playing with her feathers. She’d chosen to sit next to you across from Jensen who was on your other side. Hand on your thigh, leaned back in his chair a little just, watching the lake.

"Earlier you said you lived in Los Angeles for a while." You began looking over at him. His gaze never moved from the lake. The way it glistened from the moon made it even more beautiful. "I did. S’where JJ was born. Had a house out in Malibu. Why?"

Looking at the lake, and how big the Texas sky was, how even though you were in the city there weren't sirens or massive lights, Taking away from the natural beauty Texas was at night. It was quiet. And you’d been all over the states, even a couple of countries too, but not a single place you saw compared to home. Nothing ever could. "How did you ever leave this place?" You asked softly. "I know so many people say when I grow up I’m leaving and never coming back, wherever they may be from, but, it’s so beautiful here."

"I wanted to act. I had to make sacrifices to do it, I had a deadline with my dad to make it. So, I did. Got married and when JJ was born I decided I wanted to come home and raise my kids here." He looked at the little girl in her little creative world next to you, before looking back at you, "They live in Connecticut now." He huffed shaking his head, "S’where their step dads from. And I fucking hate it. I get em when I’m home, which is what we agreed on, but I’ve been gone nine months out of the year since the show started damn near. I hate being away from them. I had this vision, of raising them in Texas, knowing this place as home. But, now it’s like a vacation." He sighed. You could hear the disappointment in his voice, the way the mood changed, so you rested your hand on his shoulder, not saying anything just there. Letting him know he was heard.

The conversation eventually eased into less upsetting topics, and JJ with masks she drew made us both laugh. You’d been on a few first dates, never one with a child present. But, you had to admit. It was the best date you’d ever been on.

And when you got to Jensens, he’d asked you to come in, JJ, fast asleep on his shoulder again, you couldn’t say no.

So here you were, standing in his living room while he laid her down. You could still tell on the fireplace mantel where pictures were missing, infant toys in the corner that you assumed belonged to the twins. There was a baby blanket laid over the back of a chair that had arrows on it. Assuming it was his youngest daughters. And baby chairs stacked beside the couch. It didn’t look like he’d been in here, maybe the rest of the house was the same. When you heard footsteps you turned seeing Jensen head down and walking down the stairs. Your arms were folded around your waist.

"She’s not going to mess up that feather while she sleeps right? I wasn’t supposed to take it out?" He asked like it was the most casual thing ever while looking around the room you noticed how he fought a frown. And you thought maybe this was the area untouched.

"It’s an extension, there is a bead at the top holding it to her hair, it’ll be okay while she sleeps, and if I need to take it out before she goes back I can." You offered a small smile his eyes were on the Blanket on the chair. He missed his other kids. You could feel that. You wanted to ask but you didn’t want to upset him. Instead, you saw trophies. Casually walking over to them away from the living room.

Jensen followed you as you pointed to one. "You won sexiest man! I mean I get it but what an honor Mr Ackles." And that cracked, a smile came through and he shook his head. Taking your hand and leading you to another room, it looked like a living room. Or was it called a den? All you knew was it had a massive black leather sectional and a bar, and that room was no sign of sadness, Jensen poured each of you a drink before pulling you away again to a big back porch, screened in with a wooden swing away from the long table and chairs. It overlooked his pool, and the water, only this time the moon was perfectly cast onto it. Pulling his phone out music played softly. His arm draped over your shoulder, "the twins haven’t been back. Every time I try they scream. And I get it. Being gone so much. But-"

He didn’t finish. He just sighed. You looked up at him. The soft glow of the lights cast a halo over his features. "You miss your kids." He

Nodded. "Jensen ?" He hummed. "I get not wanting to upset them." "Not them. That would be easier. She-she’ll let me make it to the car, get them in their seats, and then she’ll say something like I can’t believe you’re taking them like that or some bullshit. Zep is really attached to her. Arrow I think would calm down and go with me but Zep is the harder of the two. Doesn’t help that she puts on a crying act and clings to them whenever I show up. JJ is used to it. She’ll just walk out. Honestly, I wish I had her strength against their mom sometimes."

You sat for a second taking that in. Trying to force yourself not to say anything. But, he continued with ‘I can’t even talk to them on the phone anymore without her whining. And they run off jj will eventually grab the phone and talk but fuck.’ And that pissed you off. But it wasn’t your place, may never be, but it wasn’t okay, and Jensen was healing, the only way to break cycles was to put your foot down. And he couldn’t. At least he didn’t feel like he could. It was wrong. And if Gen hadn’t already made you not like her. That really did. And you’d had whiskey. Two glasses by then and "Jensen. It’s not my place, and it may never be my place, but I have opinions. And I’ve never been one to keep those to myself."

"Go ahead." He gave a soft humored grin and you sighed. "She’s manipulating you, and I’m not talking who names the dogs I’m saying she’s trying to make it seem like she isn’t the bad guy. Using them against you to get you to bend to her will, my mom’s parents were my lifeline, When I was 17 my parents died. And I had to live with my mom's parents but my dad’s parents wanted us to. And they’d pull that shit. I knew what was happening, but they’re still little, they don’t understand. And It hurts them more than it hurts you. Maybe not now but one day. If you don’t tell her to stop they’ll never see you as their dad. She’s replacing you. And Letting her get her way, you’re letting her do it." He sat for a second. Silent. And I was sure I’d screwed this entire doing up at that moment but then he huffed a laugh. Downing his drink. "Jared said that. I said he was crazy. Maybe he was right." He sighed running his hand over his face before looking at you.

Jensen sat for a while quiet, he knew it wasn’t right, but he thought he was doing right, doing right by them at least even if it killed him, by letting them stay. He felt you shift just a little, wrapping the long cardigan around you tighter. He pulled you closer to him so your head was over his heart. He grabbed your thigh dragging your legs over his knee. Taking a deep breath, he ran his fingers through your hair, it felt softer than it looked. "Thank you." He whispered.

The night settled around them, the moon high over the lake, cicadas getting quieter as the temperature dropped. Jensens arm was draped over Y/N, while her arm rested across his torso. Jensen kept the swing moving as he began humming the old country song playing. You looked up at him admiring how at peace he looked, the light made his eyes brighter, the way it shined on him. You tilted your head back with a small smile. He looked down at you. Eyes flicked down a fraction towards your lips. Before meeting yours, holding your gaze his jaw clenched, before looking away.

You’d be hurt if you didn’t notice how he’d swallowed hard. And downed another drink. You touched his jaw so lightly, making him look at you again. “What?” He rasped, sending your heart into overdrive when a smirk played on the corners of his lips. Then he bit his lip. You were screwed with this man. He’d done it so innocently, watching you, curiously. You could feel his breath across your lips before one of you closed the distance, it wasn’t clear who, maybe both.

The kiss made, You melt completely into him, hand on his jaw, his moved to your hair, his lips softer than you’d imagined, molded perfectly to yours, it wasn’t desperate, or fast it was slow, grounding, like he was explaining things that words couldn’t. And you’d understood, he was holding You so close, and you’d never felt safer, and your hand laced into the short hair on his neck. Your heart was fluttering, and air was needed but you didn’t care because he was kissing you. And he was good, you wanted the good.

You were a little dizzy when he pulled back, resting his forehead against yours. Keeping your eyes closed, you held on to each other for a while. “You’re freezing.” He whispered hand moving to your jaw. You nodded a small short breathy laugh came and he moved. You were in his arms. As he carried you inside sitting you down over the back of the couch you looked up at him confused, before he grabbed a blanket, and disappeared.

You could fully take in that room now, where you were sitting confused with the blanket draped over you, the dark walls, matching the bar, a bookshelf that was empty, in the corner, the rug was crooked, and a massive flat screen hung in front of the couch.

When Jensen appeared again he’d pulled you to him, back against his chest talking about everything and nothing all at once. You’d not only lost react of time, but you’d both fallen asleep there on the couch together.

Jensen woke up before you did, JJ had tapped his nose asking for pancakes, and he’d gotten up so carefully so he didn’t wake you. JJ sat on the floor watching cartoons quietly in front of you, and Jensen checked on the two of you more than he’d openly admit.

For the first time in so long he hadn’t gotten up with dread, it was calm, and you were asleep, and JJ was so calm sitting with you, and he was happy, for once he could say that, and that felt good. Jared walked in about an hour later, unannounced but when Jensen warned him to stay quiet he did.

“She’s here?” His best friend grinned at him making Jensen roll his eyes.

“Not like that idiot. She’s on the couch we fell asleep in there last night talking about hair disasters and set pranks, so get that out of your head. I’m not 20 anymore and I’m not looking for a damn hookup.” Jensen whispered to Jared. Jared only nodded. Asking him how it went.

But before Jensen could Answer his front door opened again. “Who the fuck is that?” Jensen looked at Jared but Jared’s eyes were wide. Jensen looked seeing his ex, his eyes and jaw turned to stone. She’d been calling and texting him nonstop since they’d gotten back that first night, but he didn’t have to answer. So he didn’t, now she was here. Looking at Jensen with her arms crossed she was pissed. And he didn’t care. He just wanted her to leave.

“Why the fuck haven’t you answered?” She said loudly. And Jensen eyes flicked to the living room.

“Hi, Jensen nice to see you, looking good sorry I randomly barged into your house with absolutely no warning because I’m an insane fucking psychopath.” Jared changed his voice, glaring at her next to Jensen.

“Why are you even here?” She cut her eyes at Jared, with a long sigh and eye roll then looked back at Jensen.

“Because you don’t live here.” Jared grinned. “Why are you here?”

“I’ve been calling and texting.”

“What’s fucking new?” Jensen finally said through his teeth. Remembering the conversation with you last night. He looked around her realizing she was alone and he didn’t know where the twins were. “So you throw a fit when I come to pick the kids up and get me to leave the twins but then they’re not here?”

“They’re outside with Lincoln. Where is JJ?”

Waving Jensen off, making him suddenly wonder how he had ever been with the woman before.

“In the living room eating pancakes and watching TV. Happy as ever. So leave her alone. Go get the twins and go back to Connecticut. They’re staying this time.”

“Excuse me?” She almost looked innocent, but he caught it. The switch. And fuck him if you and Jared weren't right. “They don’t do well without me Jensen. I’m their mother.”

“And I’m their father! But you don’t fucking seem to give a shit about that. You’d rather Lincoln be their dad? Go have a kid with him he ain’t taking my damn kids, and neither are you! I’m sick and tired of you playing the victim here, it’s not about you. It’s about them, and they have to get used to being with me. I’m not letting them grow up thinking I love JJ more because she does come with me.” His voice was strained, and pissed, his hands were clenched sat on the countertop, and his breathing was heavy. She flew to Texas just because he didn’t answer, which was a new low. Even for her.

“Who the fuck do you think you are Jensen?”

“Their dad.” He heard looking at the living room, JJ curled into your shoulder. “And next time you want to go after their dad. Make sure his child isn’t in earshot. You scared her to death.” Jensen moved then JJ curled into him as Jared offered to take her outside.

He agreed and you told him you were going to head home. Not wanting to intrude. This was uncharted territory, territory you didn’t think you were ready for, you didn’t even know what you and Jensen were.

But he pressed a hand to your lower back, and pressed a lingering kiss to your brow, whispering “You don’t have to be, but I’d like you to be here when this is over.” And you nodded because you weren't going to leave him to question if this was over before it started. So you walked beside Jared and JJ.

“Who the hell was that?” You heard as you closed the door.

Hating leaving him in there alone, you didn’t know her, but you didn’t like her. JJ was quick to run to her siblings, playing in the sandbox to the left of the big yard. JJ showed you believed her name was Arrow, her feathers, and pointed to you.

You could hear the fight inside though. As much as you tried to block it out, they were having it out, Jared nudged you, making you look at him. “I wish I could say this is new. Sometimes they’re cordial. If Gen knew this was reality. She’d be in there too.” He whispered.

You worried it got silent all of a sudden and something twisted in your gut like a knife, But then you heard the door slam. Turning to see Jensen. You and Jared sharing looks, and you felt his hand firm on your back and a whisper in your ear. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

He gave Jared a look who nodded, before you walked with him towards his garage. He was shaking, seeing his ex walk out of the house, arms folded as she descended the stairs. “Leave them alone and go. Don’t make it hard. It ain’t about you.” His tone was strict, final even, But angry. You see Jared cross the yard and start playing with the kids as she huffed getting into the car.

Jensen pushed the garage door open, leading you inside, he looked tired, like whatever happened in there took all he had. And he was still shaking, his chest rose and fell rapidly like he couldn’t breathe.

“Hey, talk, don’t panic.” Your voice came out calm, trying to soothe him.

Instead, he kissed you, slow, but desperate, like kissing you was grounding him, but his breathing wasn’t slowing, and he was still shaking, you pulled back just a little stopping him, your worry overpowering the want.

“Jensen.” Your voice was so calm. And his head was a mess, he knew what this was. Even if he wouldn’t admit it. Usually, he’d take a shot, and make it go away.

But he saw you, you’d stayed. And he didn’t know what came next so he kissed you, but his chest was still tight and his hands were still shaking, and you pulled back, saying his name, and it helped.

Maybe you were right, maybe talking would help, but he really wanted to kiss you again. And he was a wreck, you wanted no mask, this was the bottom-of-the-barrel type of having no mask.

“I’m sorry you had to witness that.” He’d managed, and he kissed you again. You didn’t push him away, and he felt a little better, so when he pulled back.

“I lost it. I told her she wasn’t keeping them from me anymore, if she wanted Lincoln to be a dad so bad they needed to have one together because they’re my kids.”

That time you kissed him, with a smile on your face, and he knew that was good, and his chest wasn’t tight but he was still shaking. And there was a lot of yelling, but it wasn’t about the kids it was about you. And he needed to tell you but, fuck you felt so good against him.

“She tried to tell me you couldn’t be around the kids. And that’s not happening. We started yelling. And I threw it in her face that she got with someone. Moved him in. And married the son of a bitch before I ever even knew he existed. And I know that’s wrong. But I was mad. Because you didn’t do anything wrong. She doesn’t know you. I’ll be damned if she tries to ruin the first good thing to happen to me since my kids were born. I’m sorry you got drug into it, I didn’t know she would show up here. Fuck have I told you today how glad I am that I met you.”

You couldn’t help but giggle, as he kissed you after every sentence, but he wasn’t shaking. And you couldn’t even think to be mad at him because you got brought up.

You didn’t know if the kiss was an apology or trying to avoid having to apologize. All you knew was when he pulled back, that boyish grin was there, and his eyes weren't hard, and he was okay.

She rested her head against his chest his arms around her, she didn’t seem mad, she wasn’t pushing him away, she’d pulled him in. And he liked that. It meant he was in her orbit.

And he didn’t drink to get rid of that panic attack, he had all of his kids and his girl, and he hadn’t asked her what she thought about that. But he’d decided she was his, he liked the good, and he wanted to keep it as long as he could. As long as she’d let him.

When she looked up at him she was smiling. And she was beautiful, and she was his if she’d let him be hers.

“I’m proud of you.” That shocked him, he hadn’t done anything special. Why was she proud of him? Because he pissed his ex off? If that’s all it took he needed to add her to the text messages between them. Was it because he stood up for her? It seemed like she didn’t have much of that before.

“For taking back control, and standing up for yourself and the kids.” Oh. It felt good, he wouldn’t lie. He hated having to do it at all, but he wasn’t going to let his kids think he was a bad dad. He loved them, and that’s what you do when you love your kids right? Some kind of unspoken agreement?

“I stood up for you too sweetheart.” And he had. He’d do it again too. She was good, and she was beautiful, and she stayed. “Don’t worry about me. I could take her if I needed to. But thank you for that.” She smiled a little. “I don’t doubt you could for one second. Thank you for getting JJ out of there.” She nodded and then kissed him again.

And he really liked that.

When they walked out from the garage, she saw how it hit Jensen, his three kids climbing all over Jared laughing, not even thinking twice about their mother leaving, they were home, and she was glad for that, for him. He deserved that.

When they noticed him walking out, the twins much like JJ at the salon the previous day yelled Daddy and ran.

He was a good dad. You knew that already, but seeing him with all three of them, he looked unstoppable. Whole again, no one was missing. And when Jared came up to you with a smile.

He’d said you made that happen, he’d tried telling him for years, and you’d done it in a day.

It wasn’t you, he’d had enough right? You didn’t think more about it. You were being pointed at and heard Jensen say to one of the kids, “You have to ask her.” Looking at you with a smile.

A/N: he could kiss me through a panic attack any day and I’d thank him. 😩

Tags:

@jays-bonnie-on-the-side

@smoothmode

@deansimpalababy

@imsiriuslyreal

@impala67rollingthroughtown

@stoneyggirl2

@lovelywebber

#jensen fucking ackles #jensen ackles #russell shaw #jensen ackles x reader #soldier boy #beau arlen x you #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x you #mark meachum #russell shaw x reader

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