#is it good? who knows! all that matters is the friends we made along the way lmao

[sufferu]

I was asked for a snippet from the Dogshow series. I have delivered. As the exact scene was not specified, I decided for myself.

Dogshow: No Way Home

____

[“But no matter how pathetic I was, you and Mom still treated me the same as always,” Subaru said. “That’s what scared me most of all…”]

“They…” Emilia choked out. “They really did…They really did love him, didn’t they…?”

Otto thought of his own parents, and how patient they had been with him for all those years. He swallowed, fighting back tears.

“Those bushes there really are fascinating!” Anastasia was saying loudly. “They look just like some of the foliage we have back here, don’t they?! I wonder if maybe there’s been some cross-barrier transport of — of seeds or something! Or perhaps it’s just the convergent evolution Hoshin once described at work—”

[“I wanted you to say, ‘I don’t love you.’ ‘I despise you.’ ‘You’re not my son.’”]

“…What?” Ram croaked. Rem watched silently from beside her, carefully stone-faced as she watched this tragedy unfold. “Subaru, you wanted…what?”

Subaru didn’t answer. He had stopped moving a while ago. He was staring at the metia, unable to look away from his father’s face.

“I mean, really!” Anastasia continued loudly, a frantic edge to her voice. Mimi was nodding along theatrically from beside her. “I wonder if we could cross-breed exact replicas of those — what did you call them, Subaru?! Sakura trees?! If those bushes’ similarities really are just the result of convergent evolution, then—! I mean, I know for a fact we have trees very similar to those sakuras in Kararagi, so it’s not all that far off to conclude that we might be able to—!”

[“I wanted you to tell me that and throw me out. I wanted you to make me give up.”]

“…Oh, fuck,” Anastasia managed, finally unable to avoid listening to the conversation.

Next to her, Julius made a horrible, horrible noise.

Onscreen, Subaru continued to speak about how he had grown past these feelings. How he had found a way to live for himself, to start striving to better himself — and how the people he had met since had allowed him to do so. But Ricardo couldn’t focus on any of that, because all he could think was that THIS was the version of Subaru that his parents remembered.

A young boy, on the cusp of their culture’s idea of adulthood, who had suddenly retreated into his shell amidst disapproval from his peers. Who’s difficulties in interacting with others HADN’T been due to a difference in culture after all, with him struggling so much to make and keep his friends even back home that eventually he had felt that he had no choice but to give up in that pursuit entirely. Who had fled from his duties as a scholar and holed himself up in his room, refusing to leave for any reason except to eat. Who was constantly waiting for his two parents who loved him very much to revoke that affection out of frustration and throw him out.

Who was just waiting for an excuse to go and end himself, giving up for good.

Ricardo suddenly thought about Ana-bo. He wasn’t her biological father, but he had — he had bathed her, and fed her, and secured her work, and fought to protect her from unsavory types, and watched her grow up from a little orphan brat into a strong, capable woman. He had known her, and he had loved her, and she had become — family, to him, most definitely. In a sense, perhaps she could be considered his daughter after all.

What would he have done, if Ana-bo had — sometime on the cusp of adulthood — had withdrawn into herself so completely and utterly that she refused to socialize with anyone unless she were forced to do so? That she no longer tried to work, or learn new things, or improve her skills, but instead escaped into storybook after storybook about being whisked away to a place where she could be someone, anyone other than who she had been before? That she curled up in the corner of her room and waited for Ricardo to throw her out on the street, because then she would finally have an excuse to — to finally go and fucking kill herself?

Stop it, Ricardo hissed at himself. But he couldn’t stop.

He wouldn’t have let it get that first in the first place, first of all: he would have dragged Anastasia out of her room by force and force-fed her a decent lifestyle, if need be. In fact, part of him thought that Subaru’s father had been somewhat useless in that regard: had there really been nothing his old man could do to stop him from crawling into his shell and refusing to come out for several months on end? But even if there wasn’t anything he could do about it, he wouldn’t have abandoned her. Even if he were going by Kararagi’s age of adulthood being 15 where — Japan, it was called — their age appeared to be 18, he still would have known her for four, five full years, and that had been more than enough for him to start caring about her more deeply than he had ever expected being able to care about anyone. What would he have done instead? Well, the answer had to be “whatever he could.”

But then, what would he have done, if — in the middle of a depressive spiral so severe — Anastasia had vanished into the night without a trace? He would look for her, obviously. He’d spare no expense, either, and — and he’d keep a tally of every cent he spent, so that when he finally found her again he could shove the receipt in her face and tell her that she was going to work to earn back every last bit in order to make up for scaring him so badly. But then — if he never found her — he’d never stop looking, would he? Or maybe he’d be forced to stop? But then he’d still be waiting, and he’d still be putting up posters and asking for leads, and as the years passed he’d be thinking of what she might look like now, how she might have aged, what sort of life she might be living far away from home, hoping against hope that she hadn’t actually gone and—

But the reality would be worse.

It would have been better if this hypothetical Ana-bo had been given the mercy of a quick death, on her own terms. It would be better if Ana-bo had died just once. It would be better if she didn’t have to experience — being slit open and bled out, being drained of all her energy bit by bit, being thrown down a hallway and crushed by a giant flail in a place where she was supposed to be safe, being tortured by someone she had thought she could trust in the woods where nobody could hear her cry, being attacked by a pack of vicious, wild animals, being publicly humiliated and beaten half to death for the crime of being a brat in the wrong place at the wrong time, being forced to witness the corpses of all of the people she had grown to care about and told that it was all her fault, being kidnapped and tortured in a cave by a madman, being turned away as she begged and pleaded and prostrated herself for help, being chased by a vicious monster intent on erasing her from existence, being frozen to death bit by bit as a vengeful spirit forced her to suffer through every second, being possessed and forced to beg for a mercy kill right when it looked like the world was about to turn out alright, being blown up, being forced to watch as her support network was shattered behind her back once again as her closest friend was erased from everyone’s mind but her own, being forced to suffer again and again and again without an end in sight—!

Was it a mercy, that Natsuki Kenichi would be forced to conclude that his only son had gone and killed himself? Was it a mercy, that he would never find out the truth of what his child was being forced to endure in his absence? Was it a mercy, was it an injustice, what the actual FUCK was this horrible, horrible—!

“Ricardo?”

With slow, jerky movements, Ricardo turned to face Ana-bo. She was watching him with large, worried eyes. She had been so upset a second ago, staring at that metia with a slack jaw as she made a miserable choking sound, and here she was pushing that aside for his sake. How could he have ever deserved—!

“Mmph!”

Ana-bo made a startled noise as Ricardo practically dove for her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling him tight to his chest so that nobody could ever take her from his side. Normally she would protest this action greatly. But now, after a moment of shocked silence, that wise, kind, clever, wonderful daughter of his hugged him back.

“Ya don’t need to cry,” Ana-bo murmured. “‘M not going anywhere.”

In truth, Ricardo hadn’t even noticed that his cheeks were wet. He didn’t have it in him to be ashamed. All he could do was clutch her close and wait for the shaking to subside, bit by bit.

…If it were Anastasia, Ricardo would have prayed for someone to be looking after her in a situation like this. Father to father, he could do the same for Subaru’s old man if need be.

—Though, from the look on Wilhelm’s face, Ricardo wondered if his own involvement would even be necessary.

Wilhelm had his hands raised to cover his mouth in a decidedly uncharacteristic display, so horrified he was by the reveal of the prior state of that young boy. Subaru had… Subaru had…

This wasn’t what he had expected. A young, dumb boy who got into mischief perhaps a little too often for his own good, sure. But a youth who had shrank away from everything so completely, so utterly, that he had really begun to think that there was no future for him at all—!

What a horrible thing for a father to hear from his son. What an awful thing for a son to voice aloud — or to feel, in the first place. Wilhelm had seen blood and carnage and despair on the battlefield, but for some reason it was now that horrified nausea twisted his insides into knots.

“I don’t want to die! I don’t want to die! No! No! Help me! No! I don’t want to die!”

Subaru hadn’t REALLY wanted to die. But — had he not fully understood that, back then? How could he not have known—!

(Wilhelm did not think of his own son, who…may have been left in a similar state. For all of his courage on the battlefield, the Sword Demon could not bring himself to think about that.)

[“FATHER HEADBUTT!!!”]

[Natsuki Kenichi slammed an axe kick down on the head of his beloved only son.]

Julius squawked loudly, abruptly snapped out of his horrified silence. Next to him, Mimi’s despaired expression shifted as she — mercifully — broke into peals of laughter.

[“A lot of what you just said bothers me, but you know what’s the worst?” Kenichi was scolding, suddenly rather serious. “You wanted me to hate you, so you tried to achieve that by playing hookey? Are you dumb?! And if you want to get me to throw you out, pick a more active method! Who would ditch their own kid just because he retreated into his shell?!”]

Ricardo — relaxed, just the slightest bit. At least…at least that old man had told it to him straight. Right?

[“You’re so twisted, you’re on the fast track to being an idiot!” Kenichi cracked his knuckles, grinning. “I’d be glad to set you straight by force if you want…”]

Wilhelm chuckled weakly, trying desperately to force down his turmoil and keep it cool. “Perhaps…Perhaps all fathers have that attitude, even beyond the Great Waterfall…”

Ferris said nothing. Ferris hadn’t moved an inch since the reveal that Subaru had been waiting for an excuse to go and die. Wilhelm didn’t…know what to do.

[“…But it looks like you’ve already been knocked down and stood yourself back up, so there’s no need.” Kenichi’s voice had softened, his fist relaxing into a hand he extended downwards to pull his son back up. Subaru smiled as he accepted it.]

“They really did love him,” Crusch echoed softly. “Didn’t they?”

Anastasia stared wordlessly at the interaction. A very personal sense of loss gnawed at the heart of the former hyena — and a sense of despair at the dawning realization of just how fucked up this situation really was seemed to take over her mind like an invasive species of poisonous flowers.

She reached forward and pulled all three triplets into her lap, hugging them close.

[“Remember what I said?” Subaru was saying. “I found a girl I like. Plus, there's a girl who said she loved me, despite the way I am. And neither one of them knows I'm the son of Natsuki Kenichi. In their eyes, I'm just Natsuki Subaru.” He sighed aloud. “No, in all of their eyes…I was Natsuki Subaru. I finally figured that out.”]

[“It took you long enough. You’re just now coming around to saying all this? I should whack you.”]

Emilia stared at the screen, eyes dull and faded. Rem’s were much the same. On one hand, it was wonderful to be told that Subaru had achieved something so precious due to their influence. It was perhaps the greatest compliment either of them could receive.

But, on the other hand…

[“Um,” Subaru was saying, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. Sorry about putting you through—”]

[“If you feel sorry, all you gotta do is take your time making it up to us.” Kenichi grinned, giving him a thumbs-up. “Take good care of me and your mom when we’re old, my eldest son.”]

In the present moment, Subaru finally made a noise.

It was soft, and quiet, and very hoarse — but Beatrice, who had not taken her eyes off of him once, noticed all the same. “Subaru…?”

Subaru’s pupils had shrunk even past their usual states, his whole body shaking as he stared up at the metia in horror. Tears were staring to bud in the corners of his eyes. More horrible croaking noises were leaving his throat. One by one, the people of the audience turned to see what was going on.

“…Natsuki-san, please—” Otto said, the first to reach out. “It’s alright. It’ll— It’ll be alright—”

“Please don’t cry,” Emilia agreed, unusually gentle. “Please, not…” Not while we can’t hold you.

[The Subaru onscreen had already started to cry. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I— I’m sorry. I can’t— I-I'm sorry! I won't be able to make anything up to you before…” He finally, properly burst into tears. “I will never see you again!”]

As that cold reality was voiced aloud, the Subaru in the present finally sobbed — and with that first step, the entire dam seemed to shatter until there was nothing left for him to do but fall to the floor with a thump, curl into a ball, and wail in despair.

“Subaru—!” Julius cried out, trying desperately to hold back his own tears at the horrible sight.

“Subaru-dono, please!” Wilhelm tried to say, reaching forward to try and ease his cries. His hands met glass. “We’re right here, please just—!”

[“I-I’m sorry!” Subaru apologized, over and over again as his sobs grew and grew and grew. “I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry!”]

“I-I’m sorry,” Subaru echoed weakly, tears streaming down his face to form a puddle under his cheek. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I wanna— I wanna go home—!”

Beatrice choked back a cry of despair of her own. “Subaru—!”

[“No matter how much time passes, you’re still such a handful, son.” Kenichi sighed, but he was smiling as he rubbed a bawling Subaru’s back. “Sheesh…”]

The current Subaru had no such comfort to be given to him. Nobody could reach him, no matter how badly they wanted to, no matter how hard they tried. All there was left for him to do was wail and wail and wail as the horrible despair surrounding his untimely departure collapsed on him anew.

[dcdreamblog]

We all know about how the HUAC trial of the 50s was, accentually, the end of the mystery men but something that is rarely talked about is the massacre of the 70s. where doctor Trapp killed over 35 superheroes and supervillains over 2 years, witch the most famous victims being the justice experience.

Care to talk about all of those fallen heroes?

Yes, well I must admit to my professional biases first. I know that one of my bad habits, the bad habits of my entire academic focus is that it makes it seem that there were no superheroes between the retirement of the JSA and the foundation of the JLA. It's obviously not true. If you're not from the United States you'd have good cause to be offended by the implication. But there's a reason. The first reason is that because my focus is on the Golden Age it's easier for me to present historical narratives from that angle to the layman, no offense. The second...is because of what happened to that forgotten middle generation.

The tragedy of the Justice Experience.

(Image of the Justice Experience created by famous cartoonist Bruce Timm. (OOC: Gwhitmore on DA). Perhaps for a never made cartoon along the lines of his famous MAU franchise)

They appeared in the early 70s, from the left to right: Acro-Bat, Bronze Wraith, Songbird, The Manx, Mr. Action and Major Flashback. They were a very low key organization but not by choice.

The media, and especially the police and the government were still deeply anti-vigilante by nature. The records of the Experience are heavily incomplete because anything they did was poorly reported and any criminals they caught were often fully credited to the police or the FBI no matter how much sense that made or how much everyone knew it was bullshit.

And that institutional disinterest probably killed them.

A villain by the name of Dr. Trap made it his personal mission to hunt down the heroes and villains of this era, as well as their friends and family. Due to legal pressure the heroes of this era had been unable to organize in the vein of the heroes of previous and following periods and the law enforcement of the time refused to take the threat of a supervillain seriously. Treating Dr. Trap as LESS dangerous than a normal killer due to his "eccentricities"

Nearly two dozen villains of the era were killed inside their own jail cells when prison staff refused to upgrade security or even increase nightly patrols.

The only survivor of the Experience was the Bronze Wraith who would later be revealed as an alternative alias of J'onn J'onzz, the Martian Manhunter. The raid that eventually captured Trap was the only case between their dis-and-reappearance that prompted the public return of the Justice Society who were able to track down and capture Trap within HOURS using their wider organizational net and remaining government contacts, further placing a spotlight on the culpability of authorities in the massacre.

35 people lost their lives in less than 2 years, the powers that be have still yet to acknowledge the role of police disinterest in exacerbating the crime and allowing Trap free reign despite standing condemnations from both the Justice Society and the Justice League. To this day the Martian Manhunter holds a private vigil alongside those the Experience left behind, taking place not on the anniversary of their deaths but of their foundation, to further bring light to their deeds.

The Manhunter has very rarely spoken on his time with the Experience in public saying "their memories are a private matter". His is also quoted as saying "I made a vow to myself that no longer would I allow my allies to suffer in silence. I unveiled my alien visage to the world, I encouraged my teammates to operate openly and without fear. And forever more I have deeply mistrusted those who hold power in human governance."

Justice Experience Remembrance Day is July 6th.

[vithir]

Jegulus backstageroom

In which Regulus is at James, Sirius, Mary, Marlene and Peters concert to support Dorlen's relationship, but it becomes clear he's also drawn by a deeper reason: watching James Potter perform.

James and Regulus "first real meeting" in Bright Water chapter 8 on AO3 by AstronomyAddict

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

Regulus was still feeling the aftermath of the concert when Dorcas began to pull him toward the small backstage area along with Barty, Evan, and Pandora. She had made it very clear that he didn't need to come along. He had told her that he would do it for her and Marlene. That hadn't been the whole truth. For it wasn't just about supporting a friend for Regulus; it was also about watching James stand on a stage and sing with all his soul. No matter how much he tried to deny it, James hadn't disappointed him. Shortly after Dorcas had told them all about Marlene, Evan realized that they had gone to school with her. It irritated Regulus that he hadn't noticed it when he saw the name Marlene McKinnon. She had been a year ahead of them and had been one of Sirius’s friends. So, of the four of them (Barty, Pandora, Evan, and Regulus), it should have been Regulus who noticed it. After all, he was the one who knew the most about Sirius’s friend group. The noise from the concert still hung in the air, and the light from the stage, seeping in through the heavy curtains, cast faint flashes of color across the room.

Marlene was leaning against the wall, still with her guitar slung loosely over her shoulder. Her blonde hair was a bit tousled after the concert, and the pink tips caught the light in a way that almost made them glow. When her eyes met Dorcas’s, they were filled with a warmth that could ignite a fire. She approached them with an enthusiasm bubbling with happiness. She smiled and wrapped an arm around Dorcas’s waist, pulling her close.

“All right, everyone,” Dorcas announced a bit nervously. Regulus didn’t like that they were making her nervous. She deserved to be happy, and she shouldn’t doubt their support. “This is Marlene! Marlene, this is Evan, Barty, Pandora, and Regulus.”

Regulus gave her an approving nod as the others issued a small chorus of “hi” and “hello.” Pandora tried to start a conversation, but it quickly fizzled out. They all stood in awkward silence. It wasn’t like Barty to be quiet like that. He usually chatted away about everything under the sun, but now he was silent. Marlene, desperate to break the silence, turned to Regulus. She stared at him with a raised chin and a challenging glint in her eye, and Regulus wasn’t quite sure how to react. But he was Regulus Black, and he had no intention of letting a simple girl take control. So he held her gaze, with a haughty expression on his face.

“You’re Dorcas’s best friend,” Marlene said. How clever she was.

“Good, now you know who will break all your bones if you break Dorcas’s heart.”

Dorcas gasped. “Reg! Don’t threaten her.”

Regulus shrugged, still fixated on Marlene. “It’s not a threat,” he replied calmly. “It’s a promise.” His voice was flat, but there was a seriousness behind the words that made Marlene’s smile falter for a moment.

However, Marlene wasn’t easily scared. Her smile quickly returned, crooked and confident. “I don’t intend to hurt her,” she said with a confidence that revealed she wasn’t a stranger to such confrontations. “But it’s good to know where we stand.”

Marlene cast a quick glance at Dorcas, seeing her relief that she wasn’t too upset by Regulus’s remark. “He seems to have your back. I like him. It’s funny to see how people react when you challenge them a bit.”

Dorcas chuckled softly and shook her head.

Marlene turned her gaze back to Regulus.

“Well, now I know you’re not easily intimidated,” she said with a smile that was both crooked and welcoming. “That’s a good start. I’m glad you’re willing to get to know me, even though I might not fit into your comfort zone.”

Regulus couldn’t help but smile a little. “So, it seems we both like a challenge. I must admit, you’re quite brave for someone who’s only just been introduced to me.”

Marlene laughed. “And you seem like someone who’s pretty good at keeping people on their toes. That must be a useful skill to have. What else do you do when you’re not standing around threatening people with broken bones?”

Regulus raised an eyebrow and thought for a moment before replying. “Well, I usually avoid having boring conversations, so I have a rule that I only engage in conversations where you can get a free trial course in stand-up comedy. It’s a good way to keep things interesting.”

Marlene laughed, and Regulus found her reaction to be a funny and refreshing contrast to his own expectations.

“I like your approach,” Marlene said with a smile. “Maybe you should consider taking your rule to the next level and start your own comedy club. I would definitely stop by.”

Regulus laughed and nodded. “Maybe I should. Or maybe I should just figure out how to avoid boring conversations with you. That could be a fun challenge.”

Marlene laughed again, and the atmosphere became lighter. It was clear that she had a knack for making people feel comfortable and relaxed, and Regulus found himself in a better mood.

Barty, who was known for his wild personality, chimed in with a crooked smile.

“So, Marlene, how was it playing in front of such a large audience? I have to admit, I’m a bit curious about what it feels like to be on stage with so much energy.”

Marlene laughed and sat down next to Barty. “It’s a very special feeling. You can almost feel the energy of the audience, and it gives you such an adrenaline rush. But it also requires a lot of preparation and focus. What about you? What do you do in your free time?”

Pandora, who had become a bit nervous over the earlier awkward silence, spoke up. “I’m a designer myself, so I spend a lot of time experimenting. Otherwise, we usually hang out together and come up with crazy things. What about you, Marlene? What do you do when you’re not on stage?”

Marlene smiled. “I love making music, but I also have a passion for painting. It’s my way of relaxing. I find it very calming to paint with Sirius, our bassist.”

Regulus froze at the sound of his brother’s name, but no one noticed, and the conversation continued.

Barty, who always had a comment ready, looked at Marlene with a gleam in his eye. 

“Painting? I like it. I imagine your paintings must be as colorful as your hair.”

Marlene laughed. “You’re right. I like to use a lot of colors and create something that really grabs people’s attention. What about you, Barty? What’s your hidden talent?”

Barty laughed. “Hidden talent? I’m actually a master at baking cookies. It’s not something you’d necessarily expect, but I make the best cookies.”

Evan, who had been listening with interest, added, “I think it would be fun to organize a baking competition one day. Barty, I think you could face some competition.”

Marlene turned to Regulus, who was still standing a little apart. There was something in her gaze that revealed… something. She met his eyes directly, without wavering, and Regulus couldn’t help but notice the warmth and humor she radiated. In his thoughts, he acknowledged her ability to stand up for herself and the energy she brought to the conversation.

“What about you, Regulus? What do you do when you’re not hanging out with your friends? I’ve heard you’re a bit of a loner.”

Regulus raised his eyebrows but let a small smile break through. “I have my own interests. It’s not always easy to find time for social gatherings.”

Marlene smiled warmly. “It sounds like you have a lot on your plate. I can understand why you might not always have time to be social. But it’s good to see you here tonight. It means something.”

Regulus’ gaze softened a bit. He appreciated that Marlene wasn’t intimidated by his reserved nature. There was something refreshing about her genuine demeanor that he found hard to resist. He could sense that her energy was something he could respect, even if he was inclined to keep his distance.

“I must admit, it’s not every day I meet someone who’s so open. It’s… refreshing.”

Marlene nodded and looked at the others. “So, now that we’ve all learned a bit about each other, what do you say we meet up with the rest of the band? It would be fun to get the whole group together and maybe grab a drink or two.”

Pandora and Evan nodded eagerly. “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea,” Pandora said. “It would be fun to get to know the band better.”

Barty clapped his hands. “Let’s do it! I’m up for a good evening.”

Regulus didn’t want to. Meeting the band meant seeing Sirius, and that was not something he was ready for. Facing Sirius face-to-face required preparation. He exchanged a knowing look with Dorcas and then said, “I’ll stay here.” He didn’t need to say more, as the others understood him. The reunion of the Black brothers was not to happen tonight, and they respected his choice. Marlene nodded understandingly. “Okay, Regulus. That’s perfectly fine. If you change your mind, you know where to find us.”

With that, Marlene and the others began to leave, while Regulus stayed behind. He watched their disappearing figures. Although he disagreed with her choice of friends—friend—he had to admit that she had a rare kind of courage and charm. Regulus took a deep breath and decided to use the time alone to reflect on how he would handle the rest of the evening. He knew that Marlene would come back to him afterward (Dorcas hadn’t asked yet, but she would as soon as they returned). Regulus settled into one of the sofas and closed his eyes, letting out a long sigh. Watching James play and sing had definitely affected him. The way he sang with his soul made Regulus’s stomach churn. If only—

“Regulus!” a cheerful voice called.

His eyes flew open again.

James Fleamont Potter.

He stood in the doorway the others had disappeared through, with tousled hair and red cheeks. A big grin was plastered on his face. A ridiculously handsome face. Why did he always smile like that?

“Ah, I’ve been looking for you since the concert ended! Marlene said you were out here. I’m glad to see you.” James’s voice was filled with genuine joy, and his smile seemed like a beam of light trying to break through Regulus’s coldness.

Marlene. Maybe Regulus should reconsider if he actually liked her.

Regulus rolled his eyes and tried to appear indifferent. “I’m here to support the two,” he said coldly, making it clear that he wasn’t there to see James. “Not because I necessarily wanted to be here.”

James laughed and walked over to him with a beaming smile. “So you’re saying you’re here out of duty? You know, you could have done it in a more fun way. What if I promise to entertain you instead?” He sat down next to Regulus on the sofa and leaned in a bit closer, so Regulus couldn’t help but feel the warmth of his presence.

Regulus looked at James with a skeptical gaze. “And how do you plan to do that? Tell jokes or something like that?”

James shook his head. “Oh, I don’t necessarily have a plan, but I’ve always had a knack for coming up with something that makes people smile. Or laugh. Or both.”

Regulus raised an eyebrow and leaned back on the sofa. “So, is that your way of being charming? I must admit, I’m a bit disappointed. I was expecting something more than just words.”

James’s eyes sparkled with excitement as he leaned forward. “Call it a challenge, then. If I can’t make you smile, I’ll buy you a drink next time we meet.”

Regulus looked at James with a mix of suspicion and irritation. He wanted 100% James far, far away. “And what if I’m not interested in being entertained?”

James laughed and looked at Regulus with a flirtatious gaze. “Then maybe it’s time you figure out why you’re even here. Is it really just for Dorcas and Marlene, or is there something more?”

A wave of panic hit Regulus. Dorcas hadn’t figured him out, so why did James? Why was James even talking to him? Regulus hadn’t been in contact with his brother for a year, and the same went for James. He had watched a few of their concerts, but he hadn’t spoken to James in three years. Regulus tried to remain cold and sarcastic. “Maybe you should stop psychoanalyzing me. I’m here because I chose to be. I don’t need your speculation.”

James seemed to find Regulus’s reaction entertaining. “You can be as ice-cold as you want, but I have a feeling you actually enjoy the company.” He laughed smoothly and looked Regulus in the eyes. His chocolate-brown eyes stared directly into Regulus’s soul. Beyond the coldness, beyond the facade, beyond the hatred. He saw right through it all.

Regulus felt his face grow warm, and he could feel a heat spreading to his cheeks and down his neck. The red color was obvious against his pale skin. Regulus tried to hide his reaction, but James’s smile only grew wider.

“What are you smiling about?” Regulus said sharply, trying to compose himself.

James’s smile became even more flirtatious. “You actually look pretty cute when you’re embarrassed. I think I’ve hit a nerve.”

Regulus seriously needed to pull himself together! He couldn’t continue like this. James was just a silly boy trying to tease him. He had probably arranged this with Sirius.

Yay, should we tease my little brother now that he’s here?

Yeah, Pads, that sounds like a brilliant idea!

Regulus could clearly see the scenario in his mind, and just the thought made him angry. Who did James think he was? He might be attractive (and Regulus had had a few breakdowns over his godliness), but that didn’t mean he could get away with whatever this was about.

“Fuck off, Potter!” Regulus snarled in a tone most wouldn’t dare to defy.

James hummed a cheerful, bright tone. “I think I’ll stay here. I’m enjoying the company, at least.”

Regulus needed to get out of here. Immediately. He quickly stood up from the sofa and felt the strong absence of James’s warmth. He had the same body temperature as a radiator.

“I don’t think I have anything else to say right now.” He began to walk toward the door as James’s laughter filled the room, and Regulus couldn’t help but feel a bit embarrassed by his reaction. James’s charming nature had struck something he wasn’t quite ready to confront.

As Regulus left the room, he could hear James shout after him, “I’ll see you later, Regulus! And watch out, I’ll be looking for your next reaction!”

[whiskey-tango-matcha]

Noticing (M, cold)

Ok, so I got an idea and ran with it and it came out as 4.5k words with no sneezing until 2.5k words in (apologies). But this was a super fun write! In it, Reed and Greyson are newly moved in together and Greyson realizes Reed has some quirks he didn't know about. Sick Greyson, if you make it all the way to the snz then I promise he is pretty miserable by the end lmao. I hope you all enjoy, I know I've been MIA for a few weeks, I'm hoping to be around more but in the meantime I'd love to hear your thoughts on this one. Anyway, enjoy!

CW: Male snz, cold, some coughing. A lil relationship angst. Nothing too crazy in this one.

Noticing

The moment they moved in together, Greyson realized that Reed was… let’s just say a different breed of human than he was used to cohabitating with.

This wasn’t to say that a different breed was bad; quite the opposite, in most ways that mattered. Every roommate Greyson ever had could have been affectionately referred to as a swamp garbage monster from hell; dishes were done by Greyson and only him, and that was when he could actually get to them. Laundry littered the floor of the apartment, and not just the bedrooms but the living room and even kitchen floors, and the fridge would’ve been better classified as a biomedical waste bin.

Then there had been his brief stint of life with Collin. Collin wasn’t a swamp monster, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t a monster at all; Collin was what Greyson called the ‘everything-in-its-place’ monster. There wasn’t a single day that went by in their month-long living partner stint where Collin wasn’t berating Greyson about his toothbrush being on the wrong side of the sink, or his shoes being on the wrong side of the closet. As disgusting as it was, Greyson knew that if push came to shove he’d pick a million garbage roommates over a single monster of Collin’s variety.

Greyson had made it a point throughout his late twenties and into his thirties to live alone if he could, even if it meant taking the train an hour one way to work every day. He’d enjoyed his time alone, having everything where he wanted it, a home that most would call a bachelor pad, but without all the grime. Having something just for himself, especially after the disaster that was Collin, had felt safe. Comfortable. Easy.

The decision to move in with Reed had felt easy and comfortable too when he’d agreed to do it, though. It had felt safe, and he knew it was; it was just hard to give up the life he was used to, especially since he was once again moving into someone else’s space. The new apartment was… incredible. But it was Reed’s.

Reed’s life revolved almost completely around his apartment, Greyson quickly realized. His boyfriend worked from home, and worked a lot – there were nights when Greyson would stumble out of bed at three a.m. to pee, only to realize Reed was in his office typing away.

“If I get an idea, I have to write it out,” Reed had explained one morning when Greyson confronted him about it. “If I wait and go back to bed, it’ll be gone.”

Greyson could understand this; after all, he kept a notebook on him at all times for writing down ideas for menus or recipes. Creative force struck when it struck, he supposed. What he couldn’t understand was the absolutely insane schedule his boyfriend stuck to during the day.

“Honey, you don’t work from home so it’s hard for you to understand,” Reed had said when Greyson asked about the hour-by-hour, day-by-day schedule Reed kept on a bulletin board over his desk. “You really have to keep yourself on task in this line of work.”

“Yeah, I get that, babe,” Greyson said. “But I mean… you’re scheduling bathroom breaks. You work next to your bathroom.”

Reed had shrugged. “Sometimes I forget.”

Sometimes you forget?? Greyson found himself turning this idea over and over in his head the day after his boyfriend had uttered it. When Elijah asked him what he was so distracted by, Greyson couldn’t help but ask, “Have you ever forgotten to go to the bathroom?”

“What the fuck kind of question is that?” Elijah shot back. “Remind me to not ask you what you’re thinking about ever again.”

The schedule didn’t just apply to his work, though; Reed had everything scheduled. A cleaner came every Tuesday at nine a.m. sharp, no exceptions except for holidays. On the first Friday of each month, a man came to change their air filters. Was this a service provided by Reed’s fancy-schmancy apartment? Greyson had asked off-handedly the second month he lived there. Reed had raised an eyebrow at the question.

“Of course not,” he said. “I schedule it.”

“But… why? It’s not like you have any pets. I can change the air filters when they need to be changed,” Greyson offered. Reed’s lips pressed together at this offering, an indication that what he wanted to say and what he would would be two very different things.

“Let’s just keep it the way it is, baby,” he said. “So neither of us forget.”

It wouldn’t have mattered if Greyson forgot something, though, because Reed was not only on top of everything, he was ahead of everything. If Greyson forgot to throw his boxers in the dirty clothes when he got in the shower, they were in the hamper before the steam settled. The first time Reed made him dinner and Greyson offered to clean up after, he was shocked to find that there wasn’t a single dish in the sink to contend with. Even the counters were spotless.

None of this was to say that Greyson felt he’d moved in with a stranger; he knew that Reed was particular, Type A, and just a touch anal retentive before he’d moved in. He just hadn’t realized quite how intense the situation was.

“I don’t see the issue,” Elijah said when Greyson casually brought up the situation over drinks one night. “That sounds like a dream living situation. It’s like you have a free butler. Is he being an asshole about doing everything? It’s not like a Collin situation, is it?”

Greyson took a long pull from his whiskey, signaled the bartender for another. “No,” he said, turning towards his friend, “that’s exactly why it’s weird. He doesn’t say anything about it. I could probably smash all the plates in the cabinet, shred his blankets and shove them down the toilet and then take a shit in our bed and he’d have it cleaned up by the time I got home from work. No questions asked.”

Elijah pressed his lips together, thinking. “I just don’t see how any of this is bad.”

“I’m not saying it’s bad. I’m saying it’s weird.”

“Like you don’t have any weird quirks,” Elijah said, nodding at the bartender’s gesture to pour him another whiskey as well. “C’mon, Grey. Be serious.”

Greyson rubbed a hand down his face. “Yeah, I mean obviously. I’ve just, like… I’ve never lived with anyone like this. I feel like I’m tiptoeing around the house. Remember that Disney movie from way back? Smart House?”

“You are constantly forgetting that I am ten years older than you, asshole. No, I don’t remember fucking Smart House I was busy paying taxes when it came out.”

The chef flipped off his friend, laughing in earnest. “Whatever. It’s like the house is watching me, is what I mean. Which it isn’t, Reed isn’t watching me, obviously, it’s just… a totally different way of living. I don’t know.” Defeated, he knocked back the drink and shrugged, looking down. A hand slid over to pat his arm.

“You love him?” Elijah asked when Greyson looked up at him. A flush bloomed on Greyson’s face, prompting a laugh from Elijah. “Yeah,” the GM said, “you love him. So just accept him for this. It’s a weird quirk, yeah, but I mean it’s better than the alternative.”

“Swamp monster being the alternative?”

“Collin being the alternative,” Elijah corrected. Greyson shuddered. “Exactly.”

That was where he landed; he’d just accept the schedules, and the clean-freak weirdness, and the anticipatory service that would put a five-star hotel to shame. Greyson loved Reed, quirks and all, after all.

There was, however, one quirk Greyson hadn’t realized his boyfriend had – not until three months into living together.

On a Monday in May, Greyson woke up to the sound of Reed on the phone.

This was hardly new; Reed was on the phone near-constantly on days he worked, talking to magazines and news sites, interviewing other chefs and restaurant owners in the city. At first, Greyson assumed this was one of those calls – that is, until he walked into the kitchen and began eavesdropping.

“Thanks for understanding, Melissa. Yep, should be all good by next week, I appreciate it. Mmhmm. I’ll Zelle the partial payment now. Thanks again, hun, see you next week. Buh-bye.”

Greyson raised an eyebrow as Reed hung up the phone. “Was that Melissa the cleaning woman?” Reed nodded, penning something into his day planner.

“Mmhmm,” he said, looking up at his boyfriend and smiling. “Why? Good morning, by the way.”

“Morning,” Greyson said, peeking into Reed’s planner. “Were you calling her off for tomorrow?”

“Yes…?” Reed said, drumming his fingers on the table. “Is that okay?”

“Obviously it’s okay,” Greyson said as he made a coffee in their Keurig. “I mean, I’m just surprised. You’ve never called her off, she comes like fuckin’ clockwork. Do you have some sort of plans?”

Reed shifted uncomfortably on his seat. “Um,” he said, closing the planner. “Sort of.”

Pouring creamer into his coffee, Greyson burst out in a laugh. “Sort of? I’ve lived with you for months, baby. You’ve never sort of had a plan. I’d be shocked if you hadn’t planned your own birth for a specific day.”

“Don’t be silly. No one would ever choose to have a Christmas birthday.”

“Mmm, fair enough,” Greyson said, sitting next to his boyfriend. “Sooo… what’s the plan?”

Again, Reed seemed uncomfortable. “You’re going to think I’m weird if I say it,” he admitted. Greyson snorted out a laugh.

“My love,” he said, cupping Reed’s chin, “that ship has sailed. You are very weird, and I love that about you. Now tell me why you called off Melissa, throwing a wrench in your otherwise-perfectly-curated day.”

Reed pressed his lips together. Then, quietly: “You’re getting sick.”

Greyson reeled back as if Reed had pushed him. “What?” he asked, dumbfounded.

Immediately, Reed set to explaining: “Okay, okay, I know this is bizarre but… um… okay, the explanation is going to sound even more bizarre, I’m now realizing, but you have, um, a tell. When you’re getting sick. And I know that sounds weird or invasive, but I just noticed it last night so I figured I would call off Melissa so that tomorrow you can just sleep instead of, like, listening to the vacuum all day. That’s all.”

The apartment was quiet then. “What’s the tell?” Greyson asked after a long pause.

“Grey, please don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad, I’m… I don’t even know what I am, honestly. Freaked out?”

“Fuck, I shouldn’t have said anything,” Reed moaned, putting his head between his arms on the table. “I’m so fucking embarrassed.” He lifted his head then, his face red. “Please don’t be upset?”

The wind had been taken out of Greyson’s sails. “I’m really not… upset. Just tell me the tell.”

“You’re mad.”

“I’m not. Tell me why you think I’m getting sick.”

Reed sighed, looking down at his planner. “I just… like details. That’s all.”

“Reed, for God’s sake just tell me.”

“Okay!” Reed said, his embarrassment turning to frustration. “Okay. It’s just… ugh this sounds so weird. Okay, so like… you start to say a couple days before that some food that you love tastes weird, even though it doesn’t. This time it was an orange, you said it tasted rotten - I tried it, it didn’t. Then you’re super cold and moody, you wear your jacket to work even though it isn’t cold. That happened yesterday, then you came home and refused a drink. Those are all tells. So I figured by today when you got home from work, you’d be feeling shitty.” Reed shrugged, an attempt at being blasé that failed miserably with the catch in his voice that meant his embarrassment was about to spill over into tears. “That’s all.”

For a moment, Greyson just nodded – one continuous nod that he couldn’t seem to stop or accompany with words. “Okay,” he said, standing. “Um… I need to go to work. Can we talk about this later?”

“Greyson,” Reed said, desperation clear in his voice. “I promise I didn’t mean this to be so weird. I just… every time you’ve been sick, it’s been the same thing. I’m sorry. I notice patterns, it’s… one of my things, I guess. I don’t want you to think I’m a freak.”

“Reed,” Greyson said, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I need a minute with this one. Okay? That’s it. I’m not mad, I just need… a minute.”

They stood in silence then, a stand-off with no winner or loser. “Okay,” Reed said finally. “Have a good day.”

Greyson went to the bedroom then, put on his work clothes, and gathered his backpack. What the ever loving fuck, he thought as he left without saying goodbye, was that?

***

“I mean, yeah, boss, that’s kind of weird I guess.”

This was not the reaction he’d been hoping for from Matt. “What do you mean kind of weird?” Greyson said, throwing his hands in the air. “He’s, like, stalking my habits. Keeping tabs on me. It’s insanity, Matt.”

The sous just shrugged, noncommittal, and continued chopping onions. “First off, I think you’re blowing this out of proportion. He’s watching your habits because he cares about you. It’s called intimacy. And second, I don’t know how to tell you this, Chef,” he said, glancing up, “but you do kind of have a tell when you’re getting sick.”

What kind of fucking nega-universe am I living in right now? Greyson thought, slamming his knife on the cutting board. “I do not have a tell,” he said. Matt glanced to the side, silent. “I don’t, Matt.”

“You don’t what?” Mark glided into the conversation, popping a cherry tomato from his boyfriend’s prep station into his mouth. Greyson took this opportunity gladly.

“Mark, glad you’re here,” Greyson said, turning away from his sous. “Random question: can you tell if Mark is getting sick?”

The floor manager furrowed his eyebrows together, looking Matt over. “Are you sick?” he asked his boyfriend.

“No,” Matt said. “But Greyson is.”

“Oh, my God no I am not,” Greyson insisted, throwing his arms over his head. “Never mind, Mark. Go.”

“Snippy,” Mark said. A knowing look passed between Mark and Matt then. “I’ll let Elijah know.”

No shot in hell this is my life, Greyson thought, looking wildly around the prep kitchen. “What the fuck is happening right now? I’m – HRRTSHH-ue!”

Silence fell over the back kitchen as Greyson ducked into his elbow. Then Elijah, from the office up front: “Oh, fuck off, I knew you were getting sick!”

Matt and Mark cackled while Greyson attempted to quell the volley of sneezes he knew were on that first’s heel. “You guys are asshoo – assholessITSZCH-ue! Hh - ! HETSZH-ue!”

“Bless, Chef,” Matt said, still laughing. The blessing made Mark literally double over, unable to catch his breath. Greyson glowered at the two of them as he yanked a handful of paper towels out of the dispenser and blew his nose. This is fucking humiliating, he found himself thinking.

“Shit, sorry Chef,” Mark said, finally catching his breath. Matt wiped a hysterical tear from his eye. “It’s just… I mean, it’s always so easy to tell when you’re sick. Can I get you some medicine from up front?” “No, Mark, you cannot get me some medicine,” Greyson grumbled. “You can go to the front and do your fucking job, though.”

Greyson could see Mark bite his cheek to keep from laughing again. “Yes, sir,” he said, disappearing from the back kitchen. On a roll, Greyson whirled around on his heels to point at his sous.

“And you,” he said, “finish up this prep. I’m going to the office.”

Matt just nodded, the smile on his face betraying his thoughts. “Yes, Chef,” he said.

As he stomped, defeated, to the front office, Greyson checked his phone. One new message.

11:52AM

Reed

hi, love. just wanted to make sure you’re having a good day. sorry again for my weirdness. love you.

God-fucking-dammit.

***

It had been a running joke from the time he was a kid.

Greyson, the go-til-you-drop expert. Greyson, the workhorse. Greyson, who wouldn’t know he’d been hit by a bus until someone else forced him into an ambulance. It was weird, he guessed, but it was what it was; he didn’t realize he was sick until it hit him because he was working. He was busy. That was how it always had been.

“Would you get in the office and take some fucking Dayquil, please?” Elijah plucked the knife from Greyson’s hand as he ducked under the prep station to stifle a flurry of coughs into his jacket. “We already said we’re sorry for embarrassing you, now go take something.”

Unwilling to give in, Greyson just shook his head and yanked his knife back from Elijah’s hands. “You didn’t embarrass mbe because I’mb ndot sick.”

“Uh huh,” Elijah said, crossing his arms. “Could you say that again?”

“Say what again?”

“‘I’m not sick’.”

Greyson rolled his eyes. “I’mb ndot sick.”

“‘I’mb ndot sick’,” Elijah parroted back, his consonants purposely dulled. “That’s crazy, that’s exactly how well people sound when they say that.”

Greyson’s face flamed. “Fuck off, Elijahhh – ahhTXSH-uhh!” An attempt to stifle a sneeze that immediately backfired. “HRSHH-ue! Huh -! HhhITSZCHH-ue!”

Taking pity, Elijah took the few steps to the office and grabbed a box of tissues. He placed it in front of the chef’s face and, begrudgingly, Greyson pulled out a few. “Bless you,” Elijah said, pointedly.

“You kndow what I miss,” Greyson asked, wiping his nose and sucking in, fruitlessly. Elijah raised his eyebrows as if to say, What? “I miss when I first started here and you were so clueless and self-involved that you didn’t ndotice I was walking around the kitchen with the fuckigg flu. I mbiss clueless Elijah. At least he wasn’t up mby ass twenty-four-seven.”

Elijah barked out a laugh. “You do not miss that,” he said. “You couldn’t even handle an afternoon of me not realizing you were sick. You were so downright offended that I hadn’t noticed you were sick that you literally went off on me. Please, Greyson. You can play the I’m-not-sick card all you want, but don’t pretend you don’t like the attention.”

At this, Greyson balked. “Are you calling mbe an attention whore?”

“Grey, of course I’m calling you an attention whore,” Elijah exploded, throwing his hands in the air. “Someone who isn’t an attention whore doesn’t turn a weird fight with his boyfriend into a day-long diatribe at work. You think Reed realized you were getting sick because he’s stalking your movements? Please, Grey. He realized it because you do the same damn thing every time – you sulk around work for a day or two, complaining about the thermostat being wrong in the kitchen. Your taste is off, and every dish Matt brings to you for editing doesn’t have enough salt. Then you come into work one day in a bad mood and seemingly out of nowhere start sneezing and coughing and shit. It’s like clockwork.”

The two of them stood there for a moment, silent. Despite it all, Greyson was in a bit of shock – was he really that obvious? How the fuck did everyone else realize he was sick before it ever even dawned on him? “It’s like that every time?” he asked, finally. Elijah nodded.

“Every time,” he said. “I thought you were always just trying to soft-launch your illness before it hit, get us all ready for a few days of you being an asshole.”

Was that what he was doing? Now Greyson was having a hard time even trusting his own brain – but no, that couldn’t have been his intention. He’d never even noticed before when he was getting sick. He figured that’s how everyone was; one day you’re fine, the next you’re on your ass.

“I’mb gonna keep it really real with you, Lij,” Greyson said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ve ndever ndoticed that I did any of that. HRRTSHH-uhh! Fugck.” He grabbed another handful of tissues from the box beside him and wiped his nose. “I thought ‘getting sick’ was, like, a myth. You either are or you aren’t.”

Elijah closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “You… are a different breed, Greyson Abbott,” he said, gathering himself. “You’ve never, like, taken inventory of how you’re feeling? Ever?”

“I mean, if I’mb forced to,” Greyson said, coughing into a fist. “Like ndow I am.”

“So you’re saying the only time you think about how you’re feeling is when you’re already down bad.”

“Uhh. Yes,” Greyson admitted, sniffling. “Pretty much.”

Elijah cracked his neck then, as if gearing up for a fight. “Get help, Grey,” he said, laughing. “That’s fucking crazy work.”

But it was true. From the time he was young, Greyson was busy. Sports as a teen, then restaurants the second he graduated – there simply wasn’t time to take inventory of how he was feeling. Taking inventory meant spending time thinking about how shitty things were, or could be, or would be eventually. In all honesty, Greyson had no interest in thinking about how or when things would all fall apart. They always did, eventually. No need to dwell on it.

Again, the two of them stood in silence, until finally Greyson broke the tension. “You said we have Dayquil?” he asked. Elijah just nodded.

“Want me to bring you some?”

“Yeah. Thanks, boss.”

***

By nine p.m., Greyson so done, if he were a steak you’d need a bone saw to cut through him.

“Huh-!” For the millionth time that evening, Greyson’s breath hitched painfully, and he folded completely in half to -

“HRRTSZHH-ue! Huh...hhITZHCHH-ue! ETSCHH-ue! Huh -! Hhnnn… Fuckigg – HRRETSZH-ue!”

“Bless, Chef,” the cooks called. Matt raised his eyebrows at his boss from behind the line.

“Ready to admit defeat yet?” he asked as another ticket printed. Fuck, Greyson thought, pulling the ticket. Yes, I fucking am.

“Order ind,” Greyson called, his voice dipping on the second word. “Two scallops, one ribeye. HRRTSHH-uhh!”

“Yes, Chef. Bless, Chef,” called the cooks.

Okay. Even he knew when it was time to call it.

“Mbatt, combe expo,” Greyson said, yanking his apron off. “I’mb going home, I’m fuckigg dying.”

Matt just nodded and walked around his coworkers to the other side of the line. “Feel better, Chef,” he said, pulling another ticket. “Order in.”

Greyson trudged to the office and slammed the door. Fucking Reed. Fucking Matt. Fucking Elijah, he thought, unbuttoning his coat and yanking his hoodie over his head. Just as he was about to open the door to leave, someone knocked timidly. “Come in, ndo one’s naked,” Greyson muttered.

Elijah opened the door and stood in the entry. “Admitting defeat?” he echoed the sous. Greyson rolled his eyes painfully.

“I guess,” he said, coughing into the sleeve of his jacket. “Gotta go face the all-seeing-eye at home. Can’t wait.” Elijah nodded, shifting from foot to foot as if weighing what he wanted to say next.

“Greyson,” Elijah said finally; gently, carefully. “I know what you’re used to. We all know what you’re used to, and it’s what Collin gave you. Neglect. Nothing. I get it, dude. You aren’t used to a partner really caring about you. But Reed? He’s like us, like me and Mark and Matt. He cares about you.” Elijah shrugged. “Let him.”

Even if he didn’t feel like shit, Greyson probably would’ve teared up. As it stood, he felt the tears fall down his face before he could even look away. “What happens whend he leaves?” he asked, his voice small. Elijah placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder, looked him in the eye.

“What happens if he doesn’t?”

***

When he walked in the door, Greyson was surprised to find that the TV was on and Reed was nowhere to be found. The TV was almost never on in this apartment, and Greyson could almost always hear the click-clack of Reed’s keyboard when he walked in, no matter the time.

“Reed?” Greyson called, his voice straining. “Are you hombe?”

From the bedroom, Greyson heard a crash, then a “Fuck,” then suddenly Reed was standing in front of him in a t-shirt and pajama pants, looking very much not like his usual put-together self.

“Grey,” he said, throwing his arms around Greyson’s neck, “you came back.”

Greyson pulled back, looking at Reed’s face – had he been crying? “Of course I cambe back,” he said. “What do you meee – HRRTSCHH-ue! Fuck, ’scuse mbe.” Greyson wiped his nose on his jacket and Reed, ever-prepared, handed him a box of tissues from the entry table next to them.

“Bless you,” Reed said. “I mean… you never answered my text. You kinda stormed out this morning I figured… I don’t know. I had freaked you out too hard and you were done with me.” He shrugged, one hang wringing the other. “I’m sorry for being such a freak.”

Gently, Greyson pulled Reed’s hands away from one another, placed them on his own face. “Please don’t be sorry. You’re ndot a freak,” he said. “You’re just… you care. And I’mb ndot used to that. That’s on mbe, Reed. Ndot you. Caring, noticing… it’s a good thing.” He smiled then. “It’s something I admire about you. I’mb sorry I’ve never said it.”

Reed looked down, blushing. “You’re really warm,” he said, finally. Greyson coughed out a laugh.

“You’re also a bit of a prophet,” he said. “I feel like dog shit.”

Tutting, Reed moved one of his hands from Greyson’s cheek to his forehead. “Want me to get you some ibuprofen? Or I can make you tea, we have a ton, or let me run you a bath, or -”

“What I want,” Greyson cut him off, pulled him close, “is to go sit ond that couch. With you. And rot for the next few hours. Mbaybe order Doordash.” He coughed into his sleeve again, then, prompting Reed to attention once again.

“Shit, I should’ve made dinner or something, I honestly was just so worried you weren’t coming back I haven’t done anything today, I’m sorry baby I should’ve -”

“Hey,” Greyson said, pulling him back. “I just want you. I don’t want you to do sombething for mbe, or get something for mbe, or mbake something. I just want to be with you. Is that ok?”

Reed stopped in his tracks. “You don’t want anything?”

“Just you,” Greyson said. “And – HRRTSSH-ue! Snrf. And mbaybe the tissues.”

A smile spread across Reed’s face then. “I can handle that.”

[possiblyfunny]

Oh look, another art piece-

He a little confused, but he got the spirit

WOO! After getting confirmation on details about the character, I finally allowed myself to draw this! It was originally going to be a mini comic, but I just decided to draw the last panel with a lot more detail.

Blue belongs to @creatively-cosmic. They have an Ask Blog by the name of @themissingnumbers, so go check them out! Their content is great!

Aster belongs to me.

[Extras and whatnot below the cut!]

[Extra Bonus!:

If you actually looked under the cut, you get to be blessed with a little nugget of information about Aster!

Aster doesn’t know jack about sexuality or gender identity (don’t worry, he’s learning!) But what he does know are the colors! Aster can tell you what colors or flag represents which sexuality/gender—but he couldn’t actually tell you about them. He doesn’t know what each of them mean.

Lots of people in his life and around his home have little desk flags or wear pins with different gender identities or sexuality’s on them, so he knows that it isn’t a bad thing. He thinks all the colors are pretty and unique and should be supported and celebrated!]

[Also, for those curious, here’s the symbolism for each flower. I wasn’t the most confident in drawing some of them, but I did my best to pick good ones!:

Blue Morning Glory: Encouragement, Power, Enduring Love

Pink Roses: Appreciation, Recognition, Happiness

White Daffodil: Rebirth, Good Fortune, Resilience.]

[roaringroa]

so grateful that i managed to restrain myself from properly falling in love with my friend and contained my feelings to a common crush

[gentlethorns]

sigh i carry it w me. i carry it all w me. when and where do i put it down

[inkskinned]

the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.

three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.

two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.

their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.

one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.

i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.

i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.

and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?

you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.

a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.

someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.

[kingkaizen]

𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱𝓮𝓻

∘ desc: although things are going great with your boyfriend nanami, sometimes you think he's too nice in bed. who better to ask for some pointers than from nanami's opposite, gojo satoru <3

∘ ft: nanami & gojo

∘ word count: 2.7k

∘ includes: voyeurism, threesome, pussy slaps, spanking, face fucking, edging, dacryphilia, dirty talk

Nanami is the best boyfriend that you’ve ever had.

No matter everything that you’ve been through together in the last three years, nothing has ever made you doubt the amount of love you had for each other. You absolutely adored everything about him. After being friends for years before getting together, it wasn’t hard to fall so deeply in love with the man that he’s become. Being able to come home to him is everything that you’ve ever wanted and more.

But, of course, all relationships come with their issues.

When Nanami received a message from you saying that you had to talk, his heart immediately dropped. What could he have done wrong? Was today a special day that he forgot about? Did he accidentally leave the toilet seat up? What could possibly be it? He rushed home from work, unlocking the front door to see you sitting on the couch.

“Is everything okay?” Nanami questioned, slipping his shoes off and placing them neatly on the floor along with pinning his coat on the rack. “Your text worried me.”

“No, Kento. Everything is fine, I promise, come sit with me.” You gestured to the cushion next to yours, trying to keep him calm. You knew that texting him like that would elicit this concerned reaction, but what you’re about to say could not be said through a simple text message.

“Kento, when I say this to you, I need you to know that I love you so much and you are an amazing boyfriend okay?” Nanami nods his head slightly, eyebrows slowly coming together in complete anticipation of what’s about to come out of your mouth.

“I want you to start being rougher with me in bed.”

Finally coming out and saying it, you felt like a weight being lifted off of your chest. Nanami always treats you like glass, in and out of the bedroom. Although you love how gentle and loving he is with you, you need something more. You can’t help but think back to all of the times that he would come back home from work, irritated about something that happened. How good it would feel for him to take out those emotions on you. But, knowing your sweet boyfriend, that thought would never cross his mind. 

“Am I not satisfying you enough? I thought you enjoyed our intimate moments together…” Nanami responds, his brain thinking back to every single night you’ve spent together in the past. Why hasn’t he seen this before? Knowing that he hasn’t been satisfying you in the way that he thought hurt him much more than he was willing to admit right away.

“No, that’s not it at all. You know that you always make me feel good. I just want to change things up a bit, that’s all.” You placed an encouraging hand on his thigh, prompting him to look up at you. “I know you, Kento, don’t think too much into it. I love every moment that we have together, I just want us to try something different, that’s all.”

Nanami took in all of your words, making a pact to himself that he will change things for the better. He understands what you want, he’s just not sure how to fully give that to you. How he is in bed is exactly the way he is outside of that: sweet, loving, and overall just concerned. He would never forgive himself for hurting you in any capacity, so living up to your request will be a challenge for him. Who better to ask than his complete opposite in every single way?

“She wants you, Nanami Kento, to be rough?” Gojo almost can’t help but laugh at the thought. It’s not laughable because Nanami doesn’t have a rough side to him, Gojo of all people would know how it feels to be on the opposite end of that. The funny part is that he can’t imagine him being rough towards you. Even from an outsider looking into your relationship, anyone could see how he treats you.

“I didn’t tell you this so that you could laugh at me, Satoru, I’m asking for your help.” This request from Nanami also humored Gojo. Finally, after all of these years, Nanami is actually voluntarily asking for his help.

“How exactly do you expect me to help you? Do you need me to demonstrate?” Gojo laughed as he said this, waiting for Nanami to show some sort of disagreement in his face.

That look never came.

“That is actually exactly what I want you to do. I know the type of history that you two have, I’m not an idiot. All of these years since we’ve all been friends before we started dating, I would see the way you would look at each other. I know that there is chemistry there and I wouldn’t be surprised if you have been intimate before.” Nanami looked at Gojo, seriousness etched across his face. “I want you to show me how to treat her the way that she wants to be, I only want her to be happy.” As much as Nanami hates to admit when Gojo is better than him in any sort of way, he knows the truth when it comes to this. He sees how other women have fawned over him, and it must be for good reason.

“I’ll teach you how to fuck her like a slut.”

The sight of two shirtless men is enough to excite anyone. After telling Nanami what was on your mind, this is the last thing that you expected him to do. Of course he brought this up to you before this moment, always wanting to ensure your comfort. It was hard to disagree, you’ve been with Gojo years prior but it was never anything serious. Always flings, Gojo was never the “relationship type”. 

“So gorgeous, my love.” Nanami always admired how ethereal you looked, both in and out the bedroom. He caressed your face, planting soft yet firm kisses on your lips, growing more and more passionate by the second. Gojo was sitting on the chair in the corner of the room, watching with an intense gaze. You would think that having another man watching the two of you would freak you out, but it weirdly turned you on. Gently, as always, Nanami laid you down on the mattress, fingers finding their way to your covered breasts, exposing them to his hungry mouth. After moving the fabric, his lips puckered around your nipple, tongue pushing on the hardened nub as you ran your fingers through his hair.

“Kento, I need you so bad.” You whimpered, the impatient side of you coming out already. You know Nanami, you know that it doesn’t take much begging to get what you want. You know how bad he wants you too, he can’t help but fully oblige to every word you say.

“I know honey, I’m going to give it to you.” Nanami had no self control when it came to you. Gojo rolls his eyes in the corner, finally making his presence known.

“Nanami, you can’t let her talk to you like that.” Gojo slowly began to touch his growing bulge through his pants. “It’s like you already forgot everything I told you.” He stood up and walked towards the two of you, Nanami moving to the side. Gojo gently gripped your chin, turning your head to look him dead in his eyes.

“If you want something from him, you’re going to have to earn it.”

You nodded your head, his authoritative tone sending a wave of pleasure throughout your body. Following his discrete directions, you kneeled in front of your boyfriend, fingers playfully toying with the zipper in his pants as you pulled it down along with the rest of it. You kissed his hard length through the last piece of fabric still left on his body, looking up at him through your lashes.

“D-Don’t tease me like that, (y/n)”. Nanami loved this obedient side of you, even if he wasn’t the reason you were acting this way. Before he could even process, Gojo lightly tapped the side of your ass, sending a slight sting throughout your body.

“Tease him like that again and you’re gonna have to make yourself cum. Now say sorry.” Gojo threatened, backing away once again to see how this unfolds. By now, he has fully released himself from the confines of his pants, fingers wrapping around his girth as he slowly began to pleasure himself at the sight.

“I’m sorry.” You looked up at Nanami once more, pulling away the last piece of clothing separating your awaiting mouth from his leaking tip. 

“I’m sorry what?” Gojo sneered.

“I’m sorry sir.” Your pleading voice made Nanami groan, watching as you finally began to wrap your lips around the tip of his cock. You began to put your tongue to work, swirling it around his head while keeping your lips firmly around the top, sucking in. Nanami could tell that you were still in a teasing mood, refusing to go any lower than that. Suddenly, you could feel his hand find its way to the back of your head, forcing you to let more of him in. Nanami would never do something like this normally, his forcefulness with you turning you on tremendously. Gojo laughed, approving of Nanami’s sudden confidence boost. It’s arousing to him too, watching you take all of him so deep in your mouth, gagging on his length as he throws his head back.

“That’s it, take it all.” Nanami grunts, “I love how messy you look, choking on me like that.” He could feel you moan around his length at his words, thighs rubbing together in anticipation of what’s to come. “I know how wet you are already, if you want some help you have to ask for it okay?” 

No matter what, Nanami is still always keeping your needs in mind, noticing how soaked you're starting to become. He removes himself from inside your mouth, allowing you to fully breathe. You look so beautiful, tears threatening to spill from your lash line and saliva coating around your mouth. He helps you back up to your feet, leading your body to lay backwards onto the bed, callused fingers catching any tears that manage to slip. “Tell me what you want.”

Your gaze moved from his eyes over to Gojo. “I want you both. Please sir, just touch me.” You felt pathetic as you begged, your core pulsing with need. You’ve never felt this sensitive before, everything feeling that much more intense given how hungry the two men in your presence are. 

“Aww, what a little slut you are.” Gojo grinned, making his way closer to you. “What do you think Nanami, has she been a good girl for us? Should we give her what she wants?” Gojo’s fingers began to rub on the outside of your panties. “Look at how wet she is for us.” Gojo showed Nanami your slick on his fingers, watching it glisten underneath the lowlight. 

“I think she has been a good girl.” Nanami smiles at you, so proud of how well you’ve been doing for them. “Go ahead, Gojo, you can touch her.”

“Finally.” Gojo quickly moved your panties to the side, the coolness of his touch catching you off guard as he teased the inside of your folds. “You don’t understand how torturous it was watching you without being able to touch you yet.” He makes quick work of finding your clit, slowly rubbing his thumb on your pearl as he watches you begin to writhe underneath. “Don’t forget why you’re here slut. You wanted to be treated like this so bad and now you got it. Beg for it.”

“P-Please Satoru, please touch me. I can’t take it anymore, I need it so bad.” You pleaded, beginning to feel helpless underneath him. Gojo smirked, plunging his slender fingers inside of you unexpectedly. You felt your body arch up in surprise, a gasp leaving your mouth as pleasure began to consume your body.

“So fucking greedy.” Gojo began slowly at first, catching a rhythm. “Look at how she’s drenching my fingers.” Nanami rubs himself at the sight, growing impatient. You’re too far gone to notice, feeling your own orgasm already beginning to slowly creep up in intensity. Before you know it, you're cumming all around his fingers, eyes rolling to the back of your head. Gojo quickly pulls his fingers out, not doing anything to help you ride it out. “Who told you that you could cum?” He taps his hand against your pussy repeatedly, watching you moan in a mix of pleasure and pain and you slowly come down from your high. “What a fucking whore.”

“I’m sorry sir, I couldn’t -fuck- I couldn’t help it.” You sob, looking at Nanami. You’ve never seen him look so angry. He didn’t say anything to you, only twirling his finger around, motioning for you to flip over. You quickly follow his que, not wanting to do anything to tick him off further. You can’t fully process that this is happening, your Nanami actually treating you this way.

You fucking loved it.

You felt his familiar touch rub over your ass as you got on all fours, arching your back slightly. He groaned at the sight of your wetness, glistening core almost calling out to him. He rubbed his tip against your folds, feeling your hole try to suck him in. Meanwhile, Gojo is sucking your juice off of his fingers, loving the taste of you.

“Get on with it Nanami, if she wants to be punished so badly then so be it.” Gojo made his way in front of you, rubbing the tip of his cock against your plush lips. “We told you what would happen if you didn’t listen, right? You have to be a bit smarter than that sweetheart.” The syrupy tone of his voice didn’t match his actions as he parted your lips with his head, feeling you wrap your lips against his girth. With that, Nanami finally pushed himself all the way in, moaning in unison along with you. Gojo could feel the vibrations of your moans against him.

Nanami gave you no time to adjust, pounding his entire length into you with such force that caused your mouth to hang open in shock. You felt so good, brain completely fogged over with no thoughts other than the complete monster that Nanami has become. He’s never fucked you like this, usually preferring soft thrusts over the hard pounding that he’s subjecting yourself to now. You suddenly felt a sharp slap on your ass, his large hand rubbing the sting away almost just as quickly as he placed it.

“Don’t ignore Gojo now, honey. I thought a slut like you would love to have two thick cocks filling you up this way?” Nanami questioned, picking up the pace which made it so much harder for you to focus. Gojo wasn’t having that. He placed one hand on each side of your face, holding it in place for him to thrust his hips against you. His cock filled your mouth, spit sloshing everywhere as your face got messier and messier.

“Fuck (y/n), you’re doing so fucking good for us princess.” Gojo moaned, the sounds coming from the room overwhelmed his senses. The bed creaking, you struggling to take Nanami while also pleasuring Gojo, and the sound of Nanami’s balls slapping against your ass sounded like music to his ears. Nanami couldn’t believe how hot this all was, feeling as your walls began to quiver around him.

“You’re gonna cum again baby?” Nanami asked, gripping your hips tighter as he felt himself get even closer. Gojo was already almost there, hips beginning to stutter as he watched you cry out. All you could do is whimper in response, the knot in your stomach growing tighter and tighter. Nanami made it there first, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he spilled himself inside of you. Ropes of cum flooded in as he fully pressed himself against you, beads of sweat threatening to drip off his nose. Gojo soon followed, shooting his load into your mouth as you took it all.

“Such a good girl.” Gojo mused, wiping the side of your mouth when he finished. He proceeded to kiss you, tasting himself on your tongue. Nanami pulled himself out slowly, watching in delight as his seed slowly dripped out of you. You whimpered at the now empty feeling, your orgasm slowly starting to retreat.

“You’re not going to finish me off?” You angrily turned to Nanami, watching the smirk begin to creep up his face.

“Not unless you beg for it.”

© kingkaizen | do not copy, steal, or duplicate!

[eddiesxangel]

Never Have I Ever… | E.M x Virgin!Reader

TJ’s 2K Request celebration!

@nailbatanddungeon : “I have a request for youuu. Okay, this is Eddie x Virgin!reader, reader is still new to everything, but there is one thing that the reader needs but is scared to push because the reader is TOUCH STARVED (So am I)”

Cw: reader and Eddie are in their mid to late 20’s, touch starved virgin!reader, angst, fluff, alcohol, throwing up(too much alcohol consumption), hangovers, fingering, oral (f receiving), p in v, protected sex. Friends to lovers

WC: 3.1k

I hope you enjoy!! 💗

“You’ll get there; you’re just a late bloomer, is all”

A late bloomer, you’ve heard it your whole life- and you’re sick of it. Sick of feeling behind in life? You’re in your twenties now and getting absolutely shit-faced because you’ve never done anything in this game of never have I ever.

You, Nancy, Steve, Eddie, Robin, Jonathan, and a few others were at the block party, and you somehow ended up involved in the juvenile game.

“Never have I ever kissed the same gender,” you drank.

“Never have I ever dumped anyone,” you drank.

“Never have I ever smoked weed,” you drank.

“Never have I ever said the wrong name in bed.” That’s rich because you’ve never been in a bed with anyone to begin with.

You hadn’t relized how much you’ve had to drink until you stood up.

“Woah, you okay?” You hear Nancy speak as you wobble.

You had wanted to get up and get more to drink because, unlike the others, your cup was empty.

“Yeah.” You tried to get out, but it sounded more like a grunt to the others.

Ignoring their protests, you stumbled your way back to the kitchen, feeling sorry for yourself.

You fumble with the lid of the hard liquor bottle until a strong ring-clad hand clasps over yours. You freeze, pissed off and embarrassed, knowing who the hand belongs to.

Even in your inebriated state, you get that same feeling whenever he is around you. You feel the heat in your cheeks instantly as the butterflies in your stomach irrupts.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Sweetheart.”

You look down, not wanting to see the look on his face.

“I don’t care” you slur. God, you will hate yourself in the morning.

Of all people, it had to be Eddie to come and check on you?

That’s how he was—always worried, always babying you because you “weren’t experienced in life,” according to his words, and it made you mad! It made you seem like a child, and you were sick of people treating you as such. You were a grown woman, you had a 9:00-5:00, an apartment, and a degree, but none of that mattered—not when it came to dating and love.

“Sweetheart, please, you need to slow down.”

“Why?” You rolled your eyes. “I’m a big girl I can handle my alcohol.” You huffed.

“I just think— "

"IM TIRED OF WHAT YOU THINK!" you've had enough. No one took you seriously, and you couldn't help that Eddie happened to be the only one to feel your wrath.

"Woah, okay-okay, I’m sorry."

“I’m sick of everyone treating me like a child!" the dam broke, and streams of mascara fell down your cheeks.

"I don't think you're a child." Eddie timidly reached out his comforting hand.

"Yes, you do."

"When have— "

"ANY TIME WE ARE OUT, EDDIE! Like last week at the bar, I was so close to getting that guy's number and you swooped in acting like my father!"

"Sweetheart I—"

"Don't sweetheart me!" You cut him off once again. "It's demeaning."

"y/n. Let me take you home. We can talk about this tomorrow."

"I don’t want to."

"Too bad we are going." Eddie no longer gave you a choice. He took your hand and started to pull you along with him.

You stumbled, tripping over your feet because your balance was gone completely.

“Woah, see my point exactly.”

“Shut up.” You mumble, and Eddie can’t help but stifle a laugh. You were so cute.

Eddie didn’t mean to make you think you were juvenile…. He admired you and wanted to protect you; you were a woman to him, all women. He liked you; he really liked you. The only reason he swoops in is because he doesn’t want you with anyone who isn’t him, not because he doesn’t think you’re not capable… He dreams about how capable you can be. He just didn’t have the balls to say it to your face.

The thought of you not having any experience never even crossed his mind. He still had no clue you’d never been intimate with someone; he didn’t even know how inexperienced you were until the game. He watched and raised an unknowing brow each time you took a gulp.

Eddie took your keys from your hands and unlocked your front door for you. The whole car ride had been eerily silent. You didn’t dare speak a word without the threat of vomit coming up with it.

You silently stumbled into your home. Eddie followed closely behind. He helped you take off your sneakers. He led you to the bathroom and found some makeup wipes to help you take off your makeup, but halfway through, you turned to the toilet as the tequila made its way back up.

That’s when you broke; you were so embarrassed. “What’s wrong with me?” You cried.

“Nothing is wrong with you, swee-.” But he cut himself off, remembering that you scolded him earlier in the evening.

“Yes, there is something wrong with me! Nobody wants me.”

“That’s not true.” Eddie stroked the back of your head as you emptied out the contenders of your stomach into the porcelain bowl.

“Then why am I still a virgin?!” You sobbed.

Eddie was stunned, speechless. He had no idea. He just thought you didn’t like sharing your sex life, not that you didn’t have one.

So he let you cry into his chest. Your tears stained his shirt, but he didn’t care; he was here to take care of you.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” he guided you after he helped you ride your mouth out.

You crashed as soon as your head hit the pillow. Eddie thought of leaving but was worried you would need him if you woke up, so he took the couch.

You awoke with a throbbing pain pounding in your head. You were never drinking again. The night was murky; you started remembering bits and pieces but not everything. You get up and notice the bottle of painkillers and a glass of water you definitely didn’t put there.

Then you remembered Eddie bringing you home and let out an aggravated groan. How could you have been so messy? And in front of Eddie, out of all people? Why couldn’t Robin and Nancy bring you home? What did you say to him? Were you mean? Did you yell at him? You remember crying, but the reasoning was foggy.

You begrudgingly take the water and pills and almost gag, trying to get them down, but you manage. You also smell like a minibar, so you strip and walk to your bathroom.

After a long hot shower, you get dressed and must put some food into your empty stomach.

You walked past a sleeping Eddie, not seeing him curled up in the living room, and started noisily making yourself some breakfast.

“Is that the way you wake up all your guests?”

You screamed as you threw the fork you had in fright.

“Eddie, what the fuck?!” You clench your chest as you take big breaths to calm your racing heart.

“Sorry, Angel”

Angel… that’s new? It’s always been sweetheart.

“I didn’t know you stayed?”

“Yeah… you um. Were in pretty rough shape last night, I didn’t want you to be alone... so I slept in the couch. I hope that’s okay”

“Thank you, Eddie, I’m sorry I ruined your night.” You looked down, ashamed.

“You didn’t ruin it.” He shook his head.

“Well, I owe you one,” you giggle awkwardly. Eddie and you hardly ever hang out one-on-one.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like absolute shit.” You hand Eddie a black coffee.

“Yeah, well, you really went hard in that game of never have I ever.”

You met out a moan of embarrassment. Your memory came flooding back.

Mortification consumed you as you didn’t want to look Eddie in the eyes. You cried in his arms last night after you puked your guys out.

“Oh god”

“It’s okay, Angel. Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“What happened to sweetheart?” You tried to change the subject.

“You said it was demeaning…”

“Oh god, I did?” You peek up and see Eddie silently nod his head yes.

“I’m sorry, it’s not… I like the nickname. I just…. I was feeling so emotional last night, and the alcohol.” You tried not to gag at the thought.

“S’all good.” He shrugged. But he was replaced to hear you liked being called sweetheart. It suited you; he didn’t call anyone else that, either. It was reserved just for you.

“Um, so about last night, you mentioned nobody wanting you….” Oh god, was he really doing this now? “I don’t think that’s true.” Yes, he was.

“Huh?” You sit up, taking a sip of your coffee.

“You cried about how you didn’t think anyone wanted you, but it’s not true… I want you.”

Did you hear that right? Did you get water in your ears from the shower?

“You do?” Your eyes widen.

“Yeah,” he looks at you sheepishly.

“Oh?” You were in shock.

“Shit-I-I’m sorry, I ruined everything.” Eddie stood up, but you stood up with him, not wanting him to leave.

“No, Eddie, wait!” You grab his shoulder and turn him to face you. You couldn’t let him leave, not now.

“Sweeetheart, please let me be mortified in peace.”

“Kiss me.”

Eddie stares at you before you tell him one more time.

“Kiss me, Eddie.”

Then you feel his hands grip the back of your head and pull you in.

You didn’t think anything could cure your hangover but this comes pretty damn close.

You melt into his touch, his hands cup your head, your hands find his waist. It feels right, so right you think you’re floating.

No one had kissed you in what felt like years, and maybe it had been, but it was worth the wait.

Hands danced around one another’s bodies, and tongues and teeth clashed. It was messy; it was needy.

“Woah woah woah, sweetheart, hold on.” Eddie pulled back breathlessly.

“What’s wrong?” You look up at him, concerned…. Had he changed his mind?

“I think we should slow down.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Sweetheart, it’s okay. We have time.”

“No.” You shook your head. “I’ve waited long enough.”

“Sweetheart, I don’t think—"

"No! I need this, I want this." You look him dead in the eyes.

"You tell me if you want to stop, okay? Promise me."

"Okay, Eddie."

Eddie waists, not another second to take you in a feverish kiss. His hands roam your body, landing on your ass. It excites you so much you can feel the familiar tingling ruminating lower and lower.

You moan his name and press your whole body into his; you need to feel him, all of him… and you can. His hard cock is digging into your hip bone, and you connect your bodies.

Stumbling back without breaking the kiss, Eddie leads you to your bedroom. You fall backwards onto your bed with a gasp.

hovering above you is Eddie. You can see the lust behind his eyes as he scans your body.

"If im doing anything you don't like, tell me. This is about you, okay?"

“Okay,” you breathe as he lowers down to his knees. You watch his hands run up the tops of your thighs before spreading them wider so he can have access to where he wants you the most.

Running his fingers down your centre, you can’t help but moan at the feeling. You are greedy; you want to feel everything all at once.

Wasting no more time, you pull down the stretchy waistband of your pants and yank your underwear down with it. No time to be self-conscious- the need to feel Eddie fueled your desire.

“Beautiful,” Eddie whispered as he left a trail of kisses up your thigh, hovering just above your mound.

“Can I taste you?”

“Yes, please. Take care of me, I want it so bad,” You whine desperately. If you weren’t so horny, you’d be embarrassed by your words, but with Eddie, everything felt right.

Eddie’s lips latched into your soaked pussy, and you watched as his eyes rolled back in enjoyment. He didn’t hold back; he wanted this to be the best head of your life, even if it’s the only head of your life. You grip his hair in your fist, not expecting the pleasure to ripple through you so quickly.

“Taste so good, sweetheart; I wanna live in this pussy.”

“Oh god!” You cry as a single digit breaches your wanton hole.

Slowly, with his tongue and his finger pumping into you, you’re nearly there. Considering how long you’ve waited for this moment, it doesn't take much more. You’re cumming within minutes.

“Good girl, you okay?” he slaps the inside of your thigh and your body jerks.

“More,” you beg. It wasn’t enough; nothing would be able to satiate you until his cock was deep inside you.

“You sure? We can stop if you’re not ready”

“Need you now.” You grab him by the shirt collar and pull him towards you for a searing kiss.

“Okay,” he mumbles into your mouth, crawling up your body.

You loved the feel of his weight on top of you, consuming you with every kiss.

“Want you, Eddie” you moan as your hands toy with the hem of his shirt.

“You have me.” He dips his head lower to caress your throat with his lips.

Your breath hitches when you feel his teeth scrape across your soft, delicate skin.

Eddie didn’t lift his head until he was satisfied with the dark mark left on your neck.

When he unlatched from your throat, you demanded he take his clothes off.

Eddie loved your eagerness; he saw a spunk in you that he could only have dreamed of.

You also removed the rest of your clothing as he stripped.

When Eddie removed his last layer over his head, he couldn’t help but ogle your body, the way your head sunk into the pillows, your breasts, your soaked pussy on display for him. He was devouring you with his eyes.

You motion him to you with a single finger, breaking him out of the trace you put him under.

“God, you’re so beautiful.” Eddie was like a feline the way he crawled up on the bed to you.

The heat rushed to your cheeks; somehow, this felt more intimate than what he was doing between your legs a moment ago.

“I want you,” you repeat yourself.

Eddie cups your face, and you cup his in return. His eyes bore into your soul, leaving not a trace unturned as he searched your entire being before kissing you one more.

You moan into his mouth, and Eddie’s cock grazes your mound collecting your slick as his hips ground into you.

“Ready?” He asked desperately; he needed to be inside of you.

“Yes.”

He quickly got up and you moaned,

“What are you?- oh,” you blush

You see him reach for his pants pocket for his wallet as he pulls out a condom.

Quickly he rips it open, and your mouth waters as he rolls it over his cock. This is the first time you’re seeing what he looks like down there, and you’re getting nervous because how is that supposed to fit?

“Sweetheart? You'll be okay.” He smirks.

Cocky, shit.

“If I have to ask you again, I’m going to do this myself.” You huffed.

“Oh really? How do you suppose that?” He pounced back on top of you.

“I have my toys.”

Eddie’s head drops back. “We will get back to that later. Now I’m going to fuck you.”

“Finally”

Eddie doesn’t respond. He just slowly slides his cock through your slick folds collecting your natural lube before inching his way inside of you.

“I need you to relax, sweetheart.” You naturally clench around him. He was so tickled and long. Never had you felt so full, but little did you know Eddie was only a quarter-way in.

“Fuck you’re big,” you gasp.

“No need to stroke my ego, baby girl”

That made your pussy clench down again.

“Oh, you like that?”

You nod your head, yes, unable to speak.

“Noted”

You could kill him if he wasn’t making you feel so good.

“Eddie!” You scream as he finally reaches the hilt, gripping him like a koala you don’t want to let go.

“Fuck, this pussy is so tight” Eddie slowly works his hips in and out of you; with each thrust, you can feel his bush brush against your clit, and it sends a tingle down your spine.

You moan in response; everything feels like it is on fire; never had you expected this level of sex. No wonder everyone is obsessed with it.

“Harder”

“You sure”

“Yes, god yes!”

Eddie's hips snap into you with such force your head almost hits the headboard. The bed is rocking; you have never experienced something so wanted, so needed, so absolutely taken over by someone else.

“Eddie! Eddie! Eddie!” You chant his name, which only makes him go harder. His fingers dug into your hips, gripping you so hard, not ever wanting to let you go.

“Fuck me, this pussy s'good.” He spits through his teeth. His primal side is showing, and you can't get enough.

Nothing can again amount to this amount of pleasure; you're ruined for life.

"You close, baby girl?" Edie smirks when he feels you clamp don't on his cock when he spits out the words.

A guttural moan is unleashed from your throat in response because, god, you're so close.

The pressure building inside of you is about to burst as Eddie's calloused fingers find your sensitive clit.

"Come on baby, I know you gotta another one for me. I know you do."

Eddies words tipped you over the edge. Your body seized as his thick cock continued to pump into your greedy pussy. Your orgasm took over, and Eddie watched you silently scream for him.

Before you became overstimulated, Eddie also came shortly after, only a few more pumps, and he spilled himself into the condom.

With Eddie beside you huffing and puffing, you couldn't wipe the stupid grin off your face.

"That good, huh?"

"I don't want to stroke your ego, but yeah... fuck me" You hid your face.

"I just did." Eddie rolled over to kiss all over your face and you can't help but giggle.

"I hope we can do that again," you shy away.

"Oh, we are one thousand percent doing that again. "

Tagging some mooties: @littlexdeaths @xxbimbobunnyxx @voyeurmunson @rowanswriting @lofaewrites

@starkeysprincess @strangerstilinski @taintedcigs @mmunson86 @paybacksawitch @stardancerluv

[littlelamy]

could you do one where rafe and reader have known each other since they were kids. where they played pretend marriage and rafe has always believed it was real even when they were kids and some girl tries to come between that but it doesn’t happen.

love your writing

a/n: thank you so much! I hope you enjoy it! 💗🤍

rafe cameron had always been a part of your life. from the time you were toddlers, running through your backyard with imaginary crowns on your heads, to the moment you both said your pretend vows underneath that old oak tree. you were six, maybe seven, and it had been all fun and games—at least for you. rafe, on the other hand, took the "marriage" very seriously, even as kids. "you're my wife now," he’d say with a grin, tugging you along whenever someone tried to play with you. you always brushed it off as rafe just being rafe.

but now, as you stood at another one of toppers' parties, you noticed something had shifted. maybe it was the way rafe had been more possessive lately, a hand always at your waist, or the way he’d glare at any guy who got too close. then there was jessica—new girl, pretty, and definitely interested in rafe.

“so, are you and rafe, like, together?” she asked you casually one day at school, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. there was something smug in her tone that made your skin crawl.

“we’re just friends,” you said, even though the words felt wrong coming out of your mouth. were you really just friends?

"oh, that’s good to know," jessica had smirked, and you knew she had plans.

tonight, you watched from the corner of the room as she slid up to rafe, placing a hand on his arm and laughing a little too loud at something he said. your stomach twisted, but you told yourself it didn’t matter. you and rafe were just friends—childhood friends with a long history of playing pretend, but that was it. still, your feet started moving before you could stop them, weaving through the crowd toward them.

“hey, rafe,” you called out, slipping into the space between him and jessica like it was the most natural thing in the world. his eyes lit up when he saw you, that same boyish smile he’d always had whenever you were near.

“there you are,” he said, wrapping an arm around your shoulder like it belonged there. and maybe it did.

jessica’s expression faltered for just a second before she plastered on another smile. “oh, hey. i was just telling rafe we should go out sometime. get to know each other better.”

before you could even process her words, rafe chuckled. “yeah, i’m gonna have to pass on that.”

jessica blinked, clearly thrown off. “what? why?”

rafe’s gaze softened as he looked down at you, his hand absentmindedly playing with the ends of your hair. “i’m already married,” he said, his tone light but firm.

you froze, heart pounding. "rafe—"

"we got married when we were seven," he added with a grin, not giving you a chance to finish. "i’ve been off the market since then."

jessica laughed awkwardly, clearly not getting the joke. “wait, you’re serious?”

rafe shrugged, pulling you closer. “dead serious.”

it took everything in you not to laugh at the confused look on jessica’s face, but the truth was, you didn’t know if rafe was actually joking. he looked so calm, so sure of himself, like this was the most natural thing in the world. like he really did believe you were his wife, even now.

“uh, okay. whatever,” jessica muttered, clearly flustered as she backed away, shooting you a look before disappearing into the crowd.

you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, looking up at rafe. “what was that?”

he raised an eyebrow. “what was what?”

“you just told her we were married!”

rafe grinned down at you, his blue eyes sparkling. “because we are. or did you forget?”

you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “rafe, we were kids. that doesn’t count.”

“it counts to me,” he said, his voice softening. “you promised, remember? you said you’d always be mine.”

your heart skipped a beat. “we were pretending.”

“maybe you were,” he shrugged. “but i wasn’t.”

you stared at him, unsure of what to say. all these years, you thought it was just a silly childhood game, something you both would laugh about when you got older. but rafe... he had never stopped believing it.

“rafe…” you started, but he cut you off, stepping closer so that his forehead nearly touched yours.

“you’re mine,” he whispered, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “and i’m yours. it’s always been that way.”

suddenly, the party seemed to fade away, the sounds of people laughing and music blaring becoming a distant hum. all you could focus on was rafe—his words, his touch, the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the world that mattered.

and maybe you were.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0

[ham1lton]

GOOD LUCK, BABE!

pairings: charles leclerc x reader (romantic/platonic).

summary: friendships don’t always survive, you and charles would know.

warnings: cheating towards the end. no smut but a makeout session. sorry alex 💔

author’s note: the brocedes au that me and anon wanted. i’m trying something new btw. let me know how u feel about it.

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────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ──────

you never imagined yourself in the same room as charles. not willingly anyways. yet, when you received the invitation with his handwritten note asking you to come. you knew you couldn’t say no. you had spent so much of your childhood discussing the future. he wanted a family. three kids, a dog and a gorgeous wife that loved him. you wanted a career. the glory, the accolades and the fans that loved you.

he made you promise one day that you’d be at his wedding. you were fifteen at the ice cream shop that he’d always drag you too. you had snuck out without arthur in order to have an extra scoop after charles’ dad had paid for the ice cream you’d had earlier. he looked over at you, eyes serious and asked you to be his best man — (“best woman, best girl. it doesn’t matter. i just want you next to me. i’m serious yn.” he took a lick of his ice cream and the seriousness melted away when he left a smudge on his nose.)

you didn’t break promises easily.

────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ──────

────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ──────

however, when arthur came running up to you, asking you to follow him. when your relationship with charles disintegrated, you never lost touch with arthur. he was like a little brother to you. you would very rarely meet him for brunch in whatever city you happened to both be in. so when he asked you to follow him, you did willingly.

“where are we going?” you ask, as he pulls you along by your right hand. “usually, whenever you don’t give me context it means you’re doing something bad. is this something bad leclerc?”

“when am i ever doing something bad?” he looks over his shoulder and gives you a wink. you roll your eyes. he plants you in front of a room and nods at it. you stare at him blankly.

“okay? i’m not a mind reader arthur.”

“i need you to help me look for something.” he nods at the room. “in there.”

“you can do it yourself.” you turn to leave before he runs in front of you and stops you.

“listen. i don’t care if you had that weird breakup with my brother,” you start to protest that it wasn’t a breakup but he stops you. “but you didn’t need to cut me off too. you were a part of my life too. you abandoned me too.”

“i don’t ask you for anything yn but i need your help. i’m looking for my silver cufflinks. i need them.” he raised his cuffs to show you the distinct lack of cufflinks. “please. i’m begging you. i wouldn’t ask otherwise.”

you didn’t expect to come here to be blackmailed and guilt tripped but it was working. you avoided everything leclerc. even his family, especially his family if you were being honest. they went from being your second family to nothing at all.

“okay.” you nod. “i’ll get your cufflinks.”

arthur smiles and opens the door for you to walk in. it’s someone’s hotel room. either arthur’s or a friend’s. it’s messy and you sigh. it’ll be hard finding them in this mess but you start carding through clothes.

“yn?”

you know that voice anywhere. you turn around and it’s charles. he’s half dressed in his wedding suit, his crisp white shirt half unbuttoned. his hair is still messy as if he’s ran his hand through nervously multiple times. you smile with no teeth and move to open the door. it’s locked.

“arthur leclerc! open this fucking door!” you seethe. you bang against the door and hear his voice through the material.

“not until you fucking talk! i’ll be back in half an hour.” you hear his footsteps walk away. you turn to charles who smiles sheepishly at you.

“tea?”

────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ──────

liked by messyass1, messyass2 and 1,737,883 others.

ham1ltonshaderoom: it seems all the rumours are true. sworn enemies f1 drivers charles leclerc and yn yln have seemed to call a truce to celebrate his wedding to art historian alexandra saint mleux. she was seen wearing a dark green vivienne westwood gown as she celebrated the couple’s nuptials.

what do we think about the rekindling of this flame, ham1ltons?

view all 679,498 comments

user1: CHARLESYN IN THE SAME ROOM NO ARGUING NO FIGHTS WE CHEERED!!

user2: i wish we had pictures of her. she always eats her outfits.

-> user3: wtf how does she digest them?

-> user2: figure of speech babe <3

user4: did she have a date??

-> user5: her longtime boyfriend!!

user6: they worked it out on the remix

-> user7: so FERRARI ❤️

────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ──────

charles makes you the tea. he doesn’t finish buttoning his shirt as he pours it into a mug for you. he remembered how you liked it - two sugars and a splash of milk. you stay silent but nod gratefully.

it’s been so long since you’ve been alone with him. you’re not the same wide eyed kid but neither is he. he’s getting married and you’re giving him the silent treatment. he sits on the edge of his bed awkwardly. tapping his thigh with a single finger.

“thank you for coming,” he says. “i didn’t think you would.”

“the handwritten invitation was a nice choice,” you sip your tea. “personal. did everyone else like it?”

“only yours was,” he coughs into his elbow. “handwritten, i mean. only yours.”

that’s news to you but you don’t have time to ponder what that means before he speaks again.

“i’ve thought for the longest time on what i’d say to you if i got the chance. everything. how sorry i was, how sorry i am, how much i hated you and how much you meant to me. you were my best friend yn. my best friend. no one has even come close to what you were for me.” he chuckles as he presses his palms into his eyes. “who else could i talk to besides you?”

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(insert a tiktok edit of the two of you throughout your careers. the song playing over it is the song ‘chemtrails over the country club’ by lana del ray specifically the lyrics ‘nobody’s son/nobody’s daughter’. it gets 167k likes.)

────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ──────

“do you still hate me?” charles looks at you under his lashes.

“of course i do. you hurt me.”

“you hurt me. but i don’t hate you.” charles fidgets in his seat. he stretches his hands to place them on his knees. you sip your tea. “do you remember when i asked you to be my best woman?”

you nod.

“i didn’t mean that. i wanted you to be my wife.”

you would choke on your tea if you didn’t know that information but charles wasn’t subtle. yet it was a case of missed opportunities. you didn’t like him then and he didn’t like you now.

“i couldn’t hate you yn. god knows i tried. it hurts me knowing that you hate me as i could never hate you. i said all that shit because i was hurt and angry. you said i was a shitty driver. that i wouldn’t have won without ferrari’s strategies which we both know are shit-“

“i’m sorry, i didn’t know you still cared about my opinion.” you interrupt. your voice still has a defensive edge to it. he just shrugs.

“i’ll always care about your opinion.”

────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ──────

CHARLESYNNIES TWITTER GC (est.2017)

user1: editing yn to l’amour de ma vie by billie eilish (extended version) rn 😋

user2: what part?

user1: listen from 2:15 till 2:56!!

user3: THATS GONNA EATT OMGGGG

user4: wish we could edit the wedding appearance of the two of them omggg.

user5: when i get off my lazy ass and finish my edit of them to ‘the girl so confusing’ remix

user6: do y’all think they’re talking at the wedding?

user7: babe do you know yn? she’s probably at the very corner of the reception right now. she’ll take a pic with every other leclerc besides charles and probably leave before dinner is served.

user8: you’re so real. yn would NEVER talk to charles let alone be alone with him. i hate it but it’s the truth.

user9: plus charles is probably busy with the wedding.

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you never considered yourself to be a bad person but making out with your ex best friend/teammate literally a few hours before he’s about to get married? that’s a bitch move.

you try to think about his fiancée. she’s probably getting ready excitedly with her family and friends. thinking about being the future mrs leclerc while you’re two minutes away from committing adultery on both of your partners.

you pull apart from charles. he looks at you with wide eyes.

“we can’t fucking do this. we’re awful people,” you sit up. “my fucking lipgloss is all over your mouth.”

“i look good in pink. it’ll be fine.” he wipes it off.

“you have a fiancée. you’re getting married.”

“tell me the word and i’ll call it off. just for you.” he looks at you. “i’m quitting f1 after this year anyways. i’m not attempting to go for the second championship. i don’t want it.”

“how do you not want it?”

“we have different priorities but i won’t be a f1 driver anymore. you always said you couldn’t date a driver. i’ve grown now. i’m fine being in your shadow. i love it. i want it.”

he looks at you as serious as he did when he asked you to be his best woman all those years ago.

“what do you want yn?”

you bite your lip, and think.

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CHARLESYNNIES TWITTER GC (est.2017)

user7: i’m hoping we get at least a picture. just one.

user4: i would DIE!!! imagine!!!

user3: charlesynnies suffer every day and everyone else wins.

user2: i think yn is right there with charles. maybe dancing.

user1: he always said she’d be at his wedding. he was right. i think there is still love there.

user5: FINISHED MY FUCK ASS EDIT PLEASE LIKE AND COMMENT ON TIKTOK BESTIES

user6: okay i wrote a little fic for ao3. it’s called ‘wait until you like me again’!! it’s domestic charlesyn as they are forced to work everything out. kinda angsty but really smutty.

user1: spamming u both charlesynnies are the best idc <3

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liked by ham1ltonshaderoom, landonorris and 1,827,983 others.

charles_leclerc: say hello to mr and mrs leclerc 💍

tagged: alexandrasaintmleux

view all 287,929 comments

yourusername: happy for you 💕

────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ──────

INTERVIEW WITH CHARLES LECLERC

interviewer — so is it true? you’re renewing your ferrari contract?

charles (laughing) — it is true. racing is my life. this is it for me. it’d take something big to take me away from it.

interviewer: you all heard it here first!

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— all works taglist: @luvsforme @yelenasloverrrrr @donttouchthegnote @chelle1306 @bloodyymaryy @aliciaablueprint @lennnooshh @km-23mr @stinkyjax @f1kenzzz @ctrlyomomma @theblueblub @marshmummy @23victoria @ourlifeforchaos @namgification @tallrock35 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @ariellovelynn @shhhchriss @lifeless-firefly @xylinasdiary @evie-119 @itseightbeats @tsireyasgf @landososcar @yongi-lee @maxlarens @velentine @m1892 @blushmimi @evans-dejong @nixisracing @lethalvenus @santanasaintmendes @idontknowlmaoo @sainzluvrr (charles specific tags will be added to the comments!)

────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ──────

[fingertipsmp3]

I may not be showing it 💯 but being bullied in high school made me a bitter little person

[nativegirltapes]

⸻ ┊͙ the one where drew begs for angel back !

warnings: ermmm idk if i like this. oral (f receiving), drew yearningggg, lowkey sub!drew idk, reader tryna act nonchalant…

music thumped throughout the bar and neon lights painted the walls when you spotted drew for the first time since your breakup. your heart sunk to the bottom of your body, but it still didn't stop you from making your way towards him sitting at the bar. to anyone nearby it would have looked like an arranged meetup.

"what are you doing here?" your tone was bratty, you wanted him to know you were still upset, but that stupid smirk and the way his shirt hugged all your favorite parts of him was making that decision hard.

“i heard you’d be here.” drew’s words hit you like a stab to the stomach. he’d heard you be here? from who? “you look really good." drew broke the silence as you questioned how he even knew you'd be here.

“yeah that’s what patrick said too.” you lied right through your teeth, avoiding his gaze as you looked into the crowd of people dancing. there was no patrick, there was no man. you came here with your girl friends.

“who’s patrick?” drew remained calm, almost like he didn't care at all that you were here with another man.

“the guy i came here with.” you gave drew a blank stare, waiting for the jealousy to wash over his face. but it never did. you always struggled with being able to read drew. “so, you heard i’d be here, but you didn’t hear that i’m seeing someone else?”

“guess not.” drew rested his elbow on the bar. he was better at your own game than you. “he’s really nice.” you gave drew a shrug. you were trying so hard to play it cool that literally everything around you vanished, all that mattered was drew and the fact that he was right in front of you.

“i got a hotel room a few blocks away.” drew ignored your previous comment. he didn’t come here to mess around, he came here to win you back.

“okay?” you had an attitude, despite hoping that he’d ask you to come back to the hotel with him.

“do you want to come? we can talk.”

“what about patrick?” you grabbed your purse from the bar counter, the leather felt cool against your fingertips. drew offered a hand, instinctively you grabbed it, accepting the help down form the bar stool.

“he doesn’t exist does he?” drew giggled. despite still being upset at him, you laughed too. drew had a way of making it impossible to stay mad at him. “why? jealous?” you teased.

⋆˚. 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ 🍰 ⟡˖ ࣪

making it to the hotel after an awkward walk there, you made yourself comfortable in drew’s hotel room.

“how sorry are you?” you sat on the bed, drew wanted to talk, so you started the conversation.

“i’m really sorry.” drew knees touched yours as he hovered over you. even bringing his fingers to your chin, “can you forgive me?”

“i don’t know.” you felt your cheeks flush a bright red. “i want you to show me how sorry you are.” you shoved drew’s hand away from your chin, trying to seem superior to him, and although you knew your place, drew played along.

“how can i show you?” drew smirked, still looking down at you. the mere look of him and his muscular arms begging to be free from the strain of his t-shirt had your panties wet. but you couldn’t give it up that easy. “get on your knees.” you demanded, watching as drew immediately obeyed, never once braking eye contact with you.

drew was on his knees and he was practically still taller than you sitting on the bed. you tucked the unruly strands of his hair behind his ear, your hand traveling all over his upper body, finally stopping to caress his face. his eyes fluttered shut, fully taking in your touch, the one he hadn’t felt in a month, the one he realized he couldn’t live without.

it was silent, but a comfortable kind of silence. your hands roamed even more, now brushing through his hair. drew melted at your touch, you felt the tension growing.

it was cute watching drew swallow every ounce of his pride, the man who made you go crazy, kneeling before you all at your mercy, now going crazy over you. “i’m sorry baby.”

“i know.”

“no more odessa. no nothing. kay? it’s just us.” drew’s hands started to roam up and down your thighs, but you weren’t doing much to stop him. “youre all i want.” drew bent down, leaving kisses all along your knees and inching up your thighs. “please baby,” drew pleaded. “can you forgive me?”

"maybe," you hummed as drew kept kissing you, you missed his lips against you in a way that would be embarrassing to say aloud.

“let me make you feel good.” drew tugged your legs closer to the edge of the bed, you giggled in response, your nerves made it felt like the first time all over again.

“okay.” you slurred out as drew unbuckled your jean mini skirt, and pulled it down your soft freshly shaven legs.

“you’re fucking soaked baby.” drew smirked to himself as he looked at your wet red stained panties. “shut up,” you closed your legs shut out of embarrassment. “why? it’s fucking hot.” drew forced your legs back open, eager to get his head between your thighs.

you propped yourself up on your shoulders, watching as drew looked at your clothed went cunt like it was the first time he’d ever seen it before. “fuck baby,” drew rock hard cock in his jeans. “you’re perfect.”

“you mean it?” you said softly, biting your bottom lip as drew’s cold hand slid your panties to the side. his touch alone leaving you twitching and feigning for more.

“of course i mean it, look at you.” drew finally placed a kiss on wet pussy, sending fireworks throughout your body. “fucking perfect.” he hummed on your clit.

drew’s hands roamed all across your body as he began sucking on your clit, his tongue circling around your bud of nerves. you closed your legs around drew’s head, which only encouraged his behavior.

“please don’t stop.” you moaned out, gripping even tighter at the sheets surrounding you. “fuck drew.” your eyebrows furrowed from the pleasure.

you felt the tightness in your stomach threaten to burst. “gonna come drew.”

drew’s actions sped up, pushing you closer to your release. his hands wrapped around your thighs, doing his best to dig deeper into your pussy.

before you knew it you were breathing heavy, trying to to catch your breath, when drew raised his head from between your thighs. your juices making his face have a gloss over it, it always made you giggle.

“what?” drew smiled at you,

“i missed that,”

“i missed you.” drew crawled up closer to you, laying next to you. “can you forgive me?”

“i guess,” you squeezed your lips together, acting confused. like you hadn’t mad your mind up the minute you locked eyes with him at the bar. “under one condition.”

“that is?” drew looked over at you, eager to know what your proposal would be.

“we get to go though odessa’s instagram and talk about everything wrong with her.”

[bbokicidal]

"What Happens When..." | [SKZ] OT8 | [HAN]

Han allows himself to indulge in the fantasy of letting his group members use you like a toy.

Genre: Smut [18+ MDNI] Pairing: Han x Fem!Reader Warnings: Dub-con!!, reader says things like "wait," and "hold on," etc., inning/pushing/shoving, manhandling, fingering, unprotected sex, one big ol orgy, etc.

Notes: This IS a short fic and isn't anything really long. There's no plot - it's purely smut for your viewing pleasure and my mental peace, lol. also - the middle pic?? GOOD GAWD,,,

Word Count: 1.2K

Divider by @enchanthings

"She likes when you're rough." Jisung's voice peeps from somewhere in the back of the group following down the hallway of your apartment. At the front, and currently being held tight by two of the men your boyfriend was close friends with (and whom you adored), you stumble over your own feet on the way to the bedroom. "So you guys can go all out. Just - no breaking her, yeah?"

You shift in the hold of the men guiding you along, voice wavering in both excitement and uncertainty. "Nobody told me we were doing this today --" You can't help the giggle that escapes your lips, willingly letting them push you towards the bed.

"Hold her down."

It's not your boyfriend's voice you hear from behind you - but the leader of the group; Gruff, gritty with need. He huffs out from beside where you trip over the rug at the end of your bed, body hitting the mattress harder than intended. Chan's chuckling, one hand holding tightly to the fabric of your pajama top and pinning your chest down to the sheets when you begin to wriggle. "Stay still, angel, and this'll be a lot easier."

"Jesus..." Someone else from behind begins to mutter to himself. The voice lower, paired with the hand running over your thigh and tugging down your shorts to expose your dripping hole to them, gives away that it's Felix. Always eager and quite full of energy, he's almost instantly grabbing and kneading at your ass before you have to chance to move - but he does take the initiative to spank you when you wiggle too much under their holds. If you'd glanced back you would've seen just how much you affected him, rock hard and almost whimpering from how badly he wanted to get at you already.

"Jisung..--" Your voice breaks in your throat and you can hear your boyfriend giggling off to the side.

The hand currently keeping you from pushing yourself up - pinning your wrists behind your back - tightens it's grip on your soft skin. It belongs to Jeongin, who lets his body slowly lean down to the side so he can peer into your eyes when your head tips his direction. He watches as you shift to get a better look at him, whispering out, "Innie--"

But he shakes his head, a knowing smile overtaking dimpled cheeks. "Sorry, sweetheart. But I'm just as excited as they are and... if you're going to make it harder for us, then we'll just have to take matters into our own hands."

"Come on," Someone grips at your hips where they lay on the bed, palms warm and heavy before his fingers wrap around the bone and pull harshly upward. Your weight shifts, neck straining and brows crinkling when you settle on your knees - and your grimace only hardens when two fingers slip right into your pussy with such ease. His thumb slides down between your folds until he finds the soft bundle of nerves, making it swell with the way he prods and rubs over it almost angrily. "Oh my God," Seungmin coos, almost enamored with the way you tighten around his fingers. "You're dripping, aren't you?"

But your boyfriend has first dibs - He is your boyfriend after all. So after giving Seungmin some time to toy around with you, pushing at your clit and making you tremble with his hands, he shoves the younger aside to take his rightful place behind you. Pants dropped to his thighs, his cock slips right into your walls with practiced ease. "God, it's like you're made for me." Jisung sighs in adoration, his eyes slowly rolling back in his head with the warmth of your slick coating his cock. And it's little to no time at all before he's moving, the sound of his hips slamming into your own filling the room.

"Hey."

Someone all but bites. With your face pressed into the mattress, he watches as you clearly struggle to lift your head at all. The angle makes you whimper until his fingers tangle into the crown of your head, pulling your hair until you had to crane your neck to look at him. Changbin stares down at the red of your cheeks. With teary eyes blurred and damp, you blink up at the man sitting on the bed in front of you. Had he been there the whole time, watching you rock back and forth on the sheets with no way to support yourself? It seems he doesn't have much to say - He just wanted to see your pretty face while his dongsaeng fucked into you like a dog in heat, drool sliding down your chin and tears beginning to streak over the pink of your cheeks.

"Wait..-- Wait--"

The sudden emptiness of Jisung pulling out makes you whine in distress, lips falling open and jaw slack as someone seems to take his place. Cock pushing into your walls - it's heavier, thicker, bigger. It makes you choke on every breath as he sinks into you balls deep before pulling back, dragging along your inside and almost teasing you with how slowly he seems to move. "Sorry, angel." Leaning down and letting his chest just barely touch the back of your shoulders, Minho settles comfortably behind and lets his hips push closer to bury himself back inside of you. "No time to wait. We all want a turn."

You can feel every breath that escapes his lips brushing over your throat, eyes previously glued to Changbin now flittering down towards the sheets beneath your bodies. With a dull gaze and spit still coating your lips, someone's hand gently takes a hold of your chin. Your eyes remain on the sheets, almost seeming out of it with how perfectly Minho's length massages every inch of your pussy - something you've dreamed of (Jisung, too.) but never expected to actually happen.

The person's thumb gently swipes over your bottom lip, slowly gathering the spit that drips and lifting it to his own mouth to lick it clean - before he's carefully taking hold of your chin once more and letting his thumb press into your mouth. Hyunjin watches as spit pools on your tongue, coating his finger and making him shudder where he sits beside Changbin in front of you.

"Mmn--" You gasp when Minho's hips snap hard to your own, Hyunjin almost pulling his hand back with the way your lips close and threaten to bite down. But you refrain and his worries instantly fade, continuing to push down on your tongue until you were drooling over his hand. He sighs out and, with his free hand, unbuttons his jeans in a quick snap. The fly, already down, lets his cock gain some relief after straining against his briefs for so long. "Keep that pretty mouth open," Hyunjin hums, "I'll put it to good use while I wait for my turn."

Tag List : @dwaekkicidal @jabmastersurpriseee @possum-playground @thatonedarkskinnedsiren @oc3anfloor @theyadorevalerie @inlovewithstraykids @seungminsbest @edit-me-prettyplease @butterflydemons @satosugu4l @jeonginsleftcheek

[paarksunghoon]

you plus me (teaser)

SUMMARY: it’s been six years since heeseung stopped being your friend and the thought of him tagging along an annual camping tradition makes you feel like the world must be crashing round you. one misunderstanding and one trip later makes heeseung re-evaluate all he knows, and it makes you believe that there might life after love.

PAIRING: heeseung x fem!reader (featuring enhypen)

WORD COUNT: no estimate because who really knows but this baby sits at 28K right now. the teaser stands at 2.7K.

NOTES: usually I don’t post teasers but I’m so proud of this story so why not!!!!!! I don’t think I’m going to open a taglist but that could change. I’ll let you know if I do. :) hoping to publish by October 26! thanks for reading!! xx

GENRE: angst + fluff + smut

edit: it’s out!

***

“Please don’t make me go.”

“Y/N, you already said yes. We’re only gonna be gone for a week.”

“I don’t think this is a good idea, Jungwon. You just said that Heeseung is gonna be there.” 

Your best friend sighs and sits down on your bed, inspecting the duffle bag you have that’s half-packed. Your clothes are haphazardly strewn all over your bedding while you plead with him to no avail. You’re so desperate that you consider getting on your knees to beg.

“I’m sorry for telling you now but he was able to get people to cover his shift last minute and paid for a spot on the kayaking rental.” 

“If he’s going, I’d rather save us all the trouble and stay at home.” Jungwon watches you cross your arms over your chest. “Every time we’re in the same room, it’s just a matter of time before things become awkward.” 

“We’ll be outside in the suuuun,” Jungwon says, tilting his head to the side and giving you those amused eyes that he always gives you when he’s trying to convince you to do something with him. You scoff and look away. It almost works. 

“I bet that it’ll be worse since we have a few things planned with the guys already.”

“So what? You two don’t get along. Big deal. We’ve already made reservations to secure a spot on the campsite and set a deposit for kayak rentals.”

“Won, I think you and I view Heeseung very differently. He doesn’t just not like me. He hates me.” 

“Hate is a wrong word.” 

You huff. “I don’t think you grasp just how weird it is every time we’re together. You could cut the tension with a knife.”

“Seriously, Y/N. It’s one week. I’m sure you can survive that. You’ve never missed a camping trip and it’s the first time all of our friends are coming.” Jungwon deadpans and throws a shirt towards your chest, which you hastily grab after being startled by his sudden movement. You know better than to argue with him when he gets like this. “Just help me pack your clothes, dude. Jay’s gonna be here to pick us up tomorrow morning and you don’t want to be under-packed.” 

You relent and grumble. “Are you still staying over?”

He nods. “My apartment’s in the opposite of where we’re going and I didn’t want to make him drive an extra twenty minutes since he needs to pick Riki up. Just need to drop Maeumi off at my mom’s before coming back here. ” Your eyes fall for a flat second before you squash that feeling down.

“I didn’t invite you over, you know.” 

“No, but don’t pretend like you’re not excited,” Jungwon says with a laugh as he pulls your clothes out of the bag and starts to readjust the clothing you’ve folded poorly. Seeing your best friend smile tugs a bit at your heartstrings and you can’t say that you aren’t happy to have him with you. “We should get you packed now so you don’t stress out later.” 

Begrudgingly, you allow Jungwon to sort out your clothes for you and pull last minute items you’ve yet to pack. It annoys you, watching him be so calm when you’re simmering with worry. But you know he’s right—you’ve invested some money into this getaway and it’ll be the last big outing before you move away from Korea for a year-long job opportunity in Okayama before pursuing your Master’s degree. Jungwon knows you a little too well and sometimes it irks you. 

The end-of-summer camping trip is always one for the books. For as long as you can remember, the two of you have been going camping just before everyone goes back to school to celebrate the beginning of a new academic year with your families. But this time, the trip wasn’t just about continuing an annual tradition. It was also to commemorate a new chapter in your life. 

You’re a year older than Jungwon. He’s known you since you were obsessed with learning how to double dutch and you’ve known him since he first learned how to ride a bike. The two of you started out as neighbors when you moved into the house next to his and his family had adopted your own like old friends, eventually inviting you and your parents into their annual camping tradition. Even when dynamics changed and people had left, the tradition was the only thing that remained a constant for you.

This is the first summer that your loved ones announced they wouldn’t be coming along. They all thought it was time for you to embark on new traditions with new people and nobody seemed to mind the change that much except for you. Jungwon had been ecstatic about it since he invited his friend, Jake, to the camping trip last year. You’d been wary at first since Jake is friends with Heeseung, but he never brought up your confusing arch-nemesis and chose to have a great trip before you all started university again.  

Sure, you had a lot of fun. You might even consider last year’s trip as one for the books. But your mom pulling out of the camping trip and everyone around you agreeing that it was for the best made you feel like your world was crumbling around you.

When you graduated university three months ago (Jungwon swears he didn’t cry but you know better than to believe him) and the weight of leaving your home started to sink in. In the blink of an eye, Jungwon wouldn’t be a twenty minute drive and hanging out with all of your friends wouldn’t be as easy as it once was. You’d be in Japan all alone.

This past summer has been a whirlwind as you tried to do everything under the sun, savoring each moment until you wouldn’t be able to anymore. Jungwon’s been a good sport about it, never once complaining when you drag him to your latest adventure. He deals with your sudden shift in mood from happy to sad, letting you cry on his shoulder and braving the cliche words you say when telling him you’ll miss him a lot. 

Unlike past seasons, this is the first summer you haven’t seen Heeseung very often. Lee Heeseung, who usually keeps his head down and minds his business, always seems to have a bone to pick whenever his eyes settle on you. It confuses you to no end and he keeps his quips to a minimum when your mutual friends are around, but it doesn’t stop you from wondering what you must’ve done to make him act like that towards you. It’s a shame because that small childhood crush you always had on him was squashed the first time he ignored your presence 

None of your friends comment on it much. They’re used to the dynamic between the both of you because it's been years of this. Elementary school saw the two of you become friends for the first time and middle school brought more friends into the group. It was in high school that things changed and Heeseung started ignoring you out of nowhere until one Thursday afternoon when he’d told you to leave him alone after pestering him about his change in behavior. 

The odd tension followed you into university and continued to seep into your life. You don’t think you’ve ever been in a room with Heeseung where he’s been anything but nonchalant towards you, often acting like you aren’t there to begin with. You do your best to put up with it and plaster a smile on your face but six years have gone by and you don’t think you can handle a seventh. All of your friends seemed to have moved past it. You don’t know why you can’t.

“Don’t think about Heeseung,” Jungwon says with a sigh. “In fact, don’t think at all. Let me handle everything and enjoy this trip before you move to Okayama, okay?”

“Okay, fine. But I want to see Maeumi.”

Jungwon snorts. “She’s gonna be real pissed when she doesn’t see you for a year, you know.”

“Don’t remind me.”

Jungwon knows you like the back of your hand and has seen what you bring on these trips enough to know what you like to have in your duffle. He packs things you neglected to pull out because your mind has been elsewhere. As much as he wants to flick your head and tell you to quit overthinking so you can help him, he did tell you to let him handle everything. 

Your best friend makes you triple check that the two of you didn’t miss anything before heading back to his apartment to fetch Maeumi. She jumps into your arms when you squat to pick her up and won’t allow Jungwon to pet her white fur body while she’s nestled against you. This fondness and the familiar jab of Jungwon’s elbow to your ribcage makes your heart ache despite the sweet moment. You’re really going to miss home. 

Ever the concerned mothers your mom and Jungwon’s are, they send you with a tray full of sweets for the road. They make you tell them exactly when you’ll be picked up and by who (“Jongseong, Eomma,” Jungwon says for the umpteenth time) and when you plan to come back. His dad gives you a spare bucket hat for when you’re on the water and an old sweater from his college days when Jungwon complains about how you never pack enough layers. The gesture feels warm since you consider his father to be somewhat of your own.

Leaving them to go back to your house feels a bit bittersweet. A lot of your belongings sit in storage boxes in the garage from when you moved out of your campus apartment upon graduating. Jungwon decided to get an apartment for himself with the money he saved from his part-time job as a busboy at a local chain restaurant. Staying over with you makes it seem silly when you remember he used to live next door. 

It’s nine in the evening when the two of you get ready for bed. Jungwon puts your bags by the front door so neither of you would forget while you finish brushing your teeth. He grabs extra blankets from the linen closet and settles onto your L-shaped couch, pulling the fabric just underneath his chin. Your heart feels like it’s sinking in on itself when you think about how this might be the last time you’re able to be so casual around him. 

“Stop overthinking,” he says in the quiet of the night as if he can hear the thoughts in your head. The living room lights are off and the moonlight is what’s responsible for illuminating the space. 

You refrain from throwing your pillow at him. “I’m not overthinking. You’re overthinking.” 

Jungwon snorts. “We both know that’s not true. I know you’re scared about Okayama and I know that’s why you’ve been on edge about Heeseung. You’re usually never this loud about it.” Like always, your best friend is right. 

“It’s hard not to.” Your meek voice makes Jungwon’s heart lurch. “Everything’s changed so fast. I feel like I didn’t get enough time to properly say goodbye to everyone.”

“You’ll be in Japan, not America. It’s not like we’ll never see you.” 

“Yeah, but I won’t be able to annoy you for boba and you won’t be coming over to have dinner with my mom and I.” Jungwon frowns. Too caught up in making sure you were happy this summer, he hadn’t given it that much thought. “I know I won’t be far but I’m scared that things will change too much.” 

For the first time today, Jungwon doesn’t know what to say to make you feel better. “I’ll miss you a lot.” 

“I know that, dummy. I guess…I feel like I’ve been dealing with a lifetime of shittiness and the universe wanted to throw another curveball at me.” Jungwon’s heart softens at your confession. He’s used to your quick jabs and sarcastic humor. Knowing you’ve more afraid than excited makes him upset. 

“The universe sucks,” he says, happy that it pulled a laugh out of you. “I’ll always be a phone call away and you’ll never have to worry about me ignoring you because we both know I’m gonna blow up your texts anyway.” 

“I can always count on you to annoy the hell out of me.” You can’t see his face, but no you already assume Jungwon’s sporting a shit-eating grin. Even if you both know the main reason why you’re afraid of living in Okayama, neither of you say it. You’re grateful that Jungwon doesn’t bring it up. “Still, though. You know how I am with change. I’m really scared that I’m going to hate it there and not have you to keep me company.”

“Life is crazy and unpredictable but that doesn’t mean you’re going to be miserable. I mean, you did a pretty good job of making sure both of us had happy childhoods even though I know you were hurting when we were younger.” 

“It’s really hard not to have expectations or think badly about the future when I feel like I took everything for granted.” 

“I know, Bug,” Jungwon says, using a nickname from your childhood he reserves for when he thinks you need an extra bit of comfort. “But you’re the best person I know. You didn’t do anything wrong. Life just…gets in the way.” 

“Yeah, I know.”

Jungwon is quiet for a moment. “Just please promise me you’ll try to have fun, okay?”

“I know I’ll have fun, Wonnie. I’m scared that I’ll have too much fun and be a sobbing wreck when we get back.” 

The two of you share a laugh. “Alright, fair. Promise me you won’t let Heeseung get under your skin.”

You groan. “If he doesn’t like me, that’s fine. I don’t need everyone to like me. But why go out of his way to act like I’m scum of the Earth?”

“Just ignore him, okay?” Jungwon pleads. “I know it’s uncomfortable but he paid for a last minute spot. I’ll tell him to be mature about it too.” 

And, well, part of you believes Heeseung will listen to Jungwon. Despite being on the younger side in your shared friend group, everyone seemed to listen to your best friend most of the time. Jungwon has an authoritative aspect to himself when he’s refrained from being the silly, happy-go-lucky guy you all know him to be. 

It’s quiet for a brief moment with the wind gently tapping on the windows behind you. “I don’t know why he doesn’t like me.” 

Truthfully, neither does Jungwon. “I’m sorry he’s putting you in a tough spot.” 

“Won, sometimes I really wonder if he hates my guts. He doesn’t talk to me and he never replies to my messages in the group chat. It’s like I don’t exist to him.”

“I think that might be a little extreme.” 

“It’s not and you know it.” 

Jungwon hums. “Well, at least you’ll get away from him when you move to Okayama.” Just like that, all of your worries come flooding right back.

“Yeah,” you say meekly. “I’ll have Okayama.”

You don’t see him, but you know Jungwon’s smiling since you agreed with him for the first time tonight. “That’s more like it. You have your whole future ahead of yourself, dude. Heeseung is just a blimp. In three weeks, he won’t matter because you’ll be having fun in Japan. Just think about that.” 

You try not to think about the fears and hesitations you have about starting anew. This time, you wouldn’t be going back to university after the camping trip. You’ll have a week and a half back home before you’re boarding your flight and saying goodbye to the place you’ve called home for the past two decades. Thinking about the future keeps you up until you hear Jungwon’s snores from the other side of the couch. 

Unsure of when your mom will be coming home, you snuggle further into the cushions and curl yourself into a ball before falling asleep. 

***

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