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janeyseymour · 2 months

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Love Thy Neighbor one shot where ellie calls mel mom for the first time in front of all the abbott family, maybe she gets sick at school and calls for her mom and when reader and mel show up she refuses to got with reader and they realize it’s mel she’s talking about

bestie. i got you.

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7. Part 8. Part 9. Part 10. Part 11. Part 12.

Title Change

WC: ~2.65k

Every year, right around the holidays, Ellie gets sick with whatever is running rampant through the school. And every year, you absolutely dread that time. It could be just the stereotypical, run of the mill fever, but it could also be the flu, a stomach bug, strep throat, pneumonia, pink eye… the worst was right before you moved out of Utah and she ended up with croup and in the hospital overnight. You’re pretty sure you’ll never be able to get the images or sounds from that experience out of your head. Seeing your little girl down for the count is so hard for you, and it doesn’t get any easier as she gets older- she’s still the same little love bug that you remember fussing over when her temperature ran a bit too high for your liking and she would fall asleep at a moment’s notice on your chest.

This year, she gets sick without fail, although you hate to admit that neither you nor your girlfriend had picked up on it when you brought her with you to school today. Her cheeks were a bit rosy this morning as you walked into Abbott, yes- but this December has been particularly cold so far and she had insisted on running around in her t-shirt and shorts this morning despite the fact that the living room was a crisp 65 degrees this morning when you woke up. And then on top of that, you were running a bit late and didn’t get your usual parking spot close to the front of the school.

Your little girl had been adamant that she stay attached to Melissa’s hip while the three of you sat in the staff lounge before everyone else comes in, which is not an uncommon occurrence. It’s warm and peaceful until Janine comes in with cookies for her students, and inevitably one for your daughter. Ellie begs you to let her have it, and you chuckle before relenting. It turns out that was the last think she needs because she’s running circles around the shorter second grade teacher within five minutes. Thankfully though, the time comes where the child high on sugar is no longer you’re problem- she’s now her teachers problem. The two of you walk her down to her first grade classroom before the rest of the kiddos trickle in.

“Be a good girl today, little miss,” you crouch down and open your arms.

Ellie’s arms are around your neck and squeezing you tight. “I always am, Momma.”

“I know, but I’m just reminding you,” you chuckle as you kiss her forehead. It’s a bit warm, but nothing that is too alarming. You release her, and it’s your girlfriend’s turn.

“Love you, kiddo,” Melissa embraces your daughter.

“I love you too,” the seven year old sighs as she rests her head on the second grade teacher’s shoulder for a few seconds. And then she’s bouncing into her classroom and greeting her teacher with the gusto that only a little girl who had a cookie at seven in the morning could have. You and the redhead chuckle as you watch before you loop an arm around your girlfriend and walk down to your little corner of the hallway.

“Did she feel a little warm to you?” Melissa asks you quietly.

You shrug. “A little, but she was also running circles around Janine not five minutes ago.”

“I guess,” she says softly. “I just know you said she always gets sick right before the holidays, and with everything going around…”

“God,” you groan. “I’ve had five kids out at the minimum everyday this week. I’m praying to God Ellie doesn’t get sick for break.”

“Knock on wood,” Melissa sighs as she knocks against her door. “But if she does get sick, we’ll be here for her.”

“Until I get sick with it too because she insists on laying on me,” you quip quietly.

The redhead kisses your temple. “And I’ll be here to take care of you.”

“It’s still insane to me that you haven’t been sick in over ten years.”

“It’s one of the few benefits I get for being in this germ breeding ground for so long,” Melissa chuckles.

Your kiddos come in and start on their morning work, and all is fine and normal until your classroom phone starts to ring. That’s unusual. Nobody ever uses the classroom phones because your crew will just call or text your personal phone, or they’ll just make the trip down to your end of the hallway. Honestly, the only people who really use the classroom phones are… the nurses.

“Hello?” you answer, and you pray to God it’s the nurse calling about the student that you had just sent down to the nurse’s office five minutes ago. But June comes walking back into the classroom right on time to confirm that this phone call isn’t about her.

“Hey.” It’s Ellie’s teacher.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“I just wanted to call and ask if Ellie was feeling okay when you brought her into school today?”

You exhale a heavy breath. “She was running around the apartment this morning singing Frozen and ran circles around Janine in the lounge this morning, so I would say so. Why?”

“Poor thing’s been shivering at her desk for the last twenty minutes while we’ve been doing word work,” your coworker says quietly. “I asked her if she had a sweater with her, but she said she left it with you.”

“Send her down,” you tell the woman.

“Will do,” the first grade teacher nods into the phone. “Thanks.”

Ellie appears in your doorway a few minutes later. Your third graders immediately start cooing over how adorable she is.

“Hey, baby girl,” you smile at her from your place at the front of the room. “Come to get your sweater?”

She nods before coughing a bit. You frown a bit, the lines in your forehead etching their way into your face. You tell your students to work through the next math problem while you attend to your little girl.

As you help her pull on her sweater, you whisper to her, “You feeling okay?” You press your hand against her forehead, and then her cheeks, and then her neck. She does feel warmer than she had earlier this morning.

“Jus’ cold,” Ellie mumbles.

“Okay, baby,” you sigh softly. “Well, you tell your teacher if you aren’t feeling well, and I can always take you home, yeah?”

“I’ll be okay, Momma,” your daughter tells you. “I’m tough like… like Mel.”

You chuckle a bit before kissing her head. “Okay, sweetness. But still, if you aren’t feeling well, that’s okay.”

“M’kay, Momma,” you little girl sighs as she holds her arms out to hug you. “I love you.”

“I love you too, little one,” you whisper as you kiss her still somewhat chubby cheek. “Head on back to class, and I’ll see you at the end of the school day, okay?”

She scampers out of the room, happy to have that extra layer on. Ellie really is going back to her classroom, but as she passes Melissa’s door, she can’t help but stop in the open doorway.

Your girlfriend raises her brows at the sight of your little girl. “Hey, El. What’s going on?”

“I had to get my sweater from Momma, but then I was passing your room and I wanted to say hi,” Ellie smiles bashfully from the door. “Can I come in and give you a hug?”

“One quick one,” the redhead sighs dramatically as she opens her eyes wide. Your daughter knows she isn’t one bit annoyed with the big grin that your girlfriend is wearing. “But then you have to get back to your room.”

“I know,” the first grader says as she runs into the room and into Melissa’s arms. “Quick snuggle, and then back to Miss Smith.”

“Right. Good girl,” Melissa praises your daughter before releasing her from the hug. “I’ll see you at the end of the day, okay?”

Ellie hums her response before stretching on her toes and kissing the second grade teacher’s cheek. “Love you.”

“Love you too, El.”

“I know!” your little girl grins as she skips out of the room and heads back for her own classroom.

By the time lunch rolls around, you still haven’t heard anything from your daughter’s first grade teacher or the nurses, so you assume that Ellie really is just toughing it out until you all get home for the night.

“Hey,” you greet your girlfriend sitting her place with a kiss to the temple. “How’s your day going so far?”

“I had a little visitor today,” Melissa chuckles. “Oh?”

“Ellie came in wanting a hug after she got her sweater from you,” your girlfriend smiles. “She’s lucky she’s cute.”

“Did she feel warm to you?” you ask her the same question she asked you this morning.

“I asked you that this morning,” Melissa rolls her eyes. “But yes, why?”

“Smith called asking if El was feeling well while I was teaching math and told me that she was shivering for the entirety of their word work time.”

“Poor thing’s probably getting sick,” the redhead sighs as she brings a forkful up to her mouth.

You hang your head. “Great.”

“At least it isn’t during break that she’s going to be sick,” Melissa tries to comfort you.

You nod. “I guess, but I hate seeing her like-”

“I want Mommy!” you can hear your little girl before you can see her. You raise a brow at that though- she never calls you ‘Mommy’. You’ve always been ‘Momma’, from the time that she was born. The staff room door whips open, and there is a wailing Ellie with snot running down her face as she clings to her first grade teacher’s hand. “I want Mommy!”

“Y/N, I’m so-” Miss Smith tries to get out.

You shake your head, refusing her apology- you know how your daughter can get when she’s not feeling well, and it’s quite clear to you now that Ellie is under the weather. You rush over to her and crouch down in front of her.

Melissa raises her brow, and she contemplates making her way over. But you’re always so good with your daughter, and you she figures that you have this one handled.

The rest of the Abbott crew makes their way in, sidestepping around you to get to their own spots. But of course, Ava stops in her tracks.

“Why’s your kid so snotty?”

“Ava,” you scold.

The principal shrugs and bypasses you to get to the coffee machine.

“I want Mommy!” Ellie continues to wail.

You open your arms for your sick little girl to fall into. “Momma’s right here, baby. I’m right here.”

“I want Mommy!” the child refuses and goes so far as to stomp her foot in frustration. That action is not something you would usually condone, but you let it slide just this one time. God, is she so sick she’s delirious and doesn’t realize that you’re right in front of her?

“Sweetheart, I’m right here,” you whisper and you reach out a hand to brush away a few of the hairs that are in her face. You pull your sleeve over your hand and wipe the snot away from her face. “Momma’s right here.”

“I want Mommy!” Ellie shrieks again as the tears pour down her face.

You run a hand over your face before pulling her into your arms. You lift her onto your hip and hold her as she cries, offering the rest of the staff an apologetic look for the commotion your daughter is causing.

“Mommy’s here, baby,” you sigh softly. You take your seat back next to your girlfriend as you try to soothe your daughter enough to be able to take her through the halls to gather her things to head home for the day.

Melissa reaches a hand over and starts rubbing circles on Ellie’s back in hopes of helping to calm her down. At her touch, your little girl’s head pops up from its place on your shoulder, and she immediately reaches for the redhead.

Your girlfriend pulls Ellie into her lap and holds her, rocking her gently.

“Mommy,” the little girl whimpers as her cries and wails turn into soft sniffles.

Everyone’s eyes in the room, including your own, go wide. Melissa’s jaw drops, and she looks to you.

“What was that, baby?” you ask softly.

“I telled you and Miss Smith that I wanted Mommy,” Ellie mumbles as your girlfriend’s warm touch and gentle rocking starts to lull her to sleep. She starts to lazily play with the red curls that are within her reach as her eyes flutter shut. She’s snoring softly against Melissa’s shoulder within minutes.

The silence that has washed over the staff lounge at Ellie’s words is finally broken when the redhead asks softly, “Did she- did she call me ‘Mommy’? Am I ‘Mommy’?”

“I think she did,” Barbara smiles from her place.

“Wow,” Melissa whispers as she looks down at the little girl in her lap. “Wow.”

You also whisper your shock and surprise.

Those green eyes that you’ve fallen in love with look into yours seriously. “Are you- how do you feel about that?”

“Honestly?” you ask quietly.

She nods.

You smile softly, a bit sadly. “I wish it didn’t take her being ridiculously sick for her to call you that… but it feels so right.”

The second grade teacher takes one hand off of Ellie’s back to take your own. She squeezes it gently with tears in her eyes.

“Sorry,” she chuckles as she wipes at her eyes. “I didn’t think I would get so emotional over this.”

You chuckle softly, as does Barbara.

“Well,” the kindergarten teacher looks to the two of you expectantly. “Little Ellie needs her Mommy and her Momma to take her home and look after her.”

You glance to your girlfriend, and she nods without hesitation.

“Even if Ava and Mr. J are our subs?” you double check.

“El needs us,” Melissa tells you firmly. “I don’t care who is with our kids as long as we’re with Ellie.”

“I’ll get everything together if you want to stay here with her?” you ask.

She nods. “You know where my sub plans are?”

“Of course I do,” you laugh softly as you stand. “Just give me like fifteen minutes, and then we can head out.”

When you return back to the staff lounge, Melissa is still holding your little girl close to her heart and humming softly while glaring at everyone else, daring them to make noise and wake the Ellie.

“Hey,” you lug your bags, your girlfriend’s bags, and your little girl’s backpack in as quietly as you can. “We’re good to go.”

She stands from her place, still managing to keep Ellie asleep on her. You’re both able to get her in the car and back into the apartment while she naps, and once the little girl is settled on the couch and still asleep, you take Melissa into the kitchen. You wrap your arms around her neck and look her in the eyes.

“I love you,” you whisper as you press your foreheads together.

“I love you too,” she tells you quietly. “And El.”

“You’re so good with her,” you tell Melissa softly. “So good.”

She hums before kissing you gently.

“How do you feel about being ‘Mommy’?” you ask your girlfriend.

Your girlfriend’s eyes well with tears again. “Like I’m on top of the world… that little girl of yours… wow.”

“That little girl of ours,” you correct her. “Ours.”

As if Ellie knows the two of you are talking about her, she whines out from her place on the couch. “Mommy! Momma!”

Motherhood never stops, and the two of you head into the living room to hold your daughter together.

TAGS (and lmk if you wanna be added!): @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson

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haet-sal · 1 year

Text

Tatsächlich Liebe (Love, Actually)//jun x fem!reader (smut included)

Tags: cute single dad!boss!jun with a crush, mini-wen involved, office romance, shower sex, public sex, sort of cheating bc you have a sort-of-boyfriend, pining i suppose?, jun with a crush, went a little ANGSTY, Bestie!minghao

You’re the wide-eyed, clueless-but-on-top secretary to Wen Junhui, and it all starts, with one new year’s kiss… well, new year’s fuck.

Mr. Wen likes you. It should have been obvious, whenever he seemed to forgive your inadequate work ethics and frequent unfailing mishaps, and how much he trusted you, no matter how many mistakes you made, how much he hated hearing about your life with your boyfriend… and what kind of boss goes shopping for their employee, privately, anyway?

Warnings: y/n is incredibly seductive and more dominant and a bit of a fuckgirl, anxious Jun, cheating, Guanhang from nct is here as your very mean and distant bf

W.c.: 11k

~~~~~

You might not be very good at your job. And you realize this when you spill Jun’s coffee for the fifth time since you started working (6 months now). That was 0.8 coffees per month.

Times 2, and 3: You forgot to cap the coffee all the way right, after opening it because you FORGOT to ask for the sugar and you had to open it, put a packetful in, stir and cap it again, and Jun spills it on his shirt on his first attempt to drink it. Your penalty: Jun offers a tight lipped smile and caps it himself. “That’ll be all, thanks, Y/n.”

Time 1: you didn’t lay the cup right on his desk. It only spilled maybe 4 drops. Yay. That’s a win, in the book of Y/n. Penalty: nothing.

Time 4, the worst of them all: YOU SPILLED IT ON THE DOCUMENTS HE HAD ON HIS DESK. You don’t even know how, but the full fucking cup spilled. Penalty: “I got it, thanks,” Jun said (thanks for what? He lost documents and three quarters of his coffee) “could you print these again?”

Time 5: this time the coffee didn’t even make it onto his desk, you trip and spill it on yourself. To be fair, you were carrying the lunch orders of the others in your office, so it was a precarious situation.

“I’ll go get a new one!” you called out, since Jun was watching from behind the foggy, half translucent glass door of his office, where he could definitely see you from the way he was angled, but you only saw a part of his dark oakwood table.

There would be a line at the cafe, it was lunch time. But you were determined to make yourself important and cut in line, no matter what it took. “I WORK FOR THE BOSS” would be one thing you could say.

As you head back for the elevator, Jun’s head peeks out of the aforementioned glass door. “y/n,” he called—you like that he never called you like he was demanding your presence, like a rude guest you were waiting on, but rather… softly. Jun just had a softness to him. “Hey, actually, forget the coffee, if it’s not here—can you go get one of those donuts with sprinkles on it?”

“Pink,” came a very boyish little voice from behind the door.

“Pink, with sprinkles, like Homer Simpson eats.”

You walk back to the office, and open it wider, so the little boy could finally appear to you. “Hey, mini-Mr. Wen. Would you like to walk there with me, so you can pick what you’d like?” Jun was very paranoid, but also a very at-ease parent. Meaning: he did let his son go places without him, with other guardians, but also had a terrible anxiety that left him imagining all the worst scenarios until the boy was back in front of his eyes. And yet, you still asked, because you knew Jun was busy. He couldn’t be watching the kid right now.

Hao—that was his name, ‘inspired’ by his father’s love for his best friend, although Jun would say he lost a bet and that’s all it was—nodded, but he wasn’t walking on his feet: he immediately extended both arms out for you to carry him. “Alright, buddy! Let’s go!”

Jun managed a half-absentminded, half-grateful smile at you, mouthing his thanks. And then the door closed.

“Donuts,” Hao says quietly.

“Yes, donuts! We’re getting donuts, getting donuts…” you sang as you walked towards the elevator.

Today Jun’s aforementioned best friend and trades partner was in the office with him, because he wanted to come see his little namesake. As Minghao talked business and life with Jun, he saw how relaxed Jun usually was, rather than be the ball of anxiety he turned into whenever his son was somewhere in public not holding onto his own hand.

“You actually trust that intern,” Minghao drew his conclusions.

“She’s permanently employed!” Jun says with a smile. “Do you want me to text her and tell her to bring you a coffee?”

“Where’s yours?”

“She…” There was no way to sugarcoat this in a way that Minghao would feel sympathetic towards you. “Kinda spilled it.”

“... You permanently employed a secretary who couldn’t even bring you coffee.” Seeing Jun’s shocked eyes (how dare you bring that up, Minghao! He was probably thinking), Minghao continued: “didn’t she cause that delay with that shipping company because of her other-and-frequent mishaps, and you had to ask them to deliver the papers all over again? Why would you keep her after that?”

“I don’t know,” Jun says, pondering on his systems himself, “I’ve been through a lot of short-term interns, but I just employed her permanently because, I don’t know, it’s actually became a chore sifting through new secretaries, and she just feels right.”

Minghao cocked an eyebrow. Pushed his glasses up to his forehead. “Feels… right…” Jun did not return any ripostes to the accusations Minghao’s raised eyebrows were throwing. “But I’ve never seen you trust anybody with little Hao this much.”

“Y/n’s a natural around Hao,” Jun’s praise of you came lightly, and he broke into a smile. “Hao loves her.”

“Jun… just because she’s good with your kid doesn’t mean she’s good at her job.”

“Give her a chance!” Jun says with a nudge of his elbows. “She gets my order just right—I swear, no one gets the sugar-to-coffee ratio as right as she does.”

“Maybe because she’s the one delivering it. You know drinks taste sweeter when you like the person serving them.”

Jun groaned. “Hao…” Suddenly red in the cheeks, Jun brought his hands to cover his face, feigning that he was yawning or scratching his cheek or something. But Minghao saw through everything.

“All I’m saying is, I wonder if she really is good at her job—”

The door opened, and you and the Mini-Wen peeked through, with the little boy holding two cups of coffee. “I got your orders!” you say. “Well, Hao got them! I’ll keep watching him, if you want?”

“But I wanna sit on papa’s chair–!”

You grabbed the little boy gently. “Papa’s in a serious talk with uncle Hao, do you think we can hang out at my desk? I have games!”

Minghao shot a look at Jun, as the two of you walked back out of the office. He reached for the cup of coffee with ‘Xu’ written on its side, handing Jun the other. “Anyway,” he says, “back to our ‘serious discussion—” He took a sip of his drink, and suddenly looked completely apprehensive, like he wanted to spit it out.

But under the light of Jun’s alarmed gaze, Minghao slowly swallowed it, and then placed it back on the desk. “This is… this is not my order.”

“She just can’t tell between everybody’s orders,” Jun offered. “She’s still learning!”

Minghao took another sip. “I think this is oatmilk… I can sort of get behind it.”

Today was Christmas, which was why Hao was at the office: he was going to be picked up by his mom to go to her parents’ house, where he would spend the holidays. Jun and the mom never really interacted, or so says everyone at the office–you had never met her. Jun preferred that the handing away of the kid be done through third parties, from babysitters who would text as soon as she had come to take him away, through secretaries, or even through the office receptionist. Whatever it took to not see her.

You’re not good at your job. You’re clumsy, distracted, inadequate, and most of the time you gossiped away, or at least listened to all the gossip instead of concentrating on your job. What you’ve heard about the matrimony of Jun and his ex was: there wasn’t even a wedding. They got pregnant, they became engaged, apparently the wife got cold feet before the wedding and just decided she didn’t want to be a mother and a wife forever. She asked that one of her flings take her away to somewhere exclusive before the ceremony—someone says it was to the swiss alps, someone says they holed up at an air bnb just out of town—and never even showed up for the wedding planning and the ceremony had to be canceled.

As the story goes… her family had been glad, thinking Jun wasn’t the right person to get settled with. Back then he was handling the up-and-coming company, but they didn’t have faith in his line of work—they did, however, want their little grandson, and the custody battle turned ugly, which added to why Jun didn’t want to see his ex or hear anything about them. Ultimately he got full custody, as the mother didn’t even really want Hao.

Whenever you saw the almost-Mrs. Wen, she was incredibly cool, hiding behind oversized sunglasses. You’d have an actual sense of respect for her, if only her mere presence didn’t make her own son’s face fall like someone had taken his sweets from him.

But today she had her hair in bunches, and she impatiently took the little boy into her arms, and thanked you. “Tell your boss pick-up time’s 5 p.m. on the thirty-first,” she told you. “Or sooner, that’s fine too.”

As she walked away, you were in awe of how much she seemed like Jun’s type: sexy, but cute, and cool. She knew how to dress, for sure. You wrote down the pick-up time: 6 p.m., did she say? And tried to go back to work. You should clear his schedule on New Year’s Eve, but in the office it was still a work day, although the general consensus had decided to have a party in the office, going til midnight. You didn’t know if Jun wanted to stay, since usually he spent holidays with his son.

You see someone in flashy colors sashaying towards your desk, and erect your head, expectant.

“Heyyyyy!” It’s Arin, from the reception. “Guess what?” she says, bringing out the box she was hiding behind her back. “Look! You have a good boss.”

As you took the present and the card—where it was simply written ‘Merry Christmas, Y/n’ and nothing more, thank God because if you knew just how many drafts Jun went through—you leaned over the desk and into Jun’s office, where you saw a blur of his silhouette.

You unwrapped it messily, with as much expertise as you always have on the job, and out comes three bottles of perfume. You press the communications button to Junhui’s office. “I got the presents!”

“That’s great, you’re welcome.”

“Thank you, Jun!”

Minghao, in Jun’s office, watched as Jun got flustered, blinking the shock away. “You… you never call me that,” is what you hear over the speaker.

“Damn. When did he shop for these?” You press the button again. “When did you shop for these, Mr. Wen?! I’m meant to be doing your shopping!”

“Uh, just back in November!” The red light of the device wasn’t alight anymore, which meant the conversation was over. (Jun turned to Minghao in the office. “I may have done this in September, and also had a whole personal-shopper ensemble help me.”)

“So,” Arin says, sitting on your desk now, “you got your boss giving you gifts! What about that boyfriend of yours?”

“Guanhang?” Your expression turned a little sour. “He’s got a big family, so we went shopping for like, the six of them back in November, but he never got one for me? I figured he didn’t want to buy anything for me in front of me, but—oh, bye, Mr. Xu—” Jun and Minghao had come out of the office, as Jun parted from his best friend— “but I never woke up to presents. I mean, it’s only Christmas. I guess I can wait until he remembers?”

Arin grimaced. “Uh-uh. Today’s the deadline.”

“On Valentine’s day he just ate me out each night for the entire month and said that was his present,” you say quietly.

Arin laughed. She made a joke about cunnilingus or something or the other, which brings you to howl with laughter.

“I mean, it is a good gift, if only he didn’t pick the shortest month of the year to do it!” You’re about to go on about more of Guanhang’s antics when—

Jun’s shadow loomed over Arin’s figure, and sensing his presence, she moved over.

“Get back to work, please,” he told her. “Especially you, Y/n, your… work…” he fumbled over his words, before settling with: “is inadequate. And careless. And messy. I… expect better.”

You pouted up at him. Jun looked away before it could affect him more than he liked. “Back to work, please,” he repeated, “And Arin, your job is at the desk, which is like, thirty feet away.” The glass door to his office half-slams, particularly loudly that it sounded like it would shatter.

“Must be in a bad mood,” Arin adjudged. With a sigh, she just left the remaining files and letters designated towards you and Jun at your desk. “Text me about the boyfriend things, alright?”

Feeling sort of shamed (you sucked at your job and you didn’t like being reminded of it), you silently go through the files, not even unpacking Jun’s perfumes out of their boxes. When Jun asks of Hao later, you just tell him he’ll be home on New Year’s Eve, omitting the part where he has to be picked up.

“Mei.” Jun pretended to multitask, going over his documents while on the phone, but in truth he was getting nothing done. What a shitty day to come into work. “Mei, please. Don’t do this to me. Please bring him back home, at least.”

“Jun, I’m not going to drive to your apartment, there’s traffic and I have an appointment with someone! I literally told your assistant the pick-up time—Pick. Up. I never said I’d bring him. Didn’t she tell you?” Jun felt like kicking himself, he looked out the blinds into the street, and yes, absolutely there is traffic. They’re closing up roads for the city’s new year’s party, fireworks inclusive. “How useless is that secretary?”

“Of course she told me!" He snaps defensively. "I’m just busy all of a sudden. Can’t your parents drive him?”

“Papa just had cornea surgery, Jun. Mama has to be with him at all times.”

Jun hits himself. “Fine, fine, can you leave Hao with your parents, then? Just go to your party—we’ll pick him up at home.”

“It’s not a party, it’s an appointment.” But Jun heard heels clinking, sighs, yelling to her parents, a car door opening. “Fine. I’ll hear from you on Easter or something, then.”

Jun immediately pressed the button to call your desk in, before the call even ended. Soon enough, you’re walking in, taller than he remembers you, but he distracts himself from looking at you (it wasn’t healthy for him to look at you, he gets heartburn). “Could you pick my son up?” he asked. “Take my car. After that I swear you can take the day off, just come back to bring my keys b—”

His eyes finally land on you, and there’s silver sequins peeking out from under the blazer. He leans over the table, trying to look at your footwear: heels that made you taller than Mingyu from sales. “Um… is that for the party?”

“I’m going clubbing!” you answered. “With my boyfriend.”

Jun looked away from you. The sequinned dress was low-necked, distractingly so. “Alright, well… Hao’s usual sitter will be home, so you can just ring the bell.”

“I know the code to your door, anyway,” you say. “See ya, Mr. Wen!”

The New Year’s party was starting, with the attending employees taking advantage of every resource in the office: speakers blaring music, the main lights dimmed and LED lights strewn across the walls so carelessly it looked like they were there by accident; everything was a total mess. There wasn’t a reason to stay there anymore if he wasn’t celebrating, but Jun couldn’t leave: he needed his car.

It’s almost ten when you come back, and as much as it was long-awaited, it even felt unreal that you’d come back.

“Y/n!” He didn’t realize how his anxiety had crept up on him, even when concerning you—he knew Hao was safe home, but you were his main concern. Sort of weird, that it’d be that way. “I’m so glad you’re okay!”

“Bad news,” you say as you come into his office, basically screaming over the music, “I barely escaped when I came, but they’re blocking every street around here for the parade.”

Jun stood over his tiptoes to see the state of the roads: the parades were already setting in, and the roads were blocked everywhere. The only other option would be to wait it out, until it’s past midnight and everyone is back home in their beds.

He sighed. “I think I’ll have to stay until the end of the party.” He pulled out his phone, urgently texting the babysitter.

But Jun immediately turned into his usual anxious character, not being able to get home at his son’s bedtime. He paced around the party, sometimes paying attention to the music, although it was just grating for him at some point, and, not wanting to return home drunk, refused all booze and decided to chaperone the party.

He finds you at the hard liquor corner, during his many rounds around the office. You’re leaned back and sipping out of a full bottle. Jun hasn’t drunk in a while, because hangovers and being drunk in general made him unable to parent. He knows moderation looks different to everybody, but you weren’t it.

“... all I said was he spends a comically high amount of time with that girl from work! And he’s like, you’re always tailing after Jun, and I’m like, yeah, that’s my job? And then he says, I'm not his girlfriend, I just live with him, he can do whatever he wants.”

You take another mouthful out of the straight bottle. “What’d you say?” Arin edges you on.

“Told him that’s rich coming from the guy that was balls deep in my—”

Jun cringes with scrunched and avoidant eyes, as he comes over to take the bottle away from you. Setting it down on a desk behind him, he notices that the people around had started to clear out, not wanting a chaperoning boss to ruin the fun. They rushed to the windows and the balcony.

“I thought you were going clubbing on your night off?” he asks you, standing two feet planted in front of you. You were holding yourself really horribly, and ended up resting your head on his stomach without a thought in your head. If you had thought it through, maybe you wouldn't have done it.

“Fight,” you explained. “With the guy I live with.”

“I see…” Jun tenderly combed his fingers through your hair, but only used it to pull your head off his stomach. “Well, I guess office party’s just as fun, huh?”

You snorted as a reply.

“Last sixty seconds, guys!” someone yells. They’d opened the windows so the sounds of the parade in the street were full-blown blaring distantly, and you were about forty stories up in the air, the night breeze blowing with a vengeful cold.

You’re tired, your feet hurt and you just wanted to collapse into your bed. Unable to hold yourself up any longer, you fall face-flat into his stomach, again. Your arms wrapped around him, as if you were imagining him as a body pillow.

You feel Jun still, and you almost think he’s just uncomfortable being so close to you, but then you… realize something.

You’re suddenly more awake than you were five seconds ago. You stand up, and there’s commotion—everyone’s crowding around the window, yelling the countdown as loud as their voices went. You look into Jun’s eyes. Sober, clean, worried.

“Do you think we can kiss, Mr. Wen?” you asked.

Jun stilled. Palms sweating, there was a moment where he swore his heart stopped, before he remembered how to breathe and regain all brain-control functions again. It might be what people call ‘skipping a beat’ meets ‘brain freeze’. “What?” he basically mumbled, unable to talk very loud, but you heard.

“We’re the only ones with no date,” you told him. “Everyone’s partnered up.” It was true, even people without dates had struck up deals for a new year’s kiss.

“It–it’s just not a good idea,” Jun stuttered.

“It’s a kiss for luck!” Every step you took towards him, Jun stepped back from you until his back hit a desk. Pouting, you add: “I want to have lots of luck next year.”

You must have had a lot of those schnapps and shots from the reception, Jun concludes, but too late: right after he takes the steps backwards, you had pulled him towards you by his tie. Hungry eyes, if he’d ever seen any. “Y/n,” he breathed out against your lips, which came close to him with every passing second, “we can’t.” You pull him in even closer, controlling him by the tie.

You do whatever the fuck you want when you’re drunk, Jun concludes. But it’s setting him into a full-blown panic. “Y–Y/n.”

The countdown starts, and you’re right—everyone’s gathered at the high-rise windows, looking at the parade under the office. No one’s looking back at you, and even if they were, they wouldn’t be able to tell who you were from the mere blue silhouettes of your bodies. At best, they’d just be able to see his white shirt. His entire body shrouded you.

Three!

You’re in every single part of Jun’s senses. He can smell you wearing the perfume he gave you, he can hear the low hum of your breath in his ears, he sees you, he sees the flimsy little dress with the spaghetti straps that keep dropping down to reveal more and more, he just…

Two!

He just has to taste you.

One!

He’s the one that takes the step to meet your lips, and now you’re kissing. You taste like soft cream and feel like good sleep. His tongue darts out, and you welcome it in your mouth.

Jun let out what he thinks is a sigh, but really was more of a moan, a sound that went unsuppressably past his throat and vibrated across your tongue. He thought you looked killer, the spaghetti straps of your dress would sometimes fall just a bit that he could see so much… flesh… from the side, but he won’t think about it, he won’t even look, he won’t be that pervert, the older guy that wants what he can’t have because you’re too shiny and spectacular and just the personification of a starry night, especially in this dress—and he can’t have you! He needed to get that through his head.

You had a boyfriend, you were literally about to go clubbing with him, you were taken, so what was he doing, what was he doing?

When he’s panting post-kiss, he doesn’t know if it’s the kissing making him breathless, or if it’s all his thoughts tiring him out.

“Wanna continue this?” you whispered to him, eyelashes hooding your expression. Jun doesn’t understand why you’d want to—yes, he wants to, but why do you—?

But he nods. He’s the one that grabs your hand, and walks over to his office, and you’re following him. Every time he told himself this was it and there’s no way you’d go further, you do. What the fuck.

The office is almost unrecognizable in the dark, with only the fireworks outside to light it up. You locked the door, and he realizes it hadn’t even crossed his mind.

You push him against the window, and for a second you looked over his shoulder at all the fireworks. He watches them reflect in your eyes, and the sight of you is just haunting.

And then you’re kissing him, his hands are on you again, this time peeling the spaghetti straps off, feeling your bare shoulders, just the feeling of your skin—he hadn’t been with anyone in a long, long time, too busy with his son or work, and to finally have this–with the person he’d been pining for so long…

He almost rips the dress off you, but restrains himself. Your lips feel soft and healing against his own, and then they’re on his neck. He doesn’t even stop you to tell you you can’t leave hickeys–it doesn’t even occur to him. His nose is just buried in your hair, as you trail kisses down his chest—when did you even undo the buttons?—and, when he messes with the straps of your dress again, it just drops to the floor at your feet.

He doesn’t even have the chance to take your form in, in just your strapless bra and panties. You’re rubbing him over his pants, and he’s hard, he wants it, yes, but he’s also dead sober and he couldn’t even stay drunk on you that long.

“Wait,” Jun says, holding up his hand, perhaps to keep some distance from you. “You’re drunk, we can’t go that far.”

With a lick of your lips, you’re undoing his belt and flinging it over your shoulder. When you can’t kiss him the way you wanted, you simply pull him by the tie so he’s on top of you, pinning you down on his desk. You want to kiss, you want his hands on you again, but he’s hesitant, only coming where you pull him.

“Y/n,” he gasped. “Y/n, please—this is a lawsuit.”

You giggled. “I’ll sign an NDA, if you want.”

Jun sighed, heavily breathing. “That’s not the problem.”

But he wants you, and if you want him now, there isn't a choice but to give in. Your naked legs wrap around his waist, and he just trails his hands down them, until they reach your heel-clad feet. It’s so hot, the way he’s allowed you to entrap him.

Jun is fervently kissing down your chest, your bra pulled down, as he enters you. He’s so hard, so bothered, and wet with precum. So hot it could sizzle. You throw your head back and let out a pornographic moan, but he cups his hand over your mouth, wordlessly reminding you that you were only a wall separated from a whole party of people.

Jun hadn’t been this way with anyone in a long time. There had been dates from time to time, but never with someone he actually truly liked. Trembling, his hips stutter, so does his lips, which are moaning your name. He tries to be as quiet and composed as he could, but he feels like he might let the loudest grunt, alerting everyone outside. He bites down on his lip.

He hadn’t been doing this in a while. This makes him impossibly sensitive, and he might release, even if it’s just too soon. You sense it in the stutter of his thrusts and immediately slip off him, and he’s glad, because he knows he can’t cum inside you, but also it was embarrassing to have to tell you. You kneel in front of him, open-mouthed, and he could spasm from the mere sight, before you take him in your hands.

Jun hisses sharply. “Do you see how it’s so white, you were so wet around me—” He interrupts himself with a sharp inhale.

But you’re going slowly, as if you were inexperienced with your tongue, or just wanted to drag the torture out for him. Jun’s hand grip at the table behind him.

“Please,” he moaned. “It hurts.” When he reaches out to touch you it’s fervent, hot. You’re the only thing in the world that could ease the pain and quench the thirst. His hands wrap around your hair, although to him it’s more like you hair had come alive and entangled themselves all over his digits. Your mouth feels so—fuck!

He’s cumming down your throat. Jun whimpered as the sensation of you never truly left him, you take care of him. Until the last of it spills onto the carpet. And he’s just watching you through his eyelashes, tired and giddy. He speaks your name.

You look up for a moment, before your gaze turns towards the door. Someone else was calling your name.

“It’s Arin,” you observe carefully. “You should count to like, three minutes before you come out, maybe more. I’ll go first, okay?”

He wondered if you’ve done these things before, as you strutted outside. The lights were back on outside in the hallway, and he shrouded himself in the shadows, feeling embarrassed but not ashamed.

When he exits the office later, locking the door behind him, there’s a man at your desk, figure defined by a dark puffer coat over a pastel hoodie. “Sorry I missed the kiss,” he was saying.

“I got kissed already,” you told him, avoiding eye-contact.

Guanhang didn’t believe you one bit, especially when you couldn’t meet him in the eye. “Yeah?” he says. “Who was it?”

“Arin,” you say plainly. Guanhang laughs. He grabs your hand.

“Wanna go watch the parade? I’ll put you on my shoulders and everything.” He looked past you, and sees Jun, and offers a tight-lipped smile. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your boss?”

“I don’t see why you’d need to, you’re just some guy I live with, right?”

You grabbed your handbag and strutted towards the elevator, but later Jun hears that Guanhang did put you on his shoulder to see the rest of the parade.

The second of January and business is back, you sit down at your desk after an uncomfortable subway ride and check a day’s worth of missed emails. When Jun comes to work, finally, you offer a smile, but don’t meet him in the eyes. He wasn’t looking at you, either.

“Good morning,” he basically grunted, clearing his throat. He knew it was impersonal, but he didn’t want to say your name, because whenever he spoke your name there was an embarrassing adoration in his voice.

“I’ll get you your coffee,” you told Jun.

You’re beating yourself up while waiting for the order, and you pull out your phone. These were words you couldn’t literally say to him, but on text you felt brave, hiding behind a screen. Not having to read his expressions.

You: hi, i just wanted to tell you…

It’s immediately read, although he doesn’t reply. He's waiting for you.

You: if you can just forget everything! It would be cool

You: what happened that night, I mean

You: I can’t be doing this, I have a boyfriend

Mr. Wen: we can do that.

Mr. Wen: i’m sorry, by the way

You: don’t be.

You: I liked it

Jun tries to forget.

A few days after New Year’s was Jun’s European business trip, and you were glad you wouldn’t have to see him after all. And yet, sitting at your desk two feet away from the office where it all happened made you feel weird. As all your drunk escapades make you feel.

He’d been gone since Monday, and was due back today, to land in the evening. But as you check in with him, you find out his flight’s been delayed.

“There’s engine issues,” he told you. “I don’t know, fingers crossed I make it in time before Hao’s bedtime.”

But an hour later he called you in a panic. “Y/n, fuck—what do I—I don’t even—” When you ask him to tell you, slowly, he tries to calm down. “The babysitter! I told them my flight’s delayed, and she can’t stay all night—I don’t think my plane will land until dawn. Now she’s mad I’m demanding too many hours, because she stayed all night on New Year’s, too…”

You cringed, thinking about New Year’s night.

“I don’t know what to do, can you go to my apartment? I already called Seungkwan, and then I tried Joshua, but—”

“Of course I’ll do it!” you interrupt. “You can’t call your friends, they’re busy men… I’ve got nothing going on, it’s fine. I’ll go.”

Jun sighed in relief. “You sure?”

You looked over at the make-shift dining room table in your apartment. Guanhang promised to be home for dinner, but he hadn’t come home at all. “Yeah,” you told him. “Just try to have a safe flight, okay?”

Hao’s crying, and the babysitter is panicking when you come into the apartment. You quickly explain the situation to her, and she’s soon excused, leaving you and the sobbing boy alone, but at least seeing you, who he associated with his dad, calmed him down a little.

“Your dad’s at the airport,” you explain to the little boy patiently. “You remember airports, right? You’ve been there with daddy?”

He pulls out a plane and asks if Jun is in a similar one, and you answer yes.

“But papa’s always here when I go to sleep,” Hao whined. “And I need someone to watch my back, so the monsters don’t creep up.”

“Do you want me to put you to sleep?” you asked. “Hey, why don’t we sleep in the master bedroom, huh? So you can surprise daddy when he’s home.”

Jun’s giant apartment actually had an office and three bedrooms, but the master bedroom was his, the other was Hao’s—with a little kid-sized bed—and he turned the third bedroom into a playroom, so guests were never expected. You decided once you put Hao to bed, you would go sleep on the couch in the living room, wake up and go home once Jun’s home, you get a day off, anyway.

Jun took a taxi back home. The sun wouldn’t rise for hours. He’d been microdosing on first-class flight champagne all night, and it only made him feel sleepy and unsharp. Plus, he’d been up for an entire day.

He’s stumbling into his apartment, not even taking his shoes off—if he sat down to do it, he’d fall asleep immediately—and only takes them off when he’s in his bedroom. He hears Hao’s little breaths and sniffles, and concludes he’s in his bed.

But when he turns to finally look, you’re there, too, lying on the blankets, not under them. You must have fallen asleep putting Hao to sleep…

Jun tucks you into bed, intending to keep you and Hao there and sleep in the living room, but he can’t deny the welcoming pliability of his bed, so he would just rest his head, on the familiar navy pillows, just a blink, just to shut his eyes…

When you wake up, it's because there’s something in your hand. You blink the sleep out of your eyes, to see that you were holding onto Jun’s hand, held over his sleeping son’s chest.

You flinch away, and with the rustle of the bedsheets, he’s awake.

You’d been sleeping, forehead to forehead and holding hands over the sleeping boy, like you were a family.

You murmur your apologies. He excuses you, and tells you you can keep sleeping for a bit, he’s going to take a shower anyway, he’ll make you and Hao breakfast and then you could leave.

You’re having this whole conversation still lying on the bed like a mom and dad, and he reached over, patting your head. Your hair’s messy, and still had clips in it, never having taken them off. He pets you as if you were something beloved—but you pulled away. Cleared your throat. “Um. You should go shower.”

He’s so tired he doesn’t even know what he’s doing, whole body running on autopilot until he wakes up watching the steam rise out of the showerhead. Jun lets the warm water rush all over his body, pitter-pattering over his closed eyelids and down his broad shoulder. He sighed. He’s travel-weary, and jetlagged, and everything sucked. And he was embarrassed, because of the way you had flinched away from his touch…

Suddenly he heard footsteps outside the bathroom, and despite the sounds of the water, he heard everything (damn you, expensive rich-people shower!).

“I was home until 10, and you’re the one that didn’t come home!” He realized you were screaming, and you were near the bathroom because you had to scream—it was the farthest from where Hao was sleeping, so a blindspot.

“Heng, I had work!”

“Don’t give me that work bullshit, how is there work at fucking midnight?!” Damn. He could hear it despite the call not being on speaker, and also through the sounds of the water. Guanhang could yell, for sure.

“There just was! I’m an assistant–I’m sorry, alright, I’m sorry! I tried to call you last night—”

“Stop fucking calling me, then, fucking leave me alone!” You went quiet, which made Guanhang snap: “why aren’t you saying anything?!”

Jun hears you groan. He tries to tune it out, until at one point he can’t hear anything anymore. It must be over. Hao must still be asleep, although he bets not for long. Jun weighs his options, what he could make for breakfast for the three of you. He lets the warmth of the shower and the prospect of good food lull him into a another open-eyed nap.

Your whereabouts in the house were unknown to him, until he sees your figure enter the bathroom, through steam-mist shrouded silhouettes. He doesn’t say anything, letting you get ready on your own for the day—but you open the door to the shower.

Jun basically jumps back, but sees that now you’re in your tank top, the one you wore under your sweater, and… panties. His eyes don’t linger that long there.

“I wanted to shower, too,” you told him. He doesn’t say anything, half in shock, still tired. But he does watch everything, the way you peeled the pieces of clothing off of you so slowly, and then, under his gaze, felt strange and so cover your breasts with your arms. You look like a pin-up girl, which makes his brain chemistry go woah. You join him under the water, looking as if you didn’t even realize he was there, focused on wetting all of your hair, with closed eyes concentrated on the feeling of the water.

Can he touch you? Jun decided not to bet on it, and leaned back, watching you, dazed. He didn’t even understand what was happening.

You pull him in by the back of his hair, making him lean down to kiss you. As soon as that awkward seal broke, Jun’s on your skin, kissing your naked chest, trying to cover more ground than the water does. But you need his lips on your own, stat, so you yank his head up with a sharp, painful pull of his hair. He winces, but finds he likes the pain—like your coffee, everything you give him is sweet.

“This time you can cum inside of me,” you say raspily against his ears, which makes him feral, turning you around and pressing you up against the glass walls of the shower. He lets out a low growl, reminiscent of his days as a bachelor, before his ex, before Hao. He felt like he was just dripping in that youth again, being inside of you.

It doesn’t occur to him how weird it was. Why would you not even let him pat you on the head, but kiss him naked in the shower? Of course, he came to a conclusive construct in the end: Guanhang. Every time your own boyfriend disappointed you, you came to him.

The next morning, right before he set out to drive to work, came the text:

(2) New messages from Y/N

Forget about yesterday, please

I feel really bad. We shouldn’t have.

Jun would wait. Until Guanhang makes you feel unneeded again, he would wait. He didn’t see it as taking advantage of your sadness—in fact, it was a sadness mutualism. He was there for you when you felt down, and he… Well, he was always sad. You made it worse when you left, but when you were around it felt like heaven.

Guanhang spends nights out, and you wanted to limit your meetings with Jun to just that, but sometimes, you’d take his car to his apartment, fuck, and then he’d drop you off, right before Guanhang comes home from work or whatever he does. You never get caught—Guanhang doesn’t expect you back so quickly. There were nights you spent completely at his apartment, where you’d talk more than you’d fuck, and also play house with Hao, like a little family, and Jun’s never had that, that he begins to actually fool himself. He knows it’s insane, of course, but sometimes between sleepover nights and making you breakfast, he wishes you were Hao’s mom. He thought he’d given up on that a long time ago, but you made him revisit what it feels like to be young and in love.

At the office, you act naturally. You never even show half a glimmer of interest in him, you do your job. No one catches on. Your acting was genuinely convincing, that he’d wonder if you even liked him at all, but once work is over and he’s driving you back, you’re all over him.

He knows, of course, that it all depended on Guanhang, agonizingly so—you only paid attention to Jun when Guanhang wasn’t paying attention to you. And sometimes Jun gave you presents here and there, shopping trips and premium subscriptions—and one time you wanted to give Guanhang a video game as a present, so you siphoned off Jun’s money for that. He knows it’s wrong, you’re stringing him along, but sometimes he knew no better. He chose to know no better.

“She’s just a user,” Minghao told Jun when he finally admitted to it. “If she only comes to you when her boyfriend has off-days, I’m sorry, she’s a user. Nothing more to it.”

Jun knew you didn’t love him, of course, but it’s hard to imagine you completely indifferent to him. You were nice when you’re together.

“Either way,” Minghao says, “It’s a dangerous game. What if she extorts you?”

“She wouldn’t!”

“She has a boyfriend, what if he finds out and blackmails you?!”

Jun admitted to the possibility, but told Minghao not to worry. He was willing to go down for you, although he didn’t dare admit it to his friends.

But Jun let you in every time you knocked, until you became as familiar to him as the back of his hand.

“I’m taking Tuesday afternoon off,” Jun says as he lazily thrusts into you, “We’re trying to get Hao into one of those high-end nursery schools, next year.” He moved in you, and it’s tight and wet, but for you it just feels full, with no movement. You feel a little crazy.

If you weren’t trying so hard to cum, maybe you could have made a joke about how high-end nursery schools can be. But you just nod, peeking at him through scrunched eyes. “Uh-huh!” you squeaked. He’s moving again, and you throw your head back and moan.

“I think I’ll need you there,” Jun says. “I mean, I’ll need to look important and be hands-on, it’s nice to have an assistant there.”

You shiver around his cock, he’s moving but only minimally, and you need the full violent, bottom-out-and-thrusting-in action. You whine.

“Y/n? Are you getting this? I’ll meet you at the office, alright?”

You simply groan, pushing him back and trying to find… whatever was the pussy equivalent of ‘footing’. You try to gain leverage on the desk behind you and bounce, fucking yourself on his cock, and it’s still not enough.

Jun laughs. You are not getting it. You’re basically going feral from the withheld orgasm. Giving you what you wanted, he goes faster, and you nearly scream, gripping onto his white oxford in bunches, lewdly bouncing on his cock. “Want me to touch you?” he questioned, and you nod vehemently. “Yes, yes, yes, yes—”

There must be like 20 kids running around at this party. (“oh my god, triplets!” you whispered to Jun as you first stepped into the garden) Hao’s shy, and wants his father to carry him, preferably back into the car, but Jun refuses, making him walk. He doesn’t cry to protest, which is what you love so much about Hao. “Go play with Hoon,” Jun suggests, dropping to his knees to talk to his son. He pointed the familiar little face out. “Go on, make new friends!”

“He’s a bit like you,” you told Jun as Hao wandered off into the playpens.

Jun turned to you, curious. “How so?”

“He’s shy, but… he makes it work.” You’re back on your phone again, double-checking your boss’s schedule, checking all mail, confirming meeting times and topics. Jun waits for you on a bench until he couldn’t anymore.

He snatches the phone from you. “Work later,” he says. “I’m just like Hao, and I need you to be tailing me at all times so I can have a sense of security.”

“A false sense of security,” you say. “Wait, security from what?”

“The parents’ committee…”

So you’re the one that meets the fear-striking bunch of parents, rich trust fund kids breeding more trust fund kids, whose only purpose was to take care of their children. They might be problematically prideful and impossibly picky, but they made up for it by having an overly welcome demeanor. The triplets’ mother led the committee and also the waitlist to the nursery school, and as you pointed Hao out to her, she gushed over how cute the little guy was. Jun stands demurely behind you, not even accepting the compliment himself.

“He really is a sweet boy,” says the woman, “well it’s no wonder, when his parents are so cute!”

Jun looked at you, wanting to cut in, but he never speaks soon enough, and you’re the one that goes: “thank you!” with a grin. He doesn’t say anything anymore after that.

It’s winter, and when the party’s over the sun had set. Hao’s extra tired, from climbing up walls and running around with the other kids. When you look back at him, a few minutes after having strapped him into his little child seat, he’s out like a light. “He’s kaputt,” you informed Jun.

“Yeah?” He smiled. “Good… hey, I mean, when they thought you were his mom—”

“I hope you don’t mind!” you say. “I just… didn’t want to go through the whole I’m-actually-his-assitant and then they ask where the mom is and then the whole divorce story…”

“I’m actually grateful.” Jun’s lips are tightened but upturned in a little :] smile. “I… never like talking about his mom.” You nodded. After a few minutes of silence, he goes: “well, I mean, if they ask next time where his mom is, and you’re not there…”

“Of course I’ll be there!” you put a hand over his thigh, and squeeze. “Maybe you can keep saying that, I’m gonna be with you guys for a while, aren’t I?”

Jun’s the one that carries his son out of the car and into the apartment, and you follow him upstairs—he promised to make you dinner. As you get into the elevator, you text Guanhang you’ll be eating somewhere else, if he cares.

Guanhang: Where? Maybe I can join you

You: just somewhere with the girls from the office :) girls’ night?

You look up from your phone as little Hao wakes up, cheeks puffy against Jun’s shoulder. “Y/n,” he says sleepily.

“Hey, little guy. We’re home.”

“You’re home,” Hao says with a yawn, and maybe he just said it because he was half-asleep, but you stop in your tracks. You realize you’d been spending more time at your boss’s house than you do in Guanhang’s apartment.

You ran Hao a bath, and you and Jun bathed the little guy together, complete with bathbombs and bath toys. There’s sand from the garden everywhere in his scalp, which you patiently wash off.

“I want Y/n to be my mommy,” Hao says as you gently wet his hair, occasionally dunking him, which he’s patient to.

You let out a laugh, it was just awkward and you didn’t know what to say, how to parent.

You’re not the parent though, and Jun took the little boy into his arms, growing sterner. “Hey, you don’t say things like that, okay?”

“Why not?” the little boy pondered.

“Well, because she’s still young and she might not like—I mean, son, listen, motherhood—I mean, it’s just—you’re cute, don’t worry, you’re the cutest thing ever, but—you can’t just say that to everybody you like!”

“I don’t say it about everybody,” Hao says. “I just say it about y/n!”

You offer a tight-lipped smile, and Hao’s still not done: “I looove y/n. I like her more than mama. Mama’s mama, and Y/n is mommy!”

“I didn’t teach him that,” Jun says quietly. “I swear, I did not teach him that.”

Later when he sends you home, he’s still apologizing profusely. And then, he lights up with a smile. “It’s good he likes you, isn’t it?”

You shrugged. “I mean… yeah. I like that Hao likes me, it’s part of my job.”

Jun presented a little promise ring, a silver band encrusted with diamonds. Minghao sighs. “You cannot be…”

“It’s for Y/n!”

“I thought she wanted no strings attached?” probed Minghao.

Jun frowned, thinking deeply about it. “But…” he sounded as innocent as his own son as he said it, “we’ve come far enough that we can define our relationship. You don’t know what she told me.”

“What?”

“She said, she’ll be here with me and Hao. For a long time.”

“Jun,” Minghao says, sighing, “don’t… don’t do this to yourself or little Hao. Don’t play with someone that obviously doesn’t care about your feelings.”

“I don’t know, Minghao,” Jun sighed. “I think this might be it. I feel like she could… be in my life. Permanently.”

“She’s a user!” Minghao pointed out. “If she comes to you whenever her boyfriend lets her down, and takes advantage of you and your money because you’re needy with a kid, she’s a bad person.”

“She’s never asked for anything from me,” Jun says sadly. “I think you’re wrong.”

“She never denies your gifts, either.”

“Why would she refuse something I’ve already bought her?”

Minghao groans, head in his hands, his friend was not getting it—he’s just not getting it! “Listen,” he told Jun, “you are not asking someone that flaky for a real relationship. You won’t like what you get.”

“Why—”

“She’s still living with a guy!”

“You’re right,” Jun says. He sinks back down into his chair. “I’ll just ask her to move out, first.”

Minghao throws his hands up in the air and lets out the most strangled groan he’s ever made his entire life.

Jun can’t pop the question. It’s hard to just ask someone about their lovelife, even someone he considers to be as close as you. Of course he, with his small circle and busy life, thought you were close, and you knew everything about his life, but did you consider the same of him? He didn’t even know so much about you.

Plus, you never talk about your feelings. The only time you’d ever come close to that were the times where you talked about Guanhang, times when he eavesdropped, just to know what it’s like to be someone you loved, except it wasn’t him, and he could never imagine it being him.

So he thinks that’s where he should start: Guanhang. If you loved him, then you must hang onto him, and if he gets a straight answer about it then he’ll stop the pining. Plus, it would mean he has no chance.

He picked an evening where you were in your feelings. The sky’s a certain shade of blue, from all the citylights polluting the darkness, and it would never dim; you rolled down your side window and stared out, sometimes enjoying the velocity breeze but he just kept getting stuck in traffic, so the car was often still. “Y/n,” he says quietly, voice almost blending in with sounds of the city, “how’s Guanhang?”

“Oh, you mean the guy I live with?” you snort. You rolled your window up so you could hear him better. “He’s fine. Now that he’s taken up a second job we have less time to fight.”

“Do you love him?”

You gasp. “What?”

“Do you even believe in love?” Jun wondered. “I feel like you don’t really act that way.”

“I didn’t use to,” you answered honestly. You sounded so wise to him, he’d never heard you this way before. “But… one day, you know, Guanhang works at a studio, and I listened to one of the stuff he produced—there were like, 30 guys singing on a backtrack, but I knew immediately when his voice was in it. I could just recognize it.”

Jun’s heart clenched in his chest, and if he weren’t driving he’d double over. He hadn’t had his heart broken in so long… not since his broken engagement.

“And,” you say, “one night, Guanhang ‘borrowed’ his friend’s car and we went out of the city, to stargaze. We just had the radio to listen to, so we spent the entire ride driving past the suburbs screaming the lyrics to every song we knew. It was like a competition—and then, at one point, I stopped screaming. I just listened to him. I realized then that’s what love is? If that makes sense? Love is shutting up while you’re singing in the car because you want to hear their voice. And that’s the day I said it. ‘I love you.’ I’ve never said it to anybody before in my life.”

You looked over at Jun. “But now he’s just some guy I live with.”

Well, that wasn’t a straight answer. But he knew he could never ask you now. Guanhang was someone you’d always want to hang onto. With his ex, it had been black-and-white, she didn’t want him and he gave up. But Guanhang was always going to string you along, and he… knew he couldn’t compete. He’d never felt good enough for love, ever since his ex and the wedding debacle.

There’s a letter of resignation on his desk, a few days after that night. You had been growing cold towards him, nights where you slept over grew seldom and seldom until you just stopped. But you give him his coffee every day still, perfectly, even, without spillage, and it always tastes just as sweet, as sweet as only you could make it.

So it’s a shock to him as he read the letter, right in front of your eyes. “Why?” he demanded. He got so fired up he started speaking mandarin. “Wèishéme?!”

“I just…” you say, blinking tears away, “I just can’t do this anymore, and seeing you every day at work like we aren’t something is just...”

“Is it Guanhang?” he demanded.

“No,” you say. “No, I just… I just want positions I deserve. And I feel like I got here because… you liked me.”

“You’re here because I like the way you work,” Jun insisted. You don’t believe him. “No, I—I had this assistant that would color-code everything with custom stickers, but they were all pastel and I basically turned colorblind trying to read them, I had another guy assistant that kept asking questions and making me confirm everything myself, I had this other intern, right before you, that took pictures of me and Hao because he wanted to put it on his blog—Y/n, you’re great. I like that you don’t overcomplicate your systems, you sometimes spill things and trip and fall, but I don’t mind. It’s small flaws I never even saw—I didn’t hire you because of some… sexual ulterior motive. I like you. I like the way you work first, and then I just… fell for the rest of you.”

You looked conflicted, you watch him through your eyelashes. “I want to transfer,” you say, resolute but soft enough. “To Mr. Choi’s company—you know I’m more into that line of work, it’s what I studied. I just think a position there might be better.”

Jun tries to convince you to stay, but he was never a believer in his own self.

You leave, two months later, after treating him just like a stranger whose schedule was the only thing you knew about him.

Jun still has the promise ring, and it’s always somewhere in his pocket, although he hopes that one day he could just lose it, more or less accidentally, but the little velvet box always stayed somewhere in the pockets of his coats or trousers. He didn’t even know why it mattered to him, it’s not like you’d even touched it in your entire life. And yet… when he holds it in his hands, it feels to him like that sweet daydream that never became reality—he never got to touch it, but still, it’s so vivid.

Hao keeps asking why you’re not around, and Jun never knows how to answer. He explains the concept of resignation to the little boy, patiently, and Hao sort of begins to get it.

“So Y/n’s somewhere? In this city? And we just can’t see her?”

It’s supposed to be spring, but the wind still blows harsh and northern like the middle of winter, and it reminds him of you, because all the months you’d worked for him were so cold. He remembers you in your little trenchcoats and woolen things, trying to text with a smart glove on…

“Do you want to see her?” Jun asked Hao. “Maybe we just pay a little visit, for the last time?”

So him and his son are parked in front of the complex he always dropped you off, and he presses the bell for 3A, which you shared with Guanhang. When it buzzes in, Jun takes the little boy on his shoulders.

Guanhang’s waiting at the door, not knowing what he’s being visited for. “We just wanted to see Y/n,” Jun says, awkward because that was his rival he was talking to. “The little guy missed him, is it okay if he—”

“Y/n moved out,” Guanhang says plainly. “A month ago.”

But that was when you resigned. “Do you—know where?”

“That receptionist friend she had,” Guanhang says. “Moved in with her. I don’t fucking know. Don’t look at me like that, I tried to make her stay, too.” The door slams.

Jun calls the personnel office in his car with the engine on, as Hao swings his little legs on the seat. This was a revelation to him—you ended it with Guanhang, and even with him, and everything’s just so clear to Jun, now: you wanted things you deserved. You were starting over. You wanted to work for things yourself. He just wanted you back in his life, he wasn’t bad for you, he would prove it.

The phone comes through. “Hey! Good evening, it’s Jun—I just need to know where Choi Arin lives.”

“For something good, like a bonus, I hope,” replies the man working at the office.

Arin lives in another complex, closer to work this time. The apartment was on the third floor, and Jun climbed the stairs with Hao on his shoulders, once again, only for Arin to come out and tell him you didn’t live there anymore.

“It was just temporary,” she said. “She wanted a real place she could rent—I think Mr. Jo from security hooked her up with a free space in his flat.”

“Hey, Jun again… could you give me the address of Jo from security?”

He doesn’t know which floor you lived on, or even which side of the terrace. He tries door after door, and nice ladies here and there wanted to accompany him for the rest of the search. Then another man wants to see it through, too, and Jun entrusts that his son was grabbing the tail of his coat at all times, following him.

He’s gathered a bunch of people following him when he arrives at the new side of the terrance. He almost loses the motivation to go around asking a whole neighborhood if they knew you, when…

He could hear music, faintly coming from a ground-floor window. He followed it, knowing the melody well—you would hum it all the time, it was your favorite.

He knocks on the door it leads him to.

You come out with a bowed head, and you’re more beautiful than he remembers, although you looked even more tired. If you were living here but working at Seungcheol’s company, you must be waking up so early just to make it there at 9 a.m. Jun reaches out to touch you, as if he had been fooled and you’re just a mirage.

“Y/n!”

You extend your arms to the little boy, and he climbs up. Your laughter is light. “Hao! What are you guys—Jun? What is this?”

He doesn’t know how to start this. He fumbled around with the pockets of his paddington coat, and there were just too many pockets. After going through each of six pockets twice and coming up with just stray used tissues and car keys, he checks his pants, and there it was. He pulls out the little velvet box; a bunch of people gasp. You just mumble, “he wouldn’t.” But you don’t know if he would.

But there is a ring, although at closer inspection you notice it’s not for engagements. A simple promise ring, which you putt out to inspect, and ‘1.1. 00:00’ is engraved on the inside.

Your first kiss. You look up at him, and just when you’re about to speak, Mini-Wen wraps his arms around you. “Missed you, Y/n.”

“Y/n,” Jun starts, “I just—I—I wanted to ask you to be mine. But I was just—I was just afraid. I’ve had this phobia against relationships ever since Hao’s mom left me, and…” (the crowd ‘aww’ed) “I was afraid of getting close to someone again, if they might break my heart, and well, you did–you did, you left. But… I found out it doesn’t even matter. I’m happy to be loving you and getting my heart broken by you. I think you’ve got your fair share of broken hearts, too, but if you trust me—” you’re looking up at him with a brand new look in your eyes. He falters, splutters, as he always did when you look at him. “I can promise you I’ll always be here for you. I’ll keep your place for you, I’ll always protect you, I’ll—”

With Hao still in your arms, you step in and kiss Jun. For a second he forgets to close his eyes, and he just watches you, lips sinking into his. He knows exactly what he feels for you, except he’s just too scared to say what it is.

“Did my speech move you into kissing me?” He murmured against your lips.

“No, but there’s just too many people watching I felt the need to perform.”

Hao plants a kiss on your cheek, and suddenly you and Jun are kissing him back, on each cheek—Jun had imagined showing his son love with this, but it was only you that made it possible.

He brings you and Hao closer into him, warm and padded inside his coat.

“I think I was too preoccupied to tell you on New Year’s,” Jun says. “I hope you have a good year, Y/n.”

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itsgodepi · 8 months

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If I lose my mind | Ch. 5

Series summary: When life has given you more than enough lemons and you cannot figure out how to make a lemonade, the only way to make it work is to get rid of the whole basket. But was it neccesary to send you to a whole different dimension for that? A juicer would have done the job, really. Or, one day you go to sleep as a normal person and the next you wake up as a Formula One driver. You've never been a fan but isn't it like, one of the most exclusive sports? Pairing: CL16, LH44, CS55, DR3 x fem!reader Chapter: Previous | Next Word Count: 3k Also on AO3

Reading your own Wikipedia page is quite a strange experience. Paragraph after paragraph of your life written on the internet for everybody to see, from the day you were born all the way to this very moment.

You do not know if the fact that none of it is true is for better or worse.

Some parts are accurate, information about your hometown, date of birth, relatives' names and... that’s about it really. According to this biography, not only have you been the runner-up for a Formula 3 championship, but you are also a Formula 2 champion, which is good you guess, for someone that did not even know those kinds of competitions existed. As of two hours ago, Formula One was the only championship with those kinds of cars you had ever heard about, but there are so many. Too many actually. In a section of your page named ‘junior racing career’ —which is in itself a crazy sentence to read—, it even says something about karting’s championships and an academy thing, concepts you are not sure if you want to understand.

Oh, and the most important part, you are a Formula 1 driver, a statement endlessly repeated throughout the text. They even claim this to be your second year on the motorsport, ‘not a rookie anymore’ they say, as if yesterday’s race was not the first one you have ever watched from start to finish.

Still, if being pushed into a Formula One car and a whole Wikipedia page was not enough of a confirmation, you can find a million articles online that certify your participation in the sport. Webs filled with photos of you with the cars, dressed in full gear and with that stupid blue helmet, the situation getting worse and worse with every tap of your finger.

How is any of this possible?

The rabbit hole that seems to be your ‘life’ keeps you awake night after night, new information slapping you in the face every two minutes while you try to navigate what appears to be a Formula One driver’s normal schedule. Nick makes sure of that last part at least.

The first step on that agenda had been to fly out of Austria, a place you cannot comprehend how you had arrived to when you were in Spain just yesterday. It is not like you were having the best time of your life there, finishing the third month of your external internship in a city you thought was already too far away from home, but this change looks a bit excessive. The possibility of being in a completely different country had seemed so absurd at first, when a list called Austrian GP came up as one of the top results in your research, and yet with a simple look to the navigation app, your worst nightmare had been confirmed. From your trip to the airport, to the arrival to another country, France, and to a new hotel, Nick walking you through every step of the process and only leaving you alone once you are back in the hotel room.

The next few days follow a similar dynamic, mornings spent trailing behind Nick without a clue of what happens around you and long nights glued to the phone, the date for the next GP —or whatever they call it— getting closer and closer.

You are not ready to repeat last Sunday’s events, an engine failure had saved you from the inevitable end, but you might not be so lucky next time. There is no way you are stepping into that car again, that is for sure, and even less so when you have not figured out what brought you here in the first place.

Although you had drowned yourself in information about your supposed life the first nights in France, the need to discover what was happening to you had quickly managed to overpower that curiosity. From the moment Nick knocks on your door early on the morning to the hours you lay awake on bed looking for anything that could explain this madness, you spend every second of the day looking for an explanation.

A kidnapping had been the most credible theory from day one, the way you had woken up to all those screams and the men surrounding you, how Nick had come into your hotel room that morning and pushed you to drive with no regard for your safety. It made sense. However, the articles posted all over the internet told a very different story. There is too much information about you, some posts even dating back to when you were a child, photos and videos that cannot be simply edited and uploaded to make you believe you have gone crazy. You have driven a Formula One car on an official race, for crying out loud, that is not something anybody can orchestrate.

To be honest, the whole Formula One thing had knocked down quite a few of your guesses. What could someone gain from making you, a nobody, believe they are a motorsport driver?

In fact, the only theory that could easily explain everything that had happened to you in the past few days is that: none of this is real. A dream. You can vividly remember dozing off on your bed, that sensation of falling down and then suddenly waking up in that unfamiliar place. It could be the reason why you had blacked out when the car exited the garage, why everyone knew you, and could also explain the existence of all those false stories on the internet.

You had made all of this up.

That had indeed been one of your first assumptions, or at least had been an easy way for your mind to let go of all the worries in such an unnerving situation. If this was not real, there was nothing to stress about, no danger in sight. Your alarm will go off any moment now and you will be one day closer to ending this internship and going back home. Tomorrow will be a new day.

Despite this, as time goes by, it becomes harder and harder to hold onto this happy thought.

Stepping foot into the new track is a breaking point. It is Friday, five days have gone by and nothing has changed, the countdown to the next race weighting down on your mind as you walk through what Nick had called the paddock. It is that strange street again, the one lined by those colorful buildings but in a completely different country —another clue that this was indeed not real, you were clearly lacking imagination to be recycling sceneries like this.

They had brough you here yesterday as well, for a tour around the track that had set your nerves alight. Thankfully, you had done nothing but wander around the circuit for a while, be surrounded by a couple cameras, have a meeting with the engineers and go back to the hotel for another sleepless night.

Maybe you should sleep more —which sounds quite contradictory when you are supposedly already dreaming— because, when the events of last Sunday start repeating themselves, you do not even have the strength to push back. Nick manages once again to lure you into the white building and prepare you for what he calls practice, but the reality is that just the sight of that Formula One car on the garage makes you heart drop to the pit of your stomach.

“Don’t worry about times,” a man who has been following you all day says “Let’s see if everything feels good first and we’ll talk things over for FP2”.

A lot of changes had been made to the car since Austria, that is what all the meetings had been about. You had silently sat down through all of them, nodding along to the engineers’ words as if you understood any of it.

Now that you are seated in the car, blue helmet and jumpsuit on, you can only wish that whatever broke the car in Austria has not been fixed. That the engine won’t even start, and you will have to retire again. It is hard enough to listen to the rest of the cars exiting their own garages, their engines revving like they might explode.

How they have managed to put you on the spot yet again, that you do not understand. And it is not only a one-time thing, but they easily make you jump in the car later the day for a second practice.

When you are finally helped out of the car the second time, body uncontrollably trembling and a static sound filling your ears, you feel an unusual sense of calmness. The whole ride had felt like such a clear sign that none of this is real, it can’t be. Both practices had gone by in the blink of an eye, just like it had happened in Austria, a fade to black and you are back where you started. You do not even remember seeing other cars on the road or how you got back to the garage. Nothing. The only proof that you had driven around for hours being the fatigue consuming your body, something that backs the dreaming theory up so perfectly.

They say you have done great though, so that is something.

Nevertheless, it feels nice to be back on normal clothes, like there is less of a target on your back for the cameras and other strangers, but it is still difficult to keep a low profile when you are walking through the paddock with the team’s merchandising. Nick is guiding you out to the last meeting of the day, after you have fulfilled all the media duties and team reunions that have kept you on the track since your arrival this morning. He says this driver’s briefing thing should not last long, that it is quite late already, and they are probably thinking more about going back home than anything.

The meeting is on another building, one you had not even noticed in your two days here, Nick leading you inside and up some stairs until you find the meeting room. When he opens the door, you realize there is already people seated inside, the sound of their mixed talks now filling the long corridor. You recognize some of them, not from the team meetings but from Austria, other drivers.

The room is furnished as a classroom, a projector on the right wall and the rest of the space filled with rows of chairs. There are not many people in it yet, Nick had said it would be better to get there early before people start crowding the entrance and now you understood why. Your gaze instantly zeroes in on Lewis, a tiny smile pulling at your lips while Nick guides you to some seats, deciding to leave your things with him and go say hello. You have not seen him since Austria, after you had spent the entire pre-race ceremony talking to him, and now that you have kind of ruled out the possibility that he is a kidnapper, you have realized that maybe he was just being nice.

Yet, before you can take more than two steps away from Nick, you feel someone pulling at your hand. You come to a sudden stop, looking back to see a man seated in the row in front of you and Nick’s seat regarding you with a huge grin on his lips. He has dark hair and big brown eyes that seem to be staring into your soul.

“Oh c’mon, you’re not even going to say hello because I didn’t get you cookies last week?” the man chuckles, tilting his head as he looks up at you like he cannot believe what you were about to do “Isn’t that too much?”

Even though his tone is light and jokey, you cannot help but frown at him. Why would you greet him when you don’t know him in the first place? And why is he holding your hand?

Instead of letting go when you stand there in silence, too stunned to react to his words, he decides to pull you down into the seat next to his “Didn’t Charles get you some? You are being greedy at this point” he jokes once you are seated, not a word leaving your lips.

Oh, Charles, you remember him from Austria as well. Actually, he was wearing the same exact red shirt as this man, a detail that the abrupt start of the conversation had left you blind to. The Ferrari logo in both his chest and cap are even more of a telltale of who he must be. Charles’ teammate.

“They were nice...” you respond, crossing your legs and relaxing back on the chair now that you have gathered your bearings. It is true, you had been munching on those cookies throughout the race after your disqualification, Nick bringing them over to you as a treat to distract you.

The man shakes his head in disbelief, smile widening as he assures you “I'll get you a full basket next time, don’t worry”

The promise genuinely makes you smile, he seems nice.

“How’s the car doing?” the man queries, crossing his arms over his chest as he looks around

You can almost feel the media training kicking in, pre-made phrases hanging off the tip of your tongue, they have been putting a microphone in your face and asking you about it all morning. Nonetheless, you manage to push it all down, it finally feels like you are having a normal conversation after this stressful week, you are not about to parrot the engineers' words for the millionth time “Well, it hasn’t caught fire yet...”

The man seems to like that answer, letting out a giggle and a “That’s an improvement” while he nods in understanding. There is a moment of silence that follows, his eyes set on your face as if he was waiting for something that does not come. Is he expecting a more in-depth response or something? Yet, before you can decide on what to do, he finally wills himself to say what he has been thinking ever since you entered the room “So... are you feeling better?”

The question catches you off guard at first, the conversation taking a more serious turn than you had expected —or wanted. Should you say you are great, just to shut down the topic entirely? The room is filling up with people by the second and it is not like you are about to open your heart to a total stranger. Or are you supposed to give the same response Nick had made you repeat over and over again in front of the journalists? ‘I’m perfectly fine now, it was pure exhaustion’.

“I’m-” you start saying, mind not really having decided on what lie to tell, when someone pats your head.

You rise your head to look behind you, both to see who it is and to get away from their touch —what is with this people taking such liberties?—, the man by your side doing the same. Standing tall behind your row of chairs is none other than the man you have spent day and nights thinking about: Daniel.

“Ready for the two hours briefing?” he sighs with a raised eyebrow, his hand traveling down to your shoulder when you turn your body around to talk to him. This is the first time you have seen the man out of that bright orange jumpsuit, now sporting a shirt of the same color instead, logos drawn all over it. He is still wearing that matching cap though.

“So dramatic...” the man seated by your side snickers, the previous chat seemingly forgotten “We should do a twenty-four-hour briefing just for you”

“Mate,” Daniel says with a half-smile, pointing at you with a tilt of his head “she wasn’t here last year”

That must mean something you do not understand because it is all the man in red needs to groan out loud, his face falling in defeat at the prospect of having to sit through such a long meeting. On the other hand, you can only sit there with your eyebrows furrowed, Nick had assured you would be out of here in no time. And of course you were not here last year, or ever, you have not- but your inner monologue gets suddenly interrupted by the one phrase you have been telling yourself all day: none of this is real, you’re dreaming.

“What? No, she was driving here last year” another voice joins the conversation, his statement sharp and direct. You lean your body forward to see who it is, he has taken a seat on the other side of the man in red and his body is blocking the stranger’s face, eyes widening when you recognize him. Charles.

“It was still Mazepin in France, he almost crashed into Kimi remember?” Daniel corrects him with a side grin “She started after the break in... was it Silverstone?”

Daniel looks at you for confirmation on this one, the other two men also lowering their gaze to yours, waiting. You are so overwhelmed though, it feels so strange, the fact that they are talking so categorically about things that have not ever happened. What is Mazepin? Kimi? And Silverstone? What break? The pressure of the situation getting to you in the worst possible moment.

So you end up doing what you do best, nod along to whatever the other person says even though you do not understand anything. That is what you have done to the engineers, to the media, to Nick and now to these three men before the start of a briefing that you won’t understand a word of either.

Afterall, none of this matter, this is only a dream, right?

Next Chapter

___

Author's note: Thanks a lot for all the hearts, comments and everything! I'm so happy you're liking the fic

Taglist: @purplephantomwolf @raye2000 @yuiiimd @drezzerk33 @leclercdream @homie0sapien @minkyungseokie @carlossainzwho @rewmuslupin

#formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 fic #lewis hamilton x reader #daniel ricciardo x reader #charles leclerc x reader #carlos sainz x reader #f1 x you #formula one x you #carlos sainz x you #charles leclerc x you #lewis hamilton x you #daniel ricciardo x you

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absolutebl · 5 months

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This Week in BL - I'm finding rankings difficult, there's a lot of middle of the pack action and some serious top contenders

Organized, in each category, by ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

Dec 2023 Wk 1

Ongoing Series - Thai

Last Twilight (Fri YT) ep 5 of 12 - I love how they’re slowly revealing bits of their past to each other. It parallels the slow burn of them falling in love with each other. Knowledge + understanding = affection. I cried during the part with his doubles partner, of course I did. As has been mentioned many times in this blog, I am a sap. Also I’m realizing that there is something particularly clever about this show: Because Day is blind, there must be a ton of physical touch. And physical touch is something that Thai BL does really well.

(I gotta say, while I ADORE JimmySea in these roles, a small part of me wonders how JoongDunk would have handled these parts.)

The Sign (Sat YT) ep 3 of 10 - Phaya is SO DAMN SMITTEN. It’s great. Have I mentioned recently how glad I am Billy got this role? This was the: “it’s not a date” date ep.

I gotta say these 2 BLs are neck and neck favorites right now.

Cherry Magic (Sat YouTube) ep 1 of 12 - Uh oh. I like it a lot. I think I was always going to because I have a soft spot for TayNew on screen. It is such funny to watch Tay play such a stiff character. I like it. This is very fast paced for a Thai BL I wonder where they’ll take it with this speed, are they’ll following the manga more closely?

My Dear Gangster Oppa (Thurs iQIYI) ep 7 of 8 - Wait, no. Wahl you’re such a problem. The pacing of this is very KBL. I’m not mad about it but it feels odd in Thai. Still enjoying this one the most as my "early in the week" offering.

For Him (Thurs iQIYI) ep 2 of 10 - The booty call flirting is next level with these two. Like Bed Friends but with less pain. I love that Nail is such needy evil wild child - the story gets all its tension from that.

Baby boy gives off so many danger signals I wouldn't tap that with a 10 ft… pole. Him is a braver queer than I. I do like how the high heat is being used to drive the story. It stands in stark contrast to Playboyy. Which is using high heat to drive, well... piles apparently.

Twins the series (Fri GaGa) ep 6 of 10 - I'm enjoying it again, the main couple is getting more BLish.

Bake Me Please (Mon Gaga) ep 3 of 6 - Shin and Peach flirting is very cute. Although they got into that sack swiftly. Guy leaving was contrived and reactions overwrought but okay babies.

Absolute Zero (Weds iQIYI) ep 11 of 12 - Now I'm mostly just confused.

Which timeline are we in?

Do they know each other in this one's past or not?

Have they met yet?

Who has which memories of what?

I feel like I’ve been through a lot for the show.

I’m not saying the reunion scene in the theater was worth it, but it was a really spectacular reunion scene. I’m terrified that there’s one more episode. I wish it had ended here.

Cooking Crush (Sun YT) 2 of 12 - I’m just not that into it.

Pit Babe (Fri iQIYI) ep 4 of 14 - A new ship has been set afloat, we are now Team #WayKim / #KimWay and if you're not with us, you're against us. Trash watch happening here.

Middleman’s Love (Fri YT & iQIYI ep 5 of 8 - oh look, it’s everybody’s favorite big brother!

That was a kind (and kind of lovely) coming out sequence. KingUea being the worst best Gay Advice Dads is awesome. Mai is SO SWEET. And we end on some good old miscommunication / misinterpretation, so that Jade can behave in an even more unhinged manner next ep. Our brief respite from absurdity has ended.

My Universe (Sun iQIYI) Fake Love ep 16 of 24 - They cute fake bf but it’s oddly unappealing. I mean most us queers have slept with each others exes, that’s swimming in a small pool, for ya. In my experience, only hets get butt hurt about it. (Hets never use enoug lube, they butt hurt about everything.) So the whole drama just felt confusing to me. Or maybe that's just my experience with swimming in lube? 4/10 whatever... not recommended

Playboyy (Thurs Gaga) 4 of 14 eps - I’m seriously considering dropping this.

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

VIP Only (Taiwan Fri Gaga) ep 4 of 10 - They cute. Are aquariums now gay? That’s not the definition of fish that I grew up with.

Sahara-sensei to Toki-kun (Japan Fri Gaga) ep 2 of 8 - I'm suffering from terrible second lead syndrome. Glasses guy is new Best Boy. Also, Rise is trying to earn the Namgoong Award for Best Wingman.

It Finished But...

SHADOW (Thai Gaga) 14 eps - completed it's run. Reports are:

It's pretty good horror but not BL. Ending is unresolved.

Given that info and this review here, it's not for me. DNF

It's Airing But...

Behind the Shadows (Korea movie) - a historical I'm interested in (if it's BL) but have no idea how to find.

The Whisperer (Sun ????) 10 eps - Thai horror BL that ALSO involves cheating (what joy is mine). I don't think even the perfect single dimple can motivate me to watch. Word is... it's terrible.

7 Days Before Valentine (Weds WeTV) 10 eps - Giving me Luminous Solution vibes. I'm waiting to binge if it's safe.

Beyond The Star (Weds iQIYI) 8 eps - House of Stars meets Boyband. I was NOT impressed with ep 1. Been told I shouldn't bother.

What Did You Eat Yesterday Season 2 AKA Kinou Nani Tabeta? Season 2 (Japan Gaga) 10 eps - I find this series more fun to binge, so I'm waiting until after it completes its run next week.

Next Week Looks Like This

12/14 Dear Kitakyushu (Thai/Japan movie) in theaters in country only, I know nothing about distribution.

Still coming:

12/23 Dead Friend Forever (Thai horror) iQIYI

Original 2023 forthcoming BL master post (see comments, some are inaccurate, NOT KEPT UPDATED). With the end of the year upon us I'll do an "announced for 2023 but never happened list" soon.

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

Of course I loved all the little language moments. I am here for the kinkification of phi.

That request for a shirt was v sexy phi+na. Thank you Jimmy.

Last Twilight bringing the pronoun and particle game to play hard.

It was a nice kiss. (Absolute Zero)

This as a perfunctory flirting kiss, I anticipate we still have The Kiss to come.

I love that Phaya's personality seems to be spin doctor, just accuse the boy of doing that you are already doing to him (or want him to do to you).

Boyfriend shirts!

And a meta reference.

The Sign is basically made for me.

(Last week)

#this week in bl #bl updates #Thai BL #Last Twilight #The Sign #my dear gangster oppa #cherry magic #for him the series #absolute zero #middleman's love #My Universe Fake Love

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flower-boi16 · 11 days

Note

Who would you say is the most poorly written character in Hazbin Hotel, and why?

Well looking at my top 5 best and worst characters in both Hazbin AND Helluva I’d say…Charlie. I’ve already made a full post about why Charlie isn’t a particularly great protagonist so I won’t go and repeat myself here.

But my biggest issue with Charlie is that…she never grows. She doesn’t really learn anything, and she stays the same from episode 1 to episode 8. She doesn’t have much of an arc…at all.

And, just to add on something I eventually realized after watching a video about Charlie that made pretty interesting points; Charlie does display many character flaws throughout the show, being naive, emotionally immature, and not really understanding how people work.

These are interesting character flaws for Charlie but something I realized while watching the video was that, although Charlie has character flaws…she never grows from them. At all. Her flaws are shown but they are never confronted or called out. She never grows into becoming more understanding of others or realizing that her views on redemption are heavily flawed…nothing.

And it gets worse when the show HEAVILY idealizes Charlie’s views on redemption, always her as purely right and anyone who opposes her is automatically in the wrong (something I talked about in my post about Charlie).

And THATS what I think is the fatal flaw with Charlie as a character; she’s always portrayed as in the right, that her views of redemption that everyone can be redeemed is purely correct in spite of it being just as heavily flawed and simplistic as Adam’s “no one can be redeemed” mentality. Not only does it fly in the face of the show’s themes of being against black and white moralities, it also prevents Charlie from growing as a character because the show is so busy portraying her as completely right that it can’t have her go through a real arc.

Like imagine if Charlie went through an actual arc of realizing that her views of redemption are kinda too idealistic and she grows and matures to being more understanding of other's emotions throughout the show. That would’ve been so interesting! But we didn’t get that, now did we?

The sad part is that pilot Charlie was better than Charlie in the series, purely for the fact that the pilot ACKNOWLEDGED that Charlie’s views on redemption and her understanding of other’s emotions is a bit flawed, and it looked like they were going to confront these flaws in the show…but they didn’t.

I WANTED to love Charlie, I really did, she’s apart of my personal favourite character archetype after all (optimistic bubbly female protagonist) and I’ll admit, she’s slightly endearing at times, but she’s so lacking as a character, ESPECIALLY for the main protagonist.

#vivziepop critical #hazbin hotel critical #vivziepop criticism #hazbin hotel criticism

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lemonnsss · 4 months

Text

Moral of the Story Chapter 5

Gif credit: @gi-fu

A/N: This is a little shorter than what I had hoped, but I hope y'all like it

Warnings: Trypanophobia; What is probably the worst thing I have written from a medical viewpoint, read with your own caution.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

Taglist: @vicmc624 , @mostlymarvelgirl , @yvonneeeee, @beetlejuicesupremacy , @moonlightreader649 , @whattheduckisupkyle , @chrisevans-realwife, @nekoannie-chan , @mrsbarnes32557038 , @imyourbratzdoll , @weallhaveadestiny

Word Count: 1.1k

“TONY?!” I yelled in confusion. I ran to him, some of his bodyguards running past me to go after the shooter. Once I reached him, I knelt at his side. I nodded to the guard at his other side, signaling to join the sweep.

I loosened his tie and pulled it off, opened his button-down only to reveal another layer but moved the mostly removed layers out of the way to see the wound. The bullet hit the outer-left of his chest, probably between the fifth and sixth ribs, it would be difficult to pull out.

“What are you doing?”

“Great, you’re conscious. That’s a good sign. I will roll you on your side, and then I will pull the slug out, okay?”

“What, no!? You said you were a teacher, not a doctor!” He glared up at me, his expression tinted with fear, most likely from his previous accident.

“Well, you’re losing a bit of blood, not a whole ton, but more than what is good for a person. If I don’t take care of this now you might not make it to the hospital.”

A mumbled “shit” fell from his mouth. Perhaps he was beginning to grasp the situation. I moved to roll him and he didn’t push against me. There was no exit wound meaning that the bullet had either lodged against one of his ribs, or it was in his lung or another muscle. I shifted him back onto his back again.

“I know this is going to sound weird-”

“No.”

“Seriously? You won’t let me finish my sentences now? You could be drowning in your own blood right now.”

“What?! Why didn’t you lead with that?”

“You didn’t give me time to. Now, I’m going to grab the bullet and pull it out.”

“Okay, I may not know much about medicine, but that doesn’t sound right.”

“Well, let's just say I have a bit of a trick up my sleeve.” I said as I stuck my fingers into the wound. Tony began to groan out in pain again. I felt my finger go past his ribs, through his lung, and hit the bullet, eliciting another groan from the man beneath me. I pushed my finger past the top of the bullet and began pulling it out.

After a minute or two of re-positioning, I pulled out the bullet and turned Tony onto his front. Most of the blood that had been pooling in his lung flowed out of the bullet wound. I then turned him back on his back. I laid my hand over his chest and began to use my mutation. Within a few minutes, his wound had closed and healed in its entirety. Or so it seemed. The truth is that it had just moved from his body to mine, the downside to my mutation.

I began to feel the familiar feeling of blood soaking my clothes, followed by a warm, hazy feeling. It was starting to become hard to keep my eyes open. I saw Tony get up, entirely recovered, aside from the minor blood loss. I felt my vision start to blur. I think he looked at me in shock and confusion, probably wondering how I did what I did.

“What the heck? Kid! Oh shit. The fuck did you do?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll heal faster than you.”

“Look, now is not the time to be joking about how much younger you are than me!”

I let out a soft laugh, “Wasn’t trying to, boss.”

“Okay, how do you treat bullet wounds again?”

I was starting to feel lightheaded and said, “I typically just pull them out and move the injury to my body. It works like a charm. Although, that probably won't work for you."

By this time, my vision was foggy in what I could see, which was fading faster than I thought. At this point, my peripherals were entirely gone.

"Please, stay conscious. I don't want to deal with that paperwork."

"Sorry, I'm clocking out here."

I could feel myself fall unconscious, slipping further and further from a somewhat familiar voice.

I woke up in a hospital bed about 13 hours later. I sat up, feeling a slight pang in my chest; my heart’s reaction was sent over to the electrocardiogram, alerting the nurses over to my room. When prompted, they gave me a general gist of what had happened since I'd passed out; apparently, Tony had been forced to keep schedule and left in a separate vehicle, much to his displeasure. The nurse continued, “You have healed very quickly. Far faster than almost everyone I’ve treated all my years as a nurse. It seems almost supernatural.”

She looked at me with an expression I couldn’t place, “Sorry, I must have made that awkward. It is quite interesting though.”

She walked over to the medicine cabinet and unlocked the first few drawers. She pulled out a large vial and a syringe, and my stomach dropped.

I let out an anxious laugh and asked, “What’s that?”

“I apologize, usually I don’t do this kind of thing to my patients, but someone made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. So now, here we are.”

She picked up the bottle, inserted the syringe's needle into the bottle and turned it upside down, and pulled the plunger down until the syringe was full, then turned it upside down again and switched out the needle while walking towards me, “Please, don’t scream.” she placed her gloved hand over my mouth, I felt like I couldn’t breathe, my throat felt as if it were closing up and like a weight was on my chest, crushing my ribs under the pressure, I knew this feeling. It was a panic attack. I’d had them almost all my life but the feeling that accompanied it was one of such extreme dread, a feeling that hadn’t plagued me since the death of Trask. Someone was testing on mutants again. “It’s not like it will matter anyway but, I would greatly appreciate it if we could wrap this up quickly. But, since you’ve been good thus far, I’ll answer your question. It’s morphine. I’ve made sure that this will be a lethal dose, regardless of your… differences. I can’t say if it will be painful though, but there’s enough here to make it very quick.”

As she finished her sentence and moved to stick the needle into my arm a bright blue light accompanied by a whirring noise filled the room. Standing in the entranceway was Tony in his Ironman suit with his arm outstretched in our direction, “Yeah, I wouldn’t necessarily do that if I were you.”

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bugsysaboy · 6 months

Text

Kite Headcanons <3

ALRIGHT THIS ONE IS FOR MY FELLOW KITE STANS!!! all 5 of us!!!!

No content warnings, sfw

-has the worst appetite known to man /hj

-he usually just eats soup

-he can easily be thrown off by the texture of certain foods (certified jello hater!)

-although, honestly, if he's hungry enough he'll eat anything.

-autism be damned, my boy can work a grill campfire.

-anxious as FUCK in restaurants. He's too awkward to order and will just s t a r e for too long unintentionally at the waitstaff.

-also will be awkward about starting his meal and will just hork it down when no one is looking. (Look, he grew up on the streets, eating fast so no one takes his food is just a hold over.)

-REALLY GOOD CANDID PHOTOS BUT DO NOT ASK THIS MAN TO POSE! HE DOESN'T KNOW WHAT HE'S DOING!

-you know that meme that's the person doing the half a heart with their hand and the other person has a thumbs up? ...yeah.

-ACTUALLY THAT BEING SAID he's really handsome when caught off guard, but when he's actually engaging in conversation with someone he's kinda funny looking? Like he'll suddenly be aware of how he's carrying himself and maintaining eye contact and he will over correct.

-This man has no game!!! This man can neither pull nor flirt! 29 years old and even the idea of holding hands gets him flustered.

-on top of this if he's romantically interested in someone he's really prone to just avoiding them.

-KITE AND CRAZY SLOTS IS JUST MANZAI! KITE IS THE STRAIGHT MAN AND CRAZY SLOTS IS THE FUNNY MAN! KITE SAYING "ah, bad roll" AND GRIPING ABOUT CRAZY SLOTS IS JUST A BIT TO HIM! HE THINKS IT'S HILARIOUS BUT NOBODY SEES THIS.

-dad jokes and puns all day everyday

-also he can actually be pretty chatty, like don't get me wrong when he's really focused he'll probably just shut up but during downtime? Around a campfire? He loves to spin a yarn or talk about his work.

-He also loves to hear about what others are passionate about!

-gets a general feel for people really quickly- he'll open up to people he gets good vibes off of pretty fast, but others he's more iffy on he may keep things cordial. This can, however, lead to snap judgements about people that might not be always correct.

-excellent pickpocket, now that he has a stable income through being a hunter he won't use this ability often...

-okay might do it to prank someone

-...or humble them.

-Met Ging when he was 15 and Ging was 18

-if he sets an alarm he somehow always manages to wake up just before it goes off

-hammock conoisseur 😌

-if he was in the real world he'd be Russian. (This is literally just based off of vibes and some edit an artist made of Kite running to Russian hardbass.)

-thinks it's really funny to say "have you considered..." to someone and when they ask him to elaborate he just says "...just... have you considered."

-loves sunflowers, loves sunflower seeds

-likes to keep a spare scarf handy in case someone needs it

-makes the crazy slots noise when he's really trying to concentrate

-favorite candy is saltwater taffy

-I like to imagine that he got the idea for crazy slots because of a boardwalk carnival in the town he grew up in. The carnies knew that Kite could win any of the games they had, no matter how rigged, it was uncanny.

-...probably used the plushies he won as pillows, maybe with the smaller ones he'd let his dogs play with.

-AND YES, HIS DOGS ALL HAD NAMES. ALEXEI, BORIS, SERGEI, PUSHKIN, FYODOR JUST TO NAME A FEW

-Favorite author is Dovstoevsky

-legitimately does not remember where he got his hat from, it's just kinda always been there, you know?

-he's not super focused on material goods and he doesnt really like receiving gifts (exceptions are made for anything handmade or a really cool rock.)

-...call him pretty and he'll fold

#hxh headcanons #kite hxh #hxh kite #hxh kite headcanons #hunter x hunter #hxh #hxh kaito #kaito hxh #hunter x hunter headcanons

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imnotgreen-art · 2 months

Text

starting off strong with a warrior CAT

(several cats?)

this is a redesign of jaggedjaw. he was part of a old but sorely missed warrior cats AU focused around new clans living in the aftermath of nuclear fallout!! and they are all a little bit funky a little bit mutated

I ramble ⬇️

jaggedjaw was a member of the aptly named Toxicclan which was the most effected by radiation and poisoning. they lived bravely close to a crater and were sort of like the shadow clan equivalent; they were all turned a bit mad, had a general thirst for power, hated the other clans for driving them into quite possibly the worst place to live ever actually

jaggedjaw has considerable backpain, regularly talks to his conjoined brother who is believed braindead, and constantly outlives his life expectancy through sheer force of will

to be honest the au was pretty amazing, I created it alongside my good friend basil, it was a bit of a bustling community for a short while but was ultimately killed by exam season :') although there is SO much I could post about it it's actually ridiculous

There were 5 clans

- Toxicclan (lived at the edge of the crater)

- Shardclan (lived in an old shopping center/mall)

- Sewerclan (I wonder where they lived)

- Driftclan (they lived in an airport)

- and Scraperclan (who lived on top of a cluster of skyscrapers)

ALL the humans were dead >:) and the cats had lost contact with Starclan because a thick smog blocked out the night sky (and the sky in general to be honest) and so their mission was to rediscover the stars

also this was the first design for jagged

CONSIDERABLY eerier somehow

#warrior cats au #warrior cats #post apocalyptic #post apocalyptic warrior cats SPECIFICALLY #i dream of reviving this #who knows #warriors oc #my art

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say-hi-intrepid-heroes · 3 months

Text

my experience getting/having a septum piercing!

(detailed journal under the cut, overview at the top)

TLDR: my experience was good, but that's because i planned and dedicated time to it. if you're in a situation where you'd need to hide it, make sure you get the piercing at least a week before you would need to flip it under. anything less and it's going to hurt like hell (although it'll still hurt a lot after a week)

general tips: 1) clean it at least once a day for a while. stuff builds up, especially in winter. i'd honestly recommend not getting it right before winter like i did, cause cold metal is not great. 2) try not to mess with it during the day, but make sure to move it around when you clean it, otherwise the healing skin will stick to the jewelry. 3) get a color/style you can live with for a few months. 4) don't flip it back and forth too much. 5) don't blow your nose aggressively or you might pass out from the pain. 6) dont wear face makeup to get your piercing done. touching your nose is gonna hurt like hell afterwards, so removing makeup won't be fun. 7) don't get a septum piercing as your first piercing. i've had two piercings in each ear, so i've had experience with the pain. if you flinch on an ear piercing, it's not as big of a deal cause those are so fast, but this one is NOT. major flinching is really bad here.

i've put a detailed log with dates under the cut. tw for descriptions of blood (obviously) but nothing major.

also, if you have any specific follow up questions, feel free to message or send an ask! i can't necessarily give you a perfect answer, but i can tell you what worked for me :)

(disclaimer: i wrote these on the days they are marked. i have not deleted or added anything, these were my thoughts and experiences as they happened. this does not represent everyone's experience, just mine, and is meant to be used as a reference to anyone wanting more information about this experience)

day 0 (11/11)

- got it done at a tattoo shop, they used a new/sterile needle and disinfected the area or something with something that smelled like iodine. it wasn't as fast as an ear piercing but it was honestly less painful.

- lots of initial bleeding (normal for me and head wounds in general), they nicked the outside of one nostril but that's probably because of my nose shape, lots of eye watering (also normal for me)

- cleaning it sucked, used the stuff they gave me (neilmed piercing aftercare mist) and qtips. moving the piercing was the worst part (it was slightly off center so i had to move it a bit), hurt so bad. did not appear to bleed further, however.

- nose area around piercing (nostrils, tip of nose) is extremely tender. putting on moisturizer was painful. glad i was not wearing full face makeup that i would have had to take off

- still too scared to blow my nose. i have a congestion headache.

day 1 (11/12)

- itchy. so itchy.

- currently biggest challenge is cleaning it. the area is so fragile and hurts so bad if you mess up how cleaning is done.

- also, allergies suck. i can't blow my nose. why.

- no bleeding tho, and nothing concerning

day 2 (11/13)

- cleaning is better, but i did figure out i was doing it wrong so that might be why moving the actual jewelry hurt so much. (the piercing was a lot further forward than i thought it was, so i was kinda just cleaning the middle of my nose. i wasn't cleaning where the hole is, so the scab area was just dry when i tried to move it, which is so so bad)

- area around it is much much less tender. no sudden contact though still.

- moving the jewelry hurts like a bitch

day 7 (11/18)

- substantial improvement over the last few days. no longer hurts to move the jewelry or touch my nose. only hurts if excessive force (i.e. getting punched in the nose)

day 9 (11/20)

- flipped it under (to hide it) for the first time. had to look up youtube videos for people with my nose shape cause i was doing it wrong but other than that it was very smooth and painless.

- now i just feel like i need to sneeze, but no pain.

about three weeks post-piercing

- we've kinda leveled out. no more major pain, now i'm able to flip it under in an emergency (without a mirror, without prep, etc)

- i got super sick and had a runny nose and it did fine the whole time.

- highly recommend flipping it under if you're having to blow your nose a lot, otherwise it snags and snot gets caught in it and i don't like it

two months (mid january)

- it is extremely cold where i am (hanging at about 10-15 degrees Fahrenheit) and this is making my skin so so dry.

- basically the piercing wound has cracked open a bit. it hurts a lot. i'm now drinking lots of water and running a humidifier/diffuser, but there's only so much that can do.

three months (mid february)

- just took out the jewelry, cleaned, and replaced for the first time!! it went really smoothly, no pain, no blood, but i did go slowly.

- make sure not to do it over a sink or the pieces could get lost. also, for the horseshoe i have, the little ball is kinda tricky to get back in, but if you take your time it'll work.

- i'm at the point where i feel like it is substantially healed, barring a major snag or other injury. i'm probably going to change out the jewelry soon once i get a new piece, and im very excited for that!!

[end]

#not really sure how to tag this tbh #oh well it's fine #personal #septum piercing

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ceterisparibus116 · 1 year

Note

What's Matt's worst moment ever, in your opinion?

His father's death? Elektra? He's got, like, a trauma per episode (I want to hug him).

WHAT AN ANGSTY QUESTION, ANON, I LOVE YOU.

Here's my top 5:

Jack's death. Matt has just lost the most stable and secure thing in his life, and he has, essentially, nothing left. There's no evidence that Matt really has anyone else to even talk to. (Maybe Father Lantom, but it's possible that relationship didn't really grow until Matt was living at the orphanage.) Then there's the fact that Matt believes it's his fault. I mean...just imagine. On top of all of this, Matt is so young. How is he even supposed to process any of this?

Stick leaving. As might be apparent from my fics, I think Stick is directly responsible for a lot of Matt's problems. The fact that Stick left was bad enough; the way that Stick left makes it all so, so much worse. He basically told Matt to his face that he wasn't good enough (which is one of Matt's worst fears - if it wasn't already, then I think it became so in that moment), and he left in direct response to Matt showing affection, to Matt wanting their relationship to be more than just a warrior training another fighter. No wonder Matt keeps people at a distance. No wonder Matt thinks no one really wants to know the real him.

Foggy leaving (the first time). Foggy was not having a great time in NvM, we all get that, but still: Foggy could hardly have handled that worse. He finally saw the side of Matt that Matt had hidden for so long, and he refused to even acknowledge the good parts, choosing instead to focus on everything negative, and then choosing to leap beyond simply discussing actions to making judgments about Matt's character. That cuts deep. No wonder Foggy had to be the one to reach out afterwards; Matt wouldn't have dared.

Elektra dying (the first time). She'd finally chosen to be good...and it killed her. Now, this was Elektra's choice and we shouldn't diminish her agency by acting like Matt forced her into it (any more than we should diminish Matt's agency by acting like she forced him into some of his Season 2 choices). However, Matt definitely sees it as his fault. Then there's the fact that she died not only choosing to be good, but taking the hit meant for him. Now, in Matt's mind, it's completely his fault. Add to that how he feels that he doesn't really have Foggy or Karen in his life anymore, and...well, we see how it affects him when we check in with him in the beginning of Defenders. He's hanging on by a thread.

Finding out about Maggie (and Father Lantom). This is a vicious one-two punch. His mom knowingly let him grow up alone, despite being right there. And his priest did the same thing. The effect it has is immediate: he shuts everyone out, and basically shuts himself off from his own humanity. The only part of his life that makes any sense anymore is Daredevil.

Other awful moments (the break-up with Elektra, Foggy leaving the second time, the break-up with Karen, Claire rejecting him, etc.) are a bit lesser, I think. With Elektra and Foggy, maybe I'm projecting, but I think the trauma of both of them leaving is mitigated somewhat by his conviction that he did the right thing (by refusing to kill for Elektra, and by refusing to give up Daredevil for Foggy). With Karen and Claire, it's messier because with Karen, he did lie to her, and with Claire, he did think he was too close to the line for her to be with him.

I also want to briefly discuss his blindness. That would have been a horrifying moment for him, going from having (apparently) 20/20 vision, to suddenly having NLP - on top of the pain and shock of how it happened. However, I don't think that moment would be as traumatizing for Matt as the top 5 I've listed above because although sight is important and trying to suddenly live without it is terrifying, I think relationship trauma will always cut deeper for Matt than physical trauma.

Thank you for the very angsty (but fun) question, Anon! What does everyone else think? What are Matt's worst moments?

#matt murdock #daredevil #meta #asks #ask me things i'm friendly

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vixstarria · 2 months

Text

Writer interview

Tagged by @bardic-inspo - aww thank you! ❤

Tagging @spacebarbarianweird (although I know you have heaps outside of AO3 / original works, so may be a bit tricky), @tragedybunny and @ineadhyn (no pressure!)

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

17, but some are multi-chapter. All BG3.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

38,869 - I'm just a baby

3. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

A remedy for sleeplessness - Smut. My very first smut, which I also think is my worst, written purely for shits and giggles. 🤷‍♀️

A night at the inn - Smut. Halsin threesome trilogy. This one I actually appreciate having a lot of kudos on.

Missionary with the lights off - Smut, also written for shits and giggles.

Intimacy - Not smut! But does have smut elements.

Seeing stars - You guessed it. Smut.

4. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Oh absolutely. I appreciate every single one of them (and they are so hard to come by!). Also all this, whether tumblr or AO3, is a community - I don't think any of us what to feel like we're just shouting into the void.

(psst, if you are a reader and you think you don't have anything worthwhile to say, or that you're annoying the writer or whatnot - rest assured that is NEVER the case - every single little thing even if it's just a string of emojis is appreciated, and absolutely makes my day)

5. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

I don't really do angst, and especially not angsty endings. I stick to fluff, humour and smut (or a combination of the three). I do add angsty elements sometimes, and so far the ones that touched the most on it are Down by the river and Intimacy - both dealing with Astarion's trauma.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

They all have happy or hopeful endings. The absolute happiest mushiest one is Confession

7. Do you write crossovers?

Nope, at least I haven't yet.

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Nah, I haven't done anything controversial enough to warrant anger, I think.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Boy do I! All I've been able to write lately seems to be smut, tbh.

I've done a lot of Astarion x f!Tav, sometimes with a third character thrown in. Nothing too crazy.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not as far as I know.

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Probably not.

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope, I don't know that I would be a great writing partner tbh - sometimes trying to get words out of my brain is like squeezing water out of a rock - I'd hate to let anyone down.

13. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

Astarion x my OC has been consuming my mind lately, I suppose I'm going to have to count that.

14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

I don't know whether I should count it as a WIP, but I've been playing with the idea of having my OC and Astarion have threesomes with all the other companions (we're skipping Karlach because I HC that they're besties of the variety you do not have sex with).

I've recently done one with Wyll, as well as Halsin (twice, actually, and I'll do it again!). Maybe it's time to go for a M/F/F, I haven't done that yet... Hmm...

15. What are your writing strengths?

Going by what I personally find the easiest / am most confident with - dialogue. It's also the funnest part of writing for me, and I've had a fair share of compliments specifically for the banter, or for getting the characters' voices right.

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

Descriptions. I can write banter all day, and I'm okay at getting inside a character's head and getting their emotions out, but ask me to describe a sunset (room / dress / whatever) and I'll probably just cry and jump out a window.

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I'm not a fan of this as a reader (occasional words or phrases are okay, if there's a footnote with a translation), and I don't add it as a writer. I tend to just generalise with "he swore in elvish" and similar.

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Final Fantasy 8. I wrote little comedic tidbits. (well, 12 year old me thought they were funny, anyway) I don't think any of it has survived to this day.

19. What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to?

I don't have any fandoms on my mind besides BG3, but as I've said in no. 14 above, I want to write something M/F/F.

20. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

Hmm, this changes constantly... Ultimately this will hopefully be my longfic that I'm working on.

I think it's a tie between the pure debauched horniness of A night at the inn and the more mellow Seeing stars which also showcases my OC's relationship with Astarion and all the things I think I do best.

#writing #my writing #bg3 fanfiction #ao3 #vix musings

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batrachised · 10 months

Note

I was thinking about my favorite secondary couple from L. M. Montgomery's series, and my pick comes down to Phil/Jonas and Ilse/Perry, it's so hard to choose between them! What's your pick? :D

I feel like I need to do RESEARCH for this ask, like a deep dive into all of the books especially as secondary couples can abound depending on the book! Because I take any excuse to talk about lm montgomery I can (so thank you for this), I of course must go book by book and rank each couple accordingly. A monumental task, to be sure - but one I feel is well worth the effort.

The side couples i can think of include (sure I might be forgetting some, but if I can't remember them are they really that great?) are below. I did skip out on some I remembered (sorry to Nan and Jerry!) because we know so little about them I didn't think it worth it. So, presenting, the top ten LM Montgomery side couples!

10. The Awkward Man/The School teacher (The Story Girl)

The Story Girl doesn't really have any romances (Felicity and Peter are really kind of the main one), but this is a mini subplot of the book. And, well, I was like meh. I liked the Awkward man (although, what a name), but for whatever reason this particular pairing didn't appeal to me. I think it's because it's thru the avenue of Sara; I would have preferred it as a short story.

9. Brook/Rae aka Cuddles (Mistress Pat)

I really shouldn't include them but I just love Cuddles so much, she's like the spiritual successor to Phil Gordon. I also love how after playing with so many boys' hearts she's like THAT one, so true queen! I think their pairing is also a fun contrast to Pat and Hilary's; poor Pat doesn't realize she's in love for like 15 years, and Rae is immediately like HE'S THE ONE.

8. Fred/Diana (Anne Series)

Cute, love them, but they're definitely outshined by the other couples. I do love how they kind of introduce Anne to the reality of romance, and the wincingly true to life fact that Diana is one of those girls who tells her boyfriend everything (which makes me wonder what Fred thought of Anne's escapades).

7. Leslie/Owen (Anne's House of Dreams)

I really like Leslie as a character, but Owen just kind of felt...there. Like Leslie's generic happily ever after. Strong "she's everything he's just Ken" vibes there to me. However, leslie's story is so wild it singlehandedly lifts this pairing up several ranks.

6. Jem/Faith (Rilla of Ingleside)

We learn very little about Jem and Faith but I love them; they're like that rad cool couple whose always traveling the world and being bold together. I think being this high up on the list is a bit of a cheat because it's more inspired by fanfic I read than the actual books, but the fanfic was based on the strength of the original pairing!! Gotta love two bold and charming hotheads falling in love. Also, I desperately want to know what Faith's reaction to Jem kissing Mary Vance was.

5. Sid/May (Mistress Pat)

Hold on a minute batrachised, you might be saying - aren't they like, kinda the worst? Like really toxic? Like the actual image of a really unhappy marriage? YES, and that is why I find them so interesting. Normally LM Montgomery shows us the happy couples; this is one of the few unhappy ones she shows who is very close to home. Pat has to live with May, and she also has to live with her brother's choices. The fact that Sid didn't get his happily after due to the mistakes he made is chilling, especially because it's so real! May is that one awful in-law we all can't escape. Poor Sid. But also, he's in a prison of his own making.

4. Ilse/Perry (Emily series)

they're just fun. Also I'd love to read a scene of their married couple arguments. Do you think Ilse calls Perry pet names like blithering centipede affectionately?

3. Una/Walter (ish - an extremely strong ish) (Anne series)

I'm going to be real here: I just love Walter so much that anything connected to him immediately gains +10 points charisma. Do we get virtually anything of this pairing? No. Do I still want more? YES. I'm one of the people who reads Walter as gay yet this pairing has a GRIP on me. I think it's because Walter and Una are both just so soft so it's sweet in the most bittersweet of ways. Also, something about how Walter fears violence/death and yet is savagely capable of it, and Una losing her mother at such a young age scratches my brain. They're soft, but they're not shallow; both of them have hidden griefs that shape their characters.

2. Phil/Jonas (Anne Series)

QUEEN PHIL QUEEN PHIL. I love how they balance each other out, I love how Phil leaves all her frothy wealth for a young man with large ears, i love how Jonas helps Phil decide things. Phil is just such a great character, and Jonas is the perfect foil for her, someone who appreciates her humor but also understands the concept of reverence. just *chef's kiss*

[blatant cheating] Alexander Abraham/Peter (Short Stories)

LISTEN I NEED TO TALK ABOUT THIS SHORT STORY. It is absolutely my favorite. I include it on the convenient technicality that it takes place in Avonlea and Anne is mentioned, so it IS a side pairing in the Anne series! Picture this: you have a spinster with no regrets, neat, tidy, involved in the community, who loves cats and hates men (never forget her famous quote, "The more I saw of men, the more I liked cats", icon) Then, you have infamous bachelor, hater of woman, lover of dogs, cantankerous and antisocial. AND THEY GET STUCK TOGETHER IN QUARANTINE. It's the ultimate enemies-to-lovers. "WHAT AN AWFUL WOMAN." makes me crack up. everytime. Peak comedy. Best side pairing ever. someone please read it and tell me what you think.

I love this ask so much, I'm turning it into a challenge: @gogandmagog and @no-where-new-hero I would LOVE to know ya'lls favorite secondary couples if ya'll care to share!!

#lm montgomery #pat of silver bush #emily of new moon #aogg #the story girl #rilla of ingleside

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raayllum · 4 months

Note

how long would you say you've actively shipped any of your favorite ships? - im curious specifically about sorvus, sorpeli, and claudiez

I wouldn't say Sorvus is one of my faves even if I do 1) love Soren and Corvus individually, 2) Corvus is one of my favourite side characters in the whole show (like top 5) and 3) I do really like them! That being said:

Canon

For the bulk of TDP ships, canon-wise, I shipped them as their relationships were revealed (aka Harrow/Sarai with the info we got in S1, Claudia/Terry with the info we get in S4, Runaan/Ethari back when he was known as 'Tinker' thanks to the S1 credit sketch, etc).

For Janaya, I shipped them from the first time they met in S2, since "rival intellectually and physically matched generals on the battlefield" along with both being very pretty is a decently long-ish homoerotic trend in literature (aka a production I saw of "Coriolanus" really leaned in on it, although I think I saw that pre-S2's release. Applies though)

For Rayllum, I shipped them pre-show even if I was also down to brotp them. They'd be travelling together, thus having plenty of time to develop an interesting dynamic / were around the same age, and the screencap released before the premiere of them sitting under the tree (Callum, distracted but eager, and Rayla, exasperated and fond) really drew me in since that's a ship type - dynamic and gender wise (I don't tend to love ships where the guy is the more grumpy/guarded one, I think, since women are so often forced to do More of the emotional labour in relationships Anyway) - I'm already Very susceptible to. I tried to hold off a little bit in early S1 cause I didn't want to ship them too hard, but then 1x05 came along with the boat scene and it was Over for me. They've had my heart ever since (5 years going on forever)

Requested Rarepairs

Sorvus

So I didn't really ship Sorvus (although I was never opposed to them) for the majority of the time post-S3. I didn't really ship Soren with anyone and preferred Gren/Corvus at that time (due to their personalities / closer dynamic to Amaya and therefore each other) as well as enjoying Corvus/Opeli. However I was also really hoping that Corvus would stay on the council/with Ezran, and figured that if Soren was going to end up with anyone, Corvus was probably the most realistic choice (shared goals, decent development, timeskip to help things, similar ages).

That said I still didn't actively ship them (like I didn't mind them but was completely impassive/neutral y'know?) until I wrote an interaction between them in "if heaven and hell decide" (a canon divergent S2 where Claudia and Soren decide to delay their betrayal of the trio, and therefore travel with them for much longer) and the fact that Corvus would see Soren at his worst in canon (S2) but also see and appreciate who Soren was becoming... I started to turn a corner and grew to ship them a lot more. I'm really excited for them to eventually be canon, it seems, even if they're not My Endgame for either character In My Head for years-post war, at least for now.

Claudiez

For aged up Claudia/Ezran, I think this post (dated July 2021) was when I started to ship these two. There was something about the interplay of Claudia telling Callum about Harrow's death, but he only seeks out comfort from Rayla, and Ezran rejecting Rayla's offered comfort about Harrow and instead accepting it from Claudia, that felt very apt to me? And then a couple weeks later I wrote my formal "I actually do ship Claudiez and here's why" meta so it's been a few years now!

Both the younger sibling uniquely given their father's mantle to carry in ways their older brother just doesn't have to; Ezran being connected to all nature while Claudia continually perverts it, thus Ezran having the relationship to nature that she needs to learn/acquire for her own healing additionally; they both see the throne as a tool to help and breaking their fathers' cycles with each other; the childhood friends to enemies to friends to lovers of an according slow burn because of said age gap; ending up as Queen of Katolis but not the way her father imagined and ending up with one of the brothers, just not the one everyone previously expected; Ezran getting to grow up and into his own and assert his independence and choices (no matter what his brother thinks about it), etc. I also think personality wise they suit each other - Terry's parallels to Ezran in personality are some of the reasons I think Clauderry works at least as a short term pairing.

It's also kinda perfect bc, since they'd only get together like 10-15 years post the end of the show Anyway, so like. they're Endgame to me no matter what and there's nothing canon can really do about it, #improvise adapt overcome.

Sorpeli

This probably started out as the truest crack ship because it started as a joke of like, Soren flirting with her at 20 and easy to dismiss and then again when he's 30 and Opeli is like "I deserve a little fun," so they start having a physical fling, and then catch feelings (Soren falls first, she falls harder). The earliest post I have for them is from May 6th 2023 but I know realistically I'd probably shipped them for a lot longer (what can I say, younger men not being put off my older women aging bc society is bullshit, and contrasting personalities + devoted man & woman who feels undeserving will always get me) before I ever had mind to say anything. Then I dragged @jelzorz into it and the rest, they say, is history. So like 1.5 years at least now?

I'd probably be even more into Sorpeli than I already am but I'm not unconvinced that Opeli won't die (I really hope she doesn't, but I do understand how it could benefit Ezran's narrative in particular) but like if all seasons pass by and she's alive? Canon crack quartet with Endgame Rayllum, Claudiez, Sorpeli, and CorTerry is a go <3

TLDR;

Rayllum before the show started, Janaya in S2, everything else when the ships got introduced, then next we have Claudiez (July 2021), Sorvus (casually since Oct 2021), and Sorpeli (late 2022/early 2023).

#shipping #thanks for asking #anonymous #forbidden op lore #requests

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freshlyrage · 11 months

Text

Running Like Water

Chapter 2

pairing: Javier Peña x OFC (written as xReader)

fic warnings: Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI) language, strained family relationships, mentions of drug abuse, discussions of insecurities and body image issues, daddy and mommy issues, first few chapters are flashbacks to high school, they WILL NOT be explicit just fluff.

fic tags: Best friends younger sister, Life-long crush, Friends to lovers, Unrequited love, slow burn, Push and Pull, Small Town Dynamics, Secret Relationships, latina MC, Fluff and Angst, OFC!Jessica Alba face claim, sorry Lorraine I'm bringing you into this, Time jumps, 2 year age gap, pre-canon

Fic Summary: Andrea has loved Javier since she was a girl in pigtails, yet he has always been off limits. Andrea's older brother Frankie makes sure Javier never crosses any lines, which was an easy task considering Javi's relationship status with long term girlfriend Lorraine. Somewhere, the lines blur.

word count: 6.2k

At the corners of your eyes, tears. You had seen Javier kiss Lorraine’s cheek in the halls. It was whispered around the school that she finally tied him down.

Well, you also saw her running out of his house one night while your mom drove you into town. You had to lie to your mama and say you were feeling sick so she could turn around and take you home. Just so you could have time to be upset, alone.

Monica gave you a sympathetic frown when she broke the news at lunch. The girls knew how much you like Javi although you never really said it out loud. But you never had to.

Lorraine was a class act. Science research, volleyball, top of her class and worst of all akin to Cheryl Ladd. The one actress Javier has hanging above his bed, a peak you got to sneak two years prior when he asked you to snatch some weed from his room. Wavy blonde hair, blue eyes, one of 10 white girls at the school and deemed prettiest. And she was pretty. Full lips and a smile that could blind.

You tugged at your hair a bit harder in frustration when thinking of just how beautiful she was. You couldn’t wait for your walk home to end so you can scream into your pillow.

“Andrea!” A voice shouts, one you know all too well. You wipe your eyes quickly, seeing the truck pull up next to you. Javier, leaned over the wheel, slowly inching his truck to follow you as you walked. Of course, Lorraine was in the passengers seat, a sweet smile on her face. God, you couldn’t even hate her. She waves sweetly, she could tell you’ve been crying. He clears his throat, “Do you need a ride home?”

You look up the hill, knowing you have 20 more minutes to your commute. The cold wind hitting your face, my face is probably so red right now. “Oh, I’m okay.” Your voice weak. If it wasn’t evident, you were just crying it surely was now. Javi abruptly stops the car, causing Lorraine to jolt forward. His brows furrowed as he tried to examine your face. You didn’t know at the time but apparently there wasn’t an emotion you could hide on your face.

“Get in the damn car Andrea.” He demands, earning a glare from Lorraine. She mutters a don’t talk to her like that. To which he replies by just glancing back at her than at you.

You swallow hard, feeling worse than you did 5 minutes ago before obliging. You climb into the back seat of the truck, earning a look from Javi. He’s trying to read your face now that you were closer, he notices the red spots under your eyes from where your tears dried.

Again, if he notices it, he ignores it and begins driving.

Lorraine pops gum in her mouth before turning in her seat to poke her head to view you in the back seat. She reaches a manicured hand out, a light pink tint. “I’m Lorraine, Javier’s girlfriend.” The two of you have met, she even spoke to you briefly about Javi. That was 2 months ago at homecoming, she must have forgotten. You knew she was yet the label strikes you right in the chest. And shit, she was lucky that you were 5 days off your period because if not you would have burst into tears right there in the crew cab.

You shake her hand, smiling. “I’m Andrea-”

“We’ve been friends since middle school, got into lots of trouble with her although she was never the trouble.” Javi laughs with his eyes on the road, Lorraine smiles at him and sits straight again. And you watch as he puts his hand on the back of her seat.

In 3 minutes, he stopped at Lorraine’s. “I hope to see you soon Andrea!” She turns away from you before looking over at Javi who was already leaning over the console waiting for her to look at him.

His eyes peeled to her lips, “Bye baby.” His lips quirk before she plants a kiss. Your head immediately snaps away. It does make your head spin, wishing you could get home so you could cry this out. Lorraine giggles and hops out the car, running to her home.

With your eyes peeled on the car floor Javi lets out a satisfied sigh. You could just feel the smile on his face as he looked out the windshield. “Come to the front.” He says after a minute of thinking fondly of his girl.

Again, with the pang in your chest you oblige, jumping out the car with your books in hand and climbing into the seat where Lorraine just previously kissed him from. Crossing your legs, your new denim still stiff. The white shirt tucked into the high waisted pants slightly untucking with your movement. He starts the pickup again; you look to him and his eyes are on the textbooks in your lap.

He reaches to grab them, your eyes following his hands before reaching to the back seat to lay them down. “You okay?” His eyes on the road again, driving down. Passing the rest of the ranch land which you walked by every day. “It’s safe in town but you really shouldn’t be walking home, it gets so dark early now.” Javier says, homes coming into view.

An “are you okay” is what would send you over the edge but It was so crucial in this moment to not show how frustrated you really were with something so stupid. Of course, he was going to get a girlfriend, of course I would have to be around him and his girlfriend. Of course, he would make me get in his car if he saw me walking alone at 4:30 pm.

“I’m fine, the wind all in my face you know…” You lie, wishing you had the textbooks in your lap to grip out of nervousness, now you could only push your hair from your face. The layers Genevieve cut became overgrown around two months ago. You would keep this look but it’s not quite “in” now, everyone’s cutting their hair and teasing it. You aren’t sure if it would fit you though.

You watch as Javier grips the steering wheel. “Doesn’t your friend have a car?” He asks inquiring about Monica who was actually in his grade and had been driving you around all summer. “She should be taking you home.” A frown forms when he approaches a car, teenage boys from school. Staring into his truck.

Monica was taking you home, but now she leaves her car at home. She goes straight to Christian’s house after school to do whatever they do. She promised she’ll start taking the car back to school when lacrosse starts up. You laugh at her crying in the bathroom because her hair would not cover the mark he left on her neck. “Her boyfriend takes her every-where, you know how it is” You joke about his new status of “boyfriend” which causes me to earn a side glance from Javier. It was playful, but you truly were a bit salty about it. Very salty.

How was everything he did so hot, I need to open his car door and jump into the dirt. Leave me rolling there Javier.

He laughs, “Well maybe you should get a boyfriend with a car.” He reaches over turning up Curtis Mayfield on the radio despite the drive coming to a close soon.

And you swear to god you don’t think, “Why would I need a boyfriend when I have my brothers friend to make me get in his truck.” Your face turns beet red at your own words, he snaps his head towards you with a bit of a flare in his nostrils and a playful smile on his lips.

He gives you a head shake before circling the street again, oh.

Maybe he’s lost, but maybe he’s trying to buy time to keep talking to you.

You know well… You know he aint lost. “Been friends for years and you still call me your brothers friend.” He says in a tone close to reflection, like he’s thought about this before.

Your eyes widen at his statement, “Sorry-” You apologize and for what, you weren’t really sure but his laugh rings through the car. How you’ve missed that sound.

“Don’t apologize, I just would think- I don’t know I refer to you as one of my childhood best friends when you’re brought up. Feels embarrassin’ when you can’t even call me your friend.” The accent he tries to desperately hide sneaks through, could you get redder?

Best friend? Brought up? When do I get…

“What do you mean brought up?” A nervous laugh slips your lips, he circles the block again. He shakes his head, his eyes unreadable. You just wanted to grab his face and make him look at you. We’d probably crash.

“You know all the junior boys. Got a few of them asking me about you, thinkin’ you’re pretty and all.” He laughs and speaks again before you could let the butterflies flutter deep in your stomach. “Gotta tell them to relax, don’t let no boy talk to you the way those guys do…” His grip tightens the wheel.

You don’t respond this time, just nod. You also know that whatever you say will only reveal how much you liked him. How him indirectly calling you pretty settles something deep in your stomach you were far too shy to ever talk about. He circles the block a third time despite the conversation dying.

“Chucho is making dinner, you wanna stop by? You can call your mom or Frankie from the kitchen, it’d be nice for my dad to have some people over he always cooks like he’s expecting guests.” His voice shy, it was new or new for the person he is now.

He’s around school getting treated like he’s hot shit, you wondered if they knew he gets shy asking his childhood best friend to dinner.

You nod in agreement and he finally gets on the right track to his home. You almost don’t want to invite Frankie or mom, just so It could just be You, Chucho and Javi.

“I was gonna ask Lorraine, but you know… too soon to bring a girl to my dad. A girl who isn’t Mexican at that.” He jokes, immediately crushing the delusion you made in your head. Of course, yeah of course.

You nod and smile as he approaches his dirt driveway. The porch light on already, the sun setting. Javier grabs the textbooks from the back and you two hop out of the truck. Chucho is already to the doorway by the time your boots scrape the dirt. His cattleman hat matching his white button down, it’s rare he isn’t wearing his sunglasses but they would seem quite impractical. A rare smile on his face as he watches you follow behind Javier.

“Andrea! Was getting nervous I’d never see you here again.” He pulls you into a hug, kissing your cheek. He reaches over to grip Javier’s shoulder before letting you in. The house was a classic, brown furniture all over. It hadn’t changed since that summer two years ago. Being a single dad meant being busy, not time to doll up a home. You know that Javier’s mom had bolted when he was 3, Frankie mentioned it but it was never uttered from Javier himself. Conversations with Javier were always light-hearted and teasing, you almost feared the day he opens up. If he ever does. You couldn’t even picture it.

Holding a gaze at the quilt of Javier’s preschool artwork sprawled on the couch. You wished your mom held sentimental things like that, but she was into that whole “contemporary” style. She justified every purchase saying it would be, timeless. Although it’s looking tacky to you-already.

Walking into the dining room the table was already set. Chucho really did cook like he was waiting for someone else, steam lifting from the plate making the warm dining room warmer. Your eyes catch a family picture of Javier and his father as you sit. You sit with a wooden squeak, Javier leans over and grabs his own plate to sit it directly next to you.

Am I dreaming?

You had to be dreaming. Chucho places the dish right in front of you, it was simple rice and chicken with asparagus on the side. Mama would purchase the asparagus from him, it was his most popular crop. You mutter your thank you’s and almost want to let out a schoolgirl giggle at the thought of having dinner with Javier and his parent.

Eating was paired with silence but Chucho started the conversation like he always did. “You adjusting to high school well?” Javier nearly groans at the question. Javier was always a bit embarrassed by his dad, like any other teen. He would cringe and groan because he knew his dad was a bit nosy. He would take any opportunity to pry out any information from you back when you used to come around. To you it was sweet, it wasn’t often that people asked you questions about you.

You cut into the chicken, breaded your favorite. “Honestly I’m not sure, feels like everyone’s moving and doing high schooler stuff and I’m kind of just there” It was honest.

Chucho wasn’t one of those adults you had to lie to-to satisfy their expectations. He was always very real with Frankie, and in turn he expected you to be just as real. And it really was honest, it had been 4 months of high school and everything had been moving so slowly. It seemed to be so easy for everyone else. You felt incompetent, you felt the friends you had in the summer slowly slipping away with boyfriends and love lives. Javi furrows his eyes brows at your bluntness, elbows on the table his hands holding each other.

Chucho nods, “I get it, everyone has different paces in life you know. My brother had his first kid at your age and I didn’t even date a girl until I was twenty. Different pace Mija.” He reassures. You smile warmly at him before sipping the water to your right. “Did Javier tell you about his girlfriend? I was praying to God it was you.”

The water you were sipping catching in your throat with a choke.

“Dad please…” Javier pleads and you laugh trying not to be so obvious. The statement from his dad sent you on an ego high for a second. “Lorraine is a nice girl.” He argues.

Chucho sucks his teeth, “I know, I know. You know if your girlfriend wasn’t Mexican, I was at least hoping she’d be Puerto Rican like Andrea here.” His hand gestures at you, your cheeks turning rosy, again.

Javier shakes his head and shovels more food into his mouth. “If it makes my case better Andrea approves of Lorraine.” He speaks for you. You almost want to whack him for putting word in your mouth-but-

But, you kind of did approve of her, internally. And you felt that the idea of dating within your ethnicity or race was so stupid and outdated. But you had just wished it would have been you. You wished Javier would be talking you up to his dad. You wished he would kiss you before sending you home. But it was Lorraine that had done it for him, not you. The worst part was Lorraine was a pretty girl and not in a mean girl way. Like a pretty girl, with pretty hair, pretty clothes, pretty body and she was so sweet. She was known for being very kind in school. She was the type of girl that would offer to fix your hair in the bathroom or spot your change at the lunch line.

You smile and nod anyway, “Yeah, she’s beautiful and nice. Javier is deserving.” The last bit comes as a whisper before you shut yourself up with food. He was so deserving, that was another downside. You felt so selfish for wishing it was you. He had been happy with her, you don’t even know if he could ever be happy with you. You should just be happy for this win in his life.

To hell with being the bigger person.

Chucho leans back in his chair with a small devious smile, “We’ll see how approving Javi will be when you get a boyfriend.” Your eyes widen before snapping to Javier at his fathers straight-forwardness, but his eyes were already on yours. His eyes peeled away when he realized his dad made another joke in his expense. He had just been staring at you even before the joke.

Javier registers what his dad just said and lets out a sarcastic laugh. “If it’s with any of the idiots in my grade… no way.” He looks away like he was searching for something in his mind, something clever to say since he unintentionally made the conversation less lighthearted. You knew Javi has always been that way with you, overprotective. Genie and Frankie would joke about Javi being a better brother to you than Frankie himself. You hated that, because you had convinced yourself Javier was that way because you weren’t like a sister.

“Well no need to worry, i’m riding solo for as long as I can, the food is so good Mr. Peña.” You lend a helping hand to Javi when he couldn’t come up with something to say. Chucho smiles in approval.

“Come here any time you know, always welcome in my home. You sure loved to bike by here last spring, looking for Javi probably.” He chuckles, “Should’ve told you he spent that school year away.” He smiles, Javier shifts from next to you and his elbow digs at your side.

God, his dad really just put me out there.

He leans to your shoulder, his mouth a bit close to your ear. Your blood runs cold and you almost swallow thickly at the closeness. “Stalking me Andrea?” He pushes you slightly before straightening up. You scoff (a oh my god, definitely not, I wasn’t looking for you every day-no I’m not in love with you are you crazy? Sort of scoff) and laugh (dry, nervous). Maybe you could laugh your way out of this. Chucho smiles sweetly at the interaction, a knowing look on his face. The entire dinner he continued to make comments that would make your ears heat up without fail.

You promised Chucho that you’d be back the same time next week, he told you to make sure Frankie stopped by with his girl like they used to. You just didn’t have the heart in me to tell him that they were on a “break.”

You agreed anyway and got back into Javier’s car. You strap yourself in the pickup and just watched Javi and his dad talk at the hood of the car. It gave you some space to blush as much as you needed and smile at your lap, replaying moments of the night in your head.

After a few minutes he climbed in with one step, folding to fit in his seat. “Sorry about him, he really likes you.” He shakes his head; the car starts with a struggle. It wasn’t the newest car and sure was put to some use it seemed. You mutter that it was fine. Javier places his hand behind your head rest and looked over to pull out the dirt road. You went back to biting back smiles. He let the radio play in place of silence.

He was parked in front of your flashy home in a matter of minutes. Your mom had it renovated right after she bought the boutique, it stuck out like a sore thumb in the neighborhood. You could tell you guys were the new money kind of people. You grip at your textbooks, “Thanks for the ride.”

He leans back into his seat and nods. The sun was set and the breeze was perfect, too good. It moved your hair slightly. But not even the great ambiance could shake the teen awkwardness that lived in you, so you reached for the door.

“Oh- wait.” He sits up and you turn to him again, your hair whipping against your face. Similar to that first time you met him. You’d be lying if you hadn’t wished he would ask you something you selfishly wanted. You were so eager for it to be something… for him to ask something you wanted to hear. But it wasn’t. He scratches the back of his neck. “Some people from school are going to Jimmie’s for New Years, they don’t really card there. You’re welcome to come-you know with your friends” He urges, a hint of shyness in his voice again. It comes as a comfort to you, that maybe he was just as nervous around you for some reason. You nod and leave with a small wave.

The bright lights of your home welcomes you with a squint. “Where have you been baby?” your mom calls from the living room. A smile playing on your lips about the day fades, not wanting mama to see. You walk towards the arch way seeing her sprawled out on the orange couch. You place the textbooks down at the coffee table.

“Had dinner with Chucho and Javier, met his girlfriend today.” The girlfriend drop was intentional, mom always knew. She knew you liked Javier, so letting her know that he had a girlfriend would remove whatever speculation she could have made in her head. She nods and you just reach down to kiss her head before hurrying off to your room.

You let out that cry you had in the back of your throat since he asked you to get in his truck. A cry of knowing that a friendly dinner is all you would be able to get. A knowing cry that he had truly found someone good.

New Year’s Eve 1979

Monica smacks your behind as you bend down to grab your small heels. You let out a small groan and Liandra giggles. “You’re disgusting.” You stand up straight rubbing your ass over the leopard print dress, it was a halter style. A bit dressed up for a bar in Laredo. It was similar to the dress Monica had on, instead hers was an electric blue. You were kind shocked your mom was letting you leave the house in a dress like this. You were almost 16 but Monica said the dress added a few years on you along with the makeup. But when you looked in the mirror you had just felt like a baby who got into her mommy’s makeup and high heels.

Liandra wore a halter shirt showing her mid-drift and sported it with her classic high pants with flared bottoms. “New Years kiss here we come.” She wraps her arm around you as you all exit the house and head to Monica’s car. You scoff, they surely would have their new year’s kiss. Your future forecast saw a new year’s hug, if you were lucky.

In 30 minutes you were piled in the bar, 3 televisions all playing the feed of New York City and its people huddled in the cold air. On another screen the Dallas countdown, which was accurate to your time zone, less bundled up but still. Monica was already by Christians side and Liandra was talking to the soccer player who she kissed a few months ago. You sat at the bar watching everyone around you, looking for Javier.

“What in the world are you wearing?” The grating voice comes out from your left. A groan ripping, you have to be kidding me. You almost slam your head into the bar.

“Frankie, my god why are you here?” You shut your eyes in annoyance, your now 18-year-old brother judging you with disgust on his face. His curly hair bouncing with his head shake of disapproval. Yes, the dress was a bit grown but Monica bought it for herself and hated the color on her so she passed it to you. You wouldn’t normally wear something like this, it was like one of those dresses you see on a magazine cover. One on a red carpet, not a shitty bar.

“I should be asking you that question, does mom know you’re here? You look like a baby prostitute.”

You grab your clutch and hit him with it hard. And you argue back and forth over the chatter of the bar. It was already 11 so people were getting progressively more drunk and loud. “Holy shit Frankie!” Javier’s voice comes from behind you and pathetically you whip your head towards him. He was sporting a brown leather jacket and his classic tight denim with a large belt buckle. His hair was a bit overgrown again, curling at the nape of his neck. You were so entranced with the pure sex appeal that radiated from him to notice the blonde bombshell attached to his arm. Lorraine in an orange jumpsuit, her hair pulled in a high ponytail. Good God was she beautiful.

Javier doesn’t recognize you until he strides closer and his eyes widen at your appearance. His eyes raking down and up before his nostrils flaring in the slightest. “You came?” He places a hand on your bare shoulder and squeezes.

“You look so pretty!” Lorraine detaches herself from Javier and hugs you while you sat at the bar stool, You get up to return the hug a bit better. Still, you could feel your brother’s protective glare. He pushes Javi, bickering with him like they always did.

“So do you, wow.” Because really, wow. She looked like she was ripped straight out of a magazine. You could see her leaving this town, being a model or an actress. She goes on to say that her mother works with the uncle of a designer all the way in New York and that he gifted this for her 17th birthday. It was quite the story, and quite the jumpsuit. Why did she have to be so cool?

Her hands holding your forearms as she spoke, she really was a sweet girl. Still holding you, her attention moves to Frankie and Javier as they bickered. "Would you two grow up?"

Frankie rolls his eyes, separating from Javier for a moment. “So Javi invited you,” Your brother asks and you don’t get to reply.

“She’s my friend too-”

“She’s fifteen she shouldn’t be out here” He gestures his hand at you. And Javier doesn’t do anything but stare, Frankie waves his hand again to drive the point. “And dressed like that.” Your eyes widen at his words and Lorraine lets go of your arms with a scoff. Immediately glaring at Frankie in annoyance.

Javier shakes his head; a face of disgust and disapproval takes over. “Man, don’t talk about her like that…” and Lorraine agrees. Always been on my side, always have. Frankie doesn’t double down he just takes a sip of the beer that was in his hand, knowing arguing with Javier about you was nothing short of pointless. Suddenly there was a wave of insecurity and your arms cross, hugging your own body. Lorraine was at his side again and they continue their conversation.

The thought of Monica and Liandra spiking in your fogged up brain, you peer your head up scanning looking for them in the crowd mixed with high school aged kids and adults. You find Monica already in a bar booth kissing her boyfriend. Your lips quirk at the sight, you look more and lock on Liandra who was giggling at something a boy was whispering in her ear. God.

1980 didn’t have the best ring to it but it was approaching.

You look up to the fuzzy screen reading 10 minutes until midnight on the Dallas feed which was now the only one displayed on all screens. People were standing now. You look back to Javier, Lorraine and Frankie to see Genevieve kissing your brother on the cheek.

Oh, I guess they’re good now.

Your smile grows at the sight of Genies new black hair. Her brown eyes widen at the sight and she nearly pushes Javier to the ground to get over to you. Her arms wrapping around your neck with a jump. “Oh my gosh, you look so beautiful” She kisses your cheek. “I’ve got to cut your hair again though.” She giggles into you. You release her, putting the two of you in that same position you were with Lorraine, pulled apart but holding each other by your arms. “And you’ve got to stop growing up.”

She pulls you back in for a hug but moves her head to your ear. “I can’t believe Javier has a girlfriend.” She whispers and you nod into her hair. She was the only person that knew you liked him. Well most people assumed, but she was the only person you ever actually mentioned it to. You were afraid of telling people because high school is just a place where everyone finds out each other’s business. You whisper into her ear, “I hate that she’s likable”.

It was so selfish and honestly you were a bit ashamed of yourself.

You could almost feel her sympathetic smile against you, she pulls away squeezing your forearm. A gesture everyone seems to love doing to you lately. You begin to talk but she puts a finger in front of your face to stop you before opening her big handbag, pulling out a large camera. Your eyes light up at the device, that must have been expensive. It wasn’t polaroid either, doing hair must pay well. Shit, she should start teaching me, maybe I could buy myself a break from obsessing over my brothers best friend.

She moves past you and taps on the shoulder of a stranger to whom she teaches quickly how to snap a picture. “Okay everyone together.” She waves her hand for your group to get in tight. You all squeeze, Lorraine on Javier’s left, you on his right and Frankie hugging Genie on your left. Javier’s hand grips your waist, a hold too close for comfort considering the dress was practically completely backless. You smile and a flash shines bright. “Okay another pose! Sorry sir one more” The man laughs and you all get to shuffling another pose. Frankie picks up Genie. Lorraine kisses Javier’s cheek and Javier uses your head as an arm rest. And you just smile looking up at him. Flash.

2 minutes. Genie kisses the stranger on the cheek and takes the camera from his hand yelling thanks yous’. “I’ll develop them this week, so excited!” She gleams. Like clockwork you all move deeper into the bar to get a better view of the tv screen that was on the brink of the countdown. Again, you look around the room. All friends leaned in together, couples cuddled watching the television. A few people with drinks and horns in their mouths.

You look to Frankie and Genie, despite her being taller she grips to him like she can’t stand on her own. You even see Monica across the bar in a similar position. Liandra... well you don’t see her at all. Which probably meant her and soccer boy were getting busy in the bathroom.

You wish you hadn’t but you look to Javi who has his arm slung over his girlfriend’s shoulder, her hand interlocking with the one hanging leaving a tender kiss on her hair. You watch, biting the inside of my cheek when you realized you were alone in the middle of this moment where there was so much love everywhere. Where everyone had someone or something, you were standing alone.

You hug your own body, giving myself whatever comfort you can take after seeing the sweet sights and realizing you were lonely through it all. And then the counting, in unison and loud. 5…4…3…2….1

Happy New Year!

The bar became much louder, the confetti in the air and streamers flying. Champagne and the kisses. The classic celebratory jazz tunes that always made you emotional. New Years was always an emotional a reminder that you’ve made it another year. You watch as Javier grabs the face of Lorraine and kisses her-pulls apart and kisses her again.

Almost-almost, your chin quivers. But you were able to hold yourself together in that moment You couldn’t bare looking any longer, so you look away seeing strangers hug each other. A hug being given to you by a stranger. You hug the woman back and then a few more people come over for innocent hugs. It was bitter-sweet, one of those simplistic human moments.

The dim lights of the bar and the music and the hugs and Javier kissing Lorraine. It all became too much for your and actually your chin quivers this time. The next from a stranger comes sweetly and warmly, a tight hug. The man pulls from you and looks at you for a second. Tears threatening to fall at your sensitivity in the moment before kissing your lips without warning. He holds the kiss and your eyes are open in shock, your hands stiff at your side. Your tears drying in its place while his foreign hands dig into the bare skin on your back.

The kiss is ripped from your lips as the unfamiliar face is shoved, and shoved again. Your brother and Javier crowding the man. “Are you out of your fucking mind?” Your brother shouts, a fist-full of the mans shirt. Frankie was shorter than the man but Javier absolutely dwarfed the drunk who was trying to defend himself. His arms shoving the man almost back into the bar itself.

The color from your face was flushed. Lorraine and Genie were at your side instantly, holding you. “I swear to god I will dig my heel in your fucking eye!” Genie steps forward yelling at the guy. His face very clear now, he was much older than you. Mind twenties. And your chin quivers again, at the sudden realization that it was your first kiss. Your eyes well as the room was all too distracted to notice Frankie and Javi on the brink of fighting him. Lorraine rubs you, trying to offer you comfort in your shocked state. Javier turns his head towards you to see your tear-stained cheeks and the crease between his angry brows soften for a moment before he grabs your brother away from the guy who was pressed against the bar. Without a word they all walk you out the bar, facing the town’s main street. Across the street from where you met Javier.

The brisk air blows through your dress and the coat that was on Frankie’s back was placed around your shoulder. “Are you okay, how did that even happen?” Frankie rubs your shoulders, trying to warm you or comfort you, you couldn’t tell.

I felt violated and nasty, my first kiss? You put your hands to your own dry lips. You hadn’t realized that Frankie was asking Javier how it went down.

“I was kissing Lorraine and then I looked to my left and saw this guy huggin her, I just watched to see where it was going than he-” He stops himself before looking at the bar doors. “I swear to god I want to go back in there and knock his head in.”

“Okay relax.” Lorraine pleads and Javier shoots her a glance and they begin to bicker themselves. Muttering about how he was going back in and Lorraine was calling him crazy, telling him doing that would just scare you even more.

Genevieve holds you, “Are you okay? Please don’t cry.” She wipes your cheeks with the sleeve of her jacket. At that point you were less in shock but more so overwhelmed. You begin to tear up again at the question.

You considered the question. Trying to breakdown all that was going on in your head. It was a mixture, you had felt so vulnerable in that moment, you were alone in the middle of a bar. You were surrounded by people you knew but they were all busy with each other. Left out like usual. Not being able to relate to them again still even years later, even when you had felt older. You felt so incapable of making people love you or like you, and when the people who you loved hadn’t considered you, you were left vulnerable. And in an instant someone was kissing you, without your consent. Not on your own terms. You wipe your own tears this time.

Javier’s stare didn’t go unnoticed. He mutters a few curses under his breath. His hands on his hips as his cheeks were red in frustration from bickering with his girlfriend. He holds his gaze, “I’m going to tell your friends that we’re taking you home.” He states with that same firm voice he did a few weeks back when he gave you a ride.

And he does and he takes you home.

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