#what kind of 15 year old writes something like that?????

[3liza]

also frm Flickr are these 20 year old webcam shots. if you have ever wondered why i dont show up more on "mall goth" type nostalgia blogs despite being old and physically present for many of the events that were archived and also doing a lot of modeling work at the time, the reason (besides simply just not being as visually appealing as many more accomplished fashion people, scene personalities or models, let's have some humility here ok) is that a lot of people during that period in the scene were dressing very oddly for the scene's standards, either because we couldnt afford Lip Service prices or because we enjoyed standing out in a sea of black, or because we were strongly influenced by the DIY and thrifting culture of the Gen X goths, or all three. so blogs that are working on a mission of documenting specific fashion moments are going to need to cut the chaff of members of a certain scene showing up off-model, essentially. but as a historical record its sort of a shame because it ends up presenting an image of the scene that is a lot more homogenous than the historical reality.

regional differences are also significant, in the bay area for example the goth scene was and is inextricably linked with the Burning Man scene, the circus scene, and the OG Gen X hacker scene, meaning cyberpunk (as opposed to cybergoth), steampunk, circus/carnival/burlesque, and Mad Max type influences were a lot heavier there than in other parts of the world. this resulted in a local style, strongly influenced by the boutique store Five and Diamond, that the locals self-effacingly referred to as "featherleather".

these are webcam pics of one of my outfits around 2005-2008, so around the time i joined Abney Park and was working on their production design, turning them into a "steampunk band", BEFORE i moved to SF but already showing the west coast influences. the New Rocks were definitely expensive but i got them during a huge sale, i think everything else im wearing here is thrifted except the hat, which was a gift from zoetica and is from Plastik Wrap, whom i also modeled for but the photoshoot just didn't work out for a bunch of different reasons.

speaking of stuff tht didn't work out, a variation of this outfit was later photographed by Angel Ceballos for a chinese fashion magazine that i also ended up doing some editorial/journalistic work for but i don't think their project ever coalesced because im not sure if they were ever in print or just pdf or ???? that's kind of how it goes with about 60% of the stuff you do and are hired for or volunteer for when youre doing any type of creative work for hire, a lot of it just disappears

you can definitely see in these pics that i just had a lot of aesthetic shortcomings in terms of presenting something on-message for the place and time? im not really sure how to describe it, part of it is the autism talking, just that feeling of always never quite being good enough to fit in and not really understanding what expectations i wasn't living up to. im struggling to present this information in a way that doesnt sound muffled, like it's coming from inside my own asshole, so please be patient with me. i present this as an archival curiosity only, because reproducing these images onto multiple platforms and providing context is the only way a lot of historical information survives, so i'm really writing this for someone running a search string in 15 years, not for any of us right at this moment. also this is my blog, despite everything

[bambieyedoll]

CARLISLE CULLEN HEADCANON

a slow-burn relationship with carlisle .

𝒴ou first met carlisle cullen when you moved to forks and had a minor accident. nothing dramatic, just a sprained ankle and some bruises after slipping on wet pavement near the hospital.

he was the doctor who treated you. calm, kind, effortlessly elegant. he smiled softly as he checked your vitals, his voice a warm balm that made your pulse jump.

you noticed something in his eyes that day. a flicker of familiarity, like he recognized something in you.

he would say later that it was the way your eyes lingered on the rain through the hospital window, looking peaceful, thoughtful. like someone who didn’t belong to this world either.

carlisle keeps his distance at first. he tells himself it’s wrong. he’s centuries old, he’s a vampire, and you deserve a human life, a normal life. but he finds excuses.

you get an anonymous donation to cover your medical bill. a nurse mentions dr. cullen asking how you’re recovering. you swear you see his car pass your street once or twice too often to be coincidence.

he’s used to controlling his thirst. but he’s not used to controlling his heart. that’s harder. infinitely harder.

every time you cross paths again, grocery store, library, a town event, he’s impossibly kind. but always just out of reach. his glances linger. his hands hesitate when they brush yours. you notice how his jaw tenses when you thank him too sweetly.

he starts volunteering with community projects more often, knowing you’re involved. you’re painting murals at the high school or helping restock books at the library, and suddenly dr. cullen is there, donating supplies or offering his car to help transport boxes.

“just wanted to help,” he says, voice low, gaze fixed just over your shoulder.

he lends you his coat when it’s cold one night at a fundraiser, even though he never gets cold. when you return it a week later, folded and smelling like you, he stares at it for minutes before hiding it in the back of his closet like a secret.

the way he looks at you when you speak, like you’re the only thing anchoring him to the earth. he listens so intently. he remembers everything. what flowers you like. how you take your tea. the name of your childhood dog.

when you catch him watching you, it’s not with hunger, it’s longing. deep and aching. like he wishes he could hold your hand without crumbling. like he wants to be the one you come home to and hates himself for even thinking it.

you slowly start realizing more about him. the way he’s always cold, freezing cold. at first, you write it off. he’s a doctor. hospitals are cold. maybe his circulation is just… strange.

another time, you help organize a photo wall at the hospital to celebrate long-time staff. there’s a photo from 15 years ago, he’s in it. and he looks exactly the same.

not “aged well”. not “maybe it’s just good lighting.” no. it’s identical. the jawline, the eyes, the way his mouth turns at the corners. frozen in time.

you stop trying to make sense of it. but you don’t forget.

the realization doesn’t come like a thunderclap. it comes like fog lifting. all the little things. all the signs. the cold. the silence. the shadows. the stillness in his body. the ache in his eyes.

one day, you’re alone with him in a quiet room. he’s talking about life like he’s lived too many of them.

and it hits you: he has.

you stare at him, heart in your throat. “you’re…”

he just watches you, unmoving. and his eyes… god, his eyes, they say yes. without ever speaking the word.

after that, nothing changes. not really.

you still see him at the hospital when you volunteer. he still greets you with that same impossibly gentle smile. Still holds the door open for you. still walks beside you in companionable silence like he always has.

but it’s not the same. not after you know.

now you notice everything with a different weight.

the stillness of his body when he’s not pretending to be human. the absence of breath when he thinks no one’s listening. the way his golden eyes seem darker when he’s close to you too long, like he’s holding his breath for your sake.

and he knows you’ve figured it out.

you never said it aloud. you didn’t need to. you both carry the truth like a fragile object neither one of you wants to drop.

it starts with the distance.

not the kind that hurts, just… cautious space. carlisle doesn’t stand as close anymore. his hands stay folded in front of him or tucked into his coat. he avoids unnecessary contact, even though you miss the warmthless comfort of his fingers brushing yours.

you catch him once, watching you from across the hallway when he thinks you’re not looking.

you smile softly.

he looks away, jaw tight, lips parted like he wants to say something but can’t.

the conversations stay light.

books. local news. work. you talk about the rain. he listens like it’s scripture. you mention a book you’re reading, and he asks questions. not because he doesn’t know the story, but because he wants to hear it from you.

you try to break the tension once.

you say, lightly, “you know i’m not going to run away screaming, right?”

and his reply is immediate, too immediate.

“i know.”

but he says it like he’s still waiting for the day you do.

there’s something softer between you now.

a kind of knowing. a shared secret neither of you dares to press on too hard.

the kindness in his eyes carries more weight now. so does the way he pulls back when he gets too close. the way he pauses before speaking. the way he stares at your throat sometimes, only for the briefest flicker of a second, before his gaze moves back to your eyes.

it’s not fear. it’s restraint.

and guilt. always guilt.

as if he’s still unsure whether you seeing the truth was a gift or a wound.

but even with all the awkwardness… he still stays.

still meets you in the hallways. still helps you carry things. still listens. still offers you his umbrella. still walks you to your car.

there’s one night during a thunderstorm when you’re stuck at the hospital after dropping off supplies. the power flickers, plunging the corridor into shadows broken only by flashes of lightning. the rain pounds steadily against the windows, a rhythmic hum against the stillness.

you’re halfway down the hallway, arms crossed for warmth, when you hear footsteps. unhurried but purposeful.

carlisle turns the corner with a flashlight in his hand, his golden eyes immediately finding yours. the relief on his face is subtle, but it’s there, etched into the soft furrow of his brow, the way he exhales like he’s been holding his breath all night.

“come with me,” he says gently, offering you his hand.

he leads you to his office, the soft glow of the flashlight throwing golden halos around his silhouette. inside, the storm seems more distant, tucked away behind the thick windows. he lights a few candles and places them around the room. it’s quiet. intimate. the kind of quiet that feels sacred.

you sit across from him on the low couch, knees brushing under the blanket he gently draped over your legs. the flickering light makes the angles of his face look like they were carved from marble and warmth all at once.

he looks down at your hand, resting on the edge of the couch, and for a moment, he forgets himself. his fingers twitch, aching to reach for you, but he doesn’t move.

you notice.

“you can touch me, carlisle,” you whisper, barely louder than the storm outside. “i don’t mind.”

his gaze lifts slowly to yours, and there’s something unspoken in it. something ancient. something unraveling.

he finally reaches for your hand and threads his fingers through yours with a reverence that makes your chest ache.

“i’ve lived three centuries,” he murmurs, his voice raw with something heavy, “and never, not once, have i felt this.” his thumb brushes over your knuckles, slow and trembling.

you hold your breath.

“this ache i carry when i’m not near you… i don’t know how to quiet it anymore.”

the candlelight flickers. you think maybe he’s about to let go, but instead, he pulls your joined hands to his chest, like he’s trying to memorize the feeling.

“you don’t know what you’ve done to me,” he says, quieter this time. “and i don’t know how to stop needing you.”

his hand is still over yours, pressed to his chest, and you can feel it, even though there’s no heartbeat. the weight of it. the ache. like his whole world has funneled into that one point of contact.

the candlelight flickers again, shadows dancing softly across his face. he’s staring at you like he’s afraid he’s dreaming, like you’ll vanish if he breathes too hard. his lips part, then close again. you can see the war behind his eyes.

you lean in just slightly, and that’s all it takes. he leans in too, almost involuntarily, his face now only inches from yours. his voice comes out as barely a whisper, desperate and breaking.

“i told myself i would never feel this again,” he says, almost like a confession. “not after everything. after the wars. the blood. the loneliness. i thought i’d buried this part of me centuries ago.”

your breath catches.

“but then you came,” he continues, shaking his head like he still doesn’t understand it. “with your warmth, your voice, your laugh… and suddenly every part of me that had been quiet, dead, was starving again.”

you can feel the heat radiating off his skin, even if it isn’t from blood. it’s the kind of warmth born of longing, of want buried so deep it’s fossilized.

his eyes fall to your lips for just a second too long.

“i think about you,” he whispers, like he’s ashamed of it. “more than i should. i hear your name in my mind when i’m trying to focus. i imagine what it would feel like to hold you, to come home to you. and then i hate myself for wanting so much from you when i don’t deserve it.”

you reach up and gently cup his cheek and that’s when his resolve nearly shatters.

“carlisle,” your eyes look up at him with such tenderness he melts. “you’re allowed to want this.”

his eyes flutter shut at your touch, and his breath stutters. for a moment, you’re certain he’s going to kiss you.

he leans forward, forehead resting against yours, and his voice is a desperate tremble.

“i shouldn’t,” he breathes. “but i’ve never wanted anything more.”

you whisper his name.

his fingers tighten slightly around yours.

and just as his lips begin to brush against yours, barely, just the ghost of a kiss, he suddenly pulls away.

the movement is swift but not cold. his hands linger on yours like he doesn’t want to let go, like it hurts to let go. but he does.

he stands up, pacing a few steps away, facing the window where the rain slides down like silver threads.

“i’m sorry,” he says, voice hoarse. “i don’t trust myself around you. i’m sorry, i can’t do it. i can’t.”

you rise from the couch slowly.

he turns to face you, and you’ve never seen someone look so torn. so completely wrecked by love they won’t allow themselves to have.

he left that night with nothing more than a whispered apology and a look that gutted you, begging you not to give up on him, even as he walked away.

you didn’t.

but the silence since then has gnawed at your ribs like something hollow. and you can’t take it anymore.

so you go to the hospital. not because you need to, but because you have to see him. you find him in his office, alone, papers stacked untouched on the desk, a book open in front of him but clearly unread.

he looks up.

and for a split second, he doesn’t speak. just stares, like he’s been starving and you just walked in smelling like salvation.

“carlisle,” you whisper, stepping forward, voice fragile with the weight of everything unsaid.

he stands slowly, almost like he doesn’t trust his body to move. your name softly escapes his lips like a prayer.

“i’m sorry,” he says, quiet but wrecked. “about that night, about everything. i—”

you move closer, interrupting him.

“i can’t do this halfway,” you say, throat tight. “if you want me, want me. but please, stop pretending this isn’t real.”

and that’s it.

that’s the match to centuries of restraint.

because suddenly, he moves.

one second he’s across the room. the next, he’s in front of you, grabbing your face like he’s drowning and you’re the only air he’s ever known.

his lips crash into yours.

it’s not careful. it’s not gentle. it’s centuries of aching, a hundred lifetimes of loneliness detonating all at once in a single kiss.

his hands slide into your hair, desperate and rough, pulling you closer like it’s hurting him not to have you against him. his mouth is hot and open, kissing you like he’s trying to carve you into memory. like he’s furious with himself for waiting this long. for holding back when this, you, was what he’s needed all along.

a groan rips from his throat when you clutch the front of his shirt, and it only spurs him on. he walks you back against the wall, never breaking the kiss, his hands roaming like he’s trying to memorize the shape of you. your waist, your spine, your trembling shoulders.

“god,” he breathes between kisses, his forehead pressed to yours, lips swollen, voice ruined. “you have no idea how long i’ve wanted this. how long i’ve—fought this.”

you run your fingers through his hair, dragging him back down, and he moans into your mouth like he’s finally, finally home.

“you drive me mad,” he whispers. “i dream about you. i ache for you. i’ve walked this earth for centuries and never, never, has anything undone me like you do.”

his hands slide down your back, anchoring you against him.

“i’m so tired of pretending,” he murmurs, kissing down your jaw, your neck, desperate to touch as much of you as you’ll let him. “so tired of being good. i need you. i need you so bad.”

your breath shudders.

you’ve never seen him like this.

not composed. not calm. but shaking with want.

“then take me,” you whisper against his lips. “you already have.”

he kisses you again. deeper, slower now, but no less intense. like he’s tasting the rest of his eternity in your mouth. like he’ll never let himself go this long without you again.

and in that moment, with your hands tangled in his hair and his body pressed fully to yours, you know:

carlisle cullen has never let go like this before.

and now that he has, there’s no putting him back together.

[raggity-boo]

I was just rereading Teaser, Teaser- and for whatever reason, my brain FINALLY picked up on a little detail I hadn't even noticed or paid attention to the first 15 times I read it. And color me a creep, cause now I can't get it out of my head.

It may be a blink-and-you'll-it kind of detail meant to be so small that you probably didn't think anyone would even notice. But I did and I gotta talk about it.

~~~Spoilers to anyone who hasn't read the story yet~~~

The fact that you made Jax a virgin is such a seemingly small yet important detail to me. Some can argue 'he was so young (teens? Early 20s?) entering the circus he never got to have any sort of physical intimacy outside of it!' Okay, that's fine and understandable. But that doesn't negate the fact that he still was until that night with Raggy.

Speaking of which, the fact that his first time was with her is just SUCH a beautiful thing to me. It makes that night with her SO much more special and intimate after longing, not to just have sex period, but to be that intimate with her specifically for so long. (Also NOT ME losing it when he said he'd only ever be with her like that??? Like GOD THATS SO SWEET AND PRECIOUS??)

And how casually he was when he revealed that fact about himself to her in lack of better terms? And that Raggy didn't shame him for it or press for details why? Again, small details- but such important ones.

Idk I just feel like in media the woman is always depicted as the 'sexual naive' one and the man as this nasty, sex-crazed maniac who only wants to take her virginity from her and have her body as a toy to play with. That's it. So to see that old worn-out trope spun completely on its head -the man being the virgin, the woman not, them both being casual about it- is honestly so refreshing to see.

Also, him being a virgin- but not an incel or uneducated or shamed? Taking away the stigma that's often associated with virginity- especially for men? PEEK

Also can I mention the fact that Jax was so fucking gentle with her? Taking his time with her? Making sure she is okay? Like, that's almost unheard of for a man to do with a woman nowadays when having sex with her the first time- it's all about the pleasure he gets, not where she's at. Jax making sure Raggy felt just as safe as he did, even though it wasn't her first time but his, isn't lost on me.

Oh, and him using the term 'anatomically correct'? Congratulations, Jax, you are a real man for not just going with 'sex parts' (which isn't all they are, obvi) and showing you use your upper head to think with and not just your lower one 🙌

Again, all just small details- but ones that just add to making this story even more incredible and beautiful to me. I'm so normal about this story 😀 (*goes to scream in my pillow because I'm not ready for chapter 10 AKA THE END yet*)

⚠️SPOILERS AHEAD⚠️

I love this comment so much because just as much as ya'll learn after rereading Teaser, I learn just as much. When I wrote Jax as a virgin, it didn't mean more than just a small detail at the time. Something that I threw in for the hell of it. Reading that chapter back, I can definitely see what you mean. The age gap between them (Eight years) as always been a driving force for me when it comes to writing. I may never write them as friends or have a history, but I will always keep that age gap in mind. Just because of how much depth it adds to them. Of course, 22 year old's are probably having sex, but Jax just seems like the type that you have to be REALLY special for it to progress to that. And, of course, keeping that in mind makes it all the more special that he gave that to Ragatha. Ragatha, however, is 30. That doesn't necessarily mean that she's been with anyone, but if you add all of her problems with her mother, then pressure is certainly there. That's the whole vibe I was going for in that scene. This intimate push between them with the added touch to detail.

Also, the anatomically correct part was added to the nerves that he was under. Here's a woman he's been pining for for a LONG TIME and he's finally able to explore those feelings. He's going to be a bundle of nerves.

As I stated in my notes on that chapter, smut scenes have to mean something to me other than something to showcase sex. It's gotta be loving and passionate before anything else.

I'm also so totally normal for this story as well (NOT). And I'd LOVE to hear your thoughts on 10 when you finish it. I thought that I wrapped up everything pretty nicely.

[jakeperalta]

you have a way of coming easily to me and when you take, you take the very best of me. so I start a fight 'cause I need to feel something and you do what you want 'cause I'm not what you wanted

[elektroyu]

I'm seriously starting to consider to not take the general story crafting 101 too seriously... and just do whatever. In the end the only criterium that's important is if I personally like my story by itself. Or even just that I was able to completely write it.

There are so many things out there that don't follow the general structures, or that aren't even a single coherent storyline at all. The only reason I want to make it structurally waterproof is because I think that's the only way to make other people maybe approve of it. MAYBE. It's because I think if I don't follow the rules I'm going to get criticized or made fun of for it. But honestly, there's no guarantee that even a single person other than myself would even read it. So why the heck am I trying to bend over backwards so much for something that probably won't even matter?! 😂 It doesn't make sense. I should treat this as an effing fanfic and do whatever feels right, have fun with it, COMPLETE IT, even if it's not coherent or this or that fundamental rule is not followed. It DOESN'T need to make sense. Really WHO.CARES?? The answer is NOBODY. A story's purpose is not to make others like the fkn author lol. I really should stop trying to treat it like that. Amirite or

[motorsportbarbie13]

One New Voicemail

your relationship with lando through voicemails.

(no warnings, just pure fluff. i'm kind of obsessed with writing these. would anyone want to see different drivers??? 1.2k words.)

First Date  “Hey you. I know I just dropped you off and you’re probably not back up to your apartment yet but I just wanted to tell you that I had the best time tonight…”  Lando winces at how lame that sounds, dragging in a breath before letting it loose.  “I’ve never been axe throwing on a first date before but uh…I’m glad you still have all ten fingers.” He laughs softly, shaking his head.

“Anyway. I know I said it already, like…5 times but I had a really fun night. Like, best first date ever. So, I was hoping that maybe we could do it again. Soon? Yeah…soon.”  He pauses, the butterflies in his stomach taking flight at the thought of seeing you again. “I’m in town for another week before the next race. Maybe tomorrow? Too soon? I don’t know, I just can’t get you off my mind and I’ve just dropped you off.”  Shit. He was down bad, wasn’t he?  “Text me?”  Another pause.  “Okay. Bye.”  Click. 

First Kiss “Hi. Um. So, that just happened, didn’t it?”

His voice is breathless, like he just ran up several flights of stairs before hitting your contact in his phone.

“I’ve been wanting to do that ever since I saw you in that bookstore. I nearly chickened out that day, almost walked right past the shop window but…” 

Lando shakes his head, smile tugging at his mouth. 

“Fuck, I am so glad I didn’t. Because that was the best first kiss I’ve ever had. And then you gave me the best second kiss. And third…” 

The words hang in the air, silence stretching out as he grins stupidly out at the London traffic in front of him. 

“Okay. Anyway. I just wanted to make sure you knew how much I can’t wait to kiss you again. Bye.” 

Click.

When You Make It Official  “Hi baby. I uh…just needed to say goodnight to my girlfriend one more time.” 

Lando giggles. 

Giggles. 

“So…you’re my girlfriend now, huh?” You can almost hear the smile slide across his face in the way he sounds. “Jesus, I was so nervous. Felt like I was 15 years old again. I’m so glad you said yes. Never a doubt in my mind…” 

He snorts, rolling his eyes. 

You both know that’s a lie. 

“I wish I didn’t have to go to Spain so early tomorrow. Fucking media duties. Do you think maybe you could get Friday off? I want you by my side this weekend. I’m going to buy you a ticket as soon as I get back to my flat, okay? Okay. Bye.” 

Click. 

When He Wins “Fuck. I didn’t even check to see what time it was back home. I’m so sorry, I hope I didn’t wake you.” A pause. “Probably not because you didn’t answer. That’s good.” 

Lando sounds flustered. Like he can’t quite gather his thoughts into a coherent string. 

“I won!” 

Laughter. 

“I won and the first thing I thought when I saw that checkered flag was ’God, I wish she was here to see this.’ I hate being on opposite sides of the world from you. I haven’t heard your voice all fucking day. Is that pathetic? How much I love hearing your voice? You know what? I don’t care. Hearing you say my name is my favorite sound. Sue me.” 

Someone shouts Lando’s name off in the distance, just loud enough for you to hear. They tell him it’s time to celebrate and take a team photo. His response is muffled and then louder, directed back at your voicemail. 

“I wish you were here. I need you here for my next win, okay? Promise me? Okay, call me when you get up, I don’t care what time it is.” 

A pause. Almost like there’s something else he wants to say. Something heavier. 

“Okay. G’night.” 

Click. 

When He Misses You “Hi, baby.” He coos, voice tired. Sheets rustle in the background and he’s silent for a few moments. “I’m sorry I missed your call earlier. You’re probably out with the girls now, yeah? I hope you’re having a good time.” 

Silverware clinks in the background. The hiss of a can opening. 

“It’s been…fourteen days, six hours, and twenty-nine minutes since I kissed you and it’s really fucking annoying. I miss you so much. Triple headers suck. Can you come to Brazil next week? I’ll fly you out here. Please?” 

A sigh that borders on a groan. 

“I really fucking miss you.”

Deep breath. 

“Okay. I hope you’re having fun. Call me when you get in, no matter what time it is, okay?” 

Click. 

When He Realizes He Loves You “Hi.” 

It’s a breathless whisper. 

“I uhhhh…” 

Lando scrubs his hand over his face as he walks down the sidewalk. 

“I know it hasn’t been very long and fuck, I hope this doesn’t scare you off. I probably shouldn’t be doing this on voicemail. I was going to say it when I kissed you goodnight but I lost my nerve.” 

His feet whisper over the pavement, filling the silence. 

“IThinkImFallingInLoveWithYou.” 

The words are quick. Jumbled. And then he’s muttering something under his breath. 

“No. Wait. Fuck. Not think. Baby, I know I’m in love with you.” 

Silence. 

“I’m so head over heels in love with you I can’t even think straight.” 

His footfalls get louder, as if he’s running. 

“And I’m a fucking idiot for not saying it to your face. I’ll be at your door in thirty seconds…” 

Click. 

When He Gets Down On One Knee “I can’t believe you actually said yes.” 

Lando huffs a laugh. 

“I thought I blew it, when you didn’t say anything after I asked. I genuinely thought you were about to turn me down. Scariest ten seconds of my life. And then you were crying and yelling and hugging me…The poor cat was terrified.” 

The Ferrari’s engine purrs to life in the background. 

“I just ran out to get some champagne for us but I wanted to hear your voice. I can’t believe I get to marry you. Holy fuck, you’re going to be my wife.”

A beat.

“I’m going to be your husband.”  

He sounds overwhelmed. Like he can’t quite wrap his mind around the sentence. 

“I’m so glad I went into that bookstore that day…I love you so much. I can’t wait to call you Mrs. Norris.” 

Click.  

The Night Before You Marry Him “I don’t know how you’re asleep right now. I feel like I’m going to vibrate right out of my skin.” 

The sheets rustle softly in the background. 

“You looked so pretty tonight in that dress. Every time I looked at you, I thought my heart was going to explode. I can’t ever get enough of seeing you with my ring on your finger. The wedding band I put on you tomorrow is going to look so fucking good next to it.” 

Lando draws in a deep breath, settling deeper in the sheets. 

“It’s weird sleeping without you. These traditions are stupid.” 

You can almost hear the pout on his face. 

“What am I going to do without your ice cold feet to jolt me awake at 3 in the morning?” 

A laugh. 

“I still can’t believe I got you to agree to marry me. I’m the luckiest guy on this planet, you know that? I can’t wait to see you tomorrow.” 

A pause. 

“Can we have babies soon?” 

Another pause. Longer now. 

“I can’t wait for you to have my babies. Lets get to work on that tomorrow night.” 

He says it like it’s final. Like he’s been waiting to say that to you for as long as he’s known you. 

“Okay. Love you, soon-to-be wife. Bye.” 

Click. 

[differenteagletragedy]

You meet Price, fall in love and marry pretty fast -- so fast that you don't end up meeting many of the people in his life until after the ring is already on your finger.

He introduces you to Kate when you stop by the base one afternoon, and she's lovely, and Kyle is a perfect gentleman when you meet him at an event. Johnny escorts you to your husband's office when you can't remember the way one evening, and he's a little intense, but fun.

And you feel a sense of relief that John has these people in his life. Strong, smart people, of course, but good people too. It feels good to know that these are the kinds of people he has looking out for him when he's gone from home.

Then you meet Simon. And it's ... different.

Because the man is, for lack of a better word, strange. He's bigger than even your bear of a husband, taller and broader both, and he just stares, unnervingly, with those big dark eyes. Not in a creepy way, he doesn't leer, nothing like that ... but it's the perceptiveness in his gaze that throws you off kilter.

And it's not like you can talk to him about it -- you try. Easy little jokes, bits of small talk whenever you're in his presence, but nothing takes. He's quiet and closed off.

He's a mystery. And you never could leave well enough alone.

"What's the deal with Simon?" you ask John every once in a while.

John adores you, thinks you hung the moon and to him, you outshine all the stars in the sky. But he's loyal to a fault, so he'll just chuckle when you ask, or make some soft little comment to change the subject.

"No stranger than the rest of us, just not as good at hiding it, love." "You think he's odd now, you should have met him 15 years ago." "'Least you haven't seen him with the mask, sweetheart."

But Simon does wear a mask, that much is obvious to you. It's not the skull one you've heard he wears in the field, but it's a mask all the same. Months go by with little interactions here and there, but you haven't seen so much as a smirk cross his scarred lips. There are signs of life, obviously, you can see his chest rise and fall as he breathes, but real life? Signs of actual living?

Not a one.

"Let me ask you something," John says one night in bed, a heavy arm draped around your waist. "Why do you care so much, sweetheart?"

"I don't," you answer defensively, and he laughs softly, his chest rumbling against your back, before leaning in to kiss your shoulder.

You can feel the grin against your skin.

Your curiosity is one of the things that made John fall in love with you so fast. When he met you, you didn't write him off as an old broken soldier, instead taking your time to dig in deep and find all the good parts buried under the hard exterior. He'd never admit it to those friends of his you'd come to know -- only to you in soft whispers in the dark -- but you made him feel special. Like he was worth learning.

And now, seeing a similar spark of eagerness in learning about Simon, it's ... well, it's an interesting feeling. John took Simon under his wing years ago when they met as much younger men, and he's never quite let him go. He's always seen something special in him, and seeing you notice it too ...

He presses another kiss against your shoulder, and another, trailing them to the back of your neck. His hand finds your hip, pulling you back against him so you can feel his building arousal.

He doesn't quite know why, and you don't either, but things are just a little bit different that night. His calloused hands, usually so gentle with you, grip a little harder as he moves you, and when he slips inside your warmth, he doesn't take his time like he usually does.

There's an urgency there, but what it's born from, neither of you quite know.

It won't become clear until months from now, when Simon starts popping by more frequently -- for dinner sometimes, to help John with some project others.

That first time you see it, a small little upturn in the corners of Simon's mouth, paired with a little light in his eyes that warms up the darkness...

That's when you get an idea.

[joshujin]

dude, nice try!

◀ part one • series masterlist • part two

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

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

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

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

dividers by @cafekitsune cover by yours truly!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

sixteen minutes earlier

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“tell me about it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he groans, letting his head fall into his hands. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“are you sure?”

“yes… why?”

“like… how sure?” joshua presses. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“did you—”

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

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

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

“um, maybe.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

joshua opens his eyes and frowns. “what?”

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

“al—”

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

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

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

“i have to go!” you exclaim. 

“what?! why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“shua?” joshua repeats mindlessly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“got it, boss.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“pilates,” he repeats in a daze. 

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

“mina, have you ever cheated on me?”

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

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

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

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

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

joshua is done.

“mina.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“baby, i…”

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

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

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

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

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

“mina, let go o—”

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

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

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

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

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

he glares now.

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

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

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

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

“i—”

“who the fuck is siwoo?” 

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

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

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

“who is siwoo?!” the man shouts now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

fortunately, he gets the elevator immediately. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“oh, you’re so not okay,” you mutter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i have no heartache to sweat out.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“mina? i thought—”

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

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

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

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

“bye, y/n.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i think,” he adds, frowning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“flattering?” he repeats, raising an eyebrow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“good, hold me to it.”

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

“jesus christ, how often were you here?”

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

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

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

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

you’re consumed by giggles hearing him curse again.

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

“you’re cheesing real hard, bro.”

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

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

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

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

“what?”

“what’s going on with—”

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

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

“what?” he asks again. 

“do you like her?”

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

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

joshua scoffs. “what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

he frowns. “your instincts?”

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

“whoa, okay—”

“what if i end up with another mina?”

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

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

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

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

“say it back.”

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

“huh?”

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

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

“wait, what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“you’re so dramatic and wrong.”

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

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

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

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

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

“oh, really,” he deadpans. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

joshua smiles. “perfect.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“how the hell do you know that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

joshua grunts but says nothing, so you continue.

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

“her profile is private,” joshua points out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“before me.”

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

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

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

he nods. “me.”

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

he scoffs. “wow.”

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

the heat spreading across his face grows exponentially warmer. 

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

joshua frowns. 

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

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

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

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

“wish i listened.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“the boyfriends.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“then mina’s going to take the bait.”

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

he smirks. “learning from the best.”

“oh, she is so over.”

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

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

part three teaser

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"hmm?"

"nothing," you say. "thanks."

"for?"

"saying all of those nice things."

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

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

joshua shakes his head. “i didn’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and why exactly would that be fitting?

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

[inkskinned]

even 2 years ago people still said autism with a whisper. it was also how people sometimes whisper lesbian, like they're afraid of uttering a slur. autistic was either an insult or it was something terrible, a horrible burden only select people endure. "select people" were usually 9 year old boys and skinny white men.

they are not hispanic young adults with a dog and a life and friends. i can make (sustained, calculated, painful) eye contact. with certain people, i don't even have to count how many seconds i am holding their vision - i can just look at them. i can wear clothes that bother me, i will just have a worse day than usual. i might cry about any changes to my schedule - but change is scary! this is normal!

when i was 16 it was OCD. i mean that was the thing everyone said. i totally have ocd. they would arrange 6 colors of gel pen in rainbow order (no worry for indigo feeling left out) and they'd be "so ocd" about it.

if you struggle with intrusive thoughts, be careful at this next paragraph, but. at 16 i developed a compulsion that involved self-harm. my ocd was convinced i was simply forgetting that i'd hurt someone terribly - a thought that persisted for no clear or delineated reason.

at some point i will probably write about how the idea of "morally pure thoughts" was hell for me and others with ocd, but this was the odd dichotomy for many of us: they liked our "aesthetic", but were genuinely repulsed by our lived experience. "intrusive thoughts" now means "cutting your hair in the sink" instead of talking yourself down from believing horrible things. "so ocd" is a label without any true understanding.

it's something i've talked about before - in multiplicity - but i firmly believe in the veracity and necessity of self-diagnosis. i think it saves lives and it saves tragedies from occurring. as someone raised in a house that wasn't safe, self-diagnosis was, for many years, the only viable option. 15 and honestly googling: am i depressed or are there demons affecting my behavior.

but it is not genuine self-diagnosis anymore, most of the time. it is a strange, blanched version of that whispered word autism. now certain traits are constantly seen as "autistic" - any passing intense interest. any flubbed social interaction. people say it while laughing - a touch of the 'tism.

and i like the acceptance! i do. i like that people are talking about it. i like that if i self-identify, more people speak up and say me too, bitch. but there is something-else quietly happening, the way it happened to OCD. the quirky, "fun" parts have been washed and sanitized and removed of all suffering. now it is just something that makes you "a little bit silly."

it took me 27 years on this planet before i learned to make friends. something about me just seems incredibly odd, i guess, some kind of radiation monitoring. someone once (in a way that was almost friendly) told me i am doing the right things, but in a way that's off-putting. i have scoured myself raw attempting to be charming.

someone on tiktok does a deep dive into their particular passion. the top comment says "what kind of autism is this lol". like we are a breed of animal. like it has no influence on our experience. like our life is a fresh breeze, an open meadow.

more often for me, life was a drowning.

[cupidstrace]

Little Tomatoes

Summary: What love means to the both of you at 10, 15, 20, when you finally meet each other, and decades later. Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader

A/N: there's no gojo character death in this one i pinky promise

At 10 years old, love, to Gojo Satoru, is conditional.

It’s a pat on the head after brutal training. A clan elder promising he’ll be “fit to lead" if he memorizes just one more rule. A supervisor saying he’ll be “enough” if he survives just one more trial.

At ten, he learns love as a transaction. A currency earned through performance.

At 10 years old, love, to you, is a sun-ripened tomato you’ve picked fresh from the vine, tart and sweet, a splash of citrus on a summer breeze. You hold it out to your mother with a gap-toothed smile, and she takes it from you with a "thank you" and a gentle pat on the head.

You’re sure, then, that she must be an angel. And therefore all people are.

At ten, you learn love as a gift. A cherry red tomato, the best one you could find, accepted with kind hands and a soft voice, because the person accepting it deserves it. Because all people deserve to be loved.

At 15 years old, love, to Gojo Satoru, becomes momentum.

He finds a makeshift family that grins through danger, a best friend who laughs with his head thrown back and believes people deserve to be saved simply because they exist. He tastes love in the little things – in basketball, and dumb pranks, and needling classmates just because he can.

At fifteen, he learns love through happiness.

Something he thinks, hopes, will last forever.

At 15 years old, love, to you, is a pit you fall into headfirst.

You meet a boy with a grin that makes your heart flutter and fly away to some distant heaven, and you think this is it. You love him dearly, in cards you hand write and pipe cleaner flowers bursting in shades of lavender and baby blue.

At fifteen, you find your first heartbreak, and leave all the more assured that love is something precious.

At 20 years old, love, to Gojo Satoru, turns sacrificial.

He becomes a teacher to change the system that shaped him, to break something unbreakable, because he has to. If no one else can, if no one else will. He’s seen how something pure can curdle and rot and melt into resentment when left undefended.

At twenty, Gojo Satoru learns love through grief, and promises himself he won’t let it happen again.

At 20 years old, love, to you, becomes tender.

You hold your mother’s hand as the monitor hums its flat, final tone – a discordant note in a room gone breathtakingly still. Her lips, once sun-warmed and tomato red, have faded to the pale hue of rose petals pressed between pages. Still, she kisses your cheek one last time in the afternoon light.

At twenty, you learn love through grief, through a letter tucked at the back of a drawer, inked with the quiet instructions to your mother’s secret tomato soup recipe. And you promise, if not to her then to yourself, that you will continue to love, grief and all.

At an age you can’t recall, but he remembers down to the exact date and time, you encounter Gojo Satoru.

He enters your bakery with all the swagger of a man you know at first glance is here for something teeth-rottingly sweet, takes off his sunglasses, and flashes a blindingly bright smile at nothing in particular. You remember thinking that his eyes fit him. Shiny and beautiful and layered to an infinity with something deeply good.

He steps up to the counter, takes one look at you, and any semblance of confidence he seemed to have when he first walked in fades to a flush.

You smile. “Hi! What can I get for you?”

He opens his mouth and promptly closes it. Opens it again. "Uh, whatever smells like that,” he says, gesturing vaguely toward the display. “And maybe.. your number?”

His lips curve into a sheepish grin.

You laugh, an easy, clear sound that makes his ears burn, and offer him a sample of the cheese scone and tomato soup, fresh out of the oven.

His nose scrunches, but he takes a bite anyway (he later tells you it’s because you were smiling at him, and his brain doesn’t work when you smile too prettily). His eyes widen. “You know,” he says with exaggerated solemnity. “I hate tomatoes.”

“Oh?”

“But I’d eat ten of these if you asked me to. Soo.. ten scones and tomato soup, please.”

You laugh, pack his order into a bag, and write your number on the side. “It’s on the house. Have a good day, handsome.”

And that’s all it takes.

The next thing you know, he’s taking you on dates all over the area, telling you excitedly about his favorite sweets, inviting you back to his apartment so you can cook lunch together because he “doesn’t really like tomatoes but your tomato soup was really good” and he’d “kill to know where you learned all your culinary sorcery from.”

And so, at whatever age this is, love, to you, becomes something whole. The warmth of dough rising in the quiet of morning, the steady thrum of footsteps returning home. Something that lives and breathes and thrives in the quiet constants, like tomatoes in a garden your mother once taught you how to tend.

And to Gojo Satoru, it becomes a quiet miracle.

A fluttering, childlike warmth that rises in his chest when you press a kiss to his temple just for making you laugh. A sense of home in the way his hands fit at your waist, in the sway of your bodies in the kitchen to a playlist he’s named “us” full of terribly cheesy romance songs. He sings along to My Heart Will Go On, off-key and loud, just to make you roll your eyes and smile.

For the both of you, between the first "I love you" and the tears blurring your eyes when you tell each other "I do," love becomes more than a single emotion or word. It just is.

And decades, two kids, an old crusty white dog and a garden full of tomatoes later, love has somehow stayed the same.

[bweirdart]

EVENT OVER! THANKS EVERYONE WHO JOINED IN U ALL DID AN AMAZING JOB <3 SEE YOU AGAIN NEXT YEAR IN MARCH FOR #mARTch OR NEXT OCTOBER (2024) FOR A NEW SET OF PROMPTS!!!!!

OC-TOBER 2023 PROMPTS!!

general tag: #oc-tober / my prompts: #bweirdOCtober

F.A.Q:

Do I have to draw EVERY DAY?

NO! I highly encourage skipping as many days as you need to avoid burnout! There are 10 main days in the event (marked with a ⭐ star) that you can focus on if you don't feel up to doing every day, or you can choose your own adventure and just do the prompts you personally like!

Do I have to DRAW?

NO! You can also write fanfiction snippets, repost older art that fits the theme, tweet headcanons/backstory, roleplay in-character as your oc ... genuinely anything that fits the theme is OK!!

Can I start early?

YES! I understand some people work at a slower pace and might need a head start! So long as you wait until October to post it, you can start working as early as you need!

I missed the start of the event .. do I have to catch up?

NO! Please don't stress about days you missed, you're allowed to just skip to the current prompt!

RULES:

1. MAKE FRIENDS! The community is the best part of this event .. please try to follow new people, ask questions about ocs you like, compliment people's styles, ask friends to create with you, etc!

2. TAKE IT EASY! Skip a day if you're tired, busy or just not interested in the prompt. You don't have to catch up on it later. This is supposed to be fun, not work!

3. BE KIND! Please think about the people around you - don't give people unwarranted harsh criticism, content warn for themes/imagery in your work that could trigger someone, don't create anything hateful, etc

MORE:

text version / tips and ideas on bweird.art or below ↓

star = main prompts | no star = optional

INTRO WEEK

1: FAVE OC ⭐

-Which of your characters is your favourite right now?

2: NEW OC

-Who is your newest OC?

-Design a new OC right now

3: OLD OC ⭐

-Do you remember the first OC you ever made?

-Is there an OC you haven't drawn in a long time?

4: RE-DESIGN

-An OC who has changed a lot over the years

-Take an old OC and update their design right now

 

BACKSTORY WEEK

5: RELATIONSHIPS ⭐

-Who is important to your OC?

-Do they have a partner?

-Do they have a best friend?

-Are they close to their family?

6: SYMBOL

-What imagery do you associate with your oc?

-Are there any colours, flowers, animals or concepts that symbolize them?

7: PERSONALITY ⭐

-How does your OC behave?

-What are their positive traits?

-What are their negative traits?

-Are they extroverted or introverted?

8: PAST

-What was your OC like as a child?

-Where did they grow up?

-Are there any significant moments from their past that shaped who they are?

9: FUTURE ⭐

-Does your OC have a goal they're working towards?

-What will your OC look like when they get older

-Do you have a planned ending for their story?

PALETTE WEEK

10: pumpkin patch palette

#251604 #1E3807 #5B5E1A #A2A657 #EBA00F #F3ECCC

11: hot cocoa palette

#520B13 #BB382E #E27E6D #88392C #AF5D40 #E1AFA4

12: midnight zone palette

#000007 #000049 #183885 #004D4F #0E8788 #FFF1C0

13: peachy palette

#DE6450 #DB9171 #FFC1AE #FEE1AD #FFF2E0 #D9D8D8

14: haunted house palette

#552506 #6E25AA #ED690B #F925A0 #8F8BA7 #A6C1AA

FUN + GAMES WEEK

15: MEME ⭐

-Post memes that remind you of your OC

-Draw your OC as a meme

-Fill out a character meme (classic deviantart style)

16: FOOD

-What is your OC's favourite food?

-What is their least favourite?

-Can they cook?

17: EYES-CLOSED ⭐

-Draw your OC with your eyes closed! No cheating!

-Write a scene without looking at the keyboard! Keep the typos in!

18: SWAP

-Swap the style or aesthetic of two of your OCs

-Species or gender swap AU

-Invert an OC's colour scheme

19: INSPIRATION ⭐

-Is your OC inspired by any pre-existing characters?

-Are there any particular songs/lyrics that inspired something about one of your OCs

-Do you have a dedicated pinterest moodboard for your character?

20: INVENTORY

-What does your OC carry around with them on a daily basis?

-Are there any objects that have sentimental value for them?

-Loot drop for your DnD OC

 

FRIENDS WEEK

21-25:

There's no specific daily prompts for this week, but here are some ideas you can try ...

-Art trades with friends who are doing the event with you

-Your OC interacting with a friend's OC

-Gift art for someone whose OCs you like

-Work together and collaborate on something with a friend

-Roleplay an OC scene together with someone

 

HALLOWEEN WEEK

26: FEAR ⭐

-What is your OC scared of?

-Draw one of your OCs trying to scare the others

27: MONSTER

-Do you have any monster OCs? (eg: vampires, werewolves, creatures, ghosts...)

-Draw a human OC as a monster

-Design a new monster

28: TRICK

-Play a trick on an OC

-Do you have an OC who would play tricks on people?

29: TREAT

-What is your OC's favourite halloween candy?

-Give an OC a special treat to make up for yesterday's trick

30: MAGIC

-Do any of your characters have magical powers?

-Give an OC a magical or cursed artifact

-Create a magic-using OC like a witch or wizard

27: COSTUME ⭐

-What is your OC dressing as for halloween?

[goddamnitmahtin]

Jason is a Teenage Dad

Woke up to see my phone open to my notes app and all it says on it is:

Jason is a Teenage Dad

- Jason is 15 and fucking dies.

- Clockwork shenanigans

- Jason drags his body out of the Lazarus

- Meets the eyes of a 3 year old Danny playing with the Joker’s decapitated head.

- Jason takes the child home. It is his now.

So, obviously, I gotta write about it. Enjoy this post based on the vision of delirious 4 am me.

……………….

Clockwork was bored. You would think the ability to see everything everywhere all at once would be overwhelming but it’s actually boring. There’s no suspense when you always know what’s going to happen. But that was all part of his job as the Ancient of time.

Every universe was scripted out. Each one was slightly different from the last, but it still had the same major things in there. For instance, there was always a Gotham in every universe. Sometimes the city itself, sometimes a comic book about the place as if it were fictional. The same with Amity Park except that one universe made it an anime instead of a kids show which was…. A choice.

Most of the time Clockwork just had to make sure that catalyst events happened no matter what the timeline. Like the adoption of Jason Todd. Or the death of Danny Fenton. The meteor that killed the dinosaurs. Stuff like that. Universes that didn’t have enough catalyst events like that tended to implode on themselves if some new event didn’t take its place.

Clockwork was looking at a universe at the moment that was definitely close to being expired. Could he let it happen? Sure. He could. But that wouldn’t have been much fun to watch.

In the universe he was looking at currently, Danny Fenton has all but disappeared at least according to the locals of Amity Park. Which wasn’t that bad. Easily fixable. However the much larger problem was that Jason Todd just died the wrong way. In most universes where his death took place, it always happened that same way as it was a catalyst event for that universe. Jason gets beat up by the joker and then dies in an explosion. Then he gets revived and healed by some assassins in a pit of really fucked up ecto. Standard procedure.

However in the universe Clockwork was looking at, Jason died due to the crowbar. There was no bomb. Infact, Batman didn’t even arrive to the scene until much later than he did in every other universe. The strangest part though, was that after killing Jason Todd, the Joker threw him into the Lazarus himself. There was no downtime or buffer. This kid was going to be alive again by the end of the week and unless Clockwork did some timeline adjustments, it was enough that the entire universe was inevitably going to fall apart.

Obviously fixing it wouldn’t be hard to do. If he did it the easy way. To rewrite Jason’s death. But that was kind of boring. So, Clockwork had a better idea.

…

Jason gasped suddenly and he felt liquid enter his lungs. He opened his eyes to see green. All around him. Shit, if he inhaled anymore liquid he could drown. So he started to try to swim towards what he thought was the surface. His body felt odd and disconnected from his brain making it hard to move but he kept going. He had to keep going. He didn’t want to die.

Finally, he felt his hand break the surface and latch onto a ledge. He pulled himself out of the green glowing Lazarus, trying to cough up as much liquid as possible.

Memories started to flood back to him. The fight. His mom. The Joker. The fucking crowbar. And most notably, no Batman. Batman never came. He was going to kill B for that.

Jason took a few deep breaths and let himself look around. His eyes immediately locked onto a child. Looked to be about 3. Pale with black hair and blue eyes. The boy was sitting with his legs crossed, covered in blood. He was playing with… something?

Jason couldn’t help but worry for the kid, hoping he did t fall into the pit. It was a dangerous place to be especially alone. Jason sat up to get a better look.

The moment he did, he saw the toddler’s eyes dart right into his own, the blue overpowered by a sudden glow of green. Lazarus green. A look of fear ran over the boy’s face as he froze in place.

Jason felt something in his chest churn, almost as if he could feel the fear dripping off of the child. He didn’t want to scare him. He didn’t want to hurt him. He wanted to get them both somewhere a bit more safe.

Jason stared at the boy, trying to not look menacing. He wanted him to know he could trust him. He felt whatever that new something inside his chest was also try to reach out. Jason didn’t notice when his own eyes turned green, but he did notice that the boy’s attitude shifted very quickly.

The toddler’s eyes went back to blue as the look of fear mostly washed out of his face. There was still some apprehension but it seemed that the two of them had silently come to an agreement of sorts that they were not enemies at least.

Jason looked down from the boy’s eyes and into his hands and whatever animosity Jason had within him was completely washed away. This kid had been through something horrific. In the toddler’s small arms was the decapitated and now decaying head of the Joker. Jason’s murderer.

Jason suddenly felt like this child in front of him was more important than anything else. Whatever he had gone through to land him in this place with that head was fucking over. Jason was going to protect this kid until the day he fucking died. Again. This child had gone through unimaginable things and Jason inherently knew that even though he knew nothing about this kid’s story, he was was going to be one of the very few who could really understand what he was going through.

“What is your name?” he asked as softly as he could.

The boy quietly responded in almost a whisper, “Danny.”

This kid was his kid now. To hell with wherever he came from. Jason was now a dad.

…

Bruce was distraught. Devastated. Completely inconsolable. Jason, his son, was dead. The Joker had confirmed it with a video of him laughing over the dead body. That was a week ago now. Bruce didn’t know what to do. He failed Jason. He wasn’t there when he should have. He couldn’t save him.

He had gotten delayed when he found out where Jason had gone and tried to go after him when a kid he’d seen at a few galas before, Tim was dropped out of the sky landing right on top of him with a post it note safety pinned to his back. He ignored it at the time as he was a little preoccupied.

After he got up again after the initial shock and realized it was just a kid, he tried to calm the nerves of young Tim who described watching his die and then being teleported into the sky and dropped. There was a chance that if Batman’s body hadn’t cushioned the fall, he would have been seriously injured.

He knew he couldn’t leave the young kid there by himself. And he knew that he had to find Jason. He didn’t want to bring him along either but the boy insisted that he wanted to come. Was it smart? No. Did he end up bringing Tim with him? Well yes. He was running out of time after all.

But Batman didn’t make it. The place was empty except for the dead body of Jason’s mother and a lot more blood that was undoubtedly his son’s.

Bruce was currently lying in his bed. He hadn’t gone out to do anything except for patrols. It was the only thing he could focus on. It was the the only thing he could bring himself to do. Bruce Wayne had the time to grieve for Jason Todd. Batman on the other hand did not have that. He had to remain vigilant and consistent. More importantly he had to find the Joker and send him away for killing Jason. Which would have been a lot easier if he hadn’t completely disappeared.

Bruce stared at the nightstand. It had the post it note that Tim had on his back when he fell. He had read it hundreds of times. But he didn’t want to believe it. It was just more proof that Jason was dead.

He took the post it note from the nightstand and read it again, hoping it was different. It was not.

Take this kid home. He’s Robin now :)

…

Tim didn’t really know what to do. His plans had come to fruition much faster than he had anticipated. After watching g his parents die, he had sworn to himself that he would find Bruce Wayne, the Batman, and convince him to let him help fight the evil of the city. But he didn’t expect that the moment he made that decision he would he plucked off his feet by unseen hands and then suddenly dropped from the sky.

That was over a week ago. Now, he was sitting on a large sofa in Wayne Manor. He was thinking. All he really had time to do was think. He had seen his first crime scene at Batman’s side and afterwards was brought back to the manor. He was left alone. He hadn’t seen Bruce hardly at all.

He wanted to do more. Go out and help with something. Anything. But Alfred wouldn’t let him go anywhere. So all he could do was think.

Did anything that had happened since his parent died make any sense? No. Joker deviated from his MO. But why? It was so different than anyone would have expected. There was no spectacle or epic battle with the Batman. He was just gone with a dead body behind. Nothing else.

And that was AFTER Tim was teleported into the middle of the sky. If he just had more resources, maybe a computer or some books that he could dive into to, he could figure it out. There had to be SOME reason. Right? But he had already checked the books in the manor library and Alfred wouldn’t let him into the poorly hidden Batcave. He only had his own thoughts.

He would grieve his parents with that time but he could also just as easily do that later. Besides, he had already decided he was going to become a vigilante and help the Batman. And most importantly, there was a puzzle in front of him that he wanted to solve more.

…

Jason knocked on the door the manor. He was nervous to see B again. Since according to newspapers he had been gone for a week. He knew his dad was gonna be mad that he went to see his mom. And mad he was gone so long. Jason knew he was going to get chewed out for it but he just wanted to be home. Especially since he was going to need help raising Danny. He didn’t know how adoption worked and Jason was only 15 but he was sure B knew how to do all that.

Danny was currently in his arms. He was so small compared to Jason now. Before he had died, he was wasn’t nearly this big. Jason had muscle sure but he was still relatively lean. Now, Jason was built more like a brick house. His shoulders were wider than a typical doorway and he was much taller, at least 6’4.

Danny was sleeping at the moment. He still had the Jokers head in his arms. He hadn’t been able to convince the kid to let it go. Which was fine. Jason didn’t really know what to do with it anyways.

Some shuffling was heard and then the door opened. Alfred was staring back at him.

“Hey sorry I was gone,” Jason said, not really sure what else to say.

Alfred looked from Jason to Danny to Jason, double take on Danny. His face was hard to read. Jason was kind of nervous.

Alfred stepped out of the doorway. Behind him was B.

“Jason!?”

“Yeah. Hi.”

Part 2 Part 3

[breakmeoff]

The Boy Next Door │3

pairing: bang chan x fem!reader

warnings: swearing, praise kink, age gap (fem 35/male 27), fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, light choking, tension, angst, chris being down bad MDNI, 18+ only

word count: 7k

synopsis: you babysat him when he was 7 years old, and he’s had a crush on you since you met, despite the 8 year age gap.  between moves to other places and time, it’s been 14 years since you’ve seen each other even though your dads are still best friends, still live next door to each other, and keep up to date about each other's family.  you surprise chris at one of the skz shows, and he’s shocked to see you, and even more surprised that he still has a massive crush on you.  if only he could convince you to look at him in any other way than the boy next door.

note: here's part 3, and my first attempt at writing smut, so if it's terrible i apologize in advance. please be kind! once again, thx for reading :)

Masterlist

Frozen in confusion, you stood there, watching the elevator for a few more seconds.  Finally, you turned back to the door to your room and quietly pushed it open, stepping into the darkness again.  Mia had fallen asleep, her phone limp in her hand, earbuds still in and muting any potential noise.

Not quite sure what to do with yourself, you slowly walked back over to your bed, sitting on the edge.  Still at a loss for what was going on, you glanced back over your shoulder to the door, silently waiting for something, anything, to happen.  A few more minutes went by, and you shifted to lay back down against the pillows.

He didn’t just leave, did he?  I mean, he said 5 minutes.  Wait, what am I even thinking?  This is insane.

Before your mind could completely wander, creating ridiculous scenarios, you heard a shuffling at the door, and a barely audible knock.  Sitting back up straight, you jumped to your feet, briskly making your way to the door, careful not to trip over anything in the dark room.  Just as you approached, you stepped on something flat and hard.  

Bending down, you picked it up.  It felt like a credit card.  Angling it towards the sliver of light slipping through the crack in the door you recognized immediately what it was - a room key card.  With a note taped to it; room 814.

You stood back up, running your fingers through your hair, holding the card in your hand as a wave of panic washed over you.  He’s out of his damn mind… 

Nearly paralyzed with shock and indecision, you held your breath longer than intended, silently weighing your current options.  

You could pretend you never saw the card, get back in bed, and go to sleep.  Like you should.  

Or…

You could go to room 814.  Just because he gave you a room key doesn’t mean anything, right?  Maybe he just wanted to talk.  He could’ve taken heed of your concern about standing in the hallway and just wanted a little bit of privacy to… talk. 

Looking back over to your sleeping sister, you considered just texting Chris and telling him you couldn’t leave her alone.  That would be responsible, and you wouldn’t be ignoring him completely.

Mia is dead to the world right now.  She’ll never even know you were gone.  You could go see Chris, tell him you just wanted to say goodbye in person and come right back.  You’ll be gone for 10-15 minutes max.

Smacking yourself in the face, you silently groaned, unable to even comprehend that you were considering this.  Despite your inner turmoil and the nagging alarm in your head telling you “danger, danger!”, you went to the desk in the room.  Grabbing the notepad and pen, you scribbled a quick note.

Couldn’t sleep, went for a walk.  Text me if you need me.

Tiptoeing to the bedside table beside your sister, you placed the note on top of it, right where she would find it if she woke up.  Then, ignoring the rapid beating of your heart, you grabbed your own room key card off of the dresser, slipped your feet into a pair of slides, and snuck out the door.

Meanwhile, Chris had found himself in the otherwise empty hotel room 814.  Once the door shut behind him, he stood there, and looked around.  

Now what?  Mood lighting?  How’s my breath?

Lifting his palm to his mouth, he exhaled, sniffing cautiously.  It wasn’t the worst, but he did slip into the bathroom, pleasantly surprised to find a complimentary bottle of mouthwash.  Taking a swig, he swished it around his mouth and quickly walked back into the room.  

Frantically trying to figure out the best ambient lighting, he flipped on light switches and then the tableside lamps - back and forth, lights on and off, until he finally settled on only the task lamp at the desk nearby.  

Finally satisfied, he ran back into the bathroom, spat the mouthwash into the sink and rinsed his mouth out with water once again, splashing some on his face.  Turning the faucet off, Chris leaned his hands on the countertop and looked himself in the mirror, giving a weak attempt at a pep talk.  “Don’t fuck this up.”  

He shook his head at his own stupidity and walked back into the bedroom after turning the bathroom light off.  Making his way over to the chair by the desk, he shrugged his coat off of his shoulders, placing it on the back of it before he ran a hand through his hair.

Glancing to the alarm clock on the table by the bed, he noted that it had been 7 minutes since he’d slipped the room car under your door.  You’d come, right?

In an attempt at calming his nerves, Chris began pacing the floor in front of the bed.  Going through every single possible reason as to why you wouldn’t come, he began nervously chewing on his lower lip, side-eyeing the clock every 20 seconds that slipped by.

Less than 2 minutes later, and thankfully not a minute longer as Chris may have started wearing a pattern into the carpet below his pacing feet, he heard the light beeping of the door unlocking.

He lifted his head immediately and froze in place, not wanting to ambush you at the door and accidentally scare you away.  Instead, he straightened his posture and did his best attempt at looking calm, cool and collected despite the anxious flush to his skin.

Cautiously, you pushed the door open and walked in, carefully shutting it behind you before you turned to face him.

“You came…” Chris said softly.  

With a short nod of your head, you warily stepped further into the room, folding your arms against your chest in a protective manner.  “Yeah.  You’re insane if you think something is going to happen though.”   

All he could do was huff a laugh and look down to the floor momentarily.

“I didn’t mean to insinuate something would happen, I just wanted to spend a little more time with you, preferably away from the awful tube lighting and dizzying carpets in the hallway.”  He gave you a short shrug, motioning to the hall behind you before shoving his hands into his pockets.

“I can’t stay…”  Internally you cringed at how short your words were coming across.  You weren’t trying to be rude, just set clear expectations.  “I can’t leave Mia alone.”

“C’mon, be real.  You know she’s dead asleep right now and won’t move again until noon.”  Chris tilted his head at you, challenging you to come up with another excuse.  “...and it didn’t stop you last night when we were downstairs at the bar,” he added teasingly, further disputing your reasoning.

“You are awfully persistent…” you sighed, dropping your arms to your side in defeat.  You were too tired to try to come up with any further reasons to leave.  

Noting the change in your stature, Chris’ lips finally curled into a dangerous smile.  “Can you blame me?  I’ve got my dream woman in a hotel room with me.  You’re crazy to think I’d give up so easily.”

Arching an eyebrow at him, you still kept your distance, though that familiar lump in your throat reappeared.  “Before you get ahead of yourself, I’m only here to say a proper goodbye.”

“Why are you so quick to leave?  Am I really that awful?  I promise I showered before I came here so it’s not because I smell, I know that.”  Chris’ attempt at humor was cute, but you told yourself to stay firm.

“You have way more important things to focus your attention on right now, and you should go back to your hotel and get some sleep.”

“Is it my clothes?”  He asked, looking down at himself, clad in a pair of black slacks and a white button up shirt.  “I tried to look decent for you,” he replied, shifting his eyes back up to your face before giving you a teasing wink.

“We have a super early flight and I really need to go bac—” you tried.

“Oh my GOD, are you always this much of a buzzkill?”  Chris laughed, taking a step closer towards you, a dark and playful smirk on his lips.

“I am not a buzzkill,” you said defensively, furrowing your eyebrows at his audacity.

“Oh yeah?  Prove it.”  He said, taking another few steps closer.

“I don’t need to prove anything to you,” you replied, shifting on your feet.

“Killjoy,”  he paused, obviously finding humor in calling you out.  “Wet blanket.”  Another step closer, peering down at you in challenge.  “Party-pooper.”

“Seriously?  And you were saying you were a grown man earlier?”  You laughed mockingly up at him, taking a step back, trying to create more distance again.

“Oh, I am absolutely a grown man.”  Chris said lowly, darkly, another step closer.

“...says the one who just used the phrase party-pooper…” you murmured, taking another step back.

“You really just want me to show you how grown I am, don’t you?”  You each took one more step, him forward, you backwards and right up against the wall behind you.

Feeling cornered, you caught your breath, and finally couldn’t find any words.

“Huh,” Chris laughed quietly, lifting his hand carefully to brush a loose strand of hair behind your ear.  “I’ll take your silence as a yes?”  He half questioned, half confirmed, trailing the tip of his finger down your jawline as he looked you in the eyes, looming over you.

You swallowed, searching his eyes with your own, your hands touching the wall behind you in an attempt to ground yourself.

He waited just long enough to give you a chance to stop him before he leaned in and let his lips hover over yours, his breath warm on your skin. The closeness caused your breath to hitch, still frozen in place though your eyes fluttered shut.

Chris slowly pressed his lips to the corner of your mouth briefly before he shifted, placing another soft kiss to your cheek, then your jaw, trailing his warm breath up to the area just below your ear.  Intentionally, teasingly he placed a firm kiss down, dragging the short, prickly hair of his 5 o’clock shadow against the delicate flesh of your neck.

With his deep voice barely above a whisper, he murmured against your skin.  “Does this stubble feel like it belongs to a little boy?”  You couldn’t help but shiver at his words and the hot, wet breath against your skin.

Dropping his hand from your face, he slowly trailed his fingertips down the side of your arm until he reached your hand.  Lifting it carefully, he brought your palm flat against his firm stomach.  “Do these feel like the abs of a little boy?”  He whispered against your jawline again, smirking to himself as he felt your fingertips press against the fabric of his shirt, feeling the defined muscles below. 

You couldn’t help the soft mewl that tumbled from your now parted lips, appreciating the hard lines of his torso.  Though before they could get comfortable exploring the territory, Chris boldly began slowly trailing your palm further down his body.  

Pinching your eyebrows together, eyes not daring to open, you knew where this was going, and your resolve was beginning to weaken.  The confident man standing before you, teasing you, touching you… wanted you.  Where was the harm in indulging for a night?

As his hand guided yours over the front of his pants, your fingertips grazed over the firm contours of his arousal, and before he said anything else filthy, you murmured “...Chris.”  His name left your lips in a moan, which sounded so incredibly sexy to him, though he could hear the hesitation in your tone.  

He sighed heavily, letting go of your hand and pressed one more gentle kiss to your cheek, lingering for a second before he leaned back.  He wasn’t going to force you to do something you didn’t want to.  Though it took him a moment to open his eyes, glancing down to yours in defeat.

You brought your hand back to your side, and looked up at his handsome features.  You silently studied him, the slope of his prominent nose, the curve of his full lips, the disappointed look in his gorgeous brown eyes which fell to the ground between you.

“All I was going to say was... your eomma is going to kill me,” you whispered just before you moved forward, closing the distance between you and pressed your lips firmly against his.

Chris’ breath caught in his throat, not registering what you had just said before you began kissing him again. When realization finally hit him, he wrapped one arm around your waist and his other hand met the back of your head, holding you impossibly closer with a low growl.

Your arms wrapped around him, one hand splaying over his shoulder blade and the fingertips of the other weaving into the curls at the base of his neck.  The kiss became desperate, hungry, and your lips parted to further deepen it.  Tilting your head, you inhaled the area between you, tasting the artificial mintiness on his lips.  You couldn’t help but giggle quietly against his mouth, which caused Chris to instinctively lean back and look at you questioningly.  

“You’re laughing?  Why on God’s green earth are you laughing right now?”  He muttered, eyebrows pinned together in offended confusion.  

“I’m sorry…” you laughed, lookinv up at his bewildered expression.  “...your breath.  It tastes like Listerine.”  He just blinked at you, not computing what you were getting at.  “You said you didn’t intend for anything to happen…” you muttered, your arm snaking back over his shoulders.

“Ok, talking time is over.”  He said forcefully, shifting his hands down to cup both of your ass cheeks and lifted you in one swift motion, pressing your back against the wall behind you as his lips came crashing down against yours again.

The shift in his demeanor caught you off guard, all humor now lost.  Feeling the desperation in his actions, you finally succumbed to the moment and the heat of the man before you.  

Now with you in his arms, literally hanging onto him with legs wrapped around his waist, Chris was more determined than ever to prove himself to you.  Two decades worth of pining, longing, for you from a distance and this was his opportunity.  He wasn’t about to squander it.

Shifting his mouth from yours, he went back to pressing his warm, soft, flushed lips against the sensitive skin of your neck, leaving a warm trail, hot against your skin.  Making his way up again, reaching just below your ear he breathed against you before nibbling softly on your lobe, causing you to whimper softly and involuntarily shiver in his arms.

A low chuckle came from him at your reaction, and lightly flicked the tip of his tongue against your ear again.  “Mm… found a sweet spot there?” he quietly teased, exhaling against you again, your head tilting into his in response.  

Arching into him a little more, your grip on his shoulder tightened as one of his hands moved up your back, up your neck and gripped a handful of your hair, forcefully tugging your head back slightly.  “Use your words, baby.”  Chris’ teeth sunk back into your earlobe gently, eliciting another soft moan from you.  “Yes,” you exhaled, mumbling out “...m-my neck, ears, yes.”  

With a low chuckle, Chris kissed your neck in that spot once more before turning to your flushed face, your hooded eyes meeting his.  “Think I’m gonna have fun finding the other spots that make you sound like that.”

Tightening his grip around you, he pulled you away from the wall and walked the two of you over to the bed, placing you down gently.  Standing between your legs at the edge of the bed, he looked down at you wordlessly as his fingers pulled the hem of his shirt from the waist of his pants, and began unbuttoning it slowly.  Leaning back on your hands, you looked up at him through your lashes, lips parted slightly, watching the intensity in his face peering down at you.

Shifting forward, you dropped your eyes to his hands, and moved your fingers to nudge his away, taking over the task of unbuttoning.  Once the last button was released, you tentatively slipped your fingertips past the fabric of his shirt, lightly tracing over the taut lines of his stomach.  

Chris watched your every move wantonly, his lips parted, skin tensing under your heated gaze and the softness of your touch.  

With your eyes locked on the expanse of his skin before you, your fingers appreciatively, teasingly, slowly trailed higher, over his broad chest, and back up to his shoulders.

Your eyes lifted to his once more, hands shifting to the collar of his shirt, silently tugging him down.  Chris’ lips molded against yours while you slid the fabric of his shirt off of his shoulders, down his arms, dropping it to the floor behind him.

“Scoot back,” he whispered against your mouth, causing you to shift further up the bed as he kicked his shoes off.  Predatorily, Chris crawled his way over your body beneath him, eyes trailing his way up to meet yours once again before his lips reunited with yours.

Something shifted in the air, the pressure of his kisses becoming more slow, savoring, and his touches were featherlight rather than full of desperation.  Hesitantly, his hand trailed down the side of your body to the bottom of your sleep shirt, slipping just below the hem to feel the warmth of your skin beneath.

The tips of his fingers swept against the side of your waist, lightly creeping higher until they brushed the soft curve of your breast.  With a short inhale, Chris shifted his lips to press against your jaw once, twice, before he leaned onto one elbow, and glanced down your body to where his hand splayed flat against your stomach, thumb and pointer finger under the soft swell of skin.  

He paused before allowing his hand to trail any further before making eye contact with you again, silently asking for permission before continuing.  The intensity of his expression was making you nervous, but the near pleading look of desire on his face instinctively made you feel revered below him.  

With a short nod of approval, you drew your lower lip between your teeth momentarily as his attention shifted back to the skin hot below his touch.  Soft kisses were placed strategically to your neck, collarbone, and down the center of your clothed chest, down to the bare skin of your lower abdomen when both of his hands shifted to the hem of your shirt.  

Inch by inch, he coaxed your shirt up, and with your assistance, he removed it completely, tossing it somewhere off the side of the bed.  With his attention back on the expanse of you, exposed beneath him, Chris let a low, appreciative groan slip between his lips as his large hand tentatively covered the full swell of one of your breasts.  

“God, these are even better than I imagined…” Chris murmured, eliciting a breathy laugh out of you at the innocent devotion in his voice.  He looked back up to you with half a smirk, before peering back down to the supple flesh beneath his hand.  Lowering his head, he leaned in to graze his teeth over the opposite peaked bud, softly nipping before dragging his tongue soothingly across it.

Instinctively, your back arched with the sensations of his feverish touches, exhaling a breathless gasp at the tortuous spark he was causing to course through your veins.  Between the yearning focus of his ministrations and the way he was making every inch of you feel like it was coming alive, any lingering resolve you had quieted in surrender.  

Lifting your hand to the back of his head again, holding him close to you, your eyes fluttered shut once more, focusing on the trail of heated kisses and the drag of Chris’ tongue as he shifted between your breasts, giving each one equal careful attention.

A few moments later, the tip of Chris’ tongue trickled down the length of your torso, just to the top of your sleep shorts, placing a soft, lingering kiss just above the waistband.  Watching you carefully, he hooked his fingers on either side of your shorts, and panties, inching them down deliberately.  Once they finally reached your ankles, he bent one of your legs, kissing the inside of the knee as he fully removed your remaining clothes, dropping them to the floor.

Situating himself fully between your legs, you could feel his heated gaze washing over you, silently memorizing every inch of your exposed skin as he gingerly slid his hands up the inside of both of your thighs, gently pushing them further apart.  As he settled more comfortably in the space between, he huffed a breath against your achingly damp core in front of him.  

“You’re so wet…” Chris murmured mostly to himself, bringing one of his fingers to just barely brush over the sensitive flesh of your pink lips, collecting some of your arousal.  Gazing up to your face, he brushed his now coated fingertip against your clit momentarily, evoking a filthy moan from you.  “You smell so good…” he whispered, applying just a little more pressure as he leaned in closer to further inhale your scent.

“Oh my god,” you mumbled, your cheeks blushing a bright pink at his obscenity.  Bringing one of your hands to cover your face, Chris quickly reached up to grab your hand as he licked a firm stripe up your center.  “No hiding from me,” he paused, replacing the tip of his finger against your sensitive bud with the tip of his tongue.  “want you to watch me devour you.”

With a sharp inhale of your breath, you nodded once, agreeing to his demand.  The sight of him was surreal, something you never fathomed would happen, and yet here he was, with clear intentions of worshipping every inch of you.  

Fully relinquishing control to him, you brought one of your hands up again and began idly chewing on your thumbnail, eyes unable to shift from him.  “Good girl,” he breathed against your pussy, a darkened expression on his face as he slowly pressed the tip of his pointer finger at your soaked entrance, licking your clit again.

“Mm, you taste even better than you smell…” he mumbled against you, licking your wet folds more incessantly.  Your body shuddered below his mouth, the mixture of his words, skilled tongue and long finger slipping effortlessly into your pussy becoming overwhelming.  Your free hand moved to the back of his head, tangling your fingers through his curls once again, desperately needing something to hold onto.

Chris angled his hand, shifting so his finger curled in just the perfect way to coax repeated soft whimpers out of you.  The intoxicating noises you were making fueled him with more determination to make you fall apart for him, dragging the expanse of his tongue all the way up your slit, and wrapped his lips around your throbbing clit.

“Fuck,” you whined, hips arching up until his mouth as he lewdly suckled your bud, simultaneously slipping a second finger into your wet pussy.  More encouraged than ever, Chris angled his fingers deeper into you, curling them skillfully against the spongy spot inside that made your legs quiver.  Using a come hither motion with his digits, and applying the perfect amount of pressure, your breath caught again as you exhaled “oh God…”

Another groan from Chris reverberated against your clit, your body convulsing again with the low vibrations, “so responsive… you gonna cum already baby?”  he teased, the speed in which his fingers moved increasing and the movements of his lips and tongue against you becoming more intense.  

A few more seconds of his determined, relentless pace and the exquisite feeling of his mouth all over you, you could feel your orgasm creeping up your body.  “Chris…” you whimpered, dropping both hands to his shoulders in an attempt to push him away from the intense feeling.  Shaking his head against you, he ignored your plea and kept moving his fingers so perfectly, lips and tongue consuming you.

“Chris, please..” you whimpered, fingertips pressing into his shoulders desperately.  “I need you…” 

“Fuuuck…” he groaned against your pussy, barely looking up at you with heated desire in his darkened eyes.  “You have no idea how long I’ve dreamt about hearing you say that.”  Slowly dragging his fingers out of your warmth, he licked over them hungrily before slowly shifting back up your body until his lips, slick with your arousal, devoured yours again.

One of his hands eagerly dropped to his belt, fumbling blindly to unfasten it while kissing you fervently, desperately, all teeth and tongue.  Noticing his struggle, both of your hands slipped between your bodies and with expert precision, his trousers were unbuttoned and being pushed down his hips and thighs.

Now with nothing between your bodies except his CK boxer briefs, the palm of your delicate hand glided over the distinct curve of his erection, causing Chris to suck air in between his clenched teeth.  “Oh my god,” he breathed over your mouth, pressing his forehead against yours, sinking into the delicious sensations of your touch.  

Admiring the view of him agonizingly yielding to the deliberate stroking of your hand over him, you tilted your head to place a wet path of soft kisses along his neck, trailing the tip of your tongue over his flesh before whispering against his ear “...feel good?”

A short nod of his head was all he could reply before mumbling out “so fucking good,” shifting his hips to rock desperately against your hand.  

Choosing to not drag it out any further, your fingers slipped into the waistband of his boxer briefs and agonizingly slowly inched them down his body until he was able to reopen his eyes and kick them fully off.

Lifting one of his hands, Chris adoringly brushed some of your hair behind your ear, watching you for any signs of hesitation as he hovered above you.  Noting the concern in his eyes, you lifted your head to his just enough to let your lips melt reassuringly against his, silently surrendering to the moment.

Your fingertips grazed over the impossibly hard, veiny weight of him, shifting to wrap fully around his length.  Slowly pumping your hand up and down, the tip of your tongue extended to teasingly lick the curve of his plush lips as you gently guided him to your core.  

With both of Chris’ hands now firmly placed beside you on the bed, and yours cupping his face, you kissed him reassuringly once more before both of you shifted your gaze to watch him slowly press the tip of his cock against your opening, and agonizingly slowly, slip inside.

Your mouth slacked open, moaning quietly at the feeling of him pushing further inside your body, filling you so completely. 

“Oh my God… you’re so fucking warm… soft and warm…” Chris groaned into the side of your neck, trying to restrain himself from moving too quickly.

Shifting your hands from his face to his back, you pulled him closer to you, chests melting against each other, trying to catch your breath as you felt him finally seat himself fully inside of you.  

“Shit shit shit…” you hissed, adjusting to the stretch of him.  The feeling was so intense, and served as a harsh reminder that it had been far too long since you had a man in your bed.

Lifting his gaze to your face, Chris studied your almost pained expression, whispering lowly “are you ok?  Does it hurt?”  A breathy laugh escaped your lips, shaking your head.  “No, no, it’s just been a while…”

“Ahh…” he murmured, smirking before he placed a teasing kiss against the corner of your lips.  “Don’t worry baby, I’ll take good care of you,” he purred before slowly lifting his hips, dragging his cock out of your warmth, only to push back inside you deeper than before.

Your hands slid over his shoulders once again, feeling every muscle tense beneath your touch and with each movement of his hips.  Appreciatively, your fingertips inched down his biceps, worshipping the perfected contours of his arms and the strength evident with each dip and curve of his muscles.

Noticing your reverence with his physique, Chris bucked his hips against yours, instantly growing harder by the thought of you desiring his body.  He hadn’t worked out for you, but fuck, he’d spend the rest of his life in the gym if it meant having you look at him that way.  

Lifting your gaze back up to his face, you noted the hungered look in his eye and quietly demanded “harder.”  With a slow shake of his head and a smirk that crept over his face, silently challenging you if you knew what you had just asked for, he nodded with a growl, pushing himself up for better leverage. 

Chris now had the perfect angle to drive even harder into your tight cunt with a newly passioned intensity.  Loving every little furrow of your brow and soft mewl slipping past your lips, he used measured self-control to keep a steady pace, his cock reaching new depths with every thrust.

“Oh my god, fuck, you feel so good…” you whimpered, looking up at him with your fingers grasping desperately around his biceps, needing something solid to hold onto.  “Please, please don’t stop…”

“Never,” he moaned out, slamming his hips against you again, all of his muscles tightening in his determination to make you feel every single purposeful move.  Dropping his neck, Chris brought his lips to your neck and collarbone, leaving hot kisses along your skin, occasionally sinking his teeth into your flesh, making you whimper, causing your pussy to clench tighter around him.  

“Unghh.. Don’t do that,” he moaned, before nibbling the column of your neck again.  “Your pussy feels too good…” 

Without much warning and in an attempt to slow things down a bit, Chris snaked one arm around your waist and another between your shoulder blades, rolling you both so you were now on top of him.  Using the opportunity to take some control, you placed both of your palms flat against his chest and sat up with his cock still nestled inside of you.

Your hips started to shift, rocking back and forth against him as you tried to find a new rhythm.  Chris’ hands slid up your torso, cupping both of your breasts as he watched the pleasured look spread over your face. “God you look so fucking hot…” His words of praise shifted to your core, clenching around his hard length as your head tipped back in a soft moan.

Switching your movement to slowly bob your pussy up and down his twitching cock, your actions became more erratic with the ache inside of you starting to reach new heights.  Chasing that feeling, your motions began to speed up, and Chris took note of the hasty tempo change.  

Moving his hands from your breasts down to your hips, his fingertips dug into your skin.  “Need a little help there?”  He cooed, shifting his legs to place his feet flat on the bed, giving him new leverage to start fucking up into you from below.

Your head tipped down, lips parted, hair cascading over your face and shoulders at the new angle of Chris’ movements.  “Oh my god, fuck…” you moaned out, louder than intended.  The feeling of him pistoning his hips up against you was bruising and intense, but so good.

Gritting his teeth in focus, he used the power of his muscular thighs to help pounding up into you from below, determined to make you feel every inch of him inside of you.  “Fuck, look at you… so god damn pretty getting fucked by me…” he growled, one of his hands shifting up your chest.

Sliding up between your breasts and to the base of your throat, his fingertips wrapped around the column of your neck, causing you to look down wildly at him, whimpering.  His grip around your throat was firm, not restrictive, just commanding and possessive.  The action alone caused your inner walls to flutter lustfully around his cock, turning you on more than you anticipated.

“Damn baby, I can feel your pussy tightening around me…” Chris groaned, his fingertips on your hips digging in a bit more, and the grip around your neck greedier.  “I want you to cum on my cock, can you do that for me?”  The change of his voice from demanding to teasing was electrifying, not allowing you to anticipate which version you were going to get next.

Nodding your head quickly in reply, you couldn’t speak, the feeling of his hips slamming up against yours, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room.  

“I want to hear you say it, I want to hear you say that you want to cum all over my cock,” he demanded, his pace impossibly speeding up.

“I want to cum all over your cock,” you cried out, eyes pinching shut as you felt the tension in your stomach reach a breaking point, doing whatever you could to hold on and ground yourself in the feeling of being so completely at his mercy.

A thin layer of sweat covered Chris’ body from his overexertion, determined more than ever to push you to your release.  “That’s a good girl…” he crooned, just enough to tip you over the edge of your orgasm, crying out as it rippled through your body in waves.

Chris stopped the movements of his hips, holding you down against him, forcing you to ride out your climax with him fully seated inside of you, and the grip on your neck loosened just enough to let you inhale deeply enough to calm your frayed nerves. 

Just as he straightened his legs back out, you slumped forward onto his chest, breathing against the crook of his neck as aftershocks of your climax washed through you.  “Breathe baby, breathe…” Chris murmured, kissing your cheek soothingly as one hand smoothed down your spine and the other held the back of your head, playing with your hair.

Feeling the walls of your pussy flutter around his still rock hard cock, Chris moaned softly against your temple, trying to stay still within you, not wanting to rush you.  As your breath began to settle again, and you noticed the way his achingly stiff length twitched within you, you lifted your head just enough to settle your lips against his again, kissing him slowly with renewed hunger.

Remaining flush against him, you placed your hands on the mattress on either side of him and began shifting your hips back and forth.  Tugging your lower lip between his teeth, Chris gave it a gentle pull before his hand moved to the side of your face again, lifting you just enough that he could admire you from below.

No words were needed with the look he saw in your eyes.  This wasn’t just a feverish, needy fuck.  No, there was something deeper happening that made Chris’ heart swell inside his chest.  There was something comfortable, familiar, safe with the way he was holding you, and it was obvious that something had shifted.

Chris’ free hand moved over to yours that was propping you up beside him, and linked his digits between your own.  The subtle depth of the action was not lost on you, and your breath hitched again, trying so desperately not to read into the situation.

Coaxing you back down to his lips, you closed your eyes, softening into the passionate, heated kiss.  The all consuming feeling of your fingers interlocked between his, your tongues melting together, nipples grazing his chest below and the grinding of your hips against his pelvis caused that needy flicker of release to come sweeping over you again.

The reality of the moment was starting to overwhelm Chris, with every touch and every breath awakening something inside of him, he knew he wouldn’t last much longer beneath you.  Against your lips, he murmured “one more, come for me once more.”  

Breathily, you moaned against him, the familiar coil tensing within once more.  “Come with me,” he paused, begging, “please.”  His fingers locked with yours tightened their grip, his thumb reassuringly brushing over the back of your hand, kissing you with renewed determination.

The desperation in his pleas caused you to writhe above him more fervently, creating just enough pressure and friction to your clit, pushing you over the edge into one last, dizzying release.  Feeling your inner walls tighten around him, Chris pulled back from your lips, and pressed his forehead against yours as he groaned, holding you impossibly closer as he flooded himself into you.

Finally letting go of your hand, he moved his arm around you, keeping you grounded against his muscular frame, placing soft kisses all over your face.  Lifting your head just enough to look into his gentle eyes, you smiled lightly, giving him one more lingering, open mouthed kiss.  

A few silent moments later, you finally shifted off of him, and Chris swiftly made his way into the bathroom, returning a moment later with a warm washcloth.  Once you were both carefully, adoringly cleaned off, he fell back onto the bed beside you with a genuine, cheeky grin. 

“Thank you for making teenage Chan’s dreams finally come true.”  Of course he meant nothing by it, but his wording caused your throat to tighten with the awareness of the situation.

A light chuckle slipped past your lips, trying not to ruin the moment despite your internal guilt starting to wash over you again.  “I should get back to my room,” you said quietly, shifting to climb out of the bed.  

Before you could move though, Chris’ hand reached out to grip your wrist, holding you in place.  “Please don’t go… not yet.  Just stay here with me a little while longer…” he pleaded faintly, eyes searching yours.  With a subtle nod, you acquiesced, slipping back under the sheets hesitantly. 

With a boyish grin, fully satiated and exhausted, Chris nestled into the sheets beside you, wrapping an arm lazily over your stomach.  You on the other hand, laid there stiff, wide awake, the reality of the situation seeping back in.  

A few hours later, and barely any sleep out of you, you glanced at the clock on the bedside table.  3AM.  You had to get out of there.

Despite his position mostly on his stomach, his face was turned towards you, lips parted, breathing deeply in his sleep.  Watching him silently, you couldn’t help but notice the innocence of his expression and how he did truly look the same as he always had all those years ago. That was when you realized that this had to end here.  

Hesitantly, you shifted his arm that was draped over you down to the mattress at his side and waited, hoping it wouldn’t wake him.  When you were sure it was safe, you carefully moved a lock of his hair away from his face, pushing it up his forehead to get one last glimpse of the handsome man before you.

“Sleep well Chris…” you murmured, barely above a whisper and leaned in to gingerly press your lips to his cheek.  Pulling back, you watched him for a moment more before you climbed out of bed.  

As silently as you could, you put your clothes back on, keeping an eye on him for any sign of movement.  Placing the key card he had given you on the dresser, you crept over to the front door and noiselessly snuck out.

4 hours later, a loud knock rapped against the door of room 814.  Jolting awake at the sound, Chris lifted his head and looked around, noting the empty space in the bed beside him.  A deep exhale slipped past his lips, disappointment washing over him as he slowly remembered where he was and who wasn’t with him.

He sat up, rubbing his hand through his hair as he heard another knock on the door.  Recognizing that it was likely his security team trying to get him moving and back on schedule, he called out “Give me 5 minutes.”  

He just wanted another moment to himself, to let the memory of last night sink in.  The memory of you sink in.

At the same time, you and Mia both picked up your respective drinks at the airport Starbucks counter.  “What’s our gate number again,” your little sister asked, yawning into her frappuccino.

“A14, just up there a little bit,” you said, taking a sip of your iced coffee, leading the two of you down to your gate, each of your carry ons trailing behind you.

“Why did we have to get such an early fliiiiiight,” she whined, dragging her feet.  “The stupid sun is barely even out yet.”

“Some of us have lives we have to get back to.  Once we get on the plane you’ll have plenty of time to sleep again, so just hold on for another 45 min ok?”  You said, elbowing Mia to get her cheer up a little.  All you got in response was a grunt.

Finally seated at the gate, waiting for boarding, you glanced out the window wistfully, mind getting lost in the memory of the night before.  And Chris.  God… Chris.

Lifting your phone, you checked the time again, and felt a pang of disappointment seeing no message from him.  Of course there wouldn’t be, you slipped out like a thief in the night and he’d gotten what he wanted out of you.  You could both move on with your lives and act like it never happened.

And you did.  

For a few days.  Weeks.  

Until one night you heard your phone buzz, a message popping up on the screen.

Chris:  I can’t stop thinking about you.

tag list (holy smokes, I have a tag list??): @angel-writes-skz-here @idkimobsessed @queenofdumbfuckery @mfcherry @downingmorphine

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[formulafanfics13]

Can you write something when your (charles, lando or max) little sister who’s a teen (14-16) and recently you’ve gotten involved with the wrong crowd and involved in alcohol and drugs Making them worry about you and your mental health?

She’s just a kid - LN4 (sister)

Masterlist

Summary: Lando’s 15-year-old sister starts spiraling — partying, skipping school, using drugs — and he feels powerless to help her. In desperation, he reaches out to Max Verstappen, who rallies the other F1 drivers to quietly support her through care and presence. Slowly, through soft moments and gentle honesty, she begins to let herself be seen.

Warnings: Teen drug and alcohol use, references to self-destructive behavior, emotional distress, family tension, implied mental health struggles, soft intervention and found-family themes.

She was only fifteen. 

But lately, Lando could barely recognise her.

It started with little things: late replies, dark circles under her eyes, snapping at their mum, always out with friends she never introduced. Then it got worse. Slurred words. Stumbling home too late on school nights. A vodka bottle found stuffed under her mattress. Cigarette burns in her hoodie. And then, the night she didn’t come home at all.

Lando had barely slept. His phone clutched in his hand until 4:12am, when he finally got a text that read:

“fine. don’t wait up.”

She walked through the door the next morning like nothing had happened. Makeup smudged. Hoodie half off her shoulder. Smelling like weed and something heavier.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she muttered, brushing past him.

“I’m your brother,” he snapped. “I have to look at you like that.”

She scoffed. “Yeah? Then stop acting like my dad.”

That one hit harder than she knew. Because he wasn’t her dad. He couldn’t make her stop. Couldn’t ground her. Couldn’t sit her down and force her to open up. All he had was fear, that gut-deep, helpless, what the fuck is happening to her fear, and love. So much love it felt like it was choking him.

That evening, he sat on the edge of his hotel bed, head in his hands, and texted someone he never thought he would.

To: Max Verstappen hey. can i talk to you? about my sister.

The reply came faster than expected.

From: Max Verstappen yeah mate. what’s going on?

So he told him. Everything. How she'd been going out with older kids. How she didn’t eat properly anymore. How she flinched when he tried to hug her. How he’d found pills in her makeup bag but didn’t even know what kind.

Max read it all. Then called.

“Hey,” Max said, voice quieter than usual. “I know you want to fix this. But you might not be able to do it alone.”

“She’s fifteen,” Lando said, hoarse. “She’s not like this. Not really.”

“Maybe not. But something is hurting her. If she won’t talk to you, let’s find someone she will talk to.”

Lando hesitated. “Like who?”

Max paused. “The guys know her. She grew up in the paddock. Maybe we take shifts. Watch her. Talk to her. Take her on a day out. Let her know we care.”

Lando exhaled slowly. “You’d do that?”

“Of course,” Max said. “She’s your sister. That makes her one of us.”

Later that week, during the Grand Prix weekend, things changed. She showed up at the track in oversized sunglasses and a fake smile, clutching an iced coffee she didn’t drink. She was glued to her phone, barely speaking to Lando, acting cool and distant like nothing could touch her.

Until Charles Leclerc showed up beside her during lunch and said softly, “I used to think getting wasted would make the pain quieter, too.”

She blinked. “What?”

He shrugged, sitting beside her like it was nothing. “Didn’t work. Just made me quieter. And worse.”

She didn’t say anything. But she didn’t leave.

Later, George Russell stopped her outside the paddock and handed her a bottle of water.

“Don’t worry,” he said, smirking. “It’s not spiked.”

She rolled her eyes but cracked a smile.

Then Yuki brought her a bag of snacks from the media centre and said, “You haven’t eaten all day. I watch you.”

She stared at him.

He grinned. “You’re like my chaotic little cousin. You’re not allowed to die.”

And maybe, just maybe, she started to listen.

[iiwontgiveuponmilkk]

I Hate You. | F.W.

summary: They had been friends since the moment they met, but what happens when she falls in love with him and he seems to blind to notice?

pairing: fred weasley x fem!reader

word count: 5718

warning(s): ends in smut

notes: I have not posted in quite some time, nor have I wrote anything in a long time. I tried to avoid the use of y/n. Fred calls her 'little red' or 'red' ocassionally, this is explained in the writing.

masterlist

Six years of friendship. Six years of falling for Fred Weasley, really. If she were to be honest with herself, she knew she loved him two years ago. It was just easier to ignore as a 15 year old girl. She initially tried to write it off as just feeling that way because they were so close already, but she knew that wasn’t true. She was just as close with his twin brother, George, and she wasn’t in love with him. Fred was different. They knew each other on a different level. They could be overly affectionate with each other. When she saw him at the platform this year, she ran to him and jumped into his arms and stayed there despite George whining that he hadn’t seen her in just as long. On the train ride, she fell asleep with her head in his lap whilst he and George started scheming their first prank of the school year. He would hush George any time she would start to stir, then gently play with her hair until she settled again. She had fallen asleep on George’s shoulder once, and swore to never do it again. Whilst he was also one of her best friends, he did not hold the same kind of soft spot for her as his twin did. He had used a spell to turn her hair bright green. She was livid when she realised. Poor George was afraid to turn his back to her for the next four months. She had waited six months for her revenge, perfecting the same colour changing spell, but turning all of his clothes pink. 

Now at 17, her feelings were harder to hide. The pangs of jealousy at every Gryffindor party after a quidditch match when girls would shamelessly flirt with him. And he seemed to love it. Tonight was another one of those nights. Gryffindor had destroyed Slytherin on the quidditch pitch and were, of course, throwing their usual celebration. She sat next to George and Angelina on the couch, her eyes following Fred. Her gaze only left him as Julie came up to him and was heavily laying on the charm. She felt the jealousy bubbling in her like a failed potion about to go horribly wrong. She felt George shift and wrap an arm around her shoulder, giving her a slight squeeze. “Love, why don’t you talk to him?” Angelina asked, reaching over George to squeeze her hand. Her gaze moved from her knees to her two friends, a heavy sigh leaving her lips. “I couldn’t possibly talk to him about this, Ang. I’d tell him everything and feel like an absolute git after.” She admitted, letting out another huff. George shook his head, opening his mouth to speak but quickly closing it. Ever since the start of the year, she had grown closer to George and his girlfriend, Angelina. Unfortunately, closer than she was with Fred. They were definitely still close, but something was different between them this year. And it wasn’t that she was head over heels in love with him. It was him that was keeping a distance between the two of them. Every year, she sat with them at the Gryffindor table. Her Ravenclaw robes made her stick out like a sore thumb in the sea of red, but Fred and George were her best friends. In fact, she only ever sat at her own houses’ table a handful of times. The sorting ceremony, the last day, and that couple of months last year when Fred had a girlfriend who absolutely hated her. She had friends in Ravenclaw, but she wasn’t as close to anyone as she was with Fred. George was a close second, but her and Fred always just clicked. They clicked from the first train ride to Hogwarts they ever had. They were nearly inseparable. If Fred wasn’t with George, he was with her, or they were all together. She spent a few weeks with the Weasley’s every summer. Molly was like her second mother at this point. She loved spending time with all of them. She loved answering all of Arthur’s questions about the muggle world. She loved hanging out with Ginny, the only other girl around her age in the Weasley household. It was usually the highlight of her summer.

A loud cheering pulled her attention away from her two friends as they all turned to the source of the noise. It felt like her heart shattered into dust. Don’t cry. Do not cry. Not here. “I-, I have to go.” She quickly stammered, slipping away from her friends and blinking back tears. There he was. Fingers tangled in Julie’s hair, kissing her passionately. She tried to keep her head down as she pushed towards the door. She knew better, but she looked up anyway. Another stab to the heart. Her tear-filled gaze met the eyes of Fred Weasley. Fred Weasley, best friend, heartbreaker. She tore her gaze from his and moved as quickly as she could without running. She pushed out of the door, finally letting a tear fall as the door shut behind her. She could’ve swore she heard George yelling at his twin as she stepped out, but she could be wrong. She stood in the hall for a moment, unsure of what to do. Her feet were moving before she registered that she was moving. She knew Fred, she knew he would try to come after her. He was her best friend, after all. Part of her wished he would push through the door, catch up to her and wrap her in his arms. The other part of her, the hurt, told her to stop hoping he would feel the same way. Though, he would ask George what happened first, which bought her some time, yet not enough to get to her common room before he caught up with her. Even if she ran, he could easily catch up to her. Before she knew it, she was standing in the middle of the hall, watching the door to the room of requirements take shape. She heard him calling her name, and heard his footsteps. She didn’t want him to see her like this, not right now. Not when it was so fresh. She shouldn’t be crying. They were only friends, she was the one hopelessly in love with him. She reached for the doorknob, sliding into the room and quickly shutting the door behind her. Merlin, please let the door disappear before he gets down here. She slid down the wall next to the door. How absolutely foolish could she be? Her and Fred would never happen. It was clear at this point. She was terrified that if she told him how she felt, it would ruin their friendship. Not only would she be heartbroken, but she would lose her best friend too. 

She had no idea how long she sat there for. Maybe an hour? Maybe two? It took nearly another hour before she gathered the courage to leave. Even if he had seen her, she doubted he would’ve waited for her. Maybe two years ago, but not now. Not with this weird distance between them. Definitely not after close to three hours of her hiding. She could still confidently say that Fred was her best friend, but it was different. It wasn’t like before. They weren’t joined at the hip anymore. This summer made that clear. She spent most of her time with Ginny and Molly. The few times they had spent together went from comfortable and playful to awkward. There were moments when it felt like he may also feel the same way about her, but he always seemed to pull away a little more after. She could’ve sworn he was going to kiss her one night, her heart felt like it was beating in her throat. But he just cleared his throat and awkwardly scratched the back of his head as he took a step back from her. Maybe she should’ve just kissed him then, and let whatever would happen just happen. At least she would’ve known how he felt. She might have lost her best friend, but she wouldn’t constantly feel this hurt and jealousy. 

 She pressed on the wall, waiting for the door to appear to make her exit. She slowly pushed the door open, only then realising she should have left from the other side of the room. There he was. That beautiful, heartbreaking idiot. His head leaned back against the wall, mouth slightly open as he slept. She realised she really had been in there for much longer than she thought and it was a miracle Fred hadn’t been found by Filch or Mrs. Norris. She kneeled in front of him, resting her hands on his knees. “Freddie.” She whispered lightly, pushing against his knees to hopefully wake him, but she knew he could sleep through the whole castle crumbling to the ground. “Freddie!” She whisper-yelled, shaking him harder, earning a groan from him. “Fred Gideon Weasley, get up before Filch comes and kills us both!” She whispered harshly, causing Fred to finally open his eyes. His sleepy gaze quickly turned to a soft look when he took her in. She knew her eyes had to be slightly puffy and her nose was red. It always turned red after she cried, and she hated it. She also hated that Fred always knew when she was upset or had been crying, and he always knew exactly how to make her feel better. Whether she needed a hug, or to be held, or if he needed to go to ridiculous measures just to make her laugh. Fred reached out and pulled her to him, stretching his legs out so she was in his lap. She fell forward against him as he hugged her. She let her head rest against his chest, feeling tears threaten to fill her eyes again. “C’mon little red.” He whispered, moving to get up. “I don’t have red hair.” She mumbled, she didn’t know where the nickname had come from. Fred had just started calling her it one day. The only answer for why she ever got was that she was now an honorary Weasley and she was tiny. It used to annoy her to no end, which is probably why it stuck. Fred loved getting reactions out of her, because even if something annoyed her when it came to him, she secretly loved it. It was like he knew it.

She walked next to him, keeping her head down. She watched her feet as she walked. She wasn’t paying attention, she just let him lead the way. She figured they would go to his dorm. It was the closest and safest bet. The chances of not getting caught on the way to her common room were slim to none. It was way too late to even consider being out of the common room, everyone was most likely asleep by now. She knew they were entering the Gryffindor common room. The Fat Lady had long ago stopped putting up a fight about her being snuck into the common room after hours. It happened so often that it wasn’t worth it. She didn’t bother to look up, just followed Fred to the stairs. The floor was a mess and she was afraid to look up. She didn’t want to relive her most recent memory in this room. She followed Fred into his dorm, noting that it was empty. He shared a room with George and Oliver Wood. Neither of the other two boys were here. She stood there silently as Fred moved around. He pulled out a jumper and handed it to her, turning around for her to change. The normalcy of this pained her. She knew Fred had seen her almost completely naked. He had stayed with her when she was sick last year. She had a fever that wouldn’t break and she had stripped out of her shirt and pyjama shorts in her sleep- with Fred sharing the same bed. She pulled the jumper over her head before pulling her jeans off. The jumper hung down to her knees, Fred was nearly a foot taller than her, if not more. She didn’t say anything as she climbed into his bed, only huffing as she rolled over to face away from him. 

She felt his weight as he slid into his bed, turning to face her back. “George told me what happened. She kissed me, and I didn’t…” He whispered so quietly she could barely hear him. Her whole body seemed to tense as she registered what he said. Of course George told him. Bloody hell. She felt Fred’s hand brush over her arm. He grabbed her shoulder, gently trying to turn her to him. She fought him on it, but it was no use. He was stronger than she was, no matter how determined she was to keep her back to him. “You know you can tell me anything. Hell, you’re my best friend.” Fred whispered, his eyes on her face. She stared at the ceiling, feeling tears well in her eyes again. “That’s the problem, Freddie. I’m your best friend.” Her whisper was soft, not trusting herself to speak without starting to cry again. “And I hate it.” She finished, closing her eyes tightly to press the tears back. She could still feel his eyes on her, but she knew she couldn’t look at him. She knew she would break. She knew he would hold her until she either calmed down or fell asleep. Merlin’s beard, they were more than just friends. Friends don’t do this. Friends don’t share a bed. Friends don’t sleep in nothing but the others jumper and their underwear and cuddle. Friends don’t wake up wrapped in each other's arms. Friends don’t cling to each other the way they usually do. She loved George like a brother, he was one of her closest friends. Her and George are not friends like she and Fred are. She felt a tear squeeze its way from her eye. She let out a shaky sigh as she felt Fred brush it away with his thumb. He pulled her into him and she hated him for it. She hated him at that moment. She hated that he made her hurt, but he was the only one that could make her feel better. A sob escaped her lips as the tears began to fall. “I hate you. I hate that you’re so damn oblivious to me. All I am is your best friend and I’ve been in love with you for two years, you idiot.” She cried into his chest. He cradled her head with one arm and pulled her closer with the other, holding her there as she cried. “I’m sorry, Red, I-i didn’t know.” He held her tighter, placing a kiss on the top of her head. His fingers drew circles on her back as her cries slowly stopped. He hadn’t realised she had fallen asleep until her grip on his shirt slowly loosened.

She woke up pressed to Fred’s chest and her legs tangled in his. His fingers were drawing slow shapes on her side. God she was still so hurt. The image of him kissing Julie replaying in her head. She went to pull away from him, only to be pulled against him tighter. “Let me go.” She mumbled, pushing against him again. “No can do, doll.” He mumbled back. “I still hate you.” She bit back, trying her best to ignore the comfort she felt being pressed against. “You don’t mean that.” His voice was gentle. He was used to her little fits. She had told him multiple times over the years that she hated him. The first time when he accidentally broke her brand new quill that her father had sent her as a gift when she found a new hobby of writing. It was their second year. He had saved up anything he could get until Christmas that year to buy her the same one. She had cried then too, but those were happy tears. She had told him she hated him the day he told her that he couldn’t come see her that summer, that was year three. Then she wrote to his mother and asked if she could come there to see him and George. Of course, Molly said yes. She was so delighted to finally meet the twin’s best friend. She was glad they finally had someone to level out their antics, but that didn’t last long. They were always up to something. She had told him three times in year four that she hated him. Once was when he had her pinned down and was mercilessly tickling her. She gasped it out between laughs. She even used his full name. He couldn’t help but smile, only to stop tickling when she rushed out that she was going to pee her pants if he didn’t stop. But he kept jumping at her, pretending he was going to tickle her again. The second time was when he was dating Hannah. They had gotten into a fight, screaming at each other. She was sad because she felt like she was losing Fred as a friend because Hannah hated her. And he called her bitter and jealous that she had never had a boyfriend. It was then that she told him she hated him. He could see the hurt in her eyes. That was the first time it truly hurt when she said she hated him. It felt like she meant it that time. The third time was towards the end of the year. They had made up and were thicker than thieves once again. She had conned him into going to the library to study. He was messing around the whole time and trying to make her laugh. He took it a little too far, accidentally hitting her inkwell. It shot across the table, they both moved to catch it and they both missed. It had spilled all over her skirt. She said she hated him then and told him he was lucky he was her best friend, otherwise he’d have to buy her a new skirt. Last year, year five, there were odd bits of distance between them, but when he thought about it, they weren’t odd. They were distant every time he had a girlfriend or was chasing after some girl. He had been slightly jealous of George since last year. She seemed to latch on to him, but it all made sense. She was distancing herself to protect herself and George was there for her, probably to tell her that Fred was an idiot and he’d come around one day. 

“Look at me.” He said as he rolled on to his side, sliding her off his chest. She stared at his chest, not meeting his gaze. “I am.” She mumbled and he had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. Her full name left his lips as he gently pushed her chin up to force her to look at him, but she kept her eyes trained on his chest. “I swear, you are so stubborn that I wonder how you weren't sorted into Gryffindor.” She looked up at him, eyes narrowed. “What Fred? What do you want? I don’t care if she kissed you. You didn’t have to kiss her back.” She bit out. He had to hide his smirk. If she wasn’t so upset with him, he knew she would’ve rolled her eyes and made a ridiculous comment on how she was surprised he wasn’t sorted into Slytherin. He suddenly missed her jests, wishing he could rewind to before the party. George had told him that someone they knew was pining after him. He just didn’t think it would be his best friend. But then again, how could it not be? They spent most of their time together, either alone or with George. If he wasn’t with George, he was with her. People often commented on them acting like a couple. Fred would walk her to class, arm slung around her shoulder. “I’m an idiot-” He started, only to be cut off by her. “I know you are. You’re the biggest idiot I know.” She tried to hold her glare, fighting a small smile. “C’mon, little red, let me finish.” He raised his brow as she opened her mouth to talk then closed it. She let out a sigh, waiting for him to continue. “You say I’m the biggest idiot you know, which may be true. But I’m the most handsome idiot you know.” He paused as a small smile tugged at her lips. “I’m an idiot, I’m sorry. You could’ve just told me. Could’ve said ‘hey, you big, handsome, idiot, I love you’.” He paused again, reaching up and tucking her hair behind her ear. “I would’ve said, ‘hey, little red, I love you too’.”

“Stop calling me that.” she mumbled and Fred let out an exasperated noise. He noticed the small smile playing on her lips. “I still hate you, at least for the next five minutes.” Her voice was much softer this time. “You’re so stubborn.” he mumbled, smiling when he felt her fingers grasp his shirt. “And you’re an idiot for not kissing me.” She mumbled, her gaze still locked with his. He slowly leaned in, his nose brushing hers as her eyes fluttered shut. “I’ve never kissed anyone before.” She whispered as he leaned in. Her lips just barely brushing his as she spoke. He paused for a moment. He knew she had never dated anyone, but he didn’t think she had never kissed anyone before. He closed the gap, gently kissing her. The kiss was slow and soft, until she took him by surprise when she nipped his bottom lip. He groaned, pulling her flush against him as he deepened the kiss. “Never kissed anyone before, unbelievable.” He mumbled against her lips. She pulled on his shirt in a futile attempt to get closer than they already were. It was when she slid her hand up her chest and around his shoulder up to his hair that the door to his dorm opened. He reluctantly broke the kiss, looking up to see George standing in the doorway. “Well, I was coming to tell you that no one has seen our little friend here since last night, but I see you’re snogging her.” George grins. You roll over at his comment, turning to look at him. George winks at you and then turns his attention back to Fred. “I am now obligated to help her hide your body, doesn’t matter that you’re my brother.” George states, causing her to laugh.

“George, leave. Please.” Fred groans. “I think he should stay. This is fun. Hey, Georgie, isn’t Fred the biggest idiot you know?” She asks, smiling sweetly at Fred. “That’s likely!”

After George had left, they spent the entire morning in bed. Fred stealing kisses from her when she wasn’t dozing back off. “Freddie?” She whispered, curled into his side, her head laying on his chest. He hummed an acknowledgement. “Did you mean it?” She asked, her fingers grasping his shirt again. A small chuckle came from him as he squeezed her to him. “I love you, I have for some time. You’re also my best friend and I didn’t want to lose you.” He said, placing a kiss on the top of her head. “I love you, you big, handsome idiot.” She said as she lifted her head to look at him. “Don’t think I won’t ask George to help hide your body.” She grinned as he laughed. 

The rest of the year seemed to breeze by. Two months of Fred pulling her into random broom closets between classes and sneaking into the room of requirements before curfew. Countless nights spent in there, hidden away among the mess. Before she knew it, everyone was packing and getting ready to leave for the summer. 

“Fred, I’m too tired, carry me.” She whined as he gently woke her when the train finally stopped at the station. He let out a sigh as George laughed at him, shaking his head. She was going to the Weasley’s for the summer as her parents were away until November. She sat up, rubbing her eyes, looking up at Fred. “After we get off the train, then I’ll think about it.” He reached a hand out to her, helping her up. The journey to the Weasley’s was rather quick. They travelled through the floo system. She dramatically collapsed into Fred’s arms when they got back. “So tired.” she mumbled. “You’re going to kill me.” He laughed, picking her up. This wasn’t entirely unusual for the two of them. Everyone was used to Fred and her clinging to each other. Molly would often give Fred a knowing look when she would walk into the den, finding her sleeping with her head in his lap or curled up against him. Molly also knew that, most nights, if she were to peek into Fred’s room, she would find the two of them together. She often heard them talking in loud whispers and trying to hide their laughter in the middle of the night. It didn’t dawn on her that only a handful of them knew they were together, not until George opened his mouth. “Hey ma, did you know that Freddie has a girlfriend?” A groan left Fred as he stared his twin down. She buried her face in his chest, trying to ignore the slew of reactions from the older Weasleys. Molly was utterly delighted, commenting on how she was surprised that it took this long.

The days seemed to fly by spending them in the Weasley household. Lots of stolen kisses and sneaking around. It wasn't until mid-July that her and Fred were alone in the house together. Everyone had gone out for one reason or another and it was just the two of them. They spent the morning in Fred’s bed, tangled together. She was constantly falling back asleep and Fred was just content to hold her. It wasn’t until she was the one to lean up and kiss him that the day seemed to take a slight turn. They had shared a bed countless times, kissing had almost turned into more countless times as well. But this kiss was needy and built a fire in the both of them. She started the kiss. It was soft, loving at first. Then she nipped his bottom lip and a groan left his lips. His fingers dug into her hips, the feeling giving her the courage she needed in the moment. She moved to straddle him. His hand pushed up the jumper she stole from him, revealing her bare thighs. She really would be the death of him. She never seemed to wear pants. Just his shirt and a pair of panties, she was a constant tease seemingly unknowing to the fact. The kiss was still innocent enough, until she ground her hips down on his. The almost whiny moan that left her lips had him flipping them over. His lips trailed down her neck, nipping and sucking at the skin, most likely leaving marks in his wake. The sounds that left her lips were driving him wild. “You’re killing me.” He mumbled against her neck. His hands slid around her body. He gripped her hips before sliding a hand up her shirt. His fingers pinched and rolled her nipple, a lewd moan leaving her lips. 

“Freddie, please.” She whined, pushing her hips up against his for any sort of friction. She tugged at his shirt, pulling it up until he reached up to pull it over his head. He leaned down, capturing her lips with his. She deepened the kiss, swiping her tongue against his bottom lip. He still found it hard to believe she had never kissed anyone before him. Not when she kissed him like this. She continued to grind her hips against his, moaning into the kiss. Her hands slid down his chest, her fingers hooking under the waistband of his pyjamas pants. She started to push them down when Fred broke this. “Baby-” He started only to be cut off by her leaning up and kissing him again. He knew she was virgin, while he may not be, he didn’t want her to feel like she had to do this. He was content just being with her. “Freddie, please. I want you. I-,” She paused, looking up to meet his eyes. “I want you to be my first.” Her breathy proclamation almost made him groan, but it was her reaching down and palming him through his pants that made a groan fall from his lips. Fred reached for the hem of her shirt, pulling it off and tossing it on the floor. His eyes dragged over her body. She was perfect. “So pretty, baby.” He groaned, she would’ve thought he was talking to himself until his eyes met hers. His hands slid from her hips and over her stomach before he leaned down, kissing down her neck to her navel. It was then that her nerves started to build up. His lips pressed to her hip as he looked up at her. “If you want to stop, we will. At any point, baby.” He nipped at her hip as he pulled her panties down. She felt her cheeks flush, suddenly feeling exposed. Fred’s hands sliding up her legs seemed to calm her nerves. He pressed a kiss to her knee first, then trailed kisses down her inner thigh. It was the kiss that he placed closest to her sex that had the first moan falling from her lips. She gasped when she felt his tongue against her clit. He slowly added more pressure as he worked her clit. She didn't know how much more she could take, every pass of his tongue on her was overwhelming. Her hips bucked into his face. She was sure if she wasn’t so consumed by the building warmth in her abdomen that she would have been embarrassed. His name fell from her lips as he slowly worked a finger into her. His pace was painfully slow but every move made her feel like he already knew her body better than she ever could. It wasn’t until he worked a second finger into her and sucked her clit between his lips that she felt like she was falling apart. His name left her lips in succession until all she could do was moan. She moved her hips against his fingers, riding out her orgasm. 

“Please, Freddie, I need you inside of me.” She let out a breathy whine. This girl would really be the death of him. He turned his head, leaving a hickey on the inside of her thigh. His lips were on hers in an instant. When she reached to push his pants down, this time he let her. He deepened the kiss, running his tongue along her bottom lip. He slipped his tongue against hers, taking his time kissing her. He ground into her, sliding his dick through her folds. He teased her with his tip before gently pushing into her. She gasped into his mouth, her body tensing at the intrusion. “Relax, baby, okay?” He whispered, kissing her jaw. He didn’t move his hips, but his hand snaked between them. His thumb pressed against her clit, causing another gasp to leave her lips. He continued to toy with her clit as she looked up at him. The look in her eyes as a quiet moan fell from her lips had his resolve wavering. It was when the next breathy moan fell from her lips that she took him by surprise. She pushed her hips up, taking more of him in. His ministrations continued as he tried to ease any of her discomfort with pleasure. She rolled her hips into his, fucking herself like she had done on his fingers. Fred moved his other hand to her hip, holding her hips in place. It was then that he pushed into her until she took all of him in. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, her nose, then her lips. The kiss was slow, gentle as he gave her time to adjust. She broke the kiss, brushing her nose against his. “Freddie.” His name left her lips in a breathy moan as she pushed against him. His thrusts were shallow at first, his forehead resting against hers. They moved slowly together, quiet moans falling from her lips. His name fell from her lips as he thrusted into her harder, faster. Her hands ran up his back, her nails digging into his skin as she gripped his shoulders. “O-oh, Freddie.” She gasped, tilting her head up to press her lips to his. She could feel her orgasm building again when he slid a hand between them, pressing his thumb to her clit. Fred could feel himself getting close to the edge. 

“Fuck, baby, cum for me.” He groaned against her skin. His thumb pressed into her clit harder, circling until she threw her head back. His name fell from her lips, her nails digging into his back. The feeling of her walls clenching and spasming around him as she came sent him over the edge. Her name fell from his lips as he pressed his forehead to hers. “I love you, Freddie.” Her voice was a whisper. She leaned up to steal a quick kiss from his lips before he could speak. “I love you.” He mumbled between kisses. 

They spent the next few hours tangled in each other, whispering sweet nothings, and her dozing off a few times. Fred woke her when he heard the first noises in the den below. Fred scrambled to find his clothes as she waltzed around his room to find hers. She pulled on a pair of leggings and his jumper. Her fingers slid across his sides as he pulled his shirt on. She wrapped her arms around him, pressing herself against him. His arms snaked around her, placing a kiss on the top of her head.

[thattimdrakeguy]

I Kind-Of Prefer Jason Todd's Original Resurrection

The Superman Prime thing punching reality is a little goofy--creative, but goofy.

So I get why people don't like it.

I think it's a lot better, though. Lazarus Pit actually originally couldn't bring people back to life. They bring it up in Under the Hood actually. That was a retcon as far as I'm aware.

The original grit and nastiness of the original resurrection scene is powerful stuff though, like a modern-ish horror story.

Also, damn look at that hot head, calming himself down while suffocating. Oh Jason and that temper of his. Look how temperamental he is--Okay, I'll stop.

This imagery too. Could hang it up on your wall if you were into edgy stuff like that.

Jason Todd here is only 15-years-old too. Only six months after he was murdered in that explosion. Teen got some freaking heart in him that's for sure.

Makes ya feel something.

The way he's drawn there walking down the hall. Total horror story stuff. I love it. It's so marvelous and dashing in a disturbed type of way.

Another thing I love is how the Lazarus Pit in this story looks like lava too. Adds to the horror story, modern day Frankenstein without sewing together bits and pieces of different folk together.

'bout bringing the brain dead back to proper life.

Giving me genie Jafar vibes though for some odd reason.

Like these two images combined or something.

I mean they're both red themed, I dunno...

What's with the early '00's and making Talia an absolutely wretched person? He's twenty at this point I believe, but I didn't see no consent. That's your lover's son ya freak.

(I've been corrected, he wasn't even 20. Have fun knowing Talia is even worse here than I initially realized. That's...I was going to say fun sarcastically, but nah, that's really weird, and super gross.)

Damn why couldn't they keep up the pace with Jason Todd, man? I don't necessarily want to make the post, and I probably won't do it for a while anyways, but they treated Jason like total dog shit after this for no good reason. I think some people forget how bad he had it for a bit. Still doesn't have it good--but--jeez whole other level for a bit.

The writing is so strong.

I can't put into words how much I love the narration boxes here. It's like the bible, except I give a shit.

Anyways, I hoped you've enjoyed our big ol' Jason Todd history lesson today.

It's been really fun reading this again.

Really hope too anyone that been along with me on this journey today has enjoyed themselves too. I like being an educational blog for the Bat-Family. I get a good kick out of it.

But for now--

BONUS:

Hey, I found out where people got the idea of pit madness from!

I think people that are more used to the movie probably read this and assumed that's what happened with Jason Todd.

Important thing to note though:

In the original story as you can see by the rest of the post above, Jason wasn't dead when he entered the pit. He was already alive.

Up to this point we're led to believe Ra's was lying anyways about it being able to resurrect people.

Wasn't 'til later, possibly when they simplified this story, did it become able to full on resurrect people.

Be honest, does he seem insane to you?