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wonwoonlight · 2 years ago

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when he finds out you're sick through the internet

A/N: idol!au. OC is also a celebrity though I don't explicitly say what. tiny teensy angst bc cheol is a worried Boyfriend💔 1.5k words! another random word vomits bc that's the only way i know how to write now lol idk why but everytime i write this kinda fic it's always seungcheol looooooooooooooool. not proofread, but enjoy!

[part 2]

Seungcheol doesn't really get angry.

For the three years you've known him in which you've dated him for two, you've only seen him actually get angry a total number of three times. None of them was directed at you, and all of them are for reasons that you would've exploded upon way before he did.

Seungcheol is patient and rational.

Seungcheol is normally patient and rational.

But he's never normal when it comes to you. And even though the patient bit still stands, nothing about his feelings towards you is ever rational. He's a little too emotional, a little too rash, and a little too worrisome when it comes to your wellbeing.

So when he's relaxing in the practice room during a break with his members, for once not on his phone because he's charging it somewhere on one of the tables, and he hears Seungkwan gasps a little upon his phone, he thinks there's another scandal blowing up upon the industry. But when the younger guy's blown out eyes meet him, colors drained from his face, Seungcheol hates that he knew it could mean one thing: something happened to you.

He shoots up almost immediately, not registering any words that come out of Seungkwan's mouth. His hands shake a little when he unlocks his phone, and his heart drops when he reads the official post from your company's twitter account that states your current condition, that you might need to pause your activities for the time being due to health reasons, apologizes for the worries, and asks for the fans' understanding.

He wants to get angry.

At who, he’s not sure.

At your company, for pushing you even though they know your schedule is practically inhumane? At your manager, for not making sure that you have decent rest in between schedules? At you, because he’s been telling you to fucking stop running towards whatever goal you have in mind but you insist that you know your limit and you’ll know when to stop?

Apparently, no you fucking don’t because else this wouldn’t have happened.

The rest of the members look at him in worry, and Jeonghan silently walks to their manager and the other staff to let them know about the situation at hand, that Seungcheol would probably not be in his best state to continue practice at the moment. The leader would probably insist that they continue anyway, but they’ve practiced for almost five hours already anyway and they could spare an hour or two for the leader when it’s clear that he’s worried beyond measure.

Seungcheol bites his lip as he tries to call you, his concern skyrocketing by the seconds the longer the beeping sound goes, no sign of you picking it up. He tries one more time, but you still don’t answer and he’s about to hurl his phone at the wall when your manager calls him instead, tells him that he sees his name flashing on your phone, informs your whereabouts, and that he should just drop by your place in a few hours if he wants to see you because right now you’re still sleeping in the car and he’s taking you home.

He finds it hard to say anything, a lump growing in his throat until he manages to swallow it down and ask how you’re doing right now.

“She’s… exhausted.” Your manager says quietly. “I know it’s my job to take care of her but… you know her. She didn’t tell me that she’s been having a hard time sleeping at night the past few weeks and it finally took a toll on her.”

It’s hard to suppress his anger, his breath heavier than usual though it’s not too noticeable unless they know Seungcheol. He wants to scream at your manager, but he knows it won’t do anyone any good and it’s really not the time nor the place for that. So he mutters a quiet ‘thank you’ before he hangs up, his members looking at him with a mix of worry and understanding when he looks up at them.

“Go.” Soonyoung says. “We’ve practiced enough today. Take care of your girlfriend and tell us later.”

Seungcheol nods and sprints out of the room, beyond thankful that his members always have his back.

Seungcheol is glaring at you when you wake up, though the way his thumb is still softly caressing your head and the worry in his eyes clearly tell you that his anger is nowhere near his distress.

You offer him a weak smile, unable to defend yourself because you know what his eyes are scolding you for.

“Sorry?” You whisper and immediately cringe at how dry your throat feels.

He doesn’t say anything as he helps you sit down and hands you your favorite mug. Taking in the moment, you frown at how weak you feel, though you really only have yourself to blame because you genuinely thought you’re okay and you can take it.

You know it’s on you for taking as many schedules as possible, practically everything that your company offers you even when your manager says he doesn’t think it’s physically possible for you to do all that in such a short span.

Thinking about it now, you realize that your manager and the rest of your team also gets the short end of the stick through your decision. Him, your make up team, and your stylists would all need to be with you and your ambition forgets to consider their wellbeing even when you wrongly claim you would be able to handle it.

Guilt starts to eat you inside out, and it grows even larger as you see Seungcheol in front of you–didn’t he say he had practice today?–his face screams distressed and his shoulders tense since God knows when.

“Hey, talk to me.” He says softly when he notices you’ve been spacing out and you’re nibbling on your lip like you would when you’re anxious, taking away your mug before enveloping your hands with his.

You tear up almost immediately, and he moves to sit on the edge of your bed to usher you into his chest, patiently listens to your nonsense as you try to talk through your tears. He gets the gist of it: sorry–manager–company–wellbeing–my team–didn’t think it through–made you worry–overestimated myself–sorry–and the list goes on. He exhales as he hugs you tighter, both understanding and upset at the turns of events.

Being in the same industry, he gets what you’re trying to do, understands that you feel the need to keep on running while you’re able to, relates that you’re doing everything for yourself and your fans. But still, it’s hard not to be upset to know you’re pushing yourself too hard when he’s been telling you there’s no need to run as fast as you are without resting; that you’ll only hurt yourself one way or another and he hates that the one time he needs to be right, it’s this.

You end up laying down against his chest on your bed, hiccups and sniffles filling your bedroom along with a random song he’s humming against your head. You pull away to properly look at him, the first time you’re doing it since you woke up earlier, and his hum stops in question.

“Thank you.” You manage to whisper, your fingers grasping the front of his shirt without even realizing. “For being here when I woke up.”

He shakes his head like he doesn’t understand why you’re thanking him, simply leans down to plant a long, chaste kiss against your forehead before he pulls up your blanket so it’ll cover you properly.

“Just… don’t surprise me like that again, okay?” His breath is warm against your face, pleasantly so, and you nod as you promise him that you’ll take better care of yourself moving forward.

“Are you staying the night?”

“Yes, I’ll return to the dorm the day after tomorrow. They’ve given me a day off.” You cringe at his words, though thankful that he’s been in the industry long enough to attain that kind of privilege. But still, you feel bad that you’re obstructing his practice and his members just because you’re foolish enough to– “Hey. Stop. I know what you’re thinking. No need to feel bad. I’m actually glad I get to rest with you.”

“But–”

“No buts. The kids can do without me for a day.” He playfully bumps his forehead against yours, his lips hover above yours merely centimeters apart. He doesn’t meet your lips, though he kisses their corner sweetly and wraps you back into his embrace to the point where there’s no space between you two. “Sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Good night, Cheol.”

“Night, baby.”

“See you in my dream?”

“I’ll see you anywhere you want me to be.”

He hugs you tighter, and you try your best to return the gesture despite the awkward position of your arms. It’s uncomfortable and you’re sure your arms will be sore the next morning.

But you wouldn’t have it any other way. Not when you succumb to sleep and find Seungcheol smiling at you on the other side of your dream, as real as he can be.

cont.

#seventeen scenarios #seungcheol scenarios #seungcheol imagines #scoups fluff #seungcheol oneshot #seungcheol fluff #seventeen fluff #seventeen fic #seventeen scenario #seventeen au #seungcheol angst #seventeen angst #scoups angst #seventeen imagines #scoups scenarios #scoups imagines

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tenswrld · 1 year ago

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true romance

popstar!haechan x upcomingartist!reader, angst, fluff

summary: haechan's the world's boyfriend — and yours too, i guess.

word count: 4.1k

listen to: true romance - pinkpantheress

a/n: first, sorry that its been so long...im trying to be better about writing but inspiration comes and goes,,i hope you will indulge in whatever this is!!! everytime i hear this song my mind goes to haechan for some reason sooo yeah >_< i have lots of drafts its just a matter of when or if i finish them LOL love yall tho & enjoy

•°. *࿐

tell me, do you view me the same or do you call me a stranger?

"leave a bit after me so no one sees."

haechan is popular — without a doubt one of the most popular artists of your time. everyone either wants to be him or be with him, to which you completely understand. everything about him screams someone who was born to be on a stage, stealing hearts and whatnot. with such a bright personality, it was almost impossible to not like him.

you've had the privilege of getting to watch haechan grow from singing songs he wrote in his bedroom on youtube to him performing them in sold out shows. you're a fan, of course, but somewhere along the way — with crazy luck — you've wiggled your way into his life and into his heart. the two of you were music artists wishing on every star for some kind of breakthrough to the industry (take a guess on who got it). naturally, it brought you together. you were there when haechan reached 5,000 subscribers, and you were still there when he was selling out shows to 50,000 people. you've stuck by his side for so long that you're sure that its where you fit best.

in the moment, however, you're not so sure anymore.

"leave a bit after me so no one sees."

the small smile on your face slowly disappears at haechan's words and hurt quickly settles into your chest. "...why? what would be so bad about that?"

haechan seems unable to grasp how upset you are at his words. he shakes his head with a small laugh. "it's not like that, y/n. but a scandal at this time wouldn't be good."

"a scandal?" you scoff slightly. "since when have you ever cared about that?"

he sighs and runs a hand through his hair that's still slightly wet from his post-performance sweat. "i just don't want to take any risks right now. especially since my album is coming out soon. you understand, right?"

"i fly all the way out here to see you, and you don't want to be seen with me?" you say with a trembling lip and a weak voice. you're hurt and you're angry, but can't seem to keep your tears at bay.

"i didn't say that."

"you might as well have," you spit back at him.

"let's talk about this later, okay? trust me, it would be a lot worse for you than it would for me." haechan picks up his bag and swings it over his shoulder, making his way towards the backstage exit door.

frozen in place overwhelmed with emotion, you watch your boyfriend open the door. you think he's had a change of heart when he pauses at the door and turns back to you, but somehow he's managed to hurt you even more.

"maybe you should take these too," he says, placing the bouquet you made him back into your hold. the smell of roses and sunflowers taking over your senses as more tears well up in your eyes. you hope the flowers hide them from haechan's gaze. though, you're not so sure he'd notice anyway, as he'd already let the door close and left you behind.

•°. *࿐

'cause, baby, i don't care about the fame

people talk. as an upcoming music artist, you're aware that people talk. as the (hidden) girlfriend of a global superstar, you're more than aware that people love to talk about anything and everything that doesn't concern them.

you and haechan aren't on the same level of fame — not that it matters to you. it never mattered to you, really. even as haechan grew and grew and you remained with your significantly smaller (but still decent) following, fame was never your strongest desire.

yet, now, you're wondering that maybe if you were just a bit more famous, more popular, more well known, then you wouldn't feel as far away from haechan as you do right now. even as he sits beside you on the king bed of the luxury suite he booked for this stop of his tour, you feel further away from him then ever.

"i mean, what would people say about us, y/n? about you?"

"you keep saying that, hyuck, but you're not explaining it to me," you say, growing frustrated with him. "why is it just about me?"

he purses his lips before averting his gaze to the floor. "they'll say nasty stuff about you — that you're using me for fame, or money, or something like that."

you shake your head. "but you and i both know that's not true. we've been together for how many years now? their words shouldn't matter." you take hold of his hand and rub your thumb against his knuckles. "you could have nothing and i'd still be here."

"people don't know that," he scoffs. "they'll assume the worst about you."

maybe he's right — you're sure they will assume the worst about you regardless of your long, deep history with haechan. would he start to believe them? you think it, but you don’t ask — too afraid of the answer you might receive.

"what are you so afraid of?" you ask him softly, begging him with your mind for him to look at you.

but he doesn't, his eyes stayed trained on the ground and he can only weakly squeeze your hand that holds onto his own.

"i don't know."

•°. *࿐

tell me, why i don't play about you

every song is about you

haechan finally has a short break in between the legs of his tour and he chooses to spend every waking moment of it with you.

things between the two of you have felt rocky for a while. it makes haechan ashamed to say it, but he's been so focused on tour and his new album that he's pushed everything else to the side. he's a perfectionist and he feels like he's barely made it — he wants everything to work out perfectly and is committed to making sure that happens. he's not sure how long he's been brushing off anything non-career related, but he misses you — even if you're with him.

he flys the two of you out to a small, quaint place in kyoto where he finally gets to enjoy some peace and quiet in his life. he chooses to turn off his phone, not too keen with the idea of his manager berating him about all his responsibilities he'll have to tend to when he gets back. he's on vacation and he's here with you: the one person who's been with him through every up and down.

you're laying in his arms and haechan misses you to the point where it hurts — when was the last time he laid with you like this? the revelation urges him to pull you closer, placing a soft kiss to the crown of your head as you lay on his chest. he sighs into your hair, breathing all of you in. it's silent, for the most part, until you ask a question that rattles haechan's being.

"why do you not sing about me?" you ask it so softly that haechan almost misses it.

"what? what are you talking about?" he's genuinely confused as to what you mean. who do you think he sings about?

"i know a handful of your old old songs are about me, but you don't perform those anymore," you murmur into his chest. "ah, don't mind me, i'm just talking."

you sound embarrassed and defeated and haechan wants to cry. did you really not know? how long has he been pushing you away?

"y/n, every single song i write is about you," haechan professes. "i couldn't write about anyone else if i tried."

his words shock you, even if they shouldn't. you tilt your head up to look up at him and he looks down at you with the softest gaze.

"not that i ever would, anyway," he continues, a sad smile painting his face.

"you mean it?" you whisper to him, wanting so badly to believe him.

when haechan's resolve breaks and his eyes glaze over, you know he means it. his hold on you tightens with one hand and the other comes up to caress your cheek, swiping a tear you didn't even know had fallen.

"of course," he croaks. "you're my muse, y/n. you."

this time, you're wiping his tears away as he cries and cries into your palms. you shift the two of you so that he lies in between your legs, arms wrapped around your waist and face buried into your torso, your hands running through his hair. he's apologizing over and over and doesn't say why, but you know why. you regret ever doubting haechan's love for you — even if he was to blame.

but, just as you're certain you love him more than anything, you know that haechan loves you back all the same.

"it's always been you, y/n."

•°. *࿐

and everybody’s shouting out your name

“you look too handsome to be pouting like that, you know,” you tease lightly, approaching haechan to adjust his tie fondly.

he can’t help but smile at you as you do so, his hands easily finding their place around your waist, tugging you close. “if you tell me to stay, i will.”

you sigh and place your hands upon his chest, allowing you to push yourself up to place a soft kiss on his lips. his lips trail after yours once you pull away and he pouts at you again, eyes begging for another kiss but you push him back ever so slightly.

“you can’t miss this, hyuck, you know that. this could be really big for you!” you beam, swiping a bit of your lip gloss off of his lips. “some important people might be there.”

“but you won’t be there,” he whines. “what’s the point?”

you roll your eyes playfully. “you’ll be fine. now go, your manager has been waiting.” haechan sighs and leans down to place one more kiss on your lips.

you pull away before he can get carried away. “go! and put a good word in for me with taeyong, yeah?”

haechan rolls his eyes but smiles at you, pecking you on the cheek as he bids you farewell. “no promises.”

ੈ♡˳

it’s barely been over an hour and haechan wants to leave.

normally he’s able to tolerate these sorts of things — the bright lights, loud music, snobby people all trying to one up each other. he can get by and chat with anyone as if he’s known them for years. typically, events like these breeze by for haechan. why was he hating every second of it?

it’s lee taeyong’s end of year celebration party. of course, as his junior, haechan was invited. he’s grateful that he’s made friends with lots of other artists under his company, otherwise haechan would have been long gone within the first 45 minutes of arriving. but, haechan stays, mostly because he admires taeyong and does, in fact, bring up you and your songs — which, to his surprise, taeyong says he knows you and enjoys your music.

haechan isn’t given the chance to talk more, unfortunately, due to an excited kim jungwoo who locks an arm around haechan’s shoulder and drags him away.

“ow — hyung! i was in the middle of a conversation!” haechan grits to jungwoo, lightly shoving his arm off of him.

“my bad, it looked like you needed saving,” jungwoo chuckles. “come on, everyone’s been looking for you.”

jungwoo leads haechan to a small circle of people to which haechan knows as his small circle of friends: mark, his company's beloved canadian rapper; johnny suh, one of seoul's most popular djs; and of course there's kim jungwoo, kim doyoung, and jeong jaehyun who make up dojaejung, korea's heartthrob boy group.

"yo, where have you been?" mark greets him excitedly, lightly slapping him on the shoulder playfully.

"what do you mean 'where have i been', i saw you yesterday, mark," haechan grumbles.

"woah, someone needs a drink," johnny chuckles. doyoung is quick to hand haechan a glass of champagne.

haechan takes a large gulp, hopefully to ease whatever tension he feels in his shoulders. he's trying to enjoy the party, he really is, but all he wants to do is come home to you.

"everything okay?" doyoung asks him, concerned with the way haechan seems to be downing his drink.

the younger boy sighs. "yeah, i'm fine, sorry. just stressed out."

"oh, your album is coming out soon, right?" jungwoo remembers, nudging haechan with his elbow. "congratulations!"

the rest of the boys congratulate him and haechan can only half-heartedly reply despite being very grateful.

"i'm sure it'll be great," johnny reassures him.

"saw a lot of love songs on that track list," jungwoo teases. "got a special someone?"

haechan stills at his words and he's caught in an argument with himself. does he mention you? does he say no? is this how he wants people to find out you’re together? before he can even reply, though, jaehyun cuts in.

"speaking of, i heard that kim minjeong has had her eye on you for a while, haechan," jaehyun says. he raises his eyebrows at the younger boy and haechan gulps, the rest of his friends nudging him playfully as they coo at him.

"that's the model, right? and singer?" doyoung asks. "you should talk to her!"

haechan feels like he's going to be sick. maybe he's being dramatic — its not like they're shoving him into minjeong's face and asking him to profess his love. still, he feels like he's betraying you in some way and he realizes he has to go home.

"i can talk you up, probably," mark says. "we're normally at the studio at the same time."

“i heard that shin ryujin has been talking about you, too,” johnny pipes in. “honestly, who hasn’t been talking about you? i’m surprised you’ve done nothing about it.”

doyoung hums. “she seems like your type, donghyuck! i know some people over at —“

"no! no, don't — " haechan places his champagne glass onto a nearby table abruptly and sighs shakily. "just...don't. sorry, i-i don't feel well. i should go."

confused and concerned eyes watch haechan as he rushes towards the nearest exit. he doesn't bother saying goodbye to taeyong, but makes a mental note to send him an apologetic note tomorrow. haechan sees kim minjeong catch sight of him, and he's sure she's about to make an attempt to stop him to chat with the way she looks at him with a flirty gaze. haechan is quick to turn in the opposite direction and flees out of the nearest door.

haechan's manager comes out soon behind him, frenzied after trying to catch up to a frantic haechan. he doesn't get the chance to ask the latter if he's okay, too occupied with calling their driver upon haechan's request.

"home," he chokes out. he's out of breath and he feels dizzy — whether its from the champagne or from guilt, he's unsure.

"i want to go home."

•°. *࿐

i'm in the crowd, can you see my hand?

haechan has reached the encore of his final show of his tour, yet he still feels a pressure that he cannot explain.

its not from all of his seniors and friends that attended in support of him, he knows that. it's not from the different producers and music artists that flew to seoul for him, either. its a pressure that weighs on his chest that has made him feel unsatisfied with each stage, despite putting 150% effort in everything.

the crowd is going crazy for him after he delivers his final ment, and he takes a moment to soak in it all, in hopes it would give him some peace of mind.

then, his eyes finally spot you.

you, in the back row of some random section, sitting with your manager, with a banner with his name on it and a headband with bear ears perched on top of your head. he doesn't know if you can tell that he's staring right at you, but you start waving around the banner with excitement. haechan can't help but adore you even more than he already does.

time stops for him as he realizes that you're here. through thick and thin you've always been there — what has haechan ever done for you? he hasn't given you even a sliver of what you deserve, yet you've never left him. you stayed when he was a nobody, and even now when he's been terribly selfish, you let him be.

there are thousands of other hands waving at him, but haechan can only see yours.

"actually," haechan starts, quickly silencing the crowd. "there's one more thing i wanted to say."

from your seat, you feel your heartbeat quicken. haechan is still standing and looking into your direction and you know he sees you.

"there's someone very special to me that's here tonight."

your heart stops as you realize what he's doing and you can't help but glance at your manager in a panic. fans around you are murmuring in confusion since haechan had already given a shoutout to his guests.

"they've been by my side since i was writing silly love songs in my childhood bedroom," haechan says, a fond smile taking over his features. "i wrote those love songs about them then, and i still write every love song about them now."

the gasps and shocked noises at his confession fall upon deaf ears — to you, you and haechan are the only two people in the world.

"some of you may know her — she's an amazing music artist as well. far better than me, in my opinion, but maybe i'm a bit biased." haechan sees you laugh and can't help but chuckle too.

"my girlfriend, y/n, is here tonight, and i couldn't be more grateful. wave, y/n!" haechan calls out to you. surprisingly, the camera cuts to you as you wave shyly, hiding behind your haechan banner. even more surprising, the crowd cheers loudly for you.

"isn't she cute?" haechan asks. he's delighted when he sees and hears the rest of the stadium agree.

haechan finally feels that weight lift from off of his chest and he feels like he can breathe. he's happy — ecstatic, even — now that the world finally knows he's yours.

"y/n, you once asked me what i was afraid of, and i said i didn't know," haechan recalls gently. "but i know now." he purses his lips to prevent himself from choking up.

"you've always been so supportive of everything i've done. you've done so much for me and i'm not sure how i could ever repay you." haechan sucks in a sharp breath. "i'm afraid that i'll never truly deserve you."

the crowd coos and some fans in front of you turn around to look at you. you're a mess: tears are streaming down your face, and your hands are shaking. you hide pathetically behind your banner again as your manager wraps a comforting arm around your shoulder.

"i'm sorry for making you wait." haechan puts a hand over his heart, and you do the same. "i love you."

the camera cuts to you again and haechan glances at the monitor to get a better look at you as you mouth something back. haechan doesn't even attempt to conceal his smile or to hold back his tears. there's no use.

"i love you, too."

•°. *࿐

say what you want, this is true romance

“did you really have to mention that, hyuck?”

your boyfriend settles next to you on the couch, arm draping over your shoulder, as you scroll through his recent interview with vogue korea.

you pout at him and he's unable to stop the smile that takes over his face. he pinches your cheek and you quickly swat his hand away.

"what? what did i say?" he rests his chin on your shoulder to read the article for himself.

"i mean, does the public really have to know about me crying on our first date?" you complained. you continued scrolling and laughed as you read. "in what context would you ever have to tell vogue about our matching crayon shin-chan pajama pants?"

haechan laughs and presses a kiss to your shoulder. "honestly, i don't remember half of what i said during this interview. or any of what they asked me." he tugs you a little closer to him so that you're leaning against him, laying the two of you down. "all i know is that i'm pretty sure i started talking about you so much that they just called it a day."

"you're that obsessed with me, huh?" you teased.

haechan scoffs, wrapping both of his arms around you tightly. "obviously."

he watches you open instagram and sees you check the likes on your new post. he gasps dramatically, loosening one arm around you to snatch his phone from his pocket. "you posted?! where was my post notification?" he whines cutely.

he's a little too quick to find your account and he then quadruple clicks the picture to give it a like. "babe, why are your comments off? i was about to get really out of pocket," haechan whines again.

"okay, first, don't do that, please. save some of your dignity," you scold him. "but its because people are mean," you admit softly.

haechan's eyebrows furrow together and his tone stiffens. "who? what did they say?"

you sigh. "no one specific, don't worry. some people are just not too keen about us. your predictions were right, i guess," you attempt to joke, but it only makes haechan upset.

"here, come here," haechan beckons you up with him as he sits up. you're still under one of his arms, which he locks around your neck as he tugs you into his side. you're caught off guard, but lean into him anyway, arms wrapped around his torso. haechan lifts his phone up and takes selfies of the two of you, cheeks pressed together as you both smile uncontrollably.

you're both giggling like two high schoolers fresh into a relationship and you've never felt more happy and in love in your life. haechan presses wet kisses against your cheek before you eventually push his face away. still, he steals one more kiss from you — this time on your lips — and you let him.

"okay, i'm posting all of these," haechan declares casually, leaning back against the couch.

your eyes widen and you reach for his phone in an attempt to stop him, but haechan has already dodged you and raised his hand up. "hyuck, don't."

"why not? i'm in love with you, people just have to deal with it," he shrugs. "anyone who has a problem with us can get blocked."

you fall onto haechan's chest and he gladly wraps you up in his arms again. "you're stupid, but i love you."

"good, because i just posted it."

you peer up at haechan's phone and you see that he was true to his word. all of the selfies you just took piled into one singular post to which haechan captioned 'my heart'. you watch as he scrolls through the comments and blocks anyone with anything bad to say.

"wow, you weren't kidding," you say, amused.

"'course not. these people need to learn true romance." he leans down to kiss you one more time, this time letting the kiss linger. he pulls away but rests his forehead against yours, staring at you with eyes full of love. "i love you, too, by the way."

ੈ♡˳

haechan is popular — without a doubt, he's one of the most sought after guys in the industry. he's confident, charismatic, and he's bright. he's everyone's dream guy, it's no secret.

but, above all, he's yours, and you're his as well. he has devoted his heart and life to you and its not a secret to anyone anymore.

this time around, haechan wraps you up in his scarf to protect you from the cold before the two of you leave.

"i already have a scarf on, hyuck, just keep yours," you mumble from underneath the thick fabric.

haechan doesn't hear you (not just because he literally can't) because he's too focused on zipping up your jacket and tugging your beanie over your ears.

"okay," he says as he intertwines a hand in yours. he clutches the bouquet you made for him proudly in his other arm while he carries your bag and his own over his shoulder. "let's go home!"

its bittersweet as you realize how familiar yet different the situation is. you clutch haechan's hand tighter as he tugs you towards the backstage exit door, outside where the press and his fans are waiting.

he doesn't hide you anymore. no, instead haechan shows you off proudly and wholeheartedly as if it was what he was meant to do.

#bitch im back #nct 127 #nct dream #nct #nct fluff #nct angst #haechan x reader #lee donghyuck #lee haechan #donghyuck x reader #haechan fluff #haechan angst #donghyuck fluff #donghyuck angst #haechan oneshots #nct haechan

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cottonlemonade · 11 months ago

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The One That Got Away

word count: 1153 || avg. reading time: 5 mins.

pairing: post-time skip ex-boyfriend!Iwaizumi x chubby!Reader (feat. Seijoh 4)

genre: fluff, exes to lovers

warnings: spoilers, like one suggestive line

synopsis: Upon his return to Japan Hajime runs into his ex. Although the breakup was necessary and with no hard feelings, Hajime has never been able to get over you.

In an attempt to show off some more impressive, foreign cooking skills he had picked up in California, Hajime decided to make spaghetti, and so typed up a list before grocery shopping, double and triple checking to make sure he had everything. For a while there he had thought back and forth about the appropriateness of just inviting you over like that. When he met you at a café earlier this week he first thought he was hallucinating. But when you felt his stare as you were waiting in line for your drink you recognized him instantly and struck up a conversation - asking how he had been and what it was like to be a high profile trainer for the national team. Had you kept up with him like he had with you? During his time abroad, whenever he felt homesick he would check what his friends were up to and ultimately his social media scrolling always brought him back to you. Seeing you doing so well at your job and enjoying evenings out with your friends made him happy. And his heart always skipped a beat when you posted a short video and he could see you smile and hear you talk and laugh and he could pretend he was there with you. It was one of the hardest decisions of his life to break it off with you even though it had been ridiculously amicable. Every once in a while he had been tempted to text you, ask you how you were and if you missed him even just a fraction as much as he missed you. So without thinking, that Tuesday at the café he had asked if you’d like to come to dinner at his place to catch up. At that moment he thought it sounded too forward, just inviting you to his apartment rather than take you to a nice restaurant. Maybe even your favorite from back when you were dating. But you had beamed and agreed.

And tonight he would be alone with you at his place. The thought sent a strange tingle through his body. But he wasn't intending to do anything so there was nothing to be scandalized about. You were two adults having dinner and talking. He ignored Matsukawa’s text with a link to his Best Make Out Playlist, shaking his head at the mental image it planted and instead concentrated on finding the right wine.

After grocery shopping he went to pick up dessert at a bakery he remembered you loved and drove home to get ready.

Training that morning had been very chaotic. Not only did Matsukawa and Hanamaki accompany him and hadn‘t stopped wanting to role play different romantic scenarios as Hajime was stretching but even worse they ganged up on him and only too readily tried to give him advice on the art of seduction. The further along their gym session went, the more they began making unnecessary kissing noises whenever the lyrics of the songs playing over the speakers were getting suggestive.

"You might wanna…"

Hajime looked down on himself to where Oikawa was gesturing and zipped up his jeans. His friend was in Japan for a few weeks to visit his family.

Leaning in the door frame, his former captain had only made one “helpful” comment after the other since he was in a successful relationship that was already going almost 50 days (and thus deemed himself a love expert), while he - Hajime - hadn't been in a relationship in years.

"You want me to stay here? Break the ice? Talk you up?"

Hajime glared at him in the mirror.

"Alright alright, didn't say anything. Can you drop me off somewhere before she gets here?"

The younger one sighed and threw a sharp look at his friend.

"You know, somehow I don't believe a national player is that broke that he can‘t afford a taxi."

Oikawa quickly put on a hurt expression then switched topics.

“Who are you meeting anyway? Anyone I know?”

Hajime avoided his eyes and Oikawa grinned as the realization hit.

“Y/n-chan?”, he teased.

Hajime didn’t respond, just took off his shirt and tried on a different one.

“Well, I gotta hand it to you, Iwa-chan. You really are playing the long game.”

“Shut up.”

Oikawa did, in fact, not shut up.

“It’s been what? 10 years since High School and you’re still not over her?”

“I told you to shut up, Shittykawa.”

“But this is too much fun. Have you been pining for her this whole time? Did you keep in contact after graduation? - She was so chubby in High School, it was really cute. Is she still chubby? Gotta make things fun when you’re alone. You can really hold on there while -“

“Go back to your hotel.”

Oikawa gasped, theatrically.

“I’m only here for two more weeks, Iwa-chan. Don’t you wanna spend time with me?“

Hajime closed his bedroom door and heard a satisfying bonk when the wood hit his friend‘s face.

__________

You felt Hajime brush a kiss to your shoulder and his arm snake around your tummy. Letting out a sleepy, raspy-voiced Good Morning he buried his face in the crook of your neck and breathed you in.

You turned to face him, blanket rustling, and snuggled your barely dressed form against his. Interlacing his fingers with yours he brought your wrist to his lips.

He rolled you onto your back so he was now on top of you, taking in this much adored sight before him with a dreamy expression. Then he sank lower to press a handful of sweet kisses against your forehead, nose, cheeks and lips before settling down with his head resting on your chest, ready for another round of snoozing. He made a happy sort of grumble when you played with his hair.

For a while you laid there in content silence, brimming with happiness, then a series of dings came from the nightstand. They were only a few at first, far enough apart for Hajime to ignore them. But when they grew in frequency he asked you to hand him his phone.

“Something important? Do you have to go?”, you asked, really hoping the answer would be No.

“Ugh, it’s just the others. They wanna know how our dinner went.”

You giggled. “Well…”

Hajime chuckled too, hugging you tighter with his free arm, while the other quickly scanned the increasingly annoying texts of his friends.

He typed a few words, then dropped the phone next to you, propping himself up to kiss you again.

The message pings now blew up, barely leaving a few seconds in between.

“Oh my god!”, he groaned, his lips against your neck, “Tell them to leave me alone.”

He didn’t stop kissing you when you reached for his phone. You didn’t bother reading all the incoming messages. You just wrote “he’s busy” and turned it to silent.

a/n: He 100% used that playlist but will never admit it.

#iwaizumi hajime x chubby reader #haikyuu x chubby reader #iwaizumi x chubby reader #chubby reader #haikyuu fluff #iwaizumi haijime x reader #iwaizumi x you #iwaizumi fluff #hq iwaizumi #iwaizumi x reader #haikyuu iwaizumi #iwaizumi hajime #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x curvy reader

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aft4rhours · 2 months ago

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Hey guys! 🩷 Thank you so much for your asks and messages 🩷

Honestly I just wanna get something off my chest. Someone asked me if I'm leaving or using a new blog. Both? I made a new blog, but somehow the thought of coming back here still feels so uncomfortable. And I realised it's because I addressed and worked through the 'hate' part and all.

But... there is also an issue I have had with my own readers that I didn't expect to have.

Look, there is absolutely nothing wrong with having your kinks and all. My blog itself is pretty crazy.

But... it's fictional.

It seems not only 'haters' can't separate reality from fiction, but sometimes readers too.

There is a reason I have never called my blog a "kink blog" (again, nothing wrong with that!), but rather stuck to horror.

I have talked about this before but as my interest in darker shows and works grew, I wanted to write a horror story and I realised I had no idea how to, because I have spent all my life writing pg 13 romance and fantasy 😭

I wanted to get out of my comfort zone and challenge myself. So I jumped into deep waters with requests, hoping for inspiration, and for the first time tried writing horror AND smut.

I love storytelling, I love exploring new things in writing, so even though the smut part is so big on my blog, I always give my characters personalities and back stories (at least I try lmao) and dive into their mental state because... I love writing.

And I did always want my blog to be a safe space for everyone... but that's including myself.

And I feel like some people just.... I'm sorry I'm just gonna say it.

What do you mean you want a fic based on the The Burning Sun Scandal. WHAT DO YOU MEAN. 😭 What do you mean you want me to write about your cousin. 😭😭

Am I crazy??? That's a REAL tragedy, guys, and it's so fucking upsetting and disrespectful to the survivors. And no one even stops to think the author might be upset or triggered bc they're a survivor too or bc this is, again, A REAL TRAGEDY????

It's like watching murder on a screen. It doesn't affect you the same way a real life murder with a real victim would! But it might still be too upsetting or violent so warnings exist for that.

"Um you write non con that happens in real life too" absolutely. But I am not getting inspo from REAL CASES involving REAL PEOPLE and real trauma. The people, places, events, are MADE UP, and if any feelings or situations are inspired by experiences, they're MY OWN experiences, and even then my work is far from reality.

I am not glorifying Dahmer and writing smut about him ok?

😭😭😭

And the thing is we talked about this before and I thought I made that super clear on my blog, always.

If it wasn't before, then I guess this is the post I'm gonna have to pin somewhere.

I just... I expected this from the tea blog clowns, who are shocked a writer writes fictional non con but advocates for real victims 😭 Like you write about war and suddenly you're a real life dictator. 😭

It's OK to make mistakes and learn. I'm just so so so tired of dealing with people who don't care to learn and it almost makes me feel bad for writing here. I know I can't be responsible for my readers and I can't control who follows me. But just.

If it wasn't clear before. Even though I have this in my intro post.

I'm sorry if you were looking for something else, there are other blogs for that. I'm just a writer writing fictional stories.

The only Burning Sun Scandal fic I would ever write would be with all the men getting, literally, burned to death. 💀

Anyway. Sorry, I had to get that out, I feel like I have had so much to deal with on this blog and I'm just working through it.

Take care of yourselves 🩷 hope you're all staying warm and eating well.

I will be back around to check in soon, maybe edit a fic? Who knows, maybe getting this out will make me feel better. Love you sm 🩷🫂

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kvothbloodless · 4 months ago

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Looking into the business side of the UHC shooting has really shifted my perspective on how to approach the practicalities of "greedy" businesses and similar things. To be clear, it hasn't in any way affected (and thus I'm not at all talking about) the purely moral side of things.

Disclaimers: Obviously for profit healthcare is morally repugnant, etc. etc. Please do not yell at me about the morality of private healthcare or how this entire post is evil because I'm discussing the situation at hand rather than the ideal world where we have public healthcare. Also, while I've done a decent amount of research over the past few days, I am still the furthest thing from an expert here, so please take everything I say with a heaping handful of salt, and feel encouraged to correct me if I make any dumb mistakes. Also also, most of this was realized by talking with friends, I did not just have an epiphany on my own.

That aside though, I've been looking at profit margins, and what contributes to costs. Mostly for the healthcare industry (insurance, hospitals, pharma, etc.) but I think this applies to most businesses (at least in America; this entire post is from a very American perspective). To vastly oversimplify, there are two types of corporate "greed", and the general categories of possible solutions look different.

The first is the one that Tumblr seems to treat as the only category, the one that we’re all thinking of when we say "corporate greed". This is where companies fuck over their customers/public to make big numbers even bigger, so they can keep expanding, make shareholders absurd amounts of money, etc (even this isn't actually that simple, but it is relatively kinda simple). This kind of greed can be affected/"fixed" by public pushback, government regulations, etc. Pharma companies fall into this category. The industry average for profit margins for pharma corps is in the large double digits, somewhere upwards of 50% (and to be clear that's taking into account the genuinely massive amounts of money they're investing into research and development, just to head off that line of argument). If a drug company is price gouging on a medication and it becomes a public scandal, they can easily afford to cut the price by A Lot, and still make a profit overall. If you pass laws that simply impose stricter regulations on production, or that cap prices, the companies will object and grumble and try to get around them, because that's what companies do. But at the end of the day, it's theoretically possible to just tell them to cut that shit out, and they Can do it.

Critically though, at least in healthcare, this is Not the category health insurance falls into. Nor most healthcare! This category only applies to businesses with a decent profit margin; the industry average for profit margins for both health insurance and hospitals is in the low single digits (and even though the executives are obviously insanely overpaid and ridiculously greedy, they still account for only a tiny fraction of these companies' budgets! Slashing the pay and bonuses of execs is not going to solve this problem)! Yes they're making Billions of dollars, but they're also spending billions. “Necessary” spending. We can discuss and debate Why this is the case (though it seems clear to me that the main culprits are massive inefficiency due to lack of centralization and the artificial, imposed scarcity on the number of new doctors and medical facilities), but I'm not interested in that here.

My point here is that, while obviously the execs of United Healthcare are greedy bastards willing to screw people over to make an extra .1% profit, the current system is set up such that they sort of have to be (again, this is not a moral justification). Like, the money has to come from somewhere! In the absence of government subsidies, a private insurance company is operating pretty close to the razors edge; if UHC wants to accept more claims, they've got to have higher premiums, or screw over their own employees across the board, or make up the money somewhere else (and again, slashing exec salaries and bonuses will not make a big dent here). This means that they are Not going to be nearly as amenable to public pushback, and even simple government regulations won't really work. If the government told UHC that they needed to accept more claims without raising premiums a corresponding amount (or slash all employees' salaries, etc.), then either UHC will find a way around those new regulations, or they will go bankrupt, and everyone they insured will have to go buy insurance from another company that did one of those other things.

While you Can rightfully still call this behavior greedy, it seems to me an obviously different Type of greed compared to the first category. It's a sort of systemically Enforced greed, rather than one owing to any given board's choices. Like, in the absence of single payer healthcare (obviously a better option), insurance companies Must be horrible and greedy because if they are not they will stop being a functioning company. And you can't really pass the buck! The profit margins for medical facilities and specialists and such are all equally small. This isn't a situation where you can say "well the insurance companies are unnecessary", because healthcare (in its current form, in the USA) itself is pretty expensive to pay for!

Prices are negotiated between a healthcare facility and each insurance corporation, so it gets a bit more complicated, but at the end of the day, these businesses rely on both the reliable but individually lower income from insurance companies, and the sporadic but insane price gouging they charge for people without insurance. And this sucks! But that doesn't change the fact that if you tell a hospital or whatever that they must significantly reduce how much they charge for, say, an MRI, or even an annual checkup, then they must either find a way to charge more elsewhere and make it up; they must fire employees or lower wages, lowering the quality of care; or they will go out of business. They just don't have a large enough profit margin to handle any sort of significant reduction in income.

Aha! I hear you say. While slashing executives salaries and bonuses wouldn't put a dent in expenses, slashing doctor's salaries would! And you'd be correct, to a degree. However, doctors have massive amounts of medical debt, and also regularly work 12+ hour shifts. Until that changes, significantly reducing their salaries (and it would need to be a Large reduction to make a useful dent in costs) is an extremely thorny issue.

So where am I going with this? No idea, to be honest. Except to say that, issues with murder and such aside, putting the fear of god into insurance CEOs quite literally Cannot make a major difference long or even medium-term. They simply do not have enough profit margin to play around with. As I said way earlier, this is not the sort of corporate greed that can be significantly "fixed" by public action or simple government regulations; without a major change in the entire system, private insurance companies are fairly essential to people getting decent healthcare, and those companies are obligated to be awful and greedy, or they will go bankrupt. I know I'm coming dangerously close to mentioning game theory and summoning Moloch, though this is really a couple levels below that, so I'll stop here.

Oh, except to say that, if you're dead set on shooting a CEO, go for a pharma corp one rather than health insurance.

#long post #posts taking place entirely up my own asshole #uhc #healthcare #hey guys did i put in enough clarifications to avoid being killed by an angry mob?#tracking

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ladykailitha · 1 year ago

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Not All That Glitters is Gold Part 14

I'm thinking about writing an epilogue/sequel to this because after reading the ending, I feel like I've cheated you out of something special, but the story feels like it should have ended after the rut. So let me know in the comments if you would like see the bonding and birth of their first child.

First of two chapters being posted today.

The after party. Tommy makes an appearance and Chrissy comes to rescue...well so do everyone in Stevie's corner, but especially her.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

****

The after party was buzzing with the who’s who of the industry. Producers and artists mingled with label execs and the best escorts Starcourt had to offer.

Steve had been invited to a couple of these in his time and always had fun.

Eddie was talking to this beautiful actress in a long purple and black gown. She had song on the soundtrack of her latest movie, surprising a lot of people with her vocal talents in addition to her acting.

Steve gulped down a bit of champagne to chase the bile of jealousy that he had forced back down.

“Well if it isn’t, Steve Harrington,” a cool voice said behind him.

Steve schooled his expression and turned around.

There was Tommy Hagan.

It had been a lovely couple of months where they hadn’t run into each at an event at all.

Steve smiled. “Hey, Tommy, you working a client or just the room tonight?”

When Starcourt supplied omegas to after parties like this one, they were allowed to network to get new clients. So not only were they paid well, they could bring in even more money by picking up new clients.

“He doesn’t love you, you know,” Tommy sneered. “This is all stunt to take the attention off of the fact that he fucked up with two omegas and nearly caused a scandal for the label both times.”

Steve knew that was the reason for the ‘fake dating’ contract. It was his business to know. “What’s the matter, Tommy? Upset that I get to fuck your favorite rockstar? You must have been so livid when you found out that I got invited to their charity gala and you didn’t.”

“You think you’re so special getting a million dollar cherry pop price,” Tommy snapped. “But that just means that you had to stay longer to pay it off, stupid.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Yes, and I made that my first year. I didn’t have to stay, but I know my worth, sweetie. And it is a hell of a lot more than a million dollars.”

“You’ve got your claws in him now,” Tommy hissed, “but he’ll figure out that you’re as shallow as your intelligence.”

Steve flushed and Tommy smirked, knowing he hit the mark. The one thing that Steve was always worried about and that was coming across as the dumb bunny.

“I’m not stupid,” he whispered harshly. “Just because I haven’t gone to fancy schools doesn’t mean I’m dumb.”

Tommy laughed cruelly. “Look around you, Steve. This is all you’ll ever have. All you’ll know. You’re only worth is what’s between your legs, not what’s between your ears.”

Tears stung at the corner of Steve’s eyes.

Then there was a warm arm that slid around his waist and Steve leaned into the embrace.

“You okay, baby?” Eddie murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

“Much better now that you’re here,” Steve whispered back, nuzzling the under side of his throat.

“Stevie and I were just having a little chat,” Tommy said all false smiles, “weren’t we?”

Steve pressed further into Eddie’s side.

Eddie scoffed. “I heard what you were saying, it’s why I came over.”

Tommy blanched. “What?”

“And I did not like what you said at all.” He kissed Steve soundly on the lips. “Troy and Robin are waiting for you, babe. They’ll take you somewhere where you can calm down and I’ll be right behind you, okay?”

Steve nodded and went right into the waiting arms of Robin, Troy covering Steve from behind so no one could see how upset he was.

“You’re Tommy Hagan, right?” Eddie asked, low and menacing.

Tommy nodded.

“I’ve been hearing about your supposed rivalry with Steve from a couple different people tonight.” Eddie’s tone grew even darker.

Tommy opened his mouth, but Eddie held up his hand to stop him, “And no, Steve was not one of them. From other handlers and escorts. From what I could gather, you’re pissed because he rose to the top of the company faster than you did. He’s prettier, more charming, and better at his job.”

“Think whatever you like,” Tommy scoffed. But the red flush to his cheeks belied his statement.

“And now he’s dating the lead singer of your favorite band and you are just eaten up with envy and jealousy,” Eddie continued. “So you decided to go after Steve’s intelligence knowing it was a soft spot for him. But there are different kinds of intelligence and Steve’s is all emotional. And that’s what makes him brilliant at what he does.”

“Still makes him as dumb as a rock,” Tommy hissed.

Eddie just shook his head. “I’m making a complaint against you with the agency. This is really bad behavior for a Starcourt omega and doesn’t reflect well on them.”

Then Tommy really did pale. All color drained from his face, leaving his freckles more pronounced in the absence of color on his cheeks.

Eddie just shook his head and went in search of Steve.

Troy spotted him first and waved him over to a small alcove where Robin was rubbing Steve’s back as he struggled to calm down.

Eddie knelt in front of him and began rubbing his arms. “Hey, sweetheart. Do you need to leave?”

Steve took in a deep shuddering breath and held in his a moment. “No. Tommy is an ass but I can handle it.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Eddie murmured, caressing Steve’s cheek with his thumb. “With the horrible questions, the sexist alpha, and now this asshole. You admit it affected you and we can go home.”

Steve’s lip quivered. “But what about you, don’t you have to be here?”

“Sweetheart,” Eddie said, cupping his cheeks, “I have been here. I could duck out. The rest of the band is still here as well as Benny and our producer Alexi. They could hold court if you really needed us to go right now.”

“Tommy’s already been reported to management,” Troy said, cradling his ear. “They still want Eddie to make a formal complaint, but they’re pulling Tommy out and replacing him with Chrissy Cunningham.”

Robin nodded. “Elinor and a couple other omegas who were here with actual clients had run afoul of him as well.”

Steve raised his head. “Wait, really? He’s pissed that he was only here to work the room as opposed to being with a client? Is he stupid?”

Troy raised his hand and rocked his fingers back and forth. “The jury is still out on that one.”

Eddie looked back between Troy and Steve in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

“It depends on the client,” Steve said, “but an escort can make $1000-5000 a night. But working a room, you’re paid an five grand plus the chance to pick up future clients. Alphas that aren’t there with anyone who might have an event coming up that would be improved by having an escort. Maybe their rut is coming up soon. Working a room can net an escort closer to ten to fifteen grand.”

Eddie blinked. “Holy shit. Now, I’m wondering how he could be so stupid.”

“I could answer that,” a warm female voice said behind them.

Steve looked up and grinned. “Chrissy!”

Eddie stood up and turned around to see one of the prettiest female omegas he ever seen. Her strawberry blonde hair was artfully pulled back in a wavy bun, highlighting her green eyes and dazzling smile. She wore a pink mermaid tail dress that had feathers on her hips and on the train. She held a matching clutch.

She gave Steve a hug. “I’m sorry Tommy was an douchebag tonight, cher. But I’m here now.”

Steve relaxed, the last bit of tension bleeding from his frame with her casual support.

“So why would d-bag want a client over working the room if the gains are greater working the room?” Eddie asked, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets.

He had changed, too. The tuxedo pants had been replaced by leather ones, and he wore a band tee under a leather jacket. His knee high boots gave him a little extra height on Steve even in his own heels.

Chrissy smiled up at him. “Because if you’re working the room, that means you weren’t good enough to get a client going to the Grammy’s. It’s about the prestige of being with a big name artist. And that clout can’t be bought. Steve here is going to get more requests being at Eddie’s side, then I will from working the room.”

Robin snorted. “Only because Steve’s that hot.”

Steve ducked his head to hide his blush. He really did have the best of friends.

Chrissy giggled. “There’s a little bit to that, sure. But the salient point is that Tommy is jealous because he knows that even with Eddie courting Steve, Steve is going to make a hell of a lot more money than Tommy could hope to dream of in just this year.”

“He was trying to upset the escorts on jobs so that they would leave,” Troy said, “which would free up the clients for those only working the room.”

Steve and Chrissy gave Troy an appraising eyebrow, impressed.

“Sounds about right,” Steve said. “Which means leaving would be giving in to his schemes. Plus, Chrissy is here now. That makes the party way more fun.”

Eddie held out his hand and helped Steve to his feet. “Whatever you want, princess. I am but yours to command.”

Steve wagged his eyebrows. “Something I’ll consider for tonight.”

Robin and Chrissy wolf whistled.

Troy just shook his head. With Robin in tow, Troy melded back into the crowds to keep an eye on Steve from a distance.

Chrissy was introduced to the band. Jeff was immediately smitten by her charms.

He was falling over his feet to impress her.

“Jeffy here writes our music,” Eddie told her and Steve. “I write the lyrics and he turns them into songs. Really I have the easy part. He does all the heavy lifting.”

Gareth, immediately picking up on where Eddie was going with this followed that up with, “Yeah. Which considering he boxes to stay in shape it’s really easy for him.”

“You box?” Chrissy asked, all interest. “Do you actually get in the ring or do you just go up against punching bags to prevent ruining the prettiest face of the band?”

Steve hissed at her, “You take that back! Eddie is the hottest member of the band.”

“Hottest guitarist, maybe,” Elinor huffed. “Hottest member is clearly Gareth.”

The three alphas were starting to growl when Brian stepped in. “Guys, guys. You’re all very pretty. The prettiest. Now can we move on?”

Just when everyone had calmed down, he said, “Besides we all know the best looking one in the band is me!”

His friends dogpiled him and wrestled him to the ground.

Chrissy leaned over to Steve as the four of the tussled. “Do they do this often?”

Steve just shrugged. He hadn’t had the chance to hang out with band yet.

Elinor rolled her eyes. “They are like this all the time. In a minute or so, they’ll get tired, give up and move on like nothing has happened. They’ll straighten their clothes and hair, all the better for it.”

Sure enough they did just that.

Brian looked the worst for wear considering he had been the one under attack, but nothing was torn or out of place and quite quickly they were looking like nothing had happened.

“I love these dorks,” Eddie murmured. “So, so much.”

Steve kissed his cheek. “That’s good, because I think you’re stuck with them, being in a band and all.”

Jeff giggled. “Is he stuck in here with us, or are we stuck in here with him?”

Steve tapped his lips thoughtfully. “Oh, definitely the latter.”

“Hey!” Eddie protested.

Gareth shook his head. “No, no. I’m with Steve on this one. We are definitely stuck in here with you.”

“Traitors,” he muttered darkly.

Steve nuzzled his scent gland and Eddie’s alpha purred. It took every ounce of Steve’s professionalism he had to keep the replying chirp quiet enough that only Eddie could hear.

Eddie grinned. “Just let me make the rounds one more time and then you and I will get out of here.”

Steve nodded and then watched him go. He grabbed another glass of champagne from a passing waiter and downed in one gulp.

Chrissy’s eyes went wide and she slipped her arm through his and murmured, “Come on, cher. Let’s talk, you look like you need it.”

Steve nodded and followed her outside to get some fresh air. Once there he told her all about his night and not just the Tommy fuckery.

“I was standing there already feeling jealous about the gorgeous female omega actress that he was talking to and then Tommy came in and poked at my other biggest insecurity and I just crumpled...”

Chrissy put her arm around his shoulder and laid her head on his chest.

“You’re going to have to decide if that side of his job is going to be worth it, because if you’re freaking out over him just talking to an actress,” she said gently, “how are you going to fare when he goes on tour?”

Steve sighed. It was one of the reasons that Neil never requested to court him. Being on tour all the time, the constantly being away from Steve who was very much of fixture of LA.

“I don’t know,” he admitted softly. “But he stirs something inside me that I have never felt before and it’s addicting. It feels like flying and I worry that I’ll fly too close to the sun and fall.”

“Soar anyway, Steve,” she advised him. “It’s scary and it’s new. But soar anyway. You deserve a chance at happiness, just be sure to tell Eddie when you feel this way. Because he’s not a mind reader. He can’t see what’s happening behind his back.”

Steve frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Eddie was told Tommy was harassing you,” Chrissy said. She held up her hand before Steve could say anything. “Now before you get all in your head thinking that he had to be told to come to your rescue, we both know that’s not true. But he had to be told you were in danger. Because it was happening where he couldn’t see. So you have to tell him when you’re feeling left out or jealous, because if it’s happening where he can’t see, he can’t fix it.”

Steve let out a long sigh. “Yeah, I see what you mean. If I had been more honest about the actress, Eddie would have already been by my side and maybe Tommy would have still approached or not, but probably not.”

She nodded. She turned around and saw Eddie looking for Steve. She spun Steve around and pushed him toward Eddie.

“Now go get your man.”

Steve stumbled into the venue and began moving quickly so he could reach Eddie faster.

Suddenly Eddie had an armful of soft omega.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he murmured into Steve’s ear, wrapping his arms tightly around his waist. “You ready to go home?”

“Yeah,” Steve said softly. “Take me home, Eds.”

****

Part 15 Part 16 Part 17

The confrontation with Tommy had been stewing in my head since I first starting writing the story, originally it was going to be with the Nancy and Billy at New Yorker party but there was already too much going on in that chapter so it got moved here.

Tag List CLOSED: @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @redfreckledwolf @emly03 @itsall-taken

@spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369

@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @messrs-weasley @goodolefashionedloverboi

@maya-custodios-dionach @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv

@wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @bookworm0690 @bookbinderbitch @yikes-a-bee

@littlewildflowerkitten @vecnuthy @scheodingers-muppet @y4r3luv @cinnamon-mushroomabomination

@genderless-spoon @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @irregular-child @nburkhardt

@apomaro-mellow @yellowdevilkitten @eyehartart @mangoinacan13 @demolvr

@ellietheasexylibrarian @rememberthatiloveyou @slowandsteddie @r0binscript @alyelf

@melodymeddler @mogami13 @annabanannabeth @disrespectedgoatman @manda-panda-monium

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #omegaverse #alpha eddie munson #rockstar eddie munson #omega steve harrington

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lxnely-lullaby · 1 month ago

Note

This maybe weird to ask what does all your version of the WGP racers look like in human form? And what HeadCanon’s you got for them?

This isn't weird at all! When I got your question, it really got me thinking about what the WGP racers - minus Lightning McQueen - look like humanized, and I already had a draft of them in an old sketchbook of mine. But I decided to spice it up a little. ⚠️TW⚠️: MENTIONS AND VISUALS OF SELF HARM!

In my last post, I made an art piece of Shu Todoroki humanized, so I took that and put it in his model sheet. I made the Ka-Riu dragon more present on his right side, and less present on his left, similar to his car counterpart. He's probably the only racer with belts on his boots, and he's also the only one without fingerless gloves, rather gloves that cover his entire hands. He suffers from self-esteem and self-worth issues, which are the breaking points for his mental health. Not only does he suffer from those issues, he also suffers from anxiety, which he developed from the World Grand Prix scandal, resulting him in having panic attacks. He uses makeup and concealer on scars that show, so the media won't have a field day with him.

I imagine he listens to Japanese pop music a lot, and he likes reading in his spare time. He likes to visit Japanese cherry blossom gardens, because it soothes his anxiety and calms his nerves, and he loves boba (It's one of his guilty pleasures). Song: Anxiety by Besmorph and the Tech Thieves.

Francesco Bernoulli's humanized design was a near-instant design for him. I imagine he has this long curly hair that reaches almost up to his chin on one side, and the other side meets his eyes. Unlike the rest of his fellow WGP racers, his racing suit is open - Similar to how his car counterpart has open wheels. (See what I did there?) Like Shu, he does have scars, which he got from his time grieving for his papa before he got some sense knocked into him. As I explained in previous posts, Francesco lost his papa during a race and he didn't receive the news until after. His coping mechanisms were unhealthy, and his way of training for races was exhausting his body. Giuseppe managed to talk to him, and he has healthier coping mechanisms to deal with his grief now. I think he's a good cook, because Mama Bernoulli taught him, and he's 100% pansexual. He did have a little crush on Lightning McQueen, and he does flirt with him every time, because he's a hopeless romantic. He's probably good friends with Luigi and Guido, and they would probably have spirited conversations. Song: Looking at Me by Sabrina Carpenter

Miguel Camino was the most fun to do, in terms of design. I had fun doing his Spanish flag, and you can see it's present EVERYWHERE on his racing suit. I made the top half resemble a toreador jacket, as it connects to his past career as a toreador before he became a racer. He also wears toreador boots, which he first got in his early days as a toreador, so he wears them almost all the time. Miguel has a few scars from bullfighting, and he also has a few from the Porto Corsa incident.

He does bullfight in his spare time when he's not training for a race, and I imagine he has a real competitive streak that scares even Francesco at times. Song: Living La Vida Loca by Ricky Martin or Sugar by Maroon 5

Carla Velosa....I quit on her three times.

No matter how many times I watched her turntable on Youtube, I still had a hard time distinguishing the details on her car. I couldn't tell if the primary color was a light yellow or somewhere around white, but I'm mostly satisfied with her design for now. I wanted to show that her suit sparkles, because she's figuratively and literally a star when she hits the dance floor. She has silver studs on her boots, because on her tire rims, there are silver studs on there. The blue is lined along her suit, instead of in a gradient. I think she loves to do dancing in her spare time. She probably took dance classes when she was a kid, and the passion to dance just stuck with her throughout her entire life. You can even see her dancing when you play her turntable on youtube; There's music playing on there, and she's dancing along to it! Being the only girl in the WGP group, she's fierce and it only gives her a chance to prove what she can really do under the hood. Song: Just Dance by Lady Gaga and Colby O' Donis

Max Schnell was probably one of the easiest to do in terms of design. I put the German flag on most of his chest with the World Torque Championship League right into the center. Since he's mostly this dark purple, I wanted to make the German flag present on certain parts of his racing suit, and I put a mini one on his shoes, too.

Since he's an engineer, I imagine he has a masters degree in mechanical engineering and he uses those to modify his race car, and make any repairs on it if he can. He knows a lot about the mechanics of a car and how it works, and he loves to study the track before a a race, so he knows exactly how he should approach it.

Song: I Like Me Better by Lauv

I kinda had a hard time with Rip Clutchgoneski, mainly with his secondary colors, but I was able to make it work.

I wanted the red and green to extend from his chest to his right shoulder, and it kind of goes down his sleeve in this sort of wave instead of in a straight line. The green and red on his left sleeve covers most of the orange there, and as for the pants, the flag is less present there. I wanted to give Rip hair that reaches up to his shoulders and I also wanted to make it look a bit scruffy with a small braid on the left side.

Rip has a really optimistic personality that he gets from his parents, mostly from his mom. While his dad told him to work hard to achieve his goal, his mom was the one to assure him that even if he doesn't win his races, he'll always be their champ because they're his number one fans. Along with being able to compete internationally for the first time in his career, it's this kind of reassurance that he always has a smile on his face - That and it gives him the chance to prove that someone from New Rearendia can do anything. He always wanted to be a racer when he grew up, it's his dream.

Being trans masc for Rip, his parents were really supportive, because it gives them the opportunity to love him even more. He got top surgery when he was 19 years old, and transitioned when he was around 14 years old.

Song: This is Home by Cavetown

Raoul Caroule was fun to do, and also the easiest. Since his car counterpart I wanted the suit to have this spray-paint effect all over in this splash of color, and I wanted his hair to be this light blonde color that goes almost to white that is tied back with a dark blue headband.

Raoul is an adrenaline junkie that's worse than Miguel. He thrives from danger, but only when it doesn't put his life in danger. He and Max are close to each other, and loves rally with a fiery passion. He visits his old friends from Cirque du Voiture during his off season when he can, and he loves doing stunts just for the hell of it.

Song: Drag Me Down by One Direction

Nigel Gearsely's design was the simplest I could do, which is why his racing suit doesn't look as busy as the others. It's just dark green, with light green going down his sleeves, pants and chest, with yellow on his gloves and on the center of his chest.

He likes tea, and he uses the terms such as "chap", "bloke", and mate" whenever possible. Out of the WGP gang, he's not that much of an adrenaline junkie, but since he has this catchphrase "Right then, let me at that track!" I imagine he's real excited whenever he gets to race and he's confident that he'll win every time - Or that he'll place in podium finish, at least. He's best friends with Lewis Hamilton and probably Max Schnell.

Song: Sunflower by Post Malone and Swae Lee

Why am I just now realizing how similar his suit is Nigel's-

I think I had more fun with Lewis Hamilton's hair than I was supposed initially. I put those gold charms and accessories in his hair, but those charms are more present at the front than they are on the back, as you can the charms are at the end of his braids. I got the inspiration from Pinterest to put those charms in his hair, and in case it's hard to tell, his updo is half-up, half-down.

I didn't want to make his suit black or a lighter shade of it, so instead, I made his suit purple-black with a gold color instead of a neon yellow to make it agreeable with the primary color.

He prefers coffee over tea, and when he drank it once in Nigel's presence, it made Nigel upset. He's not ashamed of that tooth gap of his, and whenever he's around Jeff, he gets all excited because those two are like peas in a pod. Lewis and Jeff are in a happy, healthy romantic relationship, and I like to think they started dating a year after the events of the WGP.

Jeff Gorvette was kind of hard to do. I tried to make the flag look like it's moving on his racing suit, but I could never get it right, so I just settlled it for going straight down. There's more stars on his chest than there are on his pants, the blue is only present on his chest with the red being present on his pants.

Jeff and Lewis are - as I already said - are in a healthy and happy romantic relationship. I think he was the first one to confess his feelings to Lewis. The only reason he was able to was because Miguel told him to go for it, because it's better to get it off his chest, even if there was a chance Lewis wasn't going to reciprocate those feelings. When Lewis did reciprocate, Jeff probably cried because he had been holding it up for so long and the anxiety and stress finally caught up to him at that moment.

Besides being in a heathy relationship, Jeff is best friends with Lightning, Miguel and Nigel. He'd probably be the most extroverted out of the WGP gang if Rip didn't beat him by that record by befriending every single racer on day one at the WGP welcoming party in Tokyo.

#pixar cars #cars 2 (2011)#francesco bernoulli #miguel camino #raoul caroule #rip clutchgoneski #shu todoroki #lewis hamilton #jeff gorvette #carla veloso #max schnell #nigel gearsley #reference sheet #artwork #wgp racers

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hugshughes · 1 year ago

Text

Patience is a Virtue C. Loveland

Colston Loveland x fem!Minter!reader

synopsis - Colston gets the trophy, and finally gets the girl.

wc - 3.8k

contains - UNEDITED! this is based off of this request! READER IS COACH MINTER(michigan defensive coordinator)'S DAUGHTER!!!!!!! kissing, hugging, fluff, cursing, stress over the game. guys if u don't like my cute outfit i picked then #1 ur a hater and #2 it's not a big deal! think of something else🤞🤞🤞 cause my Adidas navy handballs with gold accents ARE STAYING. there IS a picture of the outfit im describing but im obvi not gonna stick it in the middle of the fic so if anyone wants that i guess request or message me lols?

an - GUYS PLEASE LET THIS POST LETS PRAY TOGETHER. THIS WAS CUTE. i've been getting the BEST requests lately. i'm on my Michigan FOOTBALL grind. ive spent a long while introducing the jesse minter daughter reader.... she might have to stick around. i want to write for Blake Corum but don't know what to do because literally all i have written for the past week is like "girlfriend or friend of player reader comes to watch their playoff game, reader and love interest kiss after love interest wins game" so... DONT GET ME WRONG I LOVEEEE WRITING THAT SHIT. but it feels so repetitive. BUT THIS? I LOVED THIS. daughter of the coach is so scandalous and i love it. minter is only 40 so like we're just saying he had his daughter (reader) pretty young, like 21. hope u enjoyyyyyyyy ;)!

You woke up with a start. Your body jolted as you brain registered a shout somewhere in the room. You sucked in a breath, opening your eyes, only to close them again. You squinted, trying to orient yourself. You were in a hotel room, your brothers were the ones shouting.

You groaned at the realization, then let out a shout when you felt three small bodies land on top of you.

"Holy shit, get off of me!"

They immediately scrambled, most likely going to tell your mom you cursed in their presence. You loved your 3 baby siblings, but they were pains in your ass sometimes.

You heard a faint "she said shit mommy!" in the conjoining hotel room, and rolled your eyes. You sat in bed, stretching, grabbing your phone before grabbing your bag and locking yourself in the bathroom before your mom could scold you so your siblings shut up about it.

Today was the college football playoff championship, and it was safe to say your family members above the age of 8 were stressed. It was 8:11, and you had to be out the door by 9:50. You showered, drying your hair after and then starting to pick your outfit. You brought a lot of different gear, you had not clue what you wanted to wear to the game. You had so much Michigan gear, and even more maize and navy colored clothing, courtesy to your father.

After almost 30 minutes, you decided on a cute denim skirt, a maize long sleeve, and your navy Adidaas Handballs. You perfected your hair and makeup, successfully erasing any signs that you'd only been awake for about an hour.

You came out of the bathroom all put together, your bag and pajamas in hand. Your siblings were sitting on your bed, watching something on the TV. Since you guys had 6 people in your family, you'd gotten two hotel rooms with the connecting door in the middle. You slept in one room with your little sister on the other bed, and your parents and brothers slept in the other room. You walked through the connecting door, checking the time. 9:17.

Your mom was getting ready in the bathroom when you walked into it. You sat on the closed lid toilet and started talking to her about the plans for today.

"You really gotta stop cursing in front of the littles!"

Your mother scolded you, a grin wide on her face. She was joking, of course. You and your parents had always been close, you'd been their baby for the longest. You'd been with them since they were two just married 20 year olds in college. Not that you remembered it, but you were there for all of your dad's junior and senior year games when he played at MSJ. You'd been there through all the coaching jobs. From Cincinnati, to Georgia State, to the Baltimore Ravens, you'd been there through all of it.

You sat with your mom until it was time to go. Your dad corralled everyone together, taking a photo before you all headed to the elevator. When an elevator came, it opened up and there was barely any room unless your parents held two of your siblings, so you told them to go ahead and that you would wait for the next one.

You only waited about a minute before the doors slid open again, revealing none other than Colston Loveland. His eyes lit up, a grin shining on his beautiful face. You'd always had a weird little thing with Colston. No words were ever said about it, but there had always been a vibe between you.

Being the daughter of the defensive coordinator definitely drove a lot of the guys, even ones you had classes and other school related things with, far far away. The boys knew how protective their coach was of his family, and didn't want any bad blood on the team. Something about you just attracted Colston so heavily. He knew he shouldn't even think about it, but he never could help himself.

"Hey coach."

You rolled your eyes at him playfully as you stepped into the elevator. He always called you coach, he had to remind you he was one of your dad's players. You would've loved to forget that for two seconds.

"Hi Cole."

He could've died. You'd called him Cole, instead of Colston. It was the smallest, most insignificant little thing, but it made him melt.

"Where's your family at?"

You tilted your head towards him, he wanted to talk, okay. You smiled at him, he loved it.

"The other elevator was too full, some of the guys were on the way down too."

He nodded, the smirk never leaving his face. You thought about kissing it off of him, then realized you had just thought of kissing his smirk off of him. Shit. You were in deep with this kid, and there was little to no chance anything would ever happen.

The elevator reached the lobby, and Colston gestured for you to step out first. You exited the elevator, the boy hot on your tail. You were immediately greeted by a hallway packed full of Michigan players, coaches, families, and more.

You have Colston one last glance and smile before finding your mom, taking your baby brother out of her arms and into yours, playing with him. Colston's eyes followed you, he admired you as you smiled and laughed with your brother. You were perfect. He was gonna have to find a way to get around the fact that you were his coach's daughter.

You held your brother with one arm and your sisters hand with the other as you smiled at the cameras, walking through to the buses. Your family followed behind the rest of the coaches and families, the team trailing behind you.

The ride to NRG took longer than you assumed it would, almost an hour because of the traffic, and it didn't help that everyone could tell that the buses were transporting one of the CFP Championship teams in them.

Everyone went into the stadium together, through some backstage type area. You walked with the team until you had to go separate ways. You hugged your dad, squeezing him tight. You would see him again before the game, so you saved your 'Good luck, I love you Dad.' sentiment for then.

You'd always had a special connection with your dad, you were closer to him than almost anyone else. You were his baby, his first baby. Still, you were his baby in his eyes. Your dad would do anything for you, and he was quite protective. Though he was protective, all he wanted was for you to be happy, and if it meant dating one of his guys, he would have no problem with it.

Your family sat bored in the box of the stadium, looking down on the field as Washington practiced. There was over 6 more hours till the game started, and there was practically nothing to do.

You took a nap on the carpeted floor of the box with your siblings for a couple hours, your mother snapping photos that although you were embarrassed of, were undeniably cute. Once you guys had woken up, there was about 2 hours till game time. You voted with your family on whether you guys wanted to stay in the box, or sit way close to the field. You all wanted to be closer to the field, you wanted to see the action head on.

Your family departed the box, along with a few others to see the team one more time before the game. You got down onto the field in about 20 minutes, and stood with your dad for awhile. When you were being told it was time to go, you quickly hugged your dad.

"Good luck, I love you!"

He thanked you, saying the three words back as you guys waved at him, going to leave. Your eyes caught on a certain brunette as he ran off the field, his eyes finding you quickly. He smiled at you, ugh, that smile.

"Good luck, Cole!"

You smiled at him, right before you turned to go up the tunnel. More and more fans started to pour in as you got settled into your bleacher seats. You were three rows from the bottom with a perfect view of the field. You settled in as the national anthem ended and the game began.

As the game progressed, you were so happy to say that Michigan was winning, the entire time. You'd caught Colston's eyes multiple times during the game, letting it linger for a few seconds before giving him a stern look and gesturing towards the field. He'd mouth back, 'okay, coach.' and turn back around. Your mother caught the interaction once, her heart warming seeing her baby with a crush.

You stood up, your brother in your arms as you jumped up and down, shouting, Michigan had finally won! You cheered and danced around with your little siblings as you celebrated. You were all so insanely proud of your dad. Soon though, you were being escorted to the field, eager to see your father and congratulate him.

Blood was pumping and hearts were racing as you exited the tunnel, smiles burned onto your faces as you went to look for your dad. You held your sister's hand as you two ran around, trying to find him. Your mom shouted, and you turned to look at her. She pointed to your left, and there stood your dad, hugging one of his players. Your sister went back to your mom, to walk over to your dad with her as you all but sprinted over to your dad, weaving in between sweaty boys and families.

Your dad saw you incoming and held his arms out accepting your forceful hug. You both laughed, your dad squeezing you tightly. Your best friend had finally done it.

"Literally told you you would do it."

He laughed again, agreeing as he laid a kiss to your temple, pulling back with one arm to accept your other siblings into the hug, who'd finally made their way over. After a minute, you took your siblings from your dad so your mom could hug him, and kiss him, much to your brothers' disgust.

After talking with your dad for a little, you spotted a familiar 6'5 frame standing by himself as his teammates walked away from him. You sauntered over, shouting his name when you were in earshot. The brunette quickly turned around, the smile already gracing his face deepening.

"Well hi, coach."

"Congratulations, Cole. You know your catches were pretty legit."

You gave him a slightly impressed face, shrugging your shoulders. He laughed, rolling his eyes playfully.

"You can't win 'em all over, can you?"

You laughed in turn, stepping closer to him. Colston's heart was racing as he looked down into your eyes.

"But really, Cole, you were incredible, serious."

He nodded, accepting your praise with a grin, before he looked around, over-exaggerating a look of being in thought.

"You know, coach, I think I might just deserve a reward, for my quote incredible performance."

Your eyes widened, your heart starting off, faster and faster.

"Really? What might that entail, Cole?"

Shit, he was gonna have to kiss you if you kept calling him that. He was about to take the leap. He knew he had to at some point, and he was on an adrenaline rush, that just chanted at him to do it.

"Well I think it entails you accepting a date with me back in Michigan."

Your jaw dropped slightly, you were dumbfounded. Colston really wanted to go on a date with you?

"For real?"

Colston nodded, seemingly confident, though he was shaking in his boots on the inside.

"Well then, I think we can make that work."

Colston's heart erupted. He literally could not have been happier. He'd just won the Natty, and got his dream girl to agree to a date, holy fuck. You got nervous all of the sudden, leaning up to kiss his cheek, before turning to leave.

"Just text me, Cole!"

He nodded, his eyes following you as you went to go find your family again. His family came back over to him, they'd been gone for just a second but stopped and waited when they saw him talking to you. His family, especially his mom, knew quite a bit about you.

You found your family, immediately grabbing your moms hand to pull her a few steps away. You looked at her with the biggest eyes ever, still in shock over what had just happened.

"What's up, sweetheart? Why are you all, thousand yard stare-y?"

"Mom Colston just asked me out, and I said yes! And then I kissed his cheek! And then I left!"

Your mom laughed, her baby was finally growing up. You'd had a few boyfriends in all your days, but you'd never been proper crushing like you were right now.

"That's so good! I knew this was coming, we just had to wait for one of you to get the courage."

You blushed, hiding your face in your hands. Your smile suddenly dropped, a realization coming to you.

"Is dad gonna hate me?"

"Why would I hate you?"

Shit.

You ended up telling your dad later on in the night, when you were tired and sitting in the back of a restaurant the team was celebrating in. Your family didn't party for too long, having a 4, 7, and 8 year old didn't exactly allow you guys to stay out for too long. Even your parents 19 year old daughter got a bit cranky if she stayed out too late.

When you told your dad, he just laughed. He knew you and Colston had things for each other, he was waiting for the tight end to make a move.

You were stressing. Tonight was your date with Colston. You sat at your vanity, ranting to your roommate over it. You put on makeup and did your hair, wanting to look cute but not over the top.

Colston had told you to wear comfy clothes, so you were in one of your most common outfits. Leggings and a Michigan sweatshirt. You stared at yourself in the mirror, doubting yourself. You had known Colston for over a year, almost two, but you didn't really know him that well. You wanted him to like you so badly.

"Babe, you look fantastic. He's going to stare at you all night."

You sighed at your roommate's encouragement. But before you could respond, you got a text from Colston. He was outside your dorm building. Your roommate pushed you straight out the door, saying bye.

You went down the stairs quickly, making your way out of the complex. You saw Colston as you opened the door, slipping out. He looked up and smiled at you, his stupid beautiful smile.

"Hey, Gorgeous."

You felt the heat on your face even in the Ann Arbor cold. You smiled, shaking your head as you gave him a spin, showing off your extra casual outfit.

"Even in this ensemble?"

He nodded, his smile deepening. He pulled you into his side, hugging you. You were immediately enveloped in his warmth. You ducked your head down to hide the shock in your eyes. He smelled really good.

When you pulled away Colston led you to his car, opening the door for you before going around and getting in. You two buckled up before Colston pulled out of the parking spot, setting off into Ann Arbor. He gave you the aux, warming your heart. You both knew he probably didn't listen to the same music as you, but he wanted you to listen to whatever you liked.

Smaller Acts by Zach Bryan came on when you hit shuffle on your main playlist, making you smile. You resonated with the song, always having thought that smaller acts of love were more important than any grand gestures. You got to really look at Colston while he drove. He kept his eyes right on the road always, until you got to a red light, that's when you'd jerk your head back forward as he turned to look at you. He was really pretty, his jaw was so insanely defined, he had a strong neck, and the deepest brown eyes. You stared at the tattoo on his left forearm, he was hot, to put it simply.

You drove for around 40 minutes before the car slowed, pulling onto a gravel driveway. You looked out of your window, seeing a large screen and projector, and lots of cars. He had brought you to a drive in movie. You could've cried when you saw the sign reading the movie you would be seeing. Ocean's 11. The very first time you ever talked to Colston, he'd asked you your favorite movie. You said you couldn't pick one, then settled on Ocean's 11 because it was one you'd seen so many times you could quote any scene.

You couldn't believe he remembered. You'd never mentioned it since then. That was the kind of smaller, seemingly insignificant thing that meant the world to you. You jerked your head to the left, staring at Colston with wide eyes. He was dealing with the tickets for a few seconds before you pulled into a spot, then he finally looked to you.

"Cole, I cannot believe that you remembered."

Colston smiled, and on the inside he was celebrating that you loved it. What he hadn't expected though was you leaning over the console and hugging him. It was honestly the sweetest thing any guy had ever done for you, you were beyond grateful for this boy, and it was your first date.

"This is the sweetest thing a guy's ever done for me, I'm being serious."

Though you were mostly saying that about the fact that he'd remembered, the date itself was also amazing. Colston knew you enough to know that you'd have preferred this over any fancy restaurant, and that meant a lot.

"It's the least I could do, coach. You mean something to me, 'm gonna take care of you."

You just squirmed in your seat, getting more comfortable and smiling as you looked ahead of you. You wordlessly reached over and slipped your hand into his, pulling them into your lap.

Colston was so happy he could've gotten out of the car and started dancing. He acted as cool as he could on the outside. You two settled in as the movie began.

At some point, Colston had reached back into the backseat and grabbed a blanket that he tossed into your lap, and a bag of food and snacks.

You traced your free hand over Colston's tattoo, admiring the line work and shading. The movie ended, and Colston's hand stayed with you as you two began the drive back. You fell asleep on the drive, your head leaning against Colston's arm.

You woke up slowly about 5 minutes out from school. You kept your head on Colston's arm, but allowed yourself to carelessly stare at him in your tired state. At a stoplight, he turned to look at you, smiling deeply when his eyes met your sleepy ones.

"Hey, coach. Nap good?"

You smiled and nodded, yawning at him. He laughed lowly, turning his head back when the light went green. You parked outside your building, dampening your heart. The night had been perfect. You sleepily got out of Colston's car, after he told you to not dare opening your own door. He walked you up to the entrance with his hand on your back, rubbing his fingers back and forth lightly.

When you got to the door you stopped and turned around, wrapping your arms around his middle.

"Thank you so much Colston. This was like, the best date I think ever."

He smiled, hugging you tightly. Colston had the best time, obviously you were gorgeous, but getting to talk to you one-on-one without interruptions was his idea of a good time. His insides melted whenever you fell asleep, and before then, he could've swore he was in love while you traced over his tattoo.

You pulled away from him, looking at the boy through heavy eyes. He looked absolutely handsome in the dim lighting of a street lamp. You put your hands on his shoulders, leaning up and kissing him. You probably wouldn't have if your drowzy mind hadn't commanded you to. Obviously you wanted to, but you weren't sure if it was 100% mutual yet, but it was.

Colston's hands went to hold the back of your head, his hands in your hair. He kept the kiss shorter than you would've liked, knowing you were tired.

You looked up at him with stars in your eyes, a smiling fighting its way onto you face. Colston's hands shifted from your hair to your jaw, rubbing his thumb over your cheek.

"I'll see you tomorrow baby."

Your blown out eyes widened at the name, your heart clenching in your chest. Colston saw the reaction, his lips quirking up the slightest bit.

"I'll see you, Loveland."

You let go of him, turning towards the door. You paused for a second, quickly turning back around and kissing Colston again. Colston's hands grabbed at your hips, pulling you closer. Colston smiled brightly into the kiss, giggling to himself.

You pulled away from him, a grin falling to your face.

"You ever gonna let me leave, coach?"

"Thinkin' about it."

"You get inside, gorgeous. It's too cold for you to be out here."

You smiled, nodding at him, letting go of him for the last time.

"You gotta go too, off season just started. You gotta stay on your A-Game Loveland."

He laughed at you, shaking his head as he watched you walk into the dorm complex, turning the corner and out of his sight. You ran back up the stairs and to your room, squealing like a 13 year old as you described your date to your roommate.

Colston sat in his car, texting his mom that everything went well. When he put his phone away, he finally let himself think that you were the girl he'd want to be with forever. It was finally real. The boy just had to be patient.

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noonaishere · 1 year ago

Text

Music of the Heart [Jeong Yunho] - Masterlist

By: noonaishere (main blog: symphonyofmars)

Fic type: social media au / traditional

Pairing: Yunho x fem!reader

Genre: music industry setting, musician/producer, enemies to lovers, mutual pining, running from the past

Warnings: overbearing parents, verbal abuse, sexual harassment

Status: completed!

Synchronously posted with Online/Offline (any asterisked (*) chapters means they’re shared between both fics)

[intro post explaining y/n and t/n]

SYNOPSIS:

T/n has always loved music, though her experience of it wasn’t always the greatest. Forced by her parents to learn the violin - almost purely to climb the socio-economic ladder - she’s since forged her own path. She auditions at Wonderland Entertainment and becomes one of their studio musicians, but how will she deal with seeing her ex-best friend who also happens to be contracted under the company?

Also, how does t/n’s existence connect to y/n, someone she’s never met?

🎵 main cast

Chapters:

🎵 Prologue | a long time ago… in a town far, far away…

🎵 one | “local celebrity”

🎵 two | mahler

🎵 three | emperor nero

🎵 four | come meet the kids

🎵 five | duck and cover

🎵 six | his feefees were a little hurt

🎵 seven | homework

🎵 eight | give her my number

🎵 nine | canard et couverture parte deux

🎵 ten | a date?

🎵 eleven | the fight scene at the end of the count of monte cristo

🎵 twelve | we never talk

🎵 thirteen | youtube recommendations

🎵 fourteen | calendar man

🎵 fifteen | a ✨godsend✨

🎵 sixteen | no ducking nor covering

🎵 seventeen | he’s got pipes

🎵 eighteen | thinking about hats

🎵 nineteen | it is still apples

🎵 twenty | i know exactly who you are

🎵 twenty-one | busking

🎵 twenty-two | he got an audition or something

🎵 twenty-three | best friend

🎵 twenty-four | garage band

🎵 twenty-five | it’ll be worth it

🎵 twenty-six | more like “drone strike parenting”

🎵 twenty-seven | interrogation

🎵 twenty-eight | it’s over

🎵 twenty-nine | more like constipated

🎵 thirty | maybe

🎵 thirty-one | JUPiTER

🎵 thirty-two | no horses in space

🎵 thirty-three | Crom3r

🎵 thirty-four | punk rock

🎵 thirty-five | what a feeling

🎵 thirty-six | do we need a hot air balloon?

🎵 thirty-seven | gotta let the fans know

🎵 thirty-eight | i’ll bring the wine

🎵 thirty-nine | girl’s night

🎵 forty | that’s a no on the hot air balloon

🎵 forty-one | new kids

🎵 forty-two | splash fight

🎵 forty-three | a recluse and a traitor

🎵 forty-four | merch drop

🎵 forty-five | lol i’m screencapping

🎵 forty-six | do you know how to do cubes?

🎵 forty-seven | surprise modu girip baksu

🎵 forty-eight | sometimes the kickball inspires music

🎵 forty-nine | but what can you do

🎵 fifty | no need for sunglasses

🎵 fifty-one | need for sunglasses

🎵 fifty-two | D-Day

🎵 fifty-three | best friends forever

🎵 fifty-four | mission update

🎵 fifty-five | miss me?

🎵 fifty-six | that was really weird and I hated it

🎵 fifty-seven | good point

🎵 fifty-eight | the great outdoors

🎵 fifty-nine | please don’t use memes of yourself

🎵 sixty | ballad mashup with choi jongho!

🎵 sixty-one | scandal??

🎵 sixty-two | two giants

🎵 sixty-three | you really *are* a capitalist

🎵 sixty-four | benevolence and beef

🎵 sixty-five | lyrical content

🎵 sixty-six | principles

🎵 sixty-seven | well?

🎵 sixty-eight | can’t sleep

🎵 sixty-nine | what’d you say?

🎵 seventy | looking for an Ans:wer

🎵 seventy-one | whirlwind

🎵 seventy-two | she’s a me

🎵 seventy-three | solving problems

🎵 seventy-four | the great (less confined) indoors

🎵 seventy-five | pedagogy

🎵 seventy-six | going for a walk

🎵 seventy-seven* | WHAT?

🎵 seventy-eight | misc

🎵 seventy-nine | where the hell are you

🎵 eighty | chauffeur

🎵 eighty-one | public breakup

🎵 eighty-two | somewhere nice

🎵 eighty-three | the start of an apology

🎵 eighty-four | meeting ONiiX

🎵 eighty-five | sting operation

🎵 eighty-six | hack behavior

🎵 eighty-seven | doubleho7 reporting in

🎵 eighty-eight | being kind is punk

🎵 eighty-nine | listening to it for the background noise

🎵 ninety | Devious Deviants Devianting Deviously

🎵 ninety-one | it’s not gossiping, it’s ✨helping✨

🎵 ninety-two | lessons and small dogs

🎵 ninety-three | *distressed memeing*

🎵 ninety-four | fifteen minutes late with no starbucks

🎵 ninety-five | Game Day!

🎵 ninety-six | it’s a metaphor

🎵 ninety-seven* | suspicious group chat

🎵 ninety-eight* | more boba, less ice

🎵 ninety-nine* | ensemble transition (1/3)

🎵 ninety-nine* | ensemble transition (2/3)

🎵 ninety-nine* | ensemble transition (3/3)

🎵 one hundred* | an even more suspicious group chat

🎵 one hundred and one* | we’re both here now

🎵 one hundred and two | time off

🎵 one hundred and three | what’s it like having normal parents?

🎵 one hundred and four | kiddo

🎵 one hundred and five | cake and conversation

🎵 one hundred and six | confessions

🎵 one hundred and seven | the biggest idiot

🎵 one hundred and eight | ego death

🎵 one hundred and nine | what are you feeling?

🎵 one hundred and ten | take your time/get your shit together

🎵 one hundred and eleven* | pocket square

🎵 one hundred and twelve* | +2000% to self-respect

🎵 one hundred and thirteen | stupid teenaged yunho

🎵 one hundred and fourteen* | like a thunder

🎵 one hundred and fifteen* | apologies

🎵 one hundred and sixteen | *nods*

🎵 one hundred and seventeen* | true singularity

Epilogue 1

Epilogue 2

Epilogue 3

Epilogue 4

Epilogue 5

Epilogue 6

Epilogue 7

🎵🎵 [MAIN MASTERLIST] 🎵🎵

#Yunho #Jeong Yunho #Ateez #Ateez smau #Ateez fic #Ateez au #music industry au #enemies to lovers #childhood friends to lovers #reader fic #ᴍᴜsɪᴄ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ

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mochegato · 10 months ago

Text

Mistakes Were Made

Jon pursed his lips as he studied the list in front of him, his brow furrowing deeper the longer he stared at it. There was a pattern there. He knew there was. Something linking the names on the list. Something he hadn’t managed to figure out even after endless hours staring at the company names, running down investors, calling ex-employees, scouring the internet for scandals. It was getting damned frustrating.

Jay hadn’t had any more luck with the list than he’d had, and Jay had been working on the story a lot longer than Jon had been. Weeks. Weeks of focused investigation had yielded a lot of results, but nothing conclusive. Nothing they could splash across the front page of the Daily Planet. Nothing that would lead to the convictions that he knew were forthcoming. If they could figure out the pattern.

It was there… somewhere.

He was shocked out of his focus by his phone and answered before the first ring had completed. “This is Jon,” he intoned mindlessly, still staring at the list.

The responding snort finally brought his attention away from the list for the first time in so long, his vision was starting to cross. “I guess I called the right number then,” she chuckled.

“Hey, Starlight,” he sighed and instantly returned his attention to the list. It wasn’t investors. It wasn’t ex-employees. It had to be…

“Hey, Mon rêve,” she cooed. “Where are you? It’s getting pretty late.”

“Hm? Is it? I hadn’t noticed,” he answered absently. “I’m still here with Jay.”

“Wait. Really?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he nodded, cocking his head to the side to stare at the list. Maybe that would give him a new perspective. He was pretty sure if he stared any harder than he had before, his laser vision would activate. “Jay has been following a lead for a few days and asked this morning if I could help. We are doing some research to hopefully get a direction.”

“So…” she started, her tone was careful, measured. If Jon had been a bit more aware of anything outside of the list, it would have set the hairs on the back of his neck on edge, especially contrasted with the adoring tone microseconds before. “…you're staying there. You're not going to join me? You're going to stay there... with Jay.”

“Yeah, sorry, can't join you tonight.” He paused to look over their desks full of documents, binders of reports, and endless Post It notes marking random thoughts in their glaring color. It should be overwhelming, but it just excited him. This story wasn’t just important, it could make a major difference, to Metropolis and him. “I think this could really be something,” he gushed almost breathlessly. She was silent for a few beats too long; long enough Jon noticed she hadn't responded yet. “Mari?”

It was another few beats of loaded silence before she responded. “Yeah, I thought it could really be something too.”

He frowned at the phone. “Hey, you okay? You sound a bit off.”

The silence was more concerning than any response she could give. If it took that long to respond, there clearly was something wrong. He almost waved Jay off when he jutted his laptop in front of his eyes, but the insistent look in Jay’s eyes made him reconsider. “I just thought we could spend time together today celebrating,” she finally answered.

“Oh? Celebrating what?” he asked distractedly, flicking his fingers through the document Jay had just found; property listings.

She let out a mirthless huff of a laugh. “Nothing. It doesn't matter.”

“No, I'm sure it does,” he insisted instantly, though it was clear in his voice his attention was still elsewhere. “I'll see you tonight and we can talk.”

“I wanted to dig up property records for the rest of the organizations,” Jay piped up. “If we can get a listing tonight, we can look into their ownership history tomorrow. Maybe make some inquiries.”

“Oh! That’s a good plan. Yeah.” He looked at the list again and let out a breath at the length. “This is going to take a while.” It wasn’t until he had reached for his laptop that he remembered he was still holding a phone and supposed to be talking to Marinette. “Sorry! Tomorrow,” he promised quickly. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Right,” Marinette scoffed.

He paused and turned away from Jay to give himself a bit of privacy. “Are you upset I'm hanging out with Jay? Mari, you know we just work together. There's nothing to worry about.”

“Right,” she repeated.

This time, Jon took note of her tone. It wasn’t one he associated with her. He wasn’t even sure if he’d ever heard her speak that way before. It was hollow, defeated, and so very wrong. “Don’t be like that, Starlight. You're being ridiculous.” He shook his head, exasperated at her reaction. They needed to talk about this, clearly, but he didn’t have time tonight. “Look, I have to go. We'll talk about this later, okay? Love you.”

She hung up without responding, leaving him staring at the phone in confusion. He let out a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut. She was upset. Clearly. But this was time sensitive. They needed to get this research done tonight so they could jump on City Hall tomorrow.

Would he have loved to spend the night with her? Of course he would! He would spend every night… and day with her if he could. But this was the life of a reporter, not to mention a hero. He needed to be able to spend a night in the office with a coworker from time to time. When he was working on a story, it might even be days. Hell, his mom had slept on her office couch every night for a week before.

And, he huffed mentally, Marinette didn’t really have standing to complain. She regularly got caught up in design dazes and would end up in her studio for the entire night. More than once, he had to track her down to her studio and drag her home. She had no right to be mad at him for doing the same thing she did constantly.

It was particularly strange because he had worked late into the night on stories, or been away unexpectedly for a mission, and she had been extremely understanding. But this time…

“Hey, I think I found something!” Jay called, drawing Jon out of his spiral.

Jon was at Jay’s side looking over his shoulder in a microsecond. This was it! This was the link they’d been looking for all day. He could feel it.

They got lost in digging up all the information they could, so focused, he’d completely lost track of time. Gun to his head, not that it would do anything, but it’s the sentiment that counts, he couldn’t tell you how much time had passed since he’d spoken to Marinette when his phone rang again, but it was at least long enough for them to have gathered the bulk of the property listings for the names on the list. And at some point Jay had drifted off to the break room to get them yet another cup of godawful black coffee.

They hadn’t done a deep dive yet, looking for the hidden assets, but there was a lot of night left… maybe. He really needed to check a clock.

He checked the ID and furrowed his brow in confusion for just a second before answering. If he knew her, and he did, she would just keep calling until he answered. “Hey, Kara. I’m a bit busy right now. Can I call you back another time?”

“Yeah, I know how busy you apparently are, dumbass,” she growled into the phone. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

He jerked back in surprise. “What? What did I do now?” It took a few moments for his mind to register the situation and recall his previous conversation. “Oh, did Mari call you?” He sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Is she that upset I'm working with Jay. This is insane. She's best friends with Adrien and regularly hangs out with Luka and Vic and I can't even work with Jay? I can't believe...”

“What day is it?” she cut in, saccharine sweet in a way she had never actually embodied.

The tone caught him off guard. It was, quite frankly, a bit creepy coming from her. “What?”

“What day is it?” she repeated, the sweetness bleeding from her tone.

It was a trap, he knew it was, he just for the life of him couldn’t figure out what it was supposed to trap him into or why she was laying it. Working late one day didn’t warrant the effort at entrapment. Nothing made sense. “Thursday,” he answered slowly. It felt like it wasn’t the answer she was looking for, but it was the correct answer.

“The date, you dimwitted pudding socket!” she hissed. All pretenses of sweetness were completely gone. Her hostility was fully out.

“Dimwitted… what the heck, Kara?”

“What. Is. The. Date,” she repeated, carefully enunciating each word, punctuating the final syllable like they were weapons.

He could hear her teeth gritting through the phone without even having to use his super hearing. But more than that, he could hear the disappointment, which again, didn’t make sense. It was one night. “It's May...” he trailed off as the realization hit and Marinette and Kara’s reactions finally made sense. “Oh...”

“Yeah,” she concurred bitterly, “oh.”

“Oh, fuck.” If anything, Marinette’s reaction was subdued. She should have yelled. She should have screamed. She should have raked him over the coals for forgetting their anniversary.

“Yep,” she agreed popping the p.

“Oh no,” he lamented, running his hand through his hair and tugging painfully on it. “No, no, no. No, fuck. Is she still at the restaurant?” The question was essentially perfunctory, he was moving before she responded. But her response stopped him in his tracks, yet again driving home the level of fuckupary.

“Is she still at the restaurant you had a reservation for hours ago and you left her sitting alone waiting for you?” she scoffed.

“No! What time is it?” He whipped his head around looking for the damned clock that he should have checked when he talked with Marinette. His heart dropped at the sight. It was in fact hours after he was supposed to meet her. Hours! And he hadn’t talked to her. Hours for her to stew and spiral and start thinking the worst of the situation. “Fuck! Where is she?”

There was a pause before she spoke, and Jon could picture her narrowing her eyes, leaning back, and cocking her hip as she prepared to answer. “She is somewhere she doesn't want you to find her.”

“Fuck! No, Kara,” he pleaded. “No, I need to talk to her. I need to fix this. I need to...”

“That's a lot of I's for someone who is just fucked up so royally,” she chided harshly. “It isn't about what you need right now, is it?”

He groaned and ran his hand through his hair again. He needed to do something he couldn’t… he couldn’t lose Marinette. The very idea of not being able to go home to her gutted him. But the idea of Marinette thinking that he blew her off, that he didn’t love her with his entire soul, felt like a kryptonite knife to the heart. “Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he agonized. “How do I fix this if she won't talk to me, Kara. What do I do?”

“I would suggest massive groveling,” she offered, her false sweetness back though not quite to the level it had been before. “Flowers and fabric aren’t going to fix this.”

“I need to apologize to her face,” he announced as much to himself as her. He stood up straight as determination flowed through him. He was going to find her and talk to her, beg her, plead for her to understand. He was an idiot, but he was a devoted, utterly lovesick idiot. “Where is she?”

“No.” Flat but solid. She used no emotion, just raw steel.

“Kara, where is my girlfriend?” he growled.

“Gone. And you need to consider what you're going to do to make sure it isn't permanent,” she snarled before hanging up.

“Kara? Kara!” Frustration inundated his voice. “How do I make sure it isn’t permanent if I can’t talk to her?” he screamed into the void. “I know you can hear me!”

He immediately called Marinette, which in retrospect, he acknowledged, he should have done as soon as he realized he’d missed the date. He clenched his hand into a bouncing fist as he waited for her to answer, pacing a tight circle, and he almost started apologizing when he heard her voice. It took a few seconds to realize it was the start of her voicemail, not her.

But he wasn’t going to be deterred so easily. She was angry, frustrated. She didn’t like to answer the phone when she was frustrated with someone. He knew that. He should have anticipated it. Instead, he sent off a few anxious texts, not able to wait more than a few seconds before sending the next text. When she didn’t answer those after a full minute, he couldn’t force himself to wait any longer and tried calling again, but it went straight to voicemail. Meaning she was either instantly rejecting the call or she’d blocked him.

“Son of a bitch!” he yelled, fighting the urge to throw his phone. If he allowed his anger to overtake him now, he would lose his only means of communication if she did decide to respond… and he’d probably tear a hole through the wall and possibly the next… and all the walls in the next building.

Jay came careening around the corner, the coffee mugs in his hands sloshing over the rims and spilling onto his shirt unnoticed. “What? Did something happen? What’s wrong?” he questioned frantically.

“I… fuck!” Jon yelled again. He kicked an exposed steel support beam that at this point luckily was merely decorative, because it crumpled instantly.

“Woah, hey, you have to take a breath,” Jay urged. He set the coffee down and approached Jon cautiously. “You’re going to destroy the building. What is going on?”

“I…” he moved toward something else to hit but Jay stepped in front of it with a concerned but firm look and Jon deflated entirely. He collapsed onto the floor, head in hands. “It’s our anniversary. I… I missed our anniversary. We had a night planned. I… she waited at the restaurant for me.”

Jay crouched down next to him in an instant. “What?” he gasped. “It’s your… What are you doing here!”

“I forgot,” he moaned. “I got caught up and…”

“Jon…” he cut in his voice firm again. “Why are you still here? Go fix it!”

Jon shook his head despondently. “She doesn’t want to see me. She has made that abundantly clear.”

Jay scoffed. “She’s mad. Justifiably. You forgot a really important date for your relationship to hang out with an ex. Fucked up doesn’t even begin to cover it. But, what? You’re just going to slink away, tail between your legs? You’re not going to fight? Beg? Fly up to the moon and bring it back for her?”

Jon glanced up at him, his eyes welling as he did. “If she wanted. I’d give her anything she wanted. And what she wants is space.”

“Is it?” Jay demanded. He wasn’t giving any space for self-pitying. It was time to act, not wallow. “I don’t know man, if you aren’t even willing to fight for her, I don’t know if you deserve her. She’s hurting right now. You’re going to let her do it alone?”

“No! Never,” Jon exclaimed, affronted by the very suggestion that he would ever, ever leave Marinette to suffer alone.

“So…” Jay prompted. He grinned as a determined look came over Jon. “I’ll continue on my own. We can pick this up on Monday… or Tuesday. The evidence isn’t going anywhere. You go get your woman and fix your future.”

Finding her wasn’t as difficult as Kara made it out to be. After he excluded their place and Kara’s place, she was in the next place he looked, which would have been the first, but Kara’s comment had thrown his instincts off. So, either she wasn’t as adamant that she didn’t want him to find her as Kara had indicated or Marinette just was too upset to think logically and was thinking emotionally instead.

Jon took a deep breath to fortify himself before knocking on the door. The night was going to be rough, and it was completely his fault. He had done this to them. He’d stood her up and forgotten their anniversary. She’d even prompted him to remember they were supposed to be celebrating and he blew her off. God, she must think he didn’t care about her at all.

He was so lost in his self-deprecation; he missed the sounds of someone approaching the door until it had already been opened, an imposing, hostile figure glowering at him. “What do you want?” Adrien snarled.

Jon flinched at the venomous tone from the normally friendly, gregarious man. He steeled himself and met Adrien’s eyes. “To talk to my girlfriend.”

“Oh, she’s worthy of your attention now, is she?” he sneered.

“Of course she is. She always is.” Jon took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He wanted to argue with Adrien, to point out all the times she’d been the center of his attention, all the times he’d put her needs and interests above his own because he knew she did the same. But it wasn’t the right time for that argument. He needed to speak with Marinette, to make her feel his devotion, not waste time arguing with her best friend. And if it meant letting Adrien take out his protective wrath on him uncontested, that’s what he would do. “Look, I screwed up, I know that. Please let me fix this,” he begged.

Adrien stared him down for a few long moments, not breaking his intense eye contact, clearly enjoying the way it made Jon squirm. But finally he grumbled something that might have been a word, or just a sound to make known his extreme discontent, and let him in grudgingly. Just as Jon was about to pass him, he held his arm up to stop him. “You get this one chance. You screw this up, I won’t need kryptonite to end you, but you’ll wish I had.”

Jon met his eyes again, letting an understanding pass between them and nodded. “Noted.”

He thought he couldn’t feel any guiltier or worse about himself, but the moment he saw Marinette, he knew he was wrong. He could feel so, so much worse. She was slumped on the couch, empty tumbler in her hand, staring absently at nothing. Her eyes were red and puffy and even from his distance and without using enhanced vision, he could see the still wet tear tracks, her ruined mascara highlighting their trail.

Desperate not to make her feel worse, he approached her cautiously, slowly. While in the past, he’d enjoyed ambushing her by appearing in front of her in the blink of her eye, surprising her and possibly shocking her into a violent reaction was the last thing he wanted to do at that moment. He could tell the moment she noticed him. She didn’t acknowledge him outright, but he could hear the way her breathing changed and the way her body tensed just before she sat up and refilled her glass.

The liquid slopped out of the bottle, splashing as much on the coffee table as in the glass and Jon rushed forward to steady her hand. It was instinct. He saw her in need of assistance, and he acted. It wasn’t until she flinched away that he realized his assistance may not be welcome in that moment and perhaps he was the very reason she was in need of assistance. His heart squeezed painfully at the realization, tearing the breath from his lungs.

“Hey Starlight, what are you doing?” he asked gently. He sat next to her, close but still giving her space, and angled his body so he could face her.

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, not quite willing to grace him with her gaze, and took a long drink before answering. “You forgot about our anniversary,” she answered her voice forlorn.

“I know,” he admitted guiltily. “I…”

“I wanted to too,” she continued as if she hadn’t heard him at all.

He could have sworn he didn’t have any more air left in his lungs, but her tone and the agonized look in her eyes, made his chest feel like it was in a vise forcing all air out in a rush. “No, baby…” he begged miserably.

“I’m not your baby anymore,” she shrugged, still not meeting his gaze, her eyes returning to the blank spot in the distance.

“Baby, Starlight,” he pleaded. He moved a step closer to give him better access to wipe away her tears and caress her face. The need to touch her was visceral. He needed to feel her and make her feel his love, look at him. But at the last second Kara’s words rung in his head. It wasn’t about him. He redirected before making contact and instead laid his hands on either side of her knees. “You will always be mine.”

Sloppily, she shook her head. “I’m not. You don’t love me anymore.”

It was said with such certainty that he could feel it in his soul. “Starlight, I love you more than anything…”

“I’m not important to you. You can’t love someone you don’t think is important. You don’t put in effort. You don’t care.” Any emotion that had crept into her eyes when he first approached her, drained completely, giving the impression of a haunted house, empty and seemingly abandoned, but with hidden secrets fiercely protected. “You forgot,” she finished desolately.

It was over. He could see it. She was done for the night. Nothing he or anyone else said would make it through to her. Nothing but time and rest and a whole lot of sobering would make a difference. He would just have to hope she got that overnight and then pray to whatever deities that might listen, that in the morning, she would let him apologize. “Marinette,” he started earnestly, tenderly, “you are by far the most important person in the world to me. Let’s get you to bed and we can talk in the morning, okay?”

She shrugged, or at least gave a rough, loose approximation of a shrug. “I don’t believe you,” she mumbled, almost incoherently. “I want to.” She glanced over at him with watery eyes. “I want to, so much. But I don’t.”

What was left of his heart shattered into neutron sized pieces. He couldn’t believe how badly he had messed it up. He didn’t know what he was going to have to do to fix it, but whatever it took he would do. Whatever she needed… tomorrow. He reached up and gently cupped her face, his thumbs softly wiped away her tears. His heart mended slightly when she nuzzled into his hands. “I will do everything I can to change that, I swear that to you. But let’s get you to bed and sleep.”

“Okay,” she slurred, but made no sign of moving other than to lift her now empty glass to her lips then frown at it, after a few beats.

He sighed and looked over to Adrien. He would fly her home but at this point, he was worried there was no way she’d make it without feeling absolutely terrible and likely throwing up… a few times. “Can she stay here tonight?”

Adrien scoffed and headed over to her. “You don’t even have to ask.”

Before Adrien could make it over to them, Jon had already picked her up as gently as possible so as not to shake her and cause her head to spin or nausea. “But I do have to ask if I can stay,” he pointed out tentatively. “I can take the couch,” he added quickly. “I just… really want to be here when she wakes up.”

Adrien sighed and softly stroked Marinette’s hair as Jon carried her past. His eyes never left Marinette as he responded, “You don’t have to either. You two come as a package.”

Jon breathed out a sigh of relief. “God, I really hope we still are.” He gave Adrien a nod at his shoulder pat and carried her back to the guest room they’d stayed in together many times before. It felt strange knowing this time he wouldn’t be welcome. They’d always stayed together, squeezed together pleasantly in the entirely too small bed.

Her even and rhythmic breathing seemed to reverberate through the unwelcome room as he laid her down and tucked the comforter around her as tenderly as he could so as not to wake her up. He hadn’t made it a full step away before he heard her voice. “Stay?” She turned her mournful eyes to him. “Give me one last night?”

She had turned away from him as soon as he started removing his shoes, getting ready for him to slip into his familiar position, which he did with ease. He stroked her hair as she slept, more for himself than her, relishing what might be the last time he was allowed to be so close. “Starlight, I want to give you my every night.”

It took quite a while for him to finally fall asleep, constantly afraid she would disappear on him if he did. When he finally fell asleep, it was fitful. He constantly jolted awake to make sure she was still there, and chastised himself each time because with the way he was wrapped around her, their legs intertwined and his hand splayed against her abdomen holding her tight against him, every time he jolted, she whined and shifted.

It was no surprise then that when she awoke quite a few hours later, he was already awake to catch her getting restless until her eyes started to flutter and finally open to take in the room, quickly scrunching in confusion. “Morning, Starlight,” he murmured, his voice scratchy from disuse and the little bit of sleep he’d managed.

“Morning, Mon rêve,” she responded instinctively, but he could see the moment memories of the night before flooded back. Her soft expression became wary and she edged away from him. “What are you doing here?”

He stared intently into her eyes and took a bit of pride in the way she didn’t shy away from him reaching out to wind his hand into her hair and brush her cheek with his thumb. She wasn’t angry or hurt enough to refuse to let him feel her, that was something, definitely better than he thought he would be. “There’s nowhere else I wanted to be.”

“Jon…” she started, her voice tired and her eyes gleaming with hurt.

“I’m sorry, Marinette,” he cut in. He’d wanted to ease into it. He’d wanted to feel out how she was feeling then go from there. He’d wanted to be tactful. But as soon as he saw the pain in her eyes, he couldn’t hold back. “I’m so, so very sorry that I forgot, but more than that, I’m sorry I made you feel like you’re anything less than the center of my entire universe.”

She looked away as she sat up, tearing herself away from the comforting feel of his hand. “I understand being a reporter you’re going to have to work late. Probably a lot. But… It was our anniversary,” she lamented, another set of tears trailing down her cheeks.

Jon jumped out of bed to kneel in front of her again. He ducked his head to try to catch her gaze, but she deftly avoided it. It hurt, but he needed to get through to her, so he took her hands in his, squeezing them gently. “I know, Starlight. I know.”

She finally lifted her eyes, but it was worse. The pain in them had increased into something desperate. “It was our anniversary, and you were too busy for me. For us. You didn’t even remember.”

He shook his head vehemently. “I forgot the date, yes. But I didn’t forget the anniversary. I swear I didn’t. I’ve had your present wrapped at home for weeks.”

She shook her head as well, but while his had shaken like he could make her misperception evaporate, hers shook like her heart had lost the strength to do anything else. “You’ve been working so much lately… for weeks. And it’s been building up for months. Months of not making it to our plans and working late. It’s like you’re looking for a reason to stay away,” she murmured in a voice so fragile it seemed like a simple word could break her.

“I want to marry you,” he blurted out.

“What!” she exclaimed, shock evident on her face, but quickly faded to exasperation. “Jon, it isn’t that bad. You don’t need to propose to get over the fight.”

“What? No! That’s not…” He took a deep breath and let it out with a loud groan. He ran his hand down his face roughly, letting it rest over his mouth for a few moments as he let the words settle into the right order in his head. “I’ve been working harder the past few months to earn money and force my break. I want to be able to support us when we get married, when we decide to start a family. I wanted to buy you a nice ring. It won’t be as amazing as you deserve, because I don’t think I’ll ever make enough to buy you what you deserve, but still a really nice ring.”

“Jon,” she murmured and with that one word, his heart started rebuilding. Her tone had completely shifted from broken to compassionate, her eyes shifted from pain to adoration. “My friend proposed to his girlfriend with a tiny shell on a string, because that’s what he could afford, and it was possibly the single most romantic gesture I’ve ever seen.” She cupped his face and stroked his cheek gently, her thumb making a quiet rasping noise against his stubble. “I don’t need a fancy ring. I just need you.”

Jon grinned as he laid his hands over hers. “Does that mean I should take the ring back? I can still find a shell somewhere and keep the money,” he teased.

“Don’t you dare,” she gasped and smacked him in the chest.

He chuckled at the swipe before pulling her into a long, tight hug, one he wasn’t sure he was going to get again just a few minutes ago, making it all the sweeter. “Are we okay?” he asked softly, still holding her tight, but too afraid to make eye contact just yet. A fear Marinette clearly did not share as she pulled back to meet his eyes.

“Yeah, I think so. I think we just need to make sure we communicate better. You shouldn’t have made such a big change in priorities without talking to me and I should have let you know how it made me feel.” She ran her fingers through his hair and along his face, her eyes trailing behind her fingers. “I love you. I want to spend my life with you. I shouldn’t have just let things fester.”

“I shouldn’t have pulled away,” he agreed. “I wanted to surprise you, but not the way I clearly did. I’ll do better.”

“So will I,” she promised.

“Our first big fight.” He grinned and leaned in conspiratorially. “Does that mean our first make up sex?”

Marinette groaned and pushed him away, watching as he fell to the floor dramatically. She watched him for a few seconds before finally answering. “Not here, no.” She chuckled as he shot up in front of her before she could comprehend he’d even moved, hope blazing in his eyes. “Take me home, Flyboy,” she cooed.

His grin turned excited as he picked her up in a bridal carry. “Yes, ma’am,” he agreed and had them home before she’d finished laughing

#maribat #marijon #supermari may

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shadowisles-writes · 9 months ago

Text

High Society 🎩 Elucien Week Day 4

A/N: I struggled hard with finding ideas for today’s prompt and eventually settled for focusing on Lucien’s heritage as a future High Lord. I've been reading angst lately so you’ll have to forgive me for incorporating that in my writing today! I swear it gets happy… eventually. (Apologies for typos I wrote this one in a rush <3) And thank you @damedechance for your help on this one!!

Word count: 2955

@elucienweekofficial

The scandal was contained The bullet had just grazed At all costs, keep your good name You don’t get to tell me you feel bad. - Who’s Afraid Of Little Old Me, Taylor Swift

Heir to the Day Court. That was who he was, not Beron’s failure of a seventh son, nor the Spring Court courtier who had abandoned his post and turned over to the court that should have been his enemy. Lucien huffed a laugh that was almost a sob and lifted the bottle of liquor to his lips.

The ceiling of his childhood bedroom hadn’t changed, it was still the same sage green he had picked so many years ago. A soothing color, his mother had smiled at his choice at the time, but it only seemed to mock him now. There was nothing soothing about the Autumn Court and the smell of damp leaves, or the forest green curtains he used to hide behind when Beron was in one of his moods.

Beron was dead, but the entire place still had Lucien on edge since he had stepped foot in it. Only the steady stream of alcohol infusing into his blood with every gulp relaxed him enough to lay back on the old carpet and stare at the ceiling as he tried and failed to process everything that had happened.

A knock came on the door, followed by the still familiar squeak of the hinges. “Lucien,” his mother said his name with a softness he hadn’t heard in years.

“Get out,” he gritted out, pushing up on his elbow just enough to be able to take two heavy gulps of the liquor. The bottle was getting too close to empty, but he’d fix that when he found the energy to care about something other than making himself numb.

“I’m sorry,” she walked in anyway, the black of her skirts visible from the corner of his eye when she took a seat at the foot of his bed.

Mourning clothes. Lucien almost barked a laugh. Was anyone in this court truly mourning that monster? Or were they all still putting on a show for no one’s benefit? He kept himself silent, though, knowing better than to snap at his mother after she took the brunt of Beron’s wrath for his sons more times than any of them would ever know. Except Lucien wasn’t Beron’s son, he was a bastard who had never belonged to this court in the first place.

His mother shifted and cleared her throat, “Lucien, you have to understand—”

“Get out!” He interrupted before she could explain anything.

Lucien didn’t care for explanations, not when he had lived his whole life as a lie, not when the entire room was spinning around him. His mother said nothing more, but he heard her sharp breath in response to his anger before she got up and left him alone to wallow. Being alone was what he was used to, anyway. Everyone around him had some sort of family, some sort of unbreakable friendship, but Lucien was alone.

His own mate didn’t want him. His human friends were happier when they were left alone to fuck all over their little house. Tamlin would never forgive him. Feyre might never forgive him either, after all that had happened to her, and the rest of her court only tolerated him because she handed out the invitations.

A wave of self-disgust washed over him and made his stomach churn. It took one spasm of his body for Lucien to surge up and into the bathroom, where he fell to his knees and emptied his guts into the toilet bowl.

“A little pathetic for a future High Lord, don’t you think?” Eris said from somewhere behind him.

He must have been more inebriated than he thought if he hadn’t heard him come in, but Eris had always been skilled at sneaking up on people. It was something all the Vanserras were good at, after being raised in a house where they were constantly walking on eggshells. Except Lucien wasn’t a Vanserra, of course.

“Fuck you,” Lucien managed before the rest of the alcohol had to make its way out of his stomach.

Eris made a disgusted noise and Lucien would have cursed at him again if he could. When he was done, his chest shuddered with a couple of breaths before he deemed it safe to sit with his back against the edge of the tub.

“What do you want?” He asked Eris as he wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve.

“You don’t think you’re being a little dramatic?” His half brother leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms over his chest like he had any power to scold him.

Eris might have just become High Lord, but he was the asshole Lucien grew up around before anything else.

“I wish I’d thrown up on your shoes,” he said. His head was still spinning, and he could barely keep his eyes focused on anything. Closing them made the spinning worse, which forced Lucien to sort of squint as he waited for the feeling to pass.

“Classy,” Eris rolled his eyes. “And a great way to speak to the High Lord you’ll have to ally with someday,”

“Helion’s nowhere near death,” Lucien reached for the edge of the toilet bowl in anticipation of another wave of nausea, “Or are you planning on killing every father figure in my life?”

“Like anyone in this damn house wanted to see Beron alive for another minute.” Eris cursed and gagged quietly as Lucien threw up again, mostly dry heaving over the toilet bowl because as sick as he felt, there was nothing left in his stomach. “Get your shit together,”

“Get my—” Lucien’s words got cut off by another fit of nausea. “Fuck you,” was all he managed to croak as he settled against the bathtub again.

“All I’m saying is—”

“Fuck you,” Lucien interrupted again and watched the tips of Eris’ ears turn red with anger. Nothing like a little brother—half-brother—to get on his nerves. “It’s only been hours why can’t you just let me—” fall apart, would probably have been the rest of his sentence if something hadn’t clicked in his brain at that moment.

The room briefly stopped spinning, and Lucien pushed himself to sit up straight. “You weren’t even surprised.” Anger bubbled inside of him, heightened by the alcohol still coursing through him.

“Lucien,” Eris said his name like a warning, and it was all he needed to confirm what he had already guessed.

“You knew,” he accused. “How long?”

“It’s not that simple,”

Lucien was yelling now, “How fucking long?”

His broken voice rang in his ears, making his head hurt as his question was only met by silence. Since he was born, then. Lucien wished he could be sick again so he wouldn’t have to keep looking at Eris.

“So you, and mother.” Lucien croaked. “Who else?”

“No one else,” Eris answered quickly, this time. “Beron pretended not to know, it would have been a public embarrassment.”

“And what’s your excuse?”

Eris had the decency to look uncomfortable for a passing moment before he crouched in front of Lucien and handed him a damp towel. “Do you think he would have let her live, if anyone else knew?”

“Helion could have made himself useful,”

“You’re an idealistic fool if you believe there was anything he could have done for her. There are laws—”

“What about me?” Lucien seethed. “What about telling me that there was somewhere I could have gone that wouldn’t have to be fucking exile,”

“Tamlin was your friend,”

“Tamlin has the same anger issues Beron does, you’re the fool if you believe depending on him was a good thing.” Eris quieted at that, and something almost like pity shone in his eyes. It was enough to enrage Lucien once again. “And fuck you,” he grasped the first thing near him to throw at Eris.

His aim was shit when he was drunk, but he was close to his target and the bar of soap made a dull thud against Eris’ head.

“You little—”

“Get out!” Lucien yelled with enough anger that Eris simply stood up straight, kicked the soap out of his path and strode out of the room without another word.

Finally alone. Lucien’s eyes fluttered shut, then opened once again to squint when the spinning in his head became too much. It was uncomfortable enough to make him groan, but anything was better than being sober and having to deal with all of his feelings. Hopefully with enough silence, he’d find just enough strength to winnow out of this nightmare of a court before the sun rose again.

Choosing where to go was more of a dilemma when Lucien could stand again. He had washed the scent of alcohol from his skin, but he still felt like he’d gotten run over by several horses when he stepped out of the wards of the house and winnowed away from Autumn.

For the first time since he had started working for the Night Court, he abused his privilege and ability to get through the shields of Feyre’s home without warning. He barged into the living room in the middle of their afternoon, finding her and her mate sitting on the floor with their child. The last time he had been here, Nyx was crawling all over the floor, now, he was taking small steps in between his parents.

“Lucien!” Feyre exclaimed as she scooped her son up in her arms and stood. “We didn’t expect you today, what brings you here? You look—”

“Like shit,” Rhysand finished for his wife before she could find a nicer way to phrase it.

“Rhys!” She hissed as she covered the child’s ears, but it was already too late.

“Shit!” Nyx exclaimed with a laugh. When Rhys couldn’t contain his own chuckle, he did it again. “Shit!”

“Oh gods,” Feyre glared at her husband and adjusted the wriggling child on her hip.

“I need to know how long you’ve known,” Lucien interrupted their little family scene with more venom than necessary.

Rhys picked up on his anger and seamlessly threw a shield around his child and wife. “Known about what?” He asked Lucien calmly and took a small step to set himself in front of his family.

“About Helion being my father.”

The thud of a brutish Illyrian landing just outside the window had become familiar enough to Lucien that he didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. “Really?” He rolled his eyes at Feyre. “I come here for a conversation and this is what you do?”

“Sorry,” she cringed.

“No we’re not,” Rhys crossed his arms over his chest.

“Hey there little Vanserra,” Cassian grinned as he walked into the scene, knowingly using the name Lucien hated without realizing how big of a slip it was that day.

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to stop using that one,” Lucien didn’t bother greeting him back. “Apparently, it’s Spell-Cleaver now.”

“What?” Cassian looked over at Rhys, and a few beats passed as they conversed silently.

Lucien threw his hands up and began to pace the length of the room. “At least one person was as surprised as me by this whole mess.”

“I guessed it,” Feyre admitted. “It was during the war and we had so much going on, I didn’t know how to tell you.”

That stopped him in his tracks with a sarcastic laugh. “It’s wonderful how many excuses everyone has been able to make up about this in the past few days.”

“What do you want us to say?” Rhys asked, still calm as ever.

“Feyre, what in the world is—” Elain stopped in her tracks halfway down the stairs. “Lucien,” she greeted with a nod as her cheeks turned bright red.

She seemed to hesitate between running back up or walking the rest of the way down for several seconds before she settled on joining everyone in the living room.

“My lady,” Lucien murmured and pulled himself together enough to bow.

“Well it’s a party now,” Cassian coughed out, though a glare from Feyre was enough to shut him up. If anything, he should be the one to empathize with a male struggling to get attention from his mate.

“Well,” Feyre said. “Why don’t we all sit down for some tea?”

Lucien—who had shown up for answers but with absolutely no plan of what to do next—couldn’t refuse even if there was nothing he wanted less. He stood there, as Cassian sprawled himself in one of the chairs while Feyre left the room and Rhys busied himself with his son.

“Are you alright?” A small hand rested on his arm, and Lucien froze. “You look…”

“I’m sorry,” he tried to tuck strands of hair that fell in his face back to look pulled together, but he was still a mess. “I am alright, thank you for asking.”

“Come,” she gave his sleeve a slight tug and disappeared into the corridor without anyone else noticing.

Either Rhys was now ignoring him, or he was done considering him a threat, because he didn’t even glance up as Lucien slipped away after his mate until they were in the sunlight between the rose bushes of her garden. Feeling the warmth of it on his skin soothed him enough for him to take a deep breath, but something was tight in his chest as he remained aware of his mate watching his every move.

“Better than having to sit in there for tea, isn’t it?” Elain brushed her fingers over one of the roses.

“Yes, thank you,” Lucien had always loved nature, he felt at his best when he was outside, and he should have known that winnowing from house to house couldn’t do him any good.

“You don’t look alright,” she eventually looked up from her flowers to let her gaze run over him.

Lucien did the same, starting at his feet to take in the wrinkles in his usually immaculate clothes. He didn’t need a mirror to know his face was hardly any better with the hangover headache still pounding at his temples.

“I just found out that the High Lord of the Day Court and my mother had an affair, and that my existence is the result of it,” he dropped the news without ceremony and watched Elain’s eyes widen as she stilled. “You didn’t know,” he could tell her surprise was genuine and she shook her head.

“Of course not, how would I have known that?”

Lucien tried for a smile, but it felt more like a grimace. “Apparently, your sister and her mate found out long before I did.”

“And they said nothing?” Elain’s question was soon answered by his silence. “I’m sorry, that must be… do you know what you’re going to do now?”

“Not a single idea,” he shrugged and meant for it to be casual, but it only made her look more worried.

“Does Helion know?”

“I don’t know that either,”

Elain nodded and smoothed her hands down her dress. “That could be a good place to start, if you’re ready to find out.”

Lucien picked a leaf off a bush and sighed, “I can’t just waltz into his court and—”

“Your court,” Elain corrected.

“What?”

“It’s your court.” She repeated. “I’ve watched you bounce from one place to another for months… what if this is where you’re supposed to go?”

And there it was, the one fear that had brought Lucien to the Night Court instead of Day. “But what if it’s not?”

“I may not know you very well,” Elain started hesitantly, “But I know what it’s like to feel like you don’t belong anywhere. The Day Court could be worth a try, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“Start a diplomatic incident between the court I’m emissary for and the one I should supposedly belong to?” Lucien guessed.

A soft laugh escaped her lips, and that sound alone might have been enough to put his heart back together. “Feyre and Rhysand are good friends with Helion, I doubt he’d cause any trouble regarding that.”

“You sound like you know him too,”

“I’ve been to his court,” Elain admitted. “He’s very nice, and it’s a beautiful place.”

“You’re right, I should go,” Lucien sighed. “But what if he did know?”

She walked a few steps ahead of him, deeper into the garden and around the house, where a wooden bench waited for her to sit on. “I doubt it, I know a feeling is not much to work from but… I don’t know, I really don’t think he does.”

“Elain,” Lucien looked amused as he took the spot next to her. “You’re a Seer, I’d trust your feelings.”

“I, ah, I’m still not sure what that’s supposed to mean,” Elain shrugged and adjusted the fabric of her dress on her lap. “I tried to find out more, in the library, but it hasn’t been that helpful.”

“Have you tried the Day Court? It is known for its scholars and collection of knowledge, I’m sure someone could help you there,”

At that, she actually laughed. “I thought I was trying to convince you to go.”

“Maybe we should both go,” Lucien said before he could stop himself, and Elain quickly looked away from him to stare in the distance instead.

“Lucien…”

Her gaze had fallen to her lap, and he immediately regretted his lack of filter. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“You should go, find out what you need to, and maybe… if you stay, maybe I could come visit, in a little while,” Elain met his eyes again, something like hope shining on her face.

It was subtle, but it was there, and for the first time in weeks Lucien genuinely smiled. “I would like that, wherever I am.”

#elucien #elucienweek2024 #elucien fluff #elucien angst #acotar #elucien fanfiction #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #elain x lucien #elain archeron x lucien vanserra #lucien x elain #lucien vanserra x elain archeron #eris vanserra #lucien spell cleaver

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