#Maybe I should write something with that idea... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

joshujin · 2 days ago

Text

dude, nice try!

◀ teaser • series masterlist • part one

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 ⟡ hot girl bummer blackbear ⟡ lackin’ denise julia ⟡ mascara xg part one: 9.4k words pairing: joshua x fem!reader cw: strong language, mentions of/implied sexual activity, reader is highly emotional and tbh kind of crazy maybe even toxic but idc bc i support women’s rights and wrongs <3 tags: 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, basically john tucker must die except joshua is sophia bush hehe iykyk a/n: as stated in the teaser, this was a request for jealous!shua, though you should consider joshua’s affair with jealousy a slow burn in this one haha. if you read the teaser, i suggest you do not skip the parts you recognize here because i did cut some stuff out for the sake of length when i posted the preview! okay enough blabbing, enjoy!

dividers by cafekitsune! cover by yours truly!

prologue

the first message from you came in the middle of the night, as if the idea of reaching out to joshua had kept you up and tortured you mercilessly until you just couldn’t physically take it anymore. in retrospect, the thought of that is silly to him considering your first and only message was ridiculous and absolutely ineffective for what you were trying to do. but it makes him smile anyway. you’re just… so you.

of course, there was also the fact that joshua had been sound asleep at 3 a.m., so your plan really wasn’t well thought out—more a product of the rage that joshua isn’t sure whether he admires or should have you committed for.

his instagram notifications had been off back then, back before he felt the need to see everything you were doing and saying and posting on the stupid app.

it made sense that he kept you waiting, not noticing your first message until about halfway through his sunday morning.

he remembers feeling like it was an unfair assessment to make of his own long-term relationship, especially coming from a stranger. he also remembers having to sit back in thought for several minutes after reading that to contemplate what on earth you could even mean.

of course he loved mina. she was his girlfriend of a little over a year. you don’t stay with someone for a whole year and not love them, right? it was such a bizarre idea to him at the time—the thought that anyone could be in a relationship and not love their partner.

unfortunately, he learned that you were right pretty early on in your friendship. you've proven it enough times now that joshua knows you often are—right.

as he sits here next to you now, frowning at the odd sensation in his chest and listening to you frantically explain yourself to the bewildered officer across from you two, he realizes that not only did he never love mina, he's also starting to wonder if he ever loved anybody.

he has let go of all his ex-girlfriends so frighteningly easily when he thinks about it. on the other hand, he’s had a single month with you and he can’t imagine his life without you in it anymore. the thought makes him nauseous.

so now, it’s not a question of whether or not he ever loved mina; he knows he didn’t. now… he’s wondering if maybe, without even knowing it, he was just letting each relationship he’s been in happen to him—if he was just passing time.

passing time until what?

he doesn’t have the courage to respond to his own thoughts with the obvious answer, but he knows it’s the wrong question.

he watches you speak at a million words a minute, your cuffed hands waving in the air erratically and your brows pinching in the middle as you plead your innocence. he was sure you thought it was a pitiable enough expression for the officer to let the two of you go, but really, it was just painfully cute.

he bites back a sigh.

yeah. it was the wrong question. passing time until *who?

one month ago

“i believe her.”

joshua looks up from where he’s pulling up your messages on his phone and glares at jeonghan. “she’s a stranger. and you haven’t even seen what she said. how on earth can you already believe her?”

his best friend shrugs casually, bringing his straw to the corner of his mouth and sipping his americano nonchalantly like they’re not discussing the possibility of joshua’s girlfriend cheating on him. “i have eyes? ears? literally any one of the five senses? pick one and it can definitely pinpoint mina for the absolute snake she is.”

“okay, you’re biased, you hate everyone i date,” he mutters, returning to his phone so he can show jeonghan your conversation—if he can even call it that. most of it was just you screaming.

“yeah,” jeonghan agrees easily. he never made an effort to mask his feelings, something joshua still wasn’t sure if he appreciated or loathed. “because you date the most vapid, boring people.”

“oh, i’m sorry my tastes aren’t up to your standards,” he snarks, not bothering to look up.

“y’know, i’m glad you apologized—someone had to,” jeonghan says dramatically, making joshua roll his eyes. “i don’t know why you keep dragging these duds not only into your life but my life as well. why should i have to suffer too? you don’t even like any of these people.”

joshua immediately puts his phone down on the table. this is now the second time in 24 hours someone has claimed he doesn’t love or like mina. jeonghan raises an eyebrow at his sudden attention.

“what makes you say i don’t like mina?” he asks, eyes narrowing.

the man sitting across from him scoffs before putting his drink down and leaning his elbows on the table. “do you like mina?” jeonghan dodges the question.

“of course i like mina,” he says incredulously. “why would i stay with her this long if i didn’t like her?”

“beats me, i’d like to know too,” he retorts.

“jeonghan.”

he sighs, knowing he’s wearing joshua’s usually never-ending patience thin today. “okay, fine. you like mina,” he says in a way that blatantly confirms he doesn’t believe him. “what exactly do you like about her?”

“what?”

“what do you like about her?” he repeats easily.

“what do you mean?” joshua asks when his best friend doesn’t clarify.

jeonghan looks at him like he has two heads. “what do you mean what do i mean?” he asks, irritated. “it’s not some kind of trick question. what do you like about your girlfriend, dude?”

joshua is dismayed at his own silence. he realizes the first things that come to mind when he thinks about mina are physical traits. he likes her long hair. he likes the way she dresses. he likes the way she does her makeup. he likes her lip gloss—wait, no, not really because she doesn’t let him kiss her when she has it on… which is almost always. sure, she’s pretty, but… what does he really like about her?

he doesn’t have the time to ask himself what it could mean that he doesn’t have a meaningful answer, and jeonghan doesn’t have the time to laugh in his face and drive his point home. because at that moment, his phone pings, and it’s one message from you, just a little over 24 hours since your last message about him being heartless went ignored.

joshua glances down and feels his stomach turn.

i have evidence.

an hour later, joshua and jeonghan are sprawled across the latter’s living room. when they’d seen your message, both of them had quickly and wordlessly vacated the cafe they were holed up in, gotten to jeonghan’s apartment frighteningly fast, and rifled through the series of messages you sent—all of them photos you took of your boyfriend’s phone screen.

at first, joshua was just annoyed at how hard snapchat made it to read messages; most of the ones sent by whoever your boyfriend was were deleted. he was ready to wave you off and call your “evidence” a reach. but then, he got to more damning photos—photos he was a little vexed jeonghan got to see too.

because they just proved his know-it-all best friend right. mina was a fucking snake.

he’s shocked at the lengths they went to to be able to communicate with each other without being caught.

but perhaps the most damning piece of evidence of them all comes last: a photo of a woman’s naked back as she laid on her side in a bed—that wasn’t joshua’s or mina’s—away from the camera. it could’ve been anyone. the small tattoo at the base of her neck told joshua exactly who it was.

it wasn’t something he could refute anymore; you were obviously not a random person and you definitely weren’t mingyu playing some kind of sick prank.

“so what now?” jeonghan asks, both of them still starfished on the floor and staring at the ceiling after spending several minutes furiously swiping and cussing at his screen. “let’s fill all her shampoo bottles with hair remover,” he answers his own question before joshua can even open his mouth. “oh! or we can follow her around, inevitably find this tool, and kidnap him! i’m sure this y/n person will appreciate that too!”

joshua doesn’t bother entertaining his best friend with a proper response, choosing to ignore the suggestions altogether. his mind is racing a mile a minute, trying to find the point in his relationship mina might have started straying away. has it been happening the entire time? or did she recently decide joshua wasn’t fulfilling her needs to her liking?

“… his car and it’ll probably break down and explode at some point later that week?”

he frowns, realizing jeonghan has been suggesting ridiculous things they can do to mina and your boyfriend the entire time he was contemplating his relationship. it’s his first time getting cheated on, but he isn’t surprised at his best friend’s reaction to it. he’s more surprised when silence blankets over them for several long seconds before jeonghan asks:

“are you okay?” he sighs. “i know that’s a dumb question to ask. you’re obviously not going to be okay after finding out your girlfriend cheated on you.”

his frown deepens at that. it’s a fair statement. he always imagined this kind of thing would throw him into some kind of jealous rage—emotions he’s not really familiar with. rage like yours.

he wonders if he had been the one to find out about this, would he have had a meltdown the way you did? make a burner account and find you to tell you the way you did? try to find someone to commiserate with—even if it’s a stranger—the way you did?

no, probably not. he was telling the truth when he told you that all he would do is break up with mina.

and he’s incredibly confused to find that, contrary to what jeonghan is saying, he feels very okay with that. he can’t really imagine caring enough to do anything more, and he doesn’t know why. shouldn’t he care more?

if you and jeonghan were wrong about him loving mina the way he was so convinced you were, why didn’t he care more?

“joshua,” jeonghan reaches over and pokes his shoulder. “speak. you’re scaring me.”

he snorts. “i’m fine.”

“okay…” he responds slowly. “so still in shock?”

“no, i really think i’m fine,” joshua says, shaking his head at the ceiling. “i feel… normal. i guess just confused about when and why she decided to cheat.”

“you did nothing wrong. she’s just a conniving, slutty ingrate who doesn’t know that she’s throwing away the most decent man in the universe,” he assures him. “which brings me back to my initial question. what should we do now to punish said conniving, slutty ingrate?”

joshua sighs. “we’re not doing anything. i am breaking up with her as soon as she gets off work.”

jeonghan perks up, rolling over onto his stomach and crawling to him until his head appears in his line of vision. his best friend has a shit-eating smile on his face that makes him instinctively roll his eyes.

“can i be there?”

he knows he should say no. it’s an absurd request and it shouldn’t even take joshua more than a second to answer. but as he thinks about it, jeonghan continuing to smile at him like a little devil on his shoulder, he thinks it might be nice to have him there and shame mina for cheating in a way he knows he doesn’t really care to do himself.

he shrugs. “sure, why not?”

jeonghan squeals with delight, scrambling to get up. “come on, we have to make sure you look smoking hot so it hurts her twice as bad. you can borrow my leather pants.”

“leather?!” joshua repeats. “it’s the middle of summer!”

joshua texted mina to let her know he wanted to talk to her after work and he would be dropping by. she told him several times that tonight wasn’t a great time and insisted they wait until tomorrow, but he couldn’t bring himself to give a shit about her convenience, so here he is, with jeonghan practically vibrating with excitement at his side, standing outside her apartment building.

“i still think you should’ve worn the leather pants,” his best friend says, “but you look killer. she’s gonna shit herself.”

joshua recoils at the idea but thanks him anyway.

“ready?”

he sighs. “yeah, i guess. ready as i’ll—oof!”

he stumbles a few steps and right into jeonghan as someone violently shoves him, continuing to push and slap at both him and his best friend until they’re several steps away from the entrance to mina’s apartment.

“what the—”

“and what the hell are you doing here?!” a female voice shrieks.

he wants to yell at this stranger for putting her hands on him. he wants to tell her to have some manners and to get away from him. at the very least, he wants to glare at her until she shrivels up in shame and scurries away. but all ideas of even attempting to do any of that die as soon as he lays eyes on the stranger.

your instagram photos don’t really do you justice (of course he looked. he really thought mingyu was pranking him and had even mentally applauded him for his effort to find a cute girl to post so consistently). your photos were well-taken and curated perfectly for your profile, but now that you were—for some weird reason—standing in front of joshua and jeonghan, he can confidently call your photos dirty liars. he can’t blame them, though. he has a feeling no camera in the world can capture how pretty you actually are in real life.

prettier than anyone i’ve ever dated, his intrusive thoughts remind him. prettier than mina.

“well?!” you screech when neither of them answer you, making them both flinch. you don’t notice your effect on them, though, because you’re busy frantically looking between them and the entrance of the building like you’re scared the three of you will be seen.

he knows jeonghan is thinking the same, exact thing he is because he is never rendered silent.

“i—uh,” joshua stammers for what he thinks might be the very first time in his life. “we…”

jeonghan glances at him, face twisted in amused confusion before he schools his expression and points his signature stunning smile at you. “you’re y/n! hi!”

“who the hell are you?” you turn back to them, cross your arms, and practically bark at him.

his best friend’s laugh is exaggerated and several decibels louder than it has any business being. it grates joshua’s nerves. he glares at him but jeonghan pays him no attention. “i like her,” he mutters to him before saying, “i’m jeonghan.”

“okay, jeonghan,” you spit his name like venom, obviously unimpressed, making him giggle.

joshua rolls his eyes at him and his increasing giddiness. his best friend doesn’t date often, but he shouldn’t be surprised that he enjoys this kind of vitriol. jeonghan is, at his core, attracted to the same chaos and mischief he himself is made of.

“what are you doing here?” you ask again, raising an eyebrow at joshua to make it clear you’re talking to him.

“i’m… here to break up,” he answers weakly. “with mina! i’m here to break up with… mina.”

he doesn’t know what’s come over him, but being confronted by you in person and unnervingly close in his vicinity has him forgetting how to properly communicate. the thought of blocking you was a lot easier when he had no idea if you were a real person. now, he feels like there’s no escaping you.

“what are you doing here?” jeonghan asks the question he forgets to return to you.

you ignore him, eyes staying trained on joshua as you speak, and something about you pretending like his best friend doesn’t exist forces him to fight down a smile.

“you’re not breaking up with her today,” you order him confidently, like you know saying it is enough for joshua to agree. if the way his palms start to sweat are a sign, you might be right. “she’s up there with siwoo.”

“who’s—”

“my boyfriend,” you answer before jeonghan can even finish his question. “i followed him here when he told me he was getting drinks with coworkers.”

joshua’s stomach flips. he’s not really sure how anyone can even think about another person in your presence, let alone cheat on you. maybe your intensity scares siwoo, though. it definitely kind of scares him.

“you mean… they’re up there right now… and they’re probably…” jeonghan’s sentence trails off, but you’re you and you don’t shy away from finishing it.

“fucking?” you ask with a biting and sarcastic enthusiasm. “yeah, jeonghan! probably!”

joshua winces. your rage was already palpable via DMs, but it’s near suffocating in person. it grabs him by the neck and shoves his face back into the dilemma he was quietly contemplating back at jeonghan’s apartment: why isn’t he sharing the same anger? why isn't he doubled over, throwing up at the idea of mina having sex with someone up in her apartment at this very moment?

“are you hungry?” you direct the question to him.

“what?” he asks dumbly.

“are. you. hungry?” you repeat, irritation laced in your voice.

“i am!” jeonghan announces.

you give him a blank stare before looking back at joshua. when he fails to say anything, you sigh, your temper appearing to deflate infinitesimally.

“they’re going to be a while,” you inform him like you’ve done this before. “there’s a fried chicken shop i like nearby.” okay, so you’ve definitely done this before. “we can eat and… talk, i guess.”

“we would love to talk. right, joshua?” jeonghan asks, pinching his side with more force than necessary. he fights to keep from jumping.

"sure," he finally agrees. "i could eat."

"thanks for ignoring me amidst my weekend-long menty b, by the way," you say sarcastically as you set down a pitcher of beer and three glasses next to the tray of friend chicken on the table.

"ment—?"

"mental breakdown," jeonghan whispers to him as he reaches to pluck a piece of fried chicken from the tray.

instead of depositing it on his own plate, he stretches across the table to put it on yours. joshua's eyes involuntarily narrow at the gesture. he doesn't realize he's glaring at his best friend until he speaks again.

"what?" he pouts at him but his eyes glint with mischief. "ladies first."

"thanks," you murmur, not-at-all sounding thankful. jeonghan snorts. "well? explain your rude behavior." he looks back over to you to find you sulking. you add more chicken to your plate even though you haven't touched the one jeonghan gave you.

"ah." joshua shakes his head. "i was just... not all the way convinced you weren't my friend trying to mess with me."

"mingyu," you say the name a lot like you said jeonghan's and for some reason, it makes him smile.

"yeah," he confirms, laughing a little. "mingyu. he's been known to play a prank or two on me."

"our joshua is just very gullible," jeonghan supplies as he serves joshua chicken now. the statement feels like a crack to the ribs. it's what mina called him when she was messaging siwoo. gullible. "so he's slow to trust."

joshua doesn't have a chance to argue that because you're, once again, ignoring jeonghan to ask him another question. "and now?"

"now what?"

"i take it you're all the way convinced?" you clarify as you tear into your first piece of chicken like you haven't eaten in years. with a full mouth, you add: "i mean, i assume you are if you're here to break up with your girlfriend."

"uh... yeah..." he nods slowly, distracted.

joshua is often described by his friends as a gentleman—elegant even. with the exception of jeonghan and mingyu—the two people who know him best—he is always polite and accommodating. he's careful that his clothes are always pressed and lint-free. he always has good posture, and he does his best to remember his table etiquette, especially in the presence of elders. he tries to be buttoned up and put-together almost all of the time, sometimes even to his own detriment.

so staring at you, wiping soy garlic sauce off your mouth with the back of your hand and talking with your pieces of chewed up chicken tucked into one, puffy cheek, he should absolutely feel repulsed.

he frowns at you and knows it probably looks like he is repulsed by you. but really, he's just confused about why you look so endearing sitting there, eating like it pains you to while taking turns glaring at your drumstick and glaring at him and his best friend.

"hello?" you wave your saucy fingers in front of joshua's face. "is he always this... spacey?" you ask jeonghan without taking your eyes off him.

"i'm glad you asked! no," the man next to him answers—also through cheeks full of chicken. "i've actually never seen him this nerv—"

"sorry, what were you saying?" joshua interjects before everyone at this table, including him, has to face the fact that yes, he is very much nervous and he's unsure why.

you sigh as you wipe your fingers on a napkin. "what is it about me that men's eyes just begin to glaze over as soon as my mouth opens?" you complain, the signature rage joshua has come to expect from you in the one hour he's known you bubbling back to the surface.

his eyes widen in horror at the thought of you mistaking his fascination with disinterest. "oh! i didn't—no, i'm not—i—"

"what joshua is trying and failing miserably to say," jeonghan cuts in, sneaking him a look that screams get it together, "is that no one here is ignoring you. he's just... trying to process all of this. after all, you had all weekend to think about this, and he just realized you were telling the truth, what? two hours ago?"

you stare at jeonghan with the same unimpressed expression you’ve been forcing on him since you met him. after a moment, your gaze travels to joshua, and he gives you a meek smile. you finally hum in understanding.

“sorry, i know i’m projecting. i’m just all…” you wave your hand wildly near your temple to mimic a muddled brain. “siwoo has done a number on me.”

joshua finally gains enough composure to string a sentence together. “i’m sorry i ignored your messages… and blocked your burner account.” you cringe at that but nod an acceptance of his apology. “and i’m sorry i’m not fully present right now. jeonghan’s right.”

kind of. not really. he was processing your existence more than he was processing being cheated on, to be frank.

“i’m just… trying to understand what’s happening, i guess. for what it’s worth, i find it really unbelievable that anyone would ever cheat on you.”

he ignores the way jeonghan inhales deeply and slowly through his nose. only joshua would be able to tell it’s the equivalent of him scream-giggling and kicking his feet when he’s trying to be discreet.

your eyebrows rise like you’re shocked joshua is capable of more than grunts and one-word replies.

“ditto,” you say plainly. joshua can’t help the immediate laugh that escapes his mouth at that, and he’s pleased when you smile for the first time since you met. “mina seems dumb. and not just because she and siwoo are ruining my life. you’re very handsome. and if you blocking me on instagram so fast is any indication, you seem very loyal too.”

you say it easily, as if giving out compliments like that is no big deal to you. maybe it isn’t, but even if that’s true, he’s going to appreciate it nonetheless.

unfortunately, that appreciation manifests in a fierce blush joshua feels spreading across his face like wildfire, much to his mortification. he doesn’t remember the last time he blushed like a pathetic schoolboy with a crush. it was probably when he was an actual pathetic schoolboy with a crush.

he clears his throat, choosing to ignore the compliment. “yeah, i guess we have the same, bad taste in dummies.”

you suddenly groan, throw your head back, and blink rapidly at the ceiling like you're trying your best not to cry. both men glance at each other and fidget awkwardly at the abrupt change of mood, neither of them being great at handling a crying woman. joshua has little to no experience with it and jeonghan tends to fall back on ill-timed jokes during times of distress.

"i followed him here months ago," you tell them unprompted. “i followed him here so many times because he was always so fucking sketchy. but his lie always involved ‘one of the guys,’ so i just thought his friend lived in that building.”

“and you found out this weekend…?” jeonghan asks carefully. joshua rubs the back of his neck nervously.

you nod, squeezing your eyes shut briefly before bringing your line of sight back to them. your eyes are glassy but your efforts to keep from crying were mostly successful.

“he lent me his laptop because mine stopped working,” you explain, rolling your eyes like having a broken laptop on top of all this is almost enough to send you over the edge. “his texts are connected on there too. i was at a cafe with a friend, and one of those verification texts came through. i ignored it but a few seconds later, it messaged again and i saw that he’d replied on his phone.”

“he told her it was safe to text,” joshua says, remembering the photos you sent.

“yeah…” you breathe, hugging yourself tightly and rubbing your arms as you try to self-soothe. “and i just sat there in front of my friends, watching him make plans with her in real time… brainstorm the lies they agreed to tell us… and i just had to pretend to be normal or else i would’ve burned that cafe to the ground.”

jeonghan coughs as he chokes on his chicken a little. joshua pats him on the back absentmindedly, eyes never leaving you, even as his best friend stretches across him, still coughing, to pour everyone a glass of beer. you sniffle as you accept your glass with a small nod, your body visibly relaxing as you take your first sip. he tries not to gawk when you down it all in one go.

joshua thinks this is probably what someone in love should look like when their heart has been broken: drunk and sad. now that the initial shock of seeing you in person has worn off, he can see how tired you really look. there are dark, bruising circles under your eyes, visible even under your makeup, and your hair looks like it was haphazardly put up into a ponytail to avoid having to wash or brush it. your eyes are tinged pink, a little swollen, and dull, like you’ve been crying all weekend. you have been crying all weekend.

and joshua? he’s asking himself why he hasn’t felt the urge to cry at all yet because right now, he could be the poster child for soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend who is going to be okay has been okay, is okay, and will always be okay. aside from his irritation with mina and her insane audacity, today is like any other day.

he’s never had his heart broken before this, but maybe it’s just different for guys. he read somewhere that men’s emotional intelligence develop a lot slower than women’s; maybe he just hasn’t reached a level of maturity you have.

“anyway,” you say as you stifle a tiny burp that makes jeonghan giggle for the nth time tonight, “i’m going to ruin his life.”

okay, so maybe maturity is the wrong word.

“wh…” joshua glances at jeonghan for confirmation he heard correctly.

his best friend’s eyes are lit up with excitement as he leans forward with impossibly even more interest in what the pretty lady across the table has to say. joshua would slap him if they were alone. what for, he doesn’t know, but he would.

“sorry, what was that?” he asks, trying not to sound judgmental at the risk of setting your anger off again.

“she’s going to ruin his life,” jeonghan answers for you giddily. “what are you going to do? i told joshua he should fill mina’s shampoo bottle with hair remover.”

that earns the two men another smile from you, but this time, joshua finds himself annoyed it was because of something jeonghan said.

“oh my god, that’s vile,” you say even though you’re grinning and obviously love the idea. “maybe i’ll add that as a little cherry on top for siwoo.”

“oh, he’ll be so ugly,” jeonghan claims like he’s already daydreaming about it.

“you don’t even know what he looks like,” joshua murmurs.

“i don’t need to,” he responds, smiling as he stares off into the distance. “a stupid motherfucker who can cheat on our lovely y/n, here, like that has to look like ass.”

you roll your eyes at the compliment but your cheeks turn a cute shade of pink anyway.

“well, making him bald will look like child’s play when i’m done with him,” you match jeonghan’s dreamy tone, and joshua feels a chill of fear from having the two of you at the same table crawl up his spine. why was he a magnet for agents of chaos?

“is that why you haven’t broken up?” he asks. “you’re scheming to ruin his life?”

you frown. “what makes you think we haven’t broken up?”

joshua shrugs. “maybe the fact that you followed him here and then shoved me and my best friend into next week to keep us from attracting any attention?”

jeonghan snickers and your cheeks turn a darker shade.

“ah, right.” you nod once. “sorry about that.” you don’t look sorry at all and joshua finds himself thinking it’s amusing. “i suppose that was a bit… rude.”

joshua hums like he’s contemplating your apology but he knows it’s clear he’s fighting a smile as he brings his beer to his lips.

you sigh. “anyway, yes. that’s why i’m still with him. he doesn’t even know i know. i’m trying to get my ducks in a row and figure out the most devastating way to leave him.”

jeonghan smirks. “my kind of girl.”

joshua’s foot finds his best friend’s and stomps on it as hard as he can without thinking twice about it. it almost shocks him—how much it felt like instinct—but after the day he’s had, he thinks he’s entitled to a bit of a tantrum. maybe this is how he is when his heart is broken. a little mean.

“ow, what the fu—”

“so what’s the plan?” joshua asks loudly when your eyes snap up to jeonghan mid-sip over the glass of your beer.

you lick your lips clean of foam before setting the glass down, and joshua forces himself to look away when he notices how plump and pink they are.

“well, to be honest… i haven’t been the smartest,” you admit, seeming timid for the first time since you barged into his DMs. it’s an odd look on you. “i—um. i kind of rely on him… financially.”

the explanation comes tumbling past your lips after that like you’re afraid the two of them are going to judge you if you allow even a second of silence to pass.

“i had a job! i had a great job! but siwoo’s a bit traditional, and he comes from a more conservative family that really buys into gender roles, and i mean, fuck that, right?”

you give them no chance to agree.

“i’m a feminist! i swear to god i’m a fucking feminist!” you’re practically shouting now and the two men are so stunned, they can’t bring themselves to notice or care that the other patrons of the restaurant are starting to look over. “but i was in love! and i thought i was going to marry this moron! so i convinced myself i wanted to stay home and i wanted to clean the house and take care of a man—”

you say the word with so much disgust, both joshua and jeonghan struggle to keep from laughing.

“—and he was so happy when i quit my job like he’s been asking me to, and i thought i was happy too, like, what woman doesn’t want to be taken care of by a rich man?!”

you pause to burp briefly but it still isn’t enough time for either of them to get a word in.

“though again, i was in love! i was looking at that shithead through rose-tinted glasses! he’s nothing but a spoiled mama’s boy with a rich family! that asshole doesn’t have to do anything for the wealth he has! so, like, really… what woman wants to be fake-taken-care-of by a 30-something-year-old mama’s boy?!”

the words come with even more disgust than “man.”

“and he had the nerve to act like he was better than me because i had to work for everything i had before him! like, dude. if your bank account is still connected to your fucking mom’s, lower your goddamn voice when speaking to me!”

his best friend’s mouth drops open in absolute joy-filled shock at your biting remark. he’s enjoying meeting someone as chaotic as he is too much.

“and what was it for?! empty promises that he would propose soon?! endless faked orgasms for a man who’s afraid to give a woman head?!”

jeonghan chokes again, this time on nothing. joshua has more decorum but he can’t help the way his face turns bright red.

“you’d swear i was harboring a monster down there the way he cringed at the mere mention of oral, like, what is he, 12?!”

joshua has to avert his eyes to the ceiling of the restaurant at the mention of your “monster,” and he can’t even get it together long enough to nudge jeonghan when he bursts into hysterical laughter. they might as well be nonexistent, though, because you keep barreling through your rant.

“i was on track to be a director before 30! i was a fucking star! and look what he made me!” you screech, words slurring.

it takes your slurred speech and yet another burp for joshua to realize with mild horror that the pitcher of beer is almost empty, and that he and jeonghan are still on their first glasses. he elbows his best friend, who’s still cackling, and motions at the pitcher. jeonghan sighs happily as the last of his laughter leaves him and mutters a quiet: holy shit, pretty aggretsuko can drink.

“he turned me into a housewife! and i remind you: I AM A FEMINIST!” you slam your palms against the table to each word to punctuate your point. joshua can see why you picked aggretsuko for your burner account. “i support a woman’s choice to be a housewife if that’s what she wants, but my dumb ass didn’t realize that this isn’t the life i wanted until this fucking weekend! god!” you groan miserably. “all of this heartache and for what?! he cheated on me and now i’m jobless and about to be homeless and completely broke, and i…”

you abruptly run out of steam, slumping in your seat and looking at your near-empty glass of beer pitifully. joshua has the urge to round the table and give you a hug, but he stays put, trying to process the whiplash of witnessing what he imagines is a mini “menty b.”

you take a few breaths before quietly saying, “i can’t believe this is what being in love got me.”

something violently lurches inside joshua’s chest when you say that.

“i can’t believe something that’s supposed to be as beautiful as love blinded me so badly.” your voice cracks. your eyes well with tears and this time, you make no move to stop them as they begin to streak your face. “how the hell can love hurt this much?”

joshua’s mouth falls open to say something—anything. any kind of comfort or kindness or advice. but no sound escapes his lips as he watches your heart break into tiny, little pieces in front of him.

he’ll look back at this moment and realize this was the first time his heart knew something before he, himself, did: what he had with mina wasn’t love—that he had actually never even been in love before. there’s no world where mina would ever have the kind of effect siwoo has on you on him, and there isn't anything mina can do that would make joshua scorn the concept of love because it's something he never even experienced with her in the first place.

but for now, all he can think is that, despite barely knowing you and despite being somewhat afraid of you, he has an insatiable want to fix this for you. he wants you to stop crying. he wants to see the rare smiles they were gifted tonight on your face once more. most of all, he wants to make the man who made you cry sorry for ever entering your life.

the words are out of his mouth before he can think twice about them.

“i’ll help you.” you immediately stop crying and look up at him with wide eyes. “i’ll help you ruin this idiot’s life. and when the two of us are through with him, i promise you he’ll be afraid to breathe within a 10-mile vicinity of you.”

joshua is surprised you haven’t already responded to tease him about his fickle typing bubbles because for the last ten minutes, he’s tried and stopped, tried and stopped (stopped, stopped, stopped) to find a response to your question that was not only honest with you, but with himself.

it’s not lost on him how unconcerned and unbothered he was with the repulsive and heinous death his relationship suffered last night. jeonghan made sure to point it out the entire way home, all while nearly choking him and stimming his socked, shoeless feet against his torso during his piggyback ride.

“so are we going to talk about the fact that you had zero reaction to mina having a guy up in her apartment?” jeonghan muttered not one minute after demanding joshua carry him home.

“we were in the presence of a stranger,” joshua grumbled, adjusting jeonghan higher on his back. “how should i have reacted?”

jeonghan hummed in thought. “i guess if it were me, i wouldn’t have really cared about strangers. i would’ve started with busting into her apartment and hoping you were present to keep me from committing second-degree murder. that’s a start, no?”

joshua sighed. “you’ve known me practically my entire life. i’ve never been like that.”

“i know.”

he said it in a resigned way, as if a visceral reaction was a healthy one and joshua was depriving himself. as if jeonghan wanted more for him—like he wanted him to cause a scene and make a fuss. the thought confused him but he stayed silent as his best friend continued.

“i kind of just… i don’t know, worry?”

joshua smiled. he could practically hear the wince on jeonghan’s face from having to be serious as he spoke.

“i lowkey expected a meltdown like y/n’s from you at my place. are you sure you’re okay? i feel like i’m waiting for the aftershock of an earthquake.”

“are you saying you think i’m emotionally repressed?” he asked, putting the pieces together and saying what jeonghan was dancing around.

“well, if you think that’s what i’m saying, who am i to argue with your interpretation of my words?”

he snickered. “i literally cried when you told me about that deep-sea anglerfish that swam to the surface of the ocean to see the sun before it died. i wouldn’t call myself emotionally repressed.”

“okay, repressed isn’t the right word,” jeonghan conceded. “it’s just—ugh, hold on.”

he suddenly started wriggling in his hold, obviously asking to be let down without vocalizing it. joshua squatted down to let him off his back, and before he could straighten all the way up, jeonghan had him by the shoulders and was turning him around almost violently.

“ungh!” joshua grunted as he came face-to-face with him.

“listen,” he said, capturing joshua’s face between his hands, forcing his wide, surprised eyes to meet jeonghan’s. “i’m going to ask you something seriously, and i want you to answer just as seriously, okay?”

joshua frowned. “okay…”

jeonghan nodded curtly once before speaking. “your girlfriend of over a year is cheating on you.”

“dude. i kn—”

“uh-uh, i’m speaking,” he deadpanned, tapping a finger against joshua’s temple.

he sighed. “okay, go on.”

“your girlfriend of over a year is cheating on you,” he repeated, this time slower and with more emphasis, as if it was something he was convinced joshua didn’t totally understand. “she went out of her way to sneak behind your back, and not only lie to—your—face!” he practically shouted. “but laugh about lying to your face with that scumbag asshole. and when you went over to break up with her, she was entertaining her side-piece in her apartment!”

joshua fidgeted under his hold. having it repeated like this did hurt him, and although he spent a lot of this time wondering why he wasn’t as affected as you were, he felt a little sad and lonely now, standing there being reminded that his relationship just imploded.

“in all of this,” jeonghan continued, “the most reaction i saw from you was some quiet cussing when we looked through y/n’s screenshots, and i know you’re capable of being upset.” he smirked. “anglerfish aside, i know that you can express emotion healthily. so…” he took a deep breath.

when he didn’t say anything for several seconds, obviously hesitating, joshua raised his eyebrows. “so…?”

jeonghan’s gaze flicked down to him from where he had been frowning at nothing above his head.

“so…” he inhaled slowly. “do you think you really… truly loved mina?”

he hadn’t been able to answer a barefoot jeonghan last night, and even after tossing and turning for hours and thinking of nothing else this morning, joshua finds that he still doesn’t have an answer.

if he measured love by how heartbroken someone was after it ended, he’d say you were (are?) madly in love with siwoo and he’s basically been in a committed friendship with mina—apparently a shitty one at that. but is that even the proper way to measure love? did the way he cared for mina for the past year count for nothing? a tender, aching hurt bloomed in his chest when jeonghan stopped him and forced him to look at his love life closely, and it has just grown since then. he doesn’t know if it’s telling him that love is more than the way it ends or if it’s telling him he’s been living life without it.

the jarring sound of his phone ringing interrupts his introspection, and he’s startled to find your contact on the incoming call. he quietly gets up from his desk and vacates his cubicle, where he has been neglecting his work to figure out a way to respond to you. he slips into one of the office’s private phone rooms and answers.

“hello…?” he rolls his eyes at how confused his sounds. smooth.

“you’re taking ages to reply,” you inform him, forgoing a normal greeting. “thought i’d call and see what has you so committed to sending me nothing but typing bubbles.”

joshua sighs harder than he needs to, sinking into the seat in the booth. “do you have nothing better to do than stare at my messages and wait for a reply?”

“no,” you scoff. “should i remind you i’m a stay-at-home girlfriend?” you spit the words out like you’re ashamed of them. he knows that you are and winces, silently chiding himself for the poorly timed joke. “i’m not doing anything for that cheater and his apartment while i have to continue living in this hellhole.”

“fair,” joshua says quickly. “sorry. forgot for a second.”

you snort. “it’s fine. what are you thinking about?”

“um, i’m at work, so… work?”

“no, dude, in regard to my question,” you remind him, laughing. he squeezes his eyes shut and tries not to groan. he knows he’s not doing a good job of convincing you that you don’t make him nervous. “why are you overthinking your answer so hard?”

“i’m not overthinking,” he mutters petulantly. “i’m just…”

“thinking overly hard?”

he hates that he cracks a smile at that. “fine, i might be overthinking.”

“oh! well, welcome to my page. i’m glad we’re now on the same one.” he can’t help but grin even wider at your apparently never-ending well of sarcasm. “so what are we overthinking about?”

we. you just met last night—barely agreed to help each other last night—and already, there’s a we. and already, joshua feels comfortable with the notion of that.

he shrugs even though you can’t see him. he slides down until his neck meets the curve of his seat and he stares at the ceiling as he speaks. “i was there to break up with her last night.”

you hum. “i remember. and you still want to.”

it’s more an observation than a question.

“well, i guess that’s what i’m overthinking about.”

“bro, i get it,” you say, shuffling around in what he assumes is your bed. he narrows his eyes at the word bro. “staying with your awful partner and pretending like everything’s okay when all you want to do is strangle him is certainly not for the weak.”

“okay well, thankfully, i don’t want to strangle mina.”

you laugh again and he suddenly wishes he’d gotten to see and hear you do that in person last night. “so what do you want to do to mina?” you ask as the sounds of you moving around the apartment come through the phone. “please don’t say nothing. i already feel like a horrible enough person as it is.”

the statement derails joshua’s train of thought. “why do you feel like a horrible person?”

“probably because i’m committed to doing whatever it takes to burn siwoo’s life to the ground instead of just breaking up with him and moving on like a normal, well-adjusted adult, and if you say ‘nothing,’ it will just remind me moving on is exactly what i’m supposed to be doing. and i don’t want to do that! not without fucking some lives up first!” you end your ramble with a grunt of frustration.

“i don’t think that makes you horrible,” joshua counters. “i think that just makes you… human? i feel like the normal reaction is to want to hurt someone as badly as they hurt you, right?”

at least from how joshua sees it, he thinks that’s probably the normal reaction. if jeonghan’s pressing questions say anything, it’s that his lack of reaction isn’t normal.

the sounds in the background pause like you’ve stopped to think about what he said. after a few moments, your only response is: “thanks.”

“i’m just being honest.”

“i know. thanks for saying it anyway,” you sigh as you continue to do whatever you were doing. “well?”

“well, what?”

“you haven’t answered my question.” you repeat it for him. “what do you want to do about mina?”

he groans, letting his eyes fall shut. “i want to break up with her and forget she happened.”

“do all men move on that fast?” you ask, sounding genuinely curious. “like, do you all just decide you don’t love someone anymore and move on after, like, a week?”

“i’m not moving on fast,” he argues, opening his eyes once more and sitting up. “i just want to give myself a chance to move on at all.”

“so mature of you,” you comment. something tells him you don’t believe that, though, and you prove him right with your next sentence. “or you just don’t love mina as much as you think you do.”

“what is with you guys and insisting i didn’t love my long-term girlfriend?” he complains.

“who’s ‘you guys’?” you sound too excited to realize more than one person in his life has made this observation about his relationship.

“nobody,” he practically hisses, not wanting to give you and jeonghan something to bond over and tease him about.

if he had his way, he’d probably make it so that you two never hung out again; your threatening energy as a duo honestly freaked him out a little and something about the way his best friend acted around you irritated him to no end. but he knows that helping you with siwoo will probably entail jeonghan butting in somewhere at some point.

“i loved mina, okay?” he insists, annoyed with the way he sounds like he’s trying to convince not only you but himself. “why do you even think otherwise?”

he doesn’t think he needs to point out that ultimately, you two don’t really know each other. you don’t have enough evidence to make such a massive assumption about him.

“i don’t know,” you mumble, “ugh.” he hears something clink against what sounds like porcelain. “i guess i’m having a hard time knowing that i’m devolving into this… child who’s having a world-war-sized tantrum, but someone who’s going through the same, exact thing i am is able to handle his emotions maturely... and gracefully… and just walk away. you’re so level-headed. meanwhile, i feel like my anger is consuming me.”

he rolls his lips over his teeth and bites, like that will help him from saying something too intimate to someone who’s still virtually a stranger. he suddenly feels sad for you again. it shoves away the newly formed pain in his chest that jeonghan forced there last night and burrows deep in his ribs the same way it did when he was watching you sob over fried chicken and beer.

“it’s kind of funny,” he starts, his voice soft and hesitant. “i thought something was wrong with me for not reacting the way you were.”

“nothing’s wrong with you,” you assure him. “sorry, i know me joking that you didn’t love mina probably makes you feel that way. i’m just trying to find an excuse for why you’re doing this so well and i’m… not. guess it’s easier to tell myself you’re moving on so fast because you didn’t love her in the first place.”

“you know,” joshua starts making his own observation as he thinks about the way you apologized for projecting your feelings about siwoo on him last night, “you’re super self-aware.”

“pfft, well as my therapist would point out, what good does that do if i’m aware i’m being self-destructive and i do it anyway?”

he smiles. “does that make me an accomplice to your self-destruction?”

“of course. you’re still willing to help with project destroy-siwoo-and-maybe-y/n-in-the-process, though, right?”

he grins wider. “of course,” he parrots before getting serious again. “but hey, i’m definitely not a good bar to set yourself against when it comes to break-ups. i’ve had too many to be someone you want to compare yourself to. you’re not not doing well.” he frowns at himself. super eloquent, joshua. “i think you’re handling this as best as you can. plus, i’m not going to pretend like siwoo doesn’t deserve everything that’s coming to him.”

you giggle like the thought of siwoo’s life crashing to the ground excites you. he knows it does. “okay, well if you’re committed to enabling me, i’m not going to make you stop.” joshua laughs loudly at that and you join in. “you have a nice laugh,” you tell him once you both stop.

“yah,” he whines. “are you always so bold?”

“didn’t we already establish that i am? what’s the big deal, anyway? i think we should all compliment each other more. it balances out my devotion to rage and revenge.”

he shakes his head, smiling once more. his cheeks are beginning to hurt. “fine. i’ll try to get used to it.”

“good!” you chirp as he hears more clinking in the background.

“what are you doing, by the way?”

“uh, i’ll tell you later,” you give him a non-answer before quickly directing his attention elsewhere. “so are we leaving mina out of this? should i just let you move on and grieve however emotionally healthy people grieve and tear up the mina section of my revenge plans?”

he snorts. “wow, okay, i need to stop letting your antics surprise me.”

“i agree. it’ll make this friendship easier for you.”

“i’ll bite. what’s in the mina section?”

“oh, nothing huge yet since i know nothing about her. i have jeonghan’s brilliant hair remover bit in there though.”

joshua glares at the wall across from him. he agrees that jeonghan is generally brilliant but he’s irked to hear you say it anyway. “right.”

“mhm,” you hum.

“well,” joshua sighs, knowing that after several minutes on the phone with you, he has yet to give you an answer and he should really get back to work. “i guess that’s what makes the most sense for me. tearing up the mina section of the plan.”

honestly, nothing really sounds better to him than getting her out of his hair.

“okay,” you agree quickly. “i can’t lie, i’m a bit disappointed because the scorned woman in me of course also wants to ruin mina’s life, but you’re the boss.”

he has no idea why he’s the boss when this is all your master plan, but he appreciates the grace you give him. he knows it’s probably not easy for you to redirect your disdain for mina and refrain from including her in your mission to ruin lives. well, life—one life: siwoo’s.

“at least i can keep my girl’s girl reputation in tact.”

he smiles at your priorities: 1. ruin siwoo’s life 2. remain a girl’s girl.

“exacting revenge on mina would do nothing to your girl’s girl reputation,” he assures you. “she’s the one who isn’t being a girl’s girl. she’s the asshole here.”

“oooh,” you sing, very clearly delighted, “joshie’s getting mad!”

he’s glad you’re not here to see him blush for no reason. when he’s too flustered to respond, you chuckle.

“i guess we don’t really need to go after mina, anyway, huh? you’re probably just as angry at siwoo for stealing her away too,” she thinks aloud.

he stills.

joshua is a little embarrassed to admit he didn’t even consider that. he’s typically a proud man—humble and grounded, but he takes pride in himself nonetheless. is it weird that he didn’t think twice about the fact that siwoo disrespected him and his relationship by pursuing mina? up until now, his anger was mostly feeding off of your sadness.

“joshua?”

“uh, yeah,” he stammers. “yeah. siwoo’s enough.”

“figured. we’ll make him pay real good for the both of us then.”

joshua nervously squirms in his seat. “yup. well, i should get back to work,” he says awkwardly. if you notice, you don’t point it out for once. “let me know what we should do next whenever you’re ready.”

he can practically hear the smile in your voice. “okay, and you let me know how breaking up with mina goes.”

if he had his wits about him, he'd probably give you shit for sounding so happy about the looming end, but he doesn't. so all he does say is:

“bye, y/n.”

“later!”

just a few moments later, he’s back in his cubicle when another text from you comes in.

he wasn’t scared, just like he wasn’t annoyed that you ate like you were discovering food for the first time. the right word didn't come to him until he was almost done with the report he had been working on before you texted: he was charmed.

a/n: thanks for waiting! hope you liked it! as you can probably tell, this is already way longer than i planned on it being so i’m not entirely sure how many parts this will be, but it’s my priority fic rn so i’ll work hard on updates! for now, keep reading to see a teaser for the next part! (´｡• 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 if you want to be tagged next time.

part two teaser

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.

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 the paper 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, mina? 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. she says this sounds pathetic and that i can't let her think this has 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 and i should not present myself as lacking. so true. she's very good at this! 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 this one. had to workshop bc she's alarmingly vulgar. plus, it sounds a little 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 told her i do want mina to feel guilty even if i'm not sure that i'm all that hurt. she 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 have ever met. i will say what y/n suggested: ↳ my bad, i forgot your commitment to being a heartless fucking asshole has you by your ugly ass neck and it's squeezing with both hands and i hope it kills you GET HELP! — more for catharsis. will not 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. 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!

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#svthub #joshua x reader #joshua x you #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fic #svt imagines #svt scenarios #svt fic #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #joshua x y/n #joshua hong #joshua hong x reader #seventeen smau #svt smau #{ �� } → joshujin fic

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hot-patootiee · 2 days ago

Text

Part 3

part 2 here. I’m writing these like right after my Calc BC exam and I have a killer headache but fuck it we ball. Aka Steve is not the only one to obtain brain damage because of an ex.

Don’t worry about the headache, I’m having a special gummy and chilling.

…

Eddie wakes up to an empty bed. He finds a note on the nightstand.

Had to go to work, see you later

-Steve

An idea forms in his head on what to do to help apologize. Steve’s constant complaints about the big empty house he lived in. How he wished Robin or Eddie could stay forever.

Eddie was still a little unsure. It would be quite an assumption to make. He would probably have to talk to Robin during her break and see if she would also be on board and if she thought it was a good idea.

But, he knew Steve would be ecstatic to have people he cared about close by. Eddie couldn’t help but remember the nights he was woken up from Steve calling to make sure he was alive.

It would suck moving away from Wayne, but Eddie figured that taking the relationship too serious would be better than not taking it serious enough.

Eddie decided that despite just waking up at this unholy hour (11 am), he would go see Robin and brief her on his plan.

When he got to family video, luckily, Steve was working in the back and Robin sat at the desk.

She perked up as soon as she saw him.

“Eddie I messed up.” Robin stumbles out with a groan.

Eddie waits for her to continue.

“I didn’t know that Steve thought you two were dating. He’s been talking about you for weeks and I never noticed.” Robin whines again, head dropping shamefully.

“I have just the thing.” And just like that Robin is up again.

“Really?” Robin exclaimed, jumping on her toes as she leaned against the counter. Eddie personally didn’t think Robin could show this much emotion, but with Steve’s stories, it doesn’t really surprise him.

“Do you think Steve would be on board with us living with him?”

“He’s been asking me to forever, it’s just my parents give me crap for moving in with a single man.” Robin replied plainly, hints of resentment lacing her voice.

“Well you’re 18 and therefore you make your own decisions. Do you want to move in with him?” Eddie probes and Robin smiles at him in return.

She nods hard, making her hair bounce with the stiff jerks of her head.

“I want to do something else too.” Eddie mutters.

Robin seems a little suspicious as she says “Good idea, but why?”

“This is kinda both a burden and a blessing. Steve’s been wanting it for a while, but it ultimately gives him more work to do.” Eddie points ponders slowly. He rolls over potential actions in his mind, seeing how smoothly they work before coming to a conclusion.

“Maybe just a nice night. Steve gets headaches and weed might help him relax. Or He’s been talking about hosting a game night forever, we could take care of everything and just let him relax.” Eddie shrugs, thinking through different dinner options and possibilities of what Steve would like.

“Ask Steve if there’s anything you can do to make his life easier. He’s selfless by nature so there’s probably something you’ve been doing that he doesn’t like.” Robin replies coolly. She then winces. “I should probably stop putting my feet on his dash.” She murmurs in a guilty tone.

“That’s a good idea.” Eddie nods.

“I gotta pack my shit, I’ll help you pack yours, you help with mine?” Robin inquires. The way she bats her eyes might’ve seemed flirty to anyone else, but it was evidently just effective manipulation. Because Eddie knew unless he was throwing all his shit out the window, she would immediately get bored and ditch him for a German dictionary.

News flash: she did.

…

Steve surprisingly did not get impatient as time trudged on. Eddie searched his face for any mark of displeasure, but failed to find any.

But, apparently Eddie just wasn’t the one seeing it. Something about Steve had changed a little bit, instead of backing down when challenged, he just dug his heels in. It reminded Eddie of the Steve in the upside down.

Allegedly Steve had been driving all the kids down to the new diner. Mike had been skeptical about Steve’s directions and had started loudly declaring that he had gone the wrong way.

“It’s not like you’re the intellectual authority on anything Steve.”

The breaks were hit so fast that all the boys jerked forward with the sudden stop.

According to Dustin Steve then yelled “WELL I AM THE AUTHORITY OF THIS GODDAMN CAR, GET OUT IF YOU HAVE AN ISSUE!”

Steve waited a few beats and when nobody moved, put down the parking break and the engine whined slightly as Steve shifted into first a little too violently and pulled out.

Mike was scared so badly that he just sat there petrified for the rest of the ride.

So, Steve was evidently frustrated.

Eddie went to visit Steve immediately after hearing what happened. When he found him, Steve was grumbling on his bed. Obviously still peeved about earlier, every few seconds he would reflexively rub his temples.

Steve nearly jumped out of his skin when he noticed Eddie.

Eddie didn’t say anything, he just pulled out a joint and handed it to Steve, who took it apprehensively.

“It helps with headaches.” Eddie weakly justifies, but it seems to be enough to convince Steve, who then leans forward and sticks his hand in Eddie’s pocket and extracts a lighter.

He lights the joint with little fanfare, like he was just having his third daily cigarette. He breathes it in easily before expelling the smoke through his pursed lips.

“This is a little different.” Steve comments, slightly more relaxed at the promise of a high that the joint brought.

“I swapped seeds with Argyle, I had sativa, he had indica. What you’re smoking, just indica, apparently argyle is trying to get the hybrid strain.” Eddie says in a blasé tone as he climbs into Steve’s bed.

“What’s the difference?” Steve asked before taking another hit, longer this time.

“It’s supposed to relax you more. Less high, but more relaxing.” Eddie loosely explains.

Steve hogs the joint a little, but Eddie honestly thinks he deserves it. When Steve finally plops his head on Eddie’s lap, he gets an idea.

Eddie sinks his fingers into Steve’s hair and slowly begins to massage his head. Steve immediately melted into it, muscles straining occasionally when Eddie dragged his fingers especially hard at a tender spot.

Conversation became less frequent as Eddie pushed his fingers into Steve’s jaw and massaged the tense muscles there. Steve made the occasional noise, a grunt or a strange trill that he seemed to find incredibly funny.

The tension and brewing migraine seemed to have completely melted off Steve, leaving him tired and happy. He giggled through half lidded eyes and smiled impossibly wide when Eddie left and came back with reheated leftover pizza from Steve’s fridge.

Eddie struggled not to focus on Steve’s face, his gaze traced Steve’s wide smile and the sparkle in his dark eyes.

“Kis’me” the words came from Steve with a slight lisp. An unwavering smile still plastered on his face.

Eddie obliged because honestly how could he not?

The movement caused Eddie’s face to feel like firecrackers were going off on his skin. The tingling sensation danced across his skin, warmth blooming from where Steve and him met.

Eddie couldn’t focus, incredibly overwhelmed by the assault on his senses of different textures and pressures. The plushness of Steve’s lips contrasted with the lean muscle Eddie’s fingers dug into.

Eddie pulled away when his lungs went tingly from lack of air. He giggled as Steve and him stayed close, puffing out breaths of air right next to eachother.

“Wish you could stay all the t’me.” Steve yawned out, stretching his back slightly like a cat and dipping further into Eddie’s personal space.

“I can.” Eddie replies firmly.

“Really?” Steve is smiling again, so wide that Eddie was worried it might hurt from pulling his lips.

“How’d you like that? I move in with you, maybe Robin too.”

Steve trills, making soft stringy vocalizations at Eddie’s proposal. Steve nearly seems to glow at the proposition.

“Youu move ‘n tomorrow?” Steve’s muscles jump erratically in excitement, his knees tapping and jerking like he can’t control it.

“If you still want me to in the morning.” Eddie whispered, stroking Steve’s hair.

…

When morning came, Eddie woke gently, the after effects of the high still cradling him and making him relaxed.

Unfortunately it didn’t last long as he heard a shrill whistle and the telltale thump of something falling and Robin’s witchlike giggles. Eddie reluctantly pulled himself out of bed and found the hallway scattered with boxes. He turned the corner and Will and El were both there, but not to make things easier. El had a little whistle she was happily blowing whenever someone passed her. Will seemed conflicted on whether he found it funny or entirely too disrespectful for him to take part in.

Unfortunately, the first time El did this, it scared Robin so badly that she nearly threw a box of her own clothes down the stairs.

And there Robin was, clothes halfway out of the box and engulfing her upper body. Steve was laughing his socks off which promptly led to a fistful of clothes being thrown in his face.

Eddie quickly decided he wanted nothing to do with this and quietly made his way back to Steve’s room.

Best to act like he didn’t know them for a few more hours.

…

When Eddie finally arose at a normal time (11:30am) he found Robin setting up the room across from Steve with her stuff.

“Heya birdie.”

Robin glared at him.

“I talked it over with Steve, he’s apparently thrilled enough to forgive me only after I cook gnocchi.”

Eddie makes a half confused noise.

“Potato pasta.” Robin paused. “And you’re helping.” Robin asserts, making Eddie grumble.

Eddie leaves without seeing Steve, opting to also grab his shit to move to Steve’s house. Luckily, he and Robin had already boxed up a majority of the room.

It was probably a good thing he’s moving, Wayne’s back couldn’t take the couch springs much longer.

He packed his boxes into the van, the summer sun making his sweat so much he was forced to change into one of his sleeveless tops.

When he arrived back at Steve’s the kitchen had been fully commandeered by Robin who was peeling steaming potatoes with her fingers. Eddie didn’t get more of a glance as he began moving his stuff upstairs, abandoning it in the hallway because he was a little unsure what room Steve would want him in.

During one of his trips back down to his van, Steve finally appeared. He was sitting next to the counter and stealing potato bits from Robin as she worked. He looked at home in his own house for the first time in a while. His eyes traced Robin carefully as she worked as if she’d disappear. When Steve noticed Eddie, his eyes immediately flicked over to him.

“Which room should I move my stuff in?” Eddie asked with false casualness.

“Mine.”

Steve made no move to help, which was honestly something Eddie fully expected. Instead Steve bounced his feet on the floor with a smile and stuffed another crumbling bit of potato into his mouth. Eddie had apparently failed to realize the two little gremlins sitting in Steve’s shadow. Will and Eleven similarly shoving potato bits into their mouths.

Eddie couldn’t help but smile at Steve’s happiness.

…

Later that night, with boxes still artfully scattered around the second floor, a train of children entered the house. Each carried either a food item to contribute or a housewarming present.

Max grumbled as she handed Steve the Apple pie that had evidently been made by the Sinclairs, judging by the streak of flower on the back of Lucas’s shirt.

Eddie was setting up ‘a game of things’ which he knew from experience would always wonderfully devolve into Regan jokes and idiocy.

Steve got to sit and relax as Eddie and Robin hosted the party, letting him play with the kids and receive their guilty apologies. Since they were still kids, Steve forgave them. Heck, he was way more self absorbed and dickish at their age.

When Eddie finished, he dropped behind Steve, putting his hands on Steve’s shoulders and beginning to rub into the tense muscles. Steve twitched occasionally when Eddie hit a knot, but otherwise seemed pretty content.

“Your metal music gives me headaches.” Steve says suddenly. “You play it too loud and it hurts.”

“Then I’ll turn down the music. You’ll never get a headache from it again.” Eddie affirms.

Steve just hums.

“I forgive you.”

Steve paused for a moment.

“But that doesn’t mean you can stop massaging me.” Steve snapped, head lolling back until it met Eddie’s arms.

AN: have a head massage while high, it’s the best thing ever.

Also, I just don’t understand grand gestures of love, they never made me feel good. Like thanks for the stuffed animal and candies, kinda doesn’t make up for you being a dick about my dead dog. How about you instead like make something that takes time and actually shows you give a shit or go out of your way to give me a good night. I don’t understand the fall in love fast thing a lot of people do. I cultivate my love by the light of the hearth, not the light of a firecracker.

Ps. If you want me to do a follow up where Nancy and him talk. Just let me know. It’s just I didn’t really see her as central part of this story. Thought it would be better to highlight the kids, Robin, and Eddie.

Tags @stripey82 @genderfluidbitch @mensch-anthropos-human @c4tharsys @scoops-aboy86 @breealtair @raleighrox @wannabe-edgy-grandpa @flustratedcas @shoujo-wizard @polysdoitforscience @exasperatedsighohmy @piemaker93 @tinyplanet95 @skepticalqueen @sharingisntkaren @scarletyeager @crypticcrytid @midnightskeeper @wheneverfeasible @ancientwormcivilization @fucjinf-whatever-dude @estrellami-1 @queenofshenanigans @grilledcheesehasfeelings <- get out of my walls

@ellietheasexylibrarian @live-laugh-love-dietrich @turinspeachjam @me-ig7 @revevivant @motherofpirates @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @samsoble @legalmenace87 @thehanwen @bigspongey @thedragonsaunt @newagemyth @pentapoctopus @my-hyperfixations-hell-blog @bumbledoubletea @blackbirdflyflyfly @what-if-a-dragon @reddiandbyler4life @i-think-i-thunk @gregre369 @fiddledeedee85 @ladykailitha

You know the drill, rest of the tags in the comments.

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lady-pug · 1 day ago

Text

Lipstick Stamps

Summary: Bob doesn’t seem to think himself deserving of good things, such as a relationship, and you make it your personal mission to prove him wrong, one kiss at a time

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Reynolds x Reader

Word count: 3,4k

Warnings: self-esteem issues and feelings of unworthiness (on Bob's part); spoilers about the ending of Thunderbolts*

Notes: Hey people! I’m back, and this time writing for a new fandom! I’ve been an avid Marvel fan since I was a kid actually I’ve just never gotten around to writing for it before. BUT I watched Thunderbolts* and I, while I thought it would feed into my crush on Bucky and Yelena, I actually ended up falling in love with Bob. I think he deserves all the love in the world and decided to take matters into my own hands. I intend to write more for Bob and also for Bucky (I have a few ideas already) and maybe Yelena.

Thanks @fruityvampslayer for the prompt (also, requests are open, you can send requests and prompts anytime, it is greatly appreciated)!

I really hope you, dear reader, enjoy this and have fun while reading it. If you spot any mistakes, please feel free to warn me and I'll correct it right away, and feedback is always welcome and appreciated. I hope you truly enjoy this story.

There are no physical descriptions of the reader other than wearing makeup, and it can be read as any gender. Also, when describing the formal attire I tried to keep descriptions to a minimum so you can imagine what the reader is wearing.

Masterlist | Read on AO3

Bob had no idea how he ended up in this situation. He didn’t know what he did to even deserve to be in this situation at all.

No, actually, that was a lie. He knew exactly how he ended up in this situation.

The day at the Watchtower had started out like any other: breakfast early in the morning with you and Alexei, the older man having a hard time keeping his voice at an ‘indoors’ level, as usual. Then a run around the block with Bucky even though Bob hated running as the supersoldier insisted he needed to stay active and in shape. After training with Bucky and Ava, followed by lunch with the whole team prepared by you and Alexei, Bob took a couple of hours to himself, reading a book you had recommended in his room.

During the first few months living in the tower he would often isolate himself in his new room, away from everyone. It was safe, it was known to him. But then, little by little, he started opening up, first to you and Yelena, then to the rest of the team. Now, where first he would lock himself up in his room, he would make an effort to spend more time with each of his teammates, his friends. He would still retire to his room throughout the day, he did enjoy his alone time after all, but instead of locking his door and half dreading, half hoping someone would come looking for him, he would now leave his door slightly ajar, inviting anyone in should they search for him. Most of the time he hoped it would be you.

But then, just as he was about to start preparing everything for his biweekly afternoon tea with you, Yelena and, surprisingly, John, Valentina had come in a rush, her heels clicking against the floor as she gave instructions to Mel about dresses and ties, and called for an emergency meeting.

“What is this all about?” Yelena asked, her arms crossed and annoyance written all over her face.

“Well, the New Avengers have a gala with the investors tonight.” Valentina shrugged, all while Mel still typed away on her phone.

Everyone but Alexei groaned, while Bob fiddled his thumbs nervously.

“Again?” Bucky asked, exasperated.

“What, do you have something better to do on a Tuesday night?” Valentina mocked.

“As a matter of fact, yes.” you answered curtly “It’s movie night.”

Movie night. It started out in the first weeks of everyone living in the Watchtower. You had asked Bob if he wanted to watch a movie with you. Your explanation had been that it was this new horror movie that had just been released, and that you were normally too much of a scaredy-cat to watch it on your own. You were so full of shit and Bob could see right through it, he knew it was just an excuse to get him to join you. And yet he did it anyway. He had been right, as you ended up watching ‘The Lion King 2’ instead of whatever horror flick you had been planning (that is if you hadn’t lied about that as well). The following week you had invited him again, and the next, and on the week after that Yelena asked if she could join. Then Alexei. After a while it became a tradition between the whole team to watch a movie while eating pizza on Tuesday nights.

“Oh, how cute.” Valentina mocked before turning serious once more “It’s non negotiable.”

Everyone started grumbling once more before she cut it off.

“Who do you think pays for all of this?” she gestured around “The maintenance of this place? The equipment you use on your missions? It certainly doesn’t all come from government grants, right Congressmen Barnes?”

Bucky, although still annoyed, looked away sheepishly, as Alexei tried hyping everyone up.

“Come on, it will be fun night!” he practically shouted, much to Yelena’s dismay.

At the end of the day they couldn’t argue with Valentina, especially not after Mel casually mentioned it was an open bar and had free food.

Bob was a little bummed at the change of plans but resigned himself to watching ‘Revenge Of The Sith' alone. Just as he was about to leave the briefing room, his head hung, he felt something tugging on his sleeve.

“Where do you think you’re going?” you asked, the corner of your lips turning up in a small smirk.

“I-I mean, you guys have to go get ready and all.” he shrugged “I don’t want to get in the way.”

Your smile softened, your fingers trailing down his arm and wrapping around his own.

“You never get in the way, Bob.”

His own lips betrayed him, for he smiled bashfully at you, looking at the floor.

“Why don’t you come with us tonight?” you asked, hopefully. At least Bob hoped you sounded hopeful. God, he was so pathetic.

“I don’t-” he cleared his throat “I mean, I don’t know.”

He knew he wasn’t like the rest of you. He wasn’t a supersoldier, like Bucky, Alexei and John, or could phase through walls like you and Ava. Hells, he could barely throw a punch like Yelena, and he couldn’t even use his powers without risking wiping out half the city. Not until he could get him under control.

“Come on, you heard Alexei, it will be fun!” you playfully elbowed him on the ribs “Besides you’d be saving me from a huge headache. Do you think I want to spend yet another evening rubbing elbows with a bunch of rich old men? Let the Congressmen do the talking this time.”

He tried, he really tried. It wasn’t really his scene anway. But he couldn’t say no to you. Not when you batted your eyelashes at him like that, soft yet cheeky grin on your lips, one hip cocked to the side oh so prettily-

Okay, he quickly shut down that line of thought before he said anything stupid.

But the way your face lit up when he eventually agreed was worth the few hours of him being stuffed in the uncomfortable suit you had requested Mel find for him last minute.

By the time he was ready to go he was feeling kind of anxious, waiting, hoping for you to show up, second guessing your invitation all together. But when you did show up…

You looked… breathtaking was the only word he could use to describe you. Your hair looked fancily put together, and your elegant outfit was so form fitting he had to stop himself from downright ogling at you. And the way that red lipstick suited you, he couldn’t keep his eyes off your mouth. Not in a creepy way, of course. He hoped.

“Don’t you clean up nicely!” you mentioned as you stopped in front of him, fixing up his crooked tie.

He smiled. You always made him feel so safe, so normal.

“You’re one to talk.” he tried joking back to you, but to his own ears he sounded so lame. But it worked, at least to some degree, for you averted your gaze, a small bashful smile spreading across your face.

“So, are you ready to go?” you asked after a moment.

“Yeah.” he nodded, but it was a lie. He was anything but ready. He was so nervous.

And yet… he actually found himself having fun! You stuck by his side the whole night, even after he said you didn’t have to refrain from having a good time for his sake.

“Has it ever occurred to you, Bob, sweetheart,” you smiled, gently “that I actually like spending time with you?”

He couldn’t help the way his cheeks flushed at your words, his heart beating so fast in his chest. He didn’t dare question you again.

At one point in the night, though, some soft, slow music started playing on the speakers and it was like all attendees and their plus ones started flocking to the dancefloor.

After a few beats of you both staring at the people dancing he glanced at you, trying to appear nonchalant.

“Don’t you wanna go dance with someone?” he asked, and for a moment he could swear your face lit up in a hopeful expression before you quickly schooled it back to your neutral look.

“Nah, I’m good. I have two left feet, if you know what I mean.” you chuckled, and he laughed along with you.

He glanced longingly at the dancefloor, all of them couples having fun together.

“What’s on your mind?” he startled, not expecting to find you staring at him still.

“How nice it must be.” he mumbled after a beat “To have someone.”

It was your turn to stare at all the people before turning back to him.

“Yeah, I guess so.” you smiled softly at him, but it felt… off. There was a downturn to your lip that almost resembled a frown “You’ll find someone one day, Bob, I’m sure you will.”

He shook his head, a sad smile growing on his face.

“I’m not sure that’s on the cards for me.”

Your face fell in confusion.

“What do you mean?” you asked, almost as if you were personally insulted by this.

“I mean, I don’t think I deserve something like that, you know. Not after everything.” he sighed, shoulders dropping “And besides who could possibly want someone like-”

He could see the exact moment your face hardened as you took a step towards him, cutting him off mid sentence.

“Someone like what?” you asked, voice low and, dare he say, menacing.

Now he was afraid to say it. You looked mad, and the last thing he had wanted was to upset you. But in Bob’s eyes it was true. He was a loser, he couldn’t even help the team properly as of yet, and he had almost killed everyone including you. He couldn’t possibly fathom how anyone, much less someone as cool and kind and badass like you, could be into him.

“Someone like, you know, me.” he confessed.

And that’s how he ended up here.

Your back had straightened, face cold and unreadable as you reached for his hand and yanked him after you. He started mumbling apology after apology, stuttering profusely as he tried to make sense of where you were going.

As it turned out you pulled him away from the dancefloor and out of the building completely, ditching the rest of the team as you quickly hauled a cab.

“Get in.” you said, a sudden yet gentle tug for him to get in the backseat after you.

Your hand didn’t let go of his hand until you were both out of the car and inside the Watchtower. You dragged him all the way to the residential level, only letting go so you could make a quick stop in your room to grab something he couldn’t quite figure out before you were leading him to his own room. He had half a mind to push the door closed behind him once you both entered, still uneasy about having made you angry even though he didn’t quite know what he did wrong.

“I-I’m so sorry, I-”

You didn’t let him finish, swiftly heading to his bathroom with a short “make yourself comfortable” thrown over your shoulder.

His mind was reeling. What had just happened? He pondered over the events of the evening, trying to sort them out in his head as he toed off his loafers. One moment you two were fine, joking around with one another and then…

He ruined everything, a nagging voice spoke from deep within his mind as he removed his blazer and carefully folded it. He made you angry, forcing you to abandon the gala and bring him to the tower, now you were going to leave him here, and go back there and finally have the fun night you had been promised and…

Just as he was just loosening his tie and popping the collar button open you stormed back in, and before he could get even a word out you lightly shoved him backwards by the shoulders.

“Listen here, Bob.” your voice was low, raspy even. While your makeup was still untouched you had changed into an oversized, comfy looking band tee, and had he not been mortified over having put his foot in his mouth he wouldn’t be able to tear his eyes away from you now exposed thighs “I won’t stand by and listen to you talk like that about yourself. I won’t accept it, I won’t allow it.”

Your last words were punctuated by a firm shove, making the back of his knees hit the mattress. He tripped over his own feet, falling on his butt on the bed.

“B-But it’s true.”

A sigh of disappointment left your lips and he wanted to look away, hide in his own shame, but before he could even react you were climbing onto his lap, both legs extended on each side of his torso and hands placed carefully on his shoulders.

“No it isn’t, Bob.” both your face and your tone softened, your hands travelling up to cup his cheeks gently yet firmly, forcing him to keep his eyes on you “I just wish you could see yourself the way I see you, love.”

Somewhere along the way his heart had practically stopped beating altogether. He didn’t know if it was your words or the position you found yourselves in but something made his breath hitch in his chest. Had you not been looking at him so reverently, like he hung all the stars in the sky, he was positive you’d have laughed at him, both his hands up like he was being held at gunpoint, not knowing where to place them, and a deep blush dusting his cheeks.

“Anyone would be lucky to have you.” you smiled softly then, and he felt a shiver run down his spine.

He smiled back at you, but it didn’t match your own. No, his smile was sad, almost like he was pitying you.

“I don’t know if that’s true.” he whispered, not only to you but to himself.

Your eyes shifted, determination shining in them, but it wasn’t hard like before, it was warm and resolute. Then, without looking away from him, you slowly touched your forehead against his.

“I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to convince you otherwise, if you let me.” you spoke softly, your breath fanning against his lips “Tell me to stop, tell me you don’t want this and I’ll walk out that door and we can pretend this never happened.”

His entire body was trembling with restraint.

“I don’t deserve it.” he rasped out, scared “I don’t deserve you.”

Once his words registered in your mind you couldn’t hold back any longer, pulling his face towards you. But where he thought your lips would settle over his own, he felt you place a delicate kiss on his right cheek.

“That’s not true, love.” you whispered against his skin.

He wanted to. God, did he want to. But he shook his head, feeling a knot in his throat.

“I don’t know how.” he whimpered.

Ever so slowly you moved to his other cheek, placing yet another warm kiss on his skin.

“Neither do I, to be honest. We’ll learn together.”

His hands settled on your waist then, some of the resistance leaving him. You took this as a sign to keep going and, with a soft pull on his jaw, bowed his head so you could place a peck on his forehead, and another one on the tip of his nose.

“Let me show you how much you mean to me.”

Something in him snapped. Tears brimmed in his eyes as he searched your own, for what he wasn’t sure. A sign that you were lying? You wouldn’t. Reassurance? Perhaps. But he just knew that whatever it is you were offering him, you meant it.

“Please.” he whispered in a broken whine.

All you needed was a single word to unleash all you had been holding back, tightening your hold on his face and moving his head to your liking. Your lips were everywhere, on his cheeks, his forehead, his nose, his chin, his neck, his ears, his temple, his jaw, even his own lips. Anywhere you could reach, gone were the featherlight kisses from before, replaced with fierce yet gentle ones, with enough pressure to leave his skin tingling. It was like you were trying to kiss every bad thought and insecurity out of his system. He knew that you knew it didn’t work like that, but damn if you weren’t going to try.

He felt like he was melting, right then and there on his own bed, his head airy and light and, for once in his life, quiet. His limbs felt heavy, his grip tightening ever so slightly on your waist, hands slipping down to your hips.

Your words weren’t helping his case either. After every caress of your lips on his skin you’d say something that left his heart soaring.

“You are so strong, love. So brave.” he didn’t believe that most days, but the way you said it made him just the tiniest bit inclined to agree.

“You’re such a handsome man. A pretty, pretty boy.” he knew he didn’t hold a candle to the likes of Bucky, but if you were saying it there must be some truth behind it, right?

“So warm. And solid and real. You’re real, Bob.” he didn’t quite know what to make of that but coming from you it must be a compliment.

He didn’t want it to end. Perhaps the world, his world, could be summed up to this moment, right here. He never wanted to leave his room if it meant having you, like this, being in your hold and under your spell forever. Now that he finally had this he didn’t want to let it go. But, he guessed, all good things must come to an end.

“So this is where you kids ran off to!” Alexei’s booming voice sounded from the corridor, startling Bob and making you sigh in annoyance.

The door. In his haste earlier Bob had completely forgotten to close his bedroom door. And now, all the other Thunderbolts were standing in the doorway looking several different degrees of smug.

“Come on guys, let’s leave the lovebirds alone.” Yelena ushered them, not before throwing a wink at Bob, much to his embarrassment.

Just as the last of them disappeared down the hallway and Bob’s shoulders finally relaxed, Walker backtracked and poked his head back on the doorway.

“Oh, by the way, you have something on your face, Bob.” he said, making a circular motion all over his face “Right around here.”

“What?!” Bob squeaked, practically throwing you on the bed as he rushed to the bathroom. There, in the mirror, was his own reflection staring back at him, his entire face and neck covered in red lipstick marks, all in the exact shape of your lips.

“Oh, come on!” he saw you in the mirror running to the door of his bedroom and peering out into the hallway before shouting “Yelena! You promised me this one was transfer proof!”

Bob should be mortified. Don’t get me wrong, he definitely was. But he was also… happy. Overjoyed, in fact. So much so he started giggling in front of the mirror, both from your antics and from his appearance. His giggles turned into hearty chuckles and then into full blown laughter, his whole body shaking from the force of it. You came to check up on him, a small embarrassed smile of your own stretching across your lips, which he noticed were still painted in a now smudged shade of red.

“What’s so funny, huh, mister?” you asked playfully, to which he couldn’t resist holding your chin in his fingers, his thumb rubbing a smear of lipstick from the corner of your mouth and placing a kiss of his own on your lips.

“Thank you.” he breathed it once he pulled away.

You shrugged, holding onto his wrist to keep him from pulling away entirely.

“You deserve it, Bob.”

It was still hard to hear. It made something itch inside him, like it was bubbling to come out and deny it, destroying this little bit of happiness he had forged for himself. He knew it would take a while, a long while, until he actually believed it, and that there would be days when it would be harder to believe you than others, but maybe, just maybe, this could be a start.

“Yeah.” he grinned, feeling like he probably looked like a lovesick puppy “Maybe I do.”

#bob reynolds x reader #robert reynolds x reader #robert bob reynolds x reader #bob reynolds x you #bob reynolds #robert reynolds x you #robert bob reynolds #thunderbolts #thunderbolts fanfic #thunderbolts fic #bob reynolds fic #bob reynolds fanfic

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singhallelujahh · 2 days ago

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This is super fascinating and, after reading through the study and the first part of Bleak House, I have a couple thoughts.

First, it sounds to me like the problematic readers were embarrassed when they couldn’t understand the text (which like fair lol). I wouldn’t be surprised if—like many a “gifted” kid who only started encountering challenges later in their schooling—they have internalized shame over not immediately getting something and therefore rarely ask for help when they’re struggling. Makes even more sense then that they’re relying on things like Sparknotes, where you can sorta get help without having to admit to anyone that you need it.

This is definitely a universal problem across subjects, not just confined to reading. As a physicist, I seriously struggled my first couple years of grad school because it was the first time classes were actually hard for me and I barely knew how to identify what I didn’t understand, let alone how to communicate that to a professor. Honestly, knowing how and when to ask for help is probably one of the most important skills I’ve learned (honestly still learning tbh) in grad school. Idk how to best teach those sorts of skills to a student before they’re actively struggling in a subject, but uh maybe we should look into that?

My second thought is that actually using the available resources to properly understand a challenging text (sentence by sentence) is a time consuming activity and I don’t think our current education system is particularly great at encouraging students to take the time they need to actually understand the things. Thinking back to some of my high school English classes, I often felt like I just wasn’t able to give books the time they actually deserved and so I ended up engaging in problematic reading behaviors like skimming and using Sparknotes and only focusing on main ideas. But when I started reading classic novels for fun (and took as much time as I wanted to read them), not only did I enjoy and understand them better, but I also found myself appreciating “small-scale” writing techniques more. I wonder if focusing on the quality of reading in English classes would be better than just maximizing the number of books covered in a year.

i appreciated this study: "They Can't Read Very Well: A Study of the Reading Comprehension Skills Of English Majors At Two Midwestern Universities"

essentially, a pair of professors set out to test their intuitive sense that students at the college level were struggling with complex text. they recruited 85 students, a mix of english majors and english education majors - so, theoretically, people focusing on literature, and people preparing to teach adolescents how to read literature - and had them read-while-summarizing the first seven paragraphs of dickens's bleak house (or as much as they made it through in the 20 minute session). they provided dictionaries and also said students could use their phones to look up whatever they wanted, including any unfamiliar words or references. they found that the majority of the students - 58%, or 49 out of the 85 students - functionally could not understand dickens at all, and only 5% - a mere 4 out of the 85 students - proved themselves proficient readers (leaving the remaining 38%, or 32 students, as what the study authors deemed "competent" students, most of whom could understand about half the literal meaning - pretty low bar for competence - although a few of whom, they note, did much better than the rest in this group if not quite well enough to be considered proficient).

what i really appreciated about this study was its qualitative descriptions of the challenges and reading behaviors of what the authors call "problematic readers" (that bottom 58%), which resonated strongly with my own experiences of students who struggle with reading. here's their blunt big picture overview of these 49 students:

The majority of these subjects could understand very little of Bleak House and did not have effective reading tactics. All had so much trouble comprehending concrete detail in consecutive clauses and phrases that they could not link the meaning of one sentence to the next. Although it was clear that these subjects did try to use various tactics while they read the passage, they were not able to use those tactics successfully. For example, 43 percent of the problematic readers tried to look up words they did not understand, but only five percent were able to look up the meaning of a word and place it back correctly into a sentence. The subjects frequently looked up a word they did not know, realized that they did not understand the sentence the word had come from, and skipped translating the sentence altogether.

the idea that they had so many trouble with every small piece of a text that they could not connect ideas on a sentence by sentence basis is very familiar to me from teaching and tutoring, as was the habit of thought seen in the example of the student who gloms on to the word "whiskers" in a sea of confusion and guesses incorrectly that a cat is present - struggling readers, in my experience, seem to use familiar nouns as stepping stones in a flood of overwhelm, hopping as best they can from one seemingly familiar image to the next. so was this observation, building off the example of a student who misses the fact that dickens is being figurative when he imagines a megalodon stalking the streets of london:

She first guesses that the dinosaur is just “bones” and then is stuck stating that the bones are “waddling, um, all up the hill” because she can see that Dickens has the dinosaur moving. Because she cannot logically tie the ideas together, she just leaves her interpretation as is and goes on to the next sentence. Like this subject, most of the problematic readers were not concerned if their literal translations of Bleak House were not coherent, so obvious logical errors never seemed to affect them. In fact, none of the readers in this category ever questioned their own interpretations of figures of speech, no matter how irrational the results. Worse, their inability to understand figurative language was constant, even though most of the subjects had spent at least two years in literature classes that discussed figures of speech. Some could correctly identify a figure of speech, and even explain its use in a sentence, but correct responses were inconsistent and haphazard. None of the problematic readers showed any evidence that they could read recursively or fix previous errors in comprehension. They would stick to their reading tactics even if they were unhappy with the results.

i have seen this repeatedly, too - actually i was particularly taken with how similar this is to the behavior of struggling readers at much younger ages - and would summarize the hypothesis i have forged over time as: struggling readers do not expect what they read to make sense. my hypothesis for why this is the case is that their reading deficits were not attended to or remediated adequately early enough, and so, in their formative years - the early to mid elementary grades - they spent a lot of time "reading" things that did not make sense to them - in fact they spent much more time doing this than they ever did reading things that did make sense to them - and so they did not internalize a meaningful subjective sense of what it feels like to actually read things.

like, i've said this before, but the year i taught third grade i had multiple students who told me they loved reading and then when i asked them about a book they were reading revealed that they had absolutely no idea what was going on - on a really basic literal level like "didn't know who said which lines of dialogue" and "couldn't identify which things or characters given pronouns referred to" - and were as best as i could tell sort of constructing their own story along the way using these little bits of things they thought they understood. that's what "reading" was, in their heads. and they were, in the curriculum/model that we used at the private school where i taught, receiving basically no support to clarify that that was not what reading was, nor any instruction that would actually help them with what they needed to do to improve (understand sentences) - and i realized over the course of that year that the master's program that had certified me in teaching elementary school had provided me with very little understanding of how to help these kids (with perhaps the sole exception of the class i took on communications disorders, not because these kids had communications disorders but because that was the only class where we ever talked, even briefly, about things like sentence structures that students may need instruction in and practice with to comprehend independently). when it comes to the literal, basic understanding of a text, the model of reading pedagogy i was taught has about 6 million little "tools" that all boil down to telling kids who functionally can't read to try harder to read. this is not productive, in my experience and opinion, for kids whose maximum effort persistently yields confusion. but things are so dysfunctional all the way up and down the ladder that you can be a senior in college majoring in english without anyone but a pair of professors with a strong work ethic noticing that you can't actually read.

couple other notes:

obviously it's a small study but i'm not sure i see a reason to believe these are particularly outlierish results (ACT scores - an imperfect metric but not a meritless one IMO for reading specifically, where the task mostly really is to read a set of texts written for the educated layperson and answer factual questions about them - were a little bit above the national average)

the study was published last year, but the research was conducted january to april 2015. so there's no pandemic influence, no AI issue - these are millennials who now would span roughly ages 28-32 (i guess it's possible one of the four first-year students was one of the very first members of gen z lol). if you're in your late 20s or early 30s, we are talking about people your age, and whatever the culprit is here, it was happening when you were in school.

i think some people might want to blame this on NCLB but i find this unconvincing for a variety of reasons. first of all, NCLB did not pass because everyone in 2001 agreed that education was super hunky-dory; in fact, the sold a story podcast outlines how an explicit goal of NCLB was to train teachers in systematic phonics instruction, because that was not the norm when NCLB was passed, and an unfortunate outcome was that phonics became politicized in ed world. second, anyone who understands anything about reading should need about ten minutes max to spend some time on standardized test prep and recognize that if your goal is truly to maximize scores... then the vast majority of your instructional time should be spent on improving actual reading skills because you actually can't meaningfully game these tests by "practicing main idea questions" (timothy shanahan addresses this briefly near the top of this post). so i find it very difficult to believe that any school that pivoted to multiple choice drill time in an attempt to boost reading scores was teaching reading effectively pre-NCLB, because no set of competent literacy professionals would think that would work even for the goal of raising test scores. third, NCLB mandated yearly testing in grades 3-8 but only one test year in high school; kansas set its reading and math test year in high school as tenth grade. so theoretically these kids all had two years of sweet sweet freedom from NCLB in which their teachers could have done whatever the fuck they wanted to teach these kids to actually read. the fact that they didn't suggests perhaps there were other problems afoot. fourth, and maybe most saliently for this particular study, the sample text was the first seven paragraphs of a novel - in other words, the exact kind of short incomplete text that NCLB allegedly demanded excessive time spent on. i'm not really sure what universe it makes sense in that students who can't read the first seven paragraphs of a novel would have become much better reader if everything else had been the same but they had been making completely wack associations based on nonsense guesses for all 300 pages instead. (if you read the study it's really clear that for problematic readers, things go off the rails immediately, in a way that a good program targeted at teaching mastery of text of 500 words or less would have done something about.)

all but 3 of the students reported A's and B's in their english classes and, again, 69% of them are juniors and seniors, so like... i mean idk kudos to these professors for being like "hold up can these kids actually read?" but clearly something is wack at the college level too [in 2015] if you can make your way through nearly an entire english major without being able to read the first seven paragraphs of a dickens novel. (once again i really do encourage you to look at the qualitative samples in the study, lest you think i am being uncharitable by summarizing understandable misunderstandings or areas of confusion that may resolve themselves with further exposure to the text as "can't read.") not to mention the fact that most students could not what they had learned in previous or current english classes and when asked to name british and american authors and/or works of the nineteenth century, roughly half the sample at each college could name at most one.

the authors of the study are struck by the fact that students who cannot parse the first 3 sentences of bleak house feel very confident about their ability to read the entire novel, and discover that this seeming disconnect is resolved by the fact that these students seem to conceptualize "reading" as "skimming and then reading sparknotes." i think it's really tempting to Kids These Days this phenomenon (although again these are people who in some cases have now been in the workforce for a decade) and categorize it as laziness or a lack of effort, but i think that there is, as i described above, a real and sincere confusion over what "reading" is in which this makes a certain logical sense because it's not like they have some store of actual reading experiences to compare it to. i also think it's pretty obvious looking at just how wildly severed from actual textual comprehension their readings are that these are not - or at least not entirely - students who could just work harder and master the entirety of bleak house all on their own. like i don't think you get from "charles dickens is describing a bunch of dinosaur bones actually walking the streets of london" to comfortably reading nineteenth century literature by just trying harder. i really just don't (and i say that acknowledging i personally have had students who like... were good readers if i was forcing them to work at it constantly... but i have also had students, including ones getting ready to enter college, who were clearly giving me everything they had and what they had was at the present moment insufficient). i think that speaks to a missing skillset that they don't know are missing, because they don't have any other experience of "reading" to compare it to.

just wanna highlight again that although they don't give the breakdown some of these students are not just english majors but english education majors a.k.a. the high school english teachers of tomorrow. some of them may be teaching high school english right now, in case anyone wishes to consider whether "maybe some high school english teachers can't read the first seven paragraphs of bleak house?" should be kept in mind when we discuss present-day educational ills.

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deakyjoe · 22 hours ago

Text

Crave

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Category: angst with a happy ending, friends to lovers, idiots in love

Summary: An unknown problem causes tension between you and Bucky. He’s desperate to know what.

Warnings: Thunderbolts* spoilers, angst, but a happy ending, past parental death, the winter soldier committed atrocities, Bucky did nothing wrong, allusions to past smut, kissing, idiots in love, nickname "doll"

Word count: 2.8k

A/N: Throwback to the Bucky Barnes fics I was writing on Wattpad when I was 14.

You hadn't looked Bucky in the eye for four days, six hours, twenty three minutes and fifty six seconds.

And it was starting to frustrate him.

Bucky was short on people he trusted, even shorter on people he considered friends. And now, with Steve gone and a rift between him and Sam, you were pretty much all he had left. He couldn't bare the thought of losing you, and something was clearly bothering you. Just what, he didn't know. So it was his mission to find out.

Cornering you in the kitchen was a bad idea. He realised that as soon as he did it.

The apartment you and Bucky had shared for the past couple of years had been a genius idea at first. You'd both been outcasts, understood each other to a certain degree, and enjoyed your solitude. The apartment stayed quiet the majority of the time, the both of you finding comfort in no company other than your own. You'd pass each other briefly sometimes, but would rarely linger. An occasional conversation would happen, but nothing too serious.

It was prime for what you both needed.

Until Bucky noticed that you were avoiding him. You were still talking to him when necessary but ever since the whole thing had happened with Val and Bob and the rest of the New Avengers, as they were now being referred to, you hadn't looked him in the eyes.

Trying to get you to hang around to tell him what was wrong was more difficult than he'd anticipated. He should've known, the apartment was home to two of the best trained assassins in the world. Evading him was easy when you would simply dip under his arm and slip out of the room whenever he walked in.

So, he cornered you in the kitchen.

You were in the middle of cooking dinner for yourself, head down as you hummed along to whatever was playing on the radio. Peaceful. You looked peaceful, Bucky noted. That changed as soon as you sensed his presence.

You tensed but didn't leave the room, just continued chopping vegetables. "Hey, do you want me to cook you something?"

One of the many things Bucky appreciated about you was your ability to try to pretend like everything was okay. Something was clearly wrong and yet you were still offering to make him dinner. It was almost admirable.

He stood firmly in the doorway, blocking it in case you decided to make a speedy escape. "No, no. I, uh... I wanted to talk to you about something."

The movement of the knife in your hand paused momentarily before you kept going. "Oh?"

Bucky scratched the back of his neck with nerves. How was he supposed to ask? So, he avoided the real topic for a moment and strayed to something else that he'd also been meaning to talk to you about as well. "Valentina mentioned us moving into the old Stark Tower."

This time you stopped, putting the knife down on the cutting board. But you still didn't look at him. "Really?"

"Yeah. Yelena, Alexei and Bob have already moved in. Ava's in the process and Walker's planning on it in the next couple of weeks." Bucky watched as you took that in, he could practically hear the cogs turning in your head. "We don't have to."

You shrugged, turning to the pan that was sizzling next to you and turning down the heat. The room smelled strongly of garlic and onion and Bucky was starting to regret the offer of you cooking him dinner as his stomach started growling.

"Maybe we should." You replied finally.

Bucky's heart started racing.

"Some more space, y'know? Might be good." You added on.

His heart stopped altogether.

"Space?" He repeated and you nodded. "You want space?"

You sighed and sprinkled some salt in the pan. "I didn't say that. But this is a small apartment for one person, let alone two. Tower's got more room."

He could only watch as you continued to refuse to look at him, feeling his world crumbling. You wanted more space, away from him. He was losing the closest person in his life. The one thing he didn't think he'd be able to survive. So all filters in his brain disappeared.

"Is that really the reason? Or does it have something to do with why you haven't been able to look at me the past few days?"

Your hands clenched into fists, nails scraping against the granite counter top. "What- what are you talking about?"

"It's times like these that I appreciate the fact that I'm the only person you can't seem to lie to." Bucky rolled his shoulders back, trying to gain the confidence to ask you, to hear the answer that could change everything between you. "I'm not stupid either, doll. I notice when you don't look me in the eye. Especially for days on end."

You covered your eyes with your hands, massaging your temples with your fingers and thumb. "I- I don't know what to say."

There was no point denying it, he'd caught on and there was no way out now. You had hoped that you'd been more subtle about it but nothing got by him it seemed. And now you felt bad. But how were you supposed to tell him?

"Just tell me what's wrong and I'll fix it." Bucky was desperate. The loneliness he'd experienced for years was slowly creeping back in and he hadn't even lost you yet. He was just predicting it.

"It's not something that can be fixed."

The onions were burning, the smell of it filling the kitchen. Both of you were unaware as you battled the emotions you were both feeling.

"Then what is it?"

You dropped your hand from your face, looking at Bucky for a split second before averting your gaze away. Guilt washed through you but you couldn't help it. Looking at him made you feel sick.

Inhaling deeply, you decided to just drop the bomb. "What I saw."

That statement only confused Bucky even more. "What you saw?"

"When... when we were in there." Nothing more needed to be said. The implication was clear based on your emphasis on the word there. You both knew where you were referring to.

He stayed silent, he had his suspicions and he didn't want them to be true. What you saw in the void was something he feared because, deep down, he knew exactly what you'd seen.

You didn't stop. "I saw my parents dying."

An ache rippled through his chest as he felt his heart crack in two. It wasn't something the two of you ever spoke about, your parents' death. It has been brushed aside years ago when the two of you had properly met for the first time. But Bucky had always had the sense it had been an underlying tension between the two of you. After all, how couldn't it be? The Winter Solider had killed your parents.

"Oh." It was all he could offer. What else was he supposed to say? He was the cause of your pain.

"And I know- I know that it technically wasn't you who did it. But he had your face. So it's been a little difficult looking at you. I'm sorry." You suddenly seemed to remember the onions, taking a spoon and stirring them to prevent them sticking to the pan. It was only a momentary distraction.

"Why are you-" He swallowed the lump in his throat, staring you down as you still refused to look at him. "Why are you apologising?"

"Because I'm treating you like shit even though it's not your fault." Your voice cracked, running a distressed hand down your face.

"It- it techni-"

"No." You cut him off sharply, picking up the knife again. "It's not. So don't you dare say it."

He said it anyway. "I killed them."

The knife was slammed back onto the counter, the clatter echoing around the room. Bucky watched the inner turmoil you were going through, trying to argue against him when maybe, inside you somewhere, you actually believed it.

"It's okay. I understand." He whispered and then he left the kitchen, disappearing through the door and retreating to his bedroom for the night.

It was too early to go to bed but, not knowing what else to do, Bucky did it anyway. After changing into his pyjamas, he crawled under the covers and switched the light off. The room was plunged into darkness, the only sounds being of you distantly moving around in the kitchen. He was left with nothing but his own thoughts, spiralling for hours as he contemplated what would happen next. Would you leave him? Would you move into the old Avengers Tower and solidify the separation between you? He couldn't stand the idea of that. What would he do without you?

Eventually, the apartment went silent. Bucky had assumed you'd gone to bed yourself after hearing the muffled sound of your voice on the phone to someone for the last thirty minutes. You were probably arranging your moving plans, looking forward to the quick escape.

But then his door creaked open, light footsteps making their way towards his bed. Then the blankets were thrown back, the mattress dipped and you were suddenly curling yourself into Bucky's side, resting your head on his metal shoulder.

"Hi."

Your voice was tender, breathy, and Bucky felt the rigidity of his muscles melting from his body.

"Hi." He responded, wrapping his metal arm around you and letting his hand rest on your hip. His body called to you, needing it near, and having you in his bed was heaven for him.

It had happened once, the two of you. Pretty soon after the whole deal with Thanos and Steve leaving. You'd just tumbled into bed together one night, the both of you needing the intimacy and comfort of someone you trusted. You hadn't spoken of it since, too scared to address whatever it had been. But Bucky often found himself craving that closeness with you again.

"I'm sorry about the last few days." You sighed, turning your face into his neck and skating an arm over his chest to hold him closer.

Your breath fanned over his skin, making it prickle and he suppressed a shiver.

"It's okay. I do understand." He did, he really did. Honestly, what he didn't understand was how it seemed so easy for you to live with the man who had murdered your parents. It just didn't make it hurt any less when it did seem to bother you.

The topic lingered between you for a few seconds, neither of you knowing where else to take it. You were just going to keep going in circles. You were sorry. He understood. But you were still sorry. It wasn't going to get you anywhere. So you broached the other subject that was causing tension.

"I spoke to Yelena. About the logistics of us moving in. She said that me and you can have our own floor to ourselves. So it'd still be like us living in an apartment together. If you'd like." Your voice was shy, uncertain of what he'd say.

"Is that something you'd like?" His metal fingers flexed against your hip, flesh hand clenching on his other side.

"Of course. You're my..." You trailed off, letting it hang in the air. There was no appropriate term to accurately describe what you and Bucky were. More than friends but not quite the next level. You just hovered somewhere in between. "You're the most important person in my life."

Sweat prickled at the surface of his skin, creating a slick sheen that he was worried you could feel. If you did, you didn't seem to care. Pressing your nose into his jawline, he could feel your eyelashes fluttering against his cheek.

Your voice was shaky as you kept talking. "I don't care where we are. Here, the tower, wherever. As long as we're together. I can't survive without you."

He turned to face you, lips brushing against yours with the ghost of a touch. So close to colliding, but so far from actually happening. All it would take would be the slightest tilt of his head and Bucky would be kissing you. It was all he wanted to do. But he needed confirmation first. "Really?"

You smiled against his mouth. "Yes, really."

There was a moment of silence, a second where Bucky convinced himself to just do it, to kiss you. But then you spoke again.

"You don't need to worry about losing me. I'm never going to leave your side."

That one simple statement meant more to him than you could ever possibly understand. He didn't necessarily blame Steve for what he'd done but he did hate him for it sometimes. And Sam... his relationship with Sam was more complex than he'd like to admit so he wasn't entirely surprised that they were clashing at the moment. That didn't mean he was anymore okay with it. So you simply telling him that you never planned to leave his side was all the reassurance he needed from you.

So he kissed you.

It was soft, cautious. Bucky wasn't entirely sure if it was what you wanted. But then you made a satisfied hum against his mouth, as if you'd been waiting for him to make the move. The kiss heated a little, moving away from being careful but stayed gentle.

Bucky didn't dare move, worried about scaring you off. Maybe he was imagining this, what if he wasn't really kissing you and it was just the desires of his mind torturing him. But then your hand moved from his chest to cup his cheek, keeping him in place as you pushed your lips against him harder.

There was a purity to it, neither of you pushing for the next step. Open mouthed kisses were exchanged but nothing more.

Something was plaguing him still, so he asked when the two of you broke away for air.

"What if you still can't look at me in the morning?"

"That's not an issue anymore." You assured him, thumb stroking along the scruff of his jaw. There was no hesitation in your voice, no matter how much it ached hearing him ask that question. "The knowledge of your pain hurts more than my own. Besides, you're Bucky. My Bucky. Not the man who killed my parents."

"It doesn't bother you? I always thought that maybe..." He didn't know how to word it exactly. Maybe you secretly hated him for what he'd done. Maybe you wanted him dead. Maybe you were plotting against him. Maybe you only stayed with him out of obligation to Steve.

"It's never bothered me. Steve was clear before he introduced us. And he clearly trusted you more than anyone else in the world." You planted a kiss on the corner of his mouth. "And it didn't take long for me to feel the same."

His eyes fluttered shut. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. I know better than anyone the power of HYDRA's brainwashing. And when we met... I knew you weren't the same man who killed them. The detached look in your eyes was gone and filled with something else. Something warmer, but also tinged with guilt and regret." You nudged your nose against his. "And then I saw how far you went to protect the ones you loved and what they did to keep you safe. It was inevitable that I'd eventually love you too."

The use of the word love tipped him over the edge. So he kissed you again, this time pushing for the next step. You were all too happy to comply.

A month later, when the two of you had moved into the tower with the rest of your new team, Yelena had asked you how your new bedroom was.

"It's bigger than your old one in that tiny little apartment, isn't it?" She'd been very proud when she'd shown it to you. She was convinced it was the reason you had decided to move in.

You shrugged. "Haven't been using it."

"Wha-?" Yelena cut herself off when she saw the way you glanced at Bucky next to you, a smirk on both of your mouths. "Ohh..."

She got it then. You'd been staying in the same room. She had been curious why the two of you didn't share a room beforehand, having assumed you were a couple. Apparently she was wrong and it was only a new development. As much as she was happy for her two new friends, she was pissed that she'd agreed to let the two of you have a whole floor to yourselves when you were only using one room.

When she brought that up, you and Bucky both agreed that you didn't care where you were living. As long as you were together, nothing else mattered.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #james buchanan barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes x you #james buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes fanfiction #marvel #mcu #ej's writing #ej's fics #deakyjoe's writing #deakyjoe's fics #thunderbolts #thunderbolts*

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seongminiz · 14 hours ago

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/ᐠ - ˕ -マ good kitty ₊˚⊹♡

. . ? boy pussy cat hybrid jungwon x gn reader – smut / minors dni ; 1135 words

cw dubcon ? , switch/sub leaning jungwon , possessive jungwon , scratching , dry humping , heats , fingering , praise , a liiiiittle tiny bit of spit .. ; very half assed n not proof read bc thats the jo seongminiz way of life , yes i did that thing where my grammar/writing gets better the further u get into the fic IM SORRY

(dont ask me how i had this idea it just spawned in my brain through the sheer power of lesbianism)

cat hybrid!jungwon was kind of shy when u first started living together , but he quickly warmed up to you n became sooo clingy, now he follows u everywhere you go n asks for cuddles n head scratches at any time of the day , no matter how busy u r ..

despite being so clingy , though , jungwon was never as desperate for your attention as he has been for the past few days : constantly sneaking up on u n wrapping his tail around your waist , or letting it snake up your leg , rubbing his nose on your neck and holding you tighter than usual when you cuddle .

jungwon has also started showing a possessive streak , wagging his tail and flattening his ears in discontent when you come home from work n your clothes smell like someone else – rationally , he knows its normal , he shouldn't be this upset by you simply going outside n interacting with other people , even other hybrids .. but there's a more irrational part of him that has started to think its not fair , n he should just keep you all to himself

this all culminated on one particular night , jungwon has been restless the whole day , waiting for you to come home more eagerly than ever because he needs to see you, to be close to you , to touch you and ... his thoughts trail off as he feels a familiar heat between his legs , one he has forced himself to ignore ever since he moved in with you , but it's been getting so much worse lately , maybe if he asked you for help you could ....

the door clicks open , n you immediately notice something is wrong , mostly because jungwon is sitting quietly by the door , slightly dozing off , the blush on his cheeks more prominent than usual and a hand absentmindedly slipped under the waistband of his sweatpants , just .. there .

'jungwon?' u call out , his ears immediately perking up and twitching as soon as he hears your voice . he should feel bad when he sees the worried expression on your face , almost scared , not knowing exactly whats going on with him – instead , jungwon is happy and , to be completely honest , slightly turned on by it .

'wonie? are you sick?' you try again , crouching next to jungwon , shaking him by his shoulder to catch his attention , but all you get from him is a pained whimper that makes you immediately retract your hand , scared that u might have hurt him in any way .

despite his condition , jungwon still has the quick reflexes of a cat , he wraps his hand around your wrist and he pulls you closer again , claws digging slightly into your skin.

''m sorry' jungwon mumbles, rubbing his nose on your hand before licking the tips of your fingers . it's then you realize his other hand is still between his legs , moving so imperceptibly you wouldn't have noticed if u were any further away . the realization finally dawns on you .

'wonie are you ..' u let the question hang as another whimper leaves the cat hybrid's parted lips . jungwon nods weakly and , before you have time to process it , he has pushed you to the floor , hips straddling yours and both hands now holding you down.

'it hurts' he confesses, not so subtly grinding his hips down on your thigh . you should push him off , help him get through his heat in an appropriate way instead of letting him do however he pleases with you – instead , you just lay there , one hand slowly slipping out of jungwon's desperate grasp and brushing on the exposed skin between his shirt and pants , despite the small feeling of insufferable guilt at the back of your head .

you hook your fingers into the waistband , and jungwon swears he could cum just from you taking his clothes off . he doesn't , but he sure as hell would if he had just a bit of self control less than he does right now .

'what do you want?' you ask , now impossibly turned on too . it would be a lie to say u never felt attracted to jungwon , but this is the first time you have to face that attraction with no other way to cope with it than to act on it . to fuck him .

jungwon doesn't answer , opting to hump your thigh again instead with a broken moan . you can feel his wetness seep through his underwear and your own clothes , and it drives you even more insane .

'jungwon.' you reprimand , voice more firm as you hold his hips still . he tries to protest , but relents once he realizes you won't let him get away with being a brat , not when he's the desperate one at least .

'need ...' he stops for a second , looking like he genuinely can't form a coherent thought – and he probably , truly can't . the blush on his cheeks deepens as he avoids your gaze , his tail twitching against your legs .

'need your fingers.' he finally mumbles , bending down so he can hide his face in the crook of your neck out of embarrassment .

'see? it wasn't that hard, was it?' you pet jungwon's hair , as your free hand finally slips past his underwear . and god , he's even more wet than you expected , completely soaking your fingers the moment they come in contact with his pussy .

jungwon moans , loud , his whole body freezing up for a split second as you immediately push two fingers in his hole , his walls contracting around them before he relaxes against you , drool dripping out of his mouth and onto the collar of your shirt .

'good kitty,' you praise as you start to move your fingers , relishing in the way jungwon twitches , and moans , and squeezes at every little movement , until he's gripping your shoulders and his claws rip through your clothes – you'll definitely make him pay for that when he's in a more sound state of mind – to mark your skin .

''m gonna cum' jungwon's voice cracks , slightly more high pitched as you add a third finger and curl them inside of him .

'you're gonna cum for me?' you push the heel of your palm on his clit 'gonna cum like a good kitty?'

'yes' jungwon whines , grinding his hips down to meet your thrusts . 'like your good kitty.'

that one self-admission is enough to send jungwon over the edge, trembling and moaning, and cumming so hard he soaks your clothes too , clenching around your fingers until he's completely spent .

you both just lay there , on the floor , too tired to move , or do anything , really – despite your own , new 'problem' between your legs . you'll take care of that later , though . for now , you stay still , petting jungwon's head as he licks and bites along your neck , mumbling 'thank you's and small apologies , and saying something about cleaning you up .

#🍰 seongminiz !#🥞 enha !#omg jo seongminiz not writing abt cravity WHAT is going on #another severe case of 'i dont write for 04 idols' becoming a lie 💔#also i kept misspelling jungwon as jungmo GET THAT MAN OUT OF MY HEAD #enhypen smut #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen hard hours #enha smut #enha hard hours #enha hard thoughts #jungwon smut #jungwon hard thoughts #jungwon hard hours

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farfromharry · 3 days ago

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Summary: On your way home from the library you were almost robbed, good thing your friendly neighbourhood Spiderman was there to save you.

w/c 2129

Spiderman!OscarPiastri x Reader

a/n - my first blurb of this au!! these parts won’t be posted in order, they’ll probably just come randomly :)

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London wasn’t the safest city in the world, that was pretty common knowledge. During the day it was crowded, busy, and chaotic. At night it was downright dangerous. So you had no idea what went through your mind to think it was okay to walk home from the library by yourself after it went dark.

Your friend had tried to talk you out of it, but you assured them you would be fine.

Lando sighed as you packed up your stuff. “Y/N, come on. Just wait like, 15 more minutes and I’ll come with you.” He only had a couple more paragraphs left to write. He didn’t understand why you were in such a rush.

“I’ll be fine. It’s not like I’m going far.”

It was roughly a 10 minute walk back to your flat from here, but a lot could happen in that amount of time. He thought you were being silly. Why risk your safety just to go to bed 15 minutes earlier? Lando was practically sweating. His best friend would kill him if he let anything happen to you. Oscar wasn’t here right now to make sure you got home safe, so the responsibility fell to him. But god were you stubborn.

He ran his hands over his face, sighing deeply. He was sort of hoping you would see his distress over this and take pity on him. You didn’t.

You set your hand on his shoulder. “It’s fine, stop worrying so much. I’ll text you when I’m home.” You smiled at him and he quickly realised there was no convincing you. He was just going to have to hope and pray that everything went smoothly.

You threw your bag over your shoulder and said your goodbyes. He watched with a horrible gut feeling as you left the library.

The dark didn’t bother you all that much. Lando was just being dramatic. You had lived in London for years while doing your degree and so far nothing bad had happened, night or day. You had no reason to believe it would now. If anything since the appearance of Spiderman a few years ago, the city had never been safer. There was always the chance something could happen though. Tonight it looked like it was going to be your turn.

You heard the footsteps, the clinking of a littered beer bottle being kicked down the pavement. Your grip on your bag tightened and your breathing quickened. It felt like your heart was almost pounding out of your chest.

Maybe you were being dramatic. London was a busy place. There was a high chance it was just some stranger also making their way home. They might take the same route.

You chanced a glance over your shoulder; a bad idea. He saw you, locked eyes with you. That was your mistake.

From then, the footsteps grew faster, closer. Your own footsteps picked up the pace out of pure fear.

There was no escaping it when he grabbed you, or more specifically, grabbed the strap of your bag. You gasped, whipping around with pleading eyes that would do nothing for you.

“Give me the bag.”

You frowned, trying to keep it close to you in the hopes he might grow bored and give up. He didn’t need to know what was in it, that your laptop was there. You needed that laptop more than anything else in there. He could take all the money from your purse for all you cared, as long as he left that.

“No, please, I need it.”

Obviously the man didn’t care. “Give me the fucking bag!” You stood there, tears lining your ears as you handed your bag over. All your work was going to be gone. Everything you’d been working on for so long. You didn’t even care that much about the cost of replacing the laptop, but the essays and the work on it was priceless. You didn’t know what you were supposed to do without it.

Luckily for you, your saviour had arrived.

There were flashes of red and blue, ones that you couldn’t make out until you heard a voice.

“I think you should give the lady back her bag.”

He finally landed on his feet just in front of you and you felt your jaw drop. You were pretty sure your robber was just as amazed as you were. Though you couldn’t imagine he was about to have a good experience with the infamous superhero. No one moved for a moment, just staring at him in shock. He glanced between you both. “What, is it something I said?”

You watched as he shot 2 webs in the direction of the robber, effectively pinning both his hands to the nearby wall. Then he shot a 3rd one at his torso just to be safe. The man never stood a chance. You watched as he searched the man’s pockets, pulling out a beaten up old phone. He promptly dialed 999.

“Yeah, hi, this is Spiderman, I’d like to report an attempted robbery.”

You couldn’t even imagine what the operator on the other side of the phone was thinking. After informing the police of your current whereabouts and how the man had tried to steal your stuff, but was now otherwise… tied up, he placed the phone back in his pocket.

Spiderman then grabbed your bag. “I’ll be taking that back, thank you.” He turned to face you, not even giving a second glance to the man he’d just immobilised. He was secure, he couldn’t bother you now, he was confident in that. “I believe this is yours.”

Your hands were shaking as you took your stuff from his outstretched hand. How was this real? You couldn’t wait to tell Oscar about this.

“Thank you so much.”

He put his hands on his hips. “It’s no problem, Miss. Maybe don’t walk alone in the dark next time. Get a friend to come with you.” He couldn’t be there to save you every time something happened, that was what he was implying. This time around was lucky.

You nodded. It wasn’t like you were going to ignore a literal superhero’s advice. What kind of idiot would you be to do that? You would probably do anything he told you to. “Yeah, of course.”

He shot a web up to the top of a neighbouring building. You felt your heart sink a little at the idea of your saviour disappearing so soon. On a whim you stepped forward, grabbing his wrist so he couldn’t quite leave just yet. The eyes of his suit grew bigger and you assumed his eyes were widening. It was actually quite cute.

“Thank you again. Is there someone I can repay you?” Giving Spiderman money probably wasn’t something a lot of people did. You felt like you owed him though.

He laughed, a laugh that sounded oddly familiar. You didn’t question it though, it was probably just the adrenaline of the moment messing with your head. “That’s okay, it’s what I do. Stay safe.” And with that he disappeared, swinging through the rooftops of the city with a joyous yell.

You laughed. “What the fuck just happened?”

The man that had tried to rob you in the first place, still stuck to the wall with webs, spoke up. “You’re telling me.” You would have been more afraid of him getting to you had you not heard the sirens that were echoing around the place.

He groaned and you smiled, glad he was getting what he deserved. “You have fun with that.”

The rest of your walk home was pretty peaceful. Though when you finally made it inside your flat, you did let out a big sigh of relief. Once the door was locked and you were safe, you felt a weight lifted off of your shoulders. No one could get you here. Everything was fine and Oscar would be home soon enough. After shooting a quick text to Lando to let him know you were home, missing out the part where things had gone sideways, you could finally relax.

You flicked on the TV, skimming past the news for any mention of Spiderman tonight.

At the sound of keys in the door, you perked up, quickly changing the channel. Oscar was home. That was arguably your favourite part of the day. You beamed at him as he walked through the door and the smile was quickly returned. He didn’t know if he would ever get over the feeling of coming home to you. He wandered right over to you.

“Hi,” you greeted, kissing him just like you would any other day when he got home. He looked a little sweaty, disheveled, but you didn’t mention it.

He slipped off his backpack and his coat, tossing his bag by the couch and hanging up his coat in its respective spot. “How was the library? Lando okay?”

You shifted shyly, like there was something you weren’t telling him. “Good, yeah. Something happened on the way home, but I’m fine, I swear.” Those words did nothing to stop his worrying. “Just don’t freak out.”

He sat beside you, taking your hands in his and resting them in his lap. “Talk to me.”

You sighed. “A guy tried to steal my laptop,” His eyes widened and his mouth opened, but you carried on talking before he could interrupt. “No, don’t worry ‘cause Spiderman was there and he stopped him. Got it back for me and webbed him up too. It was so cool.” Admittedly it had been terrifying at first, but realising you were in the presence of a literal superhero was breathtaking.

“Spiderman?”

You nodded. “Yep. I know it sounds insane, but I swear it happened.”

You seemed so excited about it. “I believe you, it just worried me, baby.” The thought of anyone trying to hurt you for any reason broke his heart. Whether there had been someone there to save you or not, it shouldn’t have happened in the first place. “Why didn’t Lando walk with you?”

“I told him I was fine.”

Oscar sighed. He loved that you were brave and independent, but sometimes he thought you were dying to give him a heart attack. “Well, next time, don’t walk alone in the dark.”

Where had you heard that before?

“Just want you to be safe,” he muttered, placing his hand on your cheek and stroking the skin softly. You leaned forward, brushing your nose against his. He wouldn’t know what to do if he lost you. You were everything and more to him. “Love you.”

You pressed your lips to his, a slow, tender kiss that showcased just how much you truly did love one another. The first one to pull away was you. You rested your forehead against his, just enjoying the closeness. Sometimes you didn’t need to talk or anything, you just needed to be close to him, to feel him. His presence was grounding, comforting.

“Time for bed?”

The exhaustion hit you as he posed the question. “Time for bed.”

He picked up his bag and let you lead the way, following behind you to your shared bedroom. He basically launched himself onto the bed, more than ready to tuck himself under the covers after a long day. You wandered into the bathroom to take off your makeup, brush your teeth, etc. “How was your day?”

“It was good, had some awkward customers at work but-“ His heart dropped at the sight of the red material peeking out of his backpack. His eyes darted to the bathroom where your voice was coming from and he took his chance. He shot a web towards the zipper, tugging it until it closed and hid the mask he was terrified of you finding. There was only seconds between him retracting the web and you coming out of the bathroom. His heart was pounding.

“But?” You saw the nervous look on his face. It must have had something to do with why he stopped talking mid sentence. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, sorry, I just got distracted. It was a pretty good day, not as good as yours though apparently.”

With a smile you climbed into bed beside him and tucked yourself into his side. He winced slightly, hoping you didn’t notice, but you did. You noticed everything when it came to him, well, almost. “What happened, are you in pain?”

“Just sore from work, lifted a box that was a little too heavy for me I guess. I’m okay.”

You nodded. “Good.”

With one last glance towards his backpack, just to check everything looked normal, he reached for the lamp beside his side of the bed and switched it off. “Goodnight, baby.” He kissed your head.

“Goodnight, Osc.”

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#oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri #mclaren x reader #mclaren #spiderman!au #spiderman!oscar piastri

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flowersforthemachines · 17 hours ago

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WIP WEDNESDAY

Thank you @kindlyfeline for tagging me <3

So I recently said I was haunted by visions of Caterina and Ghilasara talking. And then, I thought, hey. Why leave them as just Visions if I can make them into Writings.

So, here. Ghilasara [divorced] summoned to Villa Dellamorte for a talk on her way back from the First Warden Business TM she had in Antiva.

“Good evening, Rook.” Caterina doesn’t rise from her desk, but Rook is now the sole object of her attention, whatever papers she was looking at now swept to the side. “Good evening,” she greets back. “It really is a good one — not saying that for pleasantries. Such lovely weather. “ “Was it the weather that warranted your visit to Antiva?” Caterina’s tone isn’t necessarily accusatory. It’s not necessarily anything except impenetrable to understanding. She’s heard the way she often talks, like a hammer landing on a nail, and isn’t unfamiliar with that tone. Sometimes, however, Caterina prefers to re-assert her power by keeping people on edge, having them vie for each word’s truest meaning. “It was politics, mostly. A meeting with the King.” Rook goes for the honest approach. “I hardly travel much for pleasure these days.” “Politics? With the King?” Caterina sounds lightly amused, now. That almost feels like progress. “I thought you’d be aware of who does the real politics in Antiva.”

Tagging @lucaanis @basedonconjecture @inquisimer @saessenach and @mythals-whore <3

#flowers.txt #I have a viago & ghilasara fic. now a caterina & ghilasara fic.#I also had an illario & ghilasasra fic idea in my head for months #maybe I should also do one with ghilasara and teia to include all plot-relevant crows in DAVG #wip: I wish this had a name. but it doesn't...#gods be willing I'll find something cool to pull from clair obscur I really want to leave a reference to it in some capacity #caterina dellamorte #oc: ghilasara thorne #flowers writes

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raekensluver · 1 day ago

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pls write kinda like an opposites attract established relationship thing with chrismd where the gf is a vlogger who is george clarke's bsf - something with the same vibe of 'so highschool' by taylor swift?

ohhhhhh i love this idea!!!!!

contains: fluff, established relationship

chris dixon x fem!reader

you’re sitting on the edge of chris’s bed, camera in hand, very aware that you’ve filmed a grand total of ten seconds all morning.

your audience asked for a “day in the life” vlog. so far, that includes one clip of you drinking tea in silence and another of chris missing his mouth with a grape. twice.

“you filming?” he calls from the kitchen, where he’s definitely pouring cereal into a bowl like he didn’t just finish a full breakfast twenty minutes ago.

you raise your voice just enough. “trying to.”

he appears in the doorway a second later, cereal in hand, leaning against the frame with the kind of practiced nonchalance that should annoy you more than it does. his hair’s a mess. his hoodie’s yours. and he’s already smirking like he knows how this’ll end.

“need content?” he asks, coming to sit beside you. “i can do a backflip or emotionally overshare- dealer’s choice.”

“just… be normal.”

he laughs. “see, now you’re asking the impossible.”

you shake your head, camera resting quietly in your lap. the light from the window hits his face in a way you’ll never capture properly- messy and real and golden.

he nudges your leg with his knee. “everything alright?”

you nod. “yeah. just tired. distracted.”

he doesn’t push, just shifts closer until his shoulder brushes yours. it’s nothing dramatic. he knows you don’t do dramatic. he gives you quiet, not silence- makes space without asking for any.

you let yourself lean into him. just a bit. his arm finds your waist instinctively.

“george still think i’m a menace?” he asks, voice softer now, more curious than anything.

you snort. “he knows you’re a menace.”

“right, but like… charming menace?”

you hum thoughtfully. “jury’s still out.”

he grins, pleased anyway. “he’s just jealous. he thinks no one’s good enough for you.”

“he’s not wrong.”

“well, lucky for him, i’m way above average.”

you laugh, and he softens at the sound. like he’s always listening for it.

and it’s funny, you think. your followers always assumed you’d date someone like george—quiet, steady, measured. someone calm.

and then there’s chris: full of energy, loud opinions, and a deep love for ridiculous outfits. he is chaos wrapped in a smug hoodie. he makes no sense for you on paper.

but somehow, he fits. perfectly. like he saw through your shell the minute you met and decided he liked what he found inside.

he tugs lightly at your sleeve. “you know you’re kind of it for me, yeah?”

you blink. “what?”

he shrugs, like he didn’t just emotionally dropkick you. “just saying. you’re it.”

your heart stutters. then steadies. “you’re not so bad yourself.”

“nope,” he says, already smug, “you definitely like me.”

you smile. “a bit.”

he lies back, tugging you down beside him, arm curled around your waist like it’s second nature. your camera sits forgotten on the floor, lens still rolling.

and maybe the vlog ends up being mostly useless. maybe george will tease you for it later- something about how you’re whipped and hiding it poorly.

but you don’t care.

you’re here, wrapped up in someone who sees you exactly as you are and somehow wants you more for it.

and it’s all kind of perfect.

#chris dixon #chris dixon x reader #chris md #chris md x reader #chrismd #chrismd x reader #chrismd fanfic #chris dixon fluff #uk youtubers #ukyt #chris md fluff #chris dixon blurb #chris md blurb #mara's inbox *ੈ✩‧₊˚#mara's anons *ੈ✩‧₊˚

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that-sudsy · 2 days ago

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Hi! I love your fics so muchhhhhh I saw that you had Supernatural up coming I was hoping if you could write about Dean Shaving like he got shaving foam on when reader got in the bathroom, but it's okay if you don't like the idea just scrap this.

SUDSY NOTES: Hey anon! Thank you so much for your request—I had so much fun writing this little story about Dean. This fic is based on SEASON ONE , I hope it warms your heart. Enjoy! 🍅

Shaving

Dean Winchester x Fem / gender neutral Reader

Word Count: 1265 | MASTERLIST

Warm sunlight slipped through the blinds and onto you as you stirred, sleepily opening your eyes with a yawn. The empty space beside you reminded you that last night you had fallen asleep on the same bed as Dean in the motel where you three had hunkered down for the night, poring over maps and notes of clues after the first plane crashed.

Your eyes lazily darted around the motel room, searching for Dean or perhaps Sam. You got up pushing off the papers and reference books off, the wooden floor creaking under your feet, and made your way to the cracked-open bathroom door, peering inside to see Dean. The smell of fresh aftershave, minty soap, and foam filled your senses as you watched him rub shaving cream over his chiseled jawline, a towel wrapped around his waist and a razor in his hand.

You were friends with Dean and Sam, having happened to be in town, but there was always something more between you and Dean—a small connection that you never fully acknowledged. You both often said there were too many things to solve and save to deal with those feelings. At least, that’s what you thought.

You knocked on the door to avoid startling him. "Dean," you said in a low, casual voice before peering in. Dean glanced at you through the mirror, a knowing smirk forming on his freshly shaven face.

"Hey, sleepyhead. Did you have a good rest? I didn’t want to wake you," he replied, continuing to shave, carefully pulling the razor across his jawline while keeping an eye on your movements.

"Actually, I didn’t even notice I fell asleep last night," you chuckled groggily, standing beside him to face the mirror.

Dean rinsed the razor in the sink, his towel shifting slightly as he moved. He stepped aside to give you space at the sink, his bare shoulder brushing against yours briefly.

"Need any extra space, or should I finish up shaving?" he asked while applying more shaving cream.

"Oh no, I’m just going to wash my face and take a shower before we leave," you said, furrowing your brows. "Where’s Sam?" you asked.

"Sam went to grab breakfast. Said he’d bring something back for us. Should be back soon," Dean explained.

You tried to keep your gaze away from his V-line on his waist in the reflection of the mirror, but you thought Dean noticed, making you clear your throat and look up at him.

"You missed a spot. Do you need help?" you said with a small smile. Dean turned his face to show you, playfully exaggerating his movements.

"Oh really? Maybe you should do the honors then. Just don’t press the blade too hard; you might nick me," he teased.

"Don’t worry, I won’t damage your handsome face. I’ll be gentle," you teased back,

taking the razor from his hand and looking up at him as you slowly placed the razor on his cheek, letting it glide down with no pressure. Dean watched you shave him, his thoughts trailing off as he realized you two were acting like a married couple, making his cheeks heat up. You could feel the warmth under your touch. Deciding to break the silence, you said,

"You really have a chiseled jaw, Dean... it really makes you..."

Dean stood still, his green eyes locked with yours in the mirror as you continued to shave him.

"Finish that sentence, Y/N. What does it make me?" His voice dropped slightly, tension building between you.

You looked at him through the reflection and blushed. "Handsome," you said in a low voice.

Dean's breath caught slightly at your words, his cheeks showing a faint blush as he tried to maintain composure.

"Handsome, huh? Guess I’ll have to shave more often then. If I get more compliments from you," he said, swallowing hard, his heart rate increasing. Dean couldn’t help but smirk back, his body unconsciously leaning closer to yours as you worked.

"You know, this is... nice. We should’ve done this years ago," he said, his voice carrying a hint of regret and longing.

You furrowed your brows in wonder, smiling. "Why?" you asked.

Dean's eyes darkened slightly as he met your gaze, looking down to wash the razor in the sink. "Because... you know there are unspoken things between us," he said, his voice coming out huskier than intended.

"There’s something I’ve been keeping from you. Something important." He paused, studying your reaction.

You looked at him before resuming to shave him, but he held your wrist, making you look up at him. Dean stayed perfectly still, his pulse quickening. The air felt electric between you. His eyes flashed with a mix of vulnerability and determination as his free hand found its way to your waist, leaning against the bathroom counter.

"Like what, Dean?" you asked, feeling a mix of curiosity and anticipation. There were too many secrets you had seen with the Winchester brothers, too many things that were too shocking for a regular person to believe. But when Dean told you something, you knew it was real because you could feel the truth in his words.

Dean took a deep breath, his green eyes revealing both fear and hope.

"Like how I've been in love with you since that night in the Impala two years ago. When we sat by the road talking about random stuff while dealing with that spirit at the lake," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.

Recognition lit up your eyes as you remembered that night, and a smile spread across your face. "Really? And you never told me?" you asked in awe.

Dean turned to face you fully, the towel still around his waist, his expression raw and open.

"You heard me. I love you, Y/N Always have. Just never had the guts to tell you until now. It’s kind of stupid that I can face monsters but couldn’t tell a girl I—" Dean let out a nervous laugh, running a hand through his short hair, but you cut him off by taking a clean face towel from the sink and wiping the shaving cream off his face before pecking his lips gently.

Dean froze for a moment, then his hands instinctively found your waist, pulling you closer. Your hands rested on his bare chest.

He whispered your name against your lips, his heart racing as he deepened the kiss.

"Dean..."

Dean broke the kiss just enough to look into your eyes, his hands sliding up to cup your face.

You smiled at him. "I love you too."

Dean's face lit up with pure joy.

"Say it again. Please," he urged, his thumbs gently caressing your cheeks as he pulled you even closer, completely forgetting about his shirtless state.

"I love you, Dean Winchester."

Hearing you say it clearly filled him with happiness, and he couldn’t believe it all came down to this moment in the bathroom with just the two of you. As Dean leaned in to kiss you once more, the front door slammed shut, followed by the sound of plastic rustling.

"Dean?" Sam called out. "I got pie!"

Dean raised his brows and smiled back at you. "We’re not finished," he said before stepping out of the bathroom, leaving you giggling at how adorable your man was.

💌If you have any requests or know someone else who needs a bit of cheering up from their favourite characters from cod or other Fandom, feel free to leave me a message in my ask box.

🍅 Disclaimer: I want to express my heartfelt gratitude for your support! Please note that I do not own any of the characters or images featured in this work, nor do I claim any rights to them.

#dean winchester #dean x reader #sam and dean #supernatural imagine #supernatural #dean winchester x reader #dean Winchester x fem reader #dean winchester x you #sudsy #that sudsy #that idiot we adore

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forkshighschooler · 3 days ago

Note

Can you please write some head cannons / canon inferences on how the wolves (particularly ) would feel / react to accidentally loosing control of their temper and phasing in front of their imprint (bonus if the imprint isn't aware of wolves)

Wolfpack Headcanons

(How they react to accidentally loosing control)

Author’s note- I hope this is what you meant!!

Part 2

Sam Uley

• Crushing guilt. Sam is deeply self-disciplined, and the idea of losing control—especially around someone he loves—is horrifying to him.

• The moment he phases, his first thought is not again, flashing back to scarring Emily.

• Even if his imprint isn’t harmed, he’s already spiraling internally:

I’ve already done this once. What if it happens again? I should stay away. I don’t deserve her.

• He might withdraw completely, isolating himself to “protect” you—even though that hurts him just as much.

⸻

Paul Lahote

• Shame wrapped in panic. Paul’s temper is a ticking bomb, and the second it explodes in front of his imprint, it’s like the air gets knocked out of him.

• He’s not scared of himself—until you look scared of him. That’s when it hits.

• He’d phase back quickly, maybe still shirtless and trembling, blurting apologies:

“I didn’t mean to—it wasn’t at you—I swear to God, I’d never hurt you.”

• But deep down, he thinks he ruined everything. He might avoid eye contact for days.

⸻

Jacob Black

• Frantic and emotionally raw. Jacob’s biggest fear is becoming what he hates—a threat, a monster.

• If he phased in front of his imprint, his first instinct would be to protect you from himself.

• He’d phase back quickly, hands up, voice shaking.

“It’s still me. You’re okay. Are you okay?”

• If you flinched? It would devastate him. He’d spend the next few days trying to win back your trust, probably over-apologizing and overcompensating.

⸻

Embry Call

• Silent devastation. Embry doesn’t lose control often, so when he does, it hits hard. He’s always felt like the odd man out, and this just confirms it.

• He wouldn’t say much—just disappear.

• He wouldn’t come back until he’d convinced himself you didn’t hate him, and even then, he’d be nervous, careful, holding himself like he’s afraid to break something.

“I get it if you don’t wanna be around me anymore.”

⸻

Quil Ateara

• Heartbreak and self-hate. Quil is easygoing and affectionate, especially with his imprint, so scaring you—even for a second—would utterly destroy him.

• He’d be the one to phase back, drop to his knees, and beg you not to be afraid.

“I didn’t mean to—I wasn’t even mad at you. Please don’t be scared of me.”

• He’d follow your lead afterward. If you needed space, he’d give it. But he’d hate himself for needing to.

⸻

Leah Clearwater

• Fury turned inward. Leah’s immediate reaction would be to pretend she doesn’t care. She’d scoff, brush it off, or say something sharp:

“Well, now you’ve seen what I am. Scared yet?”

• But underneath the mask, she’d be wrecked. Not because she lost control—she’s used to that—but because you saw it.

• She’d expect you to leave. If you didn’t, it would confuse and soften her—but she’d never admit how much it meant.

⸻

Seth Clearwater

• Shattered innocence. Seth is sweet, careful, and the most in control emotionally. So if he loses it, it’s out of deep fear or overwhelming stress.

• The moment he phases, he freezes. He’s not snarling. He’s not aggressive. He just stops, stunned by what he’s done.

• Phases back instantly, nearly in tears.

“I didn’t mean to! I wasn’t mad at you—I promise—I’d never hurt you.”

• The idea of you fearing him makes him physically sick. He’d probably avoid eye contact for a long while, unless you forgave him first.

Jared Cameron

• Jared doesn’t lose his temper as easily as Paul, but when he does, it’s fast and hot.

• He’s cocky, confident, and tends to push things until they boil over—so if he snaps and phases in front of his imprint, it’s probably after a heated, emotionally charged argument.

• The second he sees the look of fear in her eyes, all that confidence crumbles.

• He’d freeze mid-shift or crouch low in wolf form, a stunned and broken look in his eyes.

• The guilt would be instant and raw. He wouldn’t even try to explain at first—he’d just back away, ashamed.

She wasn’t supposed to see this. Not like this. Not when I look like something she should run from.

Author’s Question-Would you like a part from the imprints perspectives?

Disclaimer:

I do not own Twilight or any of its characters. All rights belong to Stephenie Meyer. This is a work of fanfiction written for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement is intended.

#forkshighschooler #twilight fanfic #twilight wolfpack #twilight x reader #twilight #paul lahote #jacob black #sam uley #quil ateara #seth clearwater #leah clearwater #embry call #jared cameron #wolfpack twilight #Wolfpack headcanon

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pukefactory · 3 days ago

Note

More yandere Taski Maiden headcanons if you want to write them? Obsessive gremlin is an idea I haven't seen before until your post about it and now it's stuck in my brain <3

˚₊⋅─── UNKNOWN ERROR: FAILED TO LOAD ───⋅ ˚₊

⦮⦯ Summary: A Compilation of Headcanons Featuring Yandere Taski Maiden X Reader

⦮⦯ Character(s): Taski Maiden (ENA: Dream BBQ)

⦮⦯ Genre: Headcanons, SFW

⦮⦯ Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

⦮⦯ Image Credits: @JoelG

！Taski Maiden doesn’t just crush—she spirals. The moment you gave her a crumb of kindness (“Hey, thanks for the maze tip!”), her brain immediately short-circuited. She decided right then and there that you were hers. She didn’t say anything, of course. She just stared a bit too long. Memorized the way your nose moved when you laughed. Told her two mysterious little friends about it while chewing on drywall.

！She shows affection in the form of horrible, borderline unhinged gifts. Like—“I FOUND THIS IN THE TOILET, IT’S SHAPED LIKE A HEART!!!” energy. Her idea of a romantic gesture is painting your name on the ceiling of the casino with phosphorescent mushroom juice and yelling “SURPRIIIIIIIIISE, I HOPE U CAN’T SLEEP NOW!!!” She thinks love is best served loud and weird and maybe a little radioactive.

！She’ll follow you. Everywhere. But she’s the worst stalker imaginable. Keeps popping out of vents going “I’M NOT WATCHING U, DUMMY! Just…um…watching the AIR.” If you confront her, she gaslights you with tears and finger pointing like, “UHMMM YOU were FOLLOWING ME, actually!!!”

！Anyone who gets too friendly with you gets a hex. A prank. An “accidental” bucket of eldritch slime to the face. Taski’s the kind of girl who will break into someone’s home just to rearrange their furniture out of jealousy and whisper, “I saw the way u looked at my darling, homewrecker… >:( enjoy your new cursed Feng Shui…”

！She starts “accidentally” mixing your name into everything she says. “Welcome to the par— I mean, WELCOME TO THE YOU ZONE!!!” It’s not even subtle. She’ll pretend to forget what things are called just to rename them after you. “This isn’t a chair. It’s a YOU-sitter. Hehehe. Get it? Sit on me—I mean—ON IT!!!”

！When she’s alone, she talks to a crudely drawn picture of you. It’s badly rendered in crayon. Sometimes it cries. Sometimes she apologises for not being “crazy enuff to deserve uuuuUUU!!!” Other times, she threatens it. “U BETTER LOVE ME BACK, OR ELSE…I’LL…SNEEZE ON YOU IN YOUR SLEEP. WITH BOOGERS.”

！Her jealousy isn’t sleek or calculated—it’s nuclear. If you smile at someone else, she’ll instantly teleport next to them like, “OH! :D Is THIS your new little buddy-buddy??! Should I get THEM a gift too??? Like a TICKET TO THE VOID?? Heeheeee!! Just kidding!!! Unless…”

！ If you ever leave her side for more than 10 minutes, she panics. Not romantically. She panics like a feral cat caught in a vending machine. She’ll pretend she didn’t care (“I’m NOT sad, I just LICKED SALT ON PURPOSE!!!”), but the moment you return, she does this awkward little victory dance and tosses confetti at you she made out of receipts for all the times you “abandoned her.”

！She absolutely fantasizes about marrying you—but it’s the weirdest wedding ever. In her head, the vows are just her screaming “DO YOU PROMISE TO LOVE ME EVEN WHEN I’M A FUNGUS?????” while throwing rice and jellybeans at your face. The officiant is a sock puppet. ENA is tied to a chair in the back with caution tape and gagged with a kazoo.

！Despite it all, there’s something soft in the madness. If you ever tell her you love her—actually say it—she’ll short-circuit completely. No jokes. No screaming. Just wide, shimmering eyes and a stunned little whisper: “You mean it? You love the gremlin???” Then she’s hugging you so tight you think your spine might snap, whispering “mine mine mine” like a mantra, red eye glowing with something fierce and fragile all at once.

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mintyys-blog · 1 day ago

Note

Hey Minty,

I had this idea thats just consuming my brain. Invincible variants reactions to their s/o or y/n or whatever being a failsafe/contingency for them. Whether its Cecil who orchestrated it or the Viltrum Empire or Y/N themself. I just can't get enough of the angst. But also like the relief of knowing there's someone who could stop them if they go too far (at least for Main Mark).

But also imagine the weight of knowing you are the last line of defence against a ticking time bomb. A time bomb you are friends with, save lives with and maybe even love?

*screams into pillow* My brain is going feral.

I'd love to see how you would write this :D

~ Rainbow

HEADCANONS | variants with s/o who is a failsafe

MAIN MARK

Mark stood in the center of the ruined lab, pieces of destroyed tech and scorched metal still hissing around him. His fists were clenched, his jaw tight. He’d only come here because Cecil insisted. Something about Y/N needing help. But all he found was a recording… and a truth he never expected.

Y/N. His girlfriend. The one he trusted with everything—his fears, his doubts, his heart. She wasn’t just his anchor. She was his failsafe.

The recording showed her standing with Cecil months ago, before they even started dating, voice quiet and unsure: “If he ever goes rogue… if he ever becomes like Omni-Man, I’ll stop him. I can do it. You built me to do it.”

Mark didn’t breathe for a full minute.

When the lab doors opened and Y/N stepped in, sheepish and nervous, he couldn’t even look at her.

“Mark…” she started, but the words died in her throat when she saw his face.

His voice cracked. “So you were… you were made for me?”

“No. Not for you. Because of you.” She stepped closer, heart pounding. “Because they were afraid of you. And I was too—once. But I stayed. I loved you. I love you.”

He flinched. “You were supposed to be the one I could trust, Y/N.”

“And I still am.” Her voice trembled. “I’ve never raised a hand against you. I never would. But if you lost yourself—if you became something terrible—someone had to be strong enough to try. It didn’t mean I didn’t love you.”

Mark’s eyes burned, the thought of her standing against him more painful than any fight he’d ever been in. But in some twisted way… it made sense. Someone needed to stop him if he went off the rails.

He finally looked at her. “You could’ve told me.”

“I was afraid you’d leave.”

He took a breath. Then another. “…I’d rather it be you than anyone else.”

She blinked. “What?”

“If someone has to stop me… at least it’d be someone who loves me. Who’d try everything else before killing me.” Her knees nearly buckled from relief. Mark walked to her, wrapped her in his arms, and whispered into her hair: “But you better keep me in check before that happens. I don’t want to give you a reason to pull the trigger.”

SINISTER MARK

Mark leaned back in the towering chair of what used to be the White House, now his throne. The file glowed faintly in his hand—pulled from a hidden bunker buried beneath the Pentagon. Redacted lines, weapon schematics, biological augmentations… and a photo of her.

Failsafe: Y/N L/N

Objective: Contain or eliminate Mark Grayson should he become unmanageable.

He should’ve felt rage. Should’ve crushed the file to dust. Should’ve hunted down whoever thought they could build a leash for him.

But all he did was smirk.

She padded into the room moments later, barefoot and dressed in nothing but one of his shirts, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

“Mark?” she murmured, brows furrowed. “What are you doing up so late?”

He turned the file so she could see it. Watched the blood drain from her face.

“I found this.”

She froze. “Mark—”

“You were supposed to stop me.” He rose to his feet, letting the pages drift to the floor like snow. “Contain me. Kill me, if it came to that.”

“I didn’t—”

“But you didn’t.” His voice was low, calm. Almost… proud. “I burned cities. I crushed armies. I rebuilt the world in my image—and you stayed by my side. You had your chance. You never took it.”

She stepped back, uncertain. “I couldn’t.” Mark stalked forward, cornering her against the edge of the desk. He gripped her jaw gently, making her look up at him. “Because you love me, or because you’re afraid of what I’d do if you tried?”

Her lips trembled. “Both.”

His smile deepened. There was something wicked in it—but there was something devoted, too. “Good.”

He leaned down, brushing his lips against her temple.

“I don’t need a failsafe. I need you, exactly like this. Loyal. Soft. Mine.”

His voice dipped, dangerously close to reverence. “Let them try to make another weapon. You’ll always be better than steel or poison. Because you didn’t stop me.” His fingers slid around her waist, possessive. “You chose me instead.”

And in the silence that followed, she realized something chillingly comforting: If the world burned again, he’d keep her untouched at the center of the flame.

MOHAWK MARK

The war room aboard the imperial flagship was silent but for the hum of alien tech and the static flicker of the holoscreen. Mark stood in full armor, streaked with blood and dust, staring down at the classified file that had been delivered to him anonymously.

Failsafe: Subject Y/N

Tier-Alpha Contingency Asset

Directives: Neutralize Emperor Grayson upon breach of Viltrumite protocol or descent into instability.

He didn’t speak for a long time.

He just read it.

Again and again.

Until the words blurred together and his jaw clenched hard enough to crack bone.

You entered quietly, instinctively knowing something was wrong. Still in your garden clothes, hands stained with alien soil, your smile faltered the second you saw the expression on his face.

“Mark…?”

He held the file out. Said nothing. Just watched you as you took it, hesitantly flipped through it, and realized what it was.

You looked up at him slowly. “I didn’t know they kept it. I didn’t think—”

“You knew.”

His voice was quiet. Dangerous.

You swallowed. “I volunteered. A long time ago. Before we—before this. Back when we weren’t sure how far you’d go.”

“You thought I’d lose control,” he said, each word precise and surgical. “You thought I’d become a monster.”

“I thought someone had to be able to stop you if that happened. And no one else would have the strength—or the reason—to do it.”

The room trembled. The ship’s gravity pulsed around his fury.

“You still kept it from me.”

You stepped forward, your voice breaking. “Because I didn’t want to stop you anymore. Because I fell in love with you, and I buried it. I didn’t even think about it until now.”

Silence.

Then he exhaled—long and low. Some tension bled from his shoulders.

“I believe you,” he said. “But I won’t lie—part of me wants to erase every trace of that file. Of that version of you.”

You flinched.

But then he looked at you, eyes softening just slightly. “And another part… is grateful.”

You blinked. “Grateful?”

He nodded. “Because if I ever do become something you’d need to stop—if the blood, the empire, the legacy rots me from the inside out—at least I know you’ll still be the one who can end it.”

He took your hand, guiding it to rest on his chest, right over his heart.

“But until then, I need you with me. Not against me. Not hidden. Beside me.”

And when he pulled you into his arms, it wasn’t just as his consort. It was as the only person in the universe he’d ever trust with the power to destroy him.

MOHAWK MARK

The imperial palace was alive with the sounds of war councils and training sessions. Mark stood at the balcony, his eyes scanning the horizon as he flexed his fingers around the edges of the railing. As the emperor of the Viltrumite Empire, he held absolute power, but even he couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach as he turned back toward the holoscreen that had just updated.

Failsafe: Subject Y/N

Directive: Terminate if required, Subject has capability to neutralize Emperor Mark Grayson upon loss of control.

The file was official. Efficient. Cold.

But what stung wasn’t the potential of losing control—it was the fact that you’d been placed there to take him down if things went too far.

When you entered the room, he didn’t even have to look at you to know you’d been near the tech department. Your aura, your confidence, it bled into the air as much as your heart did.

And now, it wasn’t just the idea of the Viltrumite empire that weighed on him—it was the woman he loved.

You walked up behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Mark?” Your voice was gentle, but it held a quiet strength. You’d already seen the file.

He didn’t turn toward you. “So this was your plan, huh?”

You frowned, moving to stand in front of him. He didn’t let you see his face, but the tension in his body was unmistakable.

“Mark, please,” you began, voice steady despite the storm behind his eyes. “I didn’t want this. I never wanted it. It was just… a safety measure. In case—”

“You knew what I was capable of. And you still agreed to it?”

His anger wasn’t as violent as it usually was, but there was something heavy and unnerving in his tone. A frustration built from knowing how far you’d go to keep him in check. But more than that, a fear. The fear that you, his everything, could end him if he fell too far down the path of destruction.

You stepped closer, your fingers brushing the edge of his chin. He finally looked at you, his expression hard, but his eyes betrayed the hurt he refused to acknowledge.

“I didn’t want to be your contingency,” you said softly. “I didn’t want to be someone who’d be used against you. But I couldn’t stand the thought of you losing yourself, of everything we’ve worked for falling apart. So I agreed to it, but I never thought I’d have to follow through.” His gaze softened for a moment before hardening again. He stepped back, rubbing a hand through his hair, obviously conflicted. “You trust me, right?” he finally asked, voice low.

“Of course I do,” you replied, the sincerity in your words clear.

“Then trust that I can keep control. Trust that I don’t need you to be my fail-safe.”

The moment hung in the air between you both, thick with uncertainty. But then he stepped forward and cupped your face, his thumb gently brushing your cheek.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he whispered. “Not to some protocol. Not to some plan. You’re mine, and if anything were to ever happen to me, I want you to be there by my side—not as someone who would end me, but as someone who would save me.”

You leaned into his touch, your breath calming as you rested your forehead against his. “I’m here, Mark. Not as a failsafe. Just as me.”

He kissed your forehead, wrapping you up in his arms tightly, his grip like steel but his heart finally unburdened. “Good. Because if you ever turned on me… I wouldn’t stand a chance.”

OMNI MARK

The quiet hum of the headquarters filled the otherwise still air, punctuated only by the occasional flicker of the holo-comm as it flashed an incoming file. Mark’s gaze remained fixed on the screen before him, his expression unchanged even as his fingers hovered over the control panel. He’d been briefed on the situation earlier, but now, seeing the details in front of him… it felt different.

Failsafe: Subject Y/N

Directive: Terminate if deemed necessary. Protocol initiated for the termination of Mark Grayson if he loses control.

The coldness of the file, the efficiency of the directive—it was nothing new. He’d seen similar things before. But seeing your name there—knowing that you, his partner, someone he trusted more than anyone, were tasked with stopping him if he went too far—it hit deeper than any punch he had ever taken.

He stood up, his mind racing. He’d always believed that if things ever got out of hand, it would be because of the greater mission. But this… this felt personal.

And he wasn’t sure if that made it worse or better.

When you walked into the room, Mark’s attention snapped to you. There was no need to say anything. He knew you knew. You were already walking toward him, a hesitant frown pulling at your lips.

“You saw it,” he said quietly, his voice holding a weight that made the air around you both feel dense.

You nodded, your eyes searching his face as if trying to find the right words. “Mark… I didn’t want this. It wasn’t my choice. I never wanted to be that—a failsafe. It was just… a measure they thought would be necessary.”

He took a deep breath, his chest tightening. “Necessary?” he repeated, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re telling me that the people I’ve fought for, protected, fought beside… they thought you would have to kill me if I lost control?”

You reached out, gently touching his arm. “They believed it was the only option to ensure things wouldn’t spiral. But I never wanted that. I just—I wanted to be there for you, not against you. But you have to understand, Mark. You can’t always control everything.”

Mark’s heart ached at your words, the tenderness and truth behind them. You were right, in a way. The power he held, the weight of being Omni—he had lost control before. But the idea of you, his lover, the one person he trusted more than anything, being the one tasked with ending him if it came down to it… that was something he couldn’t just accept.

He turned away from you, running a hand through his hair. “I can’t… I can’t let that happen. I can’t have you as my fail-safe. I can’t have you be the one who has to end me.” His voice cracked slightly, and he hated that, but he couldn’t help it.

You stepped closer, pressing your body against his, your arms wrapping around his waist. The warmth of your presence calmed him, but the sting of betrayal and fear remained. “I never wanted that, Mark. I just wanted to make sure you were safe. I thought… I thought that if things went too far, if you lost control, I could stop it. But that’s not how I want to be with you. Not at all.”

Mark closed his eyes, his hands coming up to cup your face gently. “Then don’t be that. Don’t be someone who could ever hurt me. You’re my partner. You’re my… everything. I never want you to be the one to take me down, no matter what happens.”

His thumbs stroked your cheeks as he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “You are my failsafe. Just not in the way they think. You’re the one who keeps me grounded. You’re the one who reminds me who I am.”

You smiled softly at him, your hands resting against his chest. “Then I’ll keep reminding you, Mark. You don’t need a failsafe. You have me.”

Mark looked into your eyes, a soft breath leaving his lips as he pulled you closer, holding you tight, as if to protect you from everything. “Thank you. For not being the one to stop me. Just for being here.”

And in that moment, everything seemed to fall into place. He wasn’t the hero the world wanted him to be. But in your arms, he didn’t need to be.

PRISONER MARK

The cold, sterile walls of the prison-like environment were nothing new to Mark. It had been his reality for longer than he cared to remember, the metallic clangs and the emptiness of the space suffocating any trace of his former life. He’d been alone in his thoughts for what felt like years, only finding solace in the brief moments when you’d come to see him.

But tonight, as he sifted through the files on the screen, something caught his eye—something that made his blood run cold. His hand froze as his eyes fell upon the title of the file.

Failsafe: Y/N

Directive: Terminate if necessary.

Mark felt the weight of the words like a physical blow. His mind couldn’t comprehend it at first. He scanned the contents, desperately hoping it was some kind of sick joke, but there was no mistaking it. It was a directive. You, his love, his partner, were programmed to be his end if things ever got out of control.

His breathing quickened as the file details painted the grim picture: a contingency plan set up for the possibility that he might lose control. It was more than just a failsafe; it was a death sentence.

He slammed the file closed, his fist hitting the desk with a resounding crash. His thoughts raced, anger bubbling up, but underneath it all, there was something much worse: betrayal.

The sound of the door opening snapped him out of his trance, and there you stood, the woman who had been his light in the darkness, the one person who had kept him going. Your expression faltered the moment you saw him, and he could tell immediately you knew.

“Mark…” you started, your voice small, almost too gentle, like you were afraid of the storm brewing inside him.

He didn’t look at you. He couldn’t. His mind was spiraling. How could you? How could they make you the one to take me down?

Mark’s voice was a low growl when he spoke. “You knew. You knew, and you still stayed.”

“I didn’t have a choice,” you replied quietly, stepping closer, your eyes pleading with him to understand. “I never wanted to be this. I never wanted to be your failsafe. But they—they—made me, Mark. I had no say. I was supposed to be your contingency.”

He shook his head, the weight of the realization sinking in deeper. “They made you a weapon against me.”

“No,” you insisted, stepping forward and reaching for him, your hand touching his arm, a calming presence amidst the storm. “It wasn’t like that. They didn’t make me want to hurt you. They just… thought that if things got too far, if you couldn’t stop yourself, that I would be the one who could.”

Mark turned to face you, his expression dark with hurt, anger, and confusion. He towered over you, the distance between you both feeling so vast despite your closeness. “And you’d kill me if it came to it, wouldn’t you? You’d be the one to do it, if I ever went too far.”

Your eyes softened, the sadness there making his heart ache. “I didn’t want it, Mark. I didn’t want any of this. I just wanted to be by your side. But they—they—made sure I would be the one to stop you, just in case.”

A cold laugh escaped him, but it didn’t sound like anything close to amusement. It was dark, bitter. “They knew exactly what they were doing, didn’t they? Turning the one person I trust into my executioner.”

You reached out, placing a hand on his chest, and he finally let his guard down, looking down at you. His eyes were full of pain and disbelief, but there was also something else. A quiet realization. You weren’t his enemy. You never had been.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” you said softly, your thumb tracing the curve of his jaw. “I never wanted to hurt you. I just wanted to be the one who kept you safe.”

He closed his eyes, a deep breath filling his lungs as he pressed his forehead against yours. “But you don’t understand. They’ve taken that from me—taken the one thing I had left, the one thing that kept me from losing myself completely.”

You whispered softly, “I won’t let you lose yourself, Mark. Not while I’m here.”

He stood still for a moment, his heart hammering in his chest as he fought against the overwhelming weight of everything. He wanted to believe you. But the thought of you—the person he loved most in this world—being tasked with killing him if it came to it… it was almost too much to bear.

“Don’t make me that,” you whispered. “I’m not your weapon, Mark. You are my world.”

Mark’s resolve began to crumble, and he pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you as if you were the only thing that kept him tethered to reality. For the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to feel vulnerable, to feel safe in your arms. He needed to. He needed to believe that you wouldn’t be the one to destroy him.

“I won’t let them turn you into that,” he muttered against your hair. “I won’t let them take you from me.”

“I’m here,” you whispered back, pressing closer to him. “I’m here, Mark. And I always will be. You just have to trust me.”

He tightened his grip around you, his body trembling with the fear and relief that swirled together. The realization that you had always been his failsafe in ways they would never understand—that maybe you were what kept him from falling too far—was something he hadn’t wanted to see. But now that he knew… he didn’t know if it would ever be enough. But for now, it was everything.

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flofaiiry · 2 days ago

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Some fluff for Frank Langdon cause I feel like everyone has written angst for him. Maybe you guys have the same day off and just having a lazy morning where neither one of you have the energy to get out of bed

omg anon ur so right there is a lack of fluff for this man on this app & i am guilty of writing angst for him bc the plot ideas are right there and it's so easy to write them lmao 😔

but mornings with him would be perfect. they're probably so rare bc of ur hectic schedules in the pitt so when u get them you absolutely savourrrr them & stay in bed for hours. this man is so tall (i think) so he gives me huge big spoon energy. you definitely wake up to him pressing teeny tiny kisses to your shoulder as you stir awake in his arms. "well i must say, this is much nicer to wake up to than that terrible alarm sound you chose." he laughs into your skin, "my alarm is not terrible, it's effective." you laugh, "yeah effective at making me think we're entering the fucking purge or something." he smiles into your shoulder before pressing another kiss to the skin there, "it wakes you up though, doesn't it?" you shake your head, rolling over to face him. "i suppose it does," you push the tiny bit of overgrown sides of hair behind his ear, before resting your hand on the side of his face, and leaning forward to plant a soft kiss on his lips. "good morning," you say quietly when you pull away, only for him to lean back in, kissing you again. it's slow, but says everything you need it to say. i miss you, i love you, etc. you'll stay that way for a while, in bed, enjoying each others company, talking about whatever crosses your mind. you could stay here forever, and you fully intend on doing so until one of yours' stomachs grumbles just a little too loud. "i guess we should probably eat something," you say, head resting on his chest while he traces little circles on your shoulder. you sit up a tiny bit to look at the alarm clock on the bedside table, "jesus christ, frank, it's like 1pm, how long have we been lying here?" he smiles, pulling you back down to lie on his chest, "don't know. don't care." he presses a kiss to the top of your head. "you're seriously not even a tiny bit hungry?" he shrugs, "i guess eating wouldn't hurt." you smile, "it definitely would not." he looks down at you, "ok fine, but we're coming back here after." "deal."

#really on my langdon shit today #frank langdon x reader #frank langdon #the pitt #the pitt x reader #frank langdon drabble #asked&answered

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wildemaven · 14 hours ago

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chasing stillness | jack abbot

pairing - jack abbot x ofc!alix miller, rn word count - 2587 content warning - 18+ blog; lots of self reflection, use of ‘you’, Alix :39, lighter skin tone, has an a good amount of tattoos covering her body, has short hair that’s long enough to be pulled back, an avid runner:, established friendship, lots of feelings— but neither of them seem to be brave enough to share with the classroom, sarcasm and friendly banter, mention of divorce, mention of blood but nothing too serious, no y/n, please let me know if I failed to list something. a/n - I originally had something completely different I was going to post for these two first and then I started writing this and things went in a different direction. So you’re getting this first and then other thing will come later. I feel rusty with my writing but it was fun to dive back into it. Anyways, gonna go hide now! Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

The notebook sat open on the kitchen counter—the one filled with countless grocery lists, to-do tasks and other personal details worth noting—next to your keys, ball-point pen and the bland energy bar you still needed to scarf down.

Outside the sky was beginning its transition from late afternoon to early evening— clouds backlit in a soft gold as the sun slowly inched toward the city’s skyline.

You stood in a pocket of fading light that filtered through the kitchen window, one foot on the bottom rung of a stool as you finished lacing up your well-worn running shoes. With both feet now firmly planted on the hardwood floor, your eyes drift to the blank page. You grab the pen, clicking once, twice writing a single line:

Goals, Guts & Zero Guilt— Just Fucking Do It

You stared at the words for a while. The way they loop, cross and connect with purpose.

It’s not the first time you’ve attempted this list. You start it every week, chickening out and turning the page allowing other lists to become your priority in the following days— you were a pro at hindering your own growth. There were times you’d flip back to the page, reading the words over before leaving on your run to work then flipping to the first blank page pushing it off for another day.

But today felt different. And so you add:

run because it feels good, not because I’m outrunning anything

I’m not a failure because my marriage failed

Starting over is a new beginning, not a punishment

Stop hiding from the idea that someone might care

You pause. Pen hovering as you internally debate the last point, then adding:

“Because You Matter” - Ask Jack, someday. Maybe

Because you matter. Those three words had been tormenting you since he’d said them to you the night of PittFest. There was a softness in the way he had spoken to you in that moment, dialing back his grit and satirical tone. This wasn’t an Attending giving his post-mass-casualty speech. It felt vulnerable and raw— like there was more he wanted to say than he allowed himself to.

Because you matter to the hospital? Because you matter to us? Because you matter to him?

Your fingers trace over the edge of that last line. Not crossing it out or underlining it or avoiding like you had been for the last year. Just acknowledging it— a possibility, at some point.

The vibration from your watch pulls you from your thoughts. It’s an hour before your shift starts. You grab your keys, bag—tossing in the forgotten energy bar you’ll now contemplate eating mid-shift—and zip your hoodie halfway.

Running to work wasn’t efficient. It didn’t make sense, especially before a 12 hour shift in the emergency room where you were on your feet for hours on end. But it made you feel something. The closest to being in control you’d felt in a long time.

It gives you time to carve out space in your head— clear the static. Respite from your psyche and the stress of work you sometimes carry longer than you should. The hum of the city and the rhythm of your feet pounding against the pavement always made the perfect soundtrack as you descended the steps of your apartment building and head toward Pittsburgh Medical Trauma Center.

The sky had deepened to a darker shade, streaked with ash-blue clouds. The first stars were just beginning to emerge—faint little beacons welcoming you to the night shift.

As the hospital comes into view, you slowed to a jog. Breathing steady. Legs warm and heavy with a pleasant fatigue. You wipe the sweat from your forehead with the sleeve of your hoodie.

A single bus sits in the ambulance bay— vacant and waiting for the next urgent departure.

You're five minutes past your normal arrival time, but take a moment to fully collect yourself. Eyes closed, you draw in a long breath, then exhale deeply. And again.

The whirring of the mechanical door sliding open cuts through the air, the bustle of ED spilling out and echoing across the concrete that surrounds you. Your pulse is a deafening thud in your ears— not from exertion, but the flicker of movement in front of you.

Jack.

He stands just beyond the entrance doors. A cup of coffee in one hand, badge clipped to its usual spot on his pants pocket and his gaze fixed on the watch strapped to his left wrist—an old relic from his service days, still faithfully ticking.

“Five minutes slower than the other day.” Jack says, finally looking up at you. Surprise flickers in his eyes, quickly replaced by a smirk. “Should I be worried you’re losing stamina… or just trying to give me a head start?”

“Is this where I start regretting sharing my location with you?” You ask, entirely teasing. Cold air nips at your bare skin as you peel off your damp hoodie. The ink on your arms rises beneath a trail of goosebumps as a breeze sweeps through the emergency bay.

You’d been working together for the better part of five years, riding the unpredictable waves of ED nights that swung between full-blown chaos and ghostly quiet. Him, Jack Abbot— the cool-headed Senior Emergency Medicine Physician that everyone turned to when things fell apart. You, Alix Miller— the well respected R.N. and anchor who always knew where everything was, anticipated what needed doing and had the kind of deadpan wit that made Jack look forward to shift change.

Somewhere along the way, between split-second triage calls and vending machine raids at 1 a.m., you’d carved out a rhythm— easy, constant. The kind of friendship built on trust, sharp banter and just enough stolen glances and lingering silences to keep you both pretending it was still just that.

Jack chuckles, shaking his head, slipping his free hand into his pocket. “If you didn’t want me keeping tabs, you shouldn’t have accepted the request.” His eyes skim your ink, but he keeps his tone light. “Didn’t want to crush your spirit two runs in a row.”

He pauses, his smirk softening just a touch. “Miller— you good, though? You look like you ran more than just miles today.”

Because you matter.

“Yeah— yeah I’m fine. Got a late start. Slept like shit and probably should have stretched out more. Nothing I can’t handle.” You say with your best convincing tone, hoping it’s enough that he buys into it.

“You sure?” Jack’s head tilts slightly, offering you an opening— a quiet invitation to lay it all out. You’re not surprised he doesn’t buy it. He knows you too well. All you can offer is a reassuring smile and a nod.

“I need you in there.”

“You’ve got me, Abbot.” You say, giving his shoulder a brief squeeze as you pass him and step through the doorway.

It was 3:45 am when you found a moment to sit, most patients waiting on lab results or family to be released to. You sank into the chair, muscles heavy, mind foggy with the weight of too many hours and not enough rest. At least it was Friday— the end of a long, punishing week finally within reach. You held onto that thought like a lifeline.

Jack was taking advantage of the brief lulled atmosphere leaning against the counter of the nurses station with a half-drained cup of sludge, watching as you scribbled down notes onto your beloved fluorescent pink square sticky notepad with the same energy as a dying flashlight— your use of them was prevalent, adorning all surfaces around the hub of the Emergency Department.

“Is it your pen giving out or is that your soul?” Jack asked dryly before gulping down the last bit of his black coffee and tossing the paper cup into the overflowing trash can.

You didn’t look up as you peeled another square from the pad, crumpling it in your hand and tossing in the same direction. “Both, unfortunately.”

“You’re ridiculous.” He shook his head and grinned at your quick response, huffing out a snort just barely audible over the patient monitors and hushed murmuring among the other nurses and residents.

“Go home, Miller. That’s the third time you’ve written ‘Abbot’ with two T’s.” He says, eyeing you with mock seriousness. “Pretty sure there’s a 23-gauge needle around here somewhere. I could drain whatever ink is left in that pen, take you behind Curtain 4, and make it permanent.” He unfolds his left arm, pointing to a spot on yours. “Right there, just above that little leaf thing on your forearm. You’ll never forget it.”

“That would be a bird wing, and I’m just seeing if you’re awake enough to catch it. As thrilling as that infection sounds— I’ll pass. Besides, it’s Friday— I leave when you do.”

Jack’s house was a charming Craftsman bungalow located exactly two miles from the hospital. With two bedrooms and a small tiled bathroom, it was furnished in a way that perfectly reflected his laid-back personality, subtly underscored by the crisp precision of his military background. Every detail, every piece of his life arranged throughout the space, felt intentional—quietly ordered, effortlessly him.

Your house was on the opposite side of town— ten miles from Jack's and twelve from the hospital.

It had become a normal occurrence since PittFest.

Just crash at my place, Miller. It’s closer. You shouldn’t be running home like this.

You hadn’t argued. Too tired. Too wrung out. And maybe—though you hadn’t let yourself think it at the time—too grateful for the way he’d said it like it wasn’t a question.

He’d drive. You’d ride in silence. The blackout curtains made it easier to fall asleep fast and hard the second you laid on the couch. You’d sleep a few hours, pull together some sort of meal for the two of you from whatever he had in his fridge, then call a rideshare, or sometimes—on the rare days he wasn’t back on shift—he’d take you home himself.

He told you it was for convenience. That it wasn’t safe to run home after a twelve-hour shift, not with the streets as empty and strange as they were before dawn.

But the truth was quieter, heavier.

He just wanted to make sure you were safe.

Little did you know it eased something inside him— like he’d tucked you into a space where the world couldn’t get to you, at least not for a few hours.

Now, over a year later, it was just a normal routine between you two.

“Fair. But I’ll have you know, it wouldn’t be my first.” The corner of his mouth quirked up. “I was pretty popular in the barracks for my stick-and-pokes. Practically a professional.” he murmured, eyes drifting back to the monitor above the nurses’ station, reading and rereading the stats, analyzing each one to see where his presence was needed most, mapping out his next move.

“Oh, I’m sure you were,” you said with a teasing smile, eyes lingering on him as you rolled them just enough to let him know you weren’t entirely unimpressed. “Alright. Go do your thing and work your doctor magic, Abbot.” Peeling another square, wadding it into a ball before tossing it to where Jack was still leaning with his arms crossed over his chest, hitting his bicep and falling to the floor.

“That’s what I do best. And I look damn good doing it.” Propelling himself forward and smacking the top of the desk with a grin before heading around the counter toward the patient in room twelve.

Some people dreaded night shifts, but you had grown accustomed to them—thrived on them. The darkness brought fewer questions, fewer forced smiles. While the world slept, you became an expert at stitching things back together— arteries, skin, and the real-life stories unraveling at 2 a.m. in multiple trauma bays. A nightly rhythm of chaos that gives you purpose.

When morning arrives, as it always does, you trade the steady hum of machines, overhead pages, the metallic tang of blood, and the sharp sting of antiseptic mingled with burnt coffee for the quiet calm of the city as you step outside.

Jack walks ahead, as he always does, his canvas bag slung high over his shoulder. The morning light casting long shadows across the walkway leading to the hospital’s parking garage. He scans the path without thinking, eyes sweeping over every corner, every parked car— familiar or not. It’s the soldier in him. Those instincts etched deep in his bones, even in peacetime. There’s no threat here, not really, but he still walks like there might be. One step ahead. Always ready to shield, to take the hit before it ever reaches you.

Because you matter.

The flick of Jack’s unlock button sets off a rapid series of beeps as you near the black truck. He’s already at the passenger door holding it open, leaning casually against the frame. He doesn’t say anything as you approach— just observes you quietly. Your dark grey scrub top is rumpled and half-tucked and the loose waves of your hair are barely contained in your favorite clip— clear signs of a long shift.

Somehow, he always looks like he’s stepped out of a GQ centerfold— every curl perfectly in place. The greying five o’clock shadow doesn’t take away from his looks— if anything, it makes them worse in the best way. Like he needs the added charm on top of everything else he’s already got going for him.

There’s a flicker of nervousness in him that catches your eye just before you climb into the truck. His head is angled down toward his boots, his weight shifting from one foot to the other, only lifting his gaze once you’re standing right in front of him. And when he looks at you—really looks—it’s as if time stalls just for a moment. His head tilts in that signature way of his and he gives you a little nod that seems to say, I’ve got you now.

You toss your bag on the floor and slide into the seat. Your legs feel unsteady, almost jelly-like..

The sun glares harshly through the windshield as Jack pulls out of the garage and merges onto the busy street, making you wince. You groaned, quickly flipping the visor down, trying to block what you could. Jack chuckled quietly to himself, turning the dial on the radio up just enough for a country ballad to fill the truck cab— something about a neon moon.

You slump back in the seat with a quiet sigh, searching for some semblance of comfort to get through the last stretch of the short drive. Your thoughts start to dissolve into that familiar haze that always follows the slow burn-off of post-shift adrenaline. And like clockwork, your eyes are already drifting shut by the time he turns onto his street.

Jack glances over once, careful not to wake you, then pulls into his driveway. He let the engine idle for a second longer than necessary, just watching you breathe— steadily now, not like earlier when you were leaning over a coding patient with shaking hands and blood coating your gloves.

He didn’t wake you until he absolutely had to.

You stirred with a soft sound, slightly dazed as if you’d just woken from a year long slumber, blinking slowly at the front door.

“You’re home,” he said.

You smile sleepily at the the sentiment, but don’t bother to correct him.

#jack abbot #dr jack abbot #Dr abbot #jack abbot x you #jack abbot x oc #jack abbot x ofc #dr jack abbot x you #the Pitt #wildemaven writes #dr jack abbot x ofc #jack x alix

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