#These two are SO weird together I love them

[devosin]

— LATE NIGHTS & FLASHING LIGHTS !! prologue : a series of unfortunate events . .

♡. Spotify playlist | Updates, every Friday !! — Vil Schoenheit x reader | Vil pov . .

Vil sighs, scrunching his eyes shut, which proved to be more difficult than it appeared with the mud mask that he applied over half an hour ago still on his face, currently drier than the gluten free bread he bought last week. He melted into his couch, feeling an overwhelming sense of boredom settle into his otherwise restless body. 

Before he knew it, he found himself mindlessly scrolling through Magicam, looking through the self proclaimed critique’s 30 to 60 second reviews on his new movie or the finale of some show he was in, for a hit of dopamine. Which clearly wasn’t working, as each video was the same thing washed over and over again repeated with new synonyms bundled together to sound authentic (Which it rarely was) and of course, there was those few criticisms here and there, nothing uncommon. 

Vil lays his head back, scrolling some more, “Influencer Tartaglia joins the new soon to debut boyband, D!CKZ—”, he shuts his phone and tosses it to the side carelessly . . Did he ever mention his distaste for influencers moving into the entertainment industry? . . It makes his blood boil, just a tiny bit, since most of the influencers tend to ruin it for a lot of genuinely talented and lesser known actors out there, not to mention they’re so-called talent is usually mediocre at best. 

And he could go on and list all the reasons why influencers do not deserve a spot in the spotlight with the elite, and they may all seem reasonable at first, but it’s a cover-up for the real reason.

He feels some weird sort of envy, towards those individuals who put in zero effort and somehow make it, and get all these big protagonist roles right away, and how they aren’t criticized for their faults or terrible acting skills, just because they have a huge built fanbase of delusional fangirls ready to defend them from the get-go. 

Or how they aren’t criticized when they look less than perfect on screen, although he appreciates that current age viewers can acknowledge that it’s only human to get acne or maybe a pimple here and there, he didn’t meet the same fate when he was younger . .  It just makes him feel bitter . . and he’d never speak those feelings into existence, but deep down he does feel a bit hurt by the shift, it sometimes makes him feel like all those previous breakdowns were for naught. 

Vil snaps out of his pity party for one, getting up and stretching, going into the bathroom to wash off the mask before it dries out his skin (It probably already has), burn-out has hit him hard, and as much as his love for acting runs-deep, he’d rather take a break before his audience starts noticing his shift in acting. 

Which is why he agreed to hosting the show in the first place, he wanted to switch up his career, for awhile at least, he’s taking a break from acting but doesn’t want to directly leave the industry, because it’s difficult to fit right back in place once you leave, as there's always someone who could come and steal your position, and maybe even do better . . that’s why this industry is so hard to survive in, and as pitiful as it sounds, he’s practically married to his work, he can’t exactly risk it, in peace. 

Vil dries his face with a towel and then moves to grab his moisturizer, when his work phone rings. 

“Hello, this is Amanda from Descendants. Inc. We talked before reguardinging ‘Late nights & Flashing lights’ . ” . . . “So, due to a multitude of reasons, we’re kind of in a time crunch to get the premiere launched, by the end of this month actually . . . but, we’ve received confirmation on who’ll be co-hosting with you, Y/n L/n!” 

“ . . . excuse me?” 

“This must be such a shock, but Y/n has actually been our top pick for this role, and the internet seems to really want to see the two of you on-screen together, considering your screen presence, I honestly think you two will be a perfect match for the show.”  

“I—”, Vil’s voice was hoarse as he tried to mentally wrap around all the information that was just dropped, “Ah—That’s time, we’re so excited to see you on set next week.” . . . “If you’d like, I could send you y/n’s number beforehand, so the two of you could talk things through?”, that seems to snap him back to reality, as the professionalism seeps right back into him, “That would be lovely, thank you.” 

The doorbell rings, informing Vil that his takeout that he ordered about two hours ago had finally arrived, but he didn’t feel like eating anymore.

Drinking is completely legal at 18-19 in my country, so I'm just putting that over here before someone tries fighting with me about it (This has happened before), also Vil is currently in his late 20's.

Don't expect everything to play off of Vil in-game, since this is placed like a decade into the future, so things will be changes and messed around with to fit the current age and setting more. <3

Profiles | Masterlist | Next chapter . .

— LATE NIGHTS & FLASHING LIGHTS !! ♡. Synopsis : VIL SCHOENHEIT recently signed a contract under Descendant. Inc for his very own late night show, only to find out his co-star and fellow co-host is none other than Y/n L/n, someone he hates despite knowing very little about them and never having met them, previously. Y/N L/N, an actor who made their debut 3 years ago and hasn’t been able to catch a break since, recently decided to sign a deal with Descendants. Inc to host their new late night show “late nights & flashing lights”, as a break from acting . . Only to find out their favorite long-time actor will be co-hosting with them. Tune in every Friday, for a new episode of “late nights & flashing lights” to see if these two hosts can find a peaceful work-bond amidst their judgements . . and quite possibly even love? . .

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© devosin , do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work without prior permission and or confirmation.

[keferon]

Sorry in advance for the word vomit but. I love the whole Jazz-and-Prowl figuring out the language barrier but also consider:

They don't.

Prowl's been captured by Quintessons and is currently thinking of ways to completely scrape his processor so they can't get any useful data, only to get rescued by a random mech. They fight their way out (the mech is extremely proficient in combat). At first he thinks it's a drone- it looks at him when he asks questions but doesn't answer (responds to noise, not language), it is sparkless (not alive) and it makes random but entirely incoherent noises and doesn't even ping (not able to communicate). Prowl has no idea what's going on but he's too injured to make it back to base alone and it's helping him? So. He chalks it up to some waylaid stealth military asset and tries to think of ways to both get it back to base whilst also making sure it's not some sort of Quintesson Trojan-horse [10%].

Meanwhile, Jazz was sent to blow up a Quintesson command camp by his organisation but instead he got thrown through a weird portal, and found a pilot all tied down and probably being tortured so naturally he busted him out but uh. He has no idea what the other is saying. He's talking in total tonal gibberish. Not that he's judging, he's heard some stuff about how far other piloting programs are willing to go to advance neural technology. And his face! He has one! A handsome one. Must be some advanced shit because he's got micro expressions and he's using them to frown as him. Anyways, Jazz's got bigger fish to fry. The sky's a different colour, there are two suns and atmo is reading terribly low levels of O2. Maybe he and this pilot got thrown into an alien planet? Cool- well, actually pretty bad but hey they're in this together.

Prowl knows by models that they're bound to run into another Quintesson patrol eventually, and based on the drones alertness to its surroundings, his previous observations to its capacity to fight, and how it doesn't stray to far from him, if patrol numbers are favourable [1-8 range] they can survive [70, .5]% the route back to base. But the drone is reckless and abandons him to the melee (how can a drone be reckless?) and Prowl gets injured worse. Energon drips from wounds, and the angle makes it challenging for him to patch it. But the drone creeps closer, folds to its (knees? Its joints are in an odd but effective configuration) and gently (gently?) begins to mimic (clumsily) Prowl's motions of patching his wounds. Here is where Prowl falters, because drones are not so careful. Drones do not do not look up multiple times at his faceplates, and become more delicate when they see you in pain. Drones don't hold out a servo and help you to your pedes when your done. Which begs the question, if he's not a drone, so what has been done to this mech?

Jazz on the other hand is freaking the fuck out. Naturally. Because uh, he started slicing Quints, expecting Frowny to do the same because his mech was still clearly operational, only for the idiot to completely disregarded normal combat standards which can be summarised as 'fight hard or die' and instead get chewed on by some big ass teeth.

Only to see the glowing purple dripping from his torn sides, only to see that he's bleeding.

Machines don't bleed.

So Jazz figures out Frowny is an alien first. He starts pointing at himself and saying his name, insistently, until Frowny repeats it. He points at Frowny, and records and replays whatever sound bite Frowny makes until Frowny's also nodding in confirmation. He still calls him Frowny, because even though he has his name? Probably? He has no idea what it means and can't actually pronounce it (no idea how to get a mouth to move that way) but hey! Progress! He does this again and again with small things (rock, hand, cyber?animals, music (Frowny's confused at that one it's pretty adorable) ect.

Prowl has no idea what to make of this strange mech. Is he a failed experiment? A runaway from Cybertron following the Functionalists rise or power? Thennn Prowl finds out one fateful night that the mech is actually an alien organic (in a fit of misunderstandings, and squeezes him pretty hard for it ouch and feels SO guilty about it later) and suddenly the language/culture barrier makes way more sense.

Prowl's injuries degrade (a line splits). He has no way to communicate this except for the energon dripping out of his chassis. The organic is clearly worried (how did he think he was ever sparkless), and Prowl can't reach the injury himself. So he guides the mech's servos past armour and wiring, down to protoform (near his sparkchamber) to the split line. Gestures and hopes the mech can figure out what to do from his miming[#^%]. That'll he'll be careful, and won't hurt him [5%, 87%, #*%, *########%].

Frowny is later picking shrapnel stuck in his forearm that's too small for him to remove, so Jazz gets out of his mech to help with his small human hands. Jazz has no way to communicate to Frowny that if he moves, he'll sheer Jazz's limbs clean off, but he goes in anyway, because Frowny's hurt, and speckled in blood. Because he's clearly struggling and hurt and tired. Because Jazz has to trust that he won't.

Frowny's injures eventually make him collapse, and Jazz carries him the rest of the way. Jazz has no idea how they'll be received (especially considering how Frowny reacted when he found out Jazz was organic). Jazz knows he might be dissected. Knows he might be pulled apart (again) but.

He remembers all the little moments they had on their journey (Frowny shielding him from falling rubble when Jazz was out of his mech once, them getting to gesticulating arguments, Frowny's reaction to his music, how he fell asleep on Jazz once and it was fricken adorable).

It doesn't matter that Jazz can't say (barely understands) his actual name. That Frowny probably doesn't understand his. It doesn't matter that they talk in halting miming, in broken sound clips and touches and half-glares.

He's already gone out on all his limbs, might as well put his head on the chopping block. And if it causes him to lose the damn thing, well.

He's a pilot. Dying horribly is practically his job description.

OOOUUUUGGGGGHHHHHHHHH DYING HORRIBLY IS PRACTICALLY HIS JOB DESCRIPTION,,,,,,,,,,,

[sanemistar]

TAKE ME BACK

contents ★ ex!geto x fem!reader, angst to fluff, exes then back to lovers, slightly ooc geto (?), 1.2k+ wc. requested for my milestone event. author's message ★ trying a new layout for this one :3 i honestly love this color combo plus these are my favorite colors ever <333

event m.list ★ jjk m.list

seeing your ex boyfriend suguru for the first time after the breakup left you with mixed feelings of both familiarity and unfamiliarity. in terms of appearance, he hadn’t really changed. he looked pretty much the same way as you left him except his jet black hair had gotten longer. however, something about his aura had changed. you weren’t exactly sure what it was, you just had a feeling that it wasn’t the same as before, it was a tad bit softer, more gentle, and it made you feel as if you were being in the presence of a completely different person.

tension began to rise as awkward silence filled the atmosphere around you. it was excruciating and you had a hard time breathing, your heart clenched painfully. you were anxious and nervous.

yet despite all that, deep down inside your heart was a part of you that wanted to see suguru again, which grew bigger when it actually happened, you were quite happy to see him again after all that time.

if you were being completely honest, you had never been able to move on from him. so in other words, you still had feelings for him. and if he ever asked you to get back together, you would do it in a heartbeat without a single hint of hesitation.

you knew he wouldn’t though, and these were only wishful thoughts on your part. because you were pretty sure things between you and him had ended once and for good that day. showing no signs of a reconciliation.

“you haven’t changed at all.” your eyes widened slightly, it was as if he was reading your mind. was it some sort of telepathy or something? you didn’t know. his voice pierced through your ears, and it got you thinking that his tone hadn’t changed in the slightest. his voice was still as soft as it could be.

“you too, sug—geto.” you almost called him by the nickname you gave him back when he was your boyfriend, but quickly realized and changed to his last name. however, it didn’t feel right to you. it felt so forced, simply because his nickname used to roll off your lips ever so effortlessly, your tongue was so used to the sound of ‘sugu’ as it rolled out naturally. so when you forced it to say his last name instead, it came off weird.

suguru chuckled, a somewhat sad smile made its way onto his face upon hearing his last name rolling over your lips. the sound of it felt foreign to his ears as it reminded him that you two weren’t in the kind of relationship that allowed you to be on a nickname basis anymore. it hurt him, and it hurt him deep.

because truth be told, he too, still loved you. he tried his hardest to move on with his life, he went out with many girls, and he even went as far as to sleep with them in desperate attempts to forget all about you as if he’d never met you. but to his misfortune, his attempts never worked out. you were simply unforgettable to him, he could never erase you from his heart even if he wanted to.

he had left his heart with you on the day you called it quits, and couldn’t manage to get it back to give it to someone else.

you felt as if time was frozen, and you were stuck in yet another prolonged moment of silence. with just you and suguru together, no one else.

your mind was constantly telling you to run away, to not look back and leave him behind. that you were better off without him. but your emotions took control over your actions as your heart refused to let your body move, and you remained still in your spot.

“i can’t believe i let you go,” suguru spoke for the first time in what seemed like forever, breaking that thick layer of silence. “i was such a fool, wasn’t i?”

his regretful tone caught you by surprise, you couldn’t believe that it was possible for suguru to regret a decision he made. yet there he was, spilling out his regrets in front of you.

you slowly parted your lips open, thinking of what to say back to him.

“isn’t it a little too late for that?”

that wasn’t what you wanted to say, you wanted to say that you missed him, that you still loved him, that you wanted to get back together with him.

but your mind was too quick to react. you wished you could take back what you said, but it was too late for that.

“maybe… but if i’m being honest with myself, i still love you. actually, i don’t think i’ve ever stopped loving you once.” you watched suguru admit that he still had feelings for you in utter disbelief. it was the last thing you expected to hear from him. how he looked at you while he was talking and how earnest he sounded were enough proof that he was being sincere and genuine, he meant every single word he said.

suguru on the other hand, felt some sort of relief washing over him after finally letting his suppressed feelings for you out of his chest. he didn’t know if he would ever get another chance to see you again, so he was more than determined to win you back. it wasn’t guaranteed that you would allow him in your life once again, but he was still willing to give it his all.

“so please just,” he paused momentarily, taking a deep breath before proceeding. “take me back to you.” it sounded as if he was pleading, perhaps he was indeed pleading. he was just desperate at that point as this was his last resort. but he didn’t care if he seemed desperate, he was able to put his pride aside and show you his weak side. to suguru, if showing his vulnerability to you was the price he had to pay for him to get you back, then so be it.

“you idiot, of course i’d take you back. i wouldn’t want to be with anyone who wasn’t you, i will always love you.”

that sole sentence was enough to bring you to tears because of how moving it was. you immediately run towards him and throw yourself in his arms as you wrapped your arms tightly around him as you bury your face in the crook of his neck, holding onto him for dear life. his body slightly flinched under your touch, but quickly reacted as his strong arms pulled you closer to him. your bodies were so close that you could feel the warmth of one another.

“welcome back, sugu.” you said in between your sobbing, finally allowing his name roll off your lips ever so easily. he smiled upon hearing his nickname being said as he gave the top of your head a series of small, tender pecks.

“yeah, i’m back home.” he hummed softly against your ear.

suguru had been lost for so long, but at last he was finally back to where he belonged, to you, his home.

𝜗𝜚 taglist: @unriding @lxnarphase @sylusdoll @itachiiwrites @itoshivy @17020 @creamflix @luv-lies @suguru-getos ( @gothsuguru + @hiraethwrote special tags for you my loves since you asked me about it )

[sheep-from-rad]

How would the batfamily react if they found out that the singer/influencer reader was dating one of the villains?, imagine the reader has friends with benefits from the villains

(What kind of jokes do you like?)

Batman is so scary, even bullets are afraid to hit him. That's why they aimed for his parents. (sorry)

anon 🦌

Note: 🦌anon please send more jokes. After the Solmare announcement regarding the Obey me series, I am one push away from drinking every wine in my fridge.I’m gonna need more jokes (˃̣̣̥ᯅ˂̣̣̥) I don't give permission to have my fics posted to other sites, copied, or fed to AI. Thank you.

Masterlist 

divider by: @strangergraphics-archive and @strangergraphics. Please do support them ♡

You heard that? That’s the collective sign of every Batfamily member sighing in disappointment and collective glare towards Bruce. Like father like child, of all genes to be inherit you inherited his taste (ಠ_ಠ). Getting entangled with a villain is not something new in the Batfamily because they are either related to one (Cassandra, Stephanie, Damian) or romantically involved with one (Bruce with Talia, Poison Ivy, Catwoman and sometimes Harley. Dick with Catwoman II. And Jason with… you know what let’s not talk about Talia and Jason. That one is weird on all levels). 

If you’re romantically involved with someone who does not know Batman’s real identity then it’s not much of a problem. The family is just going to visit said enemy and scar them for the rest of their mortal life. It will be so bad they will just quit being a villain and leave Gotham all together. If you’re romantically involved with someone who knows Batman’s real identity, then it will be a chaotic event. Bruce is already fighting villains and now he’s fighting his blood pressure too. 

Riddler would be so smug about it. He would rub it in every Batfamily member’s face and would constantly drop your name in fights like ‘How would they react if you hurt me?’ or ‘Oh they will be mad if I come back bruised!’. Riddler would be so insufferable like the madman he is. If you’re dating Harvey Dent, you’re technically dating two persons (in most media depictions, Harvey is the same age as Bruce so let’s go with that one). His incorruptible part is basically filling every space that Bruce neglected to fill. He’ll teach you about legals and laws, tell you stories about their days and he protects you from those who dare to come close. His corrupted part, Two face, is kind of mean. He will never miss the chance to remind you of the potential parental issues you have. 

Headcanon that Harley will make it her mini mission to keep you away from Joker because let’s face it, Joker will not love you. He will only use you and break you like how he did to Harley. 

Honestly, it doesn’t matter if the relationship you have is good or bad. To the family it’s a parasite that needs to be terminated immediately before it grows. You’re grounded. You’re not allowed to go out alone. If you don’t live in the estate anymore, you will just randomly find your apartment sold to someone else and you’ll be taken back to the estate. No metahumans in Gotham rule but Damian already has the permission from Bruce to have the Titans stay for a while as reinforcements. Even Jason is patrolling more and everyday now he will make a report to the estate. 

During those days they were full on babying you to the point of infantilization. They’ll give you ‘the talk’ especially if you’re in a friends with benefits relationship with a villain and sometimes they’ll go so far into showing you every other person they had been with. They are not above poisoning the relationship too. They’ll show you expertly doctored photos showing their ‘infidelity’. Guilt trip you into reading old cases and gaslight you. You’re not in love with them, you were just manipulated into thinking that you are. 

But of course, what is a Wayne if not stubborn? Month of being grounded and being in heavy watch and you’re done. You already have their shifts memorized down to who checks on you at night. After hours once you’re certain that everyone is now asleep or busy on their patrols (or finished checking your room), you start acting out the plan of running away. You passed each security detail without triggering them, passed every room without alerting anyone, and passed Titus without waking him up. However before you can even reached the doorknob, you heard Dick and Jason behind you:

“Looks like someone took lessons from Catwoman” 

“You know we saw your lover today. We were going to let them go but I guess no one’s picking you up anymore” 

The next time you wake up, you are greeted by the fresh warm breeze and the sound of water hitting the shore. As you descended down the stairs, news about a villain going missing was on the headlines along with the date on the screen saying ‘Thursday’. It has been three days since you got caught by Jason and Dick and Tim just entered the door carrying take outs from Mad Yak cafe. You’re in Happy Harbor, far away from Gotham and your lover is missing. Was the no kill rule violated? You can only pray it’s not.

[seitmai]

This was bad. It was too early in the relationship to say something. You two had only slept together a handful of times. You still fucked in missionary there was no way you could ask him to choke you.

👀

"Guess I've always been a thigh guy? But yeah, your's are pretty damn amazing." You don't have to turn around, the small chuckle he lets out at the end indicates he's flustered. When you turn around, you're met with rosy cheeks and bashful eyes. Bradley ducks his head into the crook of your neck, placing small kisses along your jawline.

I love blushy and bashful men 🥰

The groan Bradley let out was gutteral, causing your thighs to clench.

Th only right bodily reaction

All you could do was hold on, your fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt. Before you could even mark up that pretty neck of his, Bradley's hand found yours. His fingers spanned the entirety of your throat. The grip he had on your neck forced you to look up, allowing Bradley's lips to crash against yours. It was dizzying, how small he made you feel. Then his hand pressed against your throat and you were a goner. Broken moans filled your kitchen, your hips rutting against Bradley's in a feeble attempt to get more of him.

😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

So you went to apologize, like you always did. Apologize for not being sexy enough, thoughtful enough, not considerate enough- Bradley's mouth silenced you as soon as it latched onto one of your bare thighs. Your fingers found his sun kissed hair, clinging onto the roots to stay somewhat stable, which was extremely difficult considering the attention Bradley was giving to your thighs.

I mean he said it himself, he's a thigh guy 😌

You thought he would give them a kiss or two, maybe a bite and then move on. Instead, Bradley had developed an unpredictable pattern when it came to your thighs. A bite here, sometimes followed by his tongue lapping over the mark, other times his lips pressing open mouthed kisses over your skin. No. Bradley said he liked-no-loved your thighs. And Bradley Bradshaw actually meant what he said.

A man of his words 🫡🥵

Bradley shook his head, "Nothing you have to apologize for." When you looked up, he was giving you that earnest smile that made your heart flutter.

🥰🥰🥰

"I-sorry about what I said earlier," Bradley muttered. Oh yeah. That was something to talk about. "The Mrs. Bradshaw thing?" you asked. Heat rushed to Bradley's cheeks as he rubbed a hand against the back of his neck, "Yeah....I'm sorry if that weirded you out. You were just really pretty-I mean you're always pretty-" "It's not the first time you've called me that." You felt calm talking about it. Part of that was seeing Bradley visibly nervous. You did what you would have wanted someone to do. You take his hands into yours, giving them a gentle squeeze as you looked up at him with a soft smile. "I mean it. I don't mind at all. It was actually....sweet but also kinda hot," you admitted, feeling heat rise to your face.

He went from being nervous about it and apologizing to being a menace about it real quick 🤭😅

for those smutty prompts you reblogged ☺️ 29, which also goes pretty well with 7 too 💁🏼‍♀️

They do and they fit Birdie and Roo very well!

Warnings: Bradley's hands, reader has a nickname (no appearance described), smut, mentions of insecurities, did I mention Bradley's hands?

You should've noticed it earlier. Any other time when you weren't at your job, when you didn't have to be a professional.

But when Bradley went to give one of your students a high five, the stark juxtaposition of his hand compared to an eight year old's was astounding.

They were huge.

You wanted to entwine your hand with his, to feel his calloused fingertips. You wanted to feel them all over your body, particularly your throat.

But you were at your job. He was here to talk about his job for Career Day, filling in for a last minute cancellation.

So instead, you cleared your throat, "Let's give a big thank you to Mr. Bradshaw for coming in!"

Your professionalism nearly faltered when his hand laid itself on your shoulder, giving you a gentle squeeze.

"I'll see you later?" Bradley whispered, brown eyes full of hope.

One could see your quiet nod as a way to not draw attention to the interaction.

But you knew the truth. It was to keep yourself from saying something highly inappropriate in front of twenty third graders.

After your illy-timed revelation, it felt like the universe was doing everything within it's power to draw attention to Bradley's hands.

When you came home, you found Bradley in your kitchen, long fingers splayed out across one of your cabinets as his other hand worked to tighten a screw. His brows were knitted together in concentration, the tip of his pink tongue sticking out between his teeth as he focused.

His sweet brown eyes lit up when he saw you at the doorway of the kitchen.

"You'd think for how much your landlord charges, they'd have the decency to make sure all the screws are on tight."

It was such a sweet gesture. You hadn't mentioned it at all, meaning he must have noticed it himself. He took the time to grab his toolbox, bring it over here, and begin fixing it himself.

And all you could do was stare at his hands.

"Birdie? You okay?" His question broke you out of your trance.

"Oh yeah! Thanks Roo," you quickly kissed his warm cheek before excusing yourself to change.

This was bad. It was too early in the relationship to say something. You two had only slept together a handful of times. You still fucked in missionary there was no way you could ask him to choke you.

And what if he wasn't into that? What if he thought it was weird? Wouldn't be the first guy. But the difference now was that you really liked Bradley. You could see a future with him and he felt the same way.

The last thing you needed was to make him run for the hills.

So when you went into the kitchen after changing, you focused on reheating leftovers. Not the way Bradley was playing with Ladybug in the living room, those God damn hands scratching the dog's belly much to her delight.

This plan was going pretty well, until you felt large palms skimming across your bare thighs, a broad chest pressed against your back.

"Are those new?" Bradley asked, referring to the soft lounge shorts you had on.

"Uh yeah. They were on sale so I decided to treat myself," you quietly explained. God, his hands covered so much of your flesh. The way they gently kneaded the soft muscle of your thighs was heavenly combined with the hairs of his mustache brushing against your neck.

"D-do you like them?" Your voice was shaky, though it was an honest question. Okay, maybe you were trying to distract yourself again because thinking of the least attractive thing wasn't taking your mind off the way his fingers had slipped underneath the hem of your shorts.

Usually thinking of the way Stephen King wrote female characters always did trick. At least it did until Bradley Bradshaw came along.

"Love 'em. Love when you show off your thighs," he rasps in your ear.

"Really?" It was never a body part you noticed. In fact, you tried not to think about your thighs and the stretch marks that danced along the skin there or how much space they took up when you sat down.

Bradley nods before placing a soft kiss on your cheek, "Yeah. Don't get me wrong, I love everything about you Birdie."

His declaration makes your heart flutter.

"Guess I've always been a thigh guy? But yeah, your's are pretty damn amazing." You don't have to turn around, the small chuckle he lets out at the end indicates he's flustered.

When you turn around, you're met with rosy cheeks and bashful eyes. Bradley ducks his head into the crook of your neck, placing small kisses along your jawline.

His admission makes you feel at ease, your worries melting away. Your hands find his, several of your fingers wrapping around only one of his.

"I...I like your hands. A lot," you admit.

Bradley's mouth stills, "Really?"

You giggle, "Yeah. Like how big they are. Like how they feel when I hold them."

His mouth moves upward, now against the shell of your ear, "Saw you looking at them earlier. Is that all you were thinking about? Holding them?"

You could say yes and Bradley will drop it. He's had his suspicions about you, that there was more than you lead on when it came to the bedroom. Little things here and there have led him to believe it, as well as that you needed someone to open that door for you.

"I...." You took a deep breath, "I like how your fingers feel inside of me. And....I want to know how they'd feel around my throat."

The groan Bradley let out was gutteral, causing your thighs to clench.

"Jesus fucking Christ Birdie." For a brief moment, anxiety raced through your mind. You had messed up, had gone too far.

But then Bradley's mouth crashed against yours, his hands gripping the backs of your thighs as he picked you up. While the sudden show of strength made your head spin, it was feeling his erection that made you wonder why you worried in the first place.

Once you were placed on the counter, Bradley's hands trailed up your body, squeezing and kneading your soft flesh. His fingers reminded you that you had opted to go braless when you changed, the deft digits paying particularly close attention to your breasts.

All you could do was hold on, your fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt. Before you could even mark up that pretty neck of his, Bradley's hand found yours. His fingers spanned the entirety of your throat.

The grip he had on your neck forced you to look up, allowing Bradley's lips to crash against yours. It was dizzying, how small he made you feel.

Then his hand pressed against your throat and you were a goner. Broken moans filled your kitchen, your hips rutting against Bradley's in a feeble attempt to get more of him.

His other hand slipped past the waistband of your shorts, your body arching into his when his fingers skimmed the thin fabric of your panties.

You loved his touch. You were pretty sure you loved him too but that was a future you problem.

And all too soon, it was gone- his hand around your throat, the other rubbing your clothed core.

If it weren't for the cloud of anxiety beginning to form in your brain, you may have been able to say something witty, like taking it back to the bedroom. But that would require your brain to not jump to the worst conclusion, such as Bradley realizing how weird it was to be obsessed with hands.

Before you could say anything, Bradley dropped to his knees, now at eye level with your lap.

His long fingers trailed up your legs, leaving goosebumps in their wake. They finally stopped at the waistband of your shorts.

Shit.

Yes, you knew Bradley was coming over. God, you even had the chance to change into something more appealing than the plain underwear that could only be described as 'granny panties'. And yet, it completely slipped your mind that perhaps you and Bradley would be doing something more intimate this evening.

Alright, that was a lie. You had been hoping that would be the case, but expecting it would be rude.

So you went to apologize, like you always did. Apologize for not being sexy enough, thoughtful enough, not considerate enough-

Bradley's mouth silenced you as soon as it latched onto one of your bare thighs. Your fingers found his sun kissed hair, clinging onto the roots to stay somewhat stable, which was extremely difficult considering the attention Bradley was giving to your thighs.

You thought he would give them a kiss or two, maybe a bite and then move on.

Instead, Bradley had developed an unpredictable pattern when it came to your thighs. A bite here, sometimes followed by his tongue lapping over the mark, other times his lips pressing open mouthed kisses over your skin.

It was nice. Borderline unusual, considering those you dated in the past hardly spent anytime on one specific body part. Was he doing this because of your unappealing underwear?

No. Bradley said he liked-no-loved your thighs. And Bradley Bradshaw actually meant what he said.

The seed of doubt that had tried to grow in your mind withered away with each kiss, with each love bite and mark he placed on your thighs. With every action done by his stupidly talented mouth, worries about what you were wearing faded away.

Instead, you could just enjoy the insanely attractive man who was in between your legs.

God, he was so fucking hot. In such a short time, he had mastered your body, knowing the perfect amount of pressure when he sunk his teeth into your skin. His fingers gripped your soft flesh, hard enough to leave hand-shaped bruises but soft enough to still be pleasurable.

Tension melted off your body. Your head lolled back, mind focused on how enjoyable it was-

Oh.

This is what it was supposed to be like all along, wasn't it?

"Birdie? You okay baby?" When you opened your eyes, Bradley was at eye level with you.

You could only let out a confused huh.

"You stopped making those cute noises." He thought those were cute? You had been trying to hold back, not wanting to be too loud.

Maybe you should be louder.

"Yeah, sorry, I was just enjoying myself," you said sheepishly.

Bradley shook his head, "Nothing you have to apologize for."

When you looked up, he was giving you that earnest smile that made your heart flutter.

It's that exact smile that gives you the courage to learn forward and kiss him, trying to pour as much passion as one can with one simple action.

Your body arches into his, fingers weaving through those soft curls.

One of Bradley's hands snaked down your body, going past the waistband of your panties. A jolt of electricity went up your spine upon feeling his fingers brush against your soaked core.

When his fingers traced over your entrance, you didn't hold back.

Which was great for Bradley, as the desperate moan you let out made his cock twitch.

Of course his fingers were quick and talented, considering his job. You just never considered how it would translate to the bedroom (or kitchen in this case). The first time he thrusted his fingers inside of you, you thought it was a fluke. It had been ages since someone had touched you, which explained why you came so quickly.

But now? You knew better.

Your small kitchen was quickly filled with the sounds of your moans and heavy breathing. Each time his fingers stroked that one spot, you saw stars behinds your eyelids.

How did he find it so quickly?

When his thumb reached up to draw circles on your clit, all you could say was his name over and over again.

Your head felt like cotton, but in a good way. Maybe he could feel the heat radiating off of your body, but for once you didn't care. A particularly hard yank of his locks earned you a low, guttural growl from Bradley, making your walls clench around his fingers.

His free hand quickly found the sides of your neck, squeezing just enough to make a broken wail fall from your lips.

You were fucking gorgeous like this, ears teary from pleasure, lips parted. Bradley had a strong feeling there was more than what you had initially shown him. But that strong wall of reservation had broken down over time. Seeing you like this was nearly enough to make him cum right then and there.

"Br-Bradley," you barely got out, as he changed the angle of his hand, his fingers now able to thrust deeper inside you. Fuck, were you hearing yourself? Did he make you that wet?

It was absolutely certain.

"Yeah?" His voice was smooth like honeyed wine, "You gonna come for Mrs. Bradshaw?"

Fuck.

All at once it hit you like a tidal wave. Your hips jerked erratically, desperate to get as much of his fingers as possible, trying to ride out the wave as much as possible.

Thank god he didn't stop. You were addicted to the pure bliss that was running through your veins. No worries, seeds of doubt miles away. All you could focus on was the gorgeous man in front of you who was making you see stars.

You could process what he said later.

For now, you just rode it out.

"So fucking pretty like this," He rasped in your ear, fingers continuing their ministrations, "Y'know that?" All you could do was weakly nod, sensitivity beginning to overtake your body as you were pulled back to that pleasurable edge.

"Yeah, you're my pretty girl. All mine." The declaration made your head spin.

"A-All yours-Bradley!"

This time when you came, your hands clutched the soft fabric of his shirt, clinging onto him for dear life. Second orgasms were really a thing? You always thought that your inability to experience it in the past indicated that something was wrong with you.

You were beginning to learn the problem wasn't always you.

When he pulled out, his arms wrapped around your back, pulling you in for a hug. Bradley quietly rocked you back and forth, pressing soft kisses to your temple.

"You good Birdie girl?" He asked, the smile evident in his voice.

You nodded, a dozy grin appearing on your face, "Yeah I just-wow. Never came twice before. Thought it was a myth or something."

"I think you've just been with shit people," Bradley stated, feeling comfortable enough to finally address it.

"I think you're right," your arms around his waist and your head settled against his chest.

"I-sorry about what I said earlier," Bradley muttered.

Oh yeah. That was something to talk about.

"The Mrs. Bradshaw thing?" you asked.

Heat rushed to Bradley's cheeks as he rubbed a hand against the back of his neck, "Yeah....I'm sorry if that weirded you out. You were just really pretty-I mean you're always pretty-"

"It's not the first time you've called me that." You felt calm talking about it. Part of that was seeing Bradley visibly nervous.

You did what you would have wanted someone to do. You take his hands into yours, giving them a gentle squeeze as you looked up at him with a soft smile.

"I mean it. I don't mind at all. It was actually....sweet but also kinda hot," you admitted, feeling heat rise to your face.

Bradley raised an eyebrow, "Oh really?"

You playfully rolled your eyes, "Oh God are you going to use this against me?"

"Absolutely I am." Before you could even protest, Bradley had already picked you up.

"C'mon Mrs. Bradshaw, I'm far from done with you."

[nevernonline]

✧.* secret love story; hjs

synopsis: the city has a way of weaving lives together, even when it feels like it's tearing them apart. joshua, the son of a powerful and conservative politician, and Y/N, a passionate artist pursuing her dream, find their paths entwined in the most unexpected way. despite their connection, their worlds could not be further apart.

paring: joshua x fem! reader. 

genre:strangers2whatever (hehe)  

warning/s:mentions of substances (alcohol) , swearing (? lol ), some nsfw stuff but not in grand details.

word count: 17k

content: . non-idol idolings.

note: non rlly edited prob weird typos, xo. 

The streets were alive that evening, thrumming with energy as crowds poured into the city’s arts district. The gallery’s entrance was understated, almost hidden among a row of boutique stores and cafes. Inside, warm light illuminated canvases that stretched across stark white walls. Each piece was a portal into a world of raw emotion—anger, love, despair, and hope.  

Y/N stood near the back of the room, dressed simply but elegantly in a flowy black dress, her hands clasped nervously. Tonight was important; her first big showcase had attracted more guests than she expected, and among them were critics, buyers, and fellow artists. She felt both exhilarated and overwhelmed.  

Joshua had no intention of being there. He wasn’t the art-gallery type. The night had started with a stiff political dinner where his father delivered a speech on preserving “traditional values.” Desperate for an escape, he wandered the streets until the flicker of light and soft murmur of voices and sounds of champagne bottles opening from the gallery caught his attention.  

The moment Joshua stepped inside, he felt like he had entered a new world. The hum of conversation was softer here, the clinking of glasses muted against the depth of the paintings. One in particular stopped him in his tracks—a portrait of two figures barely touching, their faces turned away from one another, as if trying to reach across an invisible barrier.  

“That one’s called Longing,” came a voice behind him.  

Joshua turned to see Y/N standing there, a faint smile on her face. He noticed the paint smudges on her fingers before he registered her striking presence.  

“It’s sort of haunting,” he said, almost in a whisper, his eyes returning to the painting. “There’s so much emotion in it. Like they want something they can’t have.”  

Y/N studied him for a moment, intrigued. Most visitors offered polite compliments, but this stranger seemed to feel the weight of her work.  

“That’s exactly it,” she said, stepping closer. “It’s about the space between people. How it can feel like a canyon, even when you’re standing right next to someone.”  

Their eyes met, and for a brief moment, the rest of the gallery seemed to fade.  

“Did you paint this?” Joshua asked.  

Y/N nodded. “I did.”  

“You’ve captured something… I didn’t think anyone else understood.” His voice was laced with an honesty that caught her off guard.  

As Y/N and Joshua wandered deeper into the gallery, their steps fell into an unspoken rhythm. The crowd ebbed and flowed around them, but it was as if they existed in their own pocket of space, where time slowed and words felt heavier.  

They stopped in front of a painting that was dominated by shades of crimson and deep blues, abstract brushstrokes that swirled and collided. The image was chaotic, almost violent, but there was a strange harmony in the madness.  

“This one’s intense,” Joshua murmured, tilting his head as he tried to decipher the emotions bleeding through the canvas.  

“Yeah. It’s called Collision,” Y/N said, folding her arms loosely. “It’s about how love and destruction can feel like the same thing sometimes.”  

Joshua’s eyes flicked to hers. “That’s a lot to admit.”  

Y/N shrugged, a faint smile playing on her lips. “Art is honesty, right? Even when it hurts.”  

He nodded, his gaze lingering on her longer than it should have. “And did it hurt when you painted it?”  

For a moment, Y/N hesitated. It wasn’t a question most people would ask. She saw something in Joshua’s expression—a quiet understanding, as if he wasn’t just asking about the painting but about her.  

“It did,” she said finally, her voice softer now. “But sometimes you have to let life hurt. Otherwise, you never move past it.”  

Joshua opened his mouth to reply but stopped himself. Instead, he turned back to the painting, his hands sliding into his pockets.  

“I get that,” he said after a moment. “I think most people spend their lives trying to avoid feeling too much. But you seem to embrace it.”  

Y/N’s chest tightened at his words. There was something disarming about the way he saw her, like he wasn’t just a passerby admiring her art but someone who wanted to understand the soul behind it.  

They moved to the next piece, a softer, more intimate painting of two hands reaching for each other across a sea of golden light.  

“This one’s different,” Joshua said, stepping closer. “It feels hopeful.”  

Y/N smiled. “You’re good at this.”  

“At what?”  

“Seeing things that other people miss.”  

Joshua chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Maybe I’m just looking for things I need to see.”  

They lingered in front of the painting, their shoulders almost brushing. The conversation shifted, becoming lighter as they talked about their favorite colors, the books they loved, and the places they dreamed of visiting. Y/N told him about the inspiration behind her pieces—how they were often born from fleeting moments of emotion or memories she couldn’t shake. Joshua, in turn, shared small glimpses of his life, though he carefully avoided details that would reveal who he really was.  

At one point, they reached a painting that was tucked into a quieter corner of the gallery. It was smaller than the others, almost an afterthought, but it drew Joshua’s attention immediately. The image was of a single, delicate flower growing through a crack in a concrete sidewalk.  

“This one’s yours too?” he asked, leaning in to study the fine details.  

Y/N nodded. “Resilience.”  

Joshua smiled faintly. “I like it. There’s something defiant about it. Like it refuses to let the world crush it.”  

Y/N glanced at him, surprised by the depth of his observation. “That’s exactly what I was going for.”  

Their eyes met, and for a moment, the noise of the gallery melted away. The connection between them was palpable, a quiet understanding that neither of them could explain.  

“You’ve got a gift,” Joshua said, his voice low.  

Y/N felt a warmth spread through her chest, but she quickly deflected, unsure how to handle the intensity of his gaze. “Well, if this whole politics thing doesn’t work out for you, you’ve got a future as an art critic.”  

Joshua laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “Noted.”  

As the night wore on, the crowd began to thin, but Joshua stayed by her side, moving from one painting to the next. Y/N found herself laughing more easily than she had in weeks, her initial nerves replaced by a sense of comfort she hadn’t expected.  

By the time they reached the last piece, a large abstract mural filled with vibrant yellows and oranges, Y/N realized she didn’t want the night to end. But as she turned to Joshua, she noticed the way his smile faltered, a flicker of hesitation crossing his face.  

“Everything okay?” she asked softly.  

Joshua nodded, but his eyes betrayed a storm of thoughts. “Yeah,” he said, his voice quieter now. “Sometimes you meet someone, and it feels like everything makes sense for a little while.”  

Y/N’s breath hitched. She wasn’t sure what to say, so she said nothing, letting the moment stretch between them.  

When they finally returned to the front of the gallery, Joshua paused at the door.  

“Thank you for tonight,” he said, his expression earnest. “Your work is incredible. And so are you.”  

That night, as Y/N cleaned up the gallery, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something significant had just begun—something both exhilarating and dangerous. Meanwhile, Joshua walked aimlessly through the city streets, replaying their conversation in his mind, already yearning for the next time he might see her.  

The days that followed their first meeting felt like a blur to Y/N. Her days were filled with painting, organizing new art shows, and dealing with the steady flow of clients who wanted to buy her work. But at night, when the city quieted and she was alone with her thoughts, all she could think about was her encounter with Joshua.  

It wasn’t just his compliments or the way he seemed to understand her art so deeply. It was the unspoken connection between them—the way their conversations flowed, how easy it was to talk to him, even when they barely knew each other. She found herself replaying their last conversation in her head, especially the way he’d spoken about “making sense” in the brief moments they shared.  

On the third evening after their gallery encounter, Y/N found herself standing in front of the window of her studio, staring out at the glittering skyline. It was late, past midnight, and the city hummed softly beneath the pale moonlight. She had just finished a new piece, but her mind kept returning to that last look Joshua had given her—the subtle sadness in his eyes, as if he had more to say but couldn’t.  

Then, as if summoned by her thoughts, her phone buzzed.  

It was a message from an unknown number.  

“I can’t stop thinking about your work. About you. Would you like to meet again? I know a quiet spot where we can talk more.” 

It took Y/N a moment to process it. The message was simple but deliberate. She didn’t even have to check the number; she already knew who it was. Joshua.  

Her heart skipped a beat, but she quickly typed a response:  

“I’d like that. But how’d you get my number”  

Just as quickly as she could put her phone down two quick messages pinged back. 

“I have my ways. Haha.” 

“Just kidding, I took one of your business cards.” 

Later that night, Y/N made her way through the city streets, the cool air brushing against her skin. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but something about the idea of seeing him again felt right. It was like they were both caught in the same pull, a magnetic force neither could fully resist.  

The place Joshua had mentioned was a small, dimly lit café tucked away on a side street—a hidden gem most people passed by without noticing. The sign outside read La Lune, a name that seemed to shimmer against the dark backdrop of the city.  

When Y/N stepped inside, the soft scent of freshly brewed coffee, homemade spirits and pastries enveloped her. The café had a cozy, intimate feel, with small round tables lit by flickering candles. There was only one other couple in the corner, deep in conversation, leaving the rest of the space open and quiet.  

Joshua was sitting near the window, a cup of coffee in front of him. He looked different from the last time she’d seen him—more relaxed, his usual guarded expression replaced by something warmer, more open. He looked up when she entered, and for a moment, they simply stared at each other.  

“Hi,” he said softly, a small smile tugging at his lips.  

Y/N’s heart raced in her chest, but she returned his smile, walking over to join him. “Hi,” she said, sitting down.  

“You look different tonight,” he commented, his gaze flickering over her. There was something in his eyes that made her feel like he was seeing not just her face but the person she was, the one she usually kept hidden behind layers of quiet confidence and artistic passion.  

“I could say the same about you,” Y/N replied, her voice low, almost shy. “There’s a kind of peace about you. Like you’re finally able to breathe. Maybe it’s also the jeans and the hoodie, a bit of both.”  

Joshua chuckled, the sound rich and genuine. “Maybe I am.” He paused, looking down at his coffee, as if unsure of how to continue. “Y/n..”  

She looked at him, sensing the shift in his tone. “What’s wrong?”

“I need to talk to you about something,” he said, his voice catching a little. He ran a hand through his hair and tried to steady his nerves. This wasn’t easy, not by any means. “I don’t want to hide from you. I don’t want you to feel like this is just some secret thing.”

She tilted her head, her gaze curious but understanding. “Joshua, you’re not making sense.”

“I know,” he said, his gaze dropping to the floor for a moment. He took a deep breath. “It’s just, the thing is, my family, my life—everything is so controlled, so planned. It’s like I’m not even my own person sometimes.”

Y/N stepped closer, her eyes softening. She knew that feeling all too well, the sense of being trapped by expectations.

Joshua’s hand clenched into a fist before he let it go, trying to calm himself. “My father. He’s a politician. A big one. He’s running for a major office, and everything about my life is about appearances. About what fits the image he wants to project. The last thing he would ever approve of is… well, us.” He paused, unsure how to say it without it sounding like an excuse. “My father’s life is a brand. And I’m just a part of that brand.”

Y/N’s heart ached as she listened. She could see the struggle in his eyes, the way he wrestled with the burden of his family’s expectations. It was as though every word he said about his father was another weight on his shoulders.

“But you’re not your father,” Y/N said softly, almost to herself. She placed a gentle hand on his arm, her touch warm and steady. “You’re your own person, Joshua.”

He looked at her, his expression a mixture of frustration and uncertainty. “I know. But it’s hard to escape that. My dad… he doesn’t just want me to follow his path. He needs me to. Everything I do is calculated. Every relationship, every choice, every word. He has plans for me, for what he wants me to be.” He let out a shaky breath, his voice quieter now. “And that includes who I’m with.”

Y/N felt the depth of his confession like a weight on her own chest. She understood better now why he had been so reserved, why there had been that flicker of hesitation in his eyes when they first met. He wasn’t just trying to keep a secret about himself; he was trying to protect them both from a world that would never let them just be.

Joshua swallowed hard, his eyes locked onto hers. “I’m telling you this because I don’t want you to think I’m playing some kind of game with you. That this… what we have…” He trailed off, his voice thick with emotion. “I know it’s complicated. But I can’t lie to you anymore.”

Y/N, for the first time since their first meeting, saw Joshua for who he truly was—someone who was desperately trying to hold on to a sliver of freedom in a world that demanded conformity. And yet, despite all of that, he had chosen to be with her.

She reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. “I’m not asking you to choose, Joshua. I’m not asking you to tear apart your life or go against your father. But I want to know the truth. If this is something we’re going to do, then I want us to be honest. No more secrets. No more hiding.”

Joshua’s breath caught in his throat. He had never imagined someone could understand him like this—someone who saw the conflict within him and didn’t push him away.

“I want that too,” he whispered, his thumb brushing lightly against her knuckles. “I just don’t know what it’ll mean for us. What it’ll cost.”

Y/N leaned in slightly, meeting his gaze. “But, what happens if we’re caught? What happens if the world finds out about us?”  

Joshua’s eyes darkened, but there was no hesitation in his voice when he answered. “I don’t know. But I do know that right now, at this moment, none of that matters. We’re here. Together.”  

And in that moment, as their gazes locked, the world outside seemed to fall away. The noise of the city, the looming pressures of their separate lives, all disappeared. There was only the soft light of the café, the shared silence between them, and the undeniable pull of something that was just beginning to blossom.  

Y/N took a deep breath, her heart racing. “Alright,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Let’s see where this goes.”  

Joshua’s smile was the answer, and in that smile, she saw the promise of something neither of them could yet fully comprehend—but something they both wanted to explore.  

They spent hours there, talking about everything and nothing. It wasn’t just the art anymore; it was their thoughts, their fears, their dreams. They didn’t have all the answers, but they were learning to trust each other, bit by bit.  

And when the café began to empty, they stood together, reluctantly, as if the moment would stretch on forever.   

As they parted outside the café, the night air was cool, but the warmth of their conversation lingered, a promise of what might come. Before parting Joshua bent down kissing her softly on her cheek before escaping around the corner to meet his driver leaving her again in silence. Bud somewhere deep inside, they both knew they had crossed an invisible line. There was no going back now.

Their third encounter wasn’t planned at all. It was late, nearing midnight, when Y/N was walking down the familiar streets near her studio. Her thoughts were still clouded with the conversation they'd shared, her heart torn between the feelings she was developing for Joshua and the practical realities of their situation. How much longer could they keep pretending that the world around them wasn’t watching?

As she passed by the park, her phone buzzed in her pocket. The message was from an unknown number again.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about our last conversation. Can we meet tonight? I know it’s late, but I really need to talk to you. Just for a while.”

It was Joshua, and though the request was simple, there was an urgency to his words that tugged at her heart.

Without a second thought, she typed back: “I’m on my way. Where should I meet you?”

A moment later, he replied: “The rooftop of the building on 7th and Broadway. I’ll be waiting.”

Y/N arrived at the address in less than ten minutes. She took the elevator to the top floor, stepping out into the cool, crisp night air. The building was tall, overlooking the city skyline with the faint hum of traffic far below. Joshua was standing near the edge, his silhouette outlined by the lights of the city, but his focus was on the stars above.

"Joshua?" she called out softly.

He turned, his face lighting up as he saw her approach. He looked different tonight—more vulnerable, his eyes were slightly red, as if he’d been awake for hours, lost in thought.

"Hey," he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. "Thank you for coming." He stepped aside, allowing her to join him by the ledge. The cool breeze tousled his hair as he looked out over the city, his jaw tight.

Y/N could sense something was weighing heavily on him. "What’s going on, Josh?" Her voice was calm, but her heart beat a little faster, sensing the tension in the air.

He sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair. "I don’t know how to say this without sounding like I’m complicating things more than they need to be, but I can’t keep pretending. I’ve spent my entire life following orders, fitting into a role that was decided for me before I could even understand what it meant to be free. And all of that changed when I met you." His voice dropped to a whisper as he turned to face her. "I didn’t expect to care this much. I didn’t expect you to mean this much to me."

Y/N’s heart twisted as she listened to him, her chest aching with the weight of his words.

"Joshua," she began, her voice soft but steady, "I told you yesterday, I’m not asking you to choose between me and your family. I know it’s complicated. But I need you to be honest with me. Completely honest." She took a small step toward him, closing the distance. "What’s really going on?"

He looked at her, eyes searching hers for a moment, before his gaze fell. "My father… he’s pushing me to follow in his footsteps. To run for office. To become what he always wanted me to be—a political heir, someone who will represent his legacy. I’ve done everything for him, for years, without questioning it." He ran a shaky hand through his hair again, his frustration palpable. "And now that I’ve met you I can’t keep lying to myself. I don’t know how to balance the two, Y/N. My father’s expectations and what I feel when I’m with you. The life he’s created for me, and the life I want to build for myself."

Y/N felt the weight of his words, understanding the gravity of the decision that was looming over him. "So what does that mean for us?" Her voice cracked ever so slightly. She hated that question, but she had to ask it—because if this was something real, they couldn’t just ignore the obstacles.

Joshua looked at her, his expression one of both sorrow and determination. "It means that I’m torn, Y/N. It means that I can’t walk away from my family, no matter how much I want to. But it also means that I can’t keep pretending that I don’t want this, that I don’t want you."

For a long moment, the world felt like it stood still. The city lights shimmered below them, but the weight of their conversation filled the air between them. Y/N didn’t know what to say at first. She wanted to comfort him, to tell him that it was going to be okay, but she didn’t know if it would be.

"You don’t have to choose right now," Y/N said finally, her voice steady but tender. "I won’t push you. But I need to know if you’re going to let me in. If you’re going to let this go somewhere."

Joshua reached out, taking her hand in his, his thumb gently brushing over her knuckles. "I am. I want to. But I’m scared. If I choose this, I could lose everything. And I’m not sure I’m ready to lose it all."

Y/N squeezed his hand in return, looking up at the stars. "Then we’ll take it one step at a time. We’ll figure it out. But I need you to be honest with me. No more secrets."

Joshua’s eyes softened, a mixture of relief and apprehension in them. "I promise. No more secrets."

The night on the rooftop was heavy with unspoken emotions. The city beneath them seemed to hold its breath, the lights from the streets below flickering like distant stars. Y/N and Joshua sat closely together, wrapped in the shared weight of their conversation. The air between them was thick, but despite the tension, there was an undeniable connection—something that was only growing stronger with each passing moment.

Joshua’s hand remained in hers, a silent gesture of reassurance. He had opened up about the impossible choice between his father’s expectations and what he wanted for himself. But as they sat there, surrounded by the vastness of the night sky, he could feel the pull of both worlds, tugging at him in different directions.

Y/N, sensing the internal battle raging within him, looked at him with a soft, steady gaze. Her heart ached for him, but she knew this wasn’t just about her and him—it was about the life he had been forced to live for so long, the cage built by his family’s demands. It was a cage she couldn’t just break down for him. He had to find his way out.

"Josh," she began, her voice quiet but unwavering, "I don’t expect everything to be easy. I know there are things in your life you’re still figuring out. And I won’t pretend that it’s not complicated. But…" She paused, squeezing his hand gently, "I’m okay with us being a secret for now. I’m okay with whatever pace you need to go at."

He looked at her, eyes wide with disbelief. "Y/N, you don’t—"

"No," she interrupted softly, her voice firm but kind. "I know you didn’t ask for this. You didn’t ask for me to be a part of all this crazy ass mess." She hesitated, searching for the right words. "But I’m okay with it. I understand the pressure you’re under, the weight of your family and everything they expect from you. I know you can’t just throw all of that away, not yet. And if that means we need to keep this between us, just for a while, I’m okay with that."

Joshua stood there, struck by the calmness in her voice. The way she spoke, with such grace and understanding, made him feel both guilty and relieved at the same time. He had been so focused on what he might lose that he hadn’t considered what he could still gain. Y/N wasn’t pushing him. She wasn’t demanding him to choose between her and his family. She was simply giving him space to figure it out.

“I don’t want to drag you into something messy,” he said, his voice low. “You deserve more than that. You deserve someone who can be fully present with you. Not someone who has to hide, who can’t give you all of them.”

Y/N shook her head, her eyes meeting him with such sincerity that it took his breath away. “I’m not asking for all of you right now. I’m asking for what you can give. And if that means a little distance, a little secrecy, I can handle that. I don’t need you to be perfect.. I just need you to be real. That’s all I want. And if it’s just us for now, at this moment, I’m okay with that.”

Her words were like a balm to his restless soul, soothing the anxiety that had been gnawing at him since they’d met. The weight of his father’s expectations, the pressure of his family’s desires, it had all been consuming. But here, with Y/N—this unexpected, complex, beautiful woman—he felt the possibility of something different. Something real.

Joshua’s throat tightened as he fought back the overwhelming rush of emotion. “I don’t deserve that,” he murmured, almost to himself.

“Don’t say that,” Y/N replied, her voice gentle yet firm. “You don’t have to be perfect to deserve someone or something, Joshua. We all have our struggles, our burdens. But that doesn’t mean we don’t deserve the good things that come into our lives. I don’t expect you to have it all figured out. I just expect us to keep being honest with each other.”

The simplicity of her words struck him deep in his chest. He had been so afraid of losing everything—his family, his reputation, his future—that he hadn’t realized what was in front of him: someone who cared for him enough to give him time. Someone who wasn’t trying to force him into a corner but was willing to walk beside him, patiently, as he navigated the mess of his own life.

"You're willing to wait?" Joshua asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N nodded, her eyes never leaving his. “I’m willing to wait as long as it takes. But only if you’re being true to yourself. If you’re honest with me, with us. That’s the only condition. I can’t be a part of something where there’s no truth.”

Joshua took a deep breath, finally feeling the relief of not carrying this weight alone. He had spent so long living in the shadow of his family’s expectations, not daring to reach for anything of his own. But with Y/N, he could feel the space to breathe. To be himself. Even if it had to be in secret for now.

"Then I promise you, no more secrets," he said, his voice steady and determined. "I can’t promise when or how, but I’ll figure this out. I’ll do it for me… and for you."

Y/N smiled softly, her fingers gently tracing the back of his hand. “That’s all I need from you. And whatever happens, we’ll handle it together.”

For the first time since they had met, Joshua felt a spark of hope in his chest. The future was uncertain, yes, but with Y/N beside him—even if only in the quiet moments they shared in secret—he felt like he could face whatever came next.

The night stretched on, the soft wind blowing through their hair as they stood side by side on the rooftop, their hearts racing in tandem with the unspoken bond they were forming. There was no easy answer, no perfect solution to their complicated lives, but in that moment, under the stars, they both knew they were no longer alone.

The days following their rooftop conversation were a mixture of clarity and confusion. Joshua had promised to be true to himself and to her, and Y/N had given him the space to navigate his complicated life. The truth of their situation was clear—there were forces at play beyond their control, pulling them in different directions. But their bond was undeniable.

The world around them continued to churn, but in the small moments they shared, they found a sanctuary from the noise. Every secret phone call and text, every late night conversation, every touch held more meaning than any overt declaration. But as the days passed, Y/N began to feel the weight of their secret growing heavier, even if she hadn’t voiced it to him.

It was a Tuesday evening when Joshua reached out again. He hadn’t been as present the past few days, consumed by meetings with his father and the increasing pressure from his family. Y/N knew better than to demand answers right away. She had learned to let him come to her in his own time. But tonight, she felt a familiar pull���an invitation to meet, one that didn’t need to be spoken.

They agreed to meet at a quiet spot on the edge of town. The kind of place where no one would recognize them, and for a few stolen hours, they could pretend like the world wasn’t watching.

When Y/N walked in, she spotted him immediately. He was sitting at the back, his posture tense as usual, though his gaze softened when he saw her approach. As she slid into the seat opposite him, he reached out and took her hand, placing a kiss on her palm, his touch warm but reluctant, he feared she might disappear if he let go.

“I’m glad you came,” Joshua said quietly, a faint smile pulling at the corners of his lips. "I needed to see you. Badly"

Y/N smiled back, though there was something in her chest that felt tight. "Of course. How’s everything going with your father?" she asked, trying to gauge where he was emotionally, where they stood.

Joshua’s smile faltered, and for the first time in days, he looked like the weight of the world was pressing down on him. “It's really not great. The pressure’s getting worse. He’s set his sights on me running for office next year. I can't escape it, Y/N. Every conversation, every meeting, it all comes back to what he fucking wants for me, not what I want for myself."

Y/N’s heart sank. She knew how much he wanted to carve out his own path, to escape the shadow of his family’s empire. She had heard the desperation in his voice on the rooftop—he was battling not just his father’s expectations, but his own sense of who he was and what he was becoming.

"I can’t make that decision for you," she said, her voice steady. "But I do know this—you don’t have to figure it all out alone. I’m here, Joshua. I told you before that  want you to be honest with me, but I also want to help you, however I can."

Joshua squeezed her hand, his eyes holding hers with a mixture of gratitude and uncertainty. "I don’t know what you see in me, Y/N," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. "I feel like I’m falling apart, and I don’t want to drag you down with me. You deserve someone who’s free to give you everything. But I can’t walk away from you. I can’t let you go."

The raw honesty in his words made Y/N’s chest tighten. She had never expected an easy journey, not with the weight of his world pressing on them both, but hearing his confession—his fears, his doubts—made her feel both helpless and resolved. She was willing to wait, to let him find his way, but it was hard, harder than she had anticipated. She wanted him to choose her, but she knew it wasn’t that simple.

"I’m not asking for all of you right now," she said softly. "I can handle that. But I can’t be invisible forever, Joshua. I need to know that when this all comes to a head, you’re choosing us."

Joshua’s eyes darkened as he heard the unspoken fear in her voice. “I don’t want to lose you. But I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do. I feel like I’m suffocating in this life, in this expectation. And every time I try to make a choice for myself, for us, it feels like there’s something I’ll lose.” His hand, still holding hers, trembled slightly.

Y/N took a deep breath, her voice firm. "I don’t expect you to give up everything. But I need to know that you’re willing to take the risk, Joshua. That when the time comes, you won’t let fear hold you back from what could be right in front of you."

He was silent for a long moment, lost in thought, before he spoke again, his voice tight with emotion. “I’ve spent my whole life trying to please people, trying to be what everyone else wants me to be. But when I’m with you, I feel like I’m someone else. Someone I could be proud of. But then reality hits, and I realize how impossible it all seems."

Y/N’s heart ached. She could see the internal struggle in his eyes, the pull between his desire for freedom and the loyalty to a life that had been carved out for him long before he even understood the weight of it.

“I’m not asking you to be perfect, Joshua,” she said gently.

Joshua’s eyes searched hers, as though trying to gauge the sincerity of her words. "Are you sure you can handle this? I’m not asking you to wait forever. I’m just asking for time."

Y/N smiled softly, her thumb brushing over his hand, the small, tender gesture a stark contrast to the heaviness of the conversation. She could feel his fingers trembling, the silent weight of his uncertainty pressing down on them both. It was one of those moments where words felt both inadequate and necessary, where honesty, however painful, was the only thing that could bridge the distance between them.

"I’m not asking for forever, either," she said quietly, her voice steady despite the tumult of emotions swirling inside her.

She looked up at him then, meeting his gaze with an openness that seemed to both reassure and break her at the same time. “I’m not asking you to make any big decisions right now. All I want is for you to be true to yourself. And when the time comes—when you figure out what you really want—I’ll be ready for whatever decision you make. I just need you to be honest with me.” 

Joshua’s eyes widened slightly, the weight of her words settling into his chest. He wanted to speak, to reassure her that he didn’t want to hurt her, but she pressed on, her tone still gentle, but her words cutting through the air with an edge of pain he hadn’t expected.

“But if it’s not me, let me down gently.” She paused, her lips pressing together as if the thought itself hurt too much to fully voice. She took a deep breath, steadying herself before she continued, her hand still held tightly in his. “I don’t want any drama. I don’t want to fight or beg. Avoid me, ignore me, don’t contact me. Cut it off—no words needed. I can handle the silence. I just need to know that when you’re ready, when you’ve made up your mind, that you’ll walk away without dragging it out. No false hope. No lingering, no ‘maybe. Just... a clean break.”

The words seemed to hang in the air between them, the enormity of what she was saying sinking in. She wasn’t asking for him to promise her forever—just honesty. And in that moment, she realized how much she had come to depend on him, how much she had opened her heart to him, even if he hadn’t yet decided what to do with it. 

Joshua felt his chest tighten as he listened, his heart twisting painfully. He had never heard her speak like this before—not with so much quiet strength, but also so much vulnerability. Her willingness to step back, to give him the space he needed to make his choices, was both a gift and a heart-wrenching challenge. She was preparing herself for the worst—*just in case*—and it cut him deeper than he expected. She wasn’t demanding anything of him. She wasn’t forcing him into a decision. She was just asking for his truth. And even though it broke her, she was willing to accept the reality of it. 

“I don’t want to hurt you, Y/N,” Joshua finally said, his voice cracking with the weight of the promise he wasn’t sure he could make. “I’ve never wanted to be the kind of man who causes pain especially after how my father treated me, but I don’t know how to give you the certainty you’re asking for. Not yet. Not until I’ve figured out what this all means.”

She squeezed his hand, a soft, understanding smile playing at her lips, though her heart ached at the uncertainty in his voice. “I know that. I know you're not trying to hurt me. And I’m not asking you to make it easy. I’m asking you to be honest. When you know, when you’re sure, I just need you to do it with respect, Joshua. To respect me enough to not leave me wondering, to not drag things out for both of us. That’s all I ask.”

There was a long pause, a silence that was heavy with the weight of their unspoken emotions. Joshua could feel the sincerity of her words, the depth of her understanding, but it only added to the guilt gnawing at him. He hadn’t made his decision yet—he wasn’t ready to. And the thought of cutting her out of his life, of hurting her, was something he couldn’t bear to think about.

“I’m scared, Y/N,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Scared of losing you. But I’m also scared that if I take this too fast, I’ll hurt you in a way I can’t undo. I don’t know what’s right, but I do know that I don’t want to lose you.”

Y/N’s smile softened, but there was a sadness in her eyes that mirrored his. She understood the weight of his fear—the fear of making the wrong choice, the fear of hurting her. But she also knew that sometimes, not making a choice was the worst thing of all. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” she said, her voice steady but soft. “But you need to know that whatever decision you make, I’ll be okay. It will hurt, but I’ll be okay. And I’ll respect whatever choice you make. The way you make your decision, what I just said, let me down easy. That’s all I need from you.”

For a moment, the silence between them felt like an unspoken agreement. Y/N had laid her heart on the line—no strings attached, no demands beyond honesty. And Joshua, despite his own fear, felt a deep sense of gratitude for the space she was giving him, for the patience, even when it hurt.

As they sat there, their hands still entwined on the table between them, there was no grand declaration. There were no promises. But there was understanding. 

Y/N was giving him the time he needed, but she wasn’t going to allow herself to stay in the dark forever. She had been clear: when the time came, she would let go. And as painful as it was, Joshua knew that she deserved that honesty. 

“I won’t drag it out,” Joshua said quietly, the words heavy with meaning. “I promise. When I know, I’ll tell you. You deserve nothing less.”

Y/N nodded, her heart both lightened and heavy at once. “That’s all I can ask for.”

Joshua smiled, not wanting their secret rendezvous to end, “Can we go somewhere private? Just us tonight? No more parents and stress?” 

Y/N’s smile deepened at the thought of giving them both an escape, a place to simply be. As much as they both craved answers, tonight wasn’t about decisions or heavy conversations—it was about being in the moment. Her heart ached for Joshua, for the burden he carried, but she also knew that moments like this—moments where they could simply exist together without outside pressures—were rare. She wasn’t sure how much longer they would have before life caught up to them again. But tonight, they were going to make it count.

“I have just the place,” Y/N replied, her voice soft yet certain, a glimmer of excitement in her eyes. 

Joshua’s heart lifted at her words. The thought of being with her, completely alone, away from the prying eyes and expectations, filled him with relief. 

Y/N stood up, reaching for her coat, the motion almost fluid. "It’s a little out of the way, but that’s the point," she explained, a teasing glint in her voice. "No distractions. Just us."

As they walked toward her car, the city seemed quieter than usual. The night was crisp, but there was an undeniable warmth in the way they moved together, side by side, as if the world beyond them could wait for just a few hours.

Joshua was still processing her words from earlier. The way she had calmly laid out her heart, vulnerable yet resolute, asking for nothing but honesty. He couldn’t help but admire her strength and grace, and yet it made him ache with the knowledge that, despite everything, he was still caught between two worlds.

But for tonight, that didn’t matter. Tonight was about creating a moment that was theirs, free from the weight of it all.

The drive took them through winding roads, the city’s lights fading as they ventured further out. Y/N didn’t say much along the way—she didn’t need to. She could tell Joshua was deep in thought his hand rested on her thigh as she pressed the gas pedal, and she was content to let him reflect. 

Eventually, they arrived at a secluded cottage nestled at the edge of a wooded area. The house was small, but cozy, a soft glow spilling from the windows, suggesting warmth inside. The scent of wood and fresh air greeted them as Y/N led him to the door, pulling out a key from her pocket.

Joshua looked around, taking in the quiet surroundings. The cottage stood alone in the middle of a forested area, the trees surrounding them like old, protective sentinels. It was the perfect place to get away from everything.

“Is this your place?” Joshua asked, his voice a mixture of surprise and curiosity. 

Y/N nodded, opening the door. "It’s my little sanctuary. I come here to clear my head, to escape when things get too overwhelming. Get inspired, all the good shit.  I thought it might be nice for us to have somewhere to just be. No judgment."

As they stepped inside, the warmth wrapped around them. There was something calming about the space—dim lighting, a fire crackling softly in the hearth, and simple, comfortable furniture. The living room smelled of lavender and wood smoke, the air clean and fresh. A large window in the corner framed a peaceful view of the forest, its dark trees swaying gently in the breeze. 

Y/N made her way to the kitchen area and quickly began preparing a small spread—cheese, crackers, some fruit, and a bottle of wine she’d bought earlier. “I thought we could just relax. Have something to eat, talk if we feel like it, or not. No pressure.”

Joshua couldn’t help but smile at the thoughtfulness behind her gesture. There was something about the simplicity of the moment—no fancy dinner or grand gestures—just the two of them, in this quiet, serene space. He felt his shoulders relax for the first time in what seemed like forever.

He moved to her side as she set the table, gently brushing her hair from her face, his touch soft and affectionate. "This is perfect, Y/N," he said quietly, his voice filled with gratitude. "Thank you for this."

She smiled at him, her eyes meeting him with a look of understanding and tenderness. "Anything for you. I also have some pajamas and extra stuff just in case, you know, you want to stay.”

As they settled into the small, cozy space with their food and drink, they spoke less, letting the comfort of being together speak for itself. The fire crackled in the background, and the only sounds were the occasional clink of a wine glass or the rustling of leaves outside. It was a soft kind of peace—a feeling neither of them had realized they were missing so deeply.

As the evening wore on, they moved to the couch by the fire. Y/N leaned her head against Joshua’s shoulder, feeling the warmth of his body beside hers, another opened bottle of wine resting on the coffee table. She could feel the tension slowly leave him, the constant hum of responsibility fading into the background. 

Joshua draped an arm around her, pulling her closer, his voice low as he spoke. "You know, for a moment, I almost feel like everything’s going to be okay."

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes searching his face. “What do you mean?”

“Like, I’m not sure where all of this is heading, but I don’t feel as lost as I did before. Being here with you in this house which by the way I cannot believe you were holding out on me. It’s like I can breathe again.”

Her heart swelled, knowing how much those words meant to him. "You deserve to breathe, Josh. To find your way.. For tonight, for this moment, I’m happy just being here. Find some sanctuary in my sanctuary you know. The reason I didn’t show you yet is just because I wasn’t sure you’d want to come. I don’t know."

Joshua looked down at her, his eyes soft and full of unspoken gratitude. "Of course I’d want to come, I love being in nature, I don’t get much of it anymore. I don’t know how to thank you for this. For everything."

Y/N smiled, her fingers tracing his hand. "You don’t need to thank me. You’re here, with me. That’s more than enough."

And in that simple, perfect moment, they found something that transcended all the confusion, all the questions that loomed over them. It wasn’t answers they needed tonight—it was each other. They didn’t need to speak about the future or dwell on what came next. Tonight, there was just them—existing, breathing, and finding comfort in the shared silence.

The room was bathed in a warm, golden glow as the fire crackled quietly in the corner. Outside, the wind rustled the trees, but inside the cottage, it felt like time had slowed. Y/N and Joshua sat on the couch, her head resting on his shoulder, his arm draped around her waist, pulling her closer. There was no rush, no need to speak. The mere presence of each other felt like enough. 

Y/N’s breath evened out as she relaxed further into his side, her fingers absently tracing the fabric of his shirt. The simplicity of the moment, their quiet togetherness, felt like a reprieve from the complexities of their lives. She was learning the art of just being with him—no expectations, no demands. She could feel his heartbeat beneath her cheek, steady and warm, and it calmed her in a way nothing else could.

Joshua, for his part, had his eyes closed, his lips slightly parted as he allowed the quiet to fill the spaces where his mind had been racing just hours before. There was something about the softness of Y/N’s presence, the fact that she didn’t need anything from him but his company, that allowed him to drop the walls he often kept up. Her proximity, her stillness beside him, felt like an anchor—a place where he could feel like his old self. And for once, he didn’t feel the constant weight of his obligations pulling him in a thousand directions.

The firelight flickered across the room, casting shadows that danced on the walls, and there was an undeniable chemistry between them—a quiet, simmering tension that had been building ever since their first meeting. It wasn’t forceful. It was gentle, like the slow, inevitable pull of gravity. Neither of them spoke about it, but it was there, in the way their hands brushed together, in the way their breath seemed to sync as they sat together, their bodies unconsciously leaning closer, drawn by an invisible thread.

Joshua shifted slightly, turning his head to glance at her. His lips curved in a small, almost imperceptible smile, but his eyes were darker than usual, full of something unspoken—something that pulsed between them like a quiet storm. Y/N caught his gaze, and for a moment, everything else seemed to disappear. 

Her fingers, still resting on his chest, curled into his shirt, her touch light but deliberate. She could feel the subtle tension in him, the way his breath caught slightly when her hand brushed over the soft skin at his collarbone. There was a pull, a magnetic force drawing them closer, but neither of them wanted to rush it. The silence between them grew thicker, more intimate, but it was safe.

Y/N felt the heat rising between them, but she stayed where she was, her head nestled against him, eyes closed, letting the moment stretch out. She didn’t want to overthink it. This wasn’t about the perfect timing or making a move—it was just about being in the moment with him, together, without needing anything else. 

But then, after what felt like an eternity of quiet, Joshua’s hand moved, just a subtle shift, and before Y/N could even register it fully, his fingers gently brushed against her jaw, coaxing her to look up at him. The tenderness of his touch sent a shiver through her, and she lifted her eyes to meet him, finding the depth of something she hadn’t quite understood before—something that both scared and comforted her all at once.

His thumb lightly traced the line of her lower lip, his gaze flickering between her eyes and her mouth, as though he was trying to read her, trying to gauge whether the moment was right. Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, her pulse quickening. There was no question now—they had crossed some unspoken boundary. The room seemed to hold its breath, and for a heartbeat, the world outside was irrelevant. It was just the two of them, here, in this space.

“Y/N,” he murmured her name like a prayer, his voice low and raspy, filled with a need that neither of them could deny. The sound of her name on his lips felt like a promise, but it also held the weight of everything unspoken between them.

She lifted her hand to rest against his chest, feeling his heartbeat under her palm. Her gaze softened as she studied his face, seeing the conflict there, the vulnerability in his eyes that mirrored her own. ‘Is this what we want?’ The question hung in the air, but neither of them dared to voice it. Instead, Y/N leaned in slightly, just enough to close the space between them, her breath mingling with his. 

Joshua’s eyes fluttered shut for a brief moment as he felt the shift between them, the pull that neither of them could ignore. He exhaled slowly, and when he opened his eyes again, he found Y/N’s lips inches from his. 

At that moment, everything else seemed to blur. There was no more thinking, no more hesitation. It wasn’t about the future, or the decisions they hadn’t yet made—it was about now. It was about feeling this connection, this undeniable chemistry, this quiet, intimate understanding between them.

He closed the distance between them then, his lips meeting hers in a soft, slow kiss—one that spoke of everything they hadn’t said, all the emotions they had buried deep inside. It was a kiss that was both tender and intense, full of quiet longing and unspoken promises. It was a kiss that asked for nothing more than the moment, the comfort, the closeness of shared space.

Y/N’s hand slid up to his neck, pulling him in closer, her body instinctively leaning into his as the kiss deepened. The heat between them grew, but it was still gentle—unhurried. It was a kiss that let them feel each other, without rushing toward anything. At that moment, they didn’t need words. They didn’t need answers.

Joshua’s hand slid from her face to her hair, tangling in the soft strands as he deepened the kiss, his fingers tracing the curve of her neck. Y/N responded in kind, her body now in his lap, hand resting against his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breath as the kiss grew more urgent, more desperate. Yet, there was still a softness to it, a care, a respect for the vulnerability they were both sharing.

As they finally pulled away, breathless, their foreheads touched lightly, their breaths coming in soft gasps. The silence between them was no longer empty—it was full, rich with connection, understanding, and something deeper that neither of them had been ready to name.

“Are you okay?” Joshua asked, his voice low, his forehead still resting against hers. His hands rested gently on her waist, as if waiting for her to pull away or to say something that would break the tension.

Y/N smiled softly, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “I’m more than okay,” she whispered. 

Joshua’s chest tightened at her words, the weight of the unspoken between them finally easing. They didn’t need to know what came next. They didn’t need to define it. All that mattered was that, in this quiet moment, they had found something real—something beautiful and fragile, but something worth holding on to, even if only for tonight.

“I don’t want to rush it,” he said, his voice steady but laced with something deeper, something tender. He reached up, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear, his fingertips grazing her soft skin. “But I’m not going to lie, I don’t have enough strength right now to pull away from you.”

His words, so simple yet heavy with meaning, made her heart flutter. She nodded slowly, her fingers moving to trace the line of his jaw, her touch delicate, as if he were something fragile she didn’t want to break. “Then don’t,” she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. 

The unspoken invitation hung in the air between them, thick with anticipation. For a moment, neither of them moved. They just looked at each other, as if silently questioning whether this moment was real, whether they could allow themselves to embrace it fully.

Joshua closed the distance between them then, his lips finding hers again, this time with more urgency, more purpose. The kiss was different now—not just tender, but hungry, as though the silence between them had been filled with all the words neither of them had said. There was an ache in it, a quiet, aching need to be closer, to erase the distance that had existed between them for far too long.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as the kiss deepened. She responded with equal intensity, her hands moving to his chest, feeling the heat of his skin through the fabric of his shirt. His hands, which had been resting on her waist, now slid to her back, pulling her even closer. The space between them evaporated as he cradled her against him, their bodies pressed together in a way that felt both intimate and comforting.

Her pulse quickened as she felt the weight of him against her, his chest rising and falling in time with hers. The kiss grew more frantic, both of them caught in the whirlwind of emotions they had carefully held at bay. There were no more words, just the sensation of their lips moving together, the heat building between them.

Joshua’s hand slid down to her waist, then to the small of her back, gently urging her closer as he deepened the kiss even further. He could feel the softness of her skin beneath his touch, the way her body seemed to melt against his. Every inch of him wanted to be closer, to lose himself in the feeling of her. And yet, there was a part of him still holding back, still unsure, still afraid of what would happen once this moment ended.

But at that moment, Y/N seemed to read his hesitation. She pulled away just enough to look him in the eyes, her lips still tingling from the kiss. Her gaze was steady, but there was a question in her eyes—a silent invitation to continue, to let go of the fears they both carried.

“I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” she whispered, her voice breathless but sure. “You don’t have to hold back. Not tonight.”

Joshua’s breath caught at her words, the weight of them sinking in. He could see the vulnerability in her eyes—the trust she was offering him, the understanding that whatever came next, they would navigate it together. There was no pressure. No expectations. Just the two of them, finding comfort in each other.

With a quiet exhale, Joshua nodded, his hand gently cupping her cheek as he leaned in once more, this time more slowly, more deliberately. He kissed her with a gentleness that was new, but that spoke volumes. He wasn’t rushing anymore. He was simply present, lost in the moment, in her.

Her hands slid to the collar of his shirt, fingers trembling slightly as she tugged it from where it had come untucked, urging him to shed the layers between them. Joshua let her, his own hands moving to gently lift her shirt just enough to feel the soft curve of her back, the warmth of her skin. Neither of them said anything as the kiss broke, but their eyes met again—soft, full of desire, yet still respectful, still understanding.

Without breaking eye contact, he slowly helped her out of her shirt, his hands moving with deliberate care, making sure every move was in sync with hers. Next unclasping the simple black bra she had placed under. They both needed this—needed to shed the layers that had kept them apart, to let their vulnerability, their need for one another, unfold in the safety of the quiet room.

Joshua pulled her closer again, feeling her body against his. There was no rush now, no need for words. The room was filled only with the sound of their breaths, the crackling of the fire, and the steady rhythm of their hearts beating in time with one another.

As their lips met once more, this time, it wasn’t just the heat of the kiss, the desire that had built between them—it was the deep, unspoken understanding that whatever came next, they were in it together. No barriers. No secrets.

Just the two of them, finally letting go. 

The following morning, Y/N woke to the soft light of dawn filtering through the curtains. For a moment, she just lay there, her eyes tracing the outline of Joshua’s figure beside her, the rise and fall of his chest a calming rhythm. She could feel his warmth, his steady presence beside her, and for a fleeting moment, she let herself forget about everything that still hung between them—his family, his obligations, the secret they both kept.

But it was all still there, quietly waiting in the shadows. Closer than either one of them knew.

Joshua stirred beside her, his hand instinctively reaching out to pull her closer, his fingers grazing over the curve of her back. He didn’t speak at first, just letting the warmth of the moment settle between them. 

Joshua’s phone buzzed softly on the nightstand. The sudden interruption of their calm was a stark contrast to the quiet intimacy they had just shared. He reached for the phone, not thinking much of it at first, just expecting a message from his family or a reminder of the day’s busy schedule. But as he unlocked the screen, his heart dropped.

An email notification blinked up at him from his inbox, the sender name familiar—yet completely unexpected.

Subject: Exclusive: The Life of Joshua Hong and his Secret Love (The Untold Story)From: journalist@cityscenenews.com

The words caught him off guard. His pulse quickened as he clicked open the email, fear prickling along his spine. The article was already live, complete with images—images that left no room for doubt. It was a professional expose, a journalist’s careful investigation into his hidden relationship with Y/N, revealing everything from the quiet, secret dates to the intimate moments they had shared in public spaces.

The headline alone felt like a betrayal, and the further he read, the worse it got. The article wasn’t just a casual mention. It was a detailed account of their time together, with quotes from “anonymous sources” and observations from people who had seen them around town, careful not to reveal their identities but piecing together a narrative that felt all too real.

Excerpt from the article:

"Joshua Hong, heir to Benet Enterprises, has been quietly involved with an undisclosed woman for several months now. Sources close to the couple say that their relationship has been marked by secrecy, with the couple often seen slipping in and out of exclusive venues. While the relationship appears to be purely romantic, the question remains: Will Hong continue to keep his personal life hidden, or is this the beginning of a much larger scandal?"

The article went on to speculate about the hidden layers of his family life, the pressure from his father to conform to a certain image, and the ramifications this secret relationship could have on both their futures.

Joshua froze, his mind reeling as his eyes flickered over the content. The carefully guarded life he had worked so hard to protect now felt like it was slipping through his fingers, exposed for the world to see. And worst of all, Y/N was wrapped up in this too, her privacy shattered by the sharp edge of a journalist’s pen.

He felt the weight of the world pressing down on him as he tried to make sense of the situation. He couldn’t help but glance at Y/N, fading back into sleep beside him, unaware of what was unfolding. She looked so peaceful, her hair splayed out across his chest, her face soft and free of worry.

But that peace was short-lived.

Joshua’s phone buzzed again, this time a call coming in. He saw the name on the screen and felt a knot tighten in his stomach.

Dad.

He inhaled sharply, still holding the phone, trying to steady his nerves. He didn’t want to wake Y/N—not like this. But he knew that the reality of their situation couldn’t stay hidden for long. His father had no doubt already read the article. The pressure of his family’s expectations would come crashing down soon enough.

“Y/N,” he whispered, gently nudging her awake. Her eyes fluttered open slowly, still groggy from sleep, but when she saw his expression, the concern in his gaze, her heart skipped a beat. Something was wrong.

“What happened?” she asked, her voice soft but alert, her hand reaching for him as she sat up.

He handed her the phone without a word, watching as her expression changed from confusion to shock as she read the headline.

Her eyes lifted to meet his. The silence stretched between them for a moment, both of them absorbing the weight of what had just been thrust into their lives.

“I.. What the fuck?” Y/N said, her voice quiet, filled with a mixture of disbelief and sorrow. She shook her head, still processing what was unfolding. “How did this happen? We were so careful…”

Joshua didn’t have an answer. He didn’t know how the journalist had pieced it all together—maybe someone had seen them together in the park or overheard a conversation at the gallery. Or perhaps someone closer to his world had leaked the information, knowing that the his family was a story worth telling.

“I’m so sorry,” Joshua said, his voice tight with frustration. “I never wanted you to be dragged into this. I thought we could keep it private, at least for a little while longer.”

Y/N’s hand found his again, gripping it with quiet strength. “It’s not your fault,” she said, her voice steady. “It’s just... This is bigger than we thought.”

Joshua sighed heavily, looking down at the article again, but this time he saw it from a different angle. They could try to fight it, deny it, but the story was already out there. The public would talk, his father would demand answers, and the world would judge. There was no turning back.

“I need to talk to my dad,” he said quietly, standing up from the bed, his thoughts racing.

Y/N watched him with concern, but she didn’t try to stop him. She knew this was something he had to face. But she also knew that whatever happened next, things between them would never be the same. They had been living in a fragile world, hiding behind walls of secrecy. Now those walls were crumbling, and there was no escaping the fallout.

“I’ll be here,” Y/N said softly, watching him leave the room. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The air was thick with tension as Joshua stood at the front of his father’s study, staring out the large window at the sprawling estate below. He had been here countless times before, but today it felt different—his father’s looming presence, the weight of his legacy hanging in the air, and the article still echoing in his mind.

The door opened behind him, and his father entered, his expression cold and unreadable.

“Well, it looks like you fucked up, Joshua. It was only a matter of time, really, I knew I couldn’t keep you away from disobeying me for long,” his father said, his tone devoid of surprise. “I didn’t expect it to come this way, but I suppose it was inevitable.”

Joshua turned slowly, meeting his father’s gaze. “I didn’t want it to come out like this. You know how important it is to me that our family stays out of the spotlight.”

His father raised an eyebrow, stepping further into the room. “The world doesn’t care what you want, Joshua. They care about my name. You can’t play both sides of this game. You have to choose.”

Joshua’s stomach tightened. “I’m not asking for your approval. I’m not asking for anything. This is about me—and I’m not letting anyone control that anymore. Not even you.”

His father’s expression hardened. “You don’t understand the consequences of your actions. You think you can fucking have it all—a private life and the family business—but the truth is, Joshua, you can’t.”

Joshua stood tall, meeting his father’s gaze with the kind of determination he had never shown before. “I’m done living in your shadow. I’m done being what you want me to be.”

For a moment, the room was quiet, the weight of Joshua’s words hanging in the air.

Then his father spoke, his voice softer but still laced with authority. “You’ll learn soon enough, son. Life isn’t as simple as you think it is.”

Joshua stood face to face with his father, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. The room felt colder than usual, the vast space echoing with silence and the weight of the conversation that was about to unfold.Joshua could sense the storm brewing, and it was a storm that had been building for years, slowly but surely.

The article was just the catalyst. This moment was inevitable.

“You’ve made a  big fucking fool of yourself,” His dad’s voice was sharp, cutting through the tension in the room. “The entire world now knows about your indiscretions. About the basic woman you’ve been hiding.” He emphasized the word woman, as though it was a crime just to care about someone outside of the image he had meticulously crafted for his son. “Do you think this is acceptable, Joshua? To air our family’s dirty laundry for the world to see?”

Joshua didn’t flinch. He’d expected his father’s anger. It was the only thing his father ever seemed capable of. Still, something within him hardened. This wasn’t the first time his father had made him feel small, but it would be the last.

“I never asked for any of this, Dad,” Joshua finally said, his voice firm but measured. There was no more backing down. “I never wanted this kind of life. You never gave me a choice. You’ve made it clear that the only thing that matters is your reputation, not my happiness.”

His father’s eyes narrowed, and the tension in the room thickened. “You think you have the luxury to choose what makes you happy? You’re the heir to my entire fortune, Joshua. This family, this company—this political legacy—is bigger than you or any of your personal whims. I’ve spent my entire life building this empire. And you—” Arthur’s voice grew venomous, “you’re jeopardizing it for a fleeting romance with someone who doesn’t give a damn about the cost of this life.”

Joshua felt the anger rising in him, the years of resentment bubbling to the surface. He took a deep breath, but there was no holding back anymore.

“No. I’m not jeopardizing anything. You are,” he shot back, his voice rising now. “You’ve spent my fucking whole life telling me that the only thing that matters is business—status, money, power. And for what? So I can live a life that’s not even mine? So I can wake up every morning, knowing that I’m not allowed to make a choice for myself?” His voice cracked, frustration and emotion seeping through. “I’ve had enough.”

The elder of the two took a step toward him, his expression hardening into a mask of fury. “You think you can choose happiness over responsibility? You think you can turn your back on everything I’ve built, just for some bitch? You will regret this, Joshua. You can’t just walk away from this life. The consequences of your actions will destroy everything I’ve worked for.”

Joshua took a step forward to meet him, his chest tight with the weight of his words, but his eyes clear with resolve. “Bitch? Very mature. No, Dad. What will destroy everything is continuing down this path where nothing matters except power and control. I’ve tried to live up to your expectations, but all I’ve done is lose myself. And now I’m losing her too.”

Joshua’s dad’s eyes flickered with a flash of something—maybe disbelief, or perhaps a moment of realization. “You don’t understand. The world doesn’t give you the option to choose. People will use her to get to you. You think she’s different, but they’ll tear her apart, Joshua. She’s not the kind of woman you bring into our world.”

Joshua’s jaw tightened, and the weight of his father’s words hit harder than expected. He knew his father wasn’t wrong in some ways—the world they lived in was brutal. But what he hadn’t realized until now was just how suffocating it all was. His father was trying to control him, trying to dictate not just his career, but his personal life as well.

“Maybe she isn’t the problem, Dad. Maybe it’s this life, maybe it’s you,” Joshua snapped, voice shaking with raw emotion. “You’re so busy telling me how to live, telling me what’s best for me, but you’ve never once stopped to ask me what I want. I want something real, something that isn’t dictated by your empire. I want a future where I make the decisions for myself—where I’m not just living in your shadow, pretending to be someone I’m not.”

Arthur’s face turned pale, his expression shifting between disbelief and fury. “You’re a fool, Joshua,” he spat, the words coming out like venom. “You’ll ruin everything. You’ll be fucking nothing without this family. Without me.”

Joshua could feel the weight of his father's words, but they no longer carried the same power they once did. He wasn’t the boy who had to apologize for his every move anymore. He wasn’t the man who had to silence his own desires for the sake of someone else’s expectations. Not anymore.

“No, sir,” Joshua’s voice was steady now, stronger than it had ever been. “I’m already something, with or without you. And I’m done letting you define who that is.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Neither of them spoke for a long moment, the air thick with the tension of a battle that had been simmering for years. Joshua felt his heart pounding in his chest as he stared at the man who had been his father. He’d spent so long trying to please him, trying to be the son he thought he was supposed to be, but now it was clear: he couldn’t do it anymore.

He wasn’t going to let his father’s grip on his life define him any longer.

Turning on his heel, Joshua made his way to the door. He had made his choice. It was the hardest thing he had ever done, but it was the only way forward. He stopped just before the door, his hand on the knob.

“I’m done living for you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m in love with her so either you’ll have to accept that or stop fucking inserting yourself in my life.”

Without another word, he opened the door and left, not looking back.

Joshua’s heart raced as he slammed the door behind him, leaving his father’s cold, seething gaze in the past. The decision had been made, and there was no turning back now. His mind was a blur of anger, confusion, and relief, but through it all, one thought kept him moving forward.

Y/N.

He didn’t know what he expected when he stepped out of that house, but it felt like the first breath of fresh air he’d had in years. The weight of his father's influence was something Joshua had carried for far too long, and now, for the first time in his life, he could breathe without that looming pressure suffocating him.

He made his way to his car, his steps quick but purposeful. With the engine running he sent her a text asking her where she was and just to let her know he’s on his way back to her, the place he belongs. She didn’t say much back, just sending a pin to her location. 

The drive to Y/N’s apartment felt like the longest of his life, the distance between them physically small but emotionally vast. With each turn of the wheels, each block closer, his pulse quickened, his thoughts consumed by her. He needed to tell her everything—the truth, his choice, what had just happened. There were no more secrets to keep.

As he parked in front of her building, the air outside felt charged with tension. He stepped out of the car, his hands shaking, but there was no turning back now. He couldn't run anymore. He’d faced his father, now it was time to face her.

He pressed the buzzer at the gate and waited for the familiar sound of her voice to come through the intercom.

“Hello?”

Her voice was soft, raspy, as if she had been crying and it took everything in him not to break at the sound of it. She had no idea what had just transpired, no idea of the storm brewing inside him. But he knew this was where he needed to be.

“It’s me, Joshua,” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion.

The gate buzzed open, and he made his way up to her apartment. Each step felt heavier than the last, but his resolve grew with every inch closer he got. As he reached her door, his hand hovered over the knob for a moment before he knocked softly.

The door opened to reveal Y/N standing there, looking every bit as beautiful as she had the night before, her eyes soft with concern slightly red from her tears, as she took in his disheveled appearance. Her gaze flickered from his eyes to his hands, noticing the way he gripped the doorframe, like he needed something solid to keep him from falling apart.

“What happened?” she asked, her voice gentle yet knowing. She could see something was off, something had changed. And she didn’t need him to explain it yet. She just stepped aside, allowing him entry without pressing for more.

Joshua stepped inside and closed the door behind him, his mind still racing. He couldn’t bring himself to speak immediately. The words were lodged in his throat, heavy and sharp, but there was no turning back. He had to tell her.

“I went to see him,” Joshua finally said, his voice a little unsteady. “My father.”

Y/N’s brow furrowed with concern, her fingers reaching out to gently touch his arm. She didn’t need to ask what had happened—she already knew it couldn’t have gone well. But she didn’t rush him; she simply waited, giving him the space to find the words.

“I stood up to him,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “For the first time in my fucking life, I stood up to him. I told him that I was done—done trying to be the son he wanted me to be. Done living under his control.”

Y/N’s heart clenched at the rawness in his voice. She could see the weight of his words, feel the depth of the struggle he’d been carrying inside him for so long. She wanted to say something, to comfort him, but she knew better than to interrupt him when he was this vulnerable.

“I told him that I was in love with you,” Joshua continued, his eyes finding hers, his expression raw and open. “I told him that if he couldn’t accept that, then he needed to stay out of my life. I’m not living for him anymore. I’m living for me—and for us.”

The room seemed to freeze in that moment, the words hanging in the air between them. Y/N’s heart stuttered in her chest, her breath catching as she tried to process what he was saying. She had expected the conversation to go in a hundred different directions, but never this one. She had no idea what to say, how to respond to the sheer intensity of what he was telling her.

Joshua stepped closer, his hand gently cupping her face, as if reassuring himself that she was real. “I want you, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice a little strained. “I want this—us—no matter the cost. I don’t care what anyone else thinks, not anymore. I’m not going to let anything stand in the way of what we have.”

Tears welled up in her eyes, and for a moment, she couldn’t find the words. The emotion that had built up between them, the weight of their shared secrets, the tension of waiting for something to finally give—it all came crashing down in that instant. She leaned into his touch, her hand reaching up to rest over his, holding him close.

“Joshua…” She couldn’t say anything else at first, too overwhelmed by everything he had just revealed. But then, the words came. “I’m so proud of you. This takes more strength than anything I could have ever imagined. I’m sorry you had to do it alone.” Her voice was thick with emotion, trembling with the weight of her feelings.

Joshua’s eyes softened as he wiped away the tear that had escaped down her cheek. “I never wanted to hurt you. I just—I was so afraid of losing everything that I kept hiding. I didn’t know how to be honest, even with myself.” He brushed a kiss to her forehead, his heart swelling with a mixture of relief and love. “But now… I can’t keep pretending that this—we—don’t matter. You matter, Y/N. And I’m ready to face whatever comes next, with you by my side.”

Y/N stepped back for a moment, looking up at him with a soft smile. “So what happens now?”

Joshua took a deep breath, his chest still tight with the remnants of the confrontation he had left behind, but something inside him felt lighter. “Now, we take this one day at a time. We live the life we want, not the one anyone else expects us to live. No more secrets, no more lies. Just us. We can go on trips, go bowling, good restaurants, all of it.”

She smiled, her eyes glistening with unspoken hope, and nodded. “Finally.”

And in that moment, everything felt like it was falling into place—like they were finally, truly, on the same side. The road ahead wouldn’t be easy. There would be challenges, both personal and external, but together, they were ready to face them. Together, they could finally have the life they’d always wanted, the life they deserved.

A few weeks had passed since that night—since Joshua had stood up to his father, told him the truth, and chosen Y/N. Their relationship, once clouded by secrecy and the weight of Joshua’s family legacy, had blossomed into something more genuine. They were finally able to breathe without the constant fear of being caught, of their love being hidden away. Joshua’s decision had been made, and for the first time, he felt free.

He had stayed away from his father, giving them both time to cool down, to let the emotions settle. Joshua had no illusions that his father would easily accept the change. Still, he couldn’t ignore the small part of him that held hope—hope that maybe, just maybe, his father would come around.

It was a Thursday afternoon when the knock came at the door. Y/N had just finished a late lunch, reading a book on the couch when she heard it. It was a knock that didn’t sound like any of their usual visitors—sharp, deliberate, as though someone had been waiting for the right moment to arrive.

When she opened the door, she wasn’t expecting to see him.

Mr. Hong stood in the doorway, his posture stiff, his face as impassive as it always was. His suit was immaculate, his presence commanding even in this simple setting. Y/N’s breath caught in her throat at the sight of him. She had only ever heard about him—his control over Joshua, his icy demeanor, his relentless pursuit of perfection. And here he was, standing in her doorway as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

She hesitated for only a moment before speaking, her voice steady but cautious. “Mr. Hong.”

The man looked down at her, his gaze assessing but not unkind. “May I come in?” he asked, his tone far more measured than she had expected.

Y/N stood aside, unsure of how to react but not wanting to be rude. “Of course.”

She led him into the living room, where they both took seats on opposite ends of the space. The air was thick with the weight of his presence. Y/N felt uneasy, but she couldn’t deny the curiosity that burned inside her. What could he possibly want? Why was he here, after everything that had happened?

His father cleared his throat before speaking, his voice softer than she had anticipated. “I’ve come to apologize.”

Y/N blinked in surprise, unsure whether she had heard him right. “Apologize?” she echoed.

“Yes,” Mr. Hong said, his gaze unwavering as he looked her in the eyes. “For everything I put Joshua through. For all the years of pressure and the things I said that drove him away.”

She frowned, unsure how to process his words. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

He looked down for a moment, as though gathering his thoughts, before meeting her eyes again. “I thought I was doing what was best for him, for the family. I was wrong. I tried to control everything, everyone, and in the end, I nearly lost my son.” He paused, as though trying to comprehend the depth of what he was admitting. “When he left, when he told me he was choosing you over me… I realized something.” 

Y/N said nothing, allowing him the space to speak.

He exhaled slowly. “I realized that I had been the one keeping him in the dark. I’d been so focused on legacy, on appearances, on control, that I didn’t see what I was doing to him. He was never happy. Not truly happy. And that’s on me.” His voice broke slightly, a crack in the carefully constructed armor that had defined him for so long. “I’m… I’m sorry for that. For everything.”

Y/N didn’t know what to say. She had never imagined a moment like this. She had heard about the man who had shaped Joshua’s life, the man who had made him feel small, inadequate, and forever beneath the weight of expectations. And now, here he was, apologizing—not just for his actions toward her, but for how he had hurt Joshua.

“Thank you,” she said finally, her voice soft, careful. “But you should really talk to him about all of this. He’s the one you hurt most.”

His father nodded, his eyes momentarily distant. “I know. I will. I need to.” He looked back at her, his expression more vulnerable than she had ever expected to see. “But I wanted to start with you. You’ve been the one to make him see that there’s more to life than what I’ve shown him. I don’t know what you’ve done to him, but I can see that you’ve given him something I never could: the courage to be himself.”

Y/N felt a pang in her chest at the rawness of his words. She had no doubt that Joshua’s father was trying—genuinely trying. But the scars of his actions weren’t easily erased. Still, she could see the man in front of her wasn’t just the villain in Joshua’s story anymore. He was someone who had been lost too, someone who was now confronting the reality of his mistakes.

“I don’t know what Joshua will say when he hears this,” she said, her voice tentative. “But I’m sure he’ll appreciate hearing that you understand.”

His expression softened, and for the first time in their interaction, he gave her a small, almost imperceptible smile. “I hope so.”

Later that evening, after Mr. Hong had left, Y/N sat quietly, waiting for Joshua. She hadn’t told him about the visit yet, unsure of how he would react. Part of her knew that the conversation with his father—though a long time coming—might be more complicated than they both realized. 

When Joshua finally arrived, looking tired but determined, Y/N didn’t hesitate. She wrapped her arms around him as soon as he stepped through the door, needing the comfort of his presence. 

“Hey,” she said softly, pulling back to look up at him. “I need to tell you something.”

Joshua raised an eyebrow, his expression wary, but he didn’t say anything as she guided him to the couch. 

“Your dad came by today,” she said, watching his reaction closely. 

Joshua froze, his face hardening. “What did he want?”

“He came to apologize,” Y/N said carefully, gauging his reaction. 

Joshua’s face was a mixture of disbelief and something else—reluctance, maybe? It was clear that he hadn’t expected this.

“Are you serious?” His voice was low, the emotion in it impossible to miss. “I don’t know if I can believe that.”

Y/N nodded. “I understand. But I think you should hear him out. He seemed genuine.”

Joshua leaned back, running a hand through his hair, his thoughts clearly conflicted. “I don’t know if I’m ready for that. After everything he put me through…”

“I know,” she whispered, taking his hand in hers. “But you’re not the same person you were before. You don’t have to accept anything right away, but maybe... just maybe, you can give him a chance to make things right.”

Joshua was silent for a moment, his eyes staring into the distance as he processed everything. Finally, he turned back to her, his gaze softer. “Maybe.”

Y/N gave him a reassuring smile. “When you're ready. And I’ll be here.”

Joshua squeezed her hand gently. “Thank you. For everything.”

And in that moment, even with the uncertainty hanging in the air, he knew he wasn’t facing it alone. Whatever came next, he and Y/N would figure it out—together.

A few weeks had passed since His fathers unexpected visit to Y/N’s apartment. Joshua had spent that time in quiet contemplation, torn between the man his father had forced him to be and the man he was trying to become. The choice was clear now. He was ready to face his father, not as the son who had been molded by expectations, but as the man he had become—someone who had chosen his own path, his own love, and his own life.

He had talked it through with Y/N, who had been nothing but supportive, patient, and understanding. She knew the road to reconciliation with his father wouldn’t be easy. She had seen the scars of his childhood, the way his father’s love had always felt conditional, based on his achievements and his conformity to a perfect image. But she also knew Joshua needed to do this for himself, not for his father, and not for anyone else. 

And so, the day came when Joshua, heart pounding in his chest, decided it was time. 

Joshua stood in front of Y/N’s apartment, his knuckles lightly tapping the door before he opened it. She was sitting on the couch, the familiar soft light of the afternoon streaming through the windows. He could see the faint worry in her eyes when she looked up at him.

“I think it’s time,” he said simply, his voice steady but with an underlying current of nerves.

Y/N smiled, standing up and walking toward him. She could see it in his eyes, the determination but also the vulnerability. She nodded, her heart swelling with pride. “You don’t have to do this if you’re not ready,” she said, her voice soothing yet firm. “But if you are, I’ll be right there with you.”

Joshua took her hands in his, squeezing them gently. “I’m ready. I need to do this. Not just for me, but for us.”

The drive to the Hong estate felt longer than it should have, each mile adding to Joshua’s uncertainty. Y/N sat next to him, her presence grounding him. Every now and then, she would reach over and give his hand a reassuring squeeze, reminding him that this wasn’t something he had to face alone.

When they finally pulled up to the grand gates of the home, Joshua felt the weight of the past pressing down on him. He had never been this nervous in his life—not even on the first date with Y/N. But this wasn’t just about meeting someone new; this was about stepping into a world that had always made him feel small, inadequate, like he could never measure up.

Y/N could feel the tension radiating off him, and she didn’t say anything, just held his hand tighter as they made their way up the driveway. They both knew this wasn’t just a visit; it was a defining moment. The confrontation with his father had to happen, but this moment, right now, was the one that would decide if things could truly change between them.

They walked through the front door of the house, which felt strangely empty despite the grandness of the foyer. Everything in this house was cold, too pristine, too perfectly arranged. It was a place where emotions had always been kept at a distance, and Joshua had spent years trying to meet his father’s impossible standards.

Joshua’s father was sitting in the living room, an armchair that he always seemed to claim as his own. His expression was unreadable as he stood to greet them, but there was a visible tension in his posture. This wasn’t just the son he had known; this was a different Joshua—the Joshua who had learned to stand up for himself, the Joshua who had chosen a different life. 

Y/N stood by Joshua’s side, her presence a quiet strength, something that made the room feel a little less suffocating.

“Joshua,” he said, his voice tight but respectful. “You’ve come.”

Joshua nodded, his heart racing. “Yes. I came to talk.”

His eyes flickered to Y/N before returning to his son. “Hello, y/n.” His voice was even, but there was an unfamiliar softness to it. “I didn’t expect her to want to join us.”

Y/N met his gaze, her expression calm but firm. She wasn’t intimidated by him, but she could sense that this moment was as much about her as it was about Joshua. She understood that this was the first step toward something real—for them, as a family.

Joshua cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “I wanted to be clear with you, Father. I’m not the person you always wanted me to be. I’ve tried, but I’ve realized I can’t be that person anymore. I’m in love with Y/N, and she’s part of my life now. I need you to understand that.”

The elders jaw tightened at the mention of Y/N’s name, but he said nothing for a long moment. His gaze softened slightly, and he let out a slow breath. “I never wanted to hurt you, Joshua. I thought I was doing what was best for you. I wanted you to have the life I never had, the life I thought you deserved. But I can see now that I’ve been blind.”

Joshua felt a flicker of something—a small spark of hope, perhaps. But he knew better than to get ahead of himself. His father’s apology wasn’t going to fix everything in one moment.

His father took a step closer, his eyes searching Joshua’s. “I’ve made mistakes. I’ve tried to control you, to force you into something that wasn’t you. And for that, I’m sorry.”

Y/N watched the exchange carefully, her hand still firmly in Joshua’s. She knew this was a big step for him, and it wasn’t about forgiving or forgetting. It was about opening the door to something new, to a different kind of relationship with his father, one built on respect instead of fear.

“Thank you,” Joshua said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “That means more than you know.”

There was a long pause before his dad spoke again. “I don’t expect things to change overnight. But I want to try, Joshua. I want to try to understand who you are now. Who you’ve become. And if you want her in your life, if she’s a part of your future, then… I’ll try to accept that too.”

Joshua didn’t know if his father’s words were enough to undo the years of strain between them, but they were a start. A step toward healing.

Y/N squeezed his hand, her presence a constant reassurance. “Thank you,” she said softly, offering a warm, genuine smile. 

There was a long silence as the three of them stood there, the weight of the moment sinking in. It wasn’t perfect. There were still so many things unsaid, so much to be worked through. But for the first time in his life, Joshua felt a flicker of something he hadn’t thought was possible—hope. Maybe things between him and his father could be different, maybe they could find a way forward. 

As they left the Hong estate later that evening, hand in hand, Joshua took a deep breath, feeling lighter than he had in years.

“I didn’t expect him to say that,” he admitted, his voice a mixture of disbelief and cautious optimism. 

Y/N smiled softly, leaning her head on his shoulder as they walked. “I don’t think he expected it either. But it’s a start.”

Joshua looked down at her, his heart swelling with love and gratitude. “Thank you for coming with me. For everything.”

She smiled up at him, her eyes filled with warmth. “Always, babe. I’m right here, no matter what.”

The weeks that followed the meeting with his father were filled with uncertainty, but also a quiet sense of relief. Joshua and Y/N had continued to grow closer, their bond stronger than ever. There were still conversations to be had, still moments of tension between him and his father, but Joshua could finally breathe, unburdened by the weight of his past.

His dad had made an effort—slowly, carefully—to rebuild his relationship with Joshua. They started talking more, and although their relationship wasn’t perfect, it was real. Joshua had learned that it wasn’t about erasing the past, but about creating a new path forward—one where he could be true to himself, without needing to seek approval from the person who had once held all the power over him.

One Saturday evening, just shy of a few months after that pivotal day, Joshua and Y/N found themselves in a small, cozy spot by the river. The sun was beginning to set, casting golden hues over the water as they sat in a quiet corner, far from the noise of the world.

“I still can’t believe we’re here,” Joshua said, his voice light with amusement. He had a warm smile on his face, one that was genuine, carefree—the smile of a man who had finally found his place.

Y/N laughed softly, taking a sip of her tea. “What do you mean?”

“I mean... just us. No hiding. No pretending. It feels... good.”

She smiled, the warmth in her chest matching the feeling in her heart. “It does, doesn’t it?”

They had spent so much time in secret—dodging his family’s scrutiny, keeping their love hidden from the world—but now, things were different. They didn’t have to sneak around. They could hold hands in public, share quiet moments, and talk openly about their future. It wasn’t perfect, and it wasn’t always easy, but it was theirs.

Joshua reached across the table, his hand finding hers. He looked at her, his gaze soft and full of affection. “You’ve made me believe in more than just surviving, Y/N. I thought for so long that I had to play by someone else’s rules... that I had to prove something to my father, to everyone. But with you, I’ve learned that I can just be. And that’s enough.”

Y/N squeezed his hand, her heart swelling with love. “I never wanted you to be anyone but yourself, Joshua. You don’t have to prove anything to anyone, least of all to me.”

Joshua’s eyes shone with emotion, and for the first time in a long time, he let himself fully embrace the love they had—love that wasn’t about expectations or conditions, but about simply being there for one another. 

“Thank you,” he whispered. “For never giving up on me. For standing by me when I wasn’t sure who I was.”

Y/N’s eyes glistened, and she shook her head. “I didn’t give up on you. I believed in you, Shua. Always.”

They sat in a comfortable silence for a moment, the gentle hum of the café surrounding them. Outside, the sun had dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of pink and purple. The world felt like it was slowing down, just for them.

Suddenly, Joshua pulled something from his pocket—something small, wrapped carefully in velvet. Y/N looked at him, curious, as he slid it across the table toward her.

“What the hell is this?” she asked, her voice a mix of surprise and delight.

Joshua smiled softly, the same warmth in his eyes that she had come to love. “Just a little something for you.”

She carefully unwrapped it, revealing a delicate diamond engagement ring. The center stone sparkled brightly, a soft halo surrounding it, elegant and timeless—a reflection of everything they had been through, and everything they would face together in the future.

“What the.. Is this?” She said, her voice soft, filled with awe.

“I thought it was time,” Joshua said, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m not asking you to wait forever anymore, Y/N. I want to spend the rest of my life with you—no more hiding, no more uncertainty. I want you by my side, always.”

Y/N felt a rush of warmth flood her chest, her hands trembling slightly as she reached for the ring. Her eyes glistened with tears. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” he said, his voice steady but full of love. “You’ve been my strength, my guide, my heart. I want this. I want you.”

She nodded, her voice barely a whisper. “Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

Joshua gently took her hand and slid the ring onto her finger. He looked at her with such intensity, his eyes soft with love and promise. “I love you, Y/N. More than I’ve ever known how to say.”

She smiled through the tears, her heart overflowing. “I love you too. I always have.”

And with that, they sat in the warmth of each other’s company, knowing that no matter what the future held, they would face it together—unapologetically, without fear, and with hearts that had finally found their home in each other.

Months later, the Hong estate had changed. It wasn’t an overnight transformation, but there was progress. Joshua had finally learned how to set boundaries with his father, and though there were still disagreements, there was a newfound respect between them. Joshua had come to terms with the fact that his father’s approval would never be unconditional, but he had also come to understand that he didn’t need it to be happy.

He was no longer defined by his father’s expectations or by the pressure of a legacy he had never chosen. He was his own man, with his own dreams—and he had Y/N by his side. They were no longer a secret. They were a couple, standing proudly in the light of the life they had chosen for themselves.

And when the time came for their wedding day, the simple, intimate ceremony was filled with love—not just from the two of them, but from their families and friends who had supported them along the way. It wasn’t about grand gestures or the approval of others; it was about their love, which had been forged in secret but had blossomed into something pure and real.

As they stood together at the altar, Joshua holding her hand, Y/N smiled up at him, knowing that this was only the beginning of their life together.

They had faced the darkness. They had fought for each other. And now, they were stepping into a future full of love, trust, and hope.

[tthoroughfare]

kerosene (part 2) // ellie williams

*･゜ﾟ･* summary: the one where she breaks up with cat.

*･゜ﾟ･* pairing: jackson!ellie x reader

*･゜ﾟ･* content: sfw

*･゜ﾟ･* length: 0.8k

this is part two of this series! find part one here

I AM ENJOYING WRITING THIS SO MUCH i literally don't want them to get together because i just love yearning so much sighhh. i'm already up to the part where things finally happen and i know i'm gonna end up posting those, then going back and writing little extra parts to slot in where they're still friends. anywayyy hope you enjoy <3

something about the conversation makes ellie deliberate for weeks. it was the way you’d spoken about your relationship just not feeling ‘right’, the way she couldn’t really verbalize anything she felt like she should say about cat. she doesn’t know if she’s just overthinking everything. cat’s great. sure, she can’t see herself spending the rest of her life with her, but she makes her happy. they have fun. they have things in common. she feels like she starts to make a mental list of all the reasons they’re together, analyzing the relationship, analyzing her own feelings. she can’t shake the notion that now they’re settled in, the excitement of newness gone, she, too, feels like something isn’t ‘right’.

she hopes it just goes away on its own. but when just over a month passes and nothing has changed, she knows she has to just do it. 

it starts off as a regular day; she meets cat at a spot they frequent, stomach churning at the anticipation. she wants to just rip the band-aid off, but she can’t. the words won’t come out. she flounders around for a while, talking about nothing, knowing full well cat can tell something’s up. finally, when she straight up asks her why she’s being weird, she just comes out and says it. she wants to break up.

of course, she feels awful. cat’s confused, and crying, and asking all kind of questions ellie can’t really express any answers to. she’s upset about it, too. but she just knows in her heart it’s for the better.

it’s cemented when she’s walking back home, realizing she feels a little lighter.

she sees you properly again about a week later, when there’s an event in jackson. she really wasn’t planning on going, not wanting to risk seeing cat (not wanting to have to interact with anyone, pretty much), but dina had convinced her, saying she ‘can’t lock herself away forever.’

she walks in late, party already in full swing, and immediately spots you in the corner chatting to jesse. you haven’t actually spoken in a few weeks, just a greeting when you saw each other out and about, but you seem happier than you were before. she kicks herself mentally when she finds herself hoping it’s not because you’ve found someone new.

she awkwardly hovers around, getting herself a drink and sipping it, people watching. these things were never her idea of a great time.

after about ten minutes, dina appears at her side, visibly tipsy. “what the hell are you doing?” she asks playfully, gesturing at the room full of people. “you’re a single woman now, c’mon. get out there.”

ellie pulls a face, rolling her eyes and taking a sip of her drink. “yeah, that's definitely my style.”

dina lets out a short, exasperated sigh, taking ellie by the wrist and tugging her across the room, towards you and jesse. “at least socialize. you’re all… weird. more than usual.”

“oh, shut up,” she retorts lowly, but allows herself to be hauled over to the two of you. her stomach flutters slightly when she gets a proper look at you; you’re a little more done-up than normal, eyes sparkling in the warm light as you greet her.

she doesn’t know if it’s the alcohol or something else, but that night is the first time things start to feel explicitly different. on one hand, it’s similar to how it was before — the odd pleasantness dissipated in the air. it feels more like a real friendship again, rather than two people dancing around each other. but on the other, something just feels… new.

she actually ends up having a really good time. she spends the majority of the night with you, drinking more than you both probably should, conversation flowing easily. and when it’s over, she insists on walking you home, despite you saying dina’s staying the night and you weren’t going to be alone anyway.

she just shrugs and smiles.

on the short walk back, dina’s chatting your ear off, thoroughly drunk, but you can’t really focus on anything she’s saying. not just because of the fuzzy feeling in your head, but because of the way you’re so, so aware of ellie’s presence. you’re walking in between them, noticing the way she seems to gravitate towards you, swaying away slightly, then back in. you cross your arms, not wanting to accidentally brush against her, not really understanding why.

she lingers at the door when you get home, dina heading straight in and kicking her shoes off, flopping down on your couch.

“well… thanks. you’re free to go,” you joke after a small pause.

ellie shoots a lopsided smile, leaning against the doorframe. “welcome.” she pauses, like she doesn’t want to go, like she wants to say something. but she doesn’t. she just taps the doorframe and stands up straight. “see you later.”

dina yells out a ‘bye, ellie’, and you wave goodbye as she turns around to leave, trying not to think about the way that smile sent your stomach all funny. “get home safe. update me on the hangover.”

she looks over her shoulder at you as she walks away, chuckling. “will do.”

you go to close the door, watching her stuff her hands into her pockets and make her way down the street for a moment too long.

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Chapter 6- Undeniable

Summary: when your car breaks down, you’re forced to ask Frankie for help. You’re not sure what you hate more- that you have to ask him for help, or that there’s a part of you that maybe can tolerate him

Word count: 6.2k

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader (reader has a name/nickname, no use of y/n)

Warnings: Angst, tension (in a good way??!!), yearning (AHHH), teenage Frankie (and current day Frankie, for that matter) are down so bad, Santi and Benny play Dr. Phil

A/N: okay I said there would be smut this chapter, but I am a liar, and I am sorry 🤥 I flip flopped some scenes around and it ended up making more sense for some ✨things✨ to happen next chapter instead 🤷🏼‍♀️ I seriously love these two more and more every chapter, and this may have been my favorite one to write so far!! Thank you SO much for all the kind things you’ve had to say about this story- it really means more to me than you know 🥺💛 (sorry for any errors, I didn't have time to edit this chapter as well as I should have!)

All The Things We Never Said Masterlist

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Frankie, Age 18, Summer of 2007

“Jesus Christ, Morales, you got bricks for feet, or what?”

The Garcia’s newly installed basketball hoop had been a welcome addition to the neighborhood rotation of afterschool hangouts. Santi knows just as well as Frankie and Benny that it’s really nothing but a ploy to keep the boys occupied and out their parent’s hair, but the three have gladly accepted the olive branch Santi’s parents have extended to them, regardless of motive.

Now that the heat of late May has begun to sear off the pavement of Everett Street and the dwindling motivation of senior year is in full force, basketball has quickly taken over as the new after school activity.

Benny and Santi love it because it gives them a chance to get out the competitive angst they’ve had locked away since football season has come to a close.

Frankie loves it because it gives him something to keep him occupied until you come home from soccer practice.

Even then, he still finds himself anxiously counting down the minutes until your car pulls into the driveway, stepping out of the driver’s seat to give him that same goofy wave of approval that frees him from his friends’ constant bickering about where the three point line lays on the cement.

Ever since he told you he was leaving, there’s a part of him that debates forgoing basketball all together, just so he can make it to your house that much quicker when you get home. Now more than ever, he’s hyper aware of every second he has left with you, the internal countdown constantly nagging in the back of his mind before it’s four hundred miles that separate the two of you, not four houses.

Because now, not only does he have 74 days left to figure out how to say goodbye to his best friend, he has 74 days left to figure out how to tell her that he’s head over heels in love with her.

That’s what’s on Frankie’s mind as the pass Santi’s thrown at him rolls right past his shoes and down the driveway.

No shit, he’s got bricks for feet.

“Helloooooo? Earth to Frankie? You gonna get the fuckin’ ball, or what?” Santi shouts, wildly waving his arms, trying to snap his friend out of whatever weird daydream he’s stuck in.

“Oh, y-yeah. Yeah, sorry.” Frankie stammers, half jogging for the bouncing ball, tossing it back to Benny, also barely paying attention enough to keep the rubber from smacking him upside the head.

“Fuck, dude, you tryin’ to kill me, or somethin’? A heads up would be nice next time!” Benny scoffs, trying to downplay the fact he’s nearly just shit his pants from the ball that came out of nowhere and almost took him out.

“S-sorry. My bad.” Frankie grimaces, sheepishly running his hand through his thick, messy curls before rubbing the back of his neck.

Santi and Benny exchange confused glances with each other before turning their attention back to their clearly pre-occupied friend.

“Hey, you good, man?” Santi asks, scrunching his brow at Frankie’s tortured scowl.

“Yeah dude, you’ve been like, super out of it the past couple of days. Everything okay?” Benny adds. He tries to discreetly nudge Santi, givinging him a look that’s meant to ask if there’s something he’s missing. The best Santi can give him back is an ambivalent shrug, just as lost as his friend as to why Frankie’s mentally residing on another planet.

“Yeah. I’m- I’m fine.”

Sure, Santi and Benny aren’t as emotionally mature as their friend, but they also aren’t stupid. It’s obvious there’s something he’s keeping from them, and they’re far too relentless to let it go until they find out.

“Dude… C’mon.” Santi prods, taking a step towards Frankie to poke him on the shoulder.

“Yeah, spill the fuckin’ beans, Frank. What the hell’s goin’ on?” Benny chimes in, following Santi’s lead with another forceful poke.

“It’s nothing! Jesus, will you drop it?”

Santi smirks at how agitated Frankie’s become, spending enough years with his friend to know there’s one thing, and one thing only that’s got him this worked up.

“Is this about Kenz?”

Frankie’s eyes dart rapidly between his friends, the sky and his feet, too afraid to settle in one place as he’s consumed by his own silence, crossing his arms over his chest as he braces himself to defend against the onslaught he’s about to be faced with.

He could lie, say no, keep arguing with Santi and Benny until he’s blue in the face, but he knows it’s no use. Deep down, he has a feeling they already know what he’s going to say. He also has a feeling he’ll never go a day for the rest of his life where they won’t give him ten pounds of shit for it, but Frankie’s desperate. If he doesn’t figure out what to do, there’s a good chance he just may explode.

“You have to swear you won’t say anything about this to anyone.” Frankie sternly sighs, eyeing down his friends with a deathly glare, “Swear you won’t.”

“We swear, man.”

“Yeah, we swear.”

Benny and Santi nod in agreement, too shocked at his agreement to tell them anything rather than asking them to fuck off and leave him alone. They wait in patient silence as Frankie takes a long, shaky deep breath in.

“I um- fuck. Fuck.” He stammers, terrified to hear himself admit what he’s had locked away in his brain for years out loud for the first time, “I’m uh- I think I’m in love with MacKezie. I think I’m in love with her and I don’t know what to do.”

Frankie’s mortified by the silence from his friends in the seconds that follow. He’s even more mortified by their howling laughter that comes after that.

“That’s it? Oh, thank God!” Santi cackles, him and Benny clutching their chests to try and keep themselves standing, “Dude, I thought you were gonna say something fucking crazy. You looked like you were gonna fucking throw up.”

“W-what? Santi, did you not just hear what I fucking said? I literally just told you-”

“That you’re in love with MacKenzie? News flash, Morales, we’ve known you’ve been in love with her since like, the eighth grade. Holy shit, I can’t believe you finally fucking admitted it!”

Frankie’s face grows hotter by the second, his cheeks ablaze with bright reds and pinks, not sure if he’s more embarrassed by what he’s admitted, or the fact that he’s worked himself up for weeks to finally tell his friends something they’ve already known for years and Frankie was too blind to realize it.

“Well, okay- I just- what am I- what am I gonna do?” Frankie stutters, throwing his hands up to the sky, very aware that the admittance of his love for you is only a small part to his greater problem.

“Whatta you mean, what are you gonna do?” Benny questions, he and Santi still giggling over how frantic and flustered Frankie still was.

“It’s not fuckin’ rocket science, Frank.” Santi smirks, giving him a playful nudge, “Just tell her that you love her.”

“Are you out of your fucking mind, Santi?! I can’t just tell her I love her, that’s- fuck, that’s crazy!” Frankie’s all but shouting at his friend for what feels like the most outrageous idea he’s ever heard, crazily pacing up and down the driveway, as if he’s asking his friends for advice on where to hide the body he’s just killed.

“And that would be crazy because….?” Santi teases, anxiously awaiting whatever ridiculous answer Frankie has to finish off the rest of his sentence.

“Because?!” Frankie asks, storming so fast up and down the driveway, he’s about to make fresh cracks in the concrete, “Because, b-because- fuck, Santi, what if I tell her that I love her and she doesn’t feel the same way? What if I ruin our friendship forever and then I get my fuckin’ heart broken and lose my best friend? Jesus Christ, that’s why.”

“You wanna tell him or should I?” Benny proposes, shrugging at Santi.

In a silent agreement, Santi gives Benny a nod, taking a step towards Frankie to grab him by the shoulders, forcing him to stand still enough to capture his full attention.

“Frankie, lemme ask you this.” Santi pauses, bringing Frankie’s gaze from his feet up to his friend, thinking for once in his life, he may actually be willing to give him some serious advice.

“Yeah?”

“Are you blind, or are you stupid? ‘Cause I think you may be both.”

“What the fuck, dude?!” Frankie scoffs over Santi and Benny’s snickering, outstretching his arms to push Santi off of him.

“Damn, maybe he is.” Benny grimaces overdramatically, playing into Santi’s theatrics.

“Fuck off, Benny!” Frankie frowns, starting to regret asking his friends for help.

“Jesus Christ, I can’t believe I really have to spell this out for you.” Santi sighs, squeezing his temples between his thumb and index finger.

“What!?” Frankie presses, nearly fed up with his antics.

“Shit, you’re right Benny, he may be dumber than we thought.” Santi snorts before quickly turning his attention back to Frankie, “Frankie… You do realize MacKenzie’s in love with you too, right?”

Frankie feels his heart stop. He’s partly convinced it’s flatlined indefinitely. The only thing that’s keeping him alive is even the tiniest chance that what Santi has to say is actually true.

That maybe, just maybe, you love him, too.

“Santi, c’mon. Be- be fucking serious. There’s no way.”

Frankie won’t let himself believe anything yet, no matter how badly he wants to. Knowing Santi, he wouldn’t be shocked if he’s trying to pull him in to some sick sort of joke, but the looks on his, and Benny’s faces is all the earth shattering reassurance Frankie needs to know that Santi’s telling the truth.

“He’s being serious, I swear.” Benny chimes in, trying to aid in convincing Frankie.

“Think about it, Frank. The two of you spend every fucking second together. You’re basically already dating without actually dating. And not even just because of the fact you like, pretty much go on dates to the movies or ice cream, or whatever. Didn’t you say she cried for like, an hour when you told her you were leaving?”

“I- I mean, y- yeah, I guess.”

“Or the fact that she’s never dated anyone else and has had you locked in as her prom date since last year.” Benny adds.

“Don't even get me started on the fact you two cuddle every time we watch a movie together, because God forbid you’re not touching each other for an hour and a half.”

“I- I- I- don’t know. I mean, sure, yeah, but just because she does that doesn’t mean she’s in love with me!”

Frankie can feel his insides churn, like someone’s put them in a blender and cranked it on high. He’s not sure what’s more terrifying- that you do all those things but you’re not in love with him, or that you do all of them because you are.

He quickly comes to determine the second is much scarier than the first. Mostly because there’s a part of him that believes maybe you’re just as in love with him as he is with you.

“Fuck, I think I’m gonna throw up.”

Frankie’s knees wobble as he sinks to the ground, bottom hitting the pavement with a thud.

“Well shit, don’t do it on the driveway, my mom’s gonna kill me. If you gotta yak, at least do it on the grass.”

Santi and Benny settle in on either side of Frankie, the trio of boys squatting at the edge of the driveway. Frankie buries his head in his hands, scrunching his face so hard into his sweaty palms that maybe, some sort of reasonable idea will pop into his brain if he squeezes hard enough.

“You guys really think she likes me? Like, actually?” Frankie asks, peeking his head up to look back and forth between Santi and Benny.

“Uh, yeah.” The pair agree in unison, each giving their friend a pat on the back, trying to keep their all-knowing laughter at bay to soothe Frankie through his distress.

“Fuck. Holy shit. So- So what do I do? Just- Do I just tell her?”

“I mean, I’m no love guru, but you like, may wanna be a little more subtle than that.” Benny snickers, giving Frankie a little nudge, “I mean, do you wanna tell her?”

“Yeah. Fuck. Fuck, I wanna tell her so bad.” It spills out of Frankie’s mouth without any hesitation. The more he thinks about it, the more sure he is.

“Like, you’re already going with her to prom and stuff. You could do it then?” Santi suggests with a slight shrug of his shoulders.

“Damn, alright, Mr. Romance over here with the advice.”

“Shut up, Benny. You got any better advice? At least I’ve fuckin’ had a girlfriend before, you dingus, have you? Didn’t think so.”

Frankie’s completely blocked out their bickering, lost in his own train of thought, where all he can picture is you- Your smile, the little strand of hair that you tuck behind your ear when it falls in your face, the way your nose crinkles when you laugh, the little curl in your lips you get when you smirk at him when he tells a stupid joke.

How badly he wishes his lips could meet yours to feel that smirk pressed against his face.

“Do… Do you- Do you think I should kiss her?”

“Jesus Christ, Frankie, what are we, twelve?” Yeah, man, fuckin’ kiss her.” Santi snorts, Benny joining in with muffled laughter in his throat at the innocence of his question, “God, with how nervous you sounded, I thought you were gonna ask if you should like, have sex with her, or somethin’.”

It’s then his brain truly short circuits, his heart about to fall out of his ass and lump in his throat the size of a softball.

He has enough balls to admit he’s thought plenty of times about kissing you.

But right now, he certainly doesn’t have enough balls to confess to his friends, (or even to himself, for that matter) he’s spent just as much time thinking about doing a lot more than just kissing you.

He’s spent even more time thinking about just how badly he wants to.

One step at a time, Morales.

You, Present

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me…”

Turning over your ignition to the sound of empty rattles once wasn’t anything to worry about.

Turning it over twice to the sound of silence you could chalk up to bad luck.

But after six different attempts to start your car to no avail, you were fairly certain your issue wasn’t based solely on user error.

“Fuck…” You huff to yourself, yanking out your keys and slamming the driver’s side door behind you as you storm back into the house, now in a race against the clock to get your car not only started, but driveable enough to get you to work on time.

It’s the stupid things like this you haven’t mentally prepared yourself for when it comes to your father’s impending death- Not having a built in mechanic at your disposal to help solve your car issues when something goes awry. It seems selfish to take from the few precious moments you have left with him to pester your dad about your car troubles, but you know for a fact, your dying father has a better chance of diagnosing your issue from his bed than you do hands deep in the engine.

“Hey, Dad.” You grimace, gently rousing him from his half-awake state in front of the TV, “Dad, can I ask you something, or are you too busy dying?”

Your joke is enough to crack a sleepy smile in the corner of his lips, grunting as he turns his head over to see you hunched over the edge of his bed.

“Depends. Is it worth my time, or should I go back to decaying?” He fights with everything in him to let out the softest laugh, a sputtering cough following as his chest rises and falls, trying his best to not let his final days prevent him from being the helpful dad you’d always known.

“My car won’t start. Do you have any idea of what it could be?”

“You gonna wheel me out to the driveway to have me figure it out?”

You both know it’s ridiculous, what you’re asking him to do. You’re not sure what compelled you to think that he’d be able to help solve your problem, but your yearning for the normalcy that’s been absent in your life for so long seems to outweigh any logic.

“I think we could probably crank the bed high enough for you to look under the hood.” You shrug with a sad type of sarcasm, anxiously fiddling with your fingers to try and brainstorm a solution to your time-sensitive issue.

“You know there’s someone four houses down who is very capable of solving your problem who isn’t dying.”

For as hard as your dad fought for his half huffed laugher, he fights even harder for the smug smirk pinching the corner of his cheeks.

“Dad…” You let out a deep breath, trying to not let your eyes roll to the back of your skull from even pondering the idea of admitting to Frankie Morales that you need his help.

“Mackenzie Grace?” He questions back, pretending to be blissfully unaware of your reason for dramatic pause.

“Dad, you can’t be serious.”

“I am, actually. Dead serious. And right now, I’m at a point in my life where that statement can’t be any closer to the truth.”

Unfortunately, that’s an argument you can’t fight.

You sigh again, chewing at your lip to see if your brain can muster any other plausible solution before you admit defeat, but you know it’s no use. Your dad is kind enough to accept your silence as a white flag, sparing you the embarrassment of admitting he’s right. What he’s not kind enough to do, is to let you off without making sure he gets the last word.

“You can’t stay mad at him forever, honey.”

“I can, actually.”

Right now, your dad better thank his lucky stars he’s dying, because any other circumstance, and you would have already been halfway out the door before you put yourself through this conversation again.

“MacKenzie,” He pauses, the frail and wrinkled ends of his fingertips reaching out just enough to rest on the hand you have wrapped around the bar of his bed guard rails, “if I give you some dying words of wisdom, do you promise to listen, actually listen to what I have to say?”

You know he’s about to tell you something you have no intention of wanting to hear. You want so badly to lie, to say “yes”, just to appease him without really meaning it. But the guilty conscious eating you alive in the pit of your stomach won’t let you get off that easily.

“Yeah, I promise.”

It’s soft enough for only you and him, just quiet enough to keep the world out of your shared secret.

“Holding a grudge won’t make you any happier. It won’t change what happened, either. I’d be willing to bet he’s still holding one against you, too. There’s two sides to every story, MacKenzie Grace, and you can’t keep blaming him like you didn’t have a part in what happened, too. He’s already accepted he’s in the wrong for what he did. God bless the fact you ended up just as stubborn as your old man, but at some point, you have to get off your high horse and do the same.”

It’s unsettling, the feeling that washes over you- it makes every inch of your body twinge and wince in a strange sort of self-inflicted pain you can’t shake, the indescribable discomfort that makes you want to crawl out of your skin and evaporate into thin air. The tormented sensation stirring in your gut makes you want to scream and cry and run away, all at the same time.

Because it’s not the truth of your dad’s words alone that make you feel this way- you’ve come face to face with this truth more times than you’d like to count.

It’s the fact that for the first time, you’ve come face to face with the truth, and there’s a part of you that can accept it.

You stand there for another moment at the edge of his bed, eyes peeled to the ground, trying to find the words you’re too scared to admit. Maybe your silence is a loud enough confession.

“I’ll see you when I get back from work, okay?” You lean down and kiss his head, giving your dad’s hand a final, gentle squeeze before you’re halfway out the door, car keys in hand.

“I thought your car wasn’t working?”

Your dad has never been one for “I told you so’s” . The stifled smile and playful glisten in his tired eyes will do just fine.

“Bye, Dad.”

Your dad’s words echo in your brain as you begin your journey down the driveway, terrified by the tiniest amount of weight it’s lifted off your shoulders.

“Holding a grudge won’t make you any happier. It won’t change what happened, either.”

Maybe he’s got a point. But that’s easy to say when you’re only dealing with the idea of Frankie you’ve built up in your head, not when you’re about to come face to face with him in real time.

There’s a part of you that debates just walking to work. Hell, the hour walk it would take you to get to work would probably be easier than the thirty second walk you’re about to take four houses down.

You’ll be lucky if you don’t gnaw off your entire thumbnail by the time you make it to the Morales’s doorstep, trying to clench your fists as tight as possible with every step you take towards their house to attempt to keep your nerves (and nails) intact.

You’re not sure you’ve ever walked this slow to his house. There was once a time that you couldn’t sprint there fast enough, legs leaping over cracks in the sidewalk to meet Frankie at his front door. Now, it feels like you might as well be crawling with the time you’re trying to waste before you ring his doorbell.

You practically tip toe up the steps to the porch, like it’s some sort of crime to be at his house and you’re terrified of being caught. Your finger hovers over the doorbell, outstretched and ready to press, too frozen in fear to move the extra inch it will take to press the rounded button.

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” You curse under your breath, furrowing your brow at your inability to face his front door. You ball your free hand up to a fist, slamming your knuckles against your forehead with a sigh so heavy, you’d probably give that wolf from The Three Little Pigs a run for his money, “‘C’mon, MacKenzie, just ring the damn doorbell.”

Your heart stops as the tip of your index finger finally pushes hard enough to force the high pitched chime, forcing yourself to keep your feet planted on the doormat below you instead of booking it half way across town.

“One sec!”

The bellow of his voice from behind the door is enough to jumpstart the stand still of your heartbeat, so much so that in an instant, it’s gone from flatlining to nearly beating out of your chest.

At this point, even if you wanted to run, you’re not sure your body would let you.

As the knob turns and draws back towards the house, Frankie’s broad body fills the doorframe. He looks almost as frozen as you, so stunned by your presence, his tongue darts between his lips as a placeholder for the words he lacks.

“H-hey?” He asks it so cautiously, eyebrows scrunching in confusion while he looks you up and down, too scared to say anything else until he figures out why you’ve shown up at his front door.

“My um- My car won’t- I have to go to work and I can’t get my car to start.”

You don’t dare phrase it as anything other than a statement of fact. You’ll die before the words “Frankie, will you help me?” escape from your lips.

“O-oh. Shit.” He cocks his head, the pinch of his face immediately easing along with the rest of his body, standing up a little straighter as he leans against the doorframe.

“Sorry, i-if you’re busy or whatever, don’t feel like you-”

“No- No, I mean, yeah, no, I don’t- shit-” He stutters, pausing as he shakes his head with a little laugh at the ground, trying to compose himself before he trips over his words again, “Yes, I um- Yeah, I can help.”

“O-okay. Thank- Thanks.” You try to fight the tug you feel in your lips creeping towards the corner of your cheeks that mirrors the grin Frankie’s trying so desperately to hide on his face.

The two of you stand there for a moment, feet wriggling in the tips of your shoes and fingers twiddling in your pockets, using every ounce of strength you have to ignore the heat flushing through your cheeks that makes you want to hate him just a little bit less.

It’s hard to suppress when Frankie’s trying to keep up his facade with the world’s worst poker face as he’s beaming ear to ear.

“Let me just uh- Lemme grab some stuff and I’ll meet you over there?” He asks, tiptoeing around what seems too good to be true.

“Y-yeah. Yeah, sounds good.”

You give each other a little nod before he disappears behind his door. You tilt your head to the sky, eyes closed as the deepest sigh of relief you can take escapes your body. It feels like the first gasp you take when you peak above the surface after holding your breath underwater, remembering what it feels like to finally breathe again.

It takes everything in you to pretend you don’t feel the strange pang in your chest as you watch Frankie walk to your house after you’ve made it back to your driveway, his gray shirt clinging to his biceps as he carries over his bucket of tools and brown curls spilling out from under the worn, Standard Oil hat he’s obviously still refused to throw away.

You lean against the hood of your car, arms crossed over your chest, trying your best to seem ambivalent about the whole ordeal.

If you were nominated for an Oscar in the “Pretending to be aloof in front of Frankie Morales while he fixes your car” category, you most surely wouldn’t be winning.

“Hey, again.” He grins as he sets his tools down, mirroring your stance to cross his arms over his chest.

“Hey, again.” You parrot.

“So, uh… Your car?” Frankie asks, nodding over to the vehicle you’re leaning on.

“Yeah, uh- yeah, I don’t know what’s going on. I tried starting it like, five different times and it doesn’t do anything. I’ve never had this happen to me before and of course it’s when I’m trying to leave for work.” You shrug, trying to play into the fact you at least tried to do something before coming to find him.

“Huh. Alright, well, lemme see what I can do, okay?” He nods again, leaving your fingers to play with your sleeves to keep yourself occupied, instead of staring at him, mesmerized by the way you can still hear the gears turning in his brain as he processes. “Can I uh- is it okay if I have the keys?”

You fumble through your pockets, digging out your keys to place them in the palm of Frankie’s outstretched hand, the linger of your touch on his skin just long enough to make you subtly jerk your arm back in embarrassment.

You step back to let Frankie slide past you, watching him try to squeeze himself into the driver’s seat to start your car, half his body still hanging out the open door.

“Are you- are you not teaching anymore?”

“Wh- huh?” His question catches you off guard, the scowl of confusion painted across your face making him quickly elaborate before drawing his attention back to your car.

“You just uh- sorry, you said you were going to work. It’s 5 P.M. on a Thursday in June, so, ya know, figured you probably weren’t going to school.”

He gives the key one more turn before sliding out of the car, carefully passing your keys back off to you before making his way to open the hood. You cautiously follow behind him, arms still crossed against your chest as he props the front of the car up to reveal the engine.

“Oh. Uh- no, yeah. No, I’m uh- I’m still teaching. Normally I do summer school to make some extra money, but because of my dad and everything and not being home, it just, ya know, I just couldn’t. I still wanted something to do to make money and keep me busy, so um, Katie’s Dad still owns The Parrot’s Nest on 14th, so I asked him if I could just do some part time waitressing and bartending and stuff. It’s nice ‘cause he’s been really flexible with everything going on.”

Your eyes dart to the ground as Frankie shifts his view from the inside of the car back to you. The air fills with a heavy pause, like neither of you are really sure how to react to the fact you’re managing a semi-civil conversation that’s more than just one word responses.

Frankie lets out a quiet huff, trying to hide the soft smile curling in the corner of his scruff covered cheeks before turning back to the car, silently tinkering for a few moments before mustering up the courage to speak again.

“That’s nice of him. Didn’t even know that place was still around.” There’s a little grunt as he leans deeper into the car, reaching around to search for some sort of part he wants to check, “I’m uh- I’m glad you’re still teaching, though. That’s um, that’s good.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Your hands have shifted from folded across your chest to in your pockets, a subconscious move you’ve made as a brick from the wall you’ve built between yourself and Frankie Morales seems to crumble without you realizing.

You let him work for a few more moments before he’s diagnosed your issue, carefully closing the hood and wiping the engine grime on the towel from the tool bucket he’s brought with him.

“So uh- good news is, you just need a new battery. Easy fix. Bad news is, your battery’s dead, and your car’s not gonna start without a new one.” Frankie shrugs, hoping he’s not pushing his luck with the little laugh he gives himself at his joke.

“Fuck. Okay, uh- shit, okay.” You mutter, not necessarily upset with Frankie for delivering the news of his discovery, but angry at the fact you need to buy a new car battery and have no way to get to work. “Um, sorry, give me a second, I’m gonna call Jim and let him know that I can’t make it in today.”

“I- I can drive you.”

You’re sure Frankie’s just as surprised as you when the offer comes out of his mouth, freezing your thumb over your boss’s contact you’re about to dial. Frankie clearly interprets the look on your face as one of skepticism about his idea, quickly trying to backpedal before he preemptively digs his own grave.

“No, I mean, um- if you want. I can- I can drop you off. So you, uh- that way you don’t have to miss work.”

“No, Frankie, it’s fine, you- you already helped figure out what’s wrong with my car, it’s not a big deal, don’t wo-”

“I want to.”

You don’t mean for your sigh to be as audible as it is. It only seems fair, considering there was no world in which you ever considered having to contemplate not only asking Frankie for help, but also spending a fifteen minute car ride together so he can drop you off at work. You chew at your bottom lip as you contemplate the lesser of two evils- be stuck in Frankie’s metal death trap of a car, forced within a 3 foot proximity of him for the entire ride, or miss out on the most hours you’ve been scheduled in the past two weeks for money you really do need.

Swallowing your pride is the toughest pill you’ve had to swallow in quite a long time.

“Fine.”

It’s not even your answer you think shocks him the most. It’s how little he had to argue with you to agree.

You want to roll your eyes at the little smirk of satisfaction he gives himself, knowing you’ve gone 0-2 on your hardened stance of despising Frankie’s guts since talking with your dad. It only stings more that you’re sure Frankie is getting endless amounts of satisfaction that you’ve given into him so quickly.

But fuck, if you didn’t miss that stupid, goofy grin of his when he knows he’s beaten you at your own game.

“Only if your car isn’t gonna kill us first before we get there.” You groan, eyeing down Frankie’s beater truck he’s been driving since he got his license. It was in questionable shape over a decade ago, you’re not sure what kind of deal Frankie made with the devil to keep the hunk of junk up and running.

“She’s fine. Haven’t managed to kill you in her yet, have I?” Frankie rebuttals, grabbing his tools as you follow behind him towards his car.

“Well, there’s a first time for everything.” You sigh, shaking your head in annoyance that Frankie’s still driving this damn thing on principle alone, “How the fuck is this thing even still running?”

“‘Cause you don’t give her enough credit. Got me here from North Carolina just fine.” Frankie scoffs, the two of you settling into your perspective seats inside his truck.

His comment makes you frown at your lap as you buckle your seatbelt, not because of the sass he’s inflicted, but because it reminds you that he’s moved himself states away just to further the distance between you two.

“S-sorry, it was meant to be a joke.” Frankie mutters, looking over at you as he drives and noticing the way you’ve gone quiet, eyes peeled to the ground.

“No, I know.” You reply back, anxiously digging under your nails with your stare still locked on your feet. “How’s um- how’s North Carolina?”

“Oh. Um, It’s uh- It’s fine, I guess.”

It’s then you notice Frankie’s realized the reason for your silence, uncomfortably fidgeting in his seat and grip tightening around the steering wheel as he processes your disappointment.

It’s hard to decipher what he means by “fine.” Fine, like he’s more than fine and doesn't want to rub it in your face how well he’s doing? Fine, like actually a normal amount of fine and he just has nothing of interest to report? Fine, like he’s not fine at all, but doesn’t have the balls to admit it to you?

With the way he can’t bring himself to look at you, it has to be the first or third option. You’re not sure which one is worse.

You’re also not sure why you feel so compelled to find out.

“You still uh- doing um, mechanic stuff for the Army?” You ask, glancing over just enough to watch Frankie’s fingers drum against the steering wheel.

“Yeah. Helicopter maintenance, mostly.”

It’s still not enough to give you the definitive answer you’re looking for. You’re too stubborn for your own good to just quit while you’re ahead. Because of all the questions you could have asked him, the one you ask him next is like voluntarily putting a gun to your head and asking him to shoot.

“Are you, uh- you um, seeing anyone? Samantha, or whatever her name was?”

It’s the first time he locks eyes with you since you’ve gotten in the car. Frankie looks you up and down, tongue running across the top of his teeth under his lips and raising his brows just enough to let you know you’ve got his attention.

Every second of silence that lingers before his answer only leads you to believe he’s trying to let you down slowly before he has to pull the trigger. You brace yourself for the bullet.

“No. I uh, shit- I- Sarah and I broke up a while ago. After um, after Santi’s wedding, actually. No, I um, I’m not seeing anyone. Haven’t really been since then, I guess.”

Your body stays tense, still bracing yourself for the inevitable blow, but it never comes. Not only has Frankie taken his finger off the trigger, he’s put away the gun all together. You’re so stunned you’ve made it out of the question alive, you aren’t quite sure how to react.

“O-oh. I uh- I didn’t know.”

“Are- are you? S-seeing anyone?” He stutters, the words heavy in his throat as he gulps.

“No. After how things ended with Liam, I just- I haven’t either.”

It’s uncomfortable, the silence that fills the car and seeps between you. Not quite awkward, not quite upset, not quite relieved, either. It’s heavy, like a backpack full of bricks you’ve had strapped to your shoulders that you refuse to put down- you’d rather keep burdening yourself with the weight than just take it off, too used to the ache it spreads to every inch of your body.

Maybe, the silence is so uncomfortable because you’re starting to realize how stupid it is to let these types of things keep weighing you down.

Holding a grudge won’t make you any happier. It won’t change what happened, either.

You’ve been so lost in your own head, you’d barely even realized the car had come to a stop, the soft orange and pink glow of The Parrot’s Nest sign illuminating the inside of Frankie’s truck with muted neon snapping you back to reality.

Your hand wraps around the door handle, ready to break free into the parking lot before Frankie’s voice stops you.

“What time are you done?”

You look back over your shoulder, taken aback.

“Why?”

“So I can pick you up.”

It’s so matter of fact, like he had never contemplated any other option from the moment he’d offer to drive you, his soft, brown eyes sinking as you shake your head at him.

“Frankie, it’s fine. I can have someone else drive me ho-”

“Please?”

Your head wants to say no. It wants to push open the door with a half hearted “thanks for the ride” and pretend like the past 15 minutes had simply never existed, wiping the strange pang in your chest and swirling in your stomach from its memory.

Apparently, your heart’s decided it has other plans.

“I’m done at ten.”

“Then I promise to be back here at ten.”

Frankie Morales is a man who’s broken many things.

Your heart, your trust, your friendship.

But out of all the things Frankie has broken, he’s never broken a promise.

And that’s how you know at ten o’clock sharp, you’ll find his beat up Chevy in the parking lot of The Parrot’s Nest, waiting for you.

@chaotic-iguana @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

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[munsonify]

good morning kiss

pairing. eddie munson x fem!reader

summary. after endless attempts to try and wake you up, eddie’s kisses are finally what make your eyes open up

genre. fluff

warning/s. pet names (princess, baby, sweetheart), reference to being “his girl” and a “sleeping beauty”, she/her pronouns, kissing, slight allusions to sex (in past memory)

authors note. i’m so sorry if the pov is weird in this?? i tried writing this differently than i usually write my fics, so i think i might’ve been switching between past and present tense. anyways i hope you guys like this!!

word count. 529

disney princess collection

you look so peaceful. your eyes rest closed, body slumped into eddie’s bed. even in one of his ratty old kiss t-shirts and your cheek pressed against his floppy pillow, you look so beautiful.

it’s late april, sunlight spilling in through the window, catching his dusty blinds to cast shadows against his blankets. only glimpses of you illuminated - your right eyelashes, the bridge of your nose, one corner of your mouth that twitches ever so slightly in your sleep.

as much as eddie loves admiring you (with his distaste for interrupting your peace much stronger), you two had only 30 minutes to get ready for school. with a soft smile, eddie’s hand gently squeezes at your hip, shaking you with care. he knows you never wake from the first few shakes.

two more gentle shakes go by before he starts tracing his fingers beneath your his shirt. eddie’s voice, though a little gravelly, whispers softly into your ear, trying to ease you awake the best he can.

“gotta wake up sweetheart, don’t want you late again this week.”

you had two very logical explanations as to why you were late two times already this week. you spent monday morning preoccupied with the way eddie’s hand felt on your thigh on the drive to school. completely not your fault.

as for your second tardy, tuesday morning, you spent twenty minutes helping eddie replace the flat tire on your car. he insisted that it couldn’t wait, and that you need reliable transportation outside of himself. as if he’d ever say no to giving his girl a ride.

eddie still failed to wake you. your back was turned to him, though he could still see some of your face. the corner of your lip twitches again, but this time it looked somewhat like a smile to him.

with raised eyebrows, eddie pushes his weight up and over top of you to get a better look of your face. his fingers find their way to your tummy now, softly feeling your skin. he desperately wants you to keep resting. everything in him tells him to let you be. eddie, however, knew he’d feel guilty letting you be late again.

“c’mon sweetheart,” he whines softly, watching as your eyelashes flutter ever so slightly. you’re faking being asleep. with a wide grin plastered onto his face, eddie decides to play into it. his fingers begin to dance against the ticklish spots on your skin. still, you force yourself to stay ‘asleep’.

“what’s a guy gotta do to get his sleeping beauty to awaken?” that’s when it dawns on him. a kiss. the hand that was once on your tummy reaches up to your cheeks, smushing them together gently.

only a few seconds later was your cheek greeted with a big, wet kiss. quiet giggles erupt from your chest, slowly twisting in eddie’s arms to face his direction. in between your giggles, you can hear him whisper “she has risen”.

he un-smushes your cheeks for just a second, giggling along with you as you speak quietly. “i think your sleeping beauty needs one last kiss on the lips to seal the deal.”

“anything for my princess.”

———

taglist. @songbirdofthenight

[chronicangel]

If I had a nickel for every time I fell hard for the interracial straight couple where the boy (who has time powers) doesn't see the girl he's in love with for a long time and when they see each other again she has been fundamentally altered but he still believes in her and her ability to do good so he keeps fighting for her until he finally manages to bring her back

instead of the fan-favorite lesbians from different worlds who trauma-bond and canonically spend the rest of their lives together after one of them has a dark arc because she's been manipulated by a fascist with a complicated relationship with an unknown mystical force (who is actually in service to another completely different fascist) and one of them is named after a flower

or the fan-favorite rivals-to-lovers MLM pairing who are obviously in love at the end of the series but whose relationship isn't verbally and unambiguously acknowledged as romantic (even though we all know that it is) where one of them has a complicated relationship with a woman of color with powerful magic and the other has a borderline codependent relationship with a woman who was shafted by the narrative

I would have two nickels, which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice.

[ellouchi]

Jimmy dating headcannons (sfw/gn reader)

Disclaimer: this work contains unhealthy interpersonal practices and elements of abuse.

Side note: this was going to be LONGER and include nsfw but I've decided it's better to divide everything into parts. Finally getting this out because there is a critical shortage of Jimmy x reader works (cries and picks up a pen). Let me know if I missed something or made a mistake.

Enjoy!

— ok starting with the fluff: Jimmy feels too embarrassed to properly hold your hand, like some small shy boy. He will make it seem like you've the one who acts childish of course, holds your hand if you plead enough and only for a minute in public, for a bit more when in private. You can be lucky enough to tag after him holding his sleeve if he feels like it. Jimmy secretly loves to hold your wrist, especially in a tight grip, feeling your pulse beating under your skin (he is like a handcuff).

— Jimmy doesn't say "I love you", not in a usual sense. Instead it's always alternatives like common "You make me feel all warm and stupid inside" and the most rare "You mean a lot to me" spoken in a quiet sincere tone. Unfortunately "I love you"s are reserved for manipulation. He knows it gets people very compliant or/and defenseless. It doesn't do any harm anyway because he's merely speaking the truth. It's actually a litmus test if you love him or not, so be very careful with your words during those moments.

— primarily uses your name or alias you go with instead of pet names. Sometimes, Jimmy would use baby, babe, sweet cheeks (bear with me); dear, darling and love when he's pissed off or he tries to be condescending.

— Jimmy has a preconceived notion that your parents/family wouldn't like him, he has enough self awareness for that. Because of this, he'll try to make it seem like he's better than he is, so you better play along. If your family hates his guts, Jim doubles down, resulting in both parties wagging a war. Doesn't give a fuck about them at all after that disastrous first meeting. However, if somehow you family did take a liking to Jimmy, he's glad....but also puzzled. I think Jim has had shitty childhood, so when he is treated like a proper family member, he's lost. He doesn't want to see your family often because of his complicated feelings, but makes exceptions for the special occasions.

— Jimmy knows and remembers things about you to the points it's both scary and impressive: likes and dislikes, fears, dreams, ambitions etc. On the more positive side, this includes songs, books, movies, comics and anything like that — even if he doesn't like it, he has an understanding of what it is. If you call him out, Jimmy either says he doesn't care (he does, so much actually) or says "Of course I do, you can't shut up about [thing]" (lies).

— Jimmy doesn't have a lot of free time on his hands. If both of you are free, that means you are spending this time with him. No, your plans won't matter if they exclude Jim out of the picture. This involves discouraging you or outright sabotaging you. As per usual, he wouldn't find anything wrong with this kind of behaviour. You should just stop being unreasonable and spend some time with your lover. Look, he even went out of his way to find a movie you two would enjoy watching.

— birthdays with Jimmy are weird (if you could tell from the game). If you look forward to them, so does he; if you don't, well he congratulates you when the day comes and that's about it. It's much worse when the gifts are involved, because Jimmy will actually try to get what you want, and the more expensive it is, the more positive reaction he expects from you. He saved up throughout the year, denied himself pleasures and worked his ass off — if you don't shower him with appreciation and gratitude, he will make a scene about how selfish you are. On your own birthday.

— Jimmy keeps your gifts and trinkets in his drawer (if they small enough). He has some photos of you together, small souvenirs from trips, cute notes you left him — you name it. This habit will get creepy: the things having a lot of sentimental value to you, your trash like discarded perfume bottle and cream tubs, even your underwear. He wouldn't care if you made fun of him, but god forbid you misplace or throw away anything from that drawer.

— Jimmy loves when you rely on him. However, to a degree because this man quickly gets tired of running errands. If he offers to do something it's safe to agree, asking too much will get him worked up so don't overdo. With that said, Jimmy always does small things, like making your preferred beverage during the day, calling to remind you something, doing small chores unprompted, basically covering your bases. It's hard to feel unloved when you are remembered and cared for in that way. Also gives him an ammo for fights in case you forget how much Jimmy does for you.

— Jimmy insists on driving you everywhere (so people would know that you belong to him). Also it means Jim has lots of good punishments at his disposal when you two fight: lock the car from the inside? Leave you somewhere you don't know? Or just not pick you up altogether? Better leave all the arguments for later or don't bring them up at all...

— you are one of few people to see Jimmy's playful side: he just loves to joke around you. He wouldn't like it, but your sense of humour would rub off him greatly. If that wasn't enough this man loves to prank you in small ways: it's childish stuff most of times, like hiding or misplacing an item in your house and playing innocent. Other than that, Jimmy will whistle and catcall you when he sees you and will slap your ass in public when you leave. You are encouraged to prank him in return too, but you will be pranked harder next time. Grins, snickers and snorts a lot but laughs very, very rarely. However, it's one of the most healing things you could experience. Literally restores years to your lifespan.

— Jimmy doesn't like seeing you upset actually. He's not super soft or doting, he will pry the reason for your distress out of you whether you like it or not. If he deems it's unimportant, will tell you to suck it up, maybe even make a sarcastic remark. If it's serious business, he involves himself. Of course half the time it makes your situation worse and him angrier at himself which translates to Jim being angry at you.

— when Jimmy is upset, it's best to wait it out. I headcannon Jimmy used to have terrible anger issues but with years managed to control them to a degree. It doesn't mean he wouldn't lash out on you, his partner, it does get ugly. Him hugging you for comfort is actually more frequent than you would expect. As long as you don't address his tears or say much, Jimmy would calm down with little to no issue. Don't bring it up later too, he won't respond and will pretend it never happened.

— finishing with the reminder that you will be carrying Jimmy's emotional baggage as well as your own if you have any. I hope you have strong and healthy arms and back for that. If you're not careful enough or *cough cough* stay ignorant of Jim's bad influence on you, he will bring you to his level and mold you into who he wants you to be. But it doesn't work one way: in theory, you could "fix" some of his unsavoury outlooks but don't expect too much. After years of blood, sweat and tears it's possible to finally convince him to go to therapist. Praying he would continue on his own wouldn't be enough and you would need to actively encourage Jim to not give up on his mental health treatment. Way to go!

[almayver]

GMM2025 Lineup Game / Tier List

Rules: write your thoughts on all the GMMTV series pilots released (or just the ones you plan to watch) and tag people whose thoughts you wanna know about!

@jojotichakorn @wangxianinventedromance and @valentinaonthemoon tagged me in basically different variations of this, so I'm gonna smush them all together. Thanks for tagging me 😊 I love to be given the chance to ramble.

Prefacing this with a reminder that I am the personification of CinemaWins so I find things to like in everything, and that I was born to yap, so this will be long :)

I'm going to do it in the order of the trailers and put the tier list at the bottom. I'm adding a twist to mine and tracking the most important thing to me, Will I cry? (mostly just so I can look back and see if my guess was correct)

Dare you to death: I LOVE a good murder mystery. Yes. Give it to me. Snarky partners solving a crime was THE dynamic i was raised on and I still love it. It's going to be so entertaining trying to pick up clues and stuff while seeing these two bicker and fall in love. Don't think ill cry on this one, but serial killers, brothers, possibility of whump? There's a chance.

Head 2 Head: FUCK YES. Starting with the fact that I adore SeaKeen with all my heart, this one has me so invested!! Their bickering-flirting? ON POINT. When Sea says the line of “I've been saving my lips for you for ages” while flipping him off?? Yeah, that's my shit. But add to that the whole magic plot of seeing that they are in love and together years in the future, but then he dies!!! In his arms!!!! Yes. Yes. Just yes. “I will do anything to prevent that from happening…except not loving you”?? Yep. They made this show for me specifically, the rest of you can stay only if you are nice. The side couple also has me 👀. Basically, I loved every single second of it, and I'm ready for it. Oh, I will absolutely cry. No doubts about this one. These boys had me weeping with their soft rom-com, adding looming visions of death to it? yes, I'm ready to cry.

Burnout Syndrome: I'm intrigued by this one! Looks very messy and full of complex feelings all around, with some very very interesting characters. I don't actually have more to say about it except !!!, and it's on the watch list for sure! Hmm from what I get, I'm thinking is going to be more in the stressful, thoughtful side than in the emotional one for me, so maybe teary eyes but not full-blown crying.

I Love “A Lot Of” You: I've only seen one thing in which this topic didn't feel wildly offensive, so. Hmm. Even without that whole can of worms, I'm not fully interested in it? It seems cute and fun I guess, and the title is very sweet but eeeh. Not in the watch list for now, unless it gets some strong endorsements once it starts airing.

Whale Store xoxo: Oh this looks lovely! So so so warm and sweet. Having a character in just full-blown crisis and feeling lost, is always the best way to get into my heart. Add to that a sweet girl, full of joy, trying to help?! And the You've got mail vibes with the whole small business being threatened by the family of the love interest, plus feeling a duty to the store because of a parent without knowing if its what you truly want? Say less babe, I'm there, I'm seated. The side couple story also has me really intrigued. Oh yeah, tears will be very much present. Not full on wailing, but rom coms do make me cry, I see some tears due to both the angst and the character finding herself.

Only Friends-Dream On: Making the entire first half of the trailer one shot that manages to explain all the dynamics is enough for me to put it in the watch list no questions asked. I haven't watched Only Friends and from the bits I know and have seen I know I wouldn't enjoy it purely for weird personal reasons. This however? Oh yeah bestie sign me up, ill have popcorn ready, let the messiness begin. Also, the cast is insane and as someone who was absolutely taken by Ohm and Leng week after week, I'm so excited. Hmm, I'm going for yes. At least one of these assholes is going to be broken in a way that speaks to me and I will cry about it, I see it in my future. (Side note, please tell me I'm not the only one that laughed at the characters being called Jack and Dean)

That Summer: I CHEERED. Troublemaker sent to the beach to find some discipline finds a kind, amnesiac prince is something that i didn't know I needed so hard but fuck i do. It's going to be so fucking charming, and it has this very quiet emotional vibe to it that I'm going to eat up weekly, yes sir. I have no thoughts except loud cheering, I'm just excited for it. I was going to say I hope it comes in summer like that means anything to me. pft. Umm, yeah probs some tears, nothing too big, but I can see some emotional moments hitting hard specially considering the two people acting here. *side eyes that We Are scene that I still can't fucking rewatch because it did enough damage once*

My Romance Scammer: Marriage scam!!!!! I could cry of joy. This is the kind of shit I love sorry. It's so messy and at its core very silly, and I'm just going to have such a good time watching. It's going to be fun! I also feel like some of the backstories of these characters are going to be interesting and emotional, I'm excited for that. I was going to say I won't cry, but I always cry with fictional weddings and I'm guessing some sort of “real” wedding is going to happen at the end that will break me, so maybe.

Melody of Secrets: I'm fucking thrilled. As a horror fan, I don't know what I did to get this gift but ill fucking take it, thank you. This was SO WEIRD!!! Isn't that great!! What the fuck was happening? Is it ghosts, is it magic, is it a curse, is it trauma? I don't know, and the character doesn't know either, and ooof the journey we will go in while trying to figure it out! My only request for this show is that I want to say “What the fuck??” every episode. That's all. Whether I cry or not depends on where they are going with it so, no clue. Possibly.

Love you teacher: I had such a strong negative reaction to this, that it kind of went back around, and now it's in my watch list? It was a journey. So, fun fact about me, one of the fanfiction tropes that I adore the most and I will eat up every single time it pops up even though it's not that common is amnesia in an established couple (I'm sure no one was kind of scared I was going to say something else). I just love the idea of a couple having to kind of fall in love again, with the angst of one of them not knowing anything while the other has all the memories and feelings. It's specially interesting if the person with amnesia has a very different life in the present to what they expected/think they should have, or in a enemies to lovers dynamic? it fucks. So I was really really excited. And then he was 7 years old, and I got so shocked I stopped processing the trailer. But now I'm intrigued. I want to see if this show is going to surprise me, I'm going to be there seated for the first couple of episodes at least because there is something there that just, its intriguing. I think there is a chance this one will be special. I mean if I hate it I can just stop watching right? No big deal. The other thing is that Dome gave me a show so fucking special to me that I have to give the dude a chance. He already surprised me. I trust him enough to know that this will be fun at the very least. And also, if I do stick with it, tears 1000% guaranteed. The emotional beats of this will hit, absolutely, and motherfucker over there knows how to hit you with emotions with the simplest stuff.

MU-TE-LUV: Yeah so I'm probs only watching the SeaKeen and OhmLeng parts. Those are actually so compelling to me and I love watching them act, so I will be having fun with those stories. The rest fully depends on my mood and what other people are saying when it airs. Also, the Dew one that is just Amarres: la serie, kind of seems interesting. I kind of doubt this one will pull my heartstrings much but hey I'm willing to be surprised!

Cat for Cash: I have my blanket and my warm drink ready, I will be seating there just cooing at everything and feeling all the emotions. This is going to be a chill watch, it's going to be fun, and I love it for it. The familial shit is going to break me and sell me for parts, so that's going to be fun. And yes, absolutely going to cry, no-brainer.

Girl Rules: We all cheered. So what is going to happen is that I'm going to liveblog this, absolutely, and all the liveblogs are just going to be me being in love with Namtan, and I need everyone to be cool with that. In all seriousness, leaving behind my gigantic crush on her, this is going to be so gooood. Messy!!!! Hot!! FUN!!!!! The dynamics between all the characters are already delicious, and i can't wait for this one, it's going to be great. Grabbing pop corn and something to fan myself with. The NamtanFilm relationship has some real potential to pull some tears from me.

Boys in love: I love fluffy shit, sue me. We are going to sit here, and giggle and kick our feet and have a good ass time while doing it. The Chokun and Aston relationship drew me in so hard, I'm going to live there, but everything was just so sweet and delightful!! Its a fun time. Honestly, yeah, I can see a couple of tears. Not sad tears but more like, overwhelmed with softness kind of tears.

My Magic Prophecy: Once again, angsty visions of the future are always compelling to me, so I'm here for this. It's kind of in the same level as Burnout where I'm not shaking chihuahua levels of excitement but I'm interested! The relationship seems fun and touching, the science vs. magic thing could be interesting. If I get invested enough, yeah crying for sure.

A Dog and A Plane: I'm sure no one who has spent more than a minute in my blog knows this, but i fucking love these two so much. Shocker, I know. But seriously, they have something that makes me 20000% invested whenever they are together on screen and i didnt want to hope for a new show but i was secretly wishing for it and the universe decided to throw me a bone the size of Jupiter. And to add to it, they are bickering, they are horny, New is a fancy flight attendant and Tay Tawan is a paramedic with tattoos that wears a lot of tank tops. They both think the other one is better than them in some way. The plot is just the kind of rom com i eat up. And I know, I KNOW, I'm going to cry. I cry every time these two are involved. They will have one vulnerable moment and i will be in the corner cheeering with tears in my eyes. They will have the conflcit and the same thing will happen. They will have the happy ending and i will be weeping. I'm so fucking happy. Just one thing. I need them to fuck in that plane. I dont care where, I dont care how, but it has to happen. I have that small wish. Oh and MarcPoon!!!! Their bits seem so so good too.

Me and Thee: I made the joke that I read this Phumpeem au before, because actually yeah kind of, but also because these are the exact same vibes that drew me to Phum. The characters are super different and so cool, but oh lonely rich boy!!!!!!! I'm gonna have a new one for my list. And this one is so weird! and a dork! and loves soap operas so he is speaking my language. I love him already. The plot is also just for me. Teach me how to hit on someone?? And he uses it all on him!! yes yesssss. I cant wait to see more of them. I cant wait to see them each fall in love in such different ways and the conflict has the opportunity to be so so so my thing. In terms of crying, he is a sad lonely boy, i dont have to say more. I'm ready to imprint on him and feel very emotional.

WU: This was less of a plot and more of a "here, we heard you, they'll keep working together, dont kill us". I haven watched their show yet because of a silly reson, but i had been planning on binging it before the last episode next week, so im excited!! The brief glimpse we got compels me, i love me some red string of fate.

Memoir of Rati: I said I could watch them read the dictionary (and i fucking meant it) and instead they give me an intense period show??? I could cry. Look, one could say Great Sapol single handedly got me back into live bloging, i have a debt with the guy, add to that the fact that him and Inn became two of my favorite actors ever in just a couple of episodes? Yeah I'm here for this. They have an insane chemistry that is such a joy to watch, and i dont mind period shows, they arent my favorite but I find them charming if done right and they often teach me new things. These two are about to eat the shit out of these roles and i will be clapping while suffering. Also the AouBoom story is so interesting too!!! No notes. I'm going to cry like a baby multiple times. I still cry with their fake break up. This is going to kill me. Can't wait.

Ticket To Heaven: First let me list some fun facts about me. I was raised catholic in a very catholic family in one of the most catholic countries in the world. I still live in a house where my room is the only one that doesnt have some form of religious imagery. Bare a pop opera and Jesus christ superstar are two of my favorite musicals of all time. I ran away from religion before my confirmation but after my first communion, and every time i think about it i discover some new complicated feeling about it and a fun trauma it left behind. I am right now wearing a Look Khunnoo shirt.

They made this show for me and its going to break me. I'm already making playlists for it. I keep listening to Heaven while staring at the wall. This is just, gods, this is everything to me. The vibes of it are just so so so delicious. The aesthetic? The quotes? I am so going to relate more with Gemini's character, and thats going to be a fun painful little trip. And of course. These boys. I adore them. I'm ready to be killed by them acting the shit out of every single frame. I am going to cry in ways that will be dangerous to my health. I can't wait. There is no way that the ending isn't going to fuck me up, whether is super tragic, a time skip, a hopeful ending. Its going to be a Thing. Fucking Rosa de Guadalupe got me with its gay episode. and its. La rosa de guadalupe. This? Will murder me. I will listen to the ost and cry instantly like i do with Bare.

Basically im excited :)

And the tier list!!

I kind of did it in the scale of how much is it going to make me feel like a dog waiting for its owner, sadly pawing at the door, wanting to be let in.

I think everyone I would tag on this has already done it or has already been tagged so if you see this and you have thoughts that you want to share, you are tagged. This is legally binding. I want to hear your thoughts

If you read all that you can reclaim a cookie before leaving

[jams-sims]

Anyway making my own MelJayvik AU content cause on both side of Jayvk and MelJay being mad weird. And for some reason Ace people are catching strays on the bird app (and here which is even weirder) because something a guy who needs to log off said. ANYWAY tho

Jayce is the one to introduce Mel and Vik together. They get a long like a house on fire with a screaming family inside. That meaning they kinda have this competition going. Jayce has NO idea its happening. But Vik and Mel are new to the whole polycul thing. An havent found their footing yet. So two smart people glaring at eachother from across the room.

It only takes one day where Jayce sets Mel and Vik up on a date. He tell them both that 'hey let go to X spot, I'll meet you there.' Only for him to never show up and for them to be left alone in a libary.

Where a fight breaks out instantly, its petty it doesnt really go anywhere and they cant yell above a whisper because they just refuses to leave the library. Someone not naming names says 'You wanna fuck me so bad!!'

Jayce checks in on them a few hours later and mysteriously everything okay. Jayce isnt stupid you get two very cat smart people it takes a minute to warm up. Theres way less tension in the relationship and Mel and Vik are having way more conversation. Jayce is having lunch with Mel and he just says.

"You know I'm so happy you and Vik are gettong along. Yall just needed to bang it out and look at you."

Mel chokes on her drink and Jayce is left with a very smug smile on his lips.

"I remember you said something along the lines a while back, Vik had a face you could sit on. I hope all you dreams came true." Jay with all the love in the world.

[trans-jon-rights]

Hm. New Idea. I'm putting this one out there because the Discord buddies said it was good.

Gravity Falls and TMA crossover, but Jon and Martin arrive at different times.

Martin arrives a few years before Jon. He meets Ford, becoming buddies with him. He distrusts Bill a lot, being sometimes reminded of Jonah before he revealed what he was. But Ford is a grown ass adult, and Bill doesn't try to bother him much, so he lets him be.

Jon arrives the day Ford fell into the portal. He tumbles from that exact same portal right before shit hits the fans, and both Martin and Ford end up lost.

He has almost no Eye powers, no knowledge of this strange new place he ended up into, and has to work with Stan to repair the portal and get both Ford and Martin back.

Talk about a Situation to end into.

(I need Martin to become a ruthless killer with Ford and Jon to have to make scams with Stan even though he hates it)

The timeline stays about the same. It takes thirty years for Jon and Stan's combined efforts to bring the other two back. In the meantime, neither Jon nor Martin are ageing due to the Entities still being present.

Just imagine.

The anxiety of Stan seeing himself age during those thirty, long years, unsure if he will manage to bring his brother back or not. Making Jon promise to do it for him if he couldn't go on because, despite himself, he'd learned to appreciate and trust this odd, prickly British guy.

Jon never certain if, when Martin will come back, he will be the same, or if he would have aged like every other person around him, being robbed of this opportunity to grow old together. Martin had never been an Avatar, right ? Jon didn't grow old because he was already dead, in a sense, but what about Martin ?

(Crossing between dimensions was a good metaphor for death and an excuse for Martin's Becoming, but Jon doesn't know that :3)

When twins arrive in Gravity Falls, Jon works at the shop (Stan used his "weird British narrator voice" to make him a tourist guide. For some reason, tourists like his voice).

Also this AU works well with my general idea of Jmart, both of them clinging to that ideal of the other and of what their relationship would be in a non apocalyptic context, making them confront the reality of things when they are reunited again.

Had it truly been their love for each other that had pushed them to work towards being reunited, or had it been the idea that once it would be over, being together would automatically mean they would be guaranteed happiness ?

Also, maybe give them each a period of time during which they were really happy and almost forgot their guilt for the other, and maybe give them some rough time when they're back together. Then, they look back at that and rethink their relationship and their quest, wondering if it really was worth it.

Happy ending for both is expected, of course, just lots of talking things through before. Making them healthy.

And as a bonus, I'm giving them a "Tim" and "Sasha". Not in the sense that they are actual alternate version of Tim or Sasha, in the sense that they are different characters who behave very similarly to Tim and Sasha. Sometimes, they mix up their names, and their face have the biggest grief for some reason.

Bonus point if "Tim" dies in an explosion caused by Martin and Ford and if "Sasha" dies to a shapeshifter. And after that, Jon just guiltily thinks, "At least it didn't take her face this time".

[ferg0s]

Completely out of left field from what I usually post…

But can you imagine being a nanny for the Wayne Family. Bruce hiring you as a way to integrate Damien into being a normal child - but you just think it’s because he’s a busy single dad who wants someone to look after his kid - and spending your time in the manor trying not to die every-time you find out there’s more rooms. Even though you lied on your resume and had your friends pretend to be your references, you get the job and you want to do the best you can bacsuse it’s either this or working retail. Most of your time is helping Damien with homework, listening to him tell you the most effective ways to skin a human without killing them or running around after him as he seems to glide across the room with ninja like agility because he doesn’t want to do the mandatory 1 hour reading he had to do for English class.

You chalk him up to be a quirky kid with quirky interests. God knows you were into some weird things when you were young. (🫵🏼 looking at you yes, you)

You see his other kids come in and out, often coming over for Alfreds cooking. You keep a low profile, saying hello and having small talk occasionally- when you’re not running around after Damien - and they know your presence. You can sense the familt dynamic is a likes strained, but you’re hell bent on being a professional nanny so you keep your head low and enjoy that you get triple the minimum wage for Gotham.

But it seems like who ever enters the manor is cursed with the Wayne family secret. Maybe it was fate that your stomach started to act up just as you were getting ready to leave - and thank god you had found a secluded powder room in the end of the west wing that you claimed as your own - because you spent an ungodly amount of time there that night. You figured you’d apologize to Alfred or Mr.Wayne for staying to late if they caught you at the manor so late - blaming the Joker positioning the water supply for your stomach being upset, which was true to be fair - and you tried your hardest to move towards the front door without making a sound.

As you pass the double doors for the dining room, you begin to hear bickering coning from the other side. You loved job way too much to be fired for snooping on the Waynes, so you ignore it and keep walking until you see what’s happening inside from the small crack of the door being open. Your eyes landing on the sight of the Batman. His back Atleast.

You knew it was wrong - but god you needed answers. You wondered if the conspiracies were true, that Bruce Wayne secretly sponsored Batman and his gang. But as you peer inside, you realize that it wasn’t. You put two and two together when you saw the entirely of Gothams crime fighting heros standing in the living room, going over how they fumbled the two face lead. Nightwing, Red Hood, Robin… the puzzle pieces started to connect in your head.

You quietly exited the manor without saying a word. And what did you do after that? Nothing. You acted as if you saw nothing. You weighed your options. You could keep quiet and pretend like nothing happened, keep your job and enjoy the dental plan that came with it. Or you could blab about it on the news and be crucified by the Bruce Wayne Stans for suggesting such a thing.

The scariest thing in Gotham wasn’t the villains, it was the Bruce Wayne Stans. Every Gothamite knew that.

But it seemed like the more you wanted to ignore the problem the more you got caught up in the web. From walking into Jason cleaning his Red Hood mask in the dinning room, staring at him, turning around and walking out without saying a word to ignoring when Damien casually dropped the tidbit of information about how he was mad at his father because he was grounded from being in the batcave unsupervised.

It all came to a head on a random Wednesday evening when you weee getting water form the kitchen. “How long have you known?” You hear Alfred ask As he polishes the silverware. You tried to play dumb, asking if it was about Damien sneaking in ice cream after bed time - but he quickly cuts you off. “About a month now,” you confess. He nods, putting the polished fork back into the cabinet and picking up another one. “I cannot say that I am pleased to hear that-“ Alfred signs. “But I presume you’re more than capable of saying within the limits of your employment agreement-“ he asks as he looks up at you.

You did sign a NDA saying you wouldn’t leak information to the press.

“Not my circus, not my monkeys.” You reply as you turn around to the sink to rinse the glass you had used.

“I’m pleased to hear that.” Alfred smiles.

[the-wet-noodle]

Little idea for the MaSm fandom bc of the new episode.......

(putting under cut bc it's kinda a ramble. Sorry for horrible spelling and strange formatting. I can't stop repeating words🤕)

okay but seriously the amount of hate I saw for roxy in the comments and live chat of that video was actually insane???? Like what, she literally saved sun technically.

And while yeah, it was for a semi selfish reason. But I feel like most of it was genuine worry for sun. Because honestly, moon is being an absolute freak rn. Yet people are literally hating on her RN for actually no reason.

Sun literally tried to do the same thing, Not to mention murdering two people(though the murder was pretty justified seeing as it was mostly for the CONSTANT harassment from them). But holy crap man.

Like both sun and moon have done horrible things and no one says anything about it. But the second Roxy, who is one of the only good people in the Plex steps in, it's suddenly the most horrible crime ever.

All because she got in the way of a ship. In which the relationship was NOT CONSENSUAL MIND YOU. It makes no sense.

Moon was so weird for that, even MONTY offered help(even if he was bribed). I love moon and all but dude.....

Like I feel like a lot of people don't understand how objectively horrible moons actions where.

And don't get me wrong, I absolutely LOVED it. I'm all for toxic yaoi and yandere tropes, but hating a character for literally saving someone from that is insane. Because bet you, if it was eclipse or something that did it instead of Roxanne, he would get 0 hate.

Also I don't see any hate on the other characters that literally helped with the cure, which is insane and kinda weird. Like Freddy was literally the one who MADE the anti-potion.

Anyways, I'm kinda happy sun ran off with Roxy because, yes, I love sun x moon. I think they are pretty cute too, also the fact that she treats him the best.

Anyways, moon needs to pull himself together, sun needs to calm the hell down, and Roxy needs to be a little less self centered.

My perfect solution to this? MAKE THEM ALL KISS, THEY WANT TO ANYWAYS. Pizzaplex polycyle, the solution to all problems.

I might draw that later honestly.

Anyways, idk what I'm doing I never make posts like this