#and the nerve some people have to complain to the writer

[nxuvillette]

i hate some of these people who complain about plot being in a smut fic. like, y’all are that addicted to porn that you need it to be the majority in a fic? then go and complain to the writer?

atp, go set up your own blog and write it yourself.

#‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ celeste talks ! #idk this just irks me #if someone is writing plot #leave them alone #like #why do y’all need smut so badly #please grow up #and the nerve some people have to complain to the writer #like bitch bye

[p4ison1vy]

This may leave a sour taste in some peoples mouths but I’m saying it anyways

I keep seeing certain posts floating around talking about how it’s “disrespectful” and “degrading” for people to ask for a part 2 (or multiple parts) in fanfics or ask to be in a tag list….

Do y’all realize people ask this because they LOVE what you wrote?? People don’t ask this because they’re DEMANDING you to pump out more content (excluding people who are actually rude). For y’all to make this a problem NOW when people have been doing this since forever really irks my nerves. If you don’t want people asking for multiple parts or ask to be apart of a tag list, then state that on your account or state it in somewhere in the fanfic cause 90% of y’all literally state in y’all’s content:

“[insert what to do here] to be a part of the taglist!”

“leave your @ in the replies to be added to the taglist”

“like this post to be apart of the taglist”

“reblog this post to be added to the taglist”

(this including to be tagged in multiple parts as well)

And now y’all are complaining that people are asking…when y’all are the ones who have been encouraging it?????

I swear there’s always something y’all complain about every single fucking week. Is this even a community anymore? Like damn….

If someone for example asks “part 2?” or says “this was so good! are you making a part 2?”, that isn’t a sign for you to accuse them of degrading you…they’re simply asking you this question because they like your work and would like to see more.

And I’d like to state that I KNOW how it feels to create content when there’s a lot of personal issues or just a lot going on in your life. I used to write, make edits, and do digital art and it can be very overwhelming when you see multiple people ask for something all at once. I’m in college and I rarely have the time to do any of that anymore. But I ALSO know how to react when it comes to a situation like this. For example, I’d edit my post saying that I’m too busy with personal issues in my life or I’d reply to people in the comments telling them I can’t do what they’re asking of me. If someone one’s being rude (which that has happened to me many times before), they’d get blocked. It’s something that simple to do instead of making an entirely too huge of a deal to be making multiple posts about.

I WILL say this, if you are someone who rudely demands writers on here to pump out content for you, you can go fuck yourself because people have lives outside of tumblr or writing content.

But to say someone is “degrading” you or “demanding” you when they are asking a simple question and/or complimenting your content is shitty as fuck.

I will also like to state that I will always compliment a writer for their work (and anyone who reads ffs and wants more content from said writer should too!). It’s something to do out of generosity and it can keep a writer motivated.

I really wish that this community in whole could communicate more efficiently. I’ve seen so many amazing and talented writers deactivate because of the toxicity that’s circulates around this fandom…

#tlou #tlou part 2 #ellie williams #ellie x fem!reader #ellie williams x reader #tlou ellie #abby anderson x reader #abby x fem!reader #abby anderson #1vys blog #it ain’t never that serious

[megamindsecretlair]

Mr. Black, Part 1

Pairing: Tre x Assistant!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. PWP, cursing, PIV, fingering (fem receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, dumbass reader, degradation kink, power imbalance, Tre is a boss, all consensual.

Summary: Tre is sick and tired of the countless mistakes you make while performing your work duties. You were recently hired and just trying to do your best, but nothing is ever good enough for him.

Word Count: 4,099k

A/N: Listen, Idk what happened. He's barely in 2 mins of the film and it broke my brain. That outfit and that smile was too much for me to handle! Idk how many parts this will be. Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Masterlist | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 - Completed

Tagging the usual lovelies, please tell me if you want to be removed: @planetblaque @browngirldominion @notapradagurl7 @honeyoriginalz @blackerthings @sevikasblackgf @henneseyhoe @miyahmaraj

Shit! He was going to kill you. You whined as the numbers swam in your vision. You desperately looked between two invoices, wondering how you were going to solve this before he found out. 

Your leg bounced as your nerves unraveled the longer you stared at the documents. Shit! You were done for. Your stupid little job was over before you had even gotten started. Your bottom lip quivered. There was no way you were going to recover from this.

Tre’s heavy footsteps pounded the carpet on approach and your heart dropped into your stomach. Shit! 

You pushed the papers on your desk into one huge pile that you’ll painstakingly unravel in the safety of your home. You tapped a few keys on the computer, trying to look busy. He did not need to know that you had been staring at your egregious mistake for the past half hour. 

“Do you have that report I told you to do?” Tre asked, once he reached his office. 

“Yes, Sir,” you said. You gave him a dumb ass, goofy smile. You handed over the report in a yellow folder. He snatched it from you, not sparing you a glance, and stalked into the office. The door slam made you flinch. 

You weren’t even sure why you stuck around this job. You were recently hired to help with the background work stuff while people all around you were getting fired. Tre had been leading that charge. 

Ever since you got hired, you wondered if he hated you. He barely said anything to you except to insult your hard work. Look, the workforce was hard, okay? There’s a lot of shit that school or life doesn’t teach you. More often than not, you had to hide your scrolling on Youtube for any kind of help. 

Even when he was in a good mood, flashing those pearly whites and that sinful smile, it immediately froze whenever you entered the room. Your good mood would evaporate and then you were falling all over yourself trying to correct whatever the issue was.

His coffee was too cold, too black, too sweet. His blinds were up too high and he had a nasty glare. This report was wrong, that report was wrong. No, this wasn’t the one he wanted. Yes, this was the one he wanted. Run out and get some lunch. Well, you took too long, I don’t want it anymore. 

It was exhausting working for the man, but some part of you wanted a crumb of his praise. Just a crumb. You could survive off of it. You knew you sounded pathetic. Your friends and family were getting sick of you complaining about the man. 

Your best friend sort of got it. You snuck a picture of Tre one day and showed her. She nearly fell off of your couch when she saw him.

“This? This is your boss?” 

Yes, he is seriously your boss. And he was a fucking asshole. Who else would feel absolutely nothing about firing people a few days before Christmas? Christmas! It was your favorite holiday and just thinking about all the tiny traditions made you so giddy, your heart flipped.

Person after person, box after box, floated by your desk looking absolutely miserable. You watched their tortured faces and your heart hurt thinking that all their years of service fit into one tiny box. The tinsel and ornaments decorating the office seemed like cruel mocking reminders that there would be no Christmas cheer for them. 

“Get in here, now!” You jerked out of your seat. Fuck, fuck, fuck. The intercom flashed red and then turned off. You hated that damn box. Whatever happened to sending a chat? Way less intrusive and easier on your nerves.

You stood up with your heart racing. The pulse in your neck thumped so painfully, you placed your hand there to try and steady it. Realistically, you didn’t have to tell him about the mistake right now. You just needed a chance to find out what you did wrong.

You smoothed your checkered skirt suit, wiping your sweaty palms on the thick material. El Segundo didn’t get that cold, but the mornings were brutal. 

You bit your lip as you approached his office door. You opened it. Tre stood over his desk, one hand on his hip and a paper in his hand. It had to be the report he asked for. You assumed that since it was so late in the evening, that he’d read it first thing in the morning. You had hoped to leave here with a little hope. Not defeated like the past few nights, still not living up to his impossible standards.

All things considered, he was damn delicious. His favorite aesthetic was black. Black shirts, jackets, pants, shoes. The only hint of color on him were his gold chains and glasses. His thick beard complimented his facial structure beautifully. It was an odd mix being both attracted to and afraid of your boss. 

“Close the door,” he said. 

You followed his command. Shit. You were really in it. Was it your report he was reading? Or did he magically glean that you royally fucked up a fifteen million dollar contract? 

Your stomach roiled. You were going to be fucking sick. 

You approached the front of his desk like a deer in headlights. There was no room for you to maneuver. It was you, the headlights, and inevitable death. Shit, would you go to jail over something like this? 

You twisted your fingers as you stood there and waited for him to acknowledge you. He gave a long sigh and then put the paper down. 

“Come here,” he said. His tone was so disrespectful and biting. It was insulting coming from such a pretty man with a soft, ungodly voice. 

You rounded his giant desk and stood beside him. He was so huge. Thick muscles bunching the confines of his black suit jacket. You gulped and glanced down. He was looking at your report.

“What does this say?” He asked and pointed to a sentence.

“Due to the natre, er, nature, of the findngs.” Shit. This thing had so many damn typos in it. You typed the damn thing up, distracted, watching all of the people you never got to know walk out of here. Their faces haunted you day in and day out. You shouldn’t care, but well, here you were. 

If he had done this at any other time, maybe it wouldn’t have affected you so much. If he fired people around, say…St. Patrick’s Day, then at least people would have an excuse to hide their inevitable drinking. 

You looked into Tre’s eyes, an apology ready on your lips, but he was fuming. He was usually so calm and collected, firing people with an ice cold exterior. To see so much passion in him now…you were in deep shit. Without a paddle.

He reached across his desk and plucked out a red pen. “I want you to sit here and highlight all of the mistakes you made. And you better find them all,” he said. 

Your shaking hand reached out for the pen. He held it away. “All of them.”

He held out the pen once more and you took it. Tre sat down in his chair and motioned for you to proceed. You spied the chair on the other side of the desk, but you didn’t get the sense that you were allowed to get comfortable while you did this.

You licked your dry lips and leaned over slightly. Page by page, you hunted your mistakes with the red pen. You circled all of the typos you made. Good god, there were so many of them.

Tre sat like a silent specter. His disapproving eyes burned your back as you searched the document. At the end, you were appalled that you let so many slip through. The fuck was wrong with you? 

“Count them,” he said. 

Shit, shit. You couldn’t handle this fucking stress. “I am so sorry–”

“Count. Them.” You glanced at him. Besides the fire in his eyes, he seemed calm and a little disinterested. Like he was already bored of this shit and wanted you to hurry up.

You took a deep breath. He was only a man. You needed this stupid fucking job, but you will not be treated like this for much longer. Fuck his praise. And fuck him. No man, no job was worth this bullshit. You were going to find a nice quiet job somewhere. 

You counted the circles. Like bubbles of misery. “Twenty-four,” you said. At least your voice was strong, giving no hint to your frazzled nerves. Though, the more you thought about it, the less nervous you felt. You were so going to type up your two weeks notice tonight. Fuck this cheerless company. 

“Do you have any clue what it’s like trying to do my job but all I can focus on is your shitty ass mistakes? A toddler can type better than you,” he said. 

You gasped. Such a fucking asshole. “Everyone makes mistakes,” you pointed out. For fuck’s sake, you weren’t decoding international secrets. The occasional, okay this instance many, typos should not warrant a trip to the principal’s office. 

“I spend more time correcting your mistakes than trying to turn this company around. The least you can do is be a competent assistant. Your job is to assist,” he said. 

“All you can see is my mistakes instead of all the other shit that I do!” You fired back. Shit. His eyes narrowed and you swallowed, but you weren’t going to hold back. Whether you quit or got fired, you were saying goodbye to him so what the hell did anything matter? 

“I bend over backwards to do everything for you! Do you know how many times I’ve had to fix my nails as I run around here doing everything that pops into that meaty ass head of yours? Fix your computer, get you coffee, charge your fucking phone. I was hired to do assistant work, not become your personal maid. The least you can do is treat me with some fucking respect!” 

A weight lifted from your chest. You took deep, heaving breaths and felt lighter than you ever had. Even before taking this soul sucking job. 

“Bend over,” he said quietly.

“What?” You asked.

Tre stood to his full height. Not quite reaching six feet, but close enough. He unbuttoned his suit jacket and then slipped it off, revealing a black, long sleeved shirt. He rolled up the cuffs.

“I’m spank that tight ass you keep taunting me with for every mistake you have on that report,” he said.

Whoa, what? “Did you not hear what I said?” You asked. You watched as inches of his forearm were revealed. Shit, this shouldn’t be so hot. But it was. Your mouth ran dry for entirely different reasons.

“Every word. Bend. Over. It’s a simple instruction to follow,” he said. The sleeves were at his elbow now. 

You barely thought about it. You bent over the desk, breasts pressing into the coolness of his desk. You felt him slide behind you. His thick hands rubbed over the fabric of your dress. He squeezed the fleshiness of your ass and you softly huffed. 

“Count out every mistake,” he said.

Smack! Red hot fire bloomed on your right ass cheek. “What the fuck,” you gasped.

“Count it, or we start over,” he said.

“One,” you immediately said. Was this really happening? 

Smack! Shit, it really was. “Two,” you gasped again, trying to fight off a moan. Your pussy ached with each subsequent hit. And he was not going easy on you. Each smack was severe, making you reach up on tiptoes to escape it. 

He wouldn’t let you. His hand found your ass in any way you had it displayed for him. No two smacks were similar. Some were harder than others. He never hit the same spot twice. Your ass was a mosaic of pain. Heat bloomed in tiny flickers. There was no way you were going to sit down after this.

“Fifteen,” you ground out. Your ass sought his hands, relished each smack he delivered. Your mind turned blissfully fuzzy. Nerves melting away until it was a tiny puddle at your feet. Fuck. You were so turned on and your panties were ruined. Soaked. 

Your clit throbbed in time with the flickering heat on your ass. And he continued to smack it. Your ass jiggled after each one. Your feet scrambled for purchase. 

“Twenty-two,” you cried out. Tears gathered in  your eyes. 

The final two smacks to your ass were the worst ones. He had been hiding that strength this entire time. He smacked you like he was truly punishing you for all of the mistakes on the report. You shuddered to think what he would do when he found out about the contract. 

He had maintained a professional demeanor throughout it all. He hadn’t spoken, except with soft grunts as the force of his smacks met your ass. He rubbed your booty and you moaned from the white hot pain. How the hell were you going to get home after this? 

Tre lowered the zipper on the back of your dress and you whimpered. What more could he fucking do right now?

The answer to that was swift as he pushed the edge of your skirt up and over your wide hips. He groaned with a soft, “fuck”, as he revealed your racy black panties. The lace was sheer with tiny flower designs woven into it. 

“I knew hiring you was a fucking mistake. Can’t even focus on shit around here,” he said. Though it seemed like he was talking to himself. 

“I thought you hated me,” you whispered. You wiped the wayward tears from your face. 

“You and these fucking outfits,” he answered back. He rolled your panties off of your damp pussy. He bent with it, so his breath trailed the back of your thighs and legs. He kissed his way back up. Plump lips placed soft kisses to your thighs and ass. Pain bloomed from his recent spanking and you moaned and moved away. He straightened and pulled your hips back. 

He smacked your bare ass this time. The wet sound was loud and lewd. You prayed that everyone was gone for the day. There was no way that these flimsy ass walls had good sound proofing. 

“Fuuuuuck,” you moaned out.

“That’s for being such a fuckin’ tease,” he said. His hands left you, going to his own fly as you heard the zipper and the frantic huffs as he hurried to free himself. 

“I wasn’t–”

“You know you were. Bending over every chance you got. Smiling every time I fuckin’ saw you. Wearing these outfits you know are not professional,” he said. 

He settled back behind you, groaning as you assumed he pumped himself. Fuck, you wanted to see. You looked back at him. Oh, that was a mistake. His head was thrown back, his arms moving jerkily as he pumped his thick length with his hand. 

Your pussy clenched as you watched him. You bit your lip at the sheer ecstasy on his face. You didn’t want to speak and interrupt him. While it was true that you dressed up a little more than your coworkers, these outfits were appropriate. You didn’t show unnecessary cleavage and your skirts were decent lengths.

Okay, maybe they went a little too high. But you spent most of your time behind a desk, who was really going to notice? It was better than the bland ass, off the rack looks these other girls wore. It was like they all shopped at the same, ugly ass store. Why should you be bland like them?

You were fucking gorgeous. And wearing pretty outfits made you feel beautiful and comfortable. You loved your heels. Why should you keep all that shit in the closet to make basic bitches feel nice? Fuck ‘em.

Tre rubbed the tip of his dick through your wet folds. You nearly buckled. Your knees collapsed and Tre roughly grabbed your hip to make you stand upright. 

You rested your cheek against the cold desk. The coolness helped cool off some of the heat burning through you. You moaned as his tip brushed against your clit. “Please,” you whispered.

“Please what?” He asked.

“Please, fuck me. I need it,” you moaned. God, it had been too fucking long since you got fucked. Not had sex. Got fucked. You had decent situationships in the past. Sure, you had fun. But to get fucked, you needed a certain type of man. 

He grunted as he shoved inside, stretching you completely. You cried out as he pulled back and shoved back in, getting his dick wetter from your juices alone. “Sweet fuck,” he moaned. 

“So fuckin’ wet for me.” He worked himself inside you, pushing into the warm, wet core of you. You were a vice grip on his dick. Welcoming him deeper and more easily with every glide. His fingers dug into your hips. 

“From now on, I’m checking over all of your work. If I catch more typos, that’s your ass,” he said.

How the hell could he expect you to listen when he was buried so deep inside of you, you were pretty sure with one more shove that he would hit your G-spot? You pathetically whimpered as his movements grew slippier. He slid in and out with more ease than before. 

His thrusts turned sharper. Each one shoved you against the desk. The hard plane of the desk shoved into your stomach. The pain was barely a thought. 

“Oh yes, yes,” you moaned.

“Takin’ this dick well,” he moaned. His thrusts increased. Barely giving you time to breathe in between each one. They were powerful and unrelenting. The desk rattled. His thighs pushed into yours, trapping you against the desk as he pounded into you. His hands around your hips were bruising. He had you slightly lifted, so your feet slightly dangled off of the ground. He supported you easily. 

The minimal praise from him made your heart soar and your pussy flutter. “Oh, you like that shit, don’t you?” 

“Uh-huh,” you moaned.

“Tell me you like it then,” he said.

“I like it,” you said.

“Like you mean it,” he said and gave another savage thrust that made you see stars. 

The desk made an intrusive knocking sound in time with his thrusting. That’s how hard he was fucking you. 

“Oh shit, I’m cumming,” you moaned. Your belly flipped as your orgasm built and built.

“Let it go, then,” he said.

You cried and whimpered as you came. 

“Mhm, let it go. Let it go. Mhm, feeling all of that,” he cooed while you came, stars going off like bombs in your weak vision. Your head swam. Your vision winked in and out. You were bliss personified, cumming with a type of euphoria you didn’t know existed.

You squeezed his dick as you came. “Get that shit nice and creamy,” he said. 

He continued to pound into you, fucking any last remnants of your orgasm out of you. He was so hard and thick, sliding in and out and wrenching every little sound he could out of you. 

Wet smacking and the rattle of his thrusts filled the room with a harmony you wanted on repeat forever. You were creamy for him. Needy for him. Needy for the way that he could fuck you stupid and you thanked him for it.

You managed to look back at him. Again, his head was thrown back. The wide expanse of his neck pulsed with a thick vein you wanted to lick. Sweat dripped down into his shirt. His sleeves were still rolled up. He was power and strength. Thick in every sense of the word.

Broad shoulders, soft beard, and those glasses. Good god, you loved those glasses on him. That wide smile of his. His rich, midnight skin. You could spend hours licking every inch of him and it wouldn’t nearly be enough. 

He was lost in you, lost with his dick pumping into you. Watching how you were making him feel, another orgasm built. It climbed its way to the surface, whisking you away to the stars again. Shooting through the universe with nothing to hold you down. Nothing to keep you anchored. You just floated like stardust around the cosmos. 

“Oh fuck, please,” you moaned. You didn’t know what the fuck you were saying. You were mumbling and moaning, unaware of anything but his hands on your hips. His dick inside you. His balls slapping your clit. Your hand moved behind you seeking his body. His thrusts were too much.

You pushed against him. You didn’t want him to stop. Just for him to ease a bit. Your swollen clit was sensitive as hell. You weren’t sure if you had another orgasm in you. It was too soon and his punishing pace was going to literally fuck you stupid in a minute.

“Move that fuckin’ hand before I do,” he spat. 

“But…Sir…” He was fucking the air out of you. You couldn’t breathe. “Fuck, please.” 

True to his word, he grabbed the hand that you were trying to push him away with. Your left hand was twisted behind your back as he leaned forward, deepening his strokes.

It turned harsher, fucking you into the desk. He’d fuck you through it if he could. His moans turned desperate.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he moaned. “Take this nut.”

He groaned as he unleashed his climax inside of you. He filled you with his cum. His dick twitched and pulsed against your spongy walls as his cum was fucked into you. Still he moved, still he pounded into you like he was trying to prove something. 

His hips faltered as he sputtered the last of his cum. He buried himself to the hilt and a shiver ran through him. Your frantic breathing matched his as he slowly pulled out of you.

Fuck! You were fucking sore! A hundred baths wouldn’t soothe this shit. A moment later, his cum slipped out of you and you moaned. Well shit. No condom. Luckily, you were on the pill but still. You shouldn’t be so fucking horny that you didn’t talk about these things.

However, after getting fucked the way you just did, you’d happily accept his cum. Many times over. 

His cum leaked out of you, sliding down your pussy and legs. He groaned, leaned down, and spread your ass cheeks just to watch.

“Such a pretty fuckin’ pussy,” he said. He pushed two fingers inside and you whimpered. He grunted one last time and removed his fingers. 

He grabbed a few tissues off of his desk and started to clean you up. You hissed when he hit a sensitive spot. He kissed your ass and legs as he cleaned up. “So fuckin’ pretty. So fuckin’ beautiful,” he soothed as he cleaned.

You were a shaking mess. Your legs could not support you. He chuckled as he finished. He pulled his pants up first. You heard the slide of his belt buckle. Then, he pulled your panties up to cover your ass. Next, he lowered your skirt and fixed the zipper.

You were too weak to move from your spot. Too weak to stand up and say or do anything. You laid there in amazement. He helped you up and then steadied you while he lowered you into his chair. His chair.

He got to work, righting various knick knacks on his desk. He moved a tiny Christmas snow globe on his desk that you had brought him on the first day. He had raised his eyebrow at you, told you that you couldn’t bribe your way to a good start, and disappeared into his office. You thought he had thrown it away. You were too nervous to notice anything when you came into his office. Just his disapproving eyes and smug smirk. 

He moved the report back into the yellow envelope and closed it. He turned around and rested his ass against the desk. He tapped the file with his long fingers. “Be sure to correct this. We’ll go over it first thing in the morning.”

You glanced at him. “Yes, Sir,” you said with a hoarse voice. Fuck, your throat hurt. Everything hurt. He smirked as if he were reading your thoughts.

Yeah, a merry Christmas to you too, mu’fucker.

Masterlist | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 - Completed

#Megaminds Secret Files #The Secret Tre Files #Trevante Rhodes fanfic #Trevante Rhodes fan fic #Trevante Rhodes fanfiction #Trevante Rhodes fan fiction #Candy Cane Lane fanfic #Candy Cane Lane fan fic #Candy Cane Lane fanfiction #Candy Cane Lane fan fiction #Tre x Black!reader #Tre x Black reader #Tre x Fem!reader #Tre x Fem reader #Tre x plus size reader #x Black reader #Tre x Assistant!reader #Tre x assistant reader #Tre x you #Tre x reader #x reader #my writing #Black writers

[kseung]

Wednesday Addams x Reader

Bad Timing

Pt. 1 of Better Timing

Contains: Light cursing, fighting (verbal), kisses.

Warnings: Light cursing, writer on mobile 💀

Words: 2,185~

Dedicated to @cozwaenot

••••••••••

This wasn't how this was supposed to go. Not at all. You knew that asking Wednesday out would be... interesting, but you never thought you'd see such atrocities. Namely, a certain atrocity called Tyler.

After days of begging, Enid had finally convinced you to ask Wednesday out. Nerve-wracking as it was, you accepted. Worse that can happen is she murders you. Not too bad.

You were walking around in town, strolling merely to have some time to think. Wednesday was all you thought of anyway. There's no escaping her, like an endless nightmare. She'd be happy to hear it that way.

Your feet suddenly came to a halt when you saw Wednesday some steps ahead. She entered the place even though the sign clearly read "closed", to meet a boy you knew was named Tyler. Bad luck was all you had, perfectly demonstrated when the girl of your bad dreams kissed the boy. It made your heart feel small and frail, like it was being drained of every last drop of blood to be found in there. No thoughts came to mind as you kept watching the scene playing before you.

—I see...

So that's how things are. Right. They stopped kissing, staring at each other before kissing again. You knew you had seen enough. You turned around so fast you felt dizzy. Your tendency to the drama made you feel like your world was loosing all its color. Not even the loudest of noises could snap you out of whatever emotional trance you were in, much less the faint sound of a chime and a door opening.

Wednesday knew she'd fucked up. Bad. In the actually bad sense of the word. She'd kissed a hyde, and also made one of the only ones that listened to her run away. Life definitely was onto something presumably not nice.

She knew calling out for you would do nothing, so she had to wait until the next day. The next day you had classes, but it wasn't as bad as it could be. Or at least she hoped so. Strange.

•••••

Enid noticed it straight away. You were avoiding Wednesday like she was a plague. And you were, admittedly, avoiding everyone. She sent you a look which you ignored. You needed some time for yourself, as childish as that was.

During the entire class period, you kept yourself far from them, not even talking at all. They all noticed, really. Wednesday had the littlest twinge of sadness that day, feeling rather on edge. More now that she knew who was causing all those murders. The betrayal made her feel particularly strong desires to commit arson.

—Did you scare them off that much?

All but Wednesday nodded to what Enid was saying. Being the subject of your liking, Wednesday was the only one out of the loop regarding your confession.

Clearly, everyone else knew, which made Wednesday confused and maybe even defensive.

—Why would I?—. She understood how she'd scare off some people, but not you. You were never afraid of her, ever. Not even when she tried to threaten you. But scaring you, for once, would never be a bad thing. They looked at her, silently asking for more words. —I hope so—.

Xavier sighed. —Things didn't go too well, huh—. Wednesday stared at him. It was true. She did not mean to make you run from her. At least not because of that.

—Writing hour.

You watched from your place as Wednesday left. You sighed in relief. Looks like it's also your time to leave, just not after her.

First, you made sure the rest of your friends weren't looking at you. Then, you just vanished. This was her 1-hour dedicated time for creative writing, working for her novel.

You usually went with her, to make her company. You were always silent, so she didn't complain but at first. Those were fond times, but no more. Seems like now she'd have to be alone again.

Your wandering led you to the forest, on a hidden place near the shed. If she, for some unknown reason, decided to search for you, she'd expect you to be far away from places she visits often. So you hid close.

At times like that you wished you could stay there forever. Technically, you could. But that wouldn't be good for you, and cause some headaches to Weems. Not that you weren't opposed to that.

You spent hours sitting on the same spot, surrounded by nothing but nature. It was a good thinking spot. Even better was the fact that nobody knew you liked it there, so nobody looked there.

She went to the Rave'N with him. Why didn't you know she'd kiss him before? Looking back to it, it was obvious something was about to happen. Wednesday, the anti-social emo kid, going to a dance? Yeah. Too suspicious. And you thought you had good critical thinking skills... Even more outrageous!

It was pathetic. You feeling so down for a crush you knew from the start was unreachable? Unreasonable. You were angry. Frustrated at yourself. It's not that Wednesday was incapable of liking you, since she seemed to like Tyler... But after that? Yeah, no. She had chosen already, and you weren't who she picked. Nothing wrong with that, as sad as it made you.

—There you are.

She had to show up at the most inopportune of moments. You did not look at her, simply taking your stuff and heading back to Nevermore. You couldn't bring yourself to look at her. You knew you'd cry to her, for her. You bit your tongue, on both senses.

—Don't ignore me!

Even her voice when strong seemed muted. A tinge of feeling escaped, and your shoulders tensed. You knew how she looked when she spoke like that. Her chin would be angled upwards, eyebrows furrowed, and, maybe, her lips trembling even when she tried not to. You had only ever seen that once before, but once is more than enough to remember it. You sighed and continued on your walk back to your dorm.

She took a sharp breath, furious. Her pace quicked, catching up to you and turning you over. She looked desperate, more than she wanted to admit. You couldn't help but laugh dryly. What did she want now?

—Just what do you want?

That question couldn't have shocked her more. The tone was cold, unlike how you usually spoke to her. You weren't even looking at her, focusing instead on a tree behind her.

—I- —, she cursed internally. —I just wante-

—Oh, please. Don't talk. I have nothing to hear. There's no reason for you to speak to me. Just stay away.

Her hand was still gripping onto your jacket, so you shook her off. You wanted to apologise for being rude, but you had a greater urge to just go away. Rejection had never hurt her so bad.

—Why are you being like this? What did I do wrong?

Her tone was desperate, again. You wanted to cry. You looked at her through glazed eyes. She herself was not doing too well either.

—Don't I ought to know?

—Stop asking questions.

—Then tell me!

She was getting angry. That was not good, not at all. You sighed and nodded.

—I just need some time, Wednesday. I... —. You looked away again. You didn't want to cry in front of her. —Give me time.

—Is this about Tyler?

And you sighed. You didn't knew she knew, but she did, apparently. You nodded, swallowing hard. Your voice wanted to tremble.

—It is. But it's fine. I totally support you. It's just shocking.

It wasn't fine. Still, you wanted to support your friend. You tried to smile at her. It was more of a grimace, but she accepted it.

—I'll be going—, you said. You tried to turn around and go, again, but she held onto you, again.

—No. You're not going anywhere. You will listen to me.

You didn't understand why she was being so difficult. Why was this even affecting her? You were defeated, so you accepted. —Make it quick.

—I don't like Tyler.

You were seriously about to throw hands. She noticed, so she held on to them. Tightly. It made you feel things, good things. Ironic. And such a bad moment for it.

—I know how that sounds! I know! I just... had a vision after I kissed him. He's the Hyde. We are not together.

You went pale. He's the Hyde? And she kissed him! You didn't want to hear it. Even less from her. But that was a shocker. It's always the one that seems less like it.

—I- I really don't know what you want to hear from me.

You were too overloaded, both mentally and emotionally. In turn, your body started to ache. You shook your head.

—Let me go.

You were back to your cold tone, staring at her. She furrowed her eyebrows, but still nodded. She let you go, keeping her arms by her sides.

You did not look at her more, simply walking off to your dorm. You knew you wouldn't get a good sleep that night, but you still tried. You were lucky your roommate decided to sleep elsewhere again.

•••••

It was obvious that things weren't going good. You kept from everyone, especially her. From her friends too, both of yours. It was hard, but sometimes people need time. Even if it meant having no one to talk to for days.

You were walking mindlessly on the hallways of Nevermore when you heard Enid talking to Wednesday.

—Say that again—, Wednesday demanded.

—They have feelings for you! For being a detective, you're so blunt sometimes.

Your breath hitched. So she now knows. It was inferable, really. You were surprised someone had to tell her.

—Oh. I guess that makes more sense now—, she pondered.

You were starting to feel like a burden, once more. She had more things on her plate, so you being one of those made you feel incredibly guilty. You started to wonder off, going to your room. At least you'd be alone, without anyone to bother. Your roomate had a club to attend to anyway.

You made sure that neither Wednesday nor Enid followed when you were entering your room. You then locked your door, finally breathing. You turned around, intending to go lay down, only to find Wednesday silently waiting for you while sitting on the edge of your bed.

—Fuck my life—. You almost ran away. Almost. But Wednesday had you still with what she said. She walked until she was closely in front of you.

—I know.

You tried to act dumb. Which, to Wednesday, was the dumbest thing to do in that situation.

—What do you know?

You tried to sound annoyed, but you were panicking. There was nowhere to run to. She was in your room, and you couldn't exactly go to the woods.

—I know what you feel. For me.

You shook your head.

—What do you know about feelings, Wednesday? Let me be and get out of my room.

She glared at you, pursed lips and tensed jaw included. Your defensive words would make her feel hurt if she didn't know better. Maybe did hurt, a little. Her eyes were difficult to decipher.

—I don't always know what I feel. But I do know that I feel good when I'm you—. She took a sharp breath, gulping audibly before takling again. —I like to feel things if they're related to you—. It was a weird confession for her to make. Why would she like it? You didn't understand.

—Bullshit. Now, do leave my room—. You moved your head to point towards the door.

—No. I'm not lying. I am not leaving. I had enough time to be without you and notice that I don't want that to happen again.

You watched her intensely, eying her with distrust.

—I don't believe you.

—...

She looked at you, holding your hand in hers. It was weird. For starters, you liked having your hand held by her but you were also sad and a little angry. Add to it the fact that she dislikes physical touch, so she was both awkward and very tense.

"Is it too late?" She wanted to ask.

—Want it or not, I have feelings too—. She disliked to say it. She hated it, but she knew it was something worth the uncomfortableness of admitting. —And I want to feel things you make me feel. Am I too late?

—Wednesday, it's not about the timing now. I just... need time, okay? I'm not saying "no" either. I didn't like what I saw, and I think I still need to cry it out. We can talk more about it tomorrow.

She nodded, the least bit hopeful. She looked around for a bit, trying to make up her mind about what to do next. She glanced at you for a second before slowly moving closer to you, until she was pressing herself lightly towards you.

You didn't think twice before surrounding her with your arms, careful not to push too hard on her limits. You felt some light touches on your back, smiling as she did too. You'd be alright.

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday #wednesday addams #wednesday x reader #wednesday adams x reader #fanfic #x reader #non bianry

[venturelovebot]

A/N: OH BOY!!! After a couple days of writers block I finally got this done! I hope I was able to do justice to your prompt, and as always, enjoy! Link to request here!

Premise: You get a little too tipsy and things get a little fluffy between you and your favorite archeologist!

Warnings: Alcohol and drinking! Other than that, nothing to worry about!

You watch as the amber liquid slowly fills your glass. A bead of sweat drips down your forehead out of nervousness.

"You sure you're okay? We don't have to drink if you don't want to." Sloane asks with worry in their voice.

The liquid stops pouring. The lights reflected on it glide silkily across its dark surface. You don't meet their gaze.

"It's fine. I just haven't had any in awhile is all." You reply.

You brush off the hesitation and down your shot in one go. When you were younger you could do five more of these easily, but your tolerance has dropped as of late. Sloane throws back their head and downs theirs next. They let out a satisfied sigh and wipe their eyes.

"Aaah yeah, that's the good stuff..."

You lay back on the couch and feel your stomach start to warm up. The heat then slowly creeps up to through your chest, throat and onto your cheeks.

"One more?" They offer.

"Hm... why not."

You watch as your glass fills up once again and you drink it quickly. It burns your mouth and throat in the most pleasant way.

"Just let me know if you want more!" Sloane pours themself one last shot before setting the bottle aside.

"Noted."

Without any warning the alcohol hits you at full force. The metaphorical walls you built around yourself to keep others out is crumbling all too fast. Your lungs inhale a deep breath before a sigh escapes your mouth. You try to center yourself as quickly as possible– your eyes dart around, from the walls, to the TV, to Sloane.

Oh God. Your cheeks light up a bright pink. The room was dark and you were praying they didn't notice.

"So–" They rub their shoulder nervously, trying their best to make conversation. "I know you're not a 'people person' but I you're the only other person I know that likes drinking! I hope you don't mind spending some time with me." They grin.

Dammit. They were so, so cute in every single way. The chipped tooth. The messy hair. Their jokes. Your brain teases you– you think about holding their hand, or cuddles, or God forbid– what if you kissed? No! You can't think like that. You scold your thoughts for being so brash.

"Not at all. I like spending time with you–" You catch yourself before you admit anymore. "Sometimes."

Your heart and mind are at war. Your brain desperately tries to regain control of the situation while your heart paints your face ruby red. You grit your teeth before taking one more quiet deep breath in through your nose.

"Aww, really? I feel special then!" They teasingly nudge you. Your body tenses up from the touch.

"Oh, wow [Y/N]! Your face is really red. Mine gets like that when I drink, too!"

In the dim light you can see their adorable face is blushing, too. If only they knew yours was for a different reason. You swallow your nervousness, reach for the bottle and pour yourself another shot to calm your nerves. Your eyes squeeze shut as you bring the glass to your lips.

All is quiet for a moment. The television provides a soft white noise as a movie plays in the background. For a moment you center yourself and place the bottle back down on the coffee table.

Then the panic strikes again– your hands shake as your heart pounds behind your rib cage. You shakily pour yourself another shot and down it before the alcohol catches up to you.

"Alright! That's probably enough for you..." Sloane takes the bottle out of your hands and holds it out of your reach.

Immediately you begin to pout.

"No! Just one more..." You complain, reaching for the bottle.

Your body leans up against theirs and you squirm attempting to take back the bottle. Before you realize it, your foreheads are touching and you're exchanging heated breaths. It's everything you dreamed it would be.

"I'm not drunk... just a little tipsy." You explain, pulling away from embarrassment.

"I'm just worried about you. Ever since you had your first shot you've been acting weird. Is there something you want to talk about?" Sloane frowns.

Your mind is drowning in emotions and further obscured by drinking. The filter you once maintained so well is gone.

"C-can I just be honest?" The words feel like overflowing water. "There's something I need to tell you."

"Of course! You can tell me anything!" They smile like nothing even happened. That's what you admired about them– one of the many things, that is.

Without thinking you wrap your arms around them and pull yourself in close. They freeze in place without hugging you back out of fear... you've never shown so much physical affection towards anyone before. At least, they've never seen you do it, that is.

"I love you." The words linger in the air for a long time.

Thoughts raced in Sloane's head. Did they hear you correctly? Was it just the alcohol talking? Maybe it was just some sort of cruel joke? Is it possible this was all just an alcohol induced fever dream? But still, you didn't move. Your arms wrapped firmly around them for stability while you nestled into their chest to hear their heartbeat.

If it was indeed just a dream... then neither of you wanted to wake up...

You finally feel the weight of Sloane's arms wrap around you and pull you closer.

"Oh, [Y/N]..." They were careful not to disturb your peaceful demeanor. "How long have you been keeping this from me?" They ask.

"Mmm... awhile..." You mumble, a sleepiness taking over your being as you lean completely into them.

You were both comfortable, warm and enjoying each other's company.

"I'm glad you told me." They softly place their hand atop your head and begin to pet you affectionately.

Your eyes close as you revel in their affection for you. The two of you are quiet for some time afterwards.

"I love you, too." Sloane admits.

They place a kiss to your head and continue their gentle petting motions. Your body fully relaxes on top of theirs and you both feel an immense feeling of relief as your emotions are now out in the open. There was nothing left to hold back anymore.

"Get some rest Cariño. You need it."

No one needed to tell you twice. Instantly you feel one last wave of calmness sweep over your entire body. All the while Sloane watches over you, holding you close, making sure you didn't feel anymore vulnerable than you already were.

"Goodnight." They whisper into your ear.

The last thing you feel was a kiss on the lips before finally drifting off to sleep.

#venture x reader #venture x you #sloane cameron #overwatch x you #overwatch x reader #overwatch fanfiction #overwatch 2 #overwatch #weeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!! tag time!!!!!!!!!

[heartkyeom]

fine line

figure skater!joshua hong x f!reader

synopsis: as a joshua fangirl, getting the chance to interview him as a teenager was an absolute dream. 10 years later with a flourishing career as a writer and a strained relationship with him, he wants to do a 10 year reunion interview about his path to the upcoming Olympics. there’s only one problem: you’re staying at his house and trying not to address your old feelings for him.

word count: 19.9k

tag list: @junhui-recs @bfwonu @huiranghaes

warnings: figure skater!joshua, writer/fangirl!reader, best friend!jeonghan, dad!seungcheol, smut, fluff, angst, some occasional skating jargon, this is a lot about the Olympics

a/n: y’all. this fic has been reworked over and over and over since spring 2022, it’s the longest fic I’ve ever done. it’s given me so much trouble and seen me through so many changes in my life. doing my final undergrad dance show, writing my undergrad capstone, finishing undergrad, and finding my first apartment. it is my baby and has grown as much as I have since march. thank you to the sports au discord for being so lovely <3 I hope you enjoy it as always and I hope you can feel how much heart I put into this! this is for @gyukult’s sports au collab + this is loosely based on the plot of the book “funny you should ask” by elissa sussman which I can’t recommend enough! title also inspired by the harry styles song ok bye lmao <3

Work isn’t particularly difficult, in your opinion. You’re used to hearing the people around you complain about how much their workload consumes them to a point of no return, but as you made your way into your first adult job as a writer, you tried to stop that from happening.

It’s not exactly easy when you have to navigate the entertainment industry while writing, but the idea of trying to craft new narratives about celebrities that the public is convinced that they know inside and out still excites you.

Even if you’re not exactly fond of whoever you’re writing about, the challenge still intrigues you. Thus, the conversations surrounding ideas for new profiles are always equal parts captivating and nerve-wracking.

“How do you feel about Joshua Hong?” Your manager asks. You look up to see her balancing her weight on the side of your desk, a neutral expression paints her face.

She knows this is a loaded question, all things considered.

“You know how I feel about him,” You blink at her before facing your computer again.

“I do, but I need an updated response considering the anniversary,” She persists. You sigh, swiveling around to face her again before responding.

“He’s great. I like him,” Your voice trails off, you try to nod to convince her, but it’s not working.

Your life has been so intertwined with Joshua Hong’s career as a professional figure skater that it’s hard to delineate life before and after him. He wasn't there, then one day he seemed to consume your life completely.

Before your start as a journalist, you ran a very well-known, albeit secretive, blog about Joshua Hong as a teenager. It was relatively harmless and safe for work, spare the occasional thirst posts sprinkled in. It mostly contained updates about the then emerging skater’s career, offering illegal torrent links for broadcasts of his performances that weren’t available worldwide and communicating with other fans about your love for him. Yet, some random post about him qualifying for the Olympics went insanely viral when you were 17, garnering over 1 million shares in under a week.

It was substantial enough to get his management's attention, and you had the opportunity to interview him not only for your blog but for a major publication for their Winter Olympics coverage series.

With two opportunities to write about him, you were able to fulfill the fan service pleas from your fellow fans for the blog and write a serious piece that made the general public interested in him from the perspective of a fan that knew the general timeline of his career.

The quick success felt like a fluke, but it led you to an undergraduate degree and a dream job as an entertainment writer at one of your favorite companies almost immediately after graduation.

He technically made your career, whether you wanted to admit it or not.

You’ve been trying to forget about the anniversary, but everyone in your life seems determined to bring it up whenever they see you.

“Well, we want you to do a 10-year reunion interview piece with him. That’s only if you want to,” Her voice was sympathetic, but you’re mainly focused on the number. It really had been 10 years, hadn’t it?

You were both incredibly established in your respective careers, him as a 5-time gold medalist with appearances at 3 Olympic Games, and you with a prolific image as a relatable yet incisive celebrity interviewer. It completely makes sense for you two to meet again, considering how much the first interview changed the trajectory of your lives.

It would feed into the nostalgia of Joshua fans that grew up alongside you as readers of your blog and new fans that clamored for any new Joshua content.

Yet, you weren’t exactly convinced.

“I mean, his team could’ve had anyone else write a big profile on him. We’re not the only website in the world with an entertainment section,” You fight the urge to bite your nails and instead choose to wring your hands together.

“He asked us to do it,” She admits.

You try not to look too shocked, but that definitely changes things. You were not close with Joshua whatsoever. Sure, he’d occasionally like your social media posts and wish you a happy birthday every year, but that was the extent of your relationship.

Your teenage self thinks it might be him looking for closure, wondering what might have happened if you stayed in touch.

Yet, you can’t let yourself dive back into the fantasy of him again.

You search for a response, but you can’t land on anything substantial. “What would I have to do?” You ask, you barely notice the unconscious habit of biting the inside of your cheek.

“Well, in addition to the profile, you can attend his practices and any private schedules he invites you to. It’s mostly up to the discretion of him and his team,” She offers and you nod. You’re good with that, you can watch him practice and go to a random professional event he’s booked for.

“He did offer something else, if you’re up for it,” She gives you a pointed look which makes you a bit hesitant.

“What is it?”

“He asked if you were open to staying at his house,” She smiled through her answer, but you’re sure your face was completely pale.

You didn’t know if you were more shocked or nervous at the idea of it. It was ambitious, considering that you haven’t spent more than a few hours in the same room with him at a time, much less stay with him.

You think you might die if you go through with it.

“He’s not serious,” You find yourself laughing in disbelief. You can’t even fathom the idea of being further sucked into Joshua’s life after so long.

“He really is. You don’t have to give me an answer right now, but within the next day or so,” She leaves your desk without giving you a chance to respond, but you revel in the opportunity to think about everything.

It’s a bit too much to wrap your head around, so much so that you don’t remember much else of the work day.

For the first time in a long time, Joshua Hong was all you could think about.

—

The more you think about the interview, the more it gives you anxiety.

All of the possible outcomes float around in your head during the commute home that you can barely enjoy the music blaring in your headphones.

Once you arrive home, you figure that you need a second opinion on the matter, so you decide to call your far more opinionated best friend for his input.

The phone only rings for a few seconds before he picks up.

“What happened?”

“Joshua wants to do this 10-year anniversary interview where I follow him around,” You sigh.

“No fucking way,” He burst into laughter, his giggles echoing loudly through the phone.

“Jeonghan, this isn’t funny,” You whine. He was probably the last person you needed to call, seeing as he almost never had a sympathetic response to your pain.

“It’s hilarious, and this is karma for trying to ignore his existence for the past 5 years,” He replies with a teasing lilt.

You hate that he’s right.

You were very proud of Joshua’s successes, in a “retired fan celebrating from a distance” sort of way. Yet, you tried to distance yourself so much from the blog that he inadvertently got caught in the crossfire. You cared about him so deeply for so long that you lost yourself in that, so you tried to cope with the state of your uneven relationship with him in your own little fucked up way.

You let out a frustrated sigh. “I just didn’t think he’d be the one to do it, you know? I thought I’d get a polite email from his assistant, not my manager telling me he wanted to do a profile.”

“That means it’s personal to him, then. That’s actually kinda charming of him,” You feel your phone vibrate, so you check the notification.

Joshua messaged you on Instagram, and from a quick glance at your lockscreen, it’s long.

Your heart drops to your stomach.

“Wait, he just messaged me,” You quickly put Jeonghan on speaker and opened the app without a second thought. You read his message out loud:

joshuahong: Hi! Not sure if you’ve heard my request yet about the anniversary profile, but I would really love it if we could make it happen. I know it’s been a really long time, but I think it’d be fun to do it again. You’ve always supported me from the beginning of my career, so it would mean a lot to me. I miss talking to you, so we would definitely be catching up in more ways than one. We’ll only do it if you’re up for it though, please don’t ghost me this time lol

“Holy shit,” Jeonghan fills the silence immediately. You were pretty much lost for words, but you managed to speak. “Holy shit is right,” You mumble to yourself.

You suddenly feel guilty for trying to bury him out of your life, especially when he clearly said he misses you.

Were you trying to set your boundaries by pushing him away or were you just being an asshole?

“I feel really stupid,” You hate that you want to cry. You can’t reckon with the fact that Joshua has wanted to reconcile for so long that he had to do this to get your attention.

At least, that’s what the selfish part of you thinks. You know the interview is so much bigger than yourself, but then again, it is a symbol of you and the years of effort you put into your blog.

“You’re not stupid, but you need to worry about what you’re gonna say. Are you gonna say yes?” He asks.

Admittedly, you do feel the pull to say yes.

“I think I might. Is that a bad idea?” Internally, you know the answer, but your insecurities need some validation.

He clears his throat before responding. “I think you’ll regret it if you say no. I think it’ll hurt you more to not have closure with him.”

You don’t think you necessarily want anything out of this besides becoming friendly with him.

You’d like to think that’s what would’ve happened if you didn’t completely ice him out.

“That’s true. It’s gonna be so hard to see him again,” A whine pulls your lips into a pout and you already know Jeonghan will protest.

“Stop talking yourself out of it. Who knows, you might end up enjoying everything,” he suggests openly.

“That’s possible. His house is supposed to be insanely big,” You shake your head at the idea of how a 27-year-old millionaire pro figure skater would be living, definitely far better than your current apartment.

“You can only know for sure if you say yes.”

“I know,” You figure you need a vacation anyways, even if it means facing some unresolved emotional baggage.

“So, you know your answer then. I need to get back to work, but don’t blow him off. Respond to him tonight or I’m not giving you the deluxe massage package gift certificate like I promised,” Jeonghan was not above threatening you into action, and this one had the right level of stakes.

“Fine, okay,” You huff out, already opening the Instagram app again to motivate you into typing a proper response.

You exchange quick goodbyes and you let yourself look, albeit for far too long, at the message again to gain some inspiration.

Before you know it, you’re sending him a formal reply.

you: Hi! You’re right about ghosting, no excuses for that so I’m sorry lol. I’ve thought about it and I’d be happy to do it, it’s been too long since we’ve talked. Let me know the timeline you’re thinking of and I’ll get my schedule figured out

You figure that’s just enough to ease your nerves. It’s not exactly as earnest as his original message, but it’ll work for now.

You even send a screenshot of the message to Jeonghan as proof for the sake of accountability and the state of your deluxe massage package gift certificate. You place your phone on your nightstand to avoid fixating on another response, letting yourself go fix dinner and get ready for bed without thinking.

It’s only when you’re about to settle into bed that you remember your phone. You reach for it and Joshua, who is somehow extremely prompt with his messages, sends you another reply 10 minutes after your message.

joshuahong: Great! We’ll start sorting out more details then. I’m really glad you said yes

He’s already trying to pull at your heartstrings and it’s working. Despite everything, Joshua has always been kind. He doesn’t just seem nice, like what most celebrities are assumed to be around other people, he’s always made sure you know he cares about you even if you hadn’t known what to do about it.

You type out another quick response before going to bed.

you: Of course, it’s gonna be a lot of fun

You hope that’s true, you hope that you’re not already in over your head with the situation. He still seems to have faith in you, so why not trust that instinct?

—

During pre-trip preparations, you found yourself talking to Joshua far more often than before.

The conversations didn’t go too deep of course, you couldn’t get everything out of him before you even had a chance to conduct the interview, but the harmless banter seemed to slowly bridge that treacherous gap left between you two.

You even thought it would make your first meeting less awkward, but that wasn’t even remotely possible. It had only taken a few days for the entirety of the trip to be confirmed by your workplace and his team, and the final itinerary made your head spin.

You would follow Joshua around for a week, primarily to his private daily practices in an effort to show his infamous dedication to Olympics training.

All while you stayed in his guest room.

You couldn’t get out of that obligation, no matter how much you tried to convince him that you would be perfectly fine staying in a luxury hotel room paid for by your employer. He was confident that you could get a better view into his life while staying at his house which you reluctantly agreed with.

His idea definitely didn’t cross any professional boundaries at all, none whatsoever! This is what he’d do as a friend if you were coming to visit anyways, right?

You were still slightly afraid to hear his voice, you weren’t exactly sure why, but you were hoping it would keep the image of him unchanged in your mind until you saw him in person again.

You knew you were heavily biased going into this situation, so why not protect your heart for a little bit longer?

joshuahong: Are you nervous about tomorrow?

you: Not really

joshuahong: Y/N, please don’t lie.

you: I’m not!

joshuahong: I’m kinda nervous to see you, though

you: Really? Why?

joshuahong: I think it’s been 6 years since I’ve seen you in person. That’s scary to think about

you: The passing of time is scary

joshuahong: Definitely. Promise to not be awkward?

you: I’ll try my best!

joshuahong: That’s not a promise!

you: Fine, I promise but you have to promise too!

joshuahong: I promise :) now get some sleep, I don’t want to hear you complain when you have plenty of time to get 8 hours of sleep

you: You’re so mean!! but you too, get lots of rest so you can give me a good show tomorrow

He doesn’t reply to that last message, only using a heart emoji reaction instead.

The weight of the trip suddenly sits on your heart, and the main objective of writing an exceptional interview is somehow the least of your worries now.

—

The flight to Korea is unceremoniously long, you have far too much time and anxiety to let yourself fall asleep. You go through all the Netflix episodes you downloaded for the flight, finish the book that’s been sitting on your shelf for ages, and write down some preliminary notes about what you’d like to cover in the interview.

You decide to keep your ideas vague so that you’re not overexerting your brain during the flight.

First, a general discussion of the Olympics. That’s the main appeal of the article, seeing what his main preparations are like and hopefully getting some better insight about his feelings surrounding everything.

The second is his recovery from his last Olympics injury. He landed the most ambitious jump of his free skate program completely wrong, breaking his ankle in the process. It was during the last event of his Olympics run for that year, and he still placed third in the men’s individual skate program overall, but it’s been a sore subject for him in most interviews he’s done since the incident.

The footage is as agonizing as you can imagine, but the fact that he finished the routine at all is stunning. You figure that you can get some in-depth reaction about that moment and the subsequent recovery, more than the extremely media-trained answer he’s given about it before.

Lastly, the prospect of retirement. He’s said almost nothing about his plans after the upcoming Olympic games, but Olympics experts are convinced that the news is looming over his upcoming appearance.

You knew better than to ask him outright about it because he definitely wouldn’t give you a straight answer. From watching his recent interviews, you realized that Joshua has a tendency to go into a subtle apathetic mood when the interviewer hits something he’s not comfortable with. You hope that you can breach the subject without things going completely south. This interview was supposed to hit some darker aspects of the state of Joshua’s career, but you never wanted to make him uncomfortable.

Other than those topics, anything else he wanted to divulge to you would be a bonus. You wanted him to have a reasonable amount of control over what would go into the interview, so you’re not opposed to adjusting your interview material if needed.

The thought of his reactions to your questions swarms your brain in a frenzy, but you know you’re getting ahead of yourself.

The flight lands without any problems and you’re still trying to figure your thoughts out by the time you’re picking up your suitcase from baggage claim.

You’re soon greeted by Joshua’s driver, a tall man who holds a sign with your name printed on it, nodding in affirmation when you confirm your identity with him. He’s distantly kind to you, but it’s enough to put you at ease for the moment. You’re escorted to a tinted black SUV with a gentle hand opening the back car door for you. Your suitcase is carefully stowed into the back of the truck while you click your seatbelt into place across your lap.

You don’t realize how tired you are until the car starts moving. You didn’t bother to orient yourself with the time once you got off the flight, but you figure it’s somewhere between late morning and early afternoon by the way the clouds create a gray atmosphere in the sky.

Nonetheless, looking out the window is enough to pull you into sleep, and you indulge yourself in a short nap, barely considering where you may be headed.

—

It turns out that Joshua wanted to meet you at his home rink first which explains why you were waking up to the sight of a massive stadium.

You were slightly annoyed that you weren’t at a stable location yet, your body started to feel vaguely sick at the constant movement of the car.

You’re grateful that the car stops for a moment, you’re hoping Joshua takes a bit longer than expected to come out of the rink so that your body can stop feeling off center.

Unfortunately, he’s quite prompt, you notice him walking out only a few minutes later. He’s accompanied by two other staff members, seemingly debriefing him on your arrival as you see one of them point to the car.

You suddenly feel acutely aware of how disheveled you look in your inconspicuous airport outfit, barely awake enough to make proper conversation with him.

He arrives at the other back car door quickly, opening it with a big smile.

“Y/N! Hi, I’m so happy to finally see you again,” He’s excited, settling into the backseat across from you, slightly more perky than you expected.

“Hi,” You wave back politely, pushing your voice up an octave to match his energy that is nearly impossible to replicate in your current mood.

“I’m sure you must be exhausted, it was a long flight wasn’t it?” His brows furrow slightly, and his concern is evident on his face.

“Yeah, I’m still pretty tired,” You offer him a halfhearted smile.

“Well, we can recover once we’re at my place. We’ll have time to catch up on everything,” He reassures you with a nod.

He notices you’re still out of it, so you don’t talk for the rest of the ride to his house.

Through heavy eyelids, you steal a few looks at him and he really is as pretty as you remember. His boyish features filled out his face much better now, although he was always handsome.

You’re not sure how long his practice day was, but it surely didn’t show in his features. He caught you looking at him only once, you tried to be discreet while he was looking at his phone, but he still saw you.

It seemed like he had a sixth sense to know when someone was looking at him which, if anything, made it a bit more embarrassing to get caught.

He let you off easy though, smiling at you before turning his attention back to his phone.

It was a tiny gesture, but it reminds you just how much he seems to notice you.

—

You wouldn’t say you’re best friends or anything, but talking to Joshua for an extended period of time has made you miss being around him in person. His energy has always been the same after so long.

“So you just casually stumbled into an interview with Dwayne the Rock Johnson?” He’s somehow fully astonished at your celebrity interview stories, you notice the sparkle in his eyes and his smile is radiant, but you think that’s just the alcohol creeping up on him.

You both agreed to a drink after coming back to the house, you chose wine while he opted for beer. This has made the mood considerably less awkward and you’re grateful that you both pushed past the mandatory small talk.

“Yeah, the interviewer before me canceled so I got more time with him than I intended. Then the whole viral interview video happened,” You wave your hand before taking another sip of your glass.

“You say that as if it’s normal,” He pushes his hair back, slightly exposing his forehead. That was surprising coming from him, considering that he is far more famous than you would ever be. Yet, you assume that it’s because he’s famous in a more traditional sense, so content creation was never a part of his job to begin with.

“Well, it is if you’re good at it, which I am,” You brag, receiving a hearty laugh from him.

“Look at you, big shot,” He playfully swats your arm. “You really made it, huh?” He’s fond, his glance is soft and yearning for more. It’s far too sentimental for where you wanted this to go tonight, but you play along for a moment.

“I did,” Your cheeks are slightly too warm as you avoid his eye contact with a small smile, but you still have control over yourself. You decide to take advantage of it.

“I want to get some stuff recorded for the interview if that’s okay?” You don’t know why you ask for permission to start interviewing, seeing as it’s the entire reason you’re here in the first place.

“That’s fine,” He straightens up a bit, he doesn’t seem too affected by the alcohol either which will make this a bit easier.

“We’ll keep it pretty light today, considering this is just the first day.”

“I’m good with that,” He chuckles lightly. You know he’s watching you struggle to figure out the best way to interview him. It’s too much effort to find your laptop which is somewhere tucked away in a carry-on bag, so you settle for your phone.

“Ok, so,” you fumble with your phone’s record button on the Voice Memos app for a moment, “tell me your general feelings about the Olympics coming up.”

“I’m excited, I missed being in full competition prep mode. It’s an indescribable feeling, but everything is coming together nicely which is all I can ask for on the 4th time around,” He had a vague joy in his eyes, but you didn’t want to scrutinize the answer just yet, it was only the first question.

“What does full competition prep mode look like for you?”

“My practice days are much longer than usual, so I’m in the rink most days from sunrise to sunset, if I can help it,” He smiles sheepishly. That charm seems like it’s going to seep through every response he gives you, so he can possibly get away with some things.

“What do you like to do to destress after such long practice days?”

His eyes light up at the idea and he readjusts his position on the couch. “I like taking a cold shower and catching up on reality TV, I honestly like anything trashy.”

You didn’t peg Joshua to be a reality TV person, but it’s the exact kind of pop culture talk that his fans will eat up.

“Okay, then which one do you prefer, The Bachelor or Love Island?” You ask curiously.

“Love Island, easily,” He replies immediately. He smirks and you nod in affirmation. You knew he had good taste, you figure you’d have to ask him about some other TV preferences later.

“Good, that was the right answer,” You shoot back. You decide to drink the rest of your wine instead of nursing it any longer.

“Asking the tough questions, clearly,” He’s way too smug about it and it makes you roll your eyes.

“Shut up, I told you we’re keeping it light! Unless you want to be asked about the future of your career while we drink,” Now it’s your turn to touch his arm, your hand intentionally doesn’t linger for too long though.

“I don’t, you’re right,” You know he’s not lying by the way he lets out a deep breath. There’s an unspoken tension at the thought of you bringing everything up.

“Okay, one more dumb non-skating question.”

“They’re not dumb,” He immediately catches your words and you blink at him, silently watching his face. He stares back, but his expression is slightly tender. Again, his face is almost too sweet for you to process. It threw you off this time though, so you have to look at the floor. You don’t even remember the question you meant to ask him, so you opt for a way out.

“Stop it.”

“What?” He genuinely looks confused, as if he’s not unconsciously doing the standard heartthrob boyfriend-esque banter.

“That was too nice,” You pick up your phone to stop the recording, still not facing him. Your body language is slightly more closed off.

“You act like you’ve never been complimented before,” He retorts.

You couldn’t say that it was different because he said it, you couldn’t give a shit if some random A-lister made you feel better about your work, but it was him.

“I’m not used to your compliments,” You indirectly emphasize him.

“Well, we’ll have to change that then,” He smirks.

That stirs something up in your chest, but you can’t quite name it. You decide it’s best to ignore it.

“Great. So are you gonna make me dinner or are we ordering somewhere?”

“I’m definitely not cooking,” He lets out a clipped laugh, shaking his head in disapproval. To be fair, he exerted more physical effort in a day than you’d do in an entire calendar year, so you weren’t exactly offended.

The night spun on with cheap pizza and varying levels of conversations. He even convinced you to watch Love Island, albeit one episode, until he decided he was too tired to continue.

He gives you a short tour of the guest room before retreating to his own room, and you finally get a moment to sit with your thoughts.

Joshua is friendlier than you expected and that was going to cause problems whether you liked it or not.

—

Although it was your first full day in town, the jetlag caught up with you almost immediately. Joshua mentioned last night that he would be at meetings throughout the afternoon, so you were grateful that you didn’t have to tag along.

Once you were thoroughly awake, you decided to investigate the house. As you suspected, it was far too big for him, especially considering he wasn’t home enough to enjoy it anyways.

The style of the house is typical celebrity fare, far too angular and minimalist for your taste. The shades of white, gray, and black that decorated his furniture and appliances were anything but inviting. It was all far too muted in your opinion and it made you miss the character of your apartment.

Besides a few framed photos of what you assume to be his family and friends along with some light decor, it looks like it could be plucked right off of a Zillow listing.

Even if you wanted to write some flowery prose about his house for the article, it leaves much to be desired.

“Are you settled in?” Your manager asks over the phone. She promised not to call you after this initial check in, but you figured she’d find other ways to be nosy about how things are going. She was a fan of Joshua, so her prying for extra details wouldn’t be completely unexpected.

“Yeah, everything’s been good,” You shared, completely nestled onto the couch with a blanket.

“How’s Joshua?” She inquires with a slight lilt.

“He’s doing well. We’ve already got some parts for the interview, but I haven’t seen him skate yet,” You recall the banter of last night with a small smile. You were both being friendly, it was completely harmless.

“Well, you still have a lot of time for that, but I’m glad you’ve made some progress. I’ll let you go, but let me know if you need anything.”

“I will,” You respond. You exchange goodbyes and go back to mindlessly scrolling on Twitter.

“Were you talking shit about me?” Joshua asks. You whip your head around to notice him watching you, completely unsuspecting in his business casual attire. You shriek in fear, clutching the blanket before reaching over to throw a pillow at his face. He narrowly avoids it with a massive grin on his face.

“Jesus, you scared the hell out of me,” You sigh, pressing a hand to your chest to check your racing pulse.

“I’m light on my feet.”

“Yeah, clearly,” You grumbled.

“You look very comfortable,” He teases, pointing to your current seating position with a chuckle. Your body is completely wrapped up minus your head. It probably looks quite funny by the way he bites his tongue with a childish smile.

“I am. How were the meetings?” You deflect the attention onto him instead.

“Productive,” He walks around to join you on the couch, landing next to you with a sigh.

“Anything worth breaking an NDA over?”

He rolls his eyes. “Absolutely not,” He scoffed.

“Worth a try,” You finally free your arms from the blanket, but you’re still wearing a hoodie.

“Why did you need the blanket if you’re wearing a hoodie?” He asks politely, pointing to your chest.

“I get cold easily!” You protest.

This oversized maroon hoodie was your signature writing piece, you absolutely needed to wear it for big projects or else you wrote pure shit.

You’ve had it since you started writing professionally, a random thrift store find that has given you incredible luck over the years. It’s helped you through many long nights of writing and editing throughout your career.

Thus, you put it on in an attempt to stir up some inspiration, but to no avail.

Joshua is charmed by this backstory though, nodding along with his head in the palm of his hand.

“You think it’s dumb,” You’re projecting onto him, without a doubt.

“No, it’s not! It’s actually very cute. You can wear it to the rink later.”

“We’re still doing that?” You grimace. He joked that he was going to take you out onto the ice, but doing it this early into the trip felt like overkill.

“Unfortunately, yes,” He pouts. “I’m forcing you out of the house so that you don’t steal my blankets.”

“Very rude.”

—

The rink is far bigger than you could’ve imagined. You haven’t been in many throughout your life, but since it functions partly as a stadium, it makes you feel even smaller.

He leads you to the check in booth to introduce you to the staff onsite for the day. If he’s coming to practice solo, he remarks that the employees only door is typically unlocked for him, and his suspicions are correct.

“Hey, man, it’s good to see you again,” Joshua embraces a taller man into a hug once he walks through the door. “Cheol, this is Y/N,” He glances between the two of you with a hopeful smile.

“Y/N, this is Seungcheol.”

“Hi,” You wave politely and everything starts to register for you. You’ve known of Seungcheol for a long time through Joshua’s social media, you knew they were longtime friends and Joshua was always open about being close with Seungcheol’s family.

“It’s nice to finally meet you. Josh has told me a lot about you, you’re always a hot topic around here,” Seungcheol smirks to Joshua’s dismay.

“Not in a bad way, everybody loves your writing,” Joshua tries to diffuse the tension with a short smile.

“Is Sumin here?” He switches the topic completely, looking around to the back door for any sign of life.

“Yeah, she’s just with her mom. I’ll go get her,” Seungcheol replies before heading further back into the venue.

It’s another minute or two before he comes back with a toddler in his arms, her eyes lighting up at the sight of Joshua. She squirms in Seungcheol’s hold until he puts her down, and she takes off running until Joshua catches her in his arms.

“Joshie,” she screams into his ear. He spins her around for a moment until she’s giggling uncontrollably. It was absolutely adorable, it even got a smile out of you.

“Hi Minnie, how are you?” He’s beaming from ear to ear at her.

“Good,” she nods decisively. He points to you before introducing you to her.

“That’s Y/N. She’s a good friend of mine, can you say hi?” He coaxes her with a gentle voice.

“Hi,” She waves and Joshua is celebrating her again with a small kiss on the cheek. He seems like such a natural with her, it’s as if she’s his own daughter.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you,” You wave back and she offers you a shy smile.

“I have to go, but I’ll just be skating out there with Y/N, okay?” He reassures her with a sweet pat to her hair before handing her off to Seungcheol.

She puts her head on Seungcheol’s shoulder with another nod. “Out there,” she points to the ice.

“Yep. Be good for dad, I’ll see you later,” He winks at her before leading you both out to the ice.

Your heart is warm from the entire interaction. He sits down on the bleachers and you land next to him, silently placing his duffel bag onto the ground.

He unzips it to reveal your skates. He ordered them before you arrived, promising that he would get you to skate at some point during the trip. You just didn’t predict it would be this early on.

“How old is she?” You asked, toeing off your sneakers before putting on the skates one at a time.

“Two,” He smiles fondly at the thought of her. “Cheol and his wife are such good parents, they were worried about being too young but they’re perfect to her.”

“So you’re her godfather, I assume?”

“Is it that obvious?” He scrunches his face. He turns his attention to his skates for a moment, quickly lacing them up and tightening them. You didn’t even notice him taking off his other shoes.

“Yeah, you definitely gave off dad vibes, but it was sweet.”

“Him and his family have done so much for me, I couldn’t say no. I also helped him ask out his wife on their first date, so it was inevitable,” He pushes his hair out of his face with a grin.

“They helped you adjust here, right?”

“Yeah, I’ll always be grateful for them. It started with discounted rental fees because I couldn’t afford to use the space, so I owe a lot to them. I pay them back in any way I can,” He nodded solemnly.

He has a deep sense of gratitude that is admirable, it makes you wonder what it’s like to be so deeply initiated into someone’s life that there’s no question if you’ll be there forever, it’s just a matter of what role you’ll play.

It made sense that Joshua knew the place so intimately, he was clearly a member of Seungcheol’s family. He grew up in this rink, watched his friends grow and start their families. It was a safe haven.

“Are you ready to skate?”

“Barely.”

“That’s the spirit,” He rubs your shoulder before standing up. You also stand up, albeit far more slowly, facing toward the ice.

You’ve gone ice skating multiple times in your life, but not enough to remember anything past the basics. You step onto the ice, but you already feel like the surface is going to give out any second.

Joshua notices you start to flail and rushes to place a protective arm around your waist. “Are you okay?”

“No,” You squeeze your eyes shut and are already considering admitting defeat. The idea of voluntarily skating with an Olympic gold medalist had to be the worst idea you’ve had in a long time.

“Do you want me to get you the walker?” He asks sweetly. There’s absolutely no malice there, but it still feels slightly patronizing.

“Joshua, that’s not funny,” You whine, anxiously looking down at your skates.

“I’m not joking, I’m just giving you options!”

“No, I don’t need it. I just got nervous,” You reassure yourself. That was the truth, it was mostly the shock of being on the ice again after such a long time.

“Ok, so if I let go, you’ll be fine?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, I’m letting go. Just bend your knees if you think you’re gonna fall,” He slowly moves away from you, looking expectantly to see how you’ll fare on your own. His advice works and you find your balance without too much effort. You do remember how to move forward on skates, so you decide to impress him a bit.

You move easily, pushing your back leg out and to the side before alternating legs, making your way across the ice without much issue. He is visibly impressed, gasping at you with his arms crossed.

“You’re so good! I thought you were a beginner,” He praises you while skating over to your side.

“I am! I don’t know anything other than this.”

“That’s fine, then we can just expand on that skill today. Nothing crazy, I promise,” He calms your nerves with a gentle hand on your shoulder.

The skill in question is extending the standard forward movements into drawn out strokes, so it appears as though you’re gliding instead of walking on the ice. You would leave that back leg out for longer periods to create a more elegant appearance when you move forward. When he demonstrates the move, you’re mesmerized. No matter how many times you’ve seen him do the same moves, there’s still an enchanting quality to his skating.

He can elevate any move without much effort, but that is clearly from years worth of work and persistence into making his moves clean.

Joshua is an incredibly patient teacher, far more than you expected. There’s absolutely no frustration when you make a mistake, just a quiet encouragement to keep going.

When you unexpectedly lose your balance, he’s making sure you fall backwards so as to not injure your hands. When you’re visibly frustrated, he lets you take a break for a few minutes to regroup. There’s a level of care you didn’t expect, but then again, it’s Joshua. He couldn’t ignore your requests for help even if he wanted to.

You’re not ready to do full out spins or jumps yet, but you are instilled with a new confidence that you can at least try something new without getting immediately discouraged.

“Are you good with finishing up there?”

“Yeah, I feel good. I do need something from you, though.”

“And what is that?”

“Your best jump.”

“Best jump?” He looks back at the ice before facing you again, seemingly considering all his options. Despite all of your years of supporting him, you still didn’t know the difference between the jumps, but you figure it’s best not to ask for more explanation than this.

“Pretty please?” You flash a smile that he can’t deny. He lets out a quiet laugh and his eyes search the ground for a moment before he nods.

“Okay, I’ll do a quadruple jump combo, but only because you asked so nicely,” He sighs, squaring his shoulders for a moment.

“I appreciate it a lot,” You amp up the compliments in hopes that he doesn’t change his mind.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say,” He skates away from you to find a solid starting position. You move to a corner wall to observe and stay out of the way.

He takes a deep breath before starting his entrance, snapping through both jumps with ease. He landed evenly, coming out into a pose for you, his arms pointed up with flair before putting them down again.

“Very impressive,” You compliment him.

“It was, wasn’t it?” His breathing is a bit uneven once he comes up to you again. You smile at his cockiness, but it’s well earned.

He restrains himself from practicing any further or else he’ll be here for hours on end, but that’s not too different from most days. He tells you this is one of his shorter visits, somehow being here for under 3 hours is an accomplishment worth celebrating.

You both say goodbye to Seungcheol and Sumin before heading out to his car. You climb into the passenger seat while he adjusts his seatbelt. He decides to let you interview him while he’s driving although you were fine with waiting until you were back at his home.

“So this current practice routine is the most intense level you’ve been at in the past 4 years?”

“Yeah, I slowly had to work it up to this point after the injury. It was almost painful to slow down that much, but I needed to,” He focuses on the road while responding. You’ve opted for writing notes on your phone and recording at the same time.

“How did it initially feel for you to go through it?”

“I hated it. I didn’t break my ankle normally either, so it wasn’t just the typical advice of staying off your ankle for 8 weeks. It took so much longer than everyone anticipated and I had to genuinely stop everything I was doing,” He tightens his grip on the steering wheel to your slight shock.

“I’m sure it was frustrating to not be able to enjoy that podium moment either.”

“Right, it was as if I didn’t even make the podium. I got 3rd place, but it was so excruciating to even be up there, I didn’t feel like I earned it,” He looks visibly upset just recounting it to you. It hurts to hear just how insecure he became afterwards. In hindsight, it makes sense that he didn’t want to spend time discussing it. Back then, the radio silence just made you hope that he was taking care of himself, not feeling pressured to keep anyone updated. Why would he want to constantly relive and dissect that kind of trauma?

“Do you ultimately want to redeem that moment?”

“I hope so. There’s always pressure to constantly outdo yourself, but I just want to finish the routines safely. That’s all I want,” He nods solemnly and you automatically believe him. Although he’s safely finished the other competitions within a season, there’s still an underlying fear of things going wrong at the worst possible moment.

“From what I saw today, you’re being careful,” You assure him. It’s not wrong to say that either, especially when he was helping you with the execution of the moves earlier. When he was done showing you a certain idea, he didn’t linger in the pose too long at all. It felt like he was overly cautious if anything, but you didn’t want to shift the mood too drastically.

“That’s from all the paranoia, trust me. I don’t want to feel afraid to compete, I want to break out of that habit,” He finally glances at you for a moment.

You’re grateful that he seems to echo your internal sentiment. There was never an air of hesitation around his skating, he was always quite self-assured in himself, but you both know that never conquering your fears could indefinitely stunt your growth. He obviously needed as long as possible to rebuild his self image and confront his fears.

“For what it’s worth, I think you’ll find that courage again,” You place a hand on his shoulder. The tension settles almost immediately at your touch.

“You think so?”

“I know you will. It’s either that or withdrawing from the Olympics which just sounds like a lot of paperwork, honestly,” You joke.

“You’re right, it’s a shit ton of paperwork,” He giggles and readjusts his hands on the wheel again.

You knew that last part wouldn’t be used for your final work, but it’s nice to hear him joke about it all. You liked being there for him as a friend, even if you’d never know exactly what it’s like to be in his position. He deserves that kind of empathy that’s not hollow or backhanded, you figure that’s the least you could do for him while being here.

You could finally even out the foundation of friendship in this way, silently repairing all the mistakes you’ve made in the past in regards to your relationship.

He’s able to talk a bit more about his recovery before the end of the drive and you feel satisfied by the end of the night. Over dinner, it feels like everything is evolving, not just the article itself. He’s opened himself up a bit further and you’d like to treasure that.

—

“You don’t have to stay the entire time, you know that right?” He turns his glance toward you away from the ice with a smirk playing on his lips.

The infamous 12-hour practice day had arrived, and you were dreading it the most out of the week’s schedule. Yet, you were committed to being as involved in his daily life as possible, despite your natural aversion to waking up at dawn. You didn’t want to be one of those writers that holed up in their hotel room to write their assigned article. It was typically out of your control how much time you were allowed to spend with a subject, but if given the option to spend more time with them, you wanted to take it.

Since it was Joshua, you still felt obliged to play catch up on spending time with him in any way you could, even if it meant watching him from the bleachers for an entire work day. Plus, you were already at the rink this early, there was no use in leaving to do touristy things alone when you didn’t necessarily want to do that anyways.

“I know, but I want to,” You retorted. He gives you that “you’re gonna eat your words” look, but he still accepts your answer.

“Are you still up to be interviewed once you’re done practicing?”

“Yeah, I should be good,” He takes a deep breath once he replies, seemingly preparing himself for the painstakingly long day ahead of him.

“Okay, I’ll leave you to it then,” You wave at him and he returns it immediately. You head up the bleachers to find a good seat, ending up somewhere towards the lower half of the seating. You wanted to be in a good position where you could view the full scope of his skating, but also capture the details of his face. Your position ends up being perfect, it makes watching him even more fascinating.

He does most of his stretches further away from you, so you’re caught craning your neck to see him. His muscles are well defined, a fact that you’ve been trying to ignore as the bulk of his arms seem to fight against the sleeves of his shirt as he stretches his limbs above his head.

His warm-up is calm yet still dynamic to watch. His jumps are so effortless that your head spins just thinking about the physics of jumping up into a spin and somehow not falling on your ass as you land.

Yet, he lands them perfectly every time. You know that’s not possible, that there’s probably some small tweak he’d make to the way he entered a jump or a correction he’d make to the angle of his landing, but you were fine living in ignorant bliss of the technical aspects of his skating.

You wanted yourself to enjoy being a spectator, to not fixate on every single detail, and simply enjoy an elite athlete being good at their sport.

He takes a small breather but soon goes into his assumed short program. Most diehard Olympics fans would kill to see even a glimpse of his routines for the impending games, but like any other figure skater, the details are carefully kept under lock and key until the competition begins.

You try to savor the image of him without the full theatrics of the actual performance, and the sight of him is enchanting.

His short program music is a bombastic and dynamic classical piece that forces you to focus on every detail of the performance. It’s a triumphant number, one that exudes the confidence and charisma of an experienced skater that knows the nuances of the song like the back of their hand. You decide that it suits him perfectly as he expresses the power of the song through cutthroat expressions and sharp movements.

After running through the full routine a few times, you notice him stop to take an extended break. He skates back to your side of the rink with a smile on his face.

“Falling asleep yet?” He jokes.

“Not yet,” you return the smile, your cheeks practically hurt just looking at him. It’s nearly impossible to avoid watching him, he’s always had this magnetic charm on the ice that makes him hard to ignore.

“Good, I haven’t bored you yet. How’s the writing coming?”

You glance at your laptop on the seat next to you, accompanied by scattered papers on top of the keyboard. The writing was mostly on pause considering the unusual environment, you didn’t ever write with the same classical song blasting in your ears on repeat.

Also, he was skating, so every time you thought you got into a good rhythm with writing, your eyes drifted back to him gliding across the ice. The sound of his skates hitting the ice was hard to ignore.

“It’s coming,” You lie easily. A quick tilt of his head signals that he knows you’re bluffing.

“Lots of strategizing, huh?” He doesn’t let on though, pointing at your notes instead and you’re nodding slowly.

“You’re not an easy person to write about,” You give him a pointed look and he’s grinning.

“So I’ve heard,” You’re glad he has some level of self-awareness. You’re not trying to give writers who are purposefully uninformed about his career when tasked to write a meaningful piece about him any credit, but he was a somewhat difficult subject.

Not in the traditional ways, of course, he’s not storming out of interviews over small details, but he’s so polished that it’s impossible to get much depth out of him beyond his typical media-trained answers.

You always heard the same things about him from other entertainment writers. He was perfectly kind and respectful to work with, but you would have to try especially hard to break him out of his mold.

Even if you felt that you knew him, you didn’t really know him at all.

The thought sits in the back of your mind like an unwanted guest.

“That means you actually have to keep giving me something to work with,” You sigh, gesturing your hands out toward him.

“We’ll see,” He playfully eyes you up and down, but it has a serious undertone. You’ve made some good progress, but you didn’t want to torture him for details. It wasn’t worth being invasive of his boundaries just to make a better article.

He skates off without another word and he’s back in the throes of practicing the routine. After a bit more technical work on the short program, he moves on to the free program.

The music is drastically calmer, it creates a stark contrast to his first routine. It’s still classical, you’d have to inquire exactly what track it was, but the mood of the piece was much lighter. It was smart of him to represent the full duality of his skating abilities.

His movements are almost fairylike, his delicate spins are effortless to watch. This doesn’t undercut the power of his jumps though, still as dramatic as ever. This routine contains far more quadruple jumps than the short program, likely in an effort to show off his technical prowess.

He wasn’t called the “technical prince” for nothing. It’s a nickname that’s been floating around the fandom since your early blog days, first used when fans noticed that young Joshua’s technical scores at competitions were almost always perfect. It’s followed him for years, evolving to show how clean his technique is.

He’s the textbook example of a good figure skater.

Once he finishes the routine, you can tell his stamina is reasonably depleted. From your occasional glances, you can tell it’s quite taxing to do multiple quadruple jump combinations in a row, yet he pulls it off every time.

The rest of the day consisted of him alternating between the routines, cleaning up details that he wasn’t happy with, and practicing the execution of his moves until he finally seemed satisfied with them. After a while, you figure you can’t write much else for this portion of the article without interviewing him again, so you settle further into the unforgivingly cold seats to watch him intently.

“Y/N!” He calls your name suddenly, waving his hand from across the rink.

“What?”

“It’s time to go home,” He beckons his hand for you to come toward him. You don’t hesitate to pack your laptop and assorted notes back into your purse, rushing over to meet up with him on his side of the rink. You don’t exactly know how to process being included in the concept of his home, even though you know it’s a harmless statement.

By the time you reach the other side, he’s already taken his skates off and replaced them with sneakers, his leg anxiously bouncing up and down as he watches you come over. He’s sat toward the end of the bleachers and you can sense that his body is ready to get moving.

“I just have to get a few things from the locker room and I’ll be ready to go. Do you want to go back there with me?” He looks toward the lengthy hallway behind him before looking back at you in anticipation. You didn’t go the first day he invited you to the rink out of an abundance of caution, mostly for your own heart’s sake.

You could keep yourself under control watching him collect his things, right?

“Yeah, I’ll go,” You nod decisively. He gets up and leads you through the hallway until you arrive at a private locker room, the door is adorned with a small nameplate with his name on it. He downplays how fancy it actually is, but it feels like a miniature hotel suite. In addition to the dressing room itself, it also contains a full private bathroom and sizable closet.

“Damn,” you mutter under your breath, looking around the room and taking in the full scope of it.

“Yeah, it’s pretty nice,” He adds. You’re still looking around and trying not to touch anything in fear of breaking something.

You turn around to voice your opinions, but you notice something else.

Joshua is shirtless. You weren’t exactly objectifying him, but it was definitely hard to not look at him. He’s taking a moment to wipe off the sweat across his chest, it feels a bit pornographic to keep looking at that point. The next time you look, he thankfully has a shirt on so your cheeks can stop fully burning at the sight of him.

He doesn’t notice your stare, but you do observe the shirts that fall to the floor when Joshua accidentally knocks his duffel bag onto the ground.

“I’ve got it,” You chirp, already reaching down to pick everything up.

“It’s okay,” Joshua hurriedly shoulders the bag back onto the bench, double checking that it’s not hanging off precariously like last time.

Your heads both come up at the same time, your faces only a few inches away from each other.

“Are you gonna move?” You inquire quietly. He stares back, obviously in no rush to fold. His glance is tempting, everything about him is tempting.

“Do you want me to move?” He counters.

Shit.

You didn’t want him to at all, the idea of him walking away makes you want to scream. The tension has been mounting the past few days whether you wanted to admit it or not. At first, you chalked it up to him just being a gentleman, but there was always a hint of something else there. His politeness toward his staff was completely different to the kindness he offered you.

The lingering glances on you when he’s cooking, his particularly fond smiles while you talk about something, and the soft touches all add up in your brain.

Now that you were in a different setting, it was crystal clear to you. If there was ever a sign, this was it.

“No,” You shake your head.

“Can I?” He asks and your heart has already melted into a puddle. No one ever asks you for a kiss. You’re not sure if you would’ve rejected him to begin with, but the tenderness leaves you enthralled.

You nod and he meets your lips with ease. He tastes better than you could’ve ever imagined. It doesn’t take long for you to move further into the kiss, pushing your tongue into his mouth. He accepts you and naturally picks up the pace, capturing your lips over and over again leaving you few chances to catch your breath.

“Shit,” You step back first and he’s clearly confused.

“Are you ok? We don’t have to do this,” His voice is far too worried for what you’re actually thinking about, poor thing.

“No, I’m fine, I just remembered that I didn’t get to interview you,” You pout. You genuinely feel guilty for not mentioning it before the lust took over your mind, but it still needed to get off your chest.

“That’s okay, we can just do it here,” He reassures you with a nod.

“No,” you caress his arm, “not here.”

It clicks once you start running your hand up and down his bicep, eventually resting your palm on the side of his neck. The gesture is enough to make him arrange his bag faster than you’ve seen him move the entire trip.

—

“God, you taste so fucking good,” Joshua moans into your ear, momentarily taking his lips off yours to catch his breath. You can’t even form sentences at this point, only quiet moans that show your dissolving restraint. He can tell you’re getting tired of holding back too, in fact it seems to bother him quite a bit.

“I wanna hear you,” He whispers again, he suddenly nips your ear in retaliation for being quiet.

It forces a whiny moan out of your throat, it’s embarrassing to bend so easily to him but his quiet humming on your neck is enough indication to you that he’s satisfied.

He insisted on driving you both home and for good reason, he was so helplessly horny that he couldn’t keep his hand off your thigh for the entire drive home. You felt him snake his hand underneath your skirt, but he didn’t go much further than that, his thumb idly rubbing circles on your inner thigh.

The moment you both walked inside the house, Joshua couldn’t contain himself at all against your lips, thus you were barely standing up against the door.

“Josh, please,” you breathe out. Your voice is weak, you can’t even pretend to have your guard up anymore.

“What’s up?” He barely gets it out before his lips are on yours again. You whimper into the kiss again, tapping your hands against his chest to get his attention. You manage to pull away to speak up.

“Please tell me you’re not gonna fuck me against the door,” You pant, looking up at him with a smirk.

He takes a deep breath and tilts his head to look at you intently. You almost think he’s angry until he suddenly picks you up bridal style, ignoring your startled scream with a smile.

He leads you upstairs into his bedroom and tosses you on the bed lightly, you lean back onto your elbows as he inches closer to you.

“You’re so fucking impatient, you know that?” He giggles at you, hands slowly prying open your thighs with gentle hands. You try not to hold your breath in anticipation, but the touch of his fingertips against your skin is already driving you insane.

“You made us rush home because you swore that you needed to get more material for the interview,” He speaks in a low tone, sliding his hands underneath your skirt again, but his hands stop at your hips, massaging the fabric of your underwear.

“I did, I mean, I do,” You stutter out, making eye contact with him. He laughs at your attempt to be coherent and hooks his fingers under both sides of your underwear. He decides to slip the entirety of his hands underneath, seizing your hips with outstretched palms. He yanks you down the bed in one swift movement, making you gasp.

“You kept teasing me with this skirt, ignoring me and acting like you weren’t already soaked for me back at the rink,” He palms the front of your cunt, confirming how desperate you’ve been for him. It makes you shudder and squeeze your eyes closed.

“No no no, baby, keep your eyes open. You’re gonna interview me right now,” He nods at you and your heart drops to your stomach. You’re already somewhat close to cumming, you’re convinced that a single touch to your clit would send you over the edge.

How the hell were you meant to interview him like this?

“Fuck,” You whine, hips already lifting off the bed to gain more friction.

“I know, honey, you have to focus. Can you do that or do you need my cock that badly?” He teases you with lustful eyes and you clench your jaw. You’re determined to prove him wrong, so you put your energy into contemplating a question to start with.

“I can focus, asshole,” You begrudgingly shift your hips to give him better access. You shake your head and come up with a question on the spot, eyes trained on his expectantly.

“What’s a common misconception about your public persona that you hate?” Your voice holds steady and he slides your underwear off quickly.

He hums to himself for a moment, deciding to graze a finger lazily against your folds. “I’m not a people pleaser or a pushover. People think me being a gentleman means I take all kinds of shit, but I don’t,” He slips two fingers into your core, a light smile plays on his lips when he feels you clench around him.

“So you think people in the industry look down on you for that?” You hear your voice lilt for a second as he finds a steady rhythm, curling his fingers instinctively. Your hips are rocking subtly and he clocks this immediately, he moves to cage you between his legs.

“I know they do,” He confirms with a lift of his eyebrows, “especially when I was younger. It fucked with my mentality a lot, but I know better now,” He adds when he sees your pout. He moves up to your chest, tugging your shirt up slightly. He moves back to let you take off your top and bra, but his fingers are still expertly moving inside your walls. The sound of your wetness is absolutely stealing your focus, especially when Joshua decides to force his fingers inside you even harder with low grunts.

He’s an absolute menace, you’re sure of it.

You only nod to his answer, but he disapproves at your silence. “Come on, you know the rules,” He moves up to capture your nipple in his mouth, eliciting soft moans out of you. Your orgasm is definitely on the horizon, the coil in the pit of your stomach is tightening with every bite to your chest.

“So I assume you channel a lot of frustration into your-” He hits your g-spot particularly hard, you let out a strangled cry that forces a tear down your cheek. You clamp a hand over your mouth, but Joshua is already pushing it off your face to leave a peck on your lips.

“Your skating, shit,” You whisper, you force his head back down to meet your lips in a heated kiss. Your tongue enters his mouth with no hesitation and he returns the kiss just as eagerly. He pulls back after a few seconds and leaves a kiss on your cheek.

“Definitely. People can say whatever they want about me, but I know I’m talented. I don’t have to resort to making shit up about my competitors to compensate for a lack of talent,” He laughs at the idea of being that desperate for attention. It makes your walls flutter around his fingers.

“You like it when I hype myself up, huh?” You watch him move to the crook of your neck, biting down hard on an exposed part of your skin.

“Yes, yes yes,” You slur out, eyes fluttering shut. He giggles at your temporary lack of attention before kissing across your jaw. He retreats back down to your thighs again, placing a finger against your clit.

“One more question and you can cum, I promise,” He nods at you and you return it after a moment, but it’s going to be an uphill battle to arrange your mushy brain into a proper thought.

“Do you think you’re the best figure skater in the world?” You sigh into the air, eyes rolling to the back of your head in frustration. It’s an absolutely loaded question, but you know his ego is massive right now since you’re in the palm of his hands.

His fingers still, the pressure remains deep in your core and he runs his free hand through his hair. The whole act would be far sexier than it already is if you weren’t seconds away from covering his fingers in cum.

He laughs quietly before speaking up again. “I do. We both know I am,” His voice is far too cocky for his own good. His stare is stone cold, he holds so much control over you that it’s almost unbearable.

“Now cum,” His nonchalance sends you over the edge instantly. Your high pitched moan goes completely silent, your mouth agape while your neck tilts back in an effort to regain control. Joshua slips his fingers out and moves up to your face, pressing them gently on your bottom lip. You suck them off immediately and watch him coo at you. “Good job, baby. Ready for anything else?”

“Can I take a nap?” You furrow your eyebrows at him, heart full of malice for his unexpectedly great oral skills, yet he’s still smitten with you.

Honestly, Joshua Hong was always gonna be great in bed. It’s not like you didn’t fantasize about having sex with him over the years, but you didn’t expect the prophecy to fulfill itself this easily.

Somehow, he got you all whiny and pliant when you didn’t expect it at all. It was annoying how well he could please you. You were slightly tired, but you didn’t want him to be a cocky shit on top of you again just yet. You needed to recover.

“Sure,” He finally got off the bed, presumably to help you clean up and your suspicions were correct when he returned a minute later with a damp washcloth. You started to sit up, but he made you lie down again.

Who were you to fight Joshua when he offered to tend to your shaking thighs and messy cunt? It was the least he could do after making you work for your orgasm.

—

The next morning, you’re shocked that Joshua is in bed next to you. He was always up and moving pretty early, deep into his morning routine while you were barely conscious.

You, on the other hand, were trying to treat this week partially as a vacation. When Joshua wanted to bring you along to his private schedules, you were still insistent on taking your time to get ready, much to his dismay.

Thus, you were grateful that he could actually slow down for one day while you were here. As your eyes adjusted to the sunlight filtering through the curtains, you realized this was the rest day placed onto his schedule for the week.

You look over to his sleeping form and realize that you’re deeply entangled with his body. Although you’re lying flat on your back, his head is tucked in the crook of your neck. You don’t dare to move your arms or legs though, as his body keeps you essentially trapped into place next to him.

Your minimal movements still stir him awake.

“Hi,” you whisper. He’s still forcing himself into consciousness, but he waves at you. You sit in silence for a few minutes, silently waking each other up with random touches on each other’s face or arms.

“We had sex three times last night, correct?” You ask out of the blue. He’s visibly confused at your sudden line of questioning.

“Not even a good morning?” He mutters, letting out a big yawn immediately after.

“No. I wanna know because I know you remember.”

“After that first part? I’m pretty sure it was three,” His voice is slightly hesitant, but you trust his answer considering he was dominant the entire time. You also wanted to know because it was becoming increasingly harder to deny how much you like him.

You have to admit, it was nice being able to have him like this, to watch him rub the sleep out of his eyes and cuddle without questioning if he wanted you back. He clearly did, even if his pride wouldn’t let himself say it. It was a matter of who would crack first, now that you’ve established the fact that you have undeniable sexual chemistry.

“How did you get me to go three more times?” This question is especially pertinent now that your muscles felt the aches to match that number. You can barely sit up against the headboard without wincing.

“You asked me to,” He put his hands up in defense.

You now remember that you did ask to keep going. The first time was standard, being called a cockslut during the second round made you go feral enough for a third, and the absolute filth of the last round knocked you out completely.

You were fucked, considering that you didn’t want to have sex with anyone else but only had access to said person for a few more days.

“Right,” You sigh.

“What are you planning to do today?”

“I’m gonna edit the article a bit, I’ve been putting it off. What about you?”

“Chores. I need to get a lot of things done, but remind me to run you a bath at some point today. Your muscles hurt, right?” He’s already out of the bed, stretching his arms above his head.

“Yeah, but I don’t-”

“No, I’m running you a bath. Us, technically since my muscles hurt too,” He raises his eyebrows at the thought of pampering himself, but he’s still insistent on the idea.

“Fine,” You bite back the rest of your response and he picks up on it immediately.

“No rebuttal?”

“No,” You pout, jutting your lip out to garner some kind of sympathy. He falls for it, approaching the bed again.

He leans down to leave a chaste kiss on your lips, his mouth naturally moving up to kiss your cheek as well.

“I promise it’ll be worth it, you’ll feel a lot better,” He softens his delivery for you and it barely hurts once he pulls away. He’s had that effect on you lately, his affection so irresistible that even the worst news has a slightly sweet aftertaste coming from him.

“Come on,” He taps his side of the bed to coax you up, and you slowly follow him.

The encouragement works though, as you’re both propelled into a productive afternoon. Joshua gets all of his chores done, somehow doing three loads of laundry and other assorted tasks while you’re editing.

Meanwhile, you’re firmly planted on the couch, trying to make the interview sound cohesive. You don't need to fully edit while you’re on the trip, that’s not even possible with what you have, but you wouldn’t feel right just leaving the entire process until you arrived home.

Joshua gives you an adequate amount of space, only stopping you to make sure you ate lunch or took a break from looking at your laptop screen.

They were welcome distractions, truly. If the process of trying to capture Joshua accurately in the article didn’t make any sense, it was nice to know the real Joshua was somewhere flitting around the house doing the dishes or vacuuming the living room.

Plus, it was nice to paint domestic scenes about him in your mind.

Joshua doesn’t take breaks much at all, this has been true for his entire career. He’s always competing, always performing, always doing someone a favor by being a guest of honor or special performer. It was nice to see him just exist, to fret over if he had enough laundry detergent for his next load and watch him sort his white clothes from his colorful wardrobe.

You wonder if these moments add up for him too, if he craves this kind of quiet domesticity at times.

He places a gentle hand on your shoulder and you look up at him.

“Can we take a bath now? Is it a bad time?” He worries, but you’re ready to pause.

“No, I’m ready,” You confirm. He helps you off the couch with a steady hand. You walk side by side on the way up the staircase this time, arms linked with hands untouched.

His master bathroom is just as simplistically ornate as you figured it would be. The bathtub overlooks the backyard, displaying a gorgeous view of the city skyline right above the trees.

The sun was about to set, so the view was even more picturesque than you could’ve imagined.

Throughout the day, your aches have been pressing at the back of your brain, interrupting your thought process multiple times, so much so that you don’t know why you fought him against this in the first place.

He opts for picking the right temperature for the water while he leaves you to pick out a calming scent to include in the bath.

You pick an expensive looking lavender bubble bath and he smiles when you place the bottle in his hands.

“I’ve been meaning to use this one, actually,” His eyes light up.

“Sure you have,” You sit down next to him, placing your head on his shoulder. You both observe the water slowly filling up the tub, he silently squeezes the bottle under the running water before retreating once the bubbles start to spread throughout the surface.

You both sit in silence just watching the water fill up, the sound of the faucet echoing throughout the room. Once the tub becomes noticeably fuller, he adds more bubble bath until the top is visibly covered with bubbles.

He insists on getting in first, stripping his clothes easily before settling into the tub slowly. You can already see the tension leave his muscles, especially on his face. His jaw loosens and he takes a deep breath.

He opens one eye and giggles when he sees you hesitate to enter. “Come on, I don’t bite,” He reassures you.

You move to take your clothes off in a few quick movements. He watches you with adoration, as if he’s never seen you naked before and he’d like to take it all in for a moment. Stepping into the tub isn’t too difficult, but when he suddenly pulls your waist down, the splashing startles you.

“Josh, you’re gonna get water everywhere,” you whine.

“You’re supposed to be relaxing, remember?” He pulls you flush against his chest. He punctuates his question with kisses behind your ear.

Right. You force yourself to take a breath and settle into his skin.

You know your skin is littered with light bruises from the night before and he seems to notice this, his hand silently tracing over the red marks before stopping near your collarbone.

Once he stops moving and you stop overthinking, the silence is perfect.

It’s not entirely silent, there’s still the hum of the overhead fan creating ambiance, but the dim lights pull you into the fantasy of it all.

You realize that you haven’t felt this peaceful in a long time. Perhaps it’s his presence or the fact that you haven’t sat in silence on your own in so long, but you want it more often.

You want him to envelop your life with his gentle reminders and caring gazes, silently telling you that there’s no point in working yourself to death if there’s no life for you to live outside of that.

“Joshua?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you ever want your career to slow down?”

He sighs so deeply that you feel it in your chest. “Is this off the record?”

“Yeah.”

“Then yes. I want to slow down so badly, it feels like my body is fighting back against how much I work sometimes,” His response is slightly pained, adjusting his body underneath you.

You pause for a few moments before speaking up again. “What’s stopping you?”

“I don’t-,” He hesitates.

“It’s okay,” Your voice mirrors the softness that he’s given you throughout the day. He gathers his thoughts for a second before trying again.

“I don’t know who I am as a person if I don’t work. This has been my entire life, if I get a few days to myself I feel like I’m going insane,” He sounds so tired of keeping up the charade, tired of being everyone’s perfect gentleman, just tired of it all.

“Have you told your team?”

“Yeah. After this Olympics cycle, I’m pulling back. I need to before it’s too late, you know?”

“Absolutely. I don’t want you to burn out even more.”

“I’ve been burnt out for ages, so what’s a little bit longer,” He chuckles bitterly. It felt like a poor response the moment you said it, but something in you hoped it wasn’t wrong to be concerned.

“So you’re gonna do the charity skate tomorrow even though you’re burnt out,” You predict.

“I mean, yeah, the skating itself isn’t the problem. I love performing, I’m just not built to keep going without consistent breaks anymore,” He reasoned.

It made complete sense knowing how quickly his career ascended once he entered the elite circuit. He hasn’t left the top 10 of the World Standings since his first full elite competition season which is incredibly hard for anyone to keep up throughout their career.

It’s no wonder that he’s tired of keeping an unmanageable pace.

“I’m sorry,” You whisper. You don’t know what else to say. What could you even tell him?

“Please, it’s not your fault.”

“Do you want me to put this in the interview? Or just write some filler paragraph about it?” You giggle through the last question and he's amused as well.

“Filler, please. I’m confident you won’t make me sound like a dick,” He plants a kiss on your cheek as a silent thank you.

“I promise I won’t.”

“I am excited for the show tomorrow though,” He shifts the conversation and it’s a welcome change.

“Anything fun planned for your number?” You asked.

From what you’ve read, Joshua’s rink held the annual charity skate event in order to honor the professional skaters who train in their facilities, allowing them space to perform routines that they may not have had the chance to otherwise. Notoriously, skaters were extremely flashy with their songs and costumes since there was significant creative freedom.

“Not really, it’s nostalgic of my old numbers.”

“Will I remember it?”

“Definitely, it made your ranking of my best performances forever ago,” His laugh vibrates through your body.

“That list definitely holds up, by the way,” You defend your teenage choices blindly, you definitely hadn’t seen it since you posted it, but it’s nice that he actually remembered some of the content you posted.

“I know you’ll love it,” He presses a long kiss on your cheek once again, but lingers against your face this time.

You’re back to silence again for a few minutes.

“I’m sorry it’s been so long since we’ve seen each other,” You apologized. You can sense that he’s already shaking his head no at your words before you can finish your sentence.

“It’s just as much my fault as it’s yours.”

“You know I was avoiding you, though,” You clarified.

“I noticed that,” You could tell that he was smiling through the response, it makes your cheeks burn.

“I was definitely doing the same though,” He immediately follows it up. In all honesty, it was a relief that both of you decided to bury yourselves in shaping your respective careers. You were unintentionally coping in the same ways, silently hoping the other person was making better choices.

Alas, you were too similar for that to be true.

“But you know what?”

“Hm?”

“I’m really proud of you. I haven’t told you that enough and I feel terrible. I should’ve been there for you,” he replies earnestly.

After all this time, he was proud of you. In retrospect, you thought you were too obsessive or had unintentionally crossed his boundaries as a fan. Yet, that was never the case. He was always grateful that you supported him at every turn, so why wouldn’t he return that gratitude to you?

You didn’t need his validation, the initial interview all those years ago was enough to satisfy you a million times over, but he needed to express it.

You were eternally grateful that he acted on that need.

However, that last part of the confession urges you to sit up completely. You turn your body as much as possible to face him without splashing the water too much.

“You were there for me.”

“Leaving comments on your Instagram is not supporting you in the way you need, you know that,” He counters.

He’s right. You adjusted your expectations for Joshua years ago, you weren’t happy with how things were, but you accepted that your communication would always be limited.

You didn’t have the courage to talk to him, you figured things would never change. It wasn’t smart, you wasted far too much time refusing to invest in your relationship simply because of your own cowardice.

It seems he also became content with barely doing enough.

“I’m sorry for doing the same thing.”

“This can be a truce, then. I want us to be closer if you want that,” He holds out his hand and you take it immediately.

“I absolutely want that,” You're grinning so hard that your cheeks hurt. “So this means you want to kiss me again?”

“You have a massive hickey on your neck and you don’t think I want to kiss you again?” He’s almost fed up, but that smirk tells you otherwise.

“I’m just making sure,” You lower your head coyly. “Come here, babe,” He beckons you over, but he’s too eager to let you make the entire distance. He captures your lips with ease, placing his hand on your cheek. You steady yourself with your hand on his arm, leaning into the kiss with a sense of urgency.

It’s only a few moments before you pull back. “Josh, the water is so fucking cold,” You laugh through your shivers.

He reaches behind you to open the drain and kisses you again. You can’t help but smile against his lips.

The new uncharted territory you’ve forged with him makes your skin burn with excitement.

—

As soon as you arrive at the backstage area of the rink, Joshua’s whisked away by his stylist and assistants to the dressing room. You’re escorted to a VIP viewing area towards the top of the rink, a lounge with access to multi-view screens and a bird’s eye view of the ice.

Before the show starts, you familiarize yourself with the other figure skaters performing tonight. You’ve heard of all of them to some extent, having watched them in anticipation of Joshua’s performances in the past at invitationals and other competitions. Tonight was no different, as Joshua would be the last skater performing tonight.

The marketing team knew exactly what they were doing with that decision.

There were definitely fans of the other skaters dispersed throughout the stadium, but most people you saw were Joshua fans, carrying slogans and wearing merch with his name on it.

Some people even recognize you on the way up to the VIP section which throws you for a loop. They were mainly shocked that you were even at this kind of event in the first place, but it felt validating to be complimented for something outside of him.

Although the other skaters are highly entertaining to watch, your mind feels ready to see Joshua perform. Their performances are satisfying, but that particular spark is missing. It feels reminiscent of when you’d anxiously stay up to watch livestreams of his performances at 3 am, live updating your followers on the exact time when Joshua would be performing.

It was bittersweet to be able to watch him in person. It’s been years since you’ve watched him perform in the flesh, but the circumstances feel perfectly aligned.

“Performing Every moment of you, please welcome Joshua Hong,” The announcer’s voice booms through the stadium speakers and the stadium erupts into cheers. The sight of him waving to the camera is enough to leave the stadium in shambles, so his steps onto the ice are even more precious.

The pink top was the right choice now that he’s about to perform. He made you pick between a few options earlier in the day, but the sheer sleeves and pastel color match the mood perfectly. His side parted hair is neatly styled and light makeup highlights his soft features. The lighting really does his face justice as he purses his lips slightly, adjusting his head slightly down to enter his starting pose.

He moves a hand onto his heart and tucks his right leg behind his left.

As soon as the music starts, your heart clenches.

He chose this particular song, out of all his older routines. This song was in constant rotation throughout his first elite competition season, you could practically see it in your sleep.

When you watch him, you notice that the routine has barely changed either, the step sequences are just as smooth as you remember with delicate flairs of his new style.

The music is somehow more emotional than you remember, a sign that his artistry evokes such a vivid image that you can only think of him and this particular routine when you hear the song.

The execution of his combination jumps are flawless as always, and the audience agrees with loud applause every time he lands them. It seems as though he doesn’t have to try as he glides around the rink, a dreamy expression paints his face as he visibly connects with the lyrics.

He always transformed into a new character in every routine while still maintaining his own distinct style, it was something you deeply admired about his skating.

Before you know it, the song slowly comes to a close and Joshua stands in that final pose you remember so well, his face settling into a soft smile.

The crowd is absolutely obsessed with him, you look to see that many people were on their feet for a standing ovation. You immediately join in, looking toward his reaction. The cameras capture his shock, he’s pleasantly surprised by all the fanfare. He takes it in for another minute or so, looking up at the people in the stands with appreciative eyes. He finally bows his head and waves before skating off the ice.

When the entire group is called back onstage for final bows and the closing ceremony, he is once again dazzled by how intensely the crowd cheers for him once he’s introduced onstage. It’s precious to watch him try to shake it off with his hands on his face, looking to his fellow performers for a way to avoid the attention. He has always been appreciative of his support, always remaining humble in the face of his popularity constantly growing.

It doesn’t take as long as you expected for him to meet up with you. He asks you to wait in the hallway outside his dressing room, and he soon emerges; he barely lets you get a word out before enveloping you in a hug.

“What did you think?”

“I didn’t think you’d pick that one, honestly!” Your enthusiasm quiets when he kisses you and you suddenly feel acutely aware of the staff around you. He notices your shyness and pulls himself against your ear again.

“We’ll be alone soon, okay? I’m glad you liked it,” He punctuates his sentence with a kiss on the cheek. It made you relax into his touch and hold your hand while you were still in the venue.

Once outside, he lets go to briefly wave at the crowd of his fans before placing his hand on the small of your back.

You hear the gasps when he does it, but you don’t look back at the crowd. The judgment stays in your skin once you’re both escorted into the SUV, even when Joshua’s trying to get your attention with kisses to your hand.

“What are you thinking about, babe?”

“Nothing,” It’s easier to lie in the moment. He eyes you for a bit longer but ultimately doesn't question you any further.

You can’t tell him that everything feels especially temporary now. You know what it’s like to be on the opposite side of it as a fan, the initial feeling of seeing him make contact with a new romantic interest is always shocking. Neither of you owed them anything, you never had to reveal the depth of relationship if that’s what you both wanted.

He says he wants you, but that inevitable “what happens next” conversation hasn’t happened and you’re leaving in the next 48 hours. If there was any time to figure out the definition of your relationship, it was now.

Although the conversation in the bath last night was enlightening, you needed some kind of finality. You wouldn’t let yourself fall for vague promises anymore.

Will he make you a priority when his schedule is about to amp up even more?

If you needed to move on, you’d rather know now before you’re on another 13 hour flight left to your own devices.

—

You’re able to tag along with Joshua to his practice session with his coach on your last full day in town.

Although the conclusion of the trip takes up most of your brain space, it’s still interesting to watch his skating become informed by a new perspective. You couldn’t hear all of the critiques in detail, but it was enough to understand how Joshua’s energy was shaped through their leveled guidance.

He switched from his longtime coach once he broke his ankle, understandably citing that the old coach had pushed him to the point of collapse, no matter how grateful he may have been for his old coach’s support thus far.

The dynamic was far more supportive, you concluded. You were able to get more writing done, but your eyes drift to him more often than not.

He practices intensely for around 6 hours today, still a considerate amount of time considering the other practice days in his schedule. He didn’t appear distracted when you were watching him, but he was clearly eager to be alone with you again. He was practically pulling you into the front door once you arrived at his home.

He leads you upstairs to his bedroom before closing the door quickly.

“Kiss me,” His request is urgent, and you oblige despite feeling hesitant.

It’s best to just kiss him, to enjoy a good thing standing right in front of you while you have it.

He’s showing all his tells that he wants more than just kisses, cradling the back of your head, moaning into your mouth. It all still feels so enticing.

Yet, as always, he seems to notice something’s off before you can. He must notice the tension in your body that you tried your best to will away. He pulls out of the kiss and examines your eyes.

“Are you ok?” He’s slightly panting. You force yourself to close your eyes to steady your nerves.

“No,” you admit.

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t do this, you know that.” He knows exactly what you mean by the way his shoulders drop. He looks nervous, not sure if he’s about to lose you.

“Why not? What would be so wrong about being with me?” He’s genuinely upset, fighting your answer almost instantly. Therein lies the problem, there’s nothing wrong about dating him as a person. It was simply the logistics that made everything far more complicated than your heart could bear.

“Nothing,” your voice trembles. “It would be great,” A tear falls from your eye and he’s already reaching up to wipe it away. You don’t stop him from touching your face.

“But I can’t be halfway across the world from you, I can’t watch you pretend to love me and then start dating someone else right in front of my face again.”

“You know dating Ara wasn’t my choice, I wouldn’t do that to you again,” His voice is strangely quiet.

Ara was a famous Korean actress who was practically a critic’s darling at this point in her career. She dated Joshua for 4 years, long enough for the Korean public to become absolutely enamored with the idea of them. The concept of Korea’s charming upcoming actress and Korea’s technical skating prince dating each other was obviously popular among netizens, so their sudden breakup was quite shocking.

Their conflicting schedules made it a perfect storm for them to stop speaking to each other.

It all ended very publicly, but somehow Joshua was still beloved in the end. He always was.

At a work gala he was the guest of honor for, he told you that he wanted to be with you over drinks. There were many kisses exchanged in a secluded hallway, promises linger against your skin and you thought they were real.

She was his plus one, but he insisted that they were just friends.

You trusted him, and their relationship was announced a few days later. You were crushed, it made you regret ever thinking you could be more than a fan who simply pushed her luck.

“You stayed with her for 4 years, you loved her,” You persisted.

“No, I didn’t.”

“She said you did,” It bites harder than you expect, but it’s true. There were numerous interviews of her confirming the depths of their relationship. Whenever she mentioned him, there was always long-term commitment implied.

“I promise you I didn’t.” He squares his jaw as he insists on it being false.

“Why did you lie? Why didn’t you just let me down easy? You do it with literally every fan,” You shake your head, knowing exactly what he’s been through. You’ve seen the death threats, ultimatums, and invasive love offers that he’s received over the years. If he could handle that with grace, he could at least give you a proper response.

“You know you mean more to me than that,” He begged.

“If I mean more to you, then you shouldn’t have done it,” You respond. It’s selfish, you know it is.

“You can’t be fucking serious! It was to further my career, you of all people should know that,” He yelled. His voice doesn’t deter you, it simply makes you more determined.

“You could’ve fought back like you’ve done at any other point of your career. You should have fought for me,” You try to yell back but your voice falters again.

“This is me fighting for you, I want you,” He pleaded, moving closer to you out of desperation. Yet, you avoid his eye contact to close your eyes.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” You griped, shaking your head out of frustration. You hate that he’s dodging the question. You’ve seen him fight over much less, you’re not sure why he can’t recognize that he could’ve tried for you.

“You’re fighting me over hypotheticals, shit that hasn’t even happened yet.”

“You had another reason,” You state unremarkably, finally opening your eyes again. It was never a black or white situation, not with him.

“What?”

“You stayed with her for another reason.”

He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and internally resets before looking at you again.

“I didn’t want you to feel tied to me. I already knew what people were saying about you because of me, I knew you didn’t want me overshadowing your career. I didn’t want to haunt you,” He seems desperate to make you see his side of it.

“But you did, from the moment I met you. I knew I’d never be able to get over you. I built up a picture of you in my mind for years, and you actually fit it. I was stupid enough to think that my dumb luck would actually let me date you,” You confessed. You lower your head by the time you finish speaking.

He didn’t seem to understand that the dynamic would’ve always been uneven between you, but you were willing to risk it.

“Y/N,” He starts.

“I was fucking devastated that I still needed you,” you interrupt him, “I was doing perfectly fine, but I knew I would regret not doing this interview. I let you in one last time, to see if it’d be different than before, but you’re not ready. You’re still not ready and it was my fault for expecting too much of you.”

The silence is loud, you both have to process all of the feelings stirred up between you.

“I’m sorry.”

You’re not sure if that’s enough.

“Just indulge me for a second, do you love me?” You ask desperately.

He doesn’t speak. He looks torn, as if he wants to but something deep inside himself still hesitated to admit it. It confirms your worst fear, that even when there’s no other obstacles in the way, he can’t be what you need.

You scoff, wiping your face once again.

“Thanks for letting me stay here, I guess,” You walk back to your room and shut the door behind you. You unconsciously listen for any movement outside the door, to see if he would chase after you.

He doesn’t.

He does a variety of tasks in the kitchen, you hear running water and the sound of cabinet doors shutting, but he never approaches the door.

The kitchen light turns off and you hear his bedroom door shut.

You’re honestly glad he left you alone, but it doesn’t make it any easier to swallow.

As you settle into bed, you remember that he wanted to drive you to the airport tomorrow.

You’d rather walk the entire way than let him see you like this.

—

Joshua is an idiot, all things considered.

It was right there, he had the chance to tell you everything and give you his entire heart, but the words were stuck in his throat. He can barely go to sleep that night, but he could at least send you off to the airport the next morning.

It was wishful thinking that the drive would be any less painful, but he could at least fulfill his promise of taking you there. Thus, he doesn’t expect the guest room to be empty when he stumbles out of his room to go make himself breakfast.

He’s suddenly on high alert, thinking of all the things that could’ve possibly happened to you.

His internal monologue stops when he sees a note downstairs on the kitchen counter. He picks it up and curses under his breath.

“Changed my flight, your driver took me to the airport. Thanks again for letting me stay. - Y/N”

The message feels so stiff, it lacks any of your personality. Yet, he couldn’t pity himself for too long, he had to find you.

He had no idea if your flight had already taken off or not, but he at least had a location. Your original flight wasn’t until late afternoon, so he figured you must have been really fed up to change it to a mid-morning flight. The anger you felt transcended your hatred of mornings, and that was enough to really get Joshua moving.

He decided to stick with the clothes he had on to minimize the amount of time in the house. He wasn’t sure if it was smart to buy an impulse ticket for a flight he wasn’t going on, but he did it anyway.

As he sat in his car, he wasn’t sure if he locked the front door, but the adrenaline made him forget altogether.

The drive to the airport was a complete blur, he was certain that he blew through a few just-turned-red lights in an effort to get there. Once he arrives, he is anything but discreet.

He thanks his lucky stars that he gets a short security line so that he can run through the airport to find you. He only stops to check the massive flight board for flights to your city before picking up the pace again, almost running into a few people on the way.

He just had to make it to gate 12.

He spots the gate out of the corner of his eye, almost missing it due to his haste. He scans his eyes quickly across the group of people to see if you could possibly be there.

He’s almost given up on searching for you, but just like the movies, he finds you sitting in the corner wearing that particular writing hoodie.

He knows whatever way he chooses to approach you, it’ll scare you. Yet, he opts for the least terrifying option.

He walks over, taking a small breath before speaking up.

“Hi,” It comes out far too hesitant, but it still gets your attention. You look up at him, evidently confused but annoyance shows up quicker.

“What are you doing here?” You’re not moved at all, he felt like an inconvenience.

“We need to talk. Can I sit with you?” He points to the empty chair and you stare at him for a moment. You quietly oblige, giving a quick nod. You didn’t reject him outright, so that’s a win in his book.

“I’m really sorry about last night. I should’ve told you how I felt,” His voice is hushed so as to not disturb anyone else around you. Most people were sitting further away, but he didn’t want to take any chances. You only look forward, not acknowledging him at all.

“I thought about everything and you were right to be worried. I haven’t shown you that you can trust me to commit,” He continues.

“Whatever you want to do, that’s fine. I just,” He stops his train of thought to take a breath.

“I love you. I should’ve told you the moment you asked me, I should’ve told you the first day you came to town. I always knew,” He finishes with a shaky breath. You both sit in silence for longer than he’d like, but it’s understandable. Your longtime crush lets you down then admits he’s loved you for ages, it’s a lot for anyone to process.

“Joshua?”

He turns to face you. “Yeah?”

“That was corny as fuck,” You let out a laugh, covering your mouth with your hand. He’s happy to see you smile for a bit, even if it’s at his expense.

“I know, I just needed to tell you before you left,” He laughs quietly. It covers up the temporary embarrassment he feels. No matter what you tell him, he figures that it was worth it to put everything on the line.

“I forgive you, though. And I love you too,” You smile through the reply and your voice is the softest he’s ever heard it.

The newness of it all makes him blush.

“Still can’t look at me, huh? Do I make you nervous?” He touches your shoulder in a silent plea for you to let him in.

“Fuck off,” You finally make eye contact with him and grab his hand, fingers automatically intertwined with his. You press the back of his hand to your mouth for a kiss. The gesture quiets all his lingering fears.

“I’m not relocating for you though, I like my apartment and my job,” You give him a pointed look.

“I wouldn’t ask you to do that. Plus I told you I’m trying to slow down, remember?” The realization hits your face and it makes him giggle.

“Does that mean you’re moving in with me?”

“It might,” He suggests. He thinks he’s a pretty decent roommate, but he’d change his bad habits in a heartbeat if it meant you were more comfortable.

“Not before the Olympics though. And you’d need to sell the house, right?”

“Yeah. Shit, you’re really getting ahead of me here,” He didn’t really consider all the details yet, especially thinking about how shocked his management team would be at the decision, but he knew you were too good to lose.

He lived enough of his life without you, and it was time to switch things up.

“Just making sure you’re aware of what all of this would mean,” You remind him. It was a completely fair critique considering how many directions his life was currently being pulled in.

“Of course, but I’m coming to visit before I move. Many times,” He’s already mentally planning out a schedule in his head, plotting out weekend getaways and week-long trips just to spend time with you again.

“You won’t have your own room though, sorry,” You sigh in fake concern.

“I think we can make that work,” He assured you with a smile.

“I still can’t believe you bought a fucking plane ticket to get past security to come find me. You’re insane,” You shake your head at him in disbelief.

“Your boyfriend is insane,” He stresses the term, “and it was the right thing to do. I couldn’t let you get away like that.”

You both talk for a while, just drinking in each other’s presence as a new couple. While you’re recounting your metal detector encounters, it hits him that he doesn’t know when he’ll see you again.

Everything keeps getting busier between the two of you, and the possible timeframe of him moving seems further and further away with each passing moment.

He desperately wants to slow everything down in his career immediately, for all of his responsibilities to be taken care of for him.

The boarding process begins and he’s wistful, he didn’t think it would hurt so deeply to let you go home. He pulls you into a tight hug, his head nestled into the crook of your neck. “I love you so much, baby,” His voice wavers.

“Don’t fucking cry, you’ll make me cry,” You whisper, curling into his body even further. It makes him smile despite the tears streaming down his cheeks.

“I’ll see you soon, okay? I promise,” He attempts to steady his voice, but it’s no use. The moment he has the love of his life, you’re already leaving.

You lean back and press your lips to his, you move as quickly as time permits. It’s not the kiss he wants, but it’s enough to sate him.

He pulls away first, kissing your cheek before standing back to get a good look at you.

“Now go, they’re about to finish up your section,” He pointed to the gate with a watery laugh, finally wiping his cheeks from the tears.

You wave one last time as your ticket gets scanned and you’re no longer in view.

He’s not ready to go back to an empty house, one without you sitting on the couch bundled up in his blankets, staring at your computer with squinted eyes. He’s not ready to fall asleep without you next to him and wake up the next day knowing you wouldn’t be up until midday.

You’ve worked your way into his life and he can’t picture another second without you in it.

He decides that whenever you’re available to talk on the phone, you would plan his first visit.

That was the only way he could cope with the time and distance that seemed impossible to cross.

—

The Joshua profile is edited and completed in due time, somehow without losing your sanity.

Joshua is always sending you his edits, many of which are rejected the moment he comments them. Yet, you promise him that he can have input on another piece.

Once it’s approved through final edits, the profile is received well, all things considered. While there are unavoidable critiques, it still resonates with fans and writers alike. It goes considerably less viral than your other content with him, but viral nonetheless. It gets another boost in attention when Joshua reveals your relationship to the public exactly two months after it’s posted, and people are now re-examining the profile for signs of love blooming in between the lines.

These recent post-profile interviews he did were keeping you company during your downtime after work. You’d find yourself watching them on your laptop in bed, craving the sound of his voice when he was caught up in practice. He told you to watch this one specifically when it was uploaded though, so you decided to listen to him.

“So we have to talk about your relationship and the article,” The late night host segues into the new topic and Joshua handles it with ease.

“Of course,” He’s nodding along.

“So you fall in love with one of your biggest fans and do this reunion interview after 10 years? What’s the whole story?”

“Well, she’s been a fan of mine for my entire career and we first met when she made this viral blog post about me qualifying for my first Olympics,” He recounts the story for what feels like the millionth time, but you still eat it up every time. He has an exact script that you can almost know how he’ll phrase it.

“We film an interview and that goes even more viral, like 20 million views or something crazy,” He stops to laugh for a moment and the audience laughs along with him.

“We met up a few times over the years, but I finally suggested we do something for the 10 year anniversary of the interview. That’s how it all came together,” He nods with a grin.

“That’s amazing, is there anything you want to tell her?”

He looks directly into the camera and takes a breath. “Just that I miss you and love you very much,” His voice softens and the audience lights up with applause. He blows a kiss to the camera before the host switches topics once again, moving on to more Olympics talk for the rest of the video.

The declaration of love is simple, he’s not the kind of guy to make these big sweeping gestures of love, but it’s more than enough for you. You send him a quick text approving of the video and your heart is extremely full.

He moves in right after the Olympics end, but he’ll have a chance to properly decompress from the competition. The anticipation is enough to almost drive you insane, but the wait will be worth it.

—

The Olympics are a complete blur, as expected. You try to enjoy other events during your time there, but the men’s individual skate is the only thing on your mind. Joshua tried to make things for you as comfortable as possible despite living in the designated Olympic Village. He always complained that he wasn’t able to see you by sending you lots of heartfelt texts, but you teased him that he just needed to focus on competition.

Joshua won the gold medal, as expected by numerous sports networks and prediction experts.

You knew he’d win too, obviously.

Although he performed last in the final group, moving his rank down to 5th before his free skate performance, his final showing put him 10 full points above 2nd place.

Your boyfriend, who has been swept up in podium ceremonies, post-skate interviews, and a celebratory dinner is finally alone with you in your hotel room and you intend to make the most of it.

“Congratulations,” You’re practically yelling in his ear as he smothers you in a hug, clutching the back of your head. He’s free of the costume and makeup from earlier in the night, even his team tracksuit was exchanged for an old shirt and shorts.

“Thank you, baby,” His response is muffled against your shirt. You pull away to admire his face for a moment before leaning in for a deep kiss.

He’s feeling just as desperate as you are, swiping his tongue into your mouth with ease. It’s been so long since you’ve had a chance to just kiss him, let alone see him for more than a few minutes at a time. There were still press circuits and endless events for him to attend, but for a moment he was simply your gold medalist.

You barely come up for air for the next few minutes, getting all of the long distance reunion induced kisses out of your system. You step away to breathe against his neck and collect your thoughts.

“I’m so proud of you, like I was fully sobbing in my seat after the scores.”

“You were?” He questions, eyes widening.

“Of course, you’ve worked so hard to get here after everything. It makes me wanna cry all over again,” You’re so fond that it makes your heart swell for him.

“My poor baby, crying her eyes out over me like the good old days,” He coos.

“Yeah,” You let out a shaky laugh and wiped a stray tear from your eye. There were no ways to describe how it felt to watch the love of your life succeed from so many points of view, in some ways your relationship is a time capsule of your adolescence.

Joshua is simultaneously the object of your youth and the promise of a better future.

The journey is never lost on you, all of the time spent learning each other all over again reinvigorated your spirit.

“I’m ready to go home with you, I’m just so tired,” He whispers. The collective stress of the past few years is catching up with him now that the hardest part is over, that sense of normalcy needed to come sooner rather than later.

“I know, love. Just a few more days and we can sleep in as much as we want,” You think out loud, but he seems to like the idea as you cup his face in your hands. The tension melts from his face the longer you stay still and he lets out a quiet hum.

“Can we cuddle?”

“Of course,” You would’ve wanted to do it anyway, but you couldn’t say no to him in this state.

Once you both crawled onto the bed, he naturally put his head on your chest. It doesn’t take long before you’ve both fully relaxed into each other’s touch. The silence is needed after nonstop stimulation from the outside world.

“Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“I love you.” He doesn’t hesitate this time, it's saturated with adoration for you. You feel the warmth on your cheeks and respond accordingly.

“I love you too.”

He sits up, staring at you with so much love in his eyes. He kisses you just to do it, but it’s perfectly fine by you.

You swear that you could live in this moment forever. There would always be deadlines approaching, endless amounts of work waiting for you, but these moments were too precious to take for granted.

There’s so much love for him in your body that it doesn’t know where to go, but you figure that you’ll find somewhere to place it within due time.

There’s no use in grieving wasted time when his love is nestled so neatly in your heart, allowing you to indulge in the infinite futures you’re able to build together.

He’s not going anywhere, there’s still time.

There will always be time.

#YALLLLLLL ITS DONEEEEEEE #I’m so fucking happy you have no idea #this is quite literally a novel so sorry lol #joshua smut #joshua fluff #joshua scenarios #joshua angst #joshua fic #svt fluff #svt smut #svt angst #seventeen smut

[oldmemoria]

mkay. watching episodes 7 and 8 on not amazon. might as well live blog it

spoilers ahead unless you dont care

so far i do like Rosie and ofc alastor is a still very entertaining. we actually get some Charlie's perspective which is great. she actually feels like more of a character now having a lot of conflict and stress and seeing her happy go lucky demeanor start to fall because of it.

vaggie's new conflict with charlie ended up adding depth to their relationship, especially with charlies little infodump on how much she trusts vaggie and vice versa. this really hurt her, the whole angel secret thing. kudos to that, good on the writers for writing some basic conflict

it isnt going to solve my problems before, I still think the treatment of male rape as a joke and the just... everything else is still ANNOYING but maybe they did listen when people were complaining about the pilot? maybe. I have hope. a little.

Carmilla is also pretty cool, She and Vaggie both mesh together pretty well.

(also her name is fun to say I love it. carmilla carmine. you cant just not say both it just rolls off the tongue so nicely)

although this got on my nerves- yknow how consistently alastor has been characterized as someone who never EVER curses? and that's why him saying "fuck you" was so strong and shocking? and it was good writing?

yeah so I guess he just.. calls someone a bitch now. no reason. he could have said anything else, I'm afraid of the way they might use his language later because if he just decides to start screaming cuss words I might actually lose my mind because that was probably one of the only things hazbin hotel did right.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin charlie #charlie morningstar #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel spoilers #rosie hazbin hotel #carmilla carmine

[alliumnoblade]

ok but rick prime was conceptually a genious move by the writers, i think. i know jack shit abouy writing but hear me out

our s6 C-137 rick is not the same as season 1 or s2 rick, he has matured, regressed, getting softer, angrier, older. it has been a commom complain by the dudebros that rick is not that badass emotionless characters that he was before, because in the latest seasons the writers are trying to explore how miserable and lonely the smartest man in the universe really is. he's not a god anymore, hes a pretty fucking sad dude that tries desperately to stay in control, and that has been getting on some fans nerves, apparently

some people really miss nihilistic asshole rick. but instead of regressing his character, they decided to create prime rick.

prime rick is everything C-137 tried to be. he's funny, unhinged, heartless, brutal, and the list goes on and on. he's what we thought season 1 rick was. and i think thats genious because now not only we can explore this new contrast between two ricks, but also is a huge opportunity for more badass cool fights

at the same time that we can keep developing c-137 rick as a character, we can also have a heartless, god-like amazing (prime) rick that was what we had in season 1 and 2. it's a nice throwback, especially because so far this season seems so much similar to the first seasons, except now our perception of the smith family has changed drastically. and now that we got this far, we can finally see them by old lights

it both pleases the character bunnies such as me but also brings in renewed philosophical tropes to the nihilistic tone enjoyers that also made a huge part of the fanbase. the dudebros can have their rick back

in season 4 and 5 the writers seemed confused with what they wanted to do with our beloved rick and morty - are they regressing or evolving? are they serialized? are they episodic? - and while i think s5 suffered more with pacing issues due to this indecision, i think they finally got the tone right. this season is so promising!! we only have 2 episodes so far (another one tonight) but i already have the urge to re-watch them, such a thing i didn't have every since season 3

not to mention an "evil rick" being our next villain right after "evil morty" is so damn cool, especially because prime rick is evil because he doesn't gives a damn, while evil morty is evil because he grew up in a system that does not give a damn. evil morty wasn’t the real evil, he was a product of it. and now we are facing the true evil himself, and i cant wait!!

so, overall. good play on the contrast, rick and morty writers, yall rock.

(also, at the same time they obligy our rick to confront his worst, "regressed" version, we also have our morty confronting his regressing version too, hence the second episode A Mort Well Lived. something tells me they are going to really deep dive into their development this season)

((they really seems to be making this parallels to season 1 and 2, ANOTHER EXAMPLE BEING THE WHOLE FAMILY BURING THEIR BODIES IN THE BACKYARD LIKE THAT SCENE WAS SO COOL I LOVE THEIR FOUND FAMILY SO MUCH WHAT IS THIS))

#rick and morty #rick sanchez #morty smith #prime rick #evil morty #season 6 #i just think they're neat #and that we have so many opportunities to make this season the best one yet #im hopeful

[dreamerwithoutadirection]

Cruel Summer

All Chan-Mi wanted was an escape but when had Universe ever heard her?

Warnings: Yandere, Manipulation, Obsession, Mentions of abuse

P.S: Uffff, this took so much longer than I anticipated! Writer's block quite fast there 🥲 Anyways, it's here now! As usual, it's not proof-read I apologise!

Lord Jee was in a frenzy. An important guest was coming tomorrow to discuss the village state and welfare. But this wasn’t important because he cared about the welfare of the people. This was important because this visit meant his promotion and promotion meant money. And Jee loved money. There was no other way around it. 

“Chan Mi! Are you even listening to me?!” demanded Lord Jee making Chan-Mi flinch. Chan-Mi chose her words carefully. She did not want to aggravate her husband more than he was. His anger knew no bounds, the marks on her body was a proof of that.  “I am My Lord, I am sure Lord Kim will love the preparations..you are doing for him..”

“This will be great opportunity for us to move to the capital. We will be drowning in money..once we move there..” Lord Jee replied with a sinister smile. Chan-Mi could only hope this worked. She did not want to deal with another session of him taking out his anger on her. She had not yet healed fully from the last one..evident in her slow movements. 

She could remember the day when her father announced her marriage to Lord Jee. They were poor with no way to repay the loan her father had taken for the crops. But when the crops failed and Lord Jee took a liking to her..her father could not refuse. The money was great and would help them survive the harsh winter. Even if it meant sacrificing his eldest daughter. Chani-Mi was 25 now and had long lost contact with her family following her marriage. Lord Jee did not allow her to leave the house often. Chan-Mi could count the handful of the times she got to see the outside world. She longed to escape from here.

The change was coming and it would be something Chan-Mi would have never guessed. 

 *-------*--------*

“I heard you are going tomorrow to the country side, hyung” Jimin asked as he brandished his sword at Namjoon.

Namjoon swung his sword back at Jimin at full pace while grumbling “Yeah, well..King’s orders. Some Lord Jee is making trouble in the country side..God these low lifes can’t just live their lives in peace, can they?”

Jimin snickered, “Hyung, who doesn’t like money? And well if he makes too much noise, killing a small town Lord wouldn’t be that much of an issue for a skilled warrior as you.” Jimin raised his hands in defeat when he felt Namjoon’s sword at his neck. Sigh.

Namjoon smirked. He is a skilled warrior, he knew that, heck everyone knew that. But he hated these visits. These country Lords always tried to act sweet like honey to gain favour and Namjoon loathed people who honeycombed their words. He was a direct man with few words and sharp eyes. Nothing escaped them. 

“Sheeshh, you need to work on your skills more..be more quick on your feet, Jimin” Namjoon advised as he helped Jimin get back up. 

“Yeah..yeah” Jimin moaned in pain. The fall was rough. “And you need to be more gentle with me, hyung!” He complained. Namjoon laughed. The fight was good. He felt energised. “Let’s meet get refreshed, we also need to discuss our strategy for the capital protection”

 *-------*--------*

Chan-Mi felt stressed as she ran up and down the house to check everything was perfect. Lord Jee was getting on her nerves with constant questioning of how things were coming along. By now she was drenched in sweat with beads sticking to her forehead. 

“My Lady, I think you should take a break..um..the guest does not arrive until the evening..and it’s only morning right now..” Chan-Mi’s personal maid Jiya murmured. 

“I will in a while..I just need to instruct the chef’s about the menu for tonight, and then make sure the guest room is ready and then arrange for the entertainers tonight and then-” 

Jiya sighed looking at the young agassi's haggard look. Jiya knew she had the look of pity for Chan-Mi, but who wouldn’t? Poor girl had left one hell to enter another hell. Perhaps even worse than before. Life was truly unfair to some people. 

“As you see fit, My Lady” Jiya resigned. 

Chan-Mi could feel the sympathy in Jiya’s eyes. And it made her skin crawl. She detested being pitied. She knew her circumstances weren’t ideal with an abusive husband and limited freedom but that didn’t mean she wanted to be pitied. However, Chan-Mi had a plan to escape her hell. Unknown to all, Chan-Mi had been poisoning Lord Jee slowly since the past year. It gave her immense thrill to him losing his strength slowly without him even realising it. It was sick of her, she knew, but she couldn’t help this darkness growing inside her. It wouldn’t be long before I gain my freedom..it’s a matter of time. Just thinking about it gave her hope.

Chan-Mi had a serene smile when she replied, “Let’s get back to work.”

 *-------*--------*

Namjoon felt bored. It was hot and dry. How far was this godforsaken place? Ugh. It took him another hour before he reached Jee’s home. It was decorated beautifully he thought. But the heat here was unpleasant along with the scenes he saw on street. The entire village reeked of poverty and destitution. He couldn’t wait to mess up with this Jee. Corruption was not taken lightly by the King and it was quite clear that this old fool was not using the money sent for the betterment of this village. 

“My Lord!” Jee enthusiastically advanced towards Namjoon “It is my honour to host you tonight. I cannot tell you how excited I am!”

Namjoon on the other hand wanted to smack Jee. Why so chirpy. Namjoon scoffed at the fake excitement. “Lord Jee, it’s good to see you. I have been looking forward to this visit” Namjoon  lied smoothly. The faster the talks got over, the faster he could go back. But what Namjoon saw the next second made time stop for him. A pretty, no perhaps the most beautiful girl descended down the stairs. She was small, delicate and had the most charming smile he had ever seen. It lit up the night. He felt his heart thrashing wildly against his chest with only one question running his head. Who is she? He wanted to know her better. Perhaps he will have to prolong his stay, afterall?

But her hair..they were tied. Namjoon hoped against all odds that she was not married. “My Lord, meet my wife..Chan-Mi” Lord Jee grinned. Namjoon felt a crack in his heart. Just my luck. 

Chan-Mi gasped when she looked at Namjoon. He looked divine with his muscular arms and dragon eyes. But Chan-Mi also felt she needed to stay from him. There was something in his slanted eyes that spoke of authority, wickedness and lust. And the way his eyes were looking at her, it left a chill down her spine. I definitely needed to maintain distance from him. Even if it’s just tonight. 

“My Lord, hope you have wonderful stay at our home” Chan-Mi murmured while bowing down. Namjoon on the other hand could not stop staring at her. Everything about Chan-Mi was calling to him..to make her his. We would look so good together. Namjoon could already picture them together. But she was married. Not for long.

“Let’s get going Lord Jee? We have a lot of things to go over.” Namjoon grinned, his set at Chan-Mi. 

 *-------*--------*

Namjoon spent the better half of the evening observing Chan-Mi. She was mostly quiet but what her mouth couldn’t speak, her expressions did. All she felt was visible on her face. Namjoon knew that she could feel his eyes on her even when he was interacting with Jee. But she pretended to be oblivious which was adorable. 

As the night progressed and Jee started getting drunk, Chan-Mi became more relaxed. And Namjoon more aggressive with his approach in talking to her. 

“How did you two get married? I cannot fathom such a beautiful lady as you married to such a vile man.” curious Namjoon asked.

Chan-Mi choked on her food as she looked at Namjoon who was looking at her with an expression she could not decipher. “Uh..that’s quite a personal question, My Lord,” Chan-Mi hesitated, “One, I am not comfortable speaking.” 

Namjoon smiled for the first time that night. His interest spiked even more. Not only was she composed but also had a spite in her voice, just as he had guessed. This is going to be interesting. 

“You are not of noble birth, are you?” Namjoon asked raising his eyebrows. Chan-Mi blushed, then frowned and finally glared at him. Namjoon felt exhilarated from her reaction. So, she wasn’t. He was correct. 

“What made you marry him?” he provoked further. Namjoon was frankly enjoying her expressions. Like a cat and mouse game. 

Chan-Mi looked back at Namjoon with wide eyes before standing up suddenly “My Lord, I understand that you are an important guest and I welcome you in my house with full respect. However, you are crossing a line here!” How dare he? Who was he to think that he could question her in her house?! Agreed she wasn’t of noble birth but she was a noble Lady now. And she would not tolerate strange man questioning her. 

“I think, it’s time that I should take my leave now. Since, my husband is here already and you are here only for tonight…I should leave you two to disc-” 

Adorable. “I am not staying just for the night My Lady” he smirked, “I am here for quite some time. You should get used to me now.” For I am your future. 

Disrespect was something, Namjoon did not tolerate well. Granted his little kitten did not know that now, but the sooner he tamed her, better it would be for her. Namjoon stoop up and began walking towards her. “What are you doing?” Chani-Mi spoke alarmingly walking backwards as he progressed when she felt the wall hit her back. Uh-oh. He watched her like a starved man. This was not good, especially when her husband laid there drunk out of this mind to register what was happening in the room. 

“What am I doing?” Namjoon asked back as he encircled her waist to reel her in. Perfect. She was the perfect size for him. “You are so small” Namjoon cooed looking down at her, “I am going to tell you this once. And you must hear me clearly, understood kitten?” 

Chan-Mi could feel her heart beating wildly. She tried squirming away without much luck. His arms were like iron around her..caging her. “I am not interested in your games.” She growled at him. 

“Enough” Namjoon tugged her hair harshly before bringing his lips to her ears and spoke “Silly kitten, I am not the one to play games, understood?” grinding himself against her. Chan-Mi felt scared for the first time that evening. This was not how it was supposed to go. 

“You are going to confess to his crimes tomorrow..and once that’s done both you and him are going to be jailed for trial” Namjoon trailed his fingers from her hair to her breast, rolling her nipple between his fingers. Even her breast were of perfect size for his hands. He couldn’t wait to have her under him. “But I have taken a liking to you, my kitten..so, I am going to save you under one condition..be mine.”

If possible his touch became more aggressive and his dragon eyes more dark. His obsession flowing from them. Namjoon knew what he felt was beyond love. But he couldn’t stop himself. He had to make her his..his little kitten. 

“You have the whole night to think it over but be assured kitten even if you say no…I am going to take you back with me..” Namjoon looked into her eyes for a good measure, “the only difference is, if you say yes you will not be punished by me. Clear?” 

Change had come truly, just not the one Chan-Mi wished. Cruel Summer indeed. 

Taglist: @whipwhoops

#bts yandere #yandere bts #yandere namjoon #dark bts

[celaenaeiln]

I don't wanna complain about what other people love to them but I ended up reading New Order yesterday after seeing your recommendations and... Honestly, I didn't vibe with it and I wanted to see what you think? The entire premise seems flawed to use Dick of all people for (and his attitude through it is just... way beyond regular asshole Grayson), I'm tired of DC giving Kory children but taking her away from them, yet another "let's ruin Dick and Kory" adventure is going on and it's just... Rushed. Especially the ending where it pulls a teen movie that's like "DAVE ENDED UP MAJORING IN LAW AFTER HIGH SCHOOL AND BECAME A JUDGE" and seems to just skip over so, so much interesting stuff that way.

HOWEVER. I also want to say I can't entirely hate the comic because the dialogue is pretty solid at most points and Jake really is an amazing character with such a great heart. I honestly like him more than Jon Kent.

Valid!

Honestly I really loved the comic but a couple points you brought up are hitting me hard. The first being Kori. It's getting on my nerves how DC for some reason keeps breaking up Dick and Kori after they've been married and for what? I get why here but in Mar'i's comic? There's literally no reason!!

Secondly I don't believe Kori would just abandon her kid. She gave birth to him, she loves him. Why on earth would she just leave him? Maybe it's because it's DC and they really need to break up Dick and Kori because "dick and barbara are the dream team." Puh-lease.

However I did think it made sense for Dick to be at the center of it all. Dick has always been accepting of superpowers and he even said "I like a woman who break a battleship with her bare hands" when talking about Kori. Which says a lot about what he thinks. But I also believe he would he would eradicate them for one reason - superpowers killed Bruce. And he loves his father.

He also did it to save the world and it's unarguable that he did and the people loved him for it. He has the capability to both destroy the league and rebuild the world and this comic is just proving that which is why I don't think there's anything wrong with Dick.

As for his stubbornness, maybe! Honestly at this point I'll accept anything about any character unless it's wildly inaccurate. I don't know if Dick is a jerk or not because my impression of his jerk levels have been obliterated by the Cassandra Batgirl comics. After reading that literally everything else seems normal. I am struggling so hard to understand what's going on with Dick in those comics. Is it bad writing? Is it the writer? What was he facing during that time that made his act like that? What am I missing? I'm still reeling from that so I'm completely out of it lol. Still too flabbergasted to comprehend so you may be right but my mind has just accepted almost every version of Dick now as long as he stays true to his motivations and acts reasonably.

I really did like the ending but totally understand what you mean. I guess it's because the author didn't want to drag it out and turn it into a whole 500 issue comic so he skipped to the end.

I love, love, LOVE the comic for Jake! Jake and Dick's relationship?? I-I'm ENTHUSED!!! They have the best father and son relationship ever and I'm never getting over the two of them. I like him better than Jon too and Jon's amazing! Jake's just absolutely fantastic!! The best, best, BEST kid ever.

So generally I love the comic but my biggest point of contention is separating Dick and Kori for no reason. Also whatever's going on with Kate was far more distracting than Dick for me lol. But I liked the art and dialogue too and overall I really enjoyed it. Liking comics is just a matter of preference after all ;)

#dick grayson #nightwing #jake grayson #koriand'r #starfire #cl lurkinginmyboots asks #thanks for the ask!

[vampcubus]

Bro this anon drama gets on my NERVES 😭

Like…what makes you think you can boss the author around and “make” them write something?? Like first off, it’s their blog leave them tf alone if you don’t like something

And second, if you want it so bad write it yourself. And you probably shouldn’t ask them to write something that they have stated (or it’s blatantly obvious) that they don’t write for.

As an AFAB/GN writer, I wouldn’t want to write for an AMAB reader, not because I don’t want to, but I feel like I’d get something wrong about writing a male reader, like maybe I’d fuck up the anatomy or something 😭

It’s not that I’m against AMAB reader, I find nothing wrong with it at all! It’s just not my tempo…you know? (No offense at all to anyone who reads or writes AMAB reader though 🫶)

And if that infamous anon has a problem with this, I’ll eject glitter into your bloodstream so you at least go out with a little shine :3

RIGHT LIKE??? the entitlement is off the charts. if you don’t like something then block and move on like the rest of us. harassing writers because they don’t write for male readers solves nothing and only makes you look like a colossal dickhead.

and the thing is we shouldn’t even have to explain why we don’t write for certain readers. it’s our business. i am afab and identify as feminine so i want to write for fem identifying readers. i mostly write gender neutral content so my moots can also enjoy some of my writing. i personally don’t feel comfortable reading or writing male reader nor am i interested in doing so to appease people.

i know there are blogs that write exclusively or mostly male reader and they are so lovely! but it’s not for me. there are also writers that don’t feel comfortable writing fem reader and that’s okay too. you don’t see me marching over to their askbox to complain like a spoiled brat because they don’t write for fem reader.

#‧₊🌷˚⊹ ashi rambles #c <3

[nokingsonlyfooles]

The Dark Secret of Kung Fu Panda (Part 1)...

... Shifu is kind of a shitty teacher.

But only if you live in the West!

Apparently, you all like Panda analysis, so let's talk about cross-cultural translations, Theravada Buddhism, filial piety, and the ultimate futility of writers trying to impart a specific interpretation to a diverse audience - just to start! Then, I'll come back on Thursday and we can unpack WTF is the deal with that Dragon Scroll.

American movies can pick up a lot of box office cash in China, so they try like hell to stay inoffensive and relevant to Eastern and Western audiences. Often, they fail spectacularly.

But Kung Fu Panda pulled it off! ...With just a little wobble on the dismount.

Chinese audiences have little to complain about when it comes to these guys:

But here in the West, we can't seem to stop coming up with reasons all three of 'em got a raw deal - even the ones who were a little bit genocide-y.

And especially this li'l guy.

Aw, no, look how cute!

People will bend over backwards to defend that cute kid (and sexy adult), to the point of throwing Oogway, Shifu, Po, Tigress, or the whole franchise under a bus.

There are folks out there who are gonna die mad about Tai Lung's lack of a redemption arc and humiliating demise. Like, literally.

To their credit, the Kung Fu Panda team caught this after some early screenings and tried to fix it. Tai Lung's betrayal and attempt to steal the scroll just wasn't enough, so they added a massacre, and every villain after Tai Lung had an impressive kill count woven into their backstory right from the start.

(Not that it necessarily helped, if you happen to look this bad boy up on DeviantArt.)

In a wuxia film, and in Chinese culture in general, betraying your father/teacher, and asking that they betray their father/teacher is more than enough to make a villain. Given that filial piety is the basis of all ethics, as taught by Confucius himself, what went down in the Jade Palace was an attempt to burn society itself to the ground, all because one guy felt entitled to a shiny piece of paper. That is Captain Planet levels of self-destructive evil.

All three movie villains pulled off some violation of this fundamental ethical duty. Tai Lung betrayed his father/teacher. Lord Shen betrayed his parents - and managed to let his teacher go, with sadness and disappointment on both sides. Kai betrayed his adoptive brother - although from his point of view, his brother betrayed him, so he may be the most sympathetic of them through this lens.

The only way to impart this level of wrong across cultures is to add a lot of murdering, and even then it doesn't quite scan. Tai Lung didn't even necessarily kill anyone in the village; cartoons get nervous about the word "die" around these here parts, so they just said he "laid waste." Well, that could mean a lot of things! Does that guy deserve decades of solitary in a hell-prison for (in my mind) doing nothing more than calling out an unfair action and leaving a bad Yelp review of Mr. Ping's noodles?

I can't trust a bird who eats noodles, I don't care how cute his hat is!

So, it's not just that the violation of ethics doesn't carry, the concept of "unfair" crept into a place where it really doesn't belong. Traditionally, it is perfectly acceptable for a Kung Fu Master to be a total piece of shit who motivates his students to learn out of sheer spite and puts them through hell.

Oh, yeah, I remember him. That moustache looks familiar...

If we're coming from a place where we buy that trope and expect it to be played straight, Shifu's mistake was being too nice to Tai Lung. His student's self-esteem was insufficiently crushed! That boy had the nerve to break his own Master's leg! Thank goodness Shifu became a cold, uncaring, emotionally-distant task master - just in time to raise Tigress right!

Yes. Good. Never let on that you're pleased with anything your student does. That'll keep 'em in line!

But a Western audience isn't going to buy that. Shifu just looks like a jerk, and Tigress is a jerk... In fact, all of the Five, save Viper (who is just that nice) seem like jerks, and Oogway is a troll.

"Oh, I'm sorry, did you have something urgent to do? I think blowing out these candles, one-by-one, is rather important too."

Being an utter troll is also a valid way to teach kung fu, and Buddhist practices in general, which is definitely where Oogway is coming from. I peg him as a Theravada Buddhist, due to the way he teaches, and one scene in particular from the third movie.

Enlightenment isn't something you just hand over like a piece of paper, it's something everyone has to find for themself, in their own way. It's not possible to teach Tai Lung or Po self worth, and it's not possible to teach Shifu to lighten up, so the best a smart teacher can do is give them a good nudge, then step back and see what happens.

...Even if that "nudge" requires one to ascend to the Spirit Realm and leave your most stubborn student to clean up his own damn mess.

But there aren't as many Buddhists watching in the West, so what's a writer to do?

Well, they split the difference. Tigress did grow up better than Tai Lung, in accordance with the tropes, but it turns out she's not done learning and growing, and neither is Shifu (or the rest of the Five, but they don't get much of an arc. There are time constraints!). Their arrogance and lack of flexibility render them incapable of working with someone like Po - and they gotta figure out what they're doing wrong fast, 'cos Shifu's other teaching mistake is on his way back! In China, Shifu is learning to be a better teacher. In the West, he's learning to stop being a shitty teacher! And it takes him all three movies to grasp the humility he needs to learn from Po. Tigress, on the other hand, learns to respect Po and soft style by the end of film one.

When Western values are applied, Shifu comes off as a very slow learner, due to his own impatience and inability to slow down. But that's okay. He does learn, he's clearly trying, and we love him anyway.

Well, most of us do. Some of us can't get over that cute, fluffy little leopard, and we don't buy the (admittedly imperfect) attempt to make this story intelligible across cultures. These folks tend to focus their ire, much like Tai Lung himself, on that useless piece of paper the troll stuffed in a temple like it was something important, and the jerk led Tai Lung to believe was rightfully his. Why can't the boy just have his useless piece of paper, huh?

Well, I'll come back later and I'll tell ya.

#kung fu panda #po #shifu #oogway #tai lung #buddhism #cross cultural translation #stories #confucianism #villains

[mindibindi]

hey! sorry for bothering you, but i as a fellow x-phile i would like to ask how credible it is that gillian anderson and david duchovny hated each other back in the day? there are probably quotes or something but i can't really judge anything this late after the fact. i did watch the show when it aired but i was too young to get into internet culture. anyway, i'm hoping for some wisdom from fans who remember this. :) thank you!

Hey Anon,

It’s no bother and thanks for the ask. And actually, after the fact is a good position from which to view this matter since, as we all now know, Gillovny’s story has a happy ending. I was around for the original run too but internet culture was very different then. Not everyone was constantly online, I certainly wasn’t. The internet was expensive and hard to access so I got a couple of hours per week tops, which I mostly used to read fanfic. (Fanfic for this show/ship was basically my fanfic writer origin story: I was like WHAT OTHER PEOPLE DO THIS TOO???!!! And btw: readers complain these days about the pressure to respond to fanfic. Back in the day, you had to compose a whole fricking email if you wanted to badger your fave author for more. And there was certainly no easy kudos button option to make you feel like you’d done your bit to encourage community. Anyway.)

There were fan sites, message boards and lots of different fanfic archives. And sure, there was some gossip but it still mostly came via old print media. Pre-social-media, there wasn’t a direct line to celebrities or any great expectation placed on them interact with fans in regular, intimate ways. The advent of social media has created these parasocial relationships in which (some) fans think they know or have a right to far more than they do. Back in the day, and istg this is true, I posted a picture of DD with Blue in the surf on some now defunct message board. The moderators removed it and v kindly said: nope, against our guidelines, no images of private moments taken without the person’s consent. I mean…. talk about boundaries! My baby fangirl ass was properly chastised and learnt a valuable lesson. I think we can learn a thing or two from early internet culture and original fans, some of which are still knocking about this site.

Anyway, all of this is to say, I don’t have any special insight here. The only people who know in any great detail what truly went on in DD and GA’s relationship is them, and maybe a few people in their immediate vicinity. But XF fans are lucky enough to stan two very honest, emotionally thoughtful people who have shared with us some of the challenges they faced during the show’s original run. And, for better or worse, when people tell you who they are, I tend to believe them. Yes, there are other fans that can probably provide you with quotes and timelines and (wild) speculation, but I think I know enough to give a fairly objective opinion on what I think actually occurred. For me, the most pertinent quote here is Gillian’s characterisation of their relationship as being like “a forced marriage”. I take this to mean that, like any marriage, there was great intimacy, respect, cooperation and commitment. Maybe even love. But there was also a lack of choice that caused tension, despite multiple positive relational elements.

“Tension” is a word that has also been applied to their late-90s relationship and I think it’s probably more accurate. I don’t think they HATE hated each other. But I think they probably had fleeting moments of feeling: OMG this person is getting on my last sane nerve, I cannot stand to be around them another fricking second. I think the protracted and concentrated intimacy of their circumstances gave rise to SOME super understandable negative feelings that ultimately, did not define the true nature of their relationship, either then or now. I don’t think those feelings were all there was, even back then. I don’t think these two were epic lovers any more than they were bitter enemies. I think they were just two human beings attempting to function under super intense scrutiny and an extremely gruelling work schedule. And that at times resulted in tension or irritation which they found ways around. Talking to each other only as Mulder and Scully may sound terrible to some but I think it’s a rather ingenious way to conserve their energy for their jobs. It shows an incredible commitment to their characters, to the show and to the contribution the other was bringing to that celebrated dynamic. They knew it was important so that's where they focused.

We have all had times in relationships where we’ve needed some space, even from someone we like, love, respect and value. If anyone was struggling to understand this dynamic between DD and GA then recent experiences of lockdown should have provided some insight into this kind of intense forced intimacy. Now, I have never been married but I’ve lived with people and that experience will make you loathe how a person walks, breathes, sleeps, eats, does the smallest, most insignificant things. It’s not the permanent state of your relationship. It’s just a passing reaction. It does not matter how much you might like or appreciate this person. In one bright flash, they become the most infuriating person to ever walk the planet. Then you go into another room or go to work and the feeling fades. But what happens when you can’t get away, you actually can’t get the sort of space a healthy relationship needs? We all saw how lockdown increased the pressure on all relationships, especially partnerships and marriages. There was pressure within and without and people reacted naturally to profoundly unnatural circumstances. That’s all that happened here.

Now, it must be pointed out that even during periods of the original run when their relationship was supposedly suffering, there is footage of them having fun on-set and ruining takes by making out. This supports the idea that any “hate” was an understandable but impermanent reaction for both. Actually, I think it is highly admirable that they were able to collaborate together and remain individually sane while experiencing such relational tension. It shows incredible personal fortitude and professional commitment. They stayed focused and pragmatic and, to me, there is never any indication that their personal struggles impacted the final product. In fact, I believe they actually enhanced Mulder and Scully’s relationship in those middle years of the original run when they too were experiencing some growing pains in their relationship. I’m thinking of the raw emotion in that end scene of “Elegy” and the palpable impatience and antagonism in “Gethsemane”. I’m thinking of the division and sadness in the hospital scene in “The Red and the Black” and throughout “The End”. Like Mulder and Scully, David and Gillian have some fundamental similarities and some very distinct differences. For the first few years of the series they were living very different lives. It took them time to attune to each other, just as it took Mulder and Scully time to fully absorb the many intricate dimensions of their relationship. As DD and GA grew older, their lives became more similar and their understanding of each other likewise grew. And honestly, I think it’s somewhat hypocritical and inhuman to appreciate the many complex beats of the M/S relationship as it plays out on-screen, but then judge their real-life counterparts as they tread an equally complex path towards true understanding, appreciation and love.

I haven’t watched TXF in years and in my recent rewatch, I was surprised actually at just how combative this relationship could be. I had only remembered all the sweet, shippy bits! But (and I should not really have to point this out) that's also what is so compelling to watch. The conflict. The contrast. The difference (not just in height, although their physical difference does act as a powerful symbol of their mismatched but ultimately complementary dynamic). The difference and yes, even at times tension, between David and Gillian only adds to a dynamic that so many have tried and failed to emulate (RIP to any reboot of this show. This show IS DD and GA’s chemistry. End of.). I can’t be mad or disappointed about Gillovny’s 90s tension, so carefully navigated by both actors, because fuck me does it work for the MSR angst! D’you think we’d have so many delicious angsty fanfics if these two had been sunshine-y, tension-less best buds every step of the way?? Not only is some tension an understandable human reaction that I believe they have every right to, it adds dimension to an epically URSTy relationship that could have gotten boring (and kinda did towards the end, let's be real). There is an added, honest, brave truth to the moments of impatience, frustration, disagreement and division in the M/S relationship because DD and GA experienced these things themselves in the context of their equally intense working relationship. I think the actors continued to mine their own tension and express it through Mulder and Scully, which again is a super creative and healthy way to protect their working relationship and serve the M/S relationship. A relationship in which they were invested, but also a relationship that was central to the show and important to so many fans.

In time, the more intense M/S moments lost their bite. The relationship became softer, less combative, more appreciative. The LA move decreased the actor’s isolation and gave the show a new tone. Gillian is on record saying how strange it was for her when David disappeared in later seasons. And we all know the story of the 10 min post-"Existence" embrace (if you don’t let me know). So this story has a neat and satisfying ending even if Mulder and Scully never really got theirs. As evidenced by the second movie and reboot, nothing was destroyed. The chemistry remains (even if it’s not served by quality plot, development, context and characterisation). These human beings and artists did their best under difficult circumstances. They protected the work, the characters and their relationship. In fact, I would venture to suggest that the wild appreciation they show for each other now, the enduring chemistry we see on-screen and the palpable enjoyment they feel at the other’s presence any time they get the opportunity to reunite is in part due to how they navigated their early years as mismatched colleagues thrown together and expected to work closely under immense pressure. Thanks to David and Gillian, hate never took root. And now, in DD’s words, all that’s left is the heart.

#txf #the x files #msr #mulder x scully #fox mulder #dana scully #gillian anderson #david duchovny #gillovny #90s tension #ask #ask a question of me and you will get an essay #any aunty fangirls with further info or thoughts are free to chime in #but hate will be blocked

[calebwittebane]

i dont think "fandom" is even a real thing like it's a good shortcut for referring to The Collective Of Fans Of A Thing but as a word to describe an actual phenomenon im starting to think it does more harm than good and provokes the most inane conversations. 90% of the time when people complain about Fandom Ruining X they're in actuality referring to like. personal anecdotes. a specific friends group they dont like. a discord server. the enjoyers and artists/writers talking about some specific idea or ship that gets on their nerves. some specific people they think are twee and annoying. some equally specific people they think have bad opinion about the thing they like. all with an air of prime r/iamverysmart material. i mean look at the "shipping ruined fandom!" posts its like so obviously thinly veiled vagueposts about people doing some Mushing Together Fictional Characters about their favorite series that they personally dont like and are bothered by. and all of the above gets brought up to this range of Societal Problem or like Cognitive Decline etc etc. like #SOCIETY. when at the end of the day its just the same petty stuff. theres a lot of Shelf Conchesness on display because theres always this urge to pretend like your favorite extremely mainstream thing of choice is Different and Really Deep. regardless of its merit it was still created with a wide mainstream audience in mind though so i promise youre not above all of this. you are A Fan yourself. people who write y/n fanfics and whatever else are not some different breed, they just happen to do some stuff in their free time that youre not into. people whose art doesnt appeal to you or contains "mischaracterization" are not taking away anything from the source material. bad posts dont take away anything from the source material. and if the whole issue gets to you this badly... well i hate to say it but... The Fandom-Brain Might Have Been Hiding In Plain Sight. ultimately if you depend on other people for transformative content, your being displeased with what you find isnt a societal issue, its just a normal thing that happens, sometimes you just think stuff sucks and is bad. you dont have to shield your petty complaints with Serious Language. youll feel better when you realize this is kind of futile and you can just do your own thing and not desperately depend on others' fan content or discussions, and if you do browse it, well youre gonna see good stuff and bad stuff. its fine. its fine. people creating bad art and writing bad stories for their own enjoyment for free is a good thing. bad art has the right to exist. sometimes in life you have to say, "wow, this sucks. not gonna ruin my day though" and move along. youll feel so much better. enjoy the source material and maybe make some friends through it and hang out with them and joyfully be Likers and Haters and Understanders. enjoy non-mainstream media. get into non-fiction books. go to a modern art museum. watch a movie from a country youve never seen a movie from. start making art yourself even if its bad. share it with your friends. eat hummus with them. etc

[kess-in-the-perthchimzone]

I know you've discussed about this before but the way people complain about the writing pisses me off so much. Blaming on the writers and calling the pacing bad when it's because you just can't get into is so rude? Personally there are shows that are sometimes well liked that I can't get into, but I've never spread hate or criticized the actors for what I feel. DR genuinely has good writing. The way they use the same dialogues in different contexts gives me so much joy.

And Chimon gets hate for a kiss that isn't half as bad? Saying he's uncomfortable w guys when he has a past of doing BLs is dumb af. With the way people criticise the show bcs of that almost makes it seem like good kissing skill over acting is what's needed as a BL actor. Every time I rewatch the scene (which is like a lot of times now, ngl) it's still so beautiful?

I just wanna hear sassy Kess's thoughts again lmao. I love the way you talk about DR.

Thank you! I’m crossing from riled up to tired and blocked an account I was genuinely sad to, so this won’t have the vibrancy of yesterday, but a few more thoughts:

One of the things I love best about DR is all the callbacks and ways phrases are used for different purposes. It is such a joy reading everyone’s analysis, writing it, and listening to the podcast. I also really appreciate looking for all the different symbols at play. If it was a simple, badly written show, we wouldn’t be able to do that.

Also the pacing is a blast. Every time I think I’ve successfully predicted how an episode will go they completely surprise me. It’s so refreshing.

And finally, the love scene was beautiful. Period. I felt the full force of their feelings for each other, the nerves slowly melting away, and the desperate need to be touching each other at all times — which is what you were supposed to feel in that scene when the shy, innocent 17-year let himself be with the person he loved for the very first time despite all his lingering fears and doubt.

Something not be filmed to your personal preference (racier vs softer) is not the same thing as an actor failing at his job because it wasn’t as ‘sexy’ as you would like to see. I actually really appreciate that in BL we get the full spectrum of NC-17 scenes in some shows to really romantic ones like we saw on Dangerous Romance. I wish people would appreciate the wealth of options we have instead of trying to drag shows down.

In happier notes, I saw a ton of new names in the tag Friday — welcome friends!! And I’m grateful for the pretty devoted community we have here on tumblr. It is a blast sharing all this joy for the show with you ❤️❤️

#Kess babbles about dangerous romance

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

Some people (basically Zutaras) say Mai almost got Zuko killed with icicles in the comic, your thoughts?

The comics had things like:

1 - Aang, the pacifist character that spared even Ozai, agree to kill one of his best friends if he started acting like Ozai,

2 - Zuko went from a newly redeemed charater that went as far as saying to Ozai that he hoped being spared would change him, to a hypocritical asshole that locked his mentally ill sister away to be abused in an asylum, took her on a mission knowing nothing about her condition which only made it worse, and then threatened to throw her off a cliff when that inevitably backfired on him - all while having the nerve to pretend he doesn't understand why she still says that he's full of shit when he talks about "mercy", "kindness" and "forgiveness" (and the Gaang fully encouraged him, and in fact we see things like Suki beating up a restrained Azula that had literally done nothing)

3 - Ursa, the supposedly loving mother whose last words to Zuko were NEVER FORGET WHO YOU ARE choosing to forget her own children, even though Ozai threatened their lives

4 - Zuko being unsure of how to be a good ruler and asking OZAI of all people for advice just because he was once Fire Lord - apparently the fact that he was an imperialist monster that was super willing to commit genocide and disfigure his own child (aka Zuko himself) isn't enough to make him think "Maybe I should ask literally anyone else for advice instead"

5 - Azula, one of the smartest characters in the story, wants to win Zuko over to rule through him, and even goes as far as offering to kill people for him - but she's also trying to kill him at the same time, even though that goes against her goals. The writers use "She's crazy" as an excuse for that inconsistency, even though she's supposed to be doing better when this plot takes place.

I'd say these comics are NOT going to do any justice to any character, so acting like Mai is the only one doing horrible shit is just straight up lying.

Also it's very funny that Zutarians complain about the trope of "I love you, but I'm still gonna try to kill you" even though that's what they claim was going on between Zuko and Katara for 90% of the show.

#anti zutara #pro mai #pro maiko #atla comics #the comics suck