#cbty

[h0ndayot4]

mooodboard 4 band-au summer wip, in which ronan and adam reunite after years apart, but adam is "just adam" and ronan is a world famous guitarist.

s/o leonard cohen's entire discography (particularly coming back to you...)

p.s. there will be a jordeclan shotgun wedding

[annafayeink]

Crawling Back to You

Summary: Luigi disappeared without a word. When Cassie stumbles back into his life after months of silence, she finds someone unrecognizable, distant, exhausted, buried under the weight of something he refuses to talk about. But Cassie won't let him disappear again.

Warnings & Tags: Friends to lovers, slow burn, hurt/comfort, angst, chronic pain & spondylolisthesis, depression, multiple pov, found family vibes, dark shit—prepare for possible tears

Read on AO3 | Next Chapter

Chapter One

Cassie

I hate grocery stores.  

The harsh lights, the crowded aisles, the carts rattling across the tiled floor—absolute hell. I’ve got punk rock blasting in my ears, drowning out the chaos. I don’t care if I look ridiculous nodding along to the beat, it keeps me moving. Get in, get out. That’s the plan. 

I glance at my phone. 7:42 PM. I could have been home for half an hour now, but my fridge is a wasteland, and I'd rather suffer through this than live off dry cereal for another day. My basket is already half full—rice, some meat, a problematic amount of snacks…

The song changes. I mouth the lyrics under my breath and bounce my hips while I scan the ice cream labels, looking for the lactose-free options. I pick up something with chocolate for a proper dopamine rush, throw it in the basket with the rest of my questionable choices and I’m moving again in a heartbeat.

Then something shifts in my peripheral vision. A glimpse of dark curls.

Oh my god.

A profile I’d recognize anywhere. 

My stomach drops. My breath catches. Everything halts. 

Lu.

I stop so suddenly that the woman behind nearly crashes into me but I barely notice her. My heart is already hammering in my chest. 

Luigi Mangione. Right here. In front of me. After seven months of silence.  

My first instinct is to drop the basket and run to him, to throw my arms around his neck like no time has passed. But then I really see him. 

Something is wrong. 

He’s thinner. Not dramatically, but enough to make my stomach twist uncomfortably. His broad shoulders still fill out his hoodie, but there’s something off—a slouch that wasn’t there before, like he’s holding himself carefully. 

And his face… He hasn’t shaved. Lu always shaves. He used to joke that "stubble makes me look like a wannabe mobster," but now his jaw is shadowed, rough. His dark curls are slightly unkempt, like he hasn’t cared enough to fix them. But worst of all?  

He’s walking weird.  

Not limping, exactly, but moving with obvious stiffness, like every step requires effort and caution. Like every shift of weight is calculated. Like he’s in pain and trying not to show it.  

My stomach tightens and suddenly I kind of want to hurl. What happened to you? 

For a second, I just stand there, because I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to say. Because I haven’t seen him in months, and I thought—

He’s moving with his shoulders hunched under the weight of something I don’t yet understand yet. But I want to. 

His jaw is tight. His hand grips the cart like he needs to hold onto something. He looks alone. And I can’t take it anymore.

Before I can overthink it, I pull my headphones down around my neck. The store is too loud again, and some child is shrieking in the next aisle, but I couldn't care less. 

I follow him until I’m right behind. “Lu?”  

He freezes. Turns slowly to look at me, almost as if he’s scared of what he’ll find. When our eyes meet, it feels like the floor disappears under my feet.

His eyes widen—just for a second—before something guarded slams into place. His expression changes. Not surprise. Not relief. 

Guilt.  

“Cassie,” he says, as my name is unfamiliar in his mouth. His voice sounds rough, like he hasn’t used it much lately. “Wow. Hey.” 

I force a smile, ignoring the fact that my hands are gripping my basket too tightly. “Holy shit. It’s really you.”  

He blinks a few times, like he’s still trying to process this. And then, as if switching to autopilot, he forces a smile.

That’s how I know something is really, really wrong.

Because it’s not real.

I know Lu. I know all of his smiles. I know the ones he gives when he’s happy, when he’s embarrassed, when he’s trying to keep from laughing. 

But this isn’t any of those. It’s the kind of smile you give when you don’t want someone to worry about you. When you’re trying to make them believe you’re okay.

It doesn’t work on me. Because he stopped returning my calls. Because he hasn’t answered any of my messages in seven months. Because he moved to a city where no one knew him and never even told me or any of his other friends.

Because I’m standing right in front of him and he looks like he wants to disappear.

I search his face for any sign of the guy I knew, the guy who used to beam at me across the game dev meetings, who’d high-five me after a ridiculous Smash Bros win, who’d toss me his hoodie when I complained about the cold, grumbling about how I’m so predictable.  

That guy isn’t here.  

And suddenly, I’m pissed.  

He left. He disappeared without a word, shut me out, ignored every single check-in, every stupid meme I sent just to remind him I still existed. Seven months. And now he’s standing in front of me like he never expected to see me again and doesn’t know how to deal with it.

I push down the anger with a slow, inconspicuous exhale. That’s not the priority right now.  

I shift my basket to my other hand like this is just some casual conversation between acquaintances. Like I can't sense the turning gears in his brain searching for an escape route. “What have you been up to?” 

His jaw tenses. He glances at the produce section like he’d rather talk to the goddamn oranges. “Not much.”  

I narrow my eyes and shove my free hand into my hoodie pocket, pretend everything is fine.

“Still working in AI?” I prod.  

His hesitation is so brief I almost miss it. Then he nods. “Yeah. Freelancing.”  

Something in his tone makes me think that’s not the full truth. But I don’t push. I don’t want to scare him off.   

Instead, I glance at the groceries in his cart. Not many. Like he’s buying just enough to get by. Oat milk, a few cans of soup, some protein bars, a loaf of bread. Nothing fresh. Nothing real. And I don’t like that either.  

“You done shopping?” I ask, keeping my voice light.

Another pause. He shifts his weight slightly, like standing in one place is uncomfortable. “Yeah.” 

“Did you drive here?”

“Took the bus.”

I cross my arms, tilting my head. “Cool. I’ll give you a ride.” 

He blinks. “Cass—”  

“Nope.” I shake my head, already snatching his cart out of his hands. “You don’t get to argue. You owe me, Mangione. Seven months of radio silence? This is me cashing in.”  

He exhales sharply, looking at me like he’s trying to figure something out. But we both know it’s not worth the fight. 

I always win.  

Then, finally, he gives a small, tired nod. “... Okay.”

I keep the music on low as I drive. Lu is silent for the first few minutes, staring out the window, hands clasped together in his lap. I steal glances at him whenever I can. 

This is weird. Lu is never quiet.

Or at least, he never used to be quiet with me.

I drum my fingers against the steering wheel, waiting. Stretching the silence to see if he’ll break it first.

He doesn’t.

I glance at him again before turning back to the road. “Seven months, Lu. That’s how long it’s been.”

From the corner of my eye, I can see his jaw tensing. He’s still silent.

“I know I stopped calling but… I still sent messages. I tried to check in. Tell you that—"

And I cut myself off before I break down.

His fingers tighten slightly where they rest on his knee. He looks like he needs time to gather his thoughts, so I give it to him.

Finally, he exhales, eyes still locked on the passing buildings. “I know.”

I wait, but he doesn’t say anything else. A breath escapes me, tight and shaky.

“Are you gonna tell me why you ghosted me, or do I have to guess?” I say, still trying to keep my voice light and casual. It’s getting almost impossible. 

Another stretch of silence. Then finally, his voice, low and raw. “I wasn’t in a good place.”  

It’s vague. Too vague.  

“And now?” I tighten my grip on the wheel. 

His lips press together. “Still working on it.”  

The way he says it—the weight behind it—hits me like a punch to the ribs. I knew something was wrong. But this isn’t just wrong. This is bad.  

I swallow hard. “You could’ve… said something.” I say carefully. “I could’ve helped.”  

“...I didn’t know what to say.”  

This is so unlike him it hurts.

I chew my lip, then glance at him again. His jaw is too tight, his hands too still, like he’s bracing for something. “So… what, you just decided to disappear instead of letting me be there for you?”

His head turns and, for a moment, I think he might be looking at me. But he’s not. His gaze is lost beyond the hood of the car. “Would it have mattered if I said anything?”

That stings like hell. I have to take a deep, shuddering breath to keep it together but I feel like I’m falling apart fast. He’s being unfair, and he knows it. He must know it.

“Of course it would’ve mattered!”

He exhales sharply and looks away again.

I don’t want to fight. I don’t want to push him too hard and make him retreat even further. Really, all I want is to reach out and hug him like before, but I feel like that would make him jump out of the car the next second.

“I was worried about you, Lu.” 

His gaze lowers to his lap. He can’t even stand to look at me. The lump in my throat grows, and I tighten my fingers around the wheel.

I slow the car to stop at a red light and look at him. “You’re not gonna disappear on me again,” I say. It’s not a question. It’s a warning.  

His fingers twitch. His legs shift. “I wasn’t planning on running into you,” he says, like that makes anything better.  

“Well, lucky you,” I mutter. “Fate said fuck your plans.”  

I expect a smile. A smirk. Some flicker of the old Lu—but nothing.  

My chest tightens impossibly. It’s hard to breathe.

The light turns green. I press the gas.

Lu doesn’t say anything else. But he’s not looking out the window anymore, either.

When we pull up to his apartment building, all I can think about is how gray it is. And small. He reaches for the door handle like he’s ready to get the hell out of here, but I stop him with a hand on his arm.

The muscles tense under my fingers and he freezes the same way he did when I called his name at the store. I remove my hand immediately, afraid of making everything worse.

I don’t even know what I’m trying to say. All I know is I can’t let him walk away again and pretend I don’t exist.

“Can I see you again? Please?”  

His head snaps toward me. This time, there’s real emotion in his eyes. Surprise. Maybe hesitation.  

I keep going before he can say no.  

“Because I can’t just go on with my life and forget about you, Lu,” I say, my voice soft but firm as hell. “I’ll sit right here and wait for you to come out again like a fucking creep if I have to.”  

He stares at me for a long moment. He looks… lost. Like he doesn’t know what to do with the fact that someone refuses to let him fade into nothing again. And for the first time since I saw him in that store—I see something break.  

His shoulders sag, just slightly. His fingers tighten on the handle. He nods once.  

“Okay.” It’s so quiet I almost miss it. Then he takes a deep breath, like it’s hard to fill his lungs with oxygen.  

Okay. It’s not much. But it’s enough for now.  

He doesn’t say anything else before grabbing his groceries and stepping out of the car. I watch him until the glass door closes behind him.

And then I cry.

--

Click here for the tag list ✨

@straw8berry @iinfinitelimits @belncaldern @starlightslvtt @number1yearner @fancyyanci @luigis-wetdream

[lightning-system]

something i want to write in my crawling back to you modern au is someone telling kaz he's using his cane wrong inspired by generally well-meaning but ultimately ableist people irl who think they know better than the actual cane user on what is best for them and their body. like why do people think they know how to use my cane better than me?? i really just want to give kaz the oppurtunity to snap at them bc i never do but always have the urge to and kaz Would.

[fayerambles]

will you continue writing crawling back to you? 😌👉👈

Of course! I actually already have 3 chapters completely ready and the fourth is about halfway done. I'm planning on posting the second chapter this weekend 💚

[ahgasegotarmy116]

Hello there!!! Oh you will be seeing me A LOT (sorry:) I wanted to share how much I LOVE your work!!! Girl it’s perfection!

I had a question for jk In “come back to you”

Hi I hope that you are well and you made up with oc before you left to the military. My question is, why didn’t you confess to her earlier when you know you were going to leave? And why didn’t you try and tell her even if you had to force it down her throat, I’m so curious like if you liked her that much why do that because for one I’ll be devastated as well.

Hello my darling no worries I love asks! Please send as many as you'd like! Ahhh thank you so much! You're too kind 😭 It's far from perfect but I'm so happy you enjoy it!

In regards to Come Back to You

~~~~~

Hey love, thank you for checking up on me.

It's been rough in the military and working through things with her hasn't been easy but we did end up making up to a certain extent before I left.

She was the one to confess first in this situation.

Although I had told her how I felt about her years ago, she told me she didn't feel the same way so we pushed past that and stayed friends.

It was something I wanted to bring up again when I finished my tour but when she told me she loved me I couldn't just leave without telling her that I still felt the same way.

It was hard for me too.

I wanted to stay with her and be together but there was no way around it. I had a duty to my country and there was nothing I could do to get away with not going through with it.

We're not together right now because we both need some time to think things through and the fact that I might not make it terrifies her.

We're both in love with each other and knowing that alone is painful enough but actually saying that we're in a relationship and not being given the opportunity to actually be together would make things even harder.

I hope this letter answered your questions but I promise I won't give up on her...on us.

[annafayeink]

Crawling Back to You

Summary: Luigi disappeared without a word. When Cassie stumbles back into his life after months of silence, she finds someone unrecognizable, distant, exhausted, buried under the weight of something he refuses to talk about. But Cassie won't let him disappear again.

Warnings & Tags: Friends to lovers, slow burn, hurt/comfort, angst, chronic pain & spondylolisthesis, depression, multiple pov, found family vibes, dark shit—prepare for possible tears

Previous Chapter | Read on AO3

Chapter Two

Luigi

I step into my apartment, shutting the door behind me, and immediately feel the weight of it all. The silence. The dim light filtering through the curtains I barely bother to open anymore. The air is stale, unmoving.

I walk to the kitchen, set the bags down on the counter, and just… stare at them.

I should put the groceries away. 

Soup and bread in the pantry. Oat milk in the fridge. The frozen stuff will start to thaw if I don’t put everything in the freezer. 

My gaze drifts to the fridge. I don’t need to open it to know what’s inside. The remnants of a carton of milk, takeout containers, and an embarrassing amount of energy drinks. I should cook something. Eat something real. But the idea of it is draining. 

Put them away, I tell myself. It’s not hard.

But I just stand there, motionless, my fingers still curled around the handles even though I already let go. My arms feel heavy, my legs unsteady. I would have to bend down to store things away and it feels like too much.

The mere thought of moving—of doing anything at all—is so unbearably exhausting that I just…don’t. 

I don’t move.

I exhale sharply, and scrub a hand down my face. My stubble is rough against my palm—another thing I haven’t had the energy for. 

My hands fall flat against the counter, head hanging low. My back protests immediately—a sharp ache radiating from my lower spine, creeping up and down my sides. I grit my teeth, breathing through it, waiting for it to settle into that familiar dull burn.

I shouldn’t have been standing so long in that store. I knew better, but I let it happen anyway. Now I’m paying for it. In more ways than one. 

My stomach twists when I think of her.

I shouldn’t have let Cassie see me like that. I should have walked away. The second I heard my name in that grocery store, I should have been out the door.

But I didn’t. Because it was her.

I press my forehead against the cabinet in front of me and close my eyes. She was the last person I expected to see today. Here, so far away from home. After so long.

Seven months. Seven months of silence, of avoiding, ignoring, shutting down. And then, just like that, she finds me again.

Cassie’s voice still lingers in my head—light, teasing, determined as ever. The worst part? For a moment, her presence felt like sunlight breaking through fog, and now that she’s not here, I feel cold. It’s all cloudy again. The air in this apartment feels even more lifeless.

That’s why I can’t let her stay. I can’t let her in again.

She doesn’t know I spend half the night staring at the ceiling because my back won’t let me sleep. She doesn’t know what it’s like to feel my body betray me every single fucking day. She doesn’t know what it’s like to be in the middle of something—walking down the street, sitting at my desk, trying to cook dinner—and suddenly feel like my spine is about to snap in half.

And I don’t want her to.

I don’t want her seeing me like this. I don’t want her knowing how bad it really is.

I push off the counter, trying to shake this agonizing feeling clinging to my skin like static. My body is already aching, and I don’t even bother trying to fight it.

I barely glance at the grocery bags on my way out of the kitchen. They can sit there for all I care. It’s not like I’m eating much anyway. 

But I still catch sight of myself in the reflection of the dark microwave door. It’s an accident.

Don’t look.

Something inside me feels like acid. It makes me want to put my fist through the damn reflection. I look away immediately.

I don’t want to see this hollowed-out version of myself. Hollow eyes. Hollow cheeks. Hollow soul.

The hair that needs cutting, the shoulders slumped under the weight of emotional exhaustion, the pained grimace that is becoming a permanent fixture around here.

I look like shit. I feel like shit. 

I used to be strong, resilient. I used to be… more. But now I’m just a ghost. I’m not the guy Cassie used to know. 

I hate this version of myself. The one who limps down grocery store aisles, who wakes up every morning already exhausted. The one who stares at old pictures but refuses to delete them like some pathetic part of me still believes I’ll ever get that life back.

As I walk into the living room, my eyes flick to the far corner, to the cardboard box shoved under the desk. My old hiking boots hiding inside it. The ones I used to lace up without a second thought, the ones that carried me up mountains, through forests, over miles of untouched trails.

I haven’t worn them in over a year.

My fingers twitch. I should throw them out.

But I know I won’t.

I sink down onto the couch, letting my head fall back against the cushions. The apartment is silent, the kind of dead quiet that used to be peaceful but now feels oppressive. 

This isn’t home. 

It’s not my dorm at UPenn, where there was always laughter. It’s not my old apartment with its cluttered bookshelves and the couch Cassie used to crash on when we worked too late on a game project. 

It’s not the ocean or the mountains or the endless possibilities of a Saturday morning with a packed bag and a full tank of gas.

It’s just this. These sad walls. This empty silence.

And me.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. 

I was supposed to have everything. I was supposed to be someone. 

But now I can’t even find the energy to put my fucking groceries away.

I feel the weight settle heavier in my chest again. The burden of my entire past colliding with reality is just sitting here, preventing me from taking a deep breath. It’s a suffocating kind of grief, the kind that doesn’t rip through you all at once, but lingers—clawing, gnawing, whispering that this is all that’s left.

I shut my eyes, try to block it out.

It doesn’t help. All I see is Cassie’ face. The image of her is seared into my brain—her wide brown eyes, the way her lips parted in shock before stretching into that too-bright, too-relieved smile.  

Like she actually missed me.  

I swallow, my throat suddenly dry. My shoulders ache from the weight of it all—the weight of her seeing me like this.  

I shouldn’t have let her drive me home. I shouldn’t have let her see where I live. I should’ve walked away before she had the chance to really look at me and notice everything that’s wrong.  

Cassie felt like a lifeline. 

I rub my knuckles into my eyes. She’s a piece of my old life—the part I had to cut off like a rotting limb when everything fell apart. The part that belonged to the guy who pulled all-nighters coding, hiked every weekend, surfed whenever he had time off.

That guy is gone.  And now she knows.

She tried to play it cool at the store, but I saw it in her eyes. The recognition. The frustration. The worry.

I can’t let her see more. I can’t let her dig into the truth. Because the truth is ugly and draining and just… too much.

And she deserves better than that.

Better than me.

--

Click here for the tag list ✨

@straw8berry @iinfinitelimits @belncaldern @starlightslvtt @number1yearner @fancyyanci @luigis-wetdream @new-blog12341234 @mangionesdaisy

[fayerambles]

You captured the feeling of hating yourself and isolation when your own body is failing you so well, it honestly made me tear up 😭

-- 🎵

Thank you! I was worried it wouldn't come across right but I'm glad it did. I wanted it to feel real and not like a caricature/romanticization of what living with chronic illness actually feels like.

Let's all raise a glass for those of us who are familiar with this feeling🍹It gets better, y'all. Eventually. or so they tell me 💚

[fayerambles]

Okay so Crawling Back to You will put me to tears?? Cool cool cool cool

Your pen is a weapon omg😭love you Faye!

I'm so sorry 😭 if it makes you feel better, I also hurt myself with it. We can cry together...

💚