#the amount of times i ugly laugh to your fics

[wlwloversreads]

why are u the funniest person alive

#pls #the amount of times i ugly laugh to your fics #THE PIC OF BUCKY #‘bucky looks like this to me idk’ #the laugh i left out…. i need to be sedated #also did i mention im in love with you? #i missed you so much :’) #shurisneakers

[kiss-inthekitchen]

same sky | spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader

a late night phone call with Spencer. unruly amounts of fluff. no gender identifiers in this one. apologies to residents of las vegas, i did insult your city's aesthetics. i had to do it. for the plot

word count: 2k

notes: this is a rework of a very old fic i used to have up on ao3 by the same name. it's the second in a series of fics i've updated from my vault of oldies :) this one's for the girlies who liked the banter in no vacancy <3 oops! all banter

“I miss you,” you say into your cell phone, standing on the back porch and gazing out at the sky. It’s late, but you can’t sleep. Spencer has been gone on a case for the better part of a week, and you don’t sleep as well without him. 

“I miss you, too. But I’ll be home soon,” Spencer replies, keeping his voice low.  

“Is everyone else asleep?”

“Yeah. It’s been a long day.”

“Where are you right now?” Even though you aren’t in danger of waking anyone up, you find yourself mirroring Spencer's tone. 

“Best guess, somewhere over New Mexico.” They’ve been in the air about an hour, and given their trajectory, he’s pretty sure he’s right. Spencer is seated at the edge of the couch, his back against the arm of it and a blanket thrown over his legs, barely covering his mismatching-socked feet. 

“How come you’re still up?”

“I wanted to talk to you,” he says. Somehow, he can feel you smiling across the line. It makes him smile, too. He doesn’t ask why you’re awake when it’s even later where you are; he knows already. "What are you doing?”

“Looking up at the stars.”

“You know, you won’t be able to see me up here.”

“Ha ha.”

“Here, I’ll open the shade on the plane window. At least we can share the same view.”

“Hm. Almost like we’re together,” you hum. 

His heart aches. It’s only been a few days and he still can’t stand it. “Almost.”

For a minute, neither of you speak, looking out at the sky from two different time zones.

“When I wake up tomorrow morning, you’ll be here, right?” 

“Mmhm. Maybe even before that,” he responds, a low, soothing hum in your ear.

“Should I stay up until you get here?” you already know what he'll say, but you kinda like the idea of it anyway.

“No, no, it’s at least another four hours. Don’t worry about it. When you wake up, I’ll be there.”

“Sounds good. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

You’d intended to let him go after just a quick call once you realized that the rest of the team were resting not too far from him, but you don’t want to hang up. He doesn’t make any moves to do so either, wanting to hear your voice as much as you want to hear his. “So, how was Tucson?”

“Oh, you know. Hot. Desert-y. Lots of murder.”

“Less murder now.” 

“Yeah.” 

His voice sounds strained. He doesn’t like indulging in a sense of accomplishment after closing a case, doesn’t ever feel like he’s done enough. He shows up too late and does too little, and then he gets to leave while the families of the victims have to pick up the pieces. You understand why he doesn’t like to think about the work that way, but you’ve tried to remind him that the good he does is incalculable; how many lives saved, how many tragedies avoided. It’s all you can do. 

You pivot a little, not wanting him to get too caught up. “I remember, when I first moved to Virginia, I was so shocked at how green everything was. I swore I’d never seen that much green in my life.”

“I had a similar experience,” he says, fondly, aware of your tactics. 

“Oh, I can only imagine. I’ve been to Vegas. It’s icky.”

“Icky?” he asks, laughing at your word choice. 

“I mean, no offense, but… it’s kinda ugly.”

“Wow, okay, insult my hometown, why don’t you.”

You laugh. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. You’re right.”

“I know,” you sigh. “Always am.”

“Well, statistically, you actually have a seventy-two percent chance of being right, which is still impressive, but hardly a flawless track record.”

“Spencer Reid coming in hot with the stats. I love when you talk numbers to me.” 

“I don’t think we’d have gotten very far if you didn’t.” 

“But I think I should be right more often than that.” 

“Are you asking me to fudge the numbers?” he asks with put-upon shock. 

“I’m just saying, maybe you’ve got it wrong.” 

“Oh, so you dare to challenge the accuracy of my eidetic memory? Or is it the statistics that you think I’ve calculated incorrectly?” 

“This is affecting my score, isn’t it?” 

“I’ll have to factor it in. You understand.” 

You giggle, and Spencer starts to feel some warmth come back into him after too many days of stress, doubt, and destruction. He hadn’t been able to talk to you nearly as much as he wanted. And it was hard to talk to you on certain cases, to allow you to make him feel lighter when reality was so dark. When he felt so much weight on his shoulders, when he should be focusing on the profile and apprehending the unsub and… sometimes he just didn’t feel like he deserved to have that weight lifted by you, even for a little while. 

“Spence?” 

“Will you go inside?” he asks, his tone full of something like reverence for you. “Please?”

“If you insist,” you sigh, already opening the door. 

“I do. I do insist, very forcefully.” 

“I’m already inside with the door locked.” 

“Man, I’m good.” 

“Mmhm.”

“Going to bed?”

“Yeah. Will you talk to me for a few more minutes?” you ask, sliding under the covers. Spencer hears the slip of fabric as you pull them up over your shoulders, and it sharpens the ache he feels to be home with you already. 

“I’ll talk to you for the rest of the night, if you want me to.” 

“No, I don’t wanna keep you awake, too.” 

“I probably won’t get much sleep regardless.” 

“I don’t condone that,” you say, your frown evident in your voice. 

“Noted,” he replies, though he sounds apologetic. 

Four hours feels an eternity too long to wait. You miss Spencer, and you hate how tired he sounds. You want to fix things for him. You want to run your fingers through his hair til he falls asleep and you want to make sure his dreams are peaceful when he does. 

“What do you wanna do when you’re back?” you ask, hoping that planning for it will make the time go faster. 

“Oh, I’m taking a shower and getting right into bed. And you can’t make me get up.” 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I’m serious. Don’t ask me to do a single other thing cause I won’t do it.” 

You laugh. “For the whole day?” 

“Probably. And you better not go anywhere either. We could both use the rest.” 

“Okay, rest day all day.” 

“We can order Thai though. So we’ll get up for that. But even then, it’s just to sit on the couch.” 

“Maybe the floor.” 

“I will also accept floor,” he concedes, and then it occurs to him that you might’ve been asking because you want to do something with him. “Is there something you wanted to do the next day though?” 

“Well... the saucer magnolias are blooming at the Smithsonian again.” 

“Say no more.” 

You sigh wistfully. “You’re my favorite boyfriend I’ve ever had.” 

“Well, I should hope so,” he says, smiling. “You’re my favorite, too.” 

“Aren’t I the only partner you’ve ever had?” 

“Ha ha. I had a girlfriend in college.” 

“Spencer, you were like sixteen in college.”

“I wasn’t sixteen the entire time,” you hear the eye roll in his voice, “I have three PhD’s, it took me a little while.” 

“Well, who is this girl? Do I need to beat her up?” you joke. 

“No,” he laughs. “You are my favorite, after all. She wasn’t very nice to me.” 

“Okay… so you told me not to beat her up but then gave a reason why I should?” 

“Please don’t beat up my ex-girlfriend. I do appreciate your violent impulses though.” 

“Mm, okay. As long as you know I could.” 

“Sure, angel. You’re very scary,” he placates. 

You let out a little gremlin laugh. 

“Oh, and you’re delirious,” he notes, an amused lilt to his tone. 

“Delirious because I miss you,” you sing, dragging out the ‘you’. 

“God, where did I even find a weirdo like you,” Spencer laughs. 

“I found you. You attracted me with your peculiar aura and soulful eyes. Trapped me in your… fucking what’s-it-called. Tractor beam.” 

“You know, the term tractor beam was actually coined by science fiction author E.E. Smith in 1931 as an updated version of his original term ‘attractor beam.’” 

“Hmm, yup. You caught me in that.” 

“Did you call my eyes soulful?” he asks, seemingly just processing that part. 

“Oh, you don’t like my adjective choice? Next you’ll have a problem with me calling your aura peculiar.” 

“I mean… I don’t know that I loved it.” 

“Here he goes fishing for compliments,” you sigh, rolling over to your other side and creating a bunch of shuffling noise on the line. Spencer wrinkles his nose, holding the phone a little farther from his ear until he hears you speaking again. “Okay, your eyes are big and brown and beautiful and they contain a standard unremarkable amount of soul, and your aura is also really regular. Regular Reid, that’s what they call ya.” 

He’s frowning, you can practically see it, but he’s also fighting off an amused smile. “Well, that one started off nice, at least.” 

“God! You’re so difficult. My boyfriend is sooo difficult. Why don’t you come home to me first and then I’ll come up with some more adequate compliments?” 

“I’m going to hold you to that.” 

The two of you talk for a little while longer, with you telling Spencer about the new coffee shop you’d tried out and how their lavender latte actually tastes like lavender, which is basically unheard of. Spencer tells you about the standoff between him and an all too curious roadrunner that he swears was trying to get into his motel room. Calling it a standoff is generous; the man got bullied by a bird. 

You try not to laugh and end up unsuccessful, with Spencer insisting that you were taking sides and he was well and truly in danger, which only makes it funnier. His voice pitches up even as he tries to keep his volume low, and you argue that his energy is just so attractive that even the local wildlife are drawn to him. 

“Don’t start,” he warns, overwhelming fondness in his voice. 

You make Spencer tell you something boring to calm yourself down from the image you’ve conjured of him being chased by a roadrunner, which, in your exhausted state, is even funnier than it should be. He claims to regret confiding in you with this, but he knows he’d do it again just to hear you laugh. 

Instead of telling you something boring, he recites some of the poems he’s memorized over the years. It works the way you’d intended, and you regret it when you have to stop him to tell him you’re falling asleep. He’s just a little smug about it. 

“So, you’ll be home in four hours?” you ask, the start of your goodbyes. 

“More like three now.”

“We made time go faster.” 

“We did.” 

“Will you try to get some sleep?”

“Fine. Only because you asked.”

You hum, victorious. “Goodnight. I love you.” 

“And I love you.” 

Hours later, just as the sun is beginning to change the hue of the sky from deep navy to a hazy cerulean glow, you feel your mattress shift underneath you. You’re barely awake, but still you register the scent of Spencer’s shower gel, fresh and sort of woodsy. 

Half asleep, you shift to accommodate him, and he slips an arm around you as you lay your head on his chest. You wrap an arm around his torso and throw your leg over his hips, as close as you can possibly get without literally being on top of him. 

You sigh, deep and relieved, and Spencer’s heart stutters. 

“I missed this,” he chuckles, resting his cheek against the top of your head and wrapping his arms tighter around you. You just hum in response, the last of your energy before you’re pulled back under. Within minutes, Spencer is asleep too, and the two of you sleep through sunrise and into the afternoon. 

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #spencer reid fluff #my fics #your honor im obsessed with him

[augustinewrites]

you should absolutely add naoya to the story!!!! i would LOVE some drama between gojo and that loserrrr i just know they hate each other so MUCH

useful context for this fic can be found in three conditions!

"'salt to taste,'" satoru reads, already confused. "what the hell does that even mean?"

tuesdays are always his day to cook dinner - meaning the second you smell something burning, you kick him out of the kitchen to take over - but you'd left about left twenty minutes ago to pick the kids up from karate, so he's on his own.

shrugging, he pours a questionable amount of salt into the bowl of vegetables he's been attempting to season.

after tossing in the rest of the spices, the next step is to cook over medium-high heat. so he flicks the stove on, leaning against the counter as he waits for the pan to heat up.

that's when a knock sounds at the door.

he doesn't move, hoping whoever it is just gives up and goes away. he wasn't expecting any guests, and the backup food he'd ordered shouldn't be arriving for another half hour.

but whoever it is bangs on the door this time, clearly impatient and wanting to get on his nerves.

huffing, he flicks the stove off and stomps to the door, yanking it open.

"you've gotta be fucking kidding me."

"still as uncouth as ever, i see," naoya zenin scoffs, rolling his eyes.

"and you're still as ugly as i remember," he fires back. "no wait— uglier."

that gets the reaction satoru's hoping for, naoya scowling as he says. "seems the rumours are true. my dear relative's run away to become a gojo whore."

satoru barely manages to keep his hands off the blond's throat, because killing him would start an all out war with the zen'ins, and he isn't ready to make waves (yet).

it wouldn't take much force to just put his head through the wall, would it?

"just tell me what you want so i can say no," he says instead, voice fighting to remain steady.

god, he hates the smug look on his face as he asks, "how much do you want?"

"excuse me?"

"how much do you want," he repeats slowly, as if he were talking to a particularly stupid animal. "for her. and the fushiguro boy."

it takes satoru a moment to realize what exactly he's asking for, the request so outlandish that he can hardly believe it. "how much do i— you're insane."

he goes to slam the door, but naoya is quick to catch it.

"it's only right that they should be with their family, don't you think?"

"and that's you?"

"if we're being sentimental about it, yes."

"well, they're not for sale," he says firmly, removing his sunglasses and tucking them into his pocket. every molecule of restraint is quickly leaving his body. "nor will they ever be. now leave."

stupid as he is, naoya senses the thinly veiled threat and turns on his heel, satoru keeping his eyes trained on him until he disappears down the hall.

_____

"naoya stopped by."

"what did he want?" you ask, lips already pulled down into a frown as you take another dish to dry.

"you and megumi."

"of course he does," you sigh, setting the plate aside and resting your palms on the counter "they want ten shadows."

"what are we going to do?" he asks seriously. "what if next time they don't ask?"

"there's not much we can do right now," you tell him grimly. "it’s the zen’in clan, satoru. we just need to keep our heads down and focus on getting megumi into jujutsu tech. at least he won't be so vulnerable with all of us around—”

“hey, hey,” he murmurs, pressing his forehead to yours. “i’m not going to let anything happen to you both. you know that, right?”

“i know,” you smile, kissing the tip of his nose. “that’s why i’m not suggesting we’ve halfway across the world.”

“that’s not a bad idea. we could move somewhere hot and tropical. i’d get to see you in a swimsuit almost everyday…”

“you’d get sunburnt,” you correct, laughing as he nudges his face into the crook of your neck.

“i’d happily let myself get sunburnt if it meant you were safe,” he murmurs into your skin. “the kids would probably eviscerate me if i let anything happen to you.”

“of course they would. they’d starve otherwise.”

#gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk fluff #gojo fluff #keeping up with the fushigojos

[destourtereaux]

you have a beautiful smile - draco malfoy x fem!reader

summary: Y/N is sunlight in human form, an absolute angel to be around. she’s always available to help out and treats everyone with kindness. draco malfoy should hate her, but he finds himself feeling quite the opposite.

taglist - add yourself here | warnings: none | wc: 1.5k

a/n: haven't written in a while, and this is my first draco fic, so please bear w me! lemme know what you think :) also my motivation to write draco is all bc of ms melli (@mellifluousart) who writes him wonderfully :)

Draco was eleven when he first saw Y/N. He had been so stupidly excited for Hogwarts that he had crashed his cart into hers on the platform. He immediately started to apologize, but Y/N beat him to it. And when he glanced up and met her eyes for the first time, he realized he wouldn’t have been able to say anything at that moment anyway.

Five years had passed since that first meeting, and Draco was preparing for his sixth year at school. He’d never forgotten you, but there hadn’t been many opportunities to even approach you. He’d heard of you around the school, of course. How could he not have? You were beloved, by teachers and students alike. Y/N L/N, prefect, outstanding student, and an avid volunteer around the school. Little did he know, you knew him too.

Draco had built quite the reputation for himself. He was the Slytherin prince, calculating, cold, and altogether untouchable. If you asked anyone, they would tell you that the two of you were on complete opposite ends of the spectrum.

Of course, none of this mattered to Professor Slughorn. In the first potions class of the year, a mixed group of Hufflepuffs and Slytherins, he managed to seat you right next to Draco. He would be your partner for projects until the end of the year.

“So, do you speak now?” you poke with a laugh, referring to your first meeting as you sit down next to him.

“Yeah,” he responds briefly, before returning to his notes. To be honest, he didn’t trust his own voice well enough to say anything more - you still had the same effect on him more than half a decade later.

—

Draco did not believe in perfection. He kept trying to catch you being fake, as if your kindness and constant positivity was a facade that he might one day spot slipping. But as you continued to work hard with him on projects, joking to lighten the mood, and displaying the same amount of compassion despite his cold responses, he just couldn’t spot a single flaw. And one day, you caught him off guard.

“Godric, Professor Slughorn’s hair looks like his namesake today…” you mutter, as you copy furiously from the blackboard. You hadn’t meant for anyone to hear it, but then you caught the boy next to you let out a snort. Your eyes widened; there was no way Draco Malfoy had just laughed?

You whip your head around, and Draco averts his eyes.

“You just laughed,” you state, a smile forming on your lips. “You just laughed at my joke.”

“Did not,” the boy denies, “I was just shocked that sunshine in human form could say something like that,” then he turns away so you can’t catch the smile that threatens to appear.

Your cheeks redden, and you scoff. “It wasn’t even mean!” you protest, “I find it rather fits him.”

From that day on, the two of you developed a more natural dynamic. Your conversations were no longer one-sided, and you found yourself growing to enjoy Draco’s sarcastic sense of humour and wit. You even got to know Blaise and Pansy, who were very eager to share some of Draco’s most embarrassing moments with you. Little did you know, these two had an ulterior motive.

–

“So, Y/N, huh?” Pansy prompts, glancing up at Draco with an act of nonchalance.

Blaise smirks, catching the tinge of pink that appeared on his friend’s cheeks. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Pans, and she doesn’t either. You and Blaise need to shut it and stop poking your ugly heads into this.”

“Alright, alright. But just so you know, she likes you too,” Blaise replies, before striding to the staircase and heading up to his room.

Pansy nods, “She does, but I have no idea why… You’re utterly unlikeable!” she finishes with a cackle, and practically sprints to the girls dormitories, where she knows the blond boy can’t touch her.

And so, Draco was left all alone with his thoughts and a pounding heart, at 10pm in the Slytherin common room.

—

The upcoming week was Hogsmeade week. Draco and you had made plans to get some extra quills and ingredients you were missing for the latest potions assignment.

“So, how many first years did you scare today?” you greet him with a giggle, “Do I have any 11 year olds I need to comfort?”

Draco scowled, but his eyes crinkled, belying his happiness at seeing you. “Yeah right, it’s their own fault for standing in huge groups in the middle of the corridors. You think it’d kill them to walk on their own.”

You laugh openly, loud enough for a few scattered students to turn and look. And Draco can’t blame them, because he knows just as well how easily you catch the eye. 

After making all the necessary stops, you spot an adorable new pop-up near Madam Puddifoot’s.

“Oh my GOD. A Build-A-Bear Workshop!” you squealed, and Draco makes a show of cringing and plugging in his ears.

You roll your eyes, smiling. “I haven’t made one of these in years. We absolutely HAVE to try it.”

Draco stops plugging his ears and his expression develops into one of horror. “No. No way in hell am I doing that. I have a reputation, Y/N. You are out of your min–”

You yank on his sleeve, pulling him along, not paying attention to a word of his rant.

“OW! How are you this strong, midget?! Fine!” the boy finally complies begrudgingly.

An hour later, the two of you exit the shop, you having made a bear with platinum blond fur and a slytherin uniform. Whenever you pressed its stomach, the bear would squeal out “do you know who I am?!” sending you into bouts of laughter at its resemblance to your friend.

Draco did not find this nearly as amusing as you did, but he was quite proud of his own bear. A brown one modelled after his favourite quidditch player. 

“Admit it! You had lots of fun in there,” you confront, as you spot him fixing the collar of his bear’s robes.

The boy shakes his head, and immediately gives his stuffie to you, “yeah, if I were three years old… now you carry it. I can’t be seen carrying a stuffed bear.”

You roll your eyes, but gladly take the plush. It smells just like Draco.

—

Before you know it, February sneaks up on the Hogwarts students. You start spotting floating hearts and angels everywhere, courtesy of the professors.

However, you had yet to receive a single Valentine, which you found quite bizarre. Not that you were overly confident, but you had always received at least a few in past years. You decided not to dwell on it, however, not when the NEWTs were approaching.

Little did you know, several Valentines had been trying to make their way to you, but each had been stopped on their journey by a certain Slytherin boy. Whenever he spotted one with your name on it zipping along in the halls, he simply hexed it, and it would disintegrate. He also glared at anyone who looked at you, lower years and upper years alike. Eventually, people gave up; there was no use trying to compete with Draco Malfoy.

—

Then on the very last day of the week, February 14th itself, you were working on a potions project, when your partner suddenly walked in.

Draco looked nervous, almost. At least as close to nervous as you’d ever seen the Slytherin prince get… but then he pulled out a little velvet box with a satin ribbon on it, motioning for you to open it.

“Now, don’t make this weird, okay? I just saw this in the store and thought you’d like it,” he mumbles, lowering his head. 

Carefully, you undid the ribbon and opened the box. Inside, there was an absolutely adorable necklace with a tiny silver bear. Your face lit up, and you hugged the tall boy. “It’s perfect,” you exclaimed.

Draco was absolutely flabbergasted, but he awkwardly returned the hug, patting your hair. “Want me to put it on?” 

After he clasped the necklace, he held your shoulders and turned you around to face him. Almost unconsciously, Draco began to smile. A genuine smile that made him look like a 17-year-old boy instead of his ice-cold persona.

You marvelled at how happiness transformed your boy’s face, and you stared up at him for a long time, long enough for Draco to tilt his head in curiosity.

“Is there something on my face?” he inquires.

You shake your head. “No. No, I just… you have a beautiful smile. I think you should do that more. Smile, I mean,” you stumble over your words.

Draco chuckles, as a blush spreads over his face, painting his pale complexion. He leans in again, but instead of a hug this time, he quickly pecks your forehead. “Maybe. No promises though,” he whispers.

NO LONGER DOING TAGLISTS AFTER THIS FIC. FOLLOW @lovebirdupdates AND TURN ON NOTIFS INSTEAD!

taglist: @fallin-4-ya @mrs-brekker15 @izzyyy-1 @maybanksslut @iwritesiriusly @cory-was-hexed @slytherclawbitch @wwandavision  @mrzweasley @1-800-amortentia @amelialupin-black @bolaurel  @theincredibledeadlyviper @simp027 @myalupinblack @emma67 @riddikulusweasleys @amortentiaaaa @cloudywitchh @peachybaes @poony-madfoot @arianagreyy @teddy-cheol @calaryssia @potters-heart @1dpjohoohp @retvenkos  @berrnuu  @theoreticslut  @kimsescapefromreality  @jodibullock1  @the-romanian-is-bae  @fandomhideout  @ur-local-simp  @sanctimoniousslytherpuff  @what-am-i-doing10  @sunshinee-nana @nevillelongbottomlover-blog  @annemagus  @toffeetoast @fairysums @amordesiempre7-blog @justfritz @valentines-massacre13 @neilgf @plutooryectors @jorja-cameron @thatsthat @notfeelingsogoofy

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy fic #draco malfoy fics #draco malfoy oneshot #draco malfoy oneshots #draco malfoy reader insert #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x fem!reader #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x female reader #draco malfoy x y/n #fic #writing #wizarding world

[nicestgirlonline]

Underneath the Tree

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader 

Warnings: Lightly smutty! Minors DNI! Angst and romance mostly

Work count: 1.4k 

Summary: Dating Captain America during Christmas time certainly has its cons, but Steve is always there to make it up to you

a/n: ARE YOU EXCITED FOR SOME OOEY GOOEY HOLIDAY FICS??? I'm so excited for you to read this one. My first time writing Cap! Lots of Christmas fluff! Reblogs and comments are so so appreciated! Love you all <3

There’s a certain amount of Christmas Spirit that is expected from Captain America, that became clear the first year of dating Steve. Tree lighting ceremonies, Christmas parades, children’s hospital visits, charity galas, Christmas parties all across the country. 

Christmas had become a marathon month where you saw less of your boyfriend in person and more of him in glossy PR images. You couldn’t go with him given your full time job. Everybody got a piece of your boyfriend but you. This year you were hoping it would be different, but here you were. decorating the tree by yourself. Partially out of an empty boredom and partially from loneliness that comes this time of year. 

It was nearly midnight when you heard the lock of your apartment click, followed by the clattering chaos of Steve coming in. You could tell he was trying to be quiet, fighting against the noise from entering his bag of presents as well as his shield. 

“Oh, you uh, you already got the tree decorated?” Steve asked, clearly disappointed. You had resisted decorating it for nearly a month. Steve and Bucky chopped down real trees after thanksgiving and it filled the apartment with a wonderful pine scent. You two put the lights on right away, bright multi-colored bulbs that made the room glow yellow, red and blue. But putting up the ornaments was something Steve had wanted to do together. Unfortunately, you didn’t get to be together much during the Christmas season. 

So it stood tall and empty in your living room. A gloomy reminder of your lonesomeness most nights. He had promised you two would decorate it before Christmas, but that deadline was fast approaching. 

He had lifted the huge sack of presents over his shoulder. You wanted to laugh seeing him in his Captain America get up, with a Santa hat and presents over his shoulder. He looked adorable but exhausted.  He placed the gifts under the tree and took off his helmet. He ran his hand through his messy helmet hair then turned to you to give you a kiss. 

“Well, it's going to be Christmas in eight minutes. So I figured I had to at least get started.” You said dryly. He sent you a sad smile. 

“Thank you for saving the popcorn at least. It’s the best part of the tree.” He picked up the popcorn garland that he insisted on each year. A throwback to the old-fashioned decorations he loved. He had lost the argument about tinsel but popcorn garland was a mainstay. 

“You should get some sleep Sweetie. You’ve got the ABC Special tomorrow.” Even with the smile on his face, you could see how tired his eyes were. There were dark bags expertly hidden under some TV make-up. He scoffed. 

“What are you talking about? We’ve got to get this place decorated. I promised before Christmas.” He said already starting to get the garland strung up. “Any of the ornaments left? There’s room up at the top of the tree!” 

You smiled at him. Your frustrations and resentment twisted in your stomach. It was nice that he was trying. 

“I saved you the cutest one.” You handed him his personal favorite. Winter Fighter, a bootleg Bucky figure with both arms painted silver and no eyes. It made Steve laugh hysterically when he first saw it. You started to collect them, until you had a tree with nearly only ugly, knock-off Avengers merch. The red and yellow Mcdonald’s looking Metal Hero, Nordic Space Hero who had brushable blonde hair, the twisted plastic face and bulging eyes from the Commander USA ornament.

He hung the remaining ornaments with care. You really didn’t know how he still had the energy. 

“I love Christmas. I always have. For a long time I didn’t really celebrate it because I didn’t have anyone to celebrate it with. So I'd filled my calendar with all of this - stuff.  All of December I would get to see so many people and make their Christmas’s special. ” 

“Except I haven’t really been here this year, have I?” 

You shrugged, you didn’t want to fight but you didn’t want to lie either. 

“I’ve seen like thirty Christmas tree lightings this month. But this is the only one that has actually made me feel anything.” 

“Because it's so ugly and cheap?” You joked, lightly elbowing him. He doesn’t laugh, instead he grabbed your arm and brought you into him. He moved his hands to your waist. 

“Because it's ours. I hate that I’ve been away from you so much. I keep celebrating Christmas with everyone except the one person I love most.” His voice broke slightly. You could hear his sorrow. You hugged him

The two of you embraced, you felt tender and vulnerable as you swayed in the soft light of the tree. 

“This is all I wanted this year, just to be with you.” you whispered to him. He squeezed you tighter, you snuggled into his warm chest. 

“Well, I guess there’s still time to return all these...” He sighed, gesturing with his head to the gifts overflowing under the tree.

“Hey!” You grabbed his chin as he chuckled at your indignation. “Let’s not get crazy here. You still have some things to make up for.”  You kissed him again. He tilted his head and parted your lips with his tongue. He gently cupped the back of your head, his other hand going to your hip bringing you tightly against his body.  He pulled his lips away, to lean down and scoop you up in his arms.  You let out a squeal as he swept you up in his arms, placing your arms around his neck.  He brought his lips back to yours as he started to carefully make his way towards the bedroom. 

“Wait, wait!” You cried out. Steve stopped in his tracks, his head tilted to the side. 

“I thought we were making up for lost time?” 

“It’s just…the tree finally looks so good.” You said sheepishly, biting at your bottom lip. “It’s kind of romantic, don’t you think?”

Steve beamed. He bent down to nuzzle his nose against yours. 

“Yeah Sweetheart, I think it looks great.” He spun around to place you down on the couch instead. He crawled over you, warmth radiating off of him as he boxed you into place. His lips met yours again, slowly moving against yours. His tongue teasing against your lips, asking for entrance. You wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders, hugging him closer, you’d missed him so much. You clung to him, hitching one of your legs over his, both of your lips dancing together. 

You reveled in being surrounded by Steve for the first time in weeks. You basked in every part of him. The smell of his cologne, a cedar wood and musk, the sound of his breath hitching as you lift your hips to reach his, the roughness of his calloused hands and the gentleness of his lips. 

“I love you,” he breathed. 

You gazed into his blue eyes, filled with warmth and affection. His beautiful face was illuminated by the twinkling lights of the tree. 

“I love you too Steve.” Glancing at the clock, you could see it was past midnight now. “Merry Christmas.”  He glanced over his shoulder at the clock then back down at you. You could tell what was weighing on his mind. He was the Star - Spangled Christmas Man, he had places to be in about six hours. He cracked his neck then eased back down on to his forearms over you. 

“You know, I think I’m starting to feel a little sick.” You cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Excuse me?”  He let out a few performative coughs before burying his head in your neck. He started to slowly press kiss down to the base of your throat. 

“I think I’m far too sick to even think about going out tomorrow. In fact, I think we are going to have to cancel all of my engagements, until the new year.”  He continued his kissing down from your throat to your clavicle.  

“Hmm well if it's that serious sweetheart, maybe you should just stay in bed all day tomorrow.” You suggested. You let out a happy sigh as his lips continued down to your chest. He snaked one hand down your legs, cupping your pussy and snapping your panties off. 

You tangled your fingers in his blonde hair and you started to push his head further south, which he quickly obliged. 

You knew you couldn't have your boyfriend all to yourself all of the time. But you’ve been very good this year, and you deserved it.

#steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #slight angst #fluff #holiday smut #christmas fanfic #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction

[chocosvt]

best friend’s brother

⚬ pairing: joshua x fem!reader ⚬ word count: 37k ⚬ warnings: alcohol, mentions of unsafe sex/unplanned pregnancy  ⚬ genres: timestep, romance, angsty angst, major feels abt having a crush, lots of flirting, smut, drama, happy tears.

✧✎ synopsis: joshua happens to be your best friend's older brother. he's pretty, and he's got a lot of cool details about him that you pay a concerning amount of attention to, but he’s just a friend (if you could even call it that). still, what does he think of you, anyway? that is—if he thinks of you.

 ✧✎ a/n: this is a rewrite of an old fic that i uploaded in 2016. keep in mind the original version was only 13k! i've made so many changes to this story and i really hope those who read it enjoy it! thank you sm!

⇢ here is this fic’s inspo playlist ⇢ smut section is marked! ⇢ taglist included in final author’s note

13.

You flipped to the next page of the plastic binder and squiggled a small ‘seven’ inside the margin. Then, your eyes wandered back to the math textbook sitting in between you and your best friend. It was difficult to study on Jennie’s bed, but she liked it that way, and there definitely wasn’t enough room at her desk.

“Okay, this part shouldn’t be too hard,” she said, using the tip of her pencil to trace the question, “we just have to graph this line, and we already know the y-intercept is going to be negative three.”

“This would be so much easier if the teacher handed out graph paper. Look at this grid I just drew, it’s so ugly.”

Jennie leaned over her left shoulder to look at your binder and started laughing. It was probably the saddest grid in history.

“I have a ruler somewhere,” the girl offered, pushing up onto her knees and patting around the bed, “at least, I think I do… or—maybe he took it. Yeah, of course, he definitely has it, stupid idiot.”

“Who? Joshua?” You asked.

She huffed again, sliding back onto her stomach.

“Mmhm, told me he needed it for his physics homework,” she uttered the word in a fancy-established way, as though she were making fun of it, “he never gives back any of my stuff.”

The only thing you could do was swallow and nod your head, meanwhile this awkward smile was slapped onto your mouth. You loved Jennie, you really did, but the only reason you agreed to homework and supper at her house was because of a very specific reason—this was the one night her older brother didn’t have any guitar or baseball lessons, or some outing planned with his friends. And, well, you hadn’t seen him at all since you’d gotten here, but he’d inevitably have to come down for dinner. Joshua, that was his name.

He was about two years older than you, and despite never having a conversation with him before, there was a lot you already knew about him. For example, Joshua always wore the same beat-up pair of white converse sitting in the front foyer. He liked collecting these weird, colourful band t-shirts and he routinely made Jennie bring him a piece of Double Bubble whenever he didn’t have any. It was pretty unimportant information, actually, but not to you.

“Shoot, it’s almost time for to eat,” Jennie announced, looking back at the alarm clock on her bedside table, “my parents will probably call us down any minute. Guess no more homework.” She flipped the textbook shut and cleared all her notes away. “Also, what do you want to do after dinner? My mom said we can walk to the river. We might be able to catch some frogs.”

“Oh, okay. Yeah, we should do that.”

“Totes,” Jennie smiled, “okay, I’m gonna see if they need any help setting the table. Hey, do you wanna grab Josh from his room? Tell him to come down?”

Almost immediately, you shot up onto your knees.

“Me?” You reiterated, aiming a finger at yourself.

Jennie threw on a small wool cardigan from the spine of her desk chair, tilting her head at you in amusement.

“Mmhm. Yeah, you. Who else is in here? Just grab him, ‘kay? And make sure you knock kinda loud ‘cause sometimes he’s got his earbuds in, so he can’t hear.”

Before you could even hope to oppose, she was already out the door and skipping downstairs, and you listened to the sound of her socks sliding against their hardwood floors until everything was silent. Okay, yes, you’d wanted to see Joshua and maybe find an excuse to say even a word to him, but as your docile, thirteen-year old self, asking him to join you for dinner was like…like asking you to take the sun out of the sky—very much impossible. But you were also too worried to not do anything, so you settled for a nervous walk down the hall, where Joshua’s door was covered with posters.

You knocked, though not that loudly.

When there was no answer, your face exploded into heat and you already questioned just leaving him to his devices.

But you tried knocking again, harsher this time, only to be met with the same poster of a woman wearing red, star-shaped glasses. You pressed your ear to the door. It sounded a little too quiet. And for some god awful, stupid reason that you could not compute, you decided to open Joshua’s bedroom door and just waltz right in like it was second nature. Except, there was no one. His room was empty, the shades fully drawn so everything was tinted dark, and surprisingly, it was quite neat for a fifteen-year-old boy. You saw his guitar propped in the corner, and some shiny medals dangling above his bed from baseball competitions.

He had a lava lamp sitting on his desk, purplish and hot yellow, which left a very impressionable dent on you, because you’d always wanted a lava lamp and this cute boy just happened to own one. You even saw Jennie’s ruler sitting next to a massive textbook on his desk, beside a tiny glass and acrylic cube of the solar system.

His room seemed like the most fascinating place on Earth.

“Uh, did Jennie tell you to come in here?”

Shoot!

It was horribly audible, that embarrassing suckle of breath you heaved in through your teeth, and when you turned around to meet the boy who was looking at you so concerningly, you realized he wasn’t mad (which was wonderful, since you already felt on the verge of tears and having this boy snap would definitely be the hand to push you over the edge). He reached out to flick on a light.

“Dinner’s ready,” you told him, your voice shaking a little.

“Okay,” Joshua answered, “are you… looking for something?”

“No, sorry, I’ll leave now. I’m really sorry.”

You didn’t know what you were saying as you stumbled past the boy blindly, but he’d moved to let you shuffle by, even tapped the door open a bit wider for you. By the time you were downstairs, you grabbed a large glass of water and chugged it, knowing that was the first time you’d ever felt this winded—the fact it had made the air simultaneously thicker and harder to breathe. Joshua came down about a minute later to grab a soda can from the fridge, meanwhile Jennie and her parents were adjusting the table.

“Do you like cream soda?” He asked you.

“My mom says they’re not hea—um, never mind.”

Yeah, say that, you thought, and he’ll think you’re a big loser.

“I’ll leave one in the fridge,” Joshua responded with a shrug.

When he popped open the tab to his drink, it started foaming and spilling orange soda onto the rim, which he slurped up quickly over the sink. You just stood there idly, watching him, thinking he was the most attractive thing in the universe, and you didn’t begin to question these feelings until you were standing alone in the kitchen.

What did it even mean to be attracted to someone? And should you really be this giddy about your best friend’s brother?

14.

You were standing outside, balancing on the edge of the curb, trying not to sway backwards due to the immense weight from your backpack—stuffed with two textbooks, a gigantic binder, and the big thermos that had held your lunch. Jennie was crouched down beside you, twiddling her thumbs as she stared at her phone. Exams were starting in the middle of June, so you two decided to get a leg up and take the study sessions to her house. Joshua was supposed to come around front and pick you up, but he was pretty damn late.

“Bet he’s fooling around in the parking lot w’Hansol,” Jennie grumbled, clicking off her phone and shielding her eyes from the bright summer sun, “I’m gonna melt. It’s so freaking hot out.”

“Do you want to go back inside and use the fountain?”

“No, ‘cause that’s when he’ll show up. He left me here once, y’know? All because I went back inside to get my gym shoes.”

“That doesn’t seem like him,” you said, smiling.

Jennie reached out her hand and you pulled her up.

“Mmhm, he just pretends to be all cute and Mr. Polite when my friends are around,” the girl rolled her eyes, “but he’s so mean.”

Mean? You couldn’t imagine Joshua being mean. You suppose he did order Jennie around sometimes, nagging her to do his chores or grab him another can of soda, but that just seemed like normal sibling behaviour. Besides, there were times when Joshua was plenty sweet, like when he’d come into the basement to bring you and Jennie ice cream (though you might’ve heard his mom urging him to do it, because there’s a ‘guest’ over). With a voice like his, you couldn’t even imagine him yelling.

“Oh! There! Finally!” Jennie flung out her arm to point at the silver-bullet car approaching the curb. “Gosh, took him forever.”

The passenger seat window rolled down, and you recognized Joshua’s best friend, Hansol, who wiggled his fingers to wave.

“You’re late,” Jennie barked through the window.

Joshua turned down his radio ever so slightly, only to shake his head and gesture for her to hurry up and climb inside. When you wriggled into the back, there was hardly enough room between your knees and Joshua’s reclined seat, forcing you to sit the uncomfortable backpack on your lap. Jennie leaned forward before she clicked on her seatbelt, giving her older brother a whack on the head.

“Pull up your chair, dummy. Give the girl some room.”

“Oh—shit, sorry.” He mumbled, and it seemed like Joshua hadn’t even realized you’d climbed into the car until his eyes glanced into the rear mirror, and suddenly, the seat was yanked forward.

Hansol turned around, “are you guys thirsty? I’m trying to convince Josh to stop at Joe’s Corner Store for some alcoholic beverages.”

“Why did you whisper it?” Jennie asked.

“Because it’s illegal.”

“Yeah, no duh. We’re all underage.” She folded her arms.

“Pretend I meant sodas,” Hansol smiled wide and gummy, revealing his rows of brace-covered teeth, “so what’chya thinking?”

“Yeah,” Jennie obliged, “I guess I’m thirsty. Let’s do it.”

Joshua was already at the stop sign, shaking his head.

“No, alright? Mom wants us home by two-forty-five. If we stop at Joe’s then we’re gonna push it, and I just got back car key privileges. Can’t you drink something when we get home?”

You were fully inclined to stay out of their sibling disputes, so you settled for looking out the window instead, watching a sprinkler shower a garden. That is until you felt a nudge against your elbow and Jennie was gesturing at you with her head to say something.

“He won’t say no to you,” she whispered between her teeth.

“U-Um,” you piped up, feeling hotter than the blacktop, “I’m, uh, really… I’m really thirsty too. Can we stop at Joe’s?”

Jennie pinched the back of your hand, murmuring, “y’have to add in ‘please, Joshua’, and sell it too.”

You were blinking at her awkwardly the entire time.

“Um… please… Joshua.”

Even though both directions were clear, her older brother still hadn’t turned yet, and from the way Jennie was clasping her hands together expectantly, you were hoping that pathetic ask was enough. When you glanced toward the rear-view mirror, Joshua was already looking at you. Honestly, you didn’t think you had the power to sway him even relatively, but then he flicked his signal to the right.

“Yes!” Hansol shouted from the front, “I’m gonna mix the cherry slush with the blue raspberry, and no one can stop me!”

“No one wants to,” Jennie remarked.

She then sent you a wink, which seemed unnecessary and kind of confusing because it felt like she was saying, ‘see, I told you.’

At your age, it was easy to take Joshua’s compliance as a gesture much bigger than it actually was, and for some reason, you already knew that. He was just being nice, is all, sweet, like he had to.

You were his little sister’s best friend.

“A large? Your brain can’t handle a large, Hansol.”

Jennie was standing behind Hansol at the slushie machine, watching him with a judgemental expression as he bent down the little handle and a bunch of icy, cherry red slush fell into his cup. You didn’t really know a lot about Hansol, minus the best friend to Joshua part and the fact his shaggy brown hair desperately needed a trim, but you did pick up that Jennie was always bickering with the boy and trying to get his attention. Most times, you ignored them.

Despite bending to your friend’s plea and asking Joshua to stop for drinks, you didn’t have any extra change lying around, even in the crevices of your backpack. Jennie was using money she earned from her allowance, and Hansol had just gotten payed the other day due to his first job at the bowling alley. You were staring at the glass display of bottles and cans across the store when Joshua came around the corner, holding onto his usual—an orange cream soda.

Pretending not to notice him seemed like a definite way to erase his presence, but you surely weren’t that dumb at fourteen.

“Are you almost ready to go?”

“Yeah, I am.”

Joshua reached into his pocket and checked his phone.

“Five minutes to get home,” he sighed, “it’ll be close—hey, didn’t you say you were thirsty or something? Changed your mind?”

You shrugged, “I realized I don’t have any money.”

“Oh,” Joshua responded, and the silence that hung in the tacky, air-conditioned sweat lodge that was Joe’s Corner Store was suddenly palpable, “I, um, I don’t have any extra on me, sorry.”

The only thing you could do was smile at him, and it must’ve creeped him out or something, because Joshua decided to turn around and go find Hansol who was inquiring about lottery tickets at the front counter. You waited outside while everyone paid, sat down in the shade provided by the cute, kitschy overhang painted with soft green and spring flowers. Joshua came outside first, which you noted from the pair of white converse that had just stepped beside you in the stones. And then, a can of cream soda was lowered to your face.

“Do you want this?” Joshua offered.

You glanced up at him, but only for an instant.

“Are you sure?”

He nodded.

When everyone shuffled back into the car, Hansol was already jabbering at Joshua to crank up the air while he rolled the slushie against his cheek. Jennie was just about to poke a straw into her cold tea when she noticed the bright orange can in your lap, which you’d wanted to hide from her. It was just that, one time she begged Joshua for about half an hour that he give her the last can of cream soda in the fridge, yet he wouldn’t relent no matter what.

But today he let you have one, no problem.

The rest of the day went pretty accordingly. You weren’t allowed in the basement because Joshua and Hansol were apparently watching ‘scary movies’ that weren’t suited to anyone younger than sixteen, even though Jennie assured you she’d already seen them and they were mild at best. You finished the can of cream soda, and you nearly had a heart attack when Jennie went to throw it in the trash.

“N-No! I, um, I’d like to keep it, actually.”

“Really?” Jennie sounded too surprised. “It’s just a can.”

“I’m—” quick, think up a reasonable lie that won’t mislead her into suspecting you only want the can because of her brother, “I’m collecting cans, like Elsie Bolger. She gets money back from them.”

“Oh, okay then,” Jennie shrugged, “it’s all yours.”

Because of that dumb lie you told Jennie, you were stuck with a hobby you didn’t even want over the summer, and a gigantic plastic bag lumped in the garage half-filled with tin. Your mom proposed that you start going on ‘neighbourhood walks’ to pick up any extra cans people might’ve throw into ditches or left at the parks, which was how Joshua drove past you at seven in the morning, on his way to baseball practice, catching a glimpse of you wandering through a slippery trench that you’d quite literally fallen into.

Great, you were now probably the biggest loser he knew.

The neighbourhood walks didn’t last too long though, as you came to realize there were a lot of disgusting, unsterile things that got thrown into ditches, besides coffee cups and soda cans.

Your safest bet was to ask the neighbours on your block, and by the end of July, you’d gotten a few people to start saving their cans for you. Additionally, Jennie offered to pitch in, and thus every Saturday you rode your bicycle to her house hoping that she’d remembered to save at least one can so your journey wasn’t futile.

Last week, you’d stopped by on a Sunday.

And not much could’ve really prepared you for that.

That morning, it wasn’t Jennie who answered the door, still dressed in her pyjamas with the little flamingos on them because she would sleep into lunch if she could—nope, it was Joshua. Shirtless Joshua. Shirtless, only dressed in sweatpants, with damp and mussed back hair Joshua. You couldn’t even whimper out one word. It was so obvious that you were trying not to let your curious, adolescent eyes roam that tanned torso of his like he was a dessert pamphlet. Your bike was resting against the garage—you could make a run for it.

“Jennie isn’t here,” Joshua said, “doctor’s appointment.”

“Oh,” you still weren’t looking at him, but at this pebble on their doormat, which was clearly very interesting, “I was supposed to come yesterday, but, uhm… never mind. I’ll just grab my—”

“You’re doing the can thing, right? Like, you’re collecting them to exchange at the corner store? I know about it.”

For some reason, your mind immediately lurched to that rainy morning about two weeks ago, when you were caked with mud and humidity from slipping around in that stupid ditch, rather than the far more logical answer of Jennie simply telling him you were collecting cans because they were siblings and lived together.

Joshua opened the door wider, “she has them in a bag somewhere. I can go look for it—uh, come in, if you want.”

Of course, sweet Joshua would never let you stand outside where it was slightly too windy and slightly too sunny and slightly too fragrant because of the lilac pots beside the front door. You definitely weren’t overthinking that gesture at all, and your mind was definitely working exactly as it should. So, you slipped off your sneakers and took a seat on the couch, waiting in complete, stifling silence as Joshua disappeared into the house. You got so nervous and fidgety that you rearranged the coasters on the coffee table and used the shiny edge of the fake fruit bowl to check your reflection.

Not long after that, Joshua came back to the living room.

“Hey, I’m sorry but I can’t find where she keeps that bag. I checked the garage and everything. You should phone her.”

“No, that’s alright. I’ll just come back next week.”

Honestly, you didn’t want this to be it. Gosh, you’d daydreamed so many different scenarios in which you were alone with Joshua, exactly what you’d say to him, how you’d laugh, and, oh—maybe you’d playfully bump his shoulder, or accidentally brush his hand, and the touch would create this insatiable, romantic spark between you and—all of those things seemed impossible.

As you bent down to re-tie your shoes, Joshua stopped you.

He then walked over to their fridge and pulled out a can.

“Cream soda,” the boy shrugged, “I mean, once you drink it, it’ll be empty and you’ll have a can for your… can thing.”

He tossed the soda to you, which you almost didn’t catch because it immediately slipped between your fingers, but somewhere along the struggle it managed safely into your hand.

“It’s cold,” you said, a very dumb observation to point out.

Joshua opened the front door. And then he smiled at you—just, a dazzling smile, so soft but kind of teasing and seraphic at the edges and made one-hundred percent worse by his lack of shirt.

“It was in the fridge, and fridges’ make things cold.”

The moment felt like it was too much. You were burning up, hardly even breathing as you slipped past him to hop outside and grab your bike off the garage door. That smile, those eyes, his voice, it was all you thought about during the ride home, feeling the sun kiss the back of your neck and imagining the warmth as Joshua.

You didn’t even use the can for your exchange.

Instead, you kept it beside the last one he’d given you.

15.

Unironically so, the day had just started and it was already shaping up to be one of the worst yet, even worse than the time you got stuck in that child’s swing at the park and lost your shorts trying to wriggle out of it. At least you could partially hide the water-lined eyes and trembling lip by stepping as far into your locker as possible, but that wasn’t going to save you from the bell.

That first physics test had kicked your ass. 

Sure, you wasted last Saturday cleaning out and redesigning your entire room, and maybe you could have stayed home Monday night instead of going to the Laser Tag Center with Jennie, but you still studied. And you still got a whopping fifty-four percent. To make matters worse, this tumultuous feeling had been sitting in your abdomen since breakfast, a twisty type sensation, like someone was squeezing your insides using their fist. It made you sweaty hot, and then colder than ice, and at one point you swore something fucking trickled out of your body when you sneezed on the bus.

Great, just great.

Bad grades, possibly poisoned, holding back a meltdown—it would have been the complete trifecta of misfortune and general misery.

But it became more of a “quad-fecta” when you glanced down the hall.

Joshua was poised at his locker, talking to Hansol, with his arm lounged comfortably around Elsie Boulger’s waist, the autumn-haired sweetheart of his grade whom everyone only had wonderful things to say about. They were laughing, and Joshua suddenly nudged Elsie in closer against his side to pop a kiss on her cheek. You didn’t want to be jealous, because jealously felt awful, like something icky and slimy crawling around in your gut that you wanted to throw up. Jennie said that Elsie was cool, and inspirational (whatever that meant), and that she smelled of a juicy, clean citrus.

Maybe Jennie was in love with her too.

It seemed like the whole world was in love with her.

Or maybe it just felt like that because Joshua had been making an increasingly bigger impression on you as a person.

He sort of became your world.

When the bell to second period started clanging, you made a snap decision to skip and escape into the music room, which was always open and empty at that time anyways. You melted into the first chair you saw. The lights were off, and everything was pleasantly dark in a way that made you feel invisible. No one could hear you snivelling or see those thick blobs of tears on your cheeks, and it occurred to you that this room was a lot more enjoyable when there were no freshman screaming through their trombones.

But then you spotted a silhouette outside the door. Your first thought was that someone had squealed on you, and now a teacher had sought to find the juvenile foolish enough to skip Careers of all courses and send them straight to detention. God, what a shitty day.

Except… oh no, Joshua.

There was nothing you could do to hide. Was he better or worse than a teacher? You didn’t know. Neither had seen you cry, and like he’d even want to console you when you’d just shoved a tissue up your nose and tears were dribbling off your chin.

“…Uh, are you oka—”

“I’m fine,” you cut him off to save the awkward space.

Joshua tilted his head, clearly not believing you because the evidence was sitting right in front of him, pretty damning.

“Well, not to be rude, but I think that’s a lie. And—” he let the backpack slide off his shoulder, “you’re sitting in the dark. I suppose if I turned this light on, you’d want to rip my face off.”

Dabbing the crumpled tissue under your nose, you laughed half-heartedly. You were surprised he was even tolerating you.

“Something like that.”

“Can I sit next to you?”

A pulse of energy shot straight into your chest.

“Why? Don’t you have class?”

He snickered, “don’t you? This is my spare, and the only acoustic guitar in the whole school is sitting in here.”

“… I excused myself,” you tucked your knees close together, and tipped your head to the chair on your right, “you can sit there.”

This was abnormal. This was electric. This was… almost too good to be true. Why should Joshua want anything to do with the girl who probably annoyed him each time she was over at his house, taking up the couch and always giggling at the top of her lungs and drinking all his cream soda? You weren’t really friends, but it could be considered more than acquaintances—enough for Joshua to drop into the seat beside you and then proceed to edge closer.

Rubbing a palm underneath your eye, you heaved in a big breath and sighed out, “I failed my first physics test. I failed it.”

Joshua pulled one foot onto the edge of his chair to tie his shoe, and you watched him shove the loose ends down his ankle.

“Almost everyone fails that test,” he said, “no one really takes it seriously, no one studies, and about four people drop. Guaranteed.”

You swallowed. There was that obnoxious rush of heat again.

“If it makes you feel any better, I got a sixty.”

“Joshua—” your voice wobbled, another tear wetting your cheek, “I got a fifty-four. And you were probably way smarter than me!”

Despite his innocent intentions, that comment did nothing but take any ashes of, ‘it’s not so bad’ and blow them into a wispy scattered dust. Leaning over into your hands, an emotional torrent gushed through you, unlike anything you’d experienced before. It wasn’t doing you any good to keep sitting here. Maybe outside would be better. Some fresh air to get your endorphins buzzing.

Once you got up, so did Joshua.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he stumbled, “I wasn’t trying to be a jerk.”

“I know, I know. I’m just having a crappy day. I mean, obviously. Everything is all over the place and I would so rather be at home crying than here.”

Joshua nodded, his eyes seeming glittery and sympathetic.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t make you feel better. I thought having a little sister would make me good at that stuff, but Jennie is like a honey badger when she’s upset. No one can get near her.”

You laughed, and it cleared the weight in your throat. But, laughing also triggered that same trickling sensation you experienced earlier while sitting on the bus. And it wasn’t a little trickle, it felt like it was flowing and—what the hell, this? Of all fucking days, of all moments, your body decided now was the perfect time to get its first period. No wonder you were a mess with icy fingers and toes but a shiny sweat down your back. No wonder you couldn’t handle even the tiniest bit of pressure or stress without feeling like a being made from porcelain glass.

And why the hell did you decide to wear light blue jeans. They were in the laundry hamper and you still pulled them out because the black ones didn’t suit your top the way you wanted. 

That moon-eyed look on your face was as good an indication as any something had happened, if the firmness that had planted itself into your body wasn’t already noticeable. Joshua chuckled a little, most likely confused by your comportment.

“What’s happening? Do you need me to—”

“This is…” you heaved through your teeth, “the worst…”

He tilted his head and pursed his bottom lip.

“Seriously, if you need to go home, or— if you need a ride or anything like that, I’m okay with it. Like I said, I’ve got a spare, so…”

Your gaze wandered back to his face, prompting Joshua to shift his weight from right foot to left as you stared almost through him, like he was a piece of plastic. Even if it was tempting, you couldn’t just whip out the door with that blood staining your pants, because the way your luck was going, someone would step right behind you and how could they not notice a gigantic red patch—Oh my god! There’s something wrong with this girl’s pants!—which would undoubtedly cue everyone rushing out to see you humiliatingly crumble.

You swallowed, fumbled with your fingers, only for Joshua to bite his lip.

“Did something else happen today?”

“Yeah,” you answered, sucking in sharply, “but, I’m not sure if I can… I just don’t want to—Joshua, I—I think I just got my period…”

He was quiet at first, and that small gap between his mouth pressed shut. You were even more rigid than before, almost quivering, and it was quickly dawning on you that maybe he didn’t want to hear about your body and how it was literally leaking blood.

“Oh, that’s it?” Joshua exhaled, almost seeming… relieved?

Were you hearing things correctly?

“I thought you were gonna like, confess to a crime or something,” the boy then rubbed his neck, laughing, “jeez, you were scaring me a bit—but, uh, okay, you’ve got your period, unexpectedly I’m guessing. Have you got any pads or tampons? Or spare cloths?”

“N-No, I—” your unstable emotions, they were spilling all over again and closing up your throat and thickening your voice, “I don’t have those. I-I don’t know what to do. It’s bleeding through.”

He flitted you a careful smile, passing his hand up and down your arm for a moment, “hey, it’s alright. Just relax. Why don’t you stay here, and I’ll grab Jennie from class? She always keeps stuff like that in her locker. Here—” Joshua then wriggled off the black windbreaker he was wearing, “tie this around your waist.”

You sniffled, biting the inside of your cheek before you accepted the jacket, still feeling uncertain despite his hospitality.

“Are you sure I can use this?”

Joshua was already picking up his knapsack from the floor, slinging it over his shoulder while he nodded his compliance.

“Yeah, I can get it back later. I won’t be long, okay?”

“Okay.”

He flashed you another smile, and then slipped out the heavy door which closed with a metal squeal, narrowing the ray of light that had split across the tiles. You breathed out shakily, nose still somewhat runny and your eyes bleary, as you tied the windbreaker tight around your waist. That day was officially awful, you were certain of it, though Joshua had managed to make things a little less messy, and while it could have just been the influx of hormones twisting in your abdomen that influenced your thoughts, you were starting to really, really like him. More than what it was before.

This spark you had—it was growing.

It was turning into something much bigger than attraction.

You hauled the smooth blanket up to your chin, making no move to help as Jennie crouched by the system box underneath the television. She was trying to figure out something technical, which involved pushing random buttons and clicking her remote every time the screen flickered. It wasn’t like you knew the television any better than she did, so you settled back against the couch, throwing cheeze-it’s into the air and poking out your tongue to catch them.

“This is all Josh’s fault,” she grumbled, wiping her hands along her pants, “he always screws up the settings to play video games, and never bothers to switch anything back.”

“I thought your mom made him draw up an instruction card thingy on how to fix all that,” you answered, flicking another cheeze-it into the air, “don’t tell me you lost it already?”

“He was the one who lost it.”

“Okay, so let’s just ask him what to—”

Jennie held out the remote after tampering with the system box for the umpteenth time, and the television blipped, revealing the proper screen with the little sparkling logo. She nearly sent the remote flying from her hand when she hopped up triumphantly.

“Or, I’ll fix it,” Jennie smiled, jabbing a thumb at herself, “I’m clearly not the most tech-savvy person—and that’s probably why I kept hitting the applause sound affect during the funeral scene at our school’s last play—but I do know my way around some things… even if it took me…”

You checked your phone, “fifteen minutes?”

Tossing the remote onto the couch, Jennie laughed, and remembered to grab her bowl of party-mix off the floor (with everything but the baby breadsticks included because she always said they were most useless part of the snack). You were supposed to watch this movie for your English class, though you couldn’t even remember the name, something about a vendetta. However, before the introduction scene could even play, the door squeaked at the top of the stairs and Jennie immediately pressed pause, groaning.

Joshua bounced off the last step, rubbing his hair.

“Don’t give me that look,” he nagged, “I’m not down here to bother you, I’m just looking for our soccer ball.”

“Well, chop chop. We need to watch this movie ASAP.” Jennie said, craning her neck around to glare at Joshua as he rifled through some storage bins shoved near the basement corner.

“Yeah,” you agreed (not really, but only to back up Jennie), and stuck out your tongue, “you’re making a lotta noise, too.”

“I can’t be any quieter than this,” Joshua responded, taking off another storage lid to sort through the contents, “I still have all my notes from that movie, y’know? Not that I’d give them to you.”

“That’s why I didn’t bother asking,” Jennie retorted through a mouthful of party mix, “I jusfftt knew you’d be a dick about it.”

Finally, Joshua dug out his soccer ball.

“Does mom know you swear like that?” He smirked.

“Does mom know you lied about staying over at Hansol’s last Friday so you could actually meet Elsie at some stupid party?”

The boy stiffened, meanwhile Jennie gave him a falsely sweet grin, dropping another handful of snacks into her mouth.

“I literally payed you to keep quiet about that.”

“Oh, pfft—five bucks! Thanks Mr. Charity.”

You weren’t entirely sure if you were supposed to be hearing this conversation, though neither Jennie or Joshua seemed concerned about your presence. It’s not like you would tell, anyways, and you already knew Jennie had quite the fair share of secrets up her sleeve that she’d convinced Joshua to keep.

“This conversation is over,” Joshua stated with a smile, snapping the lid back onto the storage bin, “oh, and—” he then pointed his finger at you, “I know you won’t say anything, but pretend you didn’t hear about the party. Seriously. I’d be screwed.”

“Okay,” you gave him a reassuring nod, “I promise.”

Joshua positioned the soccer ball under his arm and ran upstairs, to which you heard him softly click the door shut. The moment he was gone, Jennie’s head slumped back into the couch.

“I sense that he’s got a dangerous influence on you.”

“He doesn’t,” you giggled, whacking Jennie harmlessly on her shoulder, “now, just start the movie before I fall asleep.”

“Fine,” the girl huffed, sticking out the remote and clicking resume, though you didn’t miss how her eyes remained on you for that extra breadth of a second, like she had questioned your answer.

You lied, of course. Joshua did have an influence on you.

But you didn’t think it was dangerous.

A few weeks later.

“Ow!”

Pulling the wooden spoon out from the pot, you shot a scornful look over your shoulder, realizing that it was Joshua who’d just bumped the top of your head with the ladle in his hand. You couldn’t help the harsh expression flickering into a wide smile.

“How’s the sauce? Is it almost done?” He asked impatiently, coming to stand beside you at the burner while breathing in the flavourful smells, wafting up and sizzling from the pot.

You sighed, shaking your head.

“It’s getting there, alright? I’m just stirring it for as long as Jennie told me to. She’s the one who knows this recipe.”

However, it seemed like Joshua wasn’t absorbing a word you’d said, rather he dipped his ladle into the sauce and stole a small amount to drink. You screeched at him, switching the spoon to your latter hand while the other just grazed his shoulder. He’d escaped to behind the kitchen island, continuing to blow at the thick sauce.

“No tasting until it’s done!” You laughed, wanting to sound as serious as possible, but utterly failing because it was Joshua.

“Too late,” the boy replied, licking at his index finger where he made a bit of a spill, “I already tasted it. Sucks to suck.”

Reaching out to the dial, you turned the heat down a little more until the sauce frothed a quiet, bubbling simmer. There was a towel next to the stove that you grabbed, using it to wipe a pretend smudge off your hands, though you lashed it across the island to nip Joshua on the chest, which had been your intent from the start.

“Well,” your arms folded, “since you betrayed my trust and tasted the sauce anyways, what do you think? Missing anything?”

Joshua leaned to the right, tossing the ladle into the sink.

“Don’t think so, but I’m also too hungry to care ‘n—hey, is anyone gonna start making the pasta?” He came to your side of the counter and poked at the rolling machine used to thin the sheets.

You leaned a palm into your cheek, “Jennie said she was gonna start, but then one of our friends rang her up, saying they desperately needed her notes for our English essay. She’s been upstairs for like, almost half an hour. D’you know how?”

He straightened his back, “how to make pasta? Uh…” he flicked the handle on the machine, watching it spin, “I haven’t done it in a while, but I don’t think it’s hard. We just need—” Joshua suddenly spun around, opening the fridge and then delving into another drawer, “eggs, some flour, salt, and, olive oil, I think.”

“Oh, so you’re going to make it?”

Joshua smiled as he organized the ingredients on the island and cuffed up his sleeves, “it’s not that I didn’t want to help. Jennie told me to stay out of the kitchen. But, she’s not here right now.”

Chuckling, your eyes danced after Joshua as he moved over to the sink, switching on the water and cleaning his hands.

“Why’s that? Are you secretly a fire hazard?”

“No, she said I’m a distraction,” he scoffed, using quoted fingers and heightening the sound of his voice to mimic his sister.  

“Really? A distraction?”

You twisted your body to follow Joshua’s every movement, watching as he opened the door to a small broom closet in order to grab an apron hanging off a hook. He nodded his head.

“I find that hard to believe. Jennie’s pretty good at blocking you out, and, well, she’s had lots of practice at it.”

Joshua pursed his lips, blowing at some loose, black hairs that had shifted over his forehead. As he was tying the strings behind him, the boy glanced up, catching your gaze for a very brief, peculiar second before he was back at the island, measuring out the flour.

“Um, yeah…” he exhaled, “she said I’d be distracting you.”

At that, you froze. Even the dreamy smile that was constantly stretching wider and wider from one corner of your lip to the other had flattened, meanwhile Joshua was already concentrated on patting the flour into a bowl shape that would support the eggs. As if directly on cue, the sauce left to simmer in the pot changed from pleasant herbs and garlic to something a bit too crispy and… burnt.

“Shit,” you coughed under your breath, quickly removing the pot off the stove and giving the sauce a thorough stir.

“I think you’re the fire hazard,” Joshua softly laughed from behind, pushing and kneading the sticky clump in his hands.

As much as you hated admitting it, Jennie had been right.

You needed to get these feelings more under control.

Later in the evening, it was almost supper time. The ribs had just finished brazing in the oven, and the pasta that Joshua went through immense effort to make (as detailed by the speckles of flour on his cheeks and the hairband he borrowed from Jennie to keep his hair pushed back) had been strained and deliciously buttered up.

Joshua whizzed by you in the corridor, still dressed in the apron as though he were orchestrating his own restaurant.

“There’s a little something on your face!” You called out to him, each word clearly sung by a much too happy smile.

“I realize that!” He shouted from inside the washroom, and you heard the sound of water gushing into the sink.

“Oh—” their mom caught you in the hallway, one hand occupied by the sauce pot and the other with a bread plate, “I’m sure I just heard a knock at the door. Do you mind getting it, dear? This sauce is superbly warm and kind of burning me right now.”

“Yeah, sure thing. Please don’t drop it!” You giggled while rushing toward the main entrance, “I worked so hard on it!”

Jennie popped up from the basement, heaving hard and dragging an extra chair as she sighed, “y’mean, you stirred it.”

“Close enough.”

Honestly, you’d never been more excited to eat. When you first began staying the night at Jennie’s house, family dinners terrified you, and no one could get you to speak more than a few words (which basically consisted of saying yes or no to seconds or dessert). But Jennie had been your best friend for a long time now, and her family seemed to adore you like a daughter. Yet, the second you’d pulled open the front door, all that energy and luminance drained from your body so quickly it was almost disorienting.

You were standing face to face with Elsie Bolger. She practically beamed upon greeting you, and presented a glass bowl that was sealed with a plastic film. Inside, you were sure there was strawberries and sliced-up bits of yellow cake.

“Elsie?!” Jennie poked her head around the corner, “oh my gosh! I totally forgot you were coming! I’m such an idiot. I’ll get another chair!”

“Oh, it’s no worry at all,” Elsie assured, “I brought something for you guys, it’s a dessert my mom makes.”

At this point, everyone except for Joshua had filed into the main living area. Jennie’s father took her jacket while their mother accepted the bowl. For some reason, Jennie handed Elsie a fork.

“That’s the special fork,” she said, “the last prong sticks out weird. I think it’s finally your time to use our most sacred utensil.”

God, that stupid fork—you briefly recalled the memory of Jennie almost squashing Joshua down onto the floor a few years ago, simply because he’d managed to swipe it before her.

“You used it last time!”

“That didn’t count!”

“What do y’mean it didn’t count?!”

“Just give me the fork, Jennifer!”

“Ow! Mooommmm! Joshua just punched me in the boob!”

“No I didn’t—my hand—you—you’re such a liar! Mom, she’s lying!”

Jennie actually had lied, though she believed it was a justified lie considering her brother had just called her Jennifer, which was a bridge no one should cross. You were glad that era was over and done with.

“Uh, thanks, Jennie,” Elsie smiled, ruffling the girl’s hair, “and, as I was saying about the dessert—it’s like a strawberry shortcake thing. It has strawberries of course,” she paused to laugh nervously, “angel food cake, and this homemade custard.”

“It looks so freakin’ good,” Jennie salivated.

Her mother lit up in an appreciative smile, “that’s wonderful, thank you so much. Joshua’s just cleaning up—he’ll be out soon!”

“Oh, perfect,” Elsie stuttered a sigh of relief, “I’m ready to eat.”

In that moment, you weren’t sure what you despised more—the half of yourself that wished Elsie had never showed up, or the crushing amount of internal guilt that felt like it was going to destroy you for being so… jealous. Elsie was clearly nervous, and sweeter than sugar, and there was no plausible reason to treat her coldly.

“Is this your first dinner?” You asked her on everyone’s way to the dining room.

“My second,” she said thickly, “I’m not very good at this stuff.”

“It’s okay. Jennie and I will try to steal all the questions, so you can just relax and eat. It’s gonna be really tasty, I promise.”

She looked at you gratefully, “that would be amazing.”

It wasn’t long until Joshua entered the dining room before everyone settled down to pass out plates. You didn’t want to stare, but at the same time, you were itching to watch as Joshua rested his arm around Elsie’s waist and pulled her in for a light kiss as well as a whisper, probably something to ease her nerves. He hadn’t taken off Jennie’s hairband yet, to which Elsie pinched his cheek.

“I like this on you,” she cooed, “it lets us see that forehead.”

“Ah, it’s blinding!” Jennie teased, using her placemat to cover her eyes, “dear god, it’s been ages since it’s seen the daylight.”

However, Joshua pulled it out, giving his head a shake.

“I only wore it when I was making the pasta.”

Elsie raised a brow, her smile tiny but clearly impressed, “oh, you made something? Now I’m even more excited to eat.”

Joshua flushed, and suddenly, he was pointing at you.

“She made the sauce—”

“Ahem,” Jennie coughed into her fist, “she stirred the sauce.”

“Which has to be the most important part,” Joshua added, pulling out Elsie’s seat before taking his own, “critical, in fact.”

“Sorry,” you then whispered to Jennie, who gave your hand a gentle slap under the table as she shook her head lightheartedly.

Dinner went by in a flash—mostly because you hunkered down into the plate and gobbled everything like some neanderthal who’d been introduced to food for the first time. The sooner you finished, the sooner you could escape the table, as well as all the little laughs and sentimental gazes passed between Joshua and Elsie. Her dessert was delicious, but you ate that quickly too, crunching your hand fiercely around the napkin on your lap when Elsie grabbed Joshua’s face to swipe some custard off his lips. Clearing your plate before everyone else was somewhat awkward, though it gave you an excuse to wash up alone in the kitchen.

Afterward, you and Jennie went into her room. The girl collapsed onto her bed with a gigantic huff, groaning in delight about how stuffed she was as she stretched into a starfish. You took a seat at her desk chair, fiddling with some coloured pencils, trying to ignore the laugh you just heard echo from Joshua’s room, followed by a yelp that seemed to be abruptly silenced in the middle. Jennie shoved herself up.

“We can go the basement if y’want,” she offered, “that way we don’t have to hear their dumb playfighting. We can watch a movie. Or if you don’t want to do that, we can take out my paint set and do those Mandala rocks. My mom said she really wants more for the back porch.”

You didn’t respond right away, instead rolling a sky-blue pencil under your palm until it slipped out onto the floor.

“How serious do you think they are?”

Jennie scrunched her nose, “what?”

“I mean your brother, and Elsie,” you winced, sensing how dramatically your stomach had bloated when you bent down to pick up the pencil, “does it seem like they’re super serious?”

“Serious how? Like, I-love-you serious? That’s the only serious I know. Unless you’re asking if they… if they like—if they’re—y’know, doing the thing. Because I have no idea and I really don’t want to know—”

“Never mind—stupid question. Forget I asked.”

Bringing a palm up to your chin, your eyes fluttered to Jennie’s windowsill, decorated with an assortment of different rocks she’d been collecting from her trips to the science museum—pink, sparkly granites that looked like hardened sugar and the tiniest angelite stones, which were an ashy sort of blue. Joshua once told you they were candy and tried to get you to bite one (which you might have done if Jennie didn’t burst in). Then, the watercolour paintings she’d taped over the glass. Your favourite was the butterfly with holographic glitter wings. It stained her floor in an opal tint whenever the sun shone through. Joshua always hated it, because he said he found sparkles all over the house for weeks after she’d finished, even in his backpack and on his pillow.

Jennie rubbed her neck, her face soft and sleepy.

“Can you be honest? I have to ask something.”

Swivelling in the chair, your toes curled, and you nodded.

“Do you like J—”

At random, Joshua threw open the door and came into the bedroom. 

“Jesus Chr-crickets! Gosh, can you knock?!” Jennie shouted, shuffling up hurriedly on the forest colours of her bedsheets.

“I did.”

“No, you didn’t!”

“Not my fault you didn’t hear it.”

Jennie lopped her head back and groaned.

“You’re so—you’re just so—,” she crumpled her hands together as though she were imagining her brother’s head as a squishy grape, “—bleck! I don’t even have the words. What do you want, anyways?”

Twisting in the chair, you noticed Joshua holding onto a cream soda and a squishy packet of blue raspberry  juice that he tossed to his sister. You couldn’t tell if it was obvious or if you’d been intentionally searching for anything odd, but his hair seemed messier, with strands flicked out all over his head, and you were certain Joshua was hiding something when he pulled at the collar of his shirt.

“Mom just wanted me to bring you guys drinks.”

Jennie jammed the straw into her juice.

“Was this the last blue raspberry?”

“I think so—don’t even think about taking the cherry.”

“Woah, I’m not!” Jennie lifted her hand defensively. “Slow your roll, idiot. The cherry tastes like medicine, anyways. You can have it.”

He merely furrowed his brow at the girl before turning to you, sticking out the can of cream soda. Jennie sunk into her pillow with her head propped up, sipping loudly at her juice and narrowing her eyes.

“How come she gets your stupid cream soda? Where’s my cream soda privileges? I’m your blood. I bet you don’t even let Elsie have any.”

Joshua looked like he might snap, “can you shut—”

“It’s okay,” you interrupted, “I’m not thirsty.”

If you were anyone else, it wouldn’t have been a big, dramatic deal to decline wanting a soda, but you knew it would definitely seem questionable and possibly hostile and cultivate the weirdest tension because you always accepted it whenever Joshua offered. Even Jennie was shocked, lifting herself off the pillow to stare at you in confusion, meanwhile Joshua had actually flinched, his head leaning to the side limply as though you’d just uttered some alien dialect.

You gave him a tight-lipped smile.

“Elsie still collects for the recyclable can drive, right? You should give it to her. I can always come down later and get a water.”

Joshua breathed out sharply through his nose.

“I’ll just put it back in the fridge,” he said, almost stuttering in his movement when he turned around, trying to compute the situation.

As soon as the door closed, Jennie cackled.

“Did you break him or something?”

16.

You whacked the tip of your shoe into a pebble, struggling to track its explosive path down the sidewalk until you decided it was lost for good. But now you wanted something else to kick. Chiefly because you were frustrated. And moody. And hating the supposedly celebratory milestone that was turning sixteen. You didn’t exactly know where you stood in all the changes. Everyone around you seemed to be morphing akin to tree leaves in the midst of autumn, though you felt somewhat like a crinkled, dry leaf—one that always got stepped on just to hear the crack.

And maybe that was normal.

Maybe everyone was experiencing the same sentiments beneath all their new personalities. Except, you didn’t know who to approach or how to express this. Jennie had made friends with these two girls from her health class, and it wasn’t like she’d forgot about you, but there was something to note about how she was suddenly into white-gel tips and miniskirts and drinking an almost obsessive amount of caffeine when she used to express how much she hated all of those things combined. 

If you were to be completely candour, you missed how she was before. Jennie loved critiquing movies and painting in watercolour and could never keep a polished manicure because she loved turning up rocks or bark to catch beetles and frogs. You missed that girl so much.

But, had you changed too? Without being conscience of it?

Folding your arms tightly, you were on the cusp of punting another rock into the sun itself when a silver car pulled in close to the curb, maintaining a barely-there pace to keep in tune with your walking.

The passenger window rolled down.

“Hey!” He called from inside, stretching his neck over while flittering his focus between you and the road, “want a ride home?”

Even worse—you still hadn’t gotten over Joshua. He was eighteen now, less gawky, more piercings, a voice that was smoother than butter, but the same pair of eyes that were deep and calm and undeniably heart aching. His relationship with Elsie was rather intact. You saw them kiss every morning before slipping into your calculus class, and it was only yesterday that you’d been seated behind them during the school’s monthly assembly, a bitter taste in your mouth whenever she leaned into his side to whisper or giggle. He even slipped her an earbud so they could listen to his music instead of the principal’s boring, monotone speech.

When you didn’t respond to him, Joshua cleared his throat.

“Just—I know you don’t always take the bus, and Jennie went home with Marina, and—” his eyes shot back to the road, narrowly avoiding a pothole before he straightened the car again, “um, as I was saying, I can drop you off at home. I don’t have guitar today.”

You kept nibbling a sore patch on your bottom lip, trying inconceivably hard to pretend he wasn’t there. It was for his own good, honestly. One slip-up and your anger would pull you under.

He continued steering the wheel with one hand, the other resting almost irritably against the top of his backward baseball cap. He sighed.

“Okay, I can understand ignoring Jennie, but what did I do?”

Still, nothing.

“You’re making me look like an idiot.”

That one almost got you to smile.

“Or some weirdo who’s trying to seduce you into his car. Please, I’ve gotten the silent treatment before, and it fucking sucks. Especially when I don’t know what I did. If you don’t want a ride then—”

You finally slapped your fingers onto the handle and pulled the door open with a gigantic huff, to which Joshua stopped the car. He watched you collapse into the passenger seat, maneuvering your bag to your lap while you pressed your shoes to his dashboard. Neither of you uttered a word as he steered away from the curb. While Joshua allowed the wheel glide under his palm, he shot you a speculative glance through the rear-view mirror, teeth sunk into his lip like he was contemplating.

But then a minute or so passed, with the boy drumming his hands restlessly at the stop light, and you knew he’d ask regardless.

“Did you have a bad day?”

The silence stretched itself thinner.

“Look, that’s understandable. I can get not wanting to talk as well. I’m only being annoying ‘cause I care, actually.”

Your head tilted in the direction of the window.

“I know I’m not the first person you’d run to with all your problems, so I won’t ask you to spill them. But I’m not completely useless when it comes to advice n’ all that. I’ve gotten way better at it.”

He eased his foot over the gas pedal as the light changed. And you heard him chuckle before heaving a sigh of disbelief.

“I guess I’m not gonna get one word out—”

“You know what I don’t get?” Slipping your shoes off the dashboard, you shuffled up in the chair and rolled the window further down, feeling a gentle breeze massage the edges of your face, “I don’t get why everyone is being so fucking insufferable. Like, everyone. Even my teachers. I’m on the verge of failing calculus right now, just because Mrs. Panek is so awful at teaching. She boasts about her low class averages like it’s something to be proud of. She only pays attention to the geniuses, thinks everyone else isn’t trying hard enough.

Oh, and it makes me so mad whenever Jennie blows me off to hang out with Marina. Like, it was literally just a few months ago when she told me she loves laser tag, but suddenly it’s not her anymore, and now she’d rather fucking blaze with Marina in the washroom before class and talk about how hot her art teacher is. I mean, she used to like slasher films and stupid crystals and weird, nerdy science-y stuff which makes me think Marina’s brainwashed her. And if I have to see that one couple shove their tongues down each other’s throats on the stairway right outside the library one more time—I’m gonna fucking lose it! You didn’t just get your hormones yesterday! I’m so sick of—of everyone!

But then I’m confused too. About myself. It’s been fifty-one days since my last period. I was so scared, I bought a pregnancy test, even though I’ve never even had a boyfriend. Can you believe that? And I can’t even change comfortably in the locker room now since some girl made fun of the fact that my bra is like—it basically looks like a middle-aged woman’s bra, but I just wear them because of comfortability, y’know? But the funny thing was, that got to me, so I bought a new bra, and it’s so stupidly itchy. I’m wearing it right now and my chest feels like it’s gonna burn to bits if I scratch it again—”

You slipped a hand up the back of your shirt, undoing the clasp to the undergarment, which you squirmed off and threw out the window.

Sucking in a long, quivering breath, you felt the heat tingle across your face and melt your cheeks. With an elbow digging into the car, you rubbed two fingers against your temple, which was now pounding terribly as though someone had clocked it using their fist. A salty taste hit your tongue, and you realized that a few tears had trickled down to your jaw during the rant—that Joshua had pulled his car into the empty lot just beside the lake, overlooking the stillness of the water.

And that’s when you tightened every bone in your body, twisting your head around painfully slow to gauge his expression.

But he didn’t appear anything other than relaxed.

“W-What’s wrong w’you?” Came your very slurred, clogged-with-emotion question. “You should be telling me to get out.”

Joshua huffed, furrowing his brow.

“You’re asking me to punish you for feeling like a teenager?” He pulled up his knee, extending his elbow across it. “Why the hell would I do that? You clearly had some stuff building up.”

“I basically cursed out your sister. And I just threw my own bra out the window—there’s no way you should be calm about this. ”

He rolled his shoulders in a shrug.

“She’s not exempt from criticism. Just because she’s your best friend and my sister, doesn’t mean we have to like her all the time. And, yeah, can’t say I was expecting that. But now you’re not itchy and uncomfortable and shit, right? I’d probably do the same.”

Turning back to the window, you sought for the breeze and sunshine, closing your eyes wetly and inhaling deep. Joshua was right, you were merely human, and sometimes things irritated you. And like anybody else, you let them accumulate and fester and take up space in your chest where you were supposed to feel weightless.

“Well…” you exhaled, flicking the zipper on your backpack, “at least I’m not pregnant. I really thought, maybe I was… I dunno.”

Joshua groaned as he stretched an elbow behind his head.

“It’s probably stress. You should talk to your doctor.”

“I really just feel like falling into a hole, if I’m honest.”

He smiled at you, “want to do something?”

“Like what?” You responded tentatively.

Without bothering to elaborate, Joshua kicked open his door and whipped it shut before proceeding to your side of the car. He folded his arms on the open window, causing you to move back ever so slightly because he didn’t seem to care about how closely he leaned forward—you just knew there was a dangerous spike in your heartbeat when his gaze ensnared your own, almost pulling you into his warmth like a riptide.

“Get out,” he said, smirking, “and I’ll show you.”

And that’s when you remembered: Joshua was oddly exceptional at skipping stones. You followed him down to the rocky shoreline, in which he politely extended his hand for you to grab when you nearly face-planted your way to the water instead. He instructed you to start collecting stones that were tiny, flat, and smooth, which you organized into a pile beside your shoe. At first, you let Joshua demonstrate, closely monitoring his stance whenever his wrist sharply flicked and the stone would practically bounce its way across the calm sheets of water, leaving the neatest ripples to disrupt the surface, almost hypnotic.

“I’m not going to be good at this,” you told him.

He shook his head.

“Not about being good or bad. It’s just, a mindless task, something to relax you. Or, think of the rocks as your… problems, or—yeah, think of them as all these little irritations you just expressed to me, and each time you throw a rock, you’re getting rid of some stress.”

You breathed out hopelessly, wearing a flustered smile.

“Fine. Who knew you were so full of wisdom?”

“Wisdom is one of my many attributes,” Joshua grinned, sending another rock to dance across the water, “as you’re just understanding.”

Picking up a round, purplish stone, you flipped it between your fingers, getting a feel for its weight and texture.

“Well, doesn’t that also mean you’re getting older?”

“Nah, I think I’ll stay forever young. Isn’t that a super power?”

“No, that’s like flight and stuff. Invisibility. Heat vision—”

“Oh!” He snapped his fingers at you, “heat vision—I want that.”

“Why?”

“Because you can like, burn stuff with your eyeballs. It’s in the name. I’m guessing you didn’t watch a lot of cartoons.”

“No, I did,” you laughed, “it’s just that, heat vision isn’t usually what people would pick. Like, it’s not the first thing in their minds, y’know?”

“Okay. So then tell me what you’d want.”

“Um... flighhh—no! Actually, telekinesis.”

“Oh, so mind-reading?”

“Why’d you say it like that?”

“Like what?”

“You said it so disappointedly.”

“No, I didn—you’re just wasting time so you don’t have to skip that rock in your hand. It’s easy once you get the hang of it. Try it, at least.”

Of course, you weren’t expecting much from your first throw. It vanished straight through the surface in a depressing plonk. You weren’t sure if he was mocking you, but Joshua tossed his rock next, accomplishing three perfect skips before it bubbled under the water. He retreated a few steps back, rolling up his sleeves and scanning the shore for another suitable rock. Your eyes drifted after the boy like they were attached by a lure. Everything he did felt necessary and gentle.

“What if I can’t get it to skip even once?” You complained.

The next attempt didn’t fare any better, and served to prove your point. That’s when Joshua decided to hand you his next rock.

“I can show you again,” he offered.

You broke into laughter, “I’m standing exactly like you stood!”

“No, I’ll guide you, is what I mean.”

At first, you were still a little hazy on what he intended to do, but then you immediately understood the very second Joshua moved behind you, and every single nerve in your body had positively lit up like the flashing lights on a pinball machine. For some embarrassing reason, you couldn’t calm down no matter how slowly you breathed, and this visible shudder wracked down your spine as Joshua pressed himself against you and slid his fingers to your wrist. His touch was like silk. His voice beside your ear was warm and delicate and you were burning ash. You didn’t process a word he’d softly spoken. You breathed in mint and aftershave.

In fact, when he helped to guide the angle of your wrist and the stone made one very prominent hop across the river, you hardly noticed.

Because then Joshua had squeezed your waist with both his hands, giving you an excited, innocent shake. For you, your world nearly went black. It was merely a teaspoon of what it could be like to have a relationship with him, and it was intoxicating you dauntingly fast.

“—told you it wasn’t that hard!”

He was away from your backside, already picking some more stones into his palm when you caught the end of his exclamation.

“W-Well, you helped…”

Dammit—you sounded so stupidly breathless—

“Just do as I showed you, n’ you’ll be stress free in no time.”

But little did he know, you’d already forgotten all about that wild rant in the car. Now, your mind couldn’t conjure up any sort of thought other than what it would be like to know Joshua the way Elsie did—to whisper in his ear and kiss the edges of his kitten mouth and nuzzle your head into his shoulder while you listened to his music. To constantly breathe in his scent and feel his hands anywhere you desired. He mumbled something else to you, though you didn’t quite catch it.

You were floating far too high.

Rather than home, Joshua drove you back to his house. He’d told you his parents were going to be out late for a business dinner and you already knew Jennie was staying the night at Marina’s—not that one single part of you cared. Spending time with him was better than heating up some artificial, frozen dinner in the microwave while you waited in tears for your mom to return from her placement in the city.

Joshua toasted a sandwich for you, and you observed him with adoring eyes as he busied himself about the kitchen, washing and slicing the ingredients. He set the plate down in front of you, then filled up a glass with some juice.

“No cream soda today,” he frowned, reading the large bottle of juice, “Ocean Spray’s the special…. uh, Very Berry or something like that, with no artificial flavours or colours.”

“You’re such a restauranteur,” you laughed, forcibly stopping your feet from swinging under the island like a giddy child waiting for their ice cream sundae. He excited you in ways that should be magic.

He flipped the dish towel over his shoulder and winked.

“I want all these compliments going into my tip, ma’am.”

Joshua settled with leftovers from the fridge. Neither of you really spoke while eating, but there was no pressure in the air that suggested you might need to—it was cool and quiet. The boy flicked through a few texts on his phone meanwhile you slumped back into the chair with a satisfied puff, one hand rubbing along your shoulder blade.

“Are you also a massage therapist by any chance?” You whined. “I have a knot like, right around here, and I can’t get it at all.”

He slurped some noodles into his mouth that had been hanging from his chopsticks, and swallowed with a peculiar smirk.

“Pushing your luck just a bit, aren’t you?”

You felt an invisible jab against your stomach.

“I am?”

But the boy just huffed, shaking his head.

And you that’s when you realized the jab against your stomach had actually been fear. Joshua had a girlfriend. Joshua was in a happy relationship, and just because he’d kindly comforted you didn’t mean it was deemed suitable to edge the situation beyond that. In that moment, you’d shrunk in shame. It had just been so… reassuring, and validating, to pretend this boy could be more than just the brother of your best friend who only looked out for you because it felt like an obligation.

You were about to apologize when Joshua beat you to speaking.

“D’you wanna go my room?” He asked.

Hardly able to breathe, you uttered out a very quiet okay.

Joshua didn’t close his door all the way, instead leaving it about a quarter open. You took a seat at his desk chair, hands folded in your lap.

His room hadn’t changed much over the years—the walls were still the same dark grey, there were more medals hanging above his bedframe and he’d taped up a few new posters, but he’d kept the lava lamp and his acrylic cube of the solar system. Teeth rubbed over your bottom lip as you watched Joshua pick his acoustic guitar off its stand in the corner. He returned to his bed, propping one leg on the edge.

“This is my favourite one to play,” Joshua said, plucking a few strings, the sound which resulted softly tuned and as pleasant as birdsong, “the wood’s Nordic cherry. It’s such a deep and rich colour, don’t y’think? I had the lacquer redone a few days ago.”

“It’s really pretty,” you agreed, keeping your feet on the floor.

He was tying together a song, swaying his body back and forth to match the gentle nature of each chord. There had been a number of school assemblies where they asked Joshua to play the guitar, mostly to accompany the choir or the band. You always thought he was the best part, even if you had to watch him from between heads and shoulders.

You were lucky enough to sit at the front one time. He’d frequently whisper to the percussion player whenever the principal was speaking (usually Hansol, who was either awkwardly holding his symbols or maracas or whatever instrument the conductor trusted him with), leaning over his guitar with his earbuds dangling out from under his collar. It had intrigued you to know what they were saying. And then there was the way he’d chuckle quietly to himself afterward, licking his lips and proceeding to put on a bored face as his eyes swept into the crowd. You assumed he must have been looking for Elsie.

“What d’you think of the melody?” Joshua asked.

Clearing your throat, you stated simply, “calm.”

“Right? I thought it would be nice to play something like this.”

You didn’t say anything more, but glanced down into your lap with a smile that was imploring to burst at the seams. It brought you to wonder why Joshua did the things he did for you—give you rides home when it would’ve been easier to breeze right by, submit his favourite drink again and again because there was something about the way you glowed when you had a cream soda in your hand. Lend you nothing but normalcy at times where you or your body felt nothing but normal, listening to all your quarrels about the confusion of growing up, feeding you dinner and reminding you of all the ways there was still tenderness and compassion waiting to smooth the soul of its roughness.

Tapping your ankles together, you mumbled his name.

Joshua lifted his hand from the guitar.

“I can’t hear you if you’re gonna whisper,” he said before slapping the spot beside him, “come here, right next to me. It’s fine.”

And so you rose up cautiously from the chair and took your place on his bed, sitting atop your hands to stop their apparent fidgeting. He strummed his guitar once, almost like a prelude to your demure smile.

“I just wanted to say thank you.”

Joshua looked at you, raising his brow.

You shifted again, sucking in a breath, “like, for tolerating me today, even when I was being kind of an asshole. I guess I just needed someone to talk to but I didn’t know who. It’s just—I feel like I can talk to you, I guess. Even though I probably overshared and said a lot of things I shouldn’t’ve said, especially about myself…” you chewed into your cheek, angling an embarrassed glance toward the floor, “so, I’m sorry about that, but I’m glad you listened to me anyways. Really, thank you.”

He watched you for a moment with his delicate eyes, until he decided to remove the guitar from his lap, leaning it against the bed. His thigh pressed slightly into yours and you tried not to squeak.

“You can come to me, y’know?” he said softly, folding his arms low across his chest, “you’re not some stranger. And I’m also not a judgemental jerk, so if you have to be a bit dramatic, I don’t care.”

A small huff of laughter left your chest, and you nodded to show how much you appreciated the sentiment, because words just wouldn’t perform the right justice. Closing your knees together, your brow stiffened, and you thought it was a good time to ask the question.

“D’you think that I… that I’m different? From when you first remember me? Or that I’ve changed a lot?”

“Of course you have,” Joshua answered so obviously that you cocked your head back and nearly bulged your eyes out at him, “when I first met you, you wouldn’t even look at me, or speak, really.”

“Can you blame me for that?”

“No,” Joshua chuckled, “I know you were shy. Most of Jennie’s friends were like that. But if you’re worried on whether or not you’re seeming fake, or coming across as an asshole for thinking Jennie switched up on you—whatever it is that you’re wondering—it’s okay. It’s fine. You’re not doing anything wrong. You’ll probably meet different people and someone will say you changed, too. It’s not a bad thing. In fact, just about everyone’s thinking the same things.”

You swallowed, heavy and bitter.

“What if—what if Jennie like, forgets about me?”

Joshua shrugged, “I can tell you confidently that won’t happen. She’s stubborn. Just give her time. She probably feels pressure to make it seem like she’s maturing by doing what feels grown to her. I promise she won’t forget about you,” he smiled, “you’re not someone people forget.”

And your whole body seized up with laughter.

“Please forget that I threw my bra out your car window.”

He grinned at you, splaying his arms behind him and nudging his knee against yours. A surge of heat throbbed throughout your face.

“I said I don’t judge. We can always go back and get it.”

“Nope, no way,” you sighed, “I’ll stick to my middle-aged woman undergarments. But it is an unfortunate fifty bucks down the drain.”

“Seems like you’ve got it all figured out,” Joshua said.

“Oh, and—is there a chance you cannot mention any of this to Jennie? Like, even the fact I was here? Is that okay?”

The boy nodded his agreement, “yeah, ‘course.”

It’s not that you wanted to start keeping secrets. But today had been important, and special, and sometimes it felt necessary to keep such moments between you and whoever else was concerned. A day geared to end horribly had turned into a memory so perfect you wanted to encase it in amber, take it into your dreams even, and preserve it until the end of infinity. Maybe you meant more to Joshua than you initially thought.

You stood at your locker, wriggling in the textbook that you’d nearly forgotten in the geology classroom. The lunch bell was going to ring any moment now, though your teacher had wrapped up the lesson early and dismissed everyone with very little homework (which you were most likely going to procrastinate because the newest drama you’d picked up definitely wasn’t going to watch itself). Just as you were about to close the door, you noticed Jennie walking down the hall, thumbs tapping a flurry on her phone while she chewed something that was undeniably a stick of Double Bubble. You panicked, and nearly sank into the locker.

But she strutted right past you, not even glancing up once or forcing a greeting under her breath, and you truthfully couldn’t decipher if she hadn’t noticed you or was clinging to her phone as a scapegoat.

Not that you wanted it to be either of those things—your relationship was already wearing thinner by the day, and you always wondered which interaction between you two might end up as the last.

Jennie stopped at her locker down the hall, seemingly typing out a few more texts before she finally tore her gaze from her phone and nudged the door wide open with her foot (she always forgot her combinations), beginning to rifle around inside. And for a moment, you weighed the options of approaching her. She looked especially gorgeous today, with her long midnight hair in loose curls, almost falling to the belt that wrapped around her white-buckle skirt—you were still adjusting to her in such attire. For the five years you’d known her, she was always wearing knee-length shorts and Joshua’s plethora of old soccer jerseys.

It felt unnecessary, practically performing deep breathing exercises at your locker just to ruminate a conversation with the girl who was supposedly your best friend. You decided to give it a shot.

No harm, no foul, right?

“Hey Jennie,” you said, clutching your hands awkwardly.

She tossed an orange folder to the top shelf of her locker, her eyes remaining forward as she replied, “I don’t know where Joshua is.”

Visibly, your entire body stuttered, like a printer trying to force out its last bits of ink. Without hardly any breath, you stood there stiffly.

“I’m not, uh, I wasn’t looking for him,” it came out sounding like a question, “I thought I’d ask you about our geology homework.”

“Oh. What about it?”

She’d pulled out a small tube of lip gloss, quickly running the applicator across her mouth before stuffing it back into her bag. You struggled to comprise a response, watching the girl readjust her hair in the magnetized mirror, hardly paying you a lick of attention. It felt like a slap in the face. You couldn’t help touching your own burnt cheek.

“Well, I—”

The lunch bell rang, and almost instantly, the halls gushed with students, the static of everyone talking at once remarkably loud. Before you could inch out another word, Jennie had slammed her locker door shut, swinging a black lunchbox over her shoulder.

“Text me about it,” Jennie said, already beginning to walk away and disappear into the crowd, “I’m going to see Marina right now.”

No—it wasn’t just a slap, it was a brutal, fist-flat punch.

You didn’t really know what to do, frozen in place until the tenth grader with the locker right beside Jennie’s came trudging up and barely muttered an ‘excuse me’ before grabbing at their lock.

During lunch, it was usually less hectic on the second floor, so you grabbed your plastic-wrapped sandwich and headed upstairs, trying inconceivably hard to ignore the trademark couple who were too busy devouring each other’s tongues and groping. You went back to the geology classroom. Thankfully, it was empty, and so you took a seat at first counter on the left while bracing through the overbearing amount of mayonnaise your mother had slathered across the bread.

When the door creaked, there was an electric burst in your chest, thinking it could be Jennie who’d finally come to decide that hanging out with the purple-haired, face-studded Marina wasn’t as interesting as you (even though you assumed it was probably better—she had a pet tarantula for god’s sake, and her own car). But you definitely weren’t disappointed to realize Joshua had entered the geology room instead, shouting a goodbye to Hansol before the door heaved shut.

You didn’t want to smile so eagerly, fearing that it might weird him out, though you were helpless to stop the automatic stretch which always appeared at the sight of him.

Turning around on the stool, your eyes fluttered.

“What’re you doing in here?”

He paused, scanning the classroom almost frantically.

“I forgot my pencil,” Joshua answered, approaching a desk and picking one up that clearly wasn’t his, about as short as his pinky.

“Yeah, right.”

“I have my physics in here, first period.”

You folded your legs and smirked, “but you don’t even sit there.”

“How would you know that?”

Tilting your shoulder to the right, you directed Joshua to the black surface of the workbench, where his name was poorly etched.

“Okay—I didn’t do that,” he laughed, “it was Hansol, with a pair of scissors, and I literally begged him not too. He didn’t care, obviously.”

You squirmed back around on the stool.

“Right, and that’s not a random pencil someone just forgot?”

“No, not at all… that, and I might’ve seen you slip in here before I walked Elsie to her Envirothon meeting. But make no mistake. I didn’t come back here for you.” He was acting fidgety as he said it, and though the room was dark, you wanted to believe he’d blushed.

Nonetheless, Joshua slid onto the stool beside you, his fingers attempting to untangle the wire earbuds he’d just pulled from under his collar. You watched dotingly while he struggled, only to surprise the boy as you pulled your seat closer and batted his hands away.

“Let me, since you’re lacking the dexterity for this.”

He huffed, leaning his head to the side, his fawn eyes bouncing to every corner of the room as though looking directly at you was a sin. But once you’d loosened all the knots, Joshua seemed to relax.

“So,” you edged back on the stool, “are you excited?”

Joshua scratched his ear. “Excited for what?”

“You graduate this year, dummy. Are you not excited?”

“Oh, yeah. I guess I am. I made some applications a few weeks ago, and I already heard back from one. It’s not my ideal choice, though.”

Leaning your elbows onto the table and squishing your cheeks between each palm, you exhaled a big breath.

“You’ve got good grades and all that. I wouldn’t worry.”

“Mm.”

“What about Elsie? Didn’t she want to go far away?”

Joshua’s adam’s apple pointed sharp against his throat.

“Um, she’s not sure yet. We haven’t discussed it much. She said, like, if I moved really far, she’d figure it out and come with me.”

Your eyes popped wide, and you tried to dim your surprise.

“Oh, wow. She must really like you—I mean, that’s obvious. You guys are dating after all. For a while now, I guess. Over a year.”

“Yeah.”

As Joshua thrummed his knuckles a few times on the table, you sensed he wasn’t exactly keening to examine the subject, not to mention the way his voice had thickened and the rustling of his knee was a bold spelling he was uncomfortable. It was nothing to take personal, yet that didn’t stop the little fissure which struck somewhere deep in your heart and made the air harder to breathe. Joshua had said you could come to him—you merely wanted him to know that he could trust you, too.

Sitting in closer against the table, you smiled at him.

“I may be a bit younger, but I can still give advice.”

Joshua furrowed his brow playfully.

“What d’you mean by that?”

It was surprisingly difficult to push the words past your teeth, almost like your body was issuing a mechanism to stop yourself from saying anything you might regret, anything that might scare him, or nudge him to develop the inkling you were beyond interested in him.

“I want you to trust me like I trust you.”

Each his pupils dilated further than they already had in the shadily lit room, and it was so apparent that you had to clench your fist, dig in your own nails until it stung to ensure you weren’t dreaming.

His answer was simple.

“Alright.”

You rubbed nervous, excited circles against the indents on your hand.

“There’s a prom party at the end of the month,” Joshua said, pulling out his phone as it vibrated, “You should come. I know Jennie’s going.”

“Uh, that sounds fun. I think.”

Slipping off his seat, Joshua grinned.

“Come find me if you decide to go—anyways, Hansol wants to get a burger and apparently I’m the only one he knows with a car. See ya.”

There were so many butterflies in your stomach, you tried not to cough one out as Joshua made his way toward the door—forgetting that stupid pencil of course. He liked writing all his notes and homework with pen, and you hated knowing such a specific, trivial fact.

“Yeah, talk to you later.”

It didn’t take much contemplation for you to agree to the prom party, even if you had yet to configure a ride or the location or how you’d get your hands on some alcohol (because you definitely weren’t going to enjoy one of those things sober), hence your decision to entreat Joshua for his phone number. 

It was only to ask about the details.

You learned the party was going to be hosted at Jeonghan’s house, probably the most popular senior in the entire school, and that there was a very strict designated driver policy. Well, at least you could scratch one bullet off your list, leaving just the ride and the alcohol. There was no way you were going to ask Joshua to be your escort—like he’d want to have his little sister’s friend stuffed in the backseat, it would be a total mood kill. 

Jennie was apparently going too. You’d try to avoid her if you could help it, even if it meant locking yourself in some washroom that reeked of liquor and smoke and impulsive decisions laced with vomit.

By the time the party rolled around, you were having a severe case of thought seconds, unable to sit still and constantly checking your phone and wondering how many times you could possibly change from the black skirt back into your shorts before you decided something. Chan, a boy from your English class, was kind enough to offer a ride—even some alcohol that his older brother had swiped for him. He texted that he’d be outside your house around nine o’clock, though it wasn’t until half an hour later that his car crunched into the driveway.

“Sorry,” he apologized the instant you opened the door, “I got busted—my mom found the beer in my backpack and got all mad. She thinks I’m still in my bedroom. I had to sneak out the window.”

Clicking on your seatbelt, you threw the boy a perplexed look.

“Uh, are you sure that was a good idea? I can probably just try to mooch off people. I don’t want you to get in serious trouble.”

Shrugging, Chan ignited the engine and set his navigation system to the party’s address, seeming disproportionately unconcerned.

“No, but I wasn’t going to bail. My brother said he’d take most of the heat, anyways. Oh—I really like your skirt by the way.”

“Thanks,” you replied, inching closer to the window.

Because you didn’t know him all that well, the car ride was a little awkward, your ankle twisting in these back and forth circles conveying just how nervous you were. Only the placid voice of the navigation system broke the silences, until Chan cleared his throat and lowered its volume.

“Did you hear the big drama that’s going around?”

Your ankle paused, and you looked across the glove box.

“I don’t think so.”

“Oh, well I have the scoop. So, basically—wait, you know Elsie Bolger, right? The Envirothon girl? And Joshua Hong. I mean, I think everyone knows them ‘cause they get around and stuff. And you’re friends with Jennie so you probably know Joshua.”

“Yeah, I know both of them.”

Chan only kept one hand on the wheel, his other motioning around like he was giving some sort of speech, “okay, so they broke up, right? On Wednesday. Apparently, it was after school, and Elsie was like, sobbing, asking why and what went wrong, ‘cause it was him who broke the ice about it. I heard Joshua was saying that he saw her more like a friend, but Elsie kept adding pressure that there was another girl. Not that he was cheating or anything, but I don’t think he loved her, so I kinda agree with Elsie. There has to be someone else he likes—or, shit, maybe even loves. I think it’s that choir girl with the long arms. ”

He threw you a curious glance, as though he were anticipating your angle on the situation, though you couldn’t express much apart from an unhinged jaw and a stutter that fell to hot breath in your chest. When your tongue tapped the roof of your mouth, it was dry, and Chan must’ve thought you looked nauseous because he offered to roll a window down.

“I had no idea,” you admitted, smoothing your hand over a crinkle in your skirt, “I really hadn’t heard anything about it, so…”

“Really? That’s surprising. Who’s side, though?”

“What?”

Chan opened his window an extra inch and smiled.

“I mean like, who do you think was right? Joshua or Elsie?”

Honestly, at that moment, the idea of yanking the door open and bailing onto the dirt road seemed extremely tempting. How could he expect you to answer a question like that? When you were younger, you used to daydream about this: Joshua at long last detaching from his girlfriend, in which you could somehow swoop in to take her place and dust out his memories of her like you were cleaning a closet. But now that opportunity had actually presented itself. And you felt miserable.

Why would Joshua even decide that a party was what he needed right now? Why wasn’t he at home, heartbroken and grieving?

Chan snapped his fingers.

“Well, who’s side?”

“I-I don’t know,” you stuttered, “and I don’t want to choose.”

“Student cards, please.”

At the end of Jeonghan’s long driveway, a booth had been set up by the student council. You didn’t know the girl who’d asked you to present that pointless card you never thought would be useful, but once you flashed it to her, she grabbed your wrist and pressed a stamp to the back of your hand. It seemed that the night was really starting to take shape around ten o’clock—indecorous music echoed from the house and smoke was curling up into the blackness, courtesy of an impressive fire that crackled in the backyard. You weren’t sure what to do without Chan, who was already halfway along the driveway when you caught him.

“Please don’t wander off on me,” you sighed, taking a skittish look around the property filled with strangers, “I mean, I’m not gonna tether you to my side the whole time, but you are my ride.”

Chan pulled open the double doors to Jeonghan’s home, and a burst of heat welcomed you, steadily fanning your face. He obviously wanted to be inside, though you would have preferred to stay outdoors where it was cooler and a bit quieter and the likelihood of a guile senior cornering you against some table or couch was far lower.

The boy glanced around, stretching his neck to peer into the different rooms, “I won’t wander. I’m just looking for someone…” he mumbled, paying you next to no attention as he pardoned his way into the adjoining kitchen. Not wanting to be abandoned, you followed him.

“Oh—look, there’s Seungkwan!” Chan exclaimed, pointing his finger into the room past the kitchen.

Again, you hurried after him, squishing between two seniors who were nonetheless unenthusiastic at hearing your apology, and you were half-expecting to get a solo cup thrown at the back of your head. The friend Chan had met, Seungkwan, was gathered with a few others at this little counter in the living room, each whom you recognized from your grade. Seungkwan wasn’t one to drink, so when he asked if you wanted his cup of hard lemonade, you took it almost immediately and used it as an excuse to not fully join their conversation. Instead, you meandered more around the outside of their circle, surveilling the room and trying to catch any familiar face that presented itself. Well, not just any face.

You were specifically hoping to see Joshua.

Since Chan had told you about his breakup with Elsie, your whole demeanour shifted, and a fog had creeped its way into your brain. You couldn’t think about anything but him. Even standing next to the speaker responsible for blasting a salacious song about messy sex and drugs wasn’t doing much to distract you. Jeonghan’s house was considerably large, therefore Joshua could be anywhere. And you had yet to understand it. Was he intentionally glossing over his own misery by forcing himself to enjoy a party? Or was he happy to escape a relationship that he might’ve never truly wanted in the first place? That didn’t seem like him. He definitely loved Elsie. You needed him to be okay.

“Can you not just stand there? You’re blocking the way.”

You had no idea who they were, but this girl who was vastly taller than you appeared, holding onto the hand of a guy you assumed to be her boyfriend—either that or a quick, meaningless hook-up.

Without uttering a word, you stepped aside and let them pass.

And then you looked back at Chan, staying true to his vow and steering clear of drinking. Hovering beside him the entire night like a shy puppy wasn’t going to make you feel any better, nor would engaging in synthetic conversations with people you barely talked to at school, so you decided to break your own promise and wander. Your guesswork of the house led you out a random door, into the backyard where the bonfire was sparking and jouncing as students threw in more wood. Sipping at your hard lemonade, you examined everyone as best you could, though it was practically impossible to decipher all the blurry faces.

The very second you stepped off the deck onto the grass, someone’s arm was sliding around your shoulders, and as you were being tugged against this body you realized that Joshua had found you first.

“Aww, so glad y’could make it!” He slightly fumbled the pronunciation of his words, dragging them with a laziness that could only indicate he was inebriated, or teetering on the heated edge of it.

It took you a moment to regain your footing.

“Almost forgot y’were coming—” he paused to laugh, rubbing one hand beneath his nose, leaning on you heavily, “but I saw you n’ I remembered! M’so happy to see you, soso happy.” Joshua’s arm then tightened around your shoulders, like you were his support crutch.

“I’m, uh, happy to see you too,” you answered.

If it weren’t for the deep breaths you were subtly taking, you might as well have fainted. Joshua had never treated you like this in all your years of knowing him—even the moments when he’d come home late at night, tipsy and wobbly and Jennie would have to cover for him come morning. The fact was that there had always been an unspoken boundary between you, an invisible line, which now seemed completely erased as the boy pressed at your shoulder blades and urged you forward, something about meeting his friends, his face glowing with the surge of alcohol and his eyes completely clouded. This confused you further.

Because even though he was drunk, this was so unlike his character. You suspected that breaking up with Elsie must have shattered him. All his pieces hit the floor and he just left them there, broken.

“Are you doing alright? I, uh… I’m just wondering…”

Joshua stopped, unwinding his arm from your shoulder to fix his hat, combing back the thick hair underneath with his fingers.

“Oh, yeah. I’m fine. Fan-fucking-tastic,” he replied, seeming unconscious of the words leaving his own mouth.

“Well, that’s… I mean, that’s good. I’m glad to hear that, really glad, because I just—I heard some stuff and—” you nervously wet your throat with another sip from the solo cup, feeling your body shake, “it’s not my business or anything! Like, not at all, and I don’t want it to sound like I’m prying, or that I don’t believe you, but I—”

“Jeonghan’s just over there,” Joshua interrupted after fixing his backwards cap on, “we have a couch outside. Come sit w’us.”

He slid an arm around you again, pulling you forward.

And you stepped alongside him, shrinking yourself as much as possible to avoid colliding with another intoxicated body, smelling the fresh charred wood and smoke that desiccated the night air. Your little heart was beating so fast that you had to talk with a second pulse.

“You do? T-That’s cool. But, like I was saying, I guess I just want you to know that I’m sorry about what happened with Elsie. And I really hope that you’re okay and everything. I’m here for you, so—”

It happened in the blink of an eye. One minute you were occupied with speaking, and the next, Joshua’s warm, soft lips had pushed to yours, effectively shriveling your next thought as he held your shoulder. The kiss was transient. Before it could even click, Joshua had already pulled away like it was nothing at all but a hair to the wind.

“I said I’m fine, ‘kay?” Joshua slurred, and you looked into his eyes with enough intensity to burn a hole, “I’m g’nna take you to the couch. We can sit down and stuff. Jeonghan’s there.”

“Okay.” You agreed quietly.

However, as you made your way to the couch propped close by the bonfire, desperately scanning the crowds and ensuring no one had seen that unpredictable moment, you caught glimpse of a face that was so familiar it made you weak. The hard lemonade nearly dropped from your hand and soiled in the grass. Because Jennie was practically glaring at you from the trees, her arms folded and her mouth uncordially slanted.

You didn’t know what to feel any more.

It was definitely an old couch, one that Jeonghan’s parents were probably on cusp of throwing out, especially with all its patches and prickly seats and burnt spots from cigarette butts. You were wedged against the arm while Joshua drank beside you, spreading out his legs and pretty much exiling you to as little space as possible—not that you really blamed him considering his lack of awareness right now. Jeonghan was decent, though you knew he would never even be talking to you if not for your connection with Joshua. So, the senior seemed to deal.

He chucked another log onto the fire, and a big swoop of sparks and ashes puffed upward like a volcanic breath. Once Jeonghan dusted off his hands, he sat himself down on an old table and cracked open another beer. Your lemonade was one sip away from being completely empty. It still felt a little strange to be drinking something that wasn’t cream soda.

“Pass me that,” Joshua asked, slumping forward and gesturing to the beer his friend had just drank from, “or pour some into my cup.”

Jeonghan chuckled, guiding him back by the shoulder.

“I think you’ve had enough, Shua,” he answered, “you had some fun. Now it’s time to mellow out a little. You’ll thank me when you aren’t stuck in the bathroom throwing up your guts an hour from now.”

“You suck so fucking much,” Joshua complained, crumpling up his solo cup and then proceeding to toss it over his shoulder.

“I suck, yeah, yeah,” Jeonghan clearly didn’t take the comment to heart, instead knocking his fist atop Joshua’s head, “I’m gonna take a lap around the house—” he suddenly pointed at you, “make sure he drinks a glass of water or something. Or at least keep an eye on him until Hansol comes back. And don’t let him mooch. You got all that?”

With a stiff, tiny smile, you nodded.

“Sorry to dump the man on you. I’ll be back soon.”

Even though you hadn’t been getting along spectacularly well with the senior, you still wished he could have stayed. You felt unprepared to console Joshua, and that it wasn’t exactly your place to start controlling his alcohol when he was evidently going through something. But, then again, your concern outweighed the uncertainty, and you found yourself grabbing the boy’s shoulder, gluing him back to the couch when a girl had shuffled by with a bottle wrapped in a brown bag. He threw his head back, sunk lower into the cushions with a groan.

“I’m sorry,” you squeaked, “I’m just doing what Jeonghan said.”

“What do y’have left n’here…” he asked vacantly, pulling at your arm and looking into the solo cup, “what is this? Can I have it?”

“There’s hardly any left. And—”

“Mm, you’re gonna say no, right?” He didn’t give you the chance to respond before he was already pushing his weighted body off the couch, stumbling slightly. “Get some myself then… w-whoa—”

“How about you just sit down? Please Joshua?”

You stood up too, planting your hand on his lower back to stabilize his toppling movement. It didn’t help that one of his friends walked by, her and Joshua exchanging a quick dap before she giggled something unintelligible. She let Joshua have a swig of her drink, and you almost fumed at her in a blind rage, because how could she not care enough about him to see that alcohol was far from what he needed? In less than a second, you’d ripped the drink away and thrust it back.

“Okay, relax,” the older girl tutted condescendingly, “this is a party, y’know? Why don’t you have a sip yourself and calm down?”

“I’m just—”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m leaving. Later, Josh.”

Like some sort of animal guarding its territory,  you watched her until she disappeared into the crowds, and it was only then that you exhaled long and slow, realizing Joshua had already collapsed back onto the couch. You sat down as well, though at the very edge.

“Where’s Hansol?” You asked.

Joshua folded an arm behind his head, “dunno.”

“Well, once he comes back, I’m going inside.”

The boy’s head fell in your direction, the fire flooding his eyes with sunset orange as he questioned, “why are you waiting for him?”

“Because I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“Why?”

You shot him an anxious but stern look, “why d’you think?”

“I’m seriously fine.”

“Uh, you’re seriously not.”

Joshua laughed, a hiccup caught in his throat. His gaze traveled away from your face and back toward the fire, extremely dilated.

“It’s not even your business, so I don’t get it...”

“I know that—” for some reason, you felt yourself getting emotional, and your knees started tapping together as the nerves expanded, “but you saying that doesn’t make me not worried. I know if it were me, you’d be acting the same way. Wouldn’t you?”

Joshua was silent for a moment, but then he tensely swallowed and pushed his way back up the couch. He looked at you with the most clarity you had witnessed from those eyes all night, and suddenly, his hand had come to rest on your bare knee, squeezing it gently. He wanted to say something. It was loaded on his tongue like a bullet, but then—

“Uff—I’m back!” Hansol plopped down on the couch, sprawling out all his limbs and placing a water bottle behind Joshua’s head.

His hand was already off your knee.

And you were already making your way inside.

Honestly, you never envisioned yourself as the type to hide away in a washroom at a high school party, sat on the floor with your arms folded like some woeful delinquent who thought they were too unique for the world. Too unique? Not exactly. A woeful delinquent? Yeah, pretty much. You hadn’t bothered asking Chan to leave. The last you saw of the boy he was enjoying his time examining Jeonghan’s record wall.  

Almost three hours had passed. One in the morning was just around the corner, and somehow the party was still twirling with energy.

Just Dance, that was the song, the only Lady Gaga hit on the entire playlist that somehow made the walls shake whenever it played. The heat was thick enough for you to force open the bathroom window where breeze was faint, but you leaned into it regardless. Not many people were concentrated to this side of the house—mostly because there wasn’t anything out there aside from a generator and some trees. You would hear voices occasionally, though you could never deduce what they were saying. Jennie and Marina had walked underneath the window at one point. You had pulled back so quickly that your head spun.

This had all been a mistake. Almost as if the universe willed to prove your point, an obnoxious knocking berated the door, prompting you to uncomfortably swallow and call out a hoarse, “occupied!”

But the doorknob continued to jiggle, and then there was more pounding that jerked you hastily and fearfully to your feet.

“I said occupied!” You shouted, pacing a few steps forward and wondering what was the best possible item in this washroom to defend yourself—most likely the can of hairspray (you made a mental note).

After you still refused to unlock the door, the stranger left, and you assumed they were either left partially deaf due to the music or were off their rocker on whatever drugs and alcohol had managed to circle around the house. Brought back to sitting on the floor, you checked your phone again, groaning at the red sliver of battery you were prolonging.

Hungry, tired, sweaty, and slightly sick, you contemplated lying flat across the rug in an attempt to fall asleep. It wasn’t a good idea, but you didn’t care. The thought of closing your eyes was heavenly, and before you could pick a verdict they were already fluttering shut, the music beneath you sounding incredibly distant, turned to a soft echo that seemed like it was pushing through layers of concrete.  

Someone else came to the door.

When they knocked, you were convinced it was the stranger from earlier. Now, you were angry, angry enough to unveil whoever this person was (and pray the first thing they didn’t do was projectile vomit all their nights liquor onto your shirt). Yet, when you saw Joshua’s face through the mirage of dark, crimson colours mottling the corridor, you wished it could have been that stranger holding down their stomach. He looked a little more focused, though his hair was mussed up in spikes and his cheeks were visibly blotched pink in the mugginess. One of his hands braced against the doorframe. Joshua wasn’t sober, just steadier.

“Can I come in?” He asked, keeping his head angled to the floor, rubbing the tip of his nose with a knuckle.

“Were you looking for me?”

“Jeonghan said he last saw you going into the washroom.”

With a reluctant sigh, you grabbed Joshua’s arm and pulled him inside, kicking the door shut with your foot. Whoever was in charge of the music had opted to play the song even louder, and you heard the living room crowd belting along to every lyric, even from upstairs.

He sat on the edge of the bathtub. You joined him.

Joshua then leaned forward, elbows on his knees. For a moment, you questioned if it was right to ask him about the kiss—you were burning to know his intentions, drunk or not. The boy proceeded to grin.

“What?” You were intrigued—tempted to laugh, even.

“Nothing,” he chuckled, shaking his head, “I just—I feel numb, or something. Like, I feel everything: how hot it is, sweat on the back of my neck, the chills in my fingers, but at the same time, I don’t really feel it.”

You sniffled, twisting your ankle in nervous circles. Joshua leaned back a little less, though he dragged a hand through the thick strands of his hair, and you now understood why it was so messy.

“Where’s your hat?”

“Lost it,” he smiled.

“We should switch places.”

“Why?”

“So you can be closer to the window. There’s a nice breeze.”

Once Joshua had slid over, you two sat in silence, listening to each rhythmic thump. He pulled one of his banged-up converse onto the edge of the tub, propping an arm across his knee while he stared into the moonlight. You wanted desperately to know each thought in his head.

Then, he was suddenly looking square into your eyes.

“Did I kiss you?”

With a careful nod, your fingers clenched.

“Fuck, that was just a stupid, stupid accident. I’m sorry. I thought I dreamt that for a second—I keep fucking up.”

An accident? A stupid, stupid accident?

No, that makes sense. Of course it’s an accident.

But it hurts. God, it really hurts.

He was drunk. That’s why. You already knew that!

Why is it so much harder to breathe?

Your eyes are stinging. Pull yourself together, holy shit.

He really doesn’t see you like that. It’s obvious, always has been.

Don’t you dare cry. Pull it together. Pull it together.

Pull it together!

“Hey,” Joshua tapped your arm, “I’m really sorry.”

“No, I—” you pushed off the edge of the tub, leaning against the clam-shaped sink instead, taking a second to blink and force back the wetness at your tear ducts, “it’s fine. I get it. I’ve just been sitting on the floor for like, the past three hours. I need to stand a bit. But— I’m just thinking, maybe you should go home. It’s been an intense week.”

The older boy agreed, nodding his head as a lopsided smile touched at those perfect lips. You nibbled your inner cheek.

“I don’t know why I came, I just—” Joshua threw his hands up defeatedly, “Elsie and I, we wanted different things. She was amazing, and I have only good things to say about her, but I…”

You weren’t sure if you could handle this. It didn’t help that your mind was still whirling from his earlier apology, thoughts and emotions spinning and spinning like a spool of slippery ribbon coming undone. But at the same time, you wanted to be there for Joshua. He must be unraveling about this heartbreak because he trusted you, though, as he stumbled and continued correcting himself and paused every minute or so to look deeply at the moonlight, you began believing that Joshua had forged his relationship with Elsie as some sort of distraction.

And this sparked a flicker in your dark eyes.

Was it easier to be with Elsie than it was to be with you?

But you didn’t say anything. Instead, you stood there silently, letting Joshua reminisce, gulp back his tears, pick up those shattered pieces he’d dropped that bitter Wednesday afternoon—as he should be doing, rather than stuffing his heart into an ice bucket and letting it numb. His smile reflected as less broken by the time he’d finished.

“Well, I sorta unloaded. I hope it wasn’t too much.”

“No, you needed to do that. I’m glad you did.”

Joshua finally stretched his leg off the edge of the tub, meanwhile he raked through his hair again, flopping it all over the place.

“I’m glad I did, too,” he admitted, steadying his gaze on you.

Your lower back pressed further against the sink.

“I mean, you’ve listened to me complain about pretty much everything under the sun. Even your sister. You’re just caching in.”

“Should I be caching in more often?”

“Wow—perfect Joshua Hong has more stuff to get off his chest?”

He huffed, “since when have I been perfect? Like, ever?”

Whoops, that had been a revealing slip of the tongue. You crinkled your nose and swung your smitten head toward the window.

“I didn’t say perfect.”

“But you did, though.”

“You’re hearing things.”

Joshua rolled his shoulders, capitulating to you easily.

“Whatever,” he said, finally rising from his seat with a smirk that felt familiar, “I’ll take the compliment, even if it supposedly didn’t exist.”

At that moment, you thought he was going to leave the washroom, and once again you would be left to sit on the floor until Chan overwhelmed your phone with texts, asking where you were. There was no way he could still be admiring the record wall. He’d probably moved onto something else obscure yet alluring. Jeonghan’s house was just as pretentious as the senior himself. But Joshua didn’t disappear.

He grabbed your shoulder, and you froze.

“Thank you, I should say before I forget.”

The mould around you crumbled away.

“Oh yeah, for sure, um—no big deal,” you mumbled awkwardly while pulling him into a hug, losing your words in a mere instant.

His arms curled around your waist, firm on each side, and there was a soft squeeze to your body that left you breathless. Your right hand landed at the back of his neck, fingers moving almost instinctually toward his black hair, feeling each lock slip through, a bit tangled and damp with sweat. Shit—your heart had never raced like this before. He could probably sense it against his own chest. Joshua had started pulling away, and so you replied with a slow, obviously unwanted retreat from his body. For some reason, Joshua left a hand on the hip of your skirt, which he seemed to be looking down at for a notable time.

You should kiss him.

Kiss him, kiss him, kiss him. Don’t let him go. Pull him against you. Lick into his mouth and move his hand back to your hip. Show him he doesn’t need to distract himself anymore because you’re right here.

Except—you did none of that.

Joshua said thank you once more. And he slipped back into the misted, red lights that glowed outside in the corridor.

You had never gotten into a fight before, though you’d been a witness to one or more at school. The first fight—which your principal incessantly referred to as an ‘altercation’—was three years ago on the green, when two senior footballers had gotten into a shoving match that resulted in the meeker having his cheek rubbed against the dirt for a solid five minutes. The second fight was a year later, between two girls who were opting to practically pull the other’s hair out in the locker room.

But you, yourself, had never gotten into an actual fight.

Maybe sixteen was the year you’d throw your first punch.

You just never anticipated that the girl on the potentially-receiving end would be Jennie Hong, a former best friend since the age of twelve, now converted to a thorny stranger who’d gotten the tiniest sip of popularity and clung to it with stunning avarice. Ever since your falling-out, you always assumed this day would pull itself out from the leaves—essentially a disinterring of what had killed the friendship—though you hadn’t expected it here or now. It had only been a weekend since the party. Jennie couldn’t even keep her burning remarks until two-thirty.

Instead it was lunch, at the base of the staircase outside the library, just without its centrepiece couple to clog the path. Nobody was really filtering through at that moment, but you could already imagine how the tight space would bubble with a crowd once someone caught wind of the shouting. How the hell do you throw a punch, anyways?

“You know what—I don’t have to answer to you. It’s not like you’re my boss or anything.” Right, and when was the last time Jennie actually responded to a text message? She let the friendship fizzle.

“No, I’m not letting this slide, because what you did was one of the shallowest things I’ve seen—like, ever.”

“Ever?” You gawked, feeling an instant sharpness in your gut.

Jennie exaggeratedly rolled her doll eyes, and for some reason, you contemplated how it might feel to grab a stinging handful of her stupid, silky, coconut-smelling hair and rip it flat out.

“Yeah, ever! My brother just went through a huge break-up with the love of his life! And, you see this little window, so you come in and take it. I legit saw you kiss him. It made me think how selfish you are.”

“What is wrong with you, Jennie? That’s not how—”

“That’s basically what our friendship turned into. You’re fucking obsessed with my brother. You were supposed to be my one friend that wasn’t, but guess I was wrong. Joshua doesn’t want you, at all.”

For a quiet, hollow moment, you were speechless, meanwhile Jennie had this tart yet overtly prideful countenance, like she had so tactfully shone a beam on how horrible you were—an announcement to let the entire world know her ex best friend was the textbook definition of fake. You had noticed a few faces peeking through the doorway up the stairs, and this heat began stifling over you like smoke from a fire. She wasn’t going to listen or even reason with anything you could say.

“I-I don’t care what you think you saw. I’m not shallow, or selfish, and the fact that you have to like—even convince yourself I did something wrong is showing that you—you’re—you’re basically—”

“You can’t even say it!” Jennie threw a ridiculing finger out at you and cackled. “I’m right. I’m so fucking right about you.”

“No, you’re not!”

“Kitty got claws?”

“Shut up, Jennie!”

“No, I won’t. I have every right to feel hurt ‘cause of you! The truth is, you just like Josh ‘cause he’s the only boy that’s ever paid you any attention, so you obsess over him, thinking he’s gonna what? You’ll finally lose your v-card or something? I never wanted to think y’were just using me to know him, but that’s exactly what happened!”

You couldn’t stand listening to her, and tried to drown out the cacophony of her voice instead, rubbing harshly at your ears while you blurted, “just shut up! Shut up, shut up!” like it would make her vanish.

“Then do something to make me stop!”

And that’s when you felt the crackle skip down your wrist and bumble at the tips of your fingers. Could you really punch Jennie? The girl whom you’d once laughed with and cried with and spent a memorable chunk of your earlier adolescence figuring out the world with? God, you had never hit anything in your life, unless you counted the time you accidentally struck your mother in the jaw when she’d been trying to blow raspberries on your tummy. But that wasn’t intentional. And Jennie used to be a real outdoorsy kid, digging up snails and shaking beetles off bark. She wasn’t afraid to get her nails dirty.

You took a few steps toward her, and Jennie’s eyes widened. The slight lagging of her expression indicated that she genuinely hadn’t expected the slightest action from you, though, you’d lost the urge to strike her as quickly as it festered up. Besides, someone must have relayed the argument to the staff, because you heard the blips from the on-duty teacher’s walkie-talkie at the top of the stairway. An entire crowd of students had bunched behind them, watching a little too excitedly.

“There a problem here, girls?”

Surprisingly, Jennie was the first to cough.

“No.”

The teacher then glanced at you, folding his stout arms across his chest and pushing up the glasses on his red nose.

“No…” you repeated dully, your eyes trailing off to the side.

You took back everything you said about bad days.

This was officially the worst.

Monday.

[ don’t answer | 3:28 pm ]: hey.

[ don’t answer | 3:28 pm ]: something happen at school today?

[ don’t answer | 3:28 pm ]: jennie wouldn’t talk to me in the car.

[ don’t answer | 3:28 pm ]: thought you might know what happened.

...

[ don’t answer | 4:30 pm ]: are you taking a nap?

[ don’t answer | 4:30 pm ]: or is it physics? i can help.

Tuesday.

[ don’t answer | 3:20 pm ]: am i an idiot or were you avoiding me?

[ don’t answer | 3:25 pm ]: did i do something?

Thursday.

[ don’t answer | 5:50 pm ]: i’m trying to give you space rn.

[ don’t answer | 5:50 pm ]: just thinking about you.

[ don’t answer | 5:50 pm ]: hope everything’s okay.

Sunday

[ ______ | 2:30 am ]: im sorry. messages were being weird.

[ ______ | 2:30 am ]: i don’t think we should talk any more.

[ don’t answer | 2:34 am ]: why?

[ ______ | 2:34 am ]: it looks weird.

[ don’t answer | 2:34 am ]: i don’t want to make you uncomfortable.

[ don’t answer | 2:34 am ]: i’m not sure what happened bu

[ don’t answer | 2:34 am ]: *but if i did something please tell me.

[ ______ | 2:34 am ]: it has nothing to do with you.

[ ______ | 2:34 am ]: im just trying to respect jennie.

[ don’t answer | 2:34 am ]: are you talking about that fight? call me

don’t answer is calling…

call declined at 2:34 am.

[ don’t answer | 2:35 am ]: why not? idc what jennie thinks.

[ ______ | 2:35 am ]: well i do.

don’t answer is calling…

call declined at 2:35 am.

[ ______ | 2:35 am ]: joshua don’t i won’t pick up.

[ don’t answer | 2:35 am ]: this is easier if we talk.

[ ______ | 2:35 am ]: i don’t want to do that right now.

[ don’t answer | 2:36 am ]: find me tomorrow at school, ok?

[ ______ | 2:36 am ]: where?

[ don’t answer | 2:36 am ]: physics, at lunch.

[ don’t answer | 2:36 am ]: my grad partys coming up soon.

[ ______ | 2:36 am ]: excited?

[ don’t answer | 2:36 am ]: yeah.

[ don’t answer | 2:36 am ]: one sec. sending a picture.

[ don’t answer | 2:37 am ]: IMG.124_313

[ ______ | 2:37 am ]: new amp?????

[ don’t answer | 2:37 am ]: early gift from vernons mom lol.

[ ______ | 2:37 am ]: no way she fucking bought u that!!

[ don’t answer | 2:37 am ]: she loves me more than him.

[ ______ | 2:37 am ]: im not getting you anything like that, sorry 

[ don’t answer | 2:37 am ]: nah nah your presence is enough.

[ ______ | 2:37 am ]: u want me there??

[ don’t answer | 2:37 am ]: obviously wtf.

[ don’t answer | 2:38 am ]: are you gonna skip bc of my sister?

[ don’t answer | 2:43 am ]: did you fall asleep? or are you avoiding the q?

[ ______ | 2:43 am ]: sorry, phone died.

[ ______ | 2:43 am ]: i don’t want stuff w jennie to ruin your day.

[ don’t answer | 2:43 am ]: you’re not gonna ruin anything.

[ don’t answer | 2:43 am ]: what if i told you

[ ______ | 2:44 am ]: told me what?

[ don’t answer | 2:44 am ]: that i want you there more than anyone else.

[ don’t answer | 2:46 am ]: why do you keep disappearing?

[ ______ | 2:46 am ]: you’re such a liar lol.

[ don’t answer | 2:46 am ]: you’re coming, ok?

[ don’t answer | 2:46 am ]: i’ll make you promise me tomorrow.

[ ______ | 2:46 am ]: you can’t make me do that.

[ don’t answer | 2:46 am ]: we’ll see.

[ ______ | 2:46 am ]: yeah we will.

[ don’t answer | 2:46 am ]: ngl i’m tired. but find me on monday.

[ ______ | 2:46 am ]: i know. goodnight.

[ don’t answer | 2:47 am ]: goodnight.

1 month later.

[ ______ | 6:50 pm ]: hey, answer me asap.

[ ______ | 6:50 pm ]: need extra thoughts on what i should wear.

[ joshua h. | 6:53 pm ]: wear whatever you want.

[ ______ | 6:53 pm ]: but how formal is it?

[ ______ | 6:53 pm ]: could i get away with like……

[ ______ | 6:53 pm ]: a really nice camisole and jeans??

[ joshua h. | 6:53 pm ]: yeah.

[ ______ | 6:53 pm ]: what are u wearing?

[ joshua h. | 6:54 pm ]: dress shirt and slacks.

[ ______ | 6:54 pm ]: that’s at least noticeably formal!!

[ ______ | 6:54 pm ]: i’m going to wear my skirt.

[ joshua h. | 6:54 pm ]: okay lol. see u there.

[ ______ | 6:54 pm ]: this frjdsy, right?

[ ______ | 6:54 pm ]: whoops **friday

[ joshua h. | 6:55 pm ]: yeah. come at like 8-ish.

[ ______ | 6:55 pm ]: will do.

How were you supposed to feel about Joshua leaving? Honestly, you tried not to ruminate on it. Your relationship had definitely evolved more than it ever had these past few months, and now that you were finally shaking off the thick chrysalis of being his “little sister’s best friend”, Joshua would be coasting away to university. New people, new experiences, new environment—how were you going to ensure you were the thing that stuck? That, when he was in the midst of some homecoming party with a girl sliding her fingers down his arm, in the back of his mind he was thinking of you to an annoying degree.

You didn’t know how to do that.

It felt awkward to even muse about such a thing as you stood in the Hong family living room, occasionally scraping a few pieces of crackers and cheese off the platters organized on the island while everyone buzzed and mingled around you. Jennie was somewhere. You didn’t know where, but at that point you didn’t care any longer. The fight had wedged you two apart for good. Thankfully its details hadn’t circulated much, and if Joshua had any indication the precise details of the fight, he was very polished at hiding it. His mother had swung by a few times to talk with you, and you always saw Joshua’s seraphic eyes in hers.

“Every time I walk past, you’re glued to this spot,” she smiled genuinely and gesticulated with a wave of her wine glass.

“Oh, just enjoying the crackers,” you replied, “and, um, the cheese. But it’s okay. I don’t mind people-watching.”

“Need anything to drink?”

“I’m good. Thanks, though.”

She squinched her face for a moment, “I might offer the wine, but you are by far underage. Of course, I’m saying this like you haven’t already drank before. Most teenagers find a way. Jennie uses Joshua who uses his older friend, Seungcheol. I’m not condoning it, obviously.”

“Obviously,” you grinned, flitting a wink at her.

“Oh, I miss you,” she half-exhaled, half-laughed, grabbing onto your shoulder with a touch of comfort you’d almost forgotten. “I’m still trying to figure out how to handle Jennie’s new friends.”

With a distant hum, you agreed, “that makes two of us.”

Someone suddenly called her over from the next room, and she politely dismissed herself, fitting in a graceful comment about your outfit before she strode away. And that was when you started feeling… disheartened, a bit empty, dreary about the future and how you were supposed to wake up relatively excited for school knowing that Joshua’s kind, sweet, stupidly pretty face wasn’t going to be there. It felt like a kick in the teeth, and it hadn’t even happened yet. Did he care that he was going to be leaving you here to sink further into your loneliness?

As you picked at another cracker, Hansol came up from the basement with Jennie following suit. They were holding extra paper plates and cups, and you watched from your peripheral as Hansol kept the door open for her with his foot. He was graduating too, though his family hadn’t glamorized it as much as Joshua’s, to which you figured the boy was dually enjoying the praises he got in the mix. Jennie and Hansol walked off together into another room, talking animatedly and constantly brushing shoulders and smiling a little too gleefully for two people who just got sent to the basement for some cardboard and plastic.

Where the hell is Joshua?

You got here at eight, and hadn’t seen him once.

Well, if he didn’t want to be found, then you’d just follow the very obvious trail that lead to his bedroom, the door cracked open and the aging, peeling poster of that lady with the star-shaped sunglasses still staring at you just as placidly as always. When you thought about it, she was the only one to ever see you stop and stare at his door over the many years, watching your wonder of him turn into a crush, and then whatever you called it nowadays. Using your foot, you tapped the door open slightly, exchanging a nervous glance with the star-shaped glasses lady.

Joshua hadn’t even noticed that you’d entered. He was squatted in the corner, wires snaking around his feet, some plugged into a few outlets on his amp. Of course, this is what concerned him right now.  

“So, you’ve been up here, playing around with a bunch of wires, instead of like, enjoying the graduation party you forced me to come to.”

He flinched, at first jarred by your presence, but you noted Joshua’s relaxed smile as he rose up while sweeping some dust off his hands. You stood in one place, like roots were sprouting from your socked feet into the floor, hands fiddling behind your back.

Standing near his desk, Joshua gestured to the lava lamp.

“Do you want that?” He asked as a bright, yellowish gob of liquid floated gradually upward, merging into the purple.

“Why would I want it?”

“You said something to me once about always wanting a lava lamp. I don’t really need it anymore.”

Rolling back your shoulders, you chuckled. “I said that like, two years ago. And I think it’s a staple of your room. You should keep it here.”

“Good point,” he answered, reaching for a soda can on his desk.

Cream soda, obviously. Some things never change.

You sighed, though it ended up whisking out your mouth in a much sadder tone than you intended, and for a second your heart skipped a beat because you didn’t want Joshua thinking his graduation party was insipid or boring. If anything, you were reminiscing, and it just wasn’t in your nature right now to be especially pert when you knew he was leaving. Not to mention, you hated him in a crisp white dress shirt that he’d clearly been fiddling with because the sleeves were too long and the fabric was too stuffy. He’d cuffed the material up to his elbows and undid a few buttons that unveiled a deep amount of his skin.

Were collarbones intended to be that attractive?

“Everything okay?” Joshua questioned, tilting his head.

You leaned against the desk with him, the room hardly aglow in the dull heat from his lava lamp. Honestly, you did kind of want it.

“Well, you’re going off to university…”

“I am.”

“So, you won’t be here. Like, at all.”

“Are you forgetting the entire summer before I leave? And reading week? And Christmas? And whatever else? I’m not ‘gone’,” he quoted with his fingers, “you have my number, anyways.”

You scoffed, smiling at him to lighten the tension. “Pfft, yeah, like you’re even going to be hitting me back. You know you won’t, right?”

Joshua merely shook his head in disagreement, folding his arms.

“Never mind any of that stuff. I don’t mean to make it about myself—” Jennie’s face scorched across the canvas of your mind like a lightning strike, that comment about you being selfish, “how are you feeling? I mean, shit has been… a little different for you this year.”

The boy bit his lip softly as he agreed, and his eyes almost glazed over for a particular second, as though he were flicking through heavy pages of old memories. Was he thinking about Elsie? You really hadn’t spoken to her since their breakup, apart from an excruciatingly awkward encounter in the girl’s washroom where you basically expressed your empathies to a brick wall. She had been scrubbing every cell of her hands with soap, smiling and nodding and probably wishing you’d just dissipate. Since then, you hadn’t seen the autumn haired girl much.

“Yeah,” Joshua hummed, tilting his head in your direction, “I guess it has been different. But… good different…” his eyes stilled on you like they were focusing a picture, and you swore his gaze drifted up from your legs, your hips, ever so briefly along your chest and to the sort of frozen expression painted stiffly and crookedly to your face.

What the fuck does that mean?

“So… you’re ready to leave?” Experimentally, you adjusted your hand on the desk, having your fingers slightly overlap with his.

“Pretty much.”

He stared at you again, and this sitting, small frog in your chest charged into a hop as  Joshua’s ring finger slid overtop your pinky, hooking the two digits together. Nervous was an understatement—you felt downright nauseous, the dry-mouthed, heart-hammering, sweat-slicked kind where fainting seemed like a possibility if you didn’t go into cardiac arrest first. Despite the guileless brushing of your fingers, Joshua’s face hadn’t budged that much. He was about as easy to read as a stone tablet, only if someone used scissors instead of a chisel.

But was it right to doubt yourself? This could be the perfect moment served on a silver platter. Maybe you didn’t know what you were doing, or how to kiss someone, or how to look at this boy’s sweetly plump lips without feeling tingly and dehydrated, but if you didn’t just make that fucking move you’ve been waiting on like a birthday wish then—

“Oh, yeah! Totally forgot to mention this but—”

“Wait, Joshua—”

He had taken a step away from the desk, and without thought, you latched onto his shoulder in an attempt to reel him back.

The boy turned around almost automatically, unable to purse another word past his lips as he realized the seriousness that had desaturated your aura, feeling the shaky hands that pulled down the smooth front of his dress shirt, arms now curling their way around his neck. You had pressed him in close against you, not a flicker of space between, and Joshua still hadn’t said a word as you touched your lips to his in a light contact. Unsure if you should continue, you almost stepped away, surprised to consequently feel two firm hands on your hips which guided you back in, his lips now eagerly pushing against yours.  

But it quickly dawned on Joshua that he needed to go slower for you, and there was an almost grateful, relieved breath into his mouth when he extended each kiss into a gradual pace. Working softly, letting you pause to take in as much air as you needed, occasionally smiling against your mouth whenever he added something like an experienced touch of the tongue that you clearly enjoyed and responded to. Almost blinded by the desire you felt, you were immediately desperate for more, having Joshua sit down in his desk chair while you climbed onto him.

“Wait—” he huffed between your kisses, accepting each one and nipping back too, almost like he couldn’t stop himself, “wait just a sec.”

His calloused hands landed on your bare thighs. You couldn’t help but twitch the instant it happened, losing another fleck of sanity, chills dancing up your spine when his fingers inched further to play with the short, black hem of your skirt. To your displeasure, Joshua suddenly abandoned that idea all together. Almost like he’d contacted something burning hot, the boy chose to grasp your waist instead.

“What?” You mumbled breathlessly against his neck, exploring the skin with licks and bites.

This was something you had never done before, something you didn’t even know you were capable of, but the desire was flowing out and you didn’t know how to stop it. His addicting scent fluttered around you, making it beyond difficult to concentrate. Joshua’s fingers then grazed your cheek, pulling your face back toward him where he slotted your mouths together once more, wanting to kiss you harder but knowing he needed to stop. You sensed it too—he was confused and apprehensive.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you leaned back on his lap and frowned. “Is there something wrong? You don’t want us to?”

Joshua reached for your face again, moving you back in.

“Listen,” he said, using that satin-dipped voice of his which could only indicate he was about to let you down gently, “it’s not that… I just—you’re beautiful, and thoughtful, and as much as I want to—” he sucked in a breath that seemed deeply regretful, moving his thumb across the crest of your cheek with such fragility as he admitted, “I can’t, and I feel like I shouldn’t. I’m so, so sorry. I really am.”

“So… what does that mean? You don’t like me?”

It was akin to pinpricking a balloon—just the slightest puncture had instantly deflated you, and there was a horrible, useless feeling that soaked into your bones as this boy caressed your face so tenderly.

“No, I like you. Fuck, of course I do,” Joshua whispered, sitting up further in the chair, black tresses slipping into his eyes, “but—”

“I’m just your little sister’s best friend, right?” Damn it, tears had glistened up as you said it. “Well, not even best friend. She fucking hates me, thinks I’m pathetic or whatever. And, is she even wrong? I mean, I’m literally sitting on her brother’s lap thinking he—you’d actually want me.”

“Slow down—” Joshua reached for your wrist as you squirmed off his lap, but you flinched away from it and wiped your cheeks instead.

“Please, you don’t have to leave. I mean, I’m not gonna hold you here, and— okay, I didn’t mean to make you cry. Fuck, I’m so sorry—“

He pushed out of the desk chair, reaching toward your face.

But you stepped back at the same time, maintaining the equidistance.

“What did you mean to do, then?!”

“I-I don’t know, honest. I really don’t know. Just—not this.”

Everything was fucking sweltering and stinging and you had never hated yourself more for thinking Joshua saw you as anything else but that dorky sidekick to his sister. And, you didn’t want to hear him elaborate or try to sugar coat his truth because that would only shove the knife further into your back. You wanted to leave, chiefly because you knew he wouldn’t follow, though nothing had ever hurt more in your life than when you slammed his door shut for the very last time. As you hurried down the stairs and anxiously buckled your shoes back on at their front door, Jennie had wandered into the corridor holding onto a plastic cup, at first extremely confused to the tears caked over your face.

“Um… should I get you a tiss—”

“Actually, you were right.”

Jennie perched an eyebrow, then scratched at the bracelets on her wrist. She was too stunned by the situation to bother responding.

“Your brother doesn’t want me, at all.”

And just like that, you were out of their house in an instant.

This could be a good thing, exactly what you needed, even.

Age thirteen was the first time you had seen Joshua, and for some unshakeable reason, your brain decided that he was the only boy worth fixating over—coursing enough serotonin and dopamine through your receptors like a drug that seemed harmless enough to keep injecting until one day, it just wasn’t. Joshua wasn’t even that great. What did he do anyways, apart from having eyes as captivating as the fine details of an oil painting, and a voice that sounded what a daydream felt like, and this seemingly genuine attentiveness to your life that made you forget the blizzard that often whipped around it?

Right, Joshua was not all that.

There must be other people out there who could elicit that rush, and maybe you would have met one or two of them if you hadn’t been so tethered to the older brother character who’d pinned you as this one-dynamical permanent friend. And that’s why you had come to the conviction that he needed to be cut from your existence, not just in physicality, but in thought. The second you got home from the party—letting your bicycle crash against the asphalt driveway because it was a fossil anyway—you took every single can that you had kept over the years, shovelling them into your knapsack while trying not to blubber.

Flinging the bag over your shoulder, you saddled onto the bike and pedalled off toward the quarry near the edge of the town. There was a huge, earthy hole dug into the middle, and most people had decided to start treating the pit as a trash site. It was nearly pitch black by time you arrived, so you had to balance a tactical flashlight on a rock, your enlarged shadow cast along the big, graffitied construction boxes sitting opposite to the hole. You grabbed a soda can out from your bag and twisted it into the dirt, pausing for no less than a second as his pretty face eclipsed your thoughts, perhaps one last opportunity to weigh the scale.

No—follow through, don’t be doubtful.

Crush the can. Crush the crush.

Using your heel, you stomped the soda can, hearing the metal contort and crack like you had squeezed out its breath. Then, with a gust of the leg, you sent the flattened semblance of a disk sailing through the air into the pit, which seemed as deep and infinitely dark as the sky. You did it again. And again. Crush and kick. Crush and kick. Until there was nothing left inside your bag, emptied down to its dust and crumbs.

It would have been an incredibly victorious, fulfilling moment.

If only you had not been crying so hard the entire time.

[ joshua h. | 11:45 pm ]: this is my fault, and i’m sorry.

[ joshua h. | 11:45 pm ]: i shouldn’t have kissed you back and messed with your expectations. but it’s not that i don’t like you or think about you.

[ joshua h. | 11:45 pm ]: bc i do. i just don’t know what’s right.

[ joshua h. | 11:46 pm ]: can we talk again? please.

[ joshua h. | 12:58 am ]: i’m sorry. i hurt you. i’m so fucking sorry.

[ joshua h. | 12:58 pm ]: i’m still gonna be here for you if you need me.

[ joshua h. | 12:59 am ]: goodnight.

Are you sure you want to block Joshua H? You will not receive any of this user’s messages.

…

Yes.

17.

Being seventeen was relatively new. Jennie Hong was no longer in your life. She was past a point of dislike and stuck on indifference. You heard from your mother that it was worse to be meaningless to someone than to be hated, and… you agreed. Chan, the boy responsible for driving you to Jeonghan’s party, was your boyfriend, and you two had started dating at the beginning of September. He had an oddly thrilling personality, a small group of friends, wasn’t too clingy or detached, and, well, he certainly tried at your relationship. Chan was the perfect amount of normal—balance, could be a better word, someone you looked at and sensed their life was exactly where they needed it to be.

Contrarily, your life had never felt like that, though that could have been due to Jos—him. Just, him, because you firmly decided that he was to remain a blank, faceless cut-out in the branching cloth of your memories. Right now you were with Chan, and he was lovely.

“What if—for the spaceship scene—you have her ride in on one of those harness thingies? And just get her to hold a cardboard painted  ship. We have the budget for a harness-pulley system, right? All it takes is some rope and muscle, really.”

“We’re not doing that, Chan. I appreciate that you want to lessen the burden of my stage coordinator B.S, but after the Peter Pan incident last year, harnesses were fucking stripped from any future production.”

“Oh! That’s right. Wasn’t that what’s-her-face’s fault?”

Seungkwan rolled his eyes, “basically, yeah.”

Theatre wasn’t exactly your school’s forte. It was proven year after year, beginning with the tragically iconic incident of the mattress pile toppling in the Princess and the Pea. The most recent incident—referred to ominously as the “harness” incident from last year’s Peter Pan production—nearly sent the theatre’s jewel, Lee Seokmin, straight to the hospital, though he was kept content with a hot fudge sundae and a coupon book. How that worked was beyond your understanding.

You had known Seungkwan since middle school, and it had always been his dream to be appointed stage coordinator. While it was bestowed to him under hapless circumstances, he was taking the school’s original production, Lost on Planet Smeckle, to an almost concerning degree of seriousness, constantly walking around with a pen spinning between his fingers and an “inspiration” notebook tucked at the elbow which you assumed was rather void. In truth, it was a particularly hard job to get suspended from. Jennie used to operate the sound panel for the plays. You swore she almost never hit the right button or was either incredibly delayed at doing it, and she was never admonished once.

“Are you going to contribute any ideas or not?” Seungkwan quipped, leaning back in his chair with an ankle propped on his knee.

Squishing up the sloppy remainder of your sandwich into its plastic wrap, you chucked it at him, knocking the pen out his hand.

“Like I know how to spice up Lost on Planet Smoogle—”

“Smeckle!”

“Smeckle—whatever it is. You’re asking the wrong girl.”

After sliding his pen back with his foot, Seungkwan seemed to agree that you were impracticable, therefore illuminating Chan as the rubber to bounce any incoming ideas off. Lunch was nearly over anyways. You decided to let the boys hash out whatever they could.

“I’m going to the library.”

Chan reached for your hand, fluttering his eyes sweetly.

“I’ll come find you after chemistry, okay?”

“Sure thing,” you smiled, leaning down to give him a peck.

Speaking of the library, it had finally dawned on you that the couple who routinely opted to swap spit on the staircase were gone and  graduated. While you had never been fond of them, they probably had the strongest relationship in the entire school. Chan occasionally joked about taking their place—it always earned him a thwap to the forehead.

Honestly, you weren’t sure why you escaped to the library, because hanging out with Seungkwan and Chan felt… right. They offered the company you always longed for in high school—a small, concrete group that was free of toxicity, the type of friends to groan with you about how unpalatable the cafeteria food was, stand with you outside your classes when the teacher was notably late and giggle about that stupid rhetoric of skipping after fifteen minutes. They were normal and familiar and that was all you could ask for. Seventeen was boring. Good boring.

A few minutes had gone by as you picked through the spines.

You kept sliding out and re-shelving the books without any actual intention of having them stamped. But then you pulled out a thick history novel that was at eye level. It revealed a perfect gap into the next aisle—exactly where Jennie and her friend Marina were standing. It surprised you so abruptly that you had flinched, cramming the book back into place as though you were restoring a bewitched, sacred artifact you definitely shouldn’t’ve touched. You should have left too. Except you didn’t, instead hovering close to the shelf where you deeply inhaled the scent of dusty paper, eavesdropping their conversation.

“Is that the one about the Galapagos finches?”

“Nope, dunno what it is—oh, there, barn owls. Not quite.”

“Maybe I should switch my topic. I fuckin’ hate biology. You think if I paid you ten bucks and half a joint, you’d write my project?”

“Yeah, no way. I’ll help you, though.”

“C’mon! You’re the only one I know who’s getting a ninety-five in bio. The teacher fucking loved your poster on those weird frog things.”

“The poison dart frog? Those are cool. I always went to their exhibit at the nature museum with my brother. You can get them as wooden toys with a stick. They sound like the actual frog.”

“Pfft, the nature museum. You’re such a loser, Jen. Ah—since you mentioned him, how is that dude, anyways? Mr. Beautiful.”

“Joshua?”

“Mmhm.”

Okay, this has to be your exit. Even just hearing his name feels like a tiny scalpel running the length of your heart. It’s been months and that chapter has closed. You’ve sutured your own cuts and moved on.

“He’s doing pretty good.”

Wait, pretty good? You paused. Pretty good, how?

“Uh, classes are fun. He really likes his roommate. Remember Jeonghan? He’s got an apartment with him. Life’s good for that idiot.”

No—what the hell are you doing? You don’t care!

“Okay, nice. Has he gone to any like, crazy parties? Everyone says the parties at uni are unmissable and you’re guaranteed to eat an edible without even knowing it. I’m not sure if that’s good, though.”

“Uh, yeah. He’s been to a few.”

Is it just you or did someone slick this part of the floor with glue?

“Got a girlfriend yet? I wouldn’t be surprised with those daydreamy eyes of his and the deceivingly angelic voice.”

Your breath stilled, lungs contracting, nerves simmering. Jennie hadn’t answered yet. It felt like time was viscous and nearly unmoving. At first, she chuckled, sliding a book back onto the shelf until it clicked.

“A girlfriend? Don’t think so. And never say those things again.”

In one gigantic exhale, the air gushed out your nose. If not for the bell startling you into reality, you might have slid down against the shelf due to anxiety, melted into a puddle even for the janitor to scrub away.

Something inside you had embarrassingly given.

It could not happen again.

Your fork sliced into the edge of orange, mashed sweet potato until it clinked against the plate, stainless steel scraping porcelain as you dragged it up and set the prongs onto your tongue. Chan was cutting rosemary asparagus in half to your left, keeping his eyes fixed on the stalks that were glimmery in butter and sauce. Picking up her wine glass, your mother took a slow, savoury sip. She watched the both of you.

Dinner was always so fucking awkward. Your mother had insisted she throw something together despite the fact she’d come straight home from work, still confined to her button-tight blouse and knee-length pencil skirt she hated, stalking around the kitchen in her clicky heels. She had met Chan once or twice before, though he never stayed for dinner. It was her opportunity to finally pin him in place, and it was going horribly.

Maybe it was weird to think, but some people just weren’t good with mothers—not purposefully or accidentally or by unimaginative curse, but in a way that was rather ignorant. Everyone’s house was their house, and unfortunately, that was Chan. If you had known this was her plan, you would have dragged him upstairs, pushed him down in your swivel-back chair, flipped around the for-emphasis chalkboard and instructed him on exactly what not to do. Yet, there hadn’t been the opportunity for that.

“So, any ideas for college or university? A gap year maybe to secure some money? I know that you’re very interested in performance and theatre.”

“Oh, yeah,” Chan agreed, bits of green flashing in his teeth as he spoke with a full mouth, “I want to be like, a really amazing dance teacher, but work my way up to it doing tons of gigs—,” he paused to chug a gulp of water, “and um, I don’t know. I want to be like Usher or something.”

“Really?” Your mother remarked, her wine glass settling onto the coaster with a light thud. “Usher? I guess he’s more your generation.”

“Yeah, probably,” Chan answered, also placing his cup back on the table, completely missing the coaster, “there’s this one song I really love, it goes like—”

Oh no. You braced a palm against your forehead, hardly watching from the edge of your vision as Chan sat up straight and pitched his hand.

“Shorty got down and said “come and get me”, yeah, yeah, I got so caught up, I forgot she told me, yeah, yeah, her and my girl, used to be the best of homies, next thing I knew, she was all up on me scream—”

You grabbed onto his arm, disguising it as a sincere, thoughtful touch despite your nails teething down on his skin.

“That was really great. Thank you, babe.”

“Well, I just—I hadn’t got to the rest of it yet.”

“No, I know,” your nails clawed a little deeper, “that’s fine.”

It was best to stop him before he entered a whole performance number in your dining room, to which you could picture him tripping over his own feet and tearing a photo frame off the wall, or elbowing the fine china teapot that had been a gift from your grandmother. He didn’t have the best spatial awareness, or awareness of anything, really. Your mother was sitting back, smiling, one leg folded over the other with her head in a slight tilt that seemed deceivingly warm and intrigued. She wasn’t going to say it, but she didn’t have to. Chan was below your standards.

“You know, that’s good.” She pointed a finger at him. “I’d love to see the full routine one day. You’ve got that…” she swirled her hands around as though she were clearing a crystal ball, “that star factor. Very cool.”

“Thank you.” Chan grinned, setting his elbows onto the table where he then hiccupped quietly into his hands (it was more of a belch, but you were admittedly trying to water down how insensible he was in even your own mind).

If wizards were real, you were dying for one to zap you with the end of their wand, preferably into a pile of sparkly ashes.

Somehow, dinner came to an end. While Chan excused himself for a bathroom break, you stood at the sink with your mother, dutifully polishing the forks she’d set into the dry rack. It was silent for a minute or two. At least her heels were finally off, though bits of hair from that slicked updo were beginning to tickle her face while she scrubbed away at the plate. You really didn’t want to discuss what happened anyway. But after you organized the cutlery into the drawer, your mother gave you a look that felt loaded as she let the soapy water drain.

Well, here we go.

“You know, I don’t dislike him as much as you think I do. There’s definitely character. He’s just… far below you, in my opinion. And I wish I could say I understand why you’re dating him, but I don’t.”

Opting to stay silent, you wiped down the puddles around the sink.

“I won’t throw up all my inklings onto you now, especially when I know the kid’s down the hall, doing God knows what—and I can tell by this little shoulders-buckled, lip-tight thing you’re doing that you don’t wanna talk about it. Gosh… at least we’ve got leftovers for tomorrow.”

“Mmhm.” You hummed, just to acknowledge you’d heard her.

“Oh, you know who I liked? That brother, the brother of that girl you used to be best friends with. Jennie and… J-something. They both had names with J’s. Their mother is in such better shape than me. Help me out here. I know damn well that counter’s dry by now.”

Crossing your arms, you rolled the very corner of the dish towel between your thumb and pointer finger, feeling his name rise along the back of your throat like it was being summoned out, against your will.

“Joshua.”

“Yes! Him! I adored that one. I always thought he liked you, too.”

“Mom! I don’t think we should be talking about this.”

“It’s true! I mean, he drove you home from school all the time. He always bought you things. And he had these eyes that were just… he looked at you different, so deeply, like he truly cared about you. I just—I know he’s older, two years or something, but I felt safe whenever you said you were with him. I kept waiting for him to come here for dinner.”

“I said we shouldn’t be talking about this and you’re talking about it!”

“Okay well I—”

The bathroom door squeaked open from down the corridor.

Both of you sealed your mouths shut.

It was 10pm, and Chan was asleep at your side, the two of you miraculously cramped onto the twin size bed shoved against the wall with the sheets pulled a generous amount onto his half. Not that you cared. It was warm in your bedroom, and the heat from your hard backs pressed together was making you slightly sweaty. To feel uncomfortable in your own home was one thing—but in your own bedroom? The place you had perfectly cultivated over the years to always feel comfortable? Part of you wanted to crawl out from your own skin like that was something humans did. Chan was a great friend. Maybe it should have stayed like that.

Or, maybe it was just late, and you were too warm to think with clarity.

Wedging out your phone from beneath the quilt, you took a cautious peak over your shoulder, only to see the dark, dim outline of Chan’s shoulder bone digging into yours. Then, you turned back to your phone.

Instagram. That was usually what you did when you couldn’t sleep. A filtered and superficial glance into the very uninteresting lives of people who thought they were interesting was certain to make you tired.

A picture of Seungkwan with his empty script book.

Oh, there’s Seokmin eating ice cream with his girlfriend.

Marina? Since when did you follow her? Apparently, you did. Probably when you thought it was still possible to mesh yourself into her friendship with Jennie and become the triplet friend group everyone was envious of. Except you strongly disliked Marina. And Jennie hated you.

You two still followed each other.

@jennie.hg commented on @marinascapilatti’s photo: “HOT. SMOULDERING. FUCKING SEXY AS FUCK.”

@marinascapilatti replied to @jennie.hg: “LMAO. love you sm babe!!”

For some reason, you clicked on Jennie’s profile. Thumbing to the bottom, you realized she hadn’t removed the old pictures of you two together, even if they were from two or more years ago. Jennie had never been one to constantly delete pictures and reshape her account as she got older. She liked the memories. The beauty of an archive. Letting people know exactly who she had been because that was never a concern to her.

You opened a picture she had posted on your birthday three years ago.

@jennie.hg: a lot of u ppl know this girl. she’s my best friend or something. since sixth grade. it’s her birthday. so if you don’t wish her a happy birthday then you’re dead to me and you suck! xo.

That day, people you had never spoke to more than once or twice said happy birthday to you in the halls, or in the lunch line, on the way into your next class, even in the washroom. You decided to look at more comments on the picture, pausing on one in particular.

@joshua_hong_1230: it’s your birthday? happy birthday!:)

Fuck. Were you really about to do this? With your boyfriend asleep beside you, so close that he was crushing you into the wall?

A deep, deep sigh.

Yes.

First, you had to unblock him, convincing yourself it would only be for a moment or two as you quickly gleaned his account (out of curiosity and definitely not the emotion tugging your heart in a very sensitive direction). Pressing onto the most recent picture, you bit your lip.

404 likes. 51 comments. @joshua_hong_1230: clink.

Him and his university friends crowded around a restaurant table, half-emptied glasses of alcohol and dinner plates everywhere. You only recognized Jeonghan who was right beside Joshua in the photo. On his other side, a girl you had never seen before. She was leaning into him closely, her hair tousled in pretty, effortless manner that somehow reminded you of Elsie. Continuing down the rabbit hole, you opened her profile. Her name was Daphne. She was in biomed. Cute sundresses that hugged her shape in all the right places glowing from her feed. 

As much as you wanted to believe you were genuinely interested in this Daphne girl’s life, you weren’t. What you really wanted to know was obvious. In fact, it slapped you in the face, filled you with shame and embarrassment and now you were stuffing your phone beneath the cold side of the pillow hoping it would disappear.

Stop thinking about him.

Stop comparing yourself to everyone in his life.

Valentine’s Day seemed to come out of nowhere. One minute you were scalding your tongue with the taste of disgustingly hot cocoa, attempting to stick together a gingerbread house using prayers and pastry icing, and peeking between your blinds at the carollers who were singing the loudest version of Silent Night that you’d ever heard. But then you had blinked, and suddenly everything was pink. Roses were being sold in the front foyer (you specifically told Chan not to purchase one because you knew that under your care, it would wilt in a week) and the number of cinnamon hearts you’d smelled on people’s breath was almost concerning. Not to mention the Stupid Cupid Dance was tonight.

At first, you didn’t want to go. Most memories you recalled of the dance were actually quite pleasant, though Jennie had still been your best friend then, and jumping around manically with her while student council showered the crowd with candy grams eased the sting of not being with him. However, Chan was oddly passionate about going. He didn’t swoon to your idea of staying home with a movie and some cheap sugar cookies. In fact, he even offered to accompany you with your dress shopping, though you both got insanely bored halfway through the process and decided to play games at the arcade instead. The best outfit you could muster was a long, oversized dress shirt with a stylish belt to wrap around the waist, alongside some thigh-high pink socks.

It was… definitely something.

The dance was roughly two hours away. You were lounging across your bed, twirling a cherry-flavoured sucker against the inside of your cheek. Chan was sitting on the floor, still trying to fix his tie.

“Do you want me to look up a tutorial or something?” You asked in a bored tone, temple feeling sore from leaning against your fist.

With his tongue curling against his lip, Chan declined. “No, no, think I’ve almost got it… just gotta slip it up and under and… there!”

You could hardly choke out a lukewarm congratulations as you completely spread out across the bed sheets, blinking up the ceiling with the sticky taste of cherry on your lips. Chan edged off the floor and sat beside you, prompting you to raise your head onto his lap.

“Dunno if it’s a good thing to bring up, but your mood is a little… it’s not doing too great, babe. Is there anything I can do?”

Obviously, you wanted to skip the dance. It’s not that you believed it would be unenjoyable with Chan—he did have the tendency to wander and was easily absorbed into conversations with friends, almost exiling you to stand there stiltedly the entire time—but other than that, he was a fantastic dancer and you loved watching him (you had never once danced with him at a party because you felt more like a hindrance to his spotlight). Besides, the gym was only so big, and since Jeonghan had graduated there was no one else at the school to host blow-out parties.

“What if we just didn’t go?” You mumbled around the sucker.

“Uh—no! We have to! Seungkwan’s gonna meet us there.”

“I know, I know. But we can do something fun that’s not the Stupid Cupid Dance! Like, um—we could—there’s always—how about we go the river? It’ll be a little chilly but we can bring our jackets. I think fresh air is what I need. You could teach me to skip rocks.”

Chan’s hand fell into your hair. It felt sympathetic.

“Skip rocks? What makes you think I can do that?”

Pushing yourself up, you groaned, “I don’t know, Chan. I just don’t want to go. Can we make a compromise at least?”

Your boyfriend paused for a moment, slumping against the wall and pursing his lips like he was tediously wracking his brain.

“We can stay for two hours. Then we can go to the river and throw rocks, or whatever it was—the thing you just said.”

“Yes, thank you, thank you!”

He seemed surprised at how ecstatic you behaved, his hands  rather delayed as they climbed up to your hips, responding to the hug you had draped him in. You pressed a kiss against his cheek, then a swift one to his mouth, knowing he could taste the cherry and how sweet it was.

“The song—the song, they’re changing the song!”

“Yeah, I know, I can hear it—”

“Can you hold this? And this? And my phone—last time it flung out of my pocket and I got big crack in my screen protector.”

“No, Chan—can you wait? It’s almost time to go—”

“I promised that I would do this dance with Seungkwan!”

“So you’re leaving me alone?”

“No, no, no—just—it will be fun! And I’m really good at the dance for this song. Watch me and you’ll see. Thanks, babe! You’re the best!”

“The promise you made to Seungkwan,” you sagged, attempting to hold his suit jacket, drink, and phone all in one severely cramping hand, “what about the promise you made to me?” Walking over to the bench in the gym corner, you set all his possessions down one at a time, gritting your teeth. “I love how much I matter to you, babe.”

You squinted at the exit across the room and attempted to maneuver your way toward it, twisting and wriggling and tiptoeing around everyone until this girl had stepped backward into your way. She flicked a straight curtain of hair over her shoulder and you smelled tart perfume—almost nauseating—as she talked with her friend.

“I feel like these parties were so much better when they weren’t school-sanctioned! No one in student council is stepping up. Why do all the seniors suck this year? Where is everyone with surgeon parents?”

“I know. People were moving the tiles in the girl’s washroom at lunch so they could put Vodka bottles up there. It was so funny.”

“Someone will snitch and they’ll make us do the breathalyser thing—no way they’re doing that to me! It’s like, my right or something.”

“Hey guys, pardon me, I’m going that way.”

“You’re going where?”

“That way, to the exit.”

“You’re trying to leave? Are you going to the washroom? They make you write down your name, y’know, on this clipboard, and they time you. Isn’t that fucking stupid? Like, if you take an extra minute to piss or open a tampon, they’re going to call your parents.”

“Um, that’s—”

“Like, ouuu, I’m so scared. Hey, are you rich by any chance? Not even rich—just like, you’re moderately above average and it’s likely that you have an inground pool? Or, you know someone who is rich?”

“I don’t, sorry…”

“Fuck—it’s whatever.”

“Can you move now? I’m leaving.”

“Oh, yeah—sorry. But you heard the thing I said right, about the washrooms and the clipboard? I hope you’re not going piss!”

Her and her friend were now too far behind you for a response to be meaningful. Your head was throbbing, almost like there was gun powder sitting in your skull instead of a brain, awaiting the flare to thunderously ignite. You tried to slink past the vending machines on your way out, hoping to be inconspicuous and unimportant.

“Uh—excuse me, young lady. I can’t let you walk out. It’s a little loud but I know you hear me.” The teacher started waggling her finger.

“Sorry.”

“Where are you going? Washroom? You’ll need to write your name down on this clipboard as well as the time. I know students have been complaining about this, but it’s a rule and no one is exempt.”

“No, I don’t need the washroom. My head hurts.”

“At least four other girls have told me that, then I saw them all together with this big bottle, stumbling around the track field when I was supervising. Just hold on a moment, I’ll radio a teacher to go with you outside. That way you can get some fresh air, and we know you’re not up to anything that’s against the rules. Can I have your name?”

“Is it for the clipboard?”

“Yes… I have a pencil—here.”

“Well… I don’t need someone to go with me outside.”

“It’s the rule. We need to keep track of all students.”

“I don’t have any alcohol. Or cigarettes.”

“I understand that, but—hey! Hey! You are not allowed to go anywhere unless—young lady, this is not okay!”

You heard the blip on her walkie-talkie as she attempted to alert some other teacher. She’d been following you to the doorway at the front of the school, though she stopped the second you were outside, picking up your pace until you were almost sprinting away from her. It was hardly rebellious—in your eyes, you saw it as less than pathetic. You had decided to turn cheek and flee from her like you had been sent to your room.

Chan wasn’t anywhere close to the boyfriend you had been convincing yourself he was. You didn’t even take his phone or dump his things on the floor or break up with him in the middle of the dance floor as some sort of hedonistic, petty revenge that wouldn’t bare any significance a year from now. Everything had felt so colourless and dull lately. You couldn’t tell if it was your own fault or not.

Balancing your feet at the very edge of the curb, you wondered why February had to be such an awful month. Nothing good had happened since it started. And now it was chilly and wet and dark outside, with big lumps of grey, dirt-speckled snow spilling hideously all over the place. You had left your jacket inside. The thinness of your long dress-shirt let the cold prick you like little razors, and you were beyond tired at pulling up those thigh-high socks which kept shrinking down your legs. February felt like it was asking to be punched in the face.

It seemed like just yesterday you were standing in this exact spot, beside Jennie, squinching through the brightness of a summer sky. You remembered waiting for her brother to appear around the corner in his silver car, his stereo vibrating with different songs each time, the interior smelling like mint gum and foam cleaner. Hansol was always in the front seat, sticking his hand out the window, singing confidently into the oncoming breeze with the boxiest grin on his face. You remembered the intense nervousness you felt accidentally catching Joshua’s eye in the rear-view mirror—how your fingers curled from the anxiety.

The air was too cold for you to stand still. Once a shudder wracked along your arms, you decided to keep walking, kicking a pebble that had melted out from another mushy pile of snow. Upon reaching the end of the sidewalk, extremely bright lights flooded behind you and the pebble was somehow swallowed up. An engine was guzzling heavy at your side and you contemplated crossing the street despite the pixelated red hand glaring at you. Then, you heard a window roll down.

“Are you the type of girl I can p—”

“I’m seventeen,” you interrupted, refusing to acknowledge the man who was eyeing you a little too excitedly from inside his vehicle.

“Well, I have a nice warm truck right here, in case you want to hop inside if you need a ride anywhere. I can unlock the door for ‘ya.”

“I said I’m seventeen.”

“I’ve seen lots of women like you when I wa—”

“I’m not a woman, I’m a teenager.”

You looked at him once through the inky shadows and saw that merely the outline of his face was visible, with slight glints hollowing what you suspected were his eyes. Something in your chest wobbled. The second the walking-man appeared, you hurried across the street with your thumbs tucked deeply into your fists. Too afraid to continue home alone, you swung into the corner store with the spring-painted overhang you had loved so much in your past, pretending to need something. You paused at the slushie machine—the greatest contributor to all your after-school brain freezes and headaches. An ‘out of order’ sign was taped to the glass. From the peeled, slightly stained edges of the paper, you assumed no one had bothered stopping by to repair it in months.

There wasn’t anything you could buy anyways. Joshua had always bought you a drink or a bag of mostly-air packaged chips when you stopped here—either that or he would give you something he bought for himself. At times you would sit beneath the overhang together, bracing through salt and vinegar flavoured chips that stung the soft, cushioned inside of your mouths, drinking soda, throwing the little stones at your feet. For the first time in a long while, you admitted it.

You missed him.

When the clerk disappeared underneath the counter to dislodge another magazine he had most likely read for the hundredth time, you slipped out the door delicately. You then removed your phone from its very convenient spot (tucked between your bra, obviously). For a moment, you studied the number that you had once blocked in the dusk of summer—certain it would never be touched again no matter how much you could be hurting, crying, or grieving the pieces of love you had somehow lost along the way. And you stayed true to that certainty. You didn’t unblock Joshua’s number, rather you just tempted yourself with the idea of it, like smelling a piece of cake but never taking a bite.

Of course, it was unsatisfying. But you pretended it wasn’t.

The river had to be nearby, the sort of thing you could always tell was getting closer and closer because the water sounded like busy wind in tree leaves. It started appearing over a distant crest, which you eventually came to pause at, staring down unto the bank and its large slabs of rock that were now frosted with snow. This was the place you were supposed to be with Chan—if he hadn’t completely ignored your compromise. The fact he wasn’t texting you, worried sick or even an inch concerned, engendered you to think you weren’t really anything to him at all. He didn’t want to be tethered by a girlfriend, that was obvious.

You stared for a little longer, growing colder and stiffer, tracing the places you stood when Joshua had been showing you how to skip stones. But then you started hearing footsteps crunch in the snow, and as you squinted down the bank, you sucked in a dry, freezing breath.

“Jennie!” Your voice cracked. “What the hell are you doing?!”

The girl stopped abruptly, and her shoes sunk awkwardly into the snow, her face visibly flushed in the street lights shining down on the shore. She seemed almost embarrassed to be caught by you, though it should have been the other way around, considering your last words to her were about her older brother rejecting you whilst sat on his lap.

“I’m walking to the corner store!” Jennie shouted back, burying herself deeper into the brown coat draped over her shoulders.

“Why?!”

“Why does it matter?!”

“… Uh, I dunno!”

“If you keep yelling, you’ll start an avalanche somewhere!”

“You’re yelling too!”

Somehow, you successfully managed your way down the riverbank without slipping on a hidden piece of ice. Jennie huffed as you approached her, shaking snow clumps off her sneaker.

“Why don’t you just take the sidewalk?” You asked.

It felt inconceivably strange to look at her face this directly after the fight—to gauge the slow unfurling of maturity in her cheekbones and jawline—to realize how tall she suddenly was—even her impressively long hair which surrounded her like a rippling, black sea. She took a moment before answering, leading you to believe she had studied your face as well. The thought made you uncomfortable yet pleased.

“Why are you dressed like a Dollar Store hooker?”

You couldn’t help but guffaw at that—her humour hadn’t evolved much.

“I went to the Stupid Cupid Dance.”

“Oh—that.”

“Why didn’t you go?”

“Uh… I don’t know,” Jennie shrugged, her eyes drifting along the dark expanses behind you, “I didn’t have anyone to go with.”

“You don’t need a date—”

“No—like, I know that. I don’t have any… friends, I mean.”

“That’s not true. I see you with people all the time. You’re popular as shit. What about Marina? Is she sick?”

“No. We haven’t been talking lately. I don’t think I missed out on anything, anyways. You already left, and by the looks of it, the dance was so bad you didn’t even want to stay to get your jacket. I don’t know how you’re not freezing your tits off. I’m cold, and I have a coat.”

“Yeah, I am cold, but I didn’t wanna go straight home ‘cause this weirdo pulled up beside me at the crosswalk. I was actually supposed to come here with Chan—he clearly had other things that mattered more.”

“Your boyfriend’s kinda lame.”

“Okay—yes, you’re right. Ouch, though.”

“I mean, you tend to like lame guys—my brother, for example.”

The nausea in your stomach dropped. It was a very sickly swirling of butterflies and the slight urge to vomit onto the snow, though you tacked a smile upon your face that definitely wasn’t as soft as you thought. Jennie then blew a strand of hair from her eyes, beginning to shake her head at you. It seemed that she wasn’t bitter, just confused.

“Well, he rejected me,” you stated simply.

She huffed in a gloomy breath, “I know.”

It was quiet again.

“I don’t like him anymo—”

“Oh—just stop, okay?” Jennie exhaled deeply through her teeth, and her gaze burned into yours like a flaming arrow. “I always suspected you had a crush on him. I don’t care anymore. I just wanted reasons to be mad at you since we were growing apart, and there wasn’t even a good explanation for it. I thought if I made up a reason to just—I don’t know—hate you, then it would make me feel better about us. We aren’t friends anymore and that’s fine. That’s what happens. That’s life.”

You struggled to swallow. It felt like the cold air had somehow frozen your throat, and now you could only stare at Jennie, speechless.

“He was so angry at me,” the girl continued, brushing something wet and shiny from her pink-stained cheek, “when I finally cracked and told him about our fight. I mean, he’s been like, ‘mad’ before, but never angry. Until then. Almost yelling at me—just, a bunch of emotion all over his face and stuff. I knew he was in love with you. He never wanted to say it, but he didn’t have to—like I said, he’s lame.”

For some reason, you couldn’t help chuckling.

“Oh yeah, he loves me—like a friend.”

“He just didn’t want to pressure you.”

“Jennie, I was in your brother’s fucking lap, kissing him. He didn’t pressure me at all. And he said something like, ‘I can’t do this, I shouldn’t do this’, and he didn’t even try to stop me from leaving. How could I have made it any clearer I wanted him?”

“Okay—well! My brother is an idiot, then! I don’t know what else to tell you—he got cold feet, he was worried about a long-distance relationship, it all felt too soon, he wasn’t sure how I’d react—I don’t know what he was thinking. I just know he had feelings for you, and if I somehow interfered and ruined it for you two, I’m sorry. But at this point, I don’t care what happens. I honestly never did. Just don’t pretend that you’re not still in love with him ‘cause you think I’ll be mad about it.”

After a tired, musing sigh, you broke off from her eyes and stared across the river, rubbing at your cheeks that were numb and stiff. It was then you realized how fucking insufferably cold you were, to which Jennie unzipped her long brown coat, gesturing for you to huddle beside her underneath it. You didn’t hesitate—not even for a second.

“It’s atrocious out here,” she breathed unsteadily into the lashing wind, “my house is closer than yours. You can warm up there.”

“Didn’t you need to go to the convenience store?”

You heard the smile she fought to supress as she huffed, “I lied. I was just taking a walk. I don’t know why I lied about that.”

“When it’s this cold?”

“Shut up! You have no room to talk right now.”

“I know, I know. But, really—you could have just stayed home.”

With a secure grip on her far shoulder, you both made baby steps up the riverbank, back toward the street. Jennie clutched your waist.

“I’m tired of being at home. I don’t have anything to do there.”

You giggled, “why not watch a movie? Or play a video game?”

“It’s not fun by yourself.”

“Well, we should do that—watch a movie or something. I wanted to stay home, anyways. And we can make big mugs of hot chocolate.”

“I think we have marshmallows,” Jennie said while smiling.

For some reason, you thought you could cry. There seemed to be a distant, swelling sting pressing at the back of your eyes, enough for you to sniffle and thickly swallow, though the tears never actually fell. It was just… nice… to talk with Jennie again. She was the one part of your life that you believed would always stick, and having her slip so rapidly from between your fingers had been a tough knife in your back. You weren’t positive if after tonight things would still be this cordial. Maybe you two would wake up again, knowing there was nothing left but dust in all the cracks and crevices of your friendship. It was impossible to say.

Right now, however, she was the person you needed most.

You sensed it was the same for her.

Joshua came home at the beginning of June.

A little less than a year had passed since you last saw him at his graduation party—the day responsible for birthing your abruptly decided choice to weed him from your life. It was easier to commit to such an extremity knowing he was hundreds of kilometers away. Yet, that didn’t mean it was easy exiling him. How were you supposed to forgot about someone who spent the last five years comfortably burrowing in your head and heart? And—right when you thought it was possible to finally cut the remaining wire, he pulled back into the Hong driveway in that silver bullet car like he’d never left. As easy as a cool breeze.

You were walking to the corner store that day, knowing they had a help wanted sign currently hanging in their window. It seemed like a simple gig, it’s just that you wouldn’t be allowed to ring up cigarettes, lottery tickets or beer. Passing Joshua and Jennie’s house was almost inevitable, though you had officially accepted the portrait of their driveway without that silvery, shiny car. So, when you casually flicked your head left to glimpse their house across the street, you were stunned and even horrified to see the vehicle once erased from your thoughts.

It was reversed into the driveway. The trunk was popped open, and judging by their open garage, someone was lugging suitcases into the house. You didn’t move for a solid minute. Instead, you watched the trunk, as you swore that someone was digging through it. And then you saw a hand touch the top edge, running along its chrome embellishment before beginning to slam it down. You knew it was Joshua before you even saw the person’s face—he had very particular ways of doing things. At first, he didn’t notice you while adjusting the duffle bag strapped over his shoulder and the backpack hanging off his other arm. The lanyard to his car keys was cutely dangling from his mouth.

His eyes impetuously scanned the street, whisking over you like the dull detail nobody was moved enough to highlight—until something about him jerked and suddenly he was squinting directly at you. He slowly took the car keys from his mouth, continuing to observe you from across the street, most likely attempting to fill in the differences of your face and figure—decide if it was even you, he was squinching at.

Immediately, you felt sick to your stomach.

Every single emotion, thought, and feeling came stampeding back through your bones and your skin and your blood. It was almost suffocating—like witnessing a tidal wave of your own secrets looming so far above that you needed to crane your neck to find where it stopped. In your next breath, you were walking away, refusing to look back.

The worst part was feeling Joshua watch you.

The worst, worst part was knowing you weren’t any less in love with him than before he left.

[ jenn-E | 2:14 pm ]: if ur heading to the house now I prob won’t be home for another half hour. stupid dentist appointment!! >:(

[ _____ | 2:14 pm ]: do you not have a drill in ur mouth rn?

[ _____ | 2:14 pm ]: you’re being such an irresponsible patient!!

[ jenn-E | 2:14 pm ]: she left the room. and I like the drill.

[ _____ | 2:14 pm ]: weirdo alert

[ jenn-E | 2:14 pm ]: RUDE!!!

[ jenn-E | 2:14 pm ]: see u soon <3 garage door should be open

[ _____ | 2:15 pm ]: okay! byebye <3

You slid the phone back into your shorts pocket, continuing down the sidewalk with one eye pierced shut. The sun was beaming on you so intensely that you felt the warm sting along your arms and legs, and there was probably a sweaty shine brighter than the north star reflecting off your forehead. Sometimes summer was insufferable. It felt like there was nothing you could do to cool down. There better be ice cream in the fridge, you thought, or a whole package of popsicles. As you drew nearer to the house, you saw that the garage door was indeed open. Then you started walking hurriedly into their driveway.

It was too goddamn hot out.

“Yeah, I’ll try that next… Mmhm… I thought it went the other way?... No—the other, other way… Dude? Are you fucking stupid?... I didn’t mean that, I didn’t mean it… Never mind Jeonghan, I meant it.”

Oh no. Joshua wasn’t supposed to be at home today. His car wasn’t in the driveway, so you hadn’t anticipated marching straight into this astonishingly awkward predicament. You forgot about the old couch they kept in their garage. Jennie used to quip and demand for Joshua to play his guitar there since she couldn’t stand the noise of him railing on the chords. He was speaking to someone on the phone—Jeonghan, his roommate—though he was wearing his earbuds so Joshua hadn’t heard you come in. For a snap-instant, you contemplated turning the other way and making a very understandable sprint back home.

“Okay, just send me the chord progression you’re thinking of then… Oh? Wait, I have my guitar, listen to this… Good, right?... If there’s tweaks then—yeah, yeah, exactly… Just send me it and I’ll—”

Well, it was too late for that, anyway. Joshua had finally noticed you standing like some ghostly apparition who definitely thought they were invisible by the garage threshold. His eyes widened in shock, and you couldn’t help but crack a tiny smile as he attempted to push his roommate off the phone. You sighed, walking toward him slowly.

“I have to go—‘cause, I do!... No I would never do that, I really need to go, though… Send-me-the-chord-progression-okay-bye!” He chucked the last sentence together so quickly it sounded like one word and proceeded to pull out his earbuds.

You had no idea what to do, what to say, or how to piece together an expression on your face that wasn’t strained. He cleared off the coffee table of its old magazines and thick newspapers, to which you sat down across from him with clammy hands clutching your shorts and the largest lump in your throat. God—you hadn’t seen his face in nearly a year, and what a beautiful face he had. His hair was the slightest bit copperier, like it had been sun-kissed, and his skin seemed to have tanned as well. Even his cheeks had maturely sharpened out. You had trouble staring at him, especially his eyes, because you knew exactly how they made you feel—it was a drink of something warm and sweet and glimmery.

“So…” Joshua started to lean back, plucking a few soft strings on his guitar, “I’m still blocked, y’know? Just in case you forgot.”

“I haven’t,” you reminded him in an instant, trying inconceivably hard not to let the dopiest fucking smirk take over your face.

“You hate me?”

“No.”

“Do you want to hate me?”

“What’s the point of this?” Discretely rubbing off your palms, you managed to lock eyes with him, though only for a second.

Joshua shrugged, quirking his head at you.

“I’m trying to figure out why I’m still blocked.”

“Because I needed to get you… out.”

“Out of what?” He chuckled. “Your life?”

His question, you didn’t answer. These weren’t exactly things you wanted to admit aloud, let alone to the face of the person who was the subject. It seemed embarrassing, and maybe it shouldn’t be—maybe you should just own how you felt during those moments because you deserved the chance to finally just breathe. Stop holding things so tight until they popped into an explosion like the fight with Jennie.

“Yes,” you sighed after the brief silence, “I was hurt, and I was angry, and I didn’t want to sit in those feelings. That’s it.”

Joshua nodded, “because of what I said to you that day.”

“Essentially, yeah.”

You weren’t sure if he was going to apologize again. It hadn’t done him any good the last time, so you assumed he wouldn’t bother. For a moment, you contemplated asking him about what Jennie had told you that night at the river, when she revealed that he supposedly loved you.

Nothing ever left your mouth. The timing wasn’t right.

“So, do I get unblocked or not?” Joshua huffed.

Your feet crossed shyly. “Um, I’ll think about it… how’s school?”

“Uh, it has its ups and downs, highs and lows. I’m guessing you didn’t come here to ask about that. Jennie’s not home until later.”

“I know. She’s at the dentist.”

Joshua smiled, sitting up straighter and setting his guitar aside.

“Well, I’m glad you two patched it up. That doesn’t always happen. Not that there’s anything wrong with drifting away. I wasn’t sure if Hansol and I would keep talking. He’s in South Korea right now.”

“I heard, from Jennie.”

“Yeah,” the boy sighed, “they text and stuff.”

“Are you bothered by that?”

“No…?” Joshua replied ambiguously, scratching his head. “I haven’t decided yet. Hansol is cool, anyways. I’m not worried. But what about you? How’s your life been since I hit the city?”

At that, you leaned back against the coffee table and laughed, covering your mouth with a nervous hand. Upon first glance, it had been a boring yet deleterious mess—convincing yourself that you were happier and better off despite the very conspicuous hole suckling like a whirlpool in your chest. But if you looked a little deeper, it had been a journey of acknowledging said mess. You didn’t know how to explain it to Joshua.

“It was interesting.”

“Really? That’s all I get? I think you’re skirting the question.”

“Obviously,” you giggled again, “it’s a long story and not one you’d want to hear right now. I’ll tell you some other time.”

“Fine,” he succumbed, shoving his hands in his pockets, “did you get a boyfriend? Is that why you don’t wanna say anything?”

The heat engulfed you instantly, almost as though you were back outside and suffering under the density of those sun rays. The relationship with Chan had ended after the dance. He was utterly confused about the reasons why, prompting you to feel a bit of pity as you broke up him with him on his porch the next morning. Joshua tilted his head curiously, something a little playful and glinting in his eyes.

“I had a boyfriend,” you answered simply, almost whispered.

He started grinning, moving into an engaged position with his elbows on his knees. You quivered subtly at the closeness.

“Of course. Who?”

“Just, someone from my grade,” you prevaricated.

The boy’s gaze had fixed on you indefinitely.

“Who?”

“Someone.”

He gripped your shoulders—“Who?!”

You were burning up, and pushed him back—“Someone!”

Joshua collapsed against the couch, beginning to cross his arms while making a tsking sound with his teeth. The urge to excitably laugh hadn’t left the back of your throat, and you couldn’t stop mumbling around it as Joshua furrowed his brow at you. Having him touch you so suddenly struck a match. Your feelings hadn’t subsided in the slightest.

“I don’t think it’s important who. And, besides, you don’t deserve to know right now. We broke up back in February.”

“So, I don’t get to just know things about you now?” He asked, melting further down the couch. “I have to earn it?”

“Mmhm.”

He smirked, “fair enough… why’d you break up with him?”

“I didn’t say that I broke up with him.”

“Okay,” Joshua shrugged, losing his transient half-smile, “but we all know you did. Why? He didn’t treat you well enough, yeah?”

Your hands clenched together, pressing uncomfortably.

“We can talk about it later… what about you? Girlfriend?”

“No.”

You raised your brow and decided to poke at him, “wow—even with those eyes? Or does your sweetheart act not cut it anymore? Have you resorted to drugs, Joshua? It’s okay, you can tell me.”

“Oh, you’re so fucking funny,” he pretended to laugh while pushing his sneaker gently against your knee, “I just didn’t want one.”

Suddenly, your phone buzzed. Taking it out from your pocket, you saw that Jennie had sent a text about how she was heading home now. You swallowed tautly, glancing up at Joshua who seemed to realize what the vibration was. He looked rather disappointed, and you felt it deep in your gut too. There was so much more to talk about and joke about and this little sliver of time in the cool, shady garage had whipped past in a mere blink. But at least there was more transparency. Jennie knew and there was no reason to play coy. The whole summer and all its vibrance was still at your feet. You didn’t have to rush anything.

“It was nice catching up with you,” Joshua said, pulling the guitar back onto his lap, “shoot me a text whenever you decide to unblock me.”

“You won’t ignore me? Even with your big fancy university lifestyle now? Greasy takeout and bags of coins for the laundromat?”

“Never,” he smiled, winking casually, “by the way—”

Turning around in the doorway, you tilted your head at him.

“You look really pretty.”

18.

Joshua’s October reading week was nearly over—he’d be packing his suitcases tomorrow morning and escorted back into the city alongside some help from his father. You’d been invited over to their house for sushi night, to which you were currently fighting Jennie off with your chopsticks for the last yam tempura roll. She decided to let you have it, muttering something along the lines of, only because you’re the guest.

It had been roughly three years since your last dinner at their house, and while it was a bit nerve-wracking, you relaxed continuously throughout the night (which could be also attributed to the saké that Mrs. Hong let you pour a decent-sized cup of). Jennie slipped back into the dining room once she grabbed a soda can from the fridge, leaving you alone in the kitchen to decide between the last fried wonton or vegetable spring roll. You sighed, pinching your chopsticks in thought.

“Save room for dessert, y’know? They gave us ice cream.”

Joshua approached the sink, rinsing off his plate and emptied glass under the water. He’d drank more from that saké bottle than you, indicated by the peach-pink glow traversing his cheeks.

“I know, but I’m greedy. I haven’t eaten sushi in forever.”

He came beside you (who still couldn’t decide) and opened one of the drawers to remove some spoons for the ice cream. Joshua then proceeded to pick up the last golden-fried wonton with your chopsticks and dropped it onto your plate. You gaped at him as he nudged a quick kiss against your temple, watching the boy now pull open the freezer.

“I hadn’t made up my mind yet!”

Joshua shrugged, “now you don’t have to. The wonton is good, anyway. It’s got this slightly sweet cream cheese filling.”

“Blah, blah.”

Mrs. Hong entered the kitchen, exchanging a few words between you and Joshua while she cleaned her dishes. She said that her and her husband would be going upstairs to their bedroom for a movie.

“You and Jennie are welcome to do anything. Joshua—I’m guessing you’ll be in the garage? Or will you start packing tonight, dear?”

“Uh, I’ll start tonight. Makes it easier.”

“Okay, perfect. Here—I’ll help you take out the ice cream.” She took two of the bowls, but stopped in the doorway, “are you coming?”

“Yeah, I will,” Joshua replied, “in a sec.”

Once she left upstairs, you felt Joshua’s body push against your spine, his hand tapping your chin and lightly guiding your head to tilt back onto his shoulder. His parents didn’t know of the relationship and neither did yours. Only Jennie was aware. She had been easy to tell.

“I want to do something with you tonight,” Joshua whispered into your ear, his breath warm and ticklish, “after hours, of course.”

“Like what?” You asked in a soft, hushed tone, smiling against your bitten lip. The depth of his eye contact was so exhilarating that you wanted to pounce on him right then and there, refraining by a mere hair.

His hands drifted down to your hips, squeezing them.

“Nothing too special. I’ll surprise you.”

“Okay,” you lilted, “I like surprises. Sometimes.”

Immediately pushing up to meet his lips, you kissed him, lifting a hand behind you to run your fingers slowly through his hair. Put simply, the relationship had ignited just before Joshua left for his second year of university. He came to walk you home from a night shift at the corner store, the both of you kicking pebbles down the sidewalk and dancing around the topic that was so evidently dying to burst. That’s when you decided to ask him about what Jennie had said.

“Was she right? Were you in love with me?”

“Honestly, at the time, I don’t think I could have given you a straight answer. I knew that I felt something, but I wasn’t sure if it was right. You were always in the back of my mind. I thought about you more than I’d care to admit. But when I look at you now, I can definitively say I loved you... I love you, still. ”

Since the fading aurora of that late summer night, you two started dating. It was a fairly covert operation, yet that made it all the more alive and electrifying. The topic of the graduation party had consequently resurfaced—Joshua said he was just overwhelmed by his feelings for you, and that he crumbled in the moment. You didn’t care about the incident though. He was kissing and holding you now.

“Okay, let’s meet Jennie back in the dining room,” you giggled, pushing him away from licking and teething a mark to your neck, “and I’ll let you know what I think of this very crispy looking wonton.”

This year you and Jennie would be graduating. She had offered to do your nails and make-up, which were skills she had picked up from hanging out so frequently with her old girly-girl crowd. You had met some of them—the actually genuine ones who you could imagine holding back your hair during a wicked hangover or offering their most treasured life advice through a bathroom stall at a party. Jennie had maintained some of her interests from them, though she still liked the things you had originally known her for. It was a wholesome change.

“What style of nails do you want? Personally, I like the really pointy stiletto ones because it’s so easy to scratch people.”

“Of course that’s why you like them,” Joshua rolled his eyes, spooning some mango ice cream into his mouth.

“Maybe you could practice a bit on Joshua,” you laughed.

“Yes!” Jennie exclaimed, reaching over to ruffle her older brother’s pretty, mussed hair, “that’s so perfect, isn’t it, Joshy Woshy?”

He swatted her hand away, “I told you to stop calling me that. I don’t call you Jennifer anymore.” A gradual smirk crossed his lips.

That was the cardinal sin. Never call her Jennifer. You opted to stay quiet and finish your deep-fried wonton while they bickered and sniped at each other. At least it wasn’t about the fork with the oddly-dented prong this time. That always tended toward a wrestling match.

nsfw warning. 

skip to next divider if wanted!

“Shit, right there!”

Your hand flung into the darkness, bumping against the glass of the backseat window, its condensation wiped off in a messy, uncoordinated smudge. It felt too fucking good—his tongue, pressing up your most sensitive area, indulging slowly in each swirl and kiss and flick as if he would never get the opportunity to taste you here again. It was sometime past one in the morning, his car stalled in the empty lot overlooking the river bank, one single lamp post scattering the windows with a distant, glowing tint. You breathed in deep, closing your eyes.

“You like it that much?” Joshua laughed huskily, readjusting the leg cast down his shoulder. “You’ve got tears all over your face, baby.”

“Just give me more,” you whined in impatience, thrusting your hips toward his mouth with frustration, sensing his hovering breath.

He smirked, placing his thumb just above your clit and pulling back against the skin to expose it more clearly. Everything between your thighs had been generously drenched with your arousal and his spit.

“Are you sure? Think you can take cumming again? I won’t give you a break this time.” There was a teasing nature about his voice.

“Fuck, Joshua, I don’t care! Just keep licking me, please!”

“You’re so fucking whiney,” he murmured, suddenly jerking your body further down the upholstery, “I’ll let you drown me, then.”

In the next instant, his face was stuffed back into your heat, the touches of his tongue and the relentless slurping shooting every nerve in your body to starlight. You couldn’t help but thread your fingers into his wavy, sweat-dampened hair, holding him there as he practically drank you, feeling the pleasure tick higher and higher and higher. Even your hips adapted a mind of their own, attempting to grind against his face so that you could engulf him as much as possible. He caught onto your clit again, sliding his tongue directly into its most sensitive golden spot.

“Fuckfuckfuck,” you moaned into the thick air, “like that, like that—hh-holy shit! M’g’nna cum, Joshua! Please, keep going!”

At that point, you didn’t even know what to articulate. A sheen of sweat had soaked through the thin t-shirt you wore to dinner, your skirt left in a pile in the passenger seat as it had been ripped off earlier. Joshua focused relentlessly on that one perfect spot until you tipped over the edge. The scream broke down in your throat before it could even hit the mugginess around you, not that anyone would have been able to hear you given the time. Contortions twitched through your face while your hips spasmed. And Joshua took it. He took everything. He was most definitely smirking as he slurped your pussy like ice cream—even pinned down your wrist when you began to weakly push and nudge at his head.

“Holy fuck, yy-you’re crazy, Jos—nngh!” Your voice wilted at the sensation of his tongue curling inside of you, wriggling just to ruin you a little further. Half your consciousness was floating in an intangible dimension behind your eyelids. “M’gonna be so fucking sore.”

Once he was satisfied with licking clean the mess between your thighs, Joshua ripped apart the buttons on your pale shirt, kissing up your stomach, your chest, pushing his slick lips onto yours and digging his warm tongue into your mouth. You grabbed his pants, helping tug them off while tasting every bit of yourself.

“I need t’fuck you so bad,” he whispered into your ear, his honeyed voice becoming coarser with desire, “while I still have your taste on my tongue—” your leg was then stretched over his shoulder again, “I need to be inside you more than anything—” he guided himself in with a single thrust, your gasps flushing together, “all these things I wanna do to you, all these things I wanna make you feel—” your nails carved into his back, dragging in scores across the muscle, “I want you t’keep crying for me—” his hand pressed into the slippery car window, leaving an imprint in the fog as he fluidly moved his hips against you, staring down at your wet, breathless face, “I want you to know how much I’m in love with you when I fuck your pretty body like this.”

Your lips trembled into a reverie-like smile. Gripping gently at the back of his neck, you sunk him down for a slow, thorough kiss.

“Love you too…” you whimpered, “ss-so much…”

The desperation and strength of your lust had just been too surmounting in the moment. Joshua hadn’t pulled out onto your stomach like he usually did, opting to keep himself nested inside as he shuddered and let his body release. When you came around him, there was next to nothing you remembered apart from the stars that twinkled through the open sky-light of the car and the intense convulsion you experienced while gazing at them. Joshua laid against you while he caught his breath. You couldn’t stop staring at the world above that resembled a beautiful black beach. There was something so spectacular about it—something so comfortable about quirking Joshua’s head toward the roof in order for him to see what you were seeing.

He nudged your temple with his nose.

“I didn’t plan for the stars to be out. I got lucky.” He answered in between warm breaths.

You turned to look at him with a faint simper. The tingles and throbs of pleasure were still pricking you, fading ever so gradually.

“I like to think they popped out just for us.”

He chuckled, “to see us have sex in the backseat of my car?”

You mushed a hand into his face, “don’t ruin the moment!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Joshua apologized, to which you stopped squishing your palm awkwardly into his cheek, “you’re right, they’re shining for us. Um, and, you’ve got your morning after, right? You said it was in your bag or something.”

“Yeah, I’ve got it. We probably shouldn’t be that careless.” You laughed.

“Probably. But you feel so good.” 

“I know,” you poked out your tongue playfully, “let’s just not make a habit of it.”

“Fair enough.”

“It’s getting pretty late, though. Don’t you want to be home at least a little early? Catch more sleep before leaving?”

He shook his head nonchalantly, then notched you closer against his bare skin by the hip. The motion prompted you to shiver at the sensitive feeling of him still deep inside you, a soft breath exhaled from between your lips. Joshua decided to sweep his fingers delicately up and down your face to relax you, knowing your nerves were rather burnt out.

“It’s alright. I have time with you now. That’s what I care about.”

Present.

It wasn’t the most ideal day to be moving cardboard boxes of your appliances, pictures, and whatever else miscellaneous belongings into the building— especially considering the three staircases you had to climb. Unfortunately, you couldn’t control the weather, and that seemed to be proved almost spitefully as a fat, cold raindrop spat directly onto your forehead. With two boxes balanced against your chest, you let it dribble down toward your eye, until you spotted Jennie hopping out the front door to the complex and whined for her to wipe the droplet away.

“At least all the super heavy stuff was moved up yesterday,” she tried to include something positive, flipping up the hood of her plasticky-green raincoat, “this is just the knickknacks. I hope.”

“Mostly—hey, can you grab that box with the lamp? It’s sitting behind the passenger seat. Oh, thank you—you’re a gem.”

“I know,” Jennie chirped, poking out her tongue.

By the time most cardboard boxes were moved into the apartment, you had experienced one downpour and another ditzy, sweet-smelling rain shower about half an hour later. The bottoms of your feet were aching. You kicked off your wet shoes onto the welcome mat and proceeded straight to the fridge, pulling out the first drink you saw—an orange cream soda. Officially toasting to your first apartment with some fancy alcohol would come later, when you weren’t damp and hungry and ready to chew someone’s head off like a dog with a meaty bone.

Joshua then pushed open the door, carrying what you assumed was the last box. He walked over to the living area, pausing for a brief moment as he decided where amongst the brown sea of cardboard it should be placed. You watched him balance it atop another big box.

“Please tell me there’s no more,” you pouted, leaning all your weight against the island countertop, “I’m about to disassemble.”

“Disassemble?” Joshua laughed, toeing off his shoes beside yours on the mat, “are you a Polly Pocket or something?”

“Yes, I am. You’re in a relationship with a piece of plastic.”

“Hm, I can’t believe I’m just figuring this out now.”

He opened the fridge, peering around inside. There wasn’t much to look at apart from some bagged vegetables, cheese, a single carton of coffee creamer, and the orange soda cans. You had opted for takeout tonight, but Joshua insisted that he should cook something special—a little market area was just down the street, anyway. He ended up grabbing a soda can, cracking it open over the sink with a satisfying hiss.

“Well, we live here now,” Joshua said, rubbing his hand down the back of your jacket, “was it a pain in the ass? Yeah. But we have a home.”

You straightened out, peeling yourself off the counter. The terrace was most definitely going to be your favourite part come summertime. Joshua liked the floor-length windows for the sunlight.

“Do you think you can buy garlic bread? Or—no—focaccia? The rosemary kind like we had at that restaurant in the fall? Don’t you remember how good that was? We couldn’t even eat our dinner.”

Joshua grinned, his hand lingering at your lower back as he brought the soda can to his lips, “I remember that place. I’m pretty sure I could make the focaccia too. Probably not too hard… anything else?”

After taking a sip from your own drink, you raised a brow.

“What do you mean?”

“Is there anything else you want for dinner?”

You smiled at him, leaning back against his chest.

“I’ll have to think about it.”

Suddenly, Jennie had poked her head through the door, waving you over with a hand. You exchanged a quick kiss with Joshua and approached her, to which you were abruptly dragged outside into the corridor, yelping. Jennie reached into her pocket for a moment.

“What’s this all about?” You grumbled.

The girl then shoved a tiny pink and white box into your chest.

“Oh my god—Jennie, I’ve told you! I’m not pregnant!”

“Like you actually know!” She rebutted, folding her arms and moving her soaked feet about nervously. “From what you’ve been telling me, it seems at least likely. You need to try it. And tell me!”

Taking a few seconds to glance over the box, you could only upend a gigantic sigh. Sure, you had told Jennie that your period was running late (but that wasn’t particularly rare for you), and you also complained about urinating more than usual. Besides, you and Joshua were fairly careful. You couldn’t remember a time when you hadn’t swallowed a plan b pill the following morning. Massaging at your sore temple, you decided to just capitulate and shove the box in your pocket.

“I can’t believe you’re making me do this.”

“All you gotta do is pee on a stick, babe.”

“I know what I have to do—” you gesticulated with a wildly flailing hand, puffing out an exhale, “I just think these changes or irregularities or whatever you want to call them are a coincidence.”

“Blah, blah, blah. Just take the test.”

“Obviously, I will.”

“Thank you,” Jennie said, patting your shoulder, “I just don’t want this to sneak up on you—in case it’s true! Note I said in case!”

“Yes, I did note that,” a smile managed to plant on your exhausted face, “I’ll try it, okay? Are you staying for dinner?”

“Nah,” the girl waved her hand dismissively, “I’ll let you two enjoy the first night here, alone. But I will be returning, and I will be expecting Joshua to cook me an entire meal like he’s doing for you.”

“Aw, Hansol still hasn’t found his way around a grill, huh?” You giggled, recalling the last time you visited them for supper and the boy had somehow charred everyone’s burgers into measly black pucks.

“His mind wanders,” Jennie sighed hopefully, “he’ll get there.”

“I believe that too.” You agreed while taking a step forward, wrapping your best friend and her crinkly raincoat into a hug. She returned the embrace. Both of you were practically leaning on the other for stability, clearly beaten from those heavy, clunky boxes and the number of steps you’d taken since lunch. You stayed like that for a minute, until there was a mutual choice to lug your weight off each other.

“Sleep in tomorrow!” Jennie sang as she continued waving goodbye from down the corridor. “Get him to make you breakfast, too!”

“Obviously!” You called back, smiling and admittedly a bit teary.

When you returned inside the apartment, Joshua had already pulled out some things from the boxes. All the paintings were leaned up against the wall while a few of the kitchen appliances had been organized onto the counter. Looking outside, you saw it was starting to brighten up between the clouds, the still drops on the windows glistering.

Joshua then collapsed onto the couch he’d cleared off.

“So, what was that all for? Gossiping about me?”

You huffed innocuously and plopped down beside him.

“Imagine a world where we have nothing better to do than gossip about you? Can you imagine it? No? Me either, sweetie.”

He pulled your hand away from shaking his jaw.

“You’re annoying—what was it?”

Digging a hand into your pocket, you touched the edge of the pregnancy test, though you hesitated before revealing it. The more you thought into the possibility, the more your heart started pounding with the idea that it could be true—maybe you really were pregnant. No, you had to swat the anxiously bubbling feelings away. Cross the bridge when you get there. Heaving a big breath, you flicked the test onto his lap.

Joshua merely stared at it, until he picked up the box and began reading the label. His mouth fell open in a stutter, but then it closed and he quirked an eyebrow at you because his words just weren’t conjuring.

“Um, yeah. Jennie thinks I might be pregnant. So… that’s something fun I can try tonight. Dinner and a pregnancy test.”

“Are you actua—I mean, d-do you think you are?”

Pressing your head back into the couch, your eyes drifted along the ceiling in search of some concrete answer that just wasn’t there.

“I… don’t know…” you finally said, looking to your boyfriend who was glancing at the test again, “I told you about my period being late, but that’s happened before. And I’m having to pee a lot more than usual—I get headaches now and then. I just—maybe I am!” You slid further down the couch, biting your lip. “How would you feel if it was positive?”

“How would I feel?” He echoed, leaning forward to set the test on the coffee table, his hands clasping and rubbing together. “Obviously I’d be fucking ecstatic, sweetheart. But, I mean, this is your body, and—”

“Really?” That caught you by surprise.

You sat up and pulled your knees to your chest, angling your body to face him properly. “This is something you want? Like, I know we’ve glossed the topic before and we both agree that, yes, this is in our future. But… you’re okay if it… happens now?”

Joshua scooted closer to you, fitting his palm perfectly against your cheek. His gaze poured so intimately into yours, and it felt like an invisible thread was connecting your stream of thoughts and emotions.

“If it happens now then I’ll be even more excited,” his dampened hair brushed your forehead as you softly pushed your lips together, fingers skimming through his hair, “we’ll start with dinner, and we’ll see what happens afterward, okay?” 

He kissed you again, pulling your body closer and firmer into his chest. “I love you.”

You nodded appreciatively, whispering, “I love you, too.”

Of course, you had no idea what was going to happen with the pregnancy test, and even if you could somehow see into the future, what was the point of spoiling things for yourself? What was the point of knowing the punches if you were better off getting hit, anyway? You just needed to be patient. You needed to take each second, minute, and half-hour at a time, because the universe always seemed to have a place for you, even when it felt like you were floating alone at the farthest perimeters of its arms. Joshua got up from the couch, grabbing his wallet off the coffee table and slipping back into his shoes. He was going to the market. At least the sun was starting to make its golden blips down onto the earth after all the rain, so he wouldn’t be walking underneath darkness.

Right, dinner first.

That was how this whole thing started, anyway.

✧✎ TAGLIST: @02psh / @ally-127 / @astersg4rden / @aunty-tiger-potato / @boowanie / @celestialpearls / @dokyeomblr / @gventaken / @hesbambi / @honglynights / @hyuckworld​ / @j4d​ / @joshuahongsfuturewife / @joshuas / @junhuilov3r / @kellyooo13 / @koishua / @lovelywoo / @quicksilverster / @rae-blogging / @sseastar-main / @ucantstopthefunk / @woozes​ / @wonwoonlight​

Could not be tagged: @lovelacejun / @manamiyx / @notscoupy / @soonchanshua 

✧✎ a/n: OKAY. I’M SO HAPPY THIS IS DONE. this fic wouldn’t have taken me so long if 2021/2022 hadn’t been as busy as they were!! again, i just want to fork out a massive apology for my inactivity! i hate producing so little writing but knowing ME and my undying urge to write questionably long fics, i somehow created a very counterproductive system LOL. 

anywho, i honestly loved every opportunity i had to work on this fic since it follows the reader as they grow up, and, coincidentally, i also grew a lot during the literal fucking year it took me to finish this. there are so many new scenes compared to the og version and i personally adored writing the side-arc between reader & jennie:_) and i tried to add some humourous stuff too since it got a little angsty at times!! i hope anyone who finishes this fic develops even the slightest bit of joy that i felt while writing it. THX SO MUCH! LUV U.

#joshua scenarios #seventeen scenarios #joshua fanfic #svt fanfic #seventeen smut #seventeen fluff #joshua smut #joshua fluff #seventeen angst #joshua angst #joshua hong #seventeen x reader #joshua x reader

[cacoetheswriting]

what happens at the drive-in...

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader word count: 3.5k warnings: friends to lovers, mutual pining, kinda angsty, very fluffy, emotional hurt / comfort, jealousy, adult language and somewhat mature themes, use of pet names (sweetheart), mentions of food and alcohol consumption, mentions of violence (in the movies they watch) - unedited - pls let me know if i missed anything! summary: an unspecified amount of time in the lives of eddie munson and his best friend, as you watch various movies together and your platonic relationship blossoms into something more.

a/n: technically a part two to this little fic, but can definitely be read as a standalone.

-

There is a small part of your brain that constantly wonders what if, when it comes to Eddie Munson.

What if you told him how much you enjoy it when he unintentionally reaches for your hand whenever the two of you are alone?

What if you didn’t ignore the way he looked at you sometimes, and vice versa?

What if you had let Eddie kiss you last year after the homecoming dance when he called you beautiful for the very first time?

Or more recently during Halloween when the two of you crashed a random house party and everyone complimented his Frank N. Furter costume? The stupid happy grin was plastered across his face the whole night and he kept thanking you for “turning the freaky into something desirable.”, to which you drunkenly replied: “I always find you desirable, Eddie Munson.”.

What if you never put Eddie in the strictly platonic box in the first place? Would it be easier now to cross that invisible line you both drew during the course of your friendship?  

What if… 

“Then she laughed at my joke,” Eddie states with excitement, breaking you away from your thoughts, “Can you believe it? Betsy Bolton found something I said funny.”

He looks at you and your heart sinks because you haven’t seen him this amped up about a girl since his unrequited secret crush on Chrissy Cunningham while you were dating your then boyfriend Andy.

But you plaster the best heartwarming smile you can muster and reply honestly, “Because you are, Eddie, a funny guy, so I’m just glad someone else finally made you realise.”

There is a hint of hurt detectable in the sound of your voice, betraying the facial expression you put on for his benefit. Eddie notices immediately although doesn’t react to it — for your benefit.

“No offence but as my best friend, I’m not going to believe you when you tell me I’m funny,” he says instead and lifts a tape from the counter, “I took the liberty of renting out ‘Salem’s Lot’, if that’s okay?”

You nod in response and he gets to work in setting up this evening’s movie.

“Full offence because, as your best friend, I am the only one that can tell you the brutal honest truth which includes when you’re not being funny.”

“You’ve never once uttered those words to me, sweetheart.” Eddie sits next to you on the sofa, casually throwing one arm behind you. His fingers graze your shoulder in the process and your stomach flips. 

“Yet you still choose to believe Betsy Bolton over me,” you sigh dramatically, ignoring how you were feeling to retain some normality, and place the back of your hand to your forehead in a fainting motion. You tip towards him, gently landing into his chest as you let out a giggle.

Eddie laughs too. He looks down at you, a goofy grin highlighting his features. Then, as the two of you lock eyes, there is a brief moment of silence. Normality is fucked.

What if you just reached for his collar and pulled him in…

The curly haired teen clears his throat and you bite the inside of your cheek, forcing the intrusive thoughts to dissipate from your mind, before sitting back up to focus your attention on the television screen.

Everything is tense again.

You blame yourself. Eddie blames ‘The Neverending Story’. 

He also thinks he should have told you then and there how he really feels because what if you felt the same way?

ALIEN

Every time that ugly creature makes an appearance, you can’t help but gag, and Eddie can’t help but chuckle next to you.

“I can’t believe this is one of your favourite films,” you exclaim about three-quarters through, not hiding your disgust.

He shrugs and without taking his eyes off the screen, he skews closer to you and simply states: “Sigourney Weaver is hot.”.

You roll your eyes. “I think I’m arguably better looking than Sigourney Weaver,” you bait, remembering his comments about Al Pacino a couple of weeks back.

He shifts in his spot and proceeds to place a hasty kiss to the top of your head.

“I never said you weren’t,” Eddie mutters against you and you’re wondering whether he’s mocking what you had said to him that night during your rewatch of ‘Cruising’ or whether he’s actually being sincere.

(Hopefully the latter).

BLUE HAWAII

“If I ever get married, one day in the distant future, this is the song I’ll use for my first dance,” you admit quietly as ‘Can’t Help Falling In Love’ plays through the lousy speakers, Elvis Presley’s character singing on screen.

Eddie glances at you, his mouth twitching upwards. “What if your future husband-to-be doesn’t like this song?”

“That’s too bad for him,” you reply and tilt your head to meet his doe-eyed gaze, “It’s Elvis or bust.”

He chuckles while running a hand through his brown locks before shrugging. “Well, I’m not a big fan of Elvis.”

You raise a brow. “Is this your way of asking me to marry you, Eddie Munson?”

Wait, what? 

The question rings in his ears and the way you’re looking at him right now definitely doesn’t help in getting his thoughts in order.

So he’s not thinking clearly when he takes off one of his rings. He’s not thinking clearly when he reaches for your left hand. And he’s definitely not thinking clearly when he slides the silver item down your finger with ease.

Your heart is in your throat during the whole interaction. “Is this your way of asking me to marry you, Eddie Munson?”, stupid, why would you even say that?

The film has faded into the background. Your focus is on Eddie and Eddie alone, and you want to scream because this is not platonic behaviour.

The curly haired teen leans in ever so slightly and whispers nonchalantly, “Elvis or bust.” Then, still holding onto your hand, he shifts his attention back to the television.

You want to comment, say literally anything, but you bite your tongue because you started this whole thing and whatever comes out of your mouth next, could make it even harder from crossing a line that cannot be uncrossed.

A NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET

Eddie can count the amount of times he’s been truly annoyed with you on one hand.

Truthfully, he lets you get away with a lot of shit because he knows fighting with you over silly little digs or unwarranted comments is not worth the time. And you act exactly the same with him. Nothing said is ever too serious to lead to an argument.

Until this moment. When one hand turns into two and a fight is imminent.

‘The killer's still loose, you know.’

“Eddie, I’m just repeating what I heard!”, your voice is rigid as you stand on your feet and take a step in his direction.

He’s not listening, he chooses not to.

‘You saying somebody else killed Tina? Who?’

“And I think you heard wrong, alright?! There’s just no way—”

“So you’re gonna believe some girl who laughed at one joke over me,” you interrupt, your blood starting to boil at his fucking stuborness, “You’re gonna believe stupid Betsy Bolton over your best friend?!”

How this whole thing even started, you couldn’t really remember anymore. One second you’re buried in his embrace, under the guise of averting your eyes from the screen, and the next thing you know, tensions are high and you’re both yelling.

“Betsy is not stupid!” Eddie counters. His statement causes you to roll your eyes which is a reaction he definitely doesn’t appreciate, “Why are you acting like this, y/n?”

‘I don't know who he is. But he's burned, he wears a weird hat, a red and yellow sweater, real dirty, and he uses some sort of knife he's got made into a sort of... glove. Like giant finger-nails.’

Your feelings are hurt because he’s defending her and you can’t figure out why. “I can’t fucking believe you…”

‘I think you should keep Nancy at home a few days. 'Til she's really over the shock.’

Eddie observes as you grab your cardigan and your bag before making a beeline for the front door of the trailer. He groans. “Where are you going? We’re not finished talking about this.”

‘I got something better…’

“The last thing I want is to be angry with you, Eddie, so I’m just gonna go home,” you state sternly, “Call me when you’ve come to your senses.”

The door shuts with a bang and he lets out a deep sigh.

‘I'm gonna get you help, baby. So no one will threaten you any more.’

FUNNY GIRL

The whole world is spinning when you open your eyes. The scratch in your throat seems to have gotten worse and your fever too, causing your whole body to shiver the second you try to move. 

A groan escapes your lips as you try to reach for the tissue box on the bedside table. Although to no avail because the second your fingertips touch its side, the carton falls to the floor.

God, you hate being sick.

You hate being helpless and weak. You hate how heavy your whole body felt, how hard it was to do basic menial tasks. You hate how you had no appetite. On top of it all, you hate how you were missing valuable time with Eddie. 

It’s been four whole days since you last saw him. If your memory serves you correctly, this is the longest period of time the two of you had gone without hanging out since you first became friends.

Sadly, the stupid flu you caught wasn’t the only thing to blame here. There’s also the matter of the recent fight your friendship hasn’t really recovered from.

Thinking about Eddie, you slip back into unconsciousness.

You’re not sure how long you’d been asleep for when you wake up later. The bedroom is darker than before and it’s considerably cooler.

You can hear talking and footsteps. The noises seem far away yet close by at the same time. You blame the fever and are about to close your eyes again when there’s a knock on your bedroom door.

“Are you awake?”

A familiar voice asks quietly. You hum something in response and the next thing you know, the mattress dips under the weight of your visitor. You peep from underneath your covers and your heart skips a beat.

“How are you feeling?” Eddie asks, gently cupping your cheek.

“W-what are you doing here?,” you croak in response, “G-get out. I-I could get  you sick a-and then I-I would hate myself foreverrr...”

“Relax, sweetheart. Your mom says you’re not contagious anymore,” his voice is reassuring, “She also said they were going out so, and only if you’re up for moving, we can sit downstairs and watch something.”

And that’s how the two of you end up downstairs, on your sofa for a change, tangled up in each other's limbs. 

One of his arms is wrapped tightly around you, pulling you into his chest, while the other is propping your thigh against his hip. Your head is resting against him, just below his neck, while your hand is holding onto his side, fingers rubbing gentle circles into his t-shirt.

‘I’m The Greatest Star’ plays in the background.

You can feel his heartbeat. He can feel yours too. 

Neither of you say a word for the entire duration of the film.

THE TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE

It was your idea to switch it up again.

For totally selfish reasons — because it was getting really hard to be completely alone with him — rather than renting out a movie and watching it as usual in Eddie’s trailer, you suggested going to a drive-in.

Convincing your best friend was easy, after all they were playing ‘The Texas Chainsaw Massacre’.

The two of you ended up taking your parent’s car which meant you were behind the wheel and he was in the passenger seat. 

You sat with your legs up on the chair and pressed against your chest, to allow you to bury your face in your knees whenever a gory scene was shown on screen.

Eddie on the other hand was completely relaxed in his spot, munching on the bag of trail mix he bought earlier that evening.

He sneaks glances in your direction, just to make sure you are doing okay. This is the first time the two of you are watching a slasher and he’s not close enough to let you hide in his embrace.

“Wanna cut this short?” Eddie asks, “Go get a milkshake or something?”

“No, no,” you answer and turn your head, resting it on your knees. “I gotta get through this film at least once since you’re gonna want to see the second one when it releases in theatres in a couple of months.”

Eddie smirks then raises a brow. “Wait, how do you know there’s going to be a second?”

“Steve told me.”

“You’ve been talking to Steve?”, he sounds jealous. He is jealous. 

You nod. “Yeah, I mean I can’t act weird whenever I go rent a movie just because we went on one rather unsuccessful date,” you explain, “Plus we live in the same area so I bump into him every now and again, he gives me a ride to work at the odd time.”

Eddie doesn’t know what to say. Well, actually he does, but it would be an irrational response that would most likely hurt your feelings and he couldn’t risk that. Not right now. Not after the two of you barely got over your last argument.

It’s not his place to tell you not to hang out with Harrington. Just as it wasn’t his place to tell you not to go on a date with the guy in the first place.

You’re quick to notice his doleful grimace. Extending a hand in his direction, you poke his tricep.

“I have to befriend someone else in case you abandon me for Betsy Bolton,” you tease, your best attempt to keep things normal.

Eddie glances down at his lap, his attention focusing on the empty spot on one of his fingers where the ring you now wore around your neck used to be. A warm sensation settles in the pit of his stomach and he knows in that moment, he can’t continue doing this charade with you.

It’s now or never.

“I’ve been ignoring Betsy,” he utters eventually. 

“Oh…” you murmur, “Why?”

And now he’s peeping back at you. Natural and ordinary go out the window. They’re replaced by shit, fuck, and what even is being platonic anymore?

He leans across the centre channel and as if on instinct, you let your legs fall from the seat and also incline in his direction. By the time he presses his forehead to yours, you’re shaking slightly because you know there are certain things that cannot be undone. 

(Was this a good idea? Or will you both regret this later?)

However, there’s really no time to think about the repercussions because his nose slides down the side of yours and his lips are inches away as they part, his hot breath sending a shiver down your spine.

“She’s not you,” Eddie whispers against your mouth and you’re done for.

One soft inhale later, and his lips brush yours lightly, then again with a little more intent, and again, only deeper. His hands are cupping your face while yours are gripping onto the collar of his denim vest as if your life depended on it.

All of the emotions that had been churning rose to the surface and exploded all at once.

With every passing second you’re melting into him further. The kisses get rougher. You’re biting his bottom lip. His tongue grazes yours. The two of you break apart and come together over and over again like magnets.

A few blissful moments later, Eddie draws back, quite unwillingly, to meet your amiable gaze.

“Shit, sweetheart,” he whispers and licks his lips, “You’ve no idea how long I’ve wanted to fucking do that.”

“Ditto,” you reply breathlessly and lean in to kiss him again, annoyed at yourself now for deciding on the drive-in instead of his comfortable couch.

THE BREAKFAST CLUB

Lately, everything is exhilarating.

Getting up in the morning is easier. The grim Hawkins weather doesn’t seem to bother you as much. Your family is far less insufferable. The people that come to the diner where you work aren’t as annoying. Life is good. 

It’s great actually. 

And all thanks to the curly haired boy currently reheating leftover lasagna you brought from home.

Ever since your first kiss at the drive-in, the two of you have been pretty much on top of one another. Constantly holding hands, hugging, making out, finally doing all of the things you both dreamt of for months on end. 

Eddie in particular found it hard to keep his hands to himself. Who could blame him? You were smoking hot and finally his.

At least unofficially.

Even though he’s thought about asking you to be his girlfriend on numerous occasions since the night at the drive-in, he hasn’t found the opportune moment. He also didn’t want to pressure you, because what if you didn’t want to be anything more than whatever it was the two of you were right now?

He couldn’t handle that kind of rejection so in the interim, this arrangement suited him just fine. That’s what he told himself at least.

“Just be careful, sweetheart,” he warns as he hands you a plate, “That microwave may be old but it’s got some kick to it. The food is piping.”

The corners of your mouth twitch upwards and you reach for the dish, thanking him. Eddie returns the smile and plops down on the sofa, in his spot next to you, before proceeding to resume the film.

‘Are all these your girlfriends?’

‘Some of them…’

‘What about the others?’

“I have to say,” you begin in between bites of food, “you kinda remind me of Bender.”

Eddie cocks his head in your direction and raises a brow at your admission. “Is it because I too have a wallet full of pictures of random chicks?”, he teases and you nudge his side using your elbow.

“Hilarious,” your tone is sarcastic, “I bet the photos you cherish most are of Chrissy and Betsy.”

‘Well, some I consider my girlfriends and some...I just consider…’

‘Consider what?’

‘Whether or not, I wanna hang out with them…’

He chuckles at your comment. “You’re an idiot,” he jokes and places the plate of food in his lap to free up his hands. He reaches over to hold your face, brushing his fingers gently along your jawline. 

“Actually, the only picture I have in my wallet is yours.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks, the revelation settling in the air. You almost want to ask him if he’s bluffing but judging by the glimmer in his eyes, you know he’s being honest.

You swallow your breath and lean in to peck his lips.

“So let me get this straight,” you murmur against his mouth and his grip on your face tightens ever so slightly, “A photo of me is in your wallet, I have one of your cherished rings around my neck, yet you still won’t ask me to be your girlfriend?”

‘You don't believe in just one guy, one girl?’

‘Do you?’

‘Yeah...that's the way it should be.’

Eddie smirks, his heart skipping a beat. He analyses every inch of your face, capturing this moment forever. God, he was the luckiest fucking guy in the world.

“And if I asked, would you say yes?”

“I would.”

He’s grinning now, as are you.

“Then I guess it’s settled, sweetheart. You’re my girlfriend now.”

His mouth slants over yours with ease, not giving you a chance to respond. His body pushes into yours and you have to be extra careful not to drop the dish you were still holding onto, (because pasta sauce is not the easiest to clean out of cushions).

Eddie’s mouth is possessive and it doesn’t take long for his tongue to breach your lips, the kiss now deeper than ever. 

Your heart is on a rampage as both your heads rotate back and forth to vary pressure. Tongues are dancing together, each trying to assert dominance. 

Eddie bites down on your bottom lip vigorously, causing a velvety moan to escape. The smooth sound of pleasure is music to his ears and breathless, he pulls away. This position isn’t working anymore, he wants to be able to touch you all over.

“I think you should put that plate to the side so we can move this to the bedroom,” he suggests, his hand slowly travelling down to your neck.

“But I wanna know how the movie ends,” you whine, teasing a little.

The doe-eyed boy smirks and releases you from his grip. Rather impatiently, he reaches for the half-eaten lasagna dish in your grasp to set it aside. He stands, extending you his hand which you take instantly.

He spins you around once and you land gracefully into his chest.

“I can tell you how it ends,” Eddie offers in a whisper, his arms sneaking around your waist, holding you in place.

“Oh yeah?”

He nods. “The guy gets the girl.” — and in the space of a heartbeat, Eddie lowers his mouth back down to yours with immense desire.

-

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[romanreignseater]

Your Assistant?

Roman Reigns x Reader

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Smut, smut, and MORE SMUT!! A consensual affair. And a couple of other devilish thingz.

“Being the assistant to a devilishly handsome man never work out well in the movies. Especially, for the wife. But, what happens when the wife wants you to get a little more closer to your boss?”

A/N: Got this little idea from a thread I saw on Twitter. It’s definitely gonna be interesting… 🫣. *By the way, I didn’t feel comfortable using Roman’s actual wife in this story, so his wife’s name is Jewel in this fic.

GIF: @jeysuso

You’ve been Roman Reigns personal assistant ever since he became the Tribal Chief. While, Paul is his special counsel on screen. Roman needed someone to help in his everyday life. To help him oversee his appearances, social media, and meetings. To help pick up his dry cleaning. To help watch the kids. To help take care of the dogs. And to help his wife figure out why they’re having sex issues?!

Typically, the young and hot assistant never gets along with her boss’s wife. As the wives always see the assistant as nothing but a slut, wanting the position to only fondle with an older and sexy man. But, while you did find Roman very attractive, as anyone would. You would never get in between someone’s love, as you wouldn’t want others to do that onto you.

Roman and Jewel have been together since college, and she’s been with him through the good, the bad, and the ugly. They were young parents having to raise a child with barely any money, Roman’s discovery of his leukemia, and the league not wanting him.

They have been through the toughest of times, and by what Jewel was telling you at this moment. It’s the toughest time in their relationship…

“Roman and I have been having some issues. And I needed someone of experience to talk to.” Jewel said.

“Well, I did have a boyfriend in 9th grade, so I got a little relationship experience.” I said laughing.

Jewel wasn’t laughing. “Anyways Y/N, the problems that we are having is seeping into our marriage.” “What kind of problems is hurting your marriage Jewel?!” You said concerned.

“our sex life…” Jewel whispered. “Excuse me, I couldn’t hear you.” “OUR SEX LIFE!!” Jewel yelled with watery eyes. “Ohhhh… I’m sorry—but isn’t this a little personal to be telling me?! Maybe you should talk to one of your girlfriends or something?” I said nervously.

“Trust me, you’re my last resort.” Jewel said coldly. Ouch… that kind of hurt. “One of my girlfriends had the same problem and said I needed to talk to someone a little younger…Someone a little more experienced, someone who may have a higher sex drive.” Jewel expressed.

Higher sex drive?! The last time I slept with someone… Actually, I’ve only slept with one person in my ENTIRE life. My ex-boyfriend from high school, took my virginity, then moved away to Saskatchewan.

Wherever that is?!

That’s besides the point, why would she just assume I have a higher sex drive?… You know, people are in their 70s still getting down.

“So… what’s exactly your problem?!” You said curiously. “It’s just…. I haven’t been getting wet for the past three months. So… we’re using copious amounts of lube. Roman isn’t engaged or as fast-paced and excited as he used to be.”

I was gagged.

She hasn’t been getting wet and her husband is ROMAN. REIGNS. But, bad bitches have bad days too, so I won’t hold it against her. Every woman is different.

“I’ve been trying my hardest to spice things up. Like, I’ve been wearing brand new lingerie, bringing in candles, essential oils, and I EVEN BOUGHT A VIBRATOR!”

She was really airing out all her business right now…

“Sorry.” She said apologizing for her yelling. “No problem, I understand now, you want to get Roman more engaged. So how about you try a couple new positions other than missionary?!” I said as I mentally smacked myself.

“Sweetheart… if you really like this job. DON’T PUSH IT.. Okay!!” Jewel said as she grabbed my wrist. “My apologies. You could try some new positions or ask him what he wants maybe?!” You said with utter fear in your heart. “I’ve tried and I’ve tried, but he just says ‘J, you don’t need to change anything you’re perfect. I just haven’t been in the mood.’ Like really bitch?!” She said with a look on her face.

“We have FIVE KIDS FOR FUCKS SAKE!! He damn sure was in the mood to make those kids.” You moved your eyes around the room as Jewel wiped away some of her tears. “I guess, you could find a sex expert to demonstrate or show you how to get your man engaged again?!” You said hoping the conversation would just end.

Jewel then gasped and looked you dead in your eyes with a smirk.

“No, no, no, no. I won’t do something like that”. I said crossing my legs and turning away. Jewel pulled me back to face her and said “You listen to me here Missy. This is your ONLY, and I mean ONLY time you’ll EVER do this.”

Please don’t say it, please don’t say it…

“But, I need you to have sex with Ro and ‘demonstrate’ how to get him engaged again.” Jewel said with a serious look on her face.

She said it. Like you can’t just watch porn.

“Jewel, I can’t do that to you or Roman. That’s just weird. My boss’s wife letting me have sex with him.” You said cringing. “You don’t even have his consent and I’m pretty sure this wasn’t in your vows.”

“Girl pleaseeee!! I just want my Ro back…” Jewel said with tears falling from her eyes.

Why me?!

“fine, I’ll do it…” You said lowly. “Pardon, I couldn’t hear you.”

“I SAID I’LL DO IT!!” You yelled to her. “What are you going to do Y/N?!” Roman said as he came from downstairs. “Hey baby.” Jewel said rising from the couch. “How was your zoom interview?!”

“It was nothing different, but I want to know what Ms. Assistant is gonna do so bad that she has to yell in your face.”

My face turned red as I looked to Jewel with pleading eyes, so that we WON’T have to have this discussion right now.

She grabbed his hands and looked into his eyes to say, “You know baby… We haven’t been having the greatest time in bed and Y/N is the solution to our problem.”

Roman was discombobulated. “Why would you air out our business like that Jewel?!” Roman whispered sternly under his breath. “Well nothing I’ve tried hasn’t worked and I know this is the right thing to do.” Jewel looked at me then back to Roman as he said, “How is Y/N the solution to our ‘problem’?!”

“She’s gonna show me how to get you engaged again… By having sex with you.”

Roman’s jaw dropped to the floor.

“I’M NOT GONNA CHEAT ON YOU JEWEL, THAT’S CRAZY!!” Roman yelled. He then looked you in your eyes and began walking up to you with his finger pointed. Jewel stopped him in his tracks and said, “This is not her idea, it’s mine.” Roman let out a deep breath to say, “Why?! Just why?!”

“I need an in person demonstration of how to get you going again.”

Shit… could never be me.

“This is what you want?!”

I know he’s not about to do this…

“Yes Roman, this is what we need.” Jewel said pleading. “fine… I’ll do it.” He whispered under his breath. “We couldn’t hear you.” Jewel and I said in unison. “I’LL DO IT!!” “Perfect!!” Jewel said hugging and kissing him “We could just do it right here, since the kids are at school.” Roman said staring at me.

They both then stared at me waiting for an answer.

“Ohhh, ummm… yeah, I guess.” You said in complete jitters. Jewel sat on the opposite couch and stared at you, gesturing for you to start. You stood up to face Roman and you couldn’t even look him in the eyes. He took your chin into his hand and made you look at him and he said, “Don’t worry, remember we’re doing this for Jewel.” You looked back towards Jewel and she lightly smiled at you.

Ok let’s do this.

You grabbed Roman’s face and started to make out with him. Your tongues fighting one another and hands groping each others bodies. You let your lips disconnect and you looked to Jewel to say, “Ummm, the first step to start the engaging… is showing him a little bit of your dominant side. Fight with his tongue a bit and pull his hair some too.” I feel like such a teacher right now. You and Roman’s tongues glided so perfectly together. And Roman grunted as he took your ass into his hands to massage it.

You pulled your tank top off, and Roman’s eyes instantly moved to your lace bra hugging your large, and supple breasts. “Now, you just have to let him tease you… I guess.” You said as Roman began to grab at your breasts. You moaned and he said, “Can I take this off?!”

“Yes… daddy?” Roman looked at you unsurely, then bit his lip, so you knew he liked it. “Then, you have to call him daddy, he likes that.” You said to Jewel. Roman took your bra off then took his two fingers to your jaw to turn your head. “Stop looking at her for right now.” He said to you. “Okay daddy.” Roman then lowered his head to suck at your perky nipples.

“Let him suck on your tits. They’re big for a reason.” Roman then took off all of his clothes and your clothes. You began stroking his cock to get him going. You told Jewel that in the future she had to tease his balls and the head of his dick. Roman quickly bended you over the arm of the couch, and lifted your right leg up.

“If you just get into it and let things run smoothly, it will all work o-uttt.” You gasped as Roman swiftly entered his massive length into you.

Jewel stood up and Roman lifted his hand towards her to stop her and then said, “You on birth control Y/N?”

“Yes, I am.” You said shivering due to the sheer amount of fullness you felt at that moment.

“It’s cool J, this is what you wanted.” Jewel sat back down and watched. Roman began to pound into your swollen cunt so sweetly. “Oh my god daddy, k-k-k-eeppp going ple—ASE!” You started to push back onto his dick and Roman said, “Keep going like that mama, push back on this dick.”

“You see Jewel, you wann-aaaa… give him the same energy he’s giving you. That’s how you get more engagement.” You said and as you looked to Jewel, she didn’t see to be as engaged as she said she would be. But, your concern for Jewel quickly left your mind as fast as it came to it, because Roman set out to absolutely obliterate your pussy.

His fast burst of pounding sent you to another planet. Your pussy began gushing out all over Roman’s thighs. “AAAAAAAAAHHH!! HOLY SHIT!!” You yelled as the rough pounding continued.

Roman stopped and you gathered yourself. When an idea came into your head.

“Jewel, can you please sit on the couch next to Ro please?!” Roman couldn’t even look at Jewel in her eyes, as they both looked at you confused.

“Do you guys need help or not?!” You said waiting for them to sit on couch. Jewel reluctantly sat on the couch and Roman sat beside her. You went to your knees in front of Roman and stroked his shaft in both of your hands.

“Jewel, when was the last time you gave him head?!” You said questioning her.

Jewel let out a sigh and said, “It’s been about seven months. I just felt like I wasn’t doing it right… I-I don’t know?!” “Well, I’m gonna teach you now.”

You were definitely having way too much fun with this.

Roman bit his plump bottom lip to hold in his moans as you hallowed your cheeks, and sucked on the head of his cock.

“You see how he can barely contain himself with the way I’m sucking it. You like that don’t you daddy?!”

“Fuccc-kkk, baby I love that damn mouth.” Roman said as he held your hair in his huge hands to create a makeshift ponytail. You looked Jewel dead in her eyes as you sweetly sucked on her husband’s cock. You took Roman’s length out of your mouth to stand up and turn around.

“Now… Jewel.” You first said as you spit onto your fingers to smear it all over your already drooling sex. “You gotta save a horse, and ride a cowboy.” Jewel then watched as you lowered yourself onto Roman’s cock and moaned with him in unison as you impaled yourself onto him. You stood in between his spread legs, put your hands on your knees, and began twerking on his dick basically. Jewel spoke up to say to Roman as he watched your fat, plush ass jiggle, “So, you like this shit?!” She asked.

Roman let out a breath and said, “It’s whatever… I gue—sssss”. He cleared his throat soon after. “You don’t like it daddy?!” You said as you looked back to him, he looked at you with worrying eyes. You smirked and started your own assault. You rapidly bounced on him, and set off Roman’s can of moans. “FF—UCKKKK!! Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop mama.”

You continued to bounce and roll onto his cock, when you realized sometimes teachers like their students to participate more. Roman grunted as you released yourself from his dick. “Jewel, I think you should participate a little more.” Roman and Jewel looked at you, then at each other, then at you again.

“What do you want me to do?!” Jewel said hesitantly. You told Roman to lay on his side with his right leg propped up and asked Jewel to scoot a little closer. You then lied on your side with your back facing Roman. He spread your legs open and put the back of your right knee in his hands. “Jewel… Put it in.” You said. Jewel looked at Roman, and he gestured to put it in.

“Oooooo, that’s it right there.” You moaned. Roman soon then pounded into your heat passionately. “That pussy is so wet baby.” The Tribal Chief grunted. “Wet just for you daddy.”

“Play with his balls Jewel, that’ll get him REAL riled up”. You said smiling. “Alright.” She said. Roman’s moans and grunts became louder, he started to fuck me at a God like speed. “Oooo-o-o-o—hh my GOD!!!”. I came right then and there. “Fuck baby, oh my god. That was amazing, but I want more.” Roman said. “That’s perfect cause I got one more trick up my sleeve.”

Jewel was now sitting on the couch with her legs spread and your back atop her thighs. Roman was standing up ready to enter you in between your spread legs. “Jewel, can you make sure you hold her ankles still?! I need to get in there real good.” Jewel held your ankles tights and made sure your knees were bent.

Now, let the fucking continue once again.

Roman quickly slipped into your dripping cunt and you said, “Jewel, make sure your pussy is squeezing that dick in TIGHT. You wouldn’t want to let go.” Roman hard thrusts made your waterbed-like tits bounce and he couldn’t get his eyes off of them. “Pull on those perky nipples Y/N.” He boasted. “Of course daddy.” You said smiling at him. As you played with your nipples, Roman looked up to his wife and he said, “Baby, I love you and I hope you know that I don’t want this to drive a wedge in between us.”

“Ro… I love you and while it will be in the back of my mind, it’s us against the wor-.” Sorry to interrupt, but you had something to say.

“FUCK, I’M CUMMING, give it to me HARDER!!” “You want it harder?!” You nodded. “Yeah, REAL HARD!!” You exclaimed. The sounds of his thighs slapping against yours, the sound of his balls slapping your tight little hole, and the sounds of your pussy gushing out all your wetness. You then came SUPER hard. You were spasming due to the aftershocks and Roman then came in you.

“Wow, all that cum in your pussy daddy.” You said with a smirk. “Yeah… that’s my pussy mama.” You shivered as he smacked your pussy red.

You and Roman gathered yourselves and put your clothes back on. “Well, I hope I was help in some way, and would you look at that it’s 3 p.m. I gotta pick up the kids.” You said shyly. “Y/N, I really appreciated what you did, but don’t come by my man unless I send for you… Got it?!” Jewel replied sternly.

“Yes ma’am”.

“Now, get back to work.” You left the house and pulled out of the driveway. “Sooo… I’m guessing you had fun big boy?!” Jewel said patting on Roman’s chest. “I mean… she was alright.” Roman said scratching his beard. “You agreed with her when she said it was ‘your pussy’.”

“Baby, it was just the heat of the moment, I didn’t mean it. I know you’re hot and bothered for watching that, lemme do some of that on you before Y/N comes back with the kids.” Roman said smirking, leaning into his wife’s ear.

“Fine. BUT, just remember she’s just your assistant.” Jewel said with her pinky finger out.

“Just my assistant.” And they pinky promised.

THE END.

Hope y’all liked this one, I put a lot into this 😭😭. Tell me in the comments what you’ll like to see 💕.

#roman reigns #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns x female reader #roman reigns smut

[ashwhowrites]

Hi, buggy! Can we get a fic about Eddie and his partner making gingerbread houses 💋💋

Y/N wouldn't have guessed it from seeing Eddie, but he was a massive Christmas fan. He sang along to Christmas songs, which he played on full blast. He wore ugly Christmas sweaters, Santa hats, and enjoyed hanging up lights.

He was even more excited to be in a relationship during the holidays. They've already gone to see the Christmas lights, build snowmen, and had a massive snowball fight. Y/N loved to see how excited Eddie got when it came to all their dates so they did everything he asked.

Next on the agenda was gingerbread houses. Y/N was slowly learning their boyfriend didn't have patience for just people.

"Dammit!" Eddie groaned, the roof of his house sliding down. His sticky fingers snatched the icing. Back for his third round of adding icing to the sides. His tongue out as he focused on pushing the pieces together.

"I saw this hack to use a glue gun." Y/N said, nonchalantly as they also tried to push the pieces together.

"You can't eat glue." Eddie said in a bored tone. His eyes still glued on the roof as he held it together for another minute.

"I know, but who really eats these?" Y/N questioned.

"Easy way out! I got this." Eddie said, a challenge to himself that Y/N knew would end in a meltdown.

Christmas music played through the small speaker Eddie had in the kitchen. Y/N's house slowly came together. Their roof stayed on and the sides stayed upright. They didn't want to go over beyond with decorations, and have it weigh down the house.

"Damnit, baby. Why does yours look like a baking competition." Eddie whined, his brown eyes in awe of the perfect gingerbread house.

"Eddie, it's just standing." Y/N laughed. They got up to make hot chocolate as Eddie continued to work on his house. They watched from the sidelines. He looked adorable. His hair was tied back, he wore a band T-shirt and loose plaid pajama pants.

His fingers bare with no rings, instead covered in icing and blotches of colors from the cheap candies.

Time clicked and Eddie finally finished. Y/N on the couch as they watched Christmas films.

"I DID IT!" Eddie cheered. He stood up proudly with a big smile.

Y/N got off the couch, walked over to see his masterpiece.

A masterpiece it was. It was standing. He had candies around the door frame and windows. Rolos on the roof. Candy canes broken apart and sprinkled along the white roof.

"You iced the whole thing?" Y/N asked, panic in their chest. They could already picture the house giving in with the amount of heavy icing. But he looked so happy they didn't say a thing.

"yeah! I wanted it to be snowy." Eddie said as he walked towards his bedroom to grab his camera.

"Pose with yours!" He said, Y/N carefully picked up their gingerbread house and smiled for the camera. The flash blinded their eyes as they softly placed down the house.

Y/N grabbed the camera and helped Eddie pick up his house. They could feel the heaviness and prayed it would stand for the picture.

"1..2...3!" Y/N counted. Their eyes looked through the camera, watching the exact moment the house began to slide.

"EDDIE!" they panicked but he saved it in time. He placed it on the table in a rush, a relief breath from his lips as he saved it from smacking the floor.

"Close one!" He joked.

But as luck would have it, the roof began to slide.

"Son of a bitch!" He groaned, pressing the roof together again. But the heaviness of the icing and his pushing made the sides crack. Within seconds the house crumpled down and broken pieces flew everywhere. The icing shot in the air, landing on his face and specks in his hair.

Pieces of the house by his feet and the rest scattered on the table.

"SMILE!" Y/N shouted, immediately taking the picture as Eddie growled.

"You're dead." Eddie threatened, but Y/N was faster. They took off and ran to the bedroom, Eddie hot on their heels as he raced after them.

"NO! SHOWER FIRST!" Y/N begged, but Eddie already tackled them onto the bed. He wiped his sticky fingers against their face and shirt. He dug his hair into their neck, the icing smearing on their skin.

"Munson!" They groaned, easily feeling all the sticky icing on their skin.

"Welp, looks like you have to shower too." Eddie winked, he grabbed their hand and easily yanked them off the bed.

"Oh look how that worked out!" Y/N mocked, they rolled their eyes as they followed Eddie into the bathroom. But couldn't help but smile at his child like actions.

"Soap me up, baby!"

Tags!

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson request #eddie munson fluff x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x gn!reader #eddie munson x gender neutral reader #eddie munson christmas #ashwhowrites

[f1crecs]

Fic Rec List - Festive Favourites

you might also enjoy: @f1hallmarkfest - for more festive treats🎄🎁

if your fic is on this list and you don’t want it to be, please let us know and we will remove it immediately, no questions asked. we have contacted most of the authors on this list, but sometimes people fall through the gaps - just pop us a message🤍

have a pairing you want me to do next? please read the faqs and then head to the inbox.

don’t forget to give the authors featured on this list some love in the form of kudos, bookmarks, and comments!

Wishing all who celebrate a very Merry Christmas, and a peaceful New Year. Thank you for all of your support in 2023 ❤️🎄

Love,

Briony, Alison, Esra, Mandy, Caroleen, Clara, Leaf, Katie & Tia 🎅🤶❤️

Carlos/Lando

nsfw: Glitter and Be Gay by @phebess | E | 14.7k

Lando is an out and proud primary school art teacher, and Carlos is the hot dad who has caught his eye. This is such a sweet and tender story of self-discovery and identity. As always, Phebes' humour is on point - I laughed out loud several times!

'Lando is wearing an ugly Christmas sweater and waiting outside the school for the bus to take them all to the Christmas Village - he's been before, and it's cute. There's little food stalls, a big man dressed as Santa, tons of fake snow, and even a reindeer petting zoo. A small childish part of him is excited, even if he's going with the company of a bunch of five year olds.'

Fernando/Mark

Lonely This Christmas by @seafoampearlygirl | NR | 19.5k

Mark is stuck at home for Christmas with nobody but the dogs and nothing but what's in the freezer during the worst snowstorm in 40 years. Fernando won't hear of it. He turns up on Mark's doorstep with a metric tonne of food and a plan for seduction. Mark is completely clueless. This fic combines all the best elements of Christmas fic and cosy, snowed in snugglefic. Fernando is written here as he seems IRL - larger than life with emotions to match. Mark is quietly pining and completely unaware that he is being wooed.

'He made Fernando's bed up with soft sheets that he knew were the warmest he owned. He added some heavy throws, because Fernando was Spanish and used to warmer weather. If Mark had had mints in the house, he'd have put one on the pillow. Fernando had brought dinner, dessert, wines, snacks, a frankly terrifying amount of cured meats and cheeses, a very stuffed overnight bag that suggested a longer stay, his laptop, hot water bottles and candles (“in case of power problems”), DVDs (no Christmas movies except Die Hard, Mark was glad to note), and some groceries. The last, even though it wasn't festive, really blew Mark away. A Christmas surprise was magical, but someone had to really care to bring you milk and bread and teabags. He'd even remembered Mark had a fireplace, and had brought firewood, firelighters and coal from the car. If Mark had a spare kidney, he'd have put it on Fernando's pillow, never mind a stupid mint.'

Alex/George

slip a sable under the tree by @strawberry-daiquiris | M | 5k George and Alex are roommates, and George takes a Christmas job as a Christmasgram. This story is everything - the humour, the pining, the festive vibes. I loved it!!

George can feel his cheeks turning as red as his Santa hat, sweat trickling down his back under the polyester, and he’ll need to wipe that off before he gets his top off.

Daniel/Max

home among the gumtrees by @albertparks | T | 10.3k

A love letter to Australian Christmas; Max and Daniel spend the holidays together. This story is stunning, and encapsulates Australian Christmas perfectly. It's so immersive and sweet.

'They walk, and walk, and walk through the yellowing grass. The sky is an endless mirage of blues, pink, and purples, the stars beginning to peak out as the sun lowers its harsh gaze. It's beautiful here, there's nowhere quite like Perth in the middle of summer. LA is fun, Monaco is relaxing, but nowhere will home quite like here.'

Esteban/Pierre

People You Know by @estemick | M | 6.4k Esteban invites Pierre to spend Christmas with him after Pierre's flight is cancelled. Set during Christmas 2022, after Pierre's move to Alpine has been announced. Esteban inviting Pierre home with him is something of an olive branch, which Pierre warily accepts. They take a zigzag path toward reconnecting with one another. Their awkward, yet heartfelt conversations show the gradual unfurling of their old friendship, and a little more besides. This fic is gentle and soft, and it's cosy atmosphere of a Christmas for two, curled up safe and warm while a snowstorm rages outside, makes it a perfect festive read.

Esteban had been alone in motorsport for years, and now he’s best friends with Mick Schumacher of all people, the son of his childhood hero. How does something like that even happen? After another stretch of not-quite-comfortable silence, Pierre decides to ask. It’s not like he can make this any more awkward. “You and Mick seem close.” Esteban keeps his focus on the snowy road in front of them, but Pierre can see a vein bulging in his temple before he sighs and responds. “We are.” “How did that happen?” “What do you mean?” “You’ve just never been great at making friends.” As soon as the words have left Pierre’s mouth, he realises how cruel they are. Esteban is silent for so long that Pierre isn’t certain that he’s going to respond at all. “I didn’t need to. I had you.” “You were friends with other people.” They had been close with Charles and Anthoine for almost as long as they had known each other. Esteban had been shy, but it’s not like he was alone . At least, he had always been present by Pierre’s side. "You took them with you. When you left.”

Charles/Pierre

you set my heart on fire by @boxboxbrioche | M | 14.7k

Charles returns home to the small town he grew up in for Christmas. His career as a photographer has kept him away for several years. After being volunteered to help with a charity calendar, he reconnects with his childhood friend, Pierre, who is now a firefighter.Why I liked it: This fic has a lovely Hallmark movie vibe, leaning into the trope of career-motivated protagonist coming home and realising what is important in life. The Leclerc family vibes are exquisite, Charles's mum and brothers just the right mix of teasing and loving. Pierre, of course, is as knee-weakeningly attractive to Charles as he always is.

Pierre gave him a thumbs up, still grinning. Charles watched with wide eyes as Pierre did the one thing that no one else had - headed straight for the fire pole. “You’re not really going to–” Before Charles could finish that sentence, Pierre had grabbed the pole with two hands and was hanging off of it, feet planted firmly on the floor, his head tilted back. He looked - ridiculous, was the first word that came to Charles’ mind, closely followed by (to his horror) hot. There was something about the way he held himself; the curve of his body, the angle of his chin, that had Charles wondering if he’d done this before. Pierre glanced at him, grinning. “Well? Are you not going to take the shot?"

All's Well That End's Well (To End Up With You) series by @welightitup, @boxboxbrioche and @redyellowstupid | T | 15.7k

Due to both of their hectic calendars, Pierre and Charles have a tradition of celebrating their birthdays late - in July for Pierre's, and in December for Charles'. This series is all about celebration, long-time friendship and a delicious slow-burn friends-to-lovers. I love the way these authors capture Pierre and Charles' dynamic - their friendship shines through in a way that feels so beautifully real and true to them. These fics even come with a bonus piece of art in the third part of the series! All in all, the series is just incredibly heartwarming, nostalgic and beautifully written, and will leave you with the biggest smile on your face, just like a true Hallmark holiday rom-com. (Because after all, what's more Hallmark-y than realising you've been in love with your childhood best friend all along?)

The air is sprinkled with the scent of cinnamon and chocolate as they make their way through the market stalls lining the centre of Rouen. Despite the late evening hour, it is teeming with more people Charles remembers there ever being. There’s an empty cup that had contained mulled wine in one hand, the other clutching onto Pierre’s sleeve as he trails behind him to make sure they don’t get separated.

Lights from the market and the fair at the far end twinkle like coloured fairy lights strung across the entirety of the area. There is a contagious merry mood, everyone sharing smiles and nods and the odd “joyeux Noël”, no matter who they are, and bitter bite of the weather - now in the single digits - is soothed by the heat radiating off the bustling crowds and the food stalls.

nsfw: wishing for a blue christmas by @duquesademiel and @wolfiemcwolferson | E | 29.4k

This is a non-drivers AU and soulmates AU. Pierre and Charles have a meet-cute moment when their luggage gets mixed up on a flight. Pierre is on holiday alone after his long term girlfriend left him after finding her soulmate. Charles's family immediately adopts him. What I liked about it: This fic is a lovely feelgood Christmas read. The Leclerc family scenes are wonderful, I'm not sure if I liked matchmaker Pascale, annoying brat younger brother Arthur or kind older brother Lorenzo more but between the three of them Charles's dignity doesn't stand a chance. Pierre and Charles are made for each other, obviously, but the tension arises from the fact that Pierre already has a soulmark and has SOMEone out there already. Hmm.

“I got you something else,” Pierre tells him. “Sit up so you can see.” Charles glares at him but allows himself to be pulled up to a sitting position and then he sets the bag into Charles’ lap and Charles immediately sticks his hand down into the bag to pull out…a - He throws his head back to laugh, reaching for the gift he got Pierre and setting it on his lap. Pierre only has time to look momentarily confused before he is pulling out an identical keychain that Charles is also holding. Charles had purchased it because it looks vaguely like his soulmark and Pierre never has to use it, but it had made Charles smile and apparently Pierre as well. “This is perfect,” Pierre says, and Charles is about to be the one to lean over and kiss him, but he hears Arthur shout from the main room and they both freeze, wide eyed. “You can escape now.” Charles whispers. “Save yourself.”

Charles/Max

As long as I get to keep you by @babysharl | T | 34k

When Charles and Max find each other at Daniel's New Year's party, they find themselves in a little predicament–when the clock strikes midnight, it grants a wish to the one who winds it up. It turns out–he's wished for a dream to come true: to be surrounded by love. Oh my goodness, this is one of my all time FAVORITE magical realism fics! The magic of the clock, wish fulfillment, it's amazing and so well-written. Literally, every moment of the fic took me somewhere new, and I definitely recommend it wholeheartedly!!!

It were moments like these that highlighted just how much of a different reality this was. They weren't supposed to take naps in real life, it fucked up their sleep schedules. He and Max, even though closer, were never this close until probably last night, where Charles had a vague recollection of falling asleep on Max. The general softness of the moment, their breaths slow and gentle, Max's eyes lazily moving from their nephew to Charles again, fondness mushing up the edges of the piercing blue. None of this was reality for Charles. He felt so at peace, though, that he chose to ignore the obvious. He chose to ignore the phone call, and that this wasn't his to have, that this wasn't the Max he wanted in his bed despite how similar he was, that this was just a dream he would wake up from. He wondered if he and Max could ever have something resembling this. He doubted it. Not with their lives.

Christian/Toto

the season of eyes meeting over the noise by @nobrakesdown | T | 9.1k

Toto and Christian are a pair of mildly antagonistic music teachers fighting over space in a concert venue for their respective classes. Gradually, they find themselves like one another more than they expected. This fic captures the snarky back and forth thise two have irl, and also the hint of affability you see in some of their interactions. A lot of the snark in the fic seems like it's for habit or show, and the gradual bloom of affection is not a surprise considering the groundwork's been done. This is a sweet little holiday story, perfect to curl up with.

He’s still holding his own coffee cup as they walk out of the shop, with Daniel waving after them as they go. The cold hits them as they go through the door, and Toto sees Christian shove his hands into his pockets again. He acts without really thinking, putting his cup down on a low wall that runs along the sidewalk. He slips off one glove, and then the other. Placing them carefully together, he holds them out to Christian, who stares at him. Toto huffs, his breath hanging in the cold air. “I’m not the one who didn’t bring appropriate clothing. Go on, take them.” “But that’s a terrible solution,” Christian says. “Now your hands will get cold.” “They won’t,” Toto says, not getting pulled into this. “I still have a warm cup to carry back with me.” Christian shakes his head, but when Toto holds the gloves closer to him he takes them. He turns them over in his hands before, apparently approvingly, putting them on. Toto finds himself watching, but he forces his mind away from thinking that his gloves look good on Christian. That would be ridiculous to think, because they’re just gloves.

#pairing:carlos/lando #pairing:charles/pierre #pairing:charles/max #pairing:daniel/max #pairing:christian/Toto #pairing:esteban/pierre #pairing:alex/george

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

The Wedding Planner

Summary: You are getting married. And while this is supposed to be the happiest day of your life, you've been having second thoughts. Even before you meet your wedding planner Marcus Pike.

Pairing: AU!Marcus Pike x fem. Reader

Wordcount: 5.8k

Rating: G

Warnings: The Wedding Planner AU, yearning, fluff, angst, feelings, people saying mean things about bodies

A/N: I did it! January of @yearofcreation2023 is finally finished and here! This is a very loose interpretation of the movie The Wedding Planner and I am not 100% happy with it but it's too late for doubts now lol

Year of Movie AU's Masterlist

follow me @toomanystoriessolittletime-fics and turn on notifications to get notified when I post a new fic

If someone had told Marcus twenty years ago that he would run one of the most successful wedding planning agencies in the country, he would probably have laughed. 

Back then he had other plans. 

Plans that included following his fathers footsteps in law enforcement. Joining the CIA or FBI.

But then he met his wife. Well… Ex-Wife by now. She had been working as a party planner and he? He realised how much he loved planning. 

It had started out with him helping on the weekend while he still was in Quantico on his way to become an agent. He was freshly married and in love and wanted to spend all his free time with his wife. And if that meant helping her decorate birthday parties or engagement parties (or god forbid gender reveals), he was there. 

And then one Saturday morning while he was helping her, his wife had sent him in near panic to the groom of the wedding she had been prepping for months. The groom had cold feet. And Marcus had spent twenty minutes calming the man down, reminding him how much he loved his wife to be. 

During the ceremony after Marcus might have shed a tear or two.

It was shortly after that he, much to the disappointment of his father, quit his career in law enforcement and did the back then very terrifying step of starting his own business.

He had the talent to paint pictures with his words, so it was like his customers could see the end result in front of them. 

He loved working with people.

And above all he had a talent to stay clear headed when people threw tantrums. (Surprisingly often it wasn’t the bride but the mother of the groom)

He loved to see something he worked on come together. 

He loved making people happy.

But above all he loved the moment when the groom sees his future wife for the first time as she walks down the aisle. 

Sadly all the romance he was surrounded by, did not help his own love life. 

His wife felt neglected and instead of talking to him about it, searched for comfort in another man’s arms. It had been ugly, their divorce. Not just because of hurt feelings, but because of the fact that at this point Marcus had already been very successful. And with his success came a decent amount of money. 

Three years the divorce had lasted until it was settled and he was not only left heartbroken, but out of a decent amount of his hard earned money. 

Even though it had been years and years ago, there were still some times when he sat alone in his way too big house, that he asked himself what had gone wrong? Marcus had loved his wife. Yes, he had worked much, but he always made sure to put her first. To be home for dinner every day. To show her his love. He did not understand what went wrong along the way.

He had the tendency to be too much for his partners. 

It’s why his relationships seem not to last. At least that is what he told himself. There were a couple flings until he met another woman he had thought could be the one. 

They met in a museum. She was working on a case, he was looking for a wedding venue and taking the excuse to spend the day looking at art. 

His love for art had never changed.

And much to his own surprise he had proposed only months into their relationship, just to get his heart broken again, when she left him only days later for the man she had been working with for many years.

Sighing he stared at the wedding photos of exactly that woman who had married the man only two weeks ago.

He had planned the wedding. 

Why? A question he could not answer. He could have given it to one of his many employees, but maybe he needed to see this through. He needed to see that Theresa and Patrick Jane would get their happily ever after. That Marcus had not been the one for her. 

He smiled a little, seeing them so in love on the pictures he had just forwarded to them. 

Another happy customer. 

Marcus was ready to fall in love again. This time with the right woman. Maybe he had met her already?

Yesterday on his way home he met a woman. 

Well… he had saved her life really. 

He was about to get into his car when he saw her cross the street, wearing a beautiful blue dress as the heel of her high heels got stuck in a manhole cover. 

It was like in a movie as he kept his eyes on her, cars driving around her, while she tried to free her heel. And as if that wasn’t enough a… loose dumpster was rolling down the hill, directly towards her? He saw her getting out of the shoe, running away, before she turned around to rescue her shoe. 

It was a split decision as Marcus ran towards her, his arms catching her and pulling her out of the way before the dumpster would have hit her. His hand was securely covering the back of her head and neck as they both rolled on the street.

“Are you all right?” he asked out of breath, checking her for injuries. And then she opened her eyes and Marcus hadn’t been able to get them or her out of his head ever since. 

“Where’s my shoe?” she had asked, while he was still checking if she was unharmed.

“You have it right here,” he had said softly, his hands now framing her face, keeping her still. 

“Are you hurt? Does your head hurt? Any trouble breathing?”

“No… No I don’t think so.”

“Good. Good,” he had smiled, slowly helping her up. 

Her phone rang and she sighed, as Marcus knelt in front of her, helping her get into her shoe as her hand rested on his shoulder. She had thanked her again and before Marcus could think of asking any more questions (or get her number or even her name) she had to leave, excuses coming from her lips. 

Marcus sighed. Just his luck meeting a woman, he would probably never ever see again. 

There was a knock on the door, his assistant Caroline reminding him that his next couple was there. 

He took a deep breath, his hands soothing over his grey button up as he nodded at her to let them in. 

He got up from his chair to welcome his new clients, his steps confident, only to stop in his tracks when you walked in. 

You were happy. 

You were. 

Weren’t you?

“Honey, are you sure I have to be there?” Colin asked again, his eyes fixed on his phone as he typed furiously. 

“It is our wedding. You should at least try to be involved in the planning,” you sighed, turning your head to watch the street fly by outside the car you were sitting in. 

“You know I don’t care for all of that shit,” he said and you closed your eyes. 

You did know that he did not care. 

If you were honest with yourself, you weren’t even sure if he really loved you. Or if you still loved him. Or if this was just…. How things were meant to process.

Colin and you had been together since college. 

He was the son of the current governor of the state. But this was never important to you. You actually had made him work for your affection, his cocky attitude doing nothing for you. But he had shown you his other side, the side that was corny and funny. The side you fell in love with. The guy who was not only your boyfriend but your best friend.

But as the years went by this side of him slowly disappeared, only coming out very rarely. You missed your best friend.

Yet when he asked you to marry him the yes was out of your mouth, before you could stop yourself or think about it.

It was the right thing to do. 

Was it?

You felt his hand on your knee and you looked at him. He gave you a small smile, his phone nowhere in sight for a change. You looked at him, wondering if he changed his mind. 

“I have a meeting I can’t cancel. I only have fifteen minutes. You can do the rest by yourself, right?” he asked and the hope that maybe the man you fell in love with all these years ago seemed to disappear with every meeting he chose over you. 

But instead of saying these words, you plastered a fake smile on your lips. 

“Of course, honey.”

The smile on your lips seemed wrong. It did not reach your eyes. It was the first thing Marcus thought when he saw you. Apart from thinking faith had a funny way of bringing the woman back into his life, he hadn’t stopped thinking about since the day before to plan her wedding with another man. Again. 

“The Carlson wedding?” Marcus asked and you nodded, a little flustered. 

It was him. 

The man who had saved you the day before. 

You hadn’t told Colin about your near death experience, because you did not want him to ask questions about the man that had saved you. The man that was now… planning your wedding? Those brown eyes you hadn’t stopped thinking about seemed not to leave yours.  

“That’s us. Well I’m the future Carlson,” you reached for Marcus hand, introducing yourself and he smiled, the little wrinkles around his eyes deepening. He seemed like he loved to laugh. 

“Colin Carlson,” the man next to you introduced himself to Marcus and he only now realised that you hadn’t been alone. Of course you weren’t. You were here to plan your wedding. 

Focus, Marcus. 

“Mr. Carlson,” Marcus shook the man’s hand. 

“Please take a seat,” he said as he went back behind his desk to sit down. He folded his hands on the table and looked at the couple in front of him. 

“So, what can I do for you?” he asked. 

Your smile widened for a split second before your fiance spoke.

“Well you are a wedding planner, are you not?” he scoffed and Marcus chuckled while he saw your smile getting smaller. 

“I am. Still most couples have some idea what they want. Let me rephrase, what kind of wedding do you guys want?”

“I… I always dreamed of a winter wedding. Like a winter fairytale with wintery decorations and mulled wine and snow,” you smiled softly and Marcus realised it was the first time you truly looked happy. His eyes found the huge diamond ring on your finger as you reached over to touch your fiancés arm. 

“Winter? I thought spring, honey,” Colin said and you frowned. 

“Everyone wants a spring wedding. I want something different,” you said, looking at him. 

“But spring weddings are better for the press,” he said and you gulped. Marcus could see you swallowing down whatever you wanted to say before your head turned towards him, with that fake smile he already grew to hate. 

“As you can see we need a planner. We can’t even decide on when to have the wedding,” you said.

Marcus was writing down notes as Colin reached for your hand. Marcus watched the two of you out of the corner of his eyes. 

“You can do whatever you want with the wedding, honey. Just please let’s have it in spring. You know my schedule. You know how my parents are.”

He heard you sigh. 

“Then I guess we will have a spring wedding,” you said sadly. Your fiance smiled, seemingly ignoring the sadness in your voice as he got up from his seat. 

“I have another meeting. I’m sure we’re in good hands. Thank you Mr. Pike,” he said, kissing your temple before he walked out of the room. 

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath, before you forced the smile back to your face. You were taken aback by the look of the man’s face in front of you. He looked… sad. Maybe he was pitying you. Yet there was something in his eyes that seemed to make breathing feel lighter for you. 

“I’m sorry. He’s…. He’s a busy man,” you said, your voice quiet. 

“That’s… I see that more often than you would think, “ Marcus said warmly. 

“Wedding planning is not something most men look forward to. They often are quite happy to leave the planning in their fiance’s hands. Well and mine,” he winked at you and you huffed a laugh. 

“How many couples do not make it to the wedding?” you asked and he sighed. 

“Some.”

“Do you think we are gonna make it?” you asked hesitantly. He smiled warmly at you. 

“Do you love your fiancé?” he asked.

“Yes,” the practised answer came straight away from your lips, even though you did not know if it was the right one. Yet your smile dropped for a split second as you looked at the man in front of you, trying to remember how long ago it was that Colin gave you his full attention like your wedding planner did just now. 

Marcus' smile did not waver as he nodded at you, even though he could see the uncertainty in your eyes. 

“Then let’s get to planning your wedding,” he said. 

And it was only when you were sitting in the cab after the meeting that you noticed that he hadn’t answered your question. 

Marcus, as he had insisted on calling him, had sent you some ideas for wedding venues. You had tried to talk them through with Colin but you hadn’t even seen him more than a couple of hours in the last three weeks. 

His office was keeping him busy and the only time you really spent together was either sleeping next to each other in bed or at some event for his father where you had to play the perfect wife to be. 

Thankfully you had your job, keeping your head busy. 

And Marcus. 

You were texting with Marcus all day and not just about the wedding. You had insisted on inviting him for dinner to thank him for basically saving your life.

It was the most fun you had in a long time. 

Marcus was… he was smart and funny and actually listened when you were speaking. Your standards apparently were very low. But he? He was…. You genuinely enjoyed spending time with a man that seemed to be interested in you for a change.

You knew you shouldn’t be, you noticed how he was looking at you. It was the same way you caught yourself looking at him. 

You were questioning your relationship with your husband to be. Which was a weird thing to think about while on the way to go and see different wedding venues with your very handsome wedding planner. 

You might have mentioned who was planning your wedding on your last girls night and your friends had cyber stalked him immediately. You knew that he was divorced. You knew that he had several offices of his wedding planning agency all over the country. 

You knew that he had a kind smile and beautiful brown eyes. You knew that he was the first man in a long time who seemed like he was interested in what you had to say. You also knew that you were paying him handsomely to plan a wedding you were not sure you wanted to have. 

A spring wedding. 

You were still mad about it. You never had the big plans of getting married. But in your mind, if you got married you always imagined a small party, close to christmas, somewhere with lots of snow and cosiness. You imagined your husband having only eyes for you as you danced your first dance as husband and wife to “I’ll be home for christmas”.

You just… really really loved winter. 

Sighing, you waited for your driver to open the door, already seeing Marcus waiting for you. 

You could do this. 

You would do this. 

You had to plan a wedding. 

At least until you decided what you really wanted. 

“You hated all of them,” Marcus said and you looked at him apologetic. He had put more effort than usual in his outfit today. He was wearing dark jeans and a crisp white dress shirt, a dark red blazer rounding up his outfit. 

When you had stepped out of the car in a wrap dress in the same colour as his blazer he had almost made a comment, but chose not to. 

You seemed happier today.

Not that he had much of a scale to know if you were but you seemed more relaxed. 

He took you to four different venues today but none of them seemed to be the right one. 

He wondered if it was because deep down you wanted a winter wedding and not a spring wedding. 

“I don’t hate all of them. They are… good venues.”

“You just can’t picture your wedding there,” he said and you sighed. You were walking through a park, Marcus next to you.

“Can I be honest?” you asked. 

“Of course,” Marcus said. You stopped walking and turned towards the setting sun. 

“I never imagined a big wedding. The PA of my fiancé counted around 450 guests. There might be… 10 people from my side. The rest is all his and important people he has to invite because he wants to follow in his fathers footsteps at some point. And it’s… it’s suffocating.”

You took a deep breath. 

“My ex-wife and I had a small wedding in her parents' holiday home. The wedding… It was pretty perfect. We had it outside in the snow and afterwards we all had mulled wine and s'mores.”

“That does sound pretty perfect.”

“Did not end perfectly though,” he shrugged. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. You felt Marcus next to you and you looked up at him. He had a sad smile on his lips. 

“We are going to find a location you will love,” he said, looking down at you. 

You sighed. 

“I don’t think the location is the issue in this,” you mumbled. Marcus turned towards you. 

“Please tell me if I’m overstepping but, are you okay?” he asked. 

You were quiet for a long time, trying to decide if you would tell him another lie, a lie you had been telling yourself for months, or even years. Or if you would be honest to him, this man who was a stranger to you, but that you felt so at ease with, that you found yourself wanting to spend more time with him. 

“No Marcus, I’m not okay.”

You were sitting next to Marcus on a bench in the park. You had gotten something to drink. The sun was slowly setting behind the hill and because you were getting a little cold, Marcus had put his blazer around your shoulders. 

“I just… I am not sure if this is the right thing to do. The wedding I mean.”

“Are you sure it’s not just cold feet?” he asked. 

You shook your head. 

“To be honest with you, I have been feeling like this even before he proposed. But then the yes was out of my mouth before I could really think about it and now I am getting married to a man who is becoming a stranger to me…”

You took a deep breath. 

“Do you love him?” Marcus asked you and you turned your head to look at him. 

“I do love him. I just… don’t know if I’m in love with him,” you whispered after a while. You felt his hand on top of yours as he squeezed it softly. You fought the tears that were building in your eyes. 

“Did you ever talk to Colin about it?” he asked and you shook your head. 

“I can’t even remember when I actually talked to him without anyone else in the room,” you said. 

“I might be overstepping but…. You do not seem happy. I see happy couples, happy people every day. And…”

“And?” you whispered. 

“The only time I saw your real smile, not the one you fake, but the one that reached your eyes was when you talked about everything but the wedding or your fiancé.”

The tears rolled down your cheeks then. The man next to you who you had only met weeks ago could see how unhappy you were, but no one around you did. Or they chose to ignore it.

“People never noticed if I was faking or not.”

“I did,” he whispered and gave you a small smile. You smiled too, before you took a deep breath. 

“I don’t think I had a reason to smile for a long time,” you said. 

“What changed?” Marcus asked. You tilted your head, sniffing your nose a little with a soft smile. 

“I met you.”

You did not want to shop for a wedding dress. 

Your friends had to cancel which would leave you, your future mother in law, your future sister in law and a personal stylist you had never met before to buy a dress you were not sure you were ever going to wear. 

Thankfully Marcus had offered to come too.

You had wanted to cancel the whole thing, but you had already rescheduled three times. 

You were getting dressed for the day, when Colin emerged from the en suite, already fully dressed. 

“Do you… Do you have time to have dinner with me sometime this week?” you asked. 

“I have to check? Anything important?” he did not even look at you. 

“Yeah. It’s… It is important,” you said. He then finally looked at you. 

“Is everything okay?” he walked over to you, his hands coming to rest on your shoulders. 

You sucked your bottom lip in, nervous. 

“I don’t know,” you said honestly. 

“I’ll make sure to clear my afternoon and evening, okay?” he said and you nodded. 

“I have to go. Dress shopping,” you tried to sound excited. 

Colin smiled at you before he kissed you softly. 

“Have fun.”

This was even worse than you had imagined. 

Every dress that you loved was not good enough (or more like expensive enough) for the people judging every inch of you. 

You were tired. 

You had been here for four hours and every dress you had tried on did not feel right. 

Your future mother in law wanted to see you in a ball gown which was so not your thing. You wanted something… something lighter. Something you could move and dance in. 

“It’s a big wedding honey. You have to wear a big dress,” she said, already on her third glass of champagne. 

“You might need to lose some weight too. The pictures will be everywhere and we don’t want you to look fat, don’t we?” your future sister in law smiled, her eyes cold and you gulped. She had hated you from day one.

“I think I’m done for today,” you said and turned around, almost running toward the changing room. 

Someone helped you out of the dress, leaving you alone after and you wrapped the robe they left you around your body when there was a knock on the door. 

“It’s me,” you heard Marcus behind the door. You wiped the tears from your cheeks.

“Come in,” you called out hoarsely. The door opened and Marcus stepped in, closing the door behind him. He only looked at you and you sobbed. His arms were around you in seconds, your fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt, your face buried in his chest as you allowed yourself to cry. 

His hand brushed soothingly over your back, humming softly while you slowly calmed down. 

“They are gone. And you are perfect just the way you are,” he said after a while. 

“She was cruel to tell you something like that. Nobody should ever say something like that.”

“I know. And usually I don’t listen but…”

“She said that before?” he asked. You looked up at him, his eyes concerned. 

“Not just him. They are… It feels like they are preparing me to be the trophy wife.”

Marcus shook his head. 

“You are so much more than a trophy wife. You are….” he was searching for words. 

“You are smarter than anyone I have ever met. You care about all the people around you. You are funny as hell. And so…. So beautiful.”

“Marcus…” you whispered. His face came closer towards yours, his breath brushing over your skin as he leaned his forehead against yours. 

“You deserve so much more. You deserve someone who makes you happy. A family that accepts you as you are. Cause you’re pretty much perfect to me. You deserve to have a wedding that you actually want to have. You deserve… you deserve to have everything you dream of,” he whispered and you gasped softly. 

The thought that you wanted him to kiss you crossed your mind and you closed your eyes, before you took a step back. When you looked up, Marcus was staring at you with a soft smile. 

“I would understand if you want to leave right now but… I have one dress left for you to try on if you want to?” He looked a little shy.

You shrugged. 

“I mean it can’t be worse than what I have already tried on,” you mumbled.

“That’s the spirit. I’ll… I’ll wait for you outside,” he winked and you nodded at him. 

Of course it was perfect. The dress Marcus had picked was all you had ever dreamed of. You were staring at yourself in the mirror in disbelief that you could look like that. 

“Are you ready to show it?” the woman who had helped you get dressed asked.

You were but at the same time you weren’t. Because for some reason you did not want Marcus to see you wearing this dress. This perfect dress that a man picked, you would not even marry. 

“Yeah. Yeah I am ready.”

Marcus was fucked. 

He was so fucked.

He was sitting on one of the couches when he saw you walk out of the dressing room and towards him, the biggest smile on your lips as you wore the dress he had picked for you. 

He felt tears stinging in his eyes immediately, overwhelmed by the vision that you were as you carefully took the step onto the little runway that was in the wedding shop, walking towards the big mirror. 

Any plan of even trying to keep his feelings towards you professional were lost anyway after the moment you had at the dressing room but this? It was like a movie ran in his head. Of the life you and him could have together. He could make you happy. He would make you happy. 

“What do you think?” you asked, looking at him through the mirror and he hastily wiped his tears away. 

“Perfect,” he nodded at you with a big smile.

“Are you… Are you even in love with me?” you were sitting on the couch of your perfect penthouse with Colin sitting on the opposite end after dinner. He had made time for you as he promised. You had dinner and now you were sitting in your living room. 

Talking. 

“Of course I love you,” he frowned and you sighed. 

“I don’t doubt that you love me. But are you in love with me? Do you want to spend the rest of your life with me? Can you even remember the last time we went out together, because we wanted to and not because it was something for work or for your father? Can you remember the last time we had sex? And I don’t mean the rushed ten minutes where you fuck me and I have to get myself off after.”

It was quiet for a long time.

“I… I will always love you,” he said after a while. 

“But you’re not in love with me,” you said with a sad smile. He sighed. 

“No. No I am not.”

“Good,” you said. He looked at you confused.

“Good?”

You nodded. 

“Because I am not in love with you either. I… I think I haven’t been for a long time. And…”

“You’ve been smiling more lately,” Colin said and you nodded. 

“Yeah. Yeah I have. I… Someone showed me what life could be like if you’re truly happy. Not that I wasn’t with you. Just… these last months were…”

“Miserable. They sucked so much. Oh my god,” Colin said and you laughed. 

“Yeah. We should both be happy. Even if it means not being together.”

You both sighed. 

“I did not cheat on you by the way. I just… I met him and….” you mumbled and Colin reached over, taking your hand. 

“I know. And I believe you. I’m just…. I’m happy that there’s someone out there bringing your smile back, when I failed you in so many ways,” he squeezed your hand.

“I am not going to tell your parents,” you said and he sighed even louder. 

“I will. And I am sorry how they treated you. I… I’m sorry I never said anything either.”

“It’s okay. Actually it’s not but… Can’t change the past,” you said, feeling like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. You looked at your hand, the big diamond ring sparkling. You pulled it off as you got up from the couch. 

“I am going to move to the guest bedroom,” you said, taking his hand to put the ring into it. 

“Stay as long as you want. This is your home too,” he said. You nodded. 

“Thank you.”

You hadn’t seen Marcus since the wedding dress debacle. Or since you broke up with your fiancé for that matter. 

You did however text or talk to him daily, the exchange between the two of you being the highlight of your day really. You knew you had feelings for him. Probably had for a long time. But now you were actually allowing yourself to feel them and you could only hope that you read the signs right, and Marcus felt something for you too. 

Colin’s parents had not been happy with the cancelled wedding, but frankly you did not care. There hadn’t been invitations sent out yet, so really it would only be a small announcement that you had separated. You had spent the last three weeks packing your stuff and finding a new place in which you would move into in a few days. 

It was funny that now that you and Colin were not a couple anymore, you both found yourself spending more time together than before. He helped you pack, you cooked dinner and watched some real housewives after. 

You may have lost your fiancé but you were on the road to getting your best friend back. 

He had told you that he only worked so much because he did not know how to be alone with you but not with you. 

And a part of you could understand him now, while the other part, the neglected and hurt part still healed. 

Yet while everything changed around you, you had not told Marcus, your wedding planner, that the wedding was off. 

You would do that today at the cake tasting you would meet him at. 

He had found a small bakery, meeting you outside with a bright smile. 

“How are you?” he asked.

“I am great,” you smiled at him as he opened the door to the bakery. 

Marcus hadn’t seen you in weeks. He thought it would help with his crush on you, but talking to you every day did not help with that. 

You even watched movies together, texting with each other throughout. 

Marcus was hopelessly and utterly in love with you. 

And it was absolute hell not being able to be together with you. Just his luck, falling for one of his clients. 

Yet sometimes when you looked at him he found himself thinking that maybe his feelings were not one sided. 

You told him yourself you were unhappy in your relationship. Hell, he was planning a wedding with you that you did not want to have. Or at least, not like that. 

Then again, the only thing that really was planned at this point was the date of the wedding. 

Neither your fiancé nor his family had been a big help, leaving you to make all decisions yourself. And you hadn’t really made any decisions. 

He looked at you over the table, humming at the taste of what looked like a raspberry cake. 

He was at a point where he needed answers so he wouldn’t turn insane. Even if it meant not only losing a client, but getting his heart broken. Again.

“Did you ever like somebody, but the timing was off?” Marcus asked and you sighed. 

“Yeah. Yeah I think I do,” you said and he looked at you with something that felt like hope in his eyes. 

“Yeah?” he asked. You nodded. 

You tried the chocolate cake next, humming at the taste. 

“What if… the timing wasn’t off?” you asked as he tried the lemon cake. His eyes found yours. 

“Honestly?” he checked and you nodded. “I would ask her out on a date and….”

“And?”

His hand came up, his fingers brushing some chocolate on the corner of your lips away with a soft smile before he could stop himself. 

You reached for his other hand, intertwining your fingers and his eyes focused on your hand, or more so on the lack of your big diamond engagement ring on your finger. 

He gulped before he looked up at you. 

“I probably would kiss her right now, because it’s all I’ve been thinking about ever since I saved her from getting rolled over by a dumpster,” he said and you chuckled. 

“I’m afraid I have to tell you, you’re fired Mr. Pike. There’s no wedding left to plan,” you said with a small smile, your other hand finding its way on his cheek. 

He closed his eyes for a moment, releasing a long breath before his eyes opened and he smiled. Wide. 

“Thank god,” he mumbled, wasting no more time and finally kissed you. 

And just a few months later you got your winter wedding, perfectly planned by not only you but the best wedding planner you knew, your fiancé. 

And yeah, you lived happily ever after. 

#my fic #year of creation #year of movie'aus #Marcus pike #Marcus Pike x fem. reader #Pedro pascal #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction

[agaypanic]

Benny saves reader from a zombie

When The Dead Rise (Benny Weir X Reader)

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Summary: Ethan has to take his little sister trick or treating, so of course he invites all of his friends to keep him company. Splitting up from your friends to spend time with your boyfriend ends up giving you some scares.

A/N: SO MANY THINGS TO SAY!!! 1, sorry for not posting a story in over 2 weeks, i discovered character ai messaging and became addicted to talking to josh hutcherson’s (i love that man, im so glad hes been getting more attention again, im so sad that he has a gf and is like 10+ years older than me) mike schmidt from fnaf (lowkey wondering if i should try making character chats, i think itd be fun lol). 2, thank you for 1.1k followers!!! It truly means a lot to me! 3, I still have a good handful of requests and i don’t know when they’ll all be finished, so if you’ve sent in a request that i haven't gotten to yet, im so sorry lol. 4, this feels kinda half-assed but enjoy this halloween fic even tho its fuckin november lmao

***

“Ethan, hurry up!” Benny yelled up the stairs to his best friend, who was in his room getting ready. “If we wait any longer, all the good candy’s gonna be gone!”

“Calm down, Bens.” You laughed. “We’re big kids; we can buy our own candy.”

“It’s not the same.” He whined, letting you pull him towards you by the lapels of his suit jacket. You fixed his poorly tied tie and smoothed out the fabric of his outfit. Benny wanted to be a magician this year, saying it fit perfectly. He even somehow roped you into dressing up as a magician’s assistant.

Before you could reply, there was a knock at the door. Unsure of whether it was a trick-or-treater or one of your friends, you grabbed the bowl of candy near the front entrance and opened the door. But the sight before you made you jump, some pieces of candy flying out of the bowl.

“Trick or treat!” Rory snickered behind an ugly zombie mask. It looked like the mask had been melted and worn out. 

“Couldn’t you have just dressed up as a vampire?” You asked, letting Rory into the house and closing the door. “You know, with you being a vampire and all.”

“Too easy.” Rory shrugged, taking off the mask. “Besides, scaring the crap out of you is worth wearing the mask.” He grinned, and you smacked his shoulder with an eye roll.

Hearing footsteps come thundering down the stairs, you all turned around. Jane came down in a princess costume while Ethan was close behind in one of his regular outfits. You all booed him and his wardrobe.

“Boring!”

“Didn’t even try.”

“Where’s your Halloween spirit, man?”

“Guys, give me a break, okay?” Ethan sighed. It was clear he didn’t really want to go out tonight. Wanting him to at least try to get into the spirit of the holiday, you grabbed a pack of fake vampire fangs from the trick-or-treating bowl.

“Here, you can be the vampire. Now let’s go, or Jane won’t get any candy.” Hearing this, Jane raced out the door, the rest of you hot on her tail.

***

It was late at night when you all decided to stop trick or treating. Jane’s candy bag was practically bursting at the seams, and she was worn out to the point where Rory had to start carrying her. He only did it because, due to being a vampire, he was the only one strong enough to haul her around, and she promised to give him some of her candy.

“Wanna split?” Benny leaned down to whisper to you, the two of you slowing down and gradually being separated from your friends. Deciding that they probably wouldn’t mind your absence, you nodded. Benny grinned and squeezed your hand that he had been holding the entire evening before pulling you in the direction of his house.

As the two of you walked down the street, a chill ran up your spine. An October night in Canada probably wasn’t the best time to wear a costume that had a good amount of skin, but when you put the costume on, you had decided that it would be a problem for future you.

Future you was less than pleased.

Luckily, being the amazing and thoughtful boyfriend he was, Benny took off his magician’s cape and tied it around you. He must’ve enchanted it, because you were immediately warmed by the fabric. You clung onto his arm, not missing the proud smile he had when he looked down at you wearing something of his.

“Oh, gosh.” You murmured, slowing to a stop. Benny stumbled, looking around in confusion. Before he could ask what was wrong, you pointed to what awaited you just a few yards ahead.

If you knew that the Whitechapel cemetery would be on your route to Benny’s house, you would’ve gone another way. But here you were, looking at the fog-covered, fenced-up plot of land in front of you, the path that went through it looking less than inviting. Given you and your friends’ track records with supernatural and dead things, you were weary of spooky things, such as a cemetery at night. Tonight being Halloween didn’t help much.

“Come on, N/n, it’s okay.” Benny cooed, pulling you along. “Nothing’s gonna happen, I promise.”

“How can you be so sure?” You asked, squeezing his arm.

“I’ll protect you, babe.”

“Oh, great, so we’re both dead.” You half-joked, and Benny gave you a fake offended look.

“Rude.” You got to the fence, and you paused again. Benny looked back and sighed; it was as if he could read your mind before you protested. “Going through the cemetery instead of around is the quickest way home, Y/n. We’ll speedwalk.”

After a deep breath, you nodded, and you both ventured through the graveyard. You clung to Benny as if your life depended on it. For all you knew, it did. The aura surrounding you as you walked spooked Benny a bit, but he did his best to put on a brave face for you.

Before you knew it, you were almost at the other side of the cemetery. Relief filled you as the fog faded just enough to show you the exit.

“Come on, let’s get out of here.” You say, a pep in your step now. But for some reason, Benny pulled on his cape that was around your shoulders. You looked back in confusion.

It wasn’t Benny, you realized. Because he was standing next to you, not behind you.

Behind you was a hideous, groaning creature that looked like it had been decaying for years. You wouldn’t have been surprised if it had crawled out of one of the graves you and Benny walked by.

“Zombie!” You shouted, making Benny jump. You tried to run, but the creature’s decaying hand had a death grip on the cape you were wearing, the opposing forces almost choking you.

Benny grabbed the string that tied the cape around you and somehow ripped it apart. It was probably the sudden adrenaline that gave him the strength to do that and then pick you up when you were finally free. Tossing you over his shoulder, Benny ran out of the graveyard while you both freaked out about what you saw.

Over your squeals and shouts, you didn’t hear the laughing that came from the place you were fleeing from. The zombie dropped the cape and ripped off its face, revealing a cackling Rory. But his laughs were suddenly cut short when he heard a rustle in a nearby bush. Realizing that being alone in the cemetery was becoming too creepy for him, Rory sped away.

When you reached Benny’s house and called your friends, you told them all about the terrifying encounter you and Benny had with the dead. During your storytelling, you didn’t notice Rory having a slight grin on his face the entire time.

#agaypanic #benny weir #benny weir x reader #my babysitter's a vampire #my babysitter's a vampire x reader

[greyskyflowers]

I have this half idea in my head and I'm going to word barf if here so maybe it inspires someone instead of living in my head. And this is a weird one because I just wanted to focus I guess on consent and how it might play a part in different plot ideas.

How doing something on your terms is different than doing it on someone else's, no matter what the intention.

I did a post a long time ago with a similar idea for Hawks (mha) and having fans touch his wings vs having friends or a significant other.

⚠️This might be all over the place but I swear it all comes together in the end. ⚠️

Recently I had a post where I discussed Zoro and the crew basically keeping their vulnerabilities to themselves. Sure, everyone has seen them cry or bleed at some point but the real, gritty stuff is kept to themselves. Not out of shame, but love. Only they get to see each other truly weak or broken. And this kind of goes with that idea.

I wanted to kind of focus on consent with this idea, on allowing someone to see you when you aren't comfortable.

It can be such a honor to see someone when they don't want to be seen, they they trust you to love them when they don't see themselves as loveable.

Zoro is a proud guy. He's strong, talented, usually very likable, attractive, etc He's also half naked in basically every battle and all the good stuff like that. But that's a choice.

I think it's different to be bare when you're fighting, when people look at you with fear and respect, or when blood provides a barrier between your skin and the world.

I also think Zoro is a pretty dude. Fight me about it. He's built like a brick shit house and I think he'd be beautiful with some eyeliner. I've also written posts about Zoro being beautiful in all the ways humans are. In the way he laughs, the ways his muscles move, the way he looks at the crew, etc.

Let people be beautiful and bloodthirsty, you cowards.

People have to know Zoro is attractive by now. So what do people do when they think someone is attractive and not living up to their full potential? They have makeovers, the ugly girl has a girls night with the cheerleader and comes back to school dolled up and stunning. The ugly duckling blossoms into a beautiful swan. The guy in the gas station tells you that you'd be prettier if you smiled. The old woman next door tells you that you'd be so much prettier if you stopped dying your hair blue and took off all that makeup.

Garbage.

Now, on to the actual fic idea.

I think this specific idea came from the concept of people just adoring Luffy. People are going to and/or already do fucking worship Luffy, take your pick for why. And it makes sense that someone they worship should be surrounded by beautiful things.

Somehow that leads a group/cult/whatever to the brilliant idea of taking Zoro and trying to surprise Luffy.

Which, nooo.

You could argue the group who takes Zoro mean well, they just think that the Sun god should have someone dressed like sun next to them. It makes sense, okay?

A bloody, demon next to the Sun god just isn't the right vibe. Plus they keep hearing the swordsman is kind of attractive, so really this is basically them helping.

They kidnapped Zoro, which is as impressive as it is concerning, and when the strawhats come for Zoro, they are presented a crewmate worthy of a sun god. At least, according to the people stupid enough to take Zoro from them.

So in reality the groups/cult/whatever present, complete with *jazz hands* and eager excitement, a very ruffled and upset Zoro.

They talk nonstop the entire time. Praises and stories, how devoted they are, how much they love Luffy, why they did all this, all the stuff creepy cults say to supposedly show devotion.

So I picture Zoro way over the top, a tribute to a beloved god after all.

He's clean, a vast amount of tan skin bared and shimmering, and a silver eye narrowed. All while drapped in gold jewelry and accessories.

There's gold bands around his wrists and wrapped around his upper arms. Thin gold chains around his neck of different lengths and types. He's barefoot with ankle bracelets covering his scars

Rings on all fingers. Earrings and ear cuffs in white and gold.

Gold dusted on his cheeks and around his eyes. The barest of black swiped under his eyes, even the closed one. Lips stained just a little darker, like wine

Drapped in white, cream and gold fabrics. Thin gold chains around his waist to help hold the fabric he's wearing.

Every scar visible is painted in with gold.

His chest looks like the dawn breaking the horizon and the scar over his eye looks like it will start dripping sunbeams down his cheek

And really the main question here is, how can anyone possibly look at Zoro and not think he clearly belongs to Luffy?

Every scar now highlighted in gold, every tic of his jaw where he makes himself behave because they're still looking at him and he can tell they're unsure.

That all belongs to them, to Luffy.

Everything on him is a devotional to the crew.

He could be buried in heavy shadows and dark soil, but the sun would still find him. It's in his blood, carved into his skin, and kept close to his heart and loved like his swords. Even if Luffy left a visible mark on Zoro's skin, there wouldn't be a ink in the world dark enough to cover it.

Zoro's ready to rip it all off, even starts breaking some of the thinner chains and handing them to Nami and grumbling about his debt.

There's a slightly franticness to his movements though. A wild look in his eye that you'd only notice if you knew him like they do.

He wipes at his face and it smears the gold like a big brush stroke, hands now golden and leaving trails over his skin as he tries to get everything off. Broken necklaces tangle around his neck from where he snapped them but it's all weaved together, so they just hang there.

He manages to get all the earrings off except his, which chime angrily as he keeps trying to get everything off. Paint flakes on his scars as he moves, the silver, white of the older ones and the raised, pink of the new ones are more edged in gold than covered in it.

The cloth he was drapped in has slipped, barely hanging on around his hips and caught on one of the belt like chains, and it softens the drop to the floor for all the golden things Zoro doesn't give to Nami or the others.

Luffy is actually quiet but uses careful, callused hands to help unhook all the jewelry from his swordsman.

Usopp using his sharp eyes to quickly untangle anything that wouldn't come off quickly.

Franky and Robin offer additional hands when Nami's get full, fully intent of taking compensation from anyone causing their crew so much trouble.

Chopper carefully works his way around Zoro looking for bruises or wounds, he talks nervously the whole time.

Sanji, Jinbei, and Brook are keeping an eye out anyone stupid enough to approach them.

This is a different type of vulnerable than they're use to, but it's still something that makes them all anxious.

Luffy has a face on that doesn't speak of good things to come for anyone involved and it seems like the people responsible have finally caught on. They whisper amoung themselves but the crew only focuses on how Zoro's breathing gets easier with all the things they get off him.

His back is bare of gold when he turns. No scars to paint gold, no perceived flaws to cover. It's such a stark contrast to the rest of his body that it takes a moment to process.

Honestly, it might be what finally snapped the crew into baring teeth and drawing blood. The vulnerably. The familiar broad back in front of them like it was ready to take another blow so they wouldn't have to. Clear of scars, no wounds of shame, not that anything on Zoro could be shameful.

It was just clean skin, warm, alive, and all Zoro. Nothing else.

And their swordman was uncomfortable. He was trembling just the smallest bit in a way he never did unless he was losing too much blood. His pupil blown when he managed to make eye contact with one of them. Nails catching on skin in a desperate attempt to get everything off that made blood raise up and bead along the vivid scratches.

I think Luffy would figure it out first, he'd know immediately.

Nami and Robin next though. They've seen that wild, desperate desire to get someone eyes off, they've worn that look themselves before.

The rest catch on quickly. They're carry too much of each other to not realize what's happening.

And the truth is, Zoro is very eye-catching. And they'll carefully let him know that later, when he's back safe on the ship with them and only their eyes to look at him, only their attention to worry about. When it's clear that it's a compliment given from love and not something taken for desire.

But Zoro's the most stunning when he's comfortable. Especially when he curls his lips back in a snarl and he looks like their Zoro.

When he gets his swords back and wears blood and gold equally on his skin. He looks like someone worthy of a king and it's just another thing that solidifies that he belongs to Luffy and the crew.

Do I think Zoro would wear this for the crew if they ever asked? Yes.

Would he like the attention? Yes.

Because he's decided to be vulnerable for them and only them.

Weeeee consenting poly strawhat vibes for the win with this one.

#*hides* #one piece #zoro #luffy #nami #sanji #brook one piece #usopp #franky one piece #nico robin #tony tony chopper #jinbei #the poly strawhat potential is strong #strawhat pirates #mugiwara pirates #potential op spoilers? idk #op #mugiwarapirates #straw hat crew #zolu #but zoro x everyone tbh #let zoro bottom more you cowards #setting sail with greyskyflowers

[hopeyblogs]

I want to ask if you'd like to make a fics that reader sacrifice his life for Rowan in the festival and like Reader gave him his last kiss, he never forgive Wednesday because he thought that its Wednesday's fault

I don't know why I requests this, I'm just bored 🙂

y'all rly love to cry :( thank you anon for requesting!! enjoy <33 ⇢Masterlist

(reader has mind control as powers/ like telekinesis but she can the person's mind only. Telekinesis controls their movement!!)

A demise

White lunar shone through the night, sweet smells, colourful lights, lively laughs, It was perfect. Going to the festival with your boyfriend Rowan.

Although he was quiet. Something was distracting him.

"Rowan? You okay?" You concerned

"I'm fine" he mumbled.

You decided not to push him and divert your attention to some of the stalls. You felt a wind passing by and Rowan disappeared?

You saw he was running towards the forest. You had no choice to follow him.

"Rowan! Where are you going?!" pushing past through the crowds. He was fast. You were trying to catch up.

"Rowan! what's the meaning of this?" You screamed for him. He disappeared into the forest and you followed closely behind him.

He was talking with Wednesday and she was held onto a tree. You had to step in.

"Rowan? What are you doing? Let Wednesday down! You're going to hurt her!" you shooked his hands. He pushed you down replying with "You don't understand y/n! She could kill us!"

What the fuck did he mean? kill us? what? "Let her go Rowan! This can settled without any force!" You pulled his hands. He ignored you and accidentally pushing you with his telekinesis. You hit your head on a nearby tree.

Almost getting a concussion, you muster up the strength to stay awake. A nearby growl was heard between the trees. That wasn't good.

Your peripheral vision caught an ugly monster waiting for the right time to pounce aiming on Rowan. Your thoughts ran wild. Should you save him and Wednesday or run away. It was a blur.

But apparently your heart made the decision for you. Right before the monster pounces on him. You activated your powers and controls its mind. Making it run away from the three of you.

But god was it painful. Your head was already hit and your energy was slowly draining. Your body was weakening. Your consciousness was leaving, dark spots blinding your sight. You had to fight the pain to save someone's life.

With your weakened state, your grasp over the monster was weakening. It regains back it's surroundings and aimed on you instead. You couldn't run away, your body betrayed your mind, fear struck within, fatigued runs in your body. Screams and growls filled your ears.

Pain filled your loins, vision turning black. He was hysterical. This couldn't be happening. You were the only he had left. No. There must be some way to save you. Please. Let this be a nightmare. "y/n! y/n! please! come on! come on come on. Please don't! CALL THE POLICE!" he begged and pawed at your bloodied and bruised body. Denying of your pain.

With the last amount of strength you had. Soft eyes looking back at his teary eyes. You lift your hands and pull him into one last kiss. A kiss to mourn his lose, to bring him back to you one last time. Letting go. You mutter a whisper "I love you Rowan. Don't blame yourself dear" Lifeless body limp on his lap. A soft smile etched on your face. You never regretted saving him. He was always worth saving.

He wasn't having one more loss. His mind was clouding with anger. The prophecy was true. Wednesday could harm the school. She killed the only one he had left. He'll make sure she'll pay for your life, but for now, he'll sob and grieve for his loss. He'll kill for you.

#draft dump #x reader #imagines #rowan laslow #rowan laslow x reader #rowan x reader #rowan rambles #wednesday #angst #angst prompt

[thewolvesof1998]

Created by @mostlyinthemorning

Day Eleven pt. 10 (Because I couldn't choose)

mi media naranja by oklahoma @malewifediaz

the side effects of eating too many clementines by oklahoma

It’s a testament to the deep fondness Eddie has for Buck that he doesn’t even bat an eye when Buck shows up at his house at one in the afternoon with a box full of oranges in his hands. He’s grinning like a fool, ugly and goofy and crooked, haloed by the sun behind his big head, and something deep in Eddie’s tummy shifts. He’s used to it. That always happens when Buck’s smiling like he is right now, all child-like and full of joy and wildness, so unrelentingly kind and free that no amount of ruin or rot can take it away from him. He’s bigger and stronger and tougher and brighter than even the Library of Alexandria, and that was one of the greatest wonders of the world. Buck’s a wonder of the world, then. The most wonderful, maybe. - Eddie realizes he’s in love with Buck while they’re in the kitchen, of all places.

the art of peeling mandarins for the one you love by oklahoma 

“I’m asking you to be my husband.” Eddie sighs, straddling Buck’s thighs and sitting down on Buck’s big, cushiony lap. It’s his second favorite seat, after the recliner Athena bullied him into buying when his ribs broke in the overpass collapse. “Buck—” “And it makes sense, you know?” Buck cuts in, gripping Eddie’s thighs and pulling him in. Eddie can feel all of him, through the thin layers separating them. “I mean, I sat here and I watched you peel an orange for me ‘cause I can’t do it the way you do and in the time it took you to separate the sections I fell in love with you all over again.” - Buck asks Eddie to marry him in the kitchen, of all places.

There's not much to say other than Amanda's writing makes me actually feral (if you want proof look at the comments I leave on her fics- actually insane for the writing) and I want to devour her brain so I can write like her. I recommend every single one of her fics but these two are just to die for.

Rules: Every day for 12 days in December, choose a fandom work from any fandom from 2023 that you loved. It can be anything you like - a gifset, a drabble, fanart, a fic, or just a post that made you laugh.

Reblog the post and add a comment or tags about why you love it.

Tag your post with #12 days of fandom

tagging: @hippolotamus @exhuastedpigeon @steadfastsaturnsrings @monsterrae1 @pirrusstuff @spotsandsocks @buddierights @jamespearce9-1-1 and anyone else who wants to participate (it's never too late!)

#9-1-1 #buddie #buddie fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #fic recs #12 days of fandom joy

[blueberrybladelemonade]

Colors of Chance

Pepperman x Reader 

(Inspired by another lovely comic by @pervertedindividual this is for you, fren🫂💜)

Comic by them:

Takes place after Y/N's first meeting with Pepperman from Colors of Expression but diverges from that fic completely after that! You don't need to read that fic for this one! 

Contains: The anthropomorphic pepper makes fun of you. Again. A very tiny amount of angst. Fluff ending. 

"Oh! It's that Y/N girl again." How fortunate that Pepperman had the chance to see you again. It had been weeks since he seen you last at the studio. He cringed inwardly as he recalled your (deserved) tirade at him. You had come into the studio one other time since that day. What happened instead was that you had opened the door, locked eyes with his, and simply turned around and left. 

"Hmm." You click your tongue, startled at the sudden voice nearby. 

"Hello there".

"Oh. It's you." You scoff and wipe your hand with a dry rag. "Don't worry I'll be taking my ugly art elsewhere".

"No need I want you to stay." Pepperman stepped towards you and pat you on the shoulder. He wants me to...stay? You give him a silent look to continue as your heart fluttered just a tiny bit. 

"I think we got off on the wrong foot last time so how about we start over on good terms"? 

You pause for a moment, before giving him a small smile. "Okay".

"Splendid!" He replies, giving you a smile of his own. "So what are you creating?" He asked, glancing over your shoulder at your latest work. 

"Well, I'm doing a finger painting of this-" he stifled a laugh. "Wha-Hey! What's so funny?! You snap, feeling heat rise at the back of your neck.

"Finger painting on a big canvas? Quite bohemian don't you think?" He lets out a laugh. 

You snort. "So?" 

"Wouldn't it be better and more efficient to use brushes instead"?

What a jerk. you felt your eye twitch. So much for getting off on the wrong foot. At some point you tuned out his voice as he continued mocking your art. Your nostrils flared. 

"To be honest I think it's cute-"

An exasperated yell torn from your throat, drowning out what ever other critique this overgrown vegetable was spewing. Pepperman's mouth dropped taken aback by the shift in your demeanor. 

"Must you judge everything! Where do you get off from criticizing others, huh"?! You snarl.

"I-"

"No! Forget it! This was a mistake." You felt a burning prickle in the corner of your eyes and spun around before tears threatened to spill over. 

"And to think I looked up to you." You choked out, barely audible to even yourself.  

* * * * * 

As you grumbled to yourself as you sunk into the couch. Meeting your idols is a mistake. You huff and cross your arms, glaring into the empty space. 

Many months ago there had been a local art convention that caught your attention. You remembered reading the article and the hosted events and grew curious. You had never been to something like this and on a whim decided to make that your plan for the week. 

There had been a variety of talents that day. Light and airy melodies echoed throughout the hallways as you took in the drawings around you. Some were vivid hues, some all done in black in white. More still were all of the different styles, all as unique as the artists. 

As the day progressed you claimed a seat in the auditorium. You settled yourself in the middle of the row, not too close and not too far away from the podium and waited. That's when you had met him. 

You couldn't remember much, if anything, about the other speakers that had come and gone. The individual that stuck out to you that day was a massive pepper that had taken the podium. He had introduced himself as Phil Pepperman and you very clearly recalled how eloquent he spoke. Even his euphemisms were almost poetic as he discussed his art and what he was passionate about. 

From what you had learned was that he was rising in fame in your town. He was very strict in his art techniques, refusing to diverge and add any elements not matching what ever style he was emulating. 

While you disagreed with the notion of never adding your own twist to your art, you had respect Pepperman for it. His strict adherence to each style was something you could admire. As he displayed some of his illustrations on the projector - side by side with other works in those specific styles - you almost couldn't tell the creators apart. 

That was his talent and Pepperman almost had it down to a science. He could mimic most styles he studied and depict what ever he had wanted in it. The downside, however, was that unconventional methods were something he looked down on. 

A small scowl formed on your face as you took another sip of your drink. That didn't give him an excuse to be such an asshole though. 

Truth be told, you had begun looking up art Pepperman had created and sometimes you'd see his creations on display at festivals. His art was always something you could recognize but maybe that had more to do with the fact he drew himself in various styles. A lot. 

Pompous jerk. He only- you jolt up with a start, the sudden screaming from your phone almost causing you to drop it. 

"Hello"?

"Hi is this Y/N?" The caller asked. 

"Uh, yes"?

"Hi Y/N It's Dave from the studio. I was cleaning out the racks today and noticed you left one of your paintings here. Did you want to collect it or should we throw it out"?

"O-oh," "Thank you, I didn't know I left something there. I'll come get it tomorrow".

You exchange a few more pleasantries before coming up with the excuse that you needed to go.

* * * * *

You arrive at the studio and weave through the random people to make your way to the wall. Most times you didn't mind lingering and making small talk but you weren't in the mood today. There were paintings, clay, and brushes were set to dry or to return to another day. 

As you locate your name labelled above one of the slots, you the pull out the canvas and your eyes widen. It was the painting you had been working on last week that you abandoned. A few places had smeared paint, another few had grass and dirt clung and dried into it. That aside though, it was intact. But why was it here?

You quirk a brow as you see a bright green paper folded and taped to the side. The note comes off easily enough and you pull it open. 

Y/N if able, could you meet me at the rooftop of Tirizia's this Sunday? 

~PP

You let out a huff as you eyes lock onto the all too familiar signature. 

Seriously? Why? What did he want? Wasn't Tirizia's that restaurant with the fancy rooftop garden? 

* * * * * 

It was. 

Ivy grew along the stone walls with an occasional pop of color from a flower. As you looked further inside, a large stone and marble structure was in the center of the restaurant. Glass from overhead had filtered light directly onto it as water tumbled down from the peak. From the base there was a small pond surrounded by tables where you could sit and feel the light mist. 

Your eyes settled on the stairwell in the distant corner. A trail of flowers lined the railing all the way up and at the top you could see a faint arch illuminated softly. Very briefly you argued with yourself if you should just turn and walk out. Why did you want to meet Pepperman, anyway? He turned out to be insufferable and hated your art. Yet he went out of his way to take your painting to the studio. 

Despite wanting to leave, you found your legs carrying you up each step to the rooftop. 

"Ah, there you are Y/N." You glance to the side and see Pepperman sitting at a table with a canvas in front of him. There was an empty space beside him with an equally blank canvas, unoccupied. 

You eye Pepperman suspiciously as he gestures for you to sit next to him. You shake your head and only take a few steps towards him. This probably wouldn't take long, the minute he started to say anything critiquing you, you were leaving. 

"Thank you for saving my terrible painting and taking it to the studio, but you didn't have to".

Pepperman gives you a small frown, "Why do you think it's terrible"?

Your stare at him in disbelief. "Well let's see. The first time you seen my art, you called it a "tragic amalgam" and THEN last week you made fun of me for finger painting on a large canvas. Like who does that? Why do you think..."

"Y/N".

You can't even hear him, instead you continue your rant. "I mean seriously, just because its 'bohemian' at least I CAN add my-"

"Y/N"! Pepperman shouts over you, losing his composure for a moment.

You stop and purse your lips, a scowl flashing across your face. Why did you think you should try talking with Pepperman a THIRD time? You should've left like you were going to. Instead you flinch as he strode over to you and clasps a hand on your shoulder. 

He looks away, lowering his eyes to the restaurant below. "I said your art was cute".

"Wha-"?

"I think your finger painting was cute. It was unorthodox and yet you were quite content. Despite the huge mess." He chuckled to himself.

"I...huh"? You couldn't but remain rooted in place. Pepperman actually...thought your art was cute? 

"So why didn't you just say that instead of making fun of me?" You glared but your eyes shone with a mix of curiosity. 

"Because it's unorthodox. You're an eccentric one, Y/N. I can't make sense of your methods or techniques." His eyes returned your gaze, "You don't follow any rules to what you create, you simply do what you like. It's both whimsical and confusing for one who always follows guidelines and tradition".

As Pepperman finished speaking silence spread between you both. You remained speechless as you tried to process what he had said, only the echo of water and voices from below were heard.

After what felt like minutes Pepperman slowly returned to his seat, as he sat down he looked back at you expectantly. 

You clicked your tongue and sat in front of the other canvas. The objects in front of you weren't food, you realized, it was assorted paints.

Pepperman gives you a nervous smile, "I was hoping you would allow me the honor of finger painting with you..."

You crack a wide smile, "With no brushes".

"With no brushes." He repeats and nods, "On a large canvas overlooking this splendid balcony".

You shift and get comfortable in the chair and look over the colors you had. A small groan is heard and you cast a sideways glance at Pepperman. You stifle a laugh as he tentatively picks up a container of bright blue paint. He looked uncomfortable, as he dipped a finger into the thick mixture, but that was a small price to pay as you let out a laugh. 

#pizza tower #pepperman x reader #pepperman #pizza tower x reader #🫐bladezfics #pizza tower fanfic