#i want to have friends i hang out with(and like)

[egregiousderp]

I’d love to see what your class has to say, yeah!

I was honestly just delighted with the tags and ready to wave around Cs Lewis’ Allegory of Love. I feel like people know his Christian Stuff and his stories but really gloss over some of the fun stuff he did about medieval chivalry. (It’s actually probably closer to kink or misassumptions people have about kink? Insofar as it’s all about showing your obedience to your lord by having his wife issue orders at you that you obey without question? Which makes The Green Knight all the more interesting. But is that duty or is it love? Similarly, certain ancient treaties for Vassal States use words for Love between the conquering, presumably protective, nation, and the under-city.

“Love” and “Friendship” do indeed have nebulous inter-mixing in the Ace/Aro spec lens. We use “Love” for so many things, and sometimes slap “Friendship” on aggressive mutual desire manipulations.

[guy who is aromantic voice] sexual attraction just makes more sense than romantic attraction. like ok, you want to fuck someone. this is quantifiable. it is quite easy to grasp what "i want to fuck someone" looks like, even if you have no idea what it feels like. romantic attraction, though? this is a nebulous construct which seems to largely be "glorified friendship with sex" in the popular imagination. what even is the difference between friendship and romance? the line between friendship and sexual attraction, though both can coexist, is that when there's sexual attraction present, you want to fuck someone. the line between friendship and romantic attraction, so far as i can perceive it within a heteronormative, amatonormative framework, is that it is... friendship where you want to fuck someone. what?

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

 book 7 chapter 12 part 2 thoughts!

***THIS POST CONTAINS MASSIVE SPOILERS FOR BOOK 7 PART 12 OF THE MAIN STORY!!*** This spans part 245 to part 268, focusing on Trey and Ace.

We will get Riddle's dream in a future update (scheduled for Feb 7th)!

Please note: this is NOT meant to be a summary or a translation; these are only my initial thoughts on the events that roughly unfold. There may be details overlooked or misunderstood in this post, so PLEASE do not use this as a translation.

The group lands on a tropical island! These are reused assets from the Lost in the Book with Stitch event.

Cater indicates that he's fine from the bumpy ride; he likes the thrill! It reminds him of sky diving. He also shares that he once lived by the sea in Pyroxene/the Shaftlands and that he enjoys board-related activities (snowboarding, surfing, skateboarding, etc.)

IHBASOUFA8TVVAD8FA RIGHT AS THEY'RE TALKINGA BOUT THIS, LEONA INTERRUPTS AND TELLS THE KIDS TO STOP WASTING TIME, THEY GOTTA FIND THE DREAMER 💀 (Can't believe I'm saying this, but I want to shake his hand for reminding everyone to get the fuck back on track instead of standing around talking for several parts in a row...)

They find some footprints in the sand and decide to follow them. Due to the size and shape of the footprints being similar to Deuce's, they think the footprints must be Ace's and will lead them to him.

We bump into Ace (who is wearing his beachwear clothes from the Stitch event), along with dream!Riddle (also in his beachwear) and dream!Trey (who is in his Yasmina silk from the fireworks event). Trey was cooking up BBQ for everyone! afhlbllbaiad THE TWST DEVS ARE REALLY GETTING MILEAGE OUT OF THOSE OLD ASSETS, HUH...

Ace speaks to Deuce, Cater, Grim, and Yuu in a familiar tone, but is shocked to see everyone else. He also mentions dream!Cater leaving to change into swimwear and to take pics by the sparkling sea; it looks like he was dreaming of all of Heartslabyul and Grim + Yuu hanging out here. Apparently, dream!Cater rented a place for them by the beach from Kalim's family.

Ace and dream!Trey explain they're celebrating because Yuu can now freely pass between Twisted Wonderland and their original world. asdbihasiodasqevyf IS THIS SLIGHT SHADE AT THE THEORISTS THAT PROPOSED SOMETHING SIMILAR TO KEEP YUU AS THE MC IN TWST... (Turns out, Ace must have been really wishing for Yuu to not leave their friend group forever www) This seems to be their summer vacation after the first school year.

Cater volunteers himself, Silver, Leona, and Idia to help Trey with making BBQ. This is so they can monitor the darkness while giving the first years a chance to wake Ace. Congrats to Cater for being a little useful in these dreams 🤡

The first years directly confront Ace as he is showing them options for beachwear to change into. However, to everyone’s shock, Ace is in complete denial and brushes it off when his head starts to hurt. He tells they are all being overly negative and it's harshing his vibes! It's vacation time, so why are they trying to ruin things with jokes that are in poor taste? This marks the first major instance of the dreamer resisting the feeling of “waking”.

Sebek intervenes and tries to take charge of the argument. Even with Sebek shouting about all the havoc Malleus's magic is causing... even when Sebek says Malleus's magic will eventually swallow the world, Ace has no problem with it. He claims it's not his problem. Besides, everyone's going to be living happily in dreams, right? And this is the path that Malleus chose for himself, so he should accept the consequences of his actions. What's the issue there? Besides, he doesn't want to cooperate with a person like Sebek who constantly looks down on others and paints all the dreamers as victims in need of saving.

Ace storms out in a fit of anger. Grim starts blaming Sebek for things emotionally escalating. Then Ortho confronts Sebek with this question: if it was not Malleus Draconia behind the current situation, would Sebek really be trying as hard as he is to rectify things? This question shocks Sebek into silence.

Cater and the others show up to check in on us. From our crestfallen expressions, he can tell we failed to wake Ace.

HUHHHHHHHH 😟 Silver suddenly gets super strict with Sebek and scolds him for the trouble his rudeness has caused everyone + their seniors. He says that the people around Sebek have been too lenient with him and thus spoiled him; he needs to reflect on his actions!! Sebek uses a really quiet voice and apologizes to us (but he still uses kisama which is a pompous and rude way to speak to others 😭).

LEONA 💀 He suggests they are wasting too much time trying to wake a small fry like Ace and it may be more efficient to skip him and move onto the next dreams. THE DAD THAT LEFT FOR MILK, FOLKS

… What the fuck. I did not expect Ace’s dream to better my opinion of CATER of all people but lo and behold, it is. Cater agrees with Leona that it may be more efficient to skip Ace’s dream. He and Idia do not need to worry about Ace anymore. This first year is Heartslabyul’s so it’s not their responsibility. Cater walks off and Yuu, Grim, and Deuce chase him. The others follow in a separate group due to the radius for Ace’s dream world not being very large.

Deuce begs Cater to let him try talking to Ace one more time before they give up on him. AND THEN CATER ACTS LIKE THE DAD THAT STEPPED UP because he tells Deuce he never had any intention of abandoning Ace 😭 Deuce, Grim, and Yuu decide to team up with Cater to wake Ace, especially considering they may have to combat darkness this time.

Cater finds Ace by himself and asdbhlabsyod8ysaas8fb uses Split Card to make a bunch of clones to gang up and pummel his junior... "I'll show you this is a dream :))" *PROCEEDS TO BEAT THE CRUD OUT OF ACE* Unfortunately for Cater, dream!Riddle, Trey, Cater, and Deuce show up to put a stop to things. (I want to add it's hilarious that Cater is also in Yasmina silk but Deuce is stuck in his P.E. Uniform asdhbasoyafae)

Ace is tempted by the darkness and mumbles a bunch of stuff about how he doesn't want to do difficult things like fighting Malleus. He says he’s just an ordinary mage and doesn’t even have his UM yet. We're shocked by Ace's cowardly side but Silver points out that darkness being present feeds and amplifies your most negative emotions.

Anyway, Sebek and co. want to barge in to save Ace, but Leona holds them back; they should leave it to Cater.

fuasboyfg8fdasibTHER'S THIS ON e FUNnY MOMENT. Leona says that those that it's easy for the darkness to indulge in the dreamer when they're at their lowest/acting cowardly. Idia voice) Eeeeh, aren't you talking about yourself, Leona-shi... abhlfbioasfoasobifadib LEONA NYOOMS OVER TO IDIA'S TABLET AND COMES CLOSE TO BREAKING IT... Watch yourself, Idia...

WOW CATER 🤯 He blew my mind… Cater reminds us and Ace that when Riddle OB’d, Ace was the one that stepped up to fight even when the battle seemed unwinnable—and it was Cater who wanted to run. He tells Ace he looked so cool back then, but he hasn’t had the chance to thank him for it until now.

ACE LAUGHS AND CRiES

Cater pulls Ace out of the darkness!! He calls to Leona and co. for backup~ (One neat touch here is Ace says one of his battle opener lines: “Okay~ I’ll get this over with fast.”)

Deuce and Grim bonk Ace on the head for giving them a hard time. augwjsjs Ace starts to given’m lip again but Leona tells him to watch how he speaks to upperclassmen OTL

do skwguwuwn AcE CALLS oUT SILVER AnD LILIA foR SPOILING SEBEK… Cater interrupts to remind them to get along + respect their seniors or the red demon Riddle will come for them!

Adeuce are embarrassed about having to shout Dream Form Change. Idia enjoys it. Cater does too; he thinks it’s cute and wants Adeuce to do it again so he can take a video (they refuse to).

Deuce makes a passing comment about how maybe they don’t know Cater as well as they think they do?? The Cater they think they know is obsessed with taking pictures… but maybe he can be reliable too!

Sebek and Ace bicker again as they prepare to dream hop. Once again, Leona comes in clutch by telling them to stfu and for Silver to hurry it along.

They land in front of Heartslabyul dorm in Trey’s dream.

Ace didn’t have an issue with their travel; in fact, he posed when Cater pointed his phone at him!

We tell Ace we’ve basically gotten about 20ish people recruited to our cause already, plus the support of S.T.Y.X.! However, their group is 10 people now (Grim, Yuu, Ace, Deuce, Cater, Silver, Sebek, Idia, Ortho, and Leona), which will make it dangerous to dream hop.

Grim mentions that if he is without Yuu, he won’t count as a student. That’s weird, because earlier in book 7 he mentions moving to the second year even once Yuu has returned home… Maybe this will be formally discussed later??? It sounds slightly contradictory.

They smell butter and follow it to the Heartslabyul kitchen. Cater stops everyone suddenly?? He doesn't think it's wise if all 10 of them cram into the kitchen at once; he will go since it's not odd for a Heartslabyul student to be present in the area. Plus, if things get dicey, he can always use his UM as an excuse or in a combative pinch!

asdhasbyofasd Leona and Idia get dragged along with Cater since they're the oldest. This conveniently allows the others to listen in on the conversation in the kitchen by using the mic built into Idia's tablet. (Idia however is not happy that he gets stuck with the sunny Cater and the grumpy Leona.)

WHOA check out the cakes and other baked goods here???? I don't even like sweets, but this looks tasty.

Cater tells the other two with him that Trey handmakes goodies for unbirthday parties. He has advised in the past that Trey take shortcuts (using commercial goods/already made cakes or box mixes, I presume), but Trey doesn't listen. Cater suspects it's because Trey thinks it's way too fun to bake to give it up, even if it would be faster to use another way.

They overhear people talking and... WHAT THE HECK, CHENYA'S THE HEARTSLABYUL DORM LEADER NOW????? ? ? ?? ??? ? ? ? ?? ? ? He's complimenting Trey's meat pies...

P.S. That chef's outfit looks so good OTL

Ortho casually hacks into the RSA student database to report on who Chenya is (since Silver and Sebek have no clue who he is).

We sort of get an explanation for Cater’s dream??? He says he wished to live comfortably and happily, as if every day was like his birthday. Somehow that got twisted to him being dorm leader…

xhsvhwiwkw The first years are bickering outside… Ace and Grim are fighting to see what’s happening, Sebek is being too loud so Ortho chastises him.

Trey is able to tell the original Cater from the clones??? Bro is Haruhi Fujioka OHSHC… He comments that Cater looks different than usual, so he knew right away.

Riddle seems to be a regular card solider. He tried to challenge Chenya for his dorm leader seat.

Chenya explains Riddle lost to him because his UM doesn’t work on Chenya. He then demonstrates his UM…! (Note: some creative liberties taken while transcribing in order to slap in an Alice in Wonderland quote :3c)

“Most everyone’s mad here. You might’ve already noticed I’m not all there. Not All My Head!”

(More direct translation of the incantation would be, “Everybody's weird here. You've noticed that already, haven't you?”)

It doesn’t just refract the light and make Chenya appear invisible; his body is literally NOT there. This explains why Riddle’s UM doesn’t work Chenya—there is literally nothing there to collar.

cHENYA bULLIES RiDDLE A LIRTKE BY HsRaiNH An EmBaarRsING StORY 😭

Anyway, Riddle has challenged Chenya many times but lost because Chenya is an expert at avoidance. Riddle uses up his magic and burns out easily.

Oooh? Chenya talks about a special language his grandpa taught him. It reminds me of Riddlish from Ever After High.

Trey’s ideal Heartslabyul… it’s one with loose rules, a huge ass kitchen that can be used freely, and a dorm leader that is easygoing. It’s pretty mild and grounded.

Trey asks the third years to sample a prototype lemon jelly and yogurt dessert for him. The only sweetener is honey so eve Cater should be okay with it—and Chenya won’t be mad if someone violates the “dorm leader gets the first bite rule”, even if desserts like jellies are excluded from that rule. Cater agrees but insists that Trey joins them.

dhisbwkwnw Leona has meat pie instead of the lemon dessert. Trey wants to make more to feed his guests and decides to make enough for all of the dorm.

The first years are drooling and jealous that the third years get to eat when they’re supposed to be investigating!

Cater is impressed that Silver had the fortitude to go through so many dreams. He thinks he may have given up a while ago if he were in Silver’s shoes???

Trey says he likes baking because it is satisfying to see the finished product—and others can enjoy it too, so it is killing two birds with one stone. Even Riddle is able to eat as much as he wants now. Apparently Riddle was the close to the same age as Trey’s younger brother at the time (Trey was 9 or 10; Riddle is one year older than the Clover brother). Trey describes Riddle as very mature for his age.

Hmm, interesting… The part of Riddle’s past where his mom caught him eating a strawberry tart remains unchanged.

LMAO the Clovers got scolded for 5 hours by Mrs. Rosehearts… Trey claims he and his family now laugh about the incident. Out group theorizes that this is result of trauma; it’s Trey’s way of coping.

Oh????? Trey says Riddle has changed a lot since he left his parents. Due to Chenya’s encouragement, Riddle now eats as much as he wants. Apparently both he and Chenya see Riddle like a little brother and they love seeing him be able to grow up.

ASGYUGYASNNYFOYADSSD Leona's theories keep being proven wrong in these dreams... He theorizes that Trey might have been angry when he became vice dorm leader, but Cater says that's not the case.

Trey was very excited when Riddle entered NRC; he told the other Heartslabyul students that his childhood acquaintance is joining the school. Although Riddle is quiet, he is talented at magic and Trey hopes they get along well. But then when Riddle enrolled, he was a completely different person than how Trey remembered him. He had developed a short fuse and become very controlling... cutting himself off from his feelings in order to rule. Riddle also acts detached from Trey.

In the flashback we see, Riddle has a heart mark. I guess this is what he had in reality too, not just the dream world.

Anyway, when time came to appoint a vice dorm leader (dorm members vote for them), Trey kind of got handed the job. Cater suggests it was probably tough on Trey to see that Riddle had changed so much; at one point, Riddle even beheaded Trey because the rules do not discriminate. He also suggests that maybe Chenya is in Trey's dream so that both friends can be present to support Riddle.

ajbuasiodyasida CATER CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT... He confesses that he's always a spectator and now, seeing this, he wonders if he should have done more or intervened sooner.

UUUUUUH, there's a big BOOM!!???!! heard over Idia's tablet. It sounds like the other group is in trouble! But what are they dealing with...?

... Oh. OH.

THIS IS LITERALLY THE TWST ORB MERCH 😭😭😭😭😭 Tweedledumb and Tweedledumber... and round Cater and Riddle...

uMMMMMMMM I feel like I learned about one of Trey’s secret special interests and I don’t like it one bit 🪦

Riddle is now the tallest second year... bigger than a horse... How is he gonna ride Vorpal?! Ace and the others are in distress, saying that he can't do basketball and Deuce can't do track and field with those round bodies!!

We attempt to fight the massive dream!Heartslabyul boys, but it's useless!! Silver tries to form a barrier, but the dream!boys just roll too fast and knock him over before he can complete the spell! Cater tells Leona to use his UM to help out, but Leona can't because there would be collateral damage if used in an enclosed space.

The dream!boys try to convince Trey to stay in the dream but they start to present information that doesn't make sense. For example, dream!Riddle does not care about nutritional content; he will eat anything if it's something Trey made! Dream!Cater starts to eat a bunch of sweets to demonstrate his willingness to consume what Trey makes for them; ah, but that's not right either because in the real world, Cater doesn't like sweets at all!

Trey is able to wake up on his own...!

Aaaand we got the context for his groovy...? AFBADAVADSPB SO THE CATER AND RIDDLE PICTURED HERE, LOOKING DOWN AT HIM... IT'S THE ROUND ASS ONES AKHLBAFSIYBAFIYVAFOV8YQEOVYPQRWBFUEFABIHFDIB THAT MAKES THIS ILLUSTRATION SO MUCH LESS SERIOUSSSSSSSS

There's a big BOOM!! BHLFBIAFSIYBAFSIBYADFBIADVBLDFS LEONA SANDED SOME OF THE BIG ORBS?? ? ?? ? ? ???? ? ? Bye-bye, round Adeuce...

We rally with Trey and he has an admittedly cool line... "Don't talk with your mouth full. It's poor manners under the law of the Queen of Hearts!"

After the darkness is dispelled, Trey is caught up to speed and expresses he's not sure if a normal mage like him can be of much use against Malleus; why didn't they go for Riddle, who is way more powerful, first? asfhbasyuvfgfyoaodasi Ace has a cute moment where he reminds Trey that it was HIS unique magic that overrode Riddle's and saved his ass. Besides, we need Trey to help out with Riddle. He's Riddle's bestie, right?

HAHAHAHAHAHAFHAFH Sebek quietly says he is indebted to Trey... I just think about how Sebek has said Trey reminds him of his father OTL Ace whines about how Sebek treats him and Trey so differently and Sebek shouts that a third year will actually be HELPFUL, unlike Ace. afbaiuliafiefa GIRLIEPOPS YOUR BICKERING PLEASES ME... continue--

Cater takes a picture of Trey in his chef clothes before he swaps over to his dorm uniform; he wants to show Riddle later! I think Trey also brings along a strawberry tart...? Not sure if it transfers from dream to dream or if I'm misunderstanding the wording there.

Then they all gather around Silver and move on to Riddle's dream! (Leona closes off this section with a banger line about how it's time to get back on the small crowded bus. LMAO)

Alright, so what were my overall thoughts on this update? I definitely feel as though the writers got better at writing the dreams as they continued. The first few felt awkward and stilted, but the more recently ones (Savanaclaw and Heartslabyul) are noticeably smoother, even when kept in the confines of already established patterns.

I really appreciated how often Leona was kept telling everyone to shut up and move on with the story. He sounds so tired, annoyed, and wanting to get to the end of book 7 already. It feels like the devs are speaking to us through Leona bilfiaylasdpasod

I'm a little surprised that Ace didn't get his UM in his dream, but I guess maybe they're saving it for the very end battle? I find it suspicious that he brings up and laments his lack of UM while talking about how he's a "normal" mage that doesn't stand a chance against a big boss like Malleus. This sounds like intentional foreshadowing for that confrontation.

As I expected, Ace had a special interaction with Sebek, much like most of the other first years have. (I've updated my "Sebek and the first years in book 7" analysis post based on this.) Ace capping things off by openly calling out Sebek's flaws helps to bring everything full circle. I was also pretty spot-on about Ace's dream covering Yuu being able to stay in Twisted Wonderland. I'm surprised that they did the "Yuu can go between the two worlds as they like" thing; it's a very convenient idea proposed by many theorists in the fandom in order to maintain having Yuu as the POV character in Twst while also allowing Yuu (the in-universe character) to be able to return to their friends/family back home. More and more... the dreams feel like vague fanfiction addressing some fun fandom theories and ideas.

I found it really fascinating that Trey's dream didn't erase the moment in his life that tore Riddle away from him. I wonder if the trauma is just so deep-rooted that even Malleus's magic couldn't get rid of it...? Or if the event was framed by the magic as something sad that had to happen so he could spoil Riddle and give him a happy life now??? I can also understand an interpretation in which Trey feeds others or does his best to help them out even if he finds it bothersome because some part of him still holds onto that immense guilt he feels for his role in the Tart Incident. And in that sense, it's the dream allowing Trey to indulge others without stop, without moderation--a weakness of his that he was warned about in Vil's Labwear vignettes.

asdlhbasnyurnoabafsi NOT GONNA LIE, TREY'S DREAM IS GOING TO GIVE ME NIGHTMARES. Don't get me wrong, I love how whimsical it is, and how he can just enjoy baking to his heart's content. I also love that we get Chenya's UM name and incantation, as well as more about how it actually works. HOWEVER. The massive spheres that Trey made of his dorm members freak me out 💀 THERE'S SOMETHING SO GROTESQUE ABOUT MASSIVE BODIES WITH SMUSHED TINY FACES ROLLING AROUND TO CRUSH PEOPLE...

The MVP this update was most definitely Cater. I was shocked to see how proactive he was. He took the lead in both Ace and Trey's dreams and we got to see him put his craftiness to some good use. Stepping up for the first years, roping the other third years into helping him, even not hesitating to kick Ace's stubborn ass... I hate to say it, but I could really see Cater's dashing big brother side coming out here 🤡 YES I AM UNFORTUNATELY PREDICTABLE I had to pause reading so many times to go, "Waaaah, Cay-kun is so cool!!" which is not a thought I typically have. I'm also such a big fan of him regretting his past actions (or rather, inaction) and finally FINALLY being able to verbalize some of his deepest and most concealed feelings to other characters. When Cater thanked Ace for what he said back when Riddle overblotted... man, it hit me right in the heart.

Sebek was also pretty bashful this update. I don’t think I’ve heard him being quite so… humbled??? His quiet voice is cute 🥰 Was not expecting Silver to speak sternly to him though. The shouting came put of nowhere??? And it’s not as though you aren’t part of the problem for spoiling him, Silver…

Those are my thoughts for this update! I'll see you in the next one. Riddle's dream, on the 7th...!!

[no-144444]

abu dhabi- o.piastri

summary: your first season as an f1 driver doesn't start the best, and you quickly realise McLaren doesn't like women very much. On top of that, your race engineer is as smug as the rest of them, and you have to deal with him all the time.

pairing: race engineer! oscar piastri x f1driver! fem! reader

warnings: lots of misogyny, lando is an asshole in this, illusions to ed behaviour, reader is not in a good head space, all of mclaren is super sexist, mentions of crashes and injuries.

a/n: thank you all very much for your patience, this series means a lot to me and I've had a lot of personal stuff going on, so I felt bad for leaving you guys hanging for a bit. Thank you all so much for reading this series and I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I love writing it!

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Abu Dhabi. World Drivers Champion. World Constructors Champions.

Holy shit. 

All those years of hard work, of giving up being a child, of giving up having friends or family. You’d done it. You were a winner. 

You jumped out of the car and ran straight to Oscar, jumping in his arms. He caught you (of course) and cheered with you. 

“You fucking did it!” he smiled, pulling your helmet off. “You did it!” 

Every emotion flooded through you, but one in particular stood out; gratefulness. 

You were grateful for Oscar, for how he treated you, for who he was. He was there for you through everything, he helped you whenever he could, and while yes, you had a rough start, in the end you couldn’t imagine F1 without Oscar in it. 

“Thank you, Osc, for everything,” you smiled, hugging him close. 

“Anytime. Whenever. Always,” he nodded. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

He was drunk as fuck, but he was still watching you as you chatted with various team members. 

“You’re fucked, aren’t you?” Lando chuckled, joining his side. 

Oscar rolled his eyes. “I’m drunk, yes.”

“No. You’re fucked for her,” Lando pointed twoards you. Perfect, unreachable, you. 

“Yes,” he nodded, frowning. “I’m fucked for her.”

“It’s pretty clear.”

“I know it is,” Oscar scoffed. “Thanks for Baku, by the way.”

Lando sighed. “Look, I’ve said a lot of shit this season that I didn’t mean, and I’m sorry I was a dick to the two of you. It wasn’t right and I do feel bad about it. So, I’m sorry.”

“Thank you, but that doesn’t solve the fact that she’s being this mysterious weirdo and acting really into me and then really not,” Oscar whined. 

“She’s a very broken person-”

“You think?” Oscar rolled his eyes. “You’re not exactly giving me much hope right now.”

Lando laughed at his drunk state. “Just talk to her,” he offered. “She listens to you no matter what.”

Oscar stared at him, then nodded. “Good idea!” he announced (a little too loud as it drew the attention of a few people around the two of them), and looked at you. But you weren’t there. Oscar frowned again. 

“You’ll find her before the end of the night, I’m sure you will,” Lando clapped a hand on his shoulder and passed him a bottle of water to sober him up. “Good luck.”

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Oscar had decided to go find you, he wanted to talk. On the way there, he’d acquired about three more drinks and pissed off a small group of other McLaren employees by spilling one of his three drinks and apologised profusely (albeit rather mumbly), and that’s when you came in with a hand on his shoulder and a gentle smile that brushed it all over. 

“Are you alright?” you asked him, taking him to a corner to look him over. 

“Y/n?” he questioned, his vision blurry. “Is that you?”

You chuckled. “Yeah, it’s me buddy, you alright?” 

He nodded, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you in for a hug. “I’m so proud of you.”

“I’m proud of you too, Osc, come on, we get you to bed?” you offered, pulling one of his arms over your shoulder and helping him walk. 

“Bed sounds good,” he nodded, allowing you to walk him to his room. 

Drunk Oscar was what you assumed three year olds acted like. He pressed every button in the lift, ding-dong ditched people in the hallway, and stripped (almost) naked the second he got in the door of his room. After a few minutes of being in his room, he decided it was a good time to puke his guts out in the toilet, and you, being the good samaritan you are, decided to stay with him. 

“Feeling any better?” you asked, putting a cold cloth on his head as he lay in bed. You sat beside him, holding his hand. 

He shook his head, his eyes closed and a grimace on his lips. “Shit.” 

You chuckled lightly. “You’ll feel better in the morning.”

He opened his eyes and stared into yours, his hand resting over your hand. And time (as it always did when he was looking at you like that) stopped. The world melted away, and it didn’t matter that it was 2 in the morning, or that he’d just vomited, or that all of this was a lot more confusing than either of you had anticipated. You two just got to be with each other, and that was enough for the both of you. 

“Why don’t you love me?” he asked, his voice small and raw. He spoke to you with all the care in the world, but you could see he was hurting. You were hurting him. 

Fuck. Why couldn’t any of this be easy? Why couldn’t you just… talk to him? Confess to him? Be normal? The boy you love was sitting there in front of you telling you he loved you and you just… froze for a moment. You took a deep breath.  “Osc, of course I love you,” you whispered. “But you shouldn’t love me. I wouldn’t be any good for you.”

“I don’t care-”

“You’d end up hating me-”

“I could never hate you,” he shook his head, reaching a hand up to cup your cheek. “I could never hate you.”

And you believed him. That was the scary part. You believed him when he told you he loved you. You believed him when he said he cares. You believed him when he said you look beautiful. You believed him when he said he wouldn’t hate you. “You should,” you whispered, tears forming in your eyes. 

“I couldn’t,” he whispered back, a soft smile on his face. He wiped away a tear that fell. “I don’t want you to be scared of how you feel.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” your voice broke. “I’m not an easy person to love.”

“I disagree,” he chuckled, wiping every tear away. “I find it’s as easy as breathing.” 

And you couldn’t take it anymore. You curled up beside him and sobbed. You didn’t know how long you’d done it for, but you woke up beside him, the steady rise and fall of his chest against your head giving you something to ground yourself to. You remembered every moment of last night, every word he said, and everything you said. 

You just hoped he wouldn’t. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

When Oscar woke up, he knew there was something he had asked you last night, but he couldn’t remember what. After his conversation with Lando, there was nothing else he really remembered, apart from the fact that you had brought him up to his room, and he pieced together that he’d probably asked you to stay (being the pathetic hopeless romantic he is), and that’s why you were in his bed. 

A few seconds after waking up, the hangover hit, and fuck it was bad. His entire body ached. 

“I’m never drinking again,” he groaned, his voice hoarse. 

You chuckled beside him. “Remember anything?” 

He sighed, turning to meet your eyes. “Nope.”

As much as that destroyed you, you knew it was for the better. Oscar was better off without you, that, you knew for sure. But, you also couldn't put aside the confession he'd made last night. “I find it’s as easy as breathing.” It played in your head over and over again, like a mantra that made every negative thought in your head silent for a few seconds. Oscar was good at that, making you question yourself. Either way, you were glad he hadn't remembered. It was for the better, right?

There was a split second where he could’ve sworn he saw a flash of disappointment in your eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it was there, replaced with a smile. “Well, let’s go back to Monaco.”

He groaned just thinking about facing the day, but the fact that he woke up next to you meant it was better than any day he’d ever had. 

He definitely needed to know what he asked you last night. And you definitely needed him to not find out. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

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[jungwnies]

under pressure - lando norris (ln4)

୨ৎ : pairing : lando norris x fem!reader ୨ৎ : synopsis : you and lando have been best friends since childhood, but as lando’s struggles grow and his relationships with others become more public, you finds yourself battling your unspoken love for him.

୨ৎ : genre : romance, drama, friendship ୨ৎ : wc : 684

୨ৎ requested ୨ৎ // ୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ // buy me a ko-fi ☕️

lando walked into his apartment, looking completely wiped out. his hair was a mess, his eyes were barely open, and his shoulders were slumped like the weight of the world was on them. you didn’t even have to ask what kind of day he’d had. you could see it in his face. it was written all over him.

you were already sitting on the couch, scrolling through your phone, but when he stepped inside, you put it down without a second thought. he barely even looked up when he dropped his bag to the floor and collapsed onto the couch next to you.

"long race?" you asked softly, glancing at him.

he didn’t even respond right away. he just let out a heavy sigh and ran a hand through his messy hair. "i can’t even remember the last time i slept," he muttered, his voice rough.

you didn’t say anything for a moment. you knew when to give him space, and you also knew when he needed someone. he’d always needed you, just like you’d always needed him. but lately, things had started to feel… different. he was still the same lando you’d grown up with, but there was something in the air between you two now—something you couldn’t ignore, no matter how much you tried.

you let the silence hang for a while. you didn’t need to push him to talk. lando would tell you when he was ready.

“you don’t have to talk if you don’t want to,” you said quietly, your voice calm, reassuring. you just let your hand rest on the couch between you, your fingers lightly brushing the fabric. he knew you’d always be there for him.

after a few seconds, he let out a shaky breath, and you saw his eyes shift, like he was thinking about something he didn’t know how to say.

“it’s just… been hard,” he finally said, his voice cracking a little.

you could hear the exhaustion in his tone, see it in the slump of his shoulders. he didn’t even need to say anything else for you to know exactly what he meant. the race, the pressure, the constant noise of being in the public eye. you knew it was all getting to him. and if you were honest, you knew he wasn’t just tired from the race. it was everything that had been weighing on him lately.

“you’re always here for me,” he said after a beat, his eyes flicking over to you. there was something soft in his gaze, like he was grateful, but also a little sad. “i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

you smiled, but it wasn’t as easy as it used to be. “you don’t have to do anything alone, lando. you know that.”

he sighed and leaned back against the couch, his eyes starting to drift closed. you wanted to reach out, to touch him, to comfort him, but there was a part of you that held back. you’d been in love with him for so long now, but you’d never said anything. you thought he didn’t feel the same, and the last thing you wanted to do was make things awkward between you two.

so, you just sat there, close enough that you could feel his warmth, but far enough that it didn’t feel like you were pushing your luck. you kept your feelings hidden, hoping he would never notice.

lando shifted slightly, turning his head toward you. his voice was softer now, almost a whisper. “thanks,” he said, his eyes finally opening and meeting yours.

you nodded, your throat tightening. “always.”

and for a second, it was just the two of you, like it always had been. you could hear the quiet hum of the apartment around you, but in that moment, everything else felt distant. lando was right there, close to you, and you tried not to think about how much you wanted more.

but deep down, you knew you couldn’t have more. you were his best friend, and that was enough. or, at least, you tried to convince yourself that it was.

© 2024 jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate.

[steddieas-shegoes]

i don’t know why i can’t take my eyes off of you

for @steddielovemonth day one using You and Me by Lifehouse

rated t | 1186 words | no cw | tags: future fic, second chances, mutual pining, idiots in love, songwriter Eddie, teacher Steve

🛒🛒🛒🛒🛒🛒🛒🛒

Steve’s walking down the frozen section of Melvald’s when time stops.

Not literally. The watch on his wrist is still ticking. The clock on the wall at the front of the store is still moving. People around him are still grabbing their groceries.

But Eddie Munson is standing in front of the ice cream section like he belongs there.

Eddie left Hawkins five years ago.

He kissed Steve on the lips, then the forehead, and left.

Steve’s thought about it, about him, every day since.

Eddie hasn’t noticed him yet. Maybe Steve should leave before he does. Last he’d heard, Eddie was working at a recording studio as a songwriter, halfway making his dreams come true.

He’s happy, or at least that’s what all the kids have said when he’s brought up. They don’t know about the kiss, at least Steve doesn’t think they do. He’s never told them.

It’s busy enough in the store that Steve’s pretty sure he can sneak away before Eddie sees him. He starts to back away, but immediately bumps into an old woman.

“I’m so sorry, are you okay?” He’s asking, and she’s brushing him off and saying she’s fine. He feels terrible.

“Steve?” Eddie’s voice is like music, always has been a melody made specifically for Steve.

“Eddie,” Steve says as the old woman walks away. “Hey.”

Steve forgets he’s in public as the world around him fades and all he sees, smells, wants, is Eddie.

“I didn’t know you were still in Hawkins,” Eddie says quietly, leaning forward on his toes. He’s got a new battle vest, though it looks well-worn. Steve wonders if he knows that his old vest is hanging in his closet, if he knows that Steve pulls it out every once in a while so he can put it on and feel a little less alone.

“Yeah. Never left.” It sounds worse than it is. Steve always said he’d leave when all the kids left, but once they did, he didn’t know where to go. It’s not like he could follow them around, couch-surfing across the country a month or two at a time, burdening them with his self-imposed loneliness.

“You look good,” Eddie says, changing the subject.

Leaving Hawkins was a touchy subject for Steve the last time he’d seen Eddie. It still is. Eddie must sense that.

“So do you,” Steve breathes out. He does. He looks healthy and happy, something Hawkins had completely drained from him before. “What are you doing back?”

“Just visiting Wayne. Usually he comes to see me, but he insisted he didn’t wanna deal with the ‘big city’ this time. And I’m the best nephew, so I said ‘sure, old man, I’ll go back to the town that hates my guts!’ And here I am trying to find my favorite ice cream at the store. They don’t have it,” Eddie shrugs. He rambles when he’s nervous, still. “He hasn’t mentioned seeing you around or anything, though.”

“Yeah, I guess we don’t cross paths much,” Steve laughs awkwardly. He can’t remember the last time he saw Wayne. Must’ve been around Christmas, when Steve was helping Joyce with her decorations while Hopper worked overtime and Wayne stopped by to drop off some lights. “How’s he doing?”

“He’s good. Stubborn as hell. Won’t retire even though he could,” Eddie shakes his head. “Think he’s scared of being bored.”

“Or lonely.”

The words escape Steve before he can hold them back.

Eddie’s face softens, but it’s not full of pity. Everyone always gives Steve this look, like they know he’s putting on a brave face. Not Eddie.

“Wayne’s always been content alone. He’s got friends, and he calls me when he has something new to argue about,” Eddie leans in closer. “I don’t really worry about Wayne. Other people, sure.”

“Like who?” Steve swallows.

“You settle down yet?” Eddie asks in response.

Steve’s so shocked by the question, he doesn’t answer.

“I figured the kids were just being nice by not telling me if you did, but you’re not wearing a ring and you’re grocery shopping alone, so…” Eddie rambles again. Steve feels his heart flutter in his chest.

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Are you dating someone?”

Steve shakes his head. “Haven’t really found anyone interesting.”

“Interesting? Since when does Steve Harrington want someone interesting?”

Since the most interesting person he knows kissed him and then left. Since everyone else is boring in comparison to you. Since he realized he was dumb to let you go.

“I guess what I thought I wanted is different now. Has been for a while,” Steve shrugs.

It’s strange how easily Steve becomes wrapped up in Eddie’s orbit, how quickly everything else didn’t matter the moment Eddie started talking to him. It’s just the two of them.

“Excuse me,” a man says to their left. Steve jumps back and apologizes for blocking where he needed to be. Eddie’s eyes never leave Steve.

When the man walks away, Steve clears his throat.

“How long are you in town?”

“How long will it take me to convince you to come back with me?”

Steve chokes on his next breath. “What? Come back with you? To…”

“New York or Chicago. I’m getting a promotion and they’ll let me pick where I wanna go. I’ve been leaning towards Chicago because more of the music I enjoy is making a mark there,” Eddie explains. “And there’s plenty of options for you there, too. Dustin said you just finished your teaching degree.”

“Dustin talks about me?”

“Only when unprovoked,” Eddie grins. “Have you been waiting for me?”

It’s blunt, but Eddie always has been. Steve can hide a lot of emotions from people; It’s been a survival tactic for most of his life.

He’s never been able to hide shit from Eddie.

“Not on purpose.”

Eddie looks at his basket of items. He was really only here for a few things, but he saw his favorite cookies were on sale and he couldn’t resist stocking up. He looks between the basket and Eddie’s eyes.

“You wanna come to mine for dinner?”

“Is dinner cookies?” Eddie laughs, poking at the package closest to the top.

“That’s dessert,” Steve laughs, too. He finds it easy. He never thought it could be this easy after the time that’s passed, the distance they had between them.

“First dessert.”

“What are we, hobbits?” Steve asks.

Eddie’s jaw drops open. “Steve, please. Not in public.”

“What?”

“I didn’t know you read it!” Eddie groans, but he’s smiling, so Steve’s not actually worried.

“I’ve read a lot of things! I’ve been waiting for you, remember?”

An announcement starts in the store— someone’s car is blocking a delivery truck entrance— and they both take a step away from each other. They were much closer than they should be in the grocery store.

This is still Hawkins, and people already don’t like Eddie. Looking cozier than two dudes normally would might be dangerous for both of them.

“So. Dinner?” Steve asks again. It’s easier to remember there are other people around with some distance between them.

“Sure. Dinner.”

Time starts again.

[kdollikesthighs]

Bedroom warfare: part 1

Itzy Yuna x m reader A/N: Angst, smut is for the next part! Word count: 2,434 words.

You’re looking forward to this. A rare night off, some drinks, catching up with your best friend, and finally meeting the girl who has him acting like she hung the very stars in the sky. He talks about her constantly, non-stop bragging. How she’s different, how she keeps him on his toes. You can’t remember the last time he was this into someone, so yeah, needless to say you were curious.

The roads are getting bad, snow already piling along the curbs. You should’ve come earlier, but fuck it, you made it.

You step up to the door, stomp the snow off of your boots and knock twice before letting yourself in. The second you touch the handle, time stops. The cold hits you, but it's a different kind of cold from the snow. A voice in your head screams that opening this door will certainly lead to doom.

The feeling is so sharp, so visceral, you freeze.

A warning.

You ignore it. This is ridiculous. Staying outside any longer might actually make you freeze. You push the door open.

And then you see her. The voice was right.

Yuna. 

She’s curled up on the couch, leaning casually into the cushions like she’s not a demon wearing human skin. Like she hasn’t detonated a nuclear bomb just by existing in this room. There’s no flicker of shock on her face, no moment of hesitation. Just a perfectly practiced smile as she glances up at you, eyes alight with smug confidence and feigned warmness. She was prepared.

“Hey, man!” Your friend’s voice cuts through your brain’s searching for an escape route as he claps a hand on your shoulder. “Glad you made it. Roads are getting bad out there.”

“Yeah,” you manage.

Your friend smiles that big, dumb smile of his, completely oblivious to the way Yuna’s gaze hooks into yours like a knife. “Come in, man. Get comfortable.”

You step forward on autopilot, hanging your coat by the door like you’ve done hundreds of times. Yuna watches without a single crack in her facade, her body language relaxed, deliberate. As if she’s making sure you understand—play along. Do not fuck this up.

“This is Yuna,” your friend continues, gesturing proudly. “Babe, this is my best friend. The one I told you about.”

The one she already knew. The one whose hands were once all over her, whose voice whispered filth into her ear, whose name she moaned as he took each hole of hers as his, whose life she set on fire and walked away from without looking back.

Yuna smiles, tilting her head just slightly. “Nice to finally meet you.”

The fucking nerve on her.

Emotions swell inside you, a festering wound ripping open, but your face doesn’t betray it. You match her smile with an empty one of your own. “Yeah. Likewise.”

You sit across from them, forcing yourself to ignore the way she’s curled into his side, the way his hand rests on her thigh like a claim. It’s all too much.

Your friend, completely unaware of the hurricane tearing through the room sweeping up only you and Yuna, leans back with a content sigh. “She’s incredible, man. Like, seriously. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone like her.”

Yuna meets your gaze, and you’d have died if looks could kill, then smiles at your friend. “You exaggerate too much.”

“Not even,” he laughs. “I told him you were different. I mean, look at you.”

You do. She stares back at you. Right at you. Like she’s daring you to say something.

You force a smirk. “Yeah. I’m happy for you.”

The night stretches on, a slow suffocation wrapped in forced pleasantries and underlying malice.

Yuna brushes past you as she walks to the kitchen, her nails grazing your wrist just enough to feel like a scratch. It’s intentional, a silent reminder that she can still reach beneath your skin whenever she wants.

You let your expression remain neutral, but when she returns and settles beside your friend, you decide to push back. You swirl your drink in hand, voice casual but with deadly precision. “You ever think about loyalty?”

Your friend laughs, oblivious. “Deep question, man. What, you been betrayed by someone?”

Yuna knows. Her grip on her boyfriend’s hand tightens, her jaw flexing for the briefest second before she smooths it over with a small, cutesy sound. “Is that something you’re struggling with?”

A sharp retort, coated in molten sugar.

You grin, eyes transfixed on hers, where her soul would be if she had one. “Nah. Just thinking about how rare it is these days.”

She tilts her head unimpressed, expression unshaken by your taunt. “Guess it depends on who you’re with.”

Your friend laughs again, oblivious to the daggers flying inches from his head. “Damn, this is getting deep for a casual night.” Bless his stupid heart.

Yuna goes on to laugh a little too hard with one of your friend’s jokes, her fingers running over his arm as she throws a glance your way. It’s like she wants you to know. See? I can be happy without you.

While your friend isn’t looking and off to get another drink, you lean in slightly, whispering just loud enough that only her ears catch it. “So how long will it be before you cheat on him, too?”

Yuna’s smile doesn’t waver, but her eyes flicker with something dark. “Didn’t know you were still this bitter. Having a hard time getting over me?”

Your friend is none the wiser, sipping his drink and rambling on about something you aren’t even listening to. He doesn’t see the silent war happening right as he returns, doesn’t feel the tension stretching thin enough to snap.

And Yuna? She sits there, composed, graceful, effortlessly charming. Like she hasn’t spent the entire night digging her nails into old wounds just to watch them bleed.

You can’t wait for this night to end.

Your friend’s phone buzzes against the coffee table, cutting through the forced, suffocating conversation. A moment of relief. He barely looks at the screen before answering.

“Hello?”

A pause. His expression shifts. It’s subtle at first, then tightening with concern.That big, dumb smile evaporates.

“What? When?”

Yuna straightens beside him, her fingers curling slightly on her lap. You watch the way her entire body goes rigid, instinctively responding to the shift in energy. The room tilts, like the balance of power is about to change. A ceasefire is called, as your common concern grows ever more concerned.

Your friend exhales sharply and runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah. No, of course. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

He hangs up, already moving towards the door.

“I have to go,” he says, grabbing his keys from the counter. “It’s my mom. She’s in the hospital.”

Yuna blinks. “Oh my god?”

The snowstorm outside has only gotten worse, and the roads are probably a nightmare. You’re sure he knows that, but there’s no hesitation in his movements. You can’t blame him, you’d be much the same. He’s already halfway to the door, shoving on his coat.

“I’ll be back soon,” he says, then glances between you and Yuna. “You two will be fine, right?”

Like hell you will.

No. No, you won’t be fine. Not alone. Not with her. Anything but that.

You clear your throat. There’s not enough time for an excuse, and you’d feel even worse using one in this situation. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, man.”

He frowns, halfway into pulling on his other sleeve. “What? Are you serious?”

“The roads are bad. You shouldn’t be out in this. Or I could come with you?”

“It’s my mom,” he says, like that explains everything. And in a way, it does.

You swallow any goodness you have left in yourself, attempting one final protest. “Still—”

“Please, stay here, just in case something happens. Yuna doesn’t know what to do if the power goes out. It’d make me feel more at ease.”

If only he knew half of it. But this is not the time to be selfish. He’s your best friend.

Your jaw tightens. Yuna doesn’t react, doesn’t look at you, doesn’t say a damn thing. She doesn’t need to. Everything she wanted to say, you already did. She wants you nowhere near her. But your friend was right. This was the better solution.

Your friend claps a hand on your shoulder. “Just stay, alright? Keep each other company.”

You nod in reluctant agreement. “Yeah. Sure.”

And just like that, he’s gone. The door slams behind him.

A rotten silence taints the air.

The performance shatters instantly.

The false smiles, the polite distance—it’s all destroyed the second his car pulls out of the driveway.

You exhale sharply, rubbing a hand over the back of your neck as you peered over to Yuna. “Fucking hell.”

Yuna scoffs, her arms crossed. “Yeah, I’m not happy about this either.”

She walks past you, and you hate that you recognize every little sway, tilt and strut her body makes. The controlled tension in her shoulders, the barely concealed hostility humming in her eyes. She’s coiled tight, inches away from snapping.

You don’t give her the satisfaction of speaking first. If anything you’d prefer to just sit in silence, minding your own business until your buddy is back.

“Guess it’s just us now.” She laughs. Fuck. So far for silence. It’s sharp, bitter. Venomous. “Like old times.”

Your hands clench at your sides. “Not fucking funny.”

Yuna turns to face you fully, her lips curling into something devious. “Never said it was.”

A charged tension crackles between you, thick with unresolved filth. You can’t look at her without the memories flooding back. The way she felt beneath you as you pounded her down to where she belonged. The way she used to moan your name, confessing her filthy desires and so-called love. The way she made you feel like the only person worthy of her in the whole world—before she tore it all apart.

And yet, despite it all, despite your veins burning with hatred, you can feel it. You know she’s thinking the same thing. Seeing the same memories.

The past isn’t dead between you. Far from it. It’s alive, thrashing, screaming, demanding to be acknowledged.

Yuna tilts her head, breaking your introspection. She’s studying you like a bug nailed to the wall. “You look like you want to say something.”

You exhale sharply. She’s wrong. You don’t want to say something. You want to stay silent. You have to say something. “Yeah. I do.”

“Then fucking say it.”

Your hands tighten into fists, your venomous glands activating. “You cheated on me.”

She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t look guilty. Just crosses her arms and raises a brow. “Yeah. I did.”

The sheer lack of remorse in her voice sends you over the edge. You expect her to at least soften, to at least pretend like it wasn’t that bad, saving her own skin. But she doesn’t. She stands in it, owns it, like she’s daring you to throw it in her face. Daring you to do something.

She knows just how to press your buttons. It never works out in your favor, but you bite back.

“And yet I’m still the villain?”

Yuna steps forward, voice razor-sharp, knowing exactly what you’d say. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

You let out a humorless laugh. “Oh, right. I forgot. Because you think what I did was worse.”

She doesn’t agree, and the snap in her scowl all but confirms it. “It was.”

You step closer too, closing the distance between you until there’s barely a foot between your bodies. She won’t get the best of you. “You spread your legs for another guy, Yuna.”

“And you turned me into some sex trophy to fucking show off,” she spits.

She’s right, both your words serving as the flame used to light a fuse burning toward an explosion neither of you cares to stop.

Yuna’s voice drops lower, more venomous. “You think fucking me over behind my back was okay? At least I had the decency to keep it private. At least I didn’t—” She cuts herself off, centering herself before continuing. She knows her strikes will land harder if she’s calm to deliver them. “Do you have any idea how it felt?”

You don’t respond. You can’t respond, and she doesn’t stop.

“I found out months later,” she says, voice quieter now, but no less dangerous. “Randomly. Just—stumbled across a conversation between you and your drinking buddies. ‘Look at her tits, isn’t she fucking unreal?’” Her eyes are burning now, the reflection of the impending explosion clearer than ever. “And they agreed. Told you how fucking lucky you were. All while I had no idea you were passing those pictures around like a fucking trophy.”

She had you dead to rights, but you didn’t care. “I was drunk.”

Her laugh is pure ice. Unamused and willing to kill. “Oh, fuck you.”

You began forming something that barely resembles an excuse. Against your better judgement. “I didn’t think—”

“That’s the fucking problem,” she snaps, stepping forward until she’s practically in your space. “You never thought. You never cared.”

You snapped back, your version of the truth different from hers. “That’s not true.”

Her head tilts again. It’s her tell for being in disbelief, her eyes dark. “Isn’t it?”

Silence. You wanted it not long ago, but now it’s suffocating.

You don’t have an answer.

Or maybe you do, but you don’t want to say it. Maybe there is some truth to you being an asshole.

Yuna scoffs at your lack of response, then turns away. You expect her to storm off, to put as much distance between you as possible, but she doesn’t. Instead, she walks to the counter, grabs the bottle of whiskey sitting there, and pours herself a bottom. She knocks it down without effort.

You frown, knowing what kind of omen this was. “Drinking already? That’s a bad idea.”

She scoffs, pouring herself another. “Yeah, you’re famous for being good with alcohol.”

You don’t respond to her accusation. There’s no point. What she did was worse anyway. “Alcohol makes you messy.”

She smirks bitterly, raising her glass in mock salute before taking a slow, deliberate sip. “Yeah?” Her eyes drift to yours, heavy-lidded and absolutely unimpressed. “And whose fault is that?”

You don’t answer.

Because you both know exactly whose fault it is.

And now, there’s nothing left between you but impending destruction. It wasn’t a matter of ‘if’, it was a matter of ‘when’.

[pipsqueak317]

my old username, theshortonekati, came from the fake google account that one of my exes made for me, cause i have strict parents

however, when we broke up, i knew i had to use a new account name, because since he was the creator of the google account he had the login info and could track what i did. i shut down that account and knew that he would try to find me and have his friends cyberbully any account of anything that was called "theshortonekati".

i was scared, and didn't want to be around him, so i started to hang out with a friend of mine. this friend is now my best irl friend. anyway, i'm obviously a hell of a lot shorter than him, and so he quite affectionately nicknamed me "pipsqueak". since that blog name was taken, i slapped on my birthday- 3/17. when you're born on a holiday, you kinda become the personification of that holiday, 17 has been my lucky number all my life and i've used names like "leprechaun" and "lucky" in the past.

@theronanlynchshow @tomthebassoon @brave-bumblebee248 @bisexualbitch4853 @kutie106 @theoneandonlypatches @thelovelyvie

Tag game🎉

Tag your moots and ask them where they got the idea for their tumblr accounts name!

For my name it was a nickname I was giving back in middleschool! One of our teacher had a system where we worked with 'wifi' eachtime we talked in class we lost a bar of the "wifi" (was a weird joke and we never held count on that) All the kids usually joked if they needed 'wifi' , they would borrow mine if they wanted to talk more. (I was incredibly shy in middle school, I only talked to like 3 people at school;^;)

They called me Ms. Wifi because of that. I just thought it would be funny if I put 'miss' instead of 'ms' because of my terrible actual wifi connection I have at home lol.

That's my story! Now moots, only if you guys want to, tell us your story.

Tags-> @slipping-lately @firequeenofficial @noagskryf @twinklstarrrr @halfbakedspuds @polterwasteist @rokushi-san @mygedagtes +anyone that sees this and wants to do this as well

[darkbluekies]

Can we have more Jerry content please?

"Familiar, like my mirror years ago"

Yandere!female!mafia x reader

Summary: darling getting shot reminds Jerry of memories she can't help but repress, and is now forced to face

Warnings: gore? Blood, lots of it, pain, trauma? In other words, a dark oneshot

Word count: 4.5k

She can’t believe it. The sight is enough to make her sick. Her darling, her only light in this miserable life, lying unreachable in a hospital bed with countless machines connected. How could she ever have let that happened? She’s been sitting by your bed for hours, holding your hand tightly and not looking away. She hasn’t felt a pain like this for a long time, not since her family died. Jerry tries her best to think of something else, but it keeps coming back. 

“Mom and dad are out, I’m supposed to make dinner for us.”

Yuna looks up from her homework and grimaces. She’s still wearing her school uniform. “Then we won’t eat”, she mumbles sulkily. 

“Hey, watch it.”

Yuna laughs. Jerry’s long hair is tied into a loose ponytail. She sits down on the floor beside her younger sister, watching over her while drinking from a juice pouch. Yuna’s much smarter than her, both in school and life, and that’s good enough for Jerry. She doesn’t have to be smart if Yuna is. 

Yuna lifts her head up from her math book. She looks over her shoulder at Jerry. 

“Sister, there’s a boy in my class”, she says, “and I think that he likes me. He asked me to go to the amusement park on friday.”

“Who’s this rat?” Jerry scoffs. 

“He’s the class president.”

“Oh, your academic rival.” Jerry takes a new sip of her juice. “Is he smarter than you?”

“No.”

Jerry smiles and ruffles Yuna’s hair. “I know that’s right. My little sister is the smartest in school.”

Yuna squirms embarrassedly, but her smile exposed her. 

“Before you go out with him I want to meet this little boy of yours”, Jerry says as she bites the straw. “I need to accept him.”

“He’s nice, I promise.”

“I’ll believe that once I see it.”

“Please don’t embarrass me.”

“Embarrass you? Do you think I’m a child?” She thinks for a second. “Don’t answer that.”

Yuna chuckles. 

“What about you, sister?” she asks. “Don’t you have someone that you like?”

Jerry leans her head against the wall. 

“No”, she replies and smiles. “I don’t need one. Well, are you hungry? Should we get some food?”

“What are you going to make?”

“I’m not going to cook, we’ll go out and buy something. If mom and dad doesn’t know we’re eating junk food, they can’t get mad. I’m feeling like tteokbokki or convenience store food, what about you?”

“Street food sounds nice.”

“Good, let’s go.”

Jerry stands up and goes to grab her jacket. Yuna follows. They walk out of the apartment, out onto the lit up street. The stars in the night sky twinkle beautifully. They walk side by side. Yuna’s shorter than Jerry, for now, but she’ll be taller in a year, she’s sure of that. Yuna’s only sixteen. Jerry’s eighteen. Jerry was Yuna’s age when she started doing things she shouldn’t. It had started small with skipping class, then smoking, then tealing lip glosses from the mall. And then it escalated to robbing and assaults. Jerry wondered where she would be if she hadn’t befriended the wrong people. She had never been good in school, not like Yuna, but had been good at PE. But that doesn’t matter. She has a new chance with Yuna now, to make sure that she does everything Jerry didn’t and make sure Yuna doesn’t do the things Jerry did. 

“Look what my friends got me for my birthday”, Yuna says and shows a ‘Kuromi’ plush charm hanging on her bag.

“That’s cute”, Jerry agrees. 

Yuna’s friends are the type of friends a teenage girl should have. They gossip, go out for fun, have sleepovers, late night talks. But Jerry knows that Yuna’s friends are scared of her. Ever since Jerry got kicked out of school, people have been suspecting her of things she has done. But no one has evidence. Yuna knows about the theft and the assaults, but not of the others. Jerry has made sure that no one knows that she has joined a gang. If Yuna knew, she could get hurt. That can’t happen. Yuna does everything right in life, she isn’t supposed to be involved in these things. The gang doesn’t know about Yuna either. That’s for the best. 

Seoul’s streets are empty, apart from a few people walking their dogs or out on walks. They walk to a nearby food market and buy one thing from every food stand before walking to the nearest river and have a picnic. 

“We should have gotten water”, Yuna says. 

“Go put your head into the river”, Jerry chuckles. 

“I washed my hair this morning.”

“Then thirst to death.”

“Can’t you go buy water? Please?”

Jerry sighs and stands up. 

“Fine”, she groans. “Wait here. Don’t eat everything when I’m back.”

Yuna laughs. Jerry grabs her phone and leaves. She walks to the nearest convenience store and gets two bottles of water and two ice creams. The lady behind the counter smiles at her and wishes her a good night. Jerry wishes her back. 

A cold wind brushes past her as she walks back out into the night air. For a moment, it feels like someone is watching her. Jerry looks around, but there’s no one to be seen. She frowns and hurries back to the river. Yuna has eaten all of the sausages. 

“I told you not to eat all of it!” Jerry says. “If you wanted more you should have bought them yourself. And here I got you ice cream, you ungrateful brat.”

“No, please give it to me!” Yuna laughs and reaches for the ice cream. “I'm sorry, sister, please! You can take all the remaining fish cakes, please!”

Jerry pretends to think for a moment.

“Okay”, she says nonchalantly. “I guess that works. Greedy bitch.”

She gives Yuna the ice cream. Yuna laughs and Jerry can't help but smile.

“Do you think life is pre-planned for you?” Yuna asks after a while. “As in, your fate is already decided, it doesn't matter what path you'll take, you'll eventually end up where you should be?’

“I don't know”, Jerry replies and licks her ice cream. “Wouldn't that be kind of sad, though?”

“Why?”

“If your life is already decided for you. You can't change it. What if you don't like the decided fate?”

“But what if the decided fate is the most perfect for you?”

“What would mine be, then?”

Yuna studies her. “I don't know, but I know that it isn't robbing people. I think you'd be a good psychologist.”

Jerry lifts her eyebrows. “Me? Why?”

“You're good at noticing emotions, and feeling them. You know when I'm upset without me even saying anything.”

“That's because I know you … and you're like an open book, wearing your heart on your sleeve.”

“Maybe, but you know how to make me feel better.”

“I don't think I'd be a good psychologist, unfortunately. I'd be a good mechanic, though. I'd be like a doctor but for machines. What about you? What do you think your decided fate is?”

Yuna sighs and looks out over the river. “I don't know”, she says in defeat. “I wish I knew. I want to get good on the CSAT when i have to do that, get into a good university and get a good job … but i don't know what I want to do.”

“You're sixteen, Yuna, you have time to figure it out.”

“You too. You're eighteen. You can choose something better.”

Yuna’s eyes turn to her, full of sorrow. Jerry’s heart aches. She puts her arm around Yuna’s shoulders and leans her head against hers.

“I'll figure it out”, she sighs. “Don't worry about me.”

“But I do. All the time. I love you.”

“I love you too, but you don't have to. I will figure it out. I will.”

Jerry sobs. Her body is breaking into pieces, can feel the flesh rip itself apart.

Please wake up, Y/N. Please. I can't do this.

She should have done more to protect you. She should have learned from her mistakes. She opens her left hand. A small Kuromi plush charm rests in the palm of her hand. The other hand holds onto yours tightly. The little plush stares at her with cute aggression. She wants to bury her sharp nails into its face, claw away the mocking expression. 

You couldn't leave me without a little bully, could you? When you're not here to tease me, this is.

Jerry looks up at your face and feels her body goes cold once again. You look so small, so breakable. She's afraid of squeezing your hand too tightly, worried that she'll snap it in half.

“This is my older sister Yubin.”

Jerry scans the boy up and down. He dresses well, has his hair neatly prince and styled and bows deeply. A real dream for a mother in law.

“Nice to meet you”, he says. 

Yuna pulls Jerry to the side.

“Please, can I go with him?” she whispers.

Jerry glances towards him. He twiddles with his fingers

“Okay”, Jerry gives in. “I’ll come get you at eight.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to make sure you get home safely.”

She watches her sister leave the apartment with her arms crossed over her chest.

“He seemed like a nice boy”, her mom says behind her. 

“Yeah, let’s hope that, for his sake”, Jerry mutters and walks into her room, closing the door behind her. 

She keeps herself occupied by watching a cheesy drama in bed while eating snacks. Every now and then she glances at the clock on her phone, waiting for it to be the right time.

After four episodes—and not a single kiss yet—it's finally time for her to get moving. Jerry gets out of bed and grabs her jacket. She gives her mom and dad a quick ‘goodbye’ before exiting the apartment. The evening air is crisp, the music blasting in her earpods. Her ears are always surprised by the sound, either heavy rap with skillful execution or upbeat bubblegum pop. 

She walks through lit up streets full of students taking advantage of the fact that there is no school tomorrow. Fridays being out the wildest in even the calmest of teenagers. Jerry should know.

Suddenly, the feeling of being watched enters her body again. She doesn’t stop to look around, doesn’t want to give any potential stalkers the knowledge that she’s aware. Jerry shakes it off, she always feels watched. She’s paranoid. 

She sees Yuna and the boy stand outside the gates of the amusement park. Jerry walks up to them, hands in her pockets. Yuna smiles and waves goodbye to the boy.

“I had so much fun!” she tells her as they walk.

“I can tell”, Jerry says, trying to sound unbothered but the way her lip curls upwards exposes her. “So, how much money did you waste?”

“None, actually. He paid for everything.”

Jerry raises her eyebrows in surprise.

“Oh?” She can't hide her surprise. “He did?” But quickly composes herself. “As he should.”

“I feel bad though, he spent so much money trying to win me a stuffed animal at those machines, you know? The ones with a claw? But I think they're rigged.”

“Of course they are.”

Yuna yawns and leans against her older sister. Jerry chuckles and wraps her arm around her shoulders.

“What?” she questions. “Are you tired now?”

“Yes”, she replies. “Can you carry me?”

“Fuck no, you can walk by yourself.”

“Please?”

Yuna clings onto her and stops walking. Jerry groans and lifts her up on her back, piggyback carrying her. Yuna hugs her neck.

“I think I like that boy”, she mumbles with a smile.

“If he ever hurts you I'm breaking his neck, you know that, right?” Jerry says. “No one hurts my sister.”

Yuna hugged her neck tighter. “No one gets to hurt my sister either.”

Her heart breaks. Jerry has moved away from the bed and sat down beside the window, looking out over the city. The sky is dark, lights twinkling everywhere, like stars.

There's a knock on the door. Jerry looks over, eyes swollen from all crying. Her boss walks in with a bodyguard behind him. In his hands is a colorful flower bouquet, surrounded by soft, pinkish gift paper. He glances at you before turning his eyes to Jerry.

“I came as soon as I heard”, he says and places the flowers on the chair by the bed. “How are they?”

“I don't know”, Jerry says quietly, voice not reaching more than a broken whisper. "Nobody knows.”

Her boss takes a deep breath. He's much more careful than Jerry has ever seen him. 

“If there's anything I can do, don't hesitate to let me know, ‘kay?” he says.

“Kill that coward”, she says coldly. “No, don't. Save him for me.”

“I will.”

Jerry makes the mistake of turning her eyes towards you. Your poor soul. Her boss walks over to her and, to her surprise, puts his arms around her. He has never hugged her. In the four years she's known him, he has never hugged her. She has to control herself to not break out into childish sobs again.

“I really love them”, slips out of her before she can stop herself. “Oh, fuck, what do i do?”

“You don't do anything”, her boss says. “You'll stay here and watch over them and I'll do the rest.”

He leaves shortly after, wanting Jerry to have time to herself. She can't cry in front of him, and crying is exactly what she needs.

She walks to the bed and picks up the flowers. There's a little card attached to the gift paper. Jerry opens it.

“Get well soon, Y/N, the entire organization is sending its wishes for you to heal quickly and come back to Jerry — M.”

Jerry smiles slightly. She places the bouquet in her water bottle.

A small noise is heard from the bed and she turns to see you slowly, but surely, open your eyes. Jerry feels her heart stop. She throws herself forward, getting closer to the bed.

“Y/N, babe, I'm here”, she breathes out. “Babe.”

Your eyes seem to not be able to register anything in the bright light, but as they move to see where the sound is coming from, they pupils seem to grow. They fill with tears. Jerry turns your cheek with a trembling hand and wipes it.

“It's okay, baby”, she whispers. “It's okay.”

“Jerry …”, you croak out.

She nods. Tears filled her eyes. She squeezes your hand tighter.

“My pretty baby”, she sniffles and wipes your tears. 

“It feels weird.”

“You have machines connected to you, that's why it feels weird. But they're there to help you.”

“How am I alive?”

“I don't know … it's a miracle.”

She must have someone on her side, a guardian angel … or someone that has seen it all before and couldn’t let it happen again. Jerry looks down at the little Kuromi plush in her hand, heart sinking. 

“I never thought that i would be shot”, you admit. 

“It’s my fault”, Jerry says. “I should never have let it happen. I’m an idiot … but fuck, am I happy you are alive. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t woken up.”

You look around the room, eyes stopping at the flowers. 

“Did you get those?” you ask. 

“No, my boss did”, she replies and takes out the card. “He even wrote a little message for you.”

She reads it out loud to you and breathes out in relief at your small smile. 

“I must be the first person to get that kind of message”, you joke weakly. 

“You are”, Jerry says and takes a risk at a joke. “I hope that you’re grateful, because you won’t get another one unless you die.”

“I’m not planning on it.”

Jerry smiles and caresses your cheek. “That’s my baby. You’re not dying for a long while, and I’m going to make sure of it.”

You notice the plush in her other hand. 

“What’s that?” you ask. 

Your weak hand reaches for hers, trying to get a better look at the Kuromi figurine. Jerry feels her heart stop, her body turn to ice. You knew that she had a sister before and that something happened, but not what happened, or where she is now. Too stunned to react, you’re able to take the little plush out of her hands. You hold it carefully, turning it around to get a good look at it. 

“It fits you”, you say quietly, smiling slightly.

“It wasn’t mine from the start”, slips out of her, breathlessly and unfamiliar to her. “It’s not actually mine.”

“Did you steal it from someone?” 

If only.

“No”, she says slowly. “I didn’t. It was my sister’s.”

You pull your eyes away from the charm and look at her. She has gone pale by now and stares empty in front of her. The stare reminds you of soldiers who’s seen too much and you apologize for bringing it up. 

“You don’t have to apologize”, Jerry mumbles and takes the little plush carefully. “I guess that you should know the story. If anyone should know, it should be you.”

“What was her name?”

Jerry smiles sadly. “Yuna.”

“Yuna.”

Hearing you say it breaks her heart all over again, makes it bleed into her throat. She wishes that you could have met her, and that Yuna got to met you. 

See? Jerry would have teased her. You didn’t think I would get a good partner, what do you say now? 

“You would have loved her”, Jerry says quietly, still wearing the painful smile. “And she would have loved you—adored you. She loved everything and everyone. A soul too good for this world. She never broke any rules, never did anything stupid … and when she did one time, I scolded her so bad that she never did it again.”

Jerry can see the hesitation in your eyes before you ask the question. 

“What happened to her?”

Jerry’s head pounds in pain. Blood runs down her chin, from the corner of her mouth. She wipes it with her sleeve. She really should stop getting into fights, it never ends well. Even if she wins them, she’s left with aching limbs for days to come. But the pride from a win makes her do it again, and again, and again. She usually gangs up with a few people from her gang, and go at it until they can’t anymore. But today was different, she thinks as she makes her way home, through empty streets. They smiled too much today, provoked her more than usual. When she was ready to leave, they pulled her back in with their taunting words, knowing exactly where to press to rile her up again. As if they didn’t want her to leave. It was weird, different than usual. 

Jerry drags her feet over the pavement. She will have to take a shower to remove the blood—whether it’s hers or not doesn’t matter. 

The door to the apartment complex isn’t fully closed. A small drop of blood sits on the ground. Is she bloody enough to drip? She opens the door and walks into the building, pulling herself up the stairs to the apartment. This door isn’t closed either. Jerry frowns and opens the door, walking into the hallway. She can tell, right away, that something is different. There’s a new smell in the air, one she is oddly familiar with. 

The smell of blood. 

Her heart stops, nerves crackling with panic before she runs forward, into the livingroom. 

“Mom?” she shouts. “Dad? Yuna?”

Blood covers the floor, the walls and furniture. Jerry spins around, desperately trying to find where it leads. It seems to have been smudged in all directions. She opens the door to the bathroom. Empty. Her parents room. Empty. Kitchen is empty. Her hand hovers shakingly over Yuna’s bedroom door. Please don’t, Jerry thinks as sweat runs down her back, please, please. She opens the door. The room is covered in blood. Her parents are lying across the room, blood smudges across the floor exposing that they’ve been dragged here. Their throats are slit. Jerry stumbles backwards, hand reaching for something—anything—to grab onto. Her heart seems to be everywhere in her body, beating irregularly. An ice cold, burning nausea covers her fully, like water. 

“Mom—”, she chokes out, sinking down on the floor. She can’t form a sentence, let alone an understandable one. “Dad … oh, my God. Oh, my God, oh shit.”

Her vision is blurred by tears.

A thought enters her head, and suddenly she’s on high alert again. 

Yuna … where’s Yuna?

On shaking legs, she clumsily pulls herself up and stumbles out into the corridor again. All other rooms are empty, where is Yuna? Where the fuck is Yuna?

There’s only one room left. Jerry’s. She drags herself over to her closed door, feeling like she’s going to vomit any second. After a long while of waiting, she finally opens the door, revealing her own room. Jerry screams. 

Yuna is lying in Jerry’s bed. Her school uniform is covered in blood, her black hair spread out over her face. One arm lies over her stomach, the other hanging over the side of the bed. Jerry has to grab onto her desk. Suddenly she doesn’t feel like she’s there. She can’t feel her legs hold her up.

Without noticing it, her body has moved her forward. She’s standing by her bed. Theres a folded note on Yuna’s chest. Jerry’s hands tremble as she opens it. 

“See this as a warning, bitch, next time it will be you.”

She throws the note across the room. Her heart hammers in her chest, but this time in anger. Those disgusting creatures. She can’t find words to describe them. They’re subhuman, but not even that is enough. 

She tears down everything on her desk, including her laptop and lamp amd when there’s nothing left for her to destroy, she hits herself, clawing and pulling at anything she can get her hands on. As long as it hurts. It’s her fault. She put her family in danger. Her choices led to this. She killed them. 

When her body loses power, she sinks down on the floor, shaking and crying. Jerry covers her face in her hands to avoid looking at her little sisters lifeless body. She can’t remember the last time she cried like this. It exits her body in a whine-like howl, her pain needing to come out. 

But even those end. All feelings end at some point, leaving her in a numb, broken shell. She looks towards her bed. The arm that’s hanging of the side of the bed seems to hold something. Jerry crawls over and opens Yuna’s hand slightly. Her skin is still somewhat warm under her touch. In her hand lies the Kuromi charm plush, still somewhat clean. Jerry takes it out of Yuna’s hand and holds it in hers. She hugs it, breaking out into new sobs. 

Realizing that she can’t stay here—the ones that have done this will most likely return, or the cops will arrest her for the deed—Jerry stands up. She grabs one of her black backpacks and throws in whatever she thinks that she can need before leaving the apartment for the last time. 

Your eyes are filled with tears, and so are hers. You reach forward to wipe hers and she squeezes her eyes shut. She can’t look at you. 

“I’m so sorry”, you say. 

“I can’t lose you too”, she hisses. “I fucking can’t lose you too.”

She can feel you hug her and she’s quick to remove your arms. 

“You shouldn’t move”, she says with a panicked voice. “You’re hurt. Just let the medicine and what fuck-not do it’s work, please. Just do as I say.”

You lay down again. Jerry sighs out heavily and wipes her tears harshly. 

“That’s why I joined this organization”, she says angrily. “I realized how vulnerable I was by myself. I needed people that could protect me and have my back … and I’m so fucking sorry I pulled you into it, too. I should have learned my lesson with my family, but I didn’t. I was so fucking selfish doing it again, just because I fell in love. And i could have lost you too. Ic ould have repeated my fucking mistake.”

“But you didn’t”, you say. “I’m here.”

Jerry sighs and holds out the little plush. 

“I, somehow, feel like she did this”, she says flatly. “As if she couldn’t watch me go through it again, so she saved you. Yuna died holding this charm. Somehow thinking that it would protect her … or she just didn’t want to die alone.”

Jerry has never said these thoughts out loud before. And when she does it, she doesn’t dare to look at you, scared to see a judging look in your eyes. But you don’t, you look at her with such empathy, such sadness for her. 

“I can’t bring myself to get rid of it”, she says and sighs. “Because this was so important to Yuna. I don’t know why.”

“Did you ever get the ones that did it?” you ask carefully. 

“No … never. But I will find them one day, and I will make them pay. And the one that did this to you is going to get what he deserve too. I will never let anything hurt you again. I will do whatever it takes, but so help me, if anything ever happens to you again.”

“I think that if she saw you now, she would be proud of you”, you say. “Maybe not for what you do, but for how loving you are.”

Jerry scoffs, but you see that your words hit her hard. 

“You are”, you insist. “Not everyone sees it, but you are. Even if you don’t believe it yourself.”

“Oh yeah?” she scoffs. “How ‘loving’ can I be after everything I’ve done to you?”

You swallow, thinking of everything Jerry has put you through but shake it off. Not the right timing. 

“You sat here with me all this time”, you say. “You’ve cried for me. Worried for me.”

“Well, yeah, I’m not a monster.”

“You aren’t. You are human. And that’s why it wasn’t your fault, for anything that happened. You didn’t do anything.”

Jerry sniffles and looks down at the plush, and then at you. 

“Thank you, Y/N”, she says, giving you a small, sad smile. “Thank you.”

After you’ve fallen asleep that night, she places the little Kuromi plush on the pillow, by your head and smiles sadly. She falls asleep with her head on the free space on the bed beside your legs, eternally grateful that you came back to her, and with a new peace in her body. As if a heavy weight has lifted off her shoulders.

[kiss-me-muchoo]

𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 || 𝐇𝐚𝐧 𝐉𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠-𝐖𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

part one: angel of satisfaction || part two: here

summary_the fallout of your love story with jeong-won and how he begged long enough to drastically change your life.

warnings_ age gap (not specified but reader is in uni), implied sex, cheating, fluff, angst but happy ending , reader smokes, is implied to be American and PLOT TWIST at the end, NO PROOFREADING

notes_ need to watch goblin and the silent sea :( using the salesman tag to avoid the flop allegations

♫ ♪ the worst playlist 4 gong yoo

✰ Index (+ fics here)

୨ৎ───୨ৎ───୨ৎ———୨ৎ───୨ৎ

The smell of cigars filled your home: you never thought you would deliberately find yourself smoking.

But there you were, looking at the cloudy skyline while you threw out the unhealthy smoke.

Your phone rang and you pulled it out of your pocket.

The ninth call of the day. Three times three is the charm.

“What the fuck do you want?” You neutrally ask, ignoring the beating of your heart.

“…y/n? Thank goddess you’re answering” You roll your eyes. “We need to talk, there’s a lot you-“

“Jeong-won, I don’t want to talk about anything with you” The exasperated tone in your voice doesn’t go unnoticed by him, which makes him feel even more stressed out. “In fact, I don’t want you to keep calling me. I don’t want you messaging me. I don’t want to have your follow on social media. I don’t want to hear your music in the clubs. I don’t want to ever fucking see your face again”

“Please, y/n. I don’t deserve to explain myself but-“

“I told you, you only had to pay for that dinner and forget about me. I suppose you didn’t mend things with your wife…” you abruptly cut him off, watching the smoke of the cigar fly out of your place.

“It’s complicated…” he sounds tired, sad and pathetic.

“Yeah… Everything’s that way with you. I just didn’t want to see it” you spit out, hanging up, leaving him to make a mess over the deadline.

You didn’t know how, but you would try everything just to forget him. But when you get out of the apartment the first thing you notice is the public trash can.

There lies the flower bouquet that appeared at your door three days ago. It had been Jeong-won’s first attempt to say sorry.

But so far it wasn’t working.

…

Three weeks into trying to move on. The first days felt like walking throwing a dark alleyway with no return. Tears always find a way to run out of your eyes, but you couldn’t deny, that you felt better.

Your friends helped a lot. Seoun-mi was the only one who said that if Jeong-won insisted, you could let him explain himself. Ruby and Jade immediately said no.

The spring was right around the corner. The rain was slowly coming to an end. The coats were being replaced with sweaters and cardigans. Even the sun cooperated, warming enough to make you go out to run.

Jeong-won crossed the street to walk towards his car. He had submitted a mini EP of music, expected to release mid-spring.

The city looked active, almost as if everyone had been trapped by the winter. He pulled out the keys to his car when he looked up.

His feet dragged him away, noticing a woman jogging down the street.

His face turned in awe after realizing it was you. Your matching grey tracksuit was hard to miss. He remembered you mentioned you were asthmatic, he wondered if you carried your inhalator.

“Y/N!” Jeong-won couldn’t care less if everyone stared at him as if he was insane. He started running hoping to get your attention.

His heart started beating so fast, the rush of seeing your face again, the hope of having you by his side again.

But that didn’t happen, you didn’t even listen. Music was playing so loud through your wireless headphones.

Jeong-won stopped running. He stared at your blurred vision and sighed in dismay.

His phone rang and he answered, still looking at you.

“Are you busy?” In-ji asked.

“No. I’m going home…” the man answered.

…

As the desperation started to burn you, the need to go out also grew stronger.

Ruby and Seoun-mi had seminars, and Jade had a meeting with her major advisor.

The outcome? You dancing all alone in a club.

You couldn’t go to the same one where you used to go. That’s where you met Jeong-won, it was too painful.

But as the alcohol sinks in, you start to feel tipsy, alerting you to stop drinking.

For a second you thought it was already too late but Han Jeong-won was actually there.

He gently pushed people to come to you.

There isn’t even time to feel angry, nervous, or panicked.

“What are you doing here?” You ask loudly.

“I came with a friend…” he admits, looking hopeful.

When you try to sneak away, Jeong-won grabs your wrist and pushes you against his chest. Only to then kiss you.

In his arms, you felt safe.

With his kisses, you felt cherished.

The man who urgently smashed his lips with yours in the middle of the dance floor while music blasted from the speakers was the love of your life.

He couldn't resist the temptation. Couldn't miss the chance and needed to let you know he always loved you. That everything was true.

"Please, believe me..." he pleaded, holding your hands.

"Fuck you, Jeong-Won"

Frivolously, you leave the taste of poison on his lips. His hand tried to grab yours again, but you slipped, leaving him.

Like you had already done before.

But it didn't make it easier, because tears started falling down the first step out of the club.

And in the middle of the cold night, you slip into your coat and start a quiet walk towards home.

You wished you knew he was mourning a life he had before you.

…

Caffè Americano…

The smell fills your nostrils and the warmth of the cup soothes the cold of your hands. Too many thoughts have run through your head over the days. And it was very rushed to say you were over Jeong-won. Walking through the same streets you once walked while feeling in love was devastating, as dramatic as it sounded.

But it’s a good day. You can feel like you are reaching peacefulness and it’s enough.

It’s been a month and a half since you last saw him. The world is not fresh, but it’s still open.

You walk out of the coffee shop, your boots sound with every step you take and the cool air makes the very few cherry blossoms in the trees fall.

Your eyes scan the street; everyone is just there living.

When would you start feeling like yourself again?

Apparently not at that moment. After coming down the little steps of the coffee shop, you look up and meet two people talking, just inches away.

Why was life so cruel? Why do you have to meet your ex-boyfriend and his wife right then and there?

They feel someone standing in their eyes, but they try to act so normal, like you hadn’t seen them. You start walking away. With firm steps and a well-hidden urge to run as well.

His hair looked the same, but his face looked less tired. She looked younger if that was even possible, with longer hair and more casual clothes.

Jeong-won and In-ji stare at each other awkwardly.

“Go after her” she softly tells him. Jeong-won stares back at her with unease before turning back his attention to you.

He knew you wanted to run away the moment you saw them.

“We already met once. What if we met again and she’s in the middle once again?” He can’t deny the anxiety growing as you stop waiting for the traffic lights to change.

“Jeong-won, perhaps we were really never meant to be together…” his face almost turns into a childish pout.

But maybe… In-ji was right.

She was kind, supportive and caring. She would’ve been a great wife. But their marriage started as a contract, Jeong-won never knew her completely.

He never felt the same way he did with you.

“We couldn’t even say ‘I love you’ to each other…” the woman admitted with a sad smile.

Then both turned to look at you.

“Go, explain her everything. And if we see each other again. It’s because we are meant to be friends. But that’s it…” Jeong-won almost felt his eyes turn glassy. But he nodded, gave Noh In-ju a brief kiss on the forehead, and literally started running towards you.

For a moment he thought about

You are still waiting for the green light when you hear him. You spot a cab and make him a sign to stop by you.

“Y/N !” When you look back, you see Jeong-won running, out of breath with his hand waving in an attempt to make you notice him.

You sigh, already feeling stressed out.

“This needs to stop. I can’t take it anymore!” You almost yell as soon as he ends up face-to-face with you. “I know it was just a coincidence and she’s your wife, but it’s not fair. I can’t do this anymore…”

You’re so mentally exhausted that you don’t even notice your eyes tearing up until the cool air makes you aware of the tears.

“Please, don’t cry. If you just let me explain… you and I-“

Boom. You explode…

“YOU AND I, NOTHING!”

It spills out of your mouth. The words even hurt you since you know it’s not true. People around stare but you don’t care.

“This is why I can’t go out anymore. I’m so scared that I will have to see your face again… “ his heart breaks, he can’t stand your tired and hurt tone, your burning cheeks, and your red eyes.

He wants to make it better but doesn’t know how.

“I never wanted to hurt you…” he admits with his broken voice and you find the strength to chuckle. “I will remember that when I’m gone…”

“You’re leaving?” Jeong-won finds himself panicking, already desperate to make you stay.

“If the office approves my petition, yes. I’ll leave in three weeks” his face goes pale. “And even after everything… I can’t hate you, Jeong-won”

Your cab arrives just in time, and you disappear without saying anything else. You don’t even look at him again.

And as the cab drives away, you begin to think about anything else. In hopes of forgetting about everything, starting with his face.

…

2:00 am…

You can’t sleep. It was the following night after a hangover day. Your friends almost cried, pleading you stay at least the rest of the semester. You hadn’t thought about leaving the apartment and all of the good memories built there.

You look through the open curtains at the skyline. The same crystal diving you from the city that once was your lullaby as Jeong-won hugged you and combed his fingers through your hair.

You were so sober that you even questioned if he deserved to explain himself.

What if he was in a bad marriage and he couldn’t get divorced but started seeing you? No… Then why did they look very happy talking to each other the last time?

What if he actually never meant to cheat on his wife but tremendously fell in love with you? No… He still cheated and never told you about it.

But he said he loved you.

And he looked sincere while doing so…

*beep beep*

Your phone makes you touch the ground again.

After hours of being in the dark, the light of the screen blinds you for a second.

Five new messages…

Jeong-won ♡

You never removed the heart beside his name in the contract.

Jeong-won ♡ ׂ╰┈➤

I can’t sleep again.

and not because I’ve taken

the pills again. I miss you like

you have no idea.

I know I hurt you despite not

wanting to. But as I said, it’s complicated.

Jeong-won ♡ ׂ╰┈➤

My first wife and I had issues.

She always wanted to

control me. We almost had a kid,

but we lost it and that shattered my

life once again. So she urged me

to sign a fake marriage, now I see

how twisted and stupid it is.

Jeong-won ♡ ׂ╰┈➤

I was so uncomfortable when this

new woman appeared at my place.

It was already a bad place

and it added up to my neglect. It was

never my intention to cheat on In-ji.

I was only being friendly

that night we met in the club. But the

more I heard you, the more I realized

how lonely I was. It was luck or a fluke

that you were in that burger shop

days after.

Jeong-won ♡ ׂ╰┈➤

I swear to you, y/n, that every

word, caress, and moment I shared

with you was real. Never in my life

I’ve been more sure about

feeling like this. I wanted to tell

you about the marriage, but I

didn’t know how. I thought that

no matter how much I tried to

explain, it would sound terrible.

I was so close to falling in love

with her. But thank goodness

I didn’t, because I would have

settled for so little compared

to you. The marriage contract is

over. That day you saw us together,

it was the first time I saw her

in months. She told me to go after you.

Jeong-won ♡ ׂ╰┈➤

I don’t think it’s enough

explanation. But I hope it’s

enough for you to believe me

when I say I truly love you.

I’m so sure I want to waste as

many years as needed as long as

you forgive me. Please don’t leave,

I need you. Even when I don’t deserve

it.

✓ ✓

You don’t cry, you don’t panic, you don’t even blink. You just lock the phone and set it aside. Your eyes locked on the ceiling as you start drifting off, succumbing to sleep.

…

It could’ve been any other day. But it was raining when you decided to drop the final papers to withdraw from the study abroad program and return home. The apartment was a mess, half of it already packed up inside carton boxes and the other half resting as if nothing was happening.

The decision was not properly made, that was clear.

Your head was a disaster, a swimming mess.

Your life has been quite boring but comforting ever since you entered your teenage years. Never in your wildest dreams, you thought you would be stressing over a failed relationship where the man was married.

Three months after that embarrassing night at the restaurant, you are in a very different place and situation.

The rain has stopped, the sun peaks between grey clouds but the streets are still a wet mess.

You avoid the puddles of water that form across the sidewalk. Your cable earphones get tangled with the bunch of papers in your arms. It’s annoying until you slow down to take them off and hold the papers properly.

You bump into someone. The altercation being a little violent makes you almost fall to your knees, but the stranger holds your shoulders.

And the papers fall from your hands, drenching in the water.

“Fuck…” you whisper, hurrying to kneel, not caring that your knees get wet, you can only save the top papers. You see the hands of the stranger also trying to save them. That’s when you look up at the stranger.

Without a warning you end up smiling, Jeong-won smiles back at the instant. Both of you chuckle.

The half-drenched papers slip from your hands again, completely drowning in the puddle of water.

“Is it too late?” He asks.

“For what?”

“For begging you to stay with me…” your hands snake to grab his. He had a black turtleneck sweater and a jacket hanging over his shoulder. He looked painfully gorgeous.

You think about all those hours you spent re-reading his messages.

“I think you have begged enough” you reply.

Needless to say… you just know it was meant to happen.

Your arms lock around his neck and it’s you the one kissing him. Jeong-won mentally sighs, feeling relieved and renewed.

You can feel his arms embracing you tightly, as if scared you would slip away from him again.

Out of breath, he rests his forehead against yours, witnessing how the pain slowly washed away.

“It’s okay…” you almost whisper, he nods, briefly smiling. “Jeong-won, let's go home”

You knew he understood. Both of you knew home was wherever the two of you were together.

…

The heat was slowly building up. The windows started to remain open all day and night. Jeong-won was slightly stressed out, he had an upcoming trip and was in a mall, outside of a candle store.

His phone was almost burning when he realized the day was indeed hot.

“Jeong-won?” He turns only to encounter In-ji, smiling brightly at him.

“In-ji…”

His ex-wife appeared upon him, looking gorgeous. She looked happy, with her long hair now dyed chocolate brown.

“How are you?” He asked giving her a quick hug. “I haven’t seen you in… a long time”

It had been a year, to be exact.

“What happened with y/n?” She asks straight to the point and Jeong-won chuckles. “Why are you laughing?”

“It was bad… Remember?” In-ji nods, then he points at a woman squatting while looking at candles inside the store.

It was you, wearing a sundress that hunched over the floor. A purse hanging from your shoulder with many keychains. And when you stood up and turned to the side, In-ji noticed your left arm was also busy, holding a newborn baby.

“HAN JEONG-WON, YOU HAD A BABY?” the man starts laughing while nodding. “Oh my goddess! Congratulations!”

“I can’t believe it myself” he admits after accepting the hug In-ji gave him.

It felt nice to see her. She was right, they functioned better as friends.

“It’s a girl, right? What’s her name?” His eyes brightened at the subject.

Jeong-won had a baby with you…

“She has two names. June Iseul” the name of the baby rolled over his tongue and he found himself smiling again.

June Iseul was born in the peak of the winter, weighing and measuring less than expected, with matted raven hair and grey irises that were slowly becoming like yours but shaped just like her father’s.

“That’s adorable!” In-hi admitted, feeling awe at the sight of the baby in your arms, wearing a rainbow onesie.

“And I guess you married her?” Jeong-won huffed.

You never denied how June Iseul had been an accident. She came to slow down your academic career, she also made you gain weight and lose some hair but her arrival amidst winter gave you half a year to recover. You felt amazing and June Iseul was growing healthy.

Jeong-won was happier than ever. He was just a little worried about the reason why they were in the mall. Your parents were slightly mad and very confused as to why you left home being single and a full-time student and you were going to visit them being a part-time student, with a boyfriend and a baby.

Jeong-won was nervous, excited, and eager to marry you.

“Well… happens that y/n doesn’t fully believe in traditional marriage. I’ve asked her on multiple occasions but she keeps saying that we shouldn’t push it yet” Jeong-won admits rolling his eyes, she chuckles, turning her head to see you invested in the newborn section. “She’s very smart”

“She is…” he agrees, joining the chuckles and smiling like an idiot at the sight of you with his daughter.

“Well I didn’t have a baby, but I got married” In-ji revealed, making Jeong-won almost gag.

“What? When?”

“Two weeks ago. I met him in Thailand and… I don’t know. I’m just… very happy” Both smiled, feeling in peace knowing everyone had moved on. “I’m happy for you, Jeong-won. I can tell you are living a dream”

“I’m also happy for you…” both smiled at each other.

…

An hour later, you are done shopping and the most important thing is in your hands; a stroller for June Iseul.

Jeong-won pushed the stroller as both of you walked towards a pasta restaurant.

“It sucks that you got me pregnant before my twenties ended. I should be in the club!” you object, exaggerating. You can hear Jeong-won huffing in disbelief.

“You literally go out to the club every week!”

He was right. Your life pretty much remained the same.

“And that’s one more reason I love you so much”

Even with the arrival of June Iseul, Jeong-won had no problems with staying with the baby while you attended classes or decided to hang out with your friends. He used to have a lot of free time, but now… he found the perfect routine.

“What are we ordering?” He asks, grabbing a menu as you both wait your turn to order and pay.

“You pick the pasta and I want a pizza with truffle oil. What do you say?” You negotiate with a smile.

He gets so lost in your beautiful face that he ends up smiling back like an idiot.

“What?” You ask again, chuckling at his silly face. “Nothing, I just love you so much”

You blush. And before you can say anything.

You hear some coos.

“I’ll order, you pick a table and feed Junjun” Jeong-won reassures you, knowing very well his daughter was demanding and using the silly nickname he had given her.

You take a seat at a secluded table and turn the stroller so you can uncover it.

June Iseul was awake.

“Hello, little blossom” she smiled and it melted your heart. “I know you’re hungry…”

She was very small and soft. She had that baby smell but as her mother, you thought your baby smelled perfectly compared to the others.

She locked her eyes with yours as you breastfed her, not caring about the attention because your back was facing the world, and the table was secluded enough to cover you.

June Iseul’s pale skin resembled her father’s, making her look a little like a porcelain doll. Like the one your friend Jade gifted her from Japan months ago.

The doll was very sophisticated and rested along with some baby books and toys.

“Your father isn’t very good at conversations with strangers, right?” You ask your baby as you pull her out of the stroller and into your chest. Your boyfriend seemed to awkwardly be exchanging words with the woman taking the order. It made you chuckle.

After a long night talking and him telling you every single detail of his life, everything changed.

Just when he got a little house in a modest neighborhood and asked you to move in, you accidentally got pregnant.

What seemed like a challenge turned out to be easier than expected. Jeong-won had been the perfect partner all along.

Ignoring the judgment from your peers in classes after you waddled around campus with a baby bump, everything was perfect.

Also ignoring all the insults you threw to Jeong-won while he held your hand in the delivery room, everything was perfect.

So seeing him come with the receipt of the order and taking June Iseul from your arms to burp her made you realize how lucky you were.

How fucked up things were until they weren’t.

You have a boyfriend begging you to marry him and a perfect baby that looks like him. Both are in wait to visit your homeland and parents for the first time.

The flash of your phone pulls Jeong-won out of his trance with June Iseul.

“Are you taking us a picture?” he asks.

“Yes, you both look so adorable” you admit looking at the screen. June Iseul perfectly locked eyes with his father and you captured it in a picture.

You would print it, use it as your lock screen, and send it to your friends.

Ruby immediately replies in the group chat, then Jade, and lastly Seoun-mi.

Rubz <3 ׂ╰┈➤

DILF + adorable baby spotted!!!!

Jadore ׂ╰┈➤

Is that the onesie I bought her?

June Iseul my baby 🩷🩷🩷

misu :) ׂ╰┈➤

Tell Jeong-won he’s not

holding her neck properly:)

misu:) ׂ╰┈➤

I love her <3

you ׂ╰┈➤

Everyone gets In-N-Out and

animal fries after we come

back to Korea (cold ofc)

you ׂ╰┈➤

For being such a good

trio of aunts 💋

You lock your phone with a smile on your face as you stand up.

“Where are you going?” Jeong-won asks.

“To wash my hands, silly” You lean forward to kiss him briefly and you can feel him smiling amidst the kiss.

It’s inappropriate but since the table is secluded, you feel playful enough to add tongue and have a little touch with his.

And then you remember your daughter is in the middle of you two and had just burped.

“She spilled some milk…” Jeong-won hurriedly says, breaking the kiss.

You chuckle and kiss your daughter’s matted hair.

“Then clean her, Jeong-won,” you say before leaving to finally wash your hands. As your steps grow further, you can hear your boyfriend talking in Korean with June Iseul.

“Your mother is a little spitfire. That’s why I want to marry her…”

There’s an embarrassing smile on your face when you look at yourself in the bathroom mirror.

___________________________

Taglist: @stargirl-mayaa @czarinera @dovediva @dreamersparacosm @girlythings111 @love2fangirl @migueloharassoulmate @fangirl4lifetime @wonallofme @otakusimp1 @muchwita @preppyfella @xcinnamonmalfoyx

[omgfangirlland]

The Shadows That Nurture 4

I may have girl bossed a bit too close to the sun and finished Chapter 5 and 6 too- I'm not quite happy with those so I'll go through them again before posting Ch5 😅

Masterlist || First || previous<< Chapter 4 >>next

Well, we all knew they would never have time for you. They never do until it’s too late. That’s why funerals are for the living to say goodbye, to mourn, to let go of the guilt. It still hurt… It hurt so much to be brushed off by Alfred, to be ignored by Bruce, to be yelled at by Dick. You couldn’t even think of Jason without tearing up, and Tim was just straight-up mean. But at least he was honest. Cassandra and Barbara’s avoidance hurt the most since they were your only female interaction in years.

Everything you tried to do to prove yourself was, at best, ignored, at worst, compared to someone else and diminished. You had nothing in common with Richard besides knowing a few of the same bands. But that wasn’t enough to raise his interest in interacting with you. Every time he looked at you it was like he was angry and sad at the same time.

Jason and you were so similar. Finally, someone you could relate to, who knew how life on the streets was, how terrifying the big space of the Wayne residence was compared to the lives you once had. And yet he was more interested in Dick, no matter how rude the oldest boy was. You couldn’t blame him, you also wanted Richard’s attention. Your heart felt like it was rolled through needles and lemon juice when Jason got everything you wanted just for you to watch him get buried. Dick was angry when Jason first showed up, jealous, but by the time Jason grew up he was just as angry. You hoped that wouldn’t happen to you.

You were a great student, thriving in your classes and finishing middle school earlier than others, what else were you supposed to do when you had no friends? Of course, that was nothing to Tim’s brilliance. And every time you tried to bond with him on that or show him your achievements it would be a tired “I don’t have time for you.” or an uninterested “I achieved that when I was younger than you.”

Barbara is everything you wanted to be when older, smart, beautiful, had friends and the family's attention. It hurt so much to see her get along with Cassandra but not you, never you. And Cassandra… You tried. You tried to befriend her without overwhelming her, but since the first introduction, she had started ignoring you too, downright leaving the room if you entered it. Bruce went to all her recitals, but he never had time for your galleries or competitions. You stopped asking everyone to come when you found the invites and pamphlets balled up and thrown in the trash bins.

By the time Duke and Stephanie came around you had given up, what use was it? It’ll be another rejection, so you just took care of the garden and did more art, your room overflowing with it. You spent at least half of the monthly allowance Bruce gave, and yet you could still be a millionaire.

You gave up on the Waynes, only speaking to them if they spoke to you. You were done with them, with their secrets, with how they would talk between each other in whispers and then get quiet when you stepped into the room. They’d always look at you like you were a stranger, an enemy. And perhaps you were. So, fuck them. Fuck the boys, fuck the girls, and fuck Bruce and Alfred too.

Sneaking out was the best thing you have done for yourself- sure it was a long way from the Manor to the city and back, but it was all worth it. It was worth it to see the other street kids, to hear their stories, to hang out with the homeless and the girls on their smoke break, it was worth everything when you found your mom’s grave. It was nice, it felt like home.

Was it dangerous? Yes. But as long as you stuck to Red Hood’s territory you were fine, his rule of keeping kids safe seemed to also apply to you. He was nice, even if he never spoke around you beyond hums and grunts, but you enjoyed how gentle he was with the other kid, how he ruffled your hair, and how he helped you clean your mom’s grave. He was nice, and surprisingly so were most other rogues.

Ivy enjoyed helping you with tips for the garden, some of the flowers you grew there on every 13th of the month were made into bouquets for her, your mom’s grave, and Jason’s too. Two-face was surprisingly nice about your inquiry of the law and Penguin enjoyed helping you with your business classes. The Riddler made you want to smash your head against a wall most of the time, but boy was he good with philosophy.

You avoided the Joker like the plague. You couldn’t find it in you to care for him when Harley reminded you so much of your mom when she came with a black eye or busted lip asking if you could take care of Bud and Lou for a jiffy. You could never say no to her.

If Red Hood wasn’t keeping an eye on you, it was Bane or Killer Croc, both men letting you climb and swing from them like a spider. They enjoyed seeing a kid not tremble in fear at the sight of them, despite whatever they may tell you. Mr. Freeze was nice too, lonely like you. Sad you simply couldn’t take the cold for long no matter how many layers you put on.

You loved them all to a degree, but Catwoman always made you feel like her kid, not just a kid. Sometimes you felt guilty for wanting to call her mom, you had a mom. But she made you feel all soft and mushy, calling you her kit, crying with you when you first heard her call you that. She thought she had hurt you, oh, how panicked she was. But her hug was so warm, so loving once she found out that no one had called you their kid in so long.  You wish she would steal you away, she does too, but she made a deal with Red Hood. Selina wishes she had just taken you and moved across the country, everyone be damned.

Unknowingly, you had created the garden to hold flowers that reminded you of all of them, even the Waynes. You couldn’t bring yourself to kill their flowers, to make bouquets of them or sell them- you just didn’t have it in you. So, you just kept on growing them, talking to them, and telling those flowers what your alleged family would never listen to. And then Bruce ruined it all.

He wasn’t sure why he did it, exhaustion or paranoia, maybe both? But all Bruce knew he was seeing is his mom’s garden flourishing after years of it being neglected, of Alfred overlooking it at Bruce’s request to focus on what rooms were being used inside the manor instead. He didn’t think twice about grabbing the pesticide designed for Poison Ivy, didn’t think about asking Alfred, about asking the kids, he just reacted.

Bruce was drinking his guilt away in his office, forehead pressed against his desk as one hand held a whiskey glass and the other gripped at his hair. He had never seen his youngest that angry, crying so much-… He wasn’t sure when the last time he saw her smile or hang around the family was.

“What have you done?!” He remembers how pained and angry you sounded as he killed the last flower, his flower. He remembers how he acted, how annoyance rose in him as he explained, and he remembers how his heart fell out of his ass when you said that you took care of the garden and that you spent years building it.

His face remained unmoving as his hands shook, as his jaw clenched, as he could feel the sky crash on his head in tempo with your tears falling down your cheeks. He tried to justify himself, come up with a lie, something that would make him feel less guilty, but- “Yeah?! Well, maybe you would have known if you actually spared a glance in my direction from time to time- You should have left me in an orphanage, no- it should have been you instead of mom!”

You were hurt, you didn’t mean it, he was sure. Even after you went into the manor, crying your heart out, Bruce still sat there. He wasn’t sure what he could do, the pesticide ruined the soil, he didn’t even remember what flowers he saw. The man just went into his daytime office, grabbed his father's liquor, and drank. Bruce knew he should go and apologize and try to talk to you. He poured himself another full glass, instead. Tonight, Batman will be sleeping, and tomorrow Bruce will raise your allowance. If he remembers.

You knew to some degree Bruce didn’t like you, but for him to not even notice that you poured your blood and sweat into that garden when Alfred and even Cassandra did felt like a punch to the gut. You were a good kid, you tried your best to be, so why was this the hand you were dealt? Did he honestly think the flowers in the manor were bought by Alfred? The old man was so busy the last thing on his mind was to buy flowers for the house.

You couldn’t believe him, you could only cry for the lost plants, for one of the three things that brought you happiness. You curled into a ball under the warm duvet, crying into your knees until you could not anymore. The shadows did their best to soothe you, lulling you to sleep as the exhaustion of crying helped them.

Dreams didn’t come easy to you, sure, you had the usual nightmare, but calm dreams were a rare occasion. And this one felt so nice as you drifted in the endless dark space, two figures you couldn’t quite make out helping you stay afloat as they talked… chanted? You weren’t sure. It sounded like Latin, but it also didn’t. No matter, it was soothing, warm, it was what you needed.

You felt light as a feather. You felt free and- you hit your head… The pain not only confuses you but also wakes you up, the throbbing on the side of your head making you groan. Your tired eyes looked around trying to figure out what you hit as your hand rubbed the sore spot.

Maybe you were still dreaming. You must still be dreaming. Panic set into your veins- there was no way this was actually happening, it couldn’t be happening. You couldn’t be a meta- Batman hated metas and he worked for your- he worked for Bruce- You were fucked.

It didn’t matter that as soon as it happened and you panicked your body hit the floor so hard it rattled your nightstand, making a framed picture fall and break, it didn’t matter that you didn’t register the pain, or notice that you broke the floorboard where you hid all your diaries and drawings you made for the family- all your brain knew is that you should leave before Batman throws you in Arkham or GSP.

So that’s what you did. You grabbed your sports bag that you used for art supplies, stuffed it with some clothes, your laptop, phone, the chargers, took a few sketchbooks and pens, and the card with Bruce’s money. Not like he’ll notice, he didn’t notice that you spent thousands every other week at a fast-food joint for the homeless and street kids, didn’t notice that you spent millions every other year at retail stores for the same people, he didn’t notice the donations. He was as blind as a bat.

“Leap of faith” is what Superman once said in an interview about how others with the power could learn to take off. “It’s just a leap of faith.” He was right- you almost pissed yourself, but he was right. You understood why he always was floating above the ground; it felt so freeing to fly, circling the manor to the top, feeling the air around you. It was so nice. You should move, fly away, and yet your eyes can’t leave the destroyed garden. You should make a few stops before fully leaving… just a few.

When each of the rogues found one singular flower in their favorite seat, their window sill, on the weapons and cars they owned, all withered and falling apart, they knew what it meant.

Ivy was the first, she knew the second the plants died. After all, she helped keep the plants alive, nothing could thrive on the Wayne land anymore, almost like it was cursed, as if Death herself lived on the grounds. But seeing the burned and greying orange trumpet vine told her everything she needed to know, that it wasn’t you who destroyed them. Bruce Wayne and the Bats didn’t know what was about to come their way.

You’ll miss your friends, the kids, the rogues. You’ll miss Catwoman, but she always told you to be a bit more selfish. This was the moment for that. Doubt settled in at some point, but you had nothing holding you attached to the Waynes, Catwoman couldn’t or just wouldn’t take care of you, it was time to let go and abuse Bruce’s ignorance, make a new life for you where you don’t need to hide in the night for some social interaction.

New York City should be the perfect place for it.

Tag List: @bat1212 @trashlanternfish360 @shycreatorreview @syrooo @a-lurking-fae @alittletiredcry

[deathlygristly]

The spousal person and I chose each other when we were 18. We're 44 and 43 now (I'm seven months older than him which I'm sure scandalizes antis, like I could roll over on my own while he was still a fetus so clearly I am preying on him) and we are still very happily monogamous.

Here's the thing though.

We're both autistic, neither of us grew up religious (well, the spousal person went to Catholic school K-8 but he never believed in it), we both lost a parent before we met (my father died when a month after I turned 7 and his mother died when he was 17, a few months before we met) and on our first date when we were 18 we both agreed that we did not want children and that we cared more about being happy than about outward markers of success and status.

Now 25 years later we don't have kids but we do have a lot of cats, and I often tell him that my dream is for him and the kitties to be happy and he says his is for me and the kitties to be happy. :)

We got married when we were 21, in a drive-thru chapel in Gatlinburg/Pigeon Forge. No rings, no fancy outfits, no guests, nothing like that. Just paperwork and then driving around to the window for the officiant to say the official words, lol. I didn't change my last name.

I've been learning more about autism lately and listening to the Autistic Culture podcast and things, and maybe it's the autism, I don't know. Neither of us really understand conformity or social pressure. Neither of us are real good at socializing long term with other people. We like our routines and our rituals. We're comfortable with each other and very much not comfortable around strangers. Dealing with other people is A Lot for us.

The main thing though is that it was all completely our own choice, from the moment I emailed him and asked if he wanted to hang out without our other friends to now, when I am sitting here with a cat in my lap and he's in the kitchen making a dinner that we both talked about and chose, and then we'll eat it while watching two kdrama episodes that we talked about and chose.

Also I get really confused about things I see on here about marriage and relationships with dudes, because I don't recognize any of what the haters are saying. The spousal person does all the housework except vacuuming. I don't do all the emotional stuff. We take care of each other and support each other. He's really cool and fun and I love him more than the universe and when we're watching a kdrama and something funny happens and he laughs and I look back at him and I hear his laugh and I see his face....it's the most beautiful perfect experience in existence and I want to be near him for always.

But if you didn't choose it, if you felt pressured into it by society or religion or family, if you don't even like the person you're building your life with, if you don't support each other and you don't talk and you don't feel free to be yourself and you're just performing to please some weird external Other....yeah, I can see that being awful.

If what you really want is monogamy and lifelong commitment, you absolutely cannot force it on an unwilling pseudopartner. Domination is not commitment. Abuse is not commitment. Performing to please an external other is not commitment.

To me commitment isn't hard at all. It's the easiest thing in the world. It's just hanging out forever with my most best friend who is also the coolest cutest human to ever exist in all possible realities.

But based on what I've learned about other people since I got internet access...it's not going to be easy if you can't accept yourself for who you are and if you care more about conformity and social status than your own happiness and if you haven't taken responsibility for your own emotions and you aren't willing to work on healing your own trauma.

And if you do work on healing your own trauma and take responsibility for your emotions and get comfortable with who you are and with respecting other people as their own unique self and you find that what you want is polyamory or being single or whatever, go for it! That can be commitment too, to a steady set of multiple partners or to yourself and your own integrity.

I don't know. I think the point is that domination and abuse and forcing others never works and never results in long term happiness, no matter the number of people involved. You gotta respect the autonomous selves of others if you want mature committed relationships, of whatever kind.

Gotta stop here because he says dinner is ready. :)

everybody talks about men in trad marriages having affairs with their secretaries but it’s worth noting a lot of women back then had side pieces too. you can force a woman to submit to you legally but you can never force her to love you or maintain fidelity against her will. you can get rid of no fault divorce and get rid of abortion but you can’t get rid of fun.

[samzzarella]

Can you do a headcanon for Se-Mi where she's dating someone who's younger than her. We don't really know her exact age but the age gap is at least 4 years, but it's still a legal age gap ofc!

Idk if someone already did this or not but I've had this thought in my head for a good while now. But no rush on writing, take your time!!

Sorry it took so long! Hope you like it!

TAKE THE WEIGHT OFF HER SHOULDERS

~ Older Se-mi x reader headcanons

(smut headcanons after the cut)

✧.* You met her at a friend’s wedding, where she immediately caught your eye, looking charming in a black suit, short hair slightly slicked back. But before you had even spotted her, she had seen you, bright and captivating.

✧.* She was 5 years older than you, with a good job, and you were just finishing college, so naturally, you felt a bit inadequate, but she instantly squashed that feeling from the beginning of your relationship.

✧.* She’s super protective of you, so she’s always on gaurd when she’s out with you. Her arm will always be around your waist or shoulders, unless she’s holding your hand.

✧.* She’s often stretched thin by her work, coming home exhausted, and you’re always there to take care of her with massages and cuddles. She insists on paying for stuff when you go out because she likes the feeling of being able to provide for you.

✧.* LOVES to ruffle your hair, especially if you’re shorter than her.

✧.* When you’re hanging out at a friend’s house or at a party, she’ll often have you sit on her lap, arms looped around your waist.

✧.* I think she likes PDA, because she wants everyone to know that you’re hers, ESPECIALLY if someone tries to flirt with you. Like, she gets petty if someone even looks at you funny, and will put on a show, no matter where you are, being extremely touchy with you.

✧.* She wears formals to work and they always look sooo good on her, especially when she gets home, a button or two popped open from the top of her shirt as she gets comfortable. It takes considerable effort on your part to not pounce on her when she’s looking like that.

~ nsfw (18+ minors do not interact)

✧.* If she had a really frustrating day at work, prepare to be very sore the next day, because the strap will be making an appearance and she’s gonna take out all her frustration on you. On those nights, she practically has super human stamina, and will go for hours. But you can trust that the after-care will be divine.

✧.* I’m pretty sure she would have a daddy kink. Call her that once and she’ll go fucking ballistic, probably giving you the best orgasm you’ve had in your life.

✧.* Hair pulling. That’s all I’m gonna say.

[agreeeeeeeeeee]

HI ALLIE CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR 1000 FOLLOWERS I THINK ABSOLUTELY DESERVED BECAUSE YOUR WORK IS INCREDIBLE YOU ATE THAT UP SLAYYYYYYYYYYYYY

I............ I have never submitted a request, unless I was explicitly asked by the writer because ksjdjdjjjsjsj ME ASKING FOR SOMETHING?????? SNSJSJSJ ANYWAY I was like it should be fine because it's for your celebration SOOO hear me out. Remus Lupin ? IM GOING THRU A REMUS THING ? 1000 scars/1000 glances???? WHICHEVER IS FINE YOURE GONNA EAT WITH THAT

WEE OK BYE I LOVE YOU BYE

xxx

ilysm and I hope this only deepens your Remus fixation 🫶🏻 thank you so much for all of your love and support, I genuinely get excited when I see you pop up in my feed or notifs. my favorite hanni 🤍

1000 inked scars | R.L.

feat. Remus Lupin x tattooartist!reader

cw: mdni 18+, possessive!Remus, marking kink, oral (fem receiving), tattoo needles and tattooing, mentions of injury and scars, probably inaccurate representation of tattooing in the 70's, no war

1000 things prompt list (closes feb 1!) | masterlist

“Quit squirming or I’m going to turn this constellation into a penis,” you griped, lifting your machine from Sirius’ leg.

“Maybe if you didn’t handle that gun like a cudgel—”

You slapped his fresh tattoo and he yelped. “Pull yourself together, Black. You’re almost done.”

He groaned, slumping back onto the table with his arms slung over his head. “Sadist,” he hissed.

You resumed your tattooing, packing black ink to the map of stars. “Said the masochist that paid me to stab him a million times.”

He glanced down at you. “Are you flirting with me?”

You glared up at him.

Just then, the bell on the front door or you shop chimed. A tall man with sandy hair, dressed in jeans and thick sweater stood in the foyer, looking around at the art and plants strewn about. Given your profession, you immediately noticed his lack of tattoos, and the scars marring his hands and neck, one even stretching from his sharp jaw towards his nose.

“Moony!” Sirius called, jerking his leg and nearly inking himself.

“Sirius,” you bit, but he was already out of the chair.

“What’s—uh, what’s up, Pads?” the stranger, Moony?, said, glancing down at Sirius’ rolled up pant leg and the nearly finished tattoo on his calf. Then, his eyes flicked to you, a deep brown and sallow with exhaustion, but his beauty struck you like a blow, the lines of his face coalescing in a way that would make the great painters weep.

Based on the countless stories Sirius had told you in the hours spent on your table, you surmised that this was Remus Lupin, his level-headed, long-suffering schoolmate.

“I wanted you to meet my friend!” Sirius grabbed his by the elbow and dragged him towards your station.

You sighed and set your machine aside. Clearly, you were taking a break.

“Remus, this is y/n, the architect of my beauty,” Sirius said, gesturing grandly in your direction.

You slid off one of your gloves and extended it to Remus. “Pleasure. I’ve heard loads about you.”

“Oh?” Remus asked, shaking your hand with a light touch, his skin warm and a bit rough. “Terrible things, I wager?”

“The worst,” you chuckled, and the corner of his mouth twitched up into a half-smile.

“Well, then there’s no where to go but up,” he said with a cheeky wink, and your heart damn near leaped out of your mouth.

“I asked Moony to come hang out for the last bit of the tattoo so he could pick your brain,” Sirius said, hopping back up onto the table.

“Sirius—”

“Pick my brain about what?” You asked, pulling up a chair for Remus and sitting back onto your stool, putting on a fresh pair of gloves.

“I, uh—”

“Moony wants to know if you can tattoo over scars,” Sirius said, earning a glare from Remus.

“Absolutely!” you chirped, hoping to dispel Remus’ clear discomfort. “Just takes a few extra passes, but it shouldn’t be an issue.”

Remus gave you a small, grateful smile. “Really?”

“Really. I’ve tattooed over dozens of scars, cover-ups, or decorations. I’d love to work with you.” Merlin, did you just say that out loud? You needed to get it together; you were a professional.

“See, Moons? I told you!” Sirius propped his leg back up, and you fired up the machine. “And it doesn’t even hurt.”

You lowered the machine back to his leg, taking a few quick warm up strokes.

“AHH YOU WITCH!” Sirius wailed. You and Remus both jumped at his shouting, but he quickly dissolved into laughter. “Bloody hell, I knew you two would get along. You’ve got twin scowls,” Sirius chuckled, leaning back against the table with his hands behind his head.

You glanced at Remus, and he looked back at you. A flicker of connection flared between you, and heat rose in your cheeks. Quickly, you looked away, turning your attention back to Sirius’ tattoo.

“So, what are you thinking you want to get, Rem?” Sirius asked after a few moments of quiet, the buzzing of the machine filling the air.

Remus shrugged. “Hadn’t really thought about it. Just wanted to do…something.”

“Well, if you want, we can try and cover any up. But I find that people really get more out of going the decorative route,” you supplied, looking at Remus while you picked up more ink. “I can hand draw a few designs that flow with the scar, turn it into an art piece itself.”

Remus was quiet for a moment, contemplative, and Sirius gave you a knowing smile. “I think I might like that, yeah,” Remus said, his voice soft, almost awestruck. Like he’d never ever considered the possibility before.

As a tattoo artist, you were intimately aware of how much a person’s skin could impact their well being, scars in particular weighed heavily on many people’s spirit. Remus, it seemed, was no exception.

Sirius guided the conversation in another direction, giving Remus a chance to process the implications of what you offered, and you finished the tattoo half-an-hour later. While you were wiping it down, Remus hovered over you, looking down at the piece.

“You’re really good,” he murmured, close enough that you could smell the wool of his sweater, the lingering notes of cinnamon and tea from his cologne. “It’s beautiful.”

“Thanks, Rem,” you said, smiling up at him, and he smiled back, a flush creeping up his neck before he hurriedly stepped away.

You patched up Sirius and sent the boys on their way, an appointment for Remus on the books for the following week. All he’d given you to work with was placement, his forearm, and that he wanted something natural, like a plant.

Having no more appointments for the evening, you folded yourself into your studio couch with your sketchbook. You sketched a few things, lavender and roses and chamomile, but your fingers itched to draw something else. Remus’ profile floated into your minds eye, sorrowful and striking, and your pen started to move of it’s own accord. His expression came to life under your hand, with long lashes and a crooked nose and that jagged scar.

You clapped your sketchbook shut, sitting back with a sigh.

Next week couldn’t come quickly enough.

You paced around your shop, pouring over your sketch for Remus. You wanted it to be perfect for him, lest you scare him off a tattooing forever.

The door chimes, startling you out of your concentration, and Remus strode in, carrying a tray of drinks and a paper bag

“Morning!” You chirped, hugging your sketchbook to your chest.

“Morning,” he said, passing you one of the cups. “I asked Sirius what you liked, so if it's awful, blame him.”

Butterflies fluttered to life in your stomach. It wasn't unusual for clients to bring you coffee and food, but with Remus it felt…different.

“Oh! You didn't have to do that. Thank you, Remus,” you said, taking a sip. It was your favorite drink, and it's familiar warmth settled some of your nerves.

He gave you a small smile, but you could tell he was nervous. He set the bag on your desk. “I also brought some pastries. Sirius mentioned you like chocolate?”

“I love chocolate.” You beamed. “Come on in, we can sit over here and go over the design.”

Remus nodded, shirking his coat and following you over to the couch. He was like an anxious thundercloud, tense and unsteady, and it made your chest tight with empathy.

“How are you feeling?” You asked, patting the spot beside you.

He sat down, coiled in on himself despite his long limbs. Like he was afraid to take up too much space. “Ah, fine,” he replied, taking a sip of his drink. Earl gray, from the smell of it.

You arched a brow. “It's okay to be nervous, Rem,” you said. “But it's just us, and nothing is set in ink. If you change your mind, it's totally fine.”

“It's just—” he sighed, lifting his arm. He started to roll up his shirt sleeve, dexterous fingers folding the fabric neatly over itself, revealing inch after inch of his forearm. Lightly tanned and taut with lean muscle, veins tangling with the map of scars littering his skin.

He watched your face, gauging your reaction. You tried to stay neutral, but you were practically salivating. He was so beautiful.

“Are they too bad?” He asked, his voice rough with tension.

You met his brown eyes. “Not at all.” You pulled out your sketchbook, flipping to the page you had ear marked. “And it's perfect for what I sketched up.”

He managed a half-smile, some of the clouds disappearing from his aura, and accepted the sketchbook when you handed it to him. His eyes widened.

“Goldenrod,” you said, shifting closer to look at the sketch over his shoulder. “Used to treat pain.”

Remus traced his finger over the tangle of stems, the delicate florals. “I take it almost everyday,” he murmured, looking over at you, his eyes warm and full of something you couldn't quite place.

“So, what do you think?” You asked, your gazes lingering on one another.

“I think it's perfect,” he said, and you smiled, genuinely thrilled that he liked it.

“Okay, ready for me to start sketching?” You asked, and he nodded. You led him over to your station, already set up and waiting for him, and he hoped up onto the chair,, his long limbs dangling near to the floor. To break the quiet, you put on a muggle record, and Remus seemed to relax a bit, sipping on his tea and watching you putter around through dark lashes.

When you settled onto your stool, ink pen in hand, anxiety bloomed in your stomach. Remus was about to watch you draw on him. You’d drawn on hundreds of clients, but like everything else, with Remus it felt…different.

“It might tickle,” you warned, resting his arm where you wanted it, your fingertips tingling from the contact. “And try to stay very still.”

“Whatever you say, love,” he murmured, getting comfortable. Entirely oblivious to the way the petname made your thoughts turn to static.

You placed your sketchbook just beside his arm and made the first line, a quick stem arching alongside a scar stretching from wrist to elbow. Slowly, line after line, the sketch started to come together, flowing with the natural shape of his forearm and it’s scars. You got lost in the act, sinking into the labor of creating.

It wasn’t until Remus made a soft, approving hum in his throat that you peaked up him, breaking your focus. His eyes were almost sleepy, heavy-lidded and soft and the corners, a smile tugging at his lips.

“No wonder Sirius like this so much,” he said, tracing your face with his eyes. “Watching you work is fascinating.”

Heat roared to your cheeks. “Oh, I don’t—he seems more interested in teasing me than letting me work.”

“That does sound like Sirius,” he chuckled. “I like your focused face much more than that scowl.”

Merlin, what was happening to you? You felt like you could melt into your chair like a pile of pudding. Was he flirting with you? Or does he always talk like a romance book hero?

“How long have you guys known each other?” You asked, changing the subject and ducking back down to your work to hide your expression.

“Decade at least,” Remus said. “We met our first year at Hogwarts. Never thought I’d befriend the Sirius Black, but y’know, stranger things have happened.”

“Why’d you think that?”

Remus shrugged, the muttered a soft apology for moving. “Sirius is…Sirius, and I’m…”

“Charming? Sweet? Clever?” You asked, glancing up at him. “Sirius talks about you like you hung the moon.”

A flush creeped up his neck. “He’s dramatic.”

“And brutally honest,” you said, holding his gaze.

“Can I ask you something?” Now it was his turn to change the subject.

“Of course,” you said, capping your pen and setting it aside.

“Why haven’t you, ah, asked?” He glanced down at his scars, and you know what he was implying.

You shrugged. “I figured you’d tell me if you felt comfortable. I’m not here to pry, just help.”

His eyes flitted over your face, swallowing hard, and it seemed he was at a loss for words.

“Ready for ink?” You asked, giving him as reassuring of a smile as you could muster.

He exhaled, turning his wrist to inspect the design. “Ready.”

The rest of the appointment flew by, with Remus sitting like a stone while you tattooed him for close to four hours. You didn’t speak much, letting the music fill the empty air, but it was a comfortable silence, broken by the occasional question or annecdote. Remus seemed to appreciate being able to relax, and you were happy to give him a safe place for little while. Holding space for what this moment meant to him.

When you were finished, Remus stared at the tattoo in the mirror for a long time, and when he turned back for you to wrap it up, you could see tears collecting on his lower lashes.

"Thank you for this," he said, clearing his throat. "You were--this was amazing."

You knew he meant the art, but still, the praise made your heart glow all the same. "Of course, Remus. I'm glad I got to be the one to do this for you."

Before leaving, he placed another appointment on your books for the following week, this time asking for a tree along the back of his calf, the roots spreading across the scaring he had there.

After Remus’ second and third appointment, you noticed a change in him. He seemed more confident, a little more outspoken. He was coming to life before your eyes, and you were starting to see the fuller picture of the boy Sirius loved so much.

Already, you felt so close to him. Connected. And you were starting to miss him those days in between, his appointment becoming the highlight of your week. Your sketchbook was filling with sketches of him, like you mind needed a place to spill your overflowing thoughts of him. With him, it was like every sound was heightened, every movement sharper, the very colors in the room more vibrant. Overwhelming in the best way.

But then he cancelled your fourth appointment, citing illness, and you didn’t see him for two weeks. It wasn’t until he sent and owl requesting an appointment for this coming Friday that you finally felt like you could breathe.

Sorry again for cancelling. Are you free this Friday? Thinking a moon and stars on my chest, with those gorgeous clouds I saw in your sketchbook. Can’t wait, RL.

When Remus walked into your studio, you had to stop yourself from hugging him, you were so excited to see him. He looked tired, a little dimmer than the last time you saw him, but he greeted you with a warm smile and a bag of pastries, and that was all you needed.

You had him sit up on the table, busying yourself with the station in avoidance of the inevitable. He was going to have to take his shirt off. Your heart was palpitating just thinking about it.

“Alright, Rem. Strip for me,” you said, ripping the metaphorical bandaid off.

He huffed a laugh, seeming a bit shy himself. “Yes ma’am.” In a fluid motion, he hooked his fingers under his sweater and tugged it overhead. His chest was tanned and lined with lean muscle, the kind built outdoors, not in the gym. The scaring was worse, deeper gauges in softer flesh, but you barely registered it, too busy staring at the half-healed red slash across his ribs.

You gasped. “Rem, what happened?”

“Would you believe me if I said I was in a fight club?” He rubbed the back of his head, averting his eyes from yours.

“No, but you don’t have to tell me anything. Just that you’re alright,” you said, unable to mask the warble of concern in your voice. You were already starting to gather that Remus was…different. And you'd only met one other person with scars that matched his, and they also always cancelled around the full moon.

His eyes softened. “I’m alright, dove. Don’t worry about me.”

“I’m the only one that gets to gauge you with weapons,” you huffed, grabbing up your sketching marker.

He barked a laugh, head tipping back on his shoulders. “Fair enough. Only you get to wound me permanently from now on.”

“Glad we reached an understanding.” You propped the sketchbook on the table and leaned in to start sketching. Remus sat up as straight as he could, resulting in your head hovering around his clavicle. But, with his long legs, you couldn’t get close enough.

Remus seemed to pick up on your dilemma and slowly spread his knees, allowing you to step between them. The heat of his body was intense, drawing you closer, but you swallowed your impulse, trying to focus instead on the moon and constellations you were mapping out.

As you drew, you started to shift closer, drawn in by the work and his proximity, the clean smell of his skin, until you were practically leaning against him.

“You smell nice,” he hummed, close enough that you felt his breath tickle the hair around your ear.

You nearly dropped the marker, but managed to keep your grip steady. “So do you,” you said, unable to come up with something clever.

“Y’know, I probably shouldn’t say this, but I—I missed you the last two weeks.” Remus’ voice was low, just above a whisper, resonant like a drum in his chest. You wanted to wrap it around you like a blanket.

You looked up at him, lips slightly parted in shock, so close you could brush your nose against his if you moved a hair closer. “You did?” You asked, certain that if pupils could turn into lovehearts, yours would be beaming out of your head like a cartoon.

His hand came up to caress you jaw, tentative and gentle. “Being with you is the best I’ve felt in ages,” he said, tilting your face a little closer to his. “I don’t—”

The bell to your studio rang loudly, and you jumped back from Remus’ hold, nearly tripping over your stool.

“Hey Moony! There’s my favorite artist!” James came plowing through, wrapping you up in a bearhug that squeezed the air from your lungs. “How are you, sweetness?”

“I’m good, Jamie,” you wheezed, and he set you back on your feet.

The boys clasped hands, a quick, almost automatic handshake.

“What are you doing here, Prongs?” Remus asked, trying and failing at not looking irritated.

“Sirius said you were getting some ink today so I figured I’d swing by and have you take a peak at how mine’s healing.”

“James, it’s been like six months. Your antlers healed fine,” you reminded him.

“You did his antlers?” Remus asked, a flicker of something dark passing through his eyes.

You nodded. “Yeah, you didn’t know?”

He shook his head, glancing sidelong at his friend.

“I suppose it might be time for a touch up. Let me see,” you sighed, crossing your arms over your chest.

James lifted his shirt, revealing a peak of his washboard abs, framed by a pair of sprawling antlers across his hip bones. You leaned a bit closer, checking for any faded spots or ink spreading.

“Looks perfect, Jamie. All good,” you said, sitting back on your stool, mildly impressed with yourself.

“Brilliant. I love them, and they’re very effective.” He waggled his eyebrows, and you and Remus rolled your eyes.

James hung out for another hour, chatting with Remus while you finished the sketch of the tattoo. Your bodies were just as close as before, but with James, you were forced to keep it strictly professional. But the proximity without being allowed to touch was melting your mind, making heat pool in your lower belly. You could feel every breath Remus took, feel the rumble of his voice in your chest, the warmth of his body mingling with yours.

It was maddening, and you could tell Remus was growing more impatient by the second, the muscles around his neck taught with tension, his fingers twitching against his thighs.

At one point, you laughed at one of James’ jokes and swatted at his chest, earning a smile from him. When you glanced back at Remus, his jaw was clenched tight, eyes glaring a hole into the drink in his hands.

Was he…jealous?

He had no right to be, but still, the thought of him being possessive made your heart rate quicken.

Finally, James left, leaving you and Remus alone in the simmering tension you'd built. He watched you closely as you returned to your station, prepping the tattoo machine.

“Would you ever get a tattoo like that?” You asked, glancing up at him through your lashes.

He leaned back on the seat, bracing his hands behind him. Showing off the lean expanse of his torso, the rugged look of him that stood in sharp juxtaposition to his style and personality. “Not sure I could pull it off.”

You scoffed, allowing him to see you peruse his body. “I strongly disagree.”

He chewed on his lower lip, a nervous habit. A flush started to spread across his chest, reaching towards his cheeks. “What would you suggest?” he asked, a sultry edge of his voice.

Unhurried, you stepped back between his legs, letting your fingertips graze along the valleys of his lower abdomen. “Perhaps a snake.” You traced the shape along his skin, his muscles tensing to stop himself from shivering. “Or ferns. Maybe a wolfs jaw—”

“A wolfs jaw?” He asked, quirking an eyebrow at you.

You met his eyes. “You should give me a little more credit, Moony.”

He blinked at you, clearly taken aback that you knew his secret. “You knew.”

“I do now. I've only seen scars like yours once before, on another werewolf. And with the nickname, your tattoo choices, being MIA on the full moon…it adds up.”

His eyes searched your face. “And you don't care?”

“Of course not. I care about you, not your affliction.” Your hands still lingered on his hips, like your skin was magnetized together, you couldn't seem to pull them apart.

Remus straightened, his hand coming up to cup your face again. “I haven't been able to stop thinking about you,” he breathed. “You’ve gotten under my skin, dove.”

“It's risky, y’know, to flirt with your tattoo artist,” you murmured, grazing your fingers over the mostly healed goldenrod tattoo. “You've got a permanent reminder of me.”

He smirked, his hand sliding into the hair at the nape of your neck. “Well, the thing about werewolves…” he was so close, warm breath fanning across your lips. “We're a possessive sort, territorial. So having your mark on my skin…” he sighed, eyes dark with desire. “I'm finding it hard to hold myself back.”

“Then don't,” you replied, heart in your throat.

Remus surged forward, lips colliding in a heady, toe-curling kiss. You immediately gave into him, his tongue caressing the seam of your mouth, dipping past your lips to taste you, claim you.

Your arms found their way around his neck, fingers digging into his feathery hair and tugging at the roots, drawing a low groan from his chest. He nipped at your lower lip in warning before soothing it with his tongue.

“Be gentle with me,” he grated, kissing along your cheek, down towards your throat. He craned your head back, grazing his teeth along your pulse, and you shivered. “I’m trying to savor this, not devour you.”

“Do you always keep yourself on such a tight leash?” You asked, breathless as he lapped at your skin, your thighs trembling with desire.

“Patience, dove,” he chastised affectionately, lifting his head. “Just be good for me, yeah? You’ll get what you want.”

Your brain emptied. Seeing this dominant side of Remus had you folding like origami. You nodded, letting him drag you in for another languid, bone-melting kiss.

Remus slid off the table without breaking the kiss, leaning down to scoop you up by the thighs in a fluid motion.

“Rem!” You gasped in surprise when he turned and dropped you onto the table he just vacated.

He leaned over you, one hand reaching down to recline the seat so you were laying back, legs on either side of his hips. His lips found your neck again, kissing and licking his way down while his hands pushed up the hem of your shirt, fingertips cool against your fevered skin.

“Tell me if you want me stop,” he said, shifting to kiss around your navel.

“Don't stop. Please don't stop,” you pleaded, and he smiled against your hip before sucking the skin between his teeth, biting at your flesh just hard enough you make you keen.

“I won't, love. I'm not going anywhere.” His fingers hooked into the waistband of your jeans, easing them down over your hips until they fell to the ground in a pile.

Your knees tried to pull together on instinct, the vulnerability making you flush, but his hands gripped your inner thighs, spreading you apart for him. You could tell he was in his element, something having loosened from his usually reserved demeanor. It felt like you were seeing him completely for the first time. No holds barred.

“Don't hide from me, pretty girl,” he cooed, lowering to his knees. “You're gorgeous.” He trailed kisses up your thigh, charting a tingling path until his nose grazed sodden panties, making your pussy flutter and clench. “Fuck, you smell divine,” he muttered before dragging his tongue over the thin fabric.

“Oh, god—Remus,” you moaned when he sucked on the fabric over your clit, pleasure blooming from your center. Your eyes rolled back, fingers tangling in his hair as he flicked your swelling bud with his tongue.

“So responsive,” he praised, pulling your panties aside with his middle finger. “You this sweet for all of your clients?”

You shook your head. ”I've never—fuck, baby.” Your words splintered into a cry as he eased his middle finger inside of you, your dripping entrance accepting him eagerly. He nudged your clit with his nose, making you cry out again.

“Just me?” His voice almost sounded like a purr, deeply pleased by your admission.

You nodded, urging him closer by the roots of his hair, and he practically growled.

He nipped at your thigh, overpowering your meager attempt easily. “Patience, remember?”

You whined. “Remus, please. Just wanna feel you.”

He withdrew his finger, then added a second, pumping you slowly. “I know, baby. I'm right here, I've got you.” His mouth found your clit again, his tongue circling around and around, and you arched off the table, moans spilling from your lips like a song.

Steadily, the fire built, with Remus' devoted attention pouring over you like gasoline. He moaned against you, eyes screwed shut when your pussy clenched around his fingers, teetering on the edge.

The table shifted, rocking back a bit, and you looked past Remus' hair tangled in your fingers to his body. He was rocking his hips against the edge of the table, so turned on by the act of eating you out that he needed some relief.

“Rem, baby,” you whined, the sight dragging you that much closer to release. He glanced up at you, his eyes glazed and pussydrunk, and he whimpered against you.

His deliberate motions got sloppier, greedier, as he rutted against the table. Losing control of himself, like his entire being was desperate to be inside of you.

With a final curl of his fingers, you toppled over the edge, coming with a cry loud enough to rattle the windows as relief crashed over you, cool water dousing the flames beneath your skin.

“Good fucking girl,” he growled, withdrawing his fingers to lap directly from you, savoring every drop of his efforts. “That's it, love. Relax f’me.” He brought you back to earth with his tongue, long, languid licks and kisses around your trembling center, across your inner thigh slung over his shoulder.

“Fuck, Remus,” you panted, slumping back against the table. “That was—”

He made his way up your body, catching your words in a messy, top-lip kiss. “Got your mark all over me now, dove,” he purred, pecking your cheek with a cheeky grin.

“What about…” you trailed off, fingers toying with his belt, unsure of what you were asking for him to fuck you, or mark you. Or both. All you knew was that you wanted him, badly, even more so with that post-orgasm clarity.

“Patience,” he replied, chuckling at the annoyed look you shot him. “Ready to finish up this tattoo?”

“But you didn't get to—”

“I’m, ah, a bit embarrassed to say that I did.” He straightened with a sheepish smile, revealing the dark spot leaking through his jeans.

Holy shit. You'd made him cum in his pants.

You surged up, throwing your arms around his neck and tugging him down in to a ravenous kiss. “Merlin, you're so fucking hot,” you mumbled against his mouth.

He grinned, breaking the kiss to nuzzle into your neck, hiding the flush you could see staining his ears. “Says the girl that made me cum without touching me,” he muttered, almost indignant.

“I’m not sorry,” you chuckled, sighing when he pressed his plush, kiss-swollen lips to your racing pulse.

“It's alright, I'll get even,” he teased, his teeth nipping at your skin.

“Is that a promise?”

“Most normal people would interpret it as a threat.” He picked his head up, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Well, I'm not normal people,” you replied.

“And thank Godric for that.” He kissed you again, all smiles and airy pecks.

Normal was never your style anyway.

[imjunebitch]

eh, fuck this person my friend. they are being a dick because they enjoy it. you can't persuade an idiot.

(although sometimes it's fun to argue! if you're having a fun time you should keep doing it, but you don't owe complete bastards an argument! do whatever you like, i just know it sucks to feel pressured to continue communicating with someone who's being an unreasonable dick <3)

@ this guy: fuck off. don't give a shit whether you've arbitrarily decided i can be something. ill live my life how i want anyway. the beliefs of a single bastard who id never want to hang out anyway mean less than nothing. why would anyone want to please you, or need your validation? between you and sentient marshmallow woman, i know who id enjoy the company of. and who probably smells better. and is probably capable of real joy. and i know who clearly isn't.

Facts matter. #VoteBlue

[sotwk]

Not A Bad Thing (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Inspired by the song lyric: "Don’t act like it’s a bad thing to fall in love with me." Not a Bad Thing by Justin Timberlake

Word count: 1.7 k Genre tags: romance, hurt/comfort, love confession, pining, idiots in love, friends to lovers Rating: Teen Content Warnings: Brief mentions of implied abuse. Tons of sap with a side of cheese. It's indulgent, okay? ;) To Read on AO3: LINK

Not A Bad Thing

Bucky Barnes x Reader

“May I come in?” he asked with gentility borne from manners of a bygone era. On top of that, he observed the etiquette of the digital age, and texted you that morning to ask first whether he could drop by for a visit. 

Maybe saying yes had been a mistake. Maybe you should have heeded logic instead of gut reaction. But after last night, your mind remained too cloudy to process logic.

The vibe between you was suffocating as you settled into the living room, even with the TV on in the background to drown out the silence. As though this was your first time alone in a room together. Never mind the many all-nighters spent hanging out over boxes of Thai takeout, you pounding out thesis edits on your laptop while he snorted and guffawed at his latest survival show binge--a ritual developed over the course of a year that finally helped you cross the finish line to your Master’s. If only you had discovered sooner that the solution to your crippling focus and anxiety issues lived just two floors above you. 

“I want to make sure you're okay,” Bucky finally said. Never one to hedge around a difficult conversation, one of the most refreshing things about his friendship. As he studied your face for answers his eyes were soft, not judging. Nonetheless, you couldn’t help but duck behind the rumpled curtains of your unbound hair.

“I’m fine.” You inhaled a bracing breath and tugged the cuff of your sweater past your wrist. “It’ll be fine.” You’ve been repeating that to yourself all day, and were just about convinced of it. 

“It will be,” Bucky agreed. “As long as that asshole doesn’t show his face around here.”

You straightened up abruptly. “Don’t say that--”

“I’m serious. If I run into him in this building again, or see him within a hundred feet of you, there will definitely be a problem.” You saw his gloved hand clench into a fist, and a conflicting mix of worry and satisfaction swirled in you. Preston had threatened to do the same to your oblivious neighbor multiple times, never realizing that it didn’t matter that he was a taller and bigger man and a self-crowned Alpha who always got his way. Bucky would have him eating carpet before he could take a swing. 

“He’s not worth getting yourself into trouble over.” 

“He’s not. But you are.” His calm tone was cracking, his demeanor darkening with each word. “He owes you an apology. He should be on his knees begging for forgiveness he doesn’t even deserve to get.”

“It was an argument.” You tugged on your sleeve again. “A bad one, the worst one. But the last one. He and I are done.”

Bucky said your name, sternly but gently, spoken in a way that seemed to pry off the shield you had flung up to keep him from the truth. Your pulse quickening, you dropped your gaze to the floor. “I don’t know how much you heard last night--”

“I heard all of it--and more,” he said. “I know last night was one of many. I know how he’s been treating you for weeks now. I hate myself for never saying a word about it.”

The admission should not have shocked you. Superhuman hearing would pick up regular conversations from the next building over, much less a couple of floors away, and Preston had taken to unloading his frustrations at increasingly high volume on his more recent visits.

“The way he spoke to you, the things he called you--” Bucky stopped short, his jaw tight with rage that he needed a moment to tamp back down.

Bitch. Whore. Despite the sting of Preston’s words, you felt a wash of relief that your now ex-boyfriend had taken off before Bucky appeared at your door last night to check on you. You wondered at the restraint it had taken your friend to hold off as long as he did, and to let you turn him away, if he truly had overheard everything. 

Because of the other half of the story. The other things that Preston and you were yelling at each other about; the primary cause of all those escalating fights. 

“It was my fault.” The statement jumped from your mouth, escaping you in your weakness.  “He--he was already drunk and upset, and I made him even angrier. He was SO angry…”

You sniffled and pressed the heels of your palms against your welling eyes. Suddenly Bucky was crouched right in front of you, clasping two hands around your forearm. His ungloved thumb brushed lightly, but purposefully, over the bruised muscle underneath your sweater. He knew. Of course he did.

“Don’t put this on yourself,” he said. “Nothing excuses his behavior. Not even…”  There was a pause, only for the second it took him to push through his hesitation.  “....not even if the things he said are true.”

Your whole body stiffened in flight response, and when you pulled your arm away, he released his grip, again proving he was the exact opposite of Preston. Again demonstrating exactly how he had stolen your heart away from the guy you’d been with since high school, with you barely noticing.

“You did nothing wrong,” Bucky continued. “Neither did I.  But I wanted to… I…” He laid his hand briefly over his mouth, a half-hearted attempt to stuff back in the cat already out of the bag. “I was tempted to. So, so badly. Even just to say something.” 

“You wanted to warn me about him,” you said miserably. 

Bucky shook his head. “I clocked his jealousy the day I met him, but I couldn’t blame him for that. Any guy with a brain should be scared of losing you. But after a while, I started to realize he did have a serious reason to worry.”

Realizing where this was heading, you felt a nauseating twist in your stomach. “I can explain. It--I didn’t mean to--” You bolted to your feet and stepped around him, propelled by the need to run from your own embarrassment. You moved as far away from him as possible before the wall stopped you.

Where should you start apologizing for this mess?  For calling on him regularly to spend late nights, sometimes overnight, at your apartment, appointing him your “study buddy” as though you were some middle-schooler? For declaring him your “good luck charm”, making him feel obligated to keep coming? For ignoring the fact that you’d been spending far more time with the handsome neighbor than your own boyfriend, maybe as a subconscious retaliation for said boyfriend always choosing the company of his Goldman-Sachs colleagues over yours, while simultaneously accusing your grad studies of eating into “his” time? Or perhaps, the cherry on top that sent Preston over the edge: inviting Bucky to join last night’s celebration for the completion of your thesis, “just for the pre-dinner drinks”.

“The only thing I want to know is whether any of the stuff that guy went on like a lunatic about is true. Was he right?” Bucky pointed to you, then himself, in a back and forth gesture. “You and me…do you… are we--”

“Wait, wait.” He threw up both hands. “Don’t answer. If I make one more dumb mistake, I’d be just as much of a pig as he is.”

He strode forward, and there was just something in his approach that not only kept you from skittering away, but drew you in. Even as you stared at the toes of your socks, you shuffled a few steps closer.

“If you hadn't kept asking me to come over and keep you company, I would have found some way, any excuse, to invite myself,” he said. “The nights I've spent with you have given me peace I haven't felt in a hundred years. I was never going to give that up.”

As soon as he was close enough, he reached for your hand. Slowly, making sure you showed no resistance. The touch of his bare hand against yours for the first time sent tears flooding from your eyes, now that you could accept the fact that you've been so hungry for it this whole time. 

“I should have said something the minute I saw things weren't right between you two. I knew you were too good for him, but I was a coward. I didn't know if I could handle not being able to convince you to choose me instead. I didn't want to risk losing you as a friend, even though I always wanted to be more. And have more of us, more of you.”

“Bucky.” Your voice was so small and tight in your throat you could barely hear yourself. “You're the one who's too good for me.”

He snorted. “No offense, but that's the biggest load of crock I've ever heard.”

“I handled everything wrong! I used you, I used Preston…”

“What else is a man supposed to do but make himself useful to the woman he loves?!” he exclaimed suddenly. “How else will you decide which one is worth your time?”

“But Preston--’”

“...he hurt you when he thought he might be losing you.” Bucky said. “While it killed me everyday to know you were with him. But if he’s what you wanted, I was willing to take what little piece of you I could have.”

“That's what drove him crazy,” you whispered. “He noticed you weren't holding just a little piece of me.”

His tense expression broke into a grin, and when you glanced up at the right time to see it, his gaze locked onto yours. You sniffed, swept your free hand over your splotchy cheeks, and smiled back.

“God…” he muttered, sliding his hand from your wrist up to your elbow, tugging you a bit closer. “You’re so beautiful.” For a second, he looked embarrassed. “Sorry. There’s a lot of things I’ve been holding back from telling you, and now the dam’s finally burst.”

“A lot of things?” Your hand ascended his shoulder to curl around the collar of his jacket. “Funny, I have only one thing to say.”

“I’m listening.” The arm he wrapped around your waist was impossibly gentle for something made of literal steel.

“I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you.”

“And that’s a good thing, right?” This close to yours, his eyes were strikingly blue with intensity. “That makes you happy?”

“You’ve always made me happy.”

What little space remained between you disappeared in the circle of his arms, and he paused long enough to chuckle against the corner of your mouth. “And to think I’m finally just getting started.”

Want more Bucky? SotWK's MCU Masterlist

[coryndoll]

authors note: broken up with so i made THIS its 3am please

is it okay to want your ex to be the person beside you when you wake up from a dream about them, even when you know you’re supposed to be moving on?

because if it’s not, then you’re already doing this all wrong.

you wake up too suddenly, almost like your own body betrayed you, forcing you out of something you weren’t ready to leave behind. your eyes snap open, heart hammering, the kind of startled wake-up that leaves you disoriented for a moment, stuck between dream and reality.

you lift your head, blinking against the dark, and look down at the sheets pooled around your waist, then slowly, like maybe you already know what you’ll find, you glance toward the other side of the bed.

empty.

your stomach sinks, but you tell yourself that’s stupid. of course it’s empty. why wouldn’t it be?

but it doesn’t matter what your head knows. it’s what your heart feels that always screws you up, because for one blissful, delirious second, you expected him to be there. warmth beside you, an arm draped across your waist, his steady breathing pulling you back under.

but that was the dream.

and god, what a cruel dream.

you don’t even know if you were just friends or something more in it, if you’d crossed back over that invisible line or if you were still dancing around it, but what you do know is how it felt. how you felt. that dizzy kind of giddiness, the way your stomach flipped with every glance, every touch, every little moment of something unspoken but understood. it felt like starting over, like all the space between you had been erased, like maybe you could still have him.

and then you woke up.

you swallow hard and let your head fall back against the pillow, eyes squeezing shut. you shouldn’t be dreaming about him. you shouldn’t be feeling like this.

you’re supposed to be getting over him.

but now it’s four in the morning, and you’re wide awake with a lingering ache in your chest, a knot in your stomach, and a dream you can’t shake no matter how much you tell yourself it doesn’t mean anything.

you try to sleep again. you roll over, adjust the blankets, close your eyes, and breathe deep like you read somewhere that might help, but it doesn’t. so you grab your phone from the nightstand and scroll through tiktok, letting the mindless flood of videos wash over you, but none of them make you laugh, none of them distract you the way you want them to. the flashes of what you remember come every now and then.

you think about making food, something small, because eating always makes you sleepy. but that feels like too much effort, and the last thing you want is to be alone with your thoughts in the kitchen, staring at the clock and counting the hours until you have to pretend like you’re fine.

so you give up and swipe through your notifications instead, clearing some out, replying to a text from your mom, letting the dull routine of it settle you.

but then you see his name, just sitting there in your recents like it belongs, like it hasn’t been haunting you since the breakup.

your thumb hesitates over the screen, and that’s all it takes. the thought is already there, already burrowing into your brain like an instinct you can’t fight.

you shouldn’t. you know you shouldn’t.

are you on non-speaking terms for now?

is it safe to send just one text?

but the dream is still fresh, still clinging to you like secondhand smoke, and every fiber of your being is screaming at you to just reach out. just once. just this one time.

before you can talk yourself out of it, before you can convince yourself to be strong, you tap his name and press the call button.

you sit up slowly, pressing your phone to your ear, and listen to the dial tone.

one ring.

two.

three.

your stomach twists. this was a mistake. he’s sleeping. maybe he has his ringer on and you’re waking him up. shame on you. you should hang up. you should—

then a noise. a shift.

your breath catches, your heart lurches.

you pull the phone away, staring at the screen, frozen in panic. maybe it was nothing. maybe he just moved in his sleep. maybe he won’t even remember this in the morning—

“hello?”

his voice is groggy, rough around the edges like he hasn’t fully woken up yet. like he doesn’t know who’s calling him at this hour.

and holy shit, you almost hang up right then. almost.

but something in you makes you lift the phone back to your ear, makes you swallow the lump in your throat, makes you whisper, “hello?”

there’s a pause, like maybe he’s still caught somewhere between sleep and reality. you hear the shift of fabric, the rustling of blankets as he moves, like he’s rolling onto his back, maybe rubbing at his face, trying to shake off the haze of sleep.

and then, recognition. “y/n— hey? why are you up?”

your lips part, but for a moment, nothing comes out.

because what are you supposed to say? that you woke up from a dream about him, and it felt so real that for half a second, you thought he’d actually been there? that it left you feeling warm and whole and painfully desperate to hold onto something that isn’t even yours anymore? that the idea of moving on feels impossible when your subconscious won’t even let you pretend you’re over it?

you swallow, forcing yourself to say something, anything, before the silence stretches too long.

“i couldn’t sleep,” you whisper, and before the guilt can settle too deep in your chest, you add, “sorry if i woke you.”

on the other end, you hear him shift again. there’s a faint rustling, the kind that makes you picture him shaking his head, before he murmurs, “you didn’t.”

you let out a small breath, a quiet scoff, something close to a laugh but not quite. “yeah?” your voice is just a little teasing, just a little skeptical. “you sound like it.”

for a second, there’s nothing. then he chuckles.

soft and low, the kind of laugh that makes your stomach twist, that makes you feel like you’ve caught him in a lie. and you have, obviously. you know his voice too well, you can hear the exhaustion in it, the roughness in his throat. you know he was asleep. but he’s trying to make you feel better about it, trying to brush it off like it doesn’t matter.

it’s nothing. it’s barely anything.

but it’s enough to make you slip.

you press your lips together, fingers tightening around your phone. because for a second, just a second, it feels normal again. like you can still call him in the middle of the night just because, like you can hear his sleepy laugh and joke about it, like you haven’t lost this part of him.

but then reality catches up.

your stomach sinks, the warmth in your chest cooling into something heavier, something bitter. your smile fades, and you shift, pressing your forehead against your knee, closing your eyes.

you shouldn’t be doing this. you shouldn’t be letting yourself fall back into something you know isn’t yours anymore.

but you force yourself to get to the point.

“would it be stupid if i asked you to come over?” you murmur, barely louder than a breath, barely brave enough to ask, but desperate enough to say it anyway.

the second the words leave your mouth, you regret them. the silence is immediate. so much silence that it makes your stomach twist, makes your pulse spike, makes you feel like you should just end the call right now and save yourself from whatever is about to happen next.

you pull your phone away for a second, checking to see if the call is even still connected.

“y/n.”

it’s soft, but the weight behind it is heavy. there’s something careful in the way he says your name, something almost hesitant, like he’s reminding you of something neither of you want to say out loud.

you know what he’s about to tell you. that there’s a reason you aren’t in each other’s beds anymore. there’s a reason you aren’t supposed to be doing this. and suddenly, panic sets in.

“nevermind,” you rush out, shaking your head at yourself like he can see you. “that was— i shouldn’t have asked. i just— i’m tired. i’m sorry i woke you, i’ll let you go. goodnight—"

“stop.” his voice is firm, cutting through your words before you can finish. you freeze, fingers curling into the fabric of your blanket, breath hitching, and you wait. you don’t say anything.

then, more shuffling on his end. you strain to listen, and then it hits you. he’s moving. getting out of bed.

“yeah,” he exhales, voice still thick with exhaustion, but steady now. certain. “i’ll be there.”

there’s a pause, the quiet hum of the phone line stretching between you both. you can still hear him moving; maybe grabbing his keys, maybe slipping on a hoodie. the thought alone makes your stomach flip. then, his voice, softer this time. careful. “do you need anything else?”

the question is simple, but there’s something about the way he asks it that makes you hesitate. like he’s offering you something more than just his presence. like if you asked for it, he’d give you anything. but you’re already pushing it. you know that.

so you shake your head, pressing your lips together before making a small sound of refusal, “mm-mm.”

on the other end, drew exhales, barely audible, and when he speaks again, it’s quiet. steady. “alright,” and then the call ends.

you lower your phone from your ear, staring at the screen as the seconds of silence stretch on, until the brightness fades and leaves you staring at your own faint reflection.

your teeth sink into your bottom lip, eyes flickering toward your dresser, but you’re not really seeing it. your mind is running too fast, thoughts spiraling, pulling you in two different directions.

there’s an uneasy feeling settling in your chest, pressing against your ribs. like maybe you shouldn’t have done this. like maybe this is exactly why you and drew shouldn’t be calling each other in the middle of the night anymore. but then, there’s something else. something warmer.

because he agreed. without hesitation too. without a single question. he’s coming over. does that mean something? the thought almost makes you smile. hope.

drew doesn’t live far, thankfully. all that space in los angeles, and yet, somehow, you both ended up just a mile or two apart. it had been convenient back then, when late-night filming ran over, when you were both too tired to do anything but collapse into each other’s arms, when going home meant a five-minute drive instead of a long trek across the city.

it made sense, being close. you’d even talked about closing the distance completely before, like moving out of your separate places and into one together. it wasn’t a serious discussion, more like a fleeting idea thrown out between shared meals and lazy mornings, but it had lingered. but you never put any real time into it. and maybe that was for the best. or maybe it wasn’t.

because if drew can come over now, without question, without hesitation, just because you asked, then what would it have been like if you had actually lived together?

you can’t stop your mind from running with the thought, from spiraling into a thousand different possibilities.

if you had shared a home, would he have stayed in your bed on nights like these, when you couldn’t sleep, when the weight of missing him pressed heavy on your chest? or would he have made himself comfortable in some extra room, always just across the hall, close enough to feel present but far enough to keep a safe distance?

if you had already built a life under the same roof, would he have been the one to move out? or would he have stayed, finding excuses to linger, to keep things from changing too much, to hold on to something that neither of you were sure how to let go of?

or would he have stayed in the same bed, too disciplined to let emotions dictate his choices, too mature to act like sharing a bed meant something more than what it was—just sleep, just comfort, just the two of you existing in the same space like you always had?

because that’s who drew is. realistic, rational, someone who believes in keeping things separate, even if it hurts.

he wouldn’t have been reckless about it. he wouldn’t have let longing turn into excuses or blurred lines. he would have figured out what to do, how to move forward, how to live in the same space while still trying to get over you. he wouldn’t have let himself slip.

but you? you don’t think you’d be able to pretend so easily. because lying next to him, feeling his presence just inches away, knowing it was him but that you weren’t his anymore. it would break you, piece by piece, every single night.

but he’s there soon, riding up the elevator like it’s nothing, like this isn’t something that should feel bigger than it is. like this isn’t something that should be happening at all. ten minutes. that’s all it takes.

when the knock comes, you practically stumble out of bed, feeling unsteady in your own body. you don’t know how to carry yourself, don’t know if you should be composed or apologetic, don’t know if you should even be doing this. but you move anyway, making your way to the door on autopilot, fingers unsteady as they reach for the handle.

when you open it, there he is. hood on, sweats hanging low on his hips, a stupid pair of sandals on his feet like he didn’t think twice about what he was wearing before leaving. like he didn’t care. but his eyes . . . his tired, knowing, impossibly soft eyes, tell you otherwise.

and you feel it then. the guilt. all over again.

it’s humiliating, the way you can’t get over him. the way your chest tightens just from seeing him stand in your doorway. the way he can read it all over your face like it’s written there in bold letters. he exhales, something quiet, something almost affectionate, and then murmurs, “c’mon, angel.”

his voice is low, thick with sleep, and it only makes you feel worse, but you let him in anyway. you step aside, and he moves past you, closing the door behind him, locking it with the ease of muscle memory. it’s dark. the lights are off, nothing illuminating the space except for the soft, golden glow bleeding through the thin curtain covering your balcony door. it’s just enough to see him, to see the way he’s watching you, the way his brows pull together when he sees the wetness brimming in your eyes.

you cover your face with your hands, disappointment settling deep in your stomach. you shouldn’t have called him. you shouldn’t have let him come. you shouldn’t be standing here, crying in front of him like you’re still his to comfort.

but then his arms are around you, wrapping around your shoulders, around your head, pulling you into his chest before you can even think to push him away.

he’s warm.

his scent, familiar, overwhelming, engulfs you instantly. and suddenly, it all feels . . . warm in here. safe. like something you shouldn’t still want. like something you don’t know how to let go of.

and soon you’re back under the sheets, and so is he.

it’s quiet. on purpose.

he sits upright against the headboard, back pressed into the pillows, the fabric of his hoodie bunching slightly where his shoulders meet the wood. you’re not sure where he’s looking, but his gaze is far away, unfocused, lost in thoughts he won’t say out loud.

you don’t try to figure them out. you don’t ask. instead, you just let yourself sink into him, pressing your cheek against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall beneath you. his warmth seeps into your skin, into the cotton of your sleep shirt, into the spaces between each breath. it feels familiar. dangerously so.

one of your hands stays curled between your bodies, fingers pressing into your own palm like you’re trying to hold something in. the other rests lightly on his abdomen, just for a second, just enough to feel the soft give of fabric over skin. hesitation creeps in, a warning, a reminder, but you ignore it. your fingers trace a barely-there path lower, brushing against his hand.

he doesn’t pull away.

your fingertips graze his knuckles first, featherlight, and then you take his hand completely, slipping your fingers between his, linking them like muscle memory.

he squeezes.

it’s subtle, almost unconscious, but it’s there. his hand is warm, slightly calloused, the way it’s always been. the way it shouldn’t still feel so right.

he exhales slowly, and you hear it more than you see it, feel it more than you acknowledge it. but when you glance up at him, you catch the shift in his face. the slight furrow of his brows. the parting of his lips, like there’s something sitting on his tongue, something he won’t say.

his eyes are trained on nothing. somewhere in the distance. worried. like he knows this is wrong too. but he stays. neither of you move, neither of you loosen your grip.

he reaches over and turns off the bedside lamp, but nothing really changes. the silence lingers. the warmth stays. you both just lay there, tangled in something you shouldn’t be, holding onto something neither of you know how to let go of.

and maybe that just sums you two up as a whole.