#wish i hadn't pre-ordered it

[barnacles34]

Book Boy

Asa x Male Reader

18+ smut

12k words

'Is this the place?' Asa stood in the open doorway, bag slung over one shoulder. Eyes moving slowly around the room. The single bed pushed against the wall, the stacks of paperbacks rising from the floorboards like uneven pillars, the one rickety wooden chair beside a small, bare table. 'It's… neat.'

'It does the job,' you reply, leaning against the doorframe.

'Just…' She stepped inside then. Her fingers traced the spine of a book on the nearest stack. Dust danced in the pillar of late afternoon light from the window. 'Not a lot of distractions.'

'Don't need many.'

'Right.' She walked to the window, peered down at the narrow alley between buildings. A single potted succulent sat on the sill. 'How long have you lived like this?'

'Awhile,' you said.

She turned back, leaning her hip against the little table. 'I heard about you.'

'Oh yeah?'

'Some people. Mentioned you.' She paused, tilted her head as if searching for the right word. 'Said you were… particular.'

'Did they.' It wasn't a question.

'Ex-girlfriends, I gathered.' A tiny smile touched her lips, disappeared. 'Sounded like maybe they didn't appreciate the… minimalist aesthetic.'

'Some people need cushions,' you offered.

'Maybe.' Her gaze was direct now, curious rather than judging. 'How long?'

'Did they last?'

She nodded, waiting.

'Not long,' you admitted. Shifted your weight. 'One left after we ordered pizza. Said the delivery box dwarved the table.'

A soft laugh escaped her. Genuine. 'You're kidding.'

'Wish I was.'

Silence settled for a moment, filled only by the low hum of the ancient refrigerator in the corner and the distant sigh of traffic. It wasn't uncomfortable, just quiet.

Then, 'Okay,' she said, pushing herself away from the table. Her movement seemed decisive. 'You got the job.'

'Just like that?' You straightened up. Confused. This was the usual spiel that got you rejected. Got you the fastlane to unemployment benefits.

'Just like that.' She smiled properly now, a flash of warmth in the dim room. 'I need a manager. Someone… different. You seem different.'

'Okay,' you said again, the word feeling inadequate. You wondered what, exactly, you'd just agreed to. 'When do I start?'

An idol manager? Of all jobs?

—

The months that followed compressed time. A montage of departure lounges, identical hotel corridors, the pre-show buzz backstage turning into the van ride afterwards. 

Through it all, there was Asa. Under the stark stage lights, catching her breath in the wings, falling asleep with her head against a tour bus window. A rhythm began. Coffee handed over wordlessly before dawn call times.

You making sure she actually ate something more substantial than candy between soundcheck and the show. Her leaving bottles of cold water beside your laptop when you were hunched over schedules late at night. Small kindnesses, noticed.

One night. Might have been London. Rain drummed against the tall hotel window, a steady, gray beat. You were burrowed deep under the thick duvet, finally feeling the bone-deep chill start to ease. Sleep was close.

The door clicked open softly. Asa. She still had her scarf on, damp from the rain, little droplets sparkling on the dark wool under the hallway light spilling in.

'Let's find some real food,' she said. Her voice was low, tired perhaps. She hadn't turned on the room light.

'Thought you were going out with the others,' your voice came out muffled by the pillow and the blankets.

'Changed my mind.' She came further into the dark room, stood near the edge of the bed. 'Come on. There's meant to be a good pub just down the road. Supposedly.'

'Asa, I think my legs might actually detach if I try to walk.'

'Just for an hour. Less, even.'

'No chance. Bed's too good.'

A soft sigh. You felt, more than saw, her put a hand flat on the duvet, near your shoulder. The weight was slight. Then her fingers curled gently into the thick fabric. A soft tug, hesitant almost. 'Please?'

'Hey now,' you mumbled, trying for firmness. 'Not exactly dressed for company under here.'

'Wouldn't be the first time I've seen skinny legs,' she countered, her voice softening into something almost teasing. Another gentle pull. 'Just food. Real food. Then sleep, promise.'

'You're pathologically persistent.'

'Is that a yes I hear?' Even in the dim light, you could imagine the hopeful tilt of her head.

—

You both learned to read the spaces between words. Shared things. A half-finished bottle of water passed back and forth backstage, slick with condensation and effort. A book appearing on a hotel nightstand, the bookmark a receipt from a local cafe, marking a passage you might like.

Small offerings. Small acceptances.

Outside a theatre after a show. The crowd was roaring. Flashbulbs exploded. Your hand found hers, a reflex. You felt her small bones and warm skin for the first time, fitting perfectly. It felt startlingly right. Then the chaos happened—shouting voices, security guards forming a barrier. Someone jostled your arms apart. Her hand was gone. The space where it had been felt abruptly, painfully cold. Your ears were still ringing from the flashes.

Whispers followed. Dark rumors that served to bury you. Phone calls behind closed doors you weren't privy to. Looks exchanged by executives that you learned to understand immediately.

You sat gripping a flat soda in a sterile hotel bar days later, staring at the melting ice, feeling the unease settle deep.

Asa appeared suddenly, sliding onto the stool beside you as if materializing from the dim light. She ordered an orange juice.

'Heard talk,' you said, keeping your eyes on your glass.

'Forget it.' She bumped her shoulder against yours. A light, fleeting contact. 'It's handled. Really.' She risked a quick, reassuring smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. 'Don't worry about it. Seriously.' She leaned a fraction closer, her voice dropping. 'No one's firing my manager. Especially not over that.'

—

Another city, another late night, another hotel couch. Rain pattered gently on the window. The TV murmured in the corner—some romantic drama you’d both lost interest in.

Her head rested on your shoulder, her arm tucked through yours, familiar now, comfortable. The silence stretched, easy. You could hear the soft tick-tock of a travel clock, the faint sound of her breathing.

'Think she'll pick him in the end?' she murmured, her voice drowsy, eyes half-closed.

'The quiet, broody one? Dollars to donuts.'

A soft 'hmm' sound vibrated against your shirt. 'You have a type.'

'They seem reliable,' you said, a small smile touching your lips as you looked down at the top of her head. The scent of her shampoo, something clean and faintly floral, apple maybe, reached you. 'Probably read Dostoevsky.'

She chuckled, a low, warm sound that made something inside you settle. She nuzzled slightly closer, a purely comfortable gesture. 'Probably.'

—

Then summer was warm and tacky. A small town tucked into rolling green hills, the air smelling of sun-baked stone, cut grass, and the pungent sweetness of lavender from nearby fields. Asa walked beside you, concentrating on her rapidly melting gelato cone. 

Her simple white sundress fluttered around her knees in the slight, warm breeze. The cheap instant camera she insisted on carrying everywhere bounced gently against her hip with each step.

It felt… good. Dangerously good.

'This is seriously amazing,' she declared, holding the precarious cone aloft for a second before taking another bite. A drip escaped onto her hand.

'Better be, for what it cost.'

'Details, details. I owe you one,' she said, deftly licking the drip from her thumb.

'You keep saying that.' How many times now? Twenty? Thirty?

'Are you keeping count?' she teased, eyes bright.

'Wouldn't dream of it,' you replied, the lie easy on your tongue.

'Good.' She nudged your arm with her shoulder, a playful bump. 'So, what glorious adventure is next on the agenda?'

'I believe my gelato budget allocation for the day has been exhausted,' you said, deadpan.

She gave you a soft push, laughing. 'Liar.' Then her fingers slipped easily between yours, cool skin against your own.

The cool metal of a ring some fan gave her brushed against your knuckles: A small, hard reminder. You closed your hand around hers anyway. It felt too right not to.

'There's supposed to be a really good independent bookstore just down this street,' she said, her voice softer now.

'Lead the way.'

'Think we can find you something that isn't Russian and relentlessly bleak for once?'

'We can always hope.'

She started walking, her grip firm but gentle, tugging you along. You let yourself follow, but deliberately kept your pace unhurried. The sun felt warm on your face, the aged sidewalk uneven beneath your feet. The street was peaceful, sleepy in the afternoon heat.

'Everything alright back there, slowpoke?' She glanced over her shoulder, her brow furrowed slightly, but she was smiling. She didn't let go of your hand.

'Just enjoying the scenic route.'

'The scenic route consisting of… cracked pavement and that one sad-looking mailbox?'

'It's got character,' you insisted.

She stopped then, turning to face you fully, pulling you gently closer by your joined hands. 'You walk slower than a turtle.'

'Respect the pace.'

A bright yellow bicycle whizzed past, its rider, a kid maybe ten years old, shouting a cheerful, unintelligible greeting. Asa waved back automatically, her smile bright and easy. She turned that smile back to you. 'People are going to start rumors, you know.'

'Let them, nothing’s gonna change.'

'My last manager,' she began, her voice dropping a little, falling back into step beside you, her shoulder brushing yours, 'he timed everything. Schedules printed in triplicate. Bathroom breaks logged.'

'Sounds like a real party.'

'He never bought me gelato,' she said, her gaze flicking down for a second to your intertwined hands. Was that a faint blush on her cheeks, or just the summer heat? 'And he definitely never just… walked.'

'His loss.’

She leaned slightly against your arm as you moved, It sent a ridiculous jolt straight to your chest. Your heart felt too loud in the quiet street.

Cicadas buzzed, a high, vibrating blanket of sound. A sound for slow afternoons.

'So, any new threats from the executioner's block this week?' you asked, trying to inject lightness into your voice.

'Friday meeting. Same old, same old.'

'And?' You held your breath without realizing it.

She squeezed your hand. 'And I told them my bookish, slow-walking manager isn't going anywhere.' She looked up at you then, her expression surprisingly serious for a fleeting moment. 'Okay?'

'Okay,' you echoed, the knot in your stomach easing slightly. It felt much more than okay.

The sky was visibly darkening at the edges now, clouds bruised purple. The air felt heavier, expectant.

'Definitely looks like rain.' 

'Smells like it now.' The metallic scent was distinct.

'Should probably hurry to that bookstore.'

'Suppose so.'

Yet, neither of you quickened your pace. Her hand felt incredibly warm, perfectly fitted in yours. The rest of the world seemed to fade slightly.

There was just the pressure of her fingers, the coming scent of summer rain, the soft scuff of your shoes on the pavement, her presence beside you.

Up ahead, a brick wall was plastered with old, faded movie posters, their edges softened and colors bled by past rains. She slowed, pointing with her free hand. 'Remember seeing that one? The weird sci-fi thing?'

'Can't say I do.'

'Liar. You fell asleep halfway through and snored.'

'Must have been riveting.' Before she could argue further, you gave her hand a gentle tug forward. 'Come on. Unless you want to test if that camera is waterproof.'

She laughed, letting you lead her past the decaying posters. Around the corner, a row of small, inviting shopfronts appeared—a bakery, a hardware store, a tiny cafe.

Your hands remained firmly clasped. It felt like the most normal, necessary thing in the world.

'There?' You pointed across the quiet street. A small, neat sign swung gently in the rising breeze, letters painted carefully: 'The Book Nook'.

She chuckled, her eyes crinkling at the corners, looking bright 'Finally.'

Inside the bookstore, you moved chaotically between shelves, gathering books in your arms. Asa wandered, trailing fingers along dusty spines. Her dress wafted as she walked, and right there, you thought, maybe, she's the most amazing person you've ever met.

She caught you staring and grinned, something beautiful, something genuine. 'Aw. You're so excited.' She giggled. 'Take your time. I like walking in the rain.'

The rain.

You'd forgotten. Letting her walk in the rain with that dress—gossamer-thin, white, creamy, sheer—was a recipe for disaster.

So you hurried.

'Why're you in a hurry?'

'It's about to rain.'

'It's already raining.'

You looked out. Lots of rain already.

‘Oh.’

…

‘Wanna run for it?’

She said sure with an eager smile.

So you pressed softly on the glass door, waiting for the moment, listening to the faint droplets tik-tik-tik against the door.

‘Run for it Asa.’

You opened the door, and she started running. And you followed. The rain was plastering your face, its earthy smell invading your nostrils, but you had eyes for Asa. Only Asa. Maybe you could’ve ran faster than her, outpace her, await her at the car—but what would be the fun in that?

She seemed to be squealing. You didn’t notice, you were staring at her, the way she ran, the way the dress outlined her.

Before you knew it, you were at the car with Asa—the both of you entered the backseat.

‘Holy shit.’ You say.

‘That was like… too much rain.’ Asa giggled.

You looked at Asa, the first question, weird one: ‘Did you even have makeup on?’ She fixed her hair, wet from rain, ‘Makeup has advanced more than you know. But thanks. I’ll take that as a compliment.’

‘Weird question.’

‘I know.’

‘Anyway, why did we enter the backseat?’

‘I’m cold.’

‘The AC works better in the passenger seat.’

Then Asa softly moved over to you, and wrapped her shivery arms around you. ‘It’s because of this, dummy.’ Then her arms tightened, and you could feel, truly, how her body shivered, the traces of warmth on the surface of her skin; the way she smelt, of honeydew, of earth’s rain; then the way she felt:

Her skin was cold-to-the-touch when you finally held her. This time, her touch felt electric: the way her finger just grazed along your palm was already too much.

She wanted you.

You wanted her.

'I've always liked you.' She said.

You hugged her closer, giving her warmth, feeling the rain-kissed dress warm up against your skin. Her finger traced patterns on your palm, sometimes pressing deeper, waiting for your reaction.

You were too busy pressed up against her—feeling the hot skin of her back, inhaling her scent. She was inlaid across your lap, the thin dress more inspiration than prevention.

'You're so warm.' A whimper. Thin, meek.

'Keep hugging me.' You breathed back, merely a whisper as your hands caressed her. She'd make these sounds, these no-good ones, breathing right into your ear as her thin arms looped around your neck.

Then you kissed her.

She squealed, soft-like, then poked your side teasingly, then her hands curled in your hair.

When you pulled back, her lips chased yours for a fraction before she caught herself.

'Oh.' Asa touched her lips with cold fingers. Pink spread across her cheeks like watercolor.

'Yeah.' Your voice came out rough. You cleared your throat. 'Oh.'

She buried her face in your shoulder. 'Stop looking at me like that.'

'Like what?'

'Like... that.'

'Very specific.'

Her laugh vibrated against your collarbone. 'Shut up.'

A shiver ran through her. You pulled her closer, wrapping both arms around her middle. The rain had soaked through her dress, through your shirt, but you couldn't bring yourself to care.

'Cold?'

'Mm.' She nuzzled deeper. 'Not really.'

'Liar.'

'Am not.' Her teeth chattered slightly.

'The AC—'

'Don't you dare.' Her fingers curled into your shirt. 'Stay.'

You stayed. The rain drummed against the windows, a steady rhythm that matched your heartbeat. Or maybe your heartbeat matched it. You weren't sure anymore.

'Your books got wet,' she mumbled.

'Worth it.'

She lifted her head. 'Yeah?'

'Yeah.'

Her eyes were soft, questioning. You watched a drop of water trace down her temple.

'You're staring again.'

'Can't help it.'

'Book boy's getting smooth.'

'Don't call me that right now.'

She grinned. 'Why not... book boy?'

You pinched her side. She squeaked, squirming in your lap.

'Evil,' she said. 'Pure evil.'

'Says the one soaking my clothes.'

'You volunteered.'

'Did I?'

She nodded solemnly. 'The moment you hired me.'

'Pretty sure it was the other way around.'

'Details.' She waved a hand dismissively, then shivered again.

You rubbed her back, feeling the goosebumps through the thin fabric. 'We should really—'

'Five more minutes.' She pressed closer. 'Just five.'

You breathed her in. Rain and perfume and something uniquely Asa. 'Okay.'

'Okay?'

'Five minutes.'

She hummed contentedly. 'Then maybe five more after that.'

'Asa...'

'What?' Innocent eyes. Too innocent. 'I'm very cold.'

'You're impossible.'

'You like it.'

You did. God help you, you really did.

And for a few minutes, or 10, or maybe even 20, you sat there embracing Asa’s meek figure, with the knowledge that she liked you.

—

You were each other's sweet torture, you realized that now. Every shared glance became a test of restraint. Like that time she pulled you into the maintenance closet, pressed a ghost of a kiss against your lips, then whispered promises that made your collar too tight.

Later that night, you found her waiting at the door. You slipped inside, waited for the heavy door to click shut.

'Took you long enough.' She held her arms out, expectant.

'Some of us actually work.' You fell into her embrace.

Her lips found your cheekbone. 'Making excuses now, you monster.'

'Monster?' You lifted her up.

'Absolutely.' But her hands linked behind your neck, and she tilted down to catch your lips.

Soft and warm and perfect—a sweet prison you never wanted to escape. You stumbled toward the bedroom, knocking against furniture, probably bruising your shin, but none of that mattered. What mattered was the way Asa sighed against your mouth, the way her fingers traced patterns in your hair, the way she fit against you like she was made for this.

The suite was nice—couch, kitchenette, things you'd normally notice. But right now all you could focus on was the warmth of her skin, the sound of her breath, the weight of her in your arms.

You were reserved for the next few hours.

Really, you were reserved for the foreseeable future.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

—

The smell hit you first—something sizzling. You found Asa in the kitchen, spatula in hand, wearing one of your old t-shirts like a dress.

'Since when do you cook?'

'Since forever.' She didn't look up from the pan. 'You just never asked.'

'Wouldn't have pegged you for domestic.'

'Says the man with three different coffee brewing methods.'

You moved behind her, peered over her shoulder. The rice popped and sizzled, red and fragrant. 'Looks good.'

'Tastes better.' She bumped back against you. 'If someone would let me focus.'

'Am I distracting?' Your lips found her neck.

'Mm.' She tilted her head, giving you better access. 'Very.'

'Should I stop?'

'Don't you dare.' But she moved the pan to the back burner, turned down the heat.

You spun her around. The counter was just the right height—she sat on it, pulled you close by your shirt.

'The rice will burn,' you murmured against her lips.

'Don't care.' Her legs wrapped around your waist. 'Kiss me.'

So you did. She tasted like kimchi and coffee, and something sweet you couldn't place. Her hands found your hair, tugged just right.

—

Later in the day, you were splayed across the couch, and Asa snuggled up close to you.

‘What’s gonna happen after the tour?’

‘Nothing’ll change, Asa.’

‘You’ll still come over?’

‘I’ll try. But you’d be in the dorm.’

‘We can go somewhere in secret.’

‘Hotels? That’s expensive, Asa.’

‘I mean I can pay, I have money. Or the, you know, 3 hour hotel rooms.’

‘Love hotels?’ 

Her face flushed up, ‘Maybe.’

You didn’t answer at first. You looked at her, then at the ceiling, like it might hold the right response in a water stain.

Asa’s fingers were toying with the hem of her borrowed shirt—your shirt—like she hadn’t just upended the atmosphere with two syllables. Love hotels.

You cleared your throat. ‘They charge by the hour, right?’

‘That’s… kind of the point,’ she said, not quite meeting your eyes, but grinning all the same. Her cheeks had that telltale flush again, the one that crept up slow then stayed.

You shifted, suddenly hyper-aware of the way her thigh pressed against yours. 'You saying you want to rent one for the ambiance?'

‘Sure. Mood lighting. Themed wallpaper. Maybe a heart-shaped jacuzzi if we’re lucky.’

‘Classy.’

‘I thought so.’

You laughed, short and quiet. She nudged your knee with hers. You looked at her then—really looked—and the idea bloomed, unwanted and vivid, in the back of your mind. Asa in one of those ridiculous hotel robes. Her hair still damp from the shower. You, trying not to stare. Trying and failing.

You blinked hard.

‘You're thinking about it, aren't you?’ she said. Not accusatory, just amused.

You scratched the back of your neck. ‘Thinking is free.’

‘Mmhm.’

You paused. Words gathered, jostled. You said, finally, ‘I didn’t… we haven’t… you know.’

‘Had sex?’ she supplied, way too casually, then turned her face into the crook of your shoulder, like even saying it embarrassed her.

You swallowed. Nodded. 'Yeah.'

She was quiet a beat. Then, softly: ‘Why not?’

The air shifted again. Serious now. Too still.

You tried for honesty, the kind that didn’t dress itself up too much. ‘Because if we did… I don’t know. I might fall in.’

She lifted her head, frowning. ‘Fall in?’

You gestured vaguely between you. ‘Into all this. Too deep. I’m your manager, Asa. There’s lines. I don’t know what happens if I… if we… cross them.’

She looked at you for a long time. Then, with a soft snort, said, ‘You think this hasn’t already crossed lines?’

You opened your mouth. Closed it again. She wasn’t wrong.

‘You’ve seen me cry after bad interviews,’ she continued. ‘You’ve slept next to me in tiny green rooms with broken heaters. You’ve watched me eat an entire packet of sour gummies for dinner and still defended me to the label.’

‘It was impressive,’ you offered.

‘It was pathetic,’ she said, grinning. ‘But you didn’t make me feel pathetic. You made me feel… okay. Like it was okay to be tired and weird and hungry at 2am.’

You were staring at her again. Couldn’t help it.

She touched your wrist, featherlight. 'So yeah. I’ve thought about it. The… other stuff. But I figured if we were gonna, it had to be when it didn’t feel like a risk.'

You nodded slowly. That sounded right. That sounded like her.

‘Still… love hotels, huh?’

She groaned, faceplanting into your chest. ‘I knew you were gonna circle back.’

‘You started it.’

‘It was a joke! Mostly.’

‘Mostly?’

She peeked up at you, eyes glinting. ‘Eighty percent joke. Twenty percent… we’d have fun.’

‘Fun?’

‘Yeah. Dumb, cheesy, stupid fun. Mirrors on the ceiling kind of fun.’

You tried not to laugh. Failed. ‘God, you’re dangerous.’

‘I’m adorable,’ she said, with a mock huff.

‘Also that.’

Her hand curled around your arm again, comfortably. Like it belonged there. You didn’t pull away.

After a while, she said, ‘So… no love hotels. For now.’

‘For now.’

‘But I’m not giving up.’

‘I’d be offended if you did.’

She smiled into your shirt. ‘It’s a weird thing, you know?’

‘What is?’

‘How much I like you. Even when you’re being all serious and manager-y. Even when you say things like “logistics.”’

You sighed. ‘I only said it twice.’

‘Once is too many.’

You reached over, tangled your fingers gently in her hair.

—

The door opened and she was already kissing you.

Just a quick one, soft and close-mouthed, but it said everything. She lingered, her arms around your neck, fingers slipping into your hair. You’d seen her just last night.

Still— ‘I missed you,’ she mumbled against your cheek.

‘It’s been twelve hours.’

‘Too long.’

You set the peaches on the counter without looking. One hand stayed around her waist.

‘You okay?’ you asked, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

‘Now? Yeah. Now I’m peachy.’

You groaned. ‘That was awful.’

She smiled. ‘Come slice the fruit, whiner.’

You did, methodically. Thin wedges, juices pooling on the plate. She leaned her hip against the counter, watching, towel still perched loosely on her head, damp strands peeking out. She looked soft, undone, like someone who belonged to a slow morning.

You brought the plate over and she tugged you toward the couch. You ended up side by side under the throw blanket, legs tangled. She fed you the first slice. Then leaned in for a kiss.

Peach-sweet.

‘Still missed you,’ she said again, like it needed repeating.

You offered her a slice in return. She took it delicately, then pecked your lips.

Another bite, another kiss. You let the silence hold, warm and quiet.

You ran your thumb along her knee, slow. She leaned into you, head tucked under your chin. ‘You smell good.’

Then, softly, reply: ‘I’ll have to go back to Korea. For a week or two. Maybe three.’

She stilled.

You felt it—her body going quiet. Still pressed against you, but something changed.

‘When?’ she asked, voice too even.

‘Couple days.’

A pause. Then: ‘Don’t spread yourself thin, okay?’

You glanced down.

Her eyes were still on the peach slice she held.

‘What do you mean?’

‘You know. New city, old friends. Late nights. People who might not know you’ve got… someone.’

You blinked. Then looked at her, really looked.

Asa. Slightly pink-cheeked, lips sugar-wet from fruit. Trying not to sound hurt.

You set the plate down on the coffee table and turned to her fully. Lifted her chin with a fingertip.

‘You think I’d forget?’

She shrugged. ‘Not forget. Just… get swept up.’

You kissed her again. Longer this time. Slower.

When you pulled back, she was quiet.

You said, ‘This is a relationship, isn’t it.’

It wasn’t even a question.

She smiled, barely. A breath of a thing. Then nodded.

‘Yeah. I guess it is.’

Another kiss. Sappy, drawn-out, peach-flavored.

You didn’t need to say anything else.

—

The conference room was cold. Overly air-conditioned in that way corporate places always are, like someone thought discomfort = professionalism. Rows of black suits. PowerPoint slides with bullet points so dry you could sand wood with them.

You sat stiffly, tie a little too tight, nodding along while some VP in rectangular glasses spoke about “strategic alignment.” Whatever that meant.

Your phone buzzed quietly in your pocket.

You didn’t check it immediately. That would’ve been rude. But it buzzed again. And again.

Eventually, during the fake coffee break where everyone clustered around silver urns of burnt liquid, you slipped your phone out.

1:43 PM have you eaten?

1:44 PM Not really.

1:44 PM ??? dude why not

1:45 PM Was stuck in a panel about supply chain integration. They served sandwiches the size of poker chips.

1:46 PM that’s not food that’s a cry for help u need me i would’ve made u like actual rice or something

1:47 PM I would sell this entire conference for a bowl of your rice.

1:47 PM omg stop u say the weirdest sweet things i’m blushing now ew

1:48 PM It’s a gift.

1:48 PM ur gift is being emotionally deranged and underfed amazing

1:49 PM I aim for consistency.

1:56 PM ok wait

1:58 PM [photo attachment]

1:59 PM Did you just—

1:59 PM 😊

2:00 PM That hoodie looks very good on you.

2:00 PM looks better when i’m not wearin anything under 👀

2:01 PM You're driving me crazy.

2:01 PM good. u should be thinking abt me while ur surrounded by all those old men in ties bet they don’t got pics like this

2:02 PM [photo attachment]

2:03 PM ...I’m adjusting in my chair now.

2:03 PM lmaooo ur welcome

2:03 PM I hate you.

2:04 PM sureeee but ok i’ll give u a break

2:04 PM Thank you. Appreciate your generosity in these dark times.

2:05 PM anything for my emotionally deranged rice boy 🫶

2:06 PM See you soon?

2:06 PM yuh don’t make me wait too long or i’ll send a video next time 😌

2:06 PM Noted. Flying home immediately.

2:07 PM lol ur ridiculous safe flight, loser also EAT

2:08 PM Yes ma’am.

—

You didn’t even take off your shoes when you got in. Just dropped your bag by the desk, loosened your tie, sat on the edge of the hotel bed like the air had thickened with gravity. The buzz of travel still lived under your skin—artificial light, too much air conditioning, stale coffee that never quite tasted right. But the silence helped. So did the faint promise of her.

Your phone lit up. Incoming Call: Asa

You answered on the first ring.

‘Hey,’ she said, voice already a balm.

‘Hey yourself.’

‘Did you eat?’

You rolled your eyes. ‘You and this food agenda.’

‘Answer the question.’

‘Fine. Yes. Eventually.’

‘What was it?’

‘Questionable noodles from a place with too many neon signs and one too many “z”s in the name.’

‘Oof.’ You could hear her make a face. ‘Okay, yeah, I forgive you. That sounds tragic.’

‘Thought you’d appreciate the suffering.’

‘I always do.’ A pause. ‘So… are you lying down yet?’

You did, one shoe still on, the other kicked halfway under the bed. ‘Yeah.’

‘Lights off?’

‘Just dim.’

‘Shirt?’

‘Still on.’

‘Hmph. We’ll fix that.’

You laughed softly, eyes closing as her voice washed over you. ‘You always get bossy this time of night?’

‘Only when I miss you. And when you’re being particularly slow.’

‘Mm. Sorry, manager mode doesn’t turn off easy.’

‘Well, lucky for you…’ A rustle. Fabric shifting. ‘...I’m in bed too.’

Your heart bumped at the sudden hush in her tone.

‘And what are you wearing?’ you asked, mock-formal.

‘You mean right now?’

‘Don’t play coy.’

She chuckled, voice warm like candlelight. ‘Your hoodie.’

‘Just the hoodie?’

There was the faintest pause. ‘You tell me.’

God. You swallowed. ‘Is it… zipped?’

‘Nope.’

You exhaled. ‘Fuck.’

‘Language,’ she teased. Then softer: ‘Missed your voice.’

‘You said that already.’

‘Still true.’ Her voice curled closer, like she was beside you, whispering. ‘You sound tired. That good kind. The one where I wish I was there.’

‘You’re kind of always here,’ you murmured.

‘Am I?’

‘Yeah. It’s dumb. I see a dumb pink drink at Starbucks and think of you. I hear a bad pop song in a cab, and it’s suddenly about you. It’s annoying.’

‘God.’ Her voice dropped. ‘Say more stupid things like that.’

‘I would,’ you said, ‘but I think I’d rather hear what you’re doing right now.’

Another rustle. You pictured her on that bed. Hair messy, half-lidded. Bare thighs and soft sighs.

‘Thinking about you,’ she said, unashamed. ‘Touching the edge of the hoodie. Just the hem. It’s so soft.’

‘Is it now.’

‘Yeah.’ A breath. ‘Can I… ask you something kind of dumb?’

‘Always.’

‘Have you ever… like—done this over the phone?’

Your mouth quirked. ‘Phone sex?’

‘Don’t say it like that.’ She groaned. ‘Now I’m shy.’

‘Too late,’ you murmured. ‘You brought it up.’

‘Technically, you did with the “what are you wearing” opener.’

You laughed, throat dry. ‘Okay. Guilty.’

A pause. Then she said, quieter, ‘I want to.’

Your stomach tightened. ‘Yeah?’

‘I keep picturing you lying there. Still in your dress shirt. Probably frowning at the ceiling.’

‘I was.’

‘You’re always so composed. So good. Until you’re not.’

You adjusted your position on the bed. Your jeans suddenly didn’t fit right.

‘Tell me what you’d do,’ she said.

You exhaled. ‘To you?’

‘Mhm.’

‘I’d start slow. Undo the zipper of that hoodie. Just enough to see the skin beneath. Press my nose against your shoulder. A soft bite too.’

She made a small, shaky sound. Encouragement.

‘Then I’d tell you to leave it half-zipped. Just like that. Because I want to see you in my hoodie. Want to see how little else you’re wearing underneath.’

She whimpered. ‘God, keep going.’

‘I’d kiss down your neck. Right where your collarbone meets your shoulder. Feel you squirm under me. My hands—’ you shifted, groaning under your breath, ‘—would slide under the hoodie, find your waist. Feel how warm your skin is.’

‘And?’ Her voice was tighter now, breathier. You imagined her biting her lower lip, one hand between her legs.

‘And I’d drop to my knees,’ you said. ‘I’d press kisses down your stomach. Trail down. Really love every part down. Then, I’d look up at you from between your thighs. Make you wait a second. Just enough to make your legs twitch, make you squirm under my hands.’

‘Oh, fuck,’ she whispered.

‘You’d be dripping,’ you added, voice darker now, lower. ‘Wouldn’t you.’

She breathed out a yes, broken and small. ‘Would beg for your mouth.’

‘Wouldn’t even make you wait long. Just enough. Then I’d lick—slow and flat. Feel you twitch. Hear you whine. My fingers would dig into your thighs. Hold you still as you convulse.’

‘God,’ she breathed.

‘You’d be worse,’ you said. ‘Your hands in my hair. Pulling. That breathless way you say my name. Every second deciding whether to stare at me eating you or look at the ceiling in euphoria’

‘Fuck, I’m—I’m close—’

‘Don’t come yet.’

She whimpered, frustrated.

‘Not until I say. Not until I’ve—’ You stopped. Smiled. ‘Actually…’

‘What?’

‘Would you get on your knees for me?’

A pause.

‘I want to hear it,’ you said.

Another beat. Then, soft as a secret: ‘Yes.’

‘Open your mouth for me. Put your wet fingers into your mouth.’

She inhaled sharply.

You adjusted your grip on the phone. ‘I’d undo my belt. Let you see how hard I am for you. Make you ask.'

‘Please,’ she said, immediately.

‘Good girl.’

A quiet whimper, something other than the whimper, something wet.

‘I’d feed it to you slow. Just the head first, resting on your tongue, all heavy. Let you get used to the weight on your tongue.’

She gasped.

‘Then deeper. Let you feel my pulsing erection, down and down. Until your lips hit my hips.’

‘Oh my god—’

‘You’d gag a little. But take it. I’d hold you there, Asa. You’ll take it so fucking well. So so fucking well.’

There was a choked sound on the line.

‘You doing it?’ you asked, softer now.

‘Mhm.’ Barely a whisper. ‘Fingers.’

‘Fucking hell.’

‘I want you inside me so bad.’

‘You’ll have me,’ you promised. ‘Next time I see you, I’m bending you over that hotel desk. Hoodie on. Nothing underneath.’

She moaned. ‘Please.’

‘You’ll take every inch. You won’t move. Your legs wouldn’t touch the ground.’ You were almost growling at the phone.

She whimpered again, high and desperate. ‘I’m—can I—?’

‘Now,’ you breathed. ‘Come now.’

She shattered on the line. You heard it. The breathless rush, the sound of her fingering herself to completion, the sound of her palm slapping fabric, her cry stifled into the pillow.

You listened like it was scripture.

After a long, delicious silence, her voice came back. A little broken. A little breathless. You heard her turn in the bed.

‘Oh my god. That was so hot.’

You chuckled, still catching your own breath. ‘You think?’

‘But also…’ she added, voice mock stern, ‘conflict of interest.’

‘Oh?’

‘I’m your artist. You’re my manager. And now I know how you’d ruin me.’

You grinned. ‘Mutual ruination. Very professional.’

‘Extremely HR-friendly.’

‘You’re gonna be the death of me.’

—

The days flew by much faster than you expected—mostly, because of Asa’s calls.

‘I forgot we could video call.’ Asa giggled, the heat of the moment got to you both yesterday, and the rest was history.

‘Was it effective?’

‘God yes. But now we can see each other. Look at you, button-up, in your suit.’ She breathed softly.

Damp hair, bare face, Asa, oh Asa, the most beautiful person in the world.

‘Asa.’ ‘Yes?’ Her voice was soft now, still holding that trace of breathlessness, a slight echo of the intensity from moments before. The video feed showed her face, slightly flushed, hair mussed around her temples, eyes wide and maybe a little shy now that you were seeing each other right after.

‘Just… yes.’ You let out a slow breath. Looked away from the screen for a second, gathering yourself. The artificial hotel lighting felt suddenly too bright. ‘Seeing you like this. After…’ You trailed off.

A small smile touched her lips. She pulled the blanket—or maybe it was the duvet—up slightly higher, just under her chin. ‘After you painted quite the picture, Manager-nim?’

You chuckled, low and rough. ‘Something like that. Still trying to reconcile the HR violations with the… visual confirmation.’

She laughed then, a real laugh, warm and slightly shaky. ‘You’re ridiculous. Look at you. All serious suit.’

‘Maybe,’ you admitted, running a hand over your jaw. The stubble rasped against your palm. ‘This feels… new. Seeing you right now.’

‘Yeah?’ She tilted her head, a damp curl falling across her cheek. ‘Good new or ‘oh-god-what-have-we-done’ new?’

‘Definitely good new,’ you said immediately. Too quickly, maybe. ‘Just… potent.’ You looked back at the screen, letting your eyes trace the line of her shoulder where it peeked above the covers. ‘So. Still rocking the legendary hoodie?’

Her blush deepened slightly. She glanced down as if confirming it for herself. ‘Might be.’

‘Might be?’ you echoed, letting a teasing note creep into your voice. ‘You holding out on me?’

‘Maybe I graduated,’ she countered, though her eyes glinted with amusement. ‘Maybe I’m wearing a ballgown under here. Maybe you bought me a ballgown and forgot about it.’

‘Somehow I doubt that.’

‘You wound me with your lack of faith.’ She shifted, the movement making the camera wobble slightly. Then, with deliberate slowness, she lowered the blanket just enough to reveal the soft grey fabric of your hoodie pulled low over her collarbones. The zipper was still halfway down, just like you’d imagined. ‘See? Loyal customer.’

Your breath hitched. ‘Okay. Yeah. Still looks… objectively good.’

‘Objectively?’ she repeated, raising an eyebrow. ‘Just objective appreciation, huh?’

‘Trying my best,’ you said, though your voice felt thick. ‘Doesn't mean my brain isn’t currently short-circuiting trying to imagine peeling it off you slowly when I get back.’

‘Oh yeah?’ Her voice dropped again, that low, intimate curl returning. ‘Tell me more about these return plans. Distract me from the fact I just basically melted into a puddle on the phone.’

You leaned back against the headboard, phone held steady now. The formality of the suit felt absurd. ‘First thing? Definitely losing the tie. Probably the moment the hotel door clicks shut behind me.’

‘A vital first step.’

‘Then,’ you continued, picturing it, letting the images form sharp and clear, ‘I find you. Wherever you are. Kitchen, couch, curled up on the bed looking annoyingly beautiful and innocent after driving me crazy from miles away.’

‘Annoyingly beautiful?’

‘You heard me. And I walk straight to you. No detours. No checking emails. Just… you.’ You paused, letting the word hang there. ‘And I kiss you. Properly. Not a quick peck. One of those long, slow ones that makes you forget what day it is.’

She smiled, a soft, genuine curve of her lips. ‘I like those days.’

‘Me too. Then, yeah. The hoodie. It’s gotta go. Slowly. Finger by finger up the zipper. Or maybe I just hook my fingers under the hem and pull it up over your head, tangle your hair a bit. See what you’ve got on underneath. Or what you don’t.’

She swallowed, visible on the screen. ‘And… what if there’s not much?’

‘Even better,’ you murmured. ‘Then it’s just skin. Yours against mine. I’d back you up against the nearest wall. Just to feel you pressed against me, finally. Kiss down your neck again, right there…’ you touched your own collarbone, ‘…where I know you like it. Feel you shiver.’

‘You remember,’ she whispered.

‘I remember everything.’ You shifted on the bed, the movement involuntary. ‘Then maybe the couch. Or the bed. Doesn't matter. Just tangled up. Lazy kisses. Hands exploring. None of that rushed tour bus hiding-in-corners stuff. Just… slow. Taking our time. Making up for all these miles.’

‘Slow sounds good,’ she breathed. ‘Really good.’

‘And food,’ you added, lightening the tone slightly. ‘Actual food. Maybe Pizza Hut. We can even leave the box on the floor this time. Break all my minimalist rules.’

She laughed, the sound like music. ‘Look at you, growing.’

‘Only for you.’ You met her eyes on the screen again. The joking facade faded. ‘Just… being close. That’s the plan. Getting back, shutting the door, and just being close to you. Everything else is details.’

‘Good details, though,’ she murmured, her gaze soft, affectionate. ‘Really, really good details.’

‘Yeah,’ you agreed, feeling a warmth spread through your chest that had nothing to do with the hotel heating. ‘They are.’

A comfortable silence settled for a moment, filled only by the faint hum of electronics. Her eyes stayed on yours, a quiet understanding passing between the screens.

‘You’re staring again,’ she said softly, breaking the spell.

‘Can’t help it,’ you replied honestly. ‘Hard not to, even through a screen.’

‘Book boy’s getting dangerously smooth.’

‘Don’t call me that right now.’

She grinned, that familiar flash of mischief returning. ‘Why not… book boy?’

‘Because right now,’ you said, ‘all I can think about is getting home and doing things that aren’t found in any book I own.’

Her breath hitched audibly. ‘Okay,’ she whispered. ‘Message received. Loud and clear.’ She pulled the blanket back up slightly, mock-primly. ‘Guess I should… conserve my energy then.’

‘Good idea,’ you said, though the thought of her conserving energy by herself, wearing your hoodie, sent another jolt through you. ‘See you soon, Asa.’

‘Soon,’ she promised, her eyes holding yours for a second longer before the screen went dark.

You dropped the phone onto the duvet beside you, staring up at the textured ceiling. Soon couldn’t come fast enough. The sterile hotel room suddenly felt infinitely emptier. You thought about rice, kimchi, the smell of her shampoo, the weight of her head on your shoulder, the feel of her hand in yours. Simple things. Essential things. Heaven, you thought, surprised again. A quiet, waiting kind of heaven. And maybe, just maybe, a few HR violations when you got there.

—

The days went by surprisingly fast. You were already on the plane. A medium amount of homicidal executives. A medium amount of threats on your job. All in all, a successful trip for training. Though you would’ve liked to stay by Asa’s side. 

The flight was much longer than the week. Each hour dragged longer and longer. Like Zeno’s paradox. A smear of lethargy getting slower and slower until it didn’t move anymore. Of course, hyperbole considered, the flight still went by, or time went on, either of the two.

You landed. The air outside the terminal felt thick, sticky, holding onto the day's heat like a damp towel. Another city. Didn't matter much which one. She was here. That felt like the only direction that mattered.

The taxi window fogged easy. You drew a lazy line through the condensation with one finger. Thinking about rain, maybe. Wet pavement. Steamed-up backseats. The memory felt warm, close.

Check-in was smooth, anonymous. The key card felt cool in your palm. Same floor. Room across. Thank the booking gods, or whoever managed those details now. Probably still you, indirectly. The elevator hummed low, a familiar vibration, a sound that meant transit, waiting. You watched the numbers climb, feeling slower than they looked.

Down the hallway. Heavy carpet swallowed the sound of your footsteps, mostly. Soft thuds against some muted, swirling pattern you didn’t register. Your door: 512. Hers, across: 513.

A crack of light spilled from under her door. And jammed in the opening, holding it ajar, was a shoe. One of her boots. Casual.

You nudged the door wider with a fingertip, gentle. There she was. Curled not on the bed, but in one of those upholstered armchairs hotels always seem to have. Head tilted against the wingback, mouth slightly parted. Fast asleep. Still dressed from the day—jeans, soft-looking band shirt. Makeup mostly intact, maybe a faint smudge beneath one eye. Breathing soft and even.

Must've waited up. Or tried to.

You bent down, quietly picked up the stray boot. Set it beside its partner, near the wall. Turned back.

‘You’re here.’

Her voice was soft, thick with sleep, but definitely awake. Before you could answer, or fully turn, she was unfolding herself from the chair, moving quickly across the small space between you. Her arms wrapped around your waist from behind, pulling you tight against her. Her cheek pressed into the fabric of your travel-rumpled shirt.

‘I missed you,’ she mumbled into your back. She breathed you in, a long, deliberate inhale. ‘God, I missed you so much.’

You stood still for a moment, letting the reality of it sink in. The weight of her, the warmth. The faint scent of her shampoo mixed with something else—hotel soap, maybe fatigue. You covered her hands with yours where they were clasped at your stomach.

‘Hey,’ you said, voice low. ‘Missed you too.’

She squeezed tighter. ‘Took you long enough.’ Still muffled.

‘Traffic,’ you offered. ‘And, you know. Strategic alignment meetings.’

She made a soft scoffing sound against your spine. ‘Don’t remind me.’ She loosened her grip slightly, enough for you to turn around within her embrace. Her eyes were hazy, still clouded with sleep, but focused on yours now. A tiny, tired smile played on her lips. ‘You look wrecked.’

‘Feel it.’ You brushed a stray strand of raven hair back from her temple. Her skin felt warm. ‘You didn’t have to wait up.’

‘Tried not to,’ she admitted, leaning her forehead against your chest. ‘Failed. Fell asleep in the chair like an old lady.’

‘Very dignified.’

‘Shut up.’ She nudged you playfully. ‘Did you eat? Please tell me you ate something that wasn’t from a vending machine.’

‘Questionable airport sandwich,’ you confessed. ‘Does that count?’

She groaned, tilting her head back to look up at you properly. ‘Tragic. Utterly tragic. My manager, starving.’

‘Suffering for my art. Or yours, rather.’ You smiled down at her, a soft peck on her lips. ‘Pretty sure falling asleep fully clothed in an armchair is also tragic.’

‘It’s method,’ she insisted, though her eyelids fluttered. ‘Preparing for the inevitable tour bus naps.’ She tugged you further into the room, towards the unmade bed. ‘Come on. Lie down before you fall down. You can tell me all about the horrors of corporate synergy later.’

‘Only if you promise not to fall asleep mid-sentence again.’

‘No promises, book boy.’ She yawned, wide and uninhibited, then grinned, teeth flashing briefly. ‘But I’ll try. Mostly.’

You let her pull you over. The room felt suddenly small, contained, just the two of you in the dim lamp light. Her hand felt warm, fitting easily back into yours, like it had never left. Heaven, you thought. This quiet, hand-held kind. No rain required. Just her.

She steered you towards the rumpled landscape of the queen-sized bed. ‘Okay, ditch the jacket at least. You look like you’re about to audit the mini-bar.’

You shrugged out of it, letting it fall onto the back of the armchair she’d vacated. You eyed the bed, then glanced back towards the door, towards the silent hallway and your own room waiting just across it. ‘Maybe I should—’

‘Nope.’ She cut you off, shaking her head firmly. Her hair swayed. ‘Don’t even finish that sentence. You’re not going anywhere.’

‘Asa,’ you started, trying for reasonable. ‘We have separate rooms for a reason. Protocols. Appearances.’

She flopped dramatically onto the bed, bouncing slightly. ‘Protocols went out the window somewhere around “feed it to me slow,” didn't they?’ You felt a hot rush along your cheeks. She patted the space beside her. ‘Besides, who’s gonna know? The Hotel Room Police? Are they doing spot checks tonight?’

A small laugh escaped you. ‘You’re ridiculous.’

‘And you’re tired,’ she countered, her gaze softening just a fraction. ‘And probably need a shower. And definitely need sleep. Which you won’t get if you’re pacing around your sterile little room wondering if I’m okay over here.’

You couldn't argue with that last part. Remembering the phone calls, the things said, the barriers evaporated line by line over bad connections and late nights… staying across the hall felt suddenly artificial. Pointless, even.

‘Fine,’ you conceded, sitting on the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped under your weight. ‘But if someone from the label does a surprise inspection at 3 AM, you’re doing the talking.’

‘Deal.’ She grinned. ‘I’ll tell them you were giving me emergency vocal coaching. Very, very quiet coaching.’

You ran a hand through your hair. ‘Need to brush my teeth first. Didn't even unpack that far.’

‘Bathroom’s through there.’ She waved vaguely towards a closed door. ‘Think there’s a spare toothbrush in the little kit thingy they leave. Unless you’re bringing your own extensive dental hygiene setup?’

‘Just the basics.’ You stood up, heading for the bathroom. Inside, the light flickered on. Standard hotel fare. Tiny soaps, neatly folded towels. Her makeup bag sat open on the counter, spilling brushes and palettes. You found the complimentary kit, tore open the stiff plastic around the toothbrush. As you brushed, you noticed her worn blue toothbrush sitting casually in the holder next to where you placed the new one. A small, stupidly domestic sight. Like sharing a coffee cup, or leaving a book on a nightstand. Small offerings. Small acceptances.

When you came back out, she’d kicked off her jeans and burrowed under the duvet, leaving just her head and shoulders visible. She watched you approach the bed, eyes tracking your movements.

‘Comfy?’ you asked, pulling back the covers on your side.

‘Getting there. Are you a duvet hog? I need to know upfront.’

‘Never.’ You slid in, the sheets cool against your skin. You stayed on your side, a respectable distance between you. For about five seconds.

She immediately rolled closer, bumping her shoulder against yours gently. ‘Liar. You look like the type who builds a pillow fortress.’

‘Only when threatened.’ You turned onto your side to face her. The lamp cast soft shadows across her features. Her makeup looked smudged now, softer. Tired, but content.

‘Am I threatening?’ she whispered, voice playful.

‘Constantly.’

Her lips curved. ‘Good.’ She scooted a fraction closer, close enough now that you could feel the warmth radiating off her. Close enough to smell the lingering trace of her perfume mixed with the clean scent of hotel sheets. ‘This is nice, isn't it?’

‘Nice isn't the word I’d use.’

‘Oh yeah? What word would you use, book boy?’ Her eyes were bright, teasing, even in the low light.

You thought for a moment. ‘Finally,’ you said, finally. Quietly.

Her teasing expression faded. She reached out, her fingers lightly tracing the line of your jaw. ‘Yeah,’ she murmured. ‘That sounds about right.’

Silence settled again, comfortable this time. Just the faint hum of the air conditioning, the soft sound of her breathing close by, god, it sounded so good. Her eyes stayed on yours, a steady, curious gaze.

‘You gonna stare at me all night?’ you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

‘Maybe,’ she replied, equally quiet.

Your own eyelids felt heavy. The travel, the tension, the release of finally being here, with her. It was all catching up. But you kept your eyes open, looking back at her. At the curve of her cheek, the slight parting of her lips, the way a stray strand of hair fell across her forehead.

‘Good night. ’ she mumbled, her own eyes starting to drift closed.

‘You too.’

Her hand slipped down from your jaw, her fingers finding yours under the covers, lacing together loosely. A simple, grounding connection. You watched her face relax fully into sleep, her breathing deepening slightly. Even then, you kept looking for another moment, fixing the image in your mind. Asa, asleep beside you. Not across the hall, not miles away, not just a voice on the phone. Here. Necessary.

Finally, your own eyes closed. The darkness felt warm, welcome. Shared.

You opened your eyes, saw Asa first, breathing softly, eyes closed, lips almost protruding: cute. You looked around, the sheer curtain brought tumbles of foggy sunlight onto the starched blanket. 

When your eyes went back to Asa, her eyes were open.

‘Sleep well?’

‘Amazing.’

‘Mm. That’s good.’ Her hand softly landed on your jaw, caressing. She then shuffled forth, ‘I can’t believe it, that you’re here, on this bed.’ A kiss. Then another. Then all over your face.

You shared a kiss. Or two. You relished the rest.

It stands to reason, perhaps, that what was about to happen was overdue.

You wrapped your arms around her waist. Then her hands pushed your forearms down, lower, way lower than you originally placed them.

And all you could hear were the subtle breaths of Asa, getting faster, you think..

‘Lower.’ 

You felt red. You went lower. The swell of her backside—fuck fuck fuck—was supple in your hands. ‘Asa.’

‘Mhm. Keep going. I’ve missed out on a week without you.’

‘The video—’

‘Those don’t count. When your warm palms are not on me, nothing counts.’

That does it for you, frankly. You gripped hard, she squealed, you smashed your lips against hers—obviously, she’d call you brute after—then it becomes a race against time: how can you extend it? Can the pillowy softness of her just stay on you for more than a month atleast? Or a week! Even a day!

‘Stop thinking.’

Oh. Right. She’s right here.

You flip her over, right under you, pinned and trapped. Your limbs as bars. And you swear, to almighty and above, that Asa whispered finally.

You yield again to her touch, you slot yourself into her arms, between her legs, her arm a lock behind your nape. You should apologize to her, honestly, even the way she recoups herself under you is so fucking hot—her chest heaving, kiss-bitten lips, blooming red across her soft neck—sorry, Asa, sorry, you must hear my thoughts, right? For all it’s worth, I apologize.

‘Keep going.’ She huffs meekly.

‘You’re driving me crazy.’ 

‘I know. Keep going. Don’t stop. Let me go crazy under you. Own me.’ It’s grizzly, she has this effect on you, and you oblige, obviously. You devour her, more or less, you kiss her moist skin, the pink flush of her cheeks—why is it so pink?

Your hand slipped beneath her shirt. Nothing underneath. Her skin was warm, impossibly soft. You palmed the side of her breast, and her breath caught in your ear.

‘You said warm palms,’ you murmured, kissing along her jaw.

‘That’s one of the things I said,’ she breathed, arching slightly, coaxing your hand down, guiding it, greedy.

You trailed your mouth lower. Her body opened under you like a lit match in slow burn. She squirmed, impatient now, toes curling in the sheets.

‘You're really gonna tease me again?’ she asked, breathless, borderline scolding. ‘After all those goddamn phone calls?’

You grinned. ‘I’m making up for lost time.’

‘You’ll make up after,’ she growled softly, dragging you by your collar until your mouths met again. It was messier this time. Less orchestrated. More instinct.

Then: her hand slid between you both. She cupped you through your boxers—your aching hardness—no shame, no patience.

You froze.

‘You—you want this?’ you asked, breath ragged. ‘Now?’

‘You’re not my manager right now,’ she said, low. ‘You’re just mine.’

That about split you in two.

You kissed her hard.

Your hand slipped into her underwear. At the expense of her breathless broken moans, you felt around. She was wet already—how was she always wet? It drove you mad. She bucked against your hand as it hovered over her pussy, a shaky moan leaving her as your fingers curled inside her velvety heat. She grabbed your wrist and dug her nails in, like she couldn’t stand how slow you were going.

You felt her juices collect along your finger, completely covered, like honey, like a glaze that you were aching to taste. It’s this goddess right here, under your arms, seized, and convulsing as you fingered her into oblivion.

‘I’m gonna—’ she choked, already unsteady, lips parted, eyes fluttering. ‘Oh fuck. I’m gonna—’ She was whimpering, bucking, choking up, breaking right under you, from your fingers. Holy fucking shit. You buried your face into her neck as you worked your fingers fast and deeper.

‘Come for me,’ you whispered. Arms certainly straining—but of course: anything for Asa.

And she did. Hard. Legs shaking, voice cut to delicate ribbons. ‘Ngh!’ An entire wetness covered your hand wrist-deep.

When she came down, she blinked up at you, completely dazed, hairs stuck to her forehead in little criss-crosses and curls and somehow absolutely perfect. ‘You’re gonna kill me one day.’

‘No,’ you said, dropping kisses over her eyelids, down her cheek. ‘Just gonna keep breaking you a little.’ 

‘You make that sound romantic,’ she teased, lazy now. Wrecked.

‘It is,’ you said. ‘You’re mine. And I’m gonna prove it.’

You spread your wet hand along her sunlight-covered chest, and she let you, protruding her beautiful chest; you let her know, each swipe along her chest, sternum, just outside her areolas: look at how much you came, look at it, you naughty girl.

‘Open your mouth.’

‘Yes.’ She obeyed. Short circuit.

Her tongue pressed flat against your nectar-covered hand, diligently tasting… diligently tasting herself. Fuck.

Then you kissed her. God, she tasted good.

‘Review?’ She asked, all looney.

You burst out laughing, then she followed soon after.

‘Highest possible rating.’

‘Hm. I figured.’

‘One more kiss,’ you almost beg.

‘You like it that much?’

‘Take a hint, Asa. I love everything about you.’

Perhaps, that was the longest kiss of them all. Then:

You moved down.

She looked down at you, eyebrows lifting.

‘Wait—again?’

‘You owe me from last week. I didn’t forget that one call where you cut me off halfway. Something about “soundproofing,” remember?’

Her eyes widened. Her laugh was half-winded. ‘Oh god, that.’

Her panties were gone as swiftly as possible. And there it was, in all its glory. Something you haven’t seen, ironic given how far along you both are. Pink, glowing with her slick, absolutely transcendent. Your pants were about to burst. You were about to wrap ribbons of prayer just for the way it was pearlescent, so delicate; yet your fingers were inside there, misshaping it; you were really getting her pussy to come on your fingers. Holy shit.

You bowed, in prayer, between her thighs.

You looked up at Asa. Pink flush all over her cheeks. Broken in her moans, in her voice, in her euphoria.

‘Mhm.’ You kissed the inside of her thigh. ‘Now be quiet for me. Let me collect.’

You grinned when she clutched the sheets.

You grinned harder when she said your name like it hurt.

You slid your hands under the backs of her knees, pushed them gently toward her chest, opened her up. She gasped.

Then you tasted her.

Soft, slow at first. Long licks, riding up from bottom to top, along her delicate folds, her swollen nub—Lord almighty the sounds she made. Her hips lifted. The first moan was half-choked, too much too fast, but she didn’t ask you to slow down. Her fingers laced into your hair and held. Your name slipped out like a plea, then again, sharper, breathless.

You locked your arms under her thighs. Anchored her. Let her grind against your mouth, desperate and greedy. Let her ride it.

‘Fuck—fuck, I—’ her voice cracked like glass. ‘I’m gonna—oh god—’

You didn’t stop.

You flattened your tongue and pressed harder. Swirled when she twitched. You were methodical. Hungry. She tried to lift her hips off the bed entirely—run from it, maybe—but you gripped tighter, pulled her back. Stay right here.

And then—

She shattered.

Her thighs clamped around your ears. Her whole body jolted, a drawn bowstring suddenly loosed. The sheets under her soaked instantly.

She’d squirted.

You didn’t move. Just held her through it. Tongue gentler now, coaxing. Let her come again, smaller this time, still twitching under your grip.

When you finally looked up, her face was flushed, stunned.

‘Oh god. Your face.’ She burst out laughing again. ‘I don’t know if I should be embarrassed or what! Look at your face!’

Then, the soft air made you feel the chill of the wetness across your face. She squirted all over your face. Your grin didn’t drop a single time.

She laughed. A breathless, shocked thing. ‘I think you short-circuited me.’

‘I’m glad. So glad. My Asa. Goddess.’

She hummed positively, still out of breath.

You kissed the inside of her knee. Then trailed your mouth down her shin—the firm, quiet perfection of her shin, the skin smooth and just slightly cool to the touch. She twitched under your lips, involuntary, but didn’t pull away. You kept going, unhurried, kissing down to her ankle. Firm. Beautifully angular. You lifted her foot.

She blinked. ‘What are you—’

You kissed the arch. Pale. Sensitive.

She gasped, a little laugh bleeding through. ‘That tickles—’

Then her sole. Baby pink. Almost glowing under the low lamplight. You kissed the ball of her foot, the soft rise just beneath her toes. Then slower, more deliberate, your mouth passed over the heel, the in-step, the barely-there lines that mapped her skin. The taste of her—clean, skin-warm—something that should’ve felt silly but didn’t. Not at all.

‘Oh my god,’ she whispered, almost giggling, breath catching unevenly. ‘You’re insane.’

‘Worship,’ you murmured. ‘Every part of you.’

You moved to the other foot, taking your time. Letting her feel it wasn’t just performance, or hunger. This was devotion. This was reverence. You kissed along the sole, each toe separately, letting them rest against your lips like petals. When you finally lowered her feet gently back to the bed, she looked up at you like something in her had been rearranged.

Like maybe something just clicked.

You crawled up over her again. Her chest was rising, falling. Her breath shallow, trembling. Your hips brushed hers. You felt it instantly—heat. Wet.

She felt you too. Stiff against your boxers. The whole length of you pressed to her thigh.

‘Oh,’ she said, the word leaving her like a slow exhale. ‘Oh, you’re—’

You leaned in until your forehead met hers. She could probably feel how fast your pulse was beating.

Her hand slipped down between you both, knuckles brushing your stomach, then cupping you through your underwear. She stilled. Her brows arched.

‘You’re—fuck, you’re huge.’

You just smiled, lips ghosting her cheek.

She hooked a finger under the waistband and tugged. Her eyes flicked up to meet yours.

‘Unsheathe the sword,’ she whispered, mock dramatic, her voice still breathy, still half-lost.

You laughed. Soft and hot against her jaw. ‘You’re ridiculous.’

‘You like it.’

‘I love it.’

So you did. You slipped out of your boxers, your cock springing free and flushed. Heavy with need. She inhaled at the sight, visibly stunned, and you couldn’t help but bite your lip just a little as you looked down at her—sprawled, open.

You reached between her thighs. She was soaked. Slickness smeared easily over your fingers, thick and warm. You pressed the head against her, dragging it slowly through her folds, teasing, wet sounds slicking the air between you.

She whimpered.

Then you lined up, just barely pressing in.

‘Now?’ you asked, voice gone low and cracked.

She looped her arms around your neck. Wrapped her legs around your waist. Pulled.

‘Now,’ she said, and her voice cracked too. ‘Finally.’

You pushed in.

Heat. Pressure. Tight.

She gasped—or sobbed—you weren’t sure which. Her arms clutched at your shoulders, nails raking instinctively.

‘Ngh—’ you grunted, barely able to breathe.

‘Are you okay?’ she whispered, like her whole body was trying not to break in half.

‘Ke—ep going!’

And so you did. Inch by aching inch, your cock slid deeper, parting her, stretching her. Her walls clenched around you—not resisting, but trembling, adjusting. Wet enough to glide, tight enough to ruin you.

You looked down, watched yourself disappear inside her. You weren’t even all the way in yet.

‘Fuck—you’re perfect,’ you breathed.

She couldn’t answer. Her eyes were glassy, locked onto your face like it was the only stable thing in the room. Her fingers gripped the back of your neck, anchoring herself.

‘It’s too big—’ she whimpered, voice barely audible.

‘Slightly above average,’ you corrected her, through grit teeth.

She blinked at you. Then giggled. Actually giggled. The sound was sharp and breathless.

‘Oh wow. First guy to undersell himself.’

‘First guy?’

She looked at you like you were adorable and stupid at once.

‘You’re my first. Don’t be silly.’

That landed like a punch wrapped in silk. You stopped moving.

‘Right. Right. I’m sorry,’ you whispered.

‘Don’t be,’ she said. Her lips curved, the sweetest thing. ‘Just go slow. Don’t stop.’

You kissed her again. Gentle. So soft your lips barely moved. And you pushed deeper.

She arched, biting her lip hard.

You were inside her now. All the way. Pressed to the hilt. Her warmth swallowed you, wrapped around you, soaked every nerve in your body.

You stilled. Let her catch her breath. Let your body feel it. The twitch of her thighs, the tremble in her calves wrapped around you. The way she gasped every time you moved even a fraction.

‘I’ve got you,’ you whispered. ‘I’ll go slow.’

‘Don’t be too nice,’ she whispered back. ‘I want to remember this.’

You started slow.

Your hips rolled forward, careful, reverent. Her arms curled around your shoulders, legs still hooked loosely around your waist. She gasped into your neck—not in pain, not surprise—but that soft sound people make when something hits too deep and too right.

You pulled back, slow and steady. Watched the way her body clung to you, slick with need, her folds parting like they wanted to keep you inside. Your cock dragged out of her inch by inch, shining with her wetness, and when only the head was left, you paused—just to feel the tremble run through her thighs.

She looked up at you then.

Eyes glassy. Hair stuck to her cheek. A flush blooming across her chest and neck like watercolor bleeding through fabric.

You kissed her nose. Her temple. Rested your forehead against hers.

Then you eased back in. One long, slow thrust that made both of you exhale at the same time.

She let out the quietest whimper.

‘That feel okay?’ you whispered.

She nodded, eyes still closed. Her voice came small. ‘More than okay. You feel… full.’

You kissed her again—barely a brush of lips—and moved.

In and out.

In and out.

So slow the bed barely moved. Just the soft rustle of sheets and the gentle slide of skin against skin. The wet sound of her body welcoming yours over and over.

You looked down between you, where your hips met hers, and watched the way you disappeared inside her. She was so slick, your cock moved like it belonged there—gliding through the tight heat, collecting every drop she gave you.

‘God, baby,’ you breathed. ‘You’re so wet.’

She bit her bottom lip, bashful and burning.

‘It’s your fault,’ she murmured. ‘You look at me like that, and I melt.’

You grinned, chest warm. Leaned down and licked along her collarbone, tasted the salt on her skin.

Her hands traced your back, fingertips trailing over the curve of your shoulder blades. Her nails didn’t dig yet—they just clung.

‘You’re perfect,’ you said, the words leaving your mouth like a prayer. Not planned. Just true.

She blinked up at you, startled by how soft you said it.

You moved again, slow but firmer this time, and she sucked in a sharp breath.

‘Keep doing that,’ she whispered. ‘Please. Just like that.’

You did. Deep and steady. Her inner walls tightened each time, fluttering like she didn’t know whether to hold you in or pull you deeper.

‘I love feeling you like this,’ she said, breathless. ‘I can feel everything.’

You kissed her jaw. ‘Me too. You feel like… heaven.’

She laughed, barely a sound. Then kissed you back, and moaned into your mouth as your hips rocked again.

Her legs squeezed tighter. You picked up just a little speed. The rhythm, still careful, still full of affection—but heavier now. Like your bodies were writing something together.

Then she gasped suddenly. Her nails bit into your skin. Her mouth found your shoulder and she moaned right against it.

‘Harder,’ she whispered. A plead. A confession. ‘Please. Please.’

You didn’t even think.

You grabbed the back of her thigh and slammed into her.

She cried out—not pain. Release. Her hands flew to the headboard, bracing. Sweat-slick. Flushed. Feral.

You drove into her like you were punishing the week apart. Each thrust deeper, harder, shaking the bed against the wall. Wet sounds filled the room, loud and obscene, her slick coating your cock in excess.

‘Fuck—fuck—you’re so deep—’ she gasped. Chest sweat-slicked, glowing. Utter euphoria. Feral.

You grabbed her wrists. Pinned them above her head with one hand. Your other braced beside her, keeping your weight just barely off her chest. Your hips never stopped moving.

‘You said you wanted to remember this,’ you growled. ‘You will.’

She nodded frantically, head thrown back, eyes rolling up as you fucked her into the mattress. You leaned in, your mouth to her ear.

‘You’re mine,’ you said. You didn’t even mean to say it. It just ripped out of you.

‘Yes,’ she breathed. ‘Yes—yes, yes, yes—’

You pulled out.

She gasped in protest—but you weren’t done.

You flipped her. Bent her over. Palmed the dip of her spine.

‘Arch more,’ you commanded, voice hoarse.

She obeyed instantly. Back bowed, ass high, thighs still shaking.

You sank back in, all at once.

She screamed into the pillow.

You didn’t ease up.

You grabbed her hips and held on, locked in, your thighs slapping against the backs of hers with each thrust. The rhythm was brutal now, relentless. You’d held back long enough. Her body welcomed it—hell, demanded it—soaked and twitching, each stroke punching wet sounds into the room like applause.

‘Fuckfuckfuck— you’re gonna make me—’ she gasped, voice nearly strangled by the pillow.

You leaned in, weight bearing down, grabbed a fistful of her ass and slapped it. Once. Firm. Just enough to send a sharp ripple through her.

She yelped, a noise of shock and heat all at once.

‘Come again,’ you growled. ‘Do it. I want it all over me.’

She obeyed—or maybe she just couldn’t help it.

Her whole body seized, back bowing, her thighs locking against yours as a jet of wetness sprayed out from between her legs, coating your skin, soaking the sheets. She sobbed into the pillow, a high, helpless sound, twitching like her body couldn’t handle it.

You didn’t stop.

You couldn’t stop.

You gripped her hips tighter—she was trying to crawl away, overwhelmed, overstimulated, every nerve lit—but you reeled her back like she was yours to claim.

‘Fuck—baby— I—fuck, you’re still going—’ she wailed, voice cracked open.

You didn’t answer. Just leaned over her back, chest against her spine, and pressed your hand between her shoulder blades. Not hard. Just enough to keep her down. Her cheek flattened against the sheets. Her hands clenched the comforter in fists.

‘You said you wanted to remember this,’ you rasped into her ear. ‘I’m making sure you do.’

‘Already wrecked—’ she sobbed, voice thick with surrender.

You reached for her hair and pulled, slow but sure, until she was forced to lift her face, eyes red and wet and wrecked as she looked back at you.

Tears on her cheeks. Mouth parted.

God, she looked divine.

‘Say it,’ you told her. ‘Say you’re mine.’

She didn’t hesitate.

‘I’m yours,’ she cried, desperate. ‘I’m fucking yours—just don’t stop—please, don’t stop—’

You drove into her like a man possessed. The sound of your hips slamming into her ass echoed off the walls. The headboard tapped the drywall with every stroke. Your name fell from her lips over and over, broken, begging, delirious.

Her legs shook.

Her body quaked.

She was so wet, so impossibly tight around you, the slick suction of her pulling you in deeper, deeper, like she didn’t want to let go.

Then her hand slid back, blindly, fingers reaching for you.

You grabbed her wrist, pinned it against the small of her back, her body arching under the pressure. Completely helpless. Herself offered up to you, willingly, wantonly, begging for the ruin.

And you gave it to her.

Everything.

You could feel it building—fast, violent—the pressure burning up your spine, into your ribs, your grip on her hip tightening, fingers digging bruises.

‘Please come,’ she begged, voice raw, soaked in need. ‘Inside. Please—I want to feel it—need it—’

You were right on the edge.

Your thrusts faltered, hitched. Your jaw clenched. Muscles locking.

You slammed into her one last time—deep—and held there, buried to the root, shaking.

Then you came.

Hard.

Ropes and ropes. You swore. Loud. Her name. God’s. Yours. Didn’t matter.

Every drop spilled inside her, her pussy milking you, clenching around you like she didn’t want to let you go.

You pressed your body down, still inside her, your forehead to her shoulder, your hand on her hip. The only sounds were your breaths—hers shallow and wrecked, yours ragged and uneven.

You pulled out slowly, and she whimpered at the loss—her pussy so spent, so tender, that she flinched at the shift in pressure.

You collapsed beside her. Hooked an arm around her middle and pulled her back into you.

Your cock twitched between you both, still half-hard, wet with the mess you’d left behind. It didn’t matter.

She was shaking.

Not from fear. From everything. From all of it.

You kissed her shoulder. Then the back of her neck. Then again.

Gentle now. Like you were reminding her you were still you.

Still hers.

Still here.

‘You okay?’ you whispered, hand slowly brushing her side, up and down in soft strokes.

She didn’t answer right away.

Then: ‘I can’t feel my legs.’

You laughed. Weakly. Kissed her again. ‘Good.’

She laughed too. A breathy, ruined thing.

‘We need…’ she mumbled. ‘A towel. Or five.’

‘Room service’ll think we committed a crime in here.’

She turned her face into the pillow. ‘We did.’

You held her tighter. Still catching your breath. Still high on the scent of sweat and sex and Asa. And her laugh, now lazy and gleaming, like everything was exactly where it should be.

‘You’re not going back to your room, are you?’ she mumbled.

‘Not even if it caught fire.’

‘Good.’

She twisted a little. Found your mouth again. A soft kiss this time. Messy and warm.

You were already hardening again.

She noticed.

And grinned into the kiss. ‘You’re insatiable.’

‘You’re to blame.’

‘Lucky me.’

—

She made a weak sound from where she was flopped across the bed like a marionette with the strings cut.

‘Ow,’ she mumbled into the sheets. ‘My everything.’

You limped back over. ‘I told you to hydrate.’

‘I did. Like, two sips.’

‘That’s not hydration. That’s mouth rinse.’

‘Then carry me to the bath, hydration police.’

You blinked. She didn’t look at you—too busy face-planting deeper into the mattress—but you saw the lazy little grin forming.

You exhaled, dramatic. ‘You’re lucky you’re cute.’

‘Strong words from a man walking like a baby deer.’

You scooped her up anyway.

She yelped—then clung to your shoulders like a koala. ‘Wait, you’re actually doing it? Oh my god.’

‘I am a gentleman,’ you said, wobbling slightly. ‘And you smell like sex and victory.’

‘Hot.’

‘Yes. Hot, and also sticky.’

‘Okay now it’s less hot.’

The bathroom was still fogged from earlier. The steam clung to the mirror. You set her down on the edge of the tub while the water ran, testing the temperature with your hand.

‘Are you seriously gonna draw me a bath?’ she asked, eyes wide. Teasing. But also just a little touched.

‘Gotta soak the goddess,’ you said, rinsing your hands off. ‘Divine women don’t loiter in their own post-orgasm wreckage.’

‘Stop it.’

‘No.’

You poured in a little of the cheap hotel bubble soap. It frothed up fast. She reached out and popped a bubble, grinning.

‘I feel fancy,’ she said.

‘You are fancy.’

You leaned over and kissed her shoulder. Then helped her step in, holding her steady as she lowered herself down.

‘Oof. Hot. Good hot. God-hot.’

She sank deeper with a soft sigh, head resting against the tile. Her knees just barely broke the surface. You pulled up the little stool from the corner and sat beside her.

She cracked one eye open. ‘You’re not getting in?’

‘This is your bath. You’re the main character.’

‘That’s sweet. Stupid. But sweet.’

You wet a washcloth, gently wrung it out, and started running it along her arms.

‘You don’t have to,’ she said, a little quieter now. Still smiling, but there was something behind it.

‘I know.’

She didn’t argue after that. Just let you.

You dragged the cloth along her collarbone, over her shoulder, down her arm again. Slow. Careful. A little clumsy, but trying.

She closed her eyes. Relaxed under your touch.

‘Do you do this for all your artists?’ she mumbled.

‘Only the ones who squirt on me twice and then collapse in a heap.’

‘Twice?’ Her eyes opened again. ‘You’re bragging now.’

‘Just documenting history.’

She giggled, lazy and soft, bubbles sticking to her collarbone.

You trailed the cloth down her side, then gently lifted one leg out of the water, resting her ankle on your thigh. Her foot was slick and warm. You kissed her arch, just because.

She stared at you, stunned for a second. Then blinked. ‘Okay. That was unfair.’

‘What was?’

‘Being all… this. Domestic and filthy. Worshipping me like I’m Aphrodite after brunch.’

You kissed her ankle this time. ‘Well. You are.’

She stared a beat longer. Then laughed.

‘You’re a menace.’

‘And yet here I am, washing your toes.’

‘You’re so in love with me.’

You paused. Looked up at her.

‘I am,’ you said. No theater. No drama. Just true.

Her face did that thing—like she wasn’t sure whether to cry or kiss you or splash water at your face just to reset the tension.

She settled for a quiet, ‘Okay. Yeah. Me too.’

You squeezed her ankle, then reached for the shampoo.

‘Tilt your head back.’

‘You’re really gonna wash my hair too?’ ‘Let me spoil you. I’ll invoice you later.’ She leaned her head back. You poured a little shampoo into your palm and massaged it gently into her scalp. She made a noise—somewhere between a hum and a moan. Eyes closed, face slack. ‘You’ve done this before,’ she mumbled. ‘Nope. Just winging it. Manager instincts.’ ‘Remind me to renew your contract.’ ‘With a raise?’ ‘With everything.’ You grinned, rinsed her hair gently, carefully shielding her eyes with your palm. Later, when you helped her out and wrapped her in a towel, she kissed your shoulder and whispered, ‘Thank you.’ Not teasing. Not playing. Just her. Bare, warm, soft. You held her a little longer than necessary. Let the steam wrap around both of you.

The End

a/n: .............................idk

[jerzwriter]

This is a follow-up to Under the Stars and day two of my 30-day writing challenge from @creativepromptsforwriting. Today's prompt: Write a scene without any dialogue.

Book: Open Heart (Pre-Seres) Characters: Tobias Carrick, Ethan Ramsey, F!OC Words: 730 Rating: Teen Summary: Tobias is alone in his apartment as reality settles in - his best friend is now with the woman he loves - the woman they both love. Now he needs to decide - what is he going to do?

A/N: Here I am inadvertently fleshing out my "Hopkins Era" HC. Worse things could happen. lol Participating in @choicesmonthlychallenge March Challenge [Earth/Planets/Orbitng - Passage of Time]

30-Day Writing Challenge Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Tobias sat in the quiet apartment long after Ethan’s bedroom door clicked shut, the soft sounds seeping in from the city streets outside his only source of solace. He rubbed a hand over his face, exhaling a long breath before leaning back against the couch cushions, gazing ahead at nothing at all.

Ethan wasn't aware, but Tobaias had seen them.

He hadn’t meant to. Hadn’t been looking. But there they were, clear as day when his car slowed at the red light across from the Broadway Diner. The glow of the neon sign catching Chenza’s hair is what caught his eye, and then he saw Ethan leaning in close, with the kind of look on his face that Tobias knew all too well – it left little to his imagination.

He almost pulled over. Almost went inside and sat at the counter to order his usual, black coffee and two eggs over-easy with a side of crispy bacon. There he could watch them from a distance, maybe eavesdrop on their conversation, just waiting for the right moment to appear and watch them roll their eyes when they knew they were caught. But the light turned green, and he kept on driving.

Because he knew. Even then, he knew.

Now, here he sat, the TV screen was still on, though the Lakers game was long over, and his beer remained untouched. There was an unusual weight in his chest - not heavy, but unmistakable – refusing to be ignored.

He wasn’t mad. After all, the three of them had been orbiting each other like planets for years now. The gravitational pull twisting beneath the surface from the day they first met. He’d felt it, and he knew Ethan did, too. They’d even joked about it once or twice, usually on late nights like this under the influence of too much alcohol.

A night at a roadside bar last spring snapped into his mind. He had admitted more than he wished, but he spoke the truth - he’d never pursue her. Not because he wouldn’t be successful, damn, he knew he would be, but because he didn’t have it in him. Not for something real. Not for someone like Vincenza who deserved it all.

Ethan hadn't come off much better. His dear, stoic, self-sabotaging friend, Ethan. He wasn’t acting on that pull either. He had preemptively resolved that it would be better to have Chenza as a friend forever than a lover for a fortnight - that's how long it would take for him to screw it up. At least that’s what he confessed over their flat beers.

But Tobias wasn’t stupid. He’d watched the shift over time. The way Ethan brightened whenever Chenza stepped into a room. The way his eyes lingered on her just a little longer than they should, and he thought no one noticed. But Tobias did. He noticed everything.

Now, as he leaned back against the couch, staring at the ceiling fan spinning slowly above, only one thought filled his head... it could have been him.

Perhaps if it had been another time, a few years down the line, even. He was confident he could be the man Vincenza deserved by then. He would be able to show up for someone who really mattered if he just had a little more time... but that chance was gone now. Wasn't it?

He let out a deep sigh. It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter anymore, because he saw them tonight. He saw the way Ethan looked at her like he’d just been handed the entire goddamn universe and that made something inside him settle, even if thought it hurt.

They deserved it. Both of them. The two people in the world who meant the most to him. He had watched them circle each other always too careful, too serious, too convinced they’d break each other if they just reached out and touched – but somehow they found the strength to transcend that - and it had to be respected.

He closed his eyes briefly, then pushed up from the couch, flicking off the TV as he moved. The quiet of the apartment enveloped him as reality set in. It wasn’t about him anymore. In fact, it never had been.

So tomorrow, when Ethan emerged from his room with that stupid, nervous look on his face, Tobias would smile. He’d bust his chops – of course - but he’d make it easy on him because that’s what you do when you’re friends - even when the sharp edge of it catches in your throat - you put them first.

He’d mean it, too. Because this new, shiny thing, it was about them – Ethan and Chenza – his two best friends, and he’d be damned if he let himself make it about anything else.

@choicesficwriterscreations @choicesmonthlychallenge @openheartfanfics

[emile-hides]

You guys are never gonna believe how stupid I am

I didn't FUCKING PAY FOR HIM

I need everyone to be a super homie to me and give $2 to the Dokapon Kingdom King of Dokapon plushie campaign because I need I NEED this man to be real

[equallyshaw]

to regain what once was | oc hughes sister x hughes brothers.

background: Abigail 'Abby' Marie Hughes - now known best by her stage name: Gail Marie is a 21-year-old professional theater actress, having been performing professionally since she was 7 years old in Toronto, Ca. After Jack and Luke followed Quinn to Michigan she ventured off to NYC to live with her grandparents, which was supposed to only be a temporary summer stay, for an intensive she'd book a year prior. After that, she booked a chorus role in Annie the Musical, then booked youngest Fiona in Shrek! the musical in the NYC run before landing the pristine role of 'Matilda' in Matilda the Musical. Therefore, her grandparents took the initiative of becoming her legal guardians in order to keep her in NYC and her pursuit of claiming Broadway by storm. All the while, her brothers never dared step out of their hockey gear and come support her, as she had back in TO as much as she could in between her hectic schedule, student by day; and professional by night. So when the drafts came and went, as well as debuts came and went, she stayed in New York not daring to celebrate them when they hadn't been there for her. What hurts the most is that she yearns for the way they speak about each other in the media as well as how her parents spoke about them, because that's all she wanted more than anything in life.

Yes, I know the queen ellen and jimmy would never allow this but this is obvious fiction.

italics are flashbacks. Non italics takes place after the passing of their grandfather, unless otherwise marked. little brother is translated to, ach sheli.

warnings: swearing, family member passing.

word count: 7.8k.. longer than i anticipated lol

After:

It was not always like this, Gail thought as she swirled around her pre-show honey lemon tea. Peonie flowers stood tall on her dressing room counter, freshly delivered before the show by her now-late grandfather. She winced biting back tears as she thought about the past week and all that it had entailed; fights, tears, slammed doors, breakdowns, and broken hearts. Five individuals had come back into her life right as it was truly becoming special, though warranted; she absolutely hated having them in her home. Her home which had been for some time now, was with her grandparents. It was never with the home she was born into, never with those siblings and doting parents who spoke highly and sweetly about one another in the media. It was never with those who had never reached out to her on her own milestones and wins, never those who came to see her wished her happy birthdays or cheered her on when she learned how to skate, or the ones that let her score on them over and over again before she realized she hated the sport and everything that came with it. She hated the sport of hockey for taking away her brothers, and her supposed best friends, hated that it took away her parents, and hated that it had stolen everything she had known. She lost her childhood to the sport and her family.

_

The Hughes family sat around, listening to the will being spoken out loud. It was a bright and sunny, cool 75-degree day in New York City. Gail stared at the brown wooden desk in front of her, her leg shaking up and down like a manic. Her mind raced with thoughts, raced with notes from the night before, and raced with the last few fleeting moments she had had with her Pa. She hadn't heard her Ma call out for her, "Gail!" Her grandmother said from across the table. She swallowed, looking around at who was supposedly her family, and then she looked towards the lawyer. "You are left with 45% of..." She tuned him out and waved her hand not caring to listen. The meeting came and went, Gail the first one out of the room. She pushed the door open to the law office and took in the fresh air of Greenwich New York. She sighed, running her hands through her dirty blonde almost brunette hair. The past month had been hell. She'd lost her out on a leading role that she had worked her ass off in auditions and callbacks, one that would have surely set her up for a Tony nomination, she had lost out on a role in an upcoming musical movie and this. This. She'd lost her best friend and Pa, her most trusted and adored father figure. "Sweetie." She heard Ellen walk out of the law office reaching for her daughter, but she quickly moved out of reach. Ellen had been having a hard time coming to terms with how distant she was being towards her and the rest of the family. It was hard for the family to come to terms, and accept that Abigail was no longer Abigail, and she was no longer a pushover. "Its fine Ellen." Jimmy said walking out, and the two of them plus the brothers watched Gail begin to walk down the street.

_ Ellen, Jimmy, and the brothers had just arrived at The Hughes estate in The Hamptons. Gail was nowhere to be found, as she had been in the middle of a matinee when she got the call that her Pa was growing fainter. "Do I fly? Do I drive?!" She said as she whipped off her wig, wincing at the glue tearing off. "You can drive." Her Ma answered, and Gail quickly went to call her longtime boyfriend, Nick. She made it three hours later, her leg fidgeting up and down like a manic. "He's gonna be there." He reassured her over the course of the ride, but she had a hard time believing it. By the time she had made it to the estate, she didn't bother to look in the direction of the three boys who were out on the lawn chatting. She jogged inside the house, whipping open the door and trying to see if she heard any voices. "Ma?" She called out, walking into the kitchen. Luckily that's where her grandmother was, along with Jimmy and Ellen. "Ma." It felt like the world fell off her shoulders, seeing her grandmother. It felt like Ellen had been hit by a freight train. "Gail." Her grandmother said wrapping her arms around her granddaughter, "Pa is upstairs." And now it was Jimmy's turn to feel like he had been hit by a freight train.

•

Gail hummed, warming up her voice, going through her pre-show rituals. She hadn't been this nervous for a show in years, but there were a few people here tonight that hadn't been since, it's honestly too sad to think about how long it's been. She heard a knock on her door, "You good G?" She heard her co star, Casey question as he leaned against the doorframe. Gail nodded, saluting him with a smile and the mug of her lemon honey tea. "Break a leg." He called out before he ran off for places. She set down her mug, looking at herself in the mirror and did a once over, before deeming that she looked good.

She made her way out of her dressing room, and walked down the hall, the wooden floorboards creaking beneath her. She continued her pre-show hum and made her way to her place for the top of the show. She looked up at the ceiling, saying a little prayer towards her Pa, and then closed her eyes. The music began, and the crowd immediately relaxed and clapped along to the beat.

•

"Gail?" Ellen asked for confirmation and the girl nodded. "How long?" She questioned, and Gail genuinely had to think about it. Ellen could tell it had been for some time, "About 8 years." Gail responded, and Ellen sniffled. "So much has changed." She hummed, and Gail snickered. "You could say that Ellen." She snapped, and Ellen quickly looked towards her. "Why are you calling me that?" She questioned and Gail rolled her eyes. "You think that after you dumped me at Ma and Pa's house 10 years ago that I'd still call you that? You think I'd call you 'mom' when you sure as hell haven't been one for over 10 years?!" She questioned, "You dropped me off and never looked back. Too worried about their precious careers?! What about me? What about my career Ellen, huh? What about me, what happened to me!" She said raising her voice, both of them shocked at the words that were coming out.

Ellen stood up as the peanut gallery listened intently from beside them, "You forgot about me, your daughter, incase you forgot!" Gail said through strained tears. Ellen felt her own tears begin to form but was subdued due to anger.

"You think I don't regret it? Do you think I don't regret not being more involved? Y-" Gail cut her off, "You signed the papers! You're the one who signed your rights away!" She said fully screaming now. "You think I don't know? You think I don't know what you guys did?" She said furiously in a strained voice. "You think I wouldn't hate the very people who brought me into this world, only to get rid of me when I didn't follow in your footsteps? You think I would have sat idly by?"

•

Gail and Casey walked toward one another before turning towards the audience, as they performed their second-to-last duet - crazy rolling. The two ended on a high note, holding one another in their arms, and were met with enormous cheers and claps. They had no time to spare and were quickly off the stage. Quickly changing for the finale, the two took a brief moment with one another before getting to their spots. "oh my god Gail!!!!" Casey said bringing her in for a hug, realizing just how emotional she was. She was on the verge of tears before their final duet, which would result in her character's death. It would also be her final performance on this stage with this incredible cast and crew before she headed off to a faraway place and one that held such promise for her and her career. "You're gonna absolutely kill it Gail, I promise." Casey encouraged as he pulled away to embrace a tiny bit. She nodded, not looking at him directly. "No need to cry now." he teased and she giggled, knowing she was about to sob on stage. She nodded, looking up at Casey and giving him a smile. "Thanks for being the best partner this run." she beamed and he smiled widely, pulling her in for one last run. "Now move so I can fix my makeup." she joked, pushing him away. He playfully saluted her before running off to the other side of the stage, for his final position. Casey walked on first, as Gail followed suit into their positions. The opening music for the reprise of your song, began.

"Look at me Satine..why else live for love?" Casey spoke, as Gail began to sing. She turned a bit, looking back at Casey and felt the tears beginning to fall. Casey gave her a look of encouragement and gloom while staying in character.

•

Gail turned towards Ellen and everybody else who stood there stunned by what she had to say, "The minute you walked into my house, the very home that I have grown up in the past 10 years, yo-you act like nothing has changed. You act as if I am still the 10-year-old little naive Abby! Im not and haven't been since you put me on that train and never looked back." Gail said through stubborn tears, feeling her heartbeat thud in her temple. Ellen went to say something, but Gail held her hand up. "You act like this prodigal mother and parent in the media and in life, but you- you and him are so far from it." She finished, walking out of the living room away from everybody.

•

She jogged onto the stage, hugging Casey tightly at the top of the stage, before taking their bows. Casey stepped in front of her, bowing and earning a chorus of applause. He turned back towards her, holding out his hand and she smiled widely taking it. He took a step behind her, letting her have this moment. This will never get old, she thought. She bowed, giving a kiss to the crowd before bowing once more. Gail stepped back, connecting her hands with Casey and another actor, and they all did a bow together. Casey and David who plays the Duke in the show, pushed her in front of them once more for her to have a moment with the crowd. A Producer on the show walked out from left stage with a bouquet of roses and Gail quickly brought her hands up to her mouth in shock. She clasped her eyes shut, feeling tears rush out. "Thankyou!" She sobbed, pulling the producer in for a hug. Turning back to the crowd now, Gail placed a hand on her chest saying the words 'thankyou' to the crowd over and over again, and then towards the cast. She shook her head when the director came on stage with a microphone and desperately tried to flee toward the rest of the cast who only shook their heads.

"We have been incredibly lucky to have Miss Gail Hughes grace our stage for the past year, putting everything that she had into every performance. We couldn't be more thrilled and excited, to see what she has been tirelessly working on and prepping for. It'll be a joy to watch her from this side of the pond, gaining the hearts of each person to see her do what she does best. Gail, good luck on your next journey and break a leg!" the director said and she smiled widely, pulling him in for a hug. She waved a bit more to the crowd, and then the curtain came down.

•

"You knew Q?" Jack questioned after Ellen and Jimmy explained everything. Once Gail had left the house with Nick, the two were swarmed with questions from Jack and Luke. Quinn shrugged, and their parents turned towards him. "You knew?" Ellen asked and Quinn nodded timidly. "Wh-when?" Ellen asked, and Quinn smiled. "When she was nominated for her role in Matilda at the Tonys. She was 13 at the time, but she knew who her parents really were. Grandpa and Grandma." He responded, and Jack began to pace. "And then, she said in an interview with Andy Cohen that they were her parents, not you guys. She said that she had been living with them for years at that point, that was I wanna say in 2020 before Covid. But she said that she hadn't seen you guys in years. Then everything clicked." Quinn expanded and Luke's mouth was agape. "You didn't want to say anything?" He asked stunned. "You guys don't know the full thing." Jimmy said, and Jack was furious.

"What the fuck?" Jack said walking into the connected living room, hands dragging through his semi long locks. "In order to benefit her career and her future, she came to live with grandma and grandpa. It was meant to be temporary as we got you boys settled in, and then things just worked out the way that it was and, then she got Matilda and we couldn't take her away. She needed to stay." Jack cut her off, "You shipped her off in order for you guys to focus on us? What kind of fucked up shit is that?" He asked, angry.

Jimmy held his hand up, "We did it to benefit all of us. And grandma and grandpa welcomed the idea and believed in it enough to do it." Jimmy explained, and their grandmother shook her head. "Don't Jim." She began, and all the boys whipped their head towards her. "You did what you believed to be best for her, but you really didn't know. You didn't know that she needed her parents. But why wouldn't we say yes? What would happen to the life she had just begun to build herself? What would happen? We couldn't let her passion, talent and love of theater go down the drain to watch pucks after school." She paused beginning to walk out of the kitchen, "If you think we welcomed it Jim, you are mistaken." She finished before disappearing upstairs to check on her husband.

•

As soon as Gail exited the stage, she turned towards a few of the ensemble cast members who had become close friends the past year and pulled them in for a huge hug. "I can't believe it's over." Gail sobbed as the other girls wiped their tears. The girls and Gail, slowly made their way over towards her dressing room. "One last post show picture!" Martha one of the dancers gushed, and Gail giggled softly. She sat down in her chair as a hair and makeup artist, came behind her and gave Gail a small frown. "Don't you start crying Matilda!" She scolded causing the room to laugh. Matilda slowly began to take off her wig while Gail took off her jewelry. "Oh can you grab my phone, Marie?" She questioned and as soon as Gail turned on her phone, she was flooded with messages. Her brothers and her now had a group chat, and they texted her during the intermission and now after the show finished. "Im gonna kill them!" She growled, and then showed the girl's the pictures they had taken throughout the second act. "I even told them, they couldn't do that!" she mumbled, texting them back. She then texted Nick, that in 30 minutes that he could bring her brothers and parent's back stage. In the meantime, she'd be doing her rounds of goodbyes.

Around 45 minutes later, Gail walked back to her dressing room and heard the familiar laughter of her brother, Jack. She walked through the doorframe, and everybody's heads turned towards her. She saw flowers in her dad's arms as well as Quinn's. "Oh my goodness, you didn't have too!" She said bringing her hands to her chin in surprise. "Ofcourse we had too!" Quinn grinned, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, to which she turned into a full hug. "You absolutely killed it dog." Jack smiled widely, pulling her in for a huge hug. "Thankyou." She smiled, and then turned towards Luke still surprised by how much taller he was. "Amazing, amazing job." He smiled pulling her in for a bear hug. "Thankyou." She beamed. Her parents brought her in for hugs and then found her spot next to Nick's, as it was second nature. "You make your rounds?" he questioned looking down at her, and she nodded feeling tears prick her eyes once more. He noticed and placed a soft kiss to her temple, and he could feel her relax a bit. "Are these from grandpa?" Luke asked softly, and she nodded. "He would send them every week when he came for the Sunday Matinee, and he made-made sure to do one for my final performance." She said through tears, looking at the grand bouquet of peonies. "They're gorgeous." Ellen smiled, "He gave me my love of peonies at a young age, and he's never let me down all these years." She hummed thinking back to all the times he had waited for her in the lobby after every show he had come to. His matinee show was a tradition he started dating back in 2012 with Annie. "He started to bring them with Annie, every week when he'd come for a matinee, even through Covid he came." She said smiling softly and looking at the flowers. The Hughes family all looked at one another, and again realizing just how much they'd missed out on her life and blossoming career.

��

Gail sat outside on the private beach, that lined her grandparent's backyard. Her knees were pulled into her chest, as she looked out over the Atlantic Ocean. She hadn't been up here since she took a week off back in March for a small vacation. It had been four months since then, and it seemed like a lifetime ago. Between auditions, workshops, and every show she did during the week it seemed like a blur. She didn't hear footsteps behind her, but she felt the sand that lightly brushed her as somebody came up behind her and sat down next to her. She looked over, not believing her eyes. Her eyebrows creased, "Quinn?" she questioned softly, and hearing her say his name for the first time in years made Quinn's eyes swell with tears. "Hey lovie." he whispered, and pulled her in once he saw tears swell in her eyes. He wrapped his arms around her, as he pulled her into his chest. He silently cursed and berated himself, as he thought about how much of a coward her was for not reaching out to her. She had Instagram, he knew where she lived most of the time and could always contact their grandparents. "Im sorry." He said as his voice cracked, and she sobbed even harder. "Im sorry I never said anything, im sorry I never reached out. Im sorry I let you down when you didn't deserve to be. You didn't deserve any of this, and I hate myself for allowing all of this to happen." he said through tears. Gail cried harder, into his chest as she heard the words she had begged the universe since she arrived at her Grandparent's house. "Quinn." she said softly, she pulled a bit back to look at him. She placed a hand on his cheek, trying to get him to look at her. "I don't think I can ever forgive myself, Gail." He sobbed, clasping his eyes shut. Hearing those words, broke her heart.

"Quinn." she said softly again, and he reopened his eyes. She swallowed, "I have hated you and the three of you since you didn't come to my first opening night. I have wished you three nothing but pain and loss because that was how I took it as a child. A fucking child, who all she wanted in the whole world was her brothers again. Yet, she never got them. She got brick walls, unanswered birthday messages, no invites to the lake house, and congratulations on my own milestones as a child." She paused ripping her hand away from his cheek, and Quinn swallowed tensly. "I have waited for those words since I was 12 years old...but now? I deserve a whole hell of a lot better, than that. Than this. You expect me to forgive so easily, after being ghosted all these years? My life and childhood have never been mine and now that im an adult? That's mine, all mine. My peace and healing do not deserve to be rocked because somebody wants to be a big brother now." She paused once more standing up. "I expected way more from my best friend growing up, but I've learned to live with disappointment because I was given disappointment from a young age." Gail finished before beginning her descent down the shoreline. Quinn watched through bouts of sobs, that ripped through his whole being.

•

Before Final performance. (August, 2023. One month after passing.)

"So..this is you really leaving?" Jack questioned softly, as he and his two brothers walked into the NYC apartment that she had shared with Nick the past year. Gail nodded, as she finished taping a box shut. The brothers couldn't believe that she was finishing her run in New York, and then heading out to West End to begin production in Hadestown. She would be originating the role of Eurydice in the first run in London, from February 2024 through August 2024 with the possibility of an add-on of dates. "Yeah, it's been a long time coming actually. We've been itching to get out of here for a while, and then London opened up and we couldn't jump at the opportunity quicker." She smiled as Nick smiled from across the room. "Oh wow." Luke said. Jack and Luke had been hoping that they could have built a relationship with her while they were in Jersey. "Yeah." Gail said awkwardly, "Congratulations though. You're gonna do amazing." Quinn encouraged and Gail gave him a small smile. "Well uh, did you guys get the tickets I sent over?" She questioned, picking up her glass of ice water. The brothers nodded, "Good good. They were hard to get so im glad you guys can come." She said with a grateful smile. "Anybody wanna get some pizza? Could use a break." Nick interrupted and Gail gave him a thankful look, and the brothers nodded. "Good, know a spot just down the street." Nick beamed, grabbing ahold of Gail's and then they were out.

•

It was only a few days later when their grandfather passed. Gail had been asleep on the all-year-round porch couch, with Nick. Ellen came down frantically, and Gail knew as soon as she was shaken awake, that she knew the reason why. She quickly cried out, as Nick sat up and pulled her into his chest. Ellen found Jim in the kitchen, as they listened to their daughter - who really wasn't their daughter in a way - cry out bone-shattering cries. The three brothers all made their way downstairs at the sound of her cries and then found their parents in the kitchen consoling each other. Gail stood up pushing herself from Nick and wrapped her arms around her self. Trying to give a slick of comfort to herself. Nick placed a soft hand on her arm, but she pushed him away. "NO!" She screamed, anger flaring from her. Nick took a step back, not appreciating the look of hatred in her eyes. But he knew it wasn't personal. Gail flung open the door that led to the kitchen and living room and hurried past her siblings and the parents she no longer considered hers. "Ma!" She called out, jogging up the stairs, and looked for her Ma. "Gail dear!" She heard from Ma and Pa's room. "Don't go in the extra room please, don't go in there." her Ma whispered, as she pulled the dirty blonde to her chest, who at this point she considered a daughter. Gail sobbed into her Ma's arms, as her Ma continued to whisper those few words. She didn't need the young girl to see her father figure being transported away from the place that they had called home for over ten years now, and one that she considered her childhood home.

•

Gail had been outside on the swing for hours that her Pa had put up as soon as she came to stay with them, all those years ago. She swayed slowly as the wind came off the ocean, with much curiosity and bitterness. Her brothers and parents had watched from the living room with her Ma and Nick, for hours now. Waiting for her to come in and say something, or grab something to eat. But she sat there, much to their dismay. "Im going out there." Jack announced as he stood up, annoyed at the fact that nobody had attempted to get her inside, besides Nick who failed miserably. She wouldn't let him five steps past the door. Jack opened up the door and shut it as softly as he could. Gail turned her head to her side but did not look back to see who was there. Wary footsteps came toward the girl, and Gail looked up as Jack came up next to her. "Hey, Gail." He said softly, and she sighed turning to look back at the pool, garden, and the ocean just past their white gate. "Can I sit here?" He questioned, to the spot next to her on the ground. She didn't give him a response, which he took as a win.

"Do you wanna know when the first time we noticed you weren't there?" He questioned, looking at the girl. She did not respond, and to be frank she could give two shits. "Well, I was 15 and Lukey was 12. You would have been 14, and finishing your run with Matilda. Lukey fractured or broke his finger, I can't quite recall and I remember watching him go down from the bench, it was a little scrimmage we were doing with some of the neighborhood kids and the first thing that Lukey said to Ellen was, "Where's Abby?" and he kept repeating that, even as we brought him home. All he wanted was his sister, and to be honest- so did I. I wanted you to be there because I wanted somebody to give me a hug and remind me that Lukey was going to be ok. I had to settle for Q who just so happened to be visiting from Vancouver. But all Lukey wanted was to hear your voice, and to reassure him that he was going to be ok. He never said it nor any of us did, but you were all our favorite sibling. You were our sister, whom we wanted to protect. We still do, but he wanted his favorite protector and the one person who knew exactly what to say. And when Ellen went to call Grandma, she was already calling Ellen. You had cracked your head open, after falling on some ice in Manhattan." And now all Gail could do was flash back to that moment, when it had happened. She didn't remember the ambulance ride but she remembers waking up in the children's hospital with her Pa, who was holding her hand, and her Ma was outside calling Ellen. She remembers crying out for Ellen, all she wanted was her mom in that moment. All she wanted was her mom, dad and her brothers telling her that she was going to be ok. That her 9 stitches on her temple, were gnarly and that they had had many over the year with out her. She remembers vividly crying into her Pa's arms that night, wishing that she was with them. But she knew deep down, that she was with her grandparents for a reason. Her parents no longer wanted her, she thought for the first time that night. For the first time in a year and a half, she felt abandoned by her parents and her brothers. She no longer felt welcomed or loved by the ones who gave her her name, and existence in this world.

"That night I wept. I wailed and I sobbed and I screamed to the universe, in that exact living room." She began turning towards Jack, who now had looked at her. "For the first time that night, it had sunk in that my own parents and brothers had abandoned me. They had cast me aside because I didn't skate or play hockey. For the first time, I felt as if I had no family of my own. It was the first time that Ma and Pa had become terrified, and believed that I was never going to calm down. Which believe me, in that moment of realization I believed I would never stop crying, or screaming. But do you know the first things you said?" She paused, waiting for a response. He shook his head and she made a tsk noise. "You said and I quote, "Do you wanna know when the first time we noticed you weren't there". The first time are the two key words Jack. It took you over a year to realize that I was gone, missing.!" She screamed at the now frightened boy. She stood up, "For over a fucking year, I waited for two birthday wishes, I waited for a phone call or a response to the messages I sent through grandma and grandpa!" She screamed again, and Jack felt tears sting his eyes. "And YOU! YOU don't get to cry!" She screamed, lowering her face towards his, as he wiped away his tears. "From what I recall, YOU were the selfish one! You were the selfish one who made us move!" She screamed at him, and the peanut gallery inside were frozen in their spots listening to her. Jack continued to look at Gail, with his features full of guilt. "I hate you Jack, I hate you! I hate you for making them give me up! I hate you for asking to go to Michigan! I hate you I hate you I hate you!" She screamed as her chest rose up and down, quickly. Rather too quickly for Jack's liking. "You did this Jack, all of it." She finished, before making her way toward the gate door and she was off to the beach.

•

Gail stood at Laguardia Airpot with Nick, and the two were saying goodbye to her family and a few of their friends. Jack was the first one to pull her in for a hug, whispering a few words of encouragement. Luke was next doing the same and lastly, it was Quinn. Quinn pulled her in tightly and whispered, "You're going to do amazing Lovie, we can't wait to hear all about it." and then the two pulled away. Next was Ma, and Gail had been dreading this moment, "I love you so much Ma." She whispered through tears and her Ma sniffled. "I know sweetie, Ill be over as soon as I can." Her ma whispered back. She pulled away a few inches, and her Ma pinched her cheek just a bit and then kissed her forehead. Next was Jim, who pulled her in for a bear hug. And for the first time since she was a child, it felt warm and inviting. "Break a leg, Gail." he hummed causing her to smile softly. "Thankyou, dad." She responded before pulling back and then shifting towards Ellen. Jim wiped away a few tears, as Ellen pulled Gail in for a hug. "Im gonna miss you so much sweetie, I'm always here if you need anything." Ellen spoke softly and Gail nodded, "Thankyou, Mom." she whispered back and Ellen's heart broke at the word. Ellen sniffled, pulling back to look at Gail. She placed a soft hand on her daughter's face, and Gail nodded through tears. To which Ellen broke down, she pulled her back in tightly, and now both females were crying. Jim looked towards his boys who also had tears in their eyes, as they watched Gail and their mom hug. "I'd like for you and dad to visit as soon as you can, I'd love to show you London. It's quite the city and - and I'd love it if you two could come for my opening night." Gail said softly and Ellen nodded profusely, she'd be doing everything in her power to be there and would make sure her sons would be there as well. To hell with the season, Ellen would argue. "We'll be there, I promise." Ellen said as they pulled away, and Gail nodded. Before Gail could step away, Ellen wiped her daughter's tears and Gail sniffled. "Well, uh we should be going." Gail said looking back at Nick and he nodded, "Have a safe flight!" sounded around them as the two waved one last time. Nick took ahold of Gail's hand as he rolled their carry on suitcase and her carry one bag into the airport.

•

Last but not least, it was Luke's turn to attempt a breakthrough for Gail. Nick was currently loading up their car, getting ready to go back to New York. She was currently standing at the edge of the backyard, looking out at the waves coming in. She did not know when she'd be back, and was savoring each and every moment she got with the ocean. Luke stepped up next to her, and Gail looked up at the tall giant. She caught his eye and she quickly looked away, swallowing hard. They stood there in silence, and for some odd reason, she felt as if she had to be the one to say something first. She looked up at the curly-haired boy and hesitated for a moment before speaking, "Ach sheli." she began with an old Hebrew nickname she used to say as a child. He looked down at her, and she saw the instant tears in his eyes. "Lovie?" He questioned softly, and she couldn't take it anymore. She pulled him in for a hug, and he stood there stunned for a brief few seconds before wrapping his arms around her. The two of them sobbed with one another, holding onto each other for dear life. Jack was not wrong about Luke having once felt that way about Gail, and how she was everything and more he looked up to and looked to for everything he did in life. "I know I should have said something, all of us should have. I know they'll never be an excuse for what we did, ever. Truth be told, you should never forgive us because of what we did. We turned our backs on you when we should have fought them to bring you home. Even if you would have been home 2 weeks out of the year, we should have screamed and jumped and thrown every tantrum under the sun to bring you home. We should have brought you home, and we didn't. We passed up every opportunity to do so and ignored you for years because we were cowards and naively thought you were better off without us. Nobody to bring you down or take time and attention off of you." he paused sniffling, as she sobbed into his chest. "You deserved so much more, and im sorry none of us ever said a thing. We knew it to not okay, but it was our fault for not saying anything. You don't know the number of times we begged mom and dad to bring you home. And them never listening, and us not understanding why, so we fought even more." she pulled back, "Wait what?" She questioned softly and his eyebrows crinkled, "What?" He questioned back. "You-you guys fought? But why didn't you call me back? Why didn't -" Luke cut her off by pulling her into his chest again, "Because we were stupid, we were young and so immature, that we didn't think twice about calling back. Like I said, Jack and I specifically were idiots. We should have said something, we should have. And im sorry we did not." He said wiping his tears away, and she pulled back looking at the grass beneath them. She pulled back completely, her arms coming to her chest. She looked up at Luke once more to find him staring down at her, "I - I have to go Luke." She said stepping back and then began her way towards the car where Nick was waiting. Luke watched her go, feeling his chest ache as she walked out of not only his but the rest of the family's life once more.

•

It was a week later, when she heard a knock at her and Nick's Condo door. She stood up from the couch, and made her way over and without looking through the peephole she swung her door open. She did not expect to see Ellen and Jim at her door, let alone a week later. She swallowed harshly, and felt tears begin to sting her eyes. "Hi Gail...can we talk for a bit?" Ellen asked hopeful, and Gail breathed in heavily before opening up the door further. The two walked in, inspecting the industrial-looking two-bed room and two-bath condo in lower Manhattan. "We uh, we thought we'd come by before the reading of the will tomorrow." Ellen announced and Gail shrugged, heading over towards the kitchen to make another coffee. "What's with all the boxes?" Jim asked looking around the living room. "Oh. Im uh, Nick and I are leaving for London in about a week. My final performance is two days before that." She said and the two of them were confused. "Ive taken a lead originating role in London, rehearsals start in a month and then premiere in the new year." she explained with a slight shrug. Ellen and Jim looked at one another, "Would you like any water, tea or coffee?" Gail offered and the two shook their heads. Gail nodded, adding some creamer in her cup and headed towards the small den, off from the kitchen and living room. "SO, what can I do for you guys? she questioned, sitting on the plush chair that stood next to the window. "We uh wanted to come by and talk, we never really got a chance while up state so we wanted to check in with you." Jim said and Gail nodded. "I uh I am not sure where to start but we want to apologize to you. We know there will never be enough words or the right words to truly say how much guilt and regret we feel. We knew how much the boys missed you as kids, and for awhile there we thought it would get easier not having you there with us. We truly believed that at the time it was the right call, I know your Ma would agree. The original time period we sent you was what you needed to grow your craft, but you should have come straight home after that. Or one of us should have come to stay with you for your runs. To see you this weekend, so broken and so angry and full of hatred broke my heart. And as a mother, you never want to see your child feel that and especially not have it be directed at them. Im so sorry sweetie." She said beginning to cry, and Jim quickly put a hand on her back to comfort her. Gail felt herself begin to feel bad and did not like the fact that she was crying in front of her.

"If we could go back and change things we would, we would do it in a heartbeat." Jim said and Gail nodded. "Yet it doesn't change the fact that you weren't there and you didn't know how much I needed you. I needed you and you weren't there. And I wish you could go back and change what you did, you betrayed me and gave me up when you didn't have to!" She said growing irritated, "You didn't have to sign guardian rights to them!" She added setting down her coffee on the table before her. Shaking her head, she stood up and stood in front of the window. She heard Ellen sob quietly as guilt, and despair coursed through the older woman. "My childhood as never mine. It was taken away early on and now, this is my time. I have healed from many things but I still have so much to sort through still, and heal from it." She paused turning around and facing them. "And as much as I hate myself for saying this, but I think I need you guys to heal that part of me. Heal my childhood wounds that haven't been fixed because I needed you guys with me to do it. Even if it's from half way across the globe." She finished and Ellen quickly stood up to hug her daughter. Gail was stunned for a brief few seconds before returning the hug. A few seconds later, Jim stood up and Gail quickly opened up her arm for him to join. Pa would be incredibly happy, Gail thought.

•

The next few months were hard work, but in the end they would prove to be worth it. Her brothers and her had a heart to heart before she left for London. They added her to the brothers only groupchat and the family one, and had plans to come out to London before the show ended next August.

February 10th, 2024 could not have come quick enough Gail thought. Now here she was backstage getting ready for opening night, in her dressing room. She could not wait for the audience to see the show, it was truly one of the most magical casts she had been a part of in her career thus far. She knew for certain that Nick, Ma and her parents were there, and she was incredibly happy that they were there, to begin with. They had kept their promises to come.

_

The lights went out and Gail felt like she could finally breathe, as she leaned into her costar and love interest in the show. The two of them hugged one another as the curtain closed, and she felt bittersweet tears fall. "You okay?" He questioned as he heard her sniffled and she nodded. "Yes and no, but it's the first show that my Pa hasn't been at and it has really sunk in now." She said through a small chuckle. Her costar pulled her in for another hug for some extra comfort, before the two of them were heading off stage to get their hair and makeup off. As soon as she entered the dressing room, she saw a grand bouquet of peonies sitting in front of her mirror. She let out a small sob, as her hair and makeup artist came to help her take her wig off. "You okay Gail?" She questioned pulling the girl in for a hug, somebody had gotten her peonies and she wasn't sure who.

She breathed a sigh of relief when she stepped into the lobby and was met with many cheers by some family and friends of the cast, and the cast members themselves. Her understudy came up and hugged her tightly. She was grateful to have this particular actress understudying her because she knew the show was in great hands. "Oh my god, thankyou!" She said taking the bouquet of roses into her hands and hooked them into the crook of her elbow with the other bouquet. "Thankyou for a fantastic first show, it was such an honor to do it alongside you guys." She beamed looking around at the cast. After a few minutes, all of them began to disband and make their way either out of the theater or towards, their loved ones.

Gail looked around for her family and was shocked to see big foot with curls standing there. her eyebrows creased when she recognized the two others who were standing with her parents and Ma. Luke noticed her first, his face lightening up which caused everybody else to turn towards her. She brought a hand to her mouth to cover her shock. "Oh my god, hi!" she said as she was pulled into a hug by Jack. Nick took her flowers from her, and Luke pulled her in for a hug. Next was her dad, mom, Ma, and finally it was Quinn. "Oh my goodness, not more flowers!" She said taking them from her Ma. "We had too! We couldn't come empty-handed." her mom mused. "Im still trying to figure out who might have sent these, there was no note." she said referencing the peonies. "It was us." Jack spoke up and her eyebrows furrowed, "Wait! But don't you guys have games...." She trailed off remembering. "That's why I saw posts saying you guys were going to be absent for a week.. I should have known!" She said realizing that they had taken time off to see her show and spend a few days with her before flying back out. "Ofcourse we had to see you perform Gail, we've missed out on way too many openings and closings, so we had to be here, and with Nick's help, we were able to get tickets." Luke said and she turned towards Nick who only shrugged. She turned back toward her family, something she thought she would never call them again.

She never thought she'd be standing in the same vicinity of them again. Yet, here she was and she was truly grateful. She couldn't believe that they had gotten this far together, and only wished her Pa was there to witness it all in person.

_

@gailmarie: to the one that helped make all my dreams come true, to the one that came to my matinee each week and to the one that made me a Hughes- Thankyou for everything my Teo.

89.2k likes, 1.4k comments.

oh my god.....if you've read this till the end I love you 🫶🏻 pls like and reblog if you enjoyed, it would mean the world !!

also this has been sitting in my drafts for a month now, and thought it would never see the light of day lol

[prettyboykatsuki-moved]

prompt: gale trying really hard not to look as you unashamedly undress in the open in order to strap into some totally cool and immediately necessary armor (there's no time to go back to camp or find a suitably sized tree you need to switch clothes immediately it's a matter of life or death)

✮ tags ; pre-relationship, reader is a fighter and ex-soldier, reader has a tattoo of a snake, gn!reader, gale is Unwell, 18+

There's no time.

Gale knows there's no time. You'd already had the whole strategy planned out. There's a five minute time frame before the guards outside the tower will turn far enough to see Astarion - who you've sent in ahead of you both.

He'll shoot off the first arrow, Shadowheart who went with him will cast a spell. After that, it's up to you and Gale to rush in. Gale will cast haste, let you hit a few times in a row. The only problem is, your ambush is unplanned. The timeline of your mission had bumped up an egregious degree.

And due to unforseen circumstances, there wasn't enough time to return to camp to change. You had five minutes to change and no where to do it, and you're about to be in the heat of battle.

Gale is well-aware that his reaction to your need to change is a little bit inappropriate. You hadn't even announced it as Astarion and Shadowheart left the premises. Gale only turned to look at you, to say something about the battle to come.

By that time, though - you're already stark naked. You undress fast, tossing your camp clothes somewhere onto the floor beneath you. Gale feels his eyes widen, freezing before realizing he absolutely should not be looking.

"Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't realize," He turns to face away from you, his voice so honestly betraying him.

"It's fine," You reply back, your voice is smooth and calm and so collected Gale wonders if you really don't care. But he remembers that you used to be a soldier, before all of this. You probably did this a lot. "I hope you're not too uncomfortable though."

Well, he is - but probably not in the way you're assume. You're too busy getting yourself geared up to notice the way he turns back to look. His curiosity gets the better of him.

His eyes widen when he gets the real, proper glance. He's trying his best not to stare, but with you just in your underwear - he gets the clearest shot of your back. Your camp clothes cover the large tattoo on your spine. Your only visible one is the one on your throat, the sword from your army days.

This one is more menacing, a snake coiled almost up to your neck. He almost gaps before realize he shouldn't be looking in the first place, shouldn't be contemplating the sheer strength in your muscles as you hoist a pair of greaves over your legs and put on your boots and other armor.

He watches in mild awe, at the shape of your silhouette. The curve of your waist, the structure of your arms and hips and body. You are impossibly attractive. The image imprints on his mind. He can't control it, but he forces himself to turn away when he realizes how long he'd been looking.

Any longer and he would've had a different problem to take care of and now is really not the time for that.

You manage to get ready with time to spare, the last of your armor clanking into place. You stretch your arms out wide, doing a quick check on your movement before coming up behind Gale and patting his back in a friendly way.

"Alright. Let's march on," You say cleanly. Gale gives you a tight lipped smile as you both begin to jog towards the battlefield. The way there is mostly quiet.

"Gale," You prompt, not turning to look at him.

"Yes?"

"Next time you want to have a look at me, just ask." You say, with the same steadiness in your voice as always. Gale nearly trips when it registers what you've said. "You've got handsome enough mug for me to bed you if you wish."

He clears his throat, hoping his voice doesn't break when he replies. Gods, what's happening?

"Oh, uhm. Right. Yes, I'll keep that in mind."

[lucozadehulahoop]

A Question of Time (Astarion x f!reader/tav) part 2/?

Chapter Summary: Astarion gets caught by Cazador in his daughter's room. Tav attempts to get him out of the situation.

Read part 1 here! part 3 part 4

tags and TW: pre-bg3! Astarion, slave!Astarion, mentions of torture and abuse, demi-goddess!tav, Cazador being all sorts of creepy, eventual NSFW (minors stay away kindly, thank you darlings)

tag list for those who asked for part 2 (if you want to be added to the tag list, just let me know!): @d0nutkaky0in @i-just-want-to-sleep-97 @omggiannarosa @dead-giirl-walking @warbwarts @mrsfullbuster500 @uwomina @iyaesakura @cheeslyy @dragon-kazansky @bambamwolf87 @chibi-chi @orsomethingelseentirely @davenswitcher @adequate-superstar

Astarion dropped to his knees and bowed his head the second Cazador stepped into the room. He couldn't even look at his Master, choosing to stare at the ground, fixating on the space between the Vampire Lord's heavy boots to anticipate the blows that were no doubt coming to him.

It was over. Whatever hell awaited Astarion next, it was going to make the past two centuries seem like a dream in comparison. That much he was certain of.

He could feel Cazador's ice-cold stare on him, yet it was his daughter he spoke to. "Step aside, my dear. I have made the terrible mistake of being too gracious with this... servant. I will personally make sure he never strays again..."

Astarion began to shake violently. For all he knew, Cazador was already making a promise to break his legs.

What he did not expect was what happened next. The young woman stepped in front of him, putting herself between him and Cazador. "Father, there has been a misunderstanding... I sneaked out and met... Astarion in a local tavern." She faked an attempt at trying to remember his name correctly. "I believe he was deeply charmed by me and offered we spend the evening together. When he brought me back here, I had to confess who I truly was and immediately realized his mistake. He acted like a true gentleman and returned me to my chambers."

Astarion didn't move a muscle. He could not have come up with a better lie himself, considering that little story painted him as a dutiful spawn who'd merely been out seeking prey for his Master. But he doubted Cazador cared. A line had been crossed, and Cazador rarely needed an excuse to torture anyone, least of all Astarion.

"Is that so, dearest?" Cazador's tone turned sickly sweet, yet he was not fooled by the shared. He'd taken a good look at the dagger on the floor and the open window. He'd already come to his own conclusions. "In that case, such a valiant display of chivalry deserves a reward, wouldn't you say? Come along, Astarion, I wish to give you the recognition you deserve..."

Astarion had lost all feeling in his limbs, but he knew it wouldn't matter because Cazador's words would have been enough to make him stand and walk like his own personal puppet. Except... they weren't.

Cazador had given him a direct order yet he hadn't budged.

The Vampire Lord seemed to notice this too, his eyes widening at the realization his influence seemed to have no hold on Astarion's mind at that moment. Astarion looked back at his Master and it was all Cazador needed to make a stride toward them, no doubt intent on dragging his slave out of the room by force when his luck struck out for a second time.

"No!" His valiant protector protested in the face of Cazador's increasingly obvious rage. Her little outburst was followed by a loud crash as a heavy bookcase fell in the middle of the room, nearly missing Cazador by an inch.

And that was when Astarion realized why Cazador kept this girl pampered and at a considerable distance from him. He was afraid of her. Of his own daughter. Terror was all that was left on his Master's face now, and Astarion had never witnessed something so satisfying ever since he'd crawled out of his own grave on that faithful night.

"I mean..." She backtracked, looking quite abashed at the mess she'd just made, more so than the thought of having nearly buried her father underneath a small library. "I would like to request Astarion stay in this wing of the castle from now on. I... have no servants, and I never see anyone all day. I believe Astarion has proven himself to be an honorable man, and I trust him. That way... I won't be tempted to run away again, and you can trust him to keep an eye on me and...report back to you in case I get into trouble again." She reasoned in a sweet voice, almost as if she were asking Cazador for a new pony.

"The reasonings you make are quite sound, my dear. But-"

"Oh, wonderful!" She cheered and looked back at Astarion. "Only if that would be an agreeable arrangement for you, Astarion. It's your choice, of course..."

Astarion stared up at her blankly. His... choice?

The spawn hadn't made a decision for himself in two hundred years. Obviously going back to Cazador meant there was a world of pain to pay for the innumerable transgressions that he'd perpetrated that night. But what about this girl? She was clearly a force to be reckoned with, and he was more than familiar with the old saying: better the devil you know...

"Tav, dearest." Cazador attempted to interject. "It is unbecoming for a noble lady such as yourself to have such a bleeding heart for the lower class. Astarion knows his place, he does not need to be asked for permission..."

Tav. Astarion knew that word well from the scriptures he'd studied for so many nights on his path to becoming a magistrate all those centuries ago. The name meant 'sign' or 'omen', the symbol of truth, perfection, and completion.

Maybe he could let himself hope one last time.

"My lady, I accept your gracious request..." And put myself in your debt.

Cazador gave him an amused look, almost as if he knew whatever freedom Astarion thought he'd just obtained was going to be extremely short-lived. After all, Tav, as far as either of them was concerned, did not know about the true nature of any of the inhabitants of the castle. Her father had more means than necessary to hide his appetites and odd schedules, but Astarion? He'd soon have to make the choice between staying up in the tower and starving or crawling back to Cazador to beg for a measly rat to feed on.

Tav smiled at Astarion's decision and helped him up to his feet.

"Well, my dear. It seems as if I can't do anything but warn you... this one barely does anything during the day and I personally wouldn't let him near any one of your dear pets... When you tire of his incompetence, be sure to return him back to me."

...💫...

Astarion was shown to a private guest room and he had an inkling of what was to come next, now that Tav had finally got him alone. If there was one thing he'd learned in all of those years was that the only thing about him that was worth anything was his body.

Now that he could think things through with a clear head, there was no doubt in his mind that Tav had 'saved' him solely because she, like many others, had come to be infatuated with him. And as much as it pained him to acknowledge he'd merely swapped an old owner for a new one, he wasn't going to look this gift horse in the mouth. He needed her protection and the fact she was already harboring affection for him would only work in his favor in the future. Maybe, just maybe, he could convince her to let him escape someday, once he was sure the bond between him and Cazador had truly been severed. he had no way of knowing if it had been Tav's presence in the room that had counteracted Cazador's powers, nor could he be sure how long that blessing was going to last.

The first step for now would be seducing her, and at least that part he was an expert in. Another blessing he could count on was that she was gorgeous, and if he truly had met her in some tavern, she'd been right in thinking she would have been one of his marks.

"I'll be leaving you now..." Tav announced, snapping Astarion out of his reverie. He looked back at her as she returned his dagger and his climbing tools to him. The weight of the gear seemed heavier than, before and he heard the distinct sound of a heavy pouch of coins in the mix. "There is a small boat that leaves the harbor in a few hours. By dawn, you should be well away from the Sword Coast... although where you'll end up I don't know."

Being out at sea at the break of day was not a realistic option for Astarion unless he wanted to burn alive with nowhere to hide. But that certainly wasn't what he took away from her words. Tav was giving him a way out, just like that. Her plan could not work for him, but she couldn't have known.

"What is your angle?" Astarion snapped, baffled beyond reason. He could not wrap his head around what she was or what she wanted with him and it was driving him insane.

"My.. my angle? Forgive me, I don't-" Tav wrought her hands together nervously, fearing she'd somehow misunderstood. All this time, she'd been certain Astarion had been crying out for help, for someone to rescue him.

"You can cut the crap now, sweetheart. I'm not as easily spooked by a falling armoire as your dear old dad is..." Astarion grinned, a slight glint in his eyes as he spoke. "That little naive act of yours though... that's the real thing about you that's terrifying. And let me the first to say, it was quite something watching you put on that show. I'm not that easily impressed."

Tav looked completely lost at his words, and Astarion admired how good she was at keeping up the act. But he was tired of it now.

"So, what does it feel like to have me all to yourself now, hmm?" Astarion inquired, his voice turning sultry as he carelessly chucked the objects she'd handed him on the bed and took a step towards her. "Is it everything you dreamed of, precious? All couped up in here by yourself, day after day..." He stroked Tav's cheek with the back of his hand gently, and Astarion would have been lying to himself if he didn't recognize the warmth ghosting over his fingers from that brief touch.

"You-you misunderstand, I don't have you. I... I heard you calling-" Tav tried to explain, but it was difficult. Would Astarion have believed her if she told him who she truly was? All that mattered now was that he could leave, so why didn't he? She must have done something wrong. It was hard putting the right words together when Astarion was so close. Her mind was completely scrambled and her face felt like it was burning up.

Astarion smirked. Finally, he was getting somewhere with trying to understand what Tav wanted with him, and he'd been right. Watching her blood rise to her cheeks, however, almost made his mind go blank for a few seconds.

What on earth was he doing? Standing there trying to figure out the impossible woman in front of him, when he should have been getting out of dodge and putting as much ground between himself and Cazador as possible?

A faint voice inside him wondered what the consequences on Tav would be if he ended up going missing, and he hated himself right after for even having such a thought.

The way out was right in front of him, and he could still count on a few more hours of darkness to make his way underground.

All he had to do was turn and run.

---

AN: aaah thank you so much for the love! Comments are appreciated and keep me writing. I'm planning on adding more chapters soon!

[sfmothdaddy]

Brain rot I guess

Something was wrong with Johnny, Ghost could feel it in his bones. The usually bouncy and bubbly persona of his Sargent had been changed somehow. Sure the lad kept up with jokes, and the playful banter during missions... but something was off. He could feel the man eyes on him constantly, and often it looked like the man was going to say something to him but seemed to change his mind mid thought and shift to a safer topic.

Price had sent Johnny on a mission, a collaboration to bring in more information to take down Makarov, and Ghost couldn't help but feel.... something when he wasn't Johnny's overwatch, but that was neither here nor there. That was just life in the SAS for two Alphas who were good at their jobs. Still didn't mean Ghost couldn't have feelings about it.

Before this last mission, Johnny had gone down to records, something about an issue with some filing. Told Price he wouldn't miss anything, and he'd be right back. Price hadn't been bothered, probably because it was an issue the man found and Johnny just had to sign his life away again, nothing out of the ordinary, surely. When the lad returned he looked the same, had that pre mission determination on his face but to Ghost there was.... something behind his eyes he couldn't quite place.

"JOHNNY!" Ghost screamed, watching his body hit the floor after the gunshot, how could he fucking not. Everything around him happened in slow motion and so fast that he couldn't see at the same time. Bullets were fired as the building shook, Price had to physically push Ghost back out of the room and into cover as that snake slithered away and Johnny's body was burried under rubble. Somewhere Price was switching between barking orders and blaming himself, but Ghost.... Simon could do nothing but stare at the blood on his fingers. Odd that he'd never noticed before.

After immediate exfil, a team was sent back to retrieve Johnny's body. Ghost wanted to go but he wasn't cleared from medical, apparently he'd also been wounded but hadn't felt a thing. How could he? Price thundered into his room the next day, ranting about the higher ups, how they went over his head and Johnny had been cremated, against his last wishes, because there would have been too many questions from his family and it was "better this way". As the man paced, Ghost spoke up. "I want to do the notification if it wasn't done already. I need to.... I need to be the one to tell them." Price nodded, solemnly.

The next day in his dress uniform, both he and Price looked at the cute little cottage and knocked on the door. Idily Simon wondered why Johnny never talked about this place, sure he'd waxed poetic about some things from home, but never said a word about the cottage and attached farm. When the door opened a soft and sweet scent slid out and Simon had to halt the growl in the back of his throat. A woman blinked up at both of them, wearing one of Johnny's old PT shirts and a subtle swell at her stomach. He could feel the color drain from his face as Price cleared his throat. "Mrs McTavish?"

"Och, please I'm still getting used to that. You must be some of John's friends? Come in." He and Price shared a look as they stepped into the home that somehow smelt.... like everything Simon ever wanted.

"Ma'am we've..." Price started, tryingnto find the right words.

"A few days ago, during a mission Johnny was... fatally wounded. Ma'am I'm sorry, Johnny didn't make it." Her eyes laser locked with Simon, but something behind those eyes hardened, not collapsing into grief like he thought they would.

"Johnny's not dead." She shook her head, one hand sliding down over her slight bump. "He's alive."

"Ma'am... we were both there when it happened." Price tried again but she waved him off.

"You don't understand, he is alive no matter what you saw or think you know. I can feel he is alive. Our bond is still in place, I would have felt it break the moment he was dead."

"Bond?" Both Simons and Prices eyes slid up to her unmarked neck.

"Aye, we've been mated fer months, made it official our last cycle." Seemingly feeling their eyes on her neck she rolled her eyes. "We didn't go the traditional route for bites for a reason. But is still 'ave 'is mark on me." She pulled the hem of her shorts up just enough to show off a clear bite mark on her inner thigh. "Our relationship was never quite traditional the the common sense, we were much more... old school about some things."

Price and Simon exchanged glances, this changed things. Something behind Prices eyes turned stubborn and angry all at once. "We didn't know the lad was mated."

"Course you didn't." She waved the words away, "I'm private, and my job makes it hard for me to befriend many...Johnny was the exception. He didn't leave room for ya to say no to 'im." She sighed and sat heavily on the arm of the couch. "He was working up to it, I think. Wanted to invite you all round once this mess with Makarov was over."

Simon stiffened, she knew? "He wasn't supposed to disclose details about-"

Price was cut off when she laughed, "He didn't disclose shit. I'm in intelligence, I know who you are and your movements. I knew the mission brief before Johnny left here." With a soft groan she rubbed her temples. "This is gonna be so much fucking paperwork."

"Who do you work for?"

"I'm American, I work alongside your Kate Laswel, I'm sure she could verify, though I hadn't gotten around to changing my last name at work yet."

"Kate knew about this?"

"No? As far as I'm aware she had no idea of mine and Johnny's involvement went past me being his watcher once while she was in a briefing. As I said, Johnny made it impossible to resist. And while technically fraternization is frowned upon, I'm not SAS so before you try and throw that in my face, know that I'm three steps ahead of you."

She stood and paced behind the couch before pulling out a cell phone from a drawer and making a call. Her voice seemed to slide into something inky and dark, with a Russian lilt as she spoke. "Good morning Colonel, it seems a common enemy has taken something that belongs to me, and I want it back." There was a pause while someone spoke on the other end. "You tell that spineless coward that he has 48 hours to return him to me, or I will burn him and his empire to the ground. He will remember why I was given my name. And if I find out you and your men aided him, you will suffer the same fate. Am I clear? I will see my mate returned to me, or everything will be in flames and there will be nothing left of either of you to send to your families. Your skulls will adorn my wall."

The call ended, and Price blew out a breath. "Damn I miss flip phones and their satisfying ending to phone calls. Now I need to find gear that will fit my bump."

"We will find Johnny." Simon vowed but she shook her head.

"Your government covered this up, do you really think they would give you the authority to go out there and look for someone KIA? No, we both know it. However, I do have a reputation I can use and I will follow through with to get him back. He has a lot that he needs to answer for, including why he hadn't talked to you about me, but that was his one and only ask, that he handles it. So now I must retieve my wayward idiot and bring him home to do what I told him to do weeks ago. Just like a bloody man, make me do all the work."

[aoharushiyo]

the recipes for... | track 1 — chocolate pudding

Translation: en Proofreading: aca, dimi, kimi, myun, jay, jelly

Content Warning: light jokes about death

PatiBattle is my life. A masterpiece containing the quintessential element, the character that gives meaning to my very existence— yeah, you heard that right: his name is Chiyoda Reito.

PatiBattle is my life. A masterpiece containing the quintessential element, the character that gives meaning to my very existence— yeah, you heard that right: his name is Chiyoda Reito.

---

"Come the hell on, if I don't get there soon, it might all be gone…!"

I was held back after school for ages by the teachers today. Some lecture about my behaviour in class or something. Stuff like my attitude being all over the place, or reading manga under my desk in class… But why today, of all days? Of course, I just had to run my mouth and say that I'd listen any other day, please let me off just for today… but that just ended up adding oil to the fire and I got held back even longer.

[ Next Restock TBA ] "…"

I flew into the anime shop I frequented and stopped in front of the display case for newly stocked merch. I hadn't been able to pre-order, so all the merch I wanted had all already been snagged.

"Seriously… I wish this would stop happening…"

And it's just my luck that I don't have any friends I can ask to buy merch for me.

"'Restock TBA'…? The very concept of this should fuck right off."

Student life may as well be slavery. Sure, pointing and laughing at the working class and calling them corporate slaves has been a thing since ages ago, but isn't being a student pretty much the same thing? At these places called 'schools', you're physically limited to what you can do, you're forced into doing club activities after school, and even once you get home, you've gotta do homework or chores… All that takes up a shit ton of time. Adults always overestimate the amount of free time we kids have.

"Fuck…!"

Despite all of that, somehow I'm making do with the little free time I have. Attending events, making shrines, exchanging official and blind box merch, buying out merch stocks[1], nui outings, birthday pilgrimages…

"Aah… my life has no meaning anymore… Just end me already…"

I just couldn't take it any longer. I stumbled out of the store, and, after sparing only a glance to make sure no one was around, started hitting my head against the wall, over and over. Over, and over, and over. I failed. I'm a failure. I'm sorry, Reito, I'm so sorry that I couldn't bring you home.

The theme for the acrylic standee set this time around was 'Training Camp - First Year, Winter ~Wedding Cake~'. A set that dressed every single character in exquisite bridal attire. Not being able to get something like that on the day of its release is absolutely unforgivable. I might as well just die.

The way back was freezing cold. The weather sucked ass, too.

---

Today, I decided to go home instead of returning to the dorms. Here, I can do whatever I want without anyone getting in my way.

"…Yeah, I guess it'll do."

My feelings of frustration needed some kind of outlet. All of the love I was so ready to shower on my new standee had to go somewhere, too — so I eagerly channelled it into something else.

"Aren't you looking pretty good now?"

I held up my apron, extremely pleased with the crooked rows of can badges and pins that covered its entirety. Naturally, the apron was in Reito's image colour. And right over the chest, where my new merch should have been, shone in its place a new, extra-large aluminium standee.[2] That's right. In this patisserie kitchen, we don't have ita-bags — we have ita-aprons, obviously.

"I've gotta finish this before Reito's birthday…"

I guess you could say it's like a way of measuring love. If this weight is the weight of my love, then even if it's heavy because of how many things I've slowly added to it, I can't get enough. I just can't get enough of the insanity of wearing it. Merch of Reito is in ridiculously high demand, so it's really not great for my wallet, but… I'm fine with that. Because only then does it feel like I'm giving up even my soul for Reito.

"Now then…"

Finally satisfied with my sparkling, gleaming rows of badges, I moved onto the next part of my daily routine — checking socials. After all, numerous new fanworks are being created every day.

"Searching for… 'PatiBattle!'…" With great enthusiasm, I searched for every single keyword that I could think of. 'Patissier Battle', 'Chiyoda Reito', 'ReiOu', 'Rei0u', 'ChocoPudding'…[3]

"Damn, this person's art is so good… wait— wait, they drew this!? This is insane! Fuck, oh fuck… I can't take it, it's so radiant that I can't even look at it properly…!"

This must be what it means to be happy. Being able to see the masterpieces being born every day is happiness. While happily wading through my feed, I spent hours lost in the online world.

"…Ah."

There it was: Reito/Shouta. And… blocked. It's like I never saw it in the first place. It really was a shame that they didn't understand the better dynamic. But staying in your own lane makes the world go 'round, so never having to see it again was good enough.

And finally, after checking everything else, I'd left the best for last:

"Sanseiu-sensei…!"

Sanseiu-sensei, the god of ReiOu. Even if they hadn't uploaded anything new, I could spend hours rereading all of their older works.

"What's wrong? Could it be… is that embarrassment I see?" "H-hey! I still can't believe it… What would someone like you see in me…?" "If you keep saying things like that, I'll just go ahead and eat you up." "Mmph…!?" "…Delicious." "R-Reito-kun!" "Aren't you so sweet? Maybe… even sweeter than chocolate."

"Aaah, it's still this good every time I read this!? Even though I've read it before? This flavour never gets old no matter how many times I reread it! Seriously! What the fuck! I'm gonna go insane!"

After rolling around on my bed, I grabbed my pillow and screamed into it while writhing in glee. How was I supposed to remain sane after reading that!?

"It's so cute! It's so cute that I'm gonna die! Killing me directly would be less painful, Sanseiu-sensei!"

Throwing my emotions into this much disarray… that was the power of the great Sanseiu-sensei. I'd heard that they tabled at a large convention a few months ago, but…

"I wanna meet them and thank them…!"

I wanted to go so badly, but…

"…I can't deal with crowds…"

---

[1] 無限回収 mugen kaishuu refers to the act of buying the same merch over and over without caring about the cost. If you've ever seen one of those huge birthday shrines with a million of the same pins? That's the energy.

[2] アルミ arumi basically is a shortened form of ‘aluminium’. This could refer to a can badge, but it could also be an aluminium standee, which is a cutout of an artwork from an aluminium can. Since Ushio is saying that instead of the acrylic standee, he got an arumi, and also that he mentioned can badges earlier, I've gone with this option.

[3] 礼王 is Ushio's OTP, Reito/Ouji. He'll explain this later! After this, he searches for 礼玉. Note that 玉 looks like 王; it's pretty common to use something to censor part of the name so that it doesn't appear in searches. I've replaced the O with a 0 to replicate the same effect since it wouldn't make much sense to literally transcribe it. 'ChocoPudding' is another version of their ship name (which he will also explain later).

---

masterlist | next →

[elwenyere]

AO3 Wrapped

Even though 2024 was my worst year for fic-writing by almost any numerical metric, it was also a year when I wrote some of the pieces I'm most proud of, including stories and ships that the me of several years ago would never have thought were in her wheelhouse.

In order of composition, here are five fics I wrote for five different fandoms that helped me discover something I loved.

-----

Separation (Top Gun, Icemav, 7k, M)

This fic started with me asking what it would look like to write a Top Gun story that leaned into the context of the Reagan 80s and the AIDS crisis rather than bracketing it. It was very different from anything else I'd written, and I feel quite attached to the version of Ice that emerged in this world.

Rope's End (Star Wars, Codywan, 17.8k, E)

a.k.a. the Pirate AU. When I conceived of this WIP, I thought it was going to be a fun, self-indulgent romp to write, and while I did certainly indulge myself, the fic also grew in many directions I hadn't anticipated. I'm very happy with the Cody and Fett family layers it developed.

More Like Misery (TOG, pre Booker/Andy/Quyhn, 1.4k, M)

I love this sad little character study, which was born when I started thinking about Booker and Quyhn dreaming about each other for hundreds of years while she died. Writing it helped me indulge a very particular craving, for which I hope the sequel will offer even more tasty food.

Hypnagogia (Inception, Arthur/Eames, 15.9k, E)

I had such a good time writing this: probably the most unhinged (positive) I've felt while writing this whole goddamn year (derogatory). It started as a note that said "Arthur x Eames sleep paralysis demon?!?" and ended up being a story about what self-concept means to a forger and what happens when they lose it.

However Stern and Iron (MCU, Stony, 19.7k, T)

[movie trailer announcer voice] The fic that took me three whole years to write... I'm hugely relieved I finally found the focus to put in the groundwork for this story: a Victorian AU that led me in unexpected directions and relied on what felt like a fairly risky experiment in style. It was a slow, challenging process, but I'm happy with the result.

-----

Thank you to everyone who shared the joys and struggles of creating with me this year: I appreciate you all very deeply, and I wish you the best energy possible for 2025. <3<3<3

[mister-tom-a-dildo-lover]

Since it's a celebartion, can we get something where Tom surprises Harry for his birthday? I see a lot of Harry giving Tom gifts or surprising Tom but never the other way around. Thanks! Any kind of story au will do.

TY! ^-^

Fandom: HP Ship: Tomarry Rating: T-Rated AU: Alternate Universe - Same Timeline, No Voldemort TAGS: Birthday, Fluff, Pre-Relationship

~.O.~

The Point of Invention

It was going to be Harry Potter's birthday, and Tom had been invited to the party. And yes, it was considered a party because unlike many of the pompous Pureblood families, the Potters didn't host balls or fancy dinners where everyone was supposed to judge each other in respectable silence. It was just a party. A very muggle approach to such an event as well.

Harry had sent Tom the invitation personally, and he knew it because Harry's script was atrocious and very easy to differentiate between the writing of others. Theodore Nott had also received an invitation to the party and his invitation was made almost exactly the same except the words inside were all typed out perfectly, whereas Harry chose to leave Tom a personal note, which had to mean that he favoured Tom over the other potential guests.

As an orphan with nothing really to his name, Tom had to improvise on gifts.

He could not purchase anything that Harry would not already be able to purchase for himself. And Harry was incredibly intelligent and talented, so it wasn't as if he needed assistance with his classwork. Harry's mother, father, godmothers, godfathers, and other extended relations that weren't directly of the Potter line, all possessed Masteries in their chosen fields, so Tom had nothing to offer on whatever it was Harry decided on for his future as those in his life already had more information than he could hope to provide.

It was difficult, he'd admit.

To be perfectly honest, at least in the depths of his own mind, Tom hadn't really cared much about his own birthday, or the birthdays of pretty much anyone else at Hogwarts. The most ever he put in was getting everybody in his year's dorm room, gloves and a scarf, every Yule. He didn't put in any effort beyond that.

But this was Harry James Potter. Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, member of the Famous Witches & Wizards Trading Cards Club and Frog Choir, defeater of the Dark Lord Grindelwald, and currently the holder of the highest Defense O.W.L. grade in Magical Britain's history. It would feel wrong to give him an unimpressive gift. He wanted Harry's regard above all others after all. He had to prove to Harry that he was worth knowing.

Which meant Tom had to get creative.

Magic could do many things, and Tom's control of his magic was leagues above most everyone in Hogwarts, even the majority of the professors included.

If Tom put his mind to it, he'd succeed at anything.

And since he decided he wanted Harry Potter's attention and admiration, there wasn't left for him to do, but create. Harry wasn't swayed by Tom's pretty face, so maybe Tom's brilliance would say him instead.

~.O.~

"Tom... did you make me a magical mobile phone?" Harry asked, staring at the boxy item in his hand. It was decently heavy, but one side was completely made of smooth, obsidian glass.

"I tweaked the basic idea. As Two-Way Mirrors were also inspired by muggle creations, but can take a long time to react, I felt they were insignificant. Presently, muggles have advanced their mobile phones to be touchscreen-capable, carrying functioning cameras that can take both photos and videos, and connecting to the vast information highway of the internet. I have not figured out how the internet truly works in order to replicate connecting to it safely without placing our existence in danger, but this device can at least take photos and videos, as well as connect to the six others I have created for you to share without whomever you wish.

"The connection is instant, and they can record basic audio as well. Now, there is a connecting piece of equipment much like a muggle television. If you take a photo or video, you insert this cartridge into the device to copy it. You will then, much like a tape player, insert the cartridge into this slot under the big screen, and you will see/hear what your camera recorded."

Tom proceeded to, presumably, take a photo of Harry with one of the other 'phones', remove a cartridge from the base of the 'phone', and then insert it into the 'television'. Harry's baffled face was displayed in full colour, as well as the gaping people surrounding him at the party.

Somehow, in an attempt to create a birthday gift for Harry, Tom had managed to discover how to make photos appear in colour... with magic. They'd suffered with black and white and sepia photos for decades because magicals couldn't crack the secret behind colour photography.

After that, Tom demonstrated how to place a call, showing how well the receiver and speakers worked on the 'phones' he's created, and how Harry could use the camera, much like a smartphone in the modern muggle world, to start a video call. Like a more advanced Two-Way Mirror basically. And the screen was rather sizeable too.

A glance to the side showed his parents openly gaping, although his mother looked especially interested, eying Tom's inventions with eager eyes. She probably wanted to know what Charms he'd used. Or if he'd used Charms at all.

This was the most effort Tom had ever put into anything besides his grades and his reputation. They were friends of many years, and Harry admired him a lot, but to go to the trouble of improving upon an existing invention so Harry could use it to stay in touch with his loved ones more easily... That was far more than most would ever do.

This wouldn't benefit him in any way, yet he still went and did it. And it had to have taken him ages to work through considering his summer job took up half of his free time.

Distantly, he recalled that one time, Harry's mother Lily had informed him that in life, he should surround himself with those who 'loved him to the point of invention'.

Tom hadn't said those words specifically, but what else could it be? What else could he be saying with such a thoughtful gift? What else could he mean when he dedicated himself to learning how phones and televisions were made so he could replicate them magically?

Harry felt a sprig of warmth bloom outward from within, and he couldn't help but smile at Tom winningly. He then decided to tease Tom a little by kissing his cold cheek and making his face go bright pink with sudden warmth. "You're very sweet, Tom."

...And he might have broken Slytherin's future Head Boy. Just a little bit.

~.O.~

A/N: Thanks for reading! ^-^

Check out my Tomarry/Harrymort fics on AO3!

Watermelonsmellinfellon(Mister-Tom-A-Dildo-Lover)

[Ko-Fi]

[nothorses]

What is your opinion on terf blocklists, where every one on there at the time had clear and intentional radfem beliefs pushing shitty ideas about trans people and easily identifiable as to what exactly they believe via what they say and circulate and who they constantly reblog shitty things about trans people from?

I promise this is a genuine good faith question; I want to understand if the thing I've been taught be others to do with the purported intention of eliminating platforms for terfs to protect ourselves and others is actually helpful or if that also has far reaching consequences I hadn't considered before. I'm trying to think about it but struggling with the idea I got taught to do them/follow them (blocklists) for being to identify correctly and block, not harass. But do the harms of encouraging that approach actually outweigh the benefits and that doesn't change even if the blocklist is for actual bigots?

Again, genuine question. Trying to learn.

I think the problem here is less in how a blocklist is constructed; it's not hard to imagine that a list can be made under strict enough criteria, with enough careful vetting, to contain only Genuinely Bad People- or at least people who would not object to being placed in the category of that list. It's also not hard to come up with categories of people that feel morally reprehensible enough, and unattached from any marginalized identity enough, to be "safe" to target: it would be absurd to argue against a "Nazi blocklist" that contains only self-proclaimed Nazis.

The problem also isn't really in how blocklists are intended to be used; it's pretty fair that someone might want a list of people to block pre-emptively in order to avoid harassment, particularly when that harassment is bigoted. It's not hard to imagine that someone making such a list is doing so with the intent that it only be used for blocking, and that they might even make an effort to say as much in the post. And at that point, is it really their fault if someone goes against their clearly-stated wishes?

The problem is that a blocklist is, by fundamental design, "free research". It's put forth entirely so other people do not have to do their own research, which means the entire premise discourages people from doing that research.

You aren't offering up a list of people that others should go look into and form their own opinion about, you're offering up a list of people you already did the research on so people can copy/paste and be done with it. It would be counterproductive- and frankly silly- to post a blocklist with some "but make sure to double check these yourself!" disclaimer, because like, that's not the point of the list. Nobody is going to do that. Even if they did, they're looking into these people under the assumption that there is something to find; everything is going to look suspicious in a way it never would have without that framing.

The question isn't whether a blocklist can be made with good intentions and due diligence; the question is whether it can be made with ill intent or sloppy execution, whether anyone can tell the difference, how likely they are to actually check, what you're doing with that list, and what impact your choices have.

If I make a list, the message I send is, "you can trust me. I did the research, I did it right, and this is a Good Blocklist. If you trust me, you should trust this list."

If I reblog a blocklist, the message I send is, "I trust this list. I may have even checked it myself. This is a Good Blocklist. If you trust me, you should trust this list."

The majority of the people who follow me probably believe they can trust me to some extent; oftentimes, people just trust that whatever is on their dashboard is trustworthy, because someone they follow put it there. Those are their friends, and their friends are trustworthy!

This should make you nervous. You should not be comfortable with this. People make mistakes all the time, and even if they did do the research (it's so much more likely that they did not, especially if they're not the original creator), someone else's standards of what kind of person "deserves" to be on a list like that are very likely different from your's. Are you going to double check every single name on that list yourself?

Well, if the accusation is bad enough, probably not. Especially if the accusation is something like "Nazi" or "TERF". And if you do start checking, how likely are you to check every single name? If the first 3 or 5 seem to check out, will you bother with the other 50 on the list?

What if OP hid someone in that list who doesn't belong there; someone they just have a personal grudge against? What if OP defines "TERF" to mean "anyone I assume doesn't think trans women are the most oppressed", and after the first 15 actual TERFs, the list is just a bunch of transmascs- many of whom don't even disagree with OP in the first place? What if they define "TERF" to include anyone who has ever been a TERF, and one of the people on that list is a trans person that has been rumored- without any foundation or grain of truth whatsoever- to have once been a TERF?

Will you know? Will you check? Even if someone you trust reblogs it? Even if someone you trust made it?

A blocklist may not have the same kind of obviously punitive intent as a callout post does, but it's a tool from the same toolbox. People think callout posts are about "safety", too. Lots of people also think that about the criminal justice system, about prisons, about the death penalty.

The question is not whether that could be true, or whether there could be a world in which justice is administered correctly with these tools. The question is whether it could fail, and who it hurts when it does.

Who can abuse this system? How easy is it to do so? Who is most likely to be hurt; is it the intended target, or people who are already disempowered by our systems and society?

What is the best way to go about this?

Even done correctly, a blocklist is not the most effective tool here: people can remake their blogs, change urls, and often have sockpuppets ready to go anyway. The list is rendered useless and inert as soon as enough people change their strategies to evade it. A more effective tool is education; teaching people how to recognize a TERF, or TERF ideology, on their own. Teaching them why those ideas are problematic. Encouraging them to block and disengage, and teaching them why engaging is harmful and counterproductive. Talking about de-radicalization, cult recruitment and radicalization tactics, and how to fight this epidemic.

Telling people what to think does not solve the problem, but teaching them how to be critical might.

[stardresstaurus]

Recovery Time - A NaLu OneShot

Summary: after a rough battle and the absence of Wendy, Lucy finds it difficult to recover on her own. (also posted on my Wattpad)

This is the first NaLu fic I’ve written since pre-pandemic!

There's a haze among the guild. It's hot, it feels like it's never been warmer. To Lucy, the world has a bit of a shake to it, like the heat is causing the floor and air to boil. She knows that's not the case, however it doesn't keep her from groaning and resting her forehead on the warm, rough surface of the wooden table. She looks down at her thighs and counts the colorful bruises one at a time, the team had returned from a mission the other day but Wendy had been called on to help a group of Magnolia citizens after an attack on the harbor, meaning the group was left to defend for themselves when it came to healing.

She felt some weight place itself next to her at the table. "You okay Lucy," Erza asked her. Erza had managed to be dressed down that day, wearing a t shirt and shorts as she mended her armor.

"Hmm? Yeah, I think so."

"You seem really out of it," Erza stated. She watched Lucy's shoulders slowly rise and fall as her fingers traced a scab on her knee. "I think maybe you should see Porlyusica, something might be wrong." The attention Erza was giving her had been noticed by both Gray and Natsu, who had halted their bickering in order to see what the issue was. When questioned, she simply stated that Lucy was in a daze.

"She's probably just hot," Gray stated, "it is kinda warm out today." Natsu chuckled, hearing Cana make a quip about how the ice boy could actually feel heat, then turning to Juvia saying, "maybe he'll notice the heat you have for him too." Erza placed a hand onto Lucy's shoulder and it was not until the moment when Lucy's body wavered and she had to prop herself up with one of her arms that the rest of the team took the situation seriously.

Natsu took her arm and wrapped it up behind his shoulders, he lifted her as she got to her feet. "C'mon Luce," he said simply. He took her by the arm and helped pull her up onto his back. Lucy didn't have the energy to argue just nodded and said her good-byes to the guild, everyone wishing her well. Happy flew up beside her, concern painted lightly across his face.

"I'm fine, don't worry about me."

"But you're not acting like yourself. Are you hurt that badly?"

"I don't think so," Lucy replied. She thought about it though, maybe she was. But she was so used to getting hurt that the pain was never as bad as it used to be, and she was so used to being healed after a battle that she rarely had to go through a recovery process anymore. Maybe that was the issue, her body wasn't able to recover quickly on its own anymore. "Where are we going?" She asked. Her question had Natsu stop in his tracks.

"I have no idea."

"What do you mean you have no idea?"

"I kinda just assumed we'd end up somewhere."

Lucy groaned, "let's just go to my apartment." The walk there Happy hovered above, continuously asking Lucy questions about how she was doing. She responded as best as she could, but a part of her wanted him to just be quiet, even for a few minutes. She hoped Natsu would say something, but if he said anything it was a question that followed up Happy's. He did fall silent, however, along the river. Lucy rested her cheek against his back and watch the rays of sunlight flicker off the miniature waves of water. Magnolia was quiet this afternoon. Over the sounds of the water flowing against the stone boundaries, she listened to the wooden wheels of carts creek to and from the market. The peacefulness of it all, had Lucy yearning for sleep, despite Natsu's grip on her, keeping her from falling off. On his back, his hands were clenched onto her thighs. If she hadn't been as tired as she was in that moment, she may have tried to shout at him to move his hands. But in this moment, she was happy for the moment of intimacy. It was always easier to be close to him when no one was around.

Not necessarily sexual, no. Really just the feeling of having someone so close, that you cared so much for and who cared so much for you, being able to show that care in more than just words. Words can be faked, but there was some truth in the physical acts. She turned her head so her face was directly on his back. With her eyes closed, she could smell him. He smelled burnt, but not like faded campfire or grilled barbecue like he normally did. It reminded her of a cologne her dad used to wear when her mother was still alive, like sage and bergamot. But there was a spice to him, because of course there was, it was Natsu.

Without much thought she turned her face from the river view into his hair, which felt soft against her skin. She took in a deep breath, cinnamon. With her eyes closed, she nuzzled against him. An act that, if she were in better shape, she would have been embarrassed to do. Normally, she was  determined to hide her affections. Today however was different. Let me have this, she thought. "Lucy?" 

"Hm?" She perked up, resting her chin on his shoulder.

"Can I have your key?"

As she dug her key out of her pocket she tried to get off his back, but Natsu tightened his grip. It was a silent disagreement. He carried her up to her apartment, not letting her down until they were inside. Once her feet were on the ground, she trudged to her bathroom, forcing down any feeling of anxiety or embarrassment she had. A bath would help, she told herself.

The boy and the cat had settled themselves on her living room floor, Happy sighed gratefully as he plugged in the fan and it was brought to a monotonous life. She could hear the two mumble at each other like a pair of birds on a railing as she turned on her faucet. The somewhat warm water invigorated the soap and bubbles began to build across the surface. Taking off the clothes that stuck to her skin like glue from the sweat, she slowly let herself slip into the tub, the calm of the water enveloped her like a blanket fresh out of the dryer. Resting on her side, she hummed a soft tune to herself, purely out of comfort, and watched her bathroom door. 

As she tried to focus on anything else, her anxieties came back tenfold. He's your friend, a teammate, you can't have these kinds of feelings. Of course, she had no idea that Natsu was sitting outside, thinking about how it felt to have his partner's lips pressed against him through the collar of his jacket. Of course, neither of them were on the same page. Lucy tried to focus again on the door as she tried to remember the lyrics to a song. You're holding me and holding back, I don't really care for that, just you. She had noticed for the first time the paint around the frame was beginning to chip. Her eyes began to hood themselves as she soaked, all the comfort in that moment could only bring her so much energy.

When she opened her eyes again, however, she was shivering. Her immediate thought was to get out of the bath but as she took in her surroundings, she realized she was already in her bed. In one of her spare nightgowns her duvet was sprawled across her, with an extra blanket on top. As her body continued to shake she pulled the blanket up to her chin and curled her legs up to her chest.

"You fell asleep in the tub," a voice from the kitchen said. Natsu leaned out so she could see him.

The events began to process in Lucy's mind. "You saw me naked? You dressed me?"

"You ask that like it's never happened before." He had gone back into the kitchen, she could hear water boiling in her kettle. Why did he have to be so nonchalant about it, every time. 

"Don't blow up my kitchen!"

"I know how to make tea!" He said, replicating the energy she had in her concern. He reappeared with two mugs of tea, holding both by the rim rather than the handle. He handed one to Lucy who took it with many thanks. She sat up, resting against her headboard and pillow as Natsu sat at the edge of the bed. With her mug brought up to her lips, she kept her gaze on him, watching his movements. He seemed focused on something. Not really staring at anything in particular, his gaze was steady as his eyes glazed over. 

"Where'd Happy go?" Lucy asked after taking a long sip of her tea. He seemed to be brought back to reality at the sound of her voice. 

"Huh? Oh, He went to see Wendy and Carla. He wanted to see if she could help you." Lucy couldn't tell, but Natsu had been especially worried. Ever since Tartaros, he had become aware of sensitive he was to Lucy's well being. She was strong, a terrific fighter and a great friend. But once he realized it was possible to loose her forever, every battle and every hit felt almost like a step closer to an end. He took the time to try to be closer and more attentive to her well being. 

To be perfectly honest, he was even happy just being in her apartment. When he first started barging in, it was purely because he wanted to be with his friend and her apartment was always a clean, welcoming space. Now it felt like a seclusion, a comfort in a world that willing to erase anything and everything. It was a space that had become synonymous with safety to him. He almost indulged the soft, sweet, floral scent of the apartment and the golden light that fell through the bare wooden framed windows. 

He felt a tug on the blanket he was sitting on and turning his gaze towards Lucy he noticed her moving closer to the edge of her bed and lifting up the corner of her duvet, she was making room for him. He moved up the bed and sat next to her as she flipped the corner over his lap. 

"Thank you for taking care of me today," she said, "I know it's probably not how you wanted to spend your afternoon." 

"Don't worry about it, it's probably for the best anyway." He said, taking a sip from his mug. Immediately embarrassed, and gradually becoming annoyed, Lucy looked into the depths of her mug. 

"You're welcome to leave, if Happy shows up here again I'll let him know you left." She expected him to say, in a minute, or to take the opportunity to go back to the guild. Anything but what he did. He slid his right arm under and around her left, the rough canvas of the bandages rubbed against her soft skin. He leaned his head to the side, resting it against her. In that moment, they were simply two tired teammates allowing themselves to rest against each other. 

Natsu wondered how small she was. Not that she was tiny, but compared to him she was like a china doll. Porcelain limbs and shinning glass eyes, a woman who should have been kept on a pedestal rather than thrown into a battlefield. But, then again, Lucy had personally jumped from that pedestal. Personally thrown herself in the most dangerous situations, often for the people she cared so deeply for. And after everything, the cracks in the glass would heal and the eyes would widen again. She would always be the stronger than he ever knew, and he knew she could do anything. 

He would never admit it, but he was worried this time. When all was said and done after the job, he couldn't find Lucy at the end. In recent months she would always be there at the end, offering him a hand or support. She wasn't this time. He had found her in the woods, propped up against a hollowing tree, gazing at him and smiled. The words, you're okay, I'm so glad! came out as a whisper, he hardly heard her. She had fallen asleep against him as he carried her back to meet with the rest of the team. The whole trip home, she only said a few words to him. He hoped she would've been better today. But she was still only a faded version of her usual self. 

Lucy moved her hand towards his, running her thumb back and forth across his palm. Things can go back to normal later. For now she was at peace enjoying his company, and he was at peace knowing she was there. 

[l0stfoster]

I would literally kill for everything abt cursed au paul. Like when does his redemption start, when and how do him and darry reconnect, does he ever open up abt his home life to darry or anyone else, how do the socs react to him getting close to darry (or the greasers for that matter by association) . I NEED EVERYTHINGGGGGG 🙏🙏🙏

I’m so glad someone likes him as much as I do I've had him on my brain for weeks OKAY YAP TIME!!

When does his redemption start

- Paul's redemption arc starts out preeetty slow and begins after his powers come to the surface again post-rumble, about 4-5 months later. It was being around such a large number of the cursed that flicked a trigger in his brain. He HAD his powers long before then and used them as a kid, but his mother tried to force him to forget about them with her own because she wanted this curse to die. - Dude has a panic attack when he discovers them because he's suddenly a part of this group of people he's hated ALL his life.. and then there's a very temporary god complex because he might have this curse but he's still a soc, he's not really one of those things, is he? He's still got superiority to them, so who cares if he's cursed as well.. and then his parents find out. - It's the same exact situation he had when he was a kid. His parents were already distant and abusive/neglectful but the magic just makes it worse. His mother tells him to his face that she wished she hadn't had him, and it's the first taste of just what the other cursed go through. He's obviously forced to hide his power from the public for the sake of their reputation, but it's how his own parents respond to this that makes him reflect.

When and how do he and Darry reconnect?

- Around a month after Paul discovers his powers, and it's purely an accident. They bump into each other in soc territory (Darry's birthday was coming up soon, and he wanted to visit an old cafe there he'd visit for nostalgia's sake, Paul was just trying to get out of the house for a while) and they're immediately beefing. Miraculously, though, they both had their sights on the same place and ended up directing inside, still bitching (in reality, neither of them could bring themselves to walk away). The poor workers had these two absolutely at each other's throats for hours. "I hate you and I wish you'd die" as Paul buys Darry's exact coffee order he memorized from years ago. "You're such an asshole." While Darry gives Paul the pieces of his muffin that he doesn't like but Paul enjoys. They leave with bitter wishes of hoping they never see each other again. - Weirdly enough, it keeps happening. This goes on regularly until it turns into making out in back alleys as a goodbye. When I said friends to enemies to enemies with benefits I meant it. They're practically dating but both have convinced themselves that it is casual and that they're just homies. This happens over like six months. Steve and Two find out during those months and kinda don't care, Pony and Dally are THE most offended by it. Soda and Ace are there like "I'm insulted but you're an adult, and you're not stupid, so I can't really tell you to stop?" - There's a lot more forced proximity when Paul gets kicked out and crashes at the Curtis' when sleeping in his car isn't viable.

Does he ever open up abt his home life to Darry or anyone else?

- Not willingly. There's the doodle where he gets drunk and yaps about it to Two and Dally, but that's the most he'd speak of it honestly for a long while. Darry definitely knows that the Holdens aren't exactly great people-- met them once during highschool & Paul's father is the police chief so he's already on thin ice. (yes I nabbed that from Born a Grease <3) - They meet again bc Paul needs to attend something related to the police department for reputation's sake (pre-kicked out) and Paul will only go if Darry's allowed to come. Darry gets another taste of how shitty they are there because they make a scene and Paul's powers are bought up and outed. Paul, defending Darry: "The curse doesn't make people a bad person-" Mr. Holden: "You're right, it makes them not people." Paul: "..Then what the hell does that make me?" Mrs. Holden, shouting: "It makes you wrong." - Paul will never really tell them straight up, but they can make assumptions pretty easily. He gets nightmares occasionally and gets pretty uncomfortable whenever the cops are mentioned due to his dad's relation to them. If he's drunk he'll shit-talk them, The dude's an alcoholic as a coping mechanism. I could see him maybe telling Darry, but it wouldn't be something he wanted to do. He thinks it makes him look pathetic. ( I made a what-if doodle where Paul's hair grows longer each time he overuses his power, and he has a fucking MELTDOWN when he looks in the mirror and sees his mom bc of the length. It's non canon, but it's silly to think about )

How do the socs react to him getting close to Darry (and the Greasers)?

- Paul's pretty much thrown into association with the greasers (and by proxy, all of the cursed) as eventually, word gets out that he was kicked out, alongside that he's cursed. He loses most of the soc friends he has, save for Cherry & Marcia due to their own associations (Randy wouldn't turn his back on him either, but for his own safety has to keep a distance publically.) - And since it's related, Paul and Cherry (maybe Marcia, but hers is 50/50 since she has no power) become free reign for getting jumped by other socs due to their powers & associations with the greasers. The girls target Cherry and vice versa for Paul, but we still haven't figured out how they do it without powers getting in the way. (Our running idea for Cherry is that her hands are bound so she can't spark & they butcher her hair so it can't either </3)

[donnalawliet]

Coffee or Tea? (Five x Derek oneshot)

I really didn't like the way they handled Five's "love story" in Season 4. And even though he would have been fine without a romance too, here's my version of a Five experiencing love with a human. Not with Lila, but with Derek, Five's CIA colleague. This is set post S3 and pre S4. This is my personal addition to the Season 4 fix it movement. And even though it's set prior to that last season, I still think it counts.

I mentioned under a post that I would rather ship Five x Derek than Five x Lila. So...Here I am, doing exactly that.

Thank you @tuttle-did-it , @ashes-and-starlight and @xx-blood-lemons-xx for the initial inspiration! I hope you like it, especially you, @ashes-and-starlight . (I‘ll enjoy your Five diner fanfic when it comes out 😊)

I also wanted to thank @lookingforhappy for the post explaining why Five being a member of the CIA didn‘t make much sense. I attempted to explain some plotholes that you mentioned 😅

One last thanks goes to @i-am-tardis-locked for listening to me rambling all day, like always.

Anyway, let‘s get going!

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Summary: After being stuck in a reset universe without powers or siblings, Five joins the CIA to keep an eye on his family. There, he meets Derek and is suddenly confronted with all kinds of things he hadn't faced in years. Some of them seem uncomfortable at first, but he learns to warm up.

——————————————

Stranded in a new timeline, without his siblings or powers, Five was forced to adapt. Luckily, he was used to doing that. His father had once complimented his ability to adapt and Sir Reginald Hargreeves wasn’t exactly known for dolling out compliments for everyone and everything. In the four decades he had spent in the apocalypse, adapting to his enviroment was equal to survival. That included no longer feeling guilty for raiding corpses or no longer being picky when it came to food. The apocalypse was by no means a five star restaurant. When he transferred to the Commission, he had to adapt once more. New manners, new job, new people.

But through all of this adapting, one goal had stayed consistent. To save his family from the impending apocalypse, to go back for them. Once he left the courtyard without his siblings though, still coming to terms with the fact that he had his arm back…his goal had to adapt as well. This was no longer about actively saving his family. It was about keeping them safe. They came above everything else, not him.

Reginald had taught them a few things that back then, none of the Umbrella Academy members thought would be useful.That included obtaining legal documents, without the legal part. In the Commission, Five had sometimes watched the legal department, how they fabricated fake IDs, court orders or other documents with ease.

And even though he was nowhere near that level, he was good enough. It took him about a week to create an ID, a birth certificate and a high school diploma. All of it was a lot of work. He sometimes had to break into buildings to add himself to their records, but he didn’t care. It would be worth it in the long run.

————————————

Attending college was relatively easy in comparison, bordering on boring. Five’s father had prepared them quite well for that level of learning and in the apocalypse, he had become an expert on math and quantum physics. So a lot of the lectures ended up just being a formality.

Instead of writing things down, Five occupied himself with looking up his family. Allison was in LA with her husband, daughter and Klaus. Luther had found a new place of employment, along with Diego, who had welcomed his first daughter with Lila. Five quickly wiped at his eyes as soon as he read the announcement in the online newspaper. As much as he wished to be an uncle, he couldn’t. Not just yet.

Five finished college in record time. He didn’t attend the ceremony, even though a part of him wanted to. Only the weak need praise to carry on, he remembered his father’s words. And he didn’t have time to be weak. He had a job to do.

————————————

Protecting his siblings required sacrifices and overcoming personal challenges. That was something Five had realised a long time ago. But when he sent his application to the CIA, that realisation hit him like a ton of bricks once more. he roughly knew what a job like that was like. It required absolute loyalty, going undercover, a physical and psychological examination. All of it reminded him of the Commission. He would have an employer again, be stuck in an office instead of enjoying retirement.

Upon receiving his acceptance letter and the request to move to Washington DC for his training, Five slowly walked into his bathroom to look in the mirror. His fake birth certificate stated that he was 18, but in truth his body had just turned 16. Upon looking at his reflection though, he didn’t see himself. He saw an old man, traumatised by years of isolation and lack of things like food or personal hygiene.

“It’s going to be okay“, he whispered to himself, though it didn’t sound very convincing, “As long as they’re alright…it will be worth it.“

————————————

Throughout his training, Five felt an odd sense of numbness. He expected to feel disgusted by how much it reminded him of his training at the Academy or Commission. But there was nothing of the sort. No sense of anger towards the profiler during his psych eval, which he passed with flying colours. He knew what answers he had to give in order to be left alone. Five remembered how much the Commission profiler had bothered him, how he had hated getting his deepest insides get revealed in astonishing detail, until he had learned how to adapt.

But he felt nothing. Neither the obstacle course, examinations by a doctor or profiler really bothered him. He just went through the daily routine, like a zombie with just one goal. There was no anxiety when his test results arrived nor joy when the other cadets celebrated upon passing them. In what felt like a blink of an eye, his training was over and he was assigned jobs. And that was when he met Derek.

————————————

When Director Ribbons had announced that he wouldn’t be working alone, Five had been hesitant at first. Even back in the Commission, he had always insisted on working alone. No partner to bother him or distract him from his plans. But while the Handler had accepted this violation of protocoll, the Director didn’t.

“You’re a new and promising agent“, Ribbons had told him, without offering Five a seat to sit down in, “And despite your maturity, a partner will do you good, I’m sure of it. On undercover missions, you may go on your own, but I don’t see a reason for it in the office.“

Five bit his lip and shifted slightly. He liked being able to wear a suit again instead of the uniform that showed his knees to everyone. In a suit, people were forced to take him more seriously in some way.

“Sir, while I understand what you mean“, he hated having to take on a polite tone like that, “I really do work better alone. I’ll produce good results.“

Five wasn’t a fan of the whole respect game. But in order to stay employed, he unfortunately had to treat his boss with some level of respect, despite being much older.

Ribbons looked him over for a moment. Sometimes, Five had the feeling that his boss saw more than just an agent, but he couldn’t quite place it. Despite his request, he shook his head.

“You’ll be working with a partner. Go to your desk, he’s already waiting for you.“

Five had no other choice but to obey that order. If he protested more, it could result in another psych eval or unnecessary questions. So he simply nodded and made his way towards his desk, pushing the intrusive thoughts on how to quickly kill his boss out of his head. Ever since he had started to work at the Commission a few years ago, these thoughts refused to go away.

————————————

As soon as he entered his room, a young man stood up from his chair. If Five had to guess, he was only a few years older than himself, dressed in a dark green blazer, with a tie and light blue shirt underneath it. More casual than Five’s three piece suit, but still professional. His blonde hairstyle reminded Five a bit of the 1950s, but the glasses and soft facial features broke that illusion. Only a few seconds after entering did Five notice that he had been staring. His mind was really all over the place.

“I’m Derek Young“, his visitor eventually said after no introduction from Five came, “I’m your new partner, pleasure to meet you.“

He held out his hand to shake, a soft smile illuminating his features. Only then did Five regain his senses and shook his hand, making eye contact for the first time. He still wasn’t completely comfortable with touch, the sensation sometimes proved too much.

“Five, Hargreeves“, he replied, keeping it short and with no explanation on why he shared his last name with one of the most well known people in the world. Derek didn’t seem bothered by that cold introduction though, still smiling.

“Our boss told me quite a lot about you, Mr.Hargreeves“, Derek remarked while sorting through one of the files on the desk.

Five froze for a few moments. Not because of the first part of the sentence, he had heard that one many times. But never in his whole life had he been called Mr.Hargreeves by anyone. His siblings had called him Five, his father Number Five, the Handler and everyone at the Commission either those or Mr.Five on the rare occasion. But never Mr.Hargreeves. It didn’t feel like him, even though he was surely old enough to be called that. Still…it didn’t feel right.

“Please don’t call me that, Mr.Derek“, he told him, trying to keep his voice firm, but only being half successful. Five scolded himself for how weak he sounded. Why did a simple name break his mind?

Derek frowned for a moment, then shrugged like it was nothing.

“Very well. Is Mr.Five alright with you?“, he asked, almost carefully that time, as if testing out the waters, “Since you call me Mr.Derek.“

He had expected to not like that way of adressing him either. The Handler had called him that after all. And every time he thought of her, his stomach flipped upside down in not a good way. But surprisingly, Five felt oddly fine with it. Derek’s voice and body language was nothing like his former employer, there was no need to be alarmed in any way. He didn’t have to look up at him like he had always had to do with her and everyone else, they were roughly the same height. Five pulled himself out of his thoughts and shrugged.

“Sure, why the hell not. Do you know where in the building I can find a decent cup of coffee?“

The rush of caffeine always helped Five with distracting himself. No falling asleep, no nightmares, just work.

————————————

At first, Five had assumed that Derek would annoy him. He was much younger after all, there were still things like hope and life left in his eyes. His partner went to work with the genuine intention of helping others. He got Five coffee every morning, while he himself stuck with tea. And even though Five could never understand how one could prefer hot leaf juice over some roasted black coffee, he had to admit that Derek brought him some good coffee.

“Which machine do you go to?“, he asked one morning after taking his first sip, “No matter which part of the building I go to, all coffee tastes like absolute crap.“

Five wasn’t one for making small talk, so Derek was a bit caught off guard by the genuine curiosity. A light blush began to settle down on his cheeks and he cleared his throat a bit.

“I…I bring the coffee blend with me. I can give you the adress of the shop I go to, if that’s what you want, Mr.Five. It’s no big deal, I just thought you might enjoy it more. I can’t stand the tea they give out here either“, he replied and hid part of his face with his teacup.

For the first time in what felt like years, Five’s lip tugged upwards. It took him a moment to realise that he was smiling in  a genuine way, like an idiot. But he couldn’t bring himself to stop, a comforting warmth building up in his chest. He could barely remember the last time someone had genuinely cared about him in such a small way. Derek didn’t even like coffee, yet he brought a good blend of it to work, just so Five would feel a bit happier. The warmth in his chest moved upwards, settling in his cheeks in a similar way to Derek. He was blushing like a hormonal teenager, which he both was and wasn’t.

“Oh, I…Thank you“, he eventually managed to mumble, “That’s very kind of you. I’ll just…Go talk to our boss, he wanted something.“

Five quickly made his way out of the room, taking a few deep breaths as he leaned against the nearest wall. Ribbons didn’t even want anything, but he had needed an excuse to gather his bearings.

“Shit…get yourself together“, he whispered to himself, the taste of coffee still present on his tongue. And like every time he felt upset or overwhelmed, the last words of his former wife, Dolores, echoed through his mind: I want you to enjoy your life, Five. We had good years together, but it’s time that you learn to live without me. You fought so hard for your family, it’s time that you enjoy the results.

Five reached up as a single tear traced down his cheek, quickly wiping it away. He was a grown man, why was he so overwhelmed by this? He decided to avoid Derek for the rest of the day, he needed time to think.

————————————

A few weeks later, Five learned that if he wanted to, Derek could be just as sarcastic as he was. Ever since he had started working there, Susan had been a figurative pain in everyone‘s ass. But because she was a senior agent with a long history, almost no one dared say anything about it. One day, while waiting for their turn on the copier, she began to rant about all kinds of problems plaguing her. Five had to seriously focus on not snapping her neck, so he kept his mouth shut.

“Anyway, my son just introduced me to his boyfriend. Boyfriend?! He’s a man, how can he be attracted to another man? That’s not how it works!“, Susan exclaimed and looked at them, expecting nods or general confirming words.

Derek crossed his arms in front of his chest and looked her up and down. Five knew that look. He had given it to several idiots before.

“So you’re saying one should rather fall in love with a body than with a soul? That’s really shallow and sad“, he said and gave her a fake look of pity before grabbing the files from the desk next to the copier. While Susan still scrambled for words, Five turned towards Derek with surprise.

“Did you…Did you just…?“, he asked, lost for words for once. In response, Derek simply shrugged, a confident smile on his face.

“Somebody had to tell her, she was annoying me. Why, do you have a problem with that, Mr.Five?“

That last sentence had a certain edge to it, as if Derek was either scared or prepared that Five would say yes. However, Five shook his head almost immediately. He had been more surprised than anything else.

“No, not at all. Maybe she’ll keep her damn mouth shut for a few hours“, Five quickly deflected, still processing what had just happened. After that short conversation, they just continued with their day as if nothing had happened.

————————————

Later that evening, while reviewing his family’s files, Five’s thoughts began to wander once more. During the apocalypse, he had never really thought about his sexuality. He had Dolores, but she barely counted as a woman. He had never really felt the desire to have sex, he had more desired to just see a familiar face. Any human face, if he was being honest with himself. And the tough survival conditions didn’t leave much room to think about what he was attracted to. When he closed his eyes, he realised that he could see himself with a woman by his side just as easily as with a man.

And even though he knew how sex worked, the thought of himself having sex with anyone whatsoever left him disgusted. He vaguely remembered telling Klaus in 2019: What a disturbing glance into this thing you call a brain, when he had mentioned the topic.

Before his thoughts could go off the rails even more, Five pulled himself back to the present. He had to make sure his siblings were safe, that was why he had taken the job in the first place.

————————————

After a rather frustrating case that had taken weeks and almost made him bang his head against a wall, Five was exhausted, so was Derek.

“Would you like to catch some drinks later?“, Derek asked him as they both gathered their coats. It sounded so casual, in a way that Five could never do himself. In the last few years, Five had attempted to lower his alcohol intake, but he hadn’t completely succeeded in stopping completely.

“Oh, sure, but…I’m not a big fan of bars“, Five responded, sounding almost ashamed. He had gone to bars before, but had never been completely comfortable there. It had almost always been for work. He half expected Derek to decline as a result, mentally cursing himself for being so uptight. But surprisingly, that didn’t happen.

“That’s fine. We can go to my place, if you’d like. I don’t mind it, Mr.Five“, he said with a wink. That name had almost become a form of teasing that they used with each other. Five smirked a bit and put on his coat, a way of protecting himself from the cold November air.

“Lead the way, Mr.Derek.“

People had different types of reactions when they got drunk. Some got more angry and violent, others sad and melancholic, others happy and joyful. Five got more honest after a few drinks, dropping his walls a bit more. And after a few homemade martinis, he found himself relaxing a bit more.

“You’re quite nice“, he mumbled and took another sip from his glass, “Nicer than my family by a long shot. Why? What do you have to gain?“

Derek frowned and sat down on the couch next to him. His drinks had far less alcohol, so he was just feeling a bit tipsy.

“I’m not nice to you because I have something to gain, Five. Why would you think something like that?“ His voice got a bit softer, as if he felt that there was more behind that drunk question.

Five laughed in response, but it held no humor whatsoever. He was overwhelmed by all kinds of different feelings and thoughts.

“Because I’m a rude old man? Because I’ve never done anything to warrant friendliness from someone like you? You’re young, you could just ask for a transfer with someone who is…more like you.“ Five couldn’t care less that he had just hinted at his true age. If Derek left, it would just confirm his world view.

Derek blinked slowly as he listened to Five ramble. He couldn’t completely make sense of what he was saying, but asking would feel quite rude. So after a few seconds of silence, he set his glass down.

“You may come off as rude, yeah, but…That’s not who you are. Remember how you almost ripped Stacy’s head off because she called me a twink? You didn’t even know what it meant at the time“, Derek chuckled a bit and managed to get Five to smile as well, “I don’t care how old you are or how grumpy you can get without coffee. You deserve to be treated well.“

Five stared at him for what felt like hours, but was probably just a few seconds. He wasn’t even sure what his expression his face was making, he could be crying for all he knew. The last time he had felt close to that safe had been with Dolores in an underground bunker they had found.

He didn’t remember what came after, the alcohol sending his memory to nirvana. The next thing that Five knew, he woke up on a dark green couch underneath a knitted blanket. His head was pounding as if he was Zeus giving birth to Athena and the thirst was overwhelming. At the same time, the thought of moving was enough to make him groan.

“Shit…“, Five mumbled and lazily covered his eyes to avoid the sunlight. With it being November, that meant it must be quite late.

“Here you go“, he suddenly heard Derek’s soft voice right next to him. Slowly, Five moved his arm off his face and blinked up at him. The room was a bit darker now, thanks to the curtains. Derek was standing behind the couch so Five didn’t have to move his head too much, wearing his blue shirt without the tie or blazer. His hair wasn’t styled as neatly, it just looked fluffy and soft. But before Five could think about his hair further, his attention was drawn to what Derek was holding. A glass of water and a pill bottle, most likely aspirin.

“You’re my salvation“, Five mumbled and took both. The act of sitting up alone made him groan, but the feeling of cold water sliding down his throat made up for it. “What happened last night? After that…conversation we had.“

Derek cleared his throat a bit and sat down next to him on the couch, his expression unreadable.

“You had two more drinks, talked about your age, your ex wife, your siblings…then you threw up in my potted plant and passed out on my couch“, he explained and brushed his hair a bit more into place, “That’s it, I think.“

Five groaned and leaned back into the pillow that Derek had provided him with. He felt like he had ruined everything. The first casual relationship he had ever managed to build up with a human being that wasn’t his family or someone he had been tasked with assassinating…and he had destroyed it with alcohol.

“Shit…I really ranted a lot, didn’t I?“, he whispered, but Derek could still hear it, “I…I should go, I understand. I overstayed my welcome.“

He attempted to push himself up, his muscles aching from the hangover and hard couch he had been laying on. Though something inside of his chest ached as well. Before Five could stand up, Derek stopped him. The feeling of a hand on his shoulder was enough to make him freeze.

“Mr.Five, that’s not what I meant. You obviously needed to talk about it“, Derek took a deep breath as he looked him over, “And even though I didn’t understand half of it…You don’t need to feel ashamed.“

His words washed over Five like a wave, most of his focus still spent on the simple touch. He wanted to both pull away, overwhelmed by this simple act of comfort, but also lean into it like a starving man in the desert. So he ended up doing neither, just standing there until Derek pulled away again. Five wanted to say so much, but no words made it up his throat and through his lips. After a long and pregnant pause, he simply nodded and made his way out of the appartment. Derek didn’t stop him that time.

————————————

They didn’t talk about that incident for quite some time. For a few months, they went about their daily routine, making small jokes in between, drinking coffee and tea together in the morning. Until eventually, Five mentioned it again.

“What I said about my age, Dolores and my family…did it bother you?“

They were in the middle of sorting through reports, arguably the most boring part of their job, where it sometimes became necessary to fill the silence. Derek only glanced up for a moment before he grabbed his stapler off the desk.

“Why should it? You always seemed…more mature than others. And I’ve known about your family for months. I go through your files just as much as you go through mine.“

Five blushed a bit at the last remark. It was true, he had searched through Derek’s files on a regular basis. Maybe out of paranoia that he was working for the Commission somehow, even though that wouldn’t make much sense. And to know that Derek was doing the same…it strangely grounded him a bit.

As they continued to work in silence, Five’s mind went back to that morning when Derek had touched his shoulder. It hadn’t been an accidental or manipulative touch, it had just been a simple expression of human emotions. He recalled one time when he had been four years old, still thinking that parents were the heroes children made them out to be. They had watched a movie in which a son had hugged his father and his toddler mind had decided to recreate it. But instead of hugging him back, Reginald had pushed him away and sent him to bed without dessert.

Never trust a hug, he had sternly told his adoptive son, For it’s just another way to hide your face.

Ever since then, he hadn’t attempted to hug another human being. But that had been over five decades ago, surely it couldn’t hurt to…

“Could I try something?“, Five broke the silence once more. He hated how uncertain and young he sounded, like a teenager or child, but he couldn’t stop himself.

Derek noticed his different tone too, but decided not to comment on it. During the entire time that they had worked with each other, he had noticed that some things took more out of Five than the average person. So he simply nodded and stood up as Five approached, his arms hanging loosely at his sides until he realised what the other man was planning. Once the realisation dawned on him, he couldn’t hold back a smirk and lift his arms slightly.

It took Five a few seconds to bring himself to lean into the hug. The second that he did, fireworks went off in his brain. Sparks of colour and noise, all blending together into one picture. It was overwhelming, but he needed more. It was beautiful and hurt his eyes at the same time.

For just a few moments, everything melted away and time stood still. This wouldn’t heal all of his wounds by any means. He was still damaged, maybe beyond complete repair. But it was a start at least, a bandage on his cuts so they wouldn’t get infected. Even though he knew it wouldn’t last, Five allowed himself to feel happy, just for a few seconds.

————————————

During one of his days off, while watching a movie that Allison had recommended to him, Five’s phone buzzed. Strange, his siblings never texted him. They always called, ever since the attemp at a group chat had gone south. So he unlocked his phone and glanced at the text.

Derek: Hey, 5.  The pipes in my appartment burst and it will take a few days until it’s fixed. Would you mind if I maybe crashed on your couch?

For a few seconds, Five contemplated his choices. He could just say no, spare himself the trouble. But on the other hand…he wouldn’t mind not being alone for a few days.

Five: Sure, just stop by. You know the address, right?

Instead of getting a written response, he simply received an emoji of a hand holding its thumb up. Five still hadn’t completely understood the appeal of those modern hieroglyphics. He really was an old man.

Derek arrived not even half an hour later, carrying a bag that held the bare essentials. A few changes of clothes, toiletries and a book or two for entertainment. Five was sitting on the couch, on which he had placed a spare blanket and pillow for him. One cup of coffe rested in his hands and on the small table in front of him…

“You made me tea?“, Derek asked as he set his bag down and went to join him on the couch. The TV was on, playing a movie that he recognised as Brokeback Mountain. Normally he had always been the one to prepare their drinks and he hadn’t minded it either.

Five nodded, fiddling with his own fingers as he watched him pick up the cup. He had been a bit nervous about getting it right. Tea wasn’t his department after all. But the way Derek exhaled after taking his first sip, he knew that he must have done something right.

“Thank you, I appreciate it“, Derek smiled and kept his hands around the warm mug as he inhaled the familiar scent of green tea. It was quite comforting, just like Five’s presence next to him.

As the movie progressed, they both ended up shifting a bit more towards the middle of the couch. Sometimes Derek moved, sometimes Five did, almost like a dance, until they eventually touched shoulders. Five found himself relaxing sooner than the previous timest hey had touched.

When Derek’s hand moved to cover his own, he didn’t stop him, looking forward at the screen. It was slightly overwhelming, but nothing he couldn’t handle. During the climax of the movie however, Five gulped heavily and slowly turned towards Derek, who did the same.

“I’m way too old for you“, he attempted to lighten the mood, but it came out much weaker and desperate. At this point he could see every little detail of Derek’s eyes, the way the colours mixed together, every little imperfection and vein.

Derek cleared his throat slightly, for once not as light hearted. He seemed not as clueless as Five, but hesitant nonetheless. The coffee and tea on the table had been forgotten long ago.

“Your age is the least of my concerns right now“, he whispered back and readjusted his glasses before he repeated the same words that Five had said to him a few months ago, “Could I try something?“

At that point, Five felt like he was drowning. He felt lost, a sensation he had become rather familiar with. He could end this all with one simple word or one shake of his head, for he knew that Derek would respect his consent. But at the same time, he didn’t want to let this opportunity go. So despite not having taken in a breath for almost a minute, he found himself nodding.

Their lips didn’t touch. It wasn’t a desperate kiss like in romance movies meant for teenagers. Instead, it was a soft kiss on his cheek that he felt…warm and without the pressure to do more, not that Five would want that. Like a ray of sunshine warming his skin in the morning, right before the worries of life fully registered in his mind. Derek smiled as Five practically melted into the touch, pulling away after a few seconds.

“Good?“, he asked carefully, just to make sure he hadn’t gone too far. Five smiled a bit and brushed his chaotic hair back behind his ears.

“Yeah, good“, Five simply replied and pulled his legs up against his chest. He wasn’t sure whether he would ever be ready for a proper kiss or saying the three words that seemed to fall from people’s lips so easily. But that maybe wasn’t necessary. They communicated that through other means. Like how Derek prepared Five’s coffee in the morning or how Five’s expression lit up when his desk partner entered the room.

————————————

On the first of October in 2025, they decided to move in with each other. Five teased that it was merely to reduce costs, since they spent most of the time in Derek’s appartment anyway. It had much more life than Five’s place, with small things that made it feel like home. And getting his coffee before work certainly had its advantages. Derek simply smiled at that explanation, not bothering to engage in a meaningless discussion. Instead, he grabbed his coat and handed Five his cup.

“Happy Birthday, Mr.Five“, he said with a wink before heading off to work, leaving a frozen Five behind.

————————————

A few days after his birthday, Five started his investigation into the Keepers support group. Going undercover meant that he had to put on a disguise, so he went for a mix of Top Gun enthusiast and school janitor. The mustache had been his idea, mainly because he missed the facial hair he used to have. It at least made him look a bit older.

Derek chuckled the first time he saw him in disguise. It wasn’t clear whether he was simply amused or making fun of Five.

“What?“

Five couldn’t help but sound a bit defensive. He hadn’t gone completely over the top, right? No, this was simply a cover, for security purposes.

Derek stepped forward, carefully tracing the mustache and making sure it was secure. Five sometimes got figuratively sick at how soft he looked with such simple gestures.

“Nothing. I think it works, Mr.Five“, he responded and looked him over from top to bottom, “You should get going now or you’ll be late.“

Of course, Five couldn’t have that. He still had work to do. By going on undercover missions, he could rise through the ranks and gain more information on how to keep his siblings safe. But despite all of that…At the end of the day, enjoying coffee or tea wouldn’t hurt.

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I hoped you enjoyed this oneshot! I certainly enjoyed writing it, distracting myself from the mess we got in Season 4.

If you liked it, leave a like or a comment. It really makes my day and encourages me to keep going. Also, I would have an idea for a smaller additional chapter, set during Season 4. It would also have some angst. Would you be interested in that? If you are, let me know!

Until next time,

-Donna Lawliet

[unhealthyfanobsession]

✨ Thank you for being in the fandom! ✨

Being here, you have contributed so much and have made so many people happy and excited. Now, just so we can get to know you better:

1. What made you first read the books, and which SJM series did you begin with first?

2. What character across all of her books do you relate to the most and why?

3. What inspired you to begin contributing to the fandom (i.e., fanfics, artwork, commissions, analysis, all of the above, or something else?)

4. Are there any accounts that you’d like to shoutout that have either inspired you, or made you feel the most welcomed and loved here?

💕 Thank you again for all that you do 💕

I love this, thank you for the message <3

1. What made you first read the books, and which SJM series did you begin with first?

I have actually only read ACOTAR - I tried Throne of Glass but I couldn't get into book one. I honestly don't even remember what made me read the book - I hadn't heard anything about it, definitely wasn't aware of the hype, but my Kobo recommended it to me and it was early pandemic so I was reading about a thousand books a day and the rest is history ...

2. What character across all of her books do you relate to the most and why?

Ok I know everyone is expecting me to say Nesta, and in many ways that is true - but if I look at the series and think of which character I am most like day to day the answer is actually Gwynn.

I feel such a connection to Nesta for all the ways that I wish I had the courage to be more like her throughout my life as a representation of women not having to be nice and just the power of saying no. I think it's healthy for your favorite character to not necessarily be the one that is most like you.

the reason I say that I relate to Gwynn the most is because she works very hard and is passionate about learning - and willing to put up with a nightmare boss with grudging respect in order to learn. I definitely have a competitive streak and LOVE to put a man in his place. Gwynn gives very 'watch me prove you wrong' energy which has really been the ethos of my whole life and career. Also, I like to think that I am a pretty good and supportive friend and my friends are the most important thing in the world to me. Also we both deal with trauma by locking ourselves away with books and not wanting to see other people what who said that

3. What inspired you to begin contributing to the fandom (i.e., fanfics, artwork, commissions, analysis, all of the above, or something else?)

Honestly, just the fact that there was a fandom here. When I read the books ACOSF hadn't come out yet and I was obviously obsessed with Nessian so it was just a perfect storm of *finishes books* *cracks knuckles* 'I bet Tumblr is going crazy for this series'

And I was right.

4. Are there any accounts that you’d like to shoutout that have either inspired you, or made you feel the most welcomed and loved here?

There are so, so, so many and I think I will break them into early inspiration when I first joined the fandom vs my current fandom best friends who I am obsessed with on a daily basis.

Early inspiration was definitely, as anyone who was around pre-ACOSF will recall - @duskandstarlight (I still consider Embers and Light to be THE all time Nessian fic),

@shaziskhalid (A Favor is largely responsible for me getting through the pandemic without losing my mind), and

@arinbelle (Made changed my life and opened the door to Mafia Romance novels so thanks for that bestie).

For the current besties I'm going to list you all and then tell you what story of yours I read first, for your entertainment:

@c-e-d-dreamer (Falling for Your Fools Gold - recently re-read this also, still amazing. We need more pirates.)

@kale-theteaqueen (It was technically Lady Death and her Kingdom when that was first published, but I then immediately read all of To Pay a Debt so we will call that a double whammy)

@dustjacketmusings (An Indecent Proposal - which as we all know I am 10000% obsessed with and borderline harassing you about but I had also swooned over your art work before that ofc)

@whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk (Begged and Borrowed time, followed immediately by every word you'd ever written at that time and in perpetuity moving forward)

@wishcamper (My Sweetest Downfall, the day I knew that a new legend had entered the fandom.)

@jsmelodies (The Knight and His Witch, an absolute Nessian weak TREAT)

@xxvalkyriesxx (Flying Changes, because I am addicted to PAIN)

And then a very special shoutout to two fandom legends who fit in both categories: @moodymelanist (Sorry for putting you in jail before we were even friends but you know what you did) and @separatist-apologist (Like many of you, my obsession with MB borders on stalking, but she hasn't taken out a restraining order yet so I consider that acceptance)

[saninthebuilding]

"my hero"

❤️‍🩹 pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

❤️‍🩹 summary: after getting out of surgery to fix up your breathing issues, you're stuck in bed as per the doctor's orders. and just because it's over, that doesn't mean all the fear and worry that came with the operation just disappear. luckily, jungkook is there to help you through it all, just as you are for him.

❤️‍🩹 word count: 1k

❤️‍🩹 genre: boyfriend!jungkook au, fluff, surgery comfort

❤️‍🩹 trope: pre-established relationship

❤️‍🩹 warnings: mentions of hospitals and doctors, mentions of sleep, mentions of teary eyes which eventually lead to tears, mentions of blood, mentions of surgery, jungkook being adorable, mentions of fear, talk about death but like not explicitly

❤️‍🩹 a/n: lil self-indulgent drabble all for myself (again ik) because haha i'm outta the hospital now. :D ALSO UM JUNGKOOK'S VISUAL AT JENNIE'S CK EVENT OMG I'M LITERALLY CRYING HOW CAN SOMEONE BE SO FINE AND SO CUTE AT THE SAME TIME I LOVE HIM SO MUCH

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letting out a grunt, i attempt to roll over on my side, but an arm shoots out to keep me in place.

"y/n, you know the doctor said no sudden movements" jungkook says, gently pushing me back into the bed.

"but i wanna look at you" i whine, turning my head to the right as i try to meet his gaze.

he lets out a sigh, exasperated by my antics.

it's been 15 minutes of this. each time i would try to face him, and each time he would remind me of the doctor's orders.

"ok ok, come here" jungkook whispers as he inches closer to me.

gripping my shoulders with his arms, he gently guides me into a sitting position, before practically lifting me up and placing me in his lap.

"jungkook!" i yelp, startled as he wraps his arms around my waist from behind, "that was a very sudden movement!"

"no!" he protests, giggling, "i was very careful! and plus, i got tired of not being able to hold you."

smiling to myself, i lean back into his chest, letting his solid form support me.

it had been 24 hours since i'd gotten out of surgery, and the entire time i had been stuck in bed. it was horrible. i hadn't been able to do anything other than sleep or eat, and the bleeding was a whole other problem.

since they'd operated on me to fix my breathing issues, they'd cut whatever was causing my nasal congestion out, which meant blood. a lot of blood.

i could only imagine how many trees had been needed to make all the tissues i'd used up.

"i was so scared, you know?" jungkook says as he rests his chin on my shoulder, his breath tickling my neck. "the doctor had told us how he was a professional and whatnot, but i couldn't help feeling worried about all the risks he'd mentioned. when you went in, i was terrified. i thought..."

he swallows, the words seemingly caught in his throat, and i feel his chest rise and fall against my spine.

"i thought that would be the last time i see you."

"oh jungkook" i whispered softly, heart melting at his concern for me.

sitting up, i slowly move to face him, and his hands are instantly on my hips, helping me turn around. when i'm finally settled, i wrap my arms around his neck and lean down so we're face to face.

"look at me" i whisper, using a hand to gently cup his chin, "jungkook i'm right here. i'm okay. nothing's going to happen to me. it's over."

his eyes are shiny, and he's biting his lower lip, but he looks at me with bright, wide eyes. his hands run up and down my sides as if to convince himself i'm truly okay.

i press a soft kiss to his forehead, before smiling at him.

"if you were this worried about me, i think my worry was nothing."

he lets out a chuckle, shaking his head.

"of course not, i saw how scared you were. plus, i was only watching you go in. you were the one getting operated on. that must have been really stressful."

i nod, remembering how panicked i was when i walked into the operation room.

"yea, i was. it felt too bright and too loud, as if i was gonna pass out. i wish you could have come in with me, because although all the doctors introduced themselves to try and make me comfortable, it was still scary. i missed you in there."

"oh, y/n" jungkook breathes as he hugs me closer, "look at you, you're alright."

feeling tears start to fill my eyes as i finally let go of all the emotions that had built up since yesterday, i let jungkook pull me into his chest, a sob slipping past my lips.

"i was so scared jungkook" i whisper, voice shaking, "i thought something would go wrong and then i'd never see you again."

"shhh, it's okay" he rubs a hand along my back, easing the tension in my muscles and encouraging me to collapse against him.

"you're my brave girl. so strong. you're my hero, y/n."

i let out a watery giggle, sniffling slowly so i don't further irritate my nose.

"you think so?" i ask as i pull back to look him in the eyes.

jungkook reaches up to cup my cheeks in his hands, legs folding under me so i'm firmly planted in his lap.

"i know so" he smiles, his own eyes glistening again as he pulls me down and kisses me gently.

"now come on, enough of that" jungkook tutts, wiping my tears with his thumbs, "get some rest."

he helps me lie back down on the pillows he'd propped up for me, before adjusting the covers around my shoulders.

"are you okay?" he asks, tracing my cheekbone with his thumb.

i nod, leaning into his touch, before turning to press a kiss to his palm.

"perfect" i croak out, before laughing at my own voice.

jungkook's gaze is soft as he watches me, before he shimmys down the matress and rests his head on my stomach.

i raise my eyebrows, confused.

"so you can see me" he teases, sticking his tongue out at me.

i laugh, letting a hand rest on his head, gently playing with his hair.

"thank you jungkook," i smile, "i don't know what i would do without you."

"i love you y/n," jungkook smiles softly, grabbing the hand that i had placed in his hair and kissing the inside of my wrist gently. "and i'll always be here for you. with you. promise."

my smile grows, until i'm giggling like a little kid. he laughs along with me, bunny teeth peeking out from behind his pink lips.

"oh jungkook, i love you so much."

"shhhhh go to sleep" he giggles, and i roll my eyes, smiling, before leaning back into my pillow and closing my eyes.

the kiss he presses to my stomach tells me he loves me just the same. 

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❤️‍🩹 i hope you enjoyed! likes, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! thank you for reading!