#HE LOOKS SO HOT HERE OH MY GAWD

[rvspecter]

[chocoreads]

OMG MANXY MOO I FINISHED THIS TODAY WAS IT WAS WONDERFUL, EXHILARATING, AND the most bittersweet adventure i've read <3 i love your setup for the story--that prom dress scene at the beginning is flawless!! as expected ur banter is tippy top notch and ur characters are refreshing!! i enjoyed reading their interactions so much (esp the scene at the end awwww my heart couldn't take it!)

some of my fave excerpts:

4 + 4 = 8!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! my breath was fully taken! i had zero breaths!

literally made me choke i loved this sm

OUUU I WAS WINDING UP I REREAD IT MULTIPLE TIMES!!

my eyes were fully reading it!!!!! it's all so palpable and vibrant!!

the pressure throughout this fic is so delicious as someone who thrives off angst and creating a smouldering wildfire of tension this was super satisfying!! you want to keep reading cuz ur on the same edge as the characters, waiting 4 smth to go wrong, knowing the illusion can't go on forever even when it's at its sweetest :(( wanting them to talk so bad but then it all goes up in flames :c

also i attempted to squeeze all my most blaring thoughts into the tags but im pree sure i hit the tag limit JHWFEUKHF

ur my hero this was amazing!!!!!!

when the devil drives.

pairing — jeonghan x fem!reader ft. bestie!joshua

word count — 23.7k

genres — road trip au, exes to friends with benefits to lovers, fighting as flirting, angst, fluff, smut (fingering, vaginal penetration, dirty talk, slight praise, cunnilingus)

warnings — toxic relationships, swearing and threatening language, explicit sexual content, they're both infuriating (yes that needs a warning, trust me)

summary — when your best friend breaks his leg and cancels your summer getaway, jeonghan turns up in his place to take you home from college on what was supposed to be a five hour car ride. except he has other plans, and you end up with more than you bargained for on a week-long road trip to nowhere with the cynical, silvertongued ex-boyfriend whom you're still kinda sorta in love with.

note — it's finally done. the bane of my existence. please enjoy the fic that made me so stressed that it delayed my period by like a week. on a lighter note, there's a playlist. enjoy <3

go to main masterlist | svt masterlist

THREE YEARS EARLIER.

The person in the mirror is not you.

The person in the mirror is beautiful when you’ve only ever felt pretty, mature even though you still feel like an overgrown child, and confident despite the fact that your heart is beating right out of your chest. Despite her makeover skills being limited to being practiced only on fortnightly dates, your mom has actually done an incredible job with you. Long hours of youtube video-watching and swatting you to remind you to sit still have finally paid off.

You trail your lilac-coated fingertips over your bare collar, marveling at the way your skin throws off light. It probably wouldn’t take much to convince your friends that it’s actually makeup instead of sweat doing the job, but it probably isn’t worth it. You stand up, looking down at the ruffled skirt of the purple dress you picked out at the mall weeks ago. Then, glancing back up at the mirror, you lift a hand to your arm, giving it a light pinch.

The yelp leaves your lips right as your mother opens the door to your bedroom, gesturing frantically with a makeup brush. “Honey, he’s here,” she informs you in a rapid hiss, looking as giddy as if it were her final prom night. “Get downstairs, quickly.”

“But my phone, and my purse—”

“They’re downstairs. First drawer of the credenza.” She slams the door shut before you can get a word in, leaving you standing in the middle of the room feeling even more alone than before.

You begin chewing on your bottom lip, and stop when you remember her specific instructions against ruining the lipstick. Smoothing down the ruffles with fluttering hands, you cast one last, yearning glance at the full-length mirror before going to the door, unlocking it gently and stepping outside.

The walk to the edge of the staircase is short, but it feels like more than an hour has passed by the time you get to it. You take a deep breath, clutching the balustrade with trembling fingers, and pause.

The noise had gone unnoticed by you earlier, owing to the anxious clamoring of overlapping thoughts in your head, but now if you pay attention you can hear your father’s stern tones, no doubt questioning your date at the front door. Anxious once more, you take a step back, wringing your hands. You carefully tuck a lock of hair behind your ear, running your hands over your skirt again, letting the texture of the ruffles calm you down. Okay, okay, I can do this, you think, placing the ball of your thumb between your teeth. It’s no big deal.

No big deal at all.

“Dad, quit grilling him,” you call out, and finally step into view. Your father looks up, and so does the poor boy he’s been cross-examining for who knows how long. You feel your face heat up at suddenly being brought into the spotlight, but manage a small smile.

You think you see your dad’s eyes misting over, but then your eyes automatically stray over to the person whose reaction you’ve been anticipating more. Your date is standing there slack-jawed, the top of his slightly-loosened tie visible as the bouquet of roses in his hands droops from inattentiveness. 

“Hi,” you say shyly, pleased at his reaction. Then, raising your hands above your dress, you give him a slow twirl. “So,” you say breathlessly, “how do I look?”

Jeonghan’s eyes are bright with fervor, the grip on the plastic cover around the flowers tighter than before, which you can tell by the way the blood has receded from his knuckles.

And he doesn’t say anything at all.

NOW.

“And done,” you say, slapping the end of the packing tape on the side of what you hope is the last carton. Then, still squatting, you place a hand on the side and lean back to examine your handiwork. To your dismay, the end of the tape has already begun to curl. "You think that’ll keep?"

"Absolutely," your roommate, Mina, hums in a way that tells you she isn’t listening. You glance back at her exasperatedly, and she gives you an apologetic grin. “Listen, I’m beyond caring at this point. That was the last of them, right?”

“Checklist.” You point at her, and she sighs, her acrylic nails tapping against the glitzy pink clipboard in her hands. 

“Yes, mother.”

Straightening, you place your hands on your hips and survey the area like the captain of a ship sailing into unknown waters. Your shared room, which had once been a safe haven strewn with comforters and fluffy rugs, is now overrun by corrugated cardboard boxes, some bulging and some rattling, almost all sealed unevenly with old dried-up tape. You rub your creased forehead. “I feel like we should’ve gotten professionals to do this work for us. The RA even recommended someone who gives out discounts for people who move before summer.”

“Are you kidding? We did a pretty bang-up job, considering this was all last-minute, and for free too,” Mina exclaims. “Plus, I would never trust a stranger with my ceramic dolls.” 

“You wouldn’t trust me with them, and I’ve been holding your hair up while you vomited in the toilet for months,” you complain. “Did we pack everything?”

She hums under her breath again, chewing on her bottom lip as her eyes roll down over the checklist. “I think so. Did you finish packing?”

“Yep.”

Mina looks sideways at one corner of the room, where your lone olive-green suitcase sits flush against the wall. “I still don’t understand how you’re going to survive a whole summer on just that.”

“It’s not a whole summer,” you correct. The thought of leaving fills you with a buzzing excitement, and you have to bite your lip to stop the smile from unfurling like a banner over your face. “Just a couple of weeks out in nature. And maybe a few motels. Neither place really requires much clothing.”

She makes a face, but dismisses the line of conversation with a wave of her hand. “Whatever you say,” she says. "Now, help me push these out into the hallway?"

You groan, but oblige. It’s mostly your fault that the two of you had to pack everything yourselves, since you picked the last possible day to move out before you’d have been thrown out of the dorms. Most of your stuff is already gone, but as a dutiful roommate, you’d promised Mina that you’d help her out before leaving for the summer. So, here you are, running on less than three hours of sleep, having spent most of this morning and the night before squeezing piles of clothes into boxes and folding bubble wrap like splints.

When you’re done, Mina takes the elevator down with you, and the sole suitcase you’re carrying feels even lighter than it is after all the boxes you'd been lugging around. When the metal doors slide open at the ground floor, you let go of a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

Mina pats your hand. Her clipboard is still tucked under her arm. “Don’t be so worried.”

You let out an uncertain laugh that fades quickly into a grimace, fingers clenched tight around the handle of your suitcase. “Why would I be worried?”

She pries your fingers out of their vice-like grip. “Exactly,” she says, grabbing the handle in your stead and pulling the suitcase out of the elevator, leaving you to awkwardly follow along, not quite knowing what to do with your hands. “After all your unfounded confidence in your packing and planning skills, it would be a shame if you lost faith in them now.” You can’t help but smile a bit at that, but for some reason, you still feel squeamish. “We’re not late, are we?”

Pushing your irrational anxiety aside, you hurriedly check your watch. “Well, um, a little,” you say with a shrug, “but Josh makes it a point never to show up until it’s fifteen minutes past our appointment.”

“So it’s all dandy then,” she says, her voice a bit further away, and when you look up you realize that she’s more than just a few steps ahead of you despite the heels and the suitcase, and you hasten your step. “Just make sure to check your pockets for condoms—”

“Mina.”

“—and your phone and wallet, and pepper spray.” She catches the stern look on your face. “You know, just in case.” She stops suddenly, and you almost trip over your own luggage. You look up at her in exasperation, but stop short upon noting the confusion on her face. “Is that Joshua?”

You follow her gaze across the parking lot, and spot the unmistakable blue Corolla parked a couple spots over. There’s a figure leaning against the side, his stark blonde hair makes the heated air shimmer like a halo over his head. Your first thought is oh, he dyed his hair. Your second is that’s not Joshua.

“What?” Mina looks confused, even as she falls into step beside you as you begin to stalk your way through the lot. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing yet,” you mutter as you reach the car. The blonde looks up, and your heart jumps into your throat. “What the hell are you doing here?”

The boy who is not Joshua tilts his head questioningly. “Why the cold reception?” Jeonghan asks. 

You raise your eyebrows, incredulous, and are just about to open your mouth to elaborate on just why he’s getting a cold reception when Mina places a placating hand on your arm. “Hi, I’m Mina,” she says, putting on a bright smile, no doubt to outweigh the dark glare you’ve directed at his face. “The roommate.”

“Jeonghan.” He inclines his head with a neutral yet pleasant smile of his own, glancing at you. His smile falls almost comically upon seeing the expression on your face. “The…”

“You didn’t answer my question,” you interject, relentless. Mina is looking more and more discomfited by the second, but you scarcely notice. 

“The ex,” Jeonghan completes. He then turns to you, raising a cool eyebrow. “I thought you knew,” he says.

“Knew what?” You demand. 

He straightens, slowly drawing his hands out of his pockets, and you almost regret asking the question. Always the dramatics, you think bitingly. “That there’s been a slight change of plans.”

There was a time you thought you could trust Joshua Hong.

For the major part of your life, he had been the one person you could rely on for (mostly) everything, even when that something involved needing someone to catch you when you snuck out your window at 2 a.m., or knowing you’d always have a clean band-aid to use if you scraped your knee biking through a junkyard.

That time was approximately a minute and twenty seconds ago, when you hadn’t pulled out your phone with its unrepaired crack and checked the unread messages—the most recent of which were from him. It says sorry, and that he’s broken his leg and won’t be able to drive you from your dorm for the planned road trip. The crack lands right over the word sorry.

You know it’s been a minute and twenty seconds because you’ve been counting.

It’s like a bubble has burst inside your chest. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you mumble softly, clenching your fingers tighter around your poor phone, which might end up with another crack if you squeeze it any further. “And he couldn’t tell me this before.”

“So you’ve been saying,” says the unwelcome replacement Joshua sent in his place. Jeonghan doesn’t have a trace of sympathy on his face as he folds his arms across his chest and checks the time on his watch. “Not to sound like an asshole, but it’s already three o’clock. We were supposed to be in town before dark, and it’s at least five hours from here.”

His voice is flat, utterly unsympathetic to your frustration. You’re still reeling, which is the only reason you don’t snap back immediately. It’s bad enough that your best friend isn’t here after all the work that went into planning and budgeting your trip, but Yoon Jeonghan’s presence is like salt on the wound. 

Maybe you’d say something snarky if it hadn’t been eight full months since you’d last talked to him. If the anger from your last conversation hadn’t faded over the long months and turned into something more…malleable. Manageable, as if you could ever have associated the word with him, with the feeling that you were swallowing hot coals every time you looked at him. You still remember the last time you talked to him in painstaking detail, and as you realize that fact, the memory comes rushing back, alongside the feeling that you’re going to throw up.

“So...that’s it?” You don’t know if you’re supposed to be nice to him. Exes have never before been an issue for you because you’ve never really had one before. “Joshua breaks his leg, so he sends you over.” Like nothing ever happened between us, you want to say, but your tongue seems to curl up when you try. “As a stand-in?”

The corner of his mouth twitches, and you can tell he’s holding back some words of his own. “Call it what you want, sweetheart,” he says, and you feel like you’ve been slapped across the face.

Part of you knows that he’s just trying to rile you up, but unfortunately, he’s had a lot of practice at it, so it’s working. You find yourself wishing that you hadn’t sent Mina away with nothing more than a short hug and a few words, but ever since you spotted Jeonghan across the parking lot you’ve been feeling about as steady as a salt shaker. Some support right now would’ve been nice.

Your fingers unclench from around the phone. There’s two ways this could go—the good way, in which both of you pretend that nothing ever happened, or the bad way, and you don’t even know what the worst case scenario could be. Jeonghan has never been a patient person, but right now, even as you stand silently in front of him after months of no contact, he seems unresponsive. Something hurt and hungry rears its head inside you at his hollow indifference, and you taste a familiar venom at the back of your tongue.

But you’re not going to give him the satisfaction. 

“Why are you doing this?” you ask instead.

Jeonghan shrugs. You’re not sure if you just imagined the tension going out of his shoulders. “I owed Joshua a favor.”

You raise your eyebrows. “You expect me to believe that?”

His lips thin. “Would you believe me if I said it was a big favor?” he asks casually, but his shoulders are tense again.

You’re aware of the intensity with which you’re watching him, and the fervence with which he’s avoiding your gaze. “No.”

“Figured.” He looks away right before you manage to catch the look in his eyes. “Is that all you’re carrying, or…?”

You look back at your olive green suitcase, the handle still pulled out, lying forgotten a couple of steps away from you. You don’t remember having moved towards Jeonghan during the course of your conversation, and you’re surprised enough by the realization that your chest tightens for a second. “That’s all,” you say numbly, and Jeonghan turns to pull open the car door.

“Well, then, we don’t have all day,” he says, gesturing to the seat. You feel a twinge of irritation again, but say nothing, roughly grabbing the suitcase handle and yanking a door open. Asshole, asshole, asshole, you chant in your head. This is going to be the worst drive of your life.

Even worse, you find it impossible to fall asleep.

Somehow, it’s not the noise. Jeonghan doesn’t whistle, and he doesn’t turn on the radio, or try to make small talk that would make you want to tear your hair out. He remains perfectly silent, not saying a single word to you after starting the car, not even an offer to stop by a corner store or for a drink of water. It’s been some time since the loud city faded into empty, expansive grasslands on either side of the highway, but you’re still wide awake.

Maybe it’s the silence that keeps you up, or whatever it is that it implies. You’re on edge, and your mind is churning, struggling between being mad at Joshua or being mad at Jeonghan or being mad at yourself for giving a shit. You’re still so shaken by Jeonghan’s sudden reappearance that you haven’t even begun to process anything else.

I’m going home, you think numbly, but even that thought evokes only a dull response in you. You think about the weeks building up to the summer, the calls with your dad. Your not-so-meticulously packed suitcase lies in the car’s boot, probably collecting dust if you know anything about the state of Joshua’s car. Much like all your dreams of summer. No beers, and no swimming pools, and certainly no Joshua.

You look over at Jeonghan again, but he doesn’t even seem to notice. You must be in a daze, because for a moment, you think about leaning over and nudging him.

What makes seeing him so much worse is that he looks almost exactly the same as he used to. The same hands, the same eyes, even his hair is still bleached the same silvery-white. The first button of his white shirt is opened, revealing a sliver of tanned skin inside. He always wore pressed shirts and sweater vests—and here a venomous thought enters your mind—when he really should be wearing a straightjacket instead.

When you knew him a year ago, he had been beautiful, but it was a beauty that was yours to possess, to kiss and to touch and to hold. He’s still beautiful, but now it’s the kind of beauty that makes him untouchable. The kind that belongs behind a glass pane, like a fragile display made out of cards or glass or papyrus in a museum exhibit that you would stare at with wonder in your eyes, yearning to reach out but holding yourself back knowing that a single touch could send it crashing to the floor. No, you can’t allow yourself to touch him now.

So you cross your arms, tuck your fingers under your biceps, and turn to glare out the window instead.

You switch with him after the first stop at a gas station.

“I’ll be right back,” Jeonghan had told you before heading in, and you’d taken the opportunity to get out and stretch your legs. When he comes back carrying a plastic bag from the convenience store, it takes him a few minutes before he notices standing forlornly in front of a tree.

“What?” he asks, only half curious. It’s a tall three, thick-trunked, with segmented branches that end in spiky gray-green leaves that make it look like a high school rocker with too much hairspray.

“It’s a Joshua tree,” you reply mournfully.

“Oh my god,” he mutters, and you turn to him with an evil look in your eye as you begin the walk back to the car. “He broke his leg, not his neck.”

“Of course it’s all the same to you,” you fire back. Jeonghan unlocks the Corolla with short, sharp movements that show his exasperation, and tosses the keys to you. You catch them, going around to the driver’s seat, as he leans in and pushes against the lumpy plastic bag, trying to make space for it on the dashboard. “A broken leg is pretty painful.”

“More painful for you than him, apparently,” Jeonghan grunts. With a final push, he manages to make the bag stay, and climbs into the car, shutting the door behind him before pulling on the seatbelt. He turns to look at you with his forehead furrowed as the car starts rolling forward. “I thought you wouldn’t want to drive.”

“Why, because you think I’m sulking?” you ask, offense creeping into your voice. Your neck is already coated in sweat, and you’re not sure if it’s because of the weather or just a bodily reaction to your feelings.

“I’d say it’s normal to be upset about your best friend being hurt.” Jeonghan shrugs.

“I’m not upset about that,” you snap. 

“You’re not upset about your best friend being hurt?”

“I am. I just mean—” You break off, irritated. The sweat is now drying because of the hot air coming in through the open tops of the windows, making your skin itch. You just twist your shoulder backwards, unwilling to let go of the steering wheel because if you do, you might just sock Jeonghan in the mouth. “It kind of brings things to a halt. For both him and me.”

Jeonghan leans against the side. “I wouldn’t call one canceled trip bringing your life to a halt.”

Your head is beginning to hurt. “You’re right,” you say testily. “It’s just really fucking inconvenient.”

“Inconvenient?” he echoes. “You get to go home to sweet Joshua. Nurse him through his grievously traumatic injury. It could be a bonding experience, unless you’re bent on calling the poor incapacitated boy an inconvenience.”

“I never—” You grit your teeth, forcing down your rising anger. The heat has begun to crawl like a swarm of fire ants, up your neck and down your back. “I’m surprised he only broke his leg,” you say savagely. “Considering that he thought of sending you in his place, instead of literally anyone else, I wonder how he didn’t get a concussion instead.”

Jeonghan laughs. “All this anger over a little road trip? What exactly were the two of you planning to do, pray tell? I feel like I’m missing out.”

You kiss your teeth, thinking better of responding with another biting comment. Your skin is sweaty and itchy and hot and there’s still a good four hours before you get home. Going at it with him isn’t going to help your mood. You tell yourself that it’s been eight months, you’ve grown, you’ve become a better person. You’re not going to fall for his bait.

Then Jeonghan says, “You could always tour his bedroom.”

In your head, you slam on the brakes, bringing the car to an immediate halt for dramatic effect. In real life, however, you’re painfully aware of how Jeonghan’s lack of a seatbelt would send him flying into the windshield, so you slow down before coming to a rolling stop at the side of the road. Your throat feels like hot lava.

“Really?” the perpetrator asks, raising an eyebrow. “It’s the witless bedroom comment that gets you?”

You clench and unclench your jaw a couple of times, trying to bring your temper down, but to no avail. Your hands on the wheel are unusually tight, as if trying to close into complete fists around it, so you have to forcefully pry your fingers apart before you unlock the door and step out of the car.

Jeonghan copies your movements, getting out of his seat to lean over the hood of the car, his posture suggesting curiosity rather than sympathy. His lips part, no doubt in preparation to say something to push you over the proverbial edge, and warning bells go off inside your head.

“Shut up,” you snap, and he recoils, blinking in surprise.

“I didn’t—”

“Shut up,” you repeat decisively, turning to level your gaze at him like the tip of a sword. “I didn’t ask for you to be an ideal travelling companion, but the least you could do is shut the fuck up.”

Jeonghan says nothing, but his eyes stay on your face, intent and oddly unnerving. You force yourself to look away lest you give away some kind of weakness in your expression—being civil is your best bet to last the duration of the ride, but this is still a push-and-pull. With him, it always is.

“This was supposed to be the last summer we had before graduating and getting jobs and moving to different parts of the country,” you say through clenched teeth. “It wasn’t even going to be that big of a deal—just being on the road for a few weeks with each other for company, having no responsibilities, no destinations, and no deadlines. And then he had to go and fuck himself over, and fuck me over in the process, and now it’s weeks and weeks of work gone to waste, and all I’ve been looking forward to is dust. And on top of that, you had to come in and do what you do best, which is twist everything I say and make me feel like shit about it like it's your god-given right to ruin my life. So, yeah, it’s the fucking—” 

The anger seems to have gone out of you somewhere towards the end, and you feel yourself deflate like a pricked balloon. “And it’s so fucking hot, too,” you mumble, burying your face in your hands. Then, face still covered, you laugh, feeling ridiculous and petulant like a child after throwing a temper tantrum about a broken toy. “Sorry. I’m sorry. It’s not your fault for having to drive me, and it’s not Joshua’s fault for getting his goddamned leg broken. I’m just…” You struggle to find the right words to express your frustration, but ultimately give up. “It’s so hot,” you whisper.

Your face burns, and you’re no longer sure if it’s from anger or embarrassment. It’s unusual for you to lose your composure, but you must have been more affected by this than you had imagined. Or maybe it’s just Jeonghan bringing out the violence in your emotions again.

Speak of the devil. Jeonghan steps around the front of the car and comes to a stop in front of you, hands very still at his sides, yet tensed as if they’re about to move. Suddenly you feel very tired, and very, very small.

“Let me drive the rest of the way.” His tone is gentler than you expected, but you’re still not brave enough to meet his eyes. He hesitates, like he’s about to say something else, but then his lips press into a thin, concerned line. You remember that expression from years ago, his eyes warm, a hand reaching over to curl around yours. Now, it just feels alien.

“Get some rest,” he finally says, and you don’t have the heart to fight back.

It’s been half an hour, and you still haven’t said a word to each other. Whatever pretense of cordiality you thought could be preserved is gone—if it had even existed in the first place—and the tension in the air is thick enough that you could carve something out of it. You’re beginning to get a little tired of the silence, now that the noise in your head has begun to quiet down just enough so you can actually think.

At least he’s turned the air conditioner on, which is a small mercy. You don’t know how you forgot about it before, but it probably had something to do with your rising irritation and the complete lack of awareness due to your blinding rage. Maybe if you’d just retained enough sense to turn the stupid freaking air conditioner on, you wouldn’t have had a loud, embarrassing breakdown in the middle of the freeway.

“I can hear your internal monologue from all the way over here,” Jeonghan says, making you start. It’s almost as if he actually can hear every single one of your thoughts—which shouldn’t be so surprising, considering your history. Your heart’s startled palpitations turn into a painful squeeze. “Stop thinking so hard and get some sleep.”

“It’s not like I’m not trying,” you mutter. “I’m just…restless.”

“Can’t wait to get home?”

You scoff. “Yep,” you say, dragging the syllable sarcastically. “Can’t wait to get home.”

Jeonghan catches your eye in the rearview mirror. There’s something quietly thoughtful brimming behind his eyes, and although you can’t quite put your finger on why, it makes you sit a bit more easily. It could be that you’re glad he isn’t too mad at you—people pleaser that you are—but it’s more likely that the look is…familiar. Familiar enough that relaxing in reaction to it is an instinct your body hasn’t gotten rid of just yet. Fucking biology. “We don’t have to go home if you don’t want to,” he says with pretend nonchalance, looking away.

You laugh, a little sadly, and uncross your arms to rub your hands down your biceps. “Where else am I supposed to go?”

It’s quiet for another moment. This time, it’s you who can almost hear the gears turning in Jeonghan’s head. You can’t help but anticipate what he’s going to say. “I don’t know,” he says, voice so muted that you have to look at his mouth to make sure you can correctly make out what he’s saying. “Where were you planning to go with Joshua?”

Your breath catches in your throat. “No,” you say firmly right as he asks the question, your voice a little rough and more than a little hoarse. You’re sitting stock-still now, like you touched a live wire and have been electrified in place. “Don’t even think of going there.”

He shrugs, and you can see the slightest hint of tension in his neck muscles when they flex with the movement. “If we take the highway, there’s a motel about half an hour from—”

“Don’t,” you say through your teeth. He’s still not looking at you. “Jeonghan, stop it.”

“Two days,” he says, unrelenting. His eyes finally flicker to yours, and you feel something stutter in your heart when you see the first hint of genuine emotion in his expression. The first time in eight months. “If we take the U-turn up ahead and keep going, it takes two days to lead up to the bay. Just two days. We could stay in a bed-and-breakfast, and if you still want to go back after that, I’ll take you home. No stops.”

You swallow back the dry patch in your throat. It feels wrong to see him like this, so eager when he greeted you with all the warmth of an icicle just a couple hours ago in the parking lot behind your apartment building. You know some part of it is because of your unintended meltdown in the middle of the road an hour ago, but the whole proposal reeks of pity.

“Not funny,” you say shakily.

“I’m not joking,” comes the simple reply.

“What’s the catch?” you ask sharply. “Not even half an hour ago you were letting me know exactly what you thought of road trips and risks. Why the sudden change of heart, huh, Jeonghan? If you tell me it’s because you feel guilty, I swear to god I’ll punch you.”

“Well,” he starts, lifting a single shoulder, “I don’t really have anything better to do. And if I take you home right now your mom will definitely make me stay for dinner, which would be awkward for both of us.” He shrugs. “And…maybe I want to spite Joshua. For breaking his leg playing soccer with little kids, and making me come all this way just to pick up an ungrateful little alley cat who could’ve just taken the bus.” 

You lapse into silence for a few moments. Then: “He really broke his leg playing soccer with little kids?”

“Yes,” Jeonghan replies, but not without an eye roll to accompany it. He looks at you then. “So what will it be, sweetheart?”

You know in your heart that there’s only one right answer to that question, and it’s a resounding no.

But then, if you’d been sensible enough to listen to your heart, you probably wouldn’t have ended up five hours away from home in a shitty old college majoring in fucking math of all things. So of course you tell him to turn the car around.

Jeonghan has always been an ass with apologies.

Which is ironic, because ever since you first met him, you’d known that he had the gift of the gab (for lack of a better phrase). His talents had always been in lying and talking and picking exactly the right quote from a classic text to make himself sound smart—which, admittedly, he is. He went from making people pay him to write their college essays and down the natural pipeline to majoring in literature at a fancy place. He’s always been good at making you angry, but you don’t think he’s ever figured out how to make things right. Or care enough to work for it.

So when Jeonghan knocks on the door and you open it to find him with a beer bottle in his hand, you’re only slightly surprised to see it. 

When he comes in, his eyes go straight to the double bed. He steps inside the room (at the first motel you’d seen which advertised running hot water, which makes no damn sense anyway because it’s over a hundred degrees outside and neither of you is taking a hot bath anytime soon, but whatever). The blades of the ceiling fan spin lazily, barely even disturbing his hair.

“The speed for the fan doesn’t go beyond three, and the air conditioner only works between seven and seven,” you inform him as you sit back on the bed, your suitcase open on the mattress in front of you. 

Jeonghan nods, and you have to bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing. He’s probably not used to this kind of place at all, but if you’re going on the road with him, you’re not pulling your punches. You’re happy enough with the arrangements yourself, being accustomed to living in even worse conditions. His description of you as an ungrateful little alley cat wasn’t far from the mark. It could always be worse, but you don’t tell him that.

You’d decided against calling your parents—or Joshua—to inform them about your change in plans, and had instead chosen a few simple texts to convey the information. They trust you enough to deal with your last-minute changes, but you know that there’s going to be a lot of questions about your choice of companion when you get back. Those questions, however, you can confidently avoid thinking about at least until you get back. And as for Joshua—he should’ve known better, you think primly. 

“I’m sorry,” Jeonghan says suddenly, breaking you out of your reverie. The beer bottle sits guilty in his grip. Gotcha, you think. “For riling you up in the car. Being around you kind of triggers my fight or flight instinct, and I’ve never been much of a runner. Heaven knows my dad tried, though.”

You half smile in acknowledgement. His expression is awkward, which makes your smile widen. The apology in no way makes up for your history, but now that you're already halfway through your decision, you decide to put him out of his misery and call a truce.

Leaning forward, you take the beer he offers you, raising it in his direction like a salute. “You’re good enough with words to make up for your lack of athletic ability,” you say, making the corners of his lips curl up. “And the pen is mightier than the sword, as they say. Care for a sip?”

He shakes his head no. “Can’t blame you,” you say, nodding sagely as you casually uncap the bottle with your teeth. “Beer does taste like piss when warm.”

“Or cold. Or room temperature,” he says. “I don’t know how you manage to keep it down.”

“Needs must.” You grin, patting the empty space on the mattress next to you, and he indulges your request. “So, I was thinking about what you said,” you start, taking a square of paper from between folded clothes and books in your unzipped suitcase, and unfolding it. “I’ve been going over the route Josh and I picked out for the trip, but I thought of making some changes.” You run your fingertips over a squiggly blue line marked on the map, and tap a spot outside it. “We could visit the museum. Take a meandering route, make a few stops here-and-there before we actually get to the bay.”

Jeonghan peers over your shoulder. “That’s about eight hours from here.”

“Mhm,” you say, putting the lip of the bottle to your mouth and taking a gulp. You make a face as you swallow. “Damn. I thought it was kind of clichéd, but warm beer really does taste like piss.”

“I did warn you.” He’s stiffened a bit. You sniff the air, wondering if something stinks. 

“Well, uh,” you mutter under your breath, and bring the bottle back up to your lips with slow, careful motions. “We could make a few pit stops over here, and go to the shore later. Then there’s the wharf.” Your fingertip moves over the map.

Jeonghan looks at the spot you’re pointing at. His gaze shifts to your hand, then up over your arm, all the way to your bared shoulder—which you realize is mere inches from his face. 

He’s stopping breathing, as if afraid to exhale on your skin. You open your mouth to make a joke, but it dies in your throat. Your mouth remains open, no words coming out. Jeonghan lifts his eyes up to yours, and you feel your heart jump. The scent of green apple shampoo envelopes you.

Something thumps on the roof above. Jeonghan looks up, and you take the opportunity to nimbly shift away. “Do you think that was a rat or a person?” you wonder aloud.

“I’m not sure which I’d rather have it be,” he answers, getting to his feet. You look up at him, the beer bottle in your hand barely empty, but you’re already feeling lightheaded. “Dinner?”

Dinner is uneventful. You usually hate forcing pointless conversations, but now you find yourself broaching all kinds of topics from the weather to the food to the ketchup stain on the waiter’s apron.

Jeonghan is polite, laughing at the right moments and nodding along when you need him to listen, but you feel fidgety on the worn leather seat that you normally would have sunk comfortably into. The long-drawn conversation makes you feel like you’re talking to a stranger, not someone you’ve known for the most part of your life. Not for the first time, you mourn a friendship that has seemingly dissolved after your break-up.

By the time the two of you walk back, it’s almost ten. You pass under more than a few flickering streetlights, but they are more than made up for by the neon signs that begin to light up after dark.

When you get back to the room, all you can think about is the double bed. How convenient, you think to yourself, more than a little miserably when you think back to the tiny moment you shared while looking over the map. While you’ve moved on from Jeonghan, your body clearly hasn’t, if the way it reacted to his scent is anything to go by. And you have moved on. Why else would you be so comfortable basically running away with him?

“I hope the lock works,” Jeonghan mutters to himself as he locks the door for the night. You’re less confident, so you zip your bag back up and push it flush against the white door, propping the handle against the top.

Your phone rings, and you take it out, checking the caller ID. Joshua. You look up, and find Jeonghan looking at you, his face blank. Feeling unsettled, you reject the call, and put your phone away.

Now that it’s just the two of you with no dinners or strangers or ketchup stains to distract your conversations, the two of you fall into a pregnant silence. Jeonghan thumbs the collar of his shirt idly, looking at the bed with a glazed-over expression. You sidle by the bed and place a pillow in the middle, then stand back to survey your work.

“It looks like a face,” Jeonghan says.

“We can share the blanket,” you allow. For all the burning heat of the mid-afternoon sun, you know that the nights in the desert are cruelly cold, especially so within the paper-thin walls of the motel room. “Do you want to keep the fan on?”

“I’m good.” For some reason, Jeonghan looks ill. “You know…I just realized I don’t have a single change of clothes.”

You take a good look at his current attire, and it’s definitely not an excuse to stare. He’s wearing a plain white shirt, as you noted before. It’s fitted but billows faintly about his frame, making him look like a prince of old. His hair falls in soft blonde waves down to his neck, brushing the very top of his collar, and a few stray strands frame his face. Even though the harsh fluorescent lights draw the color from his face, the sheen of sweat over his cheekbones make them shine. You watch, transfixed, as Jeonghan’s fingers slip from the collar to the undone button, the pad of his thumb shaping the outline of it.

And he’s also wearing jeans. The jeans are reusable, you think, blinking yourself out of your stupor. Get a hold on yourself. But you can already pick out the stained collar of his shirt with ease. “We can go shopping tomorrow,” you suggest, clearing away the thickness of your voice. “Restock your supply of Walmart t-shirts.”

He looks at you with narrowed eyes, and you allow yourself a smile.

When all the blinds are all drawn and the lights turn off, you’re the first under the blankets. The pillow you’d ceremoniously placed down as a barrier between the two of you is flush against your back as you curl into yourself. You feel the mattress dip and the bed frame creak as Jeonghan gets into bed. It feels strange to have him in the same bed again, something you used to yearn for, now something so strange and troubling.

“Neighbors are loud,” he states, his voice muffled. You curl your fingers into the bedspread, and sigh silently before turning on your side so you’re facing him. Sure enough, now that you’re paying attention you can hear party music bleeding in from the room next to yours.

Jeonghan is nothing more than a dark outline against the sparing light that seeps in from under the door. “G’night,” you say softly. Softer than you intended, anyway. You bite your lip and duck your head under the blanket, feeling inexplicably schoolgirlish.

With the way your heart beats in your chest, it sounds almost as loud as the music coming from next door. You’re almost worried about him hearing it, but if he does, he doesn’t betray a thought. There’s no way I’m falling asleep like this, you think to yourself, but it doesn’t take more than a few minutes before you’re at the soft edges of sleep.

“Good night,” Jeonghan whispers back, just as you begin to drift off.

True to your word, the first place you put on your list of shopping locations is the local Walmart.

“You know I intend to wear these newly-acquired clothes outside of this trip, right?” Jeonghan complains as you browse a rack of t-shirts that advertise themselves as being up to fifty percent off! “You’re wasting your time if you think I’m going to spend my well-earned money on anything here.”

“May I remind you, mister, that this whole trip thing was your idea?" you ask, pulling out a tie-dyed shirt that’s a swirl of shades of peach and baby blue, and holding it up in front of his frame with an appreciative hum. “Plus, don’t you feel gross in your sweaty old underwear? This could be the splash of color your wardrobe so desperately needs.”

Jeonghan looks unimpressed. He pushes the tie-dye down, looking over it at you with a shake of his head. “I know better than to trust your choices, even those made with good intentions. And your intentions at the moment are clearly not good,” he emphasizes. “Anyway, this is not the underwear section.”

You raise your eyebrows, and look behind you pointedly at what is, actually, the underwear section. Jeonghan follows your gaze to the display of Fruit of the Loom underwear. “No, nope,” he murmurs. “Don’t even think about it.”

“Too good for Walmart underwear, are we?” You wrinkle your nose, but don't press the issue, moving instead towards another part of the t-shirts section. The tie-dye stays in your hand, though. 

“With underwear, I always believe that what you get is what you pay for,” Jeonghan says, then frowns. “What are you doing?”

You look up, innocent. “These crewnecks are on sale too.”

“That’s because it’s the peak of blistering summer,” he says, exasperated. “No one’s wearing crewnecks.”

“At night, though.”

“I’m not wearing a crewneck to bed.”

You’re about to crack a joke about going on long walks by the beach, but think better of it. Jeonghan looks confused by your sudden surrender, but you’re too busy looking in every other direction possible as a prickly heat crawls up your neck. “You really are a snob,” you mumble.

“I’m not a snob.” He rolls his eyes. “Can we go somewhere else? Anywhere else?”

You glance back, coy. “Anywhere?”

He grimaces. “I take that back.”

“Your wish is my command.” You wave the blue-and-coral tie-dye in the air. “We’re buying this one though. Don’t think for a second I’m gonna let you walk out of here empty-handed.”

For once, Jeonghan doesn’t complain, but he does purse his lips to make his feelings clear. “I guess I could make use of it when I have no clean clothes left.”

“Come on, it’s not that bad.”

He still pays for it—and some clean, much-needed underwear, despite his many complaints—at the counter, and you’re honestly surprised at how civil he's being. You'd thought that it would require a lot more effort to make this whole thing as smooth as possible after the fiasco in the car, but he's been on his beat behavior since then.

Despite your outburst and Jeonghan’s subsequent apology, you’re aware that neither of you have actually broached the reason for this tension. It’s much easier to just not think about the break-up, and act like it never happened, because that’s a whole can of worms right there that you do not wish to open. 

You wish you could unscrew the top of your head and bring your brain out. Give it a good shake to dust off all the stray thoughts you keep having about Jeonghan and your self-control and your relationship, and just let yourself enjoy the ride. Unfortunately, it doesn't work that way.

“We could go thrifting,” you suggest once you’re in the car, and for once, Jeonghan doesn’t seem too opposed to the idea.

The first thrift store you find on the GPS is small and plain-looking, but upon entering the dilapidated, run-down looking building you quickly learn not to judge the book by its cover. Inside, Jeonghan picks up a fluffy hot pink scarf with a wince, and you can’t help but laugh.

“You should try that one on, actually. It matches your mean girl vibe,” you point out, digging through the bin where he found the scarf in question.

“I like mean girl better than snob.” He slings the scarf around his neck. He'd decided to trade in his white button-up for the tie-dye you got from Walmart, but not before proclaiming that it was only because he needed clean clothes to wear. “It sounds more like a phase that way.”

“It doesn’t fit as well though,” you say, bringing out a sequined shirt. “Ooh, try this one. The disco vibes would make you a hit at the local club.”

“Thirty years ago, maybe,” he grumbles, but adds it to the cart. “Can’t you look for something more…”

“Boring?”

“Classy,” he finishes with a pointed look.

You grin. “As my lord pleases,” you announce, and hold up a plain brown t-shirt. Jeonghan arches his eyebrows, looking mildly surprised and skeptical, until you turn it around to reveal the Twilight logo with the faces of the main trio plastered below it. “Doth thou find this to thy liking, good sir?”

There’s an expression of part disgust, part enjoyment (and is that a glimpse of fondness you catch in his eye?) on his face. “Verily, fair maiden. It is to my utmost satisfaction,” he replies, a smile playing on his lips. “And it would be dost, not doth.”

“Very well.” You drop the shirt into the cart and straighten, grin unwavering. “Let us look around.”

He offers you his arm, and you hesitate only a millisecond before taking it. “Shall we?”

You nod, keeping the smile in place. “We shall.”

The two of you end up staying in the store until it closes, losing track of time as Jeonghan models different outfits you throw together—“This one has a dick drawn on the back.” “I know, right?”—and bring to him in the changing rooms. It’s not entirely a waste—he actually ends up finding some decent clothes, which you make him pack into a hello kitty backpack, and you buy the heart-shaped sunglasses that manage to catch your attention. By the time you come out and agree to get an unhealthy dinner from a McDonald’s drive-thru, it’s almost nine, but you’re on a dopamine high that you know is going to keep you up for a long while.

Also, you kind of don’t want to go to sleep. Going to sleep means finding a cheap place to stay, with vacancies, during tourist season, which means you’re probably only going to find a single bed. After all you’ve done to keep an invisible barrier between the two of you today (which is to say: not much) you don’t trust yourself enough to try to risk sleeping in the same bed again.

Jeonghan seems to have had the same idea, so you end up taking mini naps while switching with him to drive all night to the next destination. Most of the night, at least. It’s about four in the morning when you realize you’re beginning to nod off in the driver’s seat, so you pull over and nudge Jeonghan awake.

“I don’t think going on is good for our health,” you tell him seriously.

He’s still half-asleep, but he bestirs himself at your words, rubbing his eyes with the knuckles of a closed fist. “Uh, okay,” he mutters, opening his eyes wide and blinking the sleep out of them. “Why?”

“It’s irresponsible,” you insist. “You know, from a road safety perspective. Also, I almost drove us into a tree.”

That wakes him up quick. “What do you suggest, then?” he asks, sitting up. “Sleeping in the car?”

“Well,” you begin, unsure, “yeah?”

“Are you crazy? We’ll freeze to death.”

“No we won’t,” you whisper back, then clear your throat, not sure why you’re whispering. “Body heat.”

Jeonghan puts his face in his hands for a few seconds, then exhales deeply. “Okay,” he mutters savagely, dragging his fingers down his face. He looks up at you, and there’s a languid sharpness in his eyes that makes you squirm in your seat. “Four hours,” he says. “Don’t complain later if you can’t take it.”

You try for a scoff to hide your discomposure, but end up yawning instead. “Whatever,” you murmur, putting your forearm against the wheel and leaning your face against it. It’s still dark out, and you are freezing a little bit, but the dull orange light that lights up the interior of the car makes it feel slightly warmer. “It’s not like we have anything worth stealing.”

Jeonghan lounges against the passenger seat. He’s still wearing the stupid tie-dye, and the orange of the interior lights have washed out the peach in his shirt. The rest of him is bathed in the same color, making his skin look like it’s been licked by fire. You watch him undo the seatbelt buckle with hooded eyes, curling your fingers around the steering wheel to contain yourself. Even as he climbs into the backseat, you don’t move, eyes still fixed on him. 

Would you have reached for him if you didn’t remember every word he said that day? Maybe you should talk about what happened, to clear the air at least. You try to think of how that would go. Jeonghan, you would start, about what happened—

“Are you coming or not?” Jeonghan asks. He leans forward, beckoning you with a crooked finger, and your gaze glides over the collarbone that peeks out from just below his neck. His voice is breathy and low, making something twang in your gut. You pull yourself up quickly, and follow him before you can change your mind. Jeonghan pulls out a few of his clothes from the backpack to cushion the seat. The space is small, cramped, and smells like cheese, but you think about none of those things except the heat of his body against yours. This is, undoubtedly, the most terrible idea you’ve had so far.

“This is a terrible idea,” you voice, as he pulls an oversized shirt over your legs and leans back. You’re not half as sleepy as you were mere moments ago. The comfort is so deeply unsettling that you feel like you’d rather nap in a bush.

“As I said,” he murmurs, gaze darting to your lips for a millisecond. You gulp. He looks like he’s made of honey and marmalade. “Do you want to turn off the light?”

“So passer-bys don’t think we’re fucking in the back of the car?” A nervous laugh bubbles up your throat like an uncorked Coke bottle, the regret following the words as soon as they come out. You glance up at him, pulse jumping, but his eyes are already closed. “Oh. Um. I’ll turn them off.”

It doesn’t take long for Jeonghan’s breaths to even out, but you lie awake for a long time, listening to your own heartbeat. It’s long past ten a.m. before either of you wakes up.

You spend the next few days doing what you do best—wasting time. This was what you’d planned originally, doing absolutely nothing and deciding destinations on the road, but it was supposed to be with someone who knew you well. While you have no doubt that Jeonghan had managed to puzzle out every part of you before, you're no longer the same pedantic, rule-abiding perfectionist that he probably remembers. You think you’ve changed a lot since you last saw him, and since a major part of that owes itself to him not being in your life any more, you don’t know how to adjust your relationship to that change.

There’s a day you spend most of at a microbrewery, where you manage to snag a guided tour to the home brewing process and Jeonghan develops a taste for fruit beers. Another where you trek up the mountains at a national park just to watch the sunset, sitting on a rock with your sore legs and sharing an artisanal. Once you spend the whole day at the pier.

“There.” You point at a highway, licking the side of your strawberry ice cream (Jeonghan takes the mint). “That’s the road I took while following this stupid underground band on their tour. Didn’t even like them that much, but these guys convinced me, and it turned out to be kind of fun. Sort of like a grown-up camping trip.”

Jeonghan squints at where you’re pointing, then shakes his head. “So that’s why you were so confident about sleeping overnight in a car in the desert.”

“S’not that bad.” You shrug. “I thought it would be like a new experience, you know, and that’s where I got this idea about the road trip in the first place. I don’t think Joshua expected me to suggest something so…careless.”

He’s silent for a long moment. You glance at him sideways, and clutch the bear plushie you won at the ring toss. “Do you ever miss it?” he asks at length.

“Never,” you reply quietly. Maybe you haven’t changed as much as you thought.

Every location is fun at first before your not-relationship gets in the way, slowly chipping away at your sanity like a heavy-handed ax. You swear you’ve barely touched alcohol, but soon the days begin to blur together, and by the time you get anywhere near the beach you don’t even know what day it is.

Saturday, your phone says.

You swipe ignore on Joshua’s sixteenth call in the past few days, this time not even bothering to shoot him a text in its stead. It’s late in the afternoon, and you’re lying on your stomach on an extremely soft mattress in a fancy hotel, ankles crossed in the air as you read an old copy of Gone Girl that you borrowed from Mina in case you got bored. 

Or you were reading it. You press your lips together as you finish reading the same paragraph for the seventh time without actually absorbing any of it, and sigh. Jeonghan reaches over and flicks the cover before leaning back. “Female rage, huh?” he asks, settling back against the pillows. “Should I be concerned?”

The colors of the sunset seep in through the slits between the blinds. You look up at him, noting his watchful gaze, the controlled set of his mouth. Somehow you feel more resentful than wary. “I don’t know.” You roll onto your back and jut your chin out, looking at him upside down. “Should you?”

He doesn’t give up. “Are you angry?”

Your fingers coil more tightly around the book. You match his stare for another second before propping yourself up on your elbow and going back to the text. “No,” you reply after a second, still with your back to him.

“I think you are.”

You throw your head back, irritated, and set the book back down on the bed. “Why would I be angry?” you ask, turning your face in his direction. “I’m just tired. That’s all. It’s too hot to do anything anyway, we can just go out after the sun goes down.”

Jeonghan doesn’t seem convinced, but he doesn’t push you on the subject, and you’re relieved. The truth is that you’ve been feeling irritated and guilty and rash ever since you woke up, but don’t want to give yourself the chance to do something stupid.

“Where do you want to go today?” he asks instead.

You frown, squeezing the bridge of your nose between a forefinger and thumb. “I don’t know,” you repeat. “Maybe nowhere. Do nothing.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “What were you planning to do with Joshua?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, all of that went out the window the second he broke his damned leg,” you snap. Then you pull back with a wince. “Shit. Sorry. I think I’m getting a headache.”

He doesn’t say anything, only offers you a glass of water, which you accept with a quiet thanks. It’s not going to help, though, you know that; your headache has deeper roots than that. The water is lukewarm, and you gulp the water down, spilling half of it over your mouth and down your shirt. “Maybe we can go somewhere you want,” you say, pursing your lips into the best smile you can muster. “You know, this was for the both of us.”

“I know,” Jeonghan replies, monotonous. “You’re getting a nosebleed.”

“What? Oh, fuck.” You hurriedly put the glass down on a side table and head to the washroom. Sure enough, when you look into the mirror, your upper lip is coated in crimson.

“Fuck,” you whisper to yourself again, and bend over the basin. The sound of running water almost drowns out Jeonghan’s footsteps, so you jump a bit when you hear his voice.

“Let’s go to a club,” he says. You straighten, holding a napkin to your nose, and glance back at him. He’s leaning against the doorframe, arms folded over his chest. “Sounds like you need to get drunk,” he says, shrugging.

Your lips part. “Okay.” You turn and grab another napkin. “Sure, yeah, let’s go.”

The teeming throngs of people seem to envelope you, like a piece of paper folded over and over. The air in the nightclub is stale but cold, with undercurrents of sour sweat and sweet coke syrup. You wouldn’t call yourself a stranger to this scene, but for some reason, it feels foreign.

You weave your way through the crowd on the dance floor, an untouched glass in your hand. Although the whole ordeal had been Jeonghan’s idea, he’d disappeared less than ten minutes after you came, no doubt off buying pretty girls drinks. Being seen with you would probably ruin his night, but at least someone’s living their single life to the fullest.

You, on the other hand, have not been having fun at all. It’s not entirely unexpected, since the whole reason you’d said yes to the idea was because you’d felt bad about snapping at him. Usually, you go drinking to unwind after a stressful week, but today you just can’t seem to get into it. You suspect it’s because you’re alone. The music is loud and heavy and while you remember noting that it’s one of your favorite songs, all you can hear right now is the bass. You feel it in your skull and your teeth and jarring all up your sciatic nerve, sending little jolts through your spine. If you didn’t have a headache before, you’re definitely close to getting one now.

Someone brushes past you, and you almost spill the drink in your hand all over the dress. Annoyed, you turn to snap, but they’re already gone by the time you’ve turned around. You sigh, massaging your temple with your free hand, and sit down at the first table you see, placing the glass with the red drink sloshing around inside. The pulsating lights make the surface of the liquid flash, turning it orange and pink and even green. You don’t even remember what it is supposed to be.

With a deep sigh, you pull the glass off the table and nurse it in your lap, head dropping from exhaustion. Maybe if you had someone to dance with you, but your choleric disposition has a habit of chasing people away, and tonight you’ve dialed it up by about a hundred.

A shadow looms over you, blocking the lights, and the color winks out of the drink in your lap. You look up with a glower, ready to chastise what is undoubtedly another hopelessly drunk guy looking to hit on single girls, but falter when you manage to make out the man’s features.

Jeonghan’s blonde hair looks lilac in the lighting. His hands are in his pockets, and he’s got that white shirt on again, but the lights have bled into it like with your drink, turning it different colors. For a moment, neither of you move, him looking down at you and you matching his stare from the seat.

“Are you drunk?”

You shake your head mutely.

If he doubts your honesty, he doesn’t show it. “Wanna get out of here?”

It’s stupid, but you feel bad. You’ve never known him to be into the whole party scene, but maybe he’s gotten different hobbies since you split up, and you feel like you’re taking that away from him. “Don’t you want to stay?” you ask, setting the glass on the small table. “I know the way back.”

He offers you a small smile. “You know how I feel about places like this,” he answers as you prepare to leave. Then why did you suggest it in the first place? you want to ask, but dare not utter a word. “Well then—” He offers you a hand, the smile softening— “my lady?” 

His voice is low, but you hear it like an arrow singing through the noise. “As my lord pleases,” you murmur with an incline of your head, a smile creeping onto your lips as you take his hand.

Jeonghan tugs you through the crowd, his grip gentle yet firm. You pull yourself closer to him, marveling at how the sea of people seems to part before him, like he’s a warm knife going through butter. “You should’ve told me if you didn’t want to come,” he yells back at you.

“It’s not that I didn’t want to,” you explain, wrapping an arm around yourself as the two of you step out into the night air. It’s much colder outside even with the crowd, and you barely manage to suppress a shiver. “I thought it might be—fun.”

“But it wasn’t?”

You shake your head stiffly, shoulders raised against the late night chill. It’s only then that you realize your right hand is still intertwined with his, with you almost hanging off his arm. Flushing, you extract it quickly, folding your arms across your chest. “Let’s just go back to the hotel.”

You can’t see his face, but you imagine him burning holes into the side of your face. But he only nods.

Back at the hotel, you lean against the basin in the washroom, staring at yourself in the foggy mirror. Your face looks back at you from the parts where you wiped off the mist with the heel of your palm, smokey-eyed, your makeup smudged. The cold ceramic seems to cut into your hands, but you’re grateful for it.

With the bathroom door left ajar, you can hear Jeonghan in the connecting room. “Sorry about ruining your night,” you offer with the most apologetic tone you can summon, but your heart feels as numb as your fingertips. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you hear him say, his voice feeling like it’s coming from a tunnel. You know exactly what’s gotten into you though. 

You swallow against the hard knot of dryness that has lodged itself in your throat. Your head is pounding, and you feel like something is splitting you apart from the inside, like a block of ice in your chest that refuses to melt. Am I really that cold inside? Throughout this trip, you’ve found yourself wishing multiple times that the distance between you and Jeonghan didn’t feel so great, but now the thought overwhelms you, washing over you like a riptide, and you feel like you’s gotten into you to sea.

You think about just giving in, but you want to preserve some semblance to self respect. Although none of your concerns feel grounded—Jeonghan’s been the perfect gentleman since after you broke down on him. The memory of your last argument eight—now nine—months ago, his harsh words cutting you down, they all feel so far away. So unreal. You wonder if you imagined breaking up.

“I shouldn’t act so immature, right?” you wonder aloud, and spin around to face him. Jeonghan’s standing just outside the bathroom, fiddling with the cuff of his shirt, and blinks at your question. “I mean, we’re not in high school anymore.”

His brow twitches, like he’s about to frown. “You’re not acting immature.”

You feel slightly hysterical. There’s exactly one thing you want from him—a reaction. Even though you know it’s only going to make things worse. “You don’t think so?” you ask, very quietly.

The frown finally manifested itself on his face. “Are you drunk?” he asks again, enunciating each word slowly and carefully.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Jeonghan.” There’s a wild edge to your voice that has him tilting his head. “Why are you so—so—” Blank. Unaffected. Maddening. “Calm?”

The frown flickers away, and once again, he goes back to looking as unemotional as an alabaster statue. Just as beautiful, driving you insane with a feeling that you can’t quite put into words. “What would you rather have me be?”

One second you’re leaning against the doorframe, fingernails gouging into the wood, and the next second you’re on him, reaching out like you’re about to claw his face off. Before you know it, you’re kissing Jeonghan with all the viciousness of a bite. 

Your hands grip his shoulders, then slide up to his neck and down to his upper back. You can feel his shirt creasing where your nails dig into it, so desperately that you think they might leave crescent-shaped scars. “What do you think?” you hiss into his ear as he stumbles, stepping back to steady himself, his hands coming to your hips. You lean into him, returning to his lips, and then he’s kissing you back.

Jeonghan slides his hand over the diaphanous material of your dress, reaching up to slide into your hair, deepening the kiss. His other hand grips your waist, pulling you as close to himself as humanly possible. His arm crushes you against himself as his lips part against yours, kissing you like he was breathing from you, as desperate as if he were drowning.

It’s as if he’s come alive under your touch, so different from the unemotional front he’d displayed just seconds earlier. His hands roam your body, exploring, tracing, remembering. You open yourself to him, letting every doubt and second thought be washed away by the tide of emotion that rages inside you. Jeonghan tastes like strawberries, his lips soft and sweet, and you feel like putty in his hands, but you still manage to push him into the bed. You’re in his lap now, legs on either side of him, slowly and teasingly tracing the roof of his mouth with the tip of your tongue.

Jeonghan’s hands travel up your waist to your breasts, and you press your lips to the junction of his jaw and neck, right over the pulse. He moans into your mouth, and you feel hot all over—the good kind of hot, the kind that makes you feel like you’re standing in his fire, sweating harder to feel more keenly the wind against your skin. It starts in the pit of your stomach and spreads to your core, your chest that’s flush against his, your hands as you pin his shoulders to the mattress. You kiss him again, hands moving to his chest as you start to unbutton his shirt.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Jeonghan breathes, covering your hands with his. You make an impatient noise at the back of your throat, but pause, pushing yourself up so you’re straddling him. “You’re not drunk.”

You give him a black look.

“Okay, okay.” His breaths are coming in pants, each as ragged as the last. “I…I don’t have a condom—”

“I do,” you cut him off in the middle. He gives you a questioning look, and you huff. “I was going to get laid, okay? One way or another.”

His lips part, and for a long moment, no sound comes out of them. “Are you sure?” he asks lamely.

You stare at him, flabbergasted. “What do you think?” you demand again. He’s such a sight under you, with a half-unbuttoned shirt and swollen lips, that you’re having trouble stringing words together. “Jeonghan—I don’t know what it is that’s holding you back, or—or if you just don’t want to have sex with me, but—”

“Not like this,” he interrupts. There’s a softness to his voice, even as he looks up at you with heavy-lidded eyes. Your hand twitches where it’s lying on his chest. “I mean. You’re not in the right state of mind—”

You’re incredulous. “It doesn’t have to mean anything, Jeonghan,” you say, petulance creeping into your voice as you struggle to maintain your composure. “I’m upset and frustrated and I really need this, okay?” Your voice cracks just slightly, but it’s enough for the air to get knocked out of him. 

Some part of you tells you not to do this. To apologize, maybe laugh it off with a shitty joke about getting rid of the tension, act like you don’t want to open him up and climb into him. Sex has never been the solution to your problems. But you’re on a mean bad decision streak, so you just bite down on your lip, swallowing your feelings.

“Please touch me,” you whimper, and Jeonghan takes in a sharp breath, briefly closing his eyes before moving to oblige. 

His hands go back to your waist, but this time he flips your positions. He grasps the hem of your dress, and you stretch your arms, letting him tug it up and off your frame. You watch as his eyes rove over you, and his pupils darken, swallowing the warm brown of his eyes. Jeonghan leans down next to your ear, and you feel the dent in the mattress next to your head where his palm presses into it.  “Remember,” he says, as your stomach flutters weakly, “you asked for this.”

Jeonghan’s knee nudges yours to part your thighs, and the next thing you feel is two of his fingers pressing against the already-damped seat of your panties. “Didn’t expect to be so wet already,” he murmurs, and your face heats up like he toom a match to it. “Is that what you meant by frustrated?” Wordlessly, you arch against him, eager. “Hips,” he commands, and you raise your hips to allow him to pull your panties down your legs, where you agitatedly kick them off your ankles.

You suck in an anticipatory breath as his fingers push against your unclothed core. He doesn’t even need to look for your clit—the pad of his thumb is pressed against the bundle of nerves a second later, rubbing circles into it. You screw your eyes shut and throw your head back, clenching your thighs around his arm. “Oh god,” you gasp. “Oh god oh fuck—”

You cut yourself off with a sharp inhale to grab his forearm, digging your fingers into it as he flicks a finger against your clit. “You’re so sensitive,” Jeonghan remarks, a smug smirk painted on his face. “Always were. That’s what made playing with you so much fun.”

You open your eyes just to narrow them at him, panting. “Oh, finally, there he is,” you drawl breathlessly. “The resident devil of—Jeonghan!”

He has the gall to laugh as your entire body jerks in response to his middle finger pushing past your folds and into your heat. “Admit it. You like me better that way,” he counters, adding another finger inside you. You arch your back, sucking his fingers deeper inside your cunt as he curls the digits in your core.

“I did admit it,” you breathe. It’s astounding, how quickly the two of you fall back into the familiar play, trading words back and forth like you’ve been doing this all your life. His thumb swipes down against your slit, collecting your wetness and massaging it back into your clit. You buck against his hand, mewling. “Fuck, Jeonghan, pleasepleaseplease—”

Watching him like this, you suddenly remember that no matter how mild-mannered he may seem to the untrained eye, Jeonghan is neither calm nor reserved. He is sanguine, a hunter in the night, smelling blood from a mile away. And you've always been his favorite plaything.

“There’s a good girl,” he praises, but his fingers pull away a second later. You bemoan the loss of the friction, desperately rubbing your aching thighs together for any sort of relief. Jeonghan’s fingers dig into the inside of your thighs, prying them apart firmly. You begin to protest, but he quells you with a look. “But I can’t let you have it just yet.”

You’re panting. “Fuck you.”

He only smiles. “Condom.”

You gesture towards the bedside table with a tilt of your chin. “Second drawer,” you choke out, feeling like someone’s set a fire to the base of your brain, cutting off your ability to form coherent thoughts. Jeonghan retrieves it, waving the small square packet in the air as if to further provoke you. You settle back onto the sheets, waiting for him to put it on, but instead he leans his weight back against you, playfully nipping at your collarbone. You grit your teeth, grabbing the front of his shirt.

“You can be such an asshole sometimes, you know that?” You hiss, and start unbuttoning his shirt hastily. 

“Well, I tried being nice, and you hated that,” he murmurs against the base of your throat, sending vibrations through your sternum. You fling open his shirt, and he takes it off fully, balling it up and throwing it to some dark corner of the room. “Aren’t you hurrying too much?” he says, but when you roll down against his hips, the bulge straining against the seat of his pants is unmistakable.

“Aren’t you talking too much?” you fire back, and he chuckles. You hear the sound of the packet tearing and the subsequent unzipping of his pants. Jeonghan rubs the head of his cock against your slick heat, almost making you sob, and pushes it in.

Your fingers claw against his back when he slowly rolls his hips into yours, sending a wave of pleasure through your body. “I forgot how good you felt,” he rasps, sidling his hands under your arms and pulling them off him. The heel of his palms skims your forearm, reaching up to meet your wrist. When he presses his fingertips against the palm of your hand, you open up to him like a flower in bloom, letting him twine your fingers with his in a slow, decisive motion.

The head of his cock brushes against your sweet spot, and your mind goes blank with bliss. Jeonghan says your name like a prayer as he pushes deeper into you, harder, and the feeling of hot-and-cold pleasure stirs in your abdomen. His pace quickens, hips snapping faster against yours, and you begin to feel dizzy and delirious. 

You gasp his name, and he shudders as he breathes out, all but falling against you. His fingers tighten around yours as he moves, the tip of your nose nudging his, his forehead cool and damp with sweat where it meets yours. He draws your orgasm out, still fucking into you as you reach your climax. You call out his name as you ride out your high, and his face twists with desire so devastating that it looks almost like pain. He thrusts into you once, twice, only a few more times before he comes, almost collapsing on top of you when he finishes. The pent-up frustration is gone, you realize as you lie in bed and stare up at the ceiling, along with the misery and confusion and anger. 

You clean yourself off in the bathroom in silence, as he wipes off your makeup with a gentleness that you’d almost forgotten. Neither of you speak, but the silence is heavy and comfortable like a winter blanket. A voice at the back of your head is screaming at you about consequences, but it’s small and tin-like and easy enough to tune out in the face of Jeonghan’s lips brushing against your temple.

Plenty of time for regret in the morning.

And, oh boy, does the regret hit like a fucking truck.

You’re the first one up, waking to the feeling of soft blankets on your bare skin and Jeonghan’s sleeping face just inches from yours. Startled, you sit up, the strap of your bra slipping off one shoulder.

Then you’re slipping off the covers and making a beeline for the bathroom, stopping only to grab your phone off the bedside table before locking the door behind you. You lean against it heavily as your legs seem to give out, breathing hard as if you just woke up from a nightmare. 

You slept with your ex last night. The one thing your friends with active dating lives told you never to do. And it was all your idea.

Fuck.

Still trying to steady yourself, you sit down heavily on the edge of the toilet seat, placing your head in your hands. It was a stupid decision, and you know that—hell, you’d known that going into it—but now it’s time to deal with the aftermath. Jeonghan himself is going to wake up in no time, and you don’t even want to think about how he’s going to react.

You try to think of someone smarter than you, but after your actions last night, the bar proves to be pretty low. Your first thought is Joshua, but you feel even more like shit when you think of calling him, so reject that option out of hand. Someone who’d know what to do, you think to yourself as you shakily dial the number on your phone, fingers trembling.

She picks up on the fourth ring. “Hey, girliepop,” Mina greets in a bright, peppy voice, as your shoulders sag with relief. “I feel like I haven’t heard from you in ages. What’s up? How’s home?”

You don’t waste a second. “I did something really, really bad.”

A pause. “Do you need help hiding a body?”

“What? No. I slept with Jeonghan.” You cover your mouth, briefly closing your eyes. Saying it out loud makes it sound even worse. “I’m so screwed.”

“The hot ex-boyfriend? Oh, honey, don’t worry, that’s a mistake we all make at least once in our lives,” she says sympathetically. “Were you drunk?”

You squint. “No…”

“Okay,” she says slowly, and you wince. “Do you…want to do it again?”

At that, you pause. Do you want to do it again? You hadn’t even thought of it before this. “I mean…” You trail off, doubtful. “The sex was pretty great, but…”

You can imagine her twirling a lollipop stick between her fingers, sucking thoughtfully on the candy. “I don’t know, I’m gonna need a lot more context,” she asks finally. “Why did you guys break up? How long were you together? What kind of person is he? It depends on a lot of things.” Another pause, and you can almost see her raising her eyebrows at you, like, well? “You gotta give me something to go on here.”

You try to think of an answer, but every thought feels muddled, like you’ve reached peak brain capacity. “Um,” you start, haltingly, “we have a lot of history, I guess.”

She hums, which sounds like a muted buzz through the line. “Like what? Childhood best friend type of history? On-and-off kind of history?”

You close your eyes, focusing intently. “Um…well…we have known each other since we were in grade school. And we dated for most of high school, and almost two years after that. Then we…we broke up in October, last year.”

“Why?”

That’s a loaded question. You pass a hand over your face, trying to think of how you can explain it. You remember there being so many reasons for it, but now that you’re trying to remember them, not a single coherent-sounding explanation presents itself. “It’s complicated?”

Mina tuts. “I get it if you don’t want to talk about it, but I can’t help you if I don’t know what the problem is, babe.”

“I’m so confused,” you lament, biting your lip. You try to explain the situation as best as you can, how you decided to ditch your plans and go on a fuckass road trip with your ex. Everything comes out like a barrage: all the doubts you’ve had about your relationship with Jeonghan, the constant second-guessing yourself, all your worries about his inconsistent behavior. By the time you’re done, Mina’s gone silent on the other side. 

She doesn’t say anything for a long time, so you listen to the soft crackling of her breathing mixing with the sounds of traffic coming in through the tiny window on the opposing wall. “Oh, honey,” comes her fizzy voice from the speaker finally. “Now I wish I’d convinced you to go on that blind date.”

You laugh softly. “Yeah. It’s just… Every sensible bone in my body is telling me I’ve made some kind of mistake, that I’ve crossed some invisible line, but it was so easy,” you tell her. “Last night, when we—it felt like old times. As if nothing had ever happened. And now I’m wondering if that’s what I’ve wanted all this time.”

“I almost wish you’d come to me with a murder to cover up, because at least I’d be able to help you then,” she replies. “But if you think that maybe this is what you want, and if he wants the same thing, then you can still work it out, you know? You’re a smart girl. You can figure out what you want.”

A smile tugs at the corner of your lips. “I wouldn’t be so sure,” you murmur, using your pinky to trace a crescent into your bare knee. “But thanks.”

Her grin is crystal-clear in your mind. “I’ve got faith in you.”

“That makes one of us,” you quip, and she laughs as you hang up. 

The call didn’t help much, but you’re glad to have gotten some things off your chest. The narrow walls of the bathroom don't feel so suffocating anymore. All right. You pull your knees up decisively, straightening your spine. It’s my problem to fix now, you think. Even if you don’t feel calm, you have to at least act like you are.

Taking a deep breath, you unlatch the door and step outside, closing it slowly behind yourself. As you’d thought, Jeonghan is already up and dressed. Well, kind of. He has his boxers on, and the shirt from last night, crumpled and still unbuttoned. You stare, frozen in place, as he turns and notices you. A beaming smile spreads across his face.

“I went ahead and ordered room service,” he says by way of greeting. “Considering it’s past twelve and absolutely boiling outside, I thought we might stay in for brunch instead. I hope you like pasta, ” he says, shrugging. Then he notices the look on your face. “Is something wrong?”

You blink slowly, as if coming out of a daze. “Something wrong?” you echo, wondering if you sound as bewildered as you feel. “Something…Jeonghan.”

His eyebrows arch. “Yeah?”

“We had sex,” you say slowly.

“We—yes.” He nods, slowly at first, but then more rapidly, until he looks like a bobblehead. “Yeah, but—I mean, we used protection, and we talked about it before, kind of, and I thought it was fine, you know, because—” He’s rambling. You’re beginning to realize he’s not as nonchalant as he appeared a moment ago. “At least we didn’t have sex very publicly in, in the motel, or the car, or—”

It’s like a strange tranquility has descended over you. Jeonghan swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, and he looks anxious. You haven’t seen him anxious in so long.

It feels like the roles have been flipped. You know that’s not quite true, and your poise is only temporary, but at least he’s not giving you unreadable looks every time you try to show vulnerability, tripping you up on your own words. You just hope you’re not going to use this opportunity to do something stupid again.

“Jeonghan,” you interrupt. Mina hadn’t really given you any clear-cut counsel, but it seems her reassurance had been all you needed. “If we’re going to do this, we need to set some ground rules.”

‘No strings attached’ sounds weightless in your mouth, but the words seem to sink like stones into your mind.

Still, now that at least the sexual tension is out of the way, you feel as unburdened as those girls in sanitary pad ads. Jeonghan’s inner navigator must be in touch with his good-for-nothing side, because he turns out to be absolute magic with finding amazing out-of-the-way places. The two of you go off-road for a while, but get lost so you decide to stick to what you could identify on the map. There’s another day spent walking around at a doll museum and pointing out dolls that you thought looked like people you both know.

It feels a bit silly, running around with Jeonghan all the time, but it’s the happiest you’ve been in months. You take baths together, and sometimes you go out for ice cream, and despite some of the lewd activities involved, it feels as sweet and innocent as kids playing house.

After the first time your motel room neighbor bangs on your shared wall to ask you to be quieter during sex, you decide that sticking to places with reliably thick walls is the way to go. That’s how you find out that Jeonghan has developed a taste for long baths.

You’re rummaging around inside your suitcase, looking for the paperback you borrowed from your roommate, untouched since the day you stopped reading it right in the middle. “Jeonghan!” you call, overturning a pair of pajamas. Even in a thin robe, you can feel the heat almost radiating off the floor. “Did you see my book? I’m kind of worried that I left it somewhere.”

No response.

Frowning, you stand, looking at the cream-painted door on the opposing wall. It’s firmly shut, and has been that way for the past hour or so, not a sound escaping from inside. You cross the room and check the handle, not too surprised when it swings open.

One glance inside gives it away. Jeonghan looks at you with displeasure, only his head poking out from behind the side of the bathtub. Well, that and the copy of Gone Girl you’ve been looking for the past half-hour, clasped in a long-fingered hand, his elbow propped against the lip of the porcelain tub. “Do you mind?” the perpetrator asks.

You place your hands on your hips, giving him an unimpressed look. “You’ve been in here for over an hour,” you tell him. “At this rate your body is going to turn into an overripe raisin. Also, that’s my book.”

He turns the book over to regard it. “I thought you weren’t reading it.”

“I wasn’t. Emphasis on was.” You rest your hand on the door handle. “There are other people who want to take a bath, you know.”

“Aw, I was just looking for some entertainment.” He flashes a grin at you. “But if you have a better idea…”

You roll your eyes, but unfasten the robe anyway. Jeonghan’s eyes follow your every move, pupils blown wide. He places a cheek on his arm, eyes half-mast as you slip the robe off your shoulders, letting it pool on the floor at your feet.

“Nothing underneath, huh?” he muses. “Have I been out-maneuvered?”

You ignore that. “Move over,” you say shortly.

“Don’t need to ask me twice.”

(Later, when you’re lying on the bed after having managed to wrestle the book away from him, Jeonghan brushes his fingers against the sliver of exposed skin under your shirt. “Don’t even try,” you warn him, after smacking his hand with the spine of the book.

“I thought you wanted to do something ‘wild’,” he says, making air quotes with his hands. You smack him again.

“Not everything is about sex,” you remind him, not really meaning it.

“‘Everything in the world is about sex except sex.’” he quotes. “‘Sex is about power.’”

You roll onto your side, letting the book fall shut as your forearm hits the mattress. “You’re so full of shit, Yoon Jeonghan,” you tell him, getting a razor-sharp grin in response. But you still let him kiss you a moment later.)

By the time you finally reach the ocean, the air conditioner has been broken for two days, so when you feel the fingers of the first evening breeze sneak in through the lowered top of the window and run themselves through your hair, you almost stop the car there and then.

Jeonghan stops you, reminding you that if you get off you’ll have to walk a pretty long time before you actually get to the beach. You stay put, but when you do get to the beach you’re the first out of the car, standing spreadeagle against the flow to feel the wind on each and every inch of your skin, plastering your clothes to your frame.

“This is so much better than that stupid air conditioner,” you sigh. Jeonghan’s still fishing out that Hello Kitty backpack that contains your towels and sunscreen, so you deign to wait for him instead of going off on your own.

Something pink and plasticky covers your vision. “Here.” He grins, settling the heart-shaped sunglasses on your face. “Now you can finally use these,” he says, and turns to head off.

You fix the sunglasses before following after him. The sand is soft under your feet, shifting to accommodate the shape of your feet as you step over it. You pull your sandals off, tucking your fingers under the bands and opting to carry them at your side so you can feel the grains on your soles.

“I thought there would be more people here,” your not-boyfriend comments.

You look around. A kid is building a sandcastle near a couple that looks over him, turning over buckets to deposit clumps of wet sand to shape them into towers. A bit further away, a head wearing sunglasses pokes out of the ground as its giggling companion packs more sand over the body. Jeonghan’s right; the crowd is tamer than you expected, but it’s probably because it’s getting late and the weather is about to turn icy in no time. 

“I haven’t been to the beach in ages,” he says as you reach the shore. The wind tousles his hair, flapping his shirt around his torso, and he squints against the saline breeze. “Kind of forgot what it feels like.”

You hum contentedly, watching the tiny waves lap at your feet. “When I was a kid, my mom told me I had to dig my feet in before the tide came in, or else I would be carried away by the waves.”

He snorts. “I know. Your mom told me the same thing.”

“Right,” you smile. 

Jeonghan bends to place his hands in the sand in front of him, letting the water wash over them. “Cold,” he says. 

“You know, I did almost get washed out to sea once,” you remember. “Swam too far. There was salty water in my mouth and ears and the ground felt like it was made of hands, trying to drag me down further. My uncle told me that when they finally fished me out, my head was wrapped in kelp. He thought that telling me that would traumatize me, but I just kept swimming out again and again.”

“Stubborn and proud,” he observes. “That sounds like you.”

“Does it?” You grin, bending to scoop some of the water into your palms, and sling it off your fingertips to splash it into his face before he can realize what you’re doing. Jeonghan sputters, stumbling in the sand, and comes up with an indignant hey!

Laughing, you turn to run, and glance back to see him discarding the Hello Kitty bag to chase after you. “It’s the beach, cut me some slack!” you yell back at him. He doesn’t respond, but when he does catch you, it’s around the middle, and his tackle flings both of you into the water, you still laughing. You wrestle unsuccessfully with him for another second before coming up for air, his arms still wrapped securely around your waist.

“No fair,” you complain, but the smile that splits your face is as bright as the sun.

“No fair?” he repeats, expression indignant. “You started it.”

“Okay, but now we’re both wet.” You spit some water out of your mouth. Sure enough, your clothes are drenched, and so are his. Jeonghan staggers to his feet, pulling you up with him. His pale blonde hair is plastered to his forehead, darker where it’s wet, curling at the back of his neck. “And not in the fun way.”

“Who says this way isn’t fun?” He kicks some water at you, and you raise your arms to shield your face. Offering only a glare in retaliation, you turn, wading a little further out so the water is up to your waist. “Are you planning to get washed out again?”

“Hilarious,” you call back without turning. The sun is low in the sky, turning the ocean the colors of fire. Jeonghan comes up behind you and you close your eyes, breathing it all in.

The water tickles your waist where your shirt billows up, and the breeze cuts deliciously sharp on your damp skin, but you only shiver when Jeonghan traces a map on the exposed skin of your back.

You don’t stay in the water for long, dragging yourselves up to the shoreline to make sure you mostly dry off when the sun is still up. Jeonghan’s hair slowly curls as it dries, and he tries to comb the sand out with his fingers to no avail.

“I’m gonna need a nice hot bath after this,” he complains, carding a hand through his hair. “It’s all fun and games going to the beach until you’re digging sand out of your body for the next three weeks.”

“You take a nice hot bath at every opportunity you get,” you remind him, but you share the sentiment. The retrieved backpack swings off one shoulder, slapping against your side with every step. “That was so much fun, though. I wish we’d just come here in the beginning and stayed.”

“Nothing beats hiking for hours up a mountain just to see a yellow ball come up in the sky. You made me wake up at an ungodly hour for that, too.”

“And I’m not gonna apologize.” You stand back in the final rays of the sun, watching it sink into the horizon. Strips of gold glimmer in the blue-green of the water, shimmering like the surface of a polished jewel. “Sometimes I look at the sun on a regular day and wonder how it can do that.”

Jeonghan hums under his breath. His stance is unhurried, shoulders relaxed, hands in his pockets. You lick your lips, feeling the salt sting the raw patches where you’ve managed to break the skin by constantly worrying at it with your teeth.

Now that your mind is beginning to quiet, it’s turning to thoughts of the real world instead. For the last few days, you’ve successfully ignored every single warm tingle or stomach butterfly, every warning sign that came up when you looked at Jeonghan, but casting them aside has only made them weigh heavier on your shoulders. 

It doesn’t have to mean anything, you’d told him, but that had felt more like an excuse. Under the guise of only using each other for sex, you’ve been indulging yourself in far more than that, and it’s plain as day for you to see.

“Jeonghan,” you venture in a hushed voice, and he turns to you quizzically. “Do you ever wonder—do you ever think that you’ve made a mistake?”

Instead of answering, he offers you a lopsided smile and extracts his hand from his pocket, letting it hang in the air next to yours. It’s only your knuckles that brush the back of his hand, but you feel the heat all over—on the backs of your shoulders, north of your abdomen, as a constricting circle around your throat.

“I try not to think too much,” he says, catching your fingers lightly when they graze his. You hesitate, but choose not to pull away. “But I know that’s not your strong suit.”

The sky has gone dark. One by one, the artificial lights switch on, bathing the sand in a pale glow. With his tanned skin and platinum hair, Jeonghan looks like a tallow angel in the light, his mouth a soft rosy line curved into a smile like you’re sharing an inside joke. The breeze flows over the water, lifting his shirt up a shade.

Your heart lurches in your chest, but you manage a smile back. He’s probably right and you’re probably overthinking, but you are as helpless in the face of that knowledge as you were without it. As you murmur and you think too little with numb lips, you can't help but wonder what he’s really thinking. 

Jeonghan thinks this bar is going to be the death of him.

The Shipwreck Tavern must take its name quite seriously, because it smells exactly like how he imagines the interior of a shipwreck must smell—like fish and rotten wood. The place is filled with tough-looking old people, and the bartender must be a wrestler’s grandma, because her arms are as big as his head. Everything inside the pub looks old and feels old, except the new-looking TV that adorns a wall adjacent to the bar, playing a soccer game that seems like the local pastime, judging from the attention it garners among the tavern’s patrons.

There are probably better places the two of you could’ve gone to, but this was the nearest place he’d been able to find with an outdoor shower, and he could’ve sworn he felt a crab in his pants before. Instead of bothering to look for a place to eat, you’d suggested staying at the same place, and he hadn’t known better than to comply.

Jeonghan takes the drinks he ordered from the bar with a nod of acknowledgement, fighting to keep the smile on his face until it’s out of the bartender’s view. As soon as the old lady with the anchor tattoo on her forearm turns her back, he makes a face, turning away from a fellow customer who frowns disapprovingly at his expression. Jeonghan gives him a helpless look, and begins making his way through the crowd to a pool table in the corner.

He knows that you think he’s the more sociable out of the two of you, but he begs to disagree, and the fact that you’re already laughing along with a mean-looking guy with a shaved head is only more proof. You turn slightly to let your eyes glide over the crowd searchingly, stopping when they spot him coming towards you. Something in his chest clenches when he sees your face light up upon seeing him. You wave him over to the table, and he raises the drinks in response.

“You might wanna go slow on these. I think I saw something wiggling in the bottle she poured these drinks from,” he warns as you take the glass from him. You grin, but pay no heed to his warnings, tossing the whole thing back like it’s a regular Tuesday.

“How bad could it be?” Shrugging, you put the drink down and smooth down the front of your skirt, briefly playing with the corner where the slit ends. “Maybe it was like an eel or something.”

“Well, you’re certainly something,” he mutters to himself, raising a disbelieving eyebrow. “Why don’t you go ahead and drink mine too, if you’re so fearless? Might find a shark fin in there.”

“Those are too big to fit in a bottle, silly.” You roll your eyes, taking a cue stick leaning against a corner. “Now let’s get this party started,” you purr, bringing the stick up and across the table and positioning yourself behind it.

Jeonghan shakes his head, but doesn’t try to push down the smile that appears on his face. “Okay,” he sighs, coming around the table to your side, leaning so his face is level with yours. “So you want to keep the stick aligned with your line of sight, and try to aim for the easy pockets first.”

You lick your lips, screwing one eye shut to aim. “You underestimating me?”

“No, it’s just to keep your mood up. Now choose your shot.” You survey the layout of the table once before deciding on a target, arranging your stance to aim accordingly. Jeonghan nods. “Okay, good. Line up, and be careful about the angle.”

Placing the stick’s tip near the cue ball, you bend again. “Like this?”

He reaches over, rearranging your hand that’s splayed against the table so your first two fingers make a bridge. “Balance the cue on top of that,” he says, curling an arm around your waist. His fingertips press against the elbow of your cueing arm, stabilizing it. You shiver slightly as if a cool breeze had just blown through, making his own stomach flutter. “That’s it, like that,” he whispers in your ear, enjoying your reaction as you squirm. “Steady, steady…now try.”

Taking a deep breath, you shoot. The cue ball cuts across the dull green surface, bumping into the black ball and sending it rolling into a corner hole. Grinning, you straighten, pumping a fist in the air. “Nice!”

“Yeah, pretty nice.” Jeonghan nods. “Except we’re playing 8-ball pool, which means if you pocket the 8 ball before all the stripes and solids are gone, you lose.”

A despondent boo erupts from the audience watching the soccer match, exactly in sync with your face as it falls. “You didn’t tell me that before,” you say accusingly. “That’s cheating.”

“Good try though,” he acknowledges, taking a sip of his drink. It tastes just as bad as he’s expected. “And I didn’t cheat, I just withheld information.”

“That’s lying.”

“Tomato-tomato.”

You bring up the cue stick, pointing the polished end at his chest. “I’m about to demolish you,” you challenge.

He grins and takes a stick of his own, tapping it against yours. “Bring it on.”

Jeonghan had intended on leaving the second you were done with your food, but you end up staying for more than a few hours as you keep asking for extra rounds despite continually losing. When you finally agree to leave, it’s way past two, and you walk with a giggly, faintly tipsy stupor so he has to support you all the way to the hotel. 

Instead of falling into bed immediately upon entering the room, you pull him into the bathroom, crashing your lips against his before he has the chance to let a question pass them. Jeonghan closes his eyes, holding you against him as you wrap your arms around his neck, almost dragging him down the floor as you go limp in his arms. Your back hits the wall with a loud thump, but you still don’t let up. “Someone’s eager,” he says as you press kisses along the line of his jaw, settling his hands on your hips.

You let out a soft breath, bunching up his shirt under your fingers. He leans in to kiss you, but you step back, holding him in place. “I was—do you think we should—”

Someone bangs against the other side of the bathroom wall, making both of you jump. “Message received, damn,” Jeonghan mumbles, turning his attention back to you. “Sorry, you were saying?”

You fumble with your words for a second before seemingly giving up, instead smiling brightly. “Nothing. Never mind.”

“Nothing, is it?” He kisses your jaw, and you let out a soft sigh. Your hand drops to his pants, moving to unfasten it, but he stops you. “Shh,” he whispers, brushing his thumb against your lips. “Walls have ears, remember?” he murmurs, as his warm breath fans your face.

You tuck your bottom lip under your teeth, blinking up at him so sweetly that he almost groans. He dips his head, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, the ghost of his smile against your skin. “We have to be quiet,” he says, lips touching the shell of your ear. “If you behave, I’ll make sure you’re well compensated for your efforts.”

Your breath hitches, and you turn your face away, letting out a choking laugh. “Oh yeah? And how are you planning to do that?”

Maintaining eye contact, he sinks to one knee, and slides his hands down from your hips to the back of your thighs. You steady yourself by placing your hands on his shoulders, and he tugs your skirt up, warm palms skimming the cool skin of your thighs. 

“Well, for starters,” he says in a low voice, watching your eyes as they darken, and slips a cold finger just inside the top of the slit in your skirt. “I’m going to make you come on my tongue.”

You watch him with wide eyes, still as a statue. Jeonghan licks a warm line up the inside of your leg, which twitches in response. “Remember, not a sound,” he warns, teeth nipping at your skin. 

“You’re an ass,” you tell him, taking a deep, shuddering breath.

He smiles, and taps at your knee to indicate to you to move it. You swing a leg over his shoulder, adjusting your stance to stabilize yourself. He hooks a thumb into the underside of your panties and pulls it aside, revealing your glistening core in its full glory.

The sight makes his breath catch in his throat. Jeonghan licks his lips, experimentally swiping the tip of his finger along your cunt, and you squeeze his shoulder. “Ticklish?” he asks, and you slide a hand through his hair, giving it an impatient tug. “Always so sensitive,” he tuts, even though the sensation sends a bolt of arousal straight to his dick. “Always had a bite, too.”

“Shut up,” you growl, impatiently pulling his face closer to your core.

“Patience, grasshopper,” he admonishes. He slips the finger between your folds, massaging lazy circles into it, and your grasp on his hair tightens. “Ask me nicely, and maybe I’ll give it to you.”

You grit your teeth, but the pause tells him you’re actually considering it. Your giving up so easily would take all the fun out of it, he decides, and without warning, he tilts his head up and closes his lips around your nub, flicking it with the tip of his tongue.

Your whole body seems to spasm in response, like a puppet that just had its strings pulled taut. Jeonghan grins into your cunt, and increases the pressure on your clit. You whine, rolling your hips against his face, but he holds you in place.

“Not so fast, honey bunny,” he murmurs against your arousal, which only has you straining harder against his hold. “You like that, huh?” he asks, and sinks his index and middle fingers into your hole knuckle-deep. “All those times you called me a silver-tongued devil—how d’you feel about this tongue now?”

As if to prove his point, he laves his tongue leisurely along the entire length of your pussy, making you cry out. “Jeonghan, please,” you moan, and his heartbeat stutters at your desperate pleading. The moment you start begging, he’s a goner. “More—ah—”

He doesn’t even remember that he asked you to be quiet. “Fuck,” Jeonghan snarls, “you know I can’t say no to you, don’t you?” He pulls his fingers out almost entirely, coated in your juices, before thrusting them back inside. He proceeds to bury his face back into your heated cunt, sucking on your swollen clit and finger-fucking you at the same time. You throw your head back, scraping your fingernails against his scalp as he eats you out like a starved man. “No.” he says, pulling away momentarily. “Keep your eyes on me.”

“Ngh—please—” Your words come out in broken moans, but Jeonghan scarcely hears them. He scissors you ruthlessly, stretching you out with his fingers, the other hand leaving dents in your skin where it digs into the soft skin of your thigh. Your orgasm is drawing near, he can tell by the way your walls are spasming around him, so he speeds up his pace, licking and suckling in quick succession, pushing you far past the point of satisfaction. “Jeonghan!”

You come with a cry, your eyes rolling back into your head, back arched against the wall. Jeonghan unlatches his lips from yours unwillingly, pulling back to admire the look on your face, hazy with desire. 

“Fuck,” you breathe once you’ve come down from the high, chest heaving. You let the back of your head fall against the wall with a light thump. “Where did you learn to do that?”

He shrugs with faked nonchalance, grazing your skin with his teeth as he slips your leg from his shoulder. A glint of satisfaction shines in his eye like an ember sparking in a dead bonfire as he gets to his feet. “I’ve been practicing.”

Your shoulders stiffen, and Jeonghan stops in his tracks. “Right,” you murmur, as alarm bells go off in his head. He regrets the words instantly, and moves to take a step towards you, but you’re already turning away and out of his reach, leaning towards your phone that rests precariously on the basin’s edge. “Oh, wow, it’s getting pretty late. I think we should head to bed.”

Jeonghan bites his lip. “Yeah,” he says softly, stepping back to allow you to slip past him and out the door. Stupid, he thinks, licking the remains of your cum from his lips. “I guess so.”

The next morning, after you finished locking the doors behind yourself, you’d come down to the lobby to find Jeonghan flirting with the receptionist.

He had both his elbows on the table, leaning his weight against it as he gave her his best smile, chuckling at some shitty joke he probably cracked himself. She’s pretty, you’d thought as you saw her smile, flushing as she tucked a lock of dark hair behind her ear. He said something else to her, and she giggled, but it had died out quickly when she’d spotted you approaching.

To his credit, Jeonghan dropped his smile as soon as he saw you. You’d deposited the keys, thanking the receptionist with the nicest smile you could manage, but even that wasn’t very nice. He hadn’t said anything as you got to the car, and you feel like shit even though you know he doesn’t owe you an explanation.

Stupid, you think to yourself. Stupid of you to forget that this whole thing was going to be over soon, stupid for caring so much and getting hurt despite yourself, stupid for thinking that Jeonghan would share your concerns. And let’s not forget angry: angry for getting so carried away, especially when you pride yourself on being so careful all the time.

The car hasn’t stopped in hours, not even for a gas refill, and you haven’t had a proper conversation since the drive started except for when Jeonghan tried to offer you a soda.

You’re glad you’re driving, because it gives you an excuse to be silent. Focus on the road. Jeonghan has sensed something off with your mood, but he hasn’t tried to ask you about it, and you don’t know whether to be grateful for him respecting your boundaries or mad for not trying hard enough. 

Now that it’s June the skies have begun to turn an angry, burning orange-red before six o’clock instead of remaining a softer bruised purple. You’ve been in the same position for a while although your neck started to hurt some time ago. It’s getting chilly, but not cold enough to roll the window back up, and you’re determined to fill the silence with the whistling wind for as long as you can.

You must’ve jinxed yourself, though, because the silence is broken in seconds. “Just so you know,” Jeonghan starts, tone light and conversational, “I wasn’t flirting with her.”

You tighten your hands around the wheel, staring so hard at the windshield that you’re surprised it hasn’t melted into a puddle of plastic yet. “I don’t care if you did,” you say tersely, trying and failing to sound normal. “It’s none of my business.”

“I was just asking her if she knew any places we could stay nearby,” he continues, instead of giving up. “And as it turns out, there’s this really great—”

“Actually, I think we should go home.” You cut him off demurely, not taking your eyes off the road in front of you, even though there isn’t another vehicle in sight. “My parents are probably worried about where I’ve run off to, and I’ve been kind of a shit friend to Joshua recently.”

Jeonghan’s mouth flattens into a thin line. “That was a choice you made.”

You scoff, rounding on him with a scornful look on your face. “Oh, so you want to talk about choices now?” you ask, voice full of strife. “Remind me again in case I’ve forgotten—it was your choice to have us break up in the first place, wasn’t it?”

The muscles in his jaw tighten, standing out under his skin where they flex. “Oh, come on. You’re just mad about last night and instead of acknowledging that, you’re changing the topic.”

“Okay, yeah, I’m mad,” you admit, “but that’s not why I’m bringing this up, and you know it. I believed you the first time you said anything. We can’t just never talk about what happened nine months ago—you can’t just sweep something that big under the rug and expect things to be fine and fucking dandy.”

“Who cares about something that happened months ago?” he asks angrily.

“Are you serious?” you ask, laughing disbelievingly. A chill is beginning to settle over your skin even as the air simmers at a hundred degrees.

He tugs an opposing sleeve, and throws the other hand up in exasperation. “I don’t see how it matters anymore.”

You stop the car.

Jeonghan opens his mouth, and closes it again. "You know, this whole stopping the car in the middle of the road thing is getting old," he says with a hint of exasperation in his voice.

“You don’t see how it matters?” You whip around to look him in the eye, and he shrinks back just a bit. “Jeonghan, you said getting into this relationship was a fucking mistake!”

He stares back at you, unyielding. 

“And now you want to act like that never happened?” you press on. “How did you expect this to turn out? That we would be on the road forever, always going nowhere? That you could get away with never addressing all the things you said, just because I never brought it up?” You scoff. “Did you ever give a shit, or was this whole thing just a way to get into my pants?”

Your eyes are burning, and not just from the heat. Jeonghan’s hands are balled up around the seatbelt, the skin around his mouth pulled tight. You don’t dare to look away, hoping against hope for him to finally say something, anything, even though you’ve been in a dozen arguments like this that all ended the same way. This time, you pray with bated breath, this time it has to be different.

“I guess it was just a bad idea,” he says finally, quietly.

Every tensed muscle in your body goes limp, and you’re pulling yourself out of the suffocating car before your mind has even formed a coherent thought, dying to get away from him. The asphalt seems to sizzle, and you wonder in a daze if the road is just a mirage and you’ve actually been standing in one spot this entire time.

You’re standing in the heat, the warm wind making your skin sting with sweat, and even with your hands covering your face you can still sense Jeonghan’s presence behind you. When you turn, there he is, standing still in front of the car. The sun’s rays reflect off of the hood of the car and into your eyes, and you blink back against the stinging brought on by the forceful brightness. For a second you can’t see the expression on his face as he shifts, his silhouette outlined in shadow by the glaring sun, but then your eyes adjust to the light and the look on his face makes something crack and split apart in your chest.

You know then that he will not say anything. He will watch you walk away, again and again and again, with that stoic set of his shoulders and the proud line of his mouth, but he will not say a word. You want to grab him and shake him, scream at him to say something, but you know that his words, in all their vehemence and vitality, are reserved only for him. And you’re going to stay outside, forgotten in the sun, where he hung you out to dry all those months ago.

You wrap your arms around yourself, feeling a twinge of pain against the side of your ribs where his fingers dug into your skin last night. For a moment, you can almost feel his hot breath on your neck, his teeth on your thighs, but you blink, and suddenly the distance between you feels too great. Jeonghan’s eyes bore into yours, the heels of his palms braced against the hood of the car he leans on, and even in the sweltering heat you have to suppress a shiver. 

“I knew this was a bad idea,” you whisper. “Even when I didn’t have a choice.” 

A muscle in his neck pulls taut, but all he does is lift one corner of his mouth in a lazy, sardonic smile. You watch him pretend not to notice as his grip turns white-knuckle-tight.

“Needs must when the devil drives, sweetheart,” is all he says.

You have no response to that. “Right,” you whisper. Your fingers are trembling, and you’re definitely in no state to drive, but you’re suddenly seized with the desire to get away from it all. Away from him. “Take me home, Jeonghan.”

Peonies have always been Joshua’s favorite. 

Even though you’ve never been big on elaborate apologies, the guilt you feel after having ignored your injured best friend for the past couple of weeks is strong enough that you end up buying a whole bouquet for him. Joshua’s mom’s face lights up when she sees you, and you give her a shy, apologetic smile right before she sweeps you up into a bone-crushing hug.

Your eyes widen, but you wrap your arms around her anyway, feeling stupidly emotional at the warm reception. “Oh, sweetheart, I haven’t seen you in so long!” she gushes, and you ignore the painful squeeze of your heart upon hearing the endearment. “If Josh had told me that you were coming, I would’ve made your favorite cherry brownies.”

“No problem, ma’am, I’ll be sticking around for a while,” you tell her with a warm smile.

“Oh, you must be looking for him,” she says, “Poor kid’s been cooped up for weeks, he misses you so much. I think he’s in the backyard, or I would’ve called for him.”

The backyard? You wonder what a guy with a broken leg is doing in the backyard—definitely not sunning himself in this weather—but you thank her anyway. Gripping your bouquet, you head to the back of the house, pushing past the screen door and stepping into the uncut grass of the Hongs’ backyard.

And stop short.

“What the fuck?” you sputter.

Joshua almost trips over the black-and-white football, steadying himself last minute to look up at you with wide eyes. Your grip on the flowers has tightened even further as you imagine it to be the boy’s throat. “Hey, ____,” he says with a strained grin. “I didn’t know you were coming! This is such a lovely surprise. And are those flowers? For me? Aw, you shouldn’t have!”

You stare him down, unrelenting. “I didn’t realize broken bones could heal themselves in less than three weeks,” you say pleasantly, a contrast to the death glare that pins him in place. “Shouldn’t you be resting, sweet Joshua?”

“Oh, um, the doctors were pretty surprised too. Miracle recovery, they called it.” He lets out a forced laugh as you cock an eyebrow menacingly. Joshua sighs, dropping the facade. “Okay, that’s not working, huh.”

“No,” you tell him. “But I can break your leg right now to make it all true, because I know how much you hate lying to your best friend.”

He puts his hands up placatingly, taking a careful step back. “Hey, hey, hey, I can explain,” he says, sweating. “Why don’t we go back inside and get you something to drink, and then I can tell you why I lied,” he suggests with a nervous smile. “You must be parched.”

You give him a dirty look. “For blood, yeah,” you mutter. “This better be fucking good, Hong, or I’m going to break both your legs.”

Back in his room, you opt to stand near the doorway in case he tries to bolt. You’d tried to upend the peonies into the bin, but he’d grabbed them before you could, saying that the poor flowers weren’t to blame. Joshua sits on the edge of his bed, hugging the bouquet to his chest, and you fold your arms threateningly across your chest. “Alright,” you say waspishly. “Explain yourself.”

He looks down at his shoes, see-sawing the heels of his cleats back and forth. “Before you get mad,” he starts, “you gotta remember one thing. I did it for you.”

Your lips curl downwards into an unimpressed frown. “Let me get this straight. You lied to me about your leg being broken, sending my ex-boyfriend in your place to take me home, for my sake?”

Joshua winces. “That sounds pretty terrible when you put it like that,” he confesses. “But, yeah, I did.” You unfold your arms, making as if to step towards him, and he yelps, putting his hands up again. “Let me explain!”

“You’ve explained plenty,” you tell him.

“No, I still have stuff left!” he pleads. “Listen, after you broke up with that guy, you weren’t the one who had to deal with him afterwards. While you went back to college, I had to stay here and be there for him while he was moping all over the place.”

You roll your eyes. “I would hardly call you and Jeonghan friends. There’s no reason he would come to you for comfort.”

“I mean, yeah, he didn’t,” he admits, “but this is a small town. Do you know how hard it is to escape the news of one break-up, especially one as high-profile as yours.”

“High profile?”

“You know what I mean,” he chides. “The point is, you didn’t see him afterwards. He was really torn up about it, you know?” You purse your lips as Joshua leans forward, his expression turning serious. “I didn’t have any sympathy for him in the beginning, because of what you told me, but the more I saw of him the more difficult it became to match up the idea of the Jeonghan I knew and the Jeonghan you said told you all those things.”

Scoffing, you look away, unable to stand the sight of Joshua’s imploring eyes. “Just because you couldn’t make sense of it doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.”

He sighs. “Look, I’m not defending him. What he said to you—about not seeing the point in putting in effort, that you were just playing at charades, and the thing about your relationship being a childish mistake—”

You grit your teeth. “I get it. I was there, remember?”

“Yeah.” Joshua scratches his head, a thin line appearing between his brows. “He had no right to say any of that to you, but I still felt like there was something I was missing, so I went to talk to him.”

Defeated, you throw your hands up. “Of course you did.”

“And I don’t think he meant any of that. I mean, he still shouldn’t have said that shit, but…” Your eyes narrow to snakelike slits, and he shakes his head hastily. “Haven’t you ever gotten the feeling that despite all his bravado, the guy just doesn’t know how to express his feelings without getting defensive about them?”

You hesitate, biting your lip. Joshua sees the shift in your mood, and persists. “I might be wrong, and maybe breaking up with him was the best thing that ever happened to you,” he says, “but if there was the slightest chance of miscommunication, I would be a shitty best friend if I allowed you to let him go without a chance to set things right.” He tilts his head, sitting back. “So I faked a broken leg and kind of tricked him into thinking I was doing him a favor by letting him go get you in my place.”

“You tricked Jeonghan.” You can’t lie, you’re impressed. “Wow, you’re insane.”

“Um, I would say talented,” he argues. “Anyway, he was happy to do it. I think he was secretly looking for a chance to talk to you, so I thought a five hour drive might give him enough courage to tell you how he really felt. Then when you came back, I thought I’d surprise you, and we’d get to go on that trip after all. And then you texted me that you were eloping with him—”

“That’s not what it was.”

“—and I thought that my idea had worked. But then…” he trails off, and looks down at the flowers in his hands.

“But what?” you prompt.

“I don’t know, you tell me,” he says. “Something clearly went wrong.”

You sigh, and walk over to sit down heavily beside him. “It was going fine in the beginning,” you tell him. “But we didn’t actually talk about the argument, and after a point, I didn’t know how to bring it up. Then we sort of…” You wince.

Joshua frowns. “What?”

You think about all the different times the two of you fucked instead of talking about your feelings. “We kissed,” you finally speak, and Joshua shakes his head disappointedly. “A few times.”

“I’m getting the feeling that’s not all you did.”

You shush him. “And then it sort of reached a boiling point, and we argued. Again.” Your heart hurts as you remember the argument from only hours ago. “And he said some messed up things. Again.”

Joshua is silent for a few moments. Then he slings an arm over your shoulders, squeezing you against him in an incredibly comforting side hug. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles into your hair, and you blink back tears. 

“I missed you.” You reach up to wrap your hands around his shoulders. Joshua’s hugs are as comforting and as restrictive for your breathing as his mom’s. “I had the worst fucking time, but it was also the best fucking time,” you sniffle into the crook of his neck. Then you spot a gleaming trophy on his ledge. “Oh, so you guys did end up winning the playoffs.”

Joshua looks back, and nods. “Oh, yeah, the second half was absolutely insane. Remind me to tell you about it.”

You tuck your chin into his shoulder. “I still can’t believe I threw a whole tantrum about not getting to go on a trip,” you say, “when I could’ve just come back and done it anyway.”

“Don’t worry, we still have weeks to make up for that.” Joshua rubs your back comfortingly. “He’s an idiot.”

“Yeah, he is,” you mumble, speech slightly obstructed by your cheek squished against Joshua’s shoulder. “I just thought things might be different this time.”

“Me too,” he whispers.

You press your face back into his neck. "You're not off the hook, by the way."

Joshua sighs.

Joshua’s mom insists on throwing you a welcome back party that night, and despite being both emotionally and physically exhausted, you can’t find it in yourself to say no. She makes you your favorite cherry brownies, as promised, which are the only thing you eat before your appetite runs out.

You sit alone at the table after everyone is done eating and the guests have dispersed around the house, dragging your spin around the empty hollow of your bowl. Your shoulders feel heavy with the weight of all the mistakes you’ve made. As you sit there idly, you keep running your last conversation with Jeonghan over and over in your head, wondering what you could’ve said to make it go differently. 

You close your eyes, and for a moment you’re back to last October, standing on the ice-slicked ground outside the diner where you’ve celebrated every birthday with Jeonghan since eighth grade. His eyes are vacant and vicious and there’s ice trapped around your ribs that seems to be getting harder and sharper with every breath, and you’re screaming at each other until your throat is raw and your tears freeze in the cold.

There’s no point in crying over spilt milk, you suppose, and you’ve always been a hothead. You and Jeonghan together are about as mild as an active volcano.

Sighing, you get to your feet, the table cover rustling over your knees. You’ve stayed for about as long as you could have, and now you just want to sleep. I’m just gonna tell her I’m tired, you think, and head towards the backyard in hopes to catch Joshua’s mom conversing with someone there.

You step outside into the dark to find a single person sitting on the rickety old swing. Frowning, you move closer to figure out if it’s her, but the frame is too tall and masculine to be the person you’re looking for. “Sorry, I thought you were someone else,” you tell them as they raise their head, taking a step back.

“No. Stay.” A hand reaches out to wrap around your wrist, tugging it towards the swing. It’s then that you notice the silvery-blond hair, lit up by the smattering of light that shines out past the half-open screen door. Jeonghan gets to his feet, and you freeze. “Please.”

“I didn’t realize you were invited,” you say stiffly.

“I wasn’t. I just came to look for you,” he says. There’s an earnest touch to his voice, giving you pause. “To apologize.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, feeling your hackles rise. “What could you possibly have to say now?” You free your hand from his grasp, taking another step back. “You’ve made it sufficiently clear that this never meant anything to you.”

“Of course it meant something!” he yells. He takes a deep breath, chest still rising and falling. “I never wanted to hurt you. I was—I was scared.”

The notion sounds so ridiculous that you want to laugh in his face. But his eyes are still on yours, voice is gravelly and somber, and you feel like you’re rooted to the spot.

“Scared of what?” you whisper.

“Scared to repeat history,” he replies. “Scared to let my pride get the best of me again, say things I don’t mean. Lot of good that did me, since trying to avoid talking about it just led me to making the same mistakes.”

Your throat constricts painfully, like it’s being choked from the inside. “You really hurt me, you know,” you say hoarsely. “I never wanted to see your face again.”

A small, sad smile touches his lips. “I know,” he says. “Knowing that you didn’t want to see me made everything so much scarier. What if you just refused to come back with me? What if you’d rather just stay back or actually take the bus?” He seems to struggle with his words for a second. “When you agreed to come on that stupid road trip, I felt like I had struck the lottery.”

Your vision is blurry, and you blink rapidly against the oncoming tears. “Thank you,” you whisper, choking back the emotion that surges up your throat, “for telling me that. But,”

He waits.

“That’s not enough,” you complete tiredly. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” Jeonghan asks, eyes blazing. He looks just as tired as you are. “Is it because of what I said? Because—I don’t know how to make you believe this, but I didn’t mean any of what I said.”

“No.” It feels like the only reason you’re standing still is because every cell in your body has had the energy sucked out of it, leaving you bone-weary. “It’s because you never say anything. And I’m sick of it, Jeonghan.” Your face twists as you try not to start sobbing like a little kid. “I can’t live knowing that you can go back to pretending to be that wooden, unfeeling shell of a person every time I rip myself to shreds in front of you. I hate that you never say a word, that you’re willing to watch me walk away rather than choke back that damn pride of yours. I’m fucking sick of it.”

His eyes soften. “I’m not the same person I used to be, sweetheart. Losing you taught me that,” he says quietly. “Even if I forget that at times myself. Please, just let me show you.”

“I'm not a girl anymore, Jeonghan,” you say tightly. “I don’t know how many second chances I have left in me.”

“That's what I'm afraid of.” He moves towards you, cupping your face. “Because you still feel like a girl to me… and I still feel like a boy around you. I'm afraid that you're growing up and away and out of me. That’s how I felt last October, when you came back so different, and I didn’t know what to do with myself. I thought you wouldn’t need me anymore.”

“Then why didn't you say that?” you demand, lungs burning. “All this time, I've been—” You finally let the tears flow. “I’ve been so…”

“Because I'm still seventeen," he breathes, "every time I look at you, choking on my words as you come down the stairs in your prom dress. I might be a devil, but when it comes to you, words still fail me." 

There’s a barbed wire wrapped around your spine, a spike stabbing into each vertebrae, that tightens and tightens with every word that comes out of his mouth. He laughs under his breath, as if remembering something. “You see,” he says, “being around you kind of activates my fight or flight instinct.”

A broken laugh bubbles to your lips, and you blink against the tears that seem to make everything brighter around you. “You suck,” you tell him honestly, making him smile as if you’d just told him he was the most perfect man on earth. Standing straighter, you school your features into an expression of formality, and clear your throat. “So how are you planning on not making the same mistakes again?”

“Well,” he says, “I’m gonna try really, really hard.”

You cast your eyes heavenward. “You’re really lucky I’m hopelessly in love with you.”

“I know.” Jeonghan takes your face between his cold hands and pulls you in for a firm kiss. You clutch the hem of his t-shirt, feeling warmth spread down to your toes when he smiles into the kiss. “I’m hopelessly in love with you, too.”

“Oh, look at you, all grown up,” Joshua gushes as you lug your olive green suitcase down the front steps of your porch. “Going off to college for the first day of her final year. I feel like we should take a photo to remember this moment.”

“Joshua, shut up,” Jeonghan grunts as he lifts the bag. “If you have the time to take a photo, you have the time to help me out with the luggage.”

“Um, aren’t you forgetting something?” Your best friend points exaggeratedly at the plaster cast that covers his foot. “I’m a bit disabled at the moment.”

Karma had come full circle for him when he’d tried to take over the neighboring eleven-year-old’s trampoline, and had ended up breaking his leg for real. Everyone thinks he deserved it except Joshua himself, who’d warmed up to the idea anyway when he’d realized that he could get people to sign cool stuff on his cast.

“You’re acting like I’m going for my first day at kindergarten or something.” You roll your eyes. 

“Yeah, you’re a real grown-up,” he leans over to pat your arm, withdrawing it hastily when you threaten to kick his broken leg. “Jeez, calm your tits.”

“I am calm.”

“Totally.” Jeonghan slams the boot of the Corolla, making a cloud of dust puff up. He reaches over to press a chaste kiss to your lips. “You ready to go?”

“I really think we should take a picture,” Joshua interjects.

Both of you turn to glare at him, and he shrinks into the wheelchair. “Sensing some hostility,” he mutters. “So ungrateful, considering that I’m the whole reason you’re together in the first place.”

“Exaggeration,” you say, and turn to Jeonghan. “I’ll just be a moment, okay?”

He nods, and you give him a tiny smile before running back inside the house. Joshua shakes his head curiously at Jeonghan, who only shrugs in response, just as mystified. They wait for a few more seconds, and Joshua pulls out the marker and begins doodling inside the D of your signature on his cast, which is a sweet, short message: Dick.

“Okay!” You command the attention back to yourself with a clap of your hands as you emerge from the door, this time with the plastic pink heart-shaped sunglasses adoring your face. “How do I look?” you ask, propping them up on the top of your head, and giving them a little twirl.

“Like an idiot,” your best friend says, deadpan. You smack the back of his head as you pass him. “Also, don’t forget your Hello Kitty backpack. They go with your glasses.”

“That’s mine, actually,” Jeonghan says pointedly, and turns to you with a heart-melting smile. “And you look gorgeous as always.”

“Disgusting,” Joshua comments.

You flip him off. “I’m ready to go now.”

“Well, then,” your boyfriend says breezily, patting the hood of the car, which causes another cloud of dust to billow into the air. “Get in. We don’t have all day.”

taglist: @fragmentof-indifference @sadgirlroo @joonsytip @odetoyoon @sstarrysshit @lockburn-castle @chocosvt @ohgeezitsbreadgenie @outrologist @ishireads @ti--red

[zweiginator]

college!patrick corrupting innocent reader……………… gawd

thinking about this but like. him bringing art in. needs his best friend to enjoy this too!!!

oh fuck because i'm thinking that patrick wants to teach you how to give head. the only problem is that he doesn't trust himself. he knows as soon as you're swirling your tongue around his tip and moaning around him with those big watery eyes of yours--he'll start fucking your throat. he can't control it and it makes him want to be the guinea pig so much fucking more. you're such a good little student; he knows you'd take it like a champ. but he'll be good.

you don't realize patrick has an agenda here. that he has strategically thought out everything he wants to teach you and put it in the order that makes most sense. it feels sleazy to him that he hasn't even seen your pussy. hasn't felt that velvety skin against his tongue, your silky wetness coating his fingers or his cock.

but he assures himself that waiting will make it better. and patrick doesn't tell either you nor art what's on his little agenda. he just tells you to come over around seven. shoots art the same text.

so you both wait outside his door. neither of you have knocked yet. you notice how art's cheeks are dewy and pink, a mixture of his proximity to such a beautiful girl, and remnants from the five mile run he just completed.

you introduce yourself.

art wipes his clammy hand on the back of his grey t-shirt and slips his palm into yours

"i'm art. it's nice to meet you." his voice is soft. he's handsome in a way that is different than patrick, but you can't quite put your finger on why that is. maybe a fundamental difference in their first impressions with you.

patrick was unabashed in his actions. aware of his effect on other people. willing and able to use his charisma to get whatever he wants in a way that borders on manipulative but couldn't quite be classified that way.

art has more trepidation. but he still has confidence in the way he carries himself. his shoulders are back, his posture near perfect.

"are you here for patrick?" he asks, breaking the silence.

"yeah," you answer, looking at the time. 6:59. you and art are very timely. "he told me to come over at 7."

art fumbles with his phone, pulling it out of his shorts pocket. it's hard to see with the glare of the late spring sun, but he shows you the text patrick sent him. it's verbatim what was sent to you, and you tell art this.

"weird. are you guys dating or something?"

you shrug. "no, i don't think. just hanging out."

art knows what that means. and he chews on the inside of his cheek. his jaw pops.

"how do you know each other?" it's your turn to ask questions.

"he's my best friend." art knocks on patrick's door for the third time before crossing his arms over his chest. you sense more urgency in the way art is acting. "we grew up together, played tennis all throughout childhood and here we are."

"patrick plays tennis?" you notice art's t-shirt and hat. it's on backwards, but it's embroidered with stark white lettering. stanford tennis. "i didn't know that." you feel small, realizing you don't know a huge part of patrick's life. naive to his hobbies and talents and his best friend. maybe you overestimated your role in his life.

art senses your disappointment in how your voice falters.

"he's not a very open person. hence why we're both here right now. dumbass probably sent me the text by accident." art kicks the door. "pat! open the fucking door, man! it's hot out here!" the veins in his neck tremble as patrick flings the door open.

"come in, come in." he ushers you both inside.

so he really did mean to text art.

he sits between you both on the couch and puts his arms around you and art. spreads his legs wide and lets out a deep sigh.

you and art look at each other, confused. but neither of you speak up just yet; perhaps its a subconscious nod to the fact that patrick is in charge here. a way to foreshadow.

"she's pretty, isn't she artie?" patrick turns to his best friend and you see him flush a deeper shade of pink.

"um, yeah. she is." art responds.

you swallow. both of their legs are spread wide, to the point where you barely have room to fit on the couch. it seems rude, but then again, maybe patrick is doing this on purpose.

"and artie?" he turns to you this time; his broad, strong torso almost obstructs your view of art behind him. "he's handsome. lots of girls think that."

you nod. "yeah, he is handsome." it's innocuous enough. and you wouldn't lie, of course not.

"what's the deal here, pat?" art says it breathily. like he knows patrick has a trick up his sleeve.

"we've been having some lessons." patrick says, only to art, as if you're not there. "i taught her how to kiss."

your breath hitches. is he going to tell?---

"and i taught her how to give a handjob, just last week. her first one ever."

"patrick this isn't my business." art shifts uncomfortably, watching the clock on the wall tick, tick, tick.

"but there's still a lot to learn for her." patrick continues, unfazed by the obvious discomfort in the room, the shifted mood that seemingly affects everyone but him. because again, he's in power. it's his prerogative. and here you both exist, at his mercy.

you're awfully quiet, but you stay that way.

"i want to teach her how to give a blowjob." patrick says it as he picks lint from his shorts, like it means nothing. and it makes you want to do it. to impress him and stay on his radar. not to be a temporary plaything.

so you lean into patrick and press a kiss to his neck, open-mouthed at the part that makes him shudder and melt. but he pulls away from you.

"not on me, sweetheart."

you look at him, bewildered. art shares the same expression, except his jaw is clenched and a pearly bead of sweat trembles over his browbone.

"on him."

art can't pretend he isn't intrigued. maybe he should put a stop to this. put his foot down and say no to patrick. except he wants it. and god, he hopes you want it to.

art looks at you, his lips parted and pink to match the supple skin of his cheeks.

patrick watches you two. has a look on his face that reads well what are you two waiting for?

you crawl over patrick's lap so you're leaning over his body. using him like a bridge. your hands grip onto patrick's thighs until you find balance. art sits up straighter, meets you in the middle so patrick has a perfect view of your profiles.

art cups your cheek and pulls your bottom lip with his teeth before sucking it into his mouth. you feel his jaw move, opening wide so he can envelope you in an open-mouthed kiss that sets your body on fire. patrick watches spit dribble down your chins in a messy meld of kisses, of tongues, of hands all over each other.

patrick grabs your wrist, the one that rested on art's jaw, and plants it square on art's erection.

neither patrick nor you expect the carnal groan that emits from art's throat.

[ryotono]

More Hashira/Pillars and [Y/N] and much more love help

Hope you enjoy! ;)

[Y/N]: hello baby

Obanai: are you insulting me?

[Y/N]: ofc i'm insulting you, look at your height

Giyuu: you know you're not much taller than him, right?

[Y/N]: don't betray me like that

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Mitsuri: Don't compare her to sunshine and roses, when she's clearly orchid's and moonlight!

[Y/N]: she's a bitch

Mitsuri: that too, but that's not the point!

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

In the fight against Upper Moon one:

[Y/N] to Kokushibo: If bad, why so hot

Sanemi: [Y/N] wtf

Gyomei: God bless this poor soul, and they horrible likes for men

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

X to Kamaboko Squad: thank gods your guys make in time ah- Why are you in pajamas?

Tanjiro: we were at a sleepover party!

X: right, where's the hashira [Y/N]?

Zenitsu: we were at a sleepover party with [Y/N]

[Y/N] running in a among us pajamas: I'M HERE

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

[Y/N]: it would be to wrong if i say i want to smash your father?

Rengoku, smiling: ... WHAT?

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

[Y/N]: tell me why, your hands, are cold...

Shinobu: Cold hands may be caused by simply being in a cold room or other chilly environment. Cold hands are often a sign that your body is trying to maintain its regular body temperature. Always having cold hands, however, could mean there's a problem with your blood flow or the blood vessels in your hands.

[Y/N]: oh

Shinobu: but my hands are cold because your not holding them

[Y/N]: oh!

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Hashira/Pillars reacting to [Y/N] saying "I protect you don't worry!"

Giyuu, who already killed the demons: alright dear

Mitsuri, who also killed the demons: ah! I will protect you too [Y/N]! ♡

Rengoku: NOT IF A PROTECT YOU FIRST! >:D

Shinobu: thank you [Y/N], but take care of yourself first ^^

Uzui: you? protect me? HA, I doubt it ( you actually protect him, he's amazed by that)

Gyomei, who ALSO already killed the demons: thank you my dear

Muichiro: okay ( he likes )

Obanai: As if you could do that ( he likes too, very much actually)

Sanemi: YOU CAN'T EVEN PROTECT YOURSELF, YOUR ALMOST GOT SHOT ( he's shy, give him a break ;)

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Demon: this is your end, Hashira!

[Y/N]: wait pls don't kill, you will never know what's rhyme with chupacabra

Demon: ... what?

[Y/N] pointing a gun: abracadabra

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Uzui and his wife's: tell me why, your hands, are cold...

[Y/N] single ass: oh mah gawd, CORNY! lame booo!

[Y/N] start throwing things: tomatoes tomatoes tomatoes

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Uzui: hey, there you are partner

Rengoku: sorry I'm late i was busy doing stuff

Uzui: what stuff

[Y/N]: I'm stuff

Uzui:

Rengoku:

Uzui: EYYY

[Y/N]: EYYYYY

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

[Y/N]: that's sad (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠)

Uzui: what was that

[Y/N]: (⁠´⁠⊙⁠ω⁠⊙⁠`⁠)⁠！

Uzui: [Y/N] this is a verbal communication, how are you doing this?

[Y/N]: ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

Uzui: [Y/N]????

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Rengoku: (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧

Mitsuri: (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

[Y/N]: (⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠)

Muichiro: (⁠ー⁠_⁠ー⁠゛⁠)

Uzui: WHAT THE F*CK IS HAPPENING????

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Sanemi: sometimes, I am scared of you going to fight all those demons

Sanemi: but then i'm think " it's okay, [Y/N] going to make it"

[Y/N]: aww because you believe in me?

Sanemi: no, because Satan don't want you bothering him, you dumb shit

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

[Y/N] and Giyuu cuddling:

Obanai: disgusting

Mitsuri: aw they so cute

Obanai: yes very cute mitsuri you right you always are

[Y/N] in the distance : what a simp

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Extra!

X: What do you think about the Hashira [Y/N]?

Giyuu: they cool ( he loves you, and thanks you for not treating him like everyone else)

Gyomei: a good soul, loud and chaotic but good ( you remind him his kids )

Mitsuri: [Y/N] is adorable, I love when we met and eat together, and talk about a lot of things! ( we love you too Mitsu bae )

Muichiro: we watch the clouds together ( he likes your company, you are like a older sibling to him)

Obanai: Kaburamaru likes them, I don't know why ( bcs you like them too your gremlin )

Rengoku: THEY HAVE A STRONG SPIRIT! ( he admires you, yeaaah the flame boy admires you and ofc love u too)

Sanemi: I hate them ( translation: I tolerate them )

Uzui: EYYYY- sorry they are the only one who match's my amazing style! ( Partners in crime )

GUESS WHO IS POSTING AT A NORMAL TIME NOT 3AM? HAHAHA

Anyway, that's as kinda short sorry for this

And thank for all you support, I love you all ♡ :')

Hope you Enjoyed!

[ English is actually not my first language, so I'm sorry for any misspelling or errors!]

[ramblingloon]

I think I caught a blizzard

I recently replayed MK11 and mah gawd Kuai Liang aka sub zero my boy not the new scorpion in mk1 which is ??!! whyyyyy did they do my boy like that smh. anyways I think the fixation on this fine man is back so why not make a sub zero x reader fic am I right hehehe

‎‎‎⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆୧ ‧₊˚ 🎐 ⋅𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚୧ ‧₊˚ 🎐 ⋅⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

I'm so sorry for this GIF, please don't leave lmao.

no horni only fluff and maybe angst

You walk over the snowy stone tiles, the ice crystals glistening beneath your leathered soles. As you step on the snow, the crunching sound is stratifying to your ears. Your formal Lin Kuei attire drags behind your feet.

The heavy blizzard has been going on for four days, the same amount of days Kuai Liang was off on a mission with a couple of his subordinates and, of course, Frost.

You sniffle slightly, feeling the cold seeps through your hands, nose, and cheeks. You muffle a cough as you enter the temple. An apprentice ninja steps aside and bows to you.

You smile at them, bowing your head in return. You watch as they walk away, and you silence another cough by covering your mouth.

It is your duty as the consort of the grandmaster to be strong, and tenacious; to take care of the Lin Kuei as if Kuai Liang is right here.

You pass by the training area, watching as the younglings' harsh training has just begun. Their loud battle cries ring over the storm.

You smile to yourself as you keep going into the empty hallways of the temple when a sudden sharp cough escapes you. You lean on the wall, feeling your breath shorten and pricking pain between your ribs. You cough again, getting dizzy in the process.

You groan in pain as you straighten yourself, " it's just a cold. Pull yourself together, Y/n."

Eventually, you reach the kitchen, and the warm air oozing from the kitchen challenges the hiemal temperature of the empty hallway.

You scan the staff working with efficiency to prepare the best meals for the Lin Kuei fighters.

A maid notices you enter the kitchen and immediately pauses,

"Oh, consort, y/n. what brings you to this humble place."

you smile kindly at them," No need for formality, just checking in. Are the staff low on any sustenance." you reach with your hand over your mouth, worried a sharp cough or sneeze to escape you.

"I don't think so. We're serving rice and salted fish with sou-"

a loud cough rings in the kitchen as you put your hand over your aching chest, coughing, angry at your body for failing you at this moment.

The maid guides you to a wooden chair by a table and sets you down.

"I'll -um, I'll fetch you some herbal tea."

you nod as the stinging pain in your chest subsides and finally disappears.

Not long after, the maid brings you a steamy cup of tea. You glance at the dark liquid. It reminds you of how Kuai Liang likes to brew tea and discuss important decisions over a cup- well, maybe not a cup, but a whole pot of tea-

That reminds you, the tea set in his command chamber is probably empty.

"Maybe he'll come back soon?" you think to yourself 

"No...he won't risk the life of anyone in this blizzard." a doubting voice offers its reason within you.

"Maybe he was injured?"

"I hope he's alright." You look at your hands, squeezing them, the tips of your fingers chilly and cold.

Nonetheless, you stand from your seat and order a maid to prepare a tea pot.

On your way to the command chamber, you sniffle, taking a freezing deep breath, which causes the ache in your chest to emerge again, almost causing you to drop the tray with the tea.

"Where are you, Kuai?" feeling overwhelmed and angry at your weakened body, you call for your absent partner.

You enter the chamber and slide the door closed. The whistling wind muffled within the sturdy walls of the room.

You replace the empty cold teapot with the hot one when you notice some of the tea cups have remains of dark green tea at the bottom.

"Oh, he'll diffidently be angry if he saw that." you chuckle to yourself, mental pictures of a frowning Kuai surface in your mind.

Immediately, you put the dirty cups on the tray with the cold pot and put the fresh set on the table.

You look around the room. Serene and calm contradicting the wailing sound of the wind outside. You glance at a kunai at the table, left or maybe forgotten. Reaching with your hand, you scan the blue cloth wrapped around the hilt with the Lin Kuei symbol carved on the metal.

Yet another painful cough escapes you. You sit on one of the chairs, waiting for the pain in your chest to simply disappear.

You exhale, hand over your chest when the door slides open.

Your e/c eyes meet with deep brown ones. the soft orbs you have been longing to see for days.

You watch as Kuai Liang's frown dissolves into a poker face. His mask and jet-black hair were covered in snow, thawing at room temperature.

You stand from your chair with a composed smile and utter ", Grandmaster."

He takes his off mask and takes a step toward you, though he pauses.

"Frost," he addresses Frost, standing by the door.

" we can discuss the possibilities when the men are well rested." his deep, sultry voice cascades over your ears, causing your heart to race in your ribcage, and warmth spreads all over your body.

Oh, how much you have missed this man.

"but grandmaster-" Frost protested

He turns to her, his broad shoulders to you," Frost, give your body the respect it deserves. We've been in this blizzard for four days. The men need to regain their energy."

"Then we can discuss-" yet again she protests, only to be interrupted by his demanding voice, "You're dismissed."

She snarls at his demanding voice, looks at you, and closes the door as she leaves.

You don't wait for him to turn around. You fully embrace him, burring your face into his back. Your hands over his chest, feeling the calm beating of his heart.

A deep chuckle escapes him as he turns around in your embrace," I've missed you too."

Large arms encase you as he pulls you closer to his chest. He buries his nose into your h/c hair, taking a deep breath, breathing you in.

"you scared me, Kuai. I trust your abilities, but," you utter, looking up at your partner, sadness lacing your voice.

He cups your right cheek with his right hand, caressing your skin with his thumb.

"shush, I'm here, y/n, with you."

he delicately grips your chin and leans to your level. Cold lips connect with yours.

 Though it lasts only seconds, you feel safe in his embrace, forgetting all about the aching pain in your chest and body.

He breaks away and walks toward the door, "Come, I don't think it will be appropriate if one of the men barged in here."

You pout, feeling the lingering warmth in your stomach disperse ", But I got your tea."

You walk to the tea set and open the lid, the steam escaping its ceramic cage.

He crosses his arms, waiting for you by the door," we can take the tea with us."

You raise your eyebrow at him, "Alright, alright. Just don't complain when it's over-brewed."

You cover back the teapot and walk to the door. With your spouse walking next to you, the cold empty hallways feel much more welcoming than the past four days.

You want to reach for his hand, hold it, and never let it go. But Kuai Liang is a man who has respect for his position. The grandmaster nor his consort can't be seen in any ignominious way.

You reach your shared bedroom, the sound of this obstinate storm still occurring outside.

"This damned blizzard." you curse as you take off your shoes. Afraid; the carpet will get dirtied by the snow stuck to your footwear.

Before you know it, you are scooped off the ground into Kuai's embrace. A sudden yelp escapes you as you circle your arms around his neck.

"Kuai Liang! Put me down this instant." you try to sound serious between your chuckles.

His deep chuckles resonate through his chest as he looks up at you with a teasing smile," or what?"

You bite your lip, a laugh escaping you.

Unfortunately, you feel the gradual pain in your chest surfacing back again.

He puts you down and cups your face with both hands and kisses you deeply.

You break off the kiss, taking a breath, only for him to kiss you more.

"Kuai," you call him, hand over his chest to stop him.

"you're going to get yourself sic-" you cough, and cough. Your chest tightens and contracts. You kneel on the floor, gasping for air, raspy noises escaping your throat.

Kuai Liang kneels next to you, deep concern on his face, as he watches his spouse groan in pain and clutch their chest.

The pain withdrew away back into nothingness. You look at your partner's shocked glare.

"I'm going to get the physician." he declares, only for you to stop him.

" No! No. Not now." you plead, gaining an angry look from him.

"What?"

"The people are already suffering from this blizzard. I can't be seen weak." you calmly explain, feeling the blood rush to your face.

"The younglings are training in this blizzard, and the grandmaster consort caught the cold. What will your image be? What will mine be?" you cough into your hand, slumped on the floor, feeling defeat.

"Y/n, what is this? Didn't you hear me talk with Frost?" Kuai Liang Stands up, only for you to grab his pants.

"Please, Kuai. Just for today." Your e/c eyes well up as you look at your partner in plea.

He closes his eyes, muttering under his breath before he gets to your level and carries you.

"Only for today," he repeats as he walks to the bed and lays you down slowly.

"only for today." You nod, repeating your words.

"Get some sleep, y/n." he brushes your h/c hair back before he pulls the covers over you.

"won't you join me?"

he snickers, shaking his head as he walks to the other side of the bed. He has taken off his bandana and top vest before he joins you in the bed.

You kiss him on the cheek as he slides close to you, his body chilly though not displeasing.

"Thank you, Kuai," you mumble as you bury your face into the crook of his neck and drift into needed sleep.

‎‎‎⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆୧ ‧₊˚ 🎐 ⋅𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚୧ ‧₊˚ 🎐 ⋅⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

I wanted to write more but I don't know.. felt like this is a good ending? . if u wanna me to write something for u hit me up. I looked up the mortality causes of cold weather and third cause is raspatory diseases so I was gonna do an " Arthur Morgan from rdr2" but that would be so cruel so I chose just a serious case of the flu. I mean after all they're humans just a little more powerful, right?

[jacedified]

things i cant stop thinking about !!

most of this is going to imperium related so enjoy my brain turning mwah

also pls ignore my mid sentence rambling i have a serious problem

warnings: gore/mentions of death , violence , imperium , swearing :D , adult with internet access cant shut up

- yandere caller being a shade

(someone said this on a hc list and now im actively running with it)

- sams eyes being brown

(as a brown eye haver i know he misses them dearly and i wnna give him the worlds sweetest biggest longest hug)

- the idea of gavin “slicing” peoples threads for kody in imperium

(forcing my husband ((i need therapy im married to a fictional incubus)) to do such acts simply because you want to you sick freak ILL FUCKING KILL U- oh wait gavin already did xoxo kiss my ass from hell kody)

- the look on kodys face at the end of it all

(as previously stated i wanted that man dead.. i just wanna make sure hes actually gone yknow)

- what asher’s smile looked like when him and david were together (imperium)

(knowing that david was gone, hearing the random audience member asking for david to be alive and left alone in the first imperium video, knowing they were mates, knowing how heartbroken asher was after his death i just wanna see them happy maann ((it feels criminal to use emojis on tumblr)) 😭😭)

- if lasko calling freelancer “my dear” when you first met him in the haven was a sneak peek for his later ((is the word prime for like normal redacted universe characters i can’t remember, like prime lasko yada yada)) listeners name

- if no one was watching gavin WOULD HE HAD BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF IMP!HUXLEY???

(the amount of shit talking hux did when freelancer and gavin first get to the haven had me ready to fight in an instant ((it mightve just been my overwhelming adoration for gavin but still)) like he was acting like an annoying jock who gets a job as security for some fuck ass rich university and thinks hes on top of the world like dont piss me off huxley or damien gets it in the other universe so help me god)

- is anyone else as attracted to the tension between vincent and asher in imperium as i am..

(i have no words for how “yippee kicking my feet happy smiley kiss now kiss now what if u kissed rn” i was when asher and vincent are talking but also i feel like pet ((is that vincents listeners name or vegas I CANT REMEMBER PLS)) was behind a door listening in and getting jealous bc “that should be me holding your hand..”

… excuse the outburst)

- vampire milo.. thats all

(GAWD hes so hot like he always is and always has been but jesus FUCKING christ theres something about him having been a vamp did something to me that i cant even explain)

- what was avior saying to lasko to make him irritated with him..

(i mean yeah hes a yapper but i feel like it was just “hey we need help down here” and lasko rolling his eyes and waiting two weeks before actually doing anything)

- WHERE TF IS ELLIOT WHERE TF IS SUNSHINE CAN I BEAT BLAKES ASS??

- what would have happened had milo not broken the ward

(again someone else mentioned this ((i would tag them but it was 6hrs ago and i was just scrolling and reading)) and now i cant stop thinking about it)

- what is avior hearing in his last video

(its been a while since ive actually listened to aviors playlist again but there was a voice or sounds he was hearing after getting out of the meridian and its just been on my mind)

- gavin having a myspace account

(he would love myspace i just know he would and i feel like he’d be an avid tumblr user but like its just him posting his favorite pics of himself from the week and updates on whatever small pet him and freelancer would very obviously inevitably get bc he saw it in a pet store or on the street and couldnt resist)

- what happens when freelancer gets old..

(freelancer is just that.. a freelancer. they arent a vamp, or a demon, or even some secret third thing.. what happens to them and gav when they get old. have they had that talk yet? i shouldnt think about this bc it makes me spiral into a bucket of tears and sadness bc its the same thing with sam and darlin’ like we wont know what theyll do when their partners get old and they are still young and immortal.. sigh 😔)

- can i cut the meridian open with a knife if i tried?

(how thin is the meridian? how easy is it to access? how long would it take me to literally stab it open? ((i have serious issues)) )

- imp!damien..

(yea i have a crush on him or whatever nothing crazy)

- is the person asher catches in imperium baabe or is it just random listener #18683 ?

(obviously my first thought when i listened to imperium like a year ago i thought baabe nd asher would be together ((i was delusional and on an asher high)) but then when it was revealed that he and david were mates in that universe did that mean baabe just doesnt exist or are they the person that gets caught by him or again some secret third thing)

- what happens to angel in the mess that is imperium, honestly what happens to all the shaw pack listeners

(obviously sweetheart is left out of this equation bc them and milo are still happily obsessed with each other in every universe BUT angel, baabe, and darlin where yall at??)

- WHERE ARE THE AND WHAT HAPPENED TO THE EMPATHY DEMONS IN IMPERIUM UNIVERSE??

(this just popped into my mind but WHERE IS MY SON?? what have u done with my son WHERE IS MY SON??!!?)

- is anyone else as obsessed with just erik and his mind?

(that handsome blessing to my youtuber universe.. i could listen to him babble for hours and will do so bc it feeds my “listening to nerdy man babble on abt his fixations” quota)

- what imperium versions of characters do people prefer over their counterparts

(personally i prefer imp! huxley, damien, and vincent over their prime versions ((still dont know if im using the term prime in the right context)) idk what it is but well i know what it is for huxley and damien but we dont need to get into why i dont like hux and dames rn :D but for vincent i just like seeing a different version of him i think.. hes so confident with his decisions, and knows what he wants in imperium i just want that for regular vince too.. sigh)

uhh anyways.. i think thats enough thinking for now, going back to sleep

stay safe out there

[spookypete-94]

Strange Christmas Tradition

might seem a little early but was in stitches thinking about this

re-add! i was dumb and accidentally deleted my first edition!

Ghost groaned behind you, "What are we doin' here?" His feet dragged, kicking the soles against the ground.

"You'll see," you said, moving faster staying ahead of him. Ghost might say you're moving quicker then when you clear a building... a thought he would bring up later.

How happy you were when you found a local store from your area that had something meaningful to you. Deciding post mission that you were going to go visit stores while you waited for your flight tomorrow. Even more excited that Ghost decided to tag along. If Ghost were to explain himself honestly, he didn't want to go shopping necesarily, he just didn't want you out by yourself... and maybe wanted to spend some quality time with you. However, your current store of choice makes him rethink his life's choices at the moment.

You had walked into a crafting/hobby/nick nack store that was known for crazy Christmas ornaments.

"You're gonna love it Lieutenant."

"Yeah? Think yer' gonna be disappointed..." His tone flat and unamused.

"Oh quit your grumbling, nearly there," you said, turning into an aisle.

Almost skipping now, he saw what you were looking for. There were ornaments up and down the entire aisle.

"Wha' on God's green acres are we doin' here?" his tone flat and even - still unamused.

"My brother and I have this competition for Christmas to find the most fucked up ornament for the tree each year. I generally have to ship mine back home, but should be back in time this year."

"Your brother?" He asked, the first interest he had shown all day.

"Older. Tradition, we started to help us like Christmas again now that we're adults."

He was learning so much about you.

"How 'bout this one?" You asked, picking up a starfish dipped in chocolate, starting to laugh.

"Could go with this one." Handing you one that was of the Kool-Aid man when the button was pressed yelled OH YEAH! You both started to snicker harder.

"Oh, oh, here we go," you said selecting a sparkly deviled egg.

"Awh, come on, can do bet'er then that." His hand reaching right past your head leaning over you as he selected one up high to show you. Did he always smell this nice? It was a Turkey in a Christmas hat wearing pilgrims for slippers.

"Oh my GAWD, it's perfect, but I want to keep looking." So you both did, laughing hysterically. If anyone were to walk by, you both looked like deranged idiots. Tears were pricking your eyes so hard. You had to place a hand on Ghost's chest. you didn't even realize that you had, but Ghost noticed. Breathing hitched heart stopping at your laughter, how your smile stretched from ear to ear. Never in a million years did Ghost think one of his favorite core memories would be Christmas ornament shopping with you.

"I'm so fucking happy you came, are you still disappointed?"

"Not even close."

This made your heart soar to hear, glad that you changed his mind.

"Think I'm gonna get the ones we picked up. They are all to good to pass up."

The walk to the register was quiet, and once paid and out of the store, you broke the awkward silence.

"Do you have plans for Christmas, Ghost?"

"No." His tone direct and firm telling you that he didn't want to talk about this topic. Even with his short answer, you could see his hot breath turn to steam in the cold mid-November air.

Turning to look up at his Umber pools, you handed him a small bag.

"You wanna come with me to mine? Put your ornament on our fucked up tree?"

He took the bag slipping out the ornament you had picked for him. One that he missed, apparently, was a ghost figure wrapped in Christmas lights. He flipped the switch, lighting it up... how delightfully tacky.

"Ya' want me there?"

"Of course," you answered, heart breaking slightly at his question.

"Wanna see this tree, see if it's strange as you."

"So that's a yes then?"

" 'is a yes."

Unable to control yourself, you stepped forward, hugging him. You were pushing your luck today, but strangely, he was alright with it.

"Think I'm strange then?" You asked, feigning hurt.

"I do. But I like it."

His words and embrace back warmed you in the frigid air.

[spacequokka]

For Me | Day 5

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader Genre: Fluff Rating: G Summary: Baekhyun invites you over for a Christmas movie marathon. Word Count: 1.3k Warnings: established relationship

Here's a fluffy drabble set sometime after part two.

Baekhyun was the kind of guy who got hyped up for holidays. He always went all out for Christmas. Competing with his neighbors for the highest light bill generated by the decorative mass of lights and lawn decorations was his newest hobby. His apartment was no exception. The interior would make Martha Stewart proud with the copious amounts of garland, candy canes, and holly adorning every surface. The man was a menace, right down to his meticulously wrapped presents and perfectly hung mistletoe.

You knocked on the door, and it swung open instantly. Baekhyun greeted you with a bright smile on his face. He was wearing a red and green flannel, a Santa hat perched on his head, and had even drawn a fake white beard on with eyeliner. "_____! You made it!" he exclaimed and pulled you into a warm hug.

“If I missed this, you'd come find me and drag me back here," you replied, engulfed with the mixed scent of cinnamon and pine as it wafted through the door.

"Of course, it wouldn't be a Christmas movie marathon without you," Baekhyun chuckled, his voice filled with genuine warmth.

"Not true. You could snatch Taemin and never notice the difference."

"Please. He doesn't get why I watch the same movies every year." He stepped back and gestured for you to come inside, revealing his apartment transformed into a cozy haven of holiday delights.

"True, but I wouldn't say I entirely understand it, either." You shrugged. "I just like seeing that little giddy smile you get. It's cute as hell." Baekhyun blushed at your compliment, the warmth of the room seeming to intensify as his gaze met yours. "Besides, they're not bad movies, and I like free food."

"Well," He took your coat and traded your shoes for fuzzy slippers that matched his, "there's no shortage of food this year. I managed to get that chicken place we like to give me a catering discount."

"Catering? For just two people?" You looked at him then over his shoulder towards the kitchen. The buffet he'd set up looked like it could feed a football team. "You're gonna get sick from eating too much, watch."

"Nooo," he whined, throwing his arms around you again. "You're here to help too! Whatever's leftover will feed me for the rest of the week."

"As long as you're not trying to overfeed me." You led the way to the couch and plopped down. "So, what are we starting off with? Comedy? Horror? Hallmark?"

He settled down beside you with two mugs of hot chocolate. "I was thinking classics. How about Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer? I saw the DVD in store and got hit with nostalgia."

"Ooh! I love those. They have an old-school charm to them, like Charlie Brown era stuff."

"See? You get me! That's why you're my baby." He pulled you close and kissed all over your cheek. "Okay, okay. So I made the cocoa when I got your text, so it should be safe to drink. If you get hungry before this one's over, we can pause and load up."

You nodded. "Gotcha. Until then," you put your legs over his and cuddled into him, "I just wanna get warm."

"Oh, I'm great at that." He pressed his face into your neck, lips tickling your skin. "Just some touches and kisses and you'll be on fire."

"Oh my gawd, you goober. Stawp!" You giggled, weakly pushing at his head and hands until he pulled away. The loud fanfare of the movie drew his attention away, allowing you both to settle down. Moments like these were the best. Just being held in his arms, being the most important part of his cute little tradition, were the moments you lived for.

Neither of you spoke much during the movie until his stomach growled loudly. His face scrunched up, and he paused the movie, looking at you with puppy eyes. "Babe—"

"Time to hit up your buffet?" You suggested with a teasing smile. He nipped at your neck again, then nodded.

"Please?" His voice was muffled, making you laugh out at his silliness.

"Come on. Let's see what you got."

As he unwrapped and unboxed the feast he'd ordered, you regretted eating anything at all that day. The spread was enough to give Thanksgiving a run for its money. "Stop looking at me like that! It's not that much food."

"My love, not that much for who? Are you inviting more people over?"

He shook his head. "Nope. This is all for you—well, us—but I didn't want you to need to leave or order anything. I have a case of wine, desserts, even that honey bun you said you liked from the donut shop."

You mulled his words over. "Wait, how long am I staying?"

His eyes sparkled. "As long as you want to. You said you had a few days off and we've both been caught up with work…"

You put a hand over your chest, then pulled him in for another quick hug. "Jesus Christ. Every time I think I've seen you at peak cuteness, you raise the bar. My heart can't take this if you keep maxing out the adorable boyfriend on me."

He bit his lip, and for a second, you could tell he was lost in thought. "…Boyfriend."

You side-eyed him. "Yes." A Byun in deep thought could be a troublemaker if left to his own devices. "A boyfriend I love and adore very much."

He nodded and luckily left it at that, pulling out plates and forks for you while you picked up the pretty festive wine glasses he'd put out for the occasion. Soon enough, you both were back on the couch with your food and drinks, continuing the movie. When that one went off, he let you pick the next movie, so you opted for your favorite, The Nightmare Before Christmas.

"You know," you said in between bites of the crispy, fried chicken he went "to the ends of the world" to get, "their relationship reminds me of how ours started out. I'm really thankful we had the chance to change things."

He watched you for a bit, then nodded. "Me too. More than words can express." He picked up his cup for a swig of wine. "But I'd like to change things again."

You looked at him, eyes wide. "In what way?"

He put down his plate and wiped his fingers on a napkin, prompting you to do the same. Whatever he was about to say had to be serious. "Well," he rubbed his hands together, the movie quickly forgotten as it continued playing, "I bought this townhouse with the intention of you moving in with me at some point."

You nodded. "Yeah, that's why you insisted I tag along for the viewing."

He turned toward you. "We never really set a date for that, y'know? And with Christmas coming up, it feels like there's no better time than the present."

You couldn't help but smile. "Is this your way of asking me to move in?"

"I mean, I think I could do better, but--" You cut him off with a kiss before throwing your arms around him.

"Nah, I like this. It's all cute and flustered and you." You kissed his cheek before sighing. "You're lucky I've been thinking about it too, with me missing you so much. I realized I wouldn't have to miss you if I could wake up and go to bed with you. So, I may have been packing already."

"You're serious?" He pulled back to look at you. "Please, don't joke about this. I don't think my heart could take it."

You shook your head, smile growing wider. "I pretty much just need to hire a moving service and figure out what to do with the furniture I don't need to keep."

"I love you so much," he bear-hugged you, peppering your face with kisses. "Just hearing that makes me feel better. This will be the best Christmas I’ve ever had."

[ronearoundblindly]

sweet sunday request!

i've been thinking about reader giving Ari a massage. He could be complaining about his stiff shoulders and back (bc he's beefy🤤 or his muscles are sore after a workout) and reader insists to help him feel better.

( I guess reader doesn't have much strength and didn't really relieve the tension on Ari's shoulders, but Ari likes her hand on his back, so it's a win-win 🤭)

and congrats on 600 followers!😘😘😘

Do you know? I never realized until yesterday that I hadn't ever written Ari. (Why???? I've read soooooo much of him.) But I love this. He is a big, burly, beast of a man, and he deserves attention. I originally thought this would wife!reader, but upon further thought, I'm going with best friend!reader and mutual pining...kinda.

Tension (see previous)

Warnings for oh my Gawd this got steamy and I didn't even mean for it to, light/vague smut, some dirty talk that made me walk away from my computer to cool down, hot!Ari you've been warned.

Summary: Your best friend helps you around your new house.

The step stool is wobbling while you carefully unscrew a blown lightbulb. Your body seizes in fear momentarily, and you can't help but grumble, "I don't know how you talked me into this."

"What was that?" Ari calls from the kitchen.

"Nothing, dear," you joke back.

Buy this one, he said. It's a fixer-upper, he said. I'll help.

It's a piece of shit is what it is. The house needs more than just TLC; it needs to be saged and bleached, needs all this horrifying wallpaper stripped off, and needs roof repairs badly. Luckily, it doesn't rain much here, so Ari can wait for that part. The goal today (more like this week) is to make the master bedroom, one bathroom, and the kitchen livable.

Otherwise, your best friend is about to have a surprise roommate because this is his fault.

"Shit," Ari hisses. You can hear a soft bang.

"What happened?" Before you're off the stool, he's poking his head around the dividing wall.

He holds his hand tight with his other. "Nothing," he groans, "just got myself on a nail from the cabinet. Where's the kit?"

"Let me see--"

"No, no, I'm fine."

He flashes a pretty, white smile before his lips curl back down.

"Medicine cabinet." You point across the living room. "Second shelf."

Ari lumbers off to clean up while you inspect his handiwork for the first time.

Say what you will about men's eye for detail, but damn, Ari is babying every surface of the kitchen, smoothing every corner, polishing every inch, leveling every shelf. If the man shows even half this devotion to his own house one day, it'll be the prettiest place on Earth. Also, the man is good with his hands. Hopefully, he's not hurt too badly.

All seems well when he returns though, and you inspect his bandaging to see if he's okay to keep using the hand.

"You wanna take a break?"

Ari looks at you while his hand is palm-up in yours, smirking.

"Maybe just for some of that lemonade in the fridge."

Good because that's 'bout the only thing in the fridge at this point. You tell him to go sit while you rinse out two dusty glasses and pour each of you a serving.

He's reclining on the sheet-covered couch, which is again one of the only pieces of furniture here already, and you hand him his drink.

"Thank you kindly." He gently tips the glass in a toast to you and takes a huge gulp, puckering at how tart it is. That's how he likes it, you know--little less sugar, little more lemon.

He's just starting to sweat through his cut-off shirt, pushing his long hair out of his face as he runs his fingers through it, wincing as the bandaged hand pains him.

You sip your lemonade and lounge on the other end of the sofa. "The fixer-upper fights back, huh?"

"Oh, I'll win the war. Don't you worry," he booms with a cocky smile.

"I'm not," you mutter.

If you can trust anyone in your life to follow through on helping you with such a monumental undertaking, it's Ari Levinson. He's the kind of friend who sticks around. He won't even leave when you two argue, which is borderline annoying, but he is that reliable.

I'm not going anywhere until you see sense, woman.

Granted, half of the time it's Ari who sees sense and admits you're right. That's when he sticks around to apologize and makes sure you both cool down. He's bull-headed and strong, strong like a friggin' ox, so he's--

Ari puts his empty glass on the floor and rubs his neck with his undamaged hand. You can tell by the way his bicep bulges and the veins in his forearm pop that he is using whatever force he can to get at a knot.

"Here, let me help." It's the least you can do.

Sheepish blue eyes flicker over to you. "Yeah, okay." His voice is softer than usual as he scoots forward for you to position yourself behind him, seated up on the back of the couch.

The height gives you good leverage to knead into the taut muscles of his shoulders, but you can't make much headway over the cotton shirt.

"Why are you built like a brick shithouse," you grumble loudly, digging as best you can while he seems barely affected.

Ari snorts. "Thank you?"

You jump off the couch and head to the bathroom. "This isn't working."

He's standing in confusion by the time you return with your bottle of lotion.

"Sit," you insist. "Shirt off."

He flops back down but eyes you questioningly. "You sure?"

For such a big man, he looks so cute when he pouts, so you kiss his temple playfully.

"Yes, I'm sure. How else am I gonna stop you from filing worker's comp?"

That makes him snort again, and he rips the tank off over his head.

Now, you've seen Ari shirtless probably hundreds of times, but there's never been an occasion to touch him other than a bit of suntan oil at the beach several summers ago. Sitting this close behind him gives you full view (and access) to the expanse of his back--

--and hoo boy, is it expansive.

Right at the base of his neck and down his spine, Ari's slippery with sweat, but you add a pump of lotion, working first at his right shoulder and then his left, warming up his muscles and your hands until everything is a bit more pliable.

When you grip and knead at the column of his neck, his head lolls forward and Ari moans, a sound that somehow makes you giggle and clench your thighs all at once.

"Sorry," he mutters, "feels nice."

Seems so, you bite back. Instead, you simply say, "good."

It's indulgent and fascinating to see and feel such strength yield beneath your touch, so you get lost in working his back, his shoulders, his neck, and then his chest when Ari melts backward to lean between your spread legs. You're following the corded bands in his pecs. You've grabbed more lotion three times when he finally breaks again.

"Fuck, you've got magic hands, woman."

Up until now, he's made pleased noises and offered soft praise for your efforts, but the timber of that statement is much lower and undeniably more sexual.

Ari's your best friend, so you know when he's dating someone. You know it's likely been a few months since he last got laid, and since he's a relatively affectionate man, you rationalize that he just can't help his phrasing at this particular moment.

That's what it is.

He's a bit touch-starved, but he's not starving for your touch.

You only realize you've stopped moving when his hand encircles your wrist.

You can't think of anything to say, so your mouth hangs open as you watch Ari crane his neck to look up at you with brilliant, blue eyes.

Don't undo my handiwork, you think. The angle of his head looks uncomfortable, but Ari doesn't move.

You're completely frozen in place, wondering what he's thinking, what you're thinking, if you should be thinking it at all, and then he pounces.

He stands so fast and pulls you so swiftly to him that the couch tips over, and you both land along the back cushions as if they are the seat.

Ari's plush lips and rough beard sear a hot trail across your jaw till he finds your mouth, and that same dirty moan of his vibrates down your own body this time. His hands paw at your baggy work shirt until you feel the textured bandage slide across your bare ribcage. The contact makes you shiver up into his hold and open for him, allowing his tongue in, a gush of arousal soaking your underwear.

Ok, fine, maybe it's been a while for you, too.

Your fingers dig into the lotion-slicked skin of his back while he ruts against you, each roll of his hips pushing your shorts tighter and tighter against your heat.

But the top half of the couch isn't angled for this. You two lose balance and topple halfway onto the floor. The fall knocks Ari out of whatever feral trance he was in, and his hips stop moving.

He buries his face in your neck, panting.

You can hardly hear him say your name.

"I'm sorry, I--" he drags his hand away from your breast to press it to the floor and hold some of his weight "--I didn't want to tell you like this." He won't remove his head from its hiding place.

"Tell me what," you gasp, scrambling to control a frantic heartrate and throbbing core. "That I have magic hands?"

You expect a laugh and instead get a heavy thrust of his pelvis in response.

"Fuck, honey."

Yeah, no chance you're gonna wrangle that throbbing now.

Ari still won't lift his head, but he does turn slightly to suck a mark beneath your ear. The tickling suction makes you keen again, arching up off the floor and cushion enough that his arms thread through the gap beneath you. He has you pinned and wrapped up tight now. You feel him everywhere.

"The times I've imagined this..." His gruff words trail off as he latches another kiss to your collarbone.

Your turn to dry hump him helplessly from below. You're hot all over and about to writhe right out of your skin for more contact.

You swallow harshly, closing your dry, gaping mouth. You have to think while his lips drag up and down your throat, and that is hard to do.

"So what you're saying is--" you take a few big breaths "--we have work to do in the bedroom now?"

Ari groans into your skin.

"Yes," he shouts with elation, using all of those thick muscles to haul you upright.

Your legs cross over his expansive back and hold on as he thunders across the empty house to the lonely mattress beyond.

Buy this one, he said. It's a fixer-upper, he said. I'll help.

Have an idea for a Sweet Sunday Scenario? Send me an ask!

Turns out I wrote a sequel (smutty)! Or you can check out the Bedrock and Blueprints Masterlist.

While I do try to maintain a taglist for series and/or characters, you can also follow @ronearoundlibrary and turn on notifications.

Find a typo? Is the formatting off? Let me know! I’m happy to fix it because English may be my first language but we all make mistakes.

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Find more on my Main Masterlist!

[josephtrohman]

As the president of the joe trohman nation, do you have any favorite joe era?

in short, the answer is yes! BUT with some caveats/technically i have THREE answers to this question even. i mean there is an answer i give for what is my singular favourite but i am a deeply annoying person, so... AND im also gonna put pics from the eras for fun bc any excuse to look at my fav joe pics. sorry anon if you didnt expect this level of answer but i am the president after all (put under the cut cuz. yeah)

so. first things first. if i had to narrow it down to just ONE era of joe as my favourite, it would be infinity on high era for sure. especially pre-beard, but with beard is great too.

some of my fav pre-beard joe looks ^ (HIM IN THE THNKS FR TH MMRS MV ESPECIALLY MY GAWDDDD THATS MY HUSBAND ON OUR WEDDING DAY FR. ok sorry)

BUT OBVIOUSLY. BEARDED IOH ERA ^ IS SO SO FUCKING FINEEEEE AS WELL god. (and the look he had at the 2007 vmas my gawddd you know the one). middle picture makes me crazy especially, red plaid and bi colours hat iykyk, n it’s currently my pfp on twt ;3

infinity on high era has been my fav for soooo sooo long, and it was definitely a crisis moment for me when i turned 23 and was like 😀 oh im older than joe was in this era. great. but even despite that i think it still will continue to be my fav era prob forever <3 (and of course unfortunately my feelings get a little bit complex about this era because of what we know from joe's book, knowing what he was struggling with. but i dont wanna get into that lmao...but at the same time i had to acknowledge the elephant in the room)

ok. so. like i said if i had to give one answer, the above would be mine <3 BUT heres some other thoughts i have.

my CURRENT fav joe era is 2009 post-haircut bearded joe (as maybe evidenced by my pfp). MY GAWD. MY GAWD. as a 24-almost-25-year-old, I DESERVE A 24-ALMOST-25-YEAR-OLD JOE.

not to mention how much they were putting fake blood/injuries on this man in bnd pt 2 tour!!! crazy!!!!!!!

okay and then my third answer is not just in terms of looks (although my god.....my god) but i would be remiss to not mention CURRENT ERA JOE AS FAV. because he's out here being sexy as hell, playing music with his friends, having fun, looking hot, being dilfy, so on and so forth... (this includes tourdust/2ourdust but since i saw joe in person at ayf it rewired something in my brain cuz he’s soooo fucking hot in person, so 2 ayf pics, and then also the first one the pic before download that Also rewired my brain 😵‍💫). also since they’re really new still here’s middle pic source and right pic source

OKAY AND THEN ONE HONOURABLE MENTION, late 2015 joe is so so special to me bc 2 of my fav pics joe of alllll time (prob both in my top 5 at least) come from then<3 here r the pics

was that a needlessly long winded answer to ur relatively simple question? yes for sure but i hope u enjoyed lovely anon <3

[fischlslays]

Letters [kny]

Pairing: Hashira x GN!Reader

Warnings: slightly swearing

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Summary: how pillars write letters when they are away.

Listen to these songs:

Or:

(Idk I just feel like it)

Or..:

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Friendly note: This is my idea :) So yeah, if you like those stuff tell to do more of! Reposts are appreciated! Now bestie enjoy! <3

Another friendly Reminder:

You slay.

Hot girls don't gate keep.

Stay hydrated bestie <3

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Tomioka Giyu:

He is the classic writer

His writing would be full of love mixed with how he miss you

He will write when he has a long mission

Just to reassure you <3

Here is it:

Dear Y/N,

I hope you are having a great time. I really miss you so much. I wish I could return faster that my water forms ever killed an enemy. You know how to cook, which makes any other cook suck at cooking. I got awfully used to your presence, it just annoys me when you are not around.

I miss coming back home, you hug me warmly, I can just forget what I was doing right before drowning in your embrace. You have positive vibes. I miss them.

I am making sure to finish my job fast so I can see you again.

-Giyu

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Shinazugawa Sanemi:

He is mean to every one

But he will be sure to write something that is actually good to read this mf can't write but why not?

Will try to not show emotions, he is not emo, he just don't want to show them on paper

You would probably tease him

Here:

Hey Y/N,

So how r u? I hope you are fine. My mission is nowhere near to an end. It feels like eternity. I miss the ohagi you used to cook. Remember to feed my beetle. I don't want you to worry. I'd try to come back as soon as possible. If you didn't do as I say, I will shove my foot up your ass.

Just drink enough water. Check on Genya, he is a reckless teen. Take care.

(I better find ohagi when coming back)

-The one and only

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Kocho Shinobu:

She would check up on you

And will probably tease you

She would tell you all the tea and drama that she found on her way

Like if two couples had a fight infront of her she will be like:

OH MAH GAWD

Here:

Hey Bestie,

How are you doing? Don't forget about me, I will just be 2 weeks gone by the way. So I just found out a girl was faking her pregnancy to get back with her ex boyfriend! And so much drama happened. HE TOLD HER: SHUT YOUR BITCH ASS UP! I NEVER TOUCHED YOU!"😭😭 MAH GIRL WAS EXPOSED. OMG.

How is everyone? Seriously, thet demons I find are always ridiculously weak. J can beat them with my eyes closed for real.

If you need something, Please let me know when I come back! <3

-Nobu

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Tokito Muichiro:

He would never forget to write for you when he is on a mission

Will probably be so short

Would talk about the clouds he saw

Here:

Y/N,

I hope your are doing alright. My mission is easy, so you don't have to worry about.

I saw a cloud that looks like you, it just looks so pretty. I love you.

-Muichiro

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Kanroji Mitsuri:

As the live pillar, she knows what to say

Her writing is soo sweat

She would show you that she missed you

Here:

Darling,

I hope you are at your best! I JUST LOVE YOU SOOO MUCHH. My mission is easy, I know it. Since you hugged me before I left. <3

I wonder if we could go to the wisteria tree after I am back? It feels good to be around you! <3

I MISS YOU!!

I LOVE YOU SO MUCH

LOVE YOU!

<3

-♡Mitsuri<3♡

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Iguro Obanai:

He wasn't really into writing

So it will be awkward

But he tries to make it good

But his letters always sends you to the moon

Here:

Hi,

How are you? I'm fine. How was your day? I hope it's good. My mission is easy, so no need to worry. I will make sure to be back soon.

Love you.

-Obanai

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Rengoku Kyojuro:

It's simply the most good ass letter you'd ever read in your whole crusty dusty freakin musty ass life.

He'd be sure for it to be perfect OCD?

He'd try to be funny by adding * to show you his expression. Some had to tell him it's not funny.

Here:

My Y/N,

How are you doing? Its not easy being away from you *sad face*. You look as beautiful as the moon, no prettier! *warm smile* I really love you! *blows a kiss* Take care!

-Kyojuro *winks*

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Tengen Uzui:

The most flamboyant letter ever

It will make you feel sexy and hot

You will turn into a blushing mess

British wannabe

HERE!:

My hot Y/N,

How are you with those feeling of yours that I'm not around? The amount of disrespect demons layed apon me for existing is unbelievable. I miss being around you, because you are hot. And flamboyant.

Life must be too shady with out your light (me), so I answered my call for you princess :)

Daily Reminder:

You are sexy

You are hot

Most importantly flamboyant.

-Flamboyant Master

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Himejima Gyomei:

WHY ARE YOU HERE? THIS BITCH CANT EVEN SEE YOU.

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Hey every one! <3¹⁹

How was your day? <3 Anyway, sorry for not unloading. I had exams and college applications to write. I gift you this work! I hope yall like it♡.

-Harper <3

[guavagyu]

lipstick - y.jh (part 2 of eyeshadow!)

QOWIHOWUOUWOEUWOYOUW PART TWO????

if ur seeing this before reading part 1 go read it!

request: "request: jeonghan fanfic where new stylist/makeup artist and jeonghan fall in love? slow burn, sexual tension, secret relationship typa thang ;) <3!"

ITALIC WORDS REPRESENT THOUGHTS! (exceptions included in dialogue and other spots)

wc: 815

gawd damn i let this go unpublished for SO long. enjoy lmao.

content/warnings: slow burn (duh), sexual tension (obviously), secret relationship (AASHGAJHGAJHS DUH), afab!reader, tall!reader (like same height as jeonghan aka like 178 cm or 5'10"), humor idk i think im funny, model!jeonghan cuz yum, stylist!reader, mentions of food + eating in this chapter, makeup-artist!reader, non-idol!au, swearing yihghgfdrtfyg, eventual smut lmao (not in this chapter tho!), lemme know if more r present or im gonna eat u /j

[prev!] [next!]

in the previous part:

since you were quite free for the rest of the day, you plopped down onto your heavenly bed and decided to research the company you were gonna work for. you already knew a ton about Ethereal Inc, you just wanted to look random stuff up, plus you were bored as hell. you were doing some digging around the web, and you- HOLY MOTHERFUCKING SHIT! HE'S A MODEL!? AT REMINISCENCE!? OH MY FUCKING GOD I MIGHT HAVE TO WORK WITH HIM! yeah, and you really didn't know how to feel about it. there were pros and cons, aka you having to work with a gorgeous noble hot as fuck man who's name was apparently yoon jeonghan, however, he might be too embarrassed from this morning's events, and may refuse to work with you. were you just overthinking things? it's all a possibility, but you never know.

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after doing a shit ton more research, you felt like you knew enough about the company for a newly-hired employee. since it was around 6 pm and you were feeling hungry, you decided to go out and have dinner, but since you didn't know where, you just decided to wing it. you (reluctantly) left the luxury of your bed, and left as quickly as you could since your stomach was getting impatient. you marveled in the fresh air the moment you got outside, (a/n: yes, be like the reader and go touch grass) looking around for possible restaurants to quell your unbearable hunger.

soon, you find a suitable place to eat, checking its reviews online because even though the place may look fine, and the food may look fine, food poisoning is not fine, and you'd rather not risk bombing your toilet and be stuck with food poisoning so soon before your first day. walking in looking like a disheveled-zombie-who-also-looked-like-they-just-endured-the-wrath-of-a-mad-artist-who-was-also-a-nature-enthusiast is highly unpreferred. but, aside from that, after a quick reassurance that the restaurant was trustworthy and ordered your food, you made a note-to-self saying damn, this restaurant isn't actually that bad. soon, you got tapped on the shoulder by some not-so-random person named yoon jeonghan,

"hi, you're y/n right? you probably know who i am already," he asked sheepishly, and you nodded, remembering your fun encounter from before,

"that's me! and i must say, wow you're everywhere," you nodded and smiled when you turned around, which made jeonghan let out a light laugh,

"i am, indeed," he smiled too, "anyways, you know what happened this morning-"

"how many times do i have to tell you? it's fine, don't worry about it," you cut him off,

"hey, listen to me, you didn't let me finish,"

"ok, continue," you raised an eyebrow,

"yeah, so my manager told me to come find you because he told me that 'you bumped into your stylist and makeup artist whos gonna start on monday' and told me where you were, so...yeah, here i am,"

"so, we're gonna be working together?" you asked for clarification, which in the end, affirmed your worst fears. however, it also made you suddenly think, maybe this won't be so bad, leaving you a little confused,

"basically," jeonghan nodded,

"awesome," you smiled,

"ok, that's all, i'll leave you alone now. enjoy your food!" he waved bye as he walked away, so you decided to continue eating your food, not noticing the happy little grin on his face as he walked away.

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“ah, sweet sweet bed,” you sighed after changing into your heavenly pajamas and flopping onto your bed, later getting back up to get your phone and scroll through instagram for a while, when a sudden notification pops up,

the fuck? nobody talks to me on instagram. (a/n: we're going to ignore the fact that i didn't include how he found your tag, just assume he got it from your manager or just searched up your name.)

surpise, surprise, it’s yoon jeonghan. he just followed you. super fun. and since you're bored out of your mind, you scroll through his profile cuz why not? oh wow, those are some interestingggg angles. mhm, yup thats a GREAT pic of a...what even is that??? after scrolling for a measly 7 minutes, you were just about to put your phone down and go prepare yourself for heavenly sleep, a loud DING made you drop your phone on your face. (a/n: cringe amiright? el em eff ay oh) bitch, my nose is broken now. you gave your nose a few moments of silence before opening up the startling notification,

@ hannie_hae:

hi y/n! sorry to keep bothering you, but i was just wondering if you'd like to meet up sometime and discuss some work things? i'd like to know what we're going to have to do before work starts so we're more prepared. let me know whenever you're free! :)

huh. slid into the dms like a champ. wait, when were you free? saturday maybe? oh yeah, saturday baby. 3:00? yes ma'am. oof, gotta play it cool, c'mon play it cool.

@ y/nconquerstheworld:

hey! that's a great idea, how about this saturday, 3:00 pm?

not too long after, another DING and a notification,

@ hannie_hae:

sure, is your place ok? i can also bring some clothes and makeup of my own, if that'd help.

wow. so. smooth. ha. ha. so cool, he's coming to your apartment. holy shit he's coming to my apartment. damn i gotta clean.

@ y/nconquerstheworld:

awesome! i got my own stuff already, but the more the merrier i guess. see you then!

@ y/nconquerstheworld:

oh, heres my address: *insert address*

@ hannie_hae:

see you then!

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jeonghans pov!!!!

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oh shit, i just did that. im so smooth. hashtag too cool for school. ok gotta pack, saturday is in 2 days. only 2 days!! i gotta make sure everything is perfect or else uh, yeah, more embarrassment than our first impression. dont wanna relive that.

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your pov!!!

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yup. this is great. gotta clean. ugh why did i agree to my place?? you just decided to let later-you to worry about it and prepared for bed.

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© guavagyu 2022. all rights reserved. plagiarization, reposting, translating, and/or rewriting ANY and ALL of my works is prohibited.

[nympho-brainiac]

Oh. Muh. Gawd.

I decided a while back that I was going to become a minimalist. So blah, blah, blah I went down this crazy rabbit hole on TikTok and I just started throwing shit out. Wasn’t a big deal because I already practice a lot of the shit but I tend to hold on to dumb stuff like dishes that I hate but my mom said I can’t get rid of…any fucking way, I don’t know why I did this but I remember saying “fuck this scale I’m tired of weighing myself” because I’ve weighed myself every week, once a week since 2014. I know because I keep it in my notes on my phone.

I weighed this morning and now I’m convinced that all the spam calls I get are actually from TLC wanting to do some fucked up reality show where they watch me cook from bed and call in a demolition crew to remove a wall to get me out of my house and to the Dr. where he will obviously deny me any kind of help until I lose one thousand pounds.

So it looks like hot girl summer is looking more like hot girl winter. Fall at best. 😩😮‍💨 why me Jesus. All I wanted was a Frappe a day. Damn.

Before you say it, yes I know all sizes can be sexy 🙄 that’s the absolute fucking truth. Sexy isn’t a size. Sexy isn’t even how someone else sees you. Sexy is 100% how you feel/see yourself and if I’m honest I still feel sexy. As fuck actually. Because I am. I just don’t feel hot. And I want to. I like that feeling. It might be shallow but that’s more than fine by me because guess what? Literally everything else about me is so deep that I have no problem allowing a little vanity to creep in. As long as it doesn’t take over I’m golden. 💫

I sure say fuck a lot on here for someone that just yells “GOD BLESS AMERICA!!” in real life. I’m trying to switch to fuck now that my kids are older 😜

I think I just vented…did I just vent? Ngl I actually feel so much better than I did when I started this post. Hmm. Might try it more often.

[powderblueblood]

hello powder i hope u r well. i am sure you will be pleased to learn that i have finished the first season of justified. my gawd. what a show. what a man rayman givens is. i understand your affinity for boyd crowder and i so see where you're coming from, unfortunately i am about to slut myself out to rayman givens. oh my lord, i understand how women felt during the gold rush when a beautiful lonesome cowboy wandered into town on his way to the mountains and you spent just one heavenly night with him and his rough hands before he left the next morning at dawn, never to be seen again, leaving you to dream about him and his voice for the rest of your life, where no one can compare. i understand ava crowder immensely actually, including the other side of her gun, and i actually think winona is 2 cool 2 fast 2 furious for anybody ever. i think that's all i can say at the moment, i think my analytical mind will begin to pick all the superb dialogue and themes apart once i've had some time to truly comprehend the insanity marshall givens is wrecking on my uterus. my apologies if that is tmi. i just wanted to thank you for being the gateway to this beautiful thing.

SANJANA BABY NOTHING NOTHING has made me happier in recent times than this news I mean hello I mean come on I mean welcome to the family I mean you will never leave Harlan alive

and look the Boyd Crowder effect is a slow burn, season one you’re like baby this guy’s a fucking freak (season two is where the magic begins to happens ugh he’s so sad and broken but then not oh my GOD season two my beloved) but we all came here primarily for Us Deputy Marshall Angriest Man I’ve Ever Known Raylan Givens sssssluttting his way from Miami to Lexington

and let me tell you, on the scale of needing Raylan Givens carnally, you ain’t seen nothing yet, he’s about to give you somewhat crooked old time lawman he’s about to give you reluctant girldad he’s about to get the shit kicked out of him and look soooo hot about it and he really do be wearing the shit out of that goddamn hat

and dzzont even get me started on the ballad of Ava Crowder, my fairytale princess with the sawed off shotgun, yet another ex cheerleader that I ADORE ugh I love her and Winona so much so much so much

I’m so fucking glad you’re enjoying it babe it actually makes my heart want to BUST

[inventedfangirling]

ONLY FRIENDS EPISODE 8 LIVE REACTION POST

I AM SO SO NOT READY for raymew...more like im not ready to see Sand hurt but arggghhh lets goooo

ohno ray seems to have not been a great influence on mew

okay i LOVE how protective cheum seems over mew but hello where was all this love and concern for ray all this while like whats that about !??

my gawd First is so dang good in this scene with Khao not like im surprised but gawd the hurt is hurting and it is not one bit comfy but again nobody should expect messy gays the show to be a comfort watch lmao

OHMYGOD why is everybody so good at their jobs...we barely knew anything about plug and yo's relationship but was that scene IMPACFUL or what!!!

no matter how much mental torture this may offer, its great that we also have guaranteed quality performances like wow what a pleasure it is to watch them perform

i get that top seems to be very much in love with mew but him acting all holier than thou about smoking PLS bit rich coming from somebody who literally cheated on him like WOW yes mew TELL HIM

I ADORE TF OUTTA HIM BUT PLS NO NOT FIRST SINGING

my gawd ray getting on my nerves he's so selfish wanting to have both mew and sand and using his cuteness to get his way like excuse me who allowed you outta my pocket and into the world where you can hurt sand GET BACK IN HERE!

my gawd ray using all his perusasion moves and then some but sand standing his ground multiples times im SO PROUD OF HIM 🥹

ray did not just use orphans to get sand to agree like arrest him milord its too much!!

oh damn top approaching cheum for help, man clearly serious about his concern (pretty obvious/out there prediction based on how you think but mewtop endgame methinks :3)

okay papang's character CLEARLY has just work on his mind SURE completely his excited thirsty looks giving NOTHING away

STFU did i just see boston looking at a selfie of him and nick while drinking alone in a bar WOW did not think i'd have lived to see this day lmao

is it just me being too sandray biased or did raymew not have much chemistry in that library scene...the way ray said you look delectable felt mechanical sorta like its something he just read off a script in his head and not what he thought of right then...probably also due to it being early days together but also i did NOT hear ray say that he doesnt want a band anymore...i simply didnt hear it...it makes me feel NOTHING

why the fuck have all these people been invited these two self destructive boys have evidently NO clue in life...as expected i mean lol otherwise whats the fun in a show about a bunch of well adjusted adults with entirely healthy relationships lmao

STFU did mew just try coke NOMYGAWD this is gonna be such a train wreck of a party I CANNOT

gawd pretty boy ray (SO PRETTY but also)whipped af he's gonna hurt so so bad when he realises mew has been knowingly or unknowingly using him to get over or spite top

zjnsnsjs what was that laugh mew did when ray asked if cheum invited top...book looked so HOT and MY GAWDS TOP GUN TOP AHRJMSNANSKAKA

is ray thinking what im thinking?? that mew is showing more emotion in the past 1 minute than he did the entire time they were together and it was entirely directed at top!?

ahjansnnsjsjs mew you menace that was such a badass move im gonna forgive you for using ray and making out with him for a hot second cos WOW

sand nick moving on buddies CUUUTE if only the moving on was working out for either of them 🤧🤧

wow nick has got some guts walking upto ton like that after having secretly recorded him and ruined his friend group...im dyingggg at his (desperation dressed as ) confidence

not to get distracyed but that teeny glimpse of neo's forehead through his fringe making me wanna scream...he looks so so sooo goood argh WHY DO THEY COVER IT UP HUH FOR WHAT?? FREE THE FOREHEADS!!!

2 freddie mercury's making out at a halloweeen party...woulda been such an iconic moment...ray playing spoilsport boy you better get back in my pocket (THREAT)

AABNANAN RAY DID NOT JUST SAY WHAT I THINK HE DID MY GAWD HE'S SO!?????

When tf is ray gonna learn not to kiss people without their consent he making me madder and madder!?!?!

holy fucking shit sand's expression after ray said "you love me" !?????? im so devastated at that milli second of a reaction FIRST IS SO FXKING GOOD!??

"you're mine no matter what!????" um how DARE he!????

YES SAND GOOD ON YOU IM SO PROUD OF YOU ray you better count your days im coming for you😤😤😤😤

mew breaking up with top cos he cheated on him to be with ray who has "always" been faithful to him and this always faithful guy just decides to offer himself to his "fuckbuddy" and some other random dude from the party so easily?? gawd i feel bad for mew.

i know mew is going through hell and sorta acting out...but my gawd unhinged mew is so hot????? i feel like my brain is turning to mush everytime he does something wild

pls that bgm in the topmew scene...no matter how this scene ends...they have to be the endgame i really dont see a way around it

cheum deciding to draw boundaries and blaming ray for showing no concern for her and ruining things while the police are literally checking the room for drugs after having pinned ray down is just the sorta shiz the show promised and it has delivered so good i could scream into my pillow for hours

2 seconds...thats all it took for khao to make an impact with that scene...he's MAGIC i tell you

cheum and april should just run away together just for a while give themselves some peace of mind

pls the romcom music for topmew its driving me insane.....this was supposed to be my sandray WHERE DID IT ALL GO WRONG

sandnick cuties I LOVE THEIR DYNAMIC ARGH...whether its kept as moving on partners or new found besties or even fwbs...i am full on supporting that shiz...sand deserves some fun too

cant believe boston was the least active character today...i almost have humane feelings towards him wow

sghahnsnznsjwjzjjsjsjsnjs omygod next episode preview ducking hell

Forget everything i said about sandnick and arresting ray and being mad at him...i am still mad but ahhh sandray my babies WE ARE SO BACKKKK....they better have a proper talk so ray can apologise and start off on a proper note or else imma lose it again but ahhhhhh i havent smiled at a preview in a loooong time fuckkk feeels goood😭😭😭

[fuckmeupjackson]

this is mike getting vecna'd-- foreshadowing i know it

i know someone else has most probably spotted this before, but I just noticed this a while back and haven't seen a post on it so here it is. Choking is a common imagery this season/throughout the seasons so that's what sparked this connection in my head. Sorry if this has been said before i just posted this cause haven't seen it posted.

Argyle's Arm = The Vine

El = Vecna

Pizza = Vecna's Hand lol

Mike = Max // which makes since given how much they've paralelled each other this season.

Plus Max looks through the "window" of Vecna's mind and immediately sees a memory of Lucas. This = Will watching thru the window.

u can just imagine will saying "but I'm right here" in his head. man.

Not to mention there is a blue + yellow box right in front of El in the frame; Since El is the person doing the "vecna-ing" here, what it means is the union of Mike and Will through Byler (represented by blue + yellow coming together) is what's scaring Mike the most, it's his monster, it's Mike's inner fear and shame (that Vecna would love so much to prey on), it's what Mike does not want to try, just like the pizza. Haha good job, self, you got that one *pats self on the back*. Oh, and you know what? Since it's kind of in Will's line of sight, I think it shows that the idea of Byler is Will's "monster" too. The thoughts of his love for Mike probably haunt him at night just much as Mike's love for Will haunt Mike, but for different reasons. For Mike it's his fear of being queer and for Will it's a little more about the devastating feeling that he'll never be loved back by Mike.

Oh damn and also the lights right in front of Will are off, the ones that are separating the two of them. Probably maybe symbolizing how Will is being left in the dark, Mike is ignoring the light that Will provides for him? The light is dead because Will thinks he lost Mike. And the blinds are closed and a dark shade of grey, showing just how "blinded" mike is being in the scene.

OR WHO KNOWS maybe Mike looked at Will when the shot moved away from him, the directors just don't want us to know.

Now 1 more thing, TBH, i don't actually think it's positive that Vecna will be "Vecna-ing" people in season 5 in the exact same fashion he is in season 4. Maybe that's a hot take idk lmao. He changes his tactic every season, and I just know whatever new strategy he chooses will be very different because 1. he has to come back from the dead with a new body and 2. he needs to use a tactic that brings him closer to Will/El than ever before. Closer to their minds probably. But that doesn't mean he won't be use his mind-manipulation strategies on Mike at some point, i think he will, or at least Mike's struggles would somehow reveal his love for Will.

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Sooo basically this parallel I've posted here COULD be foreshadowing a Vecna scene just like Max's to come for Mike s5, OR this parallel could actually just be a signal to the viewer, like symbolic imagery, that Mike is hiding just as much, if not more, than Max as of season FOUR, and he's going to have to face the consequences just like she has so far. He's going to have to let the truth show in one way or another, regardless of how. If anything this shows Mike is actually falling behind Max in her journey of revealing the truth:

--Max's internal conflict has been revealed to the audience; Mike's has not.

--Max actually looked through the window while being vecna'd, and she heard Lucas, but Mike didn't even look at Will through the window while being pseudo-vecna'd.

--That combined with all Mike's sunglasses/black-out glasses [which happened RIGHT before this scene in the pizza shop] imagery is a yikes lol. He can't see his truth. Gawd poor boy is in trouble. Alexa, play Blind by SZA please.