#...so now i'm trying to move on without you just like it is the end... *proceeds to cry*

[joshujin]

dude, nice try!

◀ part one • series masterlist • part two

joshua hong has had the immense privilege of living 30 whole years without ever feeling so much as an ounce of jealousy. that is, until you come prancing into his picture-perfect life on your dumb burner account with evidence that his long-time girlfriend is cheating on him… with your boyfriend.

as he gets tangled up in your chaotic plan to get back at your adulterous partners, he begins to wonder if this growing discomfort in his chest was ever even heartbreak to begin with, or if it’s something entirely new to him—something that has the ability to eat him alive from the inside out.

♫ get him back! olivia rodrigo ⟡ my kink is karma chappell roan ⟡ see u never niki ⟡ good to me seventeen

pairing: joshua x fem!reader part two: 14.6k words cw: strong language, mentions of/implied sexual activity, kms joke, reader is highly emotional and tbh kind of crazy maybe even toxic but idc bc i support women’s rights and wrongs <3 tags: cheating (not between main ship), strangers to partners-in-crime to partners PERIOD, joshua pov, pining, he fell first AND harder oops, he’s also so incredibly whipped from the jump, a few smau bits but mostly writing, no smut, inspired by get him back! by miss rodrigo a/n: oh nothing, just me getting carried away with the dialogue and my word count like usual :) to the anon that requested this: pls feel free to pop back into my ask and tell me how you think this is going LOL. i'm having fun writing it but i know the jealousy isn't fully fleshed out yet. to everyone else: ENJOY!

dividers by @cafekitsune cover by yours truly!

joshua was being sincere with you when he told you he wasn’t a good bar to set yourself against when it came to breakups. 

there was stephanie from when he was still in college in the U.S.; they broke up because he decided to move back to korea. it was amicable for the most part, but he probably could’ve given her a more generous heads up than the two weeks he did give her. it wasn’t until a year or so later that she realized how unfair that had been and made sure joshua knew—with a series of voice memo texts that were nearly 15 minutes each. 

then, he dated miyoung. she was nice but she also decided she wanted to get married within the next year only three months in, and as a 23-year-old, joshua was freaked out enough to run almost immediately. his relationship with miyoung ended on a phone call that lasted three hours because she was sobbing so hard, he didn’t have the heart to hang up even though he had no idea how to comfort her. he saw her consistently for weeks after out of pure guilt until jeonghan pointed out that this was just a disguised way of stringing her along.

after that, there was bada, nari, bora, aram, and hana, all girls he casually dated for no longer than a handful of weeks before one of them decided it actually wasn’t a fit for various, mostly dumb reasons. nari told him she didn’t like that he collected cologne and had three times as much perfume as she did. he left aram because she ate so messily, it gave him the ick. though apparently, that might be something he doesn’t mind anymore.

he dated yumi for six months, and to this day, she’s still the only serious girlfriend of his that broke up with him. she told him that she felt like after six months, she still barely knew him, and that he was “too concerned” with upholding an image of himself that “didn’t feel real.” he went straight to therapy for that one.

and when he felt a little better in his own skin and ready to put a “realer” version of himself out there, he met mina. mina, his longest relationship, and up until now, someone he was convinced was his first love. he said as much anyway. he was the first to tell her he loved her, he reminded her he did every day, and he thought they had a nice, long future ahead of them. what he pictured in that future exactly, he had no clue. but after an odd and somewhat unlucky streak in dating, he finally felt like mina was a nice and comfy place to land.

he’s never been more wrong about something in his entire life. 

and after the laughable amount of breakups he’s experienced, he’s also never been angrier after the end of a relationship in his entire life.

mina was proving to be a lot of firsts for him—first cheater, first master manipulator and liar, first person who’s ever made him wonder if he could possibly switch over to dating men instead… or simply stop dating at all! sure, he would die alone but he would die in peace. 

whatever the case, he's quickly approaching the conclusion that “first love” is not among those firsts, and it probably never was. no amount of teasing from you or jeonghan did it, but in less than a handful of minutes spent breaking up with mina, he is a million percent sure this was not someone he could have loved. or else what did that say about him and his taste?

sixteen minutes earlier

joshua arrives at mina’s apartment exactly two hours after work ends for her—5 p.m. every day because she always scheduled a pilates class at 5:30 p.m. thirty minutes for her to get to her class, one hour for her to finish it, 30 minutes for her to get home, zero minutes for her to get clean because he doesn’t care how presentable she is when he dumps her. 

plus, however long it takes joshua to end this—hopefully a lot shorter than his experience with miyoung.

he hadn’t bothered to tell her he was coming over; he didn’t think she really deserved that courtesy. he may be intent on a clean break, but he also wanted this to be as annoying for her as it has been for him.

so at a prompt 7 p.m., joshua finds himself casually leaning against the elevator’s railing, ascending the floors of mina’s apartment and feeling almost excited to be free of this experience. 

after he got off the phone with you, he decided he would bite the bullet when work was over. he spent the rest of his day absentmindedly finishing his reports, periodically stopping to scribble an idea for what he would say to his soon-to-be ex-girlfriend.

he takes the folded piece of paper out of his pocket now and runs over his options again.

his levels of shame and self-pity were sky high when he first pulled out his notepad at the office to write his thoughts out, but after texting you and letting you know what he planned to do, you insisted on meeting at a cafe beforehand to brainstorm together while he waited for mina’s pilates class to end. and once you both workshopped the entire list, his embarrassment diminished almost completely.

it was clear you took this a lot more seriously than he did. he doesn't know what he expected; you probably have a manila folder stuffed full of notes for what you plan to do to siwoo.

as such, you were very helpful. sure, you were also really distracting, with your subtle, spiced perfume he recognized as lola james harper, and your daunting and unrelenting eye contact, and the way your eyes smiled all on their own when they weren’t busy crying over siwoo, and the fact that you graced him with your laugh in person for the first time (every bit as fun as he thought it would be), and everything else that came with just existing in your presence.

all of it was really distracting—almost to the point of it being entirely counterproductive for him. almost, if it weren’t for the fact that you were so determined on his behalf to make this the most unpleasant experience for mina. he was mostly pleased with where you two landed, and if anything, he at least had a better idea of what he wanted to say.

he reads the completely ruined paper, a mess of his black ink and wrinkles where you kept trying to grab it out of his hands. it was already a vulnerable enough occasion talking about this with you; he did not need you seeing his notes on top of it.

TALKING POINTS FOR BREAKING UP WITH EVIL GF i know you’ve been cheating on me, and don’t try to deny it because someone sent me proof! — cannot say this without exposing that y/n knows about siwoo!!! i know you’ve been cheating on me, and don’t try to deny it because i went through your phone and saw your text messages! — better, but am i willing to look crazy just to cover for y/n?  yes  what am i saying NO  this will do ✓ how could you do this to us? i loved you! — seems disingenuous? note: yell at jeonghan and y/n for putting ideas in my head later! i literally gave you everything you could’ve wanted, and that still wasn’t enough? what does any other man have that i don’t? — ok met with y/n for feedback. says this sounds pathetic and that i can't let her think this affected me. but she cheated on me? this LITERALLY affects me. i will come back to this one  ok y/n made a different, better point: i am perfect •ᴗ• and i shouldn’t present myself as lacking. so true. she's very good at this! •ᴗ• do you really think anyone with half a fucking brain cell who's willing to homewreck a relationship is really going to give enough of a fuck about you to be capable of putting up with your insufferable ass and treating you as well as i did? — y/n suggested. had to workshop bc she's alarmingly vulgar. plus, maybe toxic to say i "put up" with mina ?? not sure do you even regret hurting me? — y/n says this is silly bc siwoo and mina obviously do not regret anything, but i want mina to feel guilty. y/n now agrees and says i should add: "or are you just so heartless you don't care?" she said this more colorfully, but i will remain respectful  why should i remain respectful? mina is literally the most disrespectful person i’ve ever met. i’ll say what y/n suggested ⤵ your commitment to being a heartless asshole has you by your ugly ass neck and i hope it starts squeezing with both hands  GET SOME HELP! — more for catharsis. won’t be yelling this at her you're going to regret this and if you think there's a world where i take you back when you do, you're mistaken — wow, no notes from y/n! must be very good •ᴗ• definitely say this one!! please never contact me again — note from y/n: "why are you being so goddamn polite? tell her to fuck off and if you ever see her number on your phone screen, you'll set up an appointment on her behalf to get a lobotomy." ????? note from ME: have a serious discussion with y/n at a later time about why i, a MAN, can't just talk to WOMEN like this!

despite the circumstances that led to having to make the list at all, joshua can't help but grin at it. the time spent with you at the cafe was not only helpful; it was fun. maybe the most fun he’s had with a woman since he started dating mina, who chased off all his female friends within the first two months of being in his life. joshua winces as he pockets the list, wondering how he didn’t see the red flags. 

his thoughts are interrupted with the loud and obnoxious ping of the elevator as it arrives on mina’s floor. the doors slide open, and immediately, he hears the obscene sounds of a woman moaning down the hall. his eyes widen as he steps out and turns down the hall in the direction of mina’s apartment. 

the walls of her place were always thin; they were constantly getting into wars with the neighbors that involved banging on the floor, ceiling, and shared walls with her broom. still, he had never heard this kind of noise from her neighbors. 

“tell me about it.”

joshua looks to his right to find an older woman stepping out of her apartment and locking her door. he must have a look of shock on his face because she snorts and nods in what seems like solidarity as she tucks her empty reusable bags into her armpit. 

“that girl doesn’t seem to ever stop,” she informs him. “i’ve complained to the building manager so many times, and still, here she is, screaming like a little banshee and disrupting this entire floor’s peace.”

joshua feels his skin break out into a cold sweat as his mind starts to go a mile a minute. “huh… interesting…”

“i mean,” the woman turns to step into the elevator joshua just walked out of. “what is she even doing? auditioning for a god damn porn? she sounds like my fucking shih tzu’s squeaky toy!” 

he forces a laugh, too distracted to even feel uncomfortable over the inappropriate joke. “maybe,” he mutters. “she sure is putting on a performance.”

“oh my god!” the voice shrieks in perfect timing, making him flinch. 

“ugh, inconsiderate! all hours of the day! does she even work?!” the woman shakes her head and clicks her tongue in disapproval as she presses a button and the doors close. 

joshua stands there for a moment, staring at the elevator, unable to move as he listens to the noises of what could possibly be his girlfriend having sex with siwoo right now. it didn’t even sound remotely like her, and that fact terrifies him even more because if it is her, then she had to be faking it with someone. was she faking it with joshua or with siwoo?

he groans, letting his head fall into his hands. 

“who cares?” he grumbles to himself. the last thing he should be worrying about is whether or not an adulterous liar like mina thought he was good in bed. he should definitely not care anymore. “i don’t care.”

joshua can practically hear jeonghan’s voice telling him, sure you don’t. he shakes his head, trying to banish his jeonghan-shaped conscience from his brain.  

he doesn’t even know if it’s mina. it could very well be some other female neighbor; it’s not far-fetched for people to be having sex. he could just be paranoid right now since he knows she’s cheating on him. 

each floor of mina’s apartment is huge—a maze, really. dozens of units, at least ten near the elevator, several people who could be having sex. 

he always counted himself lucky that mina lived so close to the elevator, just down the hall a few units down. today, though, as the wailing reverberates off the walls of the hallway leading to the elevator, he thinks mina’s floor plan is the worst thing that’s ever happened to him.

his phone is to his ear before he can fully consider what he’s doing. 

“did you do it?” you seem to dislike greeting people on the phone properly like a normal human being. you speak a little louder than usual, your surroundings lively and buzzing with the noise of what sounds like several conversations. “that was fast.”

“uh,” joshua elongates the sound for a few seconds while his brain tries to tune out the “porn audition” long enough to comprehend your question. “no… nope. i haven’t done it yet.”

“oh. then what’s up? you need backup after all?” you ask too seriously for him to confidently say you’re joking. 

before you both parted ways at the cafe, you offered him company and said you could tag along and jump mina for him. you both laughed and said your goodbyes, but if what joshua fears right now is true, he definitely doesn’t hate the idea of you jumping her. 

“i’m a little busy—well, kinda, not really—but i can fake some kind of horrific emergency and get out of here and over to you in…” you trail off, probably checking the time. “twenty minutes… maybe ten if i’m okay with breaking a few laws. which, rest assured, i am!”

he feels the dread over his predicament slipping as you keep talking, his emotions turning into an incredibly confusing mix of panic, amusement, anxiety, relief, and so on and so on. the number of odd emotions you elicit out of him are countless. 

joshua glides over what he assumes is a joke and straight to the point; the faster he finds out what he needs to, the faster he can hopefully escape this building.

“do you know where siwoo is?” he asks, taking the first few tentative steps to mina’s door. he walks painstakingly slowly, almost tiptoeing even though there’s no possible way anyone could hear him over the lewd moans. 

“he’s at dinner with his vile parents,” you say, sighing like you’d rather talk about anything else. 

“are you sure?”

“yes… why?”

“like… how sure?” joshua presses. 

“uh, 100 percent.” he can picture the frown on your face that usually matches this tone of yours—confused bordering on annoyed. “i’m literally staring at him as his awful monster of a mother tucks a napkin into his collar like a little fucking devil baby, bro.” 

joshua doesn’t know how at a time like this, his brain has the capacity to still take note of how much he loathes when you call him bro. it’s a weird thought to have to process alongside the thousands of other things he’s suddenly feeling.

“i’m at the bar of this pretentious ass restaurant waiting on the bartender to finish their drink orders while they eat all the appetizers without me, like a good, little stay-at-home girlfriend slash maid slash server slash revenge connoisseur!” you inform him, your voice sarcastically cheerful. “i’m going to spit in all their drinks.” that bit comes out in your normal, low—and a little irritated—voice.

“wow” is all he says because his brain doesn’t supply him with anything else.

“like i said, revenge connoisseur,” you say, sounding bored. “so yes, i’m 100 percent sure he’s here. we have to have dinner with these assholes once a week but—” you cut yourself off as you address someone else. “ah, thank you! oh wait, can you actually remove the espresso beans from this one? the abominable woman who gave birth to my boyfriend doesn’t want to have too much caffeine this late in the day.”

joshua realizes his brain has the capacity to do a lot of things in stressful situations as long as he’s talking to you. because he stops walking and immediately starts laughing when he hears the bartender deadpan: “it’s an espresso martini.”

you sigh like you’ve had to explain this a million different times to a million different bartenders. 

“joshua? hold on, okay?” you tell him before immediately addressing the bartender without waiting for him to reply. “listen, i get it. you don’t have to tell me. i know! she’s a ridiculous airhead who gets her life force from making little people like me suffer and ask for embarrassing things on her behalf. i don’t even care if you stick your bare fingers in there to pluck them out—in fact, i actually kind of prefer you do that. i just need them gone before she comes poking her snobby, little nose over here and demands you make her an entirely brand new one.”

that seems to do the job because the next thing you say is: 

“thank you so much. and please give yourself a 50 percent tip—100 even!” you shout the last part as, joshua assumes, the bartender walks away. “it’s on their card, go crazy!” 

the bartender says something that he can’t make out and you laugh. the sound of it—so light and mischievous and charismatic—completely severs the already increasingly weakened grip his panic has on him. he feels like he can breathe a little easier, even among the horrible sounds filling the hallway. 

“okay, i’m back, sorry,” you say into the phone, picking up exactly where you left off as if you never stopped talking. “like i was saying, we do this shit every week, so i can definitely get out of this if you need me to. why are you asking about siwoo anyway?” 

there’s something comforting about the way you’re ready to drop everything to get to joshua even though you just said bye less than an hour ago and you don’t even know why he’s calling. though, he does realize your eagerness is also probably due to the fact that you just don’t want to be around your cheating boyfriend and his family.

joshua exhales slowly through his nose. “well, it’s not quite your 100, but i am like, at least… 70 percent sure that mina is having sex with someone in her apartment as we speak. i thought it was siwoo, but…” he lets you come to your own conclusions.

the silence on the other end of the phone is so much more threatening than the gasping and yelling he expected. it stretches for so long that at some point, joshua wonders if you even heard him. 

“did you—”

“i heard you,” you say, your voice clipped. you pause again for a shorter period and when you speak, you sound a lot less short. “i was trying to ignore it because i couldn’t imagine what the hell it was, but you definitely sound like you’re on the set of a porno.”

joshua grimaces, stepping away from the side of the hallway that mina’s apartment is on as if that will help—it doesn’t, not with the way it echoes off the walls. he cups his hand around the mouthpiece of his phone, hoping that it will keep the shih tzu squeaky toy sound effects from traveling to you. “shit, i’m sorry,” he breathes, scurrying down the hallway and several units past mina’s apartment in a desperate attempt to get away from the moaning. “i didn’t realize you could hear it clearly.”

“are you running away from the noise, joshua hong?” you ask, obviously amused.

“um, maybe.”

“wow, what a gentleman, protecting my innocence like this,” you fake-sigh like you’re swooning on the other end of the line and he blushes furiously. he can’t help the smile that tugs at the corners of his lips. “chivalry is not dead.”

“you’re so insufferable!” he whisper-yells at you. the poor residents of this floor already have to deal with ‘round-the-clock sex; they don’t need to add him being obnoxiously loud on the phone too. “i’m having a horrible time right now, and you’re joking around?!”

you giggle. “okay, fine. i’m insufferable. but at least i made you smile.”

“and how on earth could you possibly know that if you can’t even see me?”

you snort. “please. i can hear it in your voice. your smile transcends all obstacles, hong. you could smile on the other side of the world and i’d know it.”

the claim makes joshua’s hands clammy, and he finds he has no idea what to say to that. he can barely breathe, but this time, it feels a little different—not quite so wrought with anxiety like it was when he first exited the elevator.

sensing you may have gone overboard with your compliment this time, you clear your throat and steer the conversation back on track.

“mina is a real piece of work,” you state the obvious before rambling a little. “cheating on you… cheating on siwoo… though, is that called cheating if siwoo is also her sidepiece…? no, right? she’s just cheating on you twice—fuck, sorry, that was so callous and dumb to say.” he hears something that sounds like you hitting your forehead repeatedly. 

“yeah… i don’t know…” his mind is not on the logistics of the cheating.

“okay, so here’s what we’re going to do,” you say, voice kicking into high-gear. “i’ve been gone from the table for almost… 10 minutes; these rats get impatient after, like, two.”

joshua leans against the wall, finding your little plotting voice weirdly comforting.

“siwoo is going to stand up any moment now to see what’s taking so long at the insistence of his egg donor.”

he closes his eyes and tries to calm his heartbeat, smiling a little at your refusal to call siwoo’s mom anything but his mom. 

“and when he does, i’m—oh my god, i’m amazing.”

joshua opens his eyes and frowns. “what?”

you laugh in disbelief before frantically whispering, “siwoo just got up and is walking over here. he is so predictable. also, i just got the ick so bad. this idiot forgot to take his little napkin bib off. okay, he’s almost here. don’t reply to anything i say, alright?”

“al—”

“oh my god, are you serious?!” you shriek at joshua. he immediately brings his phone away from his ear. “are you okay?” you pause like you’re listening to a nonexistent response. “holy shit, girl—” your next words are an exaggerated whisper. “—it’s soph, she’s on a date, having… explosive diarrhea!”

joshua looks at his phone incredulously. he doesn’t know how you manage to sound so convincing when it’s clear to him everything you say comes to mind the very second before you say it. 

“that’s disgusting.” his eyes involuntarily narrow at what can only be siwoo’s voice. he sounds just as dumb as joshua thought he would.

“i have to go!” you exclaim. 

“what?! why?”

“did you hear me?! soph is having a crisis! what am i supposed to do, just leave her in the bathroom of some dingy sushi restaurant covered in her own shit while her date thinks she snuck out on her?!” she speaks back into the phone. “hold on, girl.”

he snorts as he passes a hand over his face in embarrassment even though he’s completely alone. he’s truly amazed at how committed you are to your act. he would’ve cracked before he ever even got to utter the word “diarrhea.”

“uh, yes? we’re at dinner with my parents and that sounds like a really gross her problem.”

joshua rolls his eyes. siwoo is an asshole through and through. 

you pause and he likes to imagine you’re taking a moment to really process what a fucking dick your boyfriend is. “i’ll be quick, baby,” you say through barely concealed annoyance. his eye twitches at the term of endearment anyway. “tell your parents i said sorry! i’ll text you when i’m on my way home! soph, i’m on my way!”

“y/n!” his voice is further away than he previously sounded. “what about our drinks?!”

“ask the bartender!” you practically bellow at him. “fucking incompetent. ‘what about our drinks?’” your impression of siwoo is simply an exaggerated baby voice, and joshua thinks it sounds exactly the same. “what the fuck kind of question? where else would you get your drinks?” you mutter—to yourself, joshua presumes. “okay, shua, i am free and i am on my way!”

he doesn’t even have the opportunity to be surprised about you coming to mina’s apartment; he’s too caught off-guard by the sudden nickname. 

“hello?” you call, suddenly sounding like you’re, at the very least, brisk-walking if not fully running. “you can talk now! i am not in the restaurant anym—oop, excuse me, sorry!”

“shua?” joshua repeats mindlessly.

“aw, don’t like it? we can workshop that too,” you huff, excusing yourself as you navigate whatever street you’re on. “i think it’s cute, though. no? shua... shua!” 

you repeat it a few more times like that will get him to agree. most of the instances of “shua” are breathed out in a quick exhale as you move, and joshua is almost completely convinced you’re running. 

“okay, i’m kind of losing the meaning of ‘shua’ now. i swear it’s cute, though.”

he smiles. “uh, yeah, it’s… cute. different but cute.”

“right? josh is tired,” you claim. “shua feels more fitting for you. anyway, give me… 12 minutes and i will be there.”

“why are you coming here again?’ he asks, remembering to feel confused about your plans. 

“for moral support, hello?” you answer like it’s obvious. “ah! sorry!” you shout at someone who curses. “you have me now, dude.” dude is better than bro, he supposes. “we don’t have to go through these traumatic events alone anymore! i’ll be there and if you want me to blow my cover and this entire plan so i can slap mina across the face, i will!”

his mouth twitches to keep from smirking. the thought is tempting. “you really don’t have to—”

“shut up, i just told siwoo my best friend is having explosive diarrhea for you,” you point out, practically panting now. “we cannot walk this back! now go break up with that horrid bitch, and if she really is fucking someone in there, you tell me and i’ll march up there and win my very first fistfight… uh, what floor is her apartment, by the way?”

joshua shakes his head, trying his hardest not to grin. “no, you stay downstairs. there will be no fistfights tonight. i’ll see you in a bit.”

“got it, boss.”

“and stop running,” he orders. “you’re just going to hurt yourself.”

“mmm, agree to disagree,” you heave. “see you soon!” you hang up in a hurry, giving him no time to say bye. 

as he stands in the hallway, he realizes that in the time he spent with you on the phone, the moans subsided. between the absence of your mayhem and the vulgarity of maybe-mina’s maybe-cheating, it’s almost eerie how suddenly quiet the floor is. 

he drags his feet as he makes his way back to mina’s door. when he gets there, he tentatively presses an ear to the wood, and when he can’t hear anything, he raises his fist and knocks before he can change his mind. several seconds pass and he doesn’t hear anyone coming to the door or even speaking. his discomfort eases a little as he starts to think maybe she’s not even home.

mina isn’t one to deviate from her plans; she gets irritable when she has to, so joshua knows that pilates definitely had to be on the agenda today. and if she’s not home yet, then she should be arriving any moment now. he punches in the code for her apartment, determined to wait it out and get this over with because he has no plans to spend another day tied down to a cheater.

“mina?” he calls out as soon as he steps in. he almost bends down to take his shoes off, thinks twice about it, and leaves them on. what did you call it again? taking your small joys wherever you can. tracking dirt into mina’s apartment felt like a small joy right now. 

with no response, he heads into the kitchen to grab himself a water bottle before sitting on a stool at the breakfast bar. he’s about to take his notes out again when he hears a door click. he frowns. 

“hello?” mina’s voice tentatively calls out from the hallway. 

“it’s me,” joshua says, leaving his notes where they are in his pocket. “i knocked but i guess you didn’t hear.”

“josh?” mina rounds the corner, in her bathrobe. she smiles brightly when she confirms it’s him. “hey, baby. what are you doing here?”

she walks up to him with the ease of a loyal girlfriend. he’s astounded by it, actually; how she can act so sweet and kind and cute when she’s sleeping with siwoo every chance she gets. if he thinks about it too hard, it actually scares him. 

she loops her arms around his waist and hugs him from behind, hooking her chin on his shoulder. he tenses and immediately slips off the stool and out of her grip. 

“i wanted to talk to you, remember?” he says, stepping away when she tries to reach for him again. she frowns like she’s finally understanding there’s a problem. “yesterday. but you said you were busy.” busy fucking siwoo. 

even with a direct reference to her infidelity, mina doesn’t bat an eye. he thinks she could probably thrive in a career in acting. “yeah, i had to clock some overtime yesterday,” she lies. “it was such a drag,” she complains as she gets her own water bottle from the fridge. “i paid for my pilates class and everything and had to pay the fee for missing it.”

the lies roll of her tongue so effortlessly, joshua knows he would’ve easily believed them if he didn’t have cold, hard proof. even with the cold, hard proof, he wonders if there’s any way you could have still gotten it wrong. he knows you didn’t. maybe he is gullible because after two days, he already trusts you more than he does mina. 

“pilates,” he repeats in a daze. 

she raises an eyebrow as she takes a sip. she caps her bottle again and nods slowly. “yes, baby, pilates… is everything okay?”

“mina, have you ever cheated on me?”

joshua sees it then—the crack in her facade. her eyes widen, not with surprise or disbelief the way an innocent person’s probably would, but fear. to her credit, it passes quickly as she schools her expression into one of bewilderment. if joshua hadn’t known to look for it, he knows he would have missed it. he would have missed it along with all the other red flags he’s missed. 

“why are you asking me that?” she asks, her voice sharp with the vexation of someone who’s been offended. joshua doesn’t let it faze him.

he shrugs, clenching his jaw briefly before speaking again. “just answer the question, mina.”

mina seems to realize joshua isn’t in the mood for games because her shoulders deflate the tiniest bit, her eyes flicking from one side of the room to the other as she tries to think of what to say. he knows it’s because in the year they’ve been together, joshua has never—not once—lost his temper or expressed any kind of annoyance with her.

it’s always “joshua is so sweet,” “joshua is such a gentleman,” “joshua is so kind,” “joshua is so mild mannered,” “joshua is so fucking gullible.”

joshua is done.

“mina.”

he doesn’t mean for his voice to come out sharp and raised the way it does, but when she flinches, he realizes his patience is slipping faster than jeonghan could ever dream of making it.

“wh—?” she squeezes her eyes shut like she’s trying to understand how they got here. “what?” she suddenly shrieks, eyes opening wide with disbelief and what he’s sure she thinks is translating as devastation. “what are you even saying, joshua?!”

the sheer amount of willpower it takes to keep from rolling his eyes is staggering. “it should be an easy question to answer,” he sighs, running a hand over his face tiredly. “so i think the fact that you refuse to is an answer in itself.”

he sets his bottle on the counter and moves to step around her so he can leave and just let it be over with—going out, not with a bang, but with a pathetic little sigh—but she steps the same direction, palms out like she’ll shove him if he gets any closer to the door.

“what the fuck are you on right now?” she asks, eyes narrowed and mouth twisted into an ugly, displeased sneer like a switch just flipped.

joshua feels the hair on the back of his neck stand as he frowns down at her. she doesn’t try to wrestle her face into playing along with her placating, innocent girl act. instead, she wears her scowl proudly, crossing her arms across her chest in defiance as she blocks his way from his emergency exit. 

“you’re not leaving until you tell me why you’re asking me that,” she states.

he finds her rage as discomforting as yours but in wildly different ways. your anger makes him freeze up and almost panic; it renders him unable to speak or even think, and he’s still not even sure why. but mina’s makes him physically cringe away. it… annoys him.

just like she wasn’t used to his impatience, he wasn’t used to her being angry—at least not at him. all mina’s ever been angry about have been baristas who used 2% instead of fat free milk in her lattes (and yes, she insists she can tell), long wait times, and her boss demanding she work overtime. though joshua realizes that was probably just an excuse to see siwoo.

“mina, why are you doing this?” he asks, exasperated.

“why am i doing this?!” she repeats, scoffing so obnoxiously hard in his face, spit lands on his cheek. 

he closes his eyes for a brief moment as he wipes it away, willing his patience to hold out long enough to get him out of this building.

“why are you doing this?! why are you as—”

“because i know!” he shouts over her increasingly high-pitched whining. “i’m asking because i know all about how awful you’ve been, mina! and i wanted to see if after a year together, you’d at least have the decency to be honest with me!” 

mina’s attitude drops, her hands immediately combing through her hair frantically, a nervous tic she always had.

“i know you were faking business trips, i know you were sleeping around, i know you were fucking him last night when i told you i needed to talk to you—when your boyfriend of a year wanted to see you!”

she stares at him helplessly, mouth hung open and her eyes quickly filling with tears. he realizes as he stares back, feeling nothing but resentment and disdain for her, that your wildly fluctuating emotions unnerve him because he wants to find a way to get you back to your baseline, if not all the way to the other end to happy.

as he watches mina begin to weep, he feels none of that. for the first time in his life, joshua yearns to be cruel. he wants to make her cry harder, and it makes him resent her even more—for making him think and feel something so reprehensible.

he suddenly sees why you’re so open to letting your fury flow through every part of you before unapologetically releasing it right out into the world the way you do. after a lifetime of insisting on being the calm one, the collected one, the unbothered one, the unfeeling one, he realizes that being angry like this is addicting—freeing.

“baby, i…”

“don’t, mina, i’m not your fucking baby,” he says. even he can hear how tired he sounds. 

“i’m so sorry,” she whispers, voice cracking. “i am, i really am. i don’t know why i did it. i—i don’t know—i’m so—i…”

“save it,” he puts her out of her misery of trying to find the right words to manipulate him into thinking she’s anything other than the deceitful cheater she is. “i know you don’t regret hurting me like this. i—”

“no, i do!” she wails, throwing herself at him now.

he immediately starts untangling himself from her hold but she makes it impossible, her grabby hands all over him as she tries to get him to stop attempting to escape her.

“mina, let go o—”

“i regret it, joshua, i swear to god i regret it!” she weeps so loudly now, he starts to feel dread gathering in the pit of his stomach the way it did when he broke up with miyoung. “i never wanted to hurt you, i love you!”

“holy shit,” he grumbles, shoving her hands off him and stepping away from her even though it meant being farther from the only exit. “how can you even say that to my face right now?”

“it’s true!” she screams, grating his nerves. “i love you! i want to spend the rest of my life with you! it was all a mistake! minhyuk was just a temptation i gave into at a weak moment, and i swear it didn’t mean—”

“who the hell is minhyuk?” he asks, frowning when her words finally catch up to him.

mina freezes, and it’s like her tears get the memo because they stop too. it’s the only reason joshua knows that no matter how convincing, this was also just an act.

he glares now.

“who. is. minhyuk. mina?” he staggers his words like it’ll help her few remaining brain cells unite long enough to understand and answer his question.

“i… what do you mean? you said… you said you knew that i… you said—”

“i know about siwoo,” he clarifies, his temper at its breaking point. he’s a moment away from calling you to come up here and make sure he doesn’t land himself in jail, wrecking mina’s entire apartment in an attempt to claw his way out of it. “who the fuck is minhyuk?”

joshua doesn’t think he’s ever cussed this much in his life.

“i—”

“who the fuck is siwoo?” 

joshua’s head whips around toward the voice, coming from the hallway that leads to mina’s room. the laugh that immediately escapes his mouth is instinctive and hysterical. he doesn’t know any other way to react than to start laughing; if he doesn’t, he’s positive he’ll somehow spontaneously combust. 

because standing in mina’s hallway is one of the many reasons her neighbors despise her. a very half naked reason, dressed only in boxers.

“are you for fucking real?” mina hisses, shutting her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose as if joshua isn’t even in the room. “i told you to wait in the room and be fucking quiet, you moron. are you—”

“who is siwoo?!” the man shouts now.

joshua’s laughs peter out, and with them goes his anger. he sighs, shaking his head and remembering how drained he feels. 

“i take it you’re minhyuk.” the man glares at him but doesn’t respond, so he nods. “well, mina, i guess you were truthful about one thing: you really were busy last night, weren’t you?”

“how did you even know siwoo stopped by here?!” she yells. joshua hopes building management kicks her out after the noise complaints she’s bound to get from today alone.

“i can’t believe you’re fucking cheating on me!” minhyuk disappears back into mina’s room, shouting nonsense as he gathers his things. 

“you’re definitely not the one who was cheated on!” joshua calls after him, rolling his eyes. he turns back to mina, mustering up the very last of his energy to finally end it. “mina. you’re disgusting. i will move on from this remembering you as nothing other than a nasty stain on my otherwise amazing life.”

a squeak of protest erupts from her mouth, but he doesn’t let her get a word in.

“but you... you’ll continue to do whatever sleazy shit you’ve been up to for who knows how long, and one day, you’ll wake up and realize how empty and tragic and ugly you and your life both are—” she has the audacity to look offended at the word ugly. “—and you won’t be able to do anything to change that because no one worth having around will have cared enough to stick by you.”

her tears start again and this time, they feel real—they don’t come with screaming or begging or lying. they steadily stream down her face and it makes joshua feel like he’s high.

“your commitment to being a selfish asshole really has you by the neck and i pray to god it starts squeezing with both hands,” he says, delivering your line with a tight-lipped smile.

he finally steps around her, making his way to the door. he opens it and just before he leaves, he thinks, what the hell? and turns back.

“mina,” he calls softly. she turns back to him, face red and splotchy. “don’t contact me. if i ever see your phone number on my screen, i’ll personally call every single cafe on this fucking continent and make sure they only serve you whole fat milk for the rest of your life.”

she gasps like he just made a legitimate threat, and he gets the immature and overwhelming urge to ridicule and laugh at her.

“oh, and get some fucking help,” he adds before turning away and leaving without waiting for her reaction.

fortunately, he gets the elevator immediately. 

unfortunately, none other than minhyuk comes barreling in before the doors close. he has the sense to at least look ashamed, throwing joshua a pitiful smile, but it isn’t enough, so he steps forward and presses a finger to the button that keeps the doors open.

he doesn’t say anything, blankly staring at the man who apparently had sex with his girlfriend either before or after siwoo did last night. minhyuk gets the clue and sighs.

“bro, we’re on the 13th floor,” he protests.

he still doesn’t respond. finally, when several seconds of minhyuk fidgeting have passed, the man groans dramatically—not unlike mina herself—and he stomps out of the elevator and toward the stairwell.

joshua smiles to himself, releasing the button and letting the elevator doors close and take him down to the lobby—down to you.

when joshua exits mina’s building, you’re waiting exactly where you had accosted the two of them the night before, sweaty and disheveled from your run over, but somehow still looking so incredibly pretty. 

you take one look at his face and know exactly how the entire conversation went down without even having to ask. then, an interesting thing happens: you do something joshua thinks is akin to exploding, and he has to hold you back from storming the building. you don’t even know where mina lives, but he knows if he lets you go, you’ll knock on every single door of all 25 floors until you find her and sock her in the face. 

and even as he tries to calm you down now, something warms his heart knowing you care enough to do something as ridiculous as that.

“you’re causing a scene,” he grunts, stepping in your way again when you try to dodge him.

“if you think this is a scene, you’re gonna hate what i’m about to cause on whatever goddamn floor that bitch lives on!” you inform him. 

“i’m not telling you and the front desk won’t either. he’d probably call security on you before you even get to the elevators.”

“i don’t care! i’ll punch the man at the front desk too! my fists are rated E for everyone!” you shriek wildly, darting back and forth as you try to get around him. against his will, an amused snort escapes him.

when it’s clear to you that joshua’s height and long legs are going to make it impossible for you to fake him out, you give up on going around and decide to go through.

joshua shouts in surprise when you barrel right into him, opting for pushing him backwards to get a few steps forward. he catches on quickly and digs his heels in, gripping your shoulders and holding you at arm’s length.

“she’s not worth this time or energy,” he tells you. 

“oh, i disagree, i think she’s worth a lot of my time and energy!” you refute. “i think she’s worth as much of my time and energy as it takes for me to rock her shit!”

you groan as you struggle against his hold, and he almost laughs at how hard you seem to be trying because it’s relatively easy to keep you where you are. you shrug his hands off and slap him away, charging forward again, but before you can, he plants his palm on your forehead, stopping you in your tracks.

“yah! joshua hong!” you shove his arm away from your forehead, and he can’t help when the laughs finally break free. “how are you laughing right now? i could kill her!”

he shrugs, his laughter suddenly snowballing until his hands are on his knees and he’s trying to catch his breath. 

he can’t do anything other than laugh. he has to laugh at the year he’s wasted with mina, or he’ll drive himself crazy asking himself what’s wrong with him that his taste led him so astray (something to unpack when he inevitably returns to his therapist). he has to laugh at the memory of walking in while minhyuk was still there or he’ll fixate on the fact that he has no idea how many men mina’s cheated on him with—and the fact that he needs to go get tested for STDs immediately. there is no other option but to laugh because he has no idea how someone’s life can change this fast because of an instagram DM.

when he finally stops, he sighs, straightening up to find you looking at him with a blank expression.

“oh, you’re so not okay,” you mutter.

“i’m fine,” he insists, shaking his head. he rests his hands back on your shoulders, this time gently, and he nods once. “this has just been the most ridiculous 24 hours of my life, and i’m tired and i’m starving. can we please escape this hellhole and eat? i’ll even pay.”

your eyes narrow at that, studying his face like you’re trying to see if he’s lying to you about being okay. he isn’t—at least he doesn’t think he is—but he also doesn’t think you’d be able to tell if he were anyway.

“i know a ramen spot near here?” you offer hesitantly.

it irks him that you not only have a go-to fried chicken spot in the area but a ramen spot too, and only because you’ve followed siwoo here enough times to have favorites. he thinks you deserve to find favorites in more meaningful ways.

he doesn’t say that, though, of course. instead, joshua looks you up and down before he scans himself, pointedly staring at how sweaty the two of you are in this sticky summer heat. 

“ramen is good for the soul,” you say, reading his mind. “the best comfort food. plus, you’ll sweat out all your heartache.”

“i have no heartache to sweat out.”

“right,” you agree, nodding easily and in a way that makes him question if you’re being sarcastic or not. “maybe we should invite jeonghan.”

he tilts his head. he’s not opposed because he needs to fill his best friend in, but he’s also not enjoying you being the one to suggest it. “why…?”

you shrug. “my offers to dole out violence on your behalf can only go so far. your best friend will probably be better equipped to handle… whatever that was that just happened right now.”

he snickers and rolls his eyes. “okay, i’ll text him.”

“no need, i already did!” you say as you loop your arm through his and begin to pull him away from the building. 

he scoffs, a little too aware of the scowl that erupts on his face. “how do you have jeonghan’s number?”

you look up at him and snort. “we all exchanged information last night, remember?”

no, you and joshua exchanged information last night after he insisted on it so he knew when you got home safe. his eye twitches when he thinks about jeonghan sneaking you his number too—and maybe even texting or calling you as much as he was today.

“he’s waiting for us at the ramen shop.”

he clenches his jaw before forcing a smile. “you really are such a well-prepared individual, aren’t you.”

“gotta be if i’m going to ruin siwoo and mina’s lives.”

“mina? i thought—”

“oh baby,” you say it with fake pity like he’s actually a child, but he finds he likes it a hell of a lot more than dude. infinitely more than bro. “she doesn’t get a pass anymore. that ship sailed when she decided to do my shua like that.” oh, he likes that one a lot. “she’s officially back in the plan.”

joshua grins genuinely now, nodding without arguing. even if he didn’t want you to wrap your metaphorical revenge hands around mina’s ugly neck and shake violently (he does), he knows arguing with you is futile.

“okay.” he feels the exhaustion from earlier slowly leave his body, already feeling lighter as he walks with you, arms looped together like you’ve been best friends for years. “let’s ruin some lives then.”

you look up at him and squeeze his arm, jumping a little as you squeal, “let’s!”

“bye, y/n.”

joshua tries not to glare as jeonghan pulls you into a hug, one arm snaking around your waist as he grins over your shoulder at him. he flashes his eyebrows at him and all his efforts go to waste. he gives him the nastiest glower he can. his best friend’s smirk just widens. 

he doesn’t know what’s going on—with jeonghan, with you, with the both of you, with himself. for the first 40 minutes sitting in the restaurant, joshua retold the hellish afternoon he experienced and took all of his best friend’s many i-told-you-so, what-a-bitch, and i-knew-she-was-a-snake comments with grace. but as soon as that was over, jeonghan flipped a switch.

all night, the man has been acting so weird with you, laughing too hard at everything you say, touching you any chance he gets, saying things just because he knows you’ll agree. and all night, for a reason he can’t quite put his finger on, it’s been driving joshua up the wall. it’s probably because you’re literally still in a relationship. his best friend could at least wait until you’re properly single before he starts doing whatever jeonghan-styled mating call this is.

nope. that’s not it. that thought drives him even further up this insufferable, metaphorical wall.

“later,” you say as you step back. “don’t forget to send me that brand of hair remover you were looking at.” you turn over your shoulder and joshua immediately drops his glare and smiles. if you saw the look he was giving jeonghan, you don’t show it. instead, you wink at him. “we’re going to need that for mina’s shampoo now, huh, shua?”

“shua,” jeonghan repeats, obviously delighted, eyebrows rising and grin quickly entering shit-eating levels. “cute!”

you turn back to him excitedly. “right?! i think so too!”

“you’re such a genius, y/n,” he says, sounding nauseatingly lovesick. joshua silently scoffs at him behind your back. he should know better, though, because that just eggs him on. “i’ll text you the link as soon as i get home. or—” he meets his eyes again. “—i’ll just call you!”

“sure, whatever,” you shrug, as indifferent as ever. it makes joshua happy. maybe a direct rejection would make him even happier, though. “get home safe!”

“yeah, get home safe,” joshua echoes as jeonghan steps around you to hug him as well. “don’t fall into a manhole or get run over by a massive truck or anything,” he mutters too quietly for anyone else but him to hear. 

“i love you too, man,” jeonghan laughs, rubbing his back and squeezing his shoulder as he steps away. “call me if you need to drink your sorrows away. see you two!”

he finally walks off toward his car as you step up to joshua’s side, looping your arm through his again. his heart immediately slows, recovering from the irritation of dealing with a menace.

“jeonghan knows i have zero interest in dating him, right?”

joshua can’t help the bark of laughter that all but rips its way out of him.

“no, like,” you laugh a little, “he comes on so strong? i don’t think i’ve ever met someone as bold as he is.”

that’s ironic, seeing as joshua has never met anyone as bold as you.

“i don’t know if he knows that,” he says honestly. “but either way, he wouldn’t make a move until you were single.”

he gets brief flashes of jeonghan’s fingers brushing up against yours, jeonghan delivering wings onto your plate, jeonghan hugging you a beat too long, jeonghan existing around you. 

“i think,” he adds, frowning.

you make a sound of disbelief as you both watch jeonghan pull out of his spot and drive away. you both stay rooted to the spot, watching nothing in particular.

 “i am single. for all intents and purposes, i am absolutely single.”

joshua is alarmed at how horrible the chill that runs up his spine feels—like an omen of how unbearable his life will become if two crazy people like you and jeonghan join forces to become one.

“i just happen to be a single woman pretending to still love her ex so she can obliterate his entire existence from the inside out.”

“right,” he says, nodding. “of course. i just mean that… i—uh… i have no idea what i mean. but i’ll tell jeonghan to fuck off.”

you whistle, laughing after you do. “i think that’s the first time i heard you cuss,” you inform him. “my shua cussing…” 

you don’t finish your thought because you giggle, and he thinks the sound triggers his fight or flight. he lets you laugh and when it fades, you shake your head.

“don’t tell jeonghan to fuck off,” you tell him. “it’s fun. flattering.”

“flattering?” he repeats, raising an eyebrow.

you shrug. “i’ve been with that idiot, siwoo, for two years. i guess it’s nice to know that someone thinks i’m cute enough to flirt with. at least i know i’m still an eligible bachelorette.”

joshua huffs out a laugh of disbelief. “are you serious?”

you yank your arm out of his, startling him. “what?! you don’t think i’m cute enough to flirt with?!” you ask, half offended but obviously thoroughly amused.

“quite the opposite, actually,” he says before he can convince himself not to. he’s about to start sputtering about how he means it in the most platonic and objective way possible, but since you’re you, he doesn’t need to.

“good, that’s what i thought,” you say, grinning and weaving your arm through the ditch of his elbow again. “i’m very cute.”

joshua is glad you’re so comfortable to be around. he knows if he agreed with you now, you’d happily accept the compliment, but if the roles were reversed, he would be flustered for the next week. 

you two enjoy a comfortable silence before he sighs contentedly and looks down at you to ask if you’re ready to leave. he forgets what he’s about to say when he meets your eyes, though.

you’re already looking up at him and smiling softly. “did you like the ramen? do you feel better?” you ask, tilting your head.

he thinks you would look nice resting it against his shoulder. “i feel much better,” he confirms. “thanks again—for coming so fast and so last minute without me even asking you to.” he pauses to think, frowning when he confronts how ride-or-die you’ve been for him today. “and even before that. thanks for workshopping all those horrible lines with me.”

you grin. “don’t mention it, dude.” he’s too content right now to make a face at that. at least it’s not bro. “it was a lot of fun, actually.”

“i still don’t think i have any heartache to sweat out into any other bowls of ramen—” you snicker. “—but it’s nice to know i have two people to cry to if i ever do.”

you nod enthusiastically. “exactly! you have jeonghan, and you have me now.”

he hums, feeling an intense desire to say you have him too—because you do, and you unfortunately already have jeonghan as well—but he stops himself. he’s only known you one day, and he’s just not as courageous as you are with your words. 

“it’s nice,” you mutter, “to have people to go through these things with.”

joshua doesn’t voice his curiosity about your own friendships. were there no other people you were able to expect this kind of support from? where was this soph you used to excuse yourself from dinner? any other friends? family? 

he lets his curiosity simmer. you’ve already subjected each other to incredibly intimate parts of your life; the rest can come another day.

“hopefully, it’s the first and last time we go through this,” he remarks, chuckling.

“one can hope,” you agree. “and the ramen?” you prod. “was it good?”

“i loved it,” he says honestly, “but—”

“‘but’?!” you practically shriek. “but what?! the ramen here is really good! what could you possibly have to say about the ramen here?”

he laughs, looking away from you and rolling his eyes at how fast you are to pounce. “i love the ramen, but,” he continues, “we need to find you some favorites that don’t involve roaming around the area that siwoo and mina happen to be in. i’ll show you some of my favorites. away from here. and if you want your own favorites, then we’ll go to a place you’ve never been and we’ll find you new favorites. but i hate to inform you… this will be the last time we eat in this godforsaken area so i hope you enjoyed that.”

when joshua looks back down at you, you’re no longer smiling. he tenses when he realizes you look a little sad, your mouth turned down at the corners so slightly, he probably wouldn’t notice if he weren’t so close to your face.

“oh,” he breathes, “y/n, i’m sorry, i didn’t—”

you shake your head quickly and he clamps his mouth shut.

“y’know,” you say quietly, like any louder and you’ll start crying. he doesn’t doubt that you would. it’s been a whole 24 hours since you did—at least in front of him. “it really fucking sucks… finding out your boyfriend is cheating on you, and on top of that, having to continue relying on him.”

your hold on his forearm tightens for a moment, and before he can think about it, he removes his right hand from his pocket and closes it over yours.

“and i know that we’ve only known each other for like… a day,” you say, laughing even though your voice is getting dangerously watery, “but every time we talk… i stop to think i’m really lucky that of all the people i could’ve been suffering through this with, it turned out to be you.”

joshua’s mouth parts to say something, but nothing comes out because nothing even comes to mind. there you go again—so honest and forthcoming and bold and you. there you go again, making his brain the most useless organ in his body without even trying.

“you’re really nice,” you sigh. “thank you.” you turn away and wipe at your eyes quickly before taking your hand back from his and releasing his arm altogether. he immediately feels a little colder. he returns his hand to his pocket. “for my last dinner in this stupid fucking neighborhood.”

he clears his throat. “you’re welcome.”

“i’ll hold you to it, y’know,” you warn him, bumping his shoulder. “don’t think you can say nice things like that and then have no follow-through.”

from the way you say it, he knows you’re thinking of siwoo. he wonders what sort of tiny things siwoo promised you that he never delivered on if he couldn’t even do something as simple as stay true to you. joshua thinks it will be easy for him to show you how nice people can be when they aren’t taking you for granted.

“good, hold me to it.”

“i will! you owe me a favorite chicken shop, a favorite ramen shop, a favorite boba shop, a favorite ice c—”

“jesus christ, how often were you here?”

you laugh loudly. “you owe me so many favorites.”

joshua smiles. “come on,” he says. “we’ll get you all those favorites. but for now, let’s get you home.”

“goodbye forever, ramen shop,” you bid the establishment farewell happily. “and goodbye, stupid fucking neighborhood!”

he grins. “good riddance, stupid fucking neighborhood!”

you’re consumed by giggles hearing him curse again.

acting normal while texting you proves to be the hardest thing joshua has done every single time he does it. it’s either you’re being incredibly funny and he’s smiling at his phone like an idiot, or you’re saying a bold inside thought and he’s smiling at his phone like an idiot. either way, even if he thinks he does a good job at appearing normal via text, he knows he looks crazy in person.

“you’re cheesing real hard, bro.”

joshua immediately locks his phone and shoves it into his pocket as he forces his face into a blank stare. 

“smooth,” jeonghan says, snickering from where he’s sprawled across the other side of joshua’s couch, no longer paying attention to the movie he begged to put on. “texting y/n?”

“no.” the lie comes out before he can even think about it. “watched a funny video.”

he hums, a soft smile on his lips. joshua knows he doesn’t believe him. “well, speaking of her, what’s going on with the two of you anyway?” 

“what?”

“what’s going on with—”

“no, i heard you,” he laughs. “i just meant, like… what do you mean? i’m helping her with siwoo. you know that.”

he narrows his eyes almost imperceptibly, but being his best friend, joshua is educated on all the nuances jeonghan’s face comes with.

“what?” he asks again. 

“do you like her?”

“yeah, she’s cool. kind of intense but cool. don’t you?”

jeonghan rolls his lips between his teeth like he’s trying not to smile too widely. he cocks an eyebrow at him. “i mean, do you like like her? do you fancy her?”

joshua scoffs. “what?”

it’s such a ridiculous question to ask someone who broke up with his girlfriend not even a full week ago. he thinks he was mostly telling the truth when he told you he had no heartache for him to expel from his body because both his heart and brain have been fairly quiet since that afternoon, but even then, he’s still too disoriented from how fast his life changed to think about liking anyone.

“it’s been days since mina and i broke up,” he reminds his best friend. “how could i already be interested in someone else?”

“well, mina didn’t wait to break up before she bec—”

“okay,” joshua holds a hand up to stop him from pointing out mina’s infidelity for the thousandth time since they found out. “mina and i aren’t the same. i can’t just jump into something else so quickly after. and it’s not even about mina.”

“oooh,” jeonghan sits up properly and crosses his legs, folding his hands over his knee. “explain.”

he shrugs. “i don’t really feel all that torn up about her as much as i am about how bad my instincts are.”

he frowns. “your instincts?”

“yeah, like… the signs were glaringly obvious,” joshua explains. “you knew she was a snake before all of this; you just didn’t know why. how come i didn’t see any of that? and,” he practically yells as he resituates himself on the couch so that he’s fully facing jeonghan, “how could i have thought i was going to possibly marry someone like that? i can’t even think about looking at another person until i wrap my mind around how i could have ever thought i was in love. what if i don’t even know what love is?”

“whoa, okay—”

“what if i end up with another mina?”

“—slow down,” jeonghan raises his hands like he’s trying to calm a bull. he mirrors his position, fully turning to him on the sofa now. “first of all, you know what love is. your judgment was just clouded for a little bit! you were lost in the joy of having a girlfriend that lasted a lot longer than the others. or you were being a weirdo and getting swallowed up by the plight of being in your 30s with no prospects for marriage, so you deluded yourself into thinking mina was it.”

joshua’s mouth pops open in shock a little at that. “i mean… that’s… plausible.”

“whatever it is—even if it is that she fooled you and you were blind to all the red flags, that doesn’t mean you don’t know what love is. how could you not know what love is when i’m your best friend? i love the shit out of you.”

he does crack a smile at this. he lets the reminder sink in and marinate in his brain. jeonghan could very much be right on the money with this one; after all, mina came at a time when joshua was starting to question if his love life was cursed. he was fresh out of therapy he sought out because his ex broke up with him for essentially being a robot, and he was eager to share more of himself with the next one—to love the next one harder than he had the rest. maybe he really was just forcing something to be that wasn’t meant to be.

“say it back.”

he laughs. “i love you too.” he sighs. “what else?”

“huh?”

“you said ‘first of all.’ i assume you have a second of all?”

jeonghan frowns for a moment before a light bulb goes off in his head. “yes! second of all, y/n is not mina.”

“wait, what?”

“you said, ‘what if i end up with another mina?’ y/n is not mina.”

“of course she’s not mina,” joshua says. that much is obvious; if mina is one end of the spectrum, you’re so far on the other end, it went all the way back around to mina. “but why are we even talking about y/n?”

“because it’s clear you like her,” he informs him, amused. 

“i don’t like her like that,” he disagrees confidently and somewhat exasperatedly. whenever jeonghan got ideas like this in his head, it became an inarguable truth to him regardless of what anyone else said. he knows if he doesn’t nip it in the bud, he’ll run with it for the rest of their lives. “she’s funny and nice and cool to hang out with, but she’s just a friend.”

“is that why you’re texting and calling her 24/7 when the rest of us feel like we’re pulling teeth trying to get you to respond to us?” jeonghan points out. joshua opens his mouth to refute his point, but he steamrolls right over his words. “is that why you’re extra mean to me whenever the three of us hang out?”

“we’ve only hung out all three of us twice. and what do you mean i’m mean to you?”

his best friend laughs openly in his face. “you’re really going to tell me you don’t notice the way you kick me or interrupt me or glare at me whenever so much as an ounce of y/n’s attention is on me instead of you?”

is that what his odd behavior at the ramen shop was about? he was trying to get on joshua’s nerves as some kind of experiment?

joshua narrows his eyes at him. “i do those things because you’re annoying me.”

“i’ve annoyed you our whole lives,” he shoots right back. “you’ve only started abusing me recently.”

“you’re so dramatic and wrong.”

“okay!” jeonghan agrees too easily. he stands up.

“where are you going?” joshua leans back to look up at him. “aren’t we getting dinner later?”

he hums in thought before quickly saying no. “rain check! i think i’m going to ask y/n if she wants to go out instead. i’ve been thinking about asking her out.”

joshua is not dumb. joshua is actually very smart. he graduated top of his class from an ivy league in the U.S., he has an MBA, and he—much like you were supposed to be before siwoo upended your life—became a director at his company before 30, still on track to become the youngest senior director.

joshua is smart and he knows what jeonghan is trying to do, but his dumb face frustratingly doesn’t get the memo. before he can even fully process the words, his eyebrows are pulling down, eyes sharpening into a glare, and jaw clenching so hard, he knows jeonghan can hear his teeth grinding.

“oh, really,” he deadpans. 

“yup!” he has the audacity to grin at joshua, eyes so full of mischief and mirth, he wants to kick him again and give him something to really complain about. “i’ll see myself out, don’t worry about getting up. bye joshuji! i’ll tell y/n you said hi!”

joshua scoffs as he watches him actually leave his apartment. and again, because various parts of his body seem to be missing signals from his brain that he doesn’t care, once the door clicks closed behind jeonghan, he throws himself back onto the couch mindlessly and hastily, struggling to retrieve his phone from his pocket. 

“why are these jeans so fucking tight,” he mumbles as his hand gets a little stuck. when he finally rips the phone out of his pocket, he briefly considers texting you but lands on calling you instead. what he’s going to say, he has no idea. 

“i was just about to call you,” you once again answer without greeting him first. 

“oh. hi,” he says, a little thankful for the non-greeting for once because it gives him some time to come up with an excuse for calling you other than he wanted to beat jeonghan to it. “why were you going to call?”

“because you were taking a long ass time to reply again,” you say simply. he snickers at your streak of impatience. “why are you calling?”

that wasn’t a lot of time to come up with an excuse at all, but joshua thinks “so we can make plans. i don’t feel like texting” is more than good enough. 

“oh yay,” you accept the fib easily. “well, as an unemployed idiot, i am free… let me see… oh yes, all day every day, but extra free on whatever day siwoo’s parents decide to hold me hostage at dinner with them.”

joshua laughs, slowly relaxing against the couch once more. “well, how about tonight?”

“ugh, unfortunately, they do not want to have dinner tonight, but yes, i am free.”

“how about we meet to discuss your top secret plan tonight and then hang again whenever your dinner with that nightmare family is?” he suggests. 

“joshua hong, my knight in shining armor,” you joke. his cheeks warm at the words. “sounds like a plan. can we meet at yours, though? i don’t want to reveal how crazy i am in a public setting. that seems too vulnerable. and i’d invite you over here but it’s probably best we don’t discuss these plans in the home of the man whose life i’d like to destroy.” joshua truly admires your way with sarcasm. 

“yeah, i’ll text you my address,” he agrees. and because he’s extra irate with jeonghan for thinking he can manipulate him into becoming some kind of jealous monster, he adds: “you can come over whenever—even now if you want. i’m free all day” just in case his best friend calls you too after you hang up.

“oh great!” you say. “siwoo is out all day doing lord knows who or what and i’m done brushing the toilet with everything he owns, so i can be on my way once you send it.”

joshua smiles. “perfect.”

he knows he literally just played right into jeonghan’s game, but somehow, he still feels like he won.

it doesn’t take you long at all to get to his apartment, and when you do, he’s a little stunned to open the door and find your arms completely empty—no files full of information only the CIA would have or fat manila envelopes stuffed with plans to eviscerate your exes like he expected. instead, you stand there, hands clasped in front of you with nothing but your purse hanging on your shoulder. 

“nice place,” you comment as you look around his apartment, unabashedly looking at the books on his shelves, art on the walls, even running your fingers across the strings of his guitar in the corner. “you play?”

he hums as he plops back down on his couch. “yeah, since i was young. do you?”

you laugh like he told a joke. “no. i’m not creatively gifted. it doesn’t really surprise me that you are, though.”

he’s about to ask you what makes you say that but you turn to him and clap your hands together once. 

“okay! let’s do this! we have a lot of material to get through tonight.” 

you throw your purse on the counter of the breakfast bar, make your way to the coffee table in front of him, take your phone out of your pocket, and sink to the floor. 

“let’s start with mina; i think she’ll be much easier since she doesn’t have a family-owned empire for us to topple.”

joshua’s eyes widen. “a family-owned what for us to what?”

you wave your hand like it’s an irrelevant detail. “we’ll get into it later,” you assure him as you get to wherever you were swiping to on your phone. you read a few lines and then nod, looking up at him. “so mina is a grade A gold-digger.”

joshua huffs, leaning his elbows on his knees and shaking his head. “i’m not saying i disagree because you have very solid evidence—good job, by the way—”

“thank you!” you chirp happily, smiling widely.

“—but i am not rich enough for anyone to try digging for gold around here.”

your smile disappears, expression flattening into a glare as you pointedly look around his apartment. he follows your gaze, and yes, he sees what you see: a very spacious apartment, all of the interests and hobbies he can afford to indulge in, and furniture he hired an interior designer to curate for him. he’ll give it to you—he’s definitely a little more than just comfortable, but he’s not gold-digging material. he never even gave mina much money; he just paid for dates, and he tells you as much.

“well, i did some digging, and that’s all she would’ve really needed you to pay for. little miss busy body had multiple streams of income,” you tell him, swiping on your phone until you’re showing him screenshots of instagram profiles. the first is siwoo’s. 

joshua would never admit it, but his curiosity got the best of him after overhearing your conversation with siwoo over the phone, and he found his profile after combing through the accounts you follow. the man’s face was tolerable enough, though not anything special to look at, in joshua’s opinion. he definitely thinks you can do a lot better. but for mina, though, he’s perfect. they’d make monstrous, ugly, little children.

“so here are my theories,” you announce. “correct me if you think i’m wrong with any of this since you know mina better.” he nods in agreement. “i think siwoo was target number one. she thought because he’s the heir to a sizable company, that he would be a good sugar daddy to land, but he was already taken by a smart, beautiful, kind, and insanely funny woman that turned out to be way too good for him.” he grins at you. “and because too many people have eyes on his finances—mommy, daddy… and me but only because i started snooping—”

joshua snorts, looking down at his lap when he thinks of the things you’re pushed to do when a man is making you feel insecure. it’s not fitting for you and he hates it.

“—he probably couldn’t give mina as much money as she was expecting. but she thought she’d keep him around in case there was ever an opportunity to go full-time with him,” you theorize. you turn your phone back to you, swiping to the next account. “minhyuk.”

joshua looks up and rolls his eyes when he sees an account full of shirtless photos of the man he met in mina’s apartment. “yeah. minhyuk.”

“he lives about 30 minutes from mina’s apartment in the opposite direction of siwoo, putting them about an hour away from each other,” you inform him.

“how the hell do you know that?”

you smile slyly. “i have my ways.” when he keeps staring at you, you roll your eyes. “his full name is on his instagram so i looked him up on linkedin and facebook, and the latter had photos of him moving into his apartment, okay? kids nowadays don’t care about internet safety; it’s not rocket science, shua. anyway,” you point back to the screenshot of his account, trying to redirect his attention, “that’s a healthy enough distance that she probably felt safe dating these two. on top of that, minhyuk is a pilot for korean airlines—did you know they can make up to 300 million won a year? absolutely rich enough to warrant mina’s attention.”

joshua has to admit that maybe he should reconsider what he thinks is rich versus what is comfortable if 300 million won was impressive to you.

“so mina snatches him up, knowing it won’t be much of a time commitment since he’ll constantly be flying all over the place,” you explain. “then, we have…” you swipe and sigh, shaking your head. “this guy.”

joshua narrows his eyes at the screen where he’s met with the account of a man he’s never seen before. he’s very tatted, with a kind face and a nice smile, and if his photos are any indication, he works out just as hard as minhyuk apparently does. 

“and who is this?” he asks, already knowing the answer.

“boyfriend number three,” you say a little uncomfortably. “jeon jungkook.”

joshua grunts but says nothing, so you continue.

“before you ask how i found him, i went through all of the people mina follows on instagram, and—”

“her profile is private,” joshua points out.

“that’s what burner accounts are for,” you respond.

“she approved aggretsuko’s request to follow her…?”

you smile. “no, silly, i followed her from my believable burner. aggretsuko is more just for being able to blindly like and follow whatever and whoever i want to. i have a fake account featuring a fake person with a fake life and fake followers. she let that one follow her.”

“i should really stop questioning you. you’re obviously very capable at this whole revenge thing.”

“yeah, the sooner you do that, the faster our conversations will be. so i went through all the accounts she follows, which thankfully aren’t many because the bitch likes having a skinny mini following to follower ratio.” 

joshua shakes his head at your name-calling but fights off a smile anyway.

“i picked out every man—again, not many because she was probably mindful of them being able to see each other’s accounts—and i looked up their occupations on linkedin and if they made a good salary, they made the cut. from there, i just heavily cyberstalked them until i had no choice but to rule them out, or in jungkook’s case, until i found something incriminating.”

he doesn’t bother asking because he can see you get a kick out of explaining this to him.

“a photo of him and mina at a romantic dinner, dated a year and a half ago.”

“before me.”

you nod. “yup. jungkook is an investment banker, aka basically a bank, period, to mina. and seeing as the korean stock exchange is based in busan, he’s constantly flying between there and here for work—”

“making him another good candidate for a boyfriend since he wouldn’t demand a lot of her time.”

you nod and point at him. “exactly! which brings us to boyfriend #4.” you put your phone on the table and gesture at him. “you.”

he nods. “me.”

you tilt your head at him. “honestly, i couldn’t figure out what it was that made mina choose you.”

he scoffs. “wow.”

“no, don’t get me wrong,” you say, shaking your head calmly. “you’re a fucking catch—leagues better than any of these guys as far as i can tell.” he feels his cheeks get hot. “but that’s why i couldn’t figure it out. mina digs her claws into these rich, kinda vain, kinda power-hungry men, and then she found you, and you’re yes, rich, but also kind, sweet, caring, and all of the other good words in the dictionary.”

the heat spreading across his face grows exponentially warmer. 

“therefore, i concluded that mina chose you to be her real boyfriend.” 

joshua frowns. 

“doesn’t it make sense? she chooses guys who are either romantically unavailable or physically unavailable, so she still has all this time on her hands. the girl is evil but she’s also human so she craved an actual partner. she chose you.”

it sounds like it should be a compliment, but joshua feels even more repulsed by the idea that three just wasn’t enough for her. she really went out of her way to find him and torment him when she had more than enough to go around.

“this is the kind of greed the bible warned us about,” joshua mutters under his breath, mostly to himself. you hear it though, and the sound of your laugh immediately makes him smile back at you.

“yeah, mina is definitely a warning sign from god.”

“wish i listened.”

you give him a smile. “eh, where’s the fun in that?”

he knows you’re just trying to make him feel better but that you probably don’t believe that. he hasn’t forgotten what you were like the first night you met—how you cried and drank so miserably. still, you somehow found it in yourself to joke around like this. it makes him stop moping.

“okay,” he says, nodding and leaning forward with renewed vigor. “so she’s really good at time management. now what?”

you laugh. “she doesn’t need to be good at time management because i learned that mina doesn’t even fucking work, bro.”

the information is jarring enough that he doesn’t fully register what you call him. “what?”

“i called the company you mentioned her working for and pretended to be a recruiter calling for a reference, and they said no one by that name has ever worked there,” you report. “i think she’s making her living off her boyfriends. which is why i said that she only needed you to pay for dates. the others are funding her whole life.”

“oh my god, i hate her,” he says plainly as he thinks of all the “overtime” she had to clock in and the “business trips” she went on and the never-ending complaints about a boss that didn’t even exist. “what kind of fucking sociopath…”

you nod solemnly. “it at least makes our job easier; all we have to do is cut her from her money source.”

“the boyfriends.”

you hum affirmatively. “you and minhyuk are already done, so we just need to get siwoo and jungkook to cut her off. but now that she’s suddenly out two streams of income, i’m sure she’ll be really laying it on thick with those two to make up for it. we’ll have to be a bit creative.”

the craziest, most intrusive thought enters joshua’s head and in the next second, it’s exiting his mouth. “mingyu returns this weekend.”

you raise an eyebrow at the sudden change of topic but you don’t comment on it. “mingyu, the man you kept accusing me of being when i first messaged you?” you ask, sneering at the mere mention of his name. “that mingyu?”

he nods. “yup. there’s always been three of us: me, jeonghan, mingyu. he’s been traveling and he comes back in a few days.”

“okay… and what exactly does that have to do with ruining mina’s life?”

joshua grins, feeling excitement bubbling in his stomach. “kim mingyu, y/n, is rich. and not just comfortable—actually rich. as in rich enough for mina to drop all her boyfriends and quit scouting rich guys for the rest of her life if she had reason to think he was willing to fully support her.”

“does she not know what one of your best friends looks like…?” you question, making the most judgmental face joshua thinks he’s ever seen. he snickers.

“nope,” he says, popping the p. “mingyu’s been gone for the entirety of our relationship, traveling all over the place, so she never met him and his social media presence is equivalent to your aggretsuko account—for looking, not posting. all he does online is try to prank me.” he laughs more fully now, shaking his head at how perfect it is. “he’s a bored trust fund baby who knows how to act. he’s going to love doing this.”

your mouth drops open in awe, staying there for several seconds before you realize you haven’t said anything. “well,” you mutter, a smile very slowly beginning to spread across your face, “if you say he’s rich, then he must be absolutely rolling in it. and if he’s rolling in it—”

“then mina’s going to take the bait.”

you grin widely now, leaning forward onto the coffee table and shaking your head. “you, joshua hong, are so much more diabolical than you let on.”

he smirks. “learning from the best.”

“oh, she is so over.”

a/n: thanks for your patience! i'm afraid i will require more of it as i continue getting used to my new schedule LOL (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

if you’d like to be added to the tag list, comment here or send me an ask! if you requested to be on the list but weren’t tagged in this post or the reblog, it’s bc you don’t have an age indicator on your page. pls add that (and lmk that you did) if you want to be tagged next time.

part three teaser

"i really lost myself in this, y'know?" you whisper, head tilting up at the sky like maybe you'll find whatever it is you think you lost up there in the never-ending black. 

joshua follows your gaze. “i don’t think you lost anything. i think it’s all still there.”

“how would you know? you didn’t know who i was before siwoo changed every aspect of me and my life,” you remind him like he needs to be reminded at all. every day, he found himself thinking about what life would be like if he had met you before siwoo had. he doesn’t need the reminder.

“i know because there’s no way any part of you that’s here with me right now is because of siwoo,” he tells you confidently. “you’re so… funny and smart and confident and reliable and cool. and you want me to believe any of that is because of siwoo?”

that gets him a small smile. “careful or i’ll start to think you have a favorable opinion of me.”

he snorts. “if you don’t already think that, i’m probably not being a good enough friend.”

joshua looks down when you press your shoulder against his. the breeze blows strands of hair into your face, and he suppresses the desire to tuck them behind your ear. “you’re a great friend. probably the greatest i’ve made in my adult life.”

he nods. “you too. all of you—every version of you before, during, and after siwoo. i like them all. even the ones i never got to meet."

"you're so..." you start but never finish.

"hmm?"

"nothing," you say. "thanks."

"for?"

"saying all of those nice things."

"pfft, don't get too big-headed about it," he says, trying to play it cool. you smile. "i just can't stand the idea that you think any part of who you are today is due to an idiot like siwoo."

you sigh and rest your head against his shoulder. he has to actively try to keep his body relaxed when you do. “did you know that the name siwoo means divine intervention?”

joshua shakes his head. “i didn’t.”

“divine intervention,” you repeat, scoffing this time. “like, yeah. he definitely intervened and derailed my whole life, that’s for sure. i have no idea where the fuck ‘divine’ comes from, though.”

“are you sure you didn’t misread it and it’s actually disturbing intervention?”

you laugh and slap his arm softly. “what does joshua mean?” you ask after a few moments of silence.

“uh,” he squints as he tries to remember what his mom told him, “salvation, i think.”

you suddenly lift your head up off his shoulder and look at him, eyes narrowing a little as you very closely and openly study his face. he feels self-conscious, a feeling he seems to have gotten used to around you.

“salvation…” it sounds like you’re testing the word on your tongue. you scan his face for something he doesn’t have the composure to ask about right now. no, his composure is nowhere to be found as your gaze rakes every centimeter of every feature of his face, taking your time like you're simultaneously trying to understand him and committing him to memory. “huh" is all you say when you're done.

“what?” he asks quietly, resisting the urge to pass a hand over his face in case there’s something on it. 

“nothing,” you say, face relaxing one again. you smile a little, and even with the lessened intensity, your stare is starting to feel like it’s burning a hole right through him. “it’s just… fitting. joshua. salvation.”

and why exactly would that be fitting?

tag list: @coupsma @tokitosun @nothingbutadeadesceane @ateez-atiny380 @minghaofied @reiofsuns2001 @turtash @https-seishu @gaslysainz @dawn-iscozy @mrsjohnnysuh @sunnysidesins @thepoopdokyeomtouched @faizaa09 @hearts4itoshi @iamdkayyyyy @randojeon @iwannakisspoutycheol @youre-on-your-ownkid @justanotherkpopstanlol @sanaxo-o @seokqt @tjtales @ilouvwonwoo @littlemisshyperfixation @mxelatrix-x @papichulomacy @o-schist @sumzysworld @alyssa19123456

[dixonsdarkelf]

This was INCREDIBLE OH MY GOD 🤯

A darkness so thick, so absolute. There was no moon, no stars, no relief from the smothering, blinding darkness. It was just…black. The kind that makes your head swim, makes your ears strain for sounds that aren’t there. Or ones that are. You don’t know what’s worse.

Idk if y'all have ever been in this type of darkness, but it's horrifying. I'm already hooked.

You think of your only saving grace, stashed deep in your pocket, and you dig your fingers past fabric and grit, searching for the thin slip of cardboard. When you finally pinch the matchbook between your fingers, pulling it from the confines of your shorts, you blindly flick it open. Your hands are clumsy, stiff and shaking. Five matches left.

The countdown of the matches is so stressful 😭 (a compliment)

Then you see it. A round, fogged-over lens, slightly misshapen, reflecting the weak glow of the match. Another next to it. Not eyes, but something meant to mimic them. And metal. A hard, curved surface, dark but slick enough to catch the light, the shape of it unmistakable now. A gas mask.

This is a hotter visual than I was expecting...

You hear him before you see him. "Hey, kiddo."

EWWWWW OH MY GOD 😖 (another compliment) (I'm obsessed)

Thick, calloused fingertips press against your jaw. You flinch, trying to pull away, but his grip is firm, pressing your head back against the rough bark behind you. The flame flickers between you, throwing long, shifting shadows. The match burns out, the darkness swallowing you again. Only two left now.

This literally reads like a horror movie & I can't get enough of it.

“Hello, darlin’,” he whispers, all southern warmth stretched over something sharp, like velvet hiding a blade. His finger swipes against your bottom lip, and you realize it’s cold and wet with water. Your mouth opens without meaning to, your body responding before your mind can catch up. The moment the moisture touches your skin, something inside you claws forward, desperate. Before you even realize it, your tongue dips out to taste it. His low laughter makes you feel filthy.

OKAY I SEE YOU 👀

Brows furrowed over hazel irises, pupils blown wide. That wicked glint has nothing to do with the matchlight. He’s looking at you with an intensity, like a predator watches something cornered. He’s taking you in. “What a pretty little thing. My girl.”

I NEED MORE I NEED MORE 🥵

“Oh, there we go,” he says quietly. The match goes out. Only one left.

I'm so fucking stressed rn oh my god

“That’s what made you so different from them, sweetheart.”

😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

His fingers move inside you, curling just right, pressing into the spot that has your stomach tensing, your thighs trembling. You can feel the slick heat between your legs, against your own skin of your thighs, the way your body responds faster than your mind can catch up.

WHOA Jesus 🫠

“That’s right, darlin’,” he murmurs. His fingers don’t stop moving. “Been watchin’ you for a long time. Even before I killed your little gang back there.”

EWW EWW EWW OH MY GOD 😩( this is so fucking good I can't stop)

The match burns out. And the night swallows you whole.

What a fucking ending holy shit 😳

THIS WAS SO GOOD LORD I LOVE DARK!CHARACTERS! Thank you for this 🖤

this is my fic for @pedgito's Spring Fever writing challenge with these prompts: Slasher, Camp, & Sensory Deprivation (sorry, took camp pretty loosely here)

|| nsfw 18+, DDDNE, DARK!JOEL, slasher!joel, cnc!!! dubious consent!!! if it aint for you scroll tf on by!!! stalker vibes, fingering, sensory deprivation, fear play, mask kink, predator/prey, forced orgasm || a/n: alright fam I was gonna wait to post this but that anon this morning pmo. sooooo enjoy!!! the pic of joel is mine I took from the game. this fic is not for everyone!! heeeeed the warningsssss

You’ve never known darkness like this.

A darkness so thick, so absolute. There was no moon, no stars, no relief from the smothering, blinding darkness. It was just…black. The kind that makes your head swim, makes your ears strain for sounds that aren’t there. Or ones that are. You don’t know what’s worse.

You’ve been running for what feels like forever.

Your lungs burn, your legs are lead, each step feeling heavier than the last. The underbrush fights against you like mangled hands—branches clawing at the flesh of your arms, brambles catching on the exposed skin of your thighs. The uneven ground is a cruel thing, tripping you up again and again, sending you crashing into tree trunks, the bark scraping into your palms as you barely catch yourself before hitting the dirt.

But you don’t stop.

Because something or someone is behind you.

You don’t know how far. You don’t know how close. But the sound of it has been chasing you, steady and relentless—the snap of branches, the dull thud of heavy footsteps somewhere just out of reach.

You’ve completely lost track of time. Your one and only source of light was left behind what feels like a lifetime but was only a matter of days ago. There was simply no time to think of your flashlight back in your tent when you had to run. But you don’t know how long it’s been since then. Everything past survival has blurred together.

You don’t know where you are.

But you have to stop.

You have to stop.

You won’t make it much farther if you don’t. Your legs are giving out beneath you, every step turning into a stumble, every breath dragging too hard, too deep, too loud. Your hands shake as you catch yourself crashing down between the thick, twisted roots of a tree, ignoring the ache in your knees, the sharp edges of the bark biting into your spine as you press yourself against it.

It’s quiet now.

The first real silence you’ve had in hours. Maybe it’s over. Maybe you ran far enough.

You think of your only saving grace, stashed deep in your pocket, and you dig your fingers past fabric and grit, searching for the thin slip of cardboard. When you finally pinch the matchbook between your fingers, pulling it from the confines of your shorts, you blindly flick it open. Your hands are clumsy, stiff and shaking.

Five matches left.

You hesitate. It’s not safe here, but the dark is worse. You can’t even see your hands in front of you. Can’t see anything. It’s like your eyes are stretching, playing tricks on you as they try to pull something—anything—out of the blackness.

You pull out a match, feel for the strip, and strike it fast.

The spark flares bright, too bright, your pupils contracting hard. The flame wavers between your fingers, small and flickering, but enough to push the dark back. Enough to let you see—

Movement.

No. Not movement. Reflection.

A quick, sharp gleam across the clearing. Faint, almost nothing, but there. Something smooth catching the light and throwing it back at you in a thin, distorted line.

You squint, trying to make sense of it. Not water, but almost like glass—warped, uneven.

Then you see it. A round, fogged-over lens, slightly misshapen, reflecting the weak glow of the match. Another next to it. Not eyes, but something meant to mimic them.

And metal. A hard, curved surface, dark but slick enough to catch the light, the shape of it unmistakable now.

A gas mask.

Your stomach turns violently, bile rising in your throat.

The figure doesn’t move—if it even is a person, you can’t be sure. The lenses catch the weak light, blank and unblinking. It could be a trick of the dark, your eyes playing games with the shapes between the trees. You feel like you can hardly trust them anymore.

Your match goes out.

Your breath catches, sitting too high in your chest, refusing to move. Reaching for another match, your fingers stiff, you fumble for another. Four left. 

You strike it fast. The flame bursts to life, searing bright for just a second—just long enough for you to see—

Nothing.

No reflection. No mask. No shape standing where it had been before.

But the night is no longer still. And beyond anything else, you know for certain that you are no longer alone in the darkness.

There’s something else now, shifting in the brush, the dry snap of twigs underfoot. Not the wind or an animal. The sound is deliberate, heavy in a way that makes your skin crawl. You push yourself back into the tree, feeling the rough bark dig in, grounding yourself in pain, in something real. Your eyes dart, straining past the reach of the weak light, desperate to find what you know is there.

You hear him before you see him.

"Hey, kiddo."

Something presses against your face before you can scream. Cloth, warm from body heat. Your hands shoot up too late, fingers grasping uselessly at a grip too strong. The scent floods in fast, thick and sickly sweet, curling through your lungs as you gasp.

The match drops from your fingers, the light immediately snuffing out as it hits the dirt. Your limbs go weak, your thoughts stutter, tilt, and a numbness spreads through you like ink in water.

And then, like the night around you, your vision goes black.

You’re not entirely sure if you’re in the same place or not.

The last thing you remember is the scrape of his voice in your ear, low and thick as the cloth smothering your mouth. The sickly-sweet scent still clings to the back of your throat, coating your nostrils like tar. Your throat burns for water as your stomach churns, but the instinct to stay still, to stay quiet, keeps you from gagging.

Rough bark digs into your skin, so you make up your mind that you must still be up against a tree. The rope pulling your arms behind the trunk is tight, thick and coarse around your wrists. It bites into the skin like it was tied with purpose, meant to hold. You tug once—useless. The knots don’t budge.

You try to move your feet, to stand, to kick free, but it's no use. They’re like dead weight, sore and leaden from your exhaustive hike through the unknown. The dirt is dry beneath your bare legs, your denim shorts beginning to ride up your thighs as you squirm around. 

You haven’t opened your eyes yet. You don’t want to.

You force your breath to steady despite the cotton mouth dryness behind your lips. Inhale. Exhale. You tell yourself you’ll open them on the next count of three. Or the next.

You’re busy willing yourself not to cry when you hear the heaving footsteps around you, no other sound joining them. No crackling fire, no sound of any nocturnal creatures. You wonder just how far from any nearby camp you are anymore. 

You open your eyes the first time to the sound of a match being struck. The bright orange light flickers against the back of your eyelids before they flash open, the sight of the gas mask is so close now that you flinch as it crowds your vision. If it wasn’t for the flame flickering against the glass, you might be able to see the eyes behind it. The lenses are fogged up, catching the firelight in warped, fractured shapes. The filter hisses slightly as he breathes in slow, deep inhales.

Thick, calloused fingertips press against your jaw. You flinch, trying to pull away, but his grip is firm, pressing your head back against the rough bark behind you. The flame flickers between you, throwing long, shifting shadows.

The match burns out, the darkness swallowing you again.

Only two left now.

You can still hear him, like without your vision your other senses suddenly come alive. The dull, mechanical sound of air pushing through the filter. The rise and fall of his chest. The warmth of his body so close that the space between you feels like it’s shrinking.

“Hello, darlin’,” he whispers, all southern warmth stretched over something sharp, like velvet hiding a blade. His finger swipes against your bottom lip, and you realize it’s cold and wet with water. Your mouth opens without meaning to, your body responding before your mind can catch up. The moment the moisture touches your skin, something inside you claws forward, desperate.

Before you even realize it, your tongue dips out to taste it.

His low laughter makes you feel filthy.

His fingers leave your mouth, tracing along the lines of your face instead. The way he holds you is rough and unyielding.

"You know," he says, his voice curling low, slow like molasses, "I didn’t mean for it to be like this."

Your body goes rigid.

"I’m sure they were real nice folks."

The memories you’ve kept locked away, stuffed deep in the pit of your mind, tear their way to the surface. Images, voices, flashes of what you lost to the masked man with a crowbar.

“But you…” he continues despite how hard you squirm in his hold, “I just couldn't resist.”

His left hand presses against your bare calf, and slides upwards- until his fingertips graze the hem of your shorts. Goosebumps rise under his wide palm, you try to ignore the heat that's beginning to pool between your thighs– there’s a part of you that realizes that you shouldn't be enjoying this, but your body is already starting to want it.

His thumb moves in slow, deliberate circles over your thigh. Sightless in the dark, every other sense sharpens. His skin on yours, the heat of it, the grit of his callouses, like you can feel him more clearly than you’ve ever seen him.

And his scent. He smells like sweat, leather, something burnt. It clings to the air between you.

His hand rests wide and heavy against your leg, fingers splayed like he owns the ground you’re sitting on. 

And he’s humming under his breath.

It’s soft at first, barely audible over the rush of blood in your ears. But after a moment, it clicks. He’s matching the rhythm of your heartbeat. The steady, frantic pulse trapped in your throat, the way your chest rises and falls unevenly, he’s humming along to it like a song only he can hear.

Then, his hand lifts from your face, and absence of touch should be a relief. It’s not.

The sharp crack of a match striking fills your ears. Another flare of light floods your vision, pupils shrinking fast as they try to adjust. 

Your eyes squint against the burst of light. It sears into your vision, blinding for a moment before adjusting, and in those few seconds, you see him clearly. The flickering glow dances across the fogged-up glass of his mask, catches on the curve of the lenses, and for the first time, you see his eyes behind them.

Brows furrowed over hazel irises, pupils blown wide. That wicked glint has nothing to do with the matchlight. He’s looking at you with an intensity, like a predator watches something cornered.

He’s taking you in.

“What a pretty little thing. My girl.”

Ah.

The words land like a brand, something final and irreversible. Your breath snags, your body going stiff, muscles locking against the weight of ownership in his voice.

"C’mon now," his voice is soft again, deceptively gentle. The matchlight flickers between you, glowing bright as his hand moves from your leg to press into your jaw again, holding you steady, keeping your lips just slightly parted. His eyes track from your mouth back to your own wide stare, pupils swallowing whatever color was left.

"You were doing so well a moment ago."

He lets his hand fall back to your knee, nails scraping light, teasing lines up the inside of your thigh. Your breath stutters, body trembling against your will, and when his fingers dig in just slightly, a soft gasp slips past your lips.

“Oh, there we go,” he says quietly.

The match goes out.

Only one left.

You expect him to strike it immediately, but he doesn’t. The air feels thicker now, the kind of silence that’s only there when someone wants you to feel it. The realization makes your skin crawl—he’s waiting. He knew how many you had left. He’s drawing it out, pulling the tension tight, making sure you feel just how little control you ever had.

The sudden click of his mask clangs in the dark night as the vision of him burned into your retinas starts to fade. You hear the thud of it on the forest floor, and suddenly his breathing is quieter, though closer.

Your ears strain, waiting for the next move.

And then you realize just how close he is when something wet and muscled presses against the underside of your top lip. 

A sharp, obscene sound leaves his throat at the first taste of you. His tongue drags along the inseam of your lip, slow and savoring, his free hand tightening back around your jaw, keeping you still. You should turn away. You should pull back. But the sudden flush of heat rolling through your body keeps you rooted in place, keeps you from moving at all.

His lips press against yours—not applying pressure, just there, ghosting over your mouth, the barest contact. He breathes into you, slow and controlled, and when you exhale, he inhales sharply—like he’s drinking it in. Like he’s stealing the very breath from you.

It’s too intimate. It makes your stomach twist, makes your skin prickle with something ugly and deep and wanting.

His tongue swipes over your lower lip, and the moan that escapes you is involuntary, slipping free before you can stop it. His mouth curls into a smile against yours, slow and knowing, before he presses deeper, taking. Your tongue meets his, a slick, tentative slide, and the moment you respond, his fingers push further up your thigh. The movement makes your hips shift forward slightly, an instinct you don’t want to acknowledge.

You’re almost ashamed of how much your body responds to him.

He pulls back, just enough to catch your lower lip between his teeth, teasing, testing. His hand on your thigh moves, fingers trailing higher, just below the thin barrier of your shorts, pressing against the soft fabric stretched over your core.

“I knew you’d want this,” he murmurs, voice rasping against your skin as his lips trace up your jawline. His middle finger slides beneath the hem of your shorts, pressing into the damp heat of you, and your body jerks hard in response.

A breathless moan pushes out of your throat. You can’t stop it.

“That’s what made you so different from them, sweetheart.”

His words coil through your spine, wrapping tight and unrelenting. Your hips stutter, rocking forward into his palm before you even realize you’re doing it. His breathless laugh is pure satisfaction, curling against your throat as he pushes his middle finger under your panties and against you, teasing, taunting.

He groans quietly at the feeling of your pooling slick, his finger rubbing slow, lazy circles over your clit, coaxing another trembling sound from your lips before he presses into your clenched entrance. Another finger joins the first, stretching you open, and the sensation forces a choked cry out of you as your body arches against the restraints.

“Oh, you love this, don’t you, sweetheart?” he says, voice dripping with certainty, "Just like I knew you would."

You do. And you hate him for it.

His fingers move inside you, curling just right, pressing into the spot that has your stomach tensing, your thighs trembling. You can feel the slick heat between your legs, against your own skin of your thighs, the way your body responds faster than your mind can catch up.

His other hand lifts from your face. The snap of a match striking cuts through the dark.

The firelight licks across his bare face, and he’s devastatingly handsome in a way that makes your stomach drop, that makes you forget to be afraid of him. Gleaming eyes catch the flame, and his beard, salt-and-pepper and close-cut, frames full lips slick with your spit.

“That’s right, darlin’,” he murmurs. His fingers don’t stop moving. “Been watchin’ you for a long time. Even before I killed your little gang back there.”

But before you can react, his mouth is crashing against yours, tongue and teeth and heat, swallowing the choked noise you make as his fingers push deeper, thrusting slow and controlled, forcing you higher, closer. The pressure coils in the pit of your stomach, tightening, unbearable, the tension building so fast it almost hurts.

His voice is still against your mouth, words pressing into your lips like a brand.

"You know my name," he says. His thumb circles just right, pressing against your clit with devastating precision. His fingers curl inside of you, and your entire body locks up, legs trembling, muscles pulling tight.

"I wanna hear it when you come around my fingers." he growls, “Say it.”

Your body breaks open around him, a sharp gasp ripped from your throat. A sound between a prayer and a plea.

"Joel."

The match burns out.

And the night swallows you whole.

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Hmmm~ How about Mordred and Artoria in their own scenarios being protective over their S/O since the S/O is very pretty/handsome and thus people are always trying to flirt with them and at times get aggressive about it not liking getting rejected.

(F:GO) Artoria and Mordred reacting to people trying to flirt with Reader

Admittedly, Artoria is pretty blind when it comes to any form of flirting, whether that be toward herself or others.

At first.

The more time she spent with her Master and interacting with humans, Artoria increasingly gains awareness of how she views herself, and more importantly, the person she loved.

After her self-reflection, Artoria is now hyper-aware of any who would try to flirt with her. That, she can deflect without batting an eye and her stoic voice remaining intact.

The moment a stranger tried to woo her beloved? Now, they have incurred the King's wrath.

Of course, Artoria won't physically attack or harm any civilian/human, but she won't complain that the aura she radiates makes people believe she would do so.

As a king, she should command that sort of presence anyway.

Should it be a Servant however, she has half a mind to smite said offender with Excalibur.

But, she manages to keep her emotions tempered and calmly steps in front of S/O.

(Artoria) "You will refrain from making such advances upon my spouse!"

With her knightly honor, should said offender keep trying to make a pass, Artoria challenges them to a duel.

...Regardless of the fact if they're in public or not, everyone suddenly getting confused on why this woman was ready to throw hands.

It is a fight she'll win everytime with her skills alone, but doubly so because her S/O is watching.

Even if they had every intention of sticking with her regardless and had to calm her down from beating her opponent to a pulp.

Artoria is relieved hearing their affirmation, but still glances at her foe with a side eye.

(S/O) "S-Saber, are you alright?"

(Artoria) "Yes, now that our night is unobstructed once more."

(S/O) "Hah, thank you for stepping in. I'm sorry that you had to do so to begin with-"

(Artoria) "No need for thanks. I'd gladly do so again should the need arise."

A faint blush creeps onto her face once she feels S/O's hands slip into hers, a soft squeeze rendering her speechless.

(S/O) "I think this should get the message across so you don't have to, Saber.~"

A moment later, Artoria smiles and moves closer to them as they walk.

(Artoria) "Hm. Indeed."

Mordred may still follow the Knight's Code, but that will not save anyone who tries to flirt with someone that's hers.

(Mordred) "OI! This person's taken, who the hell do you think you're talking to?!"

She wasn't entirely tolerant of normal humans to begin with, these interactions pissed her off even more.

Especially if they brought her gender into the conversation.

And to that a swift knee to the stomach of the person trying to insist on flirting ends it.

With Mordred promptly (and effortlessly) swooping S/O off their feet and into her arms as she walks.

(S/O) "M-Mordred?!"

(Mordred) "Yell at me all ya want, you expect me to stand by as my bride is being spoken to like that?!"

(S/O) "Bride?-We're not even married...!"

(Mordred) "Bah, whatever! You know what I mean!"

(S/O) "I'm not angry! I'm just hah, surprised is all."

Mordred's eyebrow raised at that, as did her voice.

(Mordred) "Eh? By what?"

(S/O) "You picking me up like this it...feels nice."

Mordred turns an intense shade of red as she scoffs, looking straight ahead instead of looking at S/O.

(Mordred) "I have half a mind to drop you! How useless do you have to be that I have to intervene like this?!"

S/O would bring up the fact she's still holding them, and in fact tighter now that they mentioned it.

But they S/O would also to prefer to keep their teeth inside their mouth instead of outside.

[chrisfawns]

𝜗ৎ i'm still your boy

pairing: matt sturniolo x reader

ᯓ★ in which matt reminds you that no matter what, he'll always be your boy 🌀 part of my writing marathon!

warnings: smut, post break up sex, mentions of drugs and alcohol, oral (f receiving), anger issues

wc: 1k

matt sighed, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. he’d been sitting in your driveway for the past ten minutes, but he hadn’t been able to work up the courage to go up and knock on your door. he looked around at your yard, the yard he’d once shared with you. the green picket fence had faded and slightly sunken in since the last time he’d been here at the beginning of the summer, but your flower garden remained as pristine as it always had. 

he wished that he could rewind three years to when you’d first started dating, even if he knew how it would inevitably end. maybe you two could’ve stayed friends if he would’ve just gotten it right, or maybe he would’ve made moving to orlando, florida happen like you had always dreamed about. 

before he had the chance to think anymore, your front door opened and there you were, glaring at him. matt knew that he had torn you apart. he’d put you through hell and back, trying to find himself, but even now, you still looked as beautiful as the day he’d met you. 

“baby, hi, i…” matt breathed, stepping out of the car. “i missed you.”

“what do you want, matt?” you said curtly. 

“i came to see you.”

“so now you want to come back?” you asked. “it’s been three months with no word from you and you think you can just show up, say you missed me, and everything will be okay again?”

“no,” matt started, but he didn’t know what else to say. “i just…missed you. that’s all. wanted to see how you’re doing.”

you fanned your face, the august heat and matt’s excuses making you feel irritated. “you can come inside and we can talk, but only because it’s hot out here.”

the brunette breathed a sigh of relief; at least you were giving him this chance. as you led him into your once shared house, matt realized that there were still pieces and memories of him littered throughout the space. a picture he had taken of you at disneyland on the mantle, a mug from a shared set you two had had on the kitchen counter, the mat he had picked out by the back door. 

“i don’t understand why you came back,” you said, leaning against the counter. “you’ve obviously been fine for three months.” you stated, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“i haven’t been fine,” matt argued back, running a hand through his hair. “goddamn it, baby. i think about you every fuckin’ hour of every fuckin’ day.”

despite your best attempts at avoiding it, the butterflies in your tummy took flight at those words. still though, you knew words meant nothing, especially after all of matt’s actions. you definitely weren’t a stranger to what had gone on in his life post-breakup, either. being a famous youtuber, you had seen the photos of him nearly every weekend, snorting lines of coke followed by shots of tequila. 

“matt, i can’t do this,” you tried to keep your voice steady, but even you heard the crack. “everything was fine until…y’know.” you gestured to the hole in the wall that was shaped like matt’s fist, the one you’d yet to fix. 

even matt knew that that had been the straw that broke the camel’s back. he’d let his anger get the best of him in some stupid argument, and now here he was, heartbroken over what could’ve been. 

“please,” he practically begged. “let me show that i’m sorry, baby. let me show you that i’m still your boy.”

“matt–” you started, but before you could speak again, he had pulled your body against his own, trailing soft kisses along your neck. 

“i can’t be without you, my love.” matt mumbled, sucking on the sweet spot behind your ear. 

“oh…” you breathed, tangling your fingers in matt’s curls. every part of you was screaming at you to stop before you got too far in, but you just couldn’t. you had always been wrapped around his fingers. 

“gonna show you how sorry i am, pretty girl,” he hummed, pinning you against the countertops. “you like that, yeah?”

you nodded quickly, matt’s name rolling off your tongue effortlessly like it always had. matt sunk to his knees, looking up at you with those blue, pleading eyes that you had missed so much. you nodded, and your now ex draped your legs over his shoulders, smirking as he slid your sundress up to reveal your soaking, lace panties.

he effortlessly slid them down your legs with his teeth, putting your glistening cunt on full display. legs still draped over his shoulders, matt kitten-licked your folds, moaning into your pussy as he tasted that sweetness that he had missed oh-so-much. 

“taste so good, baby.” he purred. 

you whimpered at the sensation of matt’s tongue flicking dizzying rhythms over your clit. as mad as you wanted to be, you couldn’t think of anything else besides how much you had missed the feeling of matt devouring your cunt like it was the last meal on earth. 

his rings bore into your thighs as he thrust his tongue in and out of you, feeling your pretty pink walls clenching around him. every so often, matt would look at you, eyes big, blue, and pussy drunk, and that would only make you moan louder, bucking your hips against his face as you tangled your hands in his hair. 

“matt…” you whined. “gonna c-cum.”

“gotta say it first, baby. say i’m still yours.” matt murmured into your pussy.

“still mine…oh god.” you moaned. “you’ll always be mine, matt.”

you couldn’t hold it any longer. as soon as matt gave you permission, you were cumming hard, releasing the months of built up tension you’d had since matt left. your legs were shaking as matt pulled you close to him and kissed you. you didn’t know if you were making the right choice right now, but what you did know was that even now, matt was still your boy.

© chrisfawns

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬. ⋆˚꩜｡: first part of my writing marathon is here! i hope you all love it as much as i do 🤭 writing marathon inspired by @delilahsturniolo

tags ⋆. 𐙚 ̊: @mattslilies @backwardshatnick

if you'd like to be added to my taglist, inbox me/dm me/comment!!

[dailyrothko]

Hey! Just so you know. My partner and I are long distance and met on tumblr; one of the things we share is a love of Rothkos. When we met, we went and saw one (surprise!) at a local museum and it was. Humbling and incredible and so lovely. I've sent her so many of your posts, and been sent many in return. Just wanted to say your images have not only inspired conversation and bonding and delight, but also helped to create connections and romance and love. I threw in a donation, but this blog has been a part of something I value so much more, and the beauty and thoughts provoked by your images and posts and scans are marvelous. Thank you for what you do, and I appreciate it immensely.

Well first of all just thank you it's so sweet, your story and also what you wrote.

Not to overshare but I'm someone who is not always doing great either in the practical sense of living or in the psychological sense of having lots of lifelong emotional issues. I always thought it was kind of narcissistic for people to say that something they were doing is made worth it by the people who appreciate it. After all, in this case, I'm not painting the pictures, so I tend to feel like it's just the work is out there and I put some effort into cataloging and trying to bring it forth in the best way I can but, I'm not, as they say, curing cancer.

However today, I had difficulty rousing myself out of bed to pick a painting and a quote and get the things around on social media and it sometimes feels like a chore because it's every single day. And the rest of my life is not going that well and it is not out of wishing for sympathy or anything of that nature, but just to provide context that I have to say that your act of writing to me really was touching.

One of the things I always tell the naysayers about Rothko, is that whatever they think about what they consider to be the garbage of modern art, people find it and they like it and they were not made to or told to or educated to that end. They felt something and every time you discover something that makes you feel, wherever you found it, I think it's a good thing for the world.

And especially now when the planet is pushing an anti-intellectual movement ,a lot of it motivated by greed and the desire to get credit and money from doing creative things without actually putting anything of yourself into them, Rothko seems special to me as many artists do. He really did dedicate his life to something, which maybe not everybody will like but obviously it does move a lot of people.

So not to prattle on, but really thank you much. You taking the time to tell me your story was very generous and I appreciate it.

[pheastinyworld]

i'm going home ❀•°•───────•

request: have you seen the trend of telling your bf you want to go home when hanging out with Gabe

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: got randomly suggestive towards the end, sorry guys, my fingers just started typing

author's note: thank you for the request ceci!!! also, this is kinda set around two years from now so creative liberties were obviously taken.

| phe's main masterlist |

it was just before winter break and gabe was already two years into signing with the rangers. he had decided it was time to move out of the hotel room he shared with brennan othman and brett berard. 

when gabe told you he was signing, you were over the moon but part of you was worried about how the distance would affect your relationship. you had practically been together since the very start of college, meeting in french class two weeks in, and dating by the next month. 

but if anyone could make it work, it was going to be you two. so you agreed to do long distance until you both graduated; gabe coming back occasionally so he could finish off his exams.

it only felt difficult when you had gone long periods without seeing each other, but it never put a great strain on you two. constant meaningless texts about his day made you feel less alone, and in turn, your nightly long rants over the phone to him about your horrible study schedule always put him at ease.

it wasn't a question for you to apply for jobs in his city, and once you received an acceptance email, you were on a plane and surprising him at his hotel the day later. from then on though, gabe knew he was going to have to move out, he didn't really want to share the same space with his teammates and his girlfriend. so you both agreed to rent out an apartment not far from where he was staying anyway. 

it wasn't crazy big, but it was more than enough. amongst your busy schedules, the shared apartment was a place where you could just be together and relax. and that's what you were doing right now. legs draped across his lap as a christmas movie played on the screen. but you had seen this movie too many times before and had begun to grow bored, thinking of ways to get whatever reaction out of gabe you could pull. 

you remembered a funny trend your friends had sent you and immediately thought it would be perfect. you got up quickly, telling him you were just getting more popcorn when he whined at your movement.

after setting the phone up to the side of the sofa, trying to be as discreet as possible, you made your way back to him, dropping down to his side. you felt his arm that was resting on the back of the sofa pull you against him as if it was possible to get any closer. 

“gabe?” you spoke up.

“yeah baby?” he hummed out, leaning down to press a small kiss onto your hair.

you closed your eyes and pursed your lips closed, already wanting to laugh at him. calmly you spoke up, trying not to give anything away, “you know… i think i’m gonna head home.”

“huh?” is all he got out, moving his hand up to your cheek to turn your head towards him, looking all confused. you glanced at him, his brows knitting together as his lips pressed into a thin, uncertain line that turned downwards at the ends. “what do you mean? where’re you going?” 

you nibbled on your nails in an attempt to hide a smile you were desperately fighting against. “home.” you reiterated, “i’m going home gabe.”

poor gabe was so lost, his brows furrowing even more now. “so, you actually are home…? i’m so confused.”

you huffed out, pinching the bridge of your nose which made gabe feel like he must’ve done something to piss you off. he scanned your face frantically, eyes darting around as if he was going to find the answer on his face. had he said something? what had he said that was so bad that made you want to leave your shared home?

“did i do something to upset you.” he asked sweetly, words delicate so as to not make you more annoyed. oh great, now you felt horrible. “baby, i promise i can’t think of anyth- is it because i asked if you wanted to spend christmas with my family this year? you want to go back to your home during christmas? thats fin-”

“no.” you stated simply, shaking your head, shifting so your body was facing him before you drew your knees to your chest, hugging your legs. you actually surprised yourself with how upset you could act. “i just want to go home. like now.” 

gabe blinked, face dropping at how upset you seemed. he didn't know what to do, he just wanted to make you feel better no matter what was wrong. 

“hey hey,” he whispered softly, still wearing a sad frown as he scooped you up into his arms and placed you on top of him, your legs moving to straddle his lap. “what’s wrong? what home are you talking about? can you tell me what’s gotten you all upset, i promise if i know then i can help.”

pouting your lips, you sighed as he squeezed your sides reassuringly, looking at you with wide eyes and very concerned. “i don't know, i just feel like i should be at home. 

gabe’s mouth opened like he was going to say something. honestly he wanted to say ‘i have no clue what the fuck you’re talking about’ but he restrained, too nervous that it’ll just make you mad and you’ll stomp off to the spare bedroom. “you- i really don’t know what you mean. we’re at home.”

“no. home home.” you rolled your eyes as if it was obvious, trying so hard not to smile at his look. he was in utter disbelief. had you hit your head?

“you’re at home home.” he gestured his hands around the room, looking around as if to check that you two had not magically teleported somewhere else, “i’d like to think my contributions to the interior design choices made this place feel homey enough.”

you let out a small huff, not saying anything in case you started laughing. gabe knew you well enough to sense you were on the verge of smiling. the thing is, he thought it was because he was making you feel better, so he proceeded to try and lighten your mood. 

“did you hit your head on door getting the popcorn?” he grinned just a little, hand coming up to press against your forehead, “should we go to the doctor, you’re a little warm actually. you must've hit your head, huh?”

you swatted his hand away, finally letting out a string of giggles, dropping your head against his shoulder. you were for sure not going to last any longer, despite very much enjoying him looking all clueless and upset. 

“sorry, sorry, it was a joke.” you lifted your head and gabe’s shoulders relaxed as he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding in. 

“don’t do that! i seriously thought you were trying to tell me you were moving out.” gabe grumbled, complaining, but his grin told you he wasn't annoyed at all. 

“i would never.” you pressed a firm kiss upon his lips to punctuate your statement, “you’re totally stuck with me.”

gabe smiled, eyes dancing in mischief before he began to tickle your tides making you yelp out, arms trying to push him away. 

“this is what you get.” gabe laughed, ducking his head as your arm moved frantically and nearly hit him.

“oh didn’t know you were into punishment stuff. very kinky, gabe.” you smirked, laughing even harder when gabe stopped abruptly and his eyes went wide, face suddenly all red. 

you chuckled as you cupped both of his cheeks and pressed your lips on his, slow and soft, letting you both melt in each other before you pulled away. “gonna need to delete the last bit of the video so it’s appropriate to send to your sister.”

gabe’s mouth dropped and he rolled his eyes, looking to his left to see your phone propped up against the lamp. “please don’t show that to anyone, especially my family. and please don’t do that again.”

“can’t promise anything sadly.” you said matter of factly, grinning at him. 

“but you’re still coming to christmas?” he asked hopefully, head tilting so he was leaning into your touch. 

“obviously. but im only going because your mom makes the best cookies.” you shrugged, making gabe chuckle.

“whatever you say baby.”

[faggotbeloved]

Hiya! May I please request some Wesker headcanons?

How would he react to a Reader that has no filter?

Reader is straightforward and doesn't take nonsense from anybody. Their sass is unmatched.

Wesker: 7 minutes, 7 minutes is all I can spare to play with you.

Reader: ...Not in that slutty ass outfit.

Following the 3SA timeline! Alternate snippets from S.T.A.R.S. and chapter 1 plus a little insight on each. I put a bit of a spin on it, I am super sorry if what I wrote wasn't what you intended.

Cw: suggestive

└───────────────────────┘

Wesker thought you were annoying at first. He doesn't feel guilty when thinking back to it; he loves you for it now, but by god it pissed him off when you first joined S.T.A.R.S. You were blunt and argumentative, a walking HR violation, and you had a quip for everything.

-

(WESKER walks into the S.T.A.R.S. BRIEFING ROOM, groggy and already scowling. WESKER watches the coffee pot boil, leaning on the counter with his backside facing out. READER approaches from behind, wolf whistling.)

READER: Damn, Captain! Are you trying to detain criminals or seduce them?

WESKER: (Scowling) Keep it up, and you'll be moving to Bravo team.

READER: Yeah, I'm sure. How'd you even get your pants on?

-

But once he got to know you, he found it endearing, if not sexy. He was a brat first, Captain of S.T.A.R.S. second. You knew just how to wrangle him into submission. You were also a good partner, fiercely loyal, and attractive in general.

-

(WESKER and READER are speaking over radios.)

READER: Captain, have you found somewhere out of the line of fire? Sending reinforcements. Over.

WESKER: Yes, I've found a safe area. I'm near the east exit. Over.

READER: Copy. Good boy. Over and out.

WESKER: (Spluttering) You can't say that! There's other people on the line!

-

Of course, he wasn't sure what to do about the whole... leading S.T.A.R.S. into the mansion and betraying everyone. He'd try to sneak it into conversation, just to see if his far-fetched fantasy of you joining him and spearheading research together. Unfortunately, that doesn't happen, and he ends up leaving you after the mansion incident.

For years, it's radio silence from him. You recover from the betrayal, get right back into action, and work with the BSAA to stop the likes of him. Wesker, however, thought of you constantly. Your dry humor and quick wit was refreshing, and surrounded by yes-men and suckups he longs for someone to treat him sarcastically again.

When you reunite, he's (internally) ecstatic to see you, to get another chance to recruit you, and this time it surprisingly goes well.

-

READER: Well... I did miss fucking you. And, let's be honest, your global saturation plan is kinda hard to beat. It's an uphill battle here.

WESKER: (Flushing, for the first time in years, though remaining blank-faced) Excellent.

READER: Do I get to become your coruler? That'd be pretty cool.

WESKER: (Smiling softly) ...we'll see.

-

Then, you and him would be like Good Cop, Bad Cop except for the fact you're both chaotic. The major difference is that you're funny, he's stuffy.

You do not get along with Irving, interestingly enough. He's got the kind of humor you find grating on your very soul. You don't get along much with Excella, mainly because she wanted your spot as Wesker's partner.

You never really fight with him. Your relationship is unique in that blunt nature makes you trustworthy, so when you say you're on his side he believes you. He doesn't give you the shock collar because he knows you're telling the truth, so not needing to train you skips the majority of conflict.

Overall... surprisingly healthy?

┌───────────────────────┐

I was thinking of reader speaking similarly to Gale from BG3 during this, just... without the awkwardness

Read my other Wesker works?

[winxanity-ii]

⌜Godly Things | Chapter 63 Chapter 63 | rising dread⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝

❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

When the world returned, it did so in pieces.

First, a dull ache stirred behind your eyes—like a bruise blooming beneath your skull, spreading outward until your head felt wrapped in wool. Your tongue felt thick, useless. You could still taste it—ambrosia. Or maybe the memory of it. Sweet, and strange, and far too golden to belong to anything mortal.

You groaned softly, dragging your arm over your face as your lashes blinked against the light. Your limbs were heavy. Everything felt... wrong. Not painful. Just out of sync. Like someone had unraveled you during sleep and only half-stitched you back together.

Gods. What time was it?

The room was a faint golden, the sunlight streaming in. You shifted, your throat scratchy, breath catching on the stale air as you pushed up with trembling arms.

The sheets tangled around your legs like seaweed, and for a moment, you sat there—head bowed, elbows on your knees, palms pressed to your temples—trying to remember where your body ended and the dream began.

Then, somewhere distant, something thumped.

Scratch.

You froze.

The sound came again. Sharp. Soft. At the door.

Scratch. Scratch.

Your breath caught.

It wasn't a knock. It wasn't a call. Just the soft, persistent scrape of something dragging claws against wood.

Your hands fumbled over the edge of the bed, palms dragging against the worn wood of the frame. Another thump. Closer now. Followed by a low, urgent whine. The sound clawed at your ears, insistent and high-pitched—like someone was crying just outside the door.

Scratch. Scratch.

You stumbled to your feet, bare legs shaky beneath the thin shift you didn't remember putting on. Your balance wavered with every step, hand catching a nearby table just to stay upright. Your head felt fogged, stuffed with cotton and the scent of sun-warmed stone. Your throat burned.

Everything still felt off. Slanted. Wrong.

You padded slowly to the door, heartbeat thudding unevenly, one hand lifting to brace against the frame.

The scratching stopped.

You reached for the handle, opening the door, and before you could do anything else, you were immediately shoved back.

A yelp tore from your throat as something large and heavy slammed into your chest, knocking you clean off your feet. You hit the floor with an undignified "Oof," the breath rushing from your lungs as limbs flailed—then—

A whine. Wet. Familiar.

And fur.

A large mass of it.

"—Lady?" you gasped, voice hoarse, eyes wide as your vision spun and finally locked onto the shape pinning you down.

The beast whined again, high and frantic, tail thudding against the floor like a drumbeat. Her massive paws were braced on either side of your ribs, her weight settled firmly across your thighs. She sniffed your neck—desperate, huffing—before she licked your chin in one long, sticky swipe.

"Okay—ugh, okay! I'm okay—Lady, I'm okay—," you choked, laughing through a cough, squirming as she nuzzled under your jaw. "I'm alive, you slobbering beast—"

She let out another high-pitched whine, half-growl, half-sob, her entire body trembling with urgency. Her fur was warm against your skin, thick and sweet-smelling—woodsmoke and grass and something distinctly hers.

The warmth seeped into your skin, then deeper—into your chest, your stomach, your hands still curled in her coat like you might come apart without something to grip.

For a while, neither of you moved. Just the sound of her breathing, fast and huffing, and your heart thudding in time. It slowed eventually. Not all at once, but in pieces—like a storm breaking apart into wind and drizzle.

"Okay," you murmured. "Okay, girl. I got you."

It still felt weird, talking out loud again. Like your voice didn't quite fit in your throat yet. But Lady answered with another lick, this one slower—like a mother grooming a cub. Then another, her nose nudging your cheek as if to confirm you were real.

Your arms wrapped around her neck instinctively, fingers fisting tight in her coat.

The ache in your chest, the tremble in your bones, the chill you hadn't even realized had sunk into your skin—all of it cracked open and poured out in that moment. Because here she was.

Lady. Whole. Warm. Safe.

And suddenly, the weight of everything—Olympus, ambrosia, Hyacinthus, the kiss, the ache of wanting what wasn't yours—none of it mattered.

Because now, you were on the floor in Ithaca.

Barefoot. Breathless.

And finally, finally, not alone.

You stayed like that for a while—flat on your back, breath shallow beneath the heavy rise and fall of her chest as Lady continued her frantic inspection. She sniffed your cheek, your neck, your hair—breath huffing hot against your ear like she still didn't trust that you were real yet.

You let her.

Your hands moved up instinctively, sliding through the thick fur around her shoulders. She was warm. Solid. The kind of warmth you couldn't fake. Not in dreams. Not in Olympus. The kind of warmth that pressed its weight into your ribs and made your throat ache.

"Hey, hey," you whispered softly, smoothing your hand down her back. "I'm here, okay? I'm back. I'm not going anywhere."

It took a few more long breaths before her trembling started to ease. Her whining quieted, little by little, and her tongue flicked over your chin one last time before she finally shifted—her massive body lowering carefully until she wasn't pinning you anymore. She flopped heavily across your legs, paws draped over your thighs like she intended to anchor you to the floor. Her weight made it hard to breathe, but you didn't ask her to move.

You just let out a breath you hadn't realized you were holding, sinking both hands into the dense fur along her spine. She was still breathing fast, but the edge had dulled now—her panic draining into something softer, like relief finally catching up to her.

"I know," you murmured, voice breaking a little. "I know. I'm sorry."

Your fingers rubbed slow circles into her coat, thumb tracing the ridge of her spine the way you always did when she needed comfort. The words came easy now, small and hoarse.

"I shouldn't have left you like that," you whispered. "I didn't plan to, I swear. It just all happened so fast. The prophecy... Apollo... the feast... everything. And you—" Your throat tightened again as you buried your face into the thick fur of her shoulder. "You weren't there. And I couldn't even ask for you."

Lady huffed against your thigh, as if answering.

"I'm sorry," you whispered again, barely breathing.

The room was quiet except for her breathing and the occasional soft snuffle as she nosed at your side, her head heavy in your lap now. You sat there, letting your hands roam up and down her fur, grounding yourself in the feel of her. She smelled like earth and salt and—faintly—like someone had fed her well in your absence. That same faint sweet tang of honeyed meats and roasted fish clung to her fur.

It made you smile, soft and tired.

Your palm slid up along her thick neck, fingers brushing along the edge of her jaw. Then, without really meaning to, you cupped her broad muzzle in both hands, lifting her head slightly so you could meet her gaze.

Gods, she really was big.

You squinted, blinking through the haze still lingering behind your eyes. Her head felt heavier than you remembered, her shoulders broader beneath your fingers.

"You—" you blinked again, trying to steady your voice. "You've gotten... bigger... haven't you?"

Lady blinked back at you with wide, unbothered eyes, her tail thumping once against the floor like she didn't see the problem.

Your thumbs rubbed along her jaw, testing the heft of it. "No, seriously, Lady. I think you've grown."

The words hung there for a moment—half question, half observation—as if waiting for some divine explanation to drop down and confirm it. Had Olympus done something? Some strange side-effect of being gone? A surge of power or favor or—

You snorted, shaking your head with a breathy laugh.

"Or," you said aloud, raising a brow at her, "maybe you just ate everything in sight while I was gone. Hmm?"

Lady's tail wagged harder this time.

"Of course you did," you chuckled, gently releasing her muzzle as you ruffled behind her ears. "Took full advantage while I wasn't here to stop you, didn't you? Bet everyone spoiled you rotten."

Her tongue lolled out slightly in that dopey way she did when she was pleased with herself, and you couldn't help but laugh again—soft and watery.

"Greedy little beast," you whispered fondly.

You stayed like that, sitting cross-legged on the cold stone floor, Lady's weight draped heavy across your lap like a living blanket, her massive head resting against your stomach. You rubbed slow, absent circles into her fur, letting the steady rise and fall of her breathing ease the last tight knots in your chest.

Because gods, for the first time in what felt like days, you didn't have to think. Not about Apollo. Not about Olympus. Not about gods or gardens or kisses that left you burning in the wrong ways.

Right now it was just you.

And her.

And that was enough.

Your fingers slowed in her fur, just resting now, palm against her side, letting the silence wrap around you like a blanket. The weight of her head in your lap, the steady sound of her breathing—it soothed something raw in your chest. The world could've ended outside these walls and you still wouldn't have moved. Not yet.

But your mind, traitorous as always, couldn't stay still.

You glanced down at Lady's soft ear as your fingers rubbed gently behind it. Your voice broke the quiet before you could stop it, soft and almost like you were talking to yourself.

"...Did they know?" you whispered. "Did anyone even notice I was gone?"

Lady huffed, as if answering. You smiled faintly, but your stomach twisted a little.

"I mean... it was pretty quick, wasn't it?" you continued quietly. "One moment I was at Port Telonia, and then—poof." Your hand waved limply in the air, like mimicking the memory might make it feel less strange. "He took me."

The words hung there, sharp and stupid and true.

"Apollo just... took me."

Your fingers tightened briefly in her fur, and Lady let out a soft rumble against your stomach. You didn't realize how shaky your breath had gotten until you sighed and tried to steady it.

"Gods... Eben must've lost his mind," you mumbled, pressing your cheek lightly against Lady's soft head. "The crew. The others. I just—disappeared. They probably thought I drowned. Or got taken by pirates. Or something worse."

You rubbed slow circles against her back, your voice thinning as you spoke. "Poor Eben. He probably thinks I'm lost at sea. Bet Lady—you probably scared everyone half to death too, didn't you?"

Lady's tail thumped once in agreement.

You let out a breathy, tired laugh. "But... I'm here now." Your voice softened, trying to convince yourself as much as her. "That's what matters. I made it back."

Your gaze drifted around the dimly lit room, mind hazy as you tried to piece together how much time had really passed. The sun still sat high in the sky, the palace oddly still.

"...Couldn't have been more than a few hours," you guessed aloud, lips pulling into a crooked half-smile. "Maybe a day. Two at most. Three would be pushing it, honestly."

You winced slightly, realizing even hearing yourself say it out loud made it sound insane. Like all of Olympus had been some long, strange fever dream stretched across a blink.

You let your fingers scratch lazily down Lady's spine, your voice softening again.

"Didn't even make it to Lyraethos after all that..." you muttered, the words slipping out quieter now. "Got halfway there. One last job. That was supposed to be the plan, right?"

You chuckled once—small and bitter—as you tipped your head back against the door.

"I was supposed to finish the trip. See Lyraethos for myself; see my origins. Finally." You sighed. "And now.. I don't even know if we were close."

Lady shifted slightly, nuzzling against your ribs with a soft whine.

You smiled at her again, softer this time. "I guess things happen for a reason, huh?" you whispered. "That's what the queen always say."

Your hand slipped gently beneath her chin, lifting her heavy head slightly so you could scratch behind her jaw the way she liked. Lady closed her eyes, melting into the touch, her breathing slowing with a content little snuffle.

"I just hope... it was a good reason."

You leaned your head against hers, closing your eyes for a long moment. It made you want to stay there forever, locked in that small, safe bubble where nothing could touch you. No gods. No songs. No stars that didn't belong to you.

Then your stomach let out an embarrassingly loud rumble.

It wasn't just a little growl—it was a full, hollow groan that echoed off the stone walls like a small animal trying to escape your ribs. Your eyes snapped open. Lady lifted her head slightly, ears twitching, and gave you a pointed look. If a giant beast could look judgmental, she absolutely did.

You groaned, pressing a hand to your belly. "Oh, come on," you muttered, cheeks burning. "Don't look at me like that."

Lady's head tilted further, her big eyes narrowing with that unblinking stare. Judging.

"I was fed!" you defended, voice pitching up slightly. "I mean... I ate. Technically. Just..." You rubbed at your face, wincing. "Mostly fruit. And honey. And... more honey. And those weird little cakes that melt after two bites. I don't even know what half of it was."

Her ears twitched again.

"Gods," you sighed, chuckling weakly. "I swear I was fed. I just... didn't exactly eat real food."

Lady snorted, a warm puff of breath against your lap, before dropping her head back down with a soft, dismissive huff.

"Yeah, yeah,"  you smiled, rubbing behind her ear. "I know. I'll fix it."

You gently patted her head and pushed yourself upright, stretching your legs carefully so you didn't disturb her too much. She reluctantly let you go, rolling onto her side with a low, satisfied groan like she'd just claimed the entire floor as her bed now.

You stood slowly, your knees popping as you stretched your arms overhead. The faint chill of the room hit you the moment you moved away from Lady's warmth. "Bread and meat sound good? Or you aiming higher—roast duck? Leftover lamb?"

She barked once.

You snorted as if you understood her. "Noted."

You got dressed without thinking. Without really noticing the way your hands moved—slipping out of the shift, pulling open drawers, picking up the pieces of your old life.

Ithacan clothes.

Simple. Familiar. Real.

The loose linen tunic settled over your shoulders like a memory. The sash tied tight around your waist the way you always did it—crooked, but comfortable. The sandals slid easily onto your feet, rough leather worn just enough to feel like they belonged to you.

You hadn't realized how much you missed the weight of it—cloth meant for working, for moving, for living. Not spun gold meant for display. It made your skin ache in a way nothing golden ever could.

This was real. Tangible. Yours.

And yet—

You stared at yourself for a moment. Just a flicker in the brass mirror above the washbasin. There was nothing different about your reflection. No divine glow. No prophecy stitched into your skin. Just you. Eyes a little too tired. Shoulders tight. Mouth set in a line that didn't quite remember how to soften.

With a sigh, you tore your gaze away. "Alright," you whispered to Lady, who peeked up at you with lazy eyes. "Let's see if I can sneak something from the kitchens before anyone notices I'm back."

Lady let out a soft chuff, but didn't move. She was content to sprawl for now.

As you pulled open the door and stepped into the corridor, your steps light and careful, you told yourself it would be simple enough. Quick. In and out. A snack before dinner.

But even as your feet carried you forward, your mind drifted.

Gods, you didn't want to run into anyone. Not now. Not yet.

Not Telemachus.

Not the King.

Not the Queen.

Not Callias or Kieran or Lysandra or Asta—not any of them.

Because you didn't know how to look at them yet. Not after what you'd learned. Not after hearing the truth.

The thought made your chest pull tight, your mouth go dry all over again. Throat tightening, your steps quickened.

How were you supposed to sit at their table again? Laugh? Smile? Pretend like nothing had changed? They all still saw you as you—the same girl who grew up among them, who fetched water, who shared bread and wine and sun-warmed afternoons in the palace courtyard.

But you weren't that girl, were you?

You never really had been.

You weren't supposed to exist. Not really. Not in the way they thought. You were born because a god needed something. Because a god reached down and rewrote a gap that was never meant to be filled.

And yet... you loved them. You loved them all. That made it worse.

Because every moment with them—every memory—it was real to you.

But was it real?

Or had Apollo written even that?

Your hands curled into fists at your sides as you moved, your sandals whispering across the stone.

You didn't have the answer. You weren't even sure you wanted it.

For now, you just kept walking. Moving on autopilot, letting your feet lead you through the quiet halls, past flickering lamps and empty corners, toward the kitchens tucked near the back of the palace.

You just needed food.

Something simple.

Something real.

Because food was easier than facing anyone. Hunger simpler than grief. And sneaking a crust of bread would be less ruinous than meeting Telemachus' gaze and wondering whether he'd still love you if he knew the truth.

You kept walking, breath steady but shallow. The quiet halls of the palace felt heavier somehow, but not hostile. Just... expectant. Watching. Like every curve of marble had been listening in on your thoughts since you'd returned.

The knowledge didn't stab as sharply now. It didn't knock you breathless like it did when you first staggered out of that alley back in Port Telonia, reeling from Eione's vision. No, that wound had dulled. Muted, almost.

You thought of Hephaestus. Of his forge, his words. How you were forged... not made. The memory sat heavy but steady in your chest. Like cooled metal. It still hummed, but it didn't burn.

Your existence wasn't born right. You were a nearly-forgotten breath, an almost-child snatched from the edge of death and filled with someone else's need. But you existed. That was enough. Sometimes.

But even as you told yourself that, those small, traitorous whispers found the cracks. They always did. The quiet little truths that squirmed into the back of your mind like insects burrowing beneath a doorframe.

You weren't meant to be born.

You weren't written in the stars. You were written in the margins.

Would he—

You swallowed hard, picking up your pace.

You hated how easily your mind still circled back to Telemachus. To how his voice would sound if he knew. To how his face might falter if he learned what you truly were—a patch stitched into someone else's grief. A rewrite. A second draft.

Would he still look at you like he did? Like you were something worth staying for? Or would that warmth flicker, just slightly, beneath the weight of everything you couldn't control?

You pressed your palm briefly against your stomach as you turned the next hall, steadying yourself. No. Linger too long on that, and you'd spiral. And spiraling solved nothing. Hephaestus had taught you that much.

"You keep going."

So you did.

You let the ache sit where it was, not fighting it, not feeding it. Letting it live there for now like a dull companion. You could carry it. You'd learned that too.

Because even if the prophecy wasn't truly yours... this moment still was. Your footsteps. Your breathing. The quiet echo of the kitchens drawing closer. The smell of baking bread.

Something real.

And gods, wasn't that enough?

For now, it had to be.

You breathed out slow, letting the weight settle, picturing Lady's ridiculous excitement when you'd return with something better than the usual scraps. She deserved a small feast, you decided. If you could sneak a heel of bread, maybe a bit of cheese—if the cooks had left anything out—she'd practically explode with joy. You smiled faintly at the thought.

And then you nearly collided into someone.

You gasped, pulling up short just as a young servant girl rounded the corner from the opposite direction, head down, arms heavy with a basket overflowing with linens. The corner of the woven rim caught against her hip as she stumbled, and with a soft yelp, the whole thing tipped forward. Folded cloth tumbled out in a messy spill across the polished floor.

"Ah—gods, sorry!" you blurted, already dropping to your knees to help as the girl cursed under her breath, scrambling after the fallen linens.

"No, no—my fault!" she said quickly, her voice light, a little breathless. "Should've watched where I was going, honestly." She laughed softly as she gathered a handful of the cloth back into her basket, hands working fast.

You smiled a bit at her ease, relieved it hadn't turned into some grand apology dance. "Here—let me help," you offered, scooping up a few loose bundles and stacking them carefully. The girl gave a grateful nod, her eyes still focused on her task.

But then—she looked up.

And the moment her gaze met yours, everything shifted.

Her cheerful expression froze. The little smile still caught on her lips faded, slipping like sand between her teeth. Her face blanked entirely—no recognition, no words—just wide, silent alarm blooming in her eyes.

You saw it hit her.

First her lips parted in a sharp little inhale—like the sight of you had punched the air right out of her.

Then her eyes stretched wider, filling with something very near horror.

She staggered back a half-step, one trembling hand flying up to her mouth as the basket rocked dangerously on her hip. You saw her throat bob as she swallowed hard.

"By the gods..." she breathed, her voice thin, high, cracking halfway through the whisper.

The word barely left her lips before she lurched backward, nearly tripping over her own feet. The bundle of cloths slipped sideways, but she didn't even bother catching them this time. She shook her head, backing away like you might reach for her.

You opened your mouth, startled, half-ready to call out—but she was already scurrying down the hallway, the soft slap of her sandals echoing in the still corridor as she disappeared around the corner.

And then... silence.

You stood there, staring after her, your hands still awkwardly clutching the last bundle of folded cloths.

For a brief moment, you almost called after her. But your tongue sat heavy behind your teeth, and the words never came.

Instead, your stomach let out a loud, traitorous growl.

You blinked. Then exhaled, forcing a dry little chuckle as you glanced down at your middle.

"Well," you muttered under your breath, more to yourself than anyone. "That's... probably not something I should think too hard about right now."

And so, you shoved it—gently but firmly—to the back of your head.

One problem at a time.

Right now? Food first.

You carefully tucked the last bundle of linens back into the basket, straightened yourself, and carried on toward the kitchen, like nothing had happened.

Your footsteps were softer now, cautious. The walls narrowed as you moved deeper into the palace's belly, and the faint scent of flour and stewed herbs curled in the air. You could hear the kitchen more clearly up ahead—small sounds first: the clatter of wooden spoons, soft hum of knives chopping, the low, wordless chatter of cooks too focused on work to waste energy on gossip.

Almost there.

You rounded another quiet corridor, pulling a breath through your nose, letting the noise ahead steady you. You could almost picture it—Lady already pacing your room by now, tail twitching, waiting for her prize.

But then—

A voice sliced through the air.

Not loud. Not even meant for you.

But sharp enough to make your heart jump to your throat.

"Ugh," it scoffed, dry and biting. "Honestly—cheap bedding. Coarse as sackcloth. They expect royalty to sleep like merchants now, it seems."

You froze.

The words landed like a slap against your spine, and for a second, your whole body stiffened—heartbeat quickening, mouth dry.

No. No, not now. Not her.

You hadn't even realized you'd passed another side passage—a small alcove branching off the main hallway—and your feet moved before your brain caught up. You stumbled a step backward, flattening yourself against the cool stone, back pressed to the wall like it might swallow you whole.

You squeezed your eyes shut for a breath, pulse pounding fast against your ribs. But then—curiosity. Stupid, reckless curiosity clawed its way forward.

Slowly, breath held tight, you turned your head and risked a peek around the edge of the threshold.

The corridor opened into a small alcove—almost like a hidden garden tucked between the palace walls. Light filtered down through an open roof, thin beams of afternoon sun slicing across potted greenery and patches of pale marble. The leaves shifted gently in the still air, making everything look too peaceful for how sharp your nerves felt.

And there, seated right in the center of it all, like it was her private little stage, was Andriea.

She lounged delicately on a carved bench, long fingers poised gracefully around a painted teacup, her silk-draped figure practically glowing beneath the shafts of sunlight. At her feet, two young women—Bronte servants, probably—sat with their heads lowered, one pouring more tea, the other folding a fresh wrap of lavender-scented cloth.

Andriea didn't even glance at them as she spoke, her voice still honey-sweet, but sharp-edged.

"They think tossing a few sprigs of myrrh into the bathwater makes up for stone sheets," she continued, shaking her head with mock pity. "I swear, the standards in Ithaca doesn't even meet the worst of Bronte." She exhaled through her nose—short, dainty.

You stood frozen for a breath, pressing yourself tighter to the cold stone. Part of you screamed to leave. Just turn, keep walking. She was the last person you wanted inside your head today.

Andreia had a way of souring everything she touched, especially your mood. The kitchen was only a few more steps away. You could already smell the faint traces of bread and stew in the distance—just go.

But then—just as your foot shifted, her voice floated out again. Light. Casual. And razor sharp.

"Speaking of standards..."" Andreia purred, swirling her tea. "I suppose it's fitting, in a way. Matches him perfectly."

The servants tittered like birds in a gilded cage.

Your stomach twisted. You already knew who she was speaking of, even before the name left her lips—Telemachus.

One of the younger maids, emboldened by Andreia's mood, let out a giggle that turned a little too sharp. "Oh—but my lady! The little nickname you've given him. 'Machus,' was it? So sweet."

More giggles. Sharp ones. The kind that made your teeth clench.

Andreia scoffed—soft and airy, as if it physically amused her. "Yes. Machus," she repeated, drawing the name out, letting it curl sweetly from her lips like honey laced with vinegar. "Though I suppose that's only half of it."

She set down her cup with a soft clink and waved her hand. "Machus the Meek." The words dripped with syrupy mockery.

Andreia leaned back, perfectly composed, her tone feather-light and cruel. "It suits him, doesn't it? His father rules with blood. And Telemachus? Well... let's just say there's a softness to him. A certain... gentleness," she crooned, her smile sharpening at the corners. "No bite. No command. The kind of man who prefers reciting lessons at his mother's feet rather than holding court."

The words stabbed right through you. Your chest tightened, bile rising beneath your ribs as the nickname echoed in your head.

Machus.

You remembered Penelope's voice once explaining it gently, how Andreia had made it sound harmless back then. Playful. And yet now—now you heard the venom in it clear as glass.

Mocking not only his quiet kindness—but his failure to ever measure up to the weight of his father's name.

And your stomach turned again.

But Andreia wasn't finished. Of course she wasn't.

She let her fingers trace the rim of her teacup, voice lowering just enough for the cruelty to simmer beneath the surface. "He's grown now, isn't he? Lived to see twent-one winters. And yet still... no grand voyage. No monsters slain. No songs sung in distant ports." Her lips pulled into a thin, mocking smile. "One might think the son of Odysseus would've managed something more... remarkable by now."

The words stung. And still she went on.

"But perhaps he's content here," she sighed, as though musing to herself. "A little island. A little title. A mother's skirts to hide beneath, and enough loyal servants to keep him feeling important." She clicked her tongue softly. "Yes... perhaps that's enough for Machus the Meek."

The servants snorted behind their hands, trying—and failing—not to burst into laughter.

Your blood roared.

The heat hit you so fast you barely noticed your breath coming short. Your fingers twitched against the stone as a hot, bitter spike curled up your throat.

Before your mind could even catch up, your feet moved. You stepped out from behind the wall, through the threshold. No more hiding.

Your voice left your mouth cold and even—quieter than you expected, but heavy enough to slice through the easy laughter like a knife. "Strange," you said. "You speak of standards... but I wonder, Lady Andreia—how would the Queen feel hearing you speak like this? About her son."

The air in the alcove snapped taut.

The servants froze mid-giggle, their eyes wide, mouths clamping shut so fast you heard one of them audibly swallow. Andreia's head whipped toward you, her posture stiffening in an instant.

Her eyes found yours. The playful shine in them flickered, replaced by something sharper. Defensive. A brief, flash of calculation passed behind her gaze as she absorbed the fact that you were standing there. That you'd heard everything.

She held your stare, delicate hands folding in her lap as if to feign calm. But the tightness around her jaw betrayed the faint, curling thread of panic lacing through her spine.

The food? Completely forgotten. The kitchen? Gone from your mind.

There was only this. You. Her. And the weight of your words, hanging like a stone between you.

But instead of scrambling—grasping for excuses, like you half-expected—Andreia did something else.

She smiled.

Not kindly. Not warmly. That sharp little curl of her lips—like a cat who'd only been startled for a moment before remembering it still had claws.

"Oh," she breathed with a light scoff, waving a dismissive hand as though your very presence were an annoying insect flitting too close to her tea. "You're still breathing." She tilted her head slightly, voice dripping with false sweetness. "What a pity."

Your stomach twisted. But she wasn't done.

"I truly hadn't bothered to ask what became of you," she went on, her tone breezy, condescending. "Imagine my surprise. I was quite certain... certain types of girls don't return once they go missing."

The servants exchanged glances, one nervously biting the inside of her cheek. The other kept her eyes down, though you noticed the small tremor in her hand as she gripped the edge of the tea tray.

Andreia leaned back with a delicate exhale, confidence rolling off her like cheap perfume. "But if you're so intent on breathing," she added, voice flattening, "then I suggest you hurry along, little mouse." She gestured lazily toward the corridor behind you. "Before you trip over your own relevance again."

Her gaze dropped, dragging along your form as if you were nothing but a stain she'd chosen to ignore. "You wouldn't want to waste what precious little luck you've been given."

The servants tittered again—hesitant at first, then emboldened by their mistress' ease.

And gods, the heat rising in your chest was thick. But you held your ground.

You held her gaze.

Because this—this—was what she wanted: to see you flinch. To shrink you back into the shadows. To remind you that to her, you were still beneath her tablecloth gossip.

But not today.

Not after everything.

You took another step forward, your sandals brushing over the smooth stone, closing the distance between you. The little alcove felt smaller now, though it was not your body shrinking.

It was hers.

Or at least, it would be.

You let your voice cut through the air, calm but edged. "Why?" you asked. "Why go through all this? Why even come to Ithaca? Stay for so long?" Your voice dipped lower. "Why play with his heart... if you didn't really care for him?"

The servants stilled at your words, eyes wide—but not surprised. No, not surprised. They simply stared, waiting, like this was a conversation they had already heard before in quieter corners.

Andreia didn't blink.

Instead, she exhaled a soft little hum, like you had asked something so terribly beneath her. She shifted in her chair, reclining slightly, and reached out for one of the delicate pastries on the tray. A neatly folded, honey-soaked little thing—far too sweet, far too careful.

She took a bite, chewed, swallowed. Then spoke, as if bored.

"Oh, please." Her voice was light, clipped, as if correcting a child. "Do you honestly believe I came here for him?" She waved one hand lazily, like flicking away a bad scent. "Telemachus? That fumbling, fragile child?"

Andreia let out a breathy, amused laugh. "Gods, what a silly little story everyone spun, didn't they? The visiting princess, and the quiet island prince—how quaint. And I didn't have to do much either." She popped another bit of pastry into her mouth before continuing, voice coated in mock pity. "No, dear. I was never here for him."

Her eyes gleamed, cold and sharp.

"I came for his father."

The words landed with a weight you didn't expect. Your breath caught. You could only stare.

Andreia's lips curved higher, pleased by your silence. She savored it.

"Odysseus is the power here. The name. The mind. The history." She leaned forward slightly, voice dropping into something almost conspiratorial. "Do you think I would waste myself on some awkward boy still pretending he'll ever live up to his father's shadow?"

The servants barely moved at her feet. Their faces were blank, untouched by surprise, as though they'd heard these confessions before—many times, perhaps. Maybe whispered with more venom behind closed doors, when there were no ears but theirs.

Andreia's eyes roamed lazily over the stone floor, then back to you. "No," she sighed, almost sweetly. "I will become what his father needs. A comfort. A match. A woman worth the history he carries." She tilted her head, mocking kindness. "And when Queen Penelope's mourning ends—and she grows tired, or old, or simply disappears—I will be right where I need to be."

She lifted her cup, sipped delicately.

"A king deserves someone who understands power. Not... innocence."

Her gaze settled back on you, pointed. Measured. Daring you to speak.

But for a moment, you couldn't.

You were speechless.

Not from shock—not entirely. No, some bitter part of you had always sensed that something about Andreia's presence had never been about Telemachus. But to hear it spoken aloud, so easily, so carelessly—it churned in your chest like something rotten.

And the servants? Still silent. Still blank-faced. Still obedient.

Your breath caught, horror bubbling up your throat like bile before you even realized the word slipping out of your mouth. "That's—" you whispered, voice shaking, "that's treason."

The word hung between you like a crack of thunder. A line drawn.

At that, Andreia's lashes fluttered—slow and deliberate—as if your little outburst bored her more than offended. Then her lips curved again, sharper this time. Colder.

"Treason?" she scoffed, drawing out the word like it tasted sweet on her tongue. "Spare me your righteous little outrage, will you? It's exhausting."

Her servants snickered softly behind her. Like hyenas circling. Like they knew you didn't stand where you thought you did.

Andreia straightened, smoothing the silk along her thighs as if ridding herself of invisible dust. "You speak as if we all have the same starting point. As if we're all given the same... opportunities." Her voice dipped into something syrupy, laced with venom. "Not everyone has the fortune of stumbling into proximity to royalty like you did, dear."

Your jaw tightened.

She tilted her head. "Oh yes. The poor little servant girl, plucked from her lowly station. Caught the Queen's eye. Earned the prince's favor. Sang the right song. All by luck." She sneered. "Must be nice. Never having to work for it. Not really."

Your fists clenched at your sides, nails biting into your palms.

Andreia rolled her eyes with a sharp exhale. "At least I had a plan. A real one. And yet—" she clicked her tongue, voice hardening, "my idiot of a brother couldn't follow a single thread of it."

Her eyes flashed with something ugly.

You barely breathed.

"Do you think this was how it was meant to play out?" she went on bitterly. "Andros was supposed to come to Ithaca as a suitor. He was supposed to win Penelope's hand. Marry her. Take her throne. And with Ithaca finally tethered to Bronte through him—I could have found my own husband, on my own terms, and built the life I deserved."

The bite in her words was raw now, bubbling with something sharper than jealousy. Resentment. Frustration. And underneath it all—a fury born from years of wanting.

"But no." She let out a dry, humorless laugh. "The fool couldn't even hold a simple conversation with the Queen, let alone court her in all the years he was here. Completely useless." She waved her hand dismissively, as though brushing off the weight of her brother's fate. "He ruined everything."

You swallowed hard, stomach twisting.

"But then," Andreia breathed, voice softening as her gaze drifted—far-off now. Distant. Dreaming. "The news of Odysseus' return soon reached Bronte." Her green eyes shone with a strange light, something almost fevered beneath the poise. "And everything changed."

Her fingers began to drum softly against her teacup, slow at first—barely a tap—but it quickened as the words rolled out of her like a script she had rehearsed in her head countless times. Her gaze unfocused, lost somewhere far beyond Ithaca's walls, far across the sea where her ambition lived and bloomed.

"At that point, it didn't matter that Andros succeeded. Or that he failed. Or even that he was dead," she added with a careless lift of her shoulder. "Because the moment word spread that Odysseus had returned alive—that was all I needed."

Her voice turned soft, reverent, like she was whispering a prayer to some imagined future. "A man like that. A man who faced gods and monsters and came home with his name still sung—he deserves a new beginning, doesn't he?" She blinked slowly, lips curling faintly. "Not a tired, weeping woman who has done nothing but cry for twenty years and grow old in her grief."

Your throat tightened.

Andreia's smile grew—wide, sweet, but twisted beneath the lace of her words. "No, someone like Odysseus needs someone young. Beautiful. Fertile." She dragged the word out, tasting it like ripe fruit between her teeth. "Someone who could give him strong heirs. Sons. New heroes to bear his name. Not just the one meek, trembling boy who cowers beneath his father's shadow."

She didn't say Telemachus' name.

She didn't have to.

You swallowed hard as her voice softened again, feathering into something that almost sounded tender if not for the rot beneath it. "I could give him that," she whispered. "I could give him sons worthy of his bloodline. Not a half-formed prince who clings to the Queen's skirts like a child too scared to grow into his name."

Your breath caught, the sharp sting of her words shoot through your chest like splinters, hot and biting. Your mouth moved before your mind could catch it—fast, breathless, burning.

"You're wrong." Your voice came sharper than you intended, loud enough that the servants flinched. "You don't know him. Telemachus is strong—stronger than anyone gives him credit for. He—he stayed. When everyone else left, when gods tore this house apart, he stayed. He carries more weight than any boy his age should—"

But Andreia cut you off with a wave of her hand, lips curling in a sneer. "Oh, spare me."

Her eyes glinted like polished glass. "Your version of strong? That's pitiful. Laughable. You think because he weeps quietly into his hands when no one's watching that it makes him noble? You think because he knows how to smile sweetly for the Queen that it makes him brave?"

Her head tilted, voice thick with condescension. "No. That's your weakness talking. That's the kind of strength that makes men like him nothing but... harmless. A soft boy playing at being a man, waiting for someone else to command him."

You could feel your nails biting into your palms, fingers curling so tight they trembled. But she was still speaking, still driving the blade in.

"And I'm not the only one who sees it, you know." Her tone dropped to something syrupy, cruel. "Do you think the other kingdoms don't whisper about it? About the boy who let strangers storm his father's halls? About how easily another man could've taken his crown—how one of those suitors nearly did? How the great Odysseus returned only to find his son unable to hold the throne on his own?"

The servants giggled again, barely hiding it this time. You wanted to scream. To shove them all back.

Andreia leaned forward slightly now, eyes half-lidded, as if savoring the disgust twisting on your face. "No matter how many times he sharpens a blade or tightens his shoulders, they still call him Odysseus' shadow. A child grown in the shade, clinging to a legacy too large to fill."

Her smirk deepened. "But I suppose you can't see that, can you?" She tittered, mock-sweet. "Not when you're so very in love with him."

Your heart stuttered at the words. It was the way she said it—like it was embarrassing. Like loving him was something childish. As if your affection for him was a weakness no different than the ones she accused him of carrying.

But gods—you weren't embarrassed. You weren't ashamed.

You were furious.

But you tried to hold it steady, your voice coming slow, tight, trembling around the edges. "Gods... you're so... audacious."

Andreia only smiled, like your anger was something soft she could press between her fingers.

You exhaled hard, swallowing the burn crawling up your throat. "But, I suppose it runs in the family, doesn't it? You and your brother. Both so desperate to climb higher than you belong."

Her smile didn't falter, but her fingers paused in their tapping on the cup.

Your chest heaved slightly, breath stuttering as the words tumbled out. "I haven't even spoken about it, you know. About the lyre you broke. The one the Queen gave me."

Your voice caught, but you forced it forward. "You destroyed it. Snapped the strings, left it like it meant nothing. And I said nothing."

The weight of your next words pressed against your ribs, bitter on your tongue. "Even when it wasn't just the lyre. Even when I had every reason to believe you set me up, allowing Melanion to renact his revenge. When you were the reason I was hur—" Your breathshuddered. "When you were the reason I died."

A beat.

Your throat tightened. "And yet... still I said nothing."

Your jaw clenched hard. "I thought... maybe if I stayed quiet, if I didn't make trouble, it would stop. That you'd tire of it."

You swallowed down the lump building there, voice lowering almost to a whisper. "Maybe this is my own karma. For letting it go on this long."

Andreia let out a sharp, cruel laugh—bright and cold like shattering glass. She leaned forward now, chin resting lightly in her palm, her lashes lowering into a slow, deliberate blink.

"Why didn't you?" she purred, voice curling like smoke. "You should've. Truly. You should've screamed, accused, dragged me to the Queen herself. How different things would be right now."

Her lips pulled into a slow smirk, voice dropping even softer, as though savoring it. "It would've been... so very peaceful by now. Don't you think?"

The servants giggled behind her like vultures circling, but you barely heard them.

Because she was right.

The words landed sharp in your chest, and you fell silent. The fury burned there—tight and helpless—because you could've. You should've. And instead you held your tongue, over and over, praying she'd disappear if you just ignored her long enough.

And all it had done was give her space.

Space to twist the knife deeper.

And gods, it burned.

Because that's what your silence had done. All the times you swallowed your anger, all the times you bit your tongue and turned the other way—it had given her room to scheme. To crawl deeper into the palace, to flash her smiles at the court, to whisper her poison into every ear willing to listen. To believe that she could go so far—so far—as to think she could replace Penelope herself.

The thought made your stomach twist sharper than before. The image of Andreia standing where the Queen now sat—where you had stood beside, loyal and small—made your chest tighten.

And then she spoke again, mistaking your silence for surrender.

"Hmm," Andreia hummed lightly, brushing invisible dust from her sleeve as she slowly rose from her seat. She took her time, adjusting the folds of her gown with dainty precision before beginning to stroll toward you. Calm. Unbothered. Circling like a cat who knew you couldn't bite.

Her voice dripped with sweetness. "You know..." she mused, drawing closer, "I suppose you and dear Telemachus really are a perfect fit for one another."

You stiffened.

She stopped just beside you, tilting her head like she was simply sharing a harmless little observation.

"Spineless little things, the both of you," she purred. "Letting everyone else make your choices. Letting others fight your battles while you cling to scraps of affection like children too afraid to step into the world properly."

She clicked her tongue softly. "A match made—"

"You don't know anything about him!"

The words snapped from your throat before she could finish, sharp and hot.

Her head jerked slightly in surprise, but the smile stayed on her lips.

You took a step forward, anger finally pushing through the tightness in your chest. "You continue to speak as if you've ever understood him. As if you've ever earned the right to judge him."

Andreia's brows lifted, amused.

You didn't stop.

"You would be lucky—honored—if he ever so much as glanced your way. If you ever knew what it meant to be loved by someone like him. Someone good. Someone who cares."

Your breath trembled, but the heat only grew behind it. "And as for me—" you exhaled hard, "I'm starting to get sick of your boldness."

Your voice cracked slightly, but you didn't care. You let the words spit out like venom. "You parade yourself through these halls like you're untouchable. Like the gods themselves would crown you for being clever enough to slither into other people's lives."

Andreia's smile twitched—tightening, sharpening—but she still said nothing, letting you speak, letting you bare your teeth at last.

You leaned forward slightly, voice low. "But you forget something. You're a guest here. One who's already on thin ice with more than just me."

For a moment, you both stood there. Face to face. Breath heavy.

Her green eyes glittered in the sunlight filtering down from the sunroof, but her smirk didn't waver.

Instead, her expression slowly shifted—flattening, darkening. The false amusement drained from her face like water from a cracked jar. And when she spoke again, her voice was cold. Icy.

"Are you daft?" she sneered. "How many times must I say it? I could not care less for your precious little prince."

She stepped closer.

One sharp heel after another, closing the distance between you. You instinctively leaned back, shoulders brushing against the cold stone pillar behind you, but she followed, closing the gap—crowding you. Cornering you.

Her smile dropped completely now—thin-lipped, tense, brittle.

"I have no interest in fumbling boys with no legend to their names. That's not the kind of man I came here for." She tilted her head slightly, voice dipping lower, the threat curling like a snake between her teeth. :But you—you need to stop getting in my way."

The air between you grew thick.

"You think I cared that you nestled yourself beneath Penelope's skirts? That you sang your little songs for her court? No. I let you have that. Even when they let you trail after the prince like some starry-eyed puppy—I still let you have that."

She stepped closer, eyes narrowing.

"But then you dared to stand near him."

Her voice softened, almost reverent.

"Odysseus."

The name left her lips like a prayer—bitter and sharp.

"A man I was bred to stand beside. A man worthy of my blood. And yet you—" she scoffed, her tone dripping— "you, a servant girl. You let them drag you into rooms where you don't belong. You speak where you should kneel. You breathe where you should bow."

Her chest rose with each breath, her pale fingers twitching faintly at her sides before she folded them behind her back, like she was holding something inside that might snap loose if she let it.

"I refuse to be sent back home like some useless bargaining piece." Her tone sharpened, face twisting into something crueler. "Do you have any idea what waits for me there? What the world expects of girls like me?"

Her green eyes burned now—not with the usual venom, but with something raw, something that slipped out between her teeth before she could stop it.

"My parents are already preparing the offers. My name will be passed around banquet halls like a fresh-cut lamb, bartered to the highest bidder. And for what? To be bent over by some spineless, soft-bellied old fart and forced to birth his heirs, one after another, until my body breaks."

Her voice cracked, but she didn't soften.

Her breath grew faster, eyes sharp and glassy. "When they left me locked in the temple overnight at five—when the oil lamps burned down and the rats scurried in—I learned quickly what little girls are worth."

You swallowed.

"And my mother?" she laughed bitterly. "She only looked at me when I bled. When the bruises showed. That's when she smiled."

For a moment—just a moment—the bravado slipped. You saw the edge of something beneath it all. Fear. Rage. Desperation. A hollow that no crown or favor could fill.

But then, just as fast—it was gone. Snatched back behind that sneer, behind the poison-laced calm.

"So no," she spat, standing tall now, voice steady again. "I won't return to that. I won't. I will not be tossed aside like some worthless little girl who failed to grab what she could."

Her voice dipped lower, venomous. "I'm not like you. I won't sit quiet, waiting for others to decide my life."

For a flicker—a split second—something in you almost softened. A small, unwelcome pang of sympathy rose, catching in your throat. You saw it—the desperation beneath her venom, the way her words bled raw beneath the layers of pride. But—

No.

No, you wouldn't let that sway you. Not now.

Whatever pain she carried, it didn't excuse this. It didn't excuse what she was doing—what she planned to do. To steal Penelope's place. To shatter Telemachus beneath it. To worm herself into the throne like a parasite beneath silk.

Unforgivable.

"That's no excuse," you said sharply, voice tight but steady, forcing your breath past the twisting knot in your gut. "Whatever you've suffered—it doesn't give you the right to tear down people who've done nothing to you."

Andreia scoffed—sharp, bitter. She stepped even closer, forcing you back into the shadow of the pillar once more, her green eyes glinting with something sickly sweet.

"Who's going to stop me?" she whispered. "You?"

You swallowed hard, chest fluttering.

"I will." You steadied your voice. "If I have to—I will."

For a moment, silence.

And then—Andreia smiled. Slow. Spreading across her face like spoiled honey, sharp around the edges. She leaned forward, her breath brushing against your cheek as she purred,

"Try me, Divine Liasion."

Her hand lifted, fingertips ghosting along your shoulder—up the side of your throat, trailing slow and deliberate beneath your jawline, as if testing just how far she could push.

The touch wasn't rough. It was worse. It was careful. Intimate in the wrong kind of way. Like she wanted you to flinch. Like she wanted to see you squirm.

Your whole body stiffened, heat rising fast in your chest.

Snarling, you slapped her hand away with a sharp shove, teeth clenched, voice raw as you hissed, "Don't touch me."

She didn't move back. But her grin twitched wider, satisfied with your reaction, like she'd gotten exactly what she wanted.

You stepped away—spinning toward the exit, pulse pounding hard enough that you felt it in your fingertips. But before you crossed the threshold, you threw one last glare over your shoulder.

"You'll regret this."

Andreia only gave a lazy shrug, her voice dripping with mocking ease. "You can try to make me. But I won't."

The words followed you as you left. Heavy. Poisoned. But you didn't slow.

Not this time.

A/N: HAPPY JUNETEENTH!!! Ahhhh!!! 🥰🥰🥰 ngl y'all idk how to respond sometimes 😭😭 like i'll be on a comment tryna type something and be like "nahhh that’s too much" then panic bc it feels too short so i just end up closing my laptop 💀💀 atp i'm abt to just start leaving lil hearts when i can't get a coherent sentence together. it's either that or i hit y'all with a "thx baby/lovely" and every time i feel like it sounds dry through text but i promise i'm over here awwwwing fr when i say it 😭 sooo... how was the chappie? 😭 y'all happy to be home? 👀 OH ALSO... yeah. andriea was scheming this whole time lolololo. when i say this was hard/but fun — it was HARD/but fun 😭😭 like it’s one thing to write several coherent storylines, but it’s another thing entirely to slowly line them up and reveal the pieces that were brewing behind the scenes lolol. we’re getting there y'all 🥹 thank you for being so patient with my chaotic updating schedule, truly. i tried to make this one extra chunky (8k!) as a lil peace offering 🫶🏽 and i also have a small Telemachus short story coming soon!! wanna go back to my roots a bit — a little comedy/crack fic lololol. idk if i ever mentioned it but i actually dabble in other genres too — the more serious/angsty stuff just kinda started happening to me as i went 😭😭see you next update ily 🩷🩷

also i've been blessed with more fanart, hehehe ❤️❤️❤️ (email: wattywriter04@gmail.com | tumblr: winaxity-ii) also because wattpad/tumblr is being a meanie, i can't show 18+ drawings on here, even if edited 😭😭 but don't worry i shall still sing my praises! but good news! i have them available on archiveofourown (ao3) and have my account/books to where guests can see so you guys don't have to make an account ❤️❤️ also, if you haven't seen my last update/PSA i'm no longer doing personalized notes under each art i receive the way i used to do them, i'll now post them with credits, and when given the chance come back and post my thanks/what i love about them! this way, i can share my babies and also still keep grinding/writing, thx for being understanding lovelies ❤️❤️❤️

from toasted-for3v3r

[ANDREIA AND MC]

from akiosilverbangs

[HERMES AND MC]

from simp_0207

[THERMES REDESIGN]

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[sammywritesfics]

QH43-Alone Time

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader Word Count: 980 word count. Warnings: Smut, Fem!Receiving fingering? Request: "Can you please write a smut story of Quinn on top of Y/N dry humping because they are out of condoms but then end up having sex without a condom because they are both desperate for each other." Sorry it's so short, I was writing it on my phone. Masterlist: here.

--

You spent all day with Jack and Luke. Quinn wouldn’t have minded if it meant you would at least look his way. But you just seemed to brush off his presence. 

Quinn would be lying if he wasn’t a little hurt. Eventually Jack and Luke went out onto the boat with some of their friends. Quinn made some excuses about wanting to check up on you. He went into the lake house to see you pacing the living room. 

“Baby?” He called softly, watching you jump a bit. “You need to start wearing a shirt around me because I'm melting right now” you rambled, fidgeting as you kept pacing. Quinn could see you working yourself up already. 

You had expressed how uncomfortable you felt sleeping together with so many people in the house. Especially because Trevor had a tendency to tease you both. Quinn took a breath, wrapping his arms around your waist. 

“Darling, calm down..” he spoke softly, cupping your neck. You turned to look at him. “I need you…” you spoke quietly as if fearing someone would overhear. You had always been very secretive about your sexual life, and Quinn wasn’t the type to go against that either. 

Quinn’s eyes softened into a sweet look, “Baby, we are alone for a few hours…” he reassured. You lit up, tugging him up the stairs to his room. 

“I didn’t pack any condoms…” Quinn spoke quickly, watching as you deflated slightly. You sat on the bed, “could you always dry hump me?” You mumbled picking at the sheets. Quinn knew better than to deny you when you got such a needy tone. 

Quinn shrugged off his shorts, gesturing for you to do the same. “Shirt on or off?” He asked you, nipping at your neck. You glanced at the locked door, then at the closed window. Deciding to grant your loving boyfriend permission to tug your top off.

Quinn quickly shoved your bra onto the floor, grabbing your thighs and pulling you under him. Quinn smirked at your shy grin. 

“You sure?” Quinn asked, kissing your thigh. You nodded, bucking your hips into his face. Quinn moved up, wrapping your legs around his hips. You whined, clawing lightly at his arms.

“Please?” You whimpered as he started to slowly grind against you. His clothed cock bumped against your clit, deliberately slow. “Please what? My pretty girl?” He teased, watching your hips buck to meet his. 

“Please, god. Quinn right there!” You moaned as he drove against you. Quinn twitched in his boxers, “gonna ruin me if you keep moving like that” he said in a throaty groan. Quinn dropped your legs from his hip, and he held your hips down with one hand. And held himself up with his other hand. 

He dropped his careful act and started to frantically brush his cock with your cunt. The boxers are too far in the way to provide either of you enough release. “Quinn…” you gasped, trying to pull away. 

Quinn froze, pulling off you immediately. Worry flashed on his face, had he hurt you? You smiled at the concern that flooded his expression. 

“I’m on the pill, and Jack's girlfriend has an extra box of the morning after-“ You started but Quinn ran a hand through his hair. 

“Baby, it’s not that I won’t love it raw. But are you sure?” Quinn asked, he wasn’t in a place in his career to have a kid. And he knew for sure you weren’t loving the idea of possibly doing it on your own. 

“Quinny, I’m on the pill. It’ll be safe” you tried to calm his worries. Quinn took a little convincing after he saw your calm expression. He tugged off his boxers and threw them across the room blindly. 

You lifted your hips as he started to tug your panties down your legs. Quinn’s hand slipped between your legs, drawing small circles on your clit until your head snapped back into the pillow. 

“Quinny, I’ve had enough prep…” you said, running your fingernails into his scalp. Quinn groaned as you tugged at his hair. He pressed into you slowly, letting you get used to him. His cock brushed a spongy spot deep inside you as he pushed in further. Quinn’s eyes met yours, and he softly smiled at you. 

“You're so perfect,” he said, picking up the pace. He drew his cock out of you before pushing it back in. Quinn could’ve watched your face contort into pleasure for the rest of the time. You moaned out as he kept rocking into you. 

“Quinny…” you whined out. Quinn’s looked down at you, “what baby?” He cooed cupping your face briefly before moving to prop himself up. 

“More, need more” you cried out, your body was limp simply letting him thrust into you faster. Quinn smiled as you started to mumble incoherently. He always loved to fuck away your worries. 

Your legs started to shake as you felt him twitch inside of you. “Quinn-“ you had tried to warn him, tried to ask permission before your orgasm flooded over you. Quinn watched as your body shook, spasming under him. He picked up his pace, fucking you through it. 

You started to try and move away from him. It was overwhelming how much pleasure he was giving you. Quinn took the Que and pulled off of you. Stroking himself as he came on your stomach. 

“All better baby?” Quinn asked me as he got up to grab a wet cloth for you. You flinched as he tried to clean your soaked cunt. 

“I know baby, just a little more and you can sleep” Quinn spoke sweetly. Before pulling a blanket over you. He turned on the fan so you could cool down. As you dozed off, you barely registered Quinn asking you if you wanted to take the morning-after pill from your bag. 

[zepskies]

Ooh what a sexy opening. 😏 I'm so obsessed with morning fluff/smut. 😮‍💨👌🏽

“Cause you’ve only ever been with boys, honey. A real man has no problem telling you exactly what he feels.” Your whole body practically melted into the floor, Beau’s body making you flush. “Can I take you to dinner tonight?”

Damn straaaaaaight, Beau Arlen! Crazy that she's had to fake it until meeting him, but at least she has an Alpha that cares (especially about dessert). 😝 I love how comfortable they seem to be with each other at this stage, even though from your tags/warnings I know a lot of shit is bound to go down pretty soon...

“My dad and I go to therapy after school on Mondays at 4. You’re going in with me today.”

lmfao not Emily forcing her bodyguard into therapy! 🤣 I mean, the guy needs it for sure, especially if Tim's still having issues trusting Beau at this stage. I get that it's hard for him to let go with the reader, but come on now! lol

“What?” She scoffed. “No, my name is not Orlando Bloom. What-” “If you are not Orlando Bloom then I do not have a crush on you. No offense.” 

So accurate of the early 2000s! lmaoo I remember girls I went to school being o b s e s s e d. 😂

“That’s great!” Y/N said, strangely chipper for this early in the morning. “You deserve it, Clay.” I stared at the phone. Clay was a code word. She was under duress somehow. She’d left not long ago and her car was empty. No way anyone was with her. What the hell had happened in the past five minutes?”

Oh shit, here we go. Feels like the reader is a freakin' trouble magnet lmaooo

“I told him I thought the truck smelled funny!” she shouted, Beau hugging her tight. 

Man, this girl's sense of smell is legit!! I'm so glad they're safe 😭

“I had to jump out of a moving vehicle.” “Kiddo, I’ve jumped out of my fair share of cars. You ain’t special for that.” She whacked my arm, earning an exaggerated grumble from me. “I was shot in that arm, thank you very much.”

lmao I'm living for this shit-talking dynamic between Emily and Tim. 😂 I'm sensing another big bro/little sister dynamic coming on!

You nodded. “Maybe we can still try though. Maybe you can be saved like Tim. I know Mom must be your Alpha. She must have turned you. She was never happy I was omega.” His lips snapped shut, face strangely stoic. “Do you trust me?”

Oh shitttt. It was the mom the whole time??

*cue Agatha All Along theme*

“Is Tim’s dad…our dad…” You breathed hard, Beau frowning. 

Ok, or not loll. So far, Brock has seemed like the most villainous over all, so this twist is a big one, but it does make total sense!

And EMILY. She's the main hero of this series, stg. 🤣

“I think she Sarah Connored that bitch without meaning to,” he said. You couldn’t fight the laugh that slipped out, Beau cracking a smile.

💯 Beausef lol

While I'm sad this series is coming to an end (I just love Alpha Beau 🥰), I can't wait to see how you wrap all of this up!

Primal (Part 8)

Summary: The gang heads home to Helena to settle into their new normal. But Teddy's still out there and he's not done yet...

Primal Masterlist

Pairing: Alpha!Beau Arlen x Omega!reader

Word Count: 8,100ish

Warnings: language, angst, violence, drugging, serial killers, death, kidnapping, smut

A/N: So Emily should just get whatever she wants now, right?...

Y/N POV

Three Days Later - Helena, Montana

“Good morning.” You fluttered open your eyes, smiling at a shirtless Beau with damp hair. You grinned, stretching out in his large bed.

“Very,” you mumbled, yawning and curling into yourself, closing your eyes again. “Come back to bed.”

“As much as I’d love to, I mean really, really love to, I do have to go back to work today.” You frowned and sat up, Beau putting his hands on his hips, his eyes drawn down to your naked chest. “You know that’s cheating, omega.”

“You did it first,” you smirked, Beau biting his bottom lip. You tossed back the covers and swung your legs over the bed, standing and stretching up onto your tip toes, Beau groaning. “No, no. You have work after all. Musn’t dilly dally.”

He ran his thumb over his lip, your eyes drawn to his undone jeans and the growing bulge beneath them. You smirked and padded across the carpet, stopping in front of him. His breath hitched when you traced your finger down the patch of hair on his lower abdomen, dipping under the elastic of his briefs. 

“Can you spare five minutes?” you asked, Beau practically drooling as you slipped your hand down further, tickling his sensitive skin. “I want to start your day off right.”

“But there won’t be time for you,” he mumbled, your thumb brushing the base of his cock, Beau gripping the dresser behind him. 

“We’re not keeping score, Arlen,” you murmured, leaning up the kiss him, Beau nodding. You shucked his jeans down around his thighs, his hard cock springing out into your hand. “Close your eyes, Alpha.”

He let them shut, a stifled groan getting trapped in his mouth when you pressed your body against his and straddled his cock, trapping it between your thighs. You shifted your hips backwards, Beau’s hands shooting to your waist. You pushed them down your body, encouraging him to drag you forward. His hips snapped forward, Beau gasping quietly.

“You only have four minutes, Arlen. Better get to it.” He growled against your neck, a flip switching. You met him with every thrust, squeezing your legs tighter around him, Beau nipping at your shoulder. “Be a good Alpha and come and then tonight…we can knot like we both want to.”

You reached behind him, squeezing his ass. Beau responded in kind by clamping down on your shoulder as he thrust hard, coming between you, panting when he came down off his high. You smiled as you wiped the damp hairs from his forehead, Beau’s face still blissed out. 

“I’ll clean this up. You have a good day at work,” you said, kissing him, skirting into the bathroom to grab a washcloth and toss it over to him. He barely caught it, shaking his head at you with a smile. “What?”

You leaned against the bathroom door frame, Beau wiping himself off, failing not to smile as he got his pants back up. You crossed your arms, Beau raking his eyes up and down your body. “Okay, seriously you’re actually going to be late if you keep looking at me like that, Beau.”

“You’re a little fucking tease, aren’t you?” You shrugged, Beau narrowing his eyes playfully. 

“What can I say, I appreciate a man that knows how to appreciate me and well, I’ve had to…fake that appreciation until recently,” you said, Beau’s eyebrows raising. 

“You’ve always had to fake it?” You nodded, Beau pouting “God, men are the worst.”

“I know, right?” you said as he went into his closet and pulled out a shirt. You took the few steps over, watching him dress and take out a navy jacket. He pulled his gun out of his safe, Beau turning his head. 

“I never asked but how’d you get in my gun safe that night?” You pointed to the sticky note on top of a shelf with a date and time written on it. “Reserve restaurant for Em’s birthday?”

“Figured you were the type of guy to use their daughter’s birthday. Got the year right on the second try.”

“You ever consider a career in law enforcement?” he half-joked, walking back out to the bedroom and clipping his badge on.

“No, that’s not for me,” you said. “I’m lucky my company I worked for before accepted me back and has an office here.”

“I can tell you’re so thrilled to be going back to working on spreadsheets all day,” he said, cupping your cheek. You shrugged but it wasn’t playful this time. “I don’t want my girl doing a job she hates.”

“Maybe once I settle in more I’ll look into doing something different. Speaking of which, I have onboarding at nine,” you sighed, Beau tilting his head. “I sadly do have to put on clothes that aren’t yours today.”

“Crime against humanity right there,” he teased, pressing his closed lips to your, letting them linger before he dipped his head low over your mark, kissing it as well. 

“Were you like this with Carla when you guys first mated?” you asked quietly. He shook his head.

“This feels different. It’s hard to explain. I loved and cared for her. Part of me will always love and care about her.”

“She’s the mother of your child. Of course you will,” you said softly, Beau smiling. “I’d like to meet her someday.”

“I’m sure you two will eventually. But mating Carla and mating you are not the same. It’s like Carla was wonderful on the sunshiny days and left me out in the storm on the bad ones. With you when there’s a storm, I know you’re out in that storm looking for me with a light and a warm jacket and it doesn’t matter how crappy it is, you’re going to find me.”

“Do you think we’re true mates?” you whispered. He stared his green eyes down into yours, like he was looking deep into your soul and for some reason, it didn’t bother you in the slightest. 

“Would you like me less if we aren’t?” he mumbled against your lips.

“I just want you,” you whispered, resting your hands on his face, Beau breathing in your scent. “But what you said about finding you…men don’t talk like that.”

“Cause you’ve only ever been with boys, honey. A real man has no problem telling you exactly what he feels.” Your whole body practically melted into the floor, Beau’s body making you flush. “Can I take you to dinner tonight?”

“Yeah,” you breathed out, Beau touching his forehead to yours as an alarm went off somewhere down the hall. “Emily’s up.”

“She’ll snooze it,” he said, peppering kisses down your jaw.

“Beau, you’ll be late,” you said when he walked you back against the wall.

“Think the boss will fire me?” he teased, sliding his hands down and down and down. He didn’t break eye contact as he dropped to his knees. You swallowed thickly, Beau tossing one of your legs over his shoulder. “Always been a dessert first kind of man.”

He leaned forward with a smile, still looking up at you, flashing a wink before going to town like a starved man.

Tim POV

“Jesus christ.” I turned my head from the Adirondack chair I sat it, Emily exiting the front door with a breakfast burrito in hand and a scowl.

“Morning.” She jumped, staring at me briefly before recognizing me and relaxing. “Bad day?”

“I need to start sleeping with ear plugs if you catch my drift,” she said, taking an angry bite of her breakfast, plopping down in the chair beside mine.

“Ah. Well, they’re newly mated. I’m sure it’ll die down.” She gave me an absolute stellar bitch face, taking another angry bite.

“My friend Cami’s parents are true mates. Apparently they fuck like rabbits all the time.” I held up my hands, Emily sitting back in the chair, closing her eyes, quickly opening them again. She peered around my neck, staring at my mark as she chewed. “You got claimed?”

“Uh, yes,” I said, sitting up straighter. “I’m not sure what your dad has told you but um, some things happened in Boston and one of his officers ended up mating me to save my life.”

“Lucy, right? She’s cool. Yeah surprised you two took so long.” I narrowed my eyes, Emily continuing to devour her breakfast. “Dude, remember how I thought you and evil Barbie were giving off scent vibes? Nope. It was cause Lucy was one of the officers outside the house that night and that was your scents that were doing all that ‘you’re the one’ shit. Now Jenny, you were picking up on the fact you smelled primal in her blood that was related to a familiar scent to you, Teddy, but you couldn’t pinpoint it.”

I stared blankly, Emily shrugging. “I’ve had a lot of time to think about these things lately. I would have said something if I knew what it was at the time.”

“You’re just a kid. That wasn’t on you to sort that out,” I said, ignoring her comments about Lucy and mine’s scents or how that made my body feel warm and fuzzy when I thought of seeing Lucy again tonight. “Did your um, dad talk to you about why I’m here and what I’ll be doing?”

“Yeah. Question is why are you here so early?” I frowned, Emily finishing her breakfast off, wiping her hands on her jeans. “Oh, this is fun. He didn’t talk to you yet. Probably for the best…”

“What are you talking about? I’m supposed to keep an eye on you until they find Teddy.” She shrugged with that know it all smile I’d seen on Y/N’s face a million times. Great. Beau was hiding something from me. 

“Sorry,” she said suddenly, her face going more stoic. “I made you mad.”

“Not you. Just getting tired of your dad not trusting me.” She frowned, smacking me in the arm. My still healing from a gunshot a month ago arm. “Ow! I got shot there!”

“Oh, I was there when it happened you cry baby, it was a graze. Why the hell don’t you think my dad doesn’t trust you? He’s literally trusting you to protect me. I don’t get you.” I rubbed my arm, pouting at her. She sighed, rolling her eyes. “You’re supposed to stay with me after school? At night if my dad works late or they have plans? What about that screams he distrusts you?”

“I…” I didn’t have a good answer, my mouth snapping shut. Emily kept staring at me though, like she was looking straight through me, an image of a pre-pubescent Y/N flashing in the forefront of my mind. God, if this kid was anything like Y/N was, and by all accounts she was proving that over tenfold, I had a very short window before she’d be able to read me like a book.

“Do you trust me?” she asked. I blinked a few times, Emily eyeing me. “You realize we belong to the same pack now. It shouldn’t be a hard question.”

“I don’t trust very easily,” I said with a steady voice. “Pack has nothing to do with that fact.”

“You know what happened to me last year?” 

“Generally,” I said, Emily nodding. “You going to tell me I shouldn’t let trauma prevent me from trusting people?”

“My dad and I go to therapy after school on Mondays at 4. You’re going in with me today.”

“I can drop you off to whatever appointments you have and sit in the waiting room-”

“You are going in with me,” she repeated, a bluntness to her voice reminding me of when a young Y/N stopped at my cubicle back in the Boston office.

I jumped in my chair, turning away from my computer to spot a small girl setting a covered tray down at the end of my desk. It took me a moment but I recognized her as Teddy’s daughter, Y/N. That eleven year old kid that answered the front door on Christmas Eve and proceeded to drag me into her holidays for the next two days. 

“Timothy,” she sighed, my eyebrows raising. She crossed her little arms in her dark purple winter jacket, name brand and expensive, especially for a kid that was about to hit a growth spurt within the next few months. 

“Uh, hi, Y/N. Are you looking for your dad?” She rolled her eyes at me, my own widening. Jesus Christ, the sass on this kid. From the way Teddy spoke about her, you’d have thought she was some shy, perfectly behaved, golden child. 

So far all I’d seen was a kid who told her parents I was joining their holiday plans or else she’d refuse to participate in anything to do with Christmas. At first I didn’t know what the hell was going on. She was an only kid like me, maybe she was lonely? But she had plenty of cousins to talk to and play with at the party so I eventually settled on the fact she felt sorry for me. And when your new boss told you to do something like spend the holidays with his family, you did it.

“I know where his office is, Tim,” she said, popping her little hip out, trying so hard to look tough I had to stifle a laugh. She narrowed her eyes, catching my lip twitch. “I might only be eleven but I don’t appreciate being mocked, Barclay.”

“Come here,” I said, curling my finger. Fine, she was sassy but I wasn’t about to take crap from a pre-teen. She stepped into my cube, holding her chin up high as I leaned in close, putting a hand to her ear. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a little shit?”

“Bold thing to say to your boss’ daughter.” It could have been a threat but there was something teasing to it, Y/N’s face gentle as I leaned back. She gave my cubicle a curious glance, a flicker of sadness on her face that made me wonder if I’d misread her and she really was a brat going to get me in trouble. “What’s your address?”

“Excuse me?”

“Your home address, Mr. Barclay,” she said, taking off her backpack and pulling out a green notebook. She turned to a blank page, sliding it over to me.

“Maybe we should go find your dad,” I said, starting to rise when her glare cut straight through me and I stilled in my seat. Fine. I’d play along. Maybe something was wrong at home and she saw me as someone that could help. “Why do you need my address, Miss Y/L/N?”

“Because how else will I send you pictures from Christmas to put up in your cube? I’m not about to send them to work with my dad. He’ll never remember to give them to you and I only come here about once a month which is far too long for you to sit is this ugly ass gray square without any pictures.”

“Language,” I said, Y/N rolling her eyes again. I was about to argue that she could give her father whatever she wanted to give to me. I’d promptly shove them in a drawer thereafter but at least it’d satisfy her, right? But finally I looked at the tray she’d plopped down, tilting my head at it.

Happy 25th Birthday Tim

“Is that a…birthday cake?” She glanced over her shoulder, offering a disinterested hum. “Why do you have a birthday cake for me? The team already got me a cake for my birthday this morning.”

“This is for you to bring home and have tonight by yourself or with whomever.” I blinked slowly, Y/N sighing and planting her hands on my arm rests, this little not even five foot tall child caging me into my seat. “You said you have no family and never celebrate holidays or birthdays or anything, right? Well that’s not acceptable. So I made you a cake. Now say thank you like a normal person.”

“Thank you?” I said quietly, Y/N nodding with a hum. She poked a finger down on her notebook and I wrote down my address on auto-pilot, Y/N tapping it again until I wrote down my phone as well.

“You can expect a letter within the week,” she said, packing away her belongings, fixing her straps tight again. She was quickly frowning though, putting her hands on her hips. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

“Why would you make me a cake? Do you have a crush on me?” I blurted out. It wasn’t completely unreasonable. I remembered being her age and developing my first crushes. I knew I was above average in looks. Maybe-

“Is your name Orlando Bloom?” 

“What?” She scoffed. “No, my name is not Orlando Bloom. What-”

“If you are not Orlando Bloom then I do not have a crush on you. No offense.” 

“None taken you strange child,” I shot back, Y/N crossing her arms, getting right in my face. “Now what?”

“I made you a cake because people deserve homemade birthday cakes on their birthday. The fact I’m an amazing baker is besides the point.” She put her hands on my suit jacket, cocking her head. “I see you’re having some sort of existential crisis over this but I suggest you get your shit together and realize that this is your new normal.”

She ruffled my hair with a smile, patting my cheek as I just stared at her. 

“I’ll see you around, bud. Happy birthday.” She trotted off, my eyes fixated on where she’d stood a moment ago. What a strange child…

I smiled to myself, remembering how I’d taken that cake home, stared at it some more, and proceed to eat it straight out of the tray while crying on my tiny apartment kitchen floor. God, that strange little child was the best thing that ever happened to me.

“Alright, I’ll go to therapy with you,” I said. Emily looked off kilter, ready to argue more and unsure what to do now that I’d popped her ballon. “Maybe we can talk about the shooting here at the house.”

“Y/N said you’d fight me more on this,” she blurted out. I shrugged. 

“Well, maybe this’ll be a good way to introduce me to therapy, give me some confidence to go on my own too.” 

“Huh,” she said. “I had a whole argument ready and everything.”

“Oh, don’t worry, kiddo,” I said, reaching over, ruffling her hair and getting a death glare. “I’m sure we’ll find plenty to argue about.”

“Watch your back, Barclay,” she said as the front door opened, Beau and Y/N ducking outside with smirks on their faces. “Finally.”

She grabbed her bag and headed for Beau’s truck. Y/N and Beau shared a mischievous look and I half debated joining Emily to get away from the two of them in their obnoxious lovey dovey bubble.

“Your child’s got a mouth on her, Arlen,” I said as I stood up. 

“Anything I should be concerned with?” he asked, Y/N whispering something in his ear that had him blushing.

“Nah, we’ll be good buddies. Maybe tone it down when you’re going at it though, think you traumatized the kid,” I chuckled. Y/N’s face burrowed into Beau’s arm as he shrugged guiltily. 

“We may have gotten carried away,” Y/N mumbled. She removed herself from him, giving Beau a kiss before heading to her rental car. “See ya, later boys.”

“Brat. Have a good first day back,” I called with a wave, Y/N flipping me off on her way. Beau hung back, locking up the front door before holding out a house key to me. “Thanks.”

“School gets let out at 2. Sometimes she stays after for clubs but it’s only half an hour and she texts around her lunch period at 11:30 if she’ll be late that day. Sometimes she hangs at her friends' houses or they come over here. She might get annoyed with you hanging around her friends but I told her you’d give them their space as much as you could. She’s got therapy at 4 on Mondays and whenever you decide to start going if you do it in the afternoon, Em’s cool with hanging out at the station during your appointment.”

“That’s kind of her,” I said, pocketing the key.

“She’s a very smart young woman and she’s well aware of what’s going on with Teddy. She’ll be a teenager but she’ll listen to you.” I turned my head, Beau meeting my gaze as Y/N drove down the driveway. 

“And what’d you and Y/N tell her about me? Cause I was getting a vibe…”

“That you’re like I was from a year ago. Don’t be surprised if she checks up on you, calls you out when you try to self-blame and pull away. She’s not going to keep track or anything but I’m sure you’ve already learned, she ain’t shy about voicing her opinions.”

“She reminds me of Y/N at that age,” I said, gazing out at the yard. “I’ll talk to that therapist after Emily’s session today about getting hooked up with somebody on my own. It’s time I dealt with my shit.”

“Okay. Oh, got something for ya,” he said. He reached into his pocket, tossing something over to me. I barely caught it, a gold badge nestled in my palms. My eyebrows raised, Beau humming. “Work starts at eight, go until one. We put you on a reduced shift until things settle down and Emily doesn’t need you by her side.”

“This isn’t a Marshal’s badge.” He leaned over, as if he were inspecting it. 

“Really? Suppose you’re right. Looks like Helena Police Department one,” he said before stepping down the front porch.

‘Arlen,” I said, Beau not stopping. “Arlen!” 

I ran after him, catching up with him by the front of the truck. He stared at me like I was the crazy one, a sleepy yawn slipping past his lips. “What is it, Barclay? I’m going to be late.”

“I’m not a cop. I didn’t ask for this,” I said, trying to shove the badge back at him. Beau frowned, staring at my hand. “I’ll be a Marshal again, transfer out here.”

“If that’s what you truly want I’ll accept this badge back,” he said, looking me up and down. 

“I’m not a cop,” I said, Beau not taking the badge yet. He rested a hand on the truck hood, watching my hand fall to my side.

“Hoyt was my number two and she tricked all of us. My number three was her partner and he blames himself for not seeing it. My people are scared and I am man enough to know I need help. I know a lot of people would see this as a step backwards in your career. But I need a number two I can trust without questioning it. You know how to do everything a cop does and then some. What you don’t know, I know you’re more than capable of learning.”

“Your people saw me when I was primal and watched me attack Y/N. Why on earth would they trust me?”

“Because they understand what happened. Believe me, I have an office full of people that wish they had known Douglas Evans was Hunter when he walked in that building. You were a private citizen, not them. Their job was to protect you and they think they screwed up. I know you’ll have their respect and loyalty.”

I thumbed over the raised metal, pursing my lips.

“At the very least, take the job while they finish the paperwork to clear you officially. I’ll contact the local Marshals office myself and make a recommendation to get you in if you decide you want to go back.” Beau walked to the driver's side door, resting a hand on it. “But seriously, why do you want to be a Marshal so badly anyways? As a detective you’ll get to help people just as much, probably even more.”

“I just…don’t know how to do anything else,” I said after a beat. “My CO back in the day used to tell me I was a good smart weapon. Teddy said something similar when he recruited me.”

“Fuck that,” said Beau, my brow furrowed as he opened the door. “You’re a good, smart man, not a weapon. I think people have been telling you what to do your whole life. So now you decide what you want and your girlfriend will tell you the same thing. Whatever you decide on, we’ll support it. Now come in around ten if you want to give this a shot and we’ll get the paperwork started.”

He got behind the wheel and took off, leaving me standing there with the badge in my hand. I pulled out my phone, dialing a number as I clipped the badge on my hip.

“Hey, Y/N,” I said, stopping besides my rental truck. “Arlen just gave me a job as a detective.”

“That’s great!” Y/N said, strangely chipper for this early in the morning. “You deserve it, Clay.”

I stared at the phone. Clay was a code word. She was under duress somehow. She’d left not long ago and her car was empty. No way anyone was with her. What the hell had happened in the past five minutes?”

“Yeah, thanks,” I said slowly, scanning the perimeter of the yard. “Need me to grab anything from the store on the way home from work later?”

“Could you get a pack of spicy raman? I’ve been craving some. We need 2% milk, cereal, a dozen eggs, maybe get some candy too for if Emily comes over. Beau said she likes those red swedish fish.” My knees wobbled, my hand catching me from falling against the car door. I closed my eyes, squeezing the phone tight. “Maybe some ice cream? If you think you can be fast coming home that is. We don’t have a cooler yet.”

“No worries. I’ll be fast,” I said, forcing my voice to be even. “I’ll catch up later.”

“Bye, Tim.” I immediately called Beau, slamming my fist down on top of the car when he wasn’t answering.

“Fucking pick up!” I shouted as it connected.

“Jesus christ, I’m driving ya-”

“There is a bomb under your truck. You need to slow down and jump out without a word. Now.” There was a commotion on the other end for a few seconds, followed by a loud grunt and a curse from Emily. “Beau? Beau, answer me.”

A loud explosion went off, my head snapping in the direction of the sound. I was on the road fast, the phone cutting in and out as I sped off. I slammed on the brakes when I saw them both by the side of the road, Beau helping Emily stand up. My heart unclenched slightly and I ran over to them, a few bumps but they looked alright.

“Are you guys okay?” I asked, Emily throwing up her hands. 

“I told him I thought the truck smelled funny!” she shouted, Beau hugging her tight. 

“Teddy?” he asked me as I nodded. “How’d you know?”

“I called Y/N to tell her I took your job offer and she sounded way off. We came up with a discrete way to talk under duress when we were off grid. She told me her car was bugged by Teddy and there was a bomb under yours he intended on setting off if she talked.”

“What about Y/N’s? Is she okay?” Emily asked. I shook my head. 

“Don’t know for sure. He was using the threat of harming the two of you to force her to drive to a warehouse on the corner of second and twelfth.” I pulled out my phone, trying to call her but the signal was dead. “Fuck. He must have put a jammer in her car, turned it on after our call.”

“Or he told her not to answer the phone again,” said Beau, walking Emily over to me. “Call Lucy, get a crime scene team here. Take the girls out of town. I don’t care where, just drive until I tell you it’s safe to come back.”

“Beau-“

He gently pushed Emily towards me, her cheek scuffed up and knee bleeding. “Please, Tim. I need you to protect my baby. Please.”

“I got her,” I said, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, feeling the small shake of her body. We both heard a car come up the road and slow at the scene before them. “Go. I’ll get Em out of here. But Lucy’s a big girl and she can help you. Let her.”

“Thank you,” he said before rushing over to the car, the driver exiting quickly when he flashed his badge. Beau took off down the road, Emily sighing against my side.

“You should have gone with him,” she said. I looked down to find her big brown eyes looking up, full of all sorts of worry. “You can help him.”

“Emily.” I put both hands on her cheeks, giving her a once over and thankfully finding she just had some bumps and bruises. “My sister is not a damsel and your father is strong. Today, today my job is to protect you and that’s that.”

“I’m not a damsel either,” she snapped, brushing my hands away. She frowned. “You don’t have to babysit me. You should go help him-”

“I am helping him right now. I need you to try and understand, Emily. If he doesn’t know you’re safe, he’ll worry and be distracted and he can’t concentrate on saving Y/N when he’s thinking about you too.” 

“But you know Teddy better than my dad or Lucy. You can protect them,” she said, rubbing her arm. I put my hands on my hips, hearing a siren in the distance. “Tim-”

“In the car,” I growled, grabbing her shoulders as gently as I could, walking her to the passenger side door. She went to retort but I pushed her down inside, locking the door before I even took a step away. In under a minute were driving the opposite way down the road, Emily shooting daggers in my direction. “Stop treating me like I’m the bad guy.”

“You should be with my dad, not babysitting-”

“Do you have any goddamn idea of how lucky you are? For fucks sake, Arlen. So many people love and care about you we have to decide who it’ll be that watches your back. Me? My mom left when I was four and she never gave a rat’s ass about me I found out later in life. I was a mistake she never meant to make and she made that very clear. My father? He didn’t say stuff like ‘protect my baby’. No, my father beat me, abandoned me, made me think the world’s problems were my fault. No one loved me until I was nearly twenty five. Twenty five. The only person that ever loved me in my whole sad little life until recently is the person your dad is going to rescue. Everything in me says to go do what you say and go find her but I won’t because I trust your father with my world and he’s trusting me with his. This is not babysitting. This is two people protecting their families and I never had one of those so excuse me for not phrasing this all perfectly to the seventeen year old girl that doesn’t know how good of a life she’s fucking got.”

She snapped her mouth shut, staring out the window. I sighed, rubbing my temple when she stayed quiet. “Jesus christ, I’m an asshole. I’m sorry, Emily. I-”

“I like that you don’t treat me like a kid,” she said softly. I risked a glance, earning a sad smile from her. “I’m just scared they’re going to get hurt.”

“I’m scared too,” I said, surprised when she reached over and took hold of my hand. “But I mean if they can put up with the two of us, they should be just fine.”

She rolled her eyes, a tiny smile on her face. “There’s no way you’re going back to Helena, are you?”

“No. But you don’t have to go to school today? So that’s a win?”

“I had to jump out of a moving vehicle.”

“Kiddo, I’ve jumped out of my fair share of cars. You ain’t special for that.” She whacked my arm, earning an exaggerated grumble from me. “I was shot in that arm, thank you very much.”

“Oh, you were grazed you puss-” She cut herself off, pretending to inspect the cut on her hand.

“Just call me a pussy. I’m not going to tell on you.”

“You kind of are being one. It was a scrape and you won’t stop bitching and moaning about it.” I rolled my eyes at her, putting on a smile. Maybe if I distracted her enough, she’d forget about the fact there was a very real chance her father and Y/N weren’t coming home today. “Are you okay?”

“Never better.”

Y/N POV

You faltered your steps as you rounded a corner in a warehouse, pausing when you saw your father stand from an old folding chair and give you a small wave. You glared at him, fists clenched as you stormed over.

“You disgusting piece of shit.” You punched him square in the jaw like Tim had taught you, both of you surprised at how hard of a hit it’d been. For a split second you felt bad about hitting a man in his mid-sixties but then you remembered what a scumbag he was and went back for seconds. He backed away this time, holding up his hands as you swung and missed.

“Don’t start being a coward now,” you growled, a flash of pain crossing his face.

“Please sit down,” he said as you remembered there was still a bomb under Beau and Emily’s car. There was no way to know if they were safe or not yet but you couldn’t risk it. You sat in the chair he’d occupied, Teddy taking the lone other one across from it. You narrowed your eyes as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a plastic zip tie. “Could you…”

“Oh, just be a fucking man,” you snapped, grasping the tie as he held it out. Quickly you pulled it taught around your wrists, letting them fall into your lap. “Congratulations. You caught me. Just know after you kill me, Beau and Tim and a whole lot of people are going to devote their lives to hunting you down and tearing you to pieces. You’ll never even see the inside of a prison.”

“I could never hurt you. I might not be your father biologically but I have always loved you. I’ve always considered you mine.” You couldn’t listen to this bullshit. You stood up, pacing away, putting your back to him. “Baby girl, you’re so smart. You-”

“Don’t you baby girl me,” you growled, whipping your head around. He held up his hands, his eyes watery. “You torture and murder omegas. You. Hurt. Tim. You’re dead to me.”

He swallowed thickly, nodding his head. “I don’t expect forgiveness for what I’ve done. But I need you to understand my smart girl. My girl that loved doing puzzles and reading mysteries. I need you to understand. I’m sure you’ve found my journals.”

“Yeah we found them and your little Primal candidates and protégé book. Douglas Evans? Also known as Hunter? My friend Lucy killed him. Jenny Hoyt? I busted her leg so badly she’ll be lucky to walk properly again. And Tim? Oh, I know you had a change of heart with turning him Primal but I saved him. You don’t get to have him. Your whole life’s purpose is gone.”

“I gave you Tim on purpose.” Your eyebrows shot up, head cocking. “He was never meant to be primal. I’ve always known he was your half-brother. I wanted to give him to you. A protector.”

“A protector? Is that why you sent us on the run? Forced him primal to try and claim me? Had Hoyt try to kill him? She almost succeeded by the way. Yeah, I can see you’re a big part of the Tim Barclay fan club.”

“Y/N-” You cut him off. You weren’t listening to his bullshit anymore.

“It doesn’t matter if you wanted him to kill me. Claim me. Either way, you’re disgusting for trying to get him to do that,” you said as he stormed over, grabbing your shoulders. You tensed up, staring up into his hard face.

“Listen to me! I gave you Tim to protect you. He was always there to protect you and I’m so sorry for hurting him but I had no choice.” 

“You’re a monster,” you whispered, Teddy closing his eyes. “Just kill me and get it over with.”

“You’re. Not. Listening,” he growled, shaking you hard once. You balked at him, Teddy sighing. “Put the puzzle pieces together. I gave you Tim as a protector. I don’t want to hurt you, I never would. I love you.”

“Shut up!”

“Please, baby girl,” he breathed out, his face falling. “Please figure it out.”

He grabbed your hands, pressing them against the bonding gland in his neck. You stared up at him, Teddy on the verge of crying. “Please, Y/N. You’re so smart. Please think about what I just said.”

You pressed your fingers against his gland, an unsettling feeling forming in your gut.

“Writing journals every day of your very detailed kills and leaving them where we could find was a very stupid thing to do,” you said to yourself, his head nodding. “Same as the Primal candidates journal.”

“Now, am I a stupid man?” he asked. You shook your head, a look of relief washing over him.

“You…wanted us to find it. Anyone would say it’s because you’re a psychopath that wants his crimes to be known.” He smiled.

“What else,” he whispered, your fingers prodding the gland once again.

“An Alpha’s gland is supposed to be soft. Yours is ridged, like a stone.”

“And what makes that happen my smart girl who always got straight A’s?” he said quietly. You met his eyes, your breath catching in your throat as it all clicked. 

No. No that wasn’t…

“Being primal makes it hard,” you whispered, his head nodding, tears falling down his face. “H-how long have you been primal?”

He didn’t answer, only looked over your head. “I started to journal when I was 17.”

“You were seventeen?” you said, a small smile on his face. “But that means…someone else made you primal before you finished presenting.”

“Keep thinking my smart girl,” he whispered, his hands clasping around yours as you swallowed. 

“Oh god,” you said, taking a step back when all of your reading on going primal caught up with you. “If an Alpha is turned primal after their first rut, they go crazy but will always listen to the Alpha that turned them. But if you do it before their first rut, they don’t go crazy. They just…”

“They must follow every command of the Alpha that turned them and they’ll do it without question,” he said, your bottom lip quivering. “It was a way of controlling the young pups in packs back in the day.”

“Dad, were you forced to kill those omegas?” you asked quietly. He shook his head.

“No. I killed them all on my own,” he said through tears.

“Your Alpha forbid you from telling the truth about this, didn’t they.” He didn’t respond, only closed his eyes. “Dad, who’s your Alpha?”

“You…already know the answer to that,” he said carefully, something in his head making him phrase his answers ever so specifically. You inhaled deeply, squeezing his hands. 

“We flushed Tim’s system out. We can-”

“What did you learn about Primal adolescent Alphas,” he said bleakly.

“If you go Primal and then have a rut, the Alpha is always primal, no matter if they bond or not.” You closed your eyes. “There is no flushing it out. You’ll always belong to your Alpha.” 

“Do you understand now what I mean about giving you Tim as a protector?” 

You nodded. “Maybe we can still try though. Maybe you can be saved like Tim. I know Mom must be your Alpha. She must have turned you. She was never happy I was omega.” His lips snapped shut, face strangely stoic. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course,” he said, looking down. “But you have to understand, a primal Alpha must follow their Alpha’s orders. They literally cannot stop if someone does something to prevent their orders from being followed.”

“I understand. Is mom here?” He shook his head. “Is she still in Boston?”

“Yes. She is without bail given they believe she was my accomplice. If they believed her to be a victim as well, she’d be able to get bail and make a run for it.” You took a deep breath, thinking hard.

“I’m guessing a confession from you won’t be good enough. You need to do something crazy like kidnap me, get my sheriff boyfriend to come here where you can kill him? You kill a cop and they’ll give her a chance and she’ll make a run for it.” He had that same stoic face again as you nodded. “You trust me?”

“I truly don’t want to hurt your mate or his daughter,” he said. You hummed. “But I have orders.”

“I understand. Can you please get me some water?” He blinked, like some strange battle was occurring in his mind. But then he was turning, going back towards the chairs. You steadied yourself before widening your elbows, snapping your wrists down hard against your thigh. The plastic snapping stung, Teddy’s head turning at the sound. “Sorry, dad.”

You kicked out the back of his knee, his bad knee he’d hurt years ago, a guttural shout slipping out as he went down. When he was on the ground, you locked your legs around his neck, his hands immediately trying to pull you off as you worked to choke him out.

“Y/N!” You felt Beau’s scent rolling off him from the other side of the room, your hands currently clawing at your fathers, his attempts at getting you off of him starting to fade.

“Don’t shoot him,” you grit out as he went limp. You rolled away, Beau restraining him, Lucy running in right on his trail. 

“The fuck is going on?” asked Beau, your dad’s chest rising and falling slowly. 

“I’ll explain later. I need to know where my mom is now.” Lucy immediately had her radio out, calling it in. Beau had a cut on his forehead wincing when you touched a hand to his face.

“Omega, I’m fine. What happened? What’s going on with your mom?”

“Teddy’s primal. He was turned at 17 by my mom. I think. He can’t say the truth, has to follow her orders. He’ll lie if you ask him flat out but he left clues behind as much as he could. The truth has to be in those journals if we read between the lines.” Beau stared down at Teddy, jutting his tongue out as you watched the gears in his brain churn. “Beau, maybe I’m naive but I think he’s telling the truth. He had plenty of time to kill me.”

“Officer Wilde,” he called, Lucy approaching, sirens heard outside. “Where is Y/N’s mother currently?”

“I asked Pop to call Springs back in Boston. She’s supposed to still be in custody.” Beau pouted, watching Teddy carefully. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Y/N your mother is three years younger than your father.” You closed your eyes, wiping your hands over your face. “Exactly. How on earth does a fourteen year old girl who has not yet presented herself make a seventeen year old boy primal?”

“Who’s the true Alpha then?” asked Lucy, Beau and you sharing a look.

“Where is your mother from?” he asked as if he hadn’t read it already in a police report.

“Seattle,” you said quietly. 

“Where was Tim born?”

“Seattle,” you whispered. 

“Brock knew about the first victim. Tina. Why would he have told us unless he wanted to point us at Teddy who would oh so willingly admit to killing her,” said Beau, your heart skipping a beat. “Is it such a stretch that Brock made contact when your dad was young and turned him?”

“Is Tim’s dad…our dad…” You breathed hard, Beau frowning. 

“Officer Wilde,” said Beau, his green eyes full of sadness. “Contact Marshal Springs, request she put us in contact with someone in their Seattle office asap. We need to arrest Brock Barclay.”

“On what charge?” she asked, already on her phone.

“Murder. Kidnapping. Primal Alpha Assault to scratch the surface.” Beau pulled out his phone, dialing Tim’s number, dread filling your gut each time it didn’t pick up. “Come on, Barclay. Answer the damn phone.”

“Beau.” You startled as your phone vibrated in your pocket, eyes narrowing. “Emily’s calling me.”

You tapped the answer button, putting it on speaker. “Em, it’s Y/N and dad. Where are you?”

“Um, I don’t know exactly. We’re near that truck stop with the big blue pig outside of it?” Beau was already texting on his phone, Emily letting out a nervous laugh. “Uh, so funny story-”

“Why did you call me and not your dad?” you asked, Emily chuckling nervously again. “Emily.”

“Um. I might have, um…hit someone with the car. So. Yeah. I uh, figured dad would have saved you by now or I could cause a distraction for him by calling you so um…oh god, how much trouble am I in?” You both raised your eyebrows, Beau shaking his head.

“Did you call for help?” asked Beau.

“Um. No.” Beau threw up his hands, your own resting on his shoulder to calm him down. 

“Emily call 911 and put Tim on the phone now,” he said. 

“About that…”

“...Did you hit Tim?” you couldn’t help but ask, Emily groaning. “Where is he Emily?”

“Um, good news, he’s alive. Bad news, he’s in the trunk of the car…and he’s primal...” You blinked rapidly, Lucy mouthing obscenities at you from a distance as she listened to the radio. “But it’s okay! I’m driving to the hospital right now to get Tim fixed cause it just happened so I know it’s reversible and the guy who stabbed this syringe thing in him while we were getting gas, who I think is Tim’s dad, I hit him with the car. Only a tiny bit which is fine, right?”

“Emily-”

“Well then Tim was going Primal but Brock is like, old so Tim tied him up with his belt after I hit him and put him in the backseat and tied him down and then Tim told me to get help before he locked himself in the trunk. I think I may have broken old guy’s leg…or foot…I don’t know, his leg is bent funny. So yeah, I’ll be at the hospital in just a minute.”

You and Beau stared at one another, his face contorted in confusion, matching the look on yours. “Okay, we’ll be there very soon,” you said. “Give me and your dad just a second.”

He put the phone on mute, holding up a finger. “Did Emily just…” he trailed off. You and Lucy nodded, Beau shaking his head. 

“Did your seventeen year old daughter just catch a serial killer? I think she did,” you said, Beau putting his hands on his hips. “How the fuck did she do that?”

“I think she Sarah Connored that bitch without meaning to,” he said. You couldn’t fight the laugh that slipped out, Beau cracking a smile. “I’m going to be happy before I start freaking out over the fact she was that close to Brock. Fuck, what if Tim hadn’t been able to fight off the primal shit-”

“Stop freaking out,” you said, Beau taking a deep breath. “She’s okay, Tim’s going to be okay, and an Arlen just caught a serial killer. Granted it wasn’t the sheriff but still.”

“I’m going to be hearing that one for the rest of my life aren’t I.”

“Might as well get used to it,” you said, unmuting the phone. “We’ll be there soon Emily.”

_________

A/N: The final part is coming soon!

[wardenbloom]

Zayne: Within Grasp

Reader x Zayne

Self-aware; Ongoing series (here's the link to part 1)

Part 2: Maybe a god took pity on you.

As you approached the dining room, Zayne was laying down the plates on the table. The yellow lights made his complexion warmer and his face softer.

Suddenly, you felt your heart skip a beat as your cheeks felt hot.

Hngghhh... I've had my doubts earlier but seeing him like this is just... He's just too handsome!!

"Come," He noticed you staring at him from the corner. He pulled a chair for you to sit. "As a sign of thanks for today."

You sat on the chair and in front of you is a full meal -- steak, mashed potatoes with gravy, as small serving of pasta and some roasted asparagus.

His eyes looked at your expression -- seemingly looking for your approval.

"Ohhh these smell great!!" You exclaimed and took bite. "Mmmhhh!! So yummy!”

He smiled and nodded. "I'm glad that my cooking is to your liking." He replied and started eating.

The delicious food washed away your doubts as to his existence. After all, what's the harm in enjoying his company? He's right. Didn't you wish he was real?

As you were eating, you surveyed his face as if trying to figure out if he was real.

The way he chews his food, the way his hands and arms moved... It was all flawless -- he is real

He noticed you looking at him and he stared back, filling the air between the two of you with awkwardness.

"I... Uh..." You started fidgeting and feeling uncomfortable.

"... I was wondering since earlier..." He started. "If I could get a job here."

He took a deep breath.

"I am very much aware that my credentials and identification are not valid here. But, I don't want you to spend your money on keeping me alive."

"Further, I'd like to spend or buy whatever you want too." He finally said while placing his silverware together at the middle of his plate.

"Uhm... Before that, Zayne..." You uttered. "Are you sure you'd be here for a long time? Long enough to actually earn for me?"

It's been in your thoughts since earlier that he might vanish without a trace, the same way he vanished from the game. After all, he is not from this world.

"Yes. I am sure." He replied without hesitation.

I paid a great price for this... I should be able to be with you for a very long time.

He thought as he observed your expression.

"Alright. How about we search for a job with minimum requirements?" You smiled.

His existence... His motives... His entirety... There's still something to unpack here... I can't let my guard down.

You thought and finally took the last bite of your dinner.

After cleaning up you booted up your PC in the bedroom and you let him sit on your computer chair.

"You can look it up here while I do my own research as well. Hehe, it'll be more efficient if there's the two of us looking for it." You said while booting up your laptop then sat beside him.

He looked into the screen and started searching and after an hour, both of you arrived at nothing as every job listed needs government IDs, transcript of records, clearance and the like.

He sighed.

"It seems like we're on a dead end and I doubt I could legally practice medicine here." He uttered while closing the tabs.

You sat at the edge of the bed and fluffed the pillows.

"Zayne." You called him and he looked at you. "Is there anything you want to do other than being a doctor?"

"... I haven't thought about that." He placed his finger on his chin. "I wanted to save you that's why I was a doctor. But seeing you now..." He gently smiled. "I can still be your doctor but at the same time, it seems like there's no need for me to do so as there are no aethercores here."

His gaze locked with yours as he stood up and sat beside you.

Still being wary of him, you moved a bit away from him to maintain distance.

"I'll think of what I can do. You seem drowsy." He touched your face and for some reason, despite being wary, you felt comfortable with his touch.

You closed your eyes and felt his warm touch against you.

"Say... Since you like pastries so much, how about just selling them?" You uttered under your breath. "Putting up a small business doesn't require you to give out any identification but I can. Maybe we could just do that rather than applying for a job from some company."

Zayne didn't speak but he sensed your drowsiness. He gently laid you down the bed and tucked you in.

"Let's think about that tomorrow." He softly said but you were already asleep. "Goodnight."

Not wanting to violate the distance you made earlier, he saved his goodnight kiss for some other time then left the bedroom.

Zayne laid down the couch, and just like any other night, he had a hard time falling asleep.

... I did say I won't vanish just like that but... I wonder how long will this body sustain here?

He thought while staring into the ceiling.

She seems careful of me. While I can't blame her, it still pains me.

He sighed then looked at the door to your bedroom. Around him was your cozy living room -- nothing much but a coffee table with magazines beneath, a reclining chair, and a couch.

I finally found you... The real you... And I will not let go this time.

[icewindandboringhorror]

I occasionally wish to reach out to old friends/acquaintances I haven't spoken to since high school/some other even earlier time in my life, but I have SOOO little social energy even for required tasks (like making dr phone calls or etc), I never have any leftover for extra ones, and it would be very odd to message someone I haven't spoken to in like 5 years out of the blue but then take 4 entire months to respond back lol.. My natural curiosity with nostalgia/collecting details of the past/etc. (literally if I were born a little earlier I would definitely do scrapbooking or something lol) is very strong, but, alas, not strong enough to beat out the Social Issues Demons apparently

[bittersweetresilience]

it feels cosmically unfair that i think about writing all the time want to write all the time and sit down to write all the time and i come up with two sentences at best. there should be some reward system i think

[marc--chilton]

(mgv) adam is a natural with kids and doesn't even realize it. he frets about taking care of diana on his own because he's so convinced he'll mess her up so bad -- and he's so aware of her trauma with zep, a stranger who hurt her and her family, and how soon adam melded into the gordons' lives directly after all that. it's not even a "i hope my boyfriend's kid likes me" because adam's been nervous about fucking up around her since the moment he and lawrence moved in together and diana was cleared to visit on weekends. and while lawrence admits he would have never considered adam for a babysitter before, he has, frankly, a generous amount of faith that adam is worrying over nothing.

but he doesn't think twice about cutting the crusts off her sandwiches when she asks, reassures her when she admits she wants a nightlight even though she's a big girl, he even swallows his own fear to check every closet for her when she's scared the Bad Man will come back. he lets her crawl in his lap while she reads her book, he purrs his obscenely loud, rough, engine-like purr just because it makes her laugh, complains with her about homework because, like, i know right? multiplication tables? gross.

then diana goes back to alison and adam heaves a huge sigh, having tried so hard but still not convinced he does right by her.

[themagical1sa]

really feeling BONVOYAGE (Farewell Ver.) by Dreamcatcher lately...

So now I'm trying to move on without you just like it is the end

Counting every day, waiting day and night for a reason

Tell me, oh, Bon Voyage

Under the sky, oh, Bon Voyage

Even without words I still know

I know you, I know you

[tvrningout-a]

i should've switched to writing original stuff ages ago bc i could've been overcoming writer's block if i did :' )