#I can't count the number of times we were having some family fun that we could barely afford and the last minute he pulls something

[sungbeam]

nonidol!jeong yunho x f!reader

yunho might have been the superstar out of the two of you, but you have always been the center of his universe. (you — it's always been you.)

▷ genre, warnings. bffs2l, childhood friends 2 lovers, pining, popstar/singer au, swearing, fluff, humor, angst, hurt/comfort, kissing, mentions of alcohol, mentions of anxiety/nervousness, they physically cannot be apart for too long sorry they've got Attachment Issues low-key..., one kiss (is all it takes—)

▷ word count. 16.3k (guys,, this was supposed to be only like 6-8k i swear 😭)

▷ associated tunes. keep smiling (demxntia), gone too long (lullaboy), tear in my heart (twenty-one pilots)

a/n: hope u guys like this :'))) i had one of the scenes from here stuck in my brain for awhile and so i had to build the rest of the fic around it, and it turned into this monster, so uhm yes... also much love to @jaehunnyy tysm for reading thru it for me 💖

THE DAY YUNHO'S ALBUM hit the Billboard Hot 100, you knew that you were going to need a lot more hands on deck than just you, your roommate, and Jeong Yunho himself.

“There's not enough albums, not enough time in the day, not enough of you!” You exclaimed with your fingers shoved into your hair as you took in the landscape of chaos before you on your living room floor. “Yunho, why couldn't you be ambidextrous?”

His eyes widened, body frozen where he was shoving a slice of beef jerky into his mouth. “Mwe? Pwhy are pyu yellinh ap mwe por?”

“I'm not yelling at you; I'm just wondering why you weren't born with eight arms instead of just two.” There were simply too many albums for him to sign before his agent came to pick them up in two hours, and there were also too few albums for the amount of demand. You always knew your best friend would make it big one day, but you also thought he would have had a whole team by that time.

Technically, you were his team—you, your roommate Trinity, and Mingi who was at his grandmother's for the long weekend. Mingi was five texts away from driving back down to help you guys four hours ago though. But his family needed him right now, and Yunho was firm in ensuring Mingi didn't have to come down and help. We got this, he'd said. It'll be easy, he also said.

Sure. Easy.

“We can't just forge his signature?” Trinity joked in a sleep-deprived daze as she leaned back against the couch cushions. Her mouth opened wide in a yawn. “I'm kidding. Let's not ruin his career.”

Yunho swallowed his bite. “That would be nice.” He cleaned his fingers on the Wet Wipe he had handy by his thigh, then picked up his black Sharpie, spinning the writing utensil between his fingers. “Now where were we? Album number fifty-six—?”

This had taken place just four months after Yunho released his second album, Aurora. It had been nearly a year and a half since Yunho debuted himself onto the music scene, and it was about time people finally began to recognize your best friend for all that he was—multi-talented, charismatic, handsome (on some occasions; you wouldn’t let him catch you slipping up there, though).

Within the next year and a half, Yunho skyrocketed into further altitudes of fame.

There were plenty of changes that occurred, many evolutions to Yunho's team and additions to his discography, but you were always a part of it. Even with your own career dealings, you would drop anything to be there for him, and him for you. Between the morning show interviews and late night recording sessions, there were also the research presentations and study session pick-me-ups.

“Are you sure you don't wanna come with?” You asked from where you were stationed in front of the bathroom mirror, putting on the final touches for your look this evening.

You could hear Trinity's fingers clacking away at her keyboard at the speed of light through her open bedroom door. “I'd love to, but I unfortunately did screw myself over by procrastinating on this paper. Have fun though, and tell Yunho congrats for me.”

Tonight was the album release party for Yunho's third full studio album entitled Youth. It was something he had been working on for years now, only recently having become satisfied with the tracks he chose and produced for it. Due to his sudden rise in fame, the release party was said to be hosting a myriad of big name celebrities and figures in the music industry. And of course, you. You were no one special, in hindsight, but Yunho couldn't begin to imagine celebrating a milestone without you by his side.

By eight o'clock, you were ready to head out.

You bid Trinity goodbye as you hustled out the front door of your apartment and down to the street below. Yunho and Mingi and everyone else would already be at the party; you would arrive on your own via Uber. You wished you could've been with him to get ready like all the other times, but your schedule had been unfortunate as of late. You were lucky enough to have gotten off of work this early.

As you sat in the backseat of your ride, you anxiously fidgeted with your phone in your lap.

(You were, without a doubt, excited to arrive at the party. Due to yours and Yunho's ever-busy and ever-conflicting schedules nowadays—yours because of work and PhD candidacy stuff, Yunho's because of rehearsals for his upcoming world tour—it had been awhile since you were able to hang out in person. You missed your gentle giant of a best friend.)

A loud vibration from it made your heart leap into your throat, and your face lit up in the dark with the incoming notification.

rockstar 🤟: pls tell me you've left the house

You snorted and typed out a swift reply. If I told you I was still in my pajamas…

rockstar 🤟: then i would call u a liar cuz u don't go to work in pjs, weirdo rockstar 🤟: just getting antsy tbh rockstar 🤟: need my star here w me :’)))

You couldn't help the touched pout that came to your face. I'm almost there, don't worry. And who are you calling a star when that's you? He always got a little sappy when he was nervous.

rockstar 🤟: im literally not having fun here without u hurry up :// your phone: isn't this UR album release party 😭 yun, why aren't u having fun? rockstar 🤟: just hurry up your phone: aish okok 🤧 eta 8min mr. impatient

You knew it was the jitters making him say things like that. Once you got there, you hoped you could help reassure him that he could stop worrying for just a second to enjoy himself. Even if Yunho worried about the album and what people thought, you were just as nervous. You hadn't even heard the entire thing—he’d been cheeky and didn't tell you he added a song to it last minute, but you'd listened to everything else.

You just hoped that people would continue to celebrate him and give him the love he deserved.

When your Uber driver pulled into the drop off loop at the front of the venue, you thanked him on your way out and threw the strap of your small purse over your shoulder. Already, however, as you were met with the residuals of flashing camera lenses and frantic paparazzi calls just a little ways down the driveway, the anxiety slowly began to settle in the pit of your stomach.

You could see the celebrities going up the entrance with people asking them to pose for their cameras, to say a word into their recorders.

Immediately, you turned on your heel and began slipping your way to a side entrance. The last thing you wanted was for dozens upon dozens of people to be staring at you, wondering who you were and why you were important. There were definitely people who knew you—you were plastered all over Yunho's social media because that was just what best friends did. But compared to everyone else walking up that driveway? Not a chance. You were nobody, and that was ay-okay to you.

Just as you thanked one of the employees coming out the side door for letting you in, you felt your phone buzz in your hand again, this time with an incoming call.

You picked it up and squeezed it between your ear and shoulder. “You're gonna need to speak up—the kitchen is super loud.”

“You're here finally!” Yunho said to you through the phone. “I was starting to get worried.”

You chuckled as you ducked out of the kitchen and into the main lobby to get to the elevators. The party was taking place somewhere on the seventh floor… if you could get there without getting lost. “Hey Yun, do me a favor?”

“Sure.”

“Calm down, man.”

The elevator sang its arrival and you stepped inside to the sound of Yunho sucking in a deep breath, then exhaling slowly. “I am calm… wait, are you in the lobby? Let me come down and get y—”

“I just got in the elevator, so don't worry—and I really don't think you should be leaving your own party, rockstar,” you teased. “Man, Mingi and Hwa really pulled out all the stops for this place,” you marveled quietly as you gave the elevator carriage a thorough look. It was made of marble and mirrors, every surface polished and crisp, like that of a tailored suit if tailored suits were made of crystals.

“Yeah, it's really great,” he agreed. “Remember the release party we threw for Crescent?”

A fond laugh tumbled out of your lips as you stepped out of the elevator and onto the seventh floor. Your mind filled with memories of his debut album's release party hosted in yours and Trinity's living room with three extra large Domino's pizzas, root beer floats, and a cheap disco ball. It had been a party for four that night—you, Yunho, Mingi, and Trinity—but your friends didn't need the fancy shit to have fun. “Definitely leagues away from this.”

There was a bouncer at the far end of the hallway, and you were certain now that you were in the right place.

“I kind of miss it,” Yunho murmured. You heard the sound on his end shift, simultaneous to watching the doors in front of you crack open and see Yunho's head pop out into the empty hallway.

“I kind of miss it, too,” you said into the phone, your eyes locked on his and a smile blooming over your features at the sight of your best friend, in the flesh.

There was a tender gleam in his eyes as he took you in and said something in a low tone to the bouncer. He stepped out into the hallway, letting the doors behind him shut fully.

“Slowpoke,” was his greeting to you as he scooped you into his embrace. The smell of his cologne was something familiar and delicious, and permeated your senses.

“Worrywart,” you quipped back, wrapping your arms around him to reciprocate.

When you both pulled back, he kept you at arm's length so he could take a better look at you. “I can't believe you're calling me the worrywart! I do recall that one night when Aurora hit the Top 100—”

You silenced him with a look and a playful punch to his shoulder. You pressed your lips together to suppress a smile as he tilted his head back in a jovial laugh. “Quiet, you. For once, I can't believe you're more nervous than I am.”

He gave a sheepish grin, fussing with the unbuttoned collar of his dress shirt, adjusting the chain he wore on his collarbones so the clasp sat right at the hollow of his throat.

You softened. Oh, he was really nervous.

“This album's just big for me; you know that,” he said, almost like he was trying to brush it off.

“I do.” The two of you began slowly making your way back towards the party doors. “Though, I'm excited to hear this mystery song that you snuck on there. I'm sure everyone will fall in love with the album, just like I did.”

He peered over at you then, and you couldn't understand why you were unable to read his expression then. It was… different. “Really?”

You blinked. “Of course,” you replied automatically. “I mean,” you added, “it's you, Yun. What's not to love?”

Yunho seemed speechless for a second, but moments later, he was breaking into a soft-cornered smile. “You always know what to say, Yn. Come on, there are some people who are dying to meet you.”

“Dying to meet me?” You laughed as the bouncer let the two of you into the party.

The party room was a rented out lounge space with wraparound windows that looked out at the skyline in the valley below. The main lights were kept low and warm, illuminating strategic places throughout the space to highlight the prohibition-like interior design. It was something out of a 1920s speakeasy with its velvet couches and dark mahogany wood finishes.

Yunho took you over toward the side of the room to get food first. There was a variety of snacks and small bites on the buffet table, and there was a bar counter shoved into the far corner where a bartender served drinks.

“I've pretty much socialized with everyone in this room already,” Yunho murmured to you as he shoved his hands into his pockets and grinned. “Meaning I can bug you for the rest of the night.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “There has to be, like, fifty people here. We still have the whole party left.”

“Yeah, but I have more fun with you anyway,” he said with a shrug. He reached for one of the little serving cups that held a little roll of rice armed with a slice of wagyu beef on top, all wrapped together with a strip of nori. “Now these—these are fucking amazing, dude. You have to try one.”

You snorted, but grabbed one of the little cups. “How many of these have you eaten already, Yun?”

He tapped his cup against yours like he was clinking glasses together. He chuckled, averting his gaze. “We don't have to talk about that…” His eyes caught onto someone nearby, and he perked up, shoving the entire bite into his mouth so he had a free hand to flag down whoever it was. “Mmh!”

You nearly choked on your own bite as you watched your best friend, who's cheeks were stuffed like a chipmunk's, flap his arm around in the air to get this person's attention because his mouth was currently occupied.

You turned your head to see who he was waving over, and nearly choked again, having to cup your hand over your mouth to prevent rice from falling out. Your eyes widened an alarming amount. “Mmno—!” You mumbled through your bite.

“What? I can't hear you,” he snickered. “Hongjoong hyung! There's someone I want you to meet.”

You made a crazed gesture—no, no, I'm not ready! How dare you ambush me with social interac—you swallowed the food in your mouth as Hongjoong made his way over. You had never met the famed Kim Hongjoong—legendary producer, prodigy musician, favorite model to ever strut down the Paris Fashion Week Runway. He dropped off the grid for a brief three-month hiatus until he suddenly reappeared, but in your best friend's Instagram story. At some point, Yunho had met Hongjoong and won his favor. Then again, it was easy for Yunho to win over anyone's favor.

No one really knew why Hongjoong disappeared like he had, but some speculate it had something to do with his new relationship status: single.

You were always starstruck seeing Hongjoong on Yunho and Mingi's social media, as well as Hongjoong's own platforms. Tonight was no exception.

Hongjoong's hair of the season was a simple light brown that complimented his skin tone and the warmth in his smile. You were used to seeing him in more extravagant garb, but tonight, he chose something very simple, but chic like Yunho.

Yunho and Hongjoong clasped hands in greeting. “What's up, man?” The latter chirped, eyes flickering over to you as you attempted to behave normally.

Yunho gestured toward you, his eyes twinkling as he swept his arm around your shoulders to bring you forward. “This is Yn. Yn, this is Hongjoong. He's the one who produced the album—”

“Now, don't downplay your own efforts, Yunho,” Hongjoong cut in with a knowing look. “You produced so much of it on your own; I fine-tuned and made a couple tracks, but the rest was all you, man.”

“I always tell him he's far too humble,” you agreed.

Hongjoong sent you a smile, extending his hand out. “Great minds think alike, Yn. It's very nice to meet the person this guy doesn't ever stop talking about.”

You laughed good-naturedly and saw Yunho's flushed sheepishness out of the corner of your eye. You shook Hongjoong's hand with a firm, confident grip. “Nice to meet you, too. You're—you’re incredible, by the way. I remember when Yunho posted a photo with you, and I literally screamed his ear off over the phone.”

Yunho winced and held a hand up to his ear, as if remembering the physical sensation of that phone call. “Yup, definitely damaged my eardrum that day.”

“Well, thank you; I'm flattered,” Hongjoong replied pleasantly. “So I'm assuming you've probably heard as much of the album as I have then?”

“I'm sure you've heard the whole thing,” you said. “Yunho has withheld one of the tracks from me, but I've listened to all the rest.”

He cocked his head to the side. “Oh? Which track did—oh.” As he and Yunho made eye contact, you watched as a silent understanding passed between them, and Hongjoong's mouth tugged upward in a teasing smile. “That song.”

You blinked. “What does that mean?”

Hongjoong flourished his hand as if to wave away the thought. “He just wanted it to be perfect, so we were working on it up to the last second. Nothing terribly concerning.”

Ah. You relaxed, but the curiosity still lingered in your mind's eye. “I'm sure it's great, nonetheless.”

“Oh yeah, you're gonna love—”

“Oh-kay! That's enough about the song,” Yunho chuckled nervously as he grabbed your shoulders and began steering you away from a clearly amused Hongjoong. “Let's go say hi to Mingi, hm?”

You threw him a look from over your shoulder, but went along with him toward wherever he'd seen Mingi wandering around. “What has gotten into you tonight?” You teased, though, you also hoped to know why he was so jittery. He wasn't even this nervous about dropping his debut album.

Yunho showed you a bright smile, the same kind of golden-retriever expression that the media knew him well for. It would have been enough if you didn't know him. “Again, it's an important album to me. And the song I added last minute is on the deluxe version, so I wasn't really confident in putting it on the original release.”

“Ah,” you murmured. You reached up to pat the hand that rested on your left shoulder reassuringly. “I'm sure it really is a great song, Yun, and I'm not just saying that. You can make an awful omelet, but you can't make an awful song.”

Your best friend bursted into laughter at the latter comment, and your heart soared to see the genuine smile on his face now. That was your Yunho shining through. “You're right—if I can't scramble eggs, at least I can write a song.”

Over the next hour and a half, Yunho took you on a tour around the room, jumping from friend to friend to introduce you to more of his world. For the most part, however, it felt like an excuse for you to bond with all his friends in teasing him about something or other. But he seemed content enough to see you getting along well with the other people close to him.

He had met plenty of your friends at your work, so it was only fair that you got the same opportunity.

At some point while you were with Wooyoung and San discussing all of the rehearsals for Yunho's upcoming world tour, Hongjoong summoned everyone's attention to announce that it was time to listen to the album. It would be a rather casual affair with the Youth album playing in the background of the party, but you were certain people would minimize their conversations to listen in.

You craned your neck to peer around the crowd to see where Yunho had gone off to. “Wait, guys, did you see where Yunho went?”

Wooyoung and San joined your search, but quickly hustled you into a nearby booth to sit and enjoy the album with your drinks. “He'll find us,” Wooyoung assured you as the three of you slipped into the leather seats. “He wouldn't miss this.”

“He'll at least be here by the last song,” San said offhandedly, his eyebrows wagging up and down.

Your lips parted, your face morphing into feigned offense. “Wait. Did he let you guys listen to the deluxe edition song, too?”

“Maybe,” Wooyoung giggled.

San cooed at your pout. “Awwh, don't take it to heart, Yn-ie. It was supposed to be a surprise for you.”

You raised your drink to your lips, sighing before taking a sip. “Everybody talks about this damn song as if he wrote it for me.”

Unbeknownst to you, the two others at the table exchanged pointed looks between one another when you were looking away. It was a wonder how Yunho was able to keep this all a secret from you. Though, even San and Wooyoung knew how busy you could get nowadays, so perhaps it really was just that easy. Plus, they had all at one point or another been privy to Yunho’s feelings—

“Speak of the Devil,” you perked up at the sight of your best friend emerging from the crowd with the others—Hongjoong, Seonghwa, Mingi, Jongho (vocal coach and album feature), and Yeosang (PR management)—in tow behind him. “We were wondering where you had gone off to.”

Yunho grinned as the lot of them squished into the circular seating arrangement with you, San, and Wooyoung. “Sorry, had to go round everyone up. The album should be queued up and ready to go.” He chose to sit on the end of the booth to your right while everyone else filled it up from the other side.

You offered him a sip of your drink, and he gladly took the glass from you. “So San and Woo were just telling me about how their tour prep is coming. You guys are leaving—what was it—two weeks from now?”

He hummed, smacking his lips as he set the glass back down on the table. “Yeah, it should be just about two weeks,” he said. His arm came up to rest against the back of the booth seat behind you. “You know, you can still come to the first stop with us…” This was said with a very pointed look at you from Yunho, followed by similar expressions from everyone else around the table.

“And you know that day’s when my supervisor holds quarterly meetings that are mandatory,” you shot back. As much as you hated the timing, the day that Yunho and the team planned to fly to their first stop on his world tour, you were required to be present for a very important meeting at work.

The Youth World Tour was something Yunho had been looking forward to and preparing for a long time. Besides working on the Youth album itself, his working hours extended over the past year or so to get ready for this major milestone. You would definitely be able to meet up with them at one of the tour stops, you just weren’t sure which one yet.

Things at your workplace were a little rocky as of late due to shifting management, but you would play it by ear. For your best friend, of course you would make it work somehow.

Your ears pricked up at the sound of strings strumming overhead and your heart leapt out of your ribcage for a moment. “Oh my god, I love this song.”

“You and me both, Yn,” Hongjoong chuckled across the table from you, reaching over so you could bump fists with him, “you’ve got good taste.”

“You’re only saying that because you wrote this one specifically,” Yunho sputtered out a laugh while rolling his eyes.

“It’s a good message,” you said, picking up your drink to take a generous gulp of it. There was a little left at the bottom of the martini glass and you swirled the liquid around before handing it over to Yunho to finish. “I think this one will definitely make it onto my work playlist.”

Yunho draped the back of his hand over his forehead, setting the now empty glass on the table. “Wow, relegated to the work playlist. Is that all I am to you?”

“You are a mood maker,” you pointed out with a teasing smile.

“Bro, you're complaining as if Yn doesn't put her work playlist on for everything she does.” Mingi arched his brows over the rims of his sunglasses. (Why was he wearing sunglasses indoors and at night? You didn't know; he said something about looking cool.)

Wooyoung chuckled. “What? So let's say you're trying to sleep—”

“Yah, I have a different playlist for that! I'm not completely unreasonable.”

“Completely,” Yunho and Mingi said at the same time, then looked at each other with wide, excited eyes. They bursted out laughing at once, too, leaving you to deadpan at the two clowns to your eleven o'clock and three o'clock.

You sighed. “I hate you guys.”

That only made them laugh louder, spurring on the others to crack smiles and for you to do the same.

Yunho calmed slightly, his cheeks hurting from smiling. “Aw, you walked right into that one, Yn.”

“So you're saying you are, in some capacity, unreasonable—oh my god, don't hurt me!” Mingi shrieked as he shoved Yeosang's body in front of him like a human shield as you lurched forward and threatened to grab him.

Yeosang sent Mingi a dirty look as he wrestled out of his neighbor's hold. “Dude.”

“Jongho, protect me.”

The vocal coach popped the olive from his martini into his mouth. “If you can't handle the heat, hyung, stay out of the kitchen.”

You nodded, raising your pointer finger up. “Exactly.”

For the next hour, you and your friends shared good company and conversation, while also commenting on, praising, and enjoying the tunes from Yunho's Youth album. There were a good thirteen songs featured on the album, and while most of them were inspired by real life, you remembered the days and nights when Yunho would break out the white board under his bed to draw out a concept map of the storyline he'd created in his head for some songs. It was like a miniature Easter egg hunt for fans to piece together from album to album.

When the clock hit nearly midnight, you recognized the song that marked the end of the conventional album—track number thirteen, 22. It was a song that reflected and lamented on his early stages of adulthood, all the goods and bads, all the hopes and dreams he had left. It was something that tied the regular album with a satisfying bow, but you were also giddy to hear the secret fourteenth deluxe track.

But as his ethereal voice from 22 faded out, the same guitar chords from the first song of the album began to play.

Everyone at the table paused in confusion.

“Uhh, I thought you were revealing the hidden track tonight, Yunho?” Seonghwa asked from across the table.

Yunho tilted his body out of the booth to peer into the sound booth at the very back of the lounge, a furrow in his brow. “I thought I was, too,” he said as he stood up. “I’ll be back in a sec.”

Before anyone else could say anything, Yunho disappeared past the door to the sound booth. You frowned as Hongjoong excused himself to catch up with him, mumbling something about helping with any technical difficulties.

In retrospect, it wouldn't be the biggest deal if you didn't get to hear the song tonight. You would simply listen to it when the deluxe album dropped in about a week, but you wouldn't deny that you were a little disappointed. Everyone else at this table had already listened to it—why had Yunho not shared it with you yet? Did he think you would judge him or not like it? You didn't think you were ever so harsh a critic, but that would explain why he was so nervous all night.

Regardless, you remained positive.

When Yunho and Hongjoong returned to the table, the rest of you all looked on to them expectantly.

“Something wacky is going on with the system right now and won't play the file for the hidden track,” Hongjoong huffed. He passed Yunho a sidelong glance, and you saw how Yunho avoided his friend's eyes like the plague. “Sorry to disappoint, Yn.”

Everyone's attention whipped toward you, and you straightened like a deer caught in headlights. “Oh, uhm, it's no biggie,” you said. You glanced over at Yunho who, if anything, seemed guilty. Or maybe it was just something apologetic. “Really—I can wait for it to drop officially.”

You didn't like how the air seemed to shift during this exchange, as if all the other boys were sitting on the edges of their seats, faces morphed into mixed ranges of confusion and disbelief.

You cleared your throat. “Anyone want more drinks?”

As the night waned and the party came to a close, you found yourself being helped into another Uber car to head home. After the supposed tech glitch, the remainder of the party passed by without a hitch. At the very end, Yunho popped open a theatrical bottle of champagne for all his guests to close out the celebration.

The backseat door closed just as Yunho ducked in with you, his hand waving out the window to San, Wooyoung, and Jongho passing by along the curb.

The alcohol had gradually made its way to your brain, and there was a light buzzing at the base of your skull that made you feel all warm and fuzzy. You yawned, leaning your head against Yunho's shoulder.

He chuckled, one of his hands coming up to gently pat your head. “Tired?”

“Mhm,” you hummed as your eyelids fluttered closed. “You didn't have to lie, y'know.”

You felt his shoulder tense under your cheek. If only you could feel the rapid beating in his chest, then he'd be as good as done.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” he replied innocently, nimble fingers running over the chain links of his wristwatch.

Your eyes cracked open slowly. “Yunho.”

A beat passed, then he sighed. “Are you mad?” He asked quietly and his hand nearest to you found yours as he began to mindlessly inspect the chipped nail polish on your fingertips.

“No, silly. Why would I be mad?” When he didn't respond right away, you let out an exhale of your own. “I mean, I could tell you were nervous about me listening to the song all night. And if you weren't ready for me to listen to it yet, then I totally get that, and I'm okay with waiting. I just would rather you tell me that instead of make Hongjoong lie for you.”

He stopped playing with your fingers. “I'm sorry, for the record. Thank you for understanding.”

You hummed in reply.

The drive continued on with the accompaniment of a random radio station playing on low volume. You weren't going to fall asleep just yet with the alcohol still working its way through your system, but you kept your eyes closed nonetheless.

“I missed you, you know?” Were his first words to break the next silence.

A small smile wormed its way onto your face. “I missed you, too. I feel like we haven't seen each other in forever.”

He chuckled, the low sound rumbling through his chest and into your ear. “Texting can only take us so far. Isn't that crazy? We can't even survive a week without hanging out, but we're… we're about to be separated for so much longer timewise and distance-wise.”

You grumbled. “Don't remind me—wait. Has it really only been a week?” You peeked one eye open, a frown coming to your lips. “No way.”

Yunho smiled, shaking his head. “Believe it or not, stargirl. It's been only a week.”

“In-fucking-sane.”

“You're telling me.”

“How are we going to survive?” You pondered aloud, genuinely. If you couldn't fly out to see him within the first handful of tour stops, you and Yunho at the soonest wouldn't be able to see each other for three weeks. And if you couldn't escape your work duties and your PhD responsibilities, then it would be longer than that. “You're gonna have a closer relationship with your Valorant account than me.”

Yunho snorted. “I already have a closer relationship with my Valorant account than you.”

“Shucks.” You breathed out. “Guess I'll just text Hongjoong then. You know what he told me tonight when we were exchanging numbers? All eight of you nerds have a group chat and he gets ignored like a mom in a family chatroom.”

Your comment made a laugh tumble out of Yunho's mouth. “Did he make that analogy?”

“No, Seonghwa did when he overheard.”

A wheeze. “That tracks.” Yunho licked his lips as he turned his head slightly to glance down at you leaning on his shoulder. With his free hand, he warmed his palm over your head like he could keep you here forever. “So what's this about texting Joong?”

You shifted your position to get more comfortable and clung to his arm to press yourself closer. There was still a little ways to go before you reached your apartment. “I told him offhandedly that I wanna pick up a new hobby… something about crocheting or something, and apparently that guy is like… amazing at everything, so he's gonna help me out.”

“Ah.” The sound was quiet. “I'm glad you guys got along.”

You smiled to yourself. “Me too. He's really cool.”

“Not cooler than me though, right?”

You blindly reached over to pat his chest in warm reassurance. “Don't worry, big guy. I guess you're still the coolest guy I know.”

He clicked his tongue at you with a weak chiding, “Yah. You only guess? Don't tell Mingi that.”

“Oh, I wouldn't dream of it.”

The Uber eventually pulled up along the curb outside your apartment complex. You lifted your head up from Yunho's shoulder and woke yourself up with a good stretch of your limbs.

He helped you out of the car, handing you your purse when you finally got your bearings. “Are you sure I can't walk you up? You look like your knees are about to buckle,” he chuckled.

You shook your head. The cool evening air was helping your brain to sober up. “No, no. Don't worry about it—I’m not as drunk as that one year.”

“Dear heart, how could I forget,” he teased. “Mingi still has the recording of when you begged to be bridal carried.”

Your face warmed at his mention of that memory and you wrinkled your nose at him. “I was gonna say ‘I love you’ along with goodnight, but I suppose not.”

Yunho froze. “What?”

Maybe you really weren't sobering up, because you didn't catch his strange reaction. “Nevermind,” you said flippantly. “Love you, Yun. Good night. Get home safe!”

He seemed to unfreeze, his lungs filling with breath again. A soft smile melted onto his pretty lips as he looked on toward you with a warm fondness. “Love you, too. Good night, Yn.”

He remained where he was outside the car door as he watched you dig your keys out from your purse and open the complex door. When you had one foot inside, you stopped, and turned back to him with a big grin on your face. “Hey!”

“Hey?” He laughed.

“I'm proud of you.”

For the thousandth time tonight, you made him lose his breath, his hold on reality. He swallowed—he wanted to kiss you. “I love you. Get some rest, stargirl.”

You waved to him in reply and he waved back. Then you disappeared through the door and left him there, his heart full and beating fast, the longing in his chest weighing heavier than before.

When you and Yunho were thirteen, you spent the longest period of time away from each other for the rest of your lives. It measured to about one summer break long when Yunho flew to South Korea to spend the entire vacation there and you could do nothing but chat with him via good, old fashioned e-mail.

Now that the two of you were older, even a couple days dragged on like an eternity. And because of your clashing and stacked schedules, a couple days almost always bled into a week.

A week since the release of Youth marked the inevitable release of its deluxe edition and the ever mysterious fourteenth track.

“Yn, wait, can you just help me finish this set of primers?”

You were this close to escaping the lab before one of your colleagues caught you. Taking a deep breath, you resolved to turn back and help them out. One less thing to worry about later, right? You could still listen to the track once you got home.

Except you couldn't, at least not right away. You saw the email on the bus ride home:

Hello TAs! One of your peers has unfortunately been involved in a motorbike accident early this evening. We have been informed that they will recover to full health, but because they are hospitalized, we will need to redistribute responsibilities regarding grades and as to who will cover their TA sections…

You skimmed down the email's contents, knowing you wouldn't be the one filling in as an actual TA. Because you were a first year graduate student in your first quarter, you opted to start off with grading work for now. But even if you didn't have to deal with a whole section of undergraduates, you could feel the blood drain from your face.

“You've gotta be shitting me,” you said, then slapped your hand over your mouth once you realized you'd said that aloud. You mouthed a sheepish “sorry” to a parent and her child nearby, then ducked your head to look at the contents once more.

There was no way they wanted—no, needed—all of those graded by tonight.

This was cruel and unusual punishment, but you knew you were going to do it anyway.

By the time you finished grading, shoveled dinner into your mouth, and took a therapeutically scalding hot shower, it was sometime past two in the morning. Thank fuck it was Saturday.

It was less than twelve hours later that you settled into the passenger seat of Yunho's Lexus sedan with a pair of shades covering your dehydrated, puffy eyes from the world and whatever paparazzi was stalking his car. Yunho glanced over at you with barely concealed amusement. “Well, good morning, princess.”

“You can't see it but I'm glaring at you,” you grunted as you strapped yourself in with the seatbelt. “I can't believe you wake up before noon now.”

“Unfortunately,” he chuckled, peeling his car away from the curb. After an unsatisfactory six hours of sleep, Yunho had woken you up with the obnoxiously loud sound of your phone ringing. You managed to negotiate for him to pick you up in two hours rather than half an hour—and now here you were. You never truly considered yourself a breakfast person and you would have happily slept all the way to lunch, but even through the exhaustion, you wanted to see him as much as he wanted to see you.

He would be gone by the end of the week, after all.

You leaned your head back against the headrest. “I used to have to lure you out of bed with the smell of bacon. Remember when you ate that entire plate of raw-ass bacon and pancake batter that Mingi made?”

Yunho let out a loud laugh that made you smile. He glanced over at you. “Bro,” he sighed, shaking his head, “you know I'll eat anything. Oh my gosh, I will never forget the horrified look on your face when you came out of the bathroom and found out what happened.”

“You looked like a kicked puppy when I told you that you shouldn't have eaten raw bacon,” you snorted. You'd felt so awful that Yunho was such a good eater who didn't complain; he didn't have any negative side effects afterward, thankfully, but you swore to never let Mingi in the kitchen or to let Mingi feed Yunho ever again, so long as you lived.

There was a café a few minutes drive from your apartment complex that the two of you liked to go to. It was a little hole in the wall, located on the second floor above a pet shelter, and the entrance could only be accessed through the stairs in the next-door alleyway.

Yunho adjusted the beanie over his bangs and you shifted your sunglasses up to the top of your head as you entered the establishment. There were a few people seated in the area to the right, but something you liked about this place was its hidden gem quality. (And the drinks and food they served, of course.)

“Hi, welcome in!” The barista behind the counter called before ducking behind the espresso machine. “Give me two seconds, and I'll be right with you.”

“No worries, take your time,” Yunho chirped back as he scoured the menu, eyes squinting and tongue darting out to wet his lips.

You had a general idea of what you wanted already, and you let Yunho know what it was before slipping off into the restroom.

By the time you emerged from the back hallway where the washrooms were, Yunho had finished ordering and was standing by one of the open two-seater tables by the far window with the soft autumn sunlight painting over his features. For a second, you stood at the opening of the hallway, just admiring him. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep making you envision the sunlight dancing around him as he sat down in one of the seats.

Heat rushed up your neck as your eyes met across the café. Gazes locked, you stood frozen, but a smile bloomed on your best friend's face like the coming of spring. It was the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen.

And then he made a face, cocking his head to the side like a puppy with a question. 'Why are you just standing there?’ He seemed to ask.

You shook yourself out of whatever strange daze you'd slipped into, then walked over to join him.

“You okay?” He asked as you took the seat across from him, a teasing lilt to his voice, yet there was still concern in the curve of his mouth.

You waved said concern away. “Yeah. I think I'm still waking up or something.”

“Ah,” he nodded in understanding. He frowned. “What time did you go to sleep last night?”

“Like… some time past two.” On cue, you let out a large yawn, lifting your sleeve up to cover your mouth. “It's okay. I'll just sleep early tonight or something. One of the other TAs got into an accident, so we just had to do some make-up work and I just happened to get home late as it was.”

You could already see the guilt manifest on his face for waking you up, and you were swift to add, “I'll be fine with food and coffee, so 's alright. What about you? How'd you sleep last night?”

“I slept decently,” he replied, leaning forward to rest his cheek against his fist. “I didn't end up dropping the deluxe album, so it was a little more restful than—”

Your brain took a second to catch up. The… the deluxe album… oh. Your eyes went from half-mast to wide open. “You—you didn't release the deluxe? Sorry, I was so busy yesterday that I didn't check my socials.”

“Don't worry about it,” he said with a sheepish smile. “But yeah, I told my manager that I still wasn't ready to release it to the public just yet. I don't know when I'll postpone it to, but it probably won't come out until while I'm on tour.”

Ah. There was that disappointment settling in the pit of your stomach again. This wasn't about you, but why did it seem like he was avoiding your eventual listening to this song? He was almost always sending you audio files without prompting, so what made this one different?

Nonetheless, it wasn't your song. You would respect Yunho's privacy if he wanted to keep this one to himself and his friends.

You unconsciously rubbed your arm. “Oh okay. Yeah, I mean—take your time, Yun. I'm glad you don't feel pressured to release it when you aren't ready.”

His expression softened to something tender that made your chest feel fuzzy. “You'll listen to it soon, I promise.”

The barista called out Yunho's order number, and your friend stood up to go retrieve it. You sighed as you fiddled with the sleeve of your shirt and peered over your shoulder as a pair of newcomers asked him for his autograph and a picture. You watched the pleasant smile spread on Yunho's face as he conversed with them as easy as breathing air, alongside the faint blush over his cheekbones.

No, you didn't know what had gotten into you this morning.

“No, no. You have to loop it through this piece here—yeah, there you go.”

You were so concentrated on following Hongjoong's directions that you didn't even register the sound of Yunho's front door opening and closing. Hongjoong clicked his tongue and scooted closer so he could direct your hands and the crochet hook himself.

“Uhm… hey?”

Both yours and Hongjoong's heads whipped up at the sound of Yunho's confusion. He stood at the entrance to the living room area where, scattered all around you and Hongjoong, were clothes, toiletries, and other essentials laid out for Yunho to throw into his bags.

Tonight marked the evening before Yunho and the team were to set off on the Youth World Tour. Tomorrow, they would fly out sometime in the afternoon, which meant that you would have time to send them off before heading to work and class. However, because you hadn't seen Yunho since this past Saturday when he dragged your ass out of bed for breakfast, you invited yourself over to his apartment to oversee his packing. Hongjoong just so happened to be swinging by Yunho's apartment and you asked if he was up for an impromptu crocheting lesson.

Hongjoong arrived some time while Yunho ran out to the Chinese place down the block to grab dinner, and the two of you had been hunched over the ball of yarn and hook ever since.

“Oh, you're back!” You exclaimed. In your distracted state, Hongjoong took the opportunity to take the crochet piece from you and subtly fix the mistakes you made.

Yunho's brows creased, eyes darting from you to Hongjoong as he slowly placed the takeout bags on the semi-cleared coffee table. “Yeah… Joong, when did you get here?”

You leaned forward to help clear off the rest of the coffee table and to also assist in unpacking all of the takeout containers. Yunho shucked the baseball cap he was wearing off to the side, carding a hand through his dark locks.

“Like… seven minutes ago,” he replied cheekily. His mouth curled into something mischievous as he locked eyes with Yunho. “I can leave, though, if you wanted to be alone—”

“Hyung—”

“I'm messing with you,” he snickered as he handed you the yarn and hook. “I only came by to drop off the emergency backup files hard drive and to give Yn-ie a sneak peek of her crocheting lessons to come.”

(Yunho's eyes narrowed a millimeter. Yn-ie?)

You set the unfinished crochet square down on the couch to walk Hongjoong to the door. “Are we still on for tomorrow, by the way?”

“What's tomorrow?” Yunho twisted around where he was seated on the floor to watch you and Hongjoong make your way to the front door.

“You,” said Hongjoong with raised eyebrows at your best friend, “are going on a plane with everyone else. Because I'm not leaving until the day after tomorrow, Yn and I are bonding over lunch after we see you all off.”

You and Hongjoong finished up finalizing plans in the doorway, followed by amiable farewells. Yunho called out a “good night” to his friend as Hongjoong slipped out the door, and left you and him to the apartment by yourselves.

You claimed the spot on the floor next to him and accepted the pair of wooden chopsticks he extended to you. “I'm sorry if I wasn't supposed to invite him in. I probably should've asked,” you said sheepishly as you snapped the chopsticks apart.

“Oh, no, he's been over quite a few times, so it's all good,” he replied swiftly. “I just didn't expect you two to be so close.” He added a laugh at the end that sounded more nervous to him than it was supposed to.

“We've been texting back and forth, but I guess so. Nothing like the two of you,” you jested, lifting your eyebrows up and bumping your elbow against his.

Yunho grinned. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“You guys spend all that time together in the studio—WHA—NO! Keep those hands to yourself!” You shrieked, rolling out of the way to dodge his hands that threatened to tickle you into submission. Yunho had thrown his head back in a carefree laugh, a beautiful expression in itself, that had you reciprocating.

When you were sure he wasn't going to attack you (affectionately), you scooted back over to your original spot next to him. He smiled to himself at the sidelong glance you casted him, and he went and grabbed one carton of rice for himself and the other for you.

“Thank you for dinner, by the way,” you told him as you opened up your carton, his somehow already opened and spilling over with food.

You once again caught him with his mouth full, and Yunho swallowed the bite of food he had before replying. “Yeah, man. Of course.”

“I swear that I will definitely get the next meal we have—”

“Yn.” He touched the back of his hand against your arm to draw your attention to him. “You literally were the one to make sure I made it out of college alive, like, I can never thank you enough for how much you did for me then and continue to do for me now.”

You swallowed, suddenly blown back by the way he looked at you right now. “I did it because I care about you, Yun. It's not something I expect to be repaid for.”

“I know,” he said with a nod, lips pulled into a tender smile that made your stomach do flips. This was the look no one else got to see from him. Sure, he could fill stadiums of people who would see his big, bright grin that shone brighter than the sun, but… but this one, this smile, was yours. “That goes the same toward this meal, okay?”

Yunho notched his finger under your chin and tilted your head up slightly to meet his eyes. “Don't worry about it.”

You set your carton of rice and chopsticks on the table, he copied your movements, and you wrapped each other in your mutual embraces. The startling realization that you wouldn't see him for longer than a week from tomorrow onward rushed toward you like the coming of a tide to shore. Before you knew it, the water was up to your knees, and you—what were you going to do without him here?

“I miss you already,” you whispered.

You felt him squeeze you tighter, nose pressed against the side of your neck. “I won't be gone too long.” A promise.

“Thank god Seonghwa and Wooyoung can cook.” At the sound of his snort from above your head, you squawked out in your defense, “Who else is gonna make you bacon and pancakes in the morning when you’re dead tired?”

“Hey! I can fry bacon, I’ll have you know!”

You pulled away from him so he could see the look of pure disbelief on your face. “Okay, rockstar. I believe you.”

He scrunched his nose up at you. “That’s not very convincing.”

“I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

Yunho scoffed, reaching over to flick your nose. You let out a sound of indignation and rubbed your nose, a scowl on your face at Yunho’s very pleased expression. And even if you were currently conspiring on how to get back at him, you couldn’t help but resolve something right that second—you would do everything in your power to see his show in two weeks’ time—to see Yunho in two weeks’ time.

The thing about cheap plane tickets was that the cheaper you bought them, the less “amenities” that it came with. The one you’d purchased specifically for two weeks in the future did not allow you a refund. This meant that if something were to arise, you would be a good several hundred dollars poorer, and your plans to surprise Yunho at his show would fall completely through the floor.

Good thing you weren’t about to let that happen, right? …Right?

“You’re sick.” Those were your roommate Trinity’s first words to you as you stumbled out of your bedroom and found her perched on one of the stools at the kitchen counter. She fixed you with an unimpressed look as she stirred around her morning coffee.

“I’m not—” Your own response was cut off by one very untimely cough into your elbow. You wrinkled your nose at the metallic taste at the back of your throat. Great. “—sick.”

“And I’m Oprah,” she deadpanned.

“You could be.” Did you really sound as much like a dying walrus as you thought you did? Holy shit.

She stood up from her stool, setting her coffee cup on the counter, then walked over to you to direct you back into your room. “I’m not permitting you exit from this apartment until you're better. Back to bed with you.”

“But—”

“No buts! If you wanna still be able to fly by the end of this week, then you have to get better, Yn.”

You really, unfortunately, could not argue with that. Nearly a week and a half had passed since Yunho started touring. Opening night had been a massive success, as you’d seen the broadcast and read the reviews on social media. In the concert photos and videos slowly being released online, there was no doubt in your mind that Yunho belonged onstage. He was radiant as a diamond in each depiction of him, and he sounded better and better each night.

Suffice to say, you were beyond proud and happy for him.

In order to make your surprise successful, you informed Yunho’s team of your plans so they could help you get into the concert once you arrived. Your part consisted mainly of finishing all of your work ahead of schedule so you weren’t swamped when you got back. It was nearing the end of the term, meaning there was lots to grade and study, but when you had a goal, you were determined.

The only downside was that, between the long days and nights of work, your body couldn’t fight against the swift rush of early winter air that swept through the city in the past week. Your working hours stretched out longer and longer until your body just… gave up. Or at least, it was giving up.

After calling in sick to your workplace, you crashed back into bed for what you hoped to be a restful nap. Maybe when you woke up, this would all just turn out to be a 24-hour fever.

(It was not a 24-hour fever.)

You didn't even know what time it was when you woke up groggy and your head pounding like there was an active construction site taking place in your skull. Your bedroom was dark, and the world outside your window was also dark. The sound of your phone ringing drilled into your cranium, and you groaned as you felt around your mess of blankets and sheets for wherever that damned thing was—

“Hello?” You croaked into the receiver when you finally grabbed ahold of your phone.

There was a pause on the other end, and you were about to ask who it was when they responded. “Oh my god. You're sick.”

Your heart leapt into your throat at the sound of your best friend's voice and you shoved your face into the pillow. “I'm not sick.”

“Yn, sweetheart, you literally have the sexy sick voice.”

“You think I'm sexy?” You asked in a drowsy, unwell daze. “But anyways, I'm not—” You lifted your face into your elbow in time to practically hack out your lungs. You groaned. “Okay, maybe I am sick.”

Could things get any worse?

You could hear the frown in his voice. “You sound like my worst nightmare.”

“Am I sexy or your worst nightmare? You need to pick an adjective.” You whimpered as you struggled to pull yourself up into a sitting position.

“At least I know it did nothing to that attitude of yours,” he laughed. He sobered for a moment when he heard you groan as the blood rushed to your head. “Hey, do you have meds with you? I can order some and have them there in half an hour.”

You waved him off, even though he wouldn't be able to see. “No, it's okay. I should have taken an ibuprofen before I crashed. I'm sure we've got extra Nyquil around here somewhere…”

You attempted to stand up, a swear falling from your mouth as the vertigo hit you and sent you tumbling back down onto the edge of the bed.

“Yn, I'm sending you medicine—and dinner. That one bistro near your apartment is still open, right? I'll let Trinity know that deliveries are on the—Yn?”

You lifted your head and broke out of your return to unconsciousness. “Hm? Sorry… I did not hear anything you just said.” You rubbed your hand down your face and scooped your phone up to make your way out of your room. You somehow made it to the door, and you leaned against the doorjamb as you pushed out into the dark hallway. “You don't have to send anything, Yun. Trinity's studying for her law school finals, so I don't wanna bother her. Plus…”

You opened up the medicine cabinet in the bathroom and bit back a sigh of disappointment. No cold medicine. There was pain medication, at least, so that should hopefully help you fall asleep again.

At your lack of words, Yunho asked, “No medicine?”

“No, I have some medicine,” you countered. “Just—not the right ones.” Before you could swallow any pills, you hacked out another lung into your elbow; you swore your coughs were sounding worse and worse.

“You know what? I'm flying home—”

You slammed the pill bottle on the bathroom counter. “Don't—what? Yunho, do not fly home. It's literally just a little—” You coughed, “—cold. You have another show in two days. If you show up on my doorstep, I'm not opening the door.”

From the silence on his end, you knew he wasn't in total agreement with you. Maybe the bottle slamming was a little much, but his statement had surprised you. It didn't make sense for him to drop everything for you when you were experiencing something so trivial as a cold.

Not unkindly, you said to him, “I appreciate the concern, but you have bigger things to worry about and care about.”

“You will always be the most important thing I care about.”

His admission was so sincere that your heart gave a violent palpitation in your chest. You struggled to swallow, and it wasn't just because your throat was sore. “And I feel the same way about you,” you murmured, “but I can take care of myself, okay? I'll be back to normal in no time.”

You heard a sigh from his end. “I know; you're right. I just… wish I was there with you right now.”

You could understand that—it was how you felt. But some things couldn't be helped, and Yunho needed to be where he was and you needed to be where you were. You could hold down the fort while he was gone taking over the world by storm.

You closed the bathroom door to give an extra barrier between your voice and where Trinity was studying in her room. After knocking back a couple painkillers, you seated yourself on the floor with your back against the bathtub and your knees pulled up to your chest. “You know what's kind of ironic?” You coughed into your elbow and wrestled down another one bubbling up in your throat. You shouldn't have been speaking so much, but you could deal with the repercussions later. “I think I freaked out when you said you were going to fly home, not just because that's insane, but also because I was going to surprise you by flying out to your show in a couple days.”

He sucked in a breath. “You were gonna come surprise me?”

“Yeah,” you muttered, swiping at your nose and tucking your chin to your knees. Then you had to go and screw it all up, and you couldn't even get your money back. You pretty much accepted that you weren't going to be better by the time the day rolled around, especially not for travel. “I'm sorry I couldn't come see you.”

“No, don't be sorry!” He cooed. “I'm—I’m really sorry you're sick and I'm sad you couldn't make it, but… but think of it this way, hm? As soon as you get better, I'll fly you out to whatever city I'm in and we can hang out and you can come to the concert. All you have to do is get better for me.”

You didn't know if your schedule would allow after this setback, but you were going to remain optimistic. With a small glimmer of hope peering through your chest, you replied, “Okay.”

“Okay,” he said, and you could hear the fond smile in his voice.

“By the way,” you began, and had to clear your throat from how congested it was getting. Maybe some hot tea would do you good. You clambered to your feet to get out of this bathroom and do just that. “Was there a reason you called originally or was it just to say hi?”

A beat of hesitation passed between your question and his answer. “Ah…” There was a wince in his voice, “I, uhm, called because I wanted to know if you'd seen something online, but obviously you haven't 'cause you were asleep, but…”

Seen something online? Your movements with your electric kettle paused. Had someone posted something about Yunho? “What is it, Yun?” Who's ass did you need to beat?

“Seonghwa hyung found out that someone leaked the hidden track online a few hours ago.”

You leaned your cheek against your palm, eyebrows knitting together. “Shit, dude. I'm so sorry,” you said with a frown. That meant some rando on the internet had hacked into someone's files and leaked the song.

A sharp exhale from Yunho's end. “Yeah, I dunno. We're working on getting it taken down right now, but in the event it can't be done soon enough, I think I'm just gonna release the deluxe version in a couple hours.”

It seemed by his response that it wasn't the hacking that was his primary concern. Leaked, unreleased songs happened to every major artist in the industry, and it had most definitely happened to Yunho before this. But this time… this time felt different. You knew how hesitant he was to release this, and having the track get released to the public on terms that weren't his? Well, that just wasn't fair.

“You don't,” you said softly, reaching for a mug in the top cabinet to plop your tea bag into, “have to release it officially right now. You can still wait until you're comfortable.”

You heard sounds of shuffling on his end, followed by the sound of a door opening. You thought you heard Yeosang's voice as he murmured something to Yunho. The exchange was swift, but it reminded you that your time with your best friend here was limited.

“Do you need to go?” You asked, trying to cover up your hope that he didn't have to with nonchalance.

He hummed. “It's okay, I have a few minutes left. They want me to 'okay’ a couple things out on set, but that can wait. Uhm… as for what you said about releasing it—I,” he sighed, “I think this was the push I needed to finally drop it, y'know? I think either way I was going to be scared for—for people to hear it—for you to hear it. But uhm… yeah. That's all I wanted to say. I think it'll probably be released whenever you wake up.”

You poured the hot water of your tea bag, setting the kettle down gently. Letting the steam rise up to help clear your congestion, you could finally think a little clearer now. “I'm sorry this didn't happen on your terms.”

“I appreciate that. I hope you like the song—I… I really hope you like the song.”

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips. “I'm going to like the song, rockstar. You have nothing to worry about, I promise.”

He let out a small laugh and the sound of his happiness, however big or small, made your chest feel heavy. “I’ve missed you so much,” he rasped out. “So much.”

You pressed your forehead to your fist, willing the prickling feeling of tears at bay. “I wish I was there—I’ve wished I was there with you the moment you left. But I'm so, so proud of you. I know I've said this before, but you belong on that stage, Yunho. I'll be there… I'm always there in spirit.”

“You can't say that and expect me not to fly my ass home right now.”

You sputtered out a laugh, which was probably a bad idea, because it led to an utter disaster of a coughing fit. When you finally managed to get a reign on things, you picked up your mug of tea and took a couple ginger sips. It was still piping hot, but whatever scalding temperature it was at somehow soothed your throat and your head.

You set the cup down. “Again, I'll be there in no time, I promise.”

“You swear on your life?”

You sighed, but you pressed your lips into a smile. “I swear on my life.”

Yunho's departure from this call was imminent, and so you made further promises to get plenty of rest and to take care of yourself. You only did so when he promised to do the same for himself. Just after you both hung up, you received a text message from him: Stay up for five more minutes!! The delivery's almost there.

You huffed out a rough-sounding laugh, and bit your tongue around a smile. Of course he had still ordered you stuff. You shook your head to settle on one of the kitchen stools to nurse your tea and wait for the delivery to get here.

When the driver was safely out of bounds of your door, you poked your head out into the hallway to grab the paper bags seated on your doorstep. You had only expected medicine and maybe dinner, but not only were there cold medicines, orange juice, and hot soup from the bistro down the street, but there was a bouquet of flowers there, too.

Butterflies fluttered in your stomach as you pulled everything into the safety of your apartment. Damn Jeong Yunho and his gestures. It didn't mean anything—they were just Get Well Soon flowers, but why did you kind of wish they were more than that?

The Youth album's fourteenth track entitled your space hit the charts at number two. By the time you woke up, still sick as hell, the track had been officially released for about eight hours. You rolled over in bed to guzzle down half a bottle of water and cold medicine, then grabbed your phone.

It seemed that social media blew up while you were asleep. The deluxe drop was trending under a couple different tags, and based on initial skims, you were happy to report that most had everything good to say about it.

Though, some of the commentary made you pause. He has to be seeing someone, said one user. Look at these lyrics. These could only be produced by a man in love.

You had to swipe out of the app at that point. Instead, you went over to yours, Yunho's, and Mingi's group chat together where Mingi and Yunho had waged a meme war while you were asleep after Mingi wished you a “Get Better Soon” message. You sent back your own meme in response and opened your music streaming app to find track fourteen.

The boys would probably all be asleep by now, so they wouldn't respond any time soon.

You found your space exactly where you thought it would be, at the very bottom of the deluxe album. You sat yourself up against your headboard, plugged your earbuds in, then hit play.

If only you knew how much it would rock your world.

Hongjoong was never wrong about his hunches. It had been about a week and a half since you came down with an awful cold and couldn't make it to your intended surprise show, and slightly less than that since the deluxe album dropped. Even before the tour started, life was a whirlwind, but now that the tour was only ramping up further from this point, it had been nothing short of a total rush.

Different cities every week, at least two nights a city—all of it took a toll on both the staff and artist involved. Hongjoong's hunch, however, regarded the artist in particular as he watched said artist keep his smile up to say goodnight to the remainder of the stadium workers who lingered for cleanup. Yesterday was their last show date in this city, and today, Yunho and his team had come by to help load everything up for transport to their next destination. Tomorrow, they would fly out and be in the next city to begin preparing for the next round.

But as Yunho began making his way toward the exit where Hongjoong was waiting for him, it was impossible to miss the immediate exhaustion that flooded his features. He carded a hand through his hair as he checked his phone, then pocketed it in the back pocket of his pants.

“Hey,” Yunho nodded to Hongjoong as he met him at the exit and they both walked out into the chilly evening together. There was already a car waiting at the curb to take them back to their hotel—there was still so much that needed to be done before they left for the airport tomorrow.

“Hey,” he said back. “Everything okay?”

Yunho glanced over at him. “Huh? Oh, yeah. I'm fine; just tired. I think it's a good thing I started packing before we came here earlier,” he mused. For him to pack early? A miracle.

Hongjoong bobbed his head in understanding. “Yeah, I get that, but that's not really—you know you can be honest with me, right? I know this has all been… a lot.” And Hongjoong would understand; he had been in the public eye for so long now, and all of that could be so incredibly draining. From catering to fans and journalists and sponsors, it could be difficult finding himself amongst all that mess.

Plus, Yunho had the added bit of being away from home for a very long time. From what Hongjoong understood, Yunho only used to tour relatively close to home, and when it was farther, it was during his school breaks. He also knew that you were an integral part of Yunho's sanity, and that even before he reached this level of fame, you were his rock, his anchor, his ground control.

Being away from you for so long was beginning to show. When Hongjoong brought it up offhandedly to Mingi, Mingi was swift to agree.

“I—” Yunho began as he slipped into the passenger seat and Hongjoong into the back of the car. He murmured a soft greeting to the driver before strapping himself in with a seatbelt. “—it definitely has been hard,” he admitted with a sigh. “I don't know, Joong. You know that rush you get while onstage, but it just comes crashing down a couple hours later? Like the adrenaline leaves you all at once and all you crave for is home?”

Hongjoong pursed his lips, watching Yunho lean the side of his head against the window as he watched the world pass by. “Yeah, I do,” he said quietly. “The moments between all the rush and excitement, you're no longer distracted from how much it all is.”

A nod. “Yeah.”

“You miss her?” It was less of a question and more so a statement. Hongjoong's hunches were never incorrect. It was both a blessing and a curse.

Yunho's quiet was answer enough.

Hongjoong played around with the back of his phone case. He knew you had listened to the song—he’d asked Yunho and you'd texted Hongjoong, too. Yunho reported that you gushed about the song and affirmed him in all his choices and lyricism as always, but he was certain that you didn't get it. But when you had run to Hongjoong questioning your own feelings and if Yunho had been scared to tell you if he was in love with someone, Hongjoong could confidently say that you did get it, just not one hundred percent.

There was still miscommunication in the message, but he knew that was only something that the two of you could sort out.

“Have you guys talked since last week?”

“Yeah, we have. She's been…” He pushed a breath out of his mouth, “... She's been working her ass off trying to make up for the amount of time she was sick. I don't even know how she isn't getting sick again. I mean—all the shit she has to weather through—I wish I could help.”

And he couldn't, not like how he wanted to, not from so far away. Maybe that was what was eating him up inside the most, besides the fact he believed his feelings to be unrequited.

The car pulled up to the back entrance of the hotel Yunho and his team were staying at for the time being. The two of them thanked the driver on their way out, and they were swiftly greeted by employees coming out of the back for their breaks.

When they reached the warmth of their hotel floor's hallway, Yunho said to Hongjoong, “I miss her so much.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his Youth World Tour hoodie, eyes lined in silver. “I worry about her so much, too. I'm sure she worries just as much about me and I know that she's more than capable about taking care of herself—’cause god, she was the one who kept me afloat all these years, and I—”

I love her.

He slapped his key card against the reader and shoved into his hotel room with Hongjoong trailing after with a sympathetic frown on his face.

“It just feels wrong sometimes when I can't be with her. Is that crazy?”

Hongjoong settled a warm hand on Yunho's shoulder as the latter sat down on the edge of his bed. “It's not crazy,” he said. He'd felt like that about a person, once upon a time. After everything Hongjoong had gone through with his last relationship, one might think he didn't believe in love, but he was still clawing for it. He wanted something that he could see manifesting between you and Yunho. He wanted to help you reach that.

He sighed and sat down next to him. “It's completely valid to feel this way, y'know? She's been a huge part of your life and your passions, and for you to see all this without her seems incomplete.”

Yunho nodded. “Yeah.”

“You can go home whenever you want, you realize that?” Hongjoong asked. “We have time built into each week to give you rest days, man. We can make that work.” It might be a little tiring for so much travel, but one trip back wouldn't hurt, especially when it could help his mental state more than simply powering through.

“I know,” he replied. “I don't… I just feel like I want her to see that I can do this, that she didn't put her trust and energy into someone who would fall so fast—”

“Do you seriously believe she would think about you that way?”

Yunho's expression shuddered, and he let out a shaky breath as he shook his head.

Hongjoong arched his brow. “Exactly. She would never fault you for needing a break. Being human is not a sign of weakness, Yunho. She's your best friend—I think she has more forgiveness and compassion for you than that.”

Yunho swallowed. Of course what Hongjoong said was right. You wouldn't look at him any different if he needed a break; it was just a thing about being kinder to himself. But sometimes it was hard to put that into perspective, and perhaps he just needed someone to do that for him.

With no good choice made without a decent night of sleep, Hongjoong bid Yunho goodnight.

As soon as Hongjoong slipped out of his friend's room, he sighed and mentally calculated what time it would be where you were. You should have been awake.

And awake, you definitely were.

You would be lying if you said you hadn't been listening to the song your space on repeat for the past week and a half. Even as you sat in one of the campus dining halls doing work and eating your crappy sandwich for lunch, your headphones were spilling with your best friend's gorgeous croons.

You questioned everything at the same time. You'd figured out two days after you first heard it that you were in love with your best friend.

The lyrics had resonated with you, and you had come to the startling conclusion that you felt the song's meaning toward Yunho.

All you could do since was freak the fuck out and tell Yunho that the song was incredible. You didn't know who the song was for or about, but you knew it was important to him because of how scared he was to release it. Had he been scared to tell you he was in love with someone? Why?

Sometimes you found yourself tearing apart the lyrics like a rabid trash panda.

I couldn't ever leave you behind They couldn't ever take me away Baby, if I could pick a heaven on Earth It would be anywhere in your space.

You broke away from your work and sandwich to the sound of a text notification. Suddenly remembering how loud your vibration ringer was, you silenced it, then opened up Hongjoong's message: I know you're probably moping and eating a shitty sandwich—what. You glanced down at said shitty sandwich that sat in its equally sad plastic container. How did he know…? —and he's not doing well either. He's miserable, dude.

Everything slowed for you, and it was no longer about your so-called epiphany. You felt your entire body and mood drop at the news. You'd seen social media posts commenting on Yunho's stage presence and brightness never fading, but there were always the one or two who noted something along the lines of him seeming too tired or that perhaps he didn't have enough stamina for this.

The latter comments made your blood pressure spike, but there was, unfortunately, some truth to it. You just didn't think it was this bad.

You pressed the backs of your knuckles against your eyes. You hadn't been doing the best, clearly, and you knew that it was largely because you missed him. Being away from someone you considered home for so long meant that you were bound to get homesick.

You didn't know what to do. There was so much work to be done, and you had just caught up. On top of that, you were short a few hundred dollars from the last time you tried to fly out.

Another message buzzed in from Hongjoong: I think you guys really need to talk.

The organ in your chest rattled around in its cage; it longed to be with its partner. You were starting to understand that now.

The song playing in your ear was slowly petering out, and all you could hear was his voice.

And I've kinda been wanting to ask if we can Skip the 'why’ and get to the 'our’ Because baby, I love your space But I love ours more.

Yunho had not flown home that week. Some emergencies had sprung up as soon as they landed in their new city, and all bets were off to be able to go home. All that he could do was buckle down and get comfortable. Even so, he knew how to make the best out of a situation.

As he stood at the very center of the main stage, he held a hand up to shield his eyes from the bright spotlights shining down on him now.

“Is that better?” Hongjoong's voice echoed throughout the near-empty stadium.

From one of the balconies, Jongho cupped his hands up around his mouth to scream at the top of his lungs, “LOOKS GOOD, HYUNG!”

“Jongho,” Yunho chuckled into his microphone, “did someone not get you a headset, bro?”

A beat passed, and then, “NO.”

Mildly amused laughter cropped up around the stadium in reaction to the youngest's troubles. It was little moments like these where Yunho could forget for one second just how tiring all of this amounted to become. His smile was genuine, and his tongue darted out to trace his teeth—

“Jeong Yunho, put your damn tongue away.”

Yunho's eyes went as wide as saucers, his expression morphing into something like childlike surprise as he immediately retracted his tongue into his mouth. But in the split second it took his brain to process the words that had been said, he also recognized the voice who'd said them. From the big screen, any one of the staff members or you could see the way his face stretched into the widest grin possible, his eyes lighting up like spotlights.

He lifted the mic in his hand up to his lips as he tilted his eyes up to the sound and lighting box far up in the stands. From where he was onstage, he could just make out the shape of you in the box next to Hongjoong—the sneaky bastard. “Ln Yn, get your ass down here right now,” he said, hardly able to contain the excitement in his voice.

You didn't need to be told twice.

You raced down the stadium steps from the box, your legs carrying you as fast as humanly possible without falling. Yunho leapt off the stage and left his microphone behind to meet you in the middle.

Somewhere between the pit and mezzanine, you flew into his arms and he caught you, spinning you around. The glee on both of your faces was enough to make everyone stop and appreciate the tangible love before them. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes and you pursed your lips to subdue them. You squeezed him as tight as you possibly could; his arms held you firmly around your waist, head tucked into the joint between your neck and shoulder.

“You're here,” he croaked with tears in his voice now. You heard him sniffle, and only held him tighter. He felt the added strength and let out a sob. “I missed you so much.”

Oh, for fuck's sake—you started bawling like a baby. “I—” you sucked in a breath, “—I heard—so I booked a flight—”

This only caused his body to tremble harder. “Oh god… Yn… I…”

You sniffled and brushed your hand over the back of his head in an attempt to get both of you to calm down. “Hey, don't worry about it, okay? It doesn't matter; you know I'd drop everything for you.” When his only response was to press his wet eyes against the heat of your neck, you blinked away your tears. “Plus, I missed you, too, rockstar.”

Yunho let out a watery laugh, gently setting you down onto solid ground. You both looked like a hot mess and a half: snot dripping out of your noses, eyes red and drowned in salty tears. The adrenaline rush from the surprise had trickled out of your system, but your heartbeat continued to rattle around in your chest with reckless abandon. His messy, damp hair; the wobbly shine in his dark brown irises; the way he smiled at you with that something on his face… he was everything to you.

“Glad to know the feeling's mutual,” he said, nudging you with his elbow, then pawing at his eyes to wipe the tears away.

“Good to see you, Yn!” San piped up from the stage with his microphone. He had picked up Yunho's microphone from where he'd abandoned it to come meet you.

You laughed, lifting a hand up in a wave. “Hey, San! Hi everyone!”

Chimes of greetings from all the other boys and staff members cropped up from all around the arena.

Yunho brushed a hand through his hair and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “Did all you fuckers know about this?”

Mingi was perched on the ledge of the stage. His grin seemed to be the widest after watching your reunion. He tugged the microphone attached to his earpiece closer to his mouth. “Don't tell us you're not grateful now.”

“Nah, I'm just surprised Wooyoung was able to keep his mouth shut.”

Wooyoung didn't need a microphone to let you all know of his offense. You could hear his squawk of disapproval all the way from where you stood—crazy how acoustics worked.

Yunho heard your laugh from beside him, and he glanced over at you to catch the fond look on your face. He hadn't stopped smiling for the past five minutes, and it didn't matter how much his cheeks hurt. You were here; that was all that mattered.

“This place is—” you marveled as the two of you began walking down the stairs together toward the stage. The backs of your hands brushed against one another, breaths away from touching, from lacing, from being together. “—huge. It's so much more—” You felt your lip wobble again, “I don't even know why I'm getting emotional. It's all you dreamed of as a kid, wasn't it?”

The tears pricked at the edges of his eyes again, and the two of you looked back at each other with equally wet eyes and bright smiles. “Yeah,” he nodded, swiping at his eyes.

“You deserve it.”

“All thanks to you,” he said with a sniffle, hugging you to him again. You were solid and real beneath his fingertips—he was so happy you were here. This was where you belonged; none of this felt right without you.

When you finally reached the bottom of the pit, Yunho had to run back up to the stage, and you went through the aisles until you found your perfect seat. It wasn't long before Mingi bounded up the steps to come join you. He brought you in for a long awaited hug of his own.

“What's good, Yn?” He asked with a soft chuckle as he pulled away and settled in the seat to your left.

Just ahead, Yunho appeared onstage with his microphone in hand, and the two of you lifted your hands in sync to wave to your best friend.

You adjusted your bag in your lap, and clasped a hand on Mingi's shoulder. “This is surreal. Does it feel surreal?”

Mingi's lips pulled into a smile as nostalgia made his vision cloudy. “It does, every single time. I'm glad you're finally here—we’re all very happy that you're here now.”

You bumped your head against his shoulder and let it rest there for a moment, and his hand came up to gently pat your head to tell you he understood. You didn't need to say anything.

For the next hour and a half, you and Mingi got to watch Yunho and everyone else run through the last of the day's lighting checks. Periodically, someone else from Yunho's personal team would come and sit with the two of you, then leave quickly when they had something else on their to-do list.

At last, when the session wrapped up and everyone was sent to go home for an early night, you rushed down to meet with Yunho again.

He waited for you to be at his side before leading you down toward backstage. “There's a couple things I need to grab in my dressing room before we can head back to the hotel.” A thought suddenly interrupted his thoughts and his eyes widened. “Do you have accommodations? Please tell me you do.”

“Don't worry—I promise I'm not sleeping on the streets,” you teased. You'd figured all of that out pretty last minute with Hongjoong and Mingi's help.

Yunho nodded, a smile coming to his face. “Okay, good. I was gonna offer my room and I could sleep on the pullout couch.”

The thought of sleeping in the same room as him made your skin warm, and if you hadn't realized your feelings for him before, you would be confused as to why you were so flustered at the thought now. It wouldn't be the first time you had a sleepover. But this would be… different. Oh lord.

The backstage hallways were scarce and dimly lit in order to save energy, but it was enough to guide you and Yunho's way to the star dressing room. You swallowed as you reached the door—the facade plastered with a pretty, gold star with his name on it—and followed him inside.

“Hey, Yun?” You asked him as you lingered by the door and he rushed around to grab his things. The room was decently spacious, and definitely larger than all the other ones from his past tours.

“Mhm?”

“Could we… talk about something?”

He glanced back over his shoulder as he threw things into his bag. “Yeah, ‘course.”

You toed at the polished ground, fingers twisting and wringing in front of you. “It’s about the song. The, uhm, the your space one.”

His movements paused. He looked up and connected gazes with you through the vanity mirror in front of him. Yunho cleared his throat and ducked his head to zip up his bag. “What—what about it?” He asked, shouldering his bag and meeting you back at the door.

He seemed unable to look you in the eyes directly now as he closed the door behind the both of you as you stepped out into the empty hallway.

“I just,” you stammered. Blood rushed up to your face and you could hear your heartbeat thundering in your ears. “I needed to know—I didn’t need to know—it’s your life and your song, and you have every right to have feelings for someone without me knowing. And I think I’m asking this for selfish reasons, but… are you seeing someone?”

The question caught him off guard, his eyes blowing wide open. “Wh—no. No, I am not seeing anyone. Why do you ask?”

“The song—I know I shouldn’t be indulging in what people on the internet say, much less in the opinions of those who don’t even know you, but I couldn’t help but agree with them when they say the lyrics, the—the feeling of the song—you’re in love, and I—” Your breath caught in your throat as you choked on the words lodged there: And I am in love with you.

Yunho pushed an exhale out of his mouth and stepped toward you. So much shone in his eyes right then, and it didn’t matter how much light there was in this damn hallway, his eyes would always glitter like twin diamonds. “I am in love with someone. Yn, I’m in love with you,” he said. “I thought that the song would make it obvious, which is why I was so scared for you to hear it, but I realize now that this was just something I should have said outright.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest and it wasn’t from the nerves anymore. God, your knees felt like buckling from the force of the tenderness in his eyes alone. “You’re—you’re in love with me?”

“I am,” he nodded. He slowly reached for your hands and clasped them within his own. “I’ve been in love with you since that day you ran out of Science Olympiad practice to come to my audition; I’ve been in love with you from the moment you yelled at me for not being ambidextrous and I had beef jerky in my mouth—”

“I did not yell at you!”

He broke out into a cheeky, yet fond grin, his hand coming up to cup the side of your face with his hand. “I’ve been in love with you for so long that I can’t imagine what life was like before I was in love with you—and yes, you did yell, but you can yell at me as much as you like, and I would still be head-over-heels for you.”

Your lip curled in on itself at all of his words, at everything he was revealing to you now. You wished you had known—oh, god, you wish you had known. You didn’t know if things would have been different, but for some reason, you had a feeling that all paths might have led here nonetheless.

You squeezed his hand between your own now. “You’re everything to me, Jeong Yunho,” you rasped out, unable to put strength behind your voice for fear of all of the emotion about to spill out. “And I’m so stupid for taking so long to figure it all out, but I’m in love with you, too, and I’d be damned if I let another day pass without you knowing that.”

Something washed over him in that moment, and he laughed, leaning over to cup the back of your neck and rest his forehead against your own. It was ridiculous, the fact that both of you were giggling and smiling at such a precipice of emotion, but it felt right.

You could feel the warmth of his breath against your lips as he murmured, “Fuck, I wanna kiss you so bad.”

“Then come kiss me, rockstar,” you said, looping your arms around his neck. You drew him down to your mouth and felt his body mold against your own. Every crevice and curve slotted so perfectly with one another, and the heavy longing in your chest slowly eased.

“You guys have been incredible for me tonight—” Yunho beamed as he walked toward the front, center stage and looped the electric guitar strap over his head to the sound of the roaring crowd, “—so I've got a little surprise for you.”

One of the staff members had set out a mic stand and bottle water for him, and he approached both items to fit the microphone into place. Tonight was the Friday night concert being held in this city, and the energy was dialed to one thousand in all the best ways.

He held onto the microphone with one hand. “This song is dedicated to—written for—my best friend in the world, the love of my life, my stargirl. I'm sure you know it—you crazies debuted it at number two on the charts—this is your space.”

His smile tugged up wider at the reaction he received. If anyone in the crowd didn't know the song, they were about to fall in love.

Yunho laughed, shaking his head, as he began checking to make sure his guitar was tuned with practiced, nimble fingers. “Oh, by the way—” he pointed up at the accessory he wore, the crocheted headband holding his hair up and out of his face, with a row of stars across its band, “—she made this for me. Isn't it cute?”

The stadium echoed in choruses of “aw” and cheers.

He could only duck his head with a smile, eyes twinkling with fondness and tenderness at the thought of you. You were in the crowd, but you could be up here with him in spirit. “Yeah, that was me, too.”

After you and Yunho left the stadium yesterday, hands intertwined and a new page in your relationship turned, you’d gone back to his hotel to share a restful evening in one another’s presences. You revealed later that night that you spent the four or five days you were bedridden practicing your crocheting skills until you were able to make him a headband. A row of three stars studded the length of it—stars for your rockstar.

Yunho struck his fingers down the strings of his guitar with a gentle rocking motion from his opposite hand to let the sound reverberate around the stadium. The crowd cried in love as his soulful, beautiful voice filled their ears with love of his own. And as his fans filed out of the stadium for the night and headed home, Yunho could finally return to his home. Because you were here now… no matter how far, no matter the distance, the two of you would always find a way to be in the other's space.

a/n: pls remember to reblog, comment, and send asks if you enjoyed!

atz m.list

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @outrologist @rikizm @tinkerbell460 @meosjinn @hyunjaespresent-deobi @stayarmytinyzenmoa-l @floatingpluto @gyulfriend @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @soonyoungblr @justanotherkpopstanlol @kangfication @pxppxrminty @fluorescentloves @haechansbbg @jaerisdiction @super-btstrash-posts @jundundun @http-gyu @mvvnsseul @mars101 @kflixnet

#kflixnet #ateez x reader #jeong yunho x reader #yunho x reader #ateez fluff #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez oneshot #ateez drabbles #yunho fluff #yunho oneshot #yunho scenarios #yunho drabble #yunho imagines #ateez fanfic

[cassolotl]

Results of the nonbinary name survey

Hi folks, just thought I'd throw together a quick report about nonbinary names based on the recent survey.

The survey ran from 4th until 13th May, and there were 5,179 usable responses. For this one I won't share the full spreadsheet of all responses, as it contains potentially identifying information. Having said that, you can find a spreadsheet of the information I can share with you here. Every name entered only once has been redacted.

Most popular names

Let's kick it off with the main reason I did this survey, finding the nonbinaryest name:

Alex was #1, with 1.6%, which is 1 in 62 nonbinary people.

Here's the full top 10:

Alex - 1.6% (83)

Jay - 1.2% (64)

Sam - 0.9% (49)

Charlie - 0.7% (36)

Max - 0.7% (36)

Ash - 0.6% (33)

Robin - 0.6% (33)

Rowan - 0.6% (31)

Kit - 0.6% (30)

Eli - 0.6% (29)

Name length

I'm familiar with the stereotype that nonbinary people choose names by taking 3 letters from a bag of Scrabble tiles, or that nonbinary people take letters off their given names until it's one ungenderable syllable, and I would like to take this opportunity to add that these are both excellent ways to create new names. :D

This graph takes a rolling median name length from the whole list, and it shows that generally speaking the most popular names tended to be shorter:

The average name length was 5.1 characters long.

This seems to support the stereotypes, but I feel it's worth mentioning that we can't know for sure whether it actually does, because for all we know, binary people's names might show these kinds of patterns too.

Number of names per person

Participants could enter as many names as they wanted, in a list separated by commas. That made it pretty easy to count them, and it turned out like this:

That's fairly straightforward, most people have only one name.

Problems with survey design

Overall I definitely feel that the survey had some flaws. I knew in advance that there would be some people who have more than one name that they like more or less equally, but for some reason the first question I came up with assumed that you have one name that you like most and then required a single answer from a list stating how that name happened to you - leading the respondent to a different section based on that answer.

What if you've got two or more names that you like equally, and one was given to you by your parents when you were born that you use for work, one is a nickname based on that name that evolved between you and your family and friends as you were growing up, and one is a name you chose yourself and your closest friends call you that? That's pretty much an impossible question, isn't it?

And there were several other questions in the survey that took that approach, making the data from those questions basically useless.

I didn't think it would cause problems for so many people, but it did, and I have learned my lesson there.

However, there was a question asking you to list all your names, and that's what I used to make the ranked list. I don't see how people with more than one name that they prefer completely equally (i.e. those people who would be thrown out of the survey by an impossible required first question) would prefer different names from people with one name only, so I think the ranked list is probably approximately okay, and same for the number of names per person graph and the average name length.

Implications

I haven't decided yet, but I definitely think there's scope for doing this survey annually - but separately from the identity/titles/pronouns survey, for anonymity reasons. It could be fun to track popular nonbinary names over time, similar to the popular name lists for babies that are usually split by boys'/girls' names. It might be a bit meaningless unless I collect country data as well though, which is why the list currently reads very....... American..........

Now that I've learned a lot from a big and not-so-well-designed survey run on my personal account, I'd feel more comfortable designing something a bit more fit for purpose, and running it from the @gendercensus accounts to hopefully get more participants.

~ Fin ~

#survey results #nonbinary #nonbinary names

[nardos-primetime]

Boy howdy okay *cracks knuckles* I'm gonna forewarn this with my takes on the turtles and Murder is not exactly the popular opinion so take it as you will.

First and foremost for any of the turtles to commit a PREMEDITATED murder (assuming we are talking strictly canon) the only one who would actually plan and go through with this is Leo. "What about Donnie?" No. He wouldn't. Leo on the other hand has shown the kind of rage he goes into not only when his family is in explicit danger but when he believes someone is specifically responsible for that. I don't think murder would be the first thing he jumps to, and it would take quite the scenario for it to wrap around to that (i.e. and enemy that keeps coming back and hurting them) but it's not off the table.

This makes him also number one to kill someone due to a fit of protective anger. So like, if you're gonna taunt a hamato while playing with their lives I wouldn't recommend doing so without knowing where Leo is.

And second is Raph, kind of a similar scenario, but I think Raph's would stem more from fear than direct anger. Frightened that if he doesn't do something, things will get worse, and in a fit of panicked rage well...

Third is Mikey, shocker. It would take a LOT to snap Mikey into a state where he's pissed off enough to actually kill someone but like, we DID see his reaction to his favorite pizza places getting torn down. I feel if at any point he concluded there was no longer a peaceful solution to a fight, he'd bring down the axe.

And my unpopular opinion is that Donnie is at the bottom of this list. MAINLY because he has so many other methods at his disposal to handle enemies. Knock them unconscious, leak all their nudes, dig up tons of blackmail, toss a bomb that makes them itch. Sure he also gets protective anger, but he almost never feels the need to resort to murder to solve a problem. And also, in some cases, he would just think death is a mercy. I truly don't think Donnie would kill someone with intent, but it could happen accidentally.

None of this counts kraang as people all these turtles will exploded these bitches on sight.

TW FOR MURDER, OBVIOUSLY LOL

I did tag for blood but idk

Some Doodles for fun, didn't really have ideas for the other two since I mainly wanted to respond to the concepts overall hehe.

Coming from an overall concept of Canon and it being premeditated and more of a separate kill, I agree that Leo is first in line for that shit. Though, I do feel like he'd have the most potential alongside Donnie to actually get away with it after the fact.

The difference with Donnie is exactly as you said. Donnie's petty. If he WERE to do something premeditated, he would absolutely go for other methods first, maybe even torture if we're hitting something similar to murder. Physical or Psychological. I feel like the difference with a more Canon approach of Donnie is that he would kill on accident. Whether it's going too far in a fight or his tech malfunctioning, I doubt he'd directly go into a fight with murder as the actual intent. Even if he did use other methods, I feel like the most likely case is him accidentally going too far. Especially since we know he has issues with that already.

Leo is one of the most directly dangerous. If he deemed it, you would be easy to get. We're talking about a fast runner with portals and two perfectly sharp swords. He's also good a good manipulator if he really wants to be. It's not hard to imagine him talking someone out of an area of protection if he can't be asked to use mystics that time.

Raph, I agree completely. It would be a mixture of anger and fear that pushes him to that point. He probably wouldn't tell the others. I can't see him planning something out prior and telling the others, I think he'd be afraid of judgment and maybe even fear from the others the most, even if he was doing it for their protection. I feel like overall, he leans the most between accidental and nonaccidental, I could definitely see both happening with him.

Mikey would totally be the most difficult to get to that point, and I agree that it would probably only be if he saw no other way out. But I also think Mikey would be the first to take this kind of position in a battle for some god forsaken reason. I feel like in the heat of the moment, his brothers would be too focused on protecting each other or getting out of there, I can totally see Mikey freezing realizing what has to be done before the others. Leo wouldn't kill anything mid battle on purpose, that's far too risky, Raph and Donnie as I've said prior are likely to have accidents in such a scenario, Mikey would be the only one I can see putting his foot down intentionally in a battle for some reason. Even if his view of the situation is incorrect. Which ironically means he would probably be the most likely one to get caught. (If he didn't crumble under guilt later.)

I feel like in terms of getting caught with the others, Raph would crumble under the guilt as well, likely being the second from Mikey to get caught. Third would be Donnie, as much as he might be able to clean up after himself at first, but without any support in his endeavors and the fact they almost all may be accidents, I think he'd get cocky.

Leo would potentially get lazy, too. Or maybe stop caring when under the context of the others already getting caught. Hell, Leo's extremely adrenaline junky coded imo. Maybe a few of his kills became less reasonable and more him shoving excuses in after getting too comfortable. But by the point the others are all taken in, assuming they can't get out, Leo would probably have one last hoorah in a feeble attempt to break them out. If he ends up doing it, he'd look like a monster but have his brothers back. If he doesn't... well with their luck, they'll at least get cells kind of near each other.

Of course, there are multiple ways to read into things. This is obviously leaning in on a more Canon approach. If we were involving a few more headcanons from me, Donnie would definitely go up to number 2 in danger on the list, lol /hj

#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #rise leo #rottmnt leo #rise donnie #rottmnt donnie #rise mikey #rottmnt mikey #rise raph #rottmnt raph #rottmnt headcanons #tw blood #cw blood #writings

[navree]

Thouggts on alys? And alysmond

Oh God do I have thoughts on Alys and Alysmond, anon, you have no idea. Alys is likely going to become my second favorite character in the entire show the second she shows up (provided they don't screw her up) because I literally just love her so very much. And Alysmond is literally peak for me, they're my number one ship on this show.

I think Alys is a very interesting character. There's a lot about her that's shrouded in mystery in Fire&Blood, because she's not a Targaryen and she was only involved with the Targaryens for a very brief period of time, but even the stuff we do know lends itself towards a fascinating character. Alys as a character is a type of person we don't see a lot in stories in Westeros, particularly when it comes to points of view. She's a bastard, but unlike our other fave bastard, Mister Jon Snow, she's not treated nearly as well (not to say that Jon didn't suffer at Winterfell, he clearly did due to his bastard status and also the way Catelyn treated him). For one, she's a woman, which in general is cause for concern when living in Westeros, and for two, Lyonel treats her far worse than Ned treated Jon. Ned made Jon a part of his family, did treat him as his son, raised him as a brother to his trueborn children, and while he didn't do much when it came to Catelyn's shit of "oh he can't sit with us on Such and Such occasion because he's too bastardly" and "oh yeah no once you leave I'm gonna kick him out of the house at the ripe old age of fourteen unless he decides to join the cult border patrol that tells him to never have a family or a wife or kids and also has to fight ice zombies" he does still love Jon and care for him and look out for his emotional and physical wellbeing as best as he can. None of that seems to be present for Alys and Lyonel, by all counts he looked at his own daughter and made her a freaking servant! Sir that is your child! So Alys comes from this place of living amongst the privileged but being disprivileged in so many different ways, due to her birth status and her gender and her class, to say nothing of being an apparent old gods worshipper in a location of Westeros that was pretty firmly vested in the Seven.

I think Alys was very molded by her circumstances, that she's not just crafty and fiercely intelligent but also incredibly observant, that having been someone who would likely be in the "should be seen but not heard and even then barely seen" category of life, knows what to look for and how to use the information she can process to her advantage. I also think that Alys is a very neutral person, personality wise, very even keeled, given that we see her being the level head in several situations, like stopping Aemond from killing that messenger. Alys is gonna live her life to the best of her abilities and not feel too much about things, because having strong emotions about nonsense isn't really useful for surviving in the real world and as such doesn't serve. But she's still got her moments of softness. For one, we know that she had children prior to her son with Aemond, and also that all of them were stillborn, so that speaks to some intimacy with someone at some point, and, given that she's a "woods witch" and that people do have access to shit like moon tea in this world, a desire to at least have a family rather than just be firm on contraception. I also have a theory that she and Larys were actually close when they were younger (since I think she's around the same age as Harwin and Larys), due to their respective disadvantages drawing them close, the servant bastard daughter and the clubfooted second son. I like the idea of them hanging around in the forests around Harrenhal, Larys looking for special bugs and Alys wanting to gather fun herbs that she'd heard about to see what they do. I think that they're actually close, and that Larys probably does consider her the person he's closest to emotionally (my own pet theory is that he sent a warning to her about the fire at Harrenhal so that she'd be able to survive, and knowing she wouldn't stop it due to likely not having any sort of relationship with Harwin and her antipathy towards Lyonel and the way he treated her in childhood). I also do want to remark on just how smart Alys must be, to have survived in such a dangerous world for as long as she did, and to thrive. I picture her as someone who is oddly charismatic, charismatic enough to win over the people at Harrenhal in the absence of their actual liege, and keep herself alive. Harrenhal was taken by the Blacks first, and Daemon is not a very patient or understanding person, not to mention something of a raging misogynist, so it's entirely possible that the situation could have gone badly for her if she hadn't played it really well, which she clearly did, since Daemon let her live. She's smart and resourceful but also true to herself to the utmost degree, doesn't hide her magic or her old gods worship (which she likely took some sort of comfort in during her early years) and has made herself a survivor without losing any of her humanity in the process. She's so rich and layered, she has the potential to be the best character in the entire GOT/HOTD TV franchise.

As for Alysmond.........oh baby. It makes me fucking nuts. Even the way it starts off is so feral, given that Aemond basically wiped House Strong out in a single day and for some reason, the only person he didn't kill was Alys. We have absolutely zero clue why he did this; did she just not show him any fear? Did she appear apathetic enough about the deaths of the other Strongs that he thought it was interesting? Was there just something about her? Who knows, but from minute one there was something about Alys that jumped out to Aemond, and like vice versa. Again, Daemon took Harrenhal first, spent time there, and as Lyonel's only child in the castle, Alys would have likely engaged with him. But there's no record of them having an affair, and it's not because Daemon's a faithful family man who'd never dream of cheating on Rhaenyra; Alys is likely the one who just was not interested. But something about Alys and Aemond drew them to each other, and there's so much space to think about why. Aemond's had a much easier life than Alys, but that doesn't necessarily make it an easy life in and of itself, he's had to deal with the bullying and the being attacked and maimed and all the trials that came with his physical disability after losing an eye, to say nothing of the emotional issues he's had already that have only gotten worse by the time he's at Harrenhal (remember, his time at Harrenhal comes after Blood and Cheese happen as revenge for his "murder" of Lucerys and after Aegon names him regent after saving him at Rook's Rest, Aemond's got so much guilt and fear and self loathing and family issues wrapped up in him by the time he gets to Harrenhal it's a wonder he didn't explode). Having both had childhoods feeling disconnected from their families, albeit in a different ways, is a connection that they actually share, feeling like you're living on the margins of your society due to things outside your control is a connection that they share, even just feeling like they don't fit in and that they're wrong somehow is something they share, though Alys probably got over that a while ago while Aemond is still young and angsty. I also see Aemond as someone who's felt that he has to work for love, that it's conditional (I blame Viserys) and who feels that if he's not perfect, the people he cares about most, like his mother and his siblings, are going to stop loving him, and he's never had a relationship where he feels he can be himself with no reservations and whatever softness the other person is feeling won't go away. His relationship with Alys, even before it got physical/romantic, is likely the first time in his life where he's feeling like he doesn't need to strive for someone's love or affection. For Alys, Aemond's likely the first person who actually sees her as someone entirely herself. We know from Jon's ASOIAF chapters that part of the issue with a bastard growing up in the lord father's castle is that everyone they know sees them as "Lord X's bastard" first and foremost, even members of their family (like the way narration about Jon from other Stark kids have them refer to him as "bastard brother" even if they have a good relationship, like Arya or Bran). Everyone around Harrenhal, for her entire life, views Alys through the lens of "Lyonel's bastard daughter" and "Larys's bastard sister", and Aemond is probably the first person who doesn't, who just sees Alys Rivers as Alys Rivers, and even if she's less emotionally fragile that Aemond just through age and experience, that's still profound. I also like that there's a lot of room to play with how they went from just cohabitating Harrenhal to being out and out lovers. Aemond could tell her the truth about Luke, Alys could use some of her woods witch knowledge to help him with some chronic pain with his eye, there can be a moment where Vhagar lets Alys touch her in a sort of "Meemaw approves" thing. The possibilities to build up to them as a couple are endless and also extremely compelling. And romantic.

And once they become a couple, it's romantic as all Hell. For one, even with some of the power dynamics involved (Alys is technically a prisoner of war), it's still a pretty equal relationship. They listen to each other and their counsel, given that Aemond is willing to stay his hand when Alys stops him from killing that messenger, and that this does seem to be a relationship where they were both clearly enthusiastic and also able to trust each other, like Alys not being worried once Sabitha Frey takes her hostage after Aemond leaves. And the canon stuff is just...Aemond being so into Alys everyone can tell, being so besotted that he can't bear the thought of leaving her, having left Harrenhal and then doubling back, into enemy territory, to set an entire castle on fire just so that he can save her and get her back. The way that after that, he literally refuses to part with her, and they stay together until God's Eye, until the literal end, and the horrible doomed tragedy of the fact that they both likely knew that God's Eye was It, given that Alys has her old gods magic that helps her see the future and Ewan said that thing about Aemond having some sense of when and how and where he's gonna die, ugh the Tragical Romance. And I know there are people who are like "Aemond just dicking around Harrenhal and get a girlfriend while his family's in trouble makes no sense for his character" but like here's the thing. For one, he's not dicking around, he and Criston are in the Riverlands for a reason and they're doing shit, not to mention this happens pretty late in the game. For two, he can't go back and just retake King's Landing. Beyond the logistical nightmare, he needs to worry about his family. No one knows where Aegon even is, and most importantly, Rhaenyra does have hostages in King's Landing, Aemond's mother and Aemond's sister, that she can absolutely kill if Aemond's attempt to retake King's Landing isn't one hundred percent perfect on the first try. So him staying at Harrenhal and doing what he needs to do for the war out in the field is in fact in character, and if he happens to fall hopelessly and desperately and utterly in love with the hot goth witch in the meantime, that's just one of the perks. And it is love, I wholeheartedly believe they're in love. It's the coming back to Harrenhal that clinches it, if Aemond didn't really care, he wouldn't have done such a fast U-turn on Vhagar and gotten so vicious, but that's exactly what he did because maybe he can't save his family but he can save Alys, save their unborn child, allow himself to be well and truly happy for a little while longer. And if Alys didn't care, then she wouldn't have gone with him afterwards. She wouldn't have left Harrenhal with him, or stayed with him through their journey, or told him where to find Daemon, or even stayed to watch him die. Plus, I mean, the last thing Aemond ever does with two feet on solid Earth is kiss Alys goodbye, most romantic shit I've ever seen.

Her dragon. His lady. His Alys.

TL;DR I think Alys is going to be a top three character for me when she appears cuz she's already a top ten character for me in Fire&Blood, and Alysmond's relationship is literally so important to me it's the epitome to true love on this show no one else is even going to touch it.

#personal #answered #anonymous #alys rivers #alysmond #(also re: the jon stuff i'm not anti catelyn) #(well i kinda am but that's more that her personality rubs me the wrong way so much of the time even tho i really enjoy her chapters) #(but even beyond that i do think it's fair to point out that she treated jon badly) #(she had her reasons for it and they're understandable and sympathetic but she still did it) #anyway anon i could kiss you on the mouth i ADORE alys #and i adore her relationship with aemond so much it's literally my fave hotd ship #it's my third favorite f&b ship in general cuz first and second place go to the conquerors #and yes she does refer to him as a dragon and of course #aemond does out loud say 'my lady my alys' in front of like god and everyone #those are basically his last words

[juancarlos-ortiz]

Marked for Carnage - Chapter 3 (Juice Ortiz x OC Fic)

Marked for Carnage Masterlist

A/N: First and foremost this is 18+ minors DNI. Getting out chapter 3 as quickly as I can! This is a bit of a filler chapter and I apologise at how little Juice x Ronnie scenes I've been writing. This is for sure a slow burn and I want to really establish Ronnie as a character and her history with this world. I've got plans on how I'm going to get her and Juice closer and interacting more but it's taking longer than I anticipated so sorry for that but I promise (and hope) that it will be worth it. Enjoy!

Word Count: 2971 words

Ronnie smiled as she watched her niece and nephew take off towards the carnival rides. She had the day off and had called Donna, asking if she wanted to take the kids out to Fun Town. Donna had been unconvinced at first but Ronnie had talked her into it. Their family had been going through some tough times - the kids could use some fun. Donna needed to get out of the house too. The kids spotted the Cha Cha ride, waving their mom and aunt over. "Mom! Mom can we pleeeeaaaaassseee go on this one?" Kenny asked, clasping his hands under his chin. Donna ran her hand over her sons hair. "We can only do one ride and a snack so, you guys better choose carefully," she replied. The kids looked at each other, weighing up their moms words.

"Here," Ronnie dug into the back pocket of her jeans, pulling out a $20 note. She handed it to Ellie. "Go nuts." The kids smiled at each other and took off towards the token booth. Donna shook her head, crossing her arms. "What?" Ronnie asked. "You can't win them over with money," Donna sniffed. Ronnie huffed, shrugging in frustration. "I just want the kids to have a fun day. I don't mind helping out with that." Donna looked her up and down. "Really Donna?" she probed. "I'm not like that. It's $20, I'm not buying them a car." Donna sighed. "Seriously," Ronnie continued. "I don't care about helping out, especially for the kids." Donna narrowed her eyes. "Did Opie say something to you?"

Ronnie shook her head, pushing her hands into her back pockets. "Not exactly," she shrugged. "Piney.." Donna said exasperatedly. "He's just worried about you guys," Ronnie explained. "We don't need hand outs," Donna snapped. Ronnie raised an eyebrow, frowning. "Jesus Christ Donna, it was $20! For the kids to have fun! I can't do this right now." She walked away from her sister-in-law before she said or did something she would regret. Walking towards sideshow alley, eyeing out the games that were set up, she stopped when she spotted a familiar mohawk and tattooed head. Strolling up next to Juice where he stood at the shooting gallery she lightly bumped her hip against his. "Hey Juice," she smiled at him.

Juice grinned as Ronnie looked up at him. "Hey Ronnie," he smirked. He ran his eyes over her, appreciating her tight jeans hugging her ample hips. The black tank top she wore clung to her generous chest and showed off the ink on her arm. It was almost like a patchwork of different designs starting from her shoulder and finishing with an old school rose on the back of her hand. He had seen plenty of chicks with ink around the clubhouse but hers was different. And to think that she worked in a hospital. She just continued to pique his interest. "If you're finished cataloguing me," she interrupted his thoughts. "I didn't give you my number for no reason ya know," she crossed her arms under her boobs, making them push up towards him almost invitingly.

"Yeah I know," he scratched the back of his head, working overtime in an effort to not look down. "Been a little busy with the club. Sorry." Ronnie shrugged. "All good. I know what it's like." Juice cocked his head. "Oh yeah?" he asked. She just smiled and shrugged again. He turned to face her fully and, boldly, pushed the piece of hair framing her face behind her ear. He grinned as he watched her swallow, her face beginning to blush. "Don’t worry cutie, I'll be using it," he imparted. She rolled her eyes and pushed him back gently. "Cutie, huh?" she teased. He stood his ground. "What? Would you rather beautiful? Gorgeous? I can work with any of those," he retorted.

"Alright then, smooth," she laughed. "Why don’t you come by the clubhouse sometime? Next time we have a party. We can hangout," he asked. Ronnie nodded slowly, her mind working a mile a minute. She was still reeling from his flirting and now was trying to workout how to navigate his request. He had to know at some point that Opie was her brother and Piney was her father. She was afraid that it would make him run but… if this was just some fun, then maybe he wouldn't be phased. "Yeah for sure, that would be fun. But there's something you should know," she said. He smiled and narrowed his eyes. "Yeah? Like what?" "My.. My bro-" she was cut off when his phone began to ring. "Shit, sorry, one sec." He answered the phone and paced away before she could hear anything. Ending the call he walked back to her, placing a hand on her arm, sending goosebumps over her skin despite the humid weather. "I'm real sorry I gotta go, club stuff. I'll call you!" he began to walk away. "Yeah ok, cool." He turned around, walking backwards as he watched her. "See ya soon… beautiful." He winked and turned around, taking off in a jog. "Yep," Ronnie whispered to herself, her heart thundering. "See ya soon."

"What was that?" Donna asked from behind Ronnie, making her jump. "Jesus Christ," she muttered. "What was what?" Ronnie asked. "Getting in real close with the club, huh?" Donna motioned towards the direction that Juice had left. Ronnie rolled her eyes. "I'm already kind of as close to the club as I could be, don’t ya think?" she noted. Donna didn’t say anything.. "You really gonna give me shit for this?" Ronnie asked. "Didn't you leave Charming because of some dangerous guy?" Donna asked, almost scoffing. Ronnie laughed in irritation. "What the hell is your problem, Donna?" she murmured, stepping closer to her sister-in-law, her blood beginning to boil. "I don't know what Opie has said to make you dislike me so much but I'm trying here ok. You don't know shit about why I left Charming. And you sure as hell can't talk about getting "in close" with the club when you married into it yourself," she stepped into Donna's space, keeping her voice low but ensuring Donna knew just how much she had pissed her off.

"You gonna snitch on me Donna?" she asked, seething. "Gonna run back to Ope and try to get me in some sort of trouble because I was talking to somebody?" Donna swallowed, trying to keep her composure. Ronnie knew she could be intimidating. She had learned from the best. Afterall, Piney and Gemma had been the ones to raise her. She didn’t like to be like that, but Donna had been on her ass since she had arrived in Charming and she had had enough. "I'm trying to make a life for myself here. Connect with family. Make friends. So if you breath a word of this to my brother or my father, you'll find out just how close to the club I can be."

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The next day, Juice sat at the corner table in the clubhouse, drumming his fingers against the base of his laptop. He was supposed to be searching the San Joaquin database for Clay in search of any Aryan sex offenders, but all he could think about was Ronnie. The more interactions he had with her, the more he wanted her. She was beautiful yes, and didn't shy away from his flirting, but he wanted more. Wanted to know what she felt like pressed up against him, how her lush, soft skin would feel as his hands explored, how her full lips would feel slanted over his. And what surprised him the most was that he wanted to actually talk to her. Wanted to know more about her, what made her laugh, what made her cry. What made her, her. He hadn’t felt like that about a girl in… well forever. Since he had joined the club, club shit had always come first, and women were an afterthought. A warm, wet place for him to slip into at the end of the night. Feelings got in the way. And back in high school in Queens well, girls hardly looked at him let alone gave him the time of day.

But despite how drawn he was to Ronnie, he could tell she was hiding something. He had seen how close she was to Gemma. They had embraced like family. And sure he could write that off as just a Charming connection. Lots of people knew the Teller's. Didn't mean she was involved in the club. She seemed close to enough to his age, so maybe she had gone to school with Jax. Maybe her and Jax had a history. But then he had run into her at the clubhouse. Late at night. She had told him she had been dropping someone off, and the only person there that night was Piney. So she must have a connection to him as well. But what was it? He pulled his phone out of his cut. He had her number. It wouldn’t be hard to use it to get her name. And if he had her name well then… then he could do some real digging. But something uneasy settled in his stomach. It felt… wrong. He felt as though that would be invading her privacy - even though he did it everyday for the club. He supposed she would tell him if she wanted to. Putting his phone back in his pocket, he returned to his search.

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Ronnie stood at the nurses station, filling out paperwork. There had been a misprint on a time of death for one of the bodies in the morgue which meant she had to chase the ward doctors and kill more trees with the paperwork she had to reprint. Shuffling her documents she handed them over the nurse as someone stepped up to the desk beside her. "Can you pass these onto Doctor Reeves please. He just needs to resign the bottom." "Veronica?" the person beside her called. She turned to find Tara Knowles next to her. "Tara? Hey, wow," she and Tara embraced quickly. "I had no idea you were back in Charming," she said. Tara laughed and motioned toward Ronnie. "I could say the same about you." Ronnie smiled. "Yeah well, Piney was feeling sentimental after Ope got out. Managed to convince me to move back. What about you? I didn't think Charming would get to see you again." Tara smiled flatly and shrugged. "Got a good job offer," she said, not elaborating further. Ronnie frowned. Tara had been like an older sister at times to Ronnie in high school when she was with Jax. She spent time at her and Opies place when he and Jax would hang out and she would always spend some time with Ronnie, knowing how much she wanted to be included. Ronnie felt like there was more to Tara's story than she was letting on but she didn’t push.

"Fair enough. Does Jax know you're back?" Ronnie questioned. "Yeah," Tara said. "Not sure if you know, but his son is in the NICU. I operated on him." Ronnie's mouth opened in surprise. Before she could reply Gemma walked into the room, smiling when she spotted Ronnie. "Hey Ron," she kissed her on the cheek. "Hey Gem," Ronnie replied. "Wendy's out of detox," Tara said to Gemma. "Thought you'd want to know. Just in case you wanted to bring her flowers or something." Gemma looked Tara up and down before turning on her heel and walking down the hallway. "What was that about?" Ronnie asked. "I forgot how much you were always in Gemma's pocket," Tara said, turning to face her. "Seems like not much has changed." Ronnie raised an eyebrow at Tara's sudden coldness. "Excuse me?" she asked. "I'd just be careful with who you get close to again, now that you're back," Tara said before she stalked off. "What is everyone's problem?" Ronnie muttered to herself before heading back to the morgue.

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The next morning, Ronnie stepped out of her front door, heading to her car to drive to work. She slowed her steps when she spotted Opie sitting on his bike next to her car. She eyed the cut he was wearing. She hadn’t seen it on him since she had been back, knowing that he had told Donna he was earning straight and distancing them from the club. "Hey Harry," she tormented him. "Don’t call me that," he said, not an ounce of humour in his voice. "Oh god not you too," she sighed. "Heard you got up in Donna's face the other day," Opie said. Ronnie huffed and smiled coldly. "You gotta be kiddin' me," she murmured. "She's been riding my ass the minute I showed up here Ope. What did you say to make her hate me so much?" Opie shook his head. "We don’t need any charity," Opie stated. "And I don't need you getting involved with the club. Making shit messy." Ronnie folded her arms, eyebrows raising in disbelief. "I don't believe it," she muttered. "What did she tell you?" "That dad told you we're having money issues, and you came along, handing money out to the kids like some kind of walking ATM. What do you think that makes us look like to Ellie and Kenny?" he barked.

"It was $20! We were at a carnival, Opie! I don’t think the kids gave a shit about anything except having fun." Ronnie's patience was wearing thin. She felt like she was being attacked from all angles this past week. "And what's this shit about being involved with the club? I kind of don’t have a choice about that, if you haven't noticed," she motioned between the two of them. "I'm not talking about me and dad," he explained. "I saw you talking to one of the guys at the garage. Donna said she saw you with him at Fun Town too." "What?" she hesitated. "Juice?" Opie's eyes flashed when she said his name. "The last time I checked, talking to someone wasn't a crime," she said. "Talking can lead to other shit. You get involved with a guy in the club, you make shit awkward for me and Pops when it all blows up in your face like it always does," he threw his cigarette to the ground, stomping it out before he swung his leg over his bike and put his helmet on. "You are unbelievable," she spat. "If you even think about going to Juice, sporting some scary big brother act, I will make you regret it. I'm 28, Opie. You can't tell me who to hang out with anymore," she slammed her car door. Huffing, she turned the keys and wound her window down. "By the way, does Donna know you're wearing that cut?" she asked. Opie said nothing. Just turned on his bike and pulled away.

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Ronnie was fuming. If it wasn't for Piney she would have packed her shit and been out of Charming before noon. But she couldn’t leave her dad. They had been getting so much closer, and she fretted about how much time she had left with him. So, she turned the radio up and began her drive to work. When she hit the main drag she smiled when she spotted a familiar face, before descending into laughter at the state of him. Juice was ambling along the sidewalk, wearing only his boots and an adult sized diaper. Ronnie pulled up long the curb and wolf whistled out the window at him. "Well, well, well, isn’t this a treat," she laughed. Juice turned, smiling when his eyes landed on her. He stood there awkwardly, but she could tell he was trying to play it cool. Ronnie couldn’t help letting her eyes raked over the exposed skin of his torso and arms. He fairly well toned, and was a site for sore eyes after her shitty run in with Opie. "See something you like, Ronnie?" he asked, placing his hand on his hip. She laughed, and motioned her head towards the passenger door. "You need a ride?" she asked. He nodded and got in the car. "Where you headed?" she asked. "Just the clubhouse," Juice replied, running his hands over the blood on his chest.

"What happened there?" Veronica questioned. Juice smiled sheepishly. "Staples," he said. "Friendly fire, huh?" Ronnie laughed. Juice joined in, rubbing a hand along his jaw. "Something like that. So, you a doctor at St Thomas?" he asked, pointing at her scrubs. "I've never seen anyone wear black ones before. Only blue and the nurses wear them colourful ones," he said curiously. "I'm an assistant medical examiner," she explained. "So… a doctor?" Juice mused. "Not really… I'm kind of like an assistant coroner. I didn't do the full ride at college so I work as an assistant rather than an actual ME," Ronnie revealed as she pulled into the TM lot. "So you like, pickup dead bodies and stuff?" "Yeah," she shrugged. "Collect them, and help autopsy them. Determine cause of death and stuff like that for the courts." "Cool," Juice said as he opened his car door. Ronnie shrugged. "Sometimes, but for the most part its kind of… sad. And a lot of paperwork." Juice frowned at her admission. Trying to divert the mood, he closed his door and leaned into the open window. "I'll call you tonight?" Ronnie smiled, nodding. "That would be nice. See you later, Juice." He waved. "Bye Ronnie." Ronnie watched him walk towards the clubhouse before turning to where she knew her brother was sitting and had been watching them. She raised a hand, wiggling her fingers in a sarcastic wave before she reversed and pulled out of the lot. Like hell she would let Opie get in the way of her fun.

#juan carlos juice ortiz #juan carlos ortiz #juice ortiz #juice ortiz fanfic #juice ortiz fanfiction #juice ortiz fic #juice ortiz x oc #juice soa #soa #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy fic #sons of anarchy fanfiction #soa fandom #soa fanfiction

[aliypop]

Anyway You Do Part 2

Word Count: 2,860

Writers Note: Here's part 2, I'm excited to write this now twister of a story

Warning: A bit of angst

Pairing: OC x Elvis

Plot: What happens when love, at first sight, becomes fate.

Taglist:

@darkmoviesquotespizza

@sissylittlefeather

Tennessee July 3rd, 1956

"I can't believe you would do this after everything I've done for you..." 

"It's not that bad, Mother..." 

"My boy... this could be career suicide..." Tom grumbled,

"What are we gonna say." 

"How am I gonna cover this up, my boy."

"Any way you do..." Elvis shrugged. Tom was nearly devastated, sitting in his office looking at Elvis like a parent would, "You are already in trouble for dancing like a colored man... now this!" he slammed the newspaper on the table, "Lightin' up, Colonel. It was just some fun."

"We were just gettin our kicks,"

"Some kicks... Cecelia..." Denise grumbled, "Cecelia Shanel Valmos! Just on the other side of us in Alabama, there's the bus protest where we're getting beaten and slandered for having our skin color," 

"It's not that serious..." she rolled her eyes.

"You could lose fans over this, Elvis."

"Already lost 'em with that damn hound dog trick Colonel," he said, pushing his hair back. 

"Mama..." Her mother glared at her, "Mother, he's kind and sweet. He's crossing barriers. Maybe I could too." Cecelia said as she looked love sick, her mother and manager hating it, 

"The only barriers you could cross is in music."

"Maybe that's what I wanna do." she mumbled, "And besides, why not Chuck Berry or Little Richard." her mother kept listing artists. 

"Mama Little Richard ain't exactly uh... well..a lady's man." she hinted as her mother rolled her eyes, "And besides, El is good people. We're neck and neck on the charts." she smiled, 

"Yeah, neck and neck on the charts with a colored woman who pretends to be you," Tom mentioned as Elvis groaned, 

"She ain't pretending to be me. If anything, she's better than me." 

"How's that, my boy..."

"Well, she's got stage presence. It's like she commands the crowd, and they listen." 

"They do the same to you." Tom rolled his eyes, looking at contracts.

"Yeah, but when she does it... it's I can't explain it..." he sighed. He was lovesick. And he had it so bad it was like a fevering cold. 

"She's..."

"Brave, mother, I mean, he goes up there coat tails looks like a butler still manages to look handsome and... Mornin Midge." 

"Morning Cece, talking about Mr. Presley again."

"When is she not." Denise sighed, "You've got some memos and calls, Mrs. Valmos." she said, 

"From who?"

"Frank Sinatra, Ella, Sammy, Dean, Sam," Midge sipped her coffee, "And Elvis A Presley." she smiled as Denise took the card, 

"Oh no, this is for Ms. Valmos..." 

"For me..." Midge gave her a nod, 

"Tell him I'll call him back."

"Tell him to stop calling the studio so damn much..." Denise rolled her eyes. 

"I'll handle it..." Midge smirked, 

Cecelia dialed the number on the card. She could hear the phone ring as a lump in her throat appeared, Cececlia had never been scared to have someone answer the phone, but this time was different. 

"Hello, Elvis, darlin!" 

"Who is this..."

"Cecelia Valmos and you..." 

"Mrs. Gladys Presely, his mother." she glared at her son, who was in the kitchen eating a quick lunch, covering the bottom half of the phone. She took a deep breath, "Elvis Aaron Presley...How many times have I told you stop givin' those wayward girls the family phone number?"

"Mama, I-I..."

"There's one on the phone now. The name is Cecelia Valmos, which can't be right cause the only Valmos I know is the jazz singer an-" Elvis took the phone from his mother as he cleared his throat from embarrassment. 

"I-I uh uhm Cece, Hi!, Hey..." he tried to play it cool as she laughed,

"Hey El, I was, uhm, returning your call. My manager, Uh, well, she hung up on you." Cecelia laughed as she leaned against the wall of the studio. 

"Figures... Hey, look, you doing anything tomorrow night," 

"I can't. I'm flying back to New York."

"O-oh... I see." he had a tone of despair in his voice. He had hoped she wasn't moving back because of anything he had done. 

"Why, what's wrong..." 

"Nothing." 

"El...EP... Mr. Pretty Blue eyes, tell me." she said as he blushed, "Nothing Cece... uh, enjoy New York an bring me back one of them big hot dogs." he laughed. "Thanks..." she sighed. Something had to be wrong, but what was it. 

"You look sad, Booby.." Gladys sighed, 

"I'm fine, mama..."  

"Looks like it's about a girl..." Vernon smirked,

"It seems like it always is with you." 

July 4th Russword Park 1956 Memphis Tennessee / Ed Sullivan Show NBC New Yor City

The plane ride to New York was relaxing, but all she could think of was why in the world did Elvis sound so upset. Did she say something wrong, or did her mother say something, "Midge..." Cecelia called out as she looked at the dresses picked out for her to wear. They were all more modest and hardly even danceable. "What's wrong, Cece." 

"It's about El..." she sighed, dressed in the bright yellow detachable cumberbund skirt dress. "Oh, tonights the Russwood Park Concert." Cecelia looked at her, confused,

 "It's the biggest event in anyone's career," Midge smirked, 

"Can we still get back in time before he performs..." 

"I can arrange something." After Cecelia performed, she sat in front of Ed Sullivan, in front of an America that didn't resemble her. But here she was on her best behavior. 

"Lovely to have the daughter of the Legendary Valmos with us tonight. Tell us how you keep your nails so pretty while playing the guitar." 

"A guitar pick and practice." she smiled.

"And those moves, Now I remember seeing you on another show dancing like a... ah, what's his name, the Elvis fellow." she sighed, knowing what question was coming next, "How's it feel to be compared to him as the lady Elvis... or are you perhaps his lady..." she was asked as she was about to open her mouth Cecelia was spoken overtop of, "I'm joking a girl like you might not even be his type." he laughed as she laughed along, 

"Actually, he and I are great friends..." she smiled. 

Thousands of screaming fans flooded the park as the cop cars and escorts drove into Russwood Park. Elvis was trembling like a leaf, with one person on his mind, and she wasn't there. He'd thought about what she'd say or a little joke she'd tell him, but it wasn't the same without her there. 

"What are you gonna sing, my boy." 

"I'll know it when I feel it." was all he had to say. He was all dressed in black. And he was ready to make a statement. Elvis wanted to be taken seriously, sure he was a singer. He was young. Elvis also wasn't a fool, and Elvis wasn't going to change for some lousy tv people from New York City. He wasn't fit for the good boy image, not that he wasn't a good boy, but Elvis wasn't what they were looking for. He was a Tupelo, Mississippi boy with a God-given talent. And if anyone was looking for trouble, they came to the right place. 

"Midge, can you drive any faster!" Cecelia shouted, the two nearly racing down the street in Midge's Chevrolet Bel Air, "And get a ticket and end up in jail and dead, fuck no!" she sighed, putting the pedal to the metal. Bobbing and weaving through traffic, 

"You're gonna do great out there, Booby..." Gladys smiled, kissing his cheek, 

"Just don't go wigglin a pinky, son," Vernon laughed. Both Gladys and Elvis shook their heads.

"Come on, come on, come on..." Cecelia sighed, the lines were atrocious, and the security was multiplied by 10. getting an idea, Midge looked at Cecelia and groaned, "You're not ripping that dress... It's custom-made Dior." 

"Don't care..." Detaching her skirt, Cecelia took off her shoes as she began to climb the hot metal gate hoping security wouldn't notice her. 

"Hey, you in the yellow..."

"Shit..."

"Me..." she pointed to herself.

"Yeah, you..." the guard pointed to her. Cecelia was at the top of the gate, the height from where she was, was a tad too high, but it was either she jumped or missed the performance in total.

 "Ain't you that jazz singin' colored woman's kid."

"Yeah, I am..."

"Then get yer ass down here..." Cecelia gulped and jumped. Breaking yet another pair of heels. Now she had to find a way to get close to the stage, There was a straight line in the middle, but it was also the color barrier, and she couldn't risk breaking it. Or maybe she could, maybe she would.  

Midge grumbled, looking through the gate. She could see Cecelia preparing to make a run for it via the segregation rope, and God did she hope Cecelia was going to do what she had in mind that she might actually do.  

"Godspeed, Cece..." 

"Those city folks ain't gonna change me none!" the music began to start, and so did her feet, "Oh, her mothers gonna kill me..." there she was on the wrong side of the tracks running as if her life depended on it. But at the same time, this was her friend. Midge only hoped he'd be there for her the way she was for him. As the performance ended, Cecelia went to find him backstage, running like the flash to get to him, until Cecelia saw a beautiful blonde kissing him. Her heart sank, and suddenly all she could think of was running towards the studio and recording her feelings. 

How do you think I feel?

Well, I know your love's not real

The Boy I'm mad about is just a gadabout

How do you think I feel?

King Creole Premier Hollywood, California July 2nd, 1958

"Elvis, look at the camera!"

               "No, look at this one!"

"Elvis over here..."

The crisp California air was no stranger to Mr. Presley, nor were the cameras and interviews. This had been his 4th movie premiere in the span of only 2 years, and the press and women loved him. But there was something still missing, or more like someone still missing. He'd been on numerous dates, some his mother didn't approve of, others that she did approve of too much. As he continued walking down the red carpet, he heard and saw the commotion coming from down the start of it. He could smell the scent of Femme de Rochas perfume, making him do a double take on the scent. 

        "Cecelia tells about your tour!"

  "Ms.Valmos, do I hear you're going be on The Lucile Ball radio show?"

Cecelia had been the talk of every household. And now the red carpet, her once long locks of 1956 were now cut into a short bob, similar to Betty Boop. She was in a skin-tight lilac dress with a satin ribbon bow around her waist and black Dior gloves,

  "All the rumors are true..." she said with her signature smile. Cecelia had been busy, now finding her footing in Rock n Roll and blues, becoming a heartthrob, and attending rallies with King since her debacle in 56. She was quite the cat's meow. There were still more questions, and she answered them all the best she could. As Cecelia kept walking, Midge saw, some friends of hers that she wanted to say hi to. 

"Say there I've never seen you be..." 

"Elvis..." 

"Fore..." Elvis looked at her as she hugged him, "Look atcha and your hair..." he was mesmerized by her new look, standing before him wasn't the same 21-year-old woman who was running him out of crowds, no she was a beautiful bombshell, and he couldn't take his eyes off her when she hugged him he wanted to hold her forever, "El..." she kissed his cheek, red lipstick lingering, 

"Oh sorry you probably got a girl now an-"

"Actually I don't... I-I uh, I came here by myself minus the Colonel." he laughed, "Bet you got a ton of men following you." Cecelia laughed, "Oh me nah, came with Midge. You remember Midge right?"

"Your mama's assistant,"

"Yeah..." she blushed her eyes getting lost in his own, something about him in the suit was doing it for her, it was like she was back during the Hayride days and she had first glanced at him,

 "Would you maybe wanna be my date then?"

"Me your date?" she laughed,

"Oh, come on, doll, you know you're in love with me..." he laughed as she looked up at him. This was true, but she'd never admit it, so she'd hoped she wouldn't.

 "Where'd you hear that sugarpie." 

"One of those magazines." he laughed, taking her hand and walking into the theater. Midge wasn't too far away from them but she gave them space. 

Watching Elvis act had been one of her favorite things, especially when it came to his kiss scenes, she'd just imagine herself instead of the actresses, which was how her mother caught her accidentally kissing a microphone.

She was on the edge of her seat the entire time and he was loving every second of it, taking his arm he placed it over her shoulder as she leaned in closer towards him. He had been focused on her the entire time, almost like he wanted to see the world through her eyes, the way that she saw him. He had noticed that when he sang trouble she was breathlessly mesmerized, in a trance even. 

"Hey, Cece..."

"Shush... you're singing," she responded as he chuckled a little, when the movie had finally came to its end and everyone was walking out of the theater, there was Cecelia and Elvis walking out together laughing and joking, 

"I never asked why you stormed off during Russwood..." She felt her heart sink again as she remembered that night. 

"You saw me..."

"In bright yellow," he added,

"I had to leave early..."

"Cece..." 

"An emergency..." 

"Ms. Valmos, don't lie to me..." 

"I saw you kiss another girl and..." 

"You got jealous..."

"What, no! I'd never get jealous of... of my friend!" stepping closer to her and laughing his hand on her cheek, "Besides, your Elvis Presley, EP... Now Danny Fisher... A man I'd like to kiss." the last part slipping out of her mouth. 

"You wanna kiss me?" he blushed,

"I wanna kiss Danny Fisher..." she poked him,

"Darlin I am..."

"Are you though." tilting her chin he leaned in and kissed her sweetly, with a bit of need and longing, her arm was around his neck the other on his chest. When he pulled away her knees nearly went weak and she could hardly stand. "Darlin... I think there's somethin between us and... It's the most alive I've ever felt." Elvis said, "Sugarpie..." She looked at him.

"What do we do about this.."

"I don't know but it's gotta be before September ..."

"Why's that..." She looked at him,

"Well... I leave for Germany." he sighed kissing her hand. "Right, the war..." a somber look in her eyes,

 "Hey, It's only July, we got time." he grinned, "

Guess we do." she smiled, "So let's make the most of it." 

Memphis Tennessee July 4th, 1958,

"Wanna explain who's this girl your kissin..." Gladys said as Elvis sunk down like a puppy dog. "Who we haven't met yet..." she smiled at him, both hands on her hips as Vernon smirked, "Cecelia Valmos and it was just a kiss nothing else..." he blushed, 

"Damn, you're just as red as the carpet," Vernon mentioned, "If you like her all that much... then let us meet her." he shrugged, 

"Cecelia you can't keep compromising yourself..." Denise said, she sighed, "We cleaned your image and now you're kissing him on red carpets..." 

"What's so bad about that mother..."

"You're not of his kind!" she slammed her fist on the table, 

"I KNOW THAT, MAMA!" she sighed, "But give him a chance." Cecelia tried to calm down. She took a deep breath, "I'm 23 now and I can make my own decisions." 

"Baby, he'll only hurt you, like you know who hurt you! she shouted, watching her daughter leave out the door. 

"Where's she going Midge," 

"Don't know..." 

Tears streamed down her face as she drove like a bat out of hell to Graceland. It was late but she needed to see him she needed to get away from the madness. 

"Hold me close, hold me tight," she heard her radio start to play, " Make me thrill with delight." she took a deep breath, "Let me know where I stand from the start." she could see the gates sprinkled with fans waiting, " I want you, I need you, I-I love you..." pulling into the gate, she drove to the front of his house.  

"With all my heart..."

"Cecelia..." she ran into his arms as she sobbed " Won't you please be my own? " she looked up at him, as he wiped her tear-stained cheeks, "Never leave me alone

'Cause I die every time we're apart..." he focused on her voice, 

"I want you, I need you, I-I-I love you...

With all my heart "

#new stuff #new series #new oc #elvis presley #oc #fanfiction #poc oc #elvis fanfiction #elvis the pelvis #elvis fans #elvis x oc #elvis the king #part 2 #i hope you like it #It may be a chapter 3

[sherifftillman]

13 with Eddie please!

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader (no pronouns/gendered terms) Genre: fluff Word count: 690

You line up all the boxes of ingredients in front of you, tapping them to make sure you've got them all at the ready, and turn on your heel to see Eddie holding your hand mixer upright, grinning widely. "Ed, what are you -" He interrupts you by pressing the trigger down, causing the whisk ends to spin rapidly accompanied by the usual loud whir, and his eyes light up with it. Laughing, you wrestle his arm down and take the mixer away from him. "No, absolutely not," you shake your head.

He pouts, sticking out his lower lip, "No fun! Why not?"

"Because, to me, this is an artisan's tool. In your hands, potential murder weapon," you point out, putting it to one side.

"Do me a favour, measure out the ingredients for me? I put it all on that sheet over there," you gesture towards the wall.

Amused, he strokes his hand over it, "And why is it covered entirely in Scotch tape?"

"Because, my love, as much as I appreciate you helping me to help your Hellfire boys with their school bake sale, I kinda need these measurements to not get blurred out with all the mess." You kiss his nose and look for some mixing bowls.

"Me? Make a mess?" he asks as he dips his fist into flour and flicks it at you.

You scoff, "Dick!" before quickly scooping more up and throwing it back at him. It dusts his hair and covers his face, causing him to sputter and stick his tongue out, "Eugh, pah! Why does something that tastes so bad help to make something so good?"

"Sugar cookies, babe. Key ingredient's in the name," you gently tap his cheek twice and help him with measuring everything out.

Eddie's "helping" mostly consists of mixing with such vigor that batter flies everywhere, licking the spoon while making sure he maintains eye contact with you the entire time, and trying to catch the egg timer right as it reaches zero.

You let Eddie make a certain number of batches while you focus on yours, baking, shaping and frosting them to perfection. He notices with a frown, "You've made so many more than me."

"W-well, yeah..." you fluster, and he gasps.

"Were you just making all the actual cookies and keeping me busy?!"

"No! No, I have a plan!" you insist, falling into laughter as Eddie crosses his arms and leans in close to your face.

"So then, why did you make so many?!" he asks, keeping his proximity.

"...Okay, so maybe these are the only ones for the bake sale, but -" He scoffs, and you raise your voice to be heard over him, "But! Honey, just look." You compare your identical, perfectly frosted cookies, to his asymmetrical shapes, watery icing with clumsy decorations. "I don't know how else to say this, and I say it with all the love in the world, but... You frost cookies like you’re neither left or right handed, but a third other hand that you don’t actually possess and I can’t stand it being a part of, y'know, this." You gesture at your batch. "I'm so sorry. I love you so much. But not enough to fend off the perfectionism." You look over at Eddie, with his pouty lip and puppy-dog eyes. "No, don't - I can't stand that!" you half-laugh. "No, I really did have a plan. These ones were gonna be for just us to eat tonight, after we drop the other ones off, and pick up a little something to watch from Family Video?"

Eddie doesn't say anything, instead poring over his cookies again. You start putting the cookies into containers, occasionally glancing over to Eddie to try and gauge if he was actually upset at you.

Your fears are all cast aside when he slides over the heart-shaped cookie, that now has icing on it that you can just about recognise as being both your names, followed by an Eddie Munson trademark wet kiss to your cheek. "I love my star baker."

Relief washes over you as you hug him tightly. "Love you too, Eds."

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #eddie stranger things #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic

[akuneko-tls]

Main Story Ep. 2 / Part 2 / Chapter 2 - Beautiful Path

Prev | All | Next

[Old Tower, Nearby Forest]

Berrien: "Phew... We made it here without any trouble. My lord, the ground is covered with snow. Please be careful not to slip."

> "Y-yeah..."

Boschi: "From here, it's a deep forest... The path is quite steep, and there's a lot of snow.”

Lucas: "We can't use carriages or horses in these conditions."

Berrien: "My apologies, my lord, but… you will have to walk from here on."

> "It’s alright"

Berrien: "Thank you."

Miyaji: "Once we go a little further through this forest… It's already a dangerous area."

Haures: "Indeed. Normally, a large number of angels would attack.”

Lato: "Kufufu…. That would be fun."

Berrien: "Let's circle around the lord, everyone."

Muu: "Count me in! I will protect the lord!"

> "Thanks, guys"

Haures: "Stay vigilant, scouting party.”

Scout Leader: "G-got it."

Trudge… trudge…

A rarely-visited forest near the Old Tower, dense with coniferous trees… Eerily silent and beautiful. We continued walking without any incidents for a while.

Trudge… trudge…

Whoosh

Haures: "The footing isn't secure. Watch your step, my lord."

> "Thank you"

Miyaji: "Hmm… We've reached a fairly high altitude."

Boschi: "Huff… huff…. I'm tired."

Berrien: "How is the scouting party holding up?"

Haures: "Yes, they seem to be about 10 meters behind."

Lato: "Anyway, what a beautiful view."

Haures: "Well, we can see quite far from here."

Muu: "Can we see the Devil's Palace from here?"

Lucas: "Probably not… since It's in the opposite direction.”

Muu: "Huh? Really?"

Miyaji: "Devil's Palace is south of here."

Muu: “I see… so, what's beyond this peak?”

Berrien: “The ruins go on endlessly. No one resides there.”

> “That's right…”

Muu: “Because of the angels?”

Berrien: “Of course that is one reason, but... the land and water are also unsuitable for human habitation. Crops hardly grow… and the water is toxic.”

> "How dangerous…”

Berrien: “Sadly, most of the world is like this. Only areas ruled by the four nobles and witches are habitable.”

> ”I see… This is the first time I’ve heard of this”

Berrien: “Although, truth to be told, the Sardis family also rules some contaminated land.”

Muu: “Ooh~ for what purpose? People can't live there and crops can't grow, right?”

Lato: “Kufufu… Yes, it's a very harsh environment.”

> “Lato...?”

Lato: “There is a large prison there that locks up criminals. It's surrounded by a polluted lake... Once you are imprisoned, you cannot leave until death.”

Muu: “Y-you are really knowledgeable about it… Mr. Lato.”

Lato: “Kufufu...is that so?”

> “No way… Lato… Were you in that prison?”

Lato: “Yes, indeed.”

Muu: “What? R-really? Then, did you commit some serious crime, Mr. Lato?”

Lato: “No, I haven't committed anything.”

> “Then why were you imprisoned?”

Lato: “Hmm… it's not a very pleasant story... …… Hmm…”

> “You don’t have to force yourself to talk” > "It must be something you don't want to talk about"

Lato: “Ah! A beautiful snow fox!”

> “Eh?”

Lato: “I will bring back some fur as a souvenir for Flure.”

Dash…

Miyaji: “It's unusual for Lato to talk about himself.”

> “Miyaji…”

Miyaji: “As expected of my lord.”

> “Huh? About what?”

Miyaji: “From what I’ve seen, Lato seems to trust you, my lord.”

> “Really…” > “I’m glad, but…”

Miyaji: “It took me a long time for him to open up to me... Seems like he opened up to you right away. It's odd…”

> “I’m not sure why either…”

Miyaji: “Oh, right, my lord. When you're back to the mansion, could you visit us in the butler's room in the basement? Let's have some tea with Flure too.”

> “Sure thing” > “If you don’t mind me”

Miyaji: “Lato only talks to me or Flure. If the lord joins… I'm sure he'll be happy too... Maybe he'll open up more. You might learn more about his past and feelings.”

> “Past and feelings?”

Miyaji: “Actually, I don't know much about him either. He rarely talks about himself. I’ve only caught bits and pieces of his story.”

> “I see…”

Miyaji: “If I knew more... maybe that symptom that arises during the full moon could be resolved.”

> “The one where he becomes unstable during a full moon, right?" > “It must be tough…”

Miyaji: “Yeah… Maybe it's related to what he went through in the past. He won’t talk about it. About him being in prison was something I had heard a long time ago…”

> “I see…”

Miyaji: “Oops...sorry. I ended up talking a lot. Let's continue this later. It's better to focus on the mission for now.”

> “Yeah, gotcha” > “Thanks for the chat”

Trudge… trudge…

After that, we continued walking along the snowy road for a while.

[Old Tower No. Ⅶ]

Haures: “W-we’ve arrived.”

Boschi: “Yeah… and no angels attacked.”

Lato: “Sigh... how boring. I'm losing my anticipation.”

Lucas: “Even so... The Old Tower is really huge when seen up close.”

> "This is my first time seeing a building this tall"

The tower ominously reaches up into the sky. The surface is weathered, I can see that it has been around for a long time... The material doesn't seem to be brick, stone, or iron.

> "What in the world is it made of?"

Boschi: "Whew… It's rare to get this close to the tower."

Haures: "Usually, with all the angel attacks, we don't get this chance."

Lato: "Oh well? What is this?"

Miyaji: "Looks like a door… And it's enormous."

Berrien: "This is a feature that can be seen in other Old Towers as well. It's like a door, but tightly sealed and won't open."

> "I see…"

Lucas: "Being a tower, someone must've been in and out of it…"

Haures: "What was the purpose of building such huge towers all over the world?"

> "Sure, it's strange"

Boschi: "It also seems like a lot of work to construct… no wonder people are curious."

Haures: "I heard this from Fennesz before... There seems to be no mention of the Old Tower in past history books."

> "That's also strange"

Lato: "Sigh… Still, it's boring. Let alone intelligent angels, not even ordinary angels appear. I hoped to hunt a lot of angels here…”

Lucas: "Something’s odd… Angels would usually attack."

Miyaji: "It's almost like they're trying not to get in the way of us coming this far."

Haures: "Could it be… the intelligent angel knew we were coming…"

Berrien: "Agreed… This might be a trap set by him. Boldly leading us here, showing the way he flew to."

Lucas: "Well… I had a hunch from the start ♪"

Berrien: "Indeed. We have no choice even if it's a trap. The only way to find out about the intelligent angel is by capturing him."

Boschi: "Geez… Now we just have to wait for them to show up, right? …..hm? Sigh... Looks like we don't even have time to wait."

Haures: "Yeah... it seems so."

Flap… flap…

Angel: " 'Die. For life.' "

Boschi: "Finally, an angel appeared."

Angels: "….…"

Haures: "And... Many of them."

Lato: "Kufufu… Looks like I can finally have fun."

Miyaji: "Lato. Don't get carried away."

Berrien: "Hmm… no sign of the intelligent angel."

Haures: "Well then, as discussed… Let's form a formation. Mr. Berrien, stay beside the lord. Scouting party, gather around the lord!”

Scout Leader: "A-alright."

Haures: "Butlers other than Mr. Berrien, gather around too."

Berrien: "My lord, please come next to me."

> "Okay"

Berrien: "It's alright, please rest assured. We will definitely protect you."

Berrien said as he readied his weapon.

Muu: "Me too! I will protect you my lord!"

> "Thank you, Berrien and Muu"

A circular formation was made with me at the center. The surrounding area is protected by Haures, Boschi, Lucas, Miyaji, and Lato.

Haures: "We'll hold out in this formation until the intelligent angel appears. Well then, my lord... Please release the power."

I unleashed everyone's devil power.

Boschi: "Let's do this…"

Lucas: "Fufu...♪ Come at me from anywhere."

Miyaji: "Phew…"

Lato: "Hurry up... Hurry up... ♪ My patience is running out."

Haures: "Bring it on…"

Prev | All | Next

#main story #aknk

[mysticbewitched]

Hello, I have been trying to manifest a lottery win for several years due to my complicated financial situation ( I am chronically ill and unable to work and live with my emotionally abusive family whom I want to escape) I have tried tons of different methods over the years and played the lottery more times than I can count, and many of those times I thought I had it in the bag. I genuinely believed I was going to win. Until the moment came when I had to look at the numbers and see if they did in fact match. And, they never did. and every time my mind would go "See. You did it wrong again. You let your negative thoughts win, in those last few seconds before you looked at the numbers, your negative thoughts collapsed the waves of possibility into a reality where you lost. You were so afraid that they wouldn't match (while telling yourself they would) that you screwed it up and they didn't."

I know that I have very little confidence in myself. I have always had the mentality (that I can't seem to fix no matter how hard I try) that I am always doing things incorrectly. Even if it's something that you can't really do wrong I still feel that way. And I know this about myself. I know that I have this stupid mentality of "I believe manifestation is real 200%. Hell I even study quantum physics for fun. And of course I believe it can and does work for anyone! But me. because I lack faith in myself." No matter how hard I try to believe in myself and my own ability, let alone my ability to manifest, that feeling always creeps into my mind and sabatoges any progress I manage to make. I have always had this problem for as long as I can remember, as an example even if I follow a recipie perfectly step by step I still manage to screw it up because that voice in the back of my head has me convinced that I am doing something wrong.

But last week I felt like I had a breakthrough due to saturating my mind with lots of new concepts about ignoring the 3D and having it in the 4D. I was so confident I looked up the location of the lottery claims office and felt that I would be going there within the week. I genuinely felt like I KNEW I was going to win. SO much so that I told someone (in secret) I had won the lottery a day before the drawing. and it actually made me feel EVEN MORE confident that it was true. I felt like because I already had it in my mind my 3D had no choice to conform. No matter what. I was so confident that I had won I didn't even bother looking at the numbers. I knew they matched.

And then yesterday when we drove past the gas station I accidentally saw that the jackpot had gone up from the amount it was when I played last week, which means nobody won the jackpot. And it completely screwed me. I still haven't looked at my ticket and compared the numbers because I know when I look at the numbers it collapses all of the waves of possibility into one reality and makes it solid. And I'm terrified it will just be the same outcome as it has been hundreds of times. They won't match. And I'm terrified that it will obliterate ANY confidence or progress I have made AGAIN with that same voice going "SEE. You thought you had it again you idiot. You thought you had it all figured out. But this is proof you never will no matter how hard you try to convince yourself of your ability. YOU just can't do it."

I have been trying for years. I have read so many books, watched so many videos, taken courses, but it all still boils down to the fact that I don't believe in myself. And even when I try to affirm that I DO believe in myself I don't believe it.

I have been afraid to admit it to myself, but as I am sitting here writing this I realize I feel like I failed again. I even tried persisting in the assumption, saying the 3D didn't matter and I still had it regardless of what I saw but I don't know if that's even the right thing to do at this point because some part of me has already accepted I failed again. I have never asked for help before because I have never had anyone TO ask, but since I just recently got into Tumblr L.O.A. stuff I am giving it a try. I realize this is a lot of information and I don't expect you to have all the answers. But I thought I would give it a try. Thank you in advance for your time.

Hello, beautiful.

You came to the right person and I want to say that I know exactly how you're feeling.

You are most definitely right about the fact that you are seriously struggling on your manifestation journey because you lack faith in yourself and your own abilities to manifest which is incredibly crucial in all of this.

Without a foundation of confidence in yourself and your own manifesting power, you end up feeling trapped in a vicious cycle of struggle and frustration.

Conscious manifestation is entirely about the state of your mindset: having faith in yourself and your own abilities as a manifestor and the ultimate master of your reality.

You are in complete and absolute control of your entire reality and all you need is faith in yourself.

It's very important for you to be completely honest with yourself and admit to yourself what the underlying problem is in order for you to fix the issue at the source which is your *mindset*.

Change your mindset and you will change everything for you.

You can manifest absolutely anything you desire and in order for you to easily achieve success with conscious manifestation is by transforming your mindset, so you can finally accept your own power.

I truly believe this post right here will absolutely help you and give you the answers you're searching for.

You are so incredibly powerful, and you were born to reign as the operant power of your own reality.

You only need to step into your power and realize this truth.

All it takes is a simple change in your perception.

I wish you the very best and even though you're struggling with having faith in yourself, I want you to know that I have faith in you.

Step into your very own power and simply transform yourself into the confident manifestor you are meant to be.

#loassumption #law of assumption #manifestation #manifesting #law of manifestation #neville goddard

[ktwritesstuff]

Nebraska (a stranger things fanfic)

Title: Nebraska Fandom: Stranger Things Rating: Explicit Characters & Pairings: Steve Harrington x Max Mayfield (future!fic) Word Count: ~2,000 Summary: When Steve had dreamed of a cross-country roadtrip, this wasn’t what he had in mind.  Dark!fic. Unbeta'd. May God have mercy on my soul.

Notes: Be forewarned, this has been called the most depressing smut ever.  The world is ending and Max & Steve are the last ones left. Why would I ship Max with Steve when Lucas is literally right there? Truly there is no excuse for this...Title and lyrics from Bruce Springsteen's "Nebraska." Tropes & Content Warnings: age difference, angst, character death, first time, hurt-comfort, p-in-v, trauma-bonding, unprotected sex

I can't say that I'm sorry / For the things that we done At least for a little while, sir, me and her we had us some fun

Vecna had burrowed into Max’s psyche like a virus, lying dormant and biding his time.  Somehow she had fought her way free of him, but it was too late.  Their homes destroyed, their families gone, they did the only thing they could: they ran.  Nowhere in particular; all they knew was they had to keep moving.  Hopper and Joyce stayed behind with El for one last Hail Mary. Mike begged to stay with her, but El wouldn’t have it.  

They didn’t know what happened, but it couldn’t have been good.  Once Hawkins fell, it didn’t take long for the darkness rooted there to infect the rest of the country.

They lost Nancy first.  Vecna wanted her–that bastard–to make her pay, but she was strong and defiant until her last breath.  After that was Lucas–too brave and too in love for his own good.   

Years passed and their numbers continued to dwindle.  Steve still had nightmares about the look on Robin’s face, begging him not to let her go, something on the other side of the gate pulling, tearing, ripping until she went slack in his arms and Dustin had to drag him away.  

Sweet Dustin–after a week delirious with fever, despite force-feeding him the last of the meds that they had hoarded–had succumbed to an infected bite.  It nearly broke Steve–he spent three days in bed, not sleeping, refusing to eat.  The sound of Max stumbling around the RV–determined to keep herself fed and warm and alive despite everything they had suffered–finally broke the spell.  

She couldn’t see and although she had recovered from her injuries better than anyone could have expected, she’d always walk with a limp and couldn’t move fast or very far without stopping.  It was just the two of them now, and Steve realized if he gave up, he’d be taking her with him and he couldn’t do that–not ever.  So he did what he always did; he got back up.       

They had run out of gas just west of Lincoln, but nestled like spoons with the windows sealed and the curtains drawn over the little cubbyhole bed of the RV, swaddled in moth-eaten blankets and the warmest clothes they could scavenge, the cold was almost bearable. 

Though there wasn’t much difference now between the day and the night, a soft purple light on the horizon signaled that somewhere, impossibly, the sun was rising and setting despite the shadow and gloom that covered everything.  It had been three days and although they were both losing hope, in the morning Steve would drag himself out of bed and go out in search of a petrol station or abandoned farmhouse that might still have enough fuel to get them moving again.

Steve woke from his fitful sleep as Max turned over on the thin mattress to face him.  He figured she must have been cold and hugged her into him.  

Max’s hands creeped over his arms and chest.  He didn’t mind, supposing she was just reassuring herself that he was still here and whole.  Max touched his face, her fingers moving feather-light across his cheek, his jaw, his chin.  Once she had found his lips, she leaned in, softly pressing her mouth to his.  Steve blinked, fully awake.

“Hey,” he said softly, not wanting to startle or upset her.  “What are you doing?”

“I want you,” she said, her voice shaking.  “I want you to touch me.”

Steve was surprised and not surprised. Back when they were both kids, he had suspected Max harbored a little puppy crush on him—the kind that never would have come to anything if their lives had turned out the way they were supposed to. 

“Max,” he sighed, reaching for her hands as they tried to loop around his waist.  “You know that’s not a good idea.”

“I haven’t bled in months, so I’m pretty sure the baby factory is closed if that’s what you’re worried about,” she protested.  

It was, but it wasn’t the only hang-up he had with what she was proposing.

“Max–it’s not that simple.”

“I know I’m not the one you want,” she said.  “But you can pretend; I don’t care.”

“It’s not that,” he said.  “It’s not.  You’re just–”

He almost said ‘just a kid,’ but that wouldn’t be true.  He could feel the soft swell of her small breasts pressed against him, the jut of her pelvic bones and the slight curve of her hips.  She wasn’t a child anymore, but a young woman–at least 20–which made him…he didn’t want to think about it.

“My responsibility.”

A fat tear dropped from the corner of her eye and pooled at the bridge of her nose and he gently wiped it away.  

“Please,” she pleaded, so desperately it broke his heart.  “I don’t want to die a virgin.”

“You’re not going to die,” he snapped, holding her head in his hands.  She couldn’t see him, but he needed her to know he believed what he was saying.  “I’m not going to let that happen.”

He remembered the horror, when Will’s mind had finally broken.  How scared Max was that she would be next to lose the endless struggle against Vecna’s hold over her.  Steve told her that she wouldn’t; she wouldn’t lose, because she was stronger.  It wasn’t Will’s fault–he had been through too much, held out longer than anyone had the right to ask of him–but girls were stronger.  They had to be.  Like Nancy.  Like El.  And Robin, too, but they were all gone now.    

“We are both going to die,” she said.  “Maybe not today.  Maybe not tomorrow, but soon.  And when we do, it won’t be your fault.  None of it; you did everything you could to keep us safe.  To keep me safe.”

For the first time, Steve was glad she couldn’t see his face as his expression crumpled, but he was sure she could feel him shaking as he stifled a sob rising in his chest.

“But I need you to do this for me.  Please.”

Her voice was strong and assuring now.  She really was all grown up. 

“Okay,” he relented finally, wiping his eyes and taking a moment to catch his breath.  

“But you gotta let me do it right,” Steve explained.  “Kiss you and touch you and make sure you’re ready.  It’s not supposed to hurt; that’s just bullshit propaganda guys spread so they don’t have to put the work in to make a girl feel good.”

“Yes,” Max nodded. 

“Okay,” Steve’s breath hitched.  “If you change your mind just say the word and I’ll stop.”

He took her waist in his hands.  She was so thin–they both were–and Steve lamented all the times he had given up ice cream, pizza, burgers, and fries for the sake of his vanity.  He swore if he ever got the chance, he was going to get fat and not give a damn what anyone had to say about it. 

Steve kissed her, gentle pecks at first, open mouthed no tongue, then more deeply.  He moved his hands down her body, across her backside, sliding one leg between hers and hitching her thigh over his hip.  Max sighed, relaxing into him.  He worried at first he had lost his touch, but it really was like riding a bicycle.

He stroked her thighs, her breasts, her neck–all the places he could remember girls liked to be touched–and Max seemed to mirror his movements.  Her hands moved across his chest, and arms; she ran her fingers through his hair.  It felt good to be touched so gently and carefully.  

“I’m going to get on top of you.”

Max shucked off her tattered sweater and he eased her onto her back.  Steve guided her thighs apart and knelt between her legs.  

He tucked his fingers under the waistband of her panties.  

“I’m going to take these off,” he said.  

Max nodded her ascent, and he slid her threadbare underwear down her thighs as she drew her knees up to shimmy them off the rest of the way.  She had pale scars on her arms and legs from surgeries to set the bones with screws and pins.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, reaching out to brush a strand of hair off her face.  “Really fucking beautiful.”

Max smiled, but it never quite reached her eyes the way it used to.

“I mean that,” he said, bowing his head to kiss the space between her collarbones at the hollow of her throat.

He wondered what image of himself she held in her mind—comforted by the fact that the last time she had laid eyes on him he had been a better version of himself. Before he had gotten so pale and his eyes had gone dull and his hair had lost its shine. 

But laid out in their bed, trusting him, wanting him, she was still as beautiful as ever.  It made him feel like his old self, like there was still something to hope for, even if it was just to give her a moment of pleasure.  To make her feel desired; to make her feel loved.

“Do you ever touch yourself?”  Steve asked.  

“I used to,” Max said.

“Show me how,” he said.  “Show me what feels good.”

Max bit her lip, moving one hand down, fingers brushing through the wiry hair covering her mons, through her inner lips stroking up and down.

“Can I touch you now?” he asked.

“Yes,” she panted.  

Steve slipped one hand between her legs, taking up the firm up and down strokes over her clit.  She was wet, but not wet enough.  

“What else do you want me to do?” he asked.  

“Kiss my neck,” she said.

Steve obliged, leaning over to press his mouth against her throat, across her collarbones and chest.  Max ran her hands through his hair, kissing the crown of his head, his temples, anywhere she could reach.  Still stroking her clit, he could tell the thick dew of her entrance making things slippier.  

“I’m going to put my fingers inside you,” he said.  “Tell me if it’s too much.”

Max moaned and nodded, clinging to his neck.  

Steve slid a finger into her, stopping two knuckles deep at the first hint of resistance.  Max spread her legs a little wider as he traced small circles against her inner walls until he felt her relax a little more.  He pressed a little further, curling his finger up and inward until Max gasped.  That was the spot–a little hard to reach, tucked away in the curve of her pelvic bone, but he could make it work.

He drew his finger out, adding another, scissoring them just a little as he massaged her from the inside.  Max sighed and arched her back into him.  She gripped his shoulder hard, her eyes were pressed closed and her mouth hung slightly open.

Steve withdrew his fingers, sliding them up and down her folds before adding a third, pressing them into her while circling her clit with his thumb. Max whimpered and wet her lips, taking slow, deep breaths.  

“I need you to come for me before I put my cock in you,” Steve said.  “Can you do that for me?”

Max nodded.  “I think so.”     

He kissed her again, soft and slow, still massaging her with long firm strokes.  Max squeezed her thighs into him with a gasp and let her head fall back against the mattress.  

“That’s my good girl,” Steve said, stroking her hair.  “Tell me how it feels.”

“Good,” Max sighed.  “Like waves…pulsing.”

“Do you want to keep going?” 

“Yes.”

Steve sat up, peeling his shirt off and pulling down his shorts.

“I’m getting undressed, okay?”

Max reached up, placing her hands on his bare chest and he shuddered.  She combed her fingers through the hair on his chest–God, when had he started to go gray.  Steve held her hand over his heart, reaching down with the other to stroke himself.

He couldn’t even remember the last time he had masturbated–let alone finished.  He couldn’t think about sex without remembering Nancy–a vision of her at the end springing into his mind unbidden.

Steve squeezed Max’s hand a little harder, grounding himself in the warmth and softness of her skin.  She was here; she was real and she wanted him.  

Max ran her fingers down his ribs, across his stomach, following the path of his happy trail to his half-hard cock.  

“Let me do it,” she said.  “Please.”

“You can do anything you want.”  

Steve slid his hand down her arm as she gripped him gently, running her hand up and down his shaft.  Her thumb slid across the tip, wiping away a droplet of precum and stroking the taught band of tissue on the underside of his shaft.  

“Is that good?”

Steve cleared his throat.  

“Yeah, that’s good.”   

He bowed over her, supporting his weight on his arms.

“I’m gonna start to press into you,” he explained.  “You gotta tell me if it hurts.  We don’t have to stop, we just gotta make sure you’re relaxed enough, okay.  You promise?”

“Yes,” Max nodded.

Steve positioned himself at her entrance, pressing in just the tip.  Max gasped, digging her fingers into his shoulders.  Steve froze.  

“I’m okay,” Max said after a few deep breaths.  “I’m okay.”

Steve drew back slightly before pressing in a little deeper, a few quick, shallow strokes, before pressing into her all the way.  Max whimpered, drawing him closer.  

He continued, following each series of short, teasing strokes with deeper and deeper thrusts until Max arched into him, nearly keening.  He could feel her walls pressing in around him.  Steve moaned, nearly losing himself in the sensation. 

“I’m close,” he warned.

Max squeezed her knees into his sides.  He tried to pull away but she only gripped him tighter.

“Max, let go,” he said, trying to press her thigh away with his hand.  “I gotta pull–”

Steve came inside her with a wave of relief.  He could feel her inner walls contracting around him–it should have felt good, but he couldn’t shake the sense of icy dread settling over him.  Max stretched out under him, languid and relaxed.  He rolled over, panting, and covered his face with his hand.  Beside him, Max sighed in satisfaction.

“I have to pee,” she announced at length.

Max climbed over him, drawing the bed curtains and feeling her way down to the door.  Technically there was a toilet in the back, but it was such a bitch to maintain they mostly used the space for storage now.  Steve sat up, still in a daze, to watch the top of her head through the sliver of exposed window.

He found a rag that was still mostly clean and wiped the sweat from his face and chest, waiting for Max to come back inside.  She felt her way up the steps with practiced ease; finding the curtains with one hand and feeling for the mattress with the other.  Her hand landed on his thigh.

“You’re letting all the warm air out,” she warned.  

“I wish you hadn’t done that,” he said, draping a thin blanket over her shoulders.  

Max frowned.

“I’m sorry,” she said.  “I didn’t mean to–I got excited.  Please don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad, I’m scared,” he said.  “If anything happened to you, because of me–”

“Nothing’s going to happen,” Max said, climbing onto his lap, holding his head in her hand.  “Not from this…one good thing.  Don’t we deserve one good thing?”

She leaned in, her nose bumping against his chin before she pressed her forehead to his.  He rubbed her back and arms; Max rubbed her nose against his cheek. 

"You forgive me?"

“You'll freeze if I let you go to bed wet,” he said. He tried to sound stern, but with Max's weight on his lap and her arms around his neck he felt more at-ease than he had in weeks.  

“It won’t happen again,” she said.

“Again?” he said.  

“We are going to do it again,” she said.  “I hope.”

Steve smiled in spite of himself, stroking her face.

“Let’s just get some rest.”    

#steve harrington x max mayfield #steve harrington smut #max mayfield smut #stranger things fanfic coming soon #stranger things smut #dark!fic #rairpair #stranger things rarepairs

[jikookuntold]

https://mobile.twitter.com/JungkookAsia__/status/1574228284371439617

Jimin and Jungkook going on dates separately for 96883782th time now. But as usual Jikookers will come with explanation: they don't need to be together 24*7, couple also needs alone time bla bla bla.

Yes loves every couple need their own time BUT what if that's only happening now ? Most of the time they are busy working, other times they are seen in restaurants and concerts alone or with other people. I wonder which healthy couple don't spend time at all with Significant others lol. Just accept they don't hangout any more other than during OT7 schedules which happens rarely anyways.

Anon, you not only can't understand the concept of "date" but also have no perception of "time". Do you think the members only exist when we see them, and time freezes for them when we are not getting any update from them? That's not how things work lol. You need to get out of this parasocial relationship with the members and stop projecting your anger from Jikook, on Jikookers. Going out alone or with friends once in a whole month doesn't mean that you have been separated from your partner. Eating dinner at a restaurant takes two or three hours at most, but a month is 720 hours long. You still have 717 hours left to spend in many different ways with things like working, sleeping, working out, attending concerts, gaming, having fun, and spending some quality time with your significant other which can be 100% private. Okay. Let's review JK's "dates" this year. In the nine months that have passed from the year 2022, JK has visited barbecue restaurants 7 or 8 times, this number might not be precise because I haven't counted. The first time was with Jimin on White Day (March), the second, again was with Jimin in Las Vegas (April), and one time he had a gathering with his 97liner friends in August (Jimin couldn't be there because he has born in the wrong year lol). On the rest of his dates (four or five times in combine), JK either was alone or with family members or non-celebrity friends. Fun fact: most of these "alone dates" (at least three times) happened during the two weeks that Jimin was in LA. Interesting, isn't it? Jimin also had three or four dinners alone or with friends in barbecue restaurants (I believe JK goes out more for barbecues because of his recently diagnosed food allergy and gluten-free diet). Another fun fact about these dates is that every single time both Jimin and JK left autographs for the restaurant, except that one time they were together on White Day. Now do the math. LV barbecue restaurant also didn't post any autographs but the staff couldn't shut up about Jikook dining there. lol Going out for food is no big deal, anyone, single or taken can do it alone or with friends or family members, and it doesn't determine the relationship status of the person. But going out on specific dates like Valentine's day, birthdays, and anniversaries is meaningful. We were just lucky for that leaked photo of Jikook and their friend on White Day, otherwise, how were we supposed to know about it? I remember how my Taekooker "friend" who lives in SK was crying that day because she knew it was a romantic holiday in that country, and Jikook being seen together was an end for her ship. Now you can go cry about it too, lol Nice try, Anon. I'm not going to promote your (or your besties) blog, and I'm not interested in your Anti-Jikook POV. You better stay in that echo chamber yourself and stay away from Jikook blogs. No one is interested in converting you. Have fun.

[dyrewrites]

Q&A

Got tagged by my sisser (@rmgrey-author)!

I am tagging @starbuds-and-rosedust @pb-dot @stesierra and @deanwax (mostly out of curiosity, but feel free to ignore the tag =P)

Now, let's get early 2000s up in this place and answer some personal questions that absolutely aren't being scraped for nefarious purposes.

1) Are you named after anyone?

Not a person, but a fantasy series. I am named after the Chronicles of Amber. Which I could never finish, because young me found it terribly boring...I should really try again.

2) When was the last time you cried?

Yesterday! I was watching the Blue Beetle movie and it got me good.

3) Do you have kids?

Yus. I has a son, he is a teen now and I am afraid for him.

4) What sports do you play/have you played?

I used to play baseball, and basketball, and had a lot of fun with tennis. Not on any teams or anything though, I don't do competition.

Now not really, but I do box at home with a bag...does that count?

5) Do you use sarcasm?

Oh, no never.

6. What’s the first thing you notice about people?

Eyes. You will find a focus on them in my writing as well, because I can't help myself.

At one point in my life I had a lot of grown ass adults convinced that I could read their minds by looking into their eyes. Truthfully I just couldn't stop staring at pretty eyes and needed an excuse that wasn't too creepy.

7. What’s your eye color?

Hazel.

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

What an odd pair to choose from.

I love scary movies, but I also enjoy happy endings.

My favorites are bittersweet endings, however.

9. Any talents?

I got skills what I have worked at. I don't know about talent though. Singing maybe, but I also worked at that through years of choir. So...hmm. I don't think so?

10. Where were you born?

Anaheim, California.

11. What are your hobbies?

Reading, gaming, writing, art, baking.

12. Do you have any pets?

I have two kitties, one senior tuxedo baby named Mr. Nefarious and one teenage black goblin named Spook.

13. How tall are you?

5'4"

14. Favorite subject in school?

English (except in middle school wherein it became Typing, but I credit the fun teacher we had for that)

15. Dream job?

Full-time author. I don't need to be famous, or even well known, but I'd like to make enough to support my family while hopefully filling a considerable number of people's lives with a little extra dread (and joy, of course, but mostly dread -- I want you to toss my books across the room and then go pick them up and keep reading, that is my dream).

#writeblr #Q&A #tag game #seriously this felt like one of those quizzes my friends used to email eachother #i half expected to be asked what kind of boys i like #fun though! #hope someone finds it interesting

[quordleona03]

"AfterMASH, only like the Golden Girls, Max and Charles and Francis sharing a house..."

@topshelf2112-blog

Written for fun, but I thought you'd like it. Does it count as a work in progress if I have no idea how to take it further?

At work, Charles Emerson Winchester never answered his own phone. At home, he always did: Honoria loathed answering a telephone call unless she knew and loved who was calling, and Max was still, even after five months as their beloved guest, quite shy of taking calls - unsurprisingly, given some of the callers.

"How did you get this number?" he asked, recognising the voice at the other end of the phone. "Well, thank you, Charles," Pierce said, sounding amused. "Hello to you too. I got your number from Sidney Freedman." "How did he get my number?" Charles demanded in astonishment. "No, never mind, what do you want?" He listened to Pierce's outline of the situation, and then said "And you are not taking him in, why?" "I'd love to," Pierce said, and damn the man, he sounded sincere. "Sidney and my dad and my sponsor all say I can't take in a man who's something like two weeks into sobriety when I've only been sober eight months myself."

"That... aspect had not occurred to me," Charles said.

"Well, there it is. I know you offered Klinger a home - " "That is entirely different - "

"I sure hope so," Pierce said, sounding far too knowing for Charles' taste. "The only thing is - you'll have to clear the house out of booze." "Cognac is not booze," Charles said. He regretted it as he heard Pierce draw in a sharp breath, half anger, half pain. "Of course," he said, before Pierce could put words to either - "Max no longer drinks: Honoria and I will clear our cellar. When are we to expect him?" "Thank you," Pierce said, and sighed. "I got a phone call from his sister, they're releasing him Friday. I got permission to drive him over to your place. Ah - where is your place? Or do we just go to Beacon Hill and yell 'Winchester'?"

Charles gave him the address.

"Thanks. We should arrive in time for lunch. Don't worry, I don't expect you to feed me."

"I expect we might be able to provide you with a sandwich."

"Thanks, Charles," Pierce said.

Charles went through to the sitting-room, where Honoria was reading. "That was Doctor Pierce."

"Hawkeye?" Honoria sounded delighted. Far too delighted. "Is he p-paying us a visit?" "A brief one, on Friday, for lunch. But, it appears we have to make a decision about our parents' ultimatum."

"I th-thought we h-had another m-month?" Honoria's stutter got worse. Their parents were now among the group of people Honoria knew but did not love.

In a few words, Charles concisely outlined what Pierce had told him. "I didn't feel that I could refuse."

"Of c-course not," Honoria said. "Max and I will make up the other guest room."

"I think we should make a final decision," Charles said. "Our parents have already made clear what they feel about Max. I am quite certain that taking in another 4077 refugee will only exacerbate their venom. We may as well move now as later - especially as our guest will need quiet and continuity."

Honoria looked around the room. They had both lived here since Honoria was eighteen. The house had been built originally for a Winchester widow, in the 1890s: it had been modernised, and Charles had claimed it for his own residence when Honoria turned eighteen. It was more her home than his, for all the official position of their parents was that they had granted it to Charles, and Honoria kept house for him - though staff from the larger family house did most of the work.

"Of course, you could remain here," Charles said. "It's my guests that our parents find so obnoxious."

Honoria made a sudden, frantic, shushing motion with her hand. Charles blinked at her.

Max Klinger was standing behind him. He looked at Charles very sadly for a long moment. "Y'didn't tell me your parents were giving me ultimatums about me, Major."

"Of course not," Charles said. "You are my guest, Max."

"You just said your parents find me 'obnoxious'. What's supposed to happen in a month?"

Charles looked down his nose. "Nothing that need concern you, Max, unless you have a fear of sea air. Honoria and I had been discussing a long stay in a cottage that was left to her personally on her twenty-fifth birthday." "It's l-lovely, Max," Honoria said. "We ha-haven't stayed there since Ch-charles went to K-Korea, b-b-but, y-ou w-w-will come w-w-w-ith us, w-on't you?" She got to the end of the sentence, and looked up at Max doubtfully.

"Sure, if you want me to, Nori," Max said, having waited like Charles for her to finish. "But what is it that's supposed to happen next month?"

"My parents gave me an ultimatum," Charles said. "I intend to answer it. Doctor Pierce is visiting us briefly on Friday, with Father Mulcahy - he is apparently in need of a quiet place to stay for the next few months. Honoria, has no one stayed in the cottage since 1950? What sort of state is it in?"

"I imagine it'll be quite unprovisioned," Honoria agreed. "Perhaps Max wouldn't mind helping us set it up for a long stay?"

"For Father Mulcahy?" Max said, checking.

"For all four of us," Charles said. "Assuming you still wish to be bothered by us."

#mash tv #mashposting #afterMASH #Francis Mulcahy #Max Klinger #Charles Emerson Winchester #Honoria Winchester #my wips #mash fanfic #stateofintegrity #max x charles #mulcahy's afterMASH alcoholism #would not go away overnight

[am-i-obsessed---maybe]

i think the nightwing req was with the numbered prompts but unfortunately i dont remember which numbers i had requested back then so 27, 33, 65 with nightwing and top male reader please. i appreciate you allowing me to send this in! i hope you wont feel overwhelmed with things picking up for you

Finally got an idea for this (sorry it took so long)

word count: 630

warnings: pretty suggestive flirting but that's about it.

also reminder that my requests are open for Star Wars, DC and Marvel!

Main Masterlist

27) Can I hold your hand?

33) Stop being a fucking prick

65) Would you just shut up and kiss me already

Dick was never shy with affection. He very much liked PDA and showing off his boyfriend was especially fun.

"Can I hold your hand?" He asked while your fingers moved across the keyboard.

"I am in the middle of writing out an email" You told him, not looking up from your screen.

Dick scooted closer to you, sitting on the edge of your desk.

"Please?" He asked.

"Don't you have something to do? A rooftop to patrol? Something?" You asked. You loved him but you really needed to finish this.

"Come on, I know you can type one handed" He said, sliding his arm in front of your computer screen.

"Richard, move your hand or I will have security drag you out of here and make sure that 'Son of Bruce Wayne escorted by security out of Wayne Ent.' is tomorrow's Gotham Gazette front page" You warned and he huffed, taking a seat on one of the comfy chairs in your office.

The two of you met when you got promoted a few months back, working closely with Bruce Wayne meant you met his family, including Dick. The two of you were flirty for a while before he finally asked you out and the two of you got together shortly there after.

"You're no fun" He said and you rolled your eyes.

"How about you go your place and pick up some of your favorite take out and I'll meet you back there once I'm done here, since you obviously don't have anywhere else to be" You said and he smiled.

"A stay at home date night? I'm in" He said and kissed your cheek.

"See you at home babe" He said and quickly left.

A little later your assistant came in to drop off some documents.

"Dick left in a good mood" She mentioned.

"We have a date night once I finish up here" You told her.

"Sounds fun, you should head out soon then. Wouldn't wanna keep him waiting too long" She said and you nodded.

"I just wanna finish up this report" You said.

"You can head home if you're done, it's getting late" You told her and she nodded.

"Alright, see you tomorrow boss" She said before sticking her head through the door one last time.

"Make sure to head home after this" She said and you smiled.

"I will, good night" You told her.

By the time you made it toi Dick's apartment over an hour later you were exhausted.

"Finally done?" Dick asked from the couch and you nodded, flopping down next to him.

"What's you get?" You asked him as you snuggled up to him in front of the TV.

"Sushi. Yours is on the table" He said and you slogged your way over to the dining table, taking your suchi with you back to the couch.

"I see you already started" You said, referring to Dick's partially eaten platter.

"It took you awhile" He said.

"Besides, you get to pick the movie" He said.

"We're not watching Lion King again" You told him.

"You complain but you always enjoy it" He teased. taking a piece from your plate.

"Yeah, well today we're watching a documentary" You told him, picking up the remote.

"Seriously? you know I can't help but talk during those" He said and you nodded.

"Who said we would be paying attention to the movie?" You asked slyly and a smirk spread on Dick's lips. He took another piece of your sushi and scooted himself into your lap.

"Stop being a fucking prick" You chided him, putting both of your plates down on the coffee table as he kissed down your neck.

"Would you just shut up and kiss me already" He said and you connected your lips to his.

#dick grayson #reader insert #dc x reader #dc x male reader #dick grayson x male reader #dick grayson x reader #prompt fic #dc

[sharkneto]

For the Pick Any Passage ask game:

Searching for Good Times is still one my most favorite fics ever. Do have any more thoughts or feelings on how you built the Hotel around Five, particularly when describing things like Five's house.

some bits i really liked:

Her fully grown, adult, man of a brother.

How fucking long has he been in here?

Adult Five is recognizable, which is a relief. Same dark hair, cut short and flopping over his forehead, same sharp green eyes, same slightly curved nose. His face is more angular, longer and without the baby fat, and there’s a slight shadow of stubble along his jaw. He’s shorter than she would have expected, maybe an inch taller than she is.

. and .

Her first discovery is that Five doesn’t actually have any plates. Or bowls. There’s some pots and pans stored by the stove and a few miscellaneous utensils in the drawer by the sink. There is a can opener that has obviously never been used, which she finds a little funny. The pantry where he got the wine has more bottles stored inside, along with an entire shelf of coffee and a wall of plastic bins that protect boxes of cereal, crackers, oatmeal and protein bars. The double storage is a little strange but after the truly insane number of cans that are in the other cupboards, it’s easy to overlook.

. and .

No paying here then, either.

She frowns to herself as she steps onto the street. Why doesn’t anyone use money? There was a cash register in the deli, just like there was in the café yesterday, but it was ignored. There for decoration, again.

Five, she needs to think about all this in context with Five. Why doesn’t Five’s world use money?

Ah, designing the HOb around Five for Searching for Good Times was so fun. The whole point of it was to be Five's Perfect World, which isn't where everything is perfect but instead is a world Five understands perfectly. My overall concept of th HOb was that it works with the occupant's experiences and memories to create a place they can't leave by being a place they don't want to leave. The two biggest pieces for building Five's world (after "his family will be here Tomorrow" to keep him strung along) were 1) Five Lived In The Apocalypse For 40 Years and 2) Five Saw Thousands Of Years Of Human History. Those two things have to merge into a functional world for Five to wander around in and makes sense to him. How he looks prioritizes him Fitting In with his family (his greatest want and his priority over looking his actual age) and smooths over any niggling questions he could pull at for why he has the same birthday as his siblings but looks so much older (or younger). The merging of eras is just fun - what bits and pieces stuck out to Five, what parts did he particularly like. He's seen an insane amount of history. It's hard to wrap your head around, so I slapped it all right in front of Allison so she had a chance to understand that.

As fun as mashing eras together was, thinking about how the apocalypse shaped Five's idea of the world was even better. The angle I wanted to get across is that this is all the idea of what Five thinks the world is like. Five's house has a full kitchen he doesn't use because he knows what kitchens look like and that houses have them, but he also didn't cook on a stove or use a refrigerator for half a century, didn't use plates or dishes. Shops and restaurants have cash registers because That's What Stores Have but Five also grew up a billionaire and then, again, spent 50 years in the apocalypse. Money is Meaningless to him, an inconvenience drilled into him by the Commission so he would stop drawing attention to himself dining-and-dashing. It's the charade of normalcy, Five playing house with the best idea of it that he has, which is genuinely rather childish because he hasn't been home since he was 13 (as much as the Academy counts as a Home) and then glimpses of ones as he bopped around time murdering. On top of that idea of what the world is like, we have survival needs and instincts from the apocalypse so that he feels safe and secure - a woodpile in the living room, fully stocked cupboards and pantry with shelf-stable food, a pharmacy's worth of medical supplies in the bathroom.

And then, of course, he has Delores. You didn't specifically ask about her, but she's a pivotal part of the illusion. I thought a lot about how Delores fit in, if she was Actually Delores or if she was the Hotel, and I don't think I really settled on it until I wrote her Wall of Words in chapter four. What I settled on is that Delores was the linchpin to the entire illusion working but also the Hotel's downfall. Five would not have stayed without Delores, but he also would not have gotten out without Delores. The Hotel did supply a fake Delores as part of the initial illusion to keep Five there, but Delores has always been Fake. She's just Five. The Hotel accidentally gave Five his survival tool for compartmentalizing and figuring shit out. Once she was there, Five could shape her to be His Delores (and the Hotel had to oblige because if she didn't act right, Five would figure it out and Leave). Delores lets Five relax into the illusion - like the Hotel wants - while also being his emergency escape the second he needed it. A tricky, painful emergency escape.

send me ~500 words from one of my fics for director's commentary

#this got long #but i spent a long time thinking about the HOb #and had a lot of fun doing it #i miss thinking about it sometimes #i do not need more wips but if i figured out a fic that let me play with it some more that would be fun #maybe a prequel - five getting there and figuring it out and then letting himself fall into the illusion #anyway - here you are sail friend :) #the fic that started our friendship too :) :) :) #ask game response #ficblogging #long post

[juukeboxx]

TMNT Pokemon AU - pt.1

Hello everyone!

So I'm a huge Pokemon fan, I've spent a lot of time playing the games and watching the shows. It's become one of my favorite franchises ever. And I had the amazing idea to combine two things that I love: Pokemon and TMNT. This is just a fun idea that I've had in my head for a while now and I wanted to share it. Keep in mind that this is for no particular version of the turtles.

Enjoy!

Word count: 1,146

So to start this off, this is specifically looking at each turtle and the type they would specialize them if they were a gym leader. Other characters will come later.

The number of pokemon a gym leader has on their team depends on when the player faces them. So for example, the first gym leader will only have a maximum of two pokemon while the seventh gym leader would have a maximum of four. However, I'm going to give them a full team of 6 pokemon of the same type excluding mythicals, Ultra Beasts and legendary pokemon.

Each gym leader as one ace that they put into battle when they only have one pokemon left. I'll elaborate on why I think they would choose that specific pokemon as their ace.

First off...

Leonardo

Leo is unwavering and not the most flexible individual (let's be real, he's pretty stubborn). He is strong, focused and will do anything to protect his family. This is why I think he would be a steel type specialist.

Steel types have a few weaknesses: Ground, fire, and fighting. But many of the secondary typings that some steel types have turns super effective damage into not very effective damage. Many of the other typings can't do much damage to steel types as well.

Some notable steel types include: Lucario, Bisharp, and Dialga.

Here is what I think Leo's team would look like:

Lucario (fighting/steel)

Aegislash (steel/ghost)

Mawile (steel/fairy)

Corviknight (flying/steel)

Excadrill (ground/steel)

Kingambit (dark/steel) - Ace

I chose Kingambit as Leo's ace, first and foremost, because of the aesthetic. It also helps that Kingambit's shiny is blue. But I also chose Kingambit as his ace because of it's Pokedex entry in Pokemon Scarlet. It says, "Only a Bisharp that stands above all others in its vast army can evolve into Kingambit." To me this just really screamed Leo, because as we all know, he was the one chosen out of the four brothers to become the leader. Kingambit's Pokemon Violet pokedex entry states that it isn't good at stratgizing and will use it's brute strength to keep pushing which is something that Leo has done on multiple occasions.

Next we have...

Raphael

Now with Raph I didn't want to automatically resort to saying that he specializes in fire types. As we all know his hot temper is one of his most defining character traits. This may seem out of left field, but I think Raph would make a really good ground type specialist. Ground types, like steel types, are tanky and can hit hard (kinda like Raph).

Another reason I didn't go with fire types is although they have access to pretty powerful moves, they 're a lot more frail than ground types are. They lack that natural bulk.

It's important to note that ground types have an advantage against steel types and can hit them for supereffetive damage. I like to think that this could be representative of how Raph is always questioning Leo's authority and his decisions as leader.

Some notable ground types include: Geodude, Quagsire, Groudon

Here is what I think Raph's team would look like:

Torterra (grass/ground)

Krookodile (ground/dark)

Camerupt (fire/ground)

Mudsdale (ground)

Gliscor (ground/flying)

Garchomp (dragon/ground) - Ace

If you've played Pokemon Diamond, Pearl, Platinum or it's remakes you know that Garchomp is an absolute powerhouse. It's honestly one of the most well-rounded Pokemon out there. Garchomp is big, intimidating, and hits like a truck. You definitely don't want to get on the bad side of Raph or Garchomp, because if you do, it's over.

Thirdly there's...

Donatello

Like Raph, I was in a bit of a pickle when I was thinking about what type I think Donnie would specialize in. Obviously psychic types are a no-brainer because he is the smartest of all his brothers. But then I realized that Donnie is known for tinkering and inventing all sorts of things. So I finally came to the conclusion that Donnie would specialize in electric types.

Electric types only have one weakness in ground types, and can hot water and flying types for super effective damage. Electric types can be tricky to deal with because some will have an ability like Static that can cause paralysis, or have access to moves like Thunderwave that also inflict paralysis. They can be super annoying if used strategically.

Some noteable electric types include: Pikachu, Rotom, Zapdos

Here is what I think Donnie's team would look like:

Heliolisk (electric/normal)

Magnezone (electric/steel)

Rotom wash form (electric/water)

Luxray (electric)

Jolteon (electric)

Dracozolt (electric/dragon) - Ace

It was really tricky for me to figure out what Donnie's ace would be. Looking through the electric types I looked at any of them that had a design based around some aspect of science (Like how Magnezone looks like a UFO, but is also based around magnets and magnetism). I decided to go with Dracozolt, which is one of the two electric type fossil Pokemon introduced in generation 8. I think that if he were placed in the Pokemon universe Donnie would absolutely be fascinated with the fossil Pokemon and the science of the world as a whole.

Last but not least we have...

Michelangelo

Mikey was actually the easiest for me to figure out. Considering the fact that he's claimed to be the best at combat (not to mention he was the Battle Nexus champion in the 2003 series, and Rise!Mikey's insane strength which was enough to throw a building), it makes the most sense that Mikey is a fighting type specialist.

Fighting types are able to hit a lot of powerful types like steel and dark for supereffective damage. However, ghost types are completely immune and types like psychic, flying, and fairy are able to hit fighting types hard.

Some noteable fighting types include: Primeape, Machamp, Zamazenta

Here is what I think Mikey's team would look like:

Hitmontop (fighting)

Pawmot (electric/fighting)

Scrafty (dark/fighting)

Grapploct (fighting)

Gallade (psychic/fighting)

Quaquaval (water/fighting) - Ace

First off, I chose Quaquaval as Mikey's ace because it is (as far as my knowledge goes) based on Brazilian samba dancers like you woul dsee in a Carnival parade. Mikey has a lot of energy and I feel like dancing is just one of those activities he just likes to do. It was a little hard to choose a fighting type that really fit Mikey's vibe, and I landed on Quaquaval because it incorporates dancing into it's fighting style and Mikey is seen to sometimes have a unique fighting style himself (2012!Mikey for example).

Thank you for reading to the end. This AU is just a fun idea that I want to develop more, so I'll be posting things every now and then. You'll be able to find everything related to this under the pokemon au tag on this blog.

#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt 1987 #tmnt 2003 #tmnt 2007 #tmnt 2012 #tmnt bayverse #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt 2018 #tmnt idw #tmnt leo #tmnt raph #tmnt donnie #tmnt mikey #leonardo hamato #raphael hamato #donatello hamato #michelangelo hamato #pokemon au