#cold callback

[astrumocs]

A late birthday gift to @quiescent-trolls of Lad and Oda's selfie together in front of the fountain that we talked about ages ago by now but that I always thought about, I hope you like it enough that it was worth the wait, <:)

(Special mention to @dirgelwch for color blocking in my fountain lineart/design and doing the water too, <3)

[thefastestclockintheuniverse]

yeah, see Jade, I told you he wasn't gunna wanna relive that shit and literally sword fight you...

I told you. Dog.

[snobgoblin]

trying to give Reise a birthday. and I'm thinking about October 13th because it's exactly 9 months after Lucio's birthday and the implications of that are really funny

[daltonsnightmare]

MacGyver (2016) s4e08 - Father + Son + Father + Matriarch | Cold Open

[dailylowqualitycats]

Day 110

Winter cat

Mittens returns from day 21

[retrokid616]

last post (not leaving early i just don't go this long)

a child

aka THE KID FROM THE COLD OPENING HOLLY SHIT anyway see y'all next week on campaing 3 so until then keep close fellow lightkeepers

[realredbanana]

prev tags:

GUYS THE MELODY OF PASSERINE IS EVERYWHERE IN COLD!! IT’S LIKE THE NARRATOR IS STILL TRYING TO RECOVER FROM THE PAINFUL REALIZATION OF PASSERINE AND BEING ABRUPTLY CUT OFF FROM THEIR COMMUNITY!! AND THEN THE ROSE MELODY SLOWLY SNEAKS IN THERE!! AS THEY BEGIN SETTLING INTO THIS NEW LIFE AND PREPARING FOR WHAT’S TO COME!! AHHHHH

[kooffeecup]

sugar bound ˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩ִֶָ

⋆ drabble series masterlist ⋆

summary:

⋆ You were at your lowest. Rent overdue. No job callbacks. A pile of unopened bills gathering dust. Desperation led you to the one person who always looked at you a second too long in class — Professor Jeon. He was untouchable. Respected. Married, even. But he was also rich. Cold. And maybe… just lonely enough.

So you made a deal with the devil: become his sugar baby in exchange for everything you needed.

Characters: Professor Jeon Jungkook (45), Y/N (26)

Genre: Angst, fluff, Age Gap, Sugar Baby AU, Forbidden Romance

credits : edited by me, heartshape envelop from pinterest

Index : coming soon! ( taglist open if anyone wants to get tagged)

[astrumocs]

Odarem, is there a simple moment you look back on and think fondly of? Nothing grand or spectacular, just a mundane thing- like an old routine or something.

"I'd have to say... hm- maybe the night I met Lad? It wasn't planned, Jules thought I was gonna be out of the hive the first night he brought Lad over to his place, but I wasn't, and for a bit there it was a very awkward surprise introduction."

"I don't know when we would've met, if ever, had I not canceled my plans and forgot to mention it. Jules tended not to go out of his way to introduce the people in his life to one another, shy guy that he was."

"I don't know if it's mundane enough to count, but it feels like it was such a simple moment at the time that ended up being special later, looking back."

[followingthebutterflies7]

Better Chug That Mountain Dew

Spencer Agnew x Reader

Word count: 1.8k

Summary: Spencer flies to New York to see your Broadway debut as Veronica in Heathers. He thinks he’s prepared, but he couldn’t be more wrong.

Warnings: Jealousy, suggestive content, strong language.

--------------------------------------------------------

Spencer had always supported you. He had been with you long before your name started showing up on cast lists with lead roles beside it.

He was with you when you were still doing side characters and bit parts, juggling Smosh shoots and auditions and late-night table reads. He’d been there when you flubbed your lines during a cold read, when your callback got canceled last minute, when you cried on his couch because you thought maybe you just weren’t cut out for this.

And he had celebrated with you when you landed your first commercial gig, sat with you when you nervously paced the green room waiting for an off-Broadway callback. Always in your corner. Always proud.

And now here you were.

Veronica Sawyer. In a full Broadway production of Heathers. A proper stage. A real audience. You had made it.

He was the first person you called when you landed the role. And the first to scream. He had gotten you flowers, a handwritten card full of awful inside jokes, two Mountain Dew Kickstarts to celebrate together, and one line at the end that said: “You’re gonna blow the roof off, V.”

You told him about everything. About moving to New York, the panic of signing a lease, the chaos of rehearsals. Every phone call was a play-by-play: the set design, the costumes, how your choreographer nearly cried during the first full run-through.

You sent him shaky videos from tech rehearsal, FaceTimed him in full costume, left voice memos rambling about how terrifying and beautiful it all was.

He listened to every one. Saved most of them.

And when you finally said, “Opening night’s in two weeks. Come if you can,” he didn’t hesitate.

He bought the ticket the same day.

Now he was here to see opening night.

He’d been proud. So proud.

But he’d also been warned.

By you. By Courtney. By Angela. Even by Shayne, who read the libretto once and handed Spencer a sticky note with the words: “Don’t get weird during Dead Girl Walking.”

Spencer, at the time, had scoffed.

“Please. I’ve seen them flirt with demons in Smosh sketches. I can handle Heathers.”

He thought he was prepared.

Thought knowing the lyrics, the plot, and the choreography would be enough. You’d told him everything; you’d called him after every rehearsal, shared backstage gossip, sent him snippets of songs, and described scenes in painful detail, all in an effort to prepare your man.

And he said he could handle it.

He really thought he could.

Right up until opening night.You’d met him for a quick dinner and a drink before the show. You only had water, to stay hydrated, and he had a much needed Kickstart after a bumpy flight. You’d teased him about it for years. His one true vice, second only to you.

You looked radiant in that chaos of the evening; focused, lit up from the inside. The kind of glow that didn’t come from makeup or lighting. The kind of glow that only came from doing what you loved and knowing you were meant to do it.

You kissed him quickly outside the theater, laughing as you turned to leave, promising to see him after curtain.

Spencer watched you go, heart full.

And then the show started.

He slid into his seat, front row, aisle, black button-up, trying to play it cool. The Playbill in one hand. A bouquet of your favorite flowers in the other.

From the first number, he was done for.

You weren’t just performing, you were transforming. Veronica’s words, her emotions, her anger, her heartbreak, every part of her lived in you. You disappeared into the character.

He had the biggest smile on his face, until it started slipping.

He watched those two dumb jocks hit on you, watched them hover, flirt, touch. Watched you laugh. In character, yes, but Spencer’s hand gripped the edge of his seat all the same.

His smile twitched slightly in Fight For Me.

You were singing to JD, eyes soft, vulnerable. Reaching out.

Hey

Could you hold my hand?

And could you carry me through no man's land?

You grabbed JD’s hand.

Spencer flexed his hands. Smile gone.

Then came Freeze Your Brain.

JD sang to you like you were the only person in the world. Got in your space. Pressed a Slurpee to your lips. You sipped.

Spencer’s jaw tensed. Hard.

Go on and freeze your brain

Try it

He was seething. In the prettiest, most tightly wound way imaginable.

The moment the blue lighting spilled across the stage, he felt it, this low, humming sense of doom building in his chest. He knew what was coming, you had told him about this song so many times before.

The one scene Spencer had tried so hard to mentally prepare for.

But nothing could’ve prepared him for this.

It started quiet. Innocent.

You were alone on stage.

You could feel the energy in the room change. The audience buzzed with anticipation. Spencer sat up straight, every nerve ending on fire.

You started the number with fire in your eyes. He’d never seen you so alive. So in control.

The demon queen of high school has decreed it

She says Monday, 8 a.m., I will be deleted

They'll hunt me down in study hall

Stuff and mount me on the wall

30 hours to live, how shall I spend them?

You prowled across the stage like it belonged to you. Because it did. And Spencer’s pulse kicked up in response.

I don't have to stay and die like cattle

I could change my name and ride up to Seattle

But I don't own a motorbike

Wait.

Here's an option that I like

Spend these 30 hours gettin' freaky, yeah

The lights shifted again.

There was a bed.

JD on the bed.

Spencer leaned forward in his seat without realizing.

I need it hard

I'm a dead girl walking

I'm in your yard

I'm a dead girl walking

Before they punch my clock

I'm snappin' off your window lock

Got no time to knock, I'm a dead girl walking

You crossed the stage slowly, deliberately. The choreography was sensual, full of bravado and desperation. Your voice wrapped around the lyrics with dangerous intent.

You stalked JD, your hands sliding up his arms slowly. Deliberately. Spencer’s eyes widened.

Sorry, but I really had to wake you

See, I decided I must ride you 'til I break you

'Cause Heather says I got to go

You're my last meal on death row

Shut your mouth and lose them tighty-whities

You shoved JD back onto the mattress. Climbed into his lap. JD’s hand slid to your waist.

Spencer’s blood boiled.

Then JD ripped open your blouse. You tossed it dramatically to the side, matching the beat. The crowd gasped. Spencer stopped breathing.

He knew it was acting. He knew the show. Knew this scene.

But knowing and watching were two very different things.

You looked so real. Your hands, your breath, your grin, it wasn’t timid. It wasn’t “sorry, this is for the part.” It was bold.

And then you kissed JD. Hard. Deep. Hands in his hair. Spencer’s eye twitched.

His nails dug into the Playbill in his lap.

He could feel his knee bouncing, jaw locked so tight it ached.

The lighting turned red. Hellfire.

Then, the line.

You turned slightly toward the audience. The spotlight caught your face just right.

Your voice is crystal clear, every lyric dropping like a challenge.

And in the middle of it, in that exact moment, your gaze snapped to the front row.

Right to him.

You held his eyes.

A single second. Maybe two.

And you sang it.

“Better chug that Mountain Dew.”

He stared, slack-jawed.

And when your lips curled into the faintest smirk, he nearly blacked out.

Because that line? That line was a direct hit.

That line was sacred.

He had once said in passing that the only thing he’d marry before you was a cold Kickstart at 9 a.m., and now here you were; mocking, seducing, owning him with five words.

He hadn’t even realized how tense he was until then. Not until those five words punched him in the chest.

Everyone knew he loved that stupid drink. You especially.

You turned back to JD like it was nothing.

He didn’t hear the rest of the song. He saw movement, saw you ducking down to your scene partner for another kiss, but all he could focus on was the electric buzz under his skin, and the fire in your eyes when you looked at him like that.

Someone seated next to him noticed how agitated he was and leaned over. “Are you good?”

“No,” he said, eyes still locked on you. “Not even a little.”

Because it wasn’t just the acting. It wasn’t the choreography. It was you. Performing like your life depended on it. You were electric. Unapologetic. On fire.

And the way you looked at him?

Like you knew exactly what you were doing.

Like you were daring him to do something about it.

He couldn’t stop thinking about the way your hips moved, how your voice hit every note like a weapon, how JD’s hands had lingered for far too long.

He wanted the show to end.

He wanted the curtain to fall.

He wanted you.

--------------------------------------------------------

Backstage after curtain call, you barely made it to the dressing room before your phone buzzed.

SPENCER:

Hope you’re ready to wrap this show with an encore.

At home.

No lights, no audience.

Just you and me.

You laughed, a little breathless. Warm. Buzzing from adrenaline and applause and him.

A knock.

You opened the door.

Spencer stood there, arms crossed. Eyes burning.

“Hi,” you said sweetly. “Did you enjoy the show?”

His eyes dragged down, slow. Then back up.

“Don’t ‘hi’ me.”

You blinked, still smiling. “What?”

“You knew exactly what you were doing.”

“Did I?” you asked, batting your lashes. “I was just playing the role.”

Three steps. That’s all it took.

He closed the distance, voice low and sharp.

“I don’t know if I want to marry you or strangle you.”

You blinked. “That good, huh?”

“You made eye contact with me. During that line.”

“Yep.”

“That wasn’t in the choreography.”

“I improvised.”

He leaned in, lips brushing your ear.

“Tonight, you’re my dead girl walking.”

You shivered.

“I meant it, by the way,” you said softly, stepping closer. “I knew exactly where you were sitting.”

He looked at you like he wanted to tear the world apart just to get you closer.

“You’re evil.”

You tilted your head, all fake innocence. “And you love it.”

His hands slid to your waist. His breath hit your jaw.

“I’m driving us home,” he murmured. “And when we get there, you’re gonna repeat every word you sang tonight.”

“Oh?”

“But this time,” he growled, “you won’t be pretending who it’s for.”

You smiled.

“Then what are we waiting for?”

He didn’t wait another second.

[galedekarios]

hezenkoss: it's touching that you brought your new friends to do with you, volkarin. hezenkoss: i'll be sure to bury you and your new lover in the same tomb!

i got this line finally during the fight with hezenkoss on my emmrich romance pt. the fight usually ends too quickly to trigger all combat dialogue.

anyhow, this banter once again reminded me of the short story 'flame eternal'.

i'm not sure if the callback is intentional, if it is, it's a cruel one.

the short story references johanna and emmrich investigating a haunting that they later find out is caused by two lovers being separated in death. emmrich manages to soothe the spirit by reuniting them:

Emmrich closed his eyes. Whispers came, and when he spoke, the air vibrated. “By breath and shadow. By endless night. Tell us what haunts you.” The skull’s sockets flared green. “Divided. Cold. Two graves where there should be one!” “Twaddle.” “Johanna!” Emmrich cleared his throat and turned back to the skull. “Tell me: what will grant you rest?” “Take this one… to sunken black walls… by silver flames…” The skull’s glow flickered, faded. It resumed its earsplitting shrieks.

and

Emmrich leaned over a coffin ringed by bowls of silver fire. He placed the skull next to the body of an old woman, humbly dressed but crowned with white roses. The screaming stopped. “Mathilde…” “Your wife left gently, in her sleep, last midnight.” Emmrich smiled. “The records confirm she also wished to be interred together. You’ll not be parted again.” There was a sigh. Did the old woman’s mouth quirk, or was that the dancing flames? Johanna snorted. “All that fury, ending in another grave.” “Oh, I don’t know.” Emmrich ran a hand along the coffin’s snowy marble. “It would be rather fine to possess such an enduring affection. Besides, you did see this through.”

you can read the entire short story here, if you haven't yet, and i highly recommend it.

[sugarcubetikki]

From day one, there have been multiple theories and interpretations about what Adrien’s future career path and passions would be as we all wanted to see this boy be able to choose and discover something for himself rather than the dozens of activities his father was making him do. I believe the most popular theories in the fandom were Adrien becoming a baker or a stay-at-home dad. I think the popularity of these theories arose due to Adrien being good with kids and showing a fondness towards Marinette’s family and their bakery in early seasons. Furthermore, as Miraculous is built on subverting gender roles, and Adrien’s characterisation is more traditionally feminine with the narrative I guess we were building on that (and men taking on more domestic roles seems to be loved in fandom spaces in general).

However, I hadn’t quite seen running as a potential career choice for Adrien and most of us wouldn’t expect it either.

I, for one, didn’t expect it but I am not disappointed and I think it makes a great lot of sense for his character for three reasons.

Reason #1

As much as I love baker and stay-at-home dad Adrien aus, I’m glad that canon chose not to take that route in this episode. I think that choice would be more detrimental to his character rather than beneficial in our canon narrative.

As Thomas commented, so much of his character already revolves around Marinette considering that he’s pretty much all he has left and feels the most comfortable around her right now. (Even before his father’s death, his sense of identity seemed to revolve around her a lot as we saw him expressing that his love for her was the only thing he was sure of in S5. I think it’s because he’s been deprived of autonomy so much that he seems to be used to basing his desires around other people’s).

That’s why I believe him going into baking or being a stay-at-home dad at the future would not really help him grow as a character as both those choices still keep him under Marinette’s wing.

As this episode established, Adrien needs to figure and explore his passions for himself. Whilst Marinette will always be there for him, he needs to understand what he wants by his own volition.

(Having him make a breakthrough in discovering his interest for running without Marinette at the end of this episode was a great start!) Reason #2

I thought it was interesting how they started this sequence with Adrien looking up sadly at his big and lonely house before running away from it.

It takes me to what Sublime asks him later on.

This is what Adrien has wanted from Season 1: to run away and escape the four corners of his house to explore the outside world. It feels like a callback to Origins where I think of Adrien running away from house to start school. There’s also several times in the show where he runs away to escape the cold and lonely atmosphere his house brings.

The bars on the gate of the house in this scene also makes it look so much like a prison.

Of course, we now have Adrien standing on the outside of it rather than inside considering that the person who was keeping him in the house in the first place is dead.

It still doesn’t mean that Adrien thinks of the house as less of a prison. An association like that is hard to forget especially now that the house is where both his parents died.

But now, without Gabriel, we know he’s free to run from it for as long as he wants.

I also want to add that in Hinduism, running is considered as a physical response to escape distress.

Reason #3

Should someone’s passion really be built on running away from something else? Well no. But I don’t think we’re meant to see it that way. Adrien running at the end of this episode away from his house is meant to symbolise him finally breaking free from the Gabriel’s controlling influence. Him running away is mainly a step towards his growth.

Besides, running isn’t only seen as means to escape problems but it also signifies pursuit of a goal and taking on a spiritual journey for self-growth. (Dream analysis tends to associate both escapism and pursuit to running in dreams depending on the context and circumstance). This also fits Adrien’s character quite well. Not only is he escaping past trauma, but he’s taking on a new journey to explore what he wants in life.

So yeah, let the boy run!

I’m super excited to see where they take his characterisation with this one. The symbolism behind his potential passion/career choice is just gorgeous.

Edit: I’d just like to make it clear that I don’t see this scene as Adrien finding his passion for life. I more or less see it as Adrien taking a step forward to discover something he potentially is passionate about by himself without input from any of the people in his life (he also makes a new friend on his own and that makes me happy). Running is indeed a potential career choice for Adrien, and it could possibly be something he can see himself doing in the future, and we will definitely get more buildup to this passion of his in future episodes too! It’s not a definite career choice for Adrien though, because as Marinette said, he’s young and he has plenty of time to explore what he’s passionate about. This scene isn’t really about making a definite choice, but rather Adrien being allowed to explore something he feels is right by his own choice.

[happy74827]

Five Hundred Times

[Adrian Chase x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: He’s always the one who comes back bleeding, but this time, it’s your heart on the line {GIF: @tinalbion}

WC: 1855

Category: Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of Blood + Injuries {TW: Adrian being… well, Adrian. Which includes, but is not limited to: emotionally-stunted love confessions, gore-related quips, and bleeding on your furniture like it’s a love language}.

I may or may not have a new obsession 👀

『••✎••』

You smell blood before you see it.

Not the kind that reeks of death or sterile gauze, but something faintly metallic, woven into the sweat on his skin like it's been there long enough to get bored of being noticed. You don’t register it fully at first — too distracted by the scrape of keys against the door, the quiet grunt he makes when he shoulder-checks it open because one of his arms isn’t working.

And there he is.

Adrian Chase, dressed in blood and bulletproof nylon, wearing that same boyish smirk like a band-aid on a gaping wound. One eye is puffed and half-shut, there's a cut above his brow that’s still wet, and he's limping like someone took a crowbar to his knee.

But he grins like it’s funny.

"Babe," he drawls, stumbling into the living room like this is just another Tuesday. "So, weird story. Turns out, you can get stabbed in the same shoulder three times and still do a somersault over a moving car. Science."

You freeze in the kitchen doorway, a half-empty mug of tea cooling in your hands. You’d made it for him. Stupid, you think. Stupid, like warm drinks fix bullet wounds.

Your heart’s hammering behind your ribs—panic, fury, the kind of cold, sharp fear that makes you feel like your bones might splinter from the inside. He sees it, you think. Sees all of it and keeps walking.

He doesn’t sit. Just drops his mask on the floor like it was dirty laundry and starts pulling off the top half of his suit, fingers clumsy with dried blood. There’s a spreading stain on his side, dark and sluggish.

You haven’t moved. Your throat feels tight.

"Adrian," you say, and it comes out too soft. Not angry. Not even surprised. Just small.

He glances up, and there’s a flicker in his expression—guilt, maybe, or something adjacent to it. But it passes like a cloud over the sun.

"Hey, it’s fine. Just a little... hole." He gestures vaguely to his side. "Think I’ve had worse papercuts, honestly."

You exhale sharply, jaw twitching.

"A papercut?"

"Yeah, y’know—big, aggressive paper. Like, militant origami."

His words are candy-coated, tossed out like a deflection grenade. You can feel the heat crawling up your neck, not from anger this time, but from something deeper. Rawer. The kind of helpless grief that’s been piling up like unspoken words between the cracks of each visit, each stitched-up night, each half-lie he’s smiled through.

He keeps talking — something about the guy who did this, how he "kind of respected his dedication to stabbing," how he managed to make a pun mid-fight that he was really proud of — and you snap.

Not loud. Not violent. But something in you gives.

You set the mug down with shaking hands. Walk over slowly. Kneel in front of him. Not to patch him up. Not yet. Just to look.

His hand is resting on his thigh. You touch it, and he flinches — barely, like his nerves can’t quite decide if they’re online — but he lets you. You lift his fingers. Blood under his nails. Calluses from the last time he shattered someone’s jaw.

"You’re not okay," you whisper. It’s not a question.

Adrian stares down at you. The air is too still. You wonder if he’s going to say something flippant, some callback to a joke from two nights ago — "Define okay," or "Baby, I’m invincible." But he doesn’t. Not yet.

You continue. Voice tight.

"You keep coming back like this. And I keep pretending it’s fine. Because you pretend it’s fine. But I’m—I can’t keep doing it, Ade. I can’t keep watching you bleed and smile like it’s a sitcom punchline."

His jaw tightens. There’s a twitch at the corner of his mouth, like he’s still considering the punchline. But he doesn’t say it.

So you keep going. You have to.

"You laugh through pain like it’s a party trick. You get stabbed and joke about origami, and I’m here—every time—I’m just waiting for the time you don’t come back. Or the time you do, but you’re not you anymore. Just pieces of you. And I don’t think I can survive that, Adrian. I don’t think I’d even want to."

You don’t cry. Not really. You just press your forehead to his uninjured knee, breathing, shaking against the fabric of his suit.

Silence.

Then—

"You worry," he says.

It’s quiet. Not a question. Not even a thought, really —more like something that slipped out before his brain had a chance to process it.

His eyes are on you, but not in the way they usually are—no teasing, no deflection. Just that wide, strangely boyish sort of look, like he’s seeing you for the first time and it’s short-circuiting something inside him.

"You worry… about me."

He blinks slowly, as if the sentence is taking up more space in his head than he knows what to do with.

"I mean," he adds, rubbing the back of his neck with his good hand, "I knew you cared, obviously. You're here, you make tea, you patch me up when I’m leaking red stuff—very loving, very Florence Nightingale." He gestures vaguely, trying to play it cool, but his tone is all over the place—like he's trying to match what he thinks he should sound like and completely failing. "But this? This is like… real-deal worry. Like, emotional distress. Because of me."

He lets out a low, breathy laugh, barely holding together. "That’s wild."

You stare at him, stunned. The emotional rawness is still boiling just under your skin, and he’s over here having a mild existential revelation about the fact that someone loves him.

He leans back slightly, breath catching as it pulls at the wound on his side. Still smiling. Not the cocky kind—no, this one’s soft and stunned and almost… reverent.

"You love me," he says again, like he’s trying it out in different lighting. Like it might taste different if he says it slower.

You pull away, just enough to meet his eyes head-on. "Adrian, you’re bleeding."

"I know," he says, bright and breathless. "And you’re devastated about it."

His voice hitches on a laugh, and you don’t know whether to shake him or scream. Maybe both. Because this-this thing he’s doing, this delight in your suffering—he doesn’t even realize it’s breaking you.

"Why is that a joke to you?" you ask, quieter now. Fragile.

And that stops him.

Adrian’s grin falters, like someone blew out the candle behind his eyes.

"I’m not joking about you," he says, and it’s honest—plainspoken in a way that sounds strange coming from him. "I’m just… I didn’t think anyone could feel that way about me. Not really. Not past the first couple dates, anyway."

You blink, the words hitting you somewhere low in the chest. "You think I’m still here out of politeness?"

"I don’t know," he says, voice low. "I guess I thought you just had a hero thing. Or a kink. I don't know, man, it's confusing. I've never been loved before."

The words hang in the air, awkward and too heavy for how simply he said them, like a punchline that forgot to land.

He doesn’t meet your eyes now — just stares a little past you, past the room, past himself maybe. His breathing is shallow, and not just from the pain in his side. There’s something deeper in it. That quiet, jittery type of fear that has nothing to do with knives or bullets.

You blink at him. Slowly. Like, if you do it too fast, the weight of what he just said might tip you over completely.

"You... seriously think that?" you ask, your voice barely a whisper. "That I’m here because I have a kink?"

“I said maybe,” he mutters quickly, defensive in that dumb, knee-jerk way of his. “Could be. I mean—come on, have you seen me in this suit?”

Your expression doesn’t change.

His smirk flickers. Dies as he exhales, looking away again. "Sorry. That was—yeah. Not the time."

A beat passes. You sit back on your heels and stare at him, arms limp at your sides. Not because you’re angry anymore. You’re not even sure what you are. Hollow, maybe. Bone-tired.

"I thought you knew," you say, finally. "That I loved you."

"I mean, yeah. Kind of. You say nice things sometimes. You look at me like I’m not completely insane. You make soup." He gestures vaguely toward the kitchen, then winces. "But I didn’t know it meant something. Not like this. Not in a 'you break down when I’m bleeding' way."

You shake your head slowly. "Adrian… love is that. It means that. It’s not just soup and looking at each other. It’s being scared out of your mind because the person you care about walks into your house full of holes like it’s a joke.”

He doesn’t answer.

You glance down at his side. Blood is still seeping through the half-unzipped suit, slower now, but enough to make your stomach turn. You reach for the med kit on the table beside you, pull out gauze with shaking fingers, and move closer.

He watches you quietly, for once not narrating every second of it.

"I don’t want you to change who you are," you say softly as you press gauze against the wound. He hisses between his teeth but doesn’t pull away. "But I need you to stop acting like your life is disposable. Like it’s fine if you don’t come back one day."

Adrian swallows hard. "It’s not that I think it’s fine. I just… I don’t think about it."

"That’s the problem," you say, your voice breaking at the edges. "I think about it all the time."

He’s silent again. The tension in his jaw twitches under the weight of whatever he’s holding back. You tape the gauze in place and sit there for a long moment, hands still hovering over his ribs.

"I don’t want you to die thinking you’re unloved," you whisper.

That gets him. Visibly.

His fingers curl around your wrist, not hard, just enough to make you look up at him. His mouth opens, then closes. His eyes—glassier now—search yours like he’s trying to memorize this moment, every sharp, fragile bit of it.

"I won’t die," he says, voice cracking in a way he clearly hates. "Not without telling you that I love you too. Probably, like, five hundred times. In a row. In increasingly bad accents."

You huff out something like a laugh, watery and aching.

"I’m serious," he goes on. "You’re gonna get so tired of hearing it. Like, 'Shut up, Adrian, I know you love me, you’ve said it in an Irish accent and a pirate voice and while bleeding out in my kitchen—'"

"Ade."

He stops.

You lean forward, gently pressing your forehead to his. His breath catches.

"I love you," you say, quiet but sure.

And when he says it back—rough and soft and a little terrified—you know he means it.

No punchline. No mask. Just Adrian. Still bleeding, still broken.

But real.

And finally, finally—loved.

[skipnotskipper]

thinking today about naddpod's length being its greatest strength, both in terms of narrative space (beautiful, fulfilling arcs!! lived-in character dynamics and relationships!!) and in terms of their stupid bits and callbacks and running jokes building steam over time.

today i was crying laughing thinking about the 100 episodes of bahumia with jake staunchly refusing to change his intro (with the notable exception of the hardfang sharptooth intro, i love u hardfang sharptooth intro), leading to him branching out with nyack in trinyvale and tread in hot boy summer, leading to his chaotic 180º in eldermourne of refusing to stick to a pattern and tripping up emily and caldwell (and lou!) every single week. all of this leading to my two favorite cold opens probably of all time. the "hey centaurs" intro followed IMMEDIATELY by the acrostic poem intro. jake hurwitz... your brain. naddpod i love you.

[arahdow]

WHO?! pt. 1

Pairing. Sonic x reader. Shadow x reader.

Content. fem reader. they mention another girls name as a prank. insecurities, angst but most of all hurt to comfort bcs in this house we appreciate aftercare after a sad moment. mhm humor.

Word count. 1.7 k

A/N. this is a two part post!! the reason i divided it was bcs i’m having a lot of trouble writing for silver and knuckles (i’m thinking on adding scourge too) 😫 so i’m trying to give myself some more time BUT in the meantime please have this and forgive me for not posting something of mine in a while 🤧 i assure you i’m working on different requests and ideas, so pls be patient and wait for the best!!

+ no beta read anddd a lil too ooc maybe

Sonic was always a prankster, but his prank backfired? That’s new…

Another tiring day at work, helping her coworkers get their job done even when she had her own work, doing extra hours, even walking home felt like a burden. She only wanted to lie down for at least the whole weekend. 

Sighing, she opened the door of her shared home with the blue hero, Sonic the hedgehog. He called himself a hero, something along the lines of ‘blue justice’ and she always laughed at his antics. She wanted nothing more than to hug him and sleep in his embrace.

As she walked to the kitchen, she heard Sonic humming and washing the pots he used to make dinner. He wasn’t used to cooking, but he liked to treat his girlfriend, especially when she went overtime.

“Hello.” She greeted, her voice weak as she noticed the delicious smell of the food he made.

Wiping his hands, he turned to his girlfriend, kissing her on the forehead. “Go and change, I'll be waiting darling.” 

The girl nodded with a sleepy smile and went to their room, before she could enter, Sonic yelled: “Be sure not to get asleep, Amy!” 

And it’s like her whole world crashed. Feeling like a cold splash of water running down her body, she soon felt her stomach drop. Amy? Why Amy? Was Amy there before? Why was he mentioning her? What?

A whole world of ‘what’s’ and ‘why’s’ ran through her head. Still, it wasn’t enough for her to stop feeling hungry, so, even if she wanted to stay by herself now, she knew if she didn’t eat she'd probably pass out in their shared room. 

Feeling a sting on her chest and throat, the girl changed herself and walked to the kitchen again. Her appetite forced her to meet her lover, but was he really tough? Was he still… Hers?

In silence, she sat beside Sonic starting to eat. The man looked at her confused but followed her movements without a word. She always thanked him for the food and let him have the first bite. It was a cute tradition between them and now she just went straight to eat. He couldn’t blame her, so he accepted it and kept on eating.

Sonic almost forgot the prank. Honestly, he was expecting some kind of teasing back, as his lover always had a callback, but now? She seemed too tired to add something of her own so he left it at that. 

He was ready to talk about something else when he noticed tears staining her face. “Dear? Wha-” He hurriedly went for a napkin and gave it to her. “What is it?”

The girl refused the napkin and turned away from him, her tears running free. Then he stared at her barely touched food. “Lov-”

“Why Amy?”

Sonic bit his tongue, looking at her. Amy?

“What’s with-”

“Do you love her? Again?!”

The man flinched a bit at her broken voice. His chest constricted with pain. 

“Listen, I-”

“I don’t…” The girl scoffed and braced herself. “I don’t want to know the details, just, have you fallen in love with Amy again?”

He reeled back, inhaling with insight. Oh. He. Fucked. Up.

“No, love-”

“Then why mention her? Why is her name in your lips when I’m the one you swore to spend your life with?” Sonic was already panicking inside watching the meltdown his girl was having. 

“It’s not like that!” He managed to say, stumbling on his words to prevent her from cutting him off again. “Love, it was a prank.”

The girl looked at him, her tears suddenly stopping, it almost looked humoristic if it wasn’t for the whole reason she was crying.

“I’m sorry you’d thought I could do that to you,” he explained, standing up and wiping her tears by himself with the napkin she refused to grab. “I was trying to be funny like we always are but… I guess it wasn’t the right timing.”

“No shit.” She replied, a sarcastic tone in her voice as she sighed, the weight on her shoulders disappearing. “Ah, thank chaos.”

“I mean, how could I do that to you when I already have an engagement ring somewhere in my room?”

“Yeah,” She nodded. Wait. “Wait what?”

“What?” He echoed, the atmosphere in the room changing completely as he winked at her. They were in for a long night, but first, he had to make it up to her, and he knew exactly how.

Sonic told him about it and said it was funny, so Shadow mentioned it while his partner was venting because he thought it was good timing. spoilers: it wasn’t.

“Can you fucking believe it, Shadow? My sister wants me to attend this stupid gathering, I told her it was fucking useless, I don’t give two shits about them because of what they did in the past, they never… They’ve never even fucking apologized! I’m just so mad right now, how can they be so stupid? Idiots! But you know what’s worse? The fact that…”

Shadow looked at his partner, listening intently at her venting. His gaze went in between her and her hands folding the laundry. His mind somewhere else as he recalled a conversation he had in the morning with his blue copy.

“This is a good way to cheer your girl up! Believe me! I’ve tried it before and it totally works.” Shadow looked at him, a skeptic look in his eyes. 

“Are you sure pranking her is the best way to cheer her up? But why if it’s something vulnera-”

“Naaah, I don’t think anything is that bad that you have to care too much about it.” Sonic explained while munching on his fifth chili dog of the day. “And besides, it’s just a simple harmless prank, she’ll laugh and it’d be alright.”

“...And I was like, ‘You remember what auntie said the last time I was there, why do you want me to go so fucking bad?’ ugh, it’s like a nightmare, I can’t wrap my head around it, really!”

He knew it was something serious because she was cursing a lot, or maybe she felt kind of free now that she was letting it all out? Was it a great time to do that prank? Maybe she’ll stop running in circles and just give herself some time…

“That sounds hard, Sora.”

Silence.

His face was stern, his position sitting on the bed seemed relaxed, but on the inside he was gauging her next words or actions in response to his words. Pressing his lips, he waited for her reaction, but it seemed like the world just stopped, did he stop time unconsciously? No, because the ceiling fan was still moving over their heads. 

“What did you just say?”

But he didn’t reply. More like he couldn’t. He already wanted to say it was a prank, but he stopped himself. Maybe if he waited a bit more… He could hear the sound of her cries.

Her cries?

His mind shifted violently, attentive to the sound of distress coming from the girl. Shadow took a step, horrified at the scene. She covered her face with her hands and dropped to her knees as she kept on crying.

That was his sign. Kneeling in front of her, Shadow took her by the wrist, relieved that she didn’t push him away instantly. 

“Shh sh, it was a prank, I'm sorry, I wasn’t being serious.” He said, trying to reason with her. That seemed to make the trick as she stopped for a bit, head still on her hands as she seemed to take a deep breath. The calmness didn’t last long as the girl shook her head and kept on crying, her face still fully covered.

He tried getting her hands away from her face, trying to get a glimpse of her eyes, wanting his point to come across, but she wasn’t budging.

Shadow just stared at her, his capacity of dealing with emotions almost close to none as he tried to find a way to solve this situation he himself caused. Lucky for him, her cries started to die down, not because she was less sad, but because she was tired from crying.

Being able to see her eyes eased him for a bit, but something still pulled at the strings of his heart: what would she say now?

The girl got up from the floor, walking out from her room straight to the kitchen. Shadow followed silently, afraid of her next move or word. She took a bottle of water from the refrigerator and drank. Two, three gulps and then she stopped, closing the bottle again. Shadow felt his heart beating hard against his chest with suspense, when she turned at him, her red eyes from crying staring deeply into his. 

And then she smiled.

“Damn,” she said, sighing. “I needed that.”

Shadow blinked a few times trying to register her words. “What?”

The girl chuckled and wiped the tears off from her face, staring at him. “Yeah, you think I believed you?” a sarcastic laugh fell from her lips. “Chaos, you seemed so nonchalant trying to convince me you really had another girl, that was so funny!” 

“Wait, you… You faked it?” He asked, still not being able to wrap his head around the entirety of the situation.

“Yeah! Woah, I really needed to cry, I feel lighter now, thanks for the push, Shadz.” She said, winking at the black hedgehog, walking past him to their room again. “And, I recommend you practice your facial expressions, you seemed scared even before I started crying, if you plan on pranking Sonic, you’ll need to try harder.”

The man stood there, shocked as he then turned and questioned. “What the- Why did you do that?”

“Do what?” She asked, stopping before entering the room, turning her head at him.

“That! I-“ He suddenly felt the weight of everything on his chest, making him almost suffocate from the whiplash of emotions he just experienced. “I almost had a heart attack.”

With a playful glint on her eye, she nodded before turning around and keeping on walking. “Suits you right.”

[ruewrote]

𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑤𝑒 𝑑𝑖𝑑𝑛𝑡 𝑠𝑎𝑦.

PAIRING: josh washington x actress!reader WARNINGS: no use of y/n GENRE: angst / fluff SONG INSPIRATION: i love you, im sorry by gracie abrams WORD COUNT: 9.7k REQUESTED: yes NOTE: does this make up for me being gone?

navigation | ask | josh washington masterlist

you had been waiting anxiously for a callback for the big film you’d auditioned for.

it was the kind of audition you left feeling half giddy, half sick to your stomach, replaying every line in your head like you were your own worst critic. was it good enough? did they notice the slight crack in your voice during the emotional scene? and why did you nervously laugh when they said, “thank you for coming in”?

every message and call since had you hurtling towards your phone. it was becoming a bit ridiculous, really. the first couple of days, it was exciting. you’d get a text notification and scramble to check it, only to be greeted by spam.

you’d sigh, deleting it quickly, before going back to refreshing your email.

this was a recurring thing, it was starting to piss you off.

the moment your phone buzzed, you almost tripped over your own feet to grab it. but there it was: the dreaded unknown number you’d seen three times today. you stared at the screen, feeling your heart deflate. “i don’t want to renew my car’s extended warranty!” you groaned into your pillow.

by day four, you were convinced your phone was mocking you. it sat there, silent, while you tried to distract yourself with literally anything. you started scrolling through social media, but every post was about someone else’s big break, and you found yourself glaring at your screen.

“oh, of course, you booked a role,” you muttered, jealously eyeing a friend’s celebratory post about a commercial gig. “good for you, toothpaste ad girl.”

you even tried taking a walk, thinking the universe might be kinder if you weren’t obsessing over it. the park definitely slowed your mind as you watched the ducks, glancing over to the family happily laughing about anything and everything.

it’s crazy the difference in your lives, but even though you didn’t know them, you wished for them to keep their happiness even with how you were feeling right now.

by the end of the week, you were practically glued to your phone, sitting at the edge of your couch. you’d made yourself a cup of tea to calm your nerves, but it had gone cold hours ago, untouched.

and then it happened.

your phone lit up, and this time, it wasn’t your mom or a scam call or a text about household essentials. it was your manager’s number flashing on the screen. you grabbed the phone, nearly dropping it in your haste.

“hello?!” you answered, a little too loudly. you winced, immediately trying to play it cool. “oh, i mean, hey! what’s up?”

there was a pause on the other end, the kind that had you holding your breath. then your manager’s voice crackled through, sounding oddly chipper.

“guess who just booked the role?”

you let out a noise that was somewhere between a gasp and a squeak. “are you serious?! i got it?!”

“you got it!” your manager confirmed, laughing. “they loved your audition. said you brought a lot of… unique energy to the role.”

you frowned for a split second. unique energy? what did that even mean? but you didn’t have time to dwell on it because the excitement bubbling up inside you was too overwhelming. you started pacing back and forth, bouncing on the balls of your feet.

“oh my god, oh my god!” you shouted, completely losing any semblance of chill. “this is huge! this is– wait, you’re not messing with me, right? because if this is a prank, i swear i will–”

“relax,” your manager interrupted, sounding amused. “i promise, it’s the real deal. bob washington’s production company called me directly. they want you on set next week.”

“bob washington?” you echoed, your eyes widening. “like… the bob washington? he’s producing it?”

your heart was thudding harshly in your chest. you nearly dropped the phone, switching it to your other hand as you ran a nervous hand through your hair. bob washington. legendary producer, hollywood royalty, and a man known for creating some of the most iconic films of the last decade.

“yup,” your manager confirmed, clearly revelling in your reaction. “they’re calling it his biggest project in years. high budget, a-list cast, the works. they wanted someone fresh and dynamic for your role, and, well... you knocked it out of the park.”

“oh my god,” you breathed out, sinking onto your couch. your legs felt like jelly, and you were pretty sure your pulse was now audible. “i can’t believe this is happening. i can’t– this is insane!”

“i know, right?” your manager agreed, sounding almost as excited as you. “this is the kind of project that could change everything for you. it’s going to be intense, but it’s exactly the opportunity you’ve been waiting for.”

you could hardly sit still, feeling like you might burst out of your skin from the rush of adrenaline. “okay, so… what happens next? do i need to do anything? when do i start?”

“calm down,” your manager laughed. “i’ll send over all the paperwork today, and you’ll need to sign off on it. but you’re officially set to start next week. first day is monday. they want you on set early for wardrobe and a quick read through.”

“monday?” you echoed, eyes widening. “that’s in, like, three days!”

“yup,” they replied casually. “showbiz waits for no one, especially when bob washington is at the helm. so take the weekend to get your head straight and be ready. oh, and maybe do some research on the other cast members. you’re going to be working with some big names.”

you nodded, even though they couldn’t see you, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. “okay. okay, i can do this.”

“that’s the spirit,” your manager said, their tone turning a bit softer. “this is your big break. you’ve earned it. go get ready to blow everyone away.”

“thank you,” you managed to say, voice thick with emotion. “seriously. for everything.”

“don’t thank me yet,” your manager teased. “save it for after you’ve made it through the first week without fainting.”

you hung up, staring at your phone in disbelief. for a moment, you just sat there, letting the reality of it all sink in. you’d gotten the call. the role you’d dreamed of was yours and in a few short days, you’d be stepping onto a set unlike any you’d been on before.

your first day on set was a whirlwind, and calling it crazy would be a massive understatement.

you were beyond nervous, practically buzzing with a mix of excitement and fear. you’d changed your outfit at least five times that morning, scrutinising every detail as if your career depended on whether your shirt said “professional” or “i have no idea what i’m doing.” by the time you arrived, you were convinced they could see the nerves shaking through you.

but all your worries melted away the moment you stepped onto the lot. instead of the cold, judgmental stares you’d been bracing for, you were met with warm smiles and friendly greetings. the crew bustled around you, nodding and waving, making you feel like you were already part of the family. it was as if everyone had collectively decided that you belonged here, no questions asked.

“hey, you must be the new star!” a woman in a headset called out, grinning as she approached. “i’m sara, assistant director. welcome to the madness!”

you laughed, the tension easing just a bit. “that obvious, huh?”

“well, we did hear about you,” she replied with a wink. “bob’s been talking you up since the casting decision. he’s really excited about you joining the team.”

your stomach fluttered at the mention of bob washington. it felt surreal, knowing that a man of his status had taken notice of you. “i’m just hoping i don’t mess it up,” you admitted, trying to keep your smile steady.

“you won’t,” she said simply, squeezing your shoulder. “c’mon, let’s get you over to wardrobe. they want to do a final fitting before we start blocking your first scene.”

you nodded, following her through the maze of trailers and equipment. as you walked, you couldn’t help but take it all in. the towering sets, the clamour of voices, the scent of fresh coffee and sawdust hanging in the air. it felt like stepping into another world, one you’d only ever dreamed of being part of.

wardrobe was a flurry of fabric and pins, the team immediately setting upon you with expert hands, adjusting and perfecting your look. they chatted as they worked, making you laugh with their behind the scenes stories and gossip about past productions.

it was impossible not to feel at ease around them, and by the time they were done, you felt like you’d already made a few new friends.

stepping out of the trailer in your costume with a newfound confidence. taking a breath before meeting up with sara.

“looking good,” sara called over, giving you a thumbs-up. “ready for your first scene?”

you took a deep breath, the nerves settling into something steadier, like anticipation. “ready as i’ll ever be.”

“great! we’ll do a quick run through on set, and then we’ll start filming.”

you followed her to the soundstage, where the set was already in full swing. cameras were being adjusted, lights were positioned just so, and the director was deep in conversation with the cinematographer. the air buzzed with energy, and for a moment, you felt like a small cog in a very big machine.

but then bob washington himself appeared, striding across the set with purpose. he looked exactly as you’d imagined. a tall, silver-haired man with an aura of calm confidence, like he knew exactly what he wanted and how to get it.

he spotted you instantly, breaking into a broad smile as he approached. “there she is!” he said warmly, extending a hand. “our newest star. i’m so glad you could join us.”

you shook his hand, hoping he couldn’t feel the slight tremble in your fingers. “thank you, mr. washington. this is… incredible. i’m really honoured to be here.”

“please, call me bob,” he insisted, waving away the formality. “and the honour is ours. i’ve got a good feeling about you, you’re exactly what this film needs.”

the praise made your cheeks heat up, and you couldn’t help but smile back. “i’ll do my best to live up to it.”

“i know you will,” he said confidently. “now, let’s get you into position. i want you to feel comfortable, so if you need anything, just let us know..”

as bob walked away to speak with the director, you took your place in front of the camera for the first time. the lights were hot, the crew was watching, and the nerves threatened to bubble up again. but then you remembered the way everyone had welcomed you, the genuine smiles, and bob’s encouraging words. you took a deep breath and rolled your shoulders back, settling into the moment.

“all right, everyone, quiet on set!” the director called out. “we’re ready for the first take.”

the set fell silent, and you felt the weight of it, the anticipation hanging in the air. you were about to speak your first line, to step into this role that you’d fought so hard for.

and for the first time all day, you didn’t feel nervous. you felt ready.

“action!” the director shouted.

it was the second week of filming when you first met josh. he strolled onto set with his dad, cutting through the chaos of cameras and crew with an easy confidence, like he’d done this a million times before. you hadn’t known what to expect, you’d heard people whisper. the washington name came with a lot of preconceived notions, but when he flashed that wide, boyish grin at you, all your assumptions melted away.

josh was nothing but lovely from the start. he introduced himself with a playful smirk and a handshake that lingered just a moment longer than necessary. “and you are?” he asked, his eyes bright with curiosity, like he already knew your name but wanted to hear you say it.

you gave it, trying to keep your own smile polite and professional, but it was hard not to be charmed by the way he looked at you. “nice to meet you, josh.”

“trust me,” he replied, leaning in slightly, voice dropping to a low whisper, “the pleasure’s all mine.”

from that moment on, josh was a regular presence on set, always finding his way over to where you were between takes. he’d crack jokes, compliment your performance, and offer you his hoodie whenever the chilly air left you shivering. 

it wasn’t exactly a secret that he liked you. it was there in the way he lit up when you entered a room, the way he leaned closer when he talked to you. he was flirty, sure, but never in a sleazy way. it was sweet, almost shy at times, like he couldn’t quite believe his luck that you just might be interested in him too.

one afternoon, you found yourself sitting together at the edge of the set, the sun dipping low behind the trees. most of the crew had wrapped for the day, the noise dying down to a soft murmur as everyone packed up. josh sat close enough that your knees were almost touching, a faint smirk on his lips as he handed you a coffee he’d picked up from the food truck.

“figured you might need a pick me up,” he said, eyes glinting with amusement. “you looked like you were about to fall asleep standing up during that last scene.”

you laughed, taking the cup from him gratefully. “wow, so i’m that obvious, huh?”

“only to someone who’s paying attention,” he teased, nudging your shoulder with his. he took a sip of his own drink, then glanced sideways at you, his expression softening. “you’ve been killing it, by the way. i know everyones been super impressed.”

you felt a blush rise to your cheeks, caught off guard by the compliment. “thanks, josh. that means a lot.”

he was quiet for a moment, watching you with a soft look in eyes. “you know,” he said slowly, like he was testing the waters, “i’ve never really seen someone fit in so quickly. it’s like you’ve been a part of this cast forever.”

“i could say the same about you,” you replied, raising an eyebrow. “you’ve practically become one of us, and you’re not even in the movie.”

he chuckled, the sound low and warm. “yeah, well, maybe i just like hanging around you.”

there it was. that flirty charm that made your pulse quicken every time. you tried to play it cool, leaning back and giving him a teasing smile. “is that so?”

josh’s grin widened, but then he looked down, almost sheepish. “yeah,” he admitted softly, and for once, he didn’t sound like he was trying to impress you. it was just honest. “you’re different, you know? in a good way.”

you opened your mouth to respond, but before you could say anything, a loud voice called out from across the set. “josh! we need you over here for a second!”

he sighed, rolling his eyes but standing up anyway. “duty calls,” he said, but before he walked away, he turned back to you, taking a small step closer. “let’s hang out after this. just us,” he suggested, his tone hopeful.

you couldn’t help but smile. “yeah,” you agreed, feeling a jolt of excitement you hadn’t felt in a long time. “i’d like that.”

josh’s smile was all teeth as he jogged off, giving you a quick wave before disappearing into the crowd. you watched him go. it was impossible not to feel something for him, the way he made you feel seen, special. you couldn’t help but wonder if he felt it too, or if it was just his natural charm.

by the time shooting was nearing its end, you’d formed the softest spot for josh. it wasn’t just the way he made you laugh or how he seemed to know exactly what to say to put you at ease.

it was the little routines you’d fallen into together, the kind that made it hard to imagine your days without him.

every morning, without fail, josh would show up at your trailer with your favourite drink in hand. he’d knock once and then let himself in with a bright, teasing grin. “good morning, beautiful,” 

it didn’t matter how tired you were or how early the call time was. he'd always bring a bit of sunshine with him, and you’d find yourself smiling back even on your worst days.

it started with his playful affection. at first, his hands would land on your shoulders as a joke, squeezing them dramatically like he was an over the top masseuse. “rough night?” he’d ask with a wink, his fingers digging into the knots from the long hours on set. 

but as the weeks went by, those joking massages turned into something more real. he’d work out the tension in your neck and back while the makeup artists did their work, his touch firm but gentle, the kind of attention that made you melt.

“careful, you’re going to put me out of a job,” one of the makeup artists would joke, glancing between the two of you with a knowing smile.

josh would just chuckle, his hands lingering a bit longer than necessary before he’d sigh dramatically when it was time for them to move on to your hair. “fine, fine,” he’d say, stepping back like he was truly reluctant to let you go. but then he’d slide into the chair beside you, threading his fingers through yours without a second thought, as if holding your hand was the most natural thing in the world.

he’d sit there contentedly, scrolling through his phone with his free hand, occasionally showing you a funny meme or a video he thought you’d like. he always had that wide smile on his lips, the kind that made it clear just how happy he was to be there with you. it was a kind of peace, a quiet connection that neither of you had to put into words.

you knew people noticed, and you didn’t mind. it was hard not to smile at the way he looked at you. the playful flirting had given way to something tender, something that felt a lot like the start of a relationship neither of you had fully acknowledged yet.

as your makeup artist stepped back and declared you camera ready, josh gave your hand a gentle squeeze. “you look amazing,” he said quietly, his voice low and sincere, all the teasing gone from his tone.

you turned to him, meeting his eyes. “thanks, josh,”

“i couldn’t have done it without my personal masseuse.”

he laughed, leaning closer so no one else could hear. “anytime,” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. “but, you know, you don’t have to wait until we’re on set for this kind of attention. we could... make it a regular thing.”

your eyes flicked up to meet his, and you saw it there. the unspoken question, the hope he was trying to play off as casual. you bit your lip to hide your smile, giving his hand one last squeeze before letting go.

“yeah,” you said softly, feeling the warmth bloom in your chest. “i’d like that.”

the last weeks of filming flew by in a blur, each day bleeding into the next. if you weren’t on set, you were out grabbing late night drinks and dinners with the cast or rehearsing lines together. it felt like you were constantly moving, your days filled with laughter. just pure fun with all your new friends..

well, most of them, anyway.

then there was olivia.

no matter how friendly you tried to be, it was like talking to a mirror. everything bounced back at you with a reflection of fake smiles and hollow laughter. she was sweet and bubbly when others were around, playing the role of best friend like it was written into her script. but the second you were alone, her expression would shift. like she couldn’t drop the mask fast enough.

you were in the middle of reapplying your lip gloss in the bathroom when the door swung open with a bang. olivia stormed in, her heels clicking sharply against the tile. she came to a stop beside you at the sink, her gaze briefly meeting yours in the mirror before she looked away, pulling out her compact and patted at her makeup.

for a moment, there was nothing but the sound of her rummaging through her purse and the muted thump of music coming from outside. you kept your focus on your own reflection, but you could feel her presence next to you, heavy and expectant, like she was waiting for something.

finally, jessica let out a huff, a tight, forced laugh that seemed to come out of nowhere. “you know,” she said, her tone as sugary as ever but dripping with something darker, “it’s funny.”

“what is?” you asked, capping your lip gloss and glancing over at her.

she leaned in closer, the smile on her lips so thin it looked painful. “how everyone is obsessed with you.” her voice was sharp, each word pointed like the edge of a knife. “it’s almost impressive, the way you’ve got them all wrapped around your finger. i mean, what’s your secret?”

you blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in her tone. “olivia, i’m not–”

“oh, spare me,” she snapped, dropping the sweet act entirely. her eyes narrowed, the fake friendliness dissolving. “don’t play innocent. you know exactly what you’re doing.”

a frown tugged at your lips, confusion mixing with a flicker of irritation. “i’m just here to do my job,” you said, trying to keep your voice even. “if i’ve upset you somehow–”

“upset me?” jessica cut you off with a dry laugh, tilting her head like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “god, you really think you’re above it all, don’t you? just because everyone likes you right now doesn’t mean they always will.”

you took a step back, feeling the heat of her words. there it was. the real olivia, finally showing through the cracks of her perfect persona. “i’m not trying to compete with you, liv,” you said quietly. “we’re supposed to be a team.”

she scoffed, rolling her eyes. “oh, please. we both know this industry isn’t about teams. it’s about who shines the brightest. and right now, that’s you.” she snapped her compact shut and shoved it back into her bag with a sharp motion. “but don’t get too comfortable. you’re just the flavour of the month.”

you took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. it would’ve been easy to snap back, to throw her own words in her face, but you knew that was exactly what she wanted. instead, you offered her a small, tight smile. “if that’s how you feel, then i’m sorry.”

her eyes flicked up to yours, a flicker of surprise flashing across her face before she quickly masked it. it was almost like she hadn’t expected you to be so calm, like she’d been gearing up for a fight you weren’t going to give her.

“whatever,” she muttered, but her voice was sharper now, laced with something bitter. she turned on her heel, strutting towards the door with a slow, almost mocking glance back over her shoulder. “enjoy this little fling with josh while you can,” she added, her tone practically dripping with disdain.

her smirk widening as she continued, voice dripping with bitterness. “he’s just being nice to you. it’s what he does– flirts a little, makes you feel good about yourself. you’re not the first girl to fall for it, and you definitely won’t be the last.”

you swallowed hard, but the sting was already spreading through your chest. it felt like she’d reached right in and found the one spot where you weren’t sure of yourself, digging her nails in just to see how much it would hurt.

“i give it a few weeks before he moves on to someone else,” jessica added, her tone almost singing now, like she was savouring the taste of the words. “i’m sure he’ll find another little pet project soon enough.”

she turned and strutted out, the door slamming shut behind her, leaving you standing there in the echoing silence. you stared at your reflection in the mirror, your hands gripping the edge of the sink so tightly your knuckles turned white. you tried to shake it off, to tell yourself that she was just being petty, but her words had landed right where they were meant to.

you couldn’t help but wonder if she was right. maybe you weren’t special. maybe you were just another girl caught up in josh’s charm, another temporary distraction for him to play with before he got bored.

as you walked back out to rejoin the others, you felt the sliver of doubt she’d planted start to grow, worming its way deeper into your mind. you couldn’t shake it, her words playing on a loop, biting and bitter. 

you’re not the first girl to fall for it, and you definitely won’t be the last.

you stepped onto set and josh looked up immediately, his grin spreading across his face as soon as he caught your eye. it was like the whole room disappeared for him, like you were the only person he wanted to see. for a split second, you felt the warmth of it wash over you, the easy comfort you’d come to crave.

and then that sliver of doubt dug deeper, twisting painfully. you frowned, forcing yourself to look away as you made your way to where you were supposed to be, brushing him off without a word. you could feel his gaze follow you, his smile faltering, slipping away like he couldn’t quite understand what had changed.

i give it a few weeks before he moves on to someone else. 

olivia’s voice echoed in your mind, harsher now, louder. you clenched your jaw, eyes fixed on the ground as you took your mark. you didn’t dare look back at him, even as the silence stretched on and you knew he was still watching, trying to catch your eye.

you distanced yourself from him for the last few days of filming. it wasn’t something you planned, but every time you saw him, olivia’s words clawed their way back to the surface, sharp and jagged, cutting into whatever fragile hope you had left. 

you started to lock your trailer door in the mornings, sitting in the too quiet space with your heart pounding in your chest. your stylist team exchanged concerned looks behind your back, their hands moving a little more gently through your hair, as if they could sense the storm you were holding in.

the pain gnawed at you, raw and relentless. how could you be so stupid? you thought. of course this was how it would end. he was josh washington, the son of a hollywood icon, used to getting whatever he wanted. he could have anyone, and you’d been foolish enough to think you were different. that you were something more than a temporary distraction.

you were angry, but mostly at yourself. angry for letting your guard down, for believing that the way he treated you meant something real. it hurt in a way you hadn’t expected, a dull ache that pulsed through your chest every time you saw him across the room.

and when you did see him, he looked just as lost. his usual bright smile had dimmed, replaced with a soft, uncertain look that he reserved only for you, like he didn’t quite know what he’d done wrong but was desperate to fix it. you tried to avoid his eyes, but it was impossible. they always found you, pleading silently for you to come back, to talk to him, to let him in.

but you couldn’t. not now. not when you were convinced it had all been a lie.

on the final day of shooting, you pulled away from your friends as they gathered for one last photo, your throat tight with the effort of holding back tears. you forced yourself to look up, and there he was, standing across the room, watching you. the look on his face broke you a little more. a mixture of confusion, sadness, and something you couldn’t quite place, something that made you want to run to him and pull him close, even now.

he tried to give you a small, sad smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. it was like he was holding out an olive branch, unsure if you’d take it. your heart twisted painfully, the urge to just say screw it almost overwhelming.

you debated for a second, the weight of it all crashing down on you. then, you managed the briefest of smiles, a tiny, strained thing that faded almost as soon as it appeared. it was all you could give him. and when you turned to leave, there was a tug, a pull from you to him.

the door closed behind you, and you didn’t look back.

a year passed, and life moved on. at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself. you stayed in touch with the friends you’d made on set, the group chat still active. but it wasn’t the same, not without him.

you’d started to make a name for yourself in the industry, your social media blowing up when the announcement came that you’d be starring in a new film. the feedback was overwhelmingly positive, fans excited to see you. it should’ve felt like a triumph, something to celebrate, but every time you saw the comments or got a congratulatory message, there was a hollow ache you couldn’t shake. 

you tried to fill the void with dates. new people, new places. but none of them went past the first dinner or drinks. you laughed and made small talk, but it always felt forced, like you were going through the motions. you kept telling yourself it was because you were busy, too focused on your career to make time for anything serious.

but that wasn’t the truth, and you knew it. you missed him. you missed josh. the way he’d made you feel, the way you clicked from the very first moment. it was something you’d never had before and hadn’t found since, and it haunted you more than you wanted to admit. you hated how you left things, but the thought of facing him, of looking him in the eyes and seeing what hurt you caused. it terrified you.

you sighed, leaning back in the vanity chair as your makeup artist lined your lips with whatever product she was using. it felt good to be back in the routine of it all. you closed your eyes, letting yourself sink into the comfortable rhythm of the brushes, the gentle hum of conversation around you.

your playlist played quietly in the background, filling the silence with a mix of your favourite songs. and then, it shifted to something different, a song that made your chest tighten painfully. 

the one that used to play in his car, the one he’d sing along to, off-key and grinning as he’d turn up the volume just to make you laugh. you opened your eyes, staring at your reflection in the mirror.

the smile you’d been wearing slipped away, replaced by something softer, sadder. the makeup artist paused, noticing the change in your expression.

“you okay?” she asked gently, her hand hovering near your shoulder.

you forced a small, tight smile. “yeah,” you lied, your voice barely above a whisper. “i’m fine.”

but as the song played on, you realised just how untrue that was. you weren’t fine, and you hadn’t been since the moment you walked away from him.

there wasn’t time to dwell on it, not when the makeup artist was stepping back to admire her work, giving you a final nod of approval before you were whisked away to get dressed. you were guided behind a privacy screen where a small army of stylists and assistants waited with your gown. 

it was a process, the kind that required several hands, gentle tugs and tucks, and lots of patience. you held your arms up as they shimmied the dress up your body, the fabric whispering against your skin as it slid into place. it was stunning. a custom made one, of course. 

the bodice was sleek, hugging your curves in deep, midnight blue satin that seemed to shimmer under the light. it had a delicate sweetheart neckline, showing just the right amount of collarbone, and thin, elegant straps that wrapped around your shoulders.

as they adjusted the fit, you glanced down at the intricate beadwork that trailed from your waist, cascading into the full skirt like a waterfall of tiny, sparkling stars. the gown flowed out into a subtle train behind you, the kind that made you feel like you were gliding when you walked. it was a dress designed to make a statement, to turn heads and capture attention the second you stepped into the room.

but as they fluffed the layers and pinned a few final details, your mind drifted back to him. would he be there tonight? you hadn’t asked, too afraid of the answer. if he was there, would he even look at you? did he hate you now for leaving the way you did? and did you even want to see him, knowing it would bring back everything you’d tried so hard to bury?

the stylists stepped back, murmuring their approval, and you turned to face the mirror. for a moment, you barely recognized yourself. you looked beautiful, powerful even, like you belonged in the spotlight that was awaiting you.

you smoothed your hands over the satin fabric, taking a steadying breath. it was showtime. whatever happened tonight, whoever you might see, you needed to keep your head high.

“ready?” one of the assistants asked, offering you a bright smile as they held the door open.

you nodded, forcing a confident smile as you stepped out into the hall. “ready as i’ll ever be.” 

but as you made your way to the venue, the sound of your own heartbeat seemed to drown out everything else, a constant, pounding reminder that no matter how you looked on the outside, you were far from ready.

the second your heels touched the pavement, you were met with an explosion of blinding lights. flashes erupted from every angle, the paparazzi swarming you, desperate for the next big story. voices overlapped in a chaotic frenzy:

“look here! over your shoulder! who are you wearing tonight?”

you forced a smile, dazzling but rehearsed, turning slightly to give them a better angle as you adjusted the skirt of your gown. the cameras loved it, loved you. you could almost hear the clicks getting faster, the flashes coming quicker, and you knew by the looks on their faces that the photos would be everywhere tomorrow.

but your eyes weren’t on them; they were searching the crowd, scanning the sea of faces. you caught sight of your castmates just inside the venue, a familiar group gathered together in the warm light, posing for photos of their own. you watched as they laughed, their smiles wide and genuine. for a moment, you felt a pang of longing, you missed them, missed the easy camaraderie you’d once had.

you took a deep breath, lifting your chin a little higher as you made your way towards the entrance. the red carpet felt like it stretched on forever, every step heavy with the weight of anticipation. you could feel the eyes on you, not just from the photographers but from the crowd gathered behind the barriers. fans calling your name, reaching out with pens and posters. you waved, gave them that same bright smile, even as your stomach twisted into a knot.

you made your way over to the fans lined up along the barricade, the shouts of your name cutting through the noise. you couldn’t help but smile as you leaned in, reaching for the first outstretched poster.

“can you sign this?” a girl asked breathlessly, her eyes wide with excitement.

“of course,” you said warmly, scribbling your signature across the glossy paper before handing it back. you moved down the line, taking your time with each person, pausing to hold their hands and answer their rapid fire questions as best you could.

“what’s your favourite scene in the new movie?” someone yelled.

“can’t spoil it for you!” you teased, giving them a playful wink. “but you’ll love it, i promise.”

you paused when you saw a young teen, her cheeks wet with tears, clutching a phone case with your face on it. you knelt down a little, brushing a stray tear from her cheek with a gentle thumb.

“hey, you alright?” you asked softly, giving her a reassuring smile.

she nodded quickly, wiping her face with her sleeve. “i just… i can’t believe i’m meeting you.”

your heart melted a little at that. “well, i’m so glad you’re here,” you said sincerely. “you’re amazing. don’t forget that, okay?”

you hugged her quickly, the crowd erupting in cheers around you. when you pulled back, she was beaming, and it made the exhaustion you’d felt all day fade away. you moved on, taking selfies with everyone who asked, laughing and chatting. it was honestly one of the best parts of your night.

you took a deep breath, flashing one last smile at the crowd before stepping back. the fans waved and shouted their goodbyes, their faces lit up with joy, and you couldn’t help but feel the same joy in your own chest.

the red carpet felt endless beneath your feet, stretching out in front of you like a vivid trail leading you toward a thousand cameras, all flashing at once. it was chaos, but the good kind. the kind where you could almost feel the excitement buzzing in the air, like a collective anticipation. 

the energy of the crowd was contagious, and you couldn’t help but smile, soaking in the moment as you made your way down the carpet, exchanging waves and greetings with familiar faces. it was all about the premiere, of course, but for you, it felt more like a reunion of sorts. a chance to reconnect with old friends and colleagues you hadn’t seen in a while.

you hadn’t gone more than a few steps when a voice broke through the noise.

“look at you! killing it out here!” 

before you even had time to react, a warm hug pulled you in. ryan. a guy you’d worked with on a previous project, was grinning at you with that mischievous twinkle in his eyes. he stepped back to give you a once over, then mock pouted. 

“you’re out here making me look like an amateur. you should’ve warned me.”

you chuckled, adjusting the hem of your dress as if it were the most dramatic thing in the world. “not true. you’re just not bringing enough sparkle to the table,” you teased, nudging him playfully with your elbow.

he raised an eyebrow, looking you up and down. “i’m just trying to keep up. but i gotta say– mission accomplished. you’re stealing the spotlight tonight.”

the photographer’s call broke through the banter, and with a flash of the cameras, you both struck a pose. you leaned in slightly, offering your best smiles as the clicking of the cameras. you could hear the photographer giving a quiet “perfect!” before they moved on to catch the next moment.

you gave him a quick wave and moved on, weaving through the throng of excited actors and industry folk, all basking in the glamour of the night. there was something intoxicating about it – the shared joy, the excitement, the way everyone seemed to be feeding off each other’s energy.

a few steps down, you spotted someone you didn’t know well but had met at industry events before. a woman whose laugh was as big as her personality. she waved as she caught sight of you, and before you could even offer a word of greeting, you were pulled into a warm, tight hug. 

“is this your first premiere?” she asked, her voice bright with curiosity.

you smiled, shrugging a little. “no, but i’m still kinda freaking out. there’s just something about the flashing lights that makes me feel a little claustrophobic,” you admitted with a laugh.

she grinned, understanding exactly what you meant. “it’s like being in a fishbowl for a night, right? everyone’s looking at you, but you’ve got to own it. let’s have some fun with it!”

the cameras around you both clicked as you posed together, flashes going off so quickly you could hardly keep up. there was no rush, no pressure. just laughter and the easy chemistry that made you feel at home in the chaos. after a few more shots, you thanked her and kept moving.

the next few minutes blurred together, more poses with more familiar faces. a guy you’d met once at a party last year, a rising star in a rom com who was just starting to get their break through, a selfie with someone who had appeared in an indie film you adored. 

it felt like an effortless stream of interactions, as if you were just hanging out with friends instead of being on a giant event.

but then, you noticed something. as you made your way down the carpet, the crowd around you seemed to dissipate. you didn’t know if it was your own sense of space or just the natural ebb of the event, but suddenly you found yourself alone. there was no one nearby, no familiar faces laughing or posing for pictures. just the sharp clicking of cameras and the hum of voices from the crowd. 

the realisation hit you like a wave, and with it came the creeping tide of anxiety. your heart began to beat a little faster, the flashing lights growing brighter, the eyes of the photographers turning into an overwhelming pressure. it wasn’t just the cameras. it was the sheer number of people, all of them looking at you, all of them waiting for something, expecting something. 

you tried to steady your breath, forcing yourself to smile through the nervous tightness that was starting to crawl up your chest. but it wasn’t working. the world seemed to be closing in, the noise around you getting louder, more suffocating. 

and just when you felt like you might lose it, a hand settled firmly on your waist. before you could process what was happening, you were gently spun into someone.

your hands landed against the solid expanse of their chest, you looked up, you met josh’s eyes, his face soft with concern, a quiet understanding in his gaze.

"hey,” he said, his voice low, cutting through the madness. “you okay?”

the world slowed. his presence was the grounding force you needed, the anchor that pulled you back from the edge of panic. you inhaled deeply, feeling your heart rate slowly return to normal, the suffocating weight of the moment lifting. 

“yeah...” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “i think i am now.”

you both turned back to the cameras, the bright flashes momentarily blinding you, but josh’s presence beside you grounded you. his hand, warm and firm around yours, tugged you gently, guiding you into a slow spin. the world around you seemed to slow as you turned, the cacophony of the red carpet fading into the background. 

“isn’t she so beautiful, ladies and gents?” josh’s voice rang out, effortlessly confident, the words slipping out like a natural compliment, as though it was the simplest truth in the world. 

all that was heard were cheers and whistles surrounding you.

you couldn’t help but laugh.  a genuine, startled laugh, the kind that bubbled up from deep inside you. the sound echoed around you, and it felt like the air cleared for just a moment, like the weight of the night lifted. you stumbled slightly, your feet shifting against the plush carpet, and found yourself falling back against him. 

his arms caught you instinctively, pulling you close. the warmth of his chest against your back, the steady pressure of his hand on your waist. you glanced up, meeting his gaze, and suddenly the world didn’t seem so big, it didn't feel so overwhelming. 

but josh’s eyes, dark and intent, told you everything without a single word. there was something there. something unspoken, a silent intensity that left you breathless. it was in the way he looked at you, the way his lips quirked into a small, almost shy smile, and the way his thumb traced slow circles on your skin. his hand never left you, his touch steady, grounding you in the middle of the chaos.

you could feel the pull between you, magnetic, undeniable. the longing was palpable, the unspoken words that hovered between you both. it wasn’t just the physical closeness, the way your bodies fit together so naturally, or the way his hands held you with such ease. it was the way his eyes never strayed from yours, like he was trying to convey everything that words couldn’t. 

in that moment, it was clear — everything you both needed was right here, in the quiet tension between a glance and a breath.

and for a fleeting second, you almost forgot about the cameras, the lights, the flashes. you almost forgot about everything and just stayed in that space, just the two of you, with the unsaid words hanging in the air.

it wasn’t long before you two made your way into the theater.

you followed josh inside. the world outside had momentarily faded away as the two of you found your seats, the lights dimming around you. the film was about to start, but there was no denying the tension between you.

as the opening credits rolled, you tried to focus on the screen, your own face staring back at you larger than life. it was surreal, seeing yourself up there, but despite the excitement, there was something else that kept drawing your attention away. josh. 

you could feel his presence beside you, warm and steady. his leg brushed against yours, sending a small jolt through you. the whole theater could’ve been empty, and you still would’ve been hyper aware of him. 

the movie played on, but you couldn't quite get lost in it. your heart raced, every subtle movement from josh had you second guessing your focus. his hand was now dangerously close to yours, just a few inches away. with every frame, your breath caught a little more, the anticipation mounting. 

ever so slowly, josh’s fingers inched toward yours. you held your breath, hoping it wouldn’t be too obvious. but as he grazed the back of your hand, a little shiver ran through you. you turned your palm up ever so slightly, just enough for him to get the hint. 

his fingers brushed against yours again, this time lingering for just a moment. your heart hammered in your chest, and you couldn't help the sly grin that tugged at the corner of your mouth. his eyes flicked over to you, a mischievous glint in them, before his hand fully settled in yours, fingers intertwining. 

you both glanced at each other, and for a moment, the world outside of that theater vanished. the film could have been playing a thousand scenes, and neither of you would have noticed. the only thing that mattered was the warmth of josh’s hand in yours, the way he squeezed it gently.

by the time the credits rolled and the lights came up, you both were still sitting close, your hands now very obviously intertwined. there was a satisfied, playful grin on both your faces, a mutual understanding of what had just happened between you, and neither of you could stop the little spark of joy that flickered in your chest. 

the crowd outside the theater had thinned, and there were only a few straggling onlookers left. the lack of paparazzi made the air feel lighter, more intimate. the flashing cameras, the constant eyes on you, had disappeared as quickly as they’d arrived, leaving only the steady presence of josh by your side. his hand was still firmly wrapped around yours, and though the world seemed to fall away, you couldn't help but feel the weight of all the whispered glances from the few people still lingering around.

you snuck a glance at him, and he caught it, his eyes meeting yours with a playful smile. you both walked in silence toward the exit, but the tension between you was thick. it wasn’t just the excitement from the night, or the high of seeing yourself on the big screen, it was something else. something you couldn’t quite name yet, but you felt it every time his fingers brushed against yours.

once you reached the parking lot, you turned to him. "do you want to come back to my place?" the words felt sudden, but they were honest. he raised an eyebrow, a knowing smirk pulling at his lips, but he didn’t hesitate.

"yeah, i'd like that," he said softly, his hand tightening around yours as you made your way to his car.

the drive was quiet but not uncomfortable. the radio hummed quietly in the background, but it was his presence that consumed your attention. every so often, you'd catch his eyes glancing at you, his face softening with a tenderness that made you feel both a little breathless. 

when you reached your apartment, he pulled up to the curb and parked, smoothly shifting into neutral. before you could reach for the door handle, he was already there, opening it for you. his fingers curled around the edge of the door. he offered you his hand, helping you out. it was such a casual thing, but it still managed to pull a smile out of you, the kind that you had to look away to hide.

he walked alongside you to your front door, his presence warm against the cool night air. he waited patiently, a step behind as you fished your keys from your bag. you could feel his eyes on you, attentive but soft, like he was memorising this small moment. the lock clicked, and you pushed the door open, stepping inside and feeling the rush of warmth against your skin.

he stepped inside, his focus shifting to the family photos on the walls as he moved with unhurried steps. the silence felt heavy now, filled only by the click of your heels across the floor as you set your handbag on the counter. you could hear the quiet scuff of his shoes as he followed, moving closer, the distance between you shrinking with every breath.

josh stood in front of you, his eyes softening as he took in the tension on your face. he could see it. the way your brows furrowed slightly, the way your lips were pressed together. the worry was evident, and it made him feel an unfamiliar ache in his chest. 

"hey," he said, his voice low and gentle, "what’s going on? you’ve been quiet ever since we got here." he took a small step closer, his eyes never leaving yours as if he was waiting for you to say something, anything. 

you opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat, trapped somewhere between confusion and guilt. what could you say? how could you explain the mess inside your head, the things that had been eating away at you for the past year?

you felt his presence growing stronger, like he was waiting for you to reach out, but you couldn’t. you didn’t know how to bridge the distance that had built up between you, even if it was only in your own heart. 

“i– i don’t know how to say this.” your voice cracked slightly, betraying the emotions you hadn’t allowed yourself to feel until now. 

josh tilted his head, concern deepening in his eyes. “you don’t have to explain anything if you’re not ready, but i'm here to listen if you are.” 

his words, that small gesture of understanding, only made the pressure in your chest tighten. the last year had been filled with silence, each day spent wondering if you’d made the wrong choice. and now, standing before him, feeling the warmth of his presence, you were finally forced to confront the truth. 

was it worth it to trust someone else's words over his?

“olivia said... she said some things about you. about us,” you began, your throat tight as you struggled to find the words. “i let her get into my head. and i chose to believe them. since i've seen past tabloids of you, and i just... i don’t know. it made me think maybe i was just another girl to you, josh. that i was nothing special.” the words were difficult to choke out, like each one took something from you.

you took a shaky breath, your voice thick with the emotion you’d been holding back for so long. “i know i should have talked to you, josh. i should’ve just asked you if it was true, if i was just another girl in a long line of flings. but i couldn’t bring myself to do it.” you looked down, your gaze fixed on the floor as you admitted the hardest part. “i was terrified. i was scared that if i asked, on the off chance that it was true, it would hurt even worse than believing the lie.”

josh’s expression shattered, he’d just realised how deep the wound went. he moved even closer, his hands sliding up to gently cradle your face, forcing you to look at him. “god, i hate that you felt that way,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “you should never have had to doubt us. i should’ve made sure you knew how much you meant to me. i’m so sorry.”

your chest tightened, a fresh wave of tears spilling over as you finally let yourself lean into his touch, the warmth of his palms grounding you in the moment. it was like he was trying to hold all the broken pieces of you together, the way his thumbs gently stroked your cheeks.

“i didn’t know,” you whispered, your voice raw. “i didn’t know if it was real, or if i was just something temporary for you.”

“it’s real,” josh said urgently, his forehead pressing against yours. “it’s always been real with you. and i should’ve done more to show you that. i’m here now, and i’m not letting go again.”

“i should’ve trusted you,” you whispered, the guilt bubbling to the surface. "but the way she said it, the way it all just seemed to line up... i thought maybe she was right. i thought maybe you were just... playing around." you swallowed hard, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over. “i didn’t know what to think anymore. and i pushed you away.”

josh’s hands slid to your shoulders, his grip gentle but firm. “i get why you felt that way, but i’m not like that. i never have been with you.” his voice dropped, becoming more vulnerable. “i’ve been falling for you this whole time. and i know i messed up.

i didn’t fight hard enough for us when i should’ve.” he sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “i should’ve told you how i felt. i shouldn’t have let you think i was anything like those guys. i’m not.”

you stood there, trying to process everything he was saying, the rawness in his words hitting you. the walls you had built around yourself started to crack, the defences you’d spent a year erecting finally starting to crumble in the face of his honesty. 

“i don’t want to be just another fling, josh,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. “i need to know i mean something to you.”

“you do,” he said, his voice almost pleading now. “you mean everything to me.” his hands slid down your arms, holding onto you with a desperate kind of tenderness. “i’ve been stupid, letting this distance grow between us. i never stopped caring about you. and i’m sorry for not saying it sooner. i can’t keep pretending i don’t feel this way.” 

the air between you was thick, almost stifling, as if every unsaid word hung there, waiting. your chest rose and fell, breaths coming a little faster than they should. he looked at you, searching your face like he was trying to find the right thing to say, but couldn’t.

for a second, you just stood there, both caught in that in between place, uncertain, but wanting more than you were willing to admit. you could see the way his gaze flickered, the way his hands hovered by his sides, like he was debating whether to reach for you.

you took the leap first, stepping into him and pressing your lips to his. the kiss was simple but real, like a question and an answer all at once. he exhaled against your mouth, almost a sigh of relief, and his hands found your waist, pulling you closer, like he’d been waiting for this as long as you had.

when you pulled back, the tension melted away, replaced by something softer, almost gentle. he rested his forehead against yours, letting out a quiet laugh, almost like he couldn’t believe this was happening. “i’ve wanted this for so long,” he whispered.

you smiled, feeling the weight of everything you’d been carrying start to lift. “me too,” you admitted. “but no more excuses, okay?”

he nodded, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “no more excuses,” he promised.

and with that, you kissed him again, letting yourself fall into it.

trusting that this time, you’d both make it count.

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