#//SHE IS THE ONLY ONE TO HAVE NOT SEEN HIM WITHOUT IT!

[captain-huggy-bear]

Perfect Fit

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: N/A

Summary: You fit perfectly into Quinn's family, knowing how much they love you just makes Quinn realise that you're it for him.

Notes: Requested by an anon, I hope you like it. I went with a kind of snapshot of events vibe for this one

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

He's never had a girlfriend who fit in quite so well into his family because you were quite literally a perfect fit. Every single member of his family loved you. His mom, his dad, his brothers, his grandma, all his cousins. There wasn't a single person who didn't ask where you were when you couldn't come to a family event or who didn't write you a Christmas card or a birthday card. You were in every family group chat, on everyone's list of Christmas presents to buy.

You'd integrated so well into his family that he couldn't really imagine a life without you because suddenly there'd be a missing puzzle piece in the family puzzle, a glaring gap. The sort of hole that would be so noticeable, so obvious.

It's extra obvious whenever he goes to a family event without you, like tonight. You're held up with a big work project, leaving Quinn to go to the big family get together on his own. He knew everyone would be upset about it, there was only so often that all the family were in the local area and you not being there would be obvious to them.

His grandma has already found herself a comfortable armchair when he arrives for the party, cousins, aunts and uncles milling about. His brothers talking to his parents by the snacks, Luke stuffing his face between sentences because he seemed to have hollow legs these days.

"Hey, Grandma'"

"Hey, sweetie," He kisses his grandma on the cheek letting her pull him in tight for a hug, but it's clear her attention isn't on him, her eyes looking over his shoulder, searching.

"You alright, Grandma?" He's a little put out to be honest. His grandma, who he hasn't seen in months, barely looking at him, eyes scanning the room.

"Where's Y/N?"

"Oh, she couldn't make it, she's got a big project goin' on at work and has to stay late for the next week or so." There's part of him that preens at her question because his grandma loves you, something he can't help but love. He loves it for himself, but he also loves it for you knowing you didn't have the best relationship with your own grandparents, knowing that his grandma had healed something in you that no one could see.

"Oh, but I wanted to see her so badly, Quinn! I was going to give her my recipe, the one she asked for to make those snickerdoodles she liked so much." She looks genuinely sad and Quinn briefly considers face timing you to show you because you'd probably cave and drop your work project for his grandma and then he'd have you here. God, he misses you...

"Well, I can give it to her, grandma."

"No! I want to give it to her, what if you lose it?" He can't help the offended scoff he lets out or the way his jaw drops open in shock. His grandma not trusting him more than you hurt a little, even as he loved that she adored you so much. He was perfectly capable of not losing a stupid snickerdoodle recipe...

His mood is no less grumpy when Jack and Luke sling their arms over his shoulders, laughing at him and the way his grandma is holding her recipe to her chest as if he might snatch it from her.

Jack is the worst, "Oh he'd definitely lose it, grams!"

Quinn glares at him, "I'll make sure she comes to the next one, grandma, yeah?" He tries his best to not take his annoyance with Jack out on his grandma, trying to focus on that fuzzy little feeling in his chest at how much she seems to love you. He's never had a girlfriend his grandma really cared much about beyond the occasional question, but you? God, she's not happy to just see him anymore, if he doesn't bring you along she's always visibly disappointed.

"Mmm, it'll have to do! Tell her I love her will you?"

"Course, grandma..." He grunts out, rolling his eyes as Jack and Luke laugh and start dragging him away. As he goes he can't help but mutter under his breath, "More than you love me clearly"

"Jack Rowden Hughes!" Your hands are on your hips glaring at Jack outside the Lake House, a smoking microwave between the two of you where Luke and Quinn had tossed it after hearing your panicked calls for help. The microwave in question had been briefly on fire, not something Quinn really thought he'd be dealing with today.

"Oh god, he's done it now..." Quinn can't help but grin, leaning against the side of the house as he watches you, Luke stood next to him looks more concerned and less amused.

"Should we save him?"

"Nah, I wanna watch this." Quinn's grin widens at the way Jack seems to shrink under your glare like a naughty kid. You've definitely got the mom voice down. It's like watching a younger Jack whenever their mom had to tell him off for something stupid or reckless.

"You just want to watch your girlfriend rip into him because you think it's hot."

"And can you blame me?" He can't even deny it. Quinn thinks you're beautiful all the time, but there's something especially thrilling about watching you rip into his little brother about nearly setting the Lake House on fire.

There's a pause from Luke where he looks at Quinn unsure, words coming out slow and cautious, unsure, "I feel like that's a trick question."

"You would be correct, don't even think about suggesting my girlfriend is hot." Quinn glares a Luke even though the truth is he's playing about. He knows you're beautiful and he also knows both his brothers consider you to be a sister figure, he knows he doesn't need to worry. But, it's funny to give Luke a hard time sometimes.

"So, should I say she's ugly?"

"She's gorgeous but you don't need to think that. Strictly platonic thoughts only, Lukey."

"Quinn?" He looks over with a raised eyebrow, "I love you, but you're insane." They're both pulled from their conversation by the sound your voice again, loud and clear and very much scolding.

You've still got your hands on your hips, a glare has developed on your features and Jack looks even more like his teenage self if possible. His hair is a mess, hands having run through it repeatedly, tugging on the strands.

"What on earth possessed you to think putting tin foil in a microwave was a good idea?! It's metal, Jack! You nearly blew up the microwave!" You feel like you're back at university, dealing with barely legal individuals who can't figure out that cooking a whole chicken in a microwave is simply not going to work. Jack Hughes has managed to give you a headache. His sheepish grin manages to soften some of your edges, but you're still baffled and confused by Jack's sheer lack of common sense.

"How was I supposed to know that that wasn't something you should do?!"

"It's common sense, Jack! Did you not pass science?" You know he did, well aware that Jack was not in fact an idiot. But, Jesus Christ on a bike...tin foil in the microwave? The microwave?! The smell of burning plastic and metal is still assaulting your nose, the adrenaline from thinking the house was about to burn down still running through you.

"...I hate you." Jack's pout breaks you a little, a huff of a laugh leaving you as your shoulders relax somewhat because in reality the whole situation is funny, now that the Lake House isn't about to burn down.

"No you don't."

Jack sighs loudly, stepping around the microwave to pull you into a side hug, "No...I don't...I'm sorry for nearly blowing up the microwave."

"It's okay, I love you even if you're an idiot." You grin up at your boyfriend's brother, who looks at you aghast, jaw dropped at your audacity.

"Hey!"

Quinn can't help but smile, the way you just fit in with his baby brothers, how Jack enjoys your company and how easy you find it to mess with him. You fit in like a puzzle piece.

Summers at the Lake House might be your favourite, the warm wood of the deck beneath your feet, the sun on your skin, a little chubby toddler running towards you at full pelt while you laugh, Quinn watching on from the side lines because he can't help but adore how you act with his baby cousins. You're made for it, made for his family, but made for interacting with little kids too, so gentle with them, but fun too. They love you so much that he can't help but practically develop heart eyes.

"Up! Up!" Quinn's baby cousin, Chase, is at your feet, arms in the air making grabby motions with his hands. His floppy sun hat is a little too large for him and covers his eyes in an adorable fashion, but at least it protects him a little from the summer sun at the Lake House.

"Up? You want to be up here?" You gesture with you arms as you grin down at the little toddler, his chubby cheeks red from running towards you, his skin covered in sun cream.

"Up!" His hands continue to make grabbing motions at you, hands clenching into fists and unclenching in quick succession. He grins at you wide, his gap filled smile endearing.

"What's the magic word?" You're smiling wide at his cousin, even as you remind him of his manners and there's just something so...so affable, so natural about the whole thing.

"Up, pwease!" His little toddler lisp more pronounced on the word, drawing it out until you're laughing, reaching down to grab him under the arms and lift him up into your own.

He squirms a little at first before settling himself comfortably against you, head leaning on your shoulder, smiling up at you like you've hung the moon in the sky. You hold Chase so naturally that Quinn can't really help but think about what it might be like one day when the toddler in your arms is your own. A little toddler with his nose, your eyes and some combination of you both that just seems to work. How you'd carry them around the Lake House, helping them toast marshmallows over the firepit and teaching them eventually how to swim.

"She's good with the kids..." It's his mom who comes up behind him, smiling wide, blue eyes practically glowing as she puts her arm through his.

"I know..." He can't take his eyes off you, you've started to tickle chase, the toddler squirming in your arms as he laughs loudly, big grin on his little face as his favourite person gives him undivided attention. You're practically glowing, wide smile on your face, your own laugh resonating through the air. His chest tightens with affection, an ache for something he hasn't got quite yet, a yearning in his chest.

"Makes you think, huh?" His mom is smirking at him and he knows he's being obvious, knows she can tell how in love he is, how desperate he is to make you a permanent fixture in his life...to make the image in front of him slightly different, a toddler that looks like a combination of the two of you in your arms rather than his baby cousin.

There's a beat of silence where Quinn watches you, a soft smile on his lips, eyes full of love, and his mom watches him, the way he can't seem to hide how deeply he loves you. It's how she knows you're it for him before he even says a word, it helps that Ellen can't help but love you. She's always been welcoming to Quinn's past girlfriends, but she's never quite loved one as much as she loves you. You're good for Quinn, that's the real crux of why she loves you so much...because you give Quinn something to love that's not hockey, you give him another purpose while getting him to shut off, to rest. Of all her sons Quinn is the most dedicated, and with that dedication comes the weight of the world on his shoulders. It's like you walked in one day, and stepped underneath the globe with him to make holding the weight a little easier.

"I think she's it, Mom...I think that's my wife right there..."

"Yeah? I'd hope so because I'll ground you for life if you let her go."

"I'm 25 years old, Mom." He can't help but laugh at his mother, eyes rolling as she grins at him, laugh lines deepening around her mouth and besides her eyes. He's missed this during the season, the unrestricted family time, the back and forth with his mom that makes everything feel simple, even the concept of a proposal, of marriage.

"I can still ground you, I'm your mother." Ellen pokes him in the ribs, Quinn twisting away with a huff.

"Well, good thing I'm not planning on letting her go anywhere anytime soon." He pats his jacket pocket, the shape of a box just visible enough to cause his mom to gasp and he knows, fuck, he knows it's the right choice.

He loves you, adores you, can't imagine a life without you and his mom? She's so excited, so happy, not just because it's Quinn, but because it's you. He'd love you even if his family didn't, but there's something about how much they do love you that makes this perfect, makes this feel so utterly right.

Now he just needs to find the right moment, the right time to finally make you a permanent part of the family.

[moonstruckme]

Here’s my idea for Spencer and intern!reader if you’d be so kind to write it <3 something like Spencer comforting reader after she saw/experienced something rough and is trying not to show emotion bc she thinks that’s what being on the team is

Thank you for requesting!

cw: crime scene, no descriptions but there is a body and the killing is discussed in vague terms, nausea, reader is a bau intern but also an adult

Spencer Reid x intern!reader ♡ 1.1k words

You’re all bottled up. Spencer should be listening to the police officer telling them about witnesses who discovered the victim, but you’re distracting him. You’re breathing deep and slow, intentionally, and your gaze flickers between the cop and the body like you’re not sure which deserves your attention more. Your skin looks waxy in the morning light. 

Spencer is able to step away fairly easily, leaving JJ and Morgan with the officer as he grasps your elbow to pull you with him. 

Closer, your breaths are audibly stilted. “What’s up?” you ask, sounding remarkably composed despite how your eyes are still moving between Spencer and the victim. 

He walks you away from the crowd, back towards the SUV. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” 

You say it too fast. Spencer watches you realize this, and in the same moment you know of course he has too. 

Still, he says gently, “You look like you’re going to faint. If you are, it’s better if you tell me.” 

You reach the SUV. Spencer opens the passenger side, expecting you to sit in the seat to steady yourself, but you only take refuge behind the door. Away from the eyes of the rest of the team, you close your eyes, sucking in another deep breath. 

“I’m not going to faint,” you say on the exhale. This time, with enough conviction that Spencer believes you. “I’m really sorry, I just—I feel sort of sick.” 

“That’s okay,” he murmurs. 

“I’m fine. I’ll be fine in a minute.” 

“Do you want some water?” Spencer reaches into the glove box to find an unopened bottle. “Here, drink small sips of this.” 

“I’m okay,” you say, twisting the cap off to do as he says. 

“It’s okay if you’re not,” he offers. “I know it’s not your first crime scene, but it can be disturbing, the things we see. You know, for most people, even smelling a dead body without seeing it is enough to…” He slows when he can hear his team groaning at him in his head. Spence, JJ would say, in her fond and motherly way, not helping. “...to…well, you know. It’s a lot.” 

You give a little laugh. Fortunately, you seem not to be affected by Spencer reminding you of the smell. Unfortunately, you now look closer to tears than vomiting. 

“I know we have to see this stuff all the time.” Your voice is choked down to a whisper, face pointed at the ground. Spencer finds himself leaning closer to hear you. “And I know that none of the deaths are pretty, or…or easy. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to let it affect me.” 

“That’s nothing to be sorry about. We’re all affected.” 

“But you don’t show it.” 

“We have…we have practice. But we all show it sometimes. Some cases are worse for some of us than others.” 

“I guess I just haven’t—” Your voice splinters, and Spencer’s heart does a poor mimicry of the sound. “—haven’t seen one this…intentional yet.” 

You squeeze your eyes shut as two tears streak down your cheeks. You look frustrated and afraid, and even younger than usual. Spencer has his arms around you without knowing how he got there. 

He understands what you mean. The cases you’ve worked so far have been awful in their own ways, but this killer took his time in a way the others didn’t. He left his victim mutilated, torn apart with a cold-hearted meticulousness that would be enough to horrify even the most seasoned agent. By your anguish, Spencer knows you’ve probably seen it all play out in your mind a dozen times. 

Spencer thinks of himself as an empathetic person. He’s seen some terrible things, but he still tries to meet people, especially people at his job, with compassion and kindness. It doesn’t explain why he’s so startlingly desperate to soothe you. 

He holds the back of your head and keeps you folded into him, his other hand rubbing your back as you take in a wet, shuddering inhale. 

“It’s okay,” he murmurs. “It’s okay.” 

Your voice is a choked, fraught thing. “I’m sorry.” 

“You don’t have to be sorry.” 

“I want to be professional.” 

“Sweetheart” —it slips out without him meaning for it to; Spencer ploughs ahead before either of you can think about it— “you’re not being unprofessional. This is…this is what we do. It’s hard sometimes. Everyone here understands that. Everyone on our team has done what you’re doing.” 

Another short, soft laugh, followed by a sniffle. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Is that why you’re so good at this?” 

Spencer pauses. “No, I’m…well, I wouldn’t say I am good at this, actually. I’m glad you think so, though.” 

“Yeah, you are.” You straighten, wiping underneath your eyes with a knuckle. “God, everyone is going to know I cried.” 

He can’t deny that. “They won’t care,” he promises you instead. “No one will ask questions if you don’t want them to. We all get it.” 

“I knew there were some really fucked up people out there,” you say in a small voice. “I just haven’t really thought as much about the people who…” Your gaze shifts, as if drawn by a magnet, through the tinted window of the SUV and back toward the crime scene. Your expression goes haunted. “...who they…” 

Spencer puts his hand to the side of your face. It’s not like him, and your eyes widen at the contact but you let him direct your attention away. Your skin is warm and tacky against his fingertips.

“It might help to sit down for a minute,” he suggests gently. You’re pliable, allowing him to nudge you back into the passenger seat. “Drink some more, okay? Do you still feel sick?” 

You think about it, then shake your head. “Not really.” 

“Let’s wait a bit anyway.” 

You swallow some water. Worry your lip. “You shouldn't have to coddle me.” 

“It’s not coddling,” Spencer says quickly. Too quickly, maybe. Luckily, you’re not as skilled a profiler and you don’t catch him. “It��s okay to step away sometimes. They don’t need us over there right now.” 

“Yeah.” You breathe out. “Yeah, okay. Thank you, Spencer.” 

He gets called lots of things. Spencer is one of them, of course, along with Reid, Spence, Kid, Boy Genius, and sometimes even Professor. None of them sounds as heavy sweet as his name on your lips. 

“We can wait here.” He decides it as it comes out of his mouth. He’ll have to get the details of the crime scene secondhand, might even make a trip to the coroner’s later to inspect the body himself, but in this moment Spencer can’t think of anything he wouldn’t do to make you comfortable. Inconveniences are trivial. “They’ll come find us when they’re ready to go to the station.” 

You look conflicted, your dedication to the team warring with your obvious desire to avoid being near the victim again. “Are you sure?” 

“Yeah.” Spencer’s own voice sounds distant as he tries to make sense of the unfamiliar tug in his middle. “I’m sure.”

[star2fishmeg]

ᴛʜᴇ ᴡʀᴀɴɢʟᴇʀ

Authors Note | Cowboy!Luke headcanons for my Homegrown AU. If they seem familiar, these were sent, by me, to @/wnderify.

▸ Cowboy!Luke who got the nickname ‘Wrangler’ due to his skill that neither of his brothers can match. Whenever they’re talking about Luke and his wrangling on the ranch, it’s always the same compliment: that he’s got a way with horses.

▸ Cowboy!Luke who brings you wildflowers whenever he’s out and about. Quinn’s always told him that flowers are a sweet gesture, and so Luke takes it seriously with you. His little bouquet’s aren’t as extravagant, they’re dainty but he takes time to carefully choose. 

▸ Cowboy!Luke who only dances with you, forever taking you by the waist when he greets you. He’s a goofy dancer, twirling and dipping you just to smother your face and neck with kisses, sometimes singing the lyrics without a care if he’s a good singer or not. If you’re at a bar, he’s a little shy at first, but the more he’s in your company, the more likely he’s to dance happily with you until you’re both stumbling into a corner and sharing long, passionate kisses.

▸ Cowboy!Luke who always says 'Yes ma'am'  affectionally, usually with his notorious smirk. At first, you think he’s being polite, but when he starts smirking as he says it, you know he’s enjoying it, especially if you’re taking charge of a situation or straight up bossing him around (which he also loves). He’s so smitten for you, eyes locked on the way your lips move, or even your own eyes. In those moments when you’re annoyed at him, the words rolling off his tongue make it impossible for you to hold the irritation. 

▸ Cowboy!Luke who has your photo and a love note you wrote tucked in the inside brim of his hat. A hat’s very important to a man and it only makes sense he keeps you tucked in there as well, he thinks of it as bringing you everywhere with him. While he hates other’s taking his hat or other’s wearing it, he only puts his hat on your head because he thinks it's cute, especially since it's slightly too big for you. He jokes about you being his hat stand (and arm rest) just to get a rise out of you.

▸ Cowboy!Luke who also enjoys watching rodeos with you and watching the light in your eyes when you cheer, feeling how you clutch his hand every now and then. One of his favourite parts is being able to walk around with his hand tucked into the back pocket of your jeans, or to have his finger hooked around your belt loop, he’s just so proud and happy to have you, why wouldn't he want to be seen with you?

▸ Cowboy!Luke who takes you on rides around the trails with him, just to have some alone time to chat and ask about your life. He works with his brothers all day, most days with little time to himself so when he does get that time, he’s saddling up the horses and strolling through a trail side by side with you. It’s his favourite part of the day, getting to listen to you talk and tell him what you got up to, even if it wasn’t much at all, he’s all ears with the soppiest look in his eyes and his hand on your thigh.

▸ Cowboy!Luke who loves showing off how hardworking he is on the ranch, knowing that you'll kiss him at the end of his day. You’re leaning on the gates and watching him at work, every now and then he passes and leans in for a kiss before continuing with what he’s doing. He’s insistent that he shows you ‘his way with horses’, and by that he means how he tames them and how they naturally gravitate towards him like magic. You’re always impressed, which only encourages him.  

▸ Cowboy!Luke who manages to wiggle you into every conversation, especially if he's being flirted with, pulling out your photo and alternating between 'Ain't she a pretty thing?' and 'Ain't she an angel?'. He’s not the smoothest talker, but he knows how and when you bring you up, after all, he’s not interested in anyone else but you. 

▸ Cowboy!Luke who likes to take naps with you, laying on his chest, either across the front seat or back/cargo bed of his truck, hats over your eyes. Now and then he’ll lead you into his room or to a sofa, getting you to lie down so he can snuggle into your chest or neck, pouting if you’re not scratching his back or playing with his hair. 

▸ Cowboy!Luke washing his car during the summer and insists he needs you as his helper, purposely soaking you whenever he gets the chance for giggles. If you’re wearing a white top, then you’ve set yourself up. He’s spraying you the second he gets the chance until your top’s transparent, and all he’s doing is laughing until you’re ringing out a sponge over him. He’s one-hundred percent taking the opportunity to hoist you onto the hood to stand between your legs, hands taking your face to capture you into a kiss, and one with tongue because he’s a little shit. 

▸ Cowboy!Luke who takes his shirt off during the summer when working on his truck, especially if you're around. He does it partially because it’s hot, but mostly because he knows you’re a fiend for him when he does, and hey, if it means you’ll run your fingers over him more, he’ll do it. He’ll flex his muscles when he catches you staring, drawing giggles from you, coaxing you into padding over to wrap your arms around him. He hums feeling your palms run over his chest and stomach, and when you start doing that, he knows you’re purposely distracting him. He doesn’t mind.

nhl wags | @bunbunbl0gs @bewaryofpity (To be added to taglists, just comment or ask via ‘pass me the puck!’) [Masterlist] [Requests CLOSED]

2025 © STAR2FISHMEG All rights reserved - do not plagiarise/copy, translate, or repost any of my works. Please let me know if you notice that any of these have been done to my work.

Banners & dividers belong to me

[rafesweetie]

. ۫ ꣑ৎ . drew starkey and the sweetie who interviewed him

you’re nothing — that’s what you always tell yourself, anyway. you’re a journalist at a small magazine company, all potential and questions wasted because you’re relatively shy and big names like vogue tend to hire the louder workers.

it was a shock to you when your editor landed you an interview spot at TIFF. she believed in you, wanted to give you an opportunity to chat with some big names.

walking into the room where the stars would be interviewed by all the big names, you’re accompanied by one photographer who brought his camera to film the interviews. your pink heels click on the ground as you walk, and you feel severly underdressed in a black mini slip dress, with your hair down.

you’re handed the less popular movie stars to interview, but you’re nervous nonetheless. face going red when you stumble during a long question (even if they’re extremely intellectual), and fiddling with your nails while you listen.

you’re assuming everyone you interview is lesser known, based on the pattern occuring, until a very familiar figure walks over. right, you almost forgot you had to interview him.

now, it’s not like you knew him personally. you were both from north carolina and you have a two mutuals on instagram, but you and him weren’t friends. the only reason you know him is because you’d be living under a rock if you didn’t — drew starkey.

you can’t help the way you’re shaking a bit, flustered, nervous, and excited all at once.

“hi, y/n l/n,” you greet, then tell him what magazine you’re from. you shake his hand.

“drew starkey,” his voice is deep and makes you shiver. you’d heard from almost everyone how captivating he is, and now you believe it.

“it’s nice to meet you,” you say gently. his baby blues haven’t left yours yet. “i just watched ‘queer’ last night, drew, it was amazing,” you tell him, easing your way into the interview. “what was it like filming around the world? have you ever done that before?”

“uh, yeah, i have,” he nods. “i went to vancouver to film ‘the other zoey’, i think, and i went to serbia for ‘hellraiser.’ but i mean, i feel like for ‘queer’, it was more of an experience. we filmed everywhere, multiple continents, it was kind of crazy. and i mean, i’m a country boy, north carolina, so experiencing cultures outside of traditional america will always wow me,” he explains. “where are you from?”

you smile when he flips it on you because he’s very polite. “i live in north carolina too.” you tell him.

“no shit,” he smiles. “what part?”

“charlotte. i mean, i’m not orignally from there, but it’s where i live now so…” you shrug.

“where are you originally from?”

“this isn’t my interview, mr. starkey,” you smile at him. he chuckles. “can i ask another question please?”

“yes ma’am,” he relents, and you giggle. his smile grows when you giggle — his eyes haven’t left you.

you ask a couple more questions, and eventually he has to leave to go talk to another journalist. but he grabs your hand again and squeezes it, intense eye contact as he says it was nice to meet you, and to have a nice night. you’re already in a trance, even though you try to convince yourself that he was just being polite. he’s polite to everyone.

when he leaves, you can’t help but turn to the photographer with a smile on your face and your jaw dropped, simply because that was the biggest name you’ve ever spoken to. you’re unaware he never stopped the video.

────୨ৎ────

the morning after, when reporters are posting their interviews everywhere, you can’t go three scrolls on tiktok without drew’s face at TIFF appearing. you’re half-asleep, until it clicks that every interview you’ve seen has been specifically your interview with him. captioned with, ‘how to be this interviewer???’ or ‘the way he looks at her?’ or ‘someone tell her hes taken by me already’, or even ‘he looks a little young for her?’ you’ve gone viral. everyone believes that the drew starkey is into you.

you’re down a rabbit hole. the slo mo videos on him glancing at your lips, then licking his own, the way he squeezed your hand, you and him both giggling. you can’t deny how it might look either.

you go onto drew’s instagram. he doesn’t follow you, and you’re a bit nervous to initiate. so you close your eyes, bracing yourself, before hitting follow. an hour later, he follows you back. you open the app — one new message.

[Drew Starkey] : Hey it’s the cute interviewer from yesterday! How are you?

you could’ve sworn that your lungs gave out right there.

[angelthefandomobsessed]

After putting it off continuously, I have downloaded and started to play chapter 1. I’m riiiight before the trial, so I decided to go back and read this analysis to see if it was still holding up…

(Some chapter 1 spoilers ahead)

Desmond is totally a bodyguard to Eloise or something, right? Eva had his secret which implied his priority was protecting someone else (unless I’ve gotten mixed up which is a real possibility, I am very tired). He’s seems to be around her a lot (if memory serves, they were both in the courtyard in the prologue), and fencing is a very upper class pastime. Plus, one of the most famous swan stories is the swan princess, adding to that air of nobility that Eloise has.

I wrote: ‘Sharks, apparently, symbolise protection and guidance, so I think Desmond will probably pair up with another character... which will lead to an untimely death, with a very sad flashback scene at the end of a trial.’

Hi, hello, I fear I may have been on point with that.

I also wrote about Wolfgang being a wolf in sheep’s clothing, which was directly mentioned through the motive. Not the most outrageous of predictions, but good for my ego all the same.

To put my predictions for the first trial down (for funsies):

I don’t think it can be Damon, Eva, Cassidy, Jett, Mark, Kai, Jean, or Grace. The only potential exceptions in this list are Jean and Grace, who arrived late. For either of them to be the culprit, the murder would have needed to involve a trap that could be set off without them. However, for that to be the case, there would need to be another person in the boiler room, as someone was heard running away, and all eight people were accounted for at the time.

Ruling out Jean and Grace, I’m left with Toshiko, Ingrid, Diana, Wenona, Ulysses, Eloise, and Desmond.

I believe that Ulysses wrote the note. It matches his handwriting the closest, and he is always seen with a notebook. The wire piece at the scene also looked like a leg from a pair of glasses, with how rounded the end was. I’m pretty sure Wenona gave him an alibi, so I’m not fully convinced that he’s the killer, but I have sus on him.

Toshiko is a little suspicious, as she mentioned cereal at the start of the chapter, and cereal was apparently involved in the breaking of the generator. I’m not double checking this in case I get spoiled, but I imagine she wears socks and sandals of some sort because that’s traditional wear? Eva (I think it was her) mentioned that the person running sounded like they were in socks. There’s also the fact that Ingrid was sick, and Toshiko was her room mate, and that she was confirmed that have visited the pharmacy, and that Wolfgang appears to have a pin prick at his neck… She’s afraid of needles, though, so that might clear her (unless she was lying, but that seems… convoluted).

Diana is super suspicious, but way too obviously so? It could be her (she eluded to having some sort of pre-established plan for the morning, but then claimed to be testing make-up).

Logically, I suspect Ulysses. Narratively, I suspect Eloise.

I am not confident either way, I will be amazed if it’s someone one of the tournaments 8.

As for the method, I’ll go with this theory: Wolfgang was either called down to the boiler room through the note (OR he intercepted a summons meant for someone else), he arrived around 8:10, as instructed. He was knocked out with the rolling pin, the killer drew blood from his neck to splatter through the halls (falsifying evidence), and set some kind of bomb up at the generator. They put Wolfgang in the water, reversed the lock, locked the door. If this is anything close to the order of events, then I’m actually more suspicious of Jean.

Some kind of magic battery was mentioned, which Jett and Jean spoke about. If that was the basis for the destruction of the generator (or, if it was the cause of the electricity), that would implicate the two people who knew about it. Jean was late to the tournament, and knew that being there would give him an alibi. Wolfgang had burns on his hands - maybe Jett knows a thing or two about that specific burning and can crack the case open.

Okay, I’m going to bed now, before I start putting red wool on the walls.

Danganronpa Project Eden's Garden: Animal Symbolism

Okay, so I just finished the prologue (adored it, the writing is impeccable), and noticed that each character features an animal on their clothing. I'm sure tons of people have pointed it out already, but I thought it'd be fun to go through the symbolism of each, alongside any other observations I had.

Damon Maitsu:

Damon's signature animal is one of the more obvious ones - it's the big snake on his tie. Biblically, snakes are kind of a big deal... Just one snake, really, which gave all of the others a bad name. In 'Garden of Eden' arc of the Bible (which is relevant for obvious reasons), a snake tempts Eve to eat the forbidden fruit. The snake basically says "Hey queen, the apple won't kill you, it'll show you the truth, God's a liar." Adam and Eve eat the fruit, condemning humanity to eternal suffering.

Painting Damon as the snake tells us a lot about his role in the narrative and his characterisation. The main theme for Eden's Garden seems to be 'head vs heart', or 'logic vs emotion'. While some characters lean towards emotion, Damon leans towards logic... But based on the Pathos system, he doesn't fully condemn emotion - it can be a good tool when it comes to winning arguments, after all.

At the end of the prologue, Damon disagrees with seeing the good in everyone. He argues that the ultimates are more likely to stab each other in the back than to help each other unconditionally... In other words, he argues that ultimates are ambitious, to the point of throwing away their morals - because he himself is ambitious to a fault.

While a lot of people see snakes as creatures of evil (particularly when it comes to THE snake in the Bible), it could be argued that the snake is an agent of the greater good. Yes, the snake was the catalyst for the fall of humanity, but you could argue it was also the catalyst for the first critical thought. Adam and Eve questioned the word of their creator and chose to go against him. That didn't end very well for them, but you could argue it liberated them.

Would you rather be a sheep, at the mercy of your shepherd, or a snake that sees the world for what it truly is?

Wolfgang Akire:

Speaking of sheep... Wolfgang has a pretty neat (very symbolic) sheep pin. The idea of him picking out a sheep pin in like... a Claire's Accessories is very funny to me.

Much like snakes, sheep are also very Biblically relevant. In the Bible, God's people are usually cloaked in sheep imagery. God is the shepherd (fun fact: 'shepherd' derives from 'sheep' 'herd'), and the sheep are at his mercy. In that light, a sheep is a truly powerless thing.

Perhaps Wolfgang's sheep pin denotes him as a follower rather than a leader. Not to a specific person, but rather to an ideology - to his own morals, which he seems very attached to. Sheep are often seen as weak, existing only to be devoured by stronger, more predatory animals.

But this symbolism might exist here to be subverted. One of the most popular sheep-based phrases is (drum roll please): "Wolf in sheep's clothing".

Lawyer man is, quite literally, a wolf in sheep's clothing. His name has the word 'wolf' in it. He has a sheep on his clothing.

Does Wolfgang obsess over justice due to a guilty conscious? Is it a cover to mask his deepest, most despicable thoughts? Only time will tell, but I'm onto you, lawyer man... If that's even your real name.

Eva Tsunaka:

Okay, so I'm not 100% sure if Eva's animal is a raven or a crow, but I don't think it matters too much, people tend to perceive 'ominous medium-sized black bird' in a similar way, regardless of the specifics. Eva has a black feather in her hair and a badge with a bird's head on it. The badge looks a little bit emu-ish (which would be really funny), but the general vibe is more in line with a crow/raven.

For simplicity's sake, I'll mostly talk about ravens, because I think (don't quote me on this, I have not read the actual Bible) crows are never actually mentioned... but ravens are, so we'll go with that.

SO, ravens, black birds. Apparently, the first bird to be mentioned by name in the Bible is the raven, which... lines up with Eva being the first named bird character we meet (there are a lot of bird people, we'll get to it). During the whole Noah's Arc debacle, Noah sent out a raven to scout for dry land - it didn't come back (I think? It gets mentioned, 'tos and fros' and then doesn't get mentioned again, so I think it dipped which honestly, girlboss move).

Other than that, a raven was used as a divine messenger at one point, but I think the much more interesting (and relevant) aspects of the raven is the general symbolism.

Ravens are usually seen as bad news - much like the snake, they get a bad rep. While they are often seen as bad omens, they can also be seen as beings of spiritual wisdom. They see more than others can, much like Eva. When the others start to do the whole 'We'll never kill each other!' it's Eva who disagrees, seeing the reality of the situation.

Based on the word 'Danganronpa' being associated with the game, we can assume she's correct, and that the bodies will start hitting the floor very soon.

Eva is wise and holds a lot of knowledge, but she is distrusted for reasons outwith her control. She didn't ask to be the ultimate liar - some random organisation sent her a letter one day putting that label on her.

Interestingly, ravens are the natural enemies of farmers... and Wolfgang has a distinct agricultural reference on his lapel.

To summarise: people don't like ravens, but they're very smart birds who can (in certain mythologies/cultures, at least), see beyond the surface level).

Toshiko Kayura:

Toshiko's assigned animal is a little harder to spot. Two flamingos are on her skirt as a decal, making them less obvious (especially during waist-up shots).

Okay, so I'm no expert on this, but I'm pretty sure there aren't any flamingos in the Bible. Flamingos played a part in Egyptian beliefs, being associated with Ra, and they might actually be the original inspiration for phoenixes which... is kind of hilarious? The Aztecs saw them as sacred, and in Hindu culture they symbolise hamsa, a divine vehicle, which symbolises the realise from samsara, aka the cycle of suffering.

So... that could be a thing relating to Toshiko. She could be destined to act as a turning point in the narrative (either through death or through character development, same difference).

Or, we could go with the really obvious interpretation of 'flamingo = romance'. Which is very on-brand. Additionally, flamingos represent balance and elegance - mainly because of their 'standing on one leg' trick. Toshiko most likely strives to embody the qualities of a flamingo in these regards.

The use of flamingos in Toshiko's design might point to her being 'the heart' of the group. She's shown to be quite emotional (becoming flustered when challenged, avoiding the investigation, getting into an argument over gremlin-hood with Grace), despite trying to emulate a mature aura. She speaks in frivolous, convoluted imagery, which is peak fourteen-year-old behaviour, and if anything bad happens to her I will cry :D

Ulysses Wilhelm:

Rather than having a picture of an animal, Ulysses wears an owl pendant. Owls represent wisdom, and are particularly fitting for Ulysses due to him being more of a night owl.

Biblically, owls are seen as unclean birds, alongside ravens. They aren't overly relevant, but are (allegedly, according to some random Bible forum) used to symbolise loneliness, desolation, guilt and mourning. In a broader sense, owls are seen as wise, critical-thinking creatures, and independent.

Because of this, I think Ulysses will fall into the Damon/Eva camp of thinking, due to his historical knowledge. Because if history's taught us anything, it's that people can't be trusted, they will self-sabotage, and murder is inevitable.

I don't have much else to say - Ulysses feels like an early victim/blackened candidate, unfortunately, so I don't think he'll be playing a major role narratively.

Desmond Hall:

This one's a little hard to spot immediately (and when I did spot it, I wasn't sure which animal it belonged to), but according to the concept art Desmond has a shark tooth earring.

There are no sharks in the Bible. Sharks, apparently, symbolise protection and guidance, so I think Desmond will probably pair up with another character... which will lead to an untimely death, with a very sad flashback scene at the end of a trial. Or he'll survive, who says Biblical relevancy matters? Sharks are pretty cool and so is Desmond.

I think he'll be an optimist in the situation, but I... don't have much to say regarding his animal motif.

Grace Madison:

This one is pretty up there for the 'easiest to spot award'. Grace's animal is a rabbit, which can be seen by her (adorable) rabbit-eared visor.

Biblically rabbits are pretty irrelevant, but symbolically they're very prominent. Rabbits are probably most famous for their easter connotations (you'd think they'd be Biblical, but no, it just says not to eat them). Rabbits are also known as lucky animals - 'rabbit feet' are seen as lucky talismans...

If Grace ends up with a severed foot, I'm going to lose my mind.

Anyway, since Grace is the resident 'reckless and crude' character, I would theorise her link to rabbits would be 'rebirth'. Rabbits are associated with spring, which is associated with rebirth. I think Grace (who is described as someone who burns every bridge she makes) will undergo the Fuyuhiko treatment and see a lot of character development.

Not much else for me to say here, but rabbits are generally seen as active animals (energiser bunny, the Scorbunny line), so... yay sports..?

Diana Venicia:

I do not trust this girl as far as I can throw her. I saw her across the room and thought, "No, you're evil", and the chameleon bracelet did not help her case.

Like... not only does it suggest she's hiding something, or that she's a social chameleon, but it looks like a handcuff, that cannot be comfortable. And oddly enough, chameleons do feature in the Bible... and it's very odd, and very interesting.

Basically, chameleons conform to their surroundings through their unique abilities. God likes that for them, but not for humans - apparently, they should challenge things rather than just conforming to them. Which like, okay, someone changed their tune from "Don't do this one thing, no I will not elaborate". In actuality, what this means is "you should not be different on Monday to how you were on Sunday", aka, be #authentic.

Also, chameleons are seen as 'not standing up for what's right', so I guess that's where Diana falls on the morality spectrum, maybe possibly?

Diana is hiding something, she's on my mastermind radar but it feels a little too obvious? If she's not a mastermind, she hiding something and is a killer, nothing can redeem her from being shady in my eyes. I'm onto you, make-up girl...

(My guess is the beauty industry/Hollywood requires a degree of fakery, and she hates it, but she wanted to be successful so she gave into the fakery, and lost her true self in the process. And hey, maybe at some point she decided that she had to see the true twistedness of humanity via a killing game, who knows? Plus, make-up, that's very Junko-ish of her, just saying-)

Jean DeLamer:

Okay, so some people got 'owl' or 'flamingo', but this man got a whole dragon. And he cannot be more deserving of it, fly high king.

I really didn't think there were dragons in the Bible, but apparently they get a mention (in all fairness, it's a real big book). Fun fact: Biblically, they are usually mentioned to reference sea monsters. On brand for our sea captain. Bad news though, dragons are pretty exclusively evil (sometimes straight-up Satan), and are vanquished by God. So... Not great for Jean, honestly, that's concerning.

Could he have a connection to the killing game? He could be a traitor of some sort, or he could try to rise up against the KG and get struck down.

Basically: Jean has no power here, he will lose every time, if the Bible-dragons are anything to go by.

Anyways, dragons are pretty relevant in... most cultures, so this is probably the most interesting thing I can dig up.

Jett Dawson:

In my original post, I mislabelled Jett's animal as a wolf. Somebody in the comments corrected me, pointing out that it's a coyote. Coyotes are closely related to wolves, so there's some symbolic overlap, but I'll rewrite the section anyways, because the original didn't shed much light on anything.

Biblically, coyotes are in a bit of an odd spot. They're seen as cunning and dangerous for the most part, but in Isaiah's passage (disclaimer: I haven't read it, I'm doing the deeply unacademic thing of trusting 'straightforwardguidance'.com) he complains that coyotes and lizards are more grateful to him than humans. This is used to demean the coyote; a wild animal is better than people in Isaiah's eyes, placing them at the low end of societal importance (not literally, ofc).

Apparently, the bible also describes these animals as being wise, due to their hunting tactics. Coyotes will hunt rabbits as a team, with one tiring a rabbit out and another finishing it off. This little tidbit does not bode well for Grace, our rabbit. But, to be fair, the presence of a coyote wouldn't go well for most small animals.

I don't have too much to say about coyotes, beyond their obvious similarity to wolves. Wolves tend to hunt sheep (which gave them a bit of a negative biblical rep), but let's be real, a sheep isn't winning many battles out in the wild.

Jett strikes me as a 'tragic killer', like our usual chapter 2/4 killers. There's wildcard energy to him, though - I could see him killing, surviving or dying, but whatever happens, there'll be a plot point surrounding his face, it seems too interesting to not be a thing.

Kai Monteago:

Butterfly, on chest, let's go.

Most obvious interpretation: social butterfly, he's an influencer.

Biblically, they're pretty irrelevant, but symbolically they're all about transformation. This could indicate character development, a change in tune, etc. Not much to say here, it could represent vulnerability (butterflies are fragile), but it's most likely a reference to the phrase social butterfly.

Mark 'Mayhem' Berskii:

His hat is, indeed, an alligator. At first I thought it was a dragon, then a crocodile, but the concept art confirms it to be an alligator.

Google couldn't tell me much about Bible alligators, which was expected. What it can tell me is the symbolism behind them, though.

Alligators are cunning and wise. Which adds up here, Mark seems way smarter than he lets on. He makes a comment at the end of a non-stop debate (something about setting the trash fire) which suggests he's a critical thinker, seeing the misguided logic in the room.

They are also apex predators with a lot of strength which... is concerning, in terms of potential murderers. Since they've been around since the prehistoric age, alligators are seen as having an ancient, primal aura about them.

I feel there's more than meets the eye with Mark - he'll carry a key discovery or two, just you wait.

Wenona:

Wenona is the girlboss we need, as well as the girlboss we deserve, no further questions. Her animal decal is a little less obvious than others', being bear pawprints at the bottom of her coat.

My favourite Bible story ever (because it's hilarious out of context) is the one about Elisha and the bears, where two bears maul forty-two children because they made fun of a guy. So, maybe don't get on her bad side via mockery.

Interestingly, bears are used to symbolise cruelty and self-servedness which... adds up here, I guess.

Symbolically, bears are a little more cuddly than the Bible makes them out to be. They're known for hibernation, making them quite patient and cautious animals. Bears are grounded animals and represent strength, being fearsome predators.

Wenona is very set in her views, and appears to be unwavering, much like a bear.

Eloise Taulner:

Eloise wears a swan pin in her hair, making that her signature animal. Swans are graceful and vicious; a fascinating combination for a character like Eloise.

In the Bible, swans are everything you'd assume a white bird to be. It's all very 'this bird is the serene love of god, do not eat it, but for different reasons'.

Symbolically, swans are loyal birds, being of the 'mates for life' variety. Something interesting to mention is the concept of a swan song - a song that laments death, said to be the most beautiful song ever sung by a swan, despite the birds being far from natural singers. In Greek mythology, swans were sacred to both Aphrodite and Apollo, with Apollo being the god of music.

Which presents the possibility of a friendship between Mark and Elodie, with him being 'music' and her being a swan.

Swans are very powerful birds, so Eloise's character arc will probably involve her becoming stronger in terms of willpower and confidence.

Ingrid Grimwall:

This one's a little harder to spot, but Ingrid's animal symbol is on her bag, in the form of a lion.

Lions are generally seen as brave, proud animals. The main Biblical story that comes to mind is the story of Daniel, who was thrown into a den of lions. A lion's roar is intended to paralyse its foes with fear, but can its bite match its bark? I suspect Ingrid will be a big talker, but less keen to take actual initiative. Male lions are known for being less active than their pride members, with the female lions doing the hunting.

Although, you could argue that a lion is a natural leader. These qualities don't need to be exclusive though - why not be a leader and a layabout?

Besides that, there's pride and family and strength, but the less prominent placement of Ingrid's emblem tells me she'll be less fearsome than her classmates.

Cassidy Amber:

Cassidy's a little bit different from the others. Her animal motif doesn't have a specific portrayal of the animal (much like Wenona's and Ulysses'), and hers is repeated as a pattern - Cassidy wears tights with a spiderweb pattern.

Now, spiders are pretty well known for trapping things. It's kind of their whole deal. This gives Cassidy some serious mastermind vibes to me, especially when coupled with the fact that she's married to the content grind, loves games, and has a lot of money to throw around.

But anyway, the Bible just kind of complains about their webs being fragile, which could be interpreted as 'her fanbase isn't a true connection to others, they'll abandon her the second someone new catches their attention'. In reality, the Bible doesn't hold up for most of these, but like... it's interesting, right?

Spiders could be described as patient killers. They weave intricate webs for their victims and wait for the opportune moment to strike. Spiders are often feared, with arachnophobia being one of the most popular phobias. Cassidy herself is capable of projecting an unsettling aura and might be described as unnerving.

Fun fact: Red spiders specifically symbolise wealth, passion and excitement, which lines up pretty well with our pro-gamer.

In Conclusion:

I spent way too long making this.

Also, the Bible was pretty useless for most of these BUT the Bible reflects a lot of general perceptions (because it set quite a few of them), so it was sometimes interesting, I think, I'm tired, send help, goodnight!

(If you've made it this far, say hi or something, this took three hours and for what?)

[kashverse]

umbrellas are, without a doubt, mankind’s magnum opus. rain? blocked. sun? deflected. want to look like a brooding protagonist in a slow-motion film sequence? pop that thing open and stride dramatically.  a/n: read till the end to see choso's temu collab <3

unfortunately, this universal truth is lost on gojo, who believes his infinity is a catch-all solution to every problem in life, including weather. does it keep the rain off him? sure. does it do the same for you? absolutely not. but does he realize this? of course not. so while he’s smugly holding you close, humming some dumb love song and talking about how "this is just like those k-dramas, huh, babe?" you are actively getting drenched. fast forward two days later—you’re curled up in bed, tissues piling up like a battlefield, and gojo is wailing as if he’s the one on death’s doorstep. “my baby is dying,” he cries to shoko over the phone, who is ignoring him as she eats her lunch. it doesn’t matter that you told him it was just a mild cold. gojo is now hand-feeding you soup with the solemnity of a man who thinks he is on his last day of service. *“i should’ve—sniff—bought an umbrella.” you have half a mind to hit him with the spoon.

geto, on the other hand, is a man of preparation and, for some reason, exclusively stocks clear umbrellas. like, exclusively. open his closet and you will find nothing but a neat, borderline concerning collection of transparent umbrellas, stacked like they’re waiting for a government-distributed evacuation plan. does he use them all? yes. does he need that many? no. when you question him, he simply shrugs and says, “it’s aesthetic.” but the aestheticism fades a little when the two of you are forced to walk under the blazing summer sun, grumbling like old men because the clear plastic is offering exactly zero protection from UV rays. "we’re gonna get so tanned,” you whine. “we’ll be fine,” he reassures, though he looks about one minute away from passing out. why doesn’t he just buy a regular umbrella? you may never know.

toji, meanwhile, gives you the slow blink of a man who has never voluntarily used an umbrella in his life. if you ask him where his umbrella is, he will blink at you like a lizard sunning itself on a rock and say, "what’s an umbrella?" except he’s joking, but also not really. the thing about toji is that he fundamentally does not care about the weather. if it rains, it rains. if it shines, it shines. he has completed jobs in typhoons, sprinted through downpours to reach you in the middle of the night when you were anxious, and once walked through a literal snowstorm to buy a six-pack. weather is an inconvenience only for the weak. that is until his philosophy backfires and he ends up with a sunburn so severe he’s walking around the house hissing like a vampire, or with a cold so bad that every time he blows his nose, he sounds like a goose fighting for its life. and now he’s grumpy about it. "should’ve used an umbrella," you tell him sweetly as you rub aloe on his peeling shoulders. he grumbles something unintelligible and sulks like a big, overgrown toddler.

nanami is the only one among them who has fully mastered the art of umbrella ownership. you don’t even have to ask if he has one; the answer is always yes. he has one for every occasion. he carries a primary umbrella, a backup umbrella in his bag, and if you check his office drawer, there’s probably another one neatly folded away just in case. he whips it out at the farmers' market, during evening strolls, and most impressively, in a street fight. if you’ve ever seen a man turn an umbrella into a lethal weapon, nanami is that man. he can and will beat the shit out of someone with it. “it’s a tool,” he says simply. and honestly, who are you to argue?

choso, however, is firmly in the raincoat camp. umbrellas make his hands hurt, so he skips the struggle entirely and commits to full rain protection like a man on a mission. the problem arises when he starts browsing for new raincoats and sees children wearing character-themed ones. next thing you know, he is holding up two sanrio-themed raincoats from temu, grinning ear to ear. "they glow in the dark when they get wet," he says proudly. they allegedly glow. allegedly. you do a quick google search and find out they might actually contain enough lead to take down a fully grown man. "choso, you are not wearing that." but he already bought it. and now he’s standing in the rain, in a kuromi-themed raincoat that is possibly a biohazard, smiling like he’s the peak of fashion.

sukuna, much like toji, does not give a single damn about rain or shine. it could be pouring or blisteringly hot, and he’d still be doing whatever he wants, unaffected and unbothered. however, if the weather starts personally inconveniencing him—like preventing him from stretching out in his favorite sunspot like some oversized demon cat—he will glare at the sky itself and, somehow, it will fix itself. it doesn’t rain if sukuna doesn’t want it to. the sun won’t shine if he says so. when you ask him how he does it, he just shrugs. "i just do." you don’t push for answers. you’re a little scared to.

[beomcoups]

Stupid Cupid

➻❥ 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You are madly in love with your best friend and it's eating you alive. One day you will tell him how you feel, but you have to deal with his girlfriend first.

➻❥ 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: best friend!hansol x reader

➻❥ 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 18+, roommates au, best friends to ?, angst, fluff, smut

➻❥ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: cursing, jealousy, fight is kind of intense, kissing, protected sex, nipple play?, fingering, oral (f. receiving), masturbation, missionary, multiple orgasms?

➻❥ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 9.1k

➻❥ 𝐀𝐍: This for the collab "Lonely Hearts Cafe", hosted by @camandemstudios. This story truly stressed me out and I couldn't have gotten through it without @yoongihan, @seokgyuu, @okiedokrie and & @haologram for looking at this for me. I don't do well with deadlines and the words just weren't coming to me naturally. It was eating me up and giving me headaches lol. I hope despite that, you all like this labor of love 😭

You are in love with Hansol. 

Hopelessly, stupidly, trip over your feet when he’s around, butterflies in your stomach kind of love. He’s everything you could want in a guy and your best friend, someone you can just chill with no expectations. You both love Star Wars, attend anime cons together, and are allergic to peanuts. You share a home with him and it feels like home in your heart when he’s near. You’re in love with Hansol. There is only one problem: he has an on-and-off girlfriend. 

A girlfriend you particularly hate. 

Kelsey is always around, taking up your space, and it’s aggravating. You wish you could say that it’s not serious, but to your chagrin, they have been on and off for a couple of years. It’s bad enough that you can’t tell Hansol how you feel, but then you have his girlfriend, a huge social media influencer, always at your condo every time you’re there. You would think she would like to take her “influence " elsewhere. It’s exacerbating. 

“Hey there girl,” Kelsey calls out as you walk to the kitchen. She is sprawled out with her laptop on your living room floor rug, wearing a cut-off shirt, the tiniest shorts you have ever seen, and knee-high socks. Where does she live again?

“What’s up?” you respond, barely hiding the irritation in your voice. 

“Oof, you’re definitely not a morning person,” she scoffs. “Do you think you can stay out tonight? Vernon has this Hollywood thing he has to attend to tonight, and he is stressed about it. So I want to help him relax if you know what I mean.” 

You raise your eyebrows at her referring to him as Vernon, which he only tells his coworkers to call him. Hansol is a cinematographer, and a damned good one. He works for a major film studio and is invited to parties all the time. He only goes for the free food and booze, he says, because those people don’t care about anything but themselves and their pockets, let alone pronouncing his first name correctly.

Kelsey is not a coworker; she is, unfortunately, his girlfriend. Why doesn’t she call him by his preferred name?

“What does you wanting to help Hansol relax have to do with me being here?” you ask, making yourself a cup of coffee. 

“Well.” She clicks her tongue. “It’ll be pretty awkward for me to be blowing his brains out while you’re here, ya know?”

You bite your lip to keep yourself from saying what is on your mind, instead focusing on making your elaborate coffee with whipped cream and caramel syrup on top. This girl really has some nerve. 

“Kelsey,” you let out a small sigh. “I’m not leaving my house because you want to fuck. Do whatever you please.” You slam the whipped cream can on the container. “It’s nothing I haven’t heard before.” 

Irritated, you walk past her and speed into the hallway, almost running into Hansol, who is leaving his bedroom. Wearing a red shirt and pajama pants, he has bedroom hair and a hint of sleep in his eyes. He looks adorable. 

“Where are you running off to?” His voice is deep and groggy. 

“I am running away from that peach of a girlfriend you have in there.” You roll your eyes. “Plus, I have to get ready for work.” 

“Oh no, what did she do now?” 

“Nothing, aside from asking me to stay out of the condo that I pay for tonight so she can fuck you as loud as she wants,” you say bluntly. 

Hansol’s eyes widen in shock, the little sleepiness he had evaporated. “She didn’t say that?” 

“She just about said that,” you sigh, leaning on the wall. “Look, I have to get ready for my day, but we have to have a conversation later. Not tonight, because I know that party is happening. But at some point, we do.” 

“Okay,” he says, looking at the floor. “I’m sorry.” 

“No need to be sorry,” you sigh again, deeply this time. “Let’s just chat soon, okay?”

You step into your room and shut the door, your heart beating out of your chest. That was not a conversation you want to have early in the morning, and Kelsey being around more and more makes you erratic. Eventually, a conversation will have to be had about how much time she is spending here and everything. But right now, you will sip your elaborate coffee and try to get through the day. 

You met Hansol on the first day of college. You needed help finding your classes and ironically you shared some classes required for your majors. You wanted to be a film director and figured a film studies degree would get you there. Hansol loved being behind the camera, recording the magic in front of him. You shared the same study group and met your other best friends, Minghao and Wonwoo. Minghao has a good eye for design and wanted to work on set designs and costumes while Wonwoo is equally obsessed with cameras, often geeking out with Hansol about the different models they wanted to collect one day. You even lived together at one point, your friendship group known as the “core four”, until one by one, everyone moved out and it was just you and him. 

You didn’t fall in love with him right away. It was a slow, simmering thing that snuck in and robbed your heart and mind before you realized it. You were together all the time and enjoyed the same things. You’ve seen each other at your worst, depended on each other, and celebrated your successes together. Hansol was your go-to for everything, and you didn’t realize until he started dating Kelsey that you were in love. But how can you tell him that?

“Okay, what’s wrong?”

Minghao sits next to you during your lunch break the same day, bringing you meat and stir fry that he brought from home. His girlfriend, Mei, who is an excellent cook and very sweet, sent you a text this morning that she was bringing some with him to the studio today. You worked for a major studio as an SFX artist, falling in love with prosthetics and makeup in one of your courses and deciding to pursue that instead. You still have your bachelors in film studies and your love for film hasn’t changed; you just went on a different path. You’re happier for it. 

“Thank you for the food,” you breathe, purposely dodging his question. 

“You’re welcome,” he replied, handing you Tupperware of colorful stir fry. “What’s wrong?”

“What makes you think anything is wrong with me?” 

Minghao raises an eyebrow with a familial side-eye as he distributes utensils, the kind of look parents give you when they know you’re telling a lie. He knows you so well, and he has always been good at reading people. You can talk to him about anything, and he is going to give you the hard truth, even if you don’t want to hear it. After a moment, you tell him what happened this morning and he is silent, taking it all in.

“She is really getting on my nerves,” you huff, accidentally slamming your plastic fork on the table. Your colleagues around you look in your direction nervously, and you are mortified, wishing you could wiggle your nose and disappear like the genie on the old TV show. 

“Are you sure it’s because of her, or is it because of him?” Minghao asks casually, taking a sip of his tea. 

“W-what do you mean?” you play aloof, not wanting to open another can of worms. “This has nothing to do with Hansol, though I wish he would tell her to not come over to our place all the time. I don’t get what he even sees in her.” 

“Sure,” he says with a smirk, barely containing his amusement. “I’m sure it has nothing to do with the fact that you are in love with him.”

“Ugh,” you groan, sliding further in your seat. “I wish I never told you that.” 

“You didn’t have to.” His smile widening into a teasing grin. “Even the blind could see your bleeding heart for him.”

“Yeah, apparently everyone can but him,” you mutter, taking a stab at your food. 

Minghao chuckles softly, shaking his head. “Well don’t take your frustration out on the food. Mei put a lot of love into that.” 

You mumble “sorry”, feeling guilty and eating your food in silence. If it were another day and you were in a better mood, you would savor it more. But all you want is for the work day to end, so you can curl in your bed and figure out how to navigate this unrequited love. 

“What if I told him how I felt?” 

You look up slowly at your friend, gauging his reaction. He already has the look of disapproval, and your stomach is in knots. 

“Yeah, that’s a terrible idea,” he says firmly. “Do you really want to start drama in the middle of the busiest season for us? Not to mention Kelsey will blast this all over social media.”

“I’m not scared of her,” you shoot back defiantly, crossing your arms. 

Minghao chuckles again, but it is lighter and paired with concern in his eyes. “Just think it through okay? Things are already complicated, and I don’t want to see you hurt.” 

He places a supportive hand on your shoulder as he packs up what’s left of his lunch and goes back to work. You sigh, knowing that he’s right, but it still doesn’t make it easier to hear. 

You planned to sleep through whatever escapade Kelsey had in mind with Hansol. You had your nightly tea with cinnamon horchata and set your phone to play ambient/vaporwave music to drown out whatever noise they might bring. They aren’t exactly the quietest people when they are in the mood, and you have been dreading it since this morning. 

A lot of times you have wondered what it would be like to experience him for the first time. You’ve heard enough of them to have an idea of what he is like, but it’s different from actually feeling him inside you, with his hands caressing your body. You want to feel his lips on yours and your skin against his. Is it possible to crave something that you’ve never had? You are tired of hearing the headboard banging against the wall and the moans that follow soon after. You are irritated with it all— You wish it were you instead. 

You heard the security system beep when the front door opened, and you lay in bed, waiting for the inevitable shuffling of feet and sloppy kisses that would follow after. Your stomach turns at the thought of her hands all over him, whispering sweet things in his ear that have no meaning. Silence ensues, leaving you confused, and your nosiness gets the best of you. Slowly getting out of bed, you slip into your house shoes, exiting your room quietly as you brace yourself for the grand display of affection you were used to seeing. Instead, you find Hansol on the couch, taking a hit of his vape, tiredness etching around his eyes. 

“How was the party?” You probe, taking a seat next to him and crossing your legs. “You look partied out.” 

“It was alright,” he mumbles, taking another hit of his vape. 

“Alright?” You quirk an eyebrow. “You have been talking about this party all month and it was just alright?”

You noticed his disposition and you don’t want to pry, but his nonchalant attitude is eating at you. Hansol can be hard to read sometimes, but you know him. He’s quiet with everyone else but not with you—he tells you everything. 

“Tell me what’s happened.” 

Hansol reluctantly answers, sighing heavily as he takes one more vape hit before setting it on the armrest. You move closer to him, giving him a reassuring smile. 

“Kelsey and I broke up again,” he said, the heaviness of his words linger in the air. The sadness in his voice is clear, and it hurts you to see him upset. “She wanted to bring a friend to the party and you can’t exactly do that. So when I told her no, she got all pissed at me, we argued and she broke up with me.” 

You bite your lip, trying to find the right words. “I’m really sorry, Hansol. Despite how I feel about her, I know you really love her, and being broken up with sucks.” 

He looks at you, his brown eyes reflecting a mix of tiredness and frustration. “She said it was more than just not letting her bring her friend to the party. She says I never consider her feelings and that’s not true. It just feels like we’re always going in circles. One minute, we’re good; the next, it’s like… it never even mattered.”

“Yeah, that can be exhausting,” you pause, wanting to say more but unsure how to articulate the feelings that bubble beneath the surface. This is not their first break up, but it affects him all the same. Seeing Hansol be madly in love with someone who keeps taking advantage of him burns you to your core. He doesn’t deserve that. He deserves someone who will take care of him with love and respect. Someone who values his ideas and cares about him as a person. You would give him the world if you could. 

“I hope I am not overstepping,” you say cautiously. “But this isn’t your first rodeo. Why do you keep going back?” 

His silence is deafening, and he has an uncomfortable expression on his face as he tries to find the right words to say. “Look, Kelsey can be a lot and full of herself, but she cares in her own way. When it’s just us, she is so attentive, funny, and warm—sort of. She has her moments,” he sighs again. “She makes me feel good in a way no one else has. I love her.”

Hearing him declare his love for her leaves you with a bitter taste in your mouth. It’s bad enough that you didn’t realize you were in love with him until after he started seeing her, and now after hearing this, you can never tell him how you feel. It’ll fuck up everything, despite it gnawing at you inside. 

“For what it’s worth, I hope that you two will be able to talk it out and figure out what you want to do.” You tell a strong lie, but you don’t want to hear more about his love for her. You can’t take it. “Do you want to chill for a bit? We can watch Revenge Of The Sith if you want.” 

He cracks a small smile, and for a moment, the weight in his eyes lightens. “Yeah, let’s just chill for a bit. That sounds cool.”

“Cool,” you reply, scrambling from the couch. “I’ll make some popcorn.” 

Tears threaten to break free as you beeline it to the kitchen, your heartache paining worse than before. “She makes me feel good in a way no one else has… I love her.” You keep replaying it in your head over and over. You almost wish you never left your room, and went to sleep like you planned. At least you would still have a bit of hope, instead of a cracked heart. 

A few weeks pass, and as the season change, so does the light in Hansol’s eyes. He is getting back to his normal self and is laughing again. As happy as you are for him, it feels like your heart is being pierced by shards of glass. It was foolish of you to think you could ever be with him, and Minghao was right: it will just complicate everything.  

You know he isn’t completely over Kelsey, and it’s going to take more than a few weeks to get over someone you love deeply. You used to have daydreams of cuddling with Hansol on the couch, watching horror movies, and being madly in love… you have to put it to bed, for good. You start distancing yourself, little by little. Whether it’s staying late at work or finding different excuses to be out of the house, it doesn’t matter. You’re still there for him as a friend, but you want to be free from this unrequited love. It was fucking with you. 

So here you are, at a bar, sitting with your date Seungcheol, who you met on a dating app. You just wanted a quick fix for your heartache, and they say the best way to get over someone is to get under another, right? He’s the one to fulfill that. 

Within an hour of talking to him, you learned he was the typical tech bro who went to an Ivy League school, liked to mansplain everything, and thought he was God’s gift to women. Whatever. It’s not like you planned on seeing him again after tonight. 

“You look real nice in that outfit,” he says, practically drooling over your little black dress and heels. 

“Do I?” You flirtatiously quirk an eyebrow. 

“Yeah.” Seungcheol nods, taking a sip of his gin. “I can’t wait to see what you look like underneath.”

It takes every fiber in your being to roll your eyes and walk out of there. Guys like Seungcheol annoy you, and you deal with them in small doses and go about your business. But he is a means to an end, and you will bat your eyes and tell him what he wants to hear to get what you want. You will deal with the consequences in the morning. 

You gaze at the clock displayed on the wall and it’s a quarter till eleven. Tired of hearing him talk, you lean in and whisper in his ear, your lips barely touching him. “Do you want to get out of here then? You said your place isn’t that far, right?”

His eyes are lit with desire, and you excuse yourself to the bathroom while he settles the bill. Stepping into the dimly lit bathroom, you take a good look in the mirror, adjust your dress, and apply the last bit of cherry red lipstick. The soft glow of the overhead light illuminates the traces of perfectly good makeup that you only bring out for special occasions. 

“Is this really what you want?”

Your words echo against the walls, your question answered by silence. With a deep breath, you straighten your posture, taking one last look before exiting the bathroom. Of course, this is what you want— you wouldn’t have gone this far if you didn’t. Seungcheol waits for you at the bar, biting his plump bottom lip as he scrolls through his phone. Seungcheol is as hot as they come, and it certainly makes this decision a bit easier. 

“Are you ready to go?”

He looks up as you close in on him, linking your arm through his. “Of course, I’m going to pull the car around front.”

You watch him walk away, twiddling your fingers as you wait in suspense. The bar smells of wood and stale beer, the heat pushed on blast to counter the cold outside. You slip on your coat, walking towards the front door when you hear laughter, a familiar one that brings butterflies to your stomach. Turning to your left, you see Hansol, walking into the same bar you’re leaving, with Wonwoo and a girl you don’t know. He was always a simple guy, wearing jeans and his favorite “Revenge Of The Nerds” hoodie with a goofy grin on his face. It’s your favorite thing to see.

All the feelings you keep trying to push aside rise in you at once, and when your eyes lock with this, you feel warm. Getting over him will not be easy. 

“Hey! What are you doing here?” Hansol says curiously. 

“She probably has a hot date,” Wonwoo teases and nudges your shoulder. 

“Well actually… I do.” 

Wonwoo’s mouth spreads into a wide grin, happy to be right. His girl companion tugs onto his coat, mumbling that she is freezing. She’s a short thing with jet-black hair and wears a nice shirt and a skirt that shows off her legs. Wonwoo isn’t the serial dater type, so it is a high possibility he’s on the same mission you were: fuck and move on. 

“Really?” Hansol’s voice peaks an octave higher than normal. “Who’s the guy?”

“O-oh, um, you don’t know him,” you stumble through your words. “He’s just someone I met. We are heading to his place actually.” 

“W-what?” Hansol looks surprised, his expression etched with concern. “Are you sure it's a good idea?”

“I’ll be fine,” you say, looking down at your heels. “I’ll send you my location when I’m there, okay?”

In the nick of time, Seungcheol pulls up in his Mercedes, opening the car door from his seat to let you in. 

“There he is,” you announce, walking towards the luxury car. “I’ll text you later, yeah?”

Hansol stares intently at Seungcheol before looking at you, his eyes softening as you get into the passenger seat. You wave as he pulls off, the bar becoming out of view as you drive through downtown. Your nerves are shot, and you feel rattled. Of all the places to be, you had to see him at the bar? The universe has a sense of humor. 

“Who were those people back there?” Suengcheol’s deep voice breaks through your thoughts. “The one with the hoodie looked like he was going to pound me.” 

“Oh they are my best friends from college,” you say casually. “Well, I don't know the girl but yeah. Besides, Hansol, the one with the hoodie, he wouldn’t hurt a fly.” 

You can confidently say out of all the years you have known him, Hansol, you have never seen him get aggressive with anyone. The most emotion you see from him is when he talks about cameras, film, or his love for Kel—. 

“I don’t have anything to worry about, do I?”

Shaking your head and changing the mood, you strategically place your hand on his thigh, smiling mischievously. “Now are we going to talk about my friends all night, or do you want to do something more exciting?”

To say Hansol is bothered is an understatement. 

You didn’t come home last night and even though he knew where you were, it still gnaws at him. It was unlike you. You always came home. It’s irking him. You are always there. 

Hansol noticed that you hadn’t been around as much, and he assumed it had something to do with work, which he understood since you both work in the same industry. But seeing you with that guy with the fancy Benz, dressed in clothes you rarely wear and your hair different from your usual look—it was all he could think about. You looked beautiful last night, and he wasn’t sure why he didn’t see it before. What maddened him the most was that he couldn’t figure out why. He just knew that you were not there, and it didn’t feel right. 

Hansol slowly got out of his bed and checked the time on his phone, 9:37 am in bold letters on his lock screen. His head raged from the hangover he caught from last night’s drinking. He is a lightweight and he knows he drank more than he should, but he was still dealing with the aftermath of the breakup with Kelsey. It’s been a few weeks and though he was feeling better, he still cared about her. He just wanted to not think or feel for a few hours. Now his thoughts are plagued by you. 

He sauntered out of his room, the sunlight hit him like a wall, momentarily blinding him. He reached for a bottle of water, hoping to ease the throbbing in his head. A few moments later, Wonwoo opened the spare room, yawning and adjusting his glasses. Hansol was too drunk to drive, and Wonwoo was sober enough to take him home. The date that he brought last night, who he learned was named Jules, sheepishly appeared behind him, adjusting her dress as she took her walk of shame. Hansol heard murmuring but couldn’t make out what they were saying, but shortly after the door shut with a click, with Wonwoo leaning against it, an amusing grin on his face. 

“Is that your next victim?” Hansol teased. 

“Eh, maybe,” he shrugged. “She is more tolerable than the others.” 

“Uh-huh,” he surmised, drinking the last bits of his water. “We’ll see how long this one lasts.” 

Wonwoo is a notorious dater if you want to call it that. He has always had the philosophy that being tied down isn’t for him and he would rather run through the mill than be with someone he always likes. He is a fine art photographer who travels quite a bit, and he is always bragging about how it wouldn’t make sense for him to be in a relationship. He blows where the wind goes, and Hansol has always respected that he stayed true to himself. 

Wonwoo chuckled as he grabbed the water next to Hansol, clutching it as he drank it empty. He looked at your closed room door, his eyebrows raised curiously. 

“She isn’t here?” Wonwoo probed, pointing at your door. 

“No,” Hansol mumbled, followed by a slight ping in his chest. “She might still be out.” 

“Uh, huh,” Wonwoo concluded, eyeing him oddly. “Sounds like she had a good night.” 

“Yeah, I bet,” Hansol said bitterly, his fingers rubbing his right temple. “It’s not like her to stay overnight at some douche’s house. Something is up.” 

“A douche, huh?” Wonwoo curved into a sly grin. “How do you know the guy is a douche? He could be a cool guy.” 

“Come on, he drives an S-class Mercedes and wears an Apple watch. I’m willing to bet he’s some tech bro.”

“And?” Wonwoo challenged. “That doesn’t make him a bad guy. If I don’t know any better I would say you are jealous.” 

Hansol rolled his eyes at his accusation, though the thought of you canoodling with the tech bro made him feel a certain way. “I’m not jealous. I am just… concerned, that’s all.” 

“Yeah, let’s call it that.” 

The alarm beeped from the front door and you walked in slowly, looking as put together as you did last night. Hansol paled as if he was caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to, and Wonwoo looked amused, folding his arms as he leaned against the counter. 

“Oh hey, party girl,” Wonwoo greeted you. “We were just talking about you.”

“Were you now?” You said with raised eyebrows, slowly taking off your heels. 

“Y-yeah, we were wondering if you made it home,” Hansol said nervously. “Well, you’re here now so.”

“Did you have a good time?” Wonwoo probed you further. “Will you see him again?

You look down at the floor, your face heating up from embarrassment. They typically don’t ask about your dating life, so why does it matter now?

“Maybe,” you murmured, biting your lip. “I’m going to go shower and get out of these clothes.” 

Hansol watched you as you walked into your room, shutting the door behind you quietly. He is relieved that you made it home safe, but he still feels conflicted about how he feels. Is he in fact, jealous?

“I’m going to go home and get some sleep,” Wonwoo announced, clapping a hand on Hansol’s shoulder. 

He let himself out and Hansol went back to his room, collapsing on his bed. Stirred emotions and thoughts rumbled through his head, and he closed his eyes, determined to think things through with a clearer head. 

His phone buzzed on his nightstand, and he sluggishly grabbed it, groaning at his notifications. A new message from Kelsey flashed as he swiped up on his screen. “I miss you.”

It’s been over a week since you saw Hansol, and you would be a liar to say that you were fine. You miss him. 

Your night with Seungcheol was fun, and he was a good fuck, but your mind kept drifting back to Hansol… imagining it was him. Seungcheol was nice enough to let you sleep in if you wanted and made sure you were good before you left, but you know it’s not going to go anywhere. Deep down he knows that too. 

God, you are a mess. 

You decided to keep busy with work and find things outside of your condo that made you happy, and that’s what led you here tonight, at the local movie theater. Around this time every year, they play five showings for free as a thank-you for the community supporting the theater for the past ten years. Princess Mononoke is the movie of the night, and you are standing in line, waiting to buy your ticket. It’s one of your favorite comfort movies in the world, and you never miss a chance to watch it, especially when you are feeling down. 

The weather is cooler than what was forecasted, and the slight breeze makes you tug on your coat tightly. You and Hansol did this every year together—and it feels weird alone. Unnatural even. You remember having long discussions about the movies you saw and what made them great. You love seeing the twinkle in his eye when he talks about the type of camera lens that was used and what it took to get certain shots. In return, he would listen to you vividly as you rambled about the time and craft it took to create special effects or a certain mask. Those times made you feel connected with him in a way no one could understand, and it's one of the main reasons why you fell in love with him. 

You purchase your ticket and walk inside the old building, the smell of buttery popcorn attacking your senses as soon as you open the door. The interior has been the same since you have been coming here, with high lights in the ceilings, vintage movie posters, and the same plush crimson carpet that matches the drapes on the windows. It has character and it feels cozy, like you are a kid again. 

You give the attendant your ticket and he rips the lower stub, pointing you in the direction of which theater room you need to go to. Your stomach rumbled with a slight ache, reminding you that you have not eaten since this morning. You were never really the breakfast type, as you normally just wake up and go about your day. You have a million things on your mind, and just for a little while, you want to shut it off. Princess Mononoke usually does that. 

Your phone buzzes slightly in your jacket and you look at Hansol’s name on the screen, hesitant to answer. It wouldn’t hurt to hear his voice for a little bit, right?

“Hey, you,” you say, biting your lip. 

“Hey, turn around,” he replies, his voice sounding louder than it should. 

Turning around slowly, you watch him walk through the doors, the sunlight trailing behind him like a halo. He sports an old college hoodie, faded jeans, and a smile, and in this moment, he almost takes your breath away. 

“I would ask what you are doing here, but I know better than that,” you joke lightheartedly. 

“Yeah, you know I’ll never miss this,” Vernon says, looking around at the theater. “Man, this place still looks the same.” 

“I know,” you agree, fidgeting with the ticket in your hand. “How did you know I was here?” 

“Because I know you,” he shrug. “I tried calling you to see if you wanted to come tonight, but you never picked up. So I came here.” 

“You called?” You give him a puzzled look. “I don’t remember you ca—”

You scroll through your notifications, seeing the three missed calls from him throughout the day. Even texted you but you didn’t see it. You had your phone on do not disturb mode, and you didn’t think to check any of your messages. Maybe you are just being childish. 

“See,” he nudges your shoulder playfully. “I told you.” 

“Yeah, yeah” you roll your eyes teasingly. “Are you watching Mononoke too?”

“You know it,” he nods. “I’ll grab the popcorn and nachos. Go find us a seat?”

You watch him make his way to the concession stand, butterflies swirling in your stomach as the familiar feeling of home swells in your chest. You head to the third room on the right, snagging seats in the middle row that give you a perfect viewing of the movie. The lights dim as you sit down, with the old previews from 1997 playing on the screen giving you a major flashback to the past. In this moment you feel good and content, despite wanting to come here alone and avoid Hansol at all costs. You wouldn’t call yourself a fickle person, but you are glad your plans did change. Being around him feels just right. 

The movie starts a few minutes later, and Hansol appears right as it starts, searching the rows until he finds you. His face softens and his lips curve into a smile, taking a seat next you and handing you a popcorn and a cherry coke. 

“I haven’t missed anything, have I?”

You shake your head softly, avoiding his gaze and the pitter-patter he gives your heart. 

“No, you made it just in time.”

Hansol had a good time with you. 

It felt comfortable and familiar to be with you while he watched one of his favorite movies. He didn’t actually know that you were going to be there; he just took a chance and hoped you would be there, and like fate, you were standing in the middle of the theater. There was no awkwardness, he didn’t feel like he was walking on eggshells every time he had something on his mind. You just got him, and it felt like a breath of fresh air. 

It’s been a couple of weeks since then, and you have been hanging at the house more. Before he was lucky to catch you in the mornings when you left for work or you would come home late at night when he was already asleep. Even though things were getting back to normal, his thoughts of you continued to grow, and even though he wasn't sure of a lot of things, he knew one thing: he had missed you. 

“Earth to Vernon, hello?”

Hansol snapped out of his thoughts, refocusing on Kelsey as he sat across from her at her house. She asked him to come over and talk, and after thinking it over, he agreed, setting up a time to talk when she came back in town. Kelsey looked beautiful, sporting a white halter top and blue jean shorts, her skin sun-kissed from the vacation she took to the Cayman Islands. Her raven-black hair fell past her shoulders, swaying slightly as she talked about her trip. 

“Where is your head at today?” Kelsey pouted, her eyebrows furrowed in frustration. “I feel like you aren’t listening to me.”

Hansol shook his head, shaking you out of his mind. “I’m listening. All I do is listen.” 

“No, you don’t,” Kelsey retorted. “You didn’t listen to me about the party or kick that girl out of your condo—”

“I already told you, that’s not happening,” Vernon pushed back. “ And that girl has a name. Why would I kick her out? It makes no sense.” 

“You know why Vernon.” 

“No, I don’t. You’re being unreasonable.” 

Kelsey rolled her eyes and threw her hands up in the air. “We have been together almost three years and you haven’t asked me to move in. I asked you plenty of times to think about our future and to limit your time with her. You refuse to do it. Why is that?”

“Whoa, that’s bullshit!” Hansol’s anger rose through his chest. “You have never said “let’s move in together” or anything like that. If anything, all you have talked about lately is getting you into industry parties to build your brand. Also, I did start spending less time with her. What are you on about?”

“Because I am supposed to be your best friend!” Kelsey shouted. “You don’t even do the same things with me that you do with her. I bet she leaps with joy every time we have a break.” 

“She’s not like that,” Hansol said defensively. “She’s always been there for me and encouraged me to work it out with you. To your other point, every time I ask you to do something with me, something I want to do for once, you say it’s childish and that I need to grow up” 

“Because Vernon, who the hell still watches Star Wars?” Kelsey scoffs. “You are not a nine-year-old boy. You’re a grown man. Fucking act like it.” 

Hansol sighed, feeling drained and defeated. Star Wars meant a lot to him, as it was the main inspiration for why he wanted to get into cinematography and study film. It’s how he bonded with his dad. She knew that and still decided to insult him about it every chance she got. He wasn’t sure what the future looked like before he arrived, but the tension he felt in his chest and the ache in his heart made things a lot more clear. He still cared about Kelsey, more than he should, but it’s time to move on

“This… isn’t going to work,” Hansol rubbed his temple. “The fact that you still call me Vernon, knowing how formal it makes me feel, says a lot. I don’t know what happened to the girl I fell in love with, but clearly she’s gone. We’re done.” 

“Yeah, right,” Kelsey said incredulously. “You aren’t leaving me—”

“Yes, I am.” Hansol resolved. “This relationship has been one-sided for a while now. I’m sick of this.” 

Hansol got up from the table and handed her his copy of her apartment key. Kelsey looked bewildered, realizing that he was serious, and he wasn’t coming back this time. 

“So that’s it? You are just going to throw this all away? For her? She’s in love with you and you don’t even see it. All the times you have let her disrespect me and put up with her crap. I bet this was her idea.”

“You weren’t exactly nice to her either,” Hansol retorted, his heart beating out his chest. “She has been there for me when you weren’t. She cares about what I’m interested in. We like the same things. I don’t have to wonder if she cares about me and my family loves her. She’s smart, kind, beautiful and I love he—”

He stopped himself before he completed his sentence, shook at what was about to come out of his mouth. He was still grappling with his feelings for you and what that meant, and he still couldn’t put any words to what it all meant… until now.

“It’s not just about her,” Hansol said. “It’s everything with us, and the fact that you still don’t get it, tells me everything I need to know. Take care, Kelsey.”

He left the apartment before she started her next tirade, with a storm brewing in the night sky. He hated the way she talked about you like you were insignificant. You didn’t deserve the vitriol Kelsey spat every time you came up in conversation. You weren’t the warmest person, but you always made him feel seen and were there for him no matter what. You got his humor and his late-night thoughts about the latest webtoon he just read. His thoughts of you biting your lip when you’re nervous or the quirky thing you do with your eyebrow when you tell a story; he loved it all. It took for this to happen to see what he had in front of him all this time. He missed you when you aren’t around and it drove him crazy to see you on a date with that tech bro. 

Realization hit him like a punch in the gut as he turned the ignition: he’s been in love with you this whole time. Now how the hell does he tell you that?

The harsh sound of thunder makes the hairs on your neck stand up, dropping your iPad on your lap. It’s suddenly dark in your room, light from the partly cloudy day gone and replaced by storm clouds and flashing lightning. Your condo sits on the 10th floor, and the sound is much more elevated, sending chills down your spine. You hate being alone when it storms. 

You heard Hansol leave earlier and you wanted to clear your head, and so you decided to work on some sketches for a project that is happening at work. You are creating a few masks for an upcoming horror movie, and you are throwing out a few ideas that may interest the producers. The only problem is that you never got around to actually work; instead you were drawing doodles around you and Hansol’s name like a teenager. 

Every attempt you have made to distance yourself from him has become futile, and you decide to just accept the situation for what it was. Maybe one day you will work up the courage to tell him how you feel, but not being around him is agonizing, and you would rather have your best friend back than not have him at all. You can’t help the way he makes you feel, and until something changes, you’re okay with where things are… for now. 

Another crackling sound of thunder makes you yelp, knocking your iPad on the floor and cracking the corner of the screen. 

“Shit,” you mumble, looking at the damage. 

Your nerves are shot, and you decide to make some tea to calm yourself while the storm rages outside. You place your iPad safely on the bed and slip out of your room, heading to the kitchen as the wind picks up and hurls rain against the windows. It amazes you how the day can go from sunny and hopeful to dark and tragic within a few minutes. Mother nature must be on one today, you think to yourself. 

The alarm door beeps and Hansol walks in, completely unscathed by the storm. He slides off his black beanie that covers his short brown hair and lets out a sigh of relief as he locks the door behind him. His eyes met yours, and a small smile spread across your face. 

“You made it just in time,” you say, pouring water into your teapot. “It’s about to get ugly out there.” 

“Yeah.” he nods, his gaze fixed on the darkened windows. 

You could tell something is bothering him, as you watch him take off his shoes and put up his jacket, but you don’t know what to say. Things have been so good between you two, yet the last time he opened up, he shared something you weren’t ready to hear. Despite everything, your concern for him remains strong, and you can’t help but ask, “Are you okay?”

“I think so,” Hansol replies, lost in thought. “Kelsey and I are done for good.” 

“Oh?” you exclaim. “What’s changed?”

Vernon sits on the couch and you follow him, sitting cross-legged and across from him as he shares his feelings. “I went over there to talk to her, and I just realized that she just used me. She didn’t care about me or what I liked. It was always about her and what he wanted… plus she said some ridiculous things about you.”

“Did she now?” You quirk an eyebrow in curiosity. “What did she have to say about me?”

You aren’t surprised that she probably said some rude things about you. It’s not like you were her biggest fan either and you didn’t hide it. Kelsey wouldn’t ever say it to your face though, and that always made you chuckle. 

“She said you were in love with me and that you were happy every time we broke up.” 

The words don’t register right away. You can’t have heard him say what you think he said. “She said what now?”

“She said that you were in love with me,” his words tumbling out like a confession.

Your heart starts racing, the feelings of disbelief and anger stirring in your chest. That wasn’t her secret to share. “I.. can’t believe she said that.” 

“Neither can I,” Hansol sighs, running his fingers through his hair. “It’s not like you have feelings for me, and wouldn’t tell me… right?”

Your breath catches, a deep ache forming in the pit of your stomach. This is something you longed for and dreaded for a long time. You could deny it and keep things the way they are, or finally tell him how you feel and change your dynamic forever. 

“Hansol, I—”

“Are you in love with me?” He interrupts, his gaze intense. “I need to know if this is real.”

“What do you mean? And why does it matter?” You say bitterly. “ You are in love with Kelsey and will just go back to her. You always do.” 

“What if I don’t?” 

Your heart is pounding, and you take a deep breath, trying to make sense of everything. “What do you mean if you don’t?”

“I told you, I am done with her,” Hansol reiterates. “These past few weeks without her opened my eyes to a lot of things, and while I have been thinking about her less, you’ve been on my mind more.”

“What are you saying, Hansol?”

“I don’t want to be with her. I want to be with you.”

The air is thick with uncertainty as his words echo in your head. You should be happy, relieved even that he wants to be with you. But in the midst of that, you are scared. What if it doesn’t work? What if he regrets all of this in the morning and decides to take it all back? You couldn’t handle that. 

“I… Kelsey wasn’t far off,” you admit, biting your lip. “I wasn’t necessarily happy when you were sad about her, but I have always felt like you deserved better.” You pause to gather your thoughts. “I am in love with you, Hansol.  I tried to put my feelings away and move on, date, or whatever. But every time I’m near you, it just hurts.”

Hansol pulls you into a warm hug, and you fully embrace his scent and the comfort you feel. You’ve imagined times like this when he would hold you in his arms and caress your face. You craved it even, wishing you could hear his heartbeat and feel him in ways you haven’t. But this feels too good to be true, and in the back of your mind, you wonder if this is real, or another dream. 

“Are you sure you want to be with me?” you speak up. “You just broke up with her and I don’t want to be some rebound you’ll regret later—”

He kisses you. His soft lips press against yours earnestly, and you melt against him, losing the remaining inhibition you had in you. He leans you back against the couch; his kisses becoming deeper, igniting a fire in you that you thought would stay dormant forever. 

“Does that feel like I’m unsure about what I want?” He breathes heavily. 

“I don’t know,” a smile creeps on your lips, a mix of joy and relief flooding through your veins. “I think I might need another one just to be sure.”

He kisses you again and you return his vigor, your fingers entangled in his hair as you savor the moment. His hands glide down to your waist, touching the hem of your shorts that you hope he’ll tear away. You pause, nodding that it’s okay, watching him slowly slide your shorts down your legs. 

“No panties?” His need is evident, almost salivating at the mouth. 

Your face heats up as you briefly become shy. “It’s laundry day,” you mumble. 

You gaze at each other before erupting into laughter, any remaining tension that was there gone immediately. This is how it always is with him, easy and light. He doesn’t have second or third questions, he just immediately understands. You couldn’t have fallen in love with a better person. 

“I-I love you, Hansol,” you managed to say. “You don’t have to say it back yet, I know we have to figure this out. But just know, I love you.” 

Hansol leans in for another kiss; this time it’s sweeter, tender, with enough meaning to know what it meant,  “Don’t worry, I love you too.” 

And with that, he stands up, taking your hand and leading you to his room. Kicking the door shut, you tear off each other's clothes, excitement and lust pouring through you as you lay on his bed, watching him climb over you. His body presses against yours, your arms wrap around his neck and back, your need for him growing stronger as he leaves kisses on your neck. “I need you so bad.” 

Hansol groans as his hands grab your breasts, mesmerized by your hardened mounds. He sucks on each other carefully, his eyes closed as if he is savoring the taste. He worships your body, his tongue trailing down your stomach until he reaches your core, spreading your legs apart. You’ve played so many scenarios on what your first time with him would be like, and what kind of lover he would be. This is better than you’ve imagined. 

“You’re so wet… for me?” he says in disbelief. “I get you like this?”

You bite your lip, nodding slowly as you anticipate his next move. He slips a digit inside of you, watching you squirm as he fingers you slowly. 

“Oh god,” you praise him as he adds another one. “Just like that, please.” 

Hansol leans down and lashes his tongue against your clit, sending jolts of pleasure throughout your body. The sheets bunch in your fists, your knuckles stretching out as his relentless mouth laps up your essence, savoring every drop. He explores every inch of your softness, removing his fingers and replacing them with his tongue. His hands stroke his cock which is leaking with precum. You are ascending to a high that you never want to come down from. 

“H-Hansol,” your voice is grained with need. “I’m so close.”

He moans in response, his breath hot against your skin, and the sound vibrates through you, intensifying the coil of tension within. Your orgasm crashes over you, a tidal wave of bliss completely taking over you, whimpering his name as your legs tremble around him. White starts clouding your vision and you feel like you are on air, floating away into paradise. You feel him groan against your thigh, and you look down slightly, his cock dripping with his load as it coats his hand. You collapse on his pillow, trying to catch your breath, slowly coming down from cloud nine. You hear him leave and come back a few moments later, wiping you down with a warm rag. 

“Aww, that’s sweet of you,” you tease him, closing your legs slightly. 

“I’m sorry for that being short,” he says, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “I usually can last longer than that, you know… I don’t know what happened.”

You prop yourself up, brushing a strand of hair away from his forehead. “It was perfect. Don’t apologize.”

You pull him into a hug, softly kissing his cheek and motioning for him to lay down with you. He climbs over you and hugs you from behind, cradling you so close you can feel his heartbeat. The sunlight peeks through the window, a sign that the storm finally passed. Happiness can’t even describe the word you are feeling right now.

“Fuck. R-right there.”

Hansol wanted to make up for last night’s performance, so he woke you up with kisses to your face, your neck, the curves on your body and most importantly, in between your legs. The way you grabbed his hair went his tongue went deeper, or the way you begged for him to fuck you. He was addicted to all of it. It was like he was making love for the first time.

“Please Hansol, I need you.”

He quickly slipped on a condom and slowly entered you, watching the way your lips parted as he inched in a little more.

“Are you okay? I am not hurting you, am I?”

You shook your head slowly as you held onto his arms, looking into his eyes with a reassuring smile.

“It’s okay,” you bit your lip. “I can take it.”

He almost came right then and there, hearing you talk like that. Feeling safe with him. He never experienced that with Kelsey, the feeling of being wanted, and truly loved.

He moved slowly, wanting to make sure you could handle it, and he was mesmerized by the way you looked when you were being pleasured. You goaded him for more, and he did that, stroking deeper while your nails dug into his back. You were tight, warm and welcoming like you were made for him. He loved the way your breasts bounced when he thrust harder and the blunt curses that left your lips when he lifted your legs. 

If Hansol could, he would fuck you all day and night to make up for the past time wasted. He wanted to show you how much you meant to him, and he wasn't the best with words, so this would do… for now

“I’m gonna cum—”

His mouth covered yours as your legs shuddered underneath him, your orgasm ripping through you like a hurricane. Your body glistened with sweat, your eyes wet from tears from being fucked out and he couldn't hold back anymore, his thrusts becoming erratic as he emptied himself into the condom.

Hansol thought he was in love before, and maybe it was because it was you, but he hadn't felt this alive in a long time. You were precious to him, and all he wanted to do was lay with you and watch movies all day, talk about mundane things…it didn't matter as long as he was with you.

“I… have a confession to make,” you said breathlessly.

“Yeah?”

“I always wondered… what it would be like. With you.”

He watched you bury yourself in his sheets, feeling shy about your confession. Hansol chuckled, slowly pulling out of you and riding himself of the condom. 

“So, did I live up to your expectations?” He asked tentatively.

You gently pull down the covers, smiling at him softly. “This is better than anything I could’ve imagined.”

tagging: @heechwe @junniesoleilkth @iheartnonie @jaeyunsprincxss

[about-faces]

Saw a post from a Nightwing fan that was like “oh my god there’s someone out there who seriously would like to see Two-Face in the BatFam, WTF?! After what he did to Dick?! What the hell is wrong with you?!”

….

…

… Anyway, here’s why I think Harvey Dent should be in the BatFam.

For starters, I think it would be a wonderful way to incorporate Bruce’s long-standing love for Harvey in a situation where he gets to interact with a variety of young people who either have personal beefs with Harvey and/or have little sympathy/reason to care about him. We’ve already seen the potential of Harvey and Jason interacting and how fantastic that was for both characters.

I want to see Harvey (specifically a Harvey whose good side gets to be present and distinct, if not in complete control for the time being) interact with Dick, who hates him and—like some of his fans—completely disregards Harvey’s history of mental illness and internal struggles to overcome Scarvey. Extra points if they incorporate the Robin: Year One origin with Dick being beaten by Two-Face (which is not currently canon, btw), something that Harvey would never have done if he was in his right mind or even in control at the time. He was subsumed by his worst side to the point that Two-Face outright genuinely considered Harvey “dead,” but Dick neither knows nor cares about that, and I’d like to see that explored outside of a typical hero/villain environment.

I want to see Harvey interact with Damian and Cass, who each might have his own opinions about Bruce’s ongoing belief in someone’s inherent goodness, heroism, and worth, no matter how much blood is on one’s hands or how they were raised.

I want to see Cass and Steph both reckon with Harvey’s own history of abuse at a father’s hands, and how one tries to struggle against the cycles of violence. Is Harvey a victim of how he was raised, or is he a monster for not overcoming his trauma like they did? I want know if the compassion Cass extended to Clayface could also apply to Harvey. I want to know if either woman would have any empathy for Harvey, or condemn him as being reprehensible and irredeemable.

I want Babs to have a backstory where she, as a kid, knew and liked Harvey, and the two bonded over having alcoholic fathers, something which no one can understand if they haven’t experienced it.

I want to see if Duke has any feelings about a once-good man who was transformed into something he does not want to be, much in the way his own parents were victims of Gotham’s monsters.

I want Tim to better understand Harvey’s psyche, to see if he still thinks that Harvey is someone who “chooses” to become Two-Face again after every redemption attempt.

I want more interactions between Harvey and Jason, acknowledging them as twin symbols of Bruce’s failure who both became murderous mob bosses. How many orphans has Jason created? Why is Jason welcomed back in but not Harvey? Is it because Harvey nearly beat a Robin to death, just like Damian did with Tim? Is it okay to excuse/forgive a brainwashed child but not a severely mentally ill adult who had no control over his worst side? Why or why not?

I want to know which BatFam members would even notice all the ways that Bruce and Harvey are so similar, mirrors to each other with Harvey being the one who lost everything, including his own identity and sanity. I want to know what their takeaways would be, or if they’d even care. I want to know if any of them would realize that Bruce could easily fall like Harvey without the love and support they provide as a family, which Harvey lacks?

Remember A Lonely Place of Dying? Harvey without Gilda and Batman without Robin, both evenly matched in a mutually-suicidal death spiral, broken only when Tim emerged in Bruce’s life? Would Tim draw those parallels? Would any of them? Would it even matter?

Because not all of the BatFam can or should have empathy for Harvey. No family, not even the BatFam, should end every disagreement with Full-House-style hugs and apologies. Sometimes you just hate or don’t even care about other family members, and that’s fine! But I still want to see those relationships explored and hashed out within the context of family.

On top of it all, I want some acknowledgement that Harvey was Bruce’s first and only ally back in Batman: Year One before Gordon came around to Bruce’s side. That Harvey was the ONLY person in Gotham trying to fight against the forces of the mob and cops alike before Bruce returned and Jim rolled into town. That he, as Batman’s ally and the youngest DA in Gotham history, was the original Boy Wonder of Gotham City. That Bruce’s failure to save Harvey has hung over each and every one of his relationships and connections in the BatFam.

Finally, I want to see Harvey in the BatFam because I want to know that, no matter what you’ve done or become, there will still be some people out there who are holding out for you to come back. That you may not be forgiven by all or even most of them, but you’re still worthy of love. And even if/when Harvey loses his battle with himself again, I want some of the BatFam to react with sympathy, some having changed their perceptions about the man they only knew as Two-Face. That maybe, occasionally, the criminals they fight aren’t monsters but just broken people, lost to some combination of circumstance, upbringing, mental illness, and personal choices. I want to see them reckon with that. I think that would be important.

And okay yeah sure I’d also like to see Harvey take them all out for pizza and games at Chuck E Cheese’s or something like that. I just think that’d be neat.

Anyway. I hope that all makes more sense now for anyone still wondering. I’ll finish up with proof that Harvey being in the BatFam has actually been touched on in comics, from the gatefold cover of Hush (that’s Harvey, not Hush, with the bandages), DC Future State, and DC Bombsells.

So there’s a fuzzy sort of precedent for Harvey fitting in with the BatFam. I just hope someone at DC will eventually share my vision, even if some BatFam fans never will.

[itsnesss]

𝐧𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 | kang dae-ho ( player 388) × fem!reader

summary | you form an unexpected bond with daeho. amid growing danger, his quiet strength and subtle affection offer a fleeting sense of safety

warnings | violence, death, survival themes, psychological tension

word count | 2.0 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

The sound of the guards' boots echoing against the polished floor fills the enormous dormitory. It’s a constant reminder of where you are, of what’s at stake. You try to ignore it as you settle against the wall, arms crossed over your chest, eyes fixed on the floor.

Tonight’s dinner was scarce. A piece of hard bread and a bottle of water. You know what that means: another long and dangerous night.

The air is heavy with anxiety, hunger, and fear. You can feel it in every breath, in every movement of the players around you. Some have learned to move silently, like shadows between the rows of beds. Others, too exhausted or desperate, have stopped caring about noise.

In the distance, a tense murmur fills the room. You can’t make out the words, but the tone is clear—whispers of discussions, improvised strategies, veiled threats. Some players have already realized that this place is not just a test of physical endurance but also a psychological battle.

Poor fools.

"Don't fall asleep too early."

Dae-ho’s deep voice pulls you from your thoughts.

You lift your gaze and see him sitting in front of you, one arm resting on his bent knee. His posture is relaxed, but his eyes never stop scanning the room. You don’t know him well, but you’ve noticed he moves as if he’s always on alert, measuring everyone around him.

"I wasn’t planning to," you murmur.

He nods, as if he already knew the answer.

From the first night here, you've learned that alliances form quickly, and those without one become easy targets. Not that you and Dae-ho are officially allies, but something about his presence makes you feel a little less vulnerable.

"How long do you think this will last?" you ask.

Dae-ho runs a hand through his dark hair before answering.

"I don’t know. But the food is running low, and the nights are getting more violent. I wouldn’t be surprised if they try to reduce our numbers before the next announcement."

You press your lips together. It’s what you feared.

It’s only been three days since you arrived, and you’ve already seen more deaths than you can count. Most not even in the games, but here, in this dormitory, where the lights never fully go out, and improvised knives slip through the shadows.

You're not sure what terrifies you more—the games or the people you share this room with.

A dense silence settles between you two. It’s not uncomfortable, but it’s not comforting either.

"Were you always this pessimistic?" you joke, trying to lighten the mood.

Dae-ho lets out a short laugh, void of humor.

"I'm not pessimistic. I just like to be prepared."

"For what?"

"For the worst."

You can’t help but notice that his answer isn’t just about this game.

In the distance, a group of players is arguing in hushed voices. You recognize a few: Kang, a burly man who has already proven he has no qualms about killing; Jisoo, a sharp-featured woman who is always watching, waiting for the right moment.

You feel Jisoo’s gaze on you for a moment before she looks away.

"They’re going to do something tonight," you say, not taking your eyes off the group.

Dae-ho follows your gaze and nods.

"I know."

"Are we going to do something about it?"

"No."

You frown.

"Why not?"

"Because it’s not our problem yet."

His tone is calm, but something about his words irritates you.

"And when will it be? When it’s too late?"

Dae-ho turns his head and studies you carefully.

"Listen," he says quietly. "We can’t save everyone. We can’t stop what’s going to happen here. We can only make sure it doesn’t happen to us."

Your instinct tells you that you should agree with him. Empathy is a luxury you can’t afford.

But you haven’t learned to turn it off completely.

The night drags on. A constant murmur fills the room, along with the occasional sound of someone moving between beds. You know violence could erupt at any moment.

Dae-ho remains by your side, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the crowd. He hasn’t said anything in a while.

"Are you forcing yourself to stay awake for me?" you ask quietly.

He doesn’t answer immediately.

"Maybe."

You frown.

"You don’t have to."

"I know."

But he doesn’t move.

You don’t know what to think of him. From the start, he’s kept his distance from everyone, but there are moments when you feel like he lowers his guard with you, even if only for a few seconds.

You’d like to ask him more about himself, why he’s here, what he thinks about all this. But in this place, talking too much can be dangerous.

So you stay silent.

Hours later, the neon light flickers above, casting shadows on the walls. Most players are lying down, though no one is truly asleep.

Dae-ho and you are still in the same spot.

"Were you always this quiet?" you ask suddenly.

He shrugs.

"Only when there’s not much to say."

"There has to be something." You look at him with curiosity. "What did you do before this?"

Dae-ho shoots you a warning look but then sighs.

"I was a marine."

Your eyebrow arches.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"And what happened?"

"Life happened."

That answer could mean many things, but you don’t press him.

However, he continues on his own.

"I thought I could handle everything. That I had control." He runs a hand over his face. "But the truth is, I never did."

His confession catches you off guard. It’s not something you expected to hear from him.

"Why are you telling me this?" you ask.

Dae-ho remains silent for a moment.

"Because you’re the first person here who doesn’t ask expecting a lie."

You don’t know what to say.

In this place, people only care about others when they can gain something in return.

But you don’t want anything from him.

And maybe that’s why he feels comfortable talking.

Before you can say anything else, a scream cuts through the air.

Both of you turn your heads in the same direction.

The fight has begun.

Dae-ho grabs your arm and pulls you against him, shielding you with his body when someone stumbles too close.

His breath is warm against your ear as he whispers,

"Stay with me."

His closeness makes your heart pound faster, not just from the danger but from something else.

Before you can think too much about it, he tilts his head toward you and brushes his lips against your forehead.

It’s a brief gesture, almost imperceptible, but you feel it in every part of your body.

After that, there’s no time to think.

[havocandcchaos]

THIS THIS THIS THIS THIS THIS THIS

Glinda is insanely flawed and insanely human, and she is us in the story. And so many people ignore that because it's uncomfortable. it's easier to say she's wholly good or wholly evil because then you can condemn her or praise her instead of stopping and looking in a mirror. The wizard was right when he said very few people are ok with moral ambiguities, and most of the audience doesn't fall into that category, and that's why so much of the musical is being diminished to simpler and easier terms. Which DEFEATS THE WHOLE POINT.

Glinda is easier to accept when she's evil. Elphaba is easier to accept when she's perfect. Fiyeros is easier to accept when he's madly in love. They're all easier to accept when they're not human.

Except the whole point is that they are.

Glinda is terrified the whole show, and that's what drives her. She's scared of being alone. She's scared of loving Elphie. She's scared of the world around her. She is scared of death. She's scared of losing Elphie. Ultimately, it's that last one that wins out because she loses Fiyero, and in her mind, she basically already lost Elphie, but she won't let her die, too. Not if she can help it. And then she can't help it. Elphaba Thropp is dead. And every single one of her fears came true. She was right the whole time. They were never gonna win. They were in a tragedy, and she knew it, and she was right about it. But by god, she's got nothing left to lose but her life, and frankly, she doesn't want it that much anymore anyway, so she takes up Elphaba's cause and she fights, and if it kills her then let it.

Elphaba makes mistake after mistake after mistake, but she's on the "right" side, so she's clearly perfect. Elphaba fails. Life for the Animals in Oz only gets worse, and sure, she saves a few people and changes a few minds, but at the end of the day, she isn't able to do much more than make things worse. She made things easier for Morrible and the Wizard. But she is the protagonist, so she is perfect instead of learning from her mistakes and realizing that revolutions don't work if you're only fighting for one small group without finding a way to loop in more people and make more people care.

(I believe humans are naturally empathetic. I also believe we have that beat out of us before we can walk. Most people aren't going to fight to change a system that isn't actively killing them. It can be hurting them or killing them slowly, but if they're not actively full of bullets, they're not going to exert the energy to change. And even if they are full of bullets, by then, they'll feel it's too late.)

And Fiyero, god bless him, is so dumb. That boy wants to die from the moment we meet him, and Elphaba gives him a way to do it. Yes, he loves her, but god, he's just tired, and he mostly just wants out, and if he can have that for a good cause, then all the better. There is a lot to learn from Fiyero, but when he's whittled down to a perfect man in love, he is no longer any different from every basic love interest and everything he brings is lost (just like he wanted it to be)

I cannot stress enough how much I love the movie and how much I love that it's becoming more mainstream because that means more content for me to consume about it, but oh my god, if I see one worse take about these characters, especially from people how HAVEN'T EVEN SEEN PART 2, I will start throwing hands.

If you simplify the characters, then you lose the whole point of their story, to begin with, and this story is too important for that. Especially right now. Especially when we're living Act 2. were not all Elphaba. Most of us are Glinda. And that's ok, so long as you use this story to learn from all of them and try to do better.

We can't lose them. Not right now.

This is all @polyarmy and @fiyeroba ‘s fault for making me sad about Glinda again so now I’m posting my whole Glinda Meta here (originally an obnoxiously long dm sent to @gamorahww who is a patient saint)

You’ve asked for it, and now you get……The Glinda Meta™

First: I have been obsessed w/ Glinda's character for like 15 years. She is my roman empire. But I also really LIKE her as a flawed character - something that the fandom has always seemed to be a little uncomfortable with.

She is, to me, what Jane Austen once wrote about Emma:

“I am going to write a heroine whom no one but myself will much like.”

Full meta character analysis under the cut. Uh. Strap in.

(This gets a lil long sorry, but PLEASE HEAR ME OUT -)

To me, the interesting thing is what actually - ACTUALLY - motivates Glinda to act the way she does is so much greater and deeper than a simple desire for success/fame/popularity.

Like obviously in literature/critique of narrative, we have this idea of protagonists vs supporting characters. Supporting characters might have philosophies or goals that drive them (think Nessa and Boq) but those philosophies and goals are usually not developed into self-contradictory nuance the way a protagonist's motivations are. They’re just facts about the character.

And in my option, a big problem in the wicked fandom is that everybody seems to treat Glinda as a supporting character whose motivations are easy to digest. To most fans, she's either the girlfriend who is there to support Elphaba's story by being "loving but conflicted." Or to critics she's entirely selfish and cruel (even as she's fun and interesting), and therefore a semi-antagonist

But if you step back and treat Glinda as a true antihero protagonist of Wicked (for the sake of the mental character study), you see that she's not actually motivated by love or popularity or even success....what drives her is desperation.

Glinda sees her world as a place that cannot be changed and will only work to destroy those who cannot correctly operate in it. And she is SO DESPERATE to avoid that. Elphaba's fate is actually her worst fear - she cannot break away from society and leap to a new fate, because she is the ultimate cynic who thinks there is no way that could possibly work. In fact, it's an enormous testament to her love (however you want to intepret that) of Elphaba that she's even willing to consider leaving during Defying Gravity. For a brief moment, her immense, incredible faith in Elphaba is almost enough to overcome her complete desperation to survive the horrible world she thinks she's in.

And that obviously means that she's not as noble as Elphaba or as brave as Fiyero as a character - she cannot make the choice to leave when both of them do at different points - but that's because she's the most "human" character in the story. Most people are not brave enough to become international terrorists, even in the face of great evil. We might join in a developed cause, but to knowingly walk towards what is likely one's death to change a system you know you’ll actually have very little effect on...that takes a very special kind of person. And while Glinda is a GOOD person, she is too much a cynic and too desperate to survive her crazy world to become that impossible standard of the Rebel or the Hero. She's just a flawed, scared girl, in circumstances she never dreamed she’d be in.

And then the craziest thing happens:

Rather than showing Glinda that she should have been brave and done what E and F did, the narrative instead goes and basically confirms all her darkest fears: Elphaba rebels...and her revolution fails, and Glinda loses her best friend to bitter hatred and insanity for most of Act 2. Fiyero decides to leave and do the right thing by going with Elphaba....and he is almost immediately murdered in a horrible, violent way as punishment for it. This can only reinforce for Glinda that the State/the System/the World is all-powerful, and she must bow to it.

But that's the most fascinating moment for her character, because the very moment she realizes the absolute overwhelming power of the system (March of the Witch Hunters) is also the very moment that chooses to die rather than perpetuating it. She leaves the City to approach Elphaba - whom Glinda thinks POSSIBLY WANTS TO KILL HER - and BEGS Elphaba to not die. Begs Elphaba to stop her self-sacrificial madness. Begs Elphaba to allow Glinda to sacrifice herself instead ("Then I'll go, I'll tell everybody the truth!" "No! They'll just turn against you!" "I DON'T CARE!" - this girl who is entirely motivated by survival is straight up throwing it all on the line ready to walk to her death at the hands of a mob with wide open, unblinking eyes)

And obviously, in doing so, she is making the same choice that Fiyero did earlier in the story, But the huge difference is that Fiyero is a classic case of a "dead from the beginning" character, and he does not have the same motivations as her. He starts as a nhilist already embracing death in Dancing Through Life and his character is not somebody who is desprate to survive - his character is driven by a desperation for a faith. And Elphaba (and her cause) is his faith that he happily martyrs himself for.

By contrast, Glinda is terrified of the system that is trying to kill her, and she is desperate to survive it. She sees the way it takes everything form her, again and again, destroying everything she loves - Elphaba, Fiyero, her own sense of goodness…

(And she is extremely genre-aware that she is in a tragedy: her world isn't fair, and she knows that Elphaba will fail. She knows this will all go wrong.)

But Glinda still has such strength of character that she - in the end - overcomes all of her fear, all of her weaknesses, and humbles herself at the pyre to join the people she loves so much in their fate. She both offers to die for Elphaba and she takes up Elphaba's work and dedicates her entire life to it, consequences be damned. And that comes from a place of ultimate love and goodness, despite all of her flaws and all the temptations dissuading her.

Because Glinda is not Elphaba or Fiyero - she isn't a starry-eyed optimistic rebel or a man with a obsessive, loving faith. She is just a girl. Just Emma. And she is extremely flawed, and has so many fears that push and pull at her in a way the other main characters do not experience. But despite being so painfully, humanly defective, her goodness allows her to do the right thing in the end.

tl;dr - the greatest thing about Glinda’s character is that she is flawed, and she is weak and makes all the wrong choices. But in the end, she humbles herself completely - to the point of offering her own life for Elphaba and taking the whole weight of the world on her shoulders despite all her fear - because she is ultimately good.

And thus in the end, she becomes the person that Elphaba so clearly sees her as throughout the story: good, caring, and able to make real change in the world. She will now try desperately to fully live up to Elphaba's incredible faith in her. And it's so heartbreaking and tragic, but also one of the best character arcs ever.

So I guess it's less "wants to stay safe in her bubble" and more "she sees no option other than to stay safe. The State/System is all-powerful and there is nothing she thinks she can do to change that. But the beauty of the character lies in her decision to step out of that bubble anyways."

—

BONUS: Glinda’s flaws in relation to her relationship with Elphaba

(Or why Gelphie is a devastating ship (romantically or not) but not in the way you think)

This section dedicated to the SJB/AA performance that just BREAKS ME.

Elphaba basically sees Glinda through some WILDLY rose-tinted glasses (which is just. such a fascinating insight into elphaba’s character). Which is why a good chunk of the fandom accepts it as fact that Glinda is ~not actually all that flawed~ or is somehow being forced to make the decisions she is (she is not. the narrative point of Fiyero’s character is to prove that lol)

Glinda is very much complicated and does make some truly terrible decisions. Elphaba just sees and believes the good in her, despite everything she does (because it’s also a fact of the story that - either platonically or romantically - she’s clearly a little in love with Glinda. (The passes she gives that girl…)). I don’t think her weird thing about Glinda is particularly rational, but it is undeniably all-consuming.

And that makes their relationship feel VERY human. Their flaws don't make them unworthy of each other’s love and respect and friendship. Elphaba's love of Glinda is pretty crazy in light of how much Glinda’s morals and choices differ from her own, but that’s the kind of love that real, sometimes illogical people have. Anybody trying to prove the logic or compatibility of the characters is kinda missing the point - it doesn’t make sense, and THAT’S how you know it’s love.

(Brief aside: similar to Elphaba’s obsession with Glinda, Fiyero is also irrationally obsessed with Elphaba. I mean, she kinda sucks at the whole revolution thing (she's trying!!) and he's clearly starry-eyed ignoring a LOT of her flaws lol. In contrast - for better or worse, Glinda does see Elphaba's flaws and calls them out, just as Elphaba sees Fiyero's flaws and calls him out. It’s a nice little circular relationship)

But…but….is it gay???

Sure. I think so - but I’m a lesbian who has shipped it since I was a preteen lol. But that’s also NOT THE POINT, and focusing on only the romantic angle of their relationship REALLY ignores just how layered and complex it is.

Taking off my squee shipping glasses for a minute: they’re fundamentally just two people in some version of an EXTREMELY intense relationship. I honestly think Glinda reads as a little terrified of how insanely intense her relationship is with Elphaba. She fears walking down that road and fully falling into that intense, all-consuming love. (And we literally learn why later through Fiyero’s ‘death’ and Elphaba’s insanity - love makes you do some crazy things, and Glinda can’t afford that in this world.)

Regardless of whether you interpret them romantically or not - it’s clear they’re very intense about each other and Glinda is very afraid that Elphaba is her weakness. Unfortunately, Elphaba is also her soulmate and the love of her life, and she’ll always come back again. That fact will ruin Glinda’s life in the end, but it will have been worth it for all the love that was there

[aheathen-conceivably]

Antoine had barely been home a week when he received a worryingly short letter from Abe. The local postman had delivered it from Hines Ranch directly to his door, but its brevity read like a telegram.

Trouble with horses. When home, could use help. 

If there was anyone he had never expected to hear the word “help” from, it was Abe. So the very next morning he put on his hat and made his way to the ranch. The anxious side of him spent every step imagining what could have gone wrong, fearing that the ranch itself was in trouble, or God help them, something had happened to one of Abe’s children. So when Antoine saw Will and his sister laughing childishly near the fence, he breathed a small sigh of relief. Will waved at him fondly, nodding his head toward the pen where he said his father could be found.

From ten paces away Antoine could see Abe staring stoically into the distance. Immediately, he found it odd that he wasn’t amongst the horses, fearlessly attempting to wrangle one or humming off key while he kept them clean. As Antoine walked nearer he realized that Abe was looking at not one, but two horses. The bigger of which he knew like the back of his hand, but the other a small foal he had never seen before.

Antoine let out a small whistle as he drew close, just loud enough to get Silver’s attention without spooking her. The horse looked up at him with calm recognition in her eyes, but she made no move away from the smaller horse she was shadowing like a hawk. Abe turned at the sound of his boots, gesturing behind him at the horses. “She’s a beaut, ain’t she?”

Antoine’s feet came to a stop next to Abe’s. “She is. She one of yours?”

“Not exactly.” His words grew quiet, self conscious, even, if Antoine were to guess. “I was out in the canyon riding Banjo when I saw her. She was alone by the river bank, seemed to have an injured leg even from afar. I looked far and wide but I couldn’t find her mother. I imagine they were set on by coyotes in the night, but God knows how she managed to get free.”

A silent shake of his head told Antoine that Abe must have fretted over the details more than once. “Anyhow. She was mighty afraid of me, but Lord knows she was hungry. So I went back with a handful of food and led her back here. Bandaged her up and nursed her back to health. Only a couple days later I find her in Silver’s enclosure, and now she won’t let me anywhere near the foal.”

Antoine looked back to the horse he knew well, her beady brown eyes watching them from afar. Usually she would have walked to him by now, immediately recognizing his scent as her ever-present anger abated to trust. “She’s been fierce, Antoine. I swear to you I thought she would attack me that first night I tried to get the foal back. She won’t leave her side now. And I hate to do it to her but - “

Abe’s eyes found his feet and his voice went low. “Listen. It’s not the most honest thing I’ve ever done. I’ll admit. But that there’s a purebred American Quarter Horse. Bred for racing hundreds of years back. She’ll sell for more than any one of my herding breeds even at this age. Thing is, you know, most of the cowboys are on the show circuit now, so this is what they’re after. Hell I know I’m not the one to train her, so I lined up a deal with a show ranch. Not before talking with the neighbors, I swear it. If I knew who she belonged to I wouldn’t take the money but - I mean you know times are tough - and you saw Lillie Mae. She’s getting older. I could pay for her schooling with one sale. I think I’ve got to…”

The whole time Abe spoke, talking himself back into the deal with one reason after another, Antoine watched the two horses in the sun. Every few seconds, Silver would bring her muzzle to the foal, gently nudging her as though to ensure she was still there. He didn’t need any other motivation. “I’ll match their offer.”

Abe looked up from his feet and let out an incredulous laugh. “Hell you can’t be serious. How much are they paying you out there?”

Antoine smiled and shrugged, no need to tell Abe that this contract had come at double the rate of the first one, or that Jo had leveled a competing offer to get even more for their third after the fact. Abe whistled approvingly and then shook his head. “Listen, I appreciate the offer but you don’t need to do anything of the sort. I just need help keeping Silver calm while I get the foal to the show ranch. She’ll be alright in time. She’s a tough girl. You know that.”

Antoine turned to face him, his face impressing just how serious he was. “Listen. I’ve got one stipulation. And I know she was your grandfather’s, so if you don’t want to let her go then you just say the word; but I’ll match their offer only for them both. The foal and Silver. I’ll clean out the farm’s old barn, let her spend the rest of her days resting there.”

Abe smiled, clearly trying not to let his emotions get the better of him. “Play her a couple songs on that guitar, will you?”

“Every night I’m home. That’s a promise. Write it in the contract if it seals the deal.”

They looked back out to the field together, both horses trotting through the grass at their feet. “I’ll bring them over tomorrow, if that’s okay with you? Or if you need a bit more time -“

Antoine shook his head, a wide smile starting to take over his face. “No. Tomorrow is perfect. Just give me the evening to get the barn ready, and we’ll have them waiting to surprise Violette after school.”

Previous / Next

[hsjazebel]

Meant to be

Summary: Y/N never expected a college party to change anything—until she met Harry. What starts as a quiet connection over books and movies slowly turns into something deeper, proving that some things are simply meant to be.

Wordcount: 32k+ (I have been carried away, sorry 😅)

A/N: Happy Valentine’s Day! ♡ Here’s a little story about love finding you when you least expect it. Hope you enjoy it! Let me know what you think!

Masterlist

— — —

The party was louder than she expected.

Y/N wasn’t sure why she had let Charlotte convince her to come. Maybe it was the way her roommate had pleaded, eyes wide with excitement, promising it would be “just for an hour.” Or maybe it was the fact that she had spent too many Friday nights curled up in bed while the rest of campus buzzed with energy.

She had thought, just for once, that maybe she should say yes.

But now, standing in the middle of the crowded living room, she regretted it.

The music thumped against the walls, the bass so deep she could feel it in her ribs. Laughter and voices blurred together in an endless hum, broken only by the occasional shout of someone calling out to a friend. The air was thick—too many people, too much perfume, too much heat.

She tugged at the hem of her sweater, suddenly self-conscious. She wasn’t dressed for this, not like the other girls in shimmering tops and short skirts. She had gone for comfort—jeans, a fitted top, her favorite oversized cardigan—but now she felt out of place, like she hadn’t read the unspoken dress code.

Charlotte had disappeared almost immediately, swallowed up by the crowd, probably off to find that guy she’d been texting. Y/N had tried to follow for a bit, but the sea of people made it impossible to keep up.

Now she was alone, pressed against the wall, holding a drink she hadn’t even sipped.

She exhaled, glancing toward the front door. Maybe she could just leave. Charlotte wouldn’t mind—she was too caught up in her own night.

Then, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted an open door leading to the balcony.

Without thinking, she headed for it, slipping outside and closing the door behind her.

Cool air washed over her, a welcome contrast to the stifling heat inside. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding and leaned against the railing, her fingers wrapping around the cold metal. The city stretched out in front of her, distant lights flickering against the night sky. From here, the noise of the party was muffled, just a dull hum beneath the sound of the wind rustling through the trees.

She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the silence settle over her.

And then—

“You don’t look like you’re having fun.”

The voice was smooth, warm. British.

Her eyes snapped open.

Turning slightly, she found herself face to face with someone she recognized immediately.

Harry Styles.

Her breath hitched, just for a second.

She had seen him around before, of course. It was hard not to notice him. He wasn’t the typical loud, overly confident guy that thrived in these kinds of settings, but he had a presence that made people gravitate toward him anyway. Maybe it was the way he carried himself—calm, collected, always with an air of quiet amusement, like he was in on some inside joke no one else knew about.

Now, standing in front of her in the dim balcony light, he looked impossibly at ease.

His dark curls were pushed back messily, a few strands falling over his forehead. A pair of thin-rimmed glasses rested on the bridge of his nose, framing sharp green eyes that studied her with quiet interest. His loose button-up was unbuttoned at the top, the sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal the intricate tattoos winding down his forearms.

He held a drink casually in one hand, the other tucked into his pocket, like he had all the time in the world.

She swallowed.

“I—uh—yeah,” she finally managed. “Parties aren’t really my thing.”

His lips quirked, as if her answer didn’t surprise him at all. “Figured as much.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And how exactly did you figure that?”

He took a slow sip from his drink before answering. “Well, for one, you’ve been out here for at least five minutes and haven’t checked your phone once.” His eyes flickered toward the door. “And two… you look like you’re trying to disappear.”

She huffed out a quiet laugh. “That obvious?”

Harry smirked. “A little.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The city lights flickered in the distance, and the air between them felt charged—not uncomfortable, but something else entirely.

Then, he shifted slightly, turning more toward her.

“I’m Harry, by the way.”

She let out a small breath, amused. As if she didn’t already know.

“I know,” she admitted, then immediately winced. “I mean—everyone knows who you are.”

Harry chuckled, the sound low and warm. “That’s fair.” He tilted his head slightly. “And you are…?”

“Y/N.”

He repeated it, softer this time, like he was testing the way it felt on his tongue. Then, with a small smile, he extended his hand. “Well, Y/N, it’s nice to officially meet you.”

She hesitated for just a second before slipping her hand into his.

His palm was warm, his grip gentle but firm.

“Nice to meet you too, Harry.”

His fingers lingered a second longer than necessary before he let go.

He leaned his elbow against the railing, glancing at her thoughtfully. “So, if parties aren’t your thing… what would you rather be doing right now?”

She bit her lip, thinking. “Watching a movie, probably.”

Harry’s brows lifted slightly. “Anything in particular?”

She hesitated, then decided to be honest. “A romcom.”

His lips curled into a slow smile. “You like romcoms?”

She nodded. “I grew up watching them. Notting Hill, 10 Things I Hate About You, How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days… I know they’re cheesy, but I love them.”

He studied her for a second, then let out a soft chuckle. “Cheesy doesn’t mean bad. Those are classics.”

She tilted her head. “Wait… you actually like them too?”

Harry smirked, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Course I do. I mean, have you seen When Harry Met Sally? It’s got my name in it. That’s a sign, don’t you think?”

She laughed—really laughed, for the first time that night.

Harry watched her, his expression softer now, like he was pleased to be the reason behind it.

The conversation flowed easier after that. They debated over the best romcom of all time, exchanged favorite scenes, and argued about which movie had the most unrealistic yet satisfying ending. Somewhere in between, Y/N forgot about the party altogether.

But eventually, her phone buzzed in her pocket—Charlotte, probably looking for her.

She sighed, realizing she had to go.

Harry noticed. “Leaving already?”

“Yeah, I think so.” She hesitated, then, feeling unusually bold, added, “But… maybe next time, I’ll skip the party and just watch a romcom instead.”

His smile was slow, almost knowing. “Maybe next time, you won’t have to watch it alone.”

Her heart skipped a beat.

And as she stepped back inside, disappearing into the noise and the crowd, she couldn’t help but hope—just a little—that this was only the beginning.

———

The next morning, Y/N woke up to the sound of Charlotte’s voice.

“Well, well, well,” her roommate drawled, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed. “Look who’s finally awake.”

Y/N groaned, burying her face into the pillow. “What time is it?”

“Almost eleven,” Charlotte said, walking over and flopping down onto the bed beside her. “And you have some explaining to do.”

Y/N peeked at her through one eye. “Explaining?”

Charlotte grinned, far too awake for this early in the morning. “Don’t play innocent with me. You disappeared at the party. And when I finally found you again, you looked… different.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “So spill.”

Y/N sighed, rolling onto her back. “There’s nothing to spill.”

Charlotte gasped dramatically. “Lies! I saw you talking to Harry Styles.” She poked Y/N’s side. “You—quiet, book-loving, avoider of all social gatherings—somehow ended up alone on a balcony with the most intriguing guy on campus.”

Y/N felt her face heat up. “It wasn’t like that,” she muttered.

Charlotte smirked. “Then what was it like?”

Y/N hesitated. The truth was, she wasn’t exactly sure.

“It was… nice,” she admitted after a moment. “We just talked.”

Charlotte studied her, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Talked? That’s it?”

Y/N nodded.

Charlotte huffed, flopping back against the bed. “You’re impossible.”

Y/N smiled, sitting up and stretching. “Did you at least have fun?”

Charlotte let out a dreamy sigh. “Oh, absolutely. And I might have secured myself a coffee date with Mason.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Mason?”

“You know, Harry’s friend? Tall, kind of scruffy, ridiculously charming?” Charlotte waggled her fingers. “I think we have a connection.”

Y/N laughed softly. “I’m happy for you.”

Charlotte sat up again, her expression turning devious. “And speaking of coffee dates…”

Y/N’s stomach fluttered. “No.”

Charlotte pouted. “Come on! I think he likes you.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “We talked for, like, twenty minutes.”

Charlotte shrugged. “That’s plenty of time to make an impression. And if he really likes you, you’ll see him again.”

Y/N didn’t answer. Because the thought had already crossed her mind.

Would she see him again?

———

She did.

Three days later.

At the campus café.

Y/N had been curled up in a corner booth, a warm cup of tea beside her as she flipped through a book for class. The café was quiet, filled mostly with students studying or catching up on assignments. The hum of conversation and the occasional clinking of cups created the kind of atmosphere she loved—calm, steady, familiar.

And then, a shadow fell over her table.

“Y/N.”

She looked up.

And there he was.

Harry Styles, standing beside her table, a cup of coffee in one hand and a curious tilt to his head. He wasn’t wearing his glasses today, but she still recognized the quiet amusement in his eyes.

“Hi,” she said, feeling her heart pick up speed.

His lips twitched. “Mind if I sit?”

She hesitated for only a second before shaking her head. “Go ahead.”

Harry slid into the seat across from her, setting his coffee down. “Didn’t think I’d run into you here.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

He smirked, leaning forward slightly. “Alright, I might have hoped I would.”

Her stomach did an embarrassing little flip.

“What are you reading?” he asked, nodding toward the book in her hands.

She glanced down, suddenly self-conscious. “Uh, Wuthering Heights.”

His brows lifted, impressed. “Intense choice.”

She shrugged. “It’s for class, but I like it.”

Harry studied her for a moment, then leaned back in his chair, stretching out comfortably. “So, tell me—are you one of those people who think Heathcliff is romantic, or do you see him for the walking red flag that he is?”

Y/N blinked in surprise. “You’ve read it?”

He smirked. “I have.”

She bit her lip, eyeing him. “And?”

Harry sighed dramatically. “Look, I get the passion, the whole ‘soulmate across time and space’ thing, but let’s be honest—if Heathcliff were around today, he’d be sending late-night ‘u up?’ texts and brooding over his ex’s Instagram posts.”

Y/N let out a surprised laugh. “That is… disturbingly accurate.”

Harry grinned. “And you? Are you a Heathcliff apologist?”

She shook her head. “I think he and Cathy deserved each other—because no one else should have to deal with that level of drama.”

Harry chuckled. “Harsh, but fair.”

There was something about the way he looked at her—curious, amused, like he was genuinely interested in what she had to say. It made her stomach twist in a way she wasn’t used to.

A beat of silence stretched between them.

Then—

“So,” Harry said, breaking the moment, “you never told me your verdict.”

Y/N frowned. “My verdict?”

“The best romcom of all time.”

She smiled, relieved by the lighter topic. “That’s impossible to answer.”

Harry leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Alright. Then let’s make it simpler. What’s your go-to comfort movie?”

She thought for a second. “How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days.”

His eyes lit up. “Classic.”

She nodded. “It’s just fun, you know? The whole fake dating thing, the ridiculousness of it all. And Kate Hudson? Iconic.”

Harry smirked. “And the ‘You let it die!’ scene? A cinematic masterpiece.”

Y/N laughed. “Exactly.”

Harry studied her for a moment, then said, “I like that.”

Y/N suddenly felt warm under his gaze. She looked down, tracing the rim of her cup. “What about you?”

Harry pretended to think. “Mmm… Notting Hill.”

She grinned. “Oh, come on. You just like it because of the ‘I’m just a girl��� scene.”

He laughed. “Maybe. Or maybe I like the idea that two people from completely different worlds can still find their way to each other.”

Something about the way he said it made her stomach flutter.

The conversation drifted after that—talk of books, movies, little things that made them both feel at home. The more they spoke, the more Y/N felt that strange, unexpected ease settle between them.

And when she finally glanced at the time, she realized an hour had passed without her even noticing.

“I should probably get to class,” she murmured, closing her book.

Harry nodded, but didn’t look particularly eager to leave.

As she stood, sliding her bag over her shoulder, he tapped his fingers against the table. “So…”

She looked at him expectantly.

He smirked. “Movie night?”

Her heart skipped. “Are you asking me out, Harry Styles?”

His expression was all mischief. “Maybe.”

She bit her lip, pretending to consider. Then, feeling unusually bold, she said, “Okay.”

Harry’s smirk turned into something softer.

“Good,” he said.

And as she walked away, she could feel his eyes on her the whole time.

———

The library was quieter than usual.

Y/N liked it that way. She liked the solitude, the way the world seemed to shrink down to just her and the words on the page. It was calming—predictable.

What she didn’t expect, however, was a voice breaking through the silence.

“Didn’t peg you as the type to hide away in a library for fun.”

She looked up, already knowing who she would see.

Harry stood in front of her table, a familiar smirk on his lips, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He had a notebook tucked under his arm and a coffee in hand, looking completely at ease despite the way his presence sent her heart racing.

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully. “And yet, here you are.”

Harry hummed, sliding into the chair across from her. “Touché.”

She watched as he set his coffee down and flipped open his notebook, as if he belonged there—like this was routine.

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Are you actually here to study, or are you just bothering me for fun?”

Harry grinned. “Can it be both?”

She huffed, biting back a smile as she returned her gaze to her book. But she could still feel his eyes on her.

A beat passed before he spoke again. “Wuthering Heights, huh? Still brooding over Heathcliff?”

Y/N sighed, looking up. “You do realize I read more than one book, right?”

Harry’s smirk widened. “Do you, now?”

She rolled her eyes and turned the book so he could see the title.

His gaze flickered over the cover before he raised an eyebrow. “White Nights?”

Y/N tilted her head. “Surprised?”

Harry leaned back in his chair, studying her. “A little. Didn’t take you for a Dostoevsky kind of girl.”

“And what kind of girl did you take me for?” she challenged.

He smirked. “Jane Austen, maybe. Brontë sisters, definitely. But Russian literature? That’s a surprise.”

She shrugged. “I like stories about lonely people.”

Something flickered in his expression, but it was gone too fast for her to catch.

“Lonely people,” he repeated. “And here I thought you just liked tragic love stories.”

Y/N hesitated, then said softly, “Aren’t they the same thing?”

Harry studied her for a moment, something unreadable in his gaze. Then, in a voice quieter than before, he said, “I guess they are.”

Silence settled between them again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. If anything, it felt like something had shifted—like she had let him see a part of her she didn’t show to just anyone.

Then, after a moment, Harry’s lips twitched up into a smile. “So, is White Nights a re-read, or am I catching you in the middle of a first-time experience?”

She exhaled, grateful for the change in tone. “Re-read.”

His grin widened. “Interesting. That means you must really like it.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Are you about to judge my taste in books?”

Harry smirked. “Not at all. I was actually going to say… maybe I should let you convince me to read it.”

Y/N studied him. “You’ve never read it?”

“Not yet,” he admitted.

A small smile played on her lips. “Maybe you should.”

Harry’s eyes sparkled. “Maybe I will.”

———

That night, her phone buzzed.

A message from an unknown number.

Unknown [9:07 PM]: So, lonely people, huh? Convince me why I should read White Nights.

Y/N frowned, staring at the screen. Who the hell—?

Y/N [9:08 PM]: Who is this?

A pause. Then—

Unknown [9:08 PM]: Wow. That hurts.

Her heart skipped.

She squinted at the message, then at the number, but it wasn’t saved in her contacts.

Y/N [9:09 PM]: Seriously. Who is this??

A few seconds passed before a reply popped up.

Unknown [9:09 PM]: It’s Harry.

She blinked.

Then—

Y/N [9:10 PM]: …How did you get my number?

Harry [9:11 PM]: Your lovely roommate gave it to me.

Y/N groaned out loud. “Charlotte!”

Across the room, Charlotte barely glanced up from her laptop. “Hmm?”

Y/N waved her phone in the air. “Did you seriously give Harry my number?”

Charlotte smirked. “Oh. So he finally texted you?”

“Charlotte.”

“What?” she said innocently. “He asked, and I figured it would take you forever to do it yourself.”

Y/N let out a long, dramatic sigh, turning her attention back to the screen.

Y/N [9:12 PM]: I hate you.

Harry [9:12 PM]: No, you don’t.

She rolled her eyes.

Y/N [9:13 PM]: Maybe you should read it and see for yourself.

Harry [9:14 PM]: Bold of you to assume I have time for Russian literature.

Y/N [9:15 PM]: Bold of you to assume I’d let you borrow my copy.

Harry [9:16 PM]: So possessive. I like it.

Y/N [9:17 PM]: You’re impossible.

Harry [9:17 PM]: And yet, here you are, still texting me.

She bit her lip, trying not to smile.

Harry [9:18 PM]: You still good for our not-date movie night?

Y/N’s stomach flipped.

Y/N [9:19 PM]: You mean the highly academic film screening of How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days?

Harry [9:20 PM]: Exactly. For research purposes.

She hesitated, fingers hovering over the screen.

Y/N [9:21 PM]: Yeah. I’m still in.

His reply came almost instantly.

Harry [9:21 PM]: Good.

She stared at the word for a long time, ignoring the way her face felt impossibly warm.

———

“You’ve checked your phone three times in the last minute.”

Y/N shot Charlotte a glare from across the room. “I have not.”

Charlotte smirked, finishing the last touches of her makeup. “You so have.”

Y/N huffed, locking her phone and tossing it onto the bed like that would somehow make her friend drop the topic. “I’m just checking the time.”

“Mm-hmm.” Charlotte turned, arms crossed. “Because, of course, it has nothing to do with the fact that Harry is coming over.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but her face felt warm. “It’s just a movie night.”

Charlotte grinned. “And yet, you’ve changed your sweater twice.”

Y/N groaned, flopping back onto her pillows. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” Charlotte grabbed her bag, checking her reflection in the mirror. “I think it’s cute that you’re all flustered over him.”

“I’m not flustered.”

Charlotte raised a brow. “You are so flustered.”

Y/N groaned again, covering her face with a pillow.

A knock at the door made her sit up way too fast.

Charlotte smirked knowingly. “That’s my cue.”

Y/N watched as Charlotte opened the door, revealing Harry—standing there in his usual effortless way, glasses on, a bag of snacks in one hand.

“Oh, hey, Harry,” Charlotte greeted with a grin, throwing Y/N one last look. “I was just leaving.”

Harry glanced between them, looking mildly amused. “Leaving?”

“Yep.” Charlotte winked at Y/N. “Have fun.”

And before Y/N could even form a reply, she was gone.

Harry stepped inside, brow raised. “Did I just interrupt something?”

Y/N exhaled, shaking her head. “No. She’s just being Charlotte.”

Harry chuckled, setting the snacks down. “That explains a lot.”

Settling onto the couch, Y/N pressed play on 27 Dresses, tucking her legs under her.

Harry sat beside her, stretching his arm along the back of the couch. The space between them was small—too small—and she tried not to focus on the way his knee almost brushed hers.

“Have you seen this before?” he asked.

She scoffed. “Please. At least twenty times.”

Harry smiled. “Figures.”

For the first half hour, they made occasional comments about the movie—Harry teasing her about knowing all the lines, Y/N defending why it was a romcom classic.

But eventually, the room grew quieter. The soft glow of the screen cast shadows across Harry’s face, highlighting the curve of his jaw, the way his glasses slid down his nose.

And Y/N—despite her best efforts to stay focused on the film—felt her eyelids growing heavy.

She shifted slightly, trying to stay awake, but the warmth of the room, the steady sound of the dialogue, and the presence of Harry right beside her made it impossible.

At some point, she leaned just a little too far to the side—

And before she could stop herself, her head landed gently on his shoulder.

For a second, she almost panicked.

But Harry didn’t move. Didn’t pull away.

If anything, he relaxed.

She felt him shift slightly, adjusting so that she fit more comfortably against him.

And just like that, sleep took over.

———

The next morning, the first thing Y/N registered was warmth.

A slow, steady warmth surrounding her, lulling her in a sleepy haze.

Then, she felt movement.

Her eyes fluttered open, and it took her a moment to realize:

She was curled into Harry’s side, his arm draped loosely around her shoulders.

The snack bag was on the floor. The TV screen had long since gone black. The early morning light was filtering through the blinds, casting soft shadows across the room.

And Harry—

Was still asleep.

His head rested against the back of the couch, lips slightly parted, curls falling across his forehead. His glasses were slightly askew, one arm still tucked around her like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Y/N barely breathed.

She should move. Should sit up, stretch, do anything to break the moment before he woke up.

But before she could, she felt him shift.

A slow inhale. A stretch.

And then, with a small frown, Harry’s eyes blinked open.

For a second, he looked confused. Disoriented.

Then, his gaze landed on her.

They both froze.

Silence.

Neither of them moved. Neither of them spoke.

And then—

Harry’s lips twitched, still laced with sleep. “Morning.”

Y/N swallowed. “Morning.”

Another pause.

Then, realization dawned in Harry’s sleepy eyes. He glanced down at their position—her body still tucked into his side, his arm still loosely wrapped around her.

And yet—he didn’t move away.

Instead, his mouth curved into something softer.

“Didn’t mean to steal your couch,” he murmured.

Y/N huffed out a quiet laugh. “Didn’t mean to steal your shoulder.”

Harry smiled.

And for a moment, they just… sat there.

Close. Warm. Unmoving.

Y/N was still sitting on the couch, trying to process the fact that she’d just spent the night curled up against Harry Styles, when she heard him stretch beside her.

She glanced over. His eyes were still heavy with sleep, one hand running through his curls, the other adjusting his glasses.

And he looked… way too good for someone who had just woken up.

Before she could stop herself, she spoke.

“Do you—” She cleared her throat, trying to sound casual. “Do you want some coffee?”

Harry turned to her, blinking.

Then, the corner of his mouth lifted.

“Are you offering me coffee, Y/N?”

She rolled her eyes, standing up. “I regret it already.”

Harry chuckled, pushing himself up from the couch. “Too late.”

———

They ended up in the small dorm kitchen, Y/N fumbling with the coffee machine while Harry leaned against the counter, watching her with amusement.

“I didn’t peg you as the type to function without caffeine,” he said.

She scoffed. “Who says I function at all?”

Harry smirked. “Fair point.”

Once the coffee was ready, she handed him a mug, grabbing one for herself before hopping up onto the counter.

Harry took a slow sip, humming in approval. “Not bad.”

Y/N raised a brow. “Not bad?”

“Yeah.” He nudged her knee playfully. “Could be better.”

She gasped in mock offense. “You are such a snob.”

Harry grinned. “I have high standards.”

She shook her head, but she was smiling.

They fell into comfortable conversation, talking about everything from classes to 27 Dresses to how Harry apparently had a very strong opinion about the correct way to make tea.

And Y/N—despite the fact that she had woken up to a situation that should have been extremely awkward—found herself relaxing.

That was, of course, until Charlotte walked in.

She stopped in the doorway, taking in the sight before her—Harry standing in the kitchen, hair still tousled from sleep, drinking coffee from their mugs.

Y/N sitting on the counter, wearing the same clothes from last night.

Charlotte’s eyes widened.

Then, a slow smirk spread across her face.

“Oh,” she said, drawing out the word. “Good morning.”

Y/N groaned. “Charlotte—”

Charlotte ignored her, turning to Harry with an exaggerated expression of surprise. “Wow, Harry. You’re still here?”

Harry, to Y/N’s horror, grinned.

“Apparently, I make decent company, and your couch is not too bad” he said, sipping his coffee.

Charlotte gasped dramatically. “Did Y/N let you sleep on the couch? That is so rude.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “Charlotte.”

Charlotte pressed a hand to her heart. “I mean, I was gone all night, you totally could’ve used my bed—”

Y/N almost choked on her coffee. “Oh my God, stop.”

Charlotte just smirked, eyes dancing between them. “I’m just saying…”

Y/N glared. “You’re the worst.”

Harry chuckled, setting down his mug. “I should probably get going before Mason starts wondering where I am.”

He turned to Y/N then, a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze.

“Thanks for the coffee,” he murmured.

She swallowed. “Yeah. Anytime.”

Charlotte wiggled her eyebrows.

Y/N shot her a warning look.

Harry—completely amused—grabbed his bag and made his way to the door.

“See you later, Y/N.”

And with that, he was gone.

Y/N barely had time to let out a breath before Charlotte pounced.

“So.”

Y/N sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Don’t.”

Charlotte ignored her, flopping onto the couch with a wicked grin. “You slept together.”

“Oh my God—”

“Not like that,” Charlotte amended. “But still. You slept together.”

Y/N groaned. “It wasn’t a big deal.”

Charlotte scoffed. “Oh, honey. It so was.”

———

Y/N had spent the entire morning convincing herself that nothing had changed.

That waking up next to Harry hadn’t felt different.

That the way he had smiled at her over coffee hadn’t made her stomach flip.

That she wasn’t replaying every second of their time together like some lovesick idiot.

But she was failing—miserably.

And Charlotte wasn’t helping.

“So,” her roommate drawled, flipping through a magazine on her bed, “are we just gonna pretend that last night never happened?”

Y/N, sitting at her desk, sighed. “Nothing happened.”

Charlotte scoffed. “You cuddled on the couch, made him coffee in the morning, and practically gazed at each other the whole time. That’s something.”

Y/N turned to glare at her. “I wasn’t gazing.”

Charlotte smirked. “Oh, honey. You were gazing.”

Y/N groaned, dropping her head onto her desk.

Charlotte laughed, tossing the magazine aside. “Look, all I’m saying is—he’s different, isn’t he?”

Y/N frowned. “What do you mean?”

Charlotte shrugged. “I mean, I’ve never seen you act like this over a guy. You usually keep your distance, but with Harry… I don’t know. You let him in.”

Y/N opened her mouth to protest—but nothing came out.

Because, as much as she hated to admit it, Charlotte wasn’t wrong.

Harry was different.

And that was what scared her the most.

———

That afternoon, she tried to focus on studying.

Tried being the keyword.

She was in the library, sitting at her usual spot by the window, but the words on the page blurred together.

Her phone buzzed.

She glanced at it, already knowing who it was.

Harry [3:27 PM]: You’re not skipping the library today, are you?

Y/N [3:28 PM]: I’m literally here right now.

Harry [3:29 PM]: Good. Would’ve had to question your commitment to academia otherwise.

She rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at her lips.

A minute later, she heard a chair scrape against the floor.

She looked up.

Harry slid into the seat across from her, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“Hi,” he said, smiling.

Y/N tried to ignore the way her heartbeat definitely sped up. “Hi.”

He set down his bag and pulled out a book. “What are we studying today?”

Y/N sighed. “I’m trying to get through this reading, but it’s not working.”

Harry leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “Do you want me to quiz you?”

She raised an eyebrow. “You just got here.”

He smirked. “And?”

She shook her head, amused. “Fine.”

And so, they studied. Or at least, they tried.

Every time Harry read a passage aloud, he did it with exaggerated dramatics, making Y/N laugh.

Whenever she got an answer right, he’d tap his fingers against the table like a drumroll.

At some point, he reached for her book, fingers grazing hers—and neither of them pulled away.

The touch was brief, but her skin tingled where it had been.

Harry didn’t say anything, but his gaze flickered to hers, something unspoken lingering between them.

For the first time, Y/N felt like she was on the edge of something.

And she didn’t know whether to step forward—or run.

———

An hour later, Y/N packed up her things.

“I should go,” she murmured.

Harry nodded, but there was something unreadable in his eyes. “Alright.”

She hesitated before speaking. “Thanks for—y’know. Keeping me sane.”

Harry’s lips quirked. “Anytime.”

As she turned to leave, he called after her

“Oh, Y/N?”

She glanced over her shoulder. “Yeah?”

Harry reached into his bag, pulling out a book.

She frowned as he held it out to her.

“The Symposium?” she read aloud, eyebrows raised.

Harry smirked. “Figured you might like it.”

She stared at him. “Harry, this is your copy.”

He shrugged. “So?”

“So, I know you annotate all your books.” She flipped through the pages, confirming her suspicions—his familiar, neat handwriting filled the margins. “I can’t take this.”

“You can,” he said simply. “And you will.”

She glanced up at him, confused. “But… why?”

Harry held her gaze for a moment, then leaned in slightly.

“Because I think you’ll understand it,” he murmured.

Y/N’s breath caught.

Because there was weight behind his words—something deeper than just a casual book recommendation.

She swallowed, gripping the book a little tighter.

“…Thank you,” she said softly.

Harry smiled. “See you later, Y/N.”

And as she walked away, The Symposium pressed against her chest, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted.

That, maybe, she had just crossed a line she could never go back from.

———

The night wrapped around them like a quiet secret. The streets were nearly empty, the world softened by the golden glow of streetlamps.

Y/N and Harry walked side by side, their steps unhurried, as if neither of them wanted the night to end just yet.

She wasn’t sure how they ended up here—how a simple goodnight after studying turned into do you want to take a walk? But she didn’t regret saying yes.

It had been a week since that night at her apartment, since they’d woken up together on the couch, and things between them had shifted. Not in an obvious way—there were no declarations, no grand confessions—but something had changed.

Harry had always looked at her like he was intrigued. But now?

Now, he looked at her like he knew. Like he was just waiting for her to admit it, too.

“You’re quiet,” Harry murmured beside her.

She glanced at him. “So are you.”

He smiled, a little crooked. “Guess I don’t always have something to say.”

“Impossible.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Harsh.”

They walked a little further before she spoke again, a quiet admission in the stillness of the night.

“I read your notes.”

Harry turned his head slightly. “My notes?”

“In The Symposium.”

Realization flickered in his expression. “Right.”

She hesitated. “There was one part that stuck with me.”

His gaze softened. “Which one?”

Y/N swallowed.

“The part where you wrote that love is about recognizing something familiar in someone else.”

Harry didn’t speak right away.

Then, quietly, he said, “That’s my favorite part.”

Y/N stopped walking.

So did he.

The silence between them stretched, heavy with something.

She could feel her pulse thrumming in her wrists, in her throat, in the space between them that was growing smaller by the second.

Harry took a step closer. Slowly. Like he was giving her time to stop him.

She didn’t.

His gaze flickered to her lips, just for a second, before meeting her eyes again.

His voice was softer when he spoke next. “You realize I like you, don’t you?”

Y/N felt something tighten in her chest.

Because, of course, she did.

But hearing it—feeling it—was different.

She exhaled, barely a whisper. “I think I do now.”

Harry tilted his head slightly, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Good.”

He didn’t move right away.

He just looked at her, taking her in, like he was memorizing the moment.

Then, so softly it was almost imperceptible, his fingers brushed against hers.

Y/N inhaled sharply.

And that was all it took.

Before she could second-guess it, before she could talk herself out of it, she closed the space between them.

She barely had time to process the warmth of his skin, the steady rise and fall of his breath, before his hand came up, fingers grazing her jaw as he leaned in—slow, careful, waiting.

And then—

Then, he kissed her.

It was soft at first. Just a whisper of a touch, a silent question against her lips.

But the moment she kissed him back, the moment her fingers curled into the fabric of his sweater, it changed.

It deepened.

Harry let out a quiet sound—like he had been waiting for this longer than he cared to admit—and then his hands were on her waist, pulling her closer, closer, like the space between them was unbearable.

Her heart was racing.

She could feel the warmth of his palms, the faint scrape of his stubble against her skin, the way he kissed her like he was learning her—like he wanted to know exactly how she fit against him.

And she let him.

By the time they pulled apart, her head was spinning, her breath uneven.

Harry’s forehead rested against hers, and he let out a quiet laugh.

“What?” she asked, still breathless.

He shook his head, smiling. “Nothing. Just… glad I finally did that.”

She bit her lip, trying—and failing—not to smile.

“Me too.”

Harry’s thumb brushed against her waist absentmindedly.

“Can I walk you home?” he asked.

Y/N nodded.

But neither of them moved.

Not right away.

And when they finally started walking again, Harry’s fingers found hers, intertwining them effortlessly—like they had been waiting to do that, too.

———

It had only been a couple of weeks since that night—their first kiss under the dim glow of the streetlights—but things between them had changed so much.

Not in an overwhelming way. Not in a way that made Y/N feel rushed or pressured.

But in a way that made her soften.

In a way that made it impossible to ignore how utterly smitten Harry was.

It was in the way he always found a reason to touch her, even in the smallest ways—fingertips brushing against hers when they walked, absentmindedly tucking her hair behind her ear when she was focused on something, resting his chin on her shoulder just because he could.

It was in the way he remembered things, like how she liked her coffee and how she hated the sound of loud chewing. In the way he always waited for her outside class even when they had different schedules. In the way he looked at her, like he was always choosing to.

Like he couldn’t believe she was real.

Today was no different.

Y/N sat curled up on the library couch, actually trying to get some work done, while Harry sat beside her, flipping through a book he had absolutely no interest in.

At least, that’s what she assumed—because instead of reading, he was staring at her.

She sighed, setting her pen down. “Harry.”

“Hm?” He looked unbothered, too comfortable as he rested his head against the back of the couch.

“You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?”

She shot him a pointed look.

He smirked, unfazed. “Looking at my girlfriend?”

Her stomach flipped.

Even after two weeks, the word still did something to her.

She rolled her eyes, but her cheeks were warm, and Harry knew it.

With a quiet chuckle, he reached for her hand and intertwined their fingers, absentmindedly running his thumb across the back of her palm.

“Should I be studying?” he murmured, lips twitching.

She nodded. “Yes.”

Harry pretended to consider it. Then, with zero hesitation, he squeezed her hand and dragged it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against her knuckles.

“Too bad,” he murmured against her skin.

Y/N’s breath hitched.

This boy.

She was so doomed.

———

Y/N had tried to keep things subtle.

Not because she wanted to hide it, but because Charlotte was the biggest menace when it came to teasing her, and she wasn’t sure she was ready for that just yet.

Too bad Charlotte noticed everything.

Like the way Y/N smiled at her phone when she thought no one was looking. The way she suspiciously left the dorm at night with an “I’ll be back later.” The way she got flustered when Harry’s name came up in conversation.

She had her suspicions, but she didn’t have proof.

Until now.

Because today, as Charlotte was walking toward the dorm, she saw them.

Saw Harry pressing a lingering kiss to Y/N’s forehead. Saw the way she leaned into him, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And that was all she needed.

“I KNEW IT!”

Y/N jumped, turning to find Charlotte standing a few feet away with the biggest, most victorious grin on her face.

“Oh my God,” Y/N muttered.

Harry—who clearly wasn’t fazed at all—simply raised an eyebrow. “Did you, though?”

Charlotte turned to him, still grinning. “YES. I just didn’t have evidence.” She turned back to Y/N, wiggling her eyebrows. “But now I do.”

Y/N groaned, covering her face with her hands. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” Charlotte sing-songed.

Harry chuckled, amused, before leaning down and whispering into Y/N’s ear, “I’ll leave you to it, sweetheart.”

She sighed dramatically. “Coward.”

He smirked, kissed the side of her head one last time, and walked away, leaving her to deal with Charlotte’s relentless interrogation.

Y/N was so in trouble.

———

After an hour of being mercilessly teased, Y/N flopped onto her bed, groaning in frustration.

Charlotte smirked from across the room. “Oh, come on, you love me.”

“Debatable,” Y/N muttered, reaching for her phone.

She scrolled through her messages before typing.

Y/N [10:08 PM]: I officially hate you.

Harry [10:09 PM]: That’s unfortunate.

Y/N [10:09 PM]: Charlotte won’t stop teasing me. This is your fault.

Harry [10:10 PM]: Guess I’ll just have to make it up to you, won’t I?

Y/N froze, rereading the message at least three times.

Before she could even think of a response, there was a quiet knock on the door.

Charlotte and Y/N shared a look.

Y/N opened it—and there he was.

Harry stood there, a lazy smirk on his lips, holding a small pastry in a white paper bag.

“Hey,” he murmured.

Y/N blinked.

Charlotte—who was watching the whole thing unfold—snorted. “Oh, my God. You are so whipped.”

Harry didn’t even deny it.

He just shrugged, handed Y/N the bag, and kissed her temple like it was the most normal thing in the world.

When she looked inside, she found her favorite pastry, the one from the café across campus.

She looked back up at him, eyes soft. “You went all the way to—“

Harry simply shrugged. “Felt like it”

Y/N pressed her lips together, trying not to melt right then and there.

Charlotte, however, had no such restraint. “You two are disgusting”, she muttered, rolling her eyes before dramatically throwing a pillow over her head.

Harry chuckled, then leaned down and whispered against Y/N’s skin, “Worth it.”

And just like that, Y/N knew—

She was so, so screwed.

[steddieas-shegoes]

the taste of you

for @steddielovemonth inspired by the quote "there is never a time or place for true love. it happens accidentally, in a heartbeat, in a single, flashing, throbbing moment." - the truth about forever by sarah dessen

rated m | 1717 words | cw: blood, canon adjacent events | tags: eddie lives, steve has a crush on eddie, first kiss, getting together, post-vecna

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

The sky is red. It’s dark, the air is damp, and Steve hates the Upside Down.

This place genuinely sucks.

It sucks even more when he can hear Dustin yelling, but can’t see him.

It sucks the most when he finally sees why Dustin is yelling.

Steve’s heart stops, but his legs don’t.

He runs.

He runs so fast, his legs nearly give out.

They do, when he sees how bad it is.

Eddie’s dying. He’s bleeding too much.

Dustin knows it, that’s why he sounds like he’s in pain. Dustin’s seen enough near-death and death alike. Steve’s not letting him see it now, not with this guy he looks up to.

Steve starts CPR, wipes blood off his lips before he starts compressions. It’s a taste he’ll never forget.

When he thought about tasting Eddie, it wasn’t like this.

He keeps going, and the time keeps ticking, and Eddie’s heart doesn’t quite beat right, but he is breathing. Steve has no idea how he’s going to keep him breathing while they get him out. He can’t think about that when he’s trying to maintain his own oxygen levels to keep Eddie alive.

He’s keeping Eddie alive.

“Somebody get us out!” Steve manages to yell before he starts giving Eddie the air from his lungs.

Nancy is yelling and Dustin is screaming about not leaving them, but then Robin’s hand is on his back.

“Let me take over for a minute,” she says, voice shaking with nerves. She knows CPR because Steve insisted she learn after the Russians. He insisted everyone learn, but he hasn’t been able to teach everyone yet. He leaves her space to take over.

Nancy is tugging Dustin back to the trailer. He knows she’s coming up with a plan.

He wipes blood from his lips.

Nancy is gone for long enough that Steve starts taking over again with CPR. Robin is keeping an eye on things, making sure she doesn’t need to tap in again, making sure no rogue bats are coming back for seconds. Or thirds by the look of Eddie’s mangled body.

A warm hand touches his back as he’s trying to keep the life inside Eddie’s chest.

He pulls away. He wipes blood from his lips.

“C’mon kid, I gotta get him out of here,” Hopper is nudging him away. He doesn’t know how or why Hop is here. He doesn’t ask. He just needs him to save Eddie.

Hopper takes Eddie into his arms, lifts him up, and starts walking to the trailer.

Robin is holding his hand while they follow behind.

Eddie’s eyes open as they walk and Steve sees it, feels it.

There’s a zap of electricity between them.

Steve tastes blood again.

He wipes his mouth, but there’s nothing there.

Eddie’s eyes close again, but Steve doesn’t look away.

****

Steve’s head is pounding, but he refuses to leave. Robin brought him water and a sandwich about an hour ago, tried to convince him to go home and shower, take some Ibuprofen. He refused.

He wipes his mouth. There’s nothing there.

He wants to taste Eddie without blood in the way.

He wants to know Eddie without the fear of the police arresting him or Vecna cursing him or bats eating him alive.

He wants to touch Eddie with soft hands, knowing that he’s breathing on his own.

He wants to know what it’s like to love Eddie.

But Eddie’s still in recovery from surgery, and no one is allowed to see him, not even his uncle. Wayne is soft spoken, kind, but won’t take any nonsense from anyone. He gives Steve a nod every time a nurse gives him an update, a silent confirmation that Eddie’s still alive.

It’s enough for him for now, but his chest pulls tight at the thought that the only time he’d have Eddie close is when he’s dying.

“Mr. Munson?” A doctor calls for Wayne.

Steve knows better than to walk over there, but his ears tune in as much as possible.

“He’s in a room. I’d be shocked if he wakes up anytime in the next 24 hours. It was touch and go for a while, but we managed to find all of the internal bleeding and stop it. The external wounds are stitched up, but the scarring will be extensive. He had a skin graft done on his side, and that will be a painful healing process for the next few months. He currently has a fever, so we’re monitoring for infection. Whatever attacked him did enough damage that I am concerned he may have permanent muscular damage. It’s hard to know until he wakes up exactly how functional he will be, but be prepared for the worst,” the doctor explains. He’s straightforward, facts only, and Steve kind of appreciates it.

“The worst being?” Wayne asks.

“We don’t think he’ll be paralyzed, but enough damage has been done to his left side that he may be unable to walk. His neck had enough damage that speaking may be very painful or impossible for him. We aren’t going to know about his ability to hear or see until he wakes up, but his left ear was bleeding, which leads me to believe his eardrum is damaged enough for some hearing loss to be present. We just want you to be prepared.”

“Right. Anything else?”

Steve is standing much closer now, hadn’t even realized he moved until he was practically right behind Wayne.

“Not at this time. You may go back to sit with him, but I do ask that you don’t touch him. We don’t want to increase the risk of infection, and we don’t know what parts of his body are hurting at this time.”

Wayne nods. The doctor tells him the room number and general directions and walks away.

Steve wipes his mouth.

“Well? You comin’?” Wayne asks him.

Steve jumps. “Huh?”

“I expect you wanna see the boy after all you did to make sure he lived,” Wayne is smiling at him.

“But they said…”

“I heard him. I’d like to see ‘em stop us. They got a lot goin’ on right now anyway. Won’t even notice.”

So Steve follows Wayne to Eddie’s room, which is dimly lit and at the end of the hall, out of the way of a lot of the chaos happening around them. Wayne hasn’t asked questions, almost like he knows he shouldn’t. Steve won’t be able to answer.

Eddie’s asleep, and a lot of his body is covered in bandages. What isn’t still looks dirty, his skin caked with remnants of mud and dirt, with dried blood.

Steve wipes his mouth, grateful there’s no blood on his lips.

Wayne sits in the chair next to his bed. Steve stands by the door.

He feels like he’s guarding him, doing everything he can to protect him while he rests.

****

Eddie wakes up four days later.

He can move, but it’s extremely painful. He can hear, and see, and mostly talk, though his voice is raspy from disuse. Steve’s been in and out at Wayne’s insistence.

He sleeps at home for a few hours, showers, eats, then comes back.

No one comments on his presence, not even Eddie.

Not at first.

He stays in the background while the kids visit and find normalcy where they can. He stays out of the way when Wayne visits, happy just to see Eddie giving him a hard time from his bed. He keeps quiet when the doctors and nurses and Hop all sit down to talk to him about his progress.

Eddie doesn’t seem bothered by him hanging around. If anything, he seems to be trying to entertain him, maybe keep him here longer. Steve feels a fondness settle in his chest, and it stays there, makes a home in his lungs and his heart.

Eddie is reading, alone for the first time all day and enjoying the quiet. Well, he’s alone in the sense that Steve is sitting off to the side, not bothering him.

Steve wipes his mouth.

“You do that a lot,” Eddie says without looking up from his book.

“Do what?” Steve didn’t think he did anything. He’s just sitting, making sure Eddie’s alive.

“Wipe your mouth. I don’t remember you doing that before,” Eddie sets the book down on his lap. “You’ve done it six times in the last hour.”

“Oh,” Steve frowns. He doesn’t remember doing it that much. “Sorry.”

Eddie searches his face for something. He nods when he finds whatever it was.

“Come here,” Eddie sets his book on the table that’s still holding his dinner tray. They haven’t been by to pick it up yet.

Steve stands and walks closer to the bed.

“Closer.”

Steve leans in.

Eddie grabs the back of his head, firm but pulling him in gently. Steve could pull back if he wanted to.

He doesn’t want to.

He doesn’t know what’s happening, but he doesn’t want to stop it.

Eddie’s lips brush his. It’s enough pressure to be considered a kiss, but it’s over so quickly, Steve isn’t sure he registers it right away.

“There.”

“There?” Steve asks, resisting the urge to immediately lean in for more.

“It’s just my lips now. Nothing else. Nothing to wipe away.”

Steve blinks. Did someone tell Eddie about…?

“Robin told me about the CPR.” Eddie smirks. “Well, actually she said that she had to taste my blood and she would never forgive me for it, which led to me asking why Wayne told me you performed CPR. Then she explained and I noticed your little nervous habit.”

Eddie’s thumb brushes against his bottom lip. No one’s ever touched him like this, so soft, so gentle.

“I’m here. There’s no blood where it shouldn’t be. You saved me. You and Robin saved me.”

Steve’s lips part, his breath catches.

“Can I check?”

Eddie smiles. “Yeah, Stevie.”

Steve kisses him, feels his lips moving against his, and it’s different. All he tastes is Eddie’s spit, the garlic from the mashed potatoes he had for dinner, and the hint of something spicy, maybe the soda Wayne snuck him after the nurse left earlier.

No blood.

No dirt.

No sweat.

Just Eddie.

And that moment is all Steve needs to know he loves the taste of Eddie.

[burningcheese-merchant]

"sorry but I love your writing so much OP" ARE YOU FOR REAL? I LOVE YOUR WRITING, DUDE!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ADDING YOUR IDEAS, THEY'RE FANTASTIC

Ugggghhhhhhhh the Ancients and Beasts being SO CLOSE to understanding each other, SO CLOSE to accepting the truth of their undeniable and unbreakable connection, but always letting their personal flaws big and small get in their way and drive a wedge between them!!!!!!! Fear of rejection, fear of further suffering and loss! All of the anger and grief and self-loathing! And amidst all of this, those two that dared to defy this order that no one meant to establish, but no one is able or willing to break, and stepping across that threshold to meet each other halfway, to become one as all five pairs were meant to, if only for a single, fleeting moment...

To the Ancients, they see a maverick. That one that, of their ragtag group of five, they had always known was the one most worthy of the title of "hero", more than any of them could ever hope or strive to be. A man who overcame his fear of the world and of himself, and who somehow always finds insurmountable strength in even the most fragile, fumbling weakness. He did what they so desperately wish to: he confessed. That cloying sentiment that tugged on the strings of their hearts like a delicate instrument; the fabled happy ending they'd see in their dreams, that made them smile and sigh softly in their sleep. He did it. Pure Vanilla did it. It ended badly - the way they all suspected, lamented that it would - but he did it, and that's what matters most at the moment. Do they congratulate him? Do they gather round and cage him in a warm embrace, mourning his cruel rejection alongside him? Bah... they'll do both. They'll do it all for their friend. And perhaps, in doing so, they can live through him, and share in this small, fleeting victory...

Shadow Milk knows better than to show his face to... are they even still his friends, in this day and age? Is that a term he could use, a relationship he could imply, without a savage bite or bark in dismissive response? Did their camaraderie mean anything anymore, after all they've said and done?

Hmph... It doesn't matter. None of it matters. Not them, not the Ancients, not that miserable, mewling, bleeding heart coward Pure Vanilla. Meant to be together? HA! "No one else but me can truly understand you"? Now THAT'S a good joke. So good, that he actually brought the house down! That saying is supposed to be just that, but Pure Vanilla actually gave it life and limb! He was the true jester all along, it would seem! And far be it from Shadow Milk to allow himself to be outdone by anyone, never mind... him. But oh well. That rosy-cheeked bastard's time will come.

Understanding... No one understands Shadow Milk. No one ever did, and no one ever shall. It is Shadow Milk who understands. He, the once great Fount of Knowledge. HE is the arbiter of truth and understanding, no one else. It is HE who understands.

And what does Shadow Milk understand?

He understands that that mask Mystic Flour wears from dusk to dawn and every minute in between will finally shatter, should he ever grace her with his presence again. The cocoon she wove ever-so-tightly around her heart will unravel once and for all - and from it will spring an unfettered, grief-stricken rage the likes of which none have ever seen. Those silk ribbons and spider webs will instead coil around his wrists, his ankles, his neck, and they will squeeze. She will gaze into the abyss of his soul as all of the air and excuses are slowly wrung from his aching lungs, without a sound herself; he won't deserve any answers from her, and they both know what they are, anyway. He had enlightenment in his grasp. The one she recoiled from and longed for so strongly. He threw it away. For it, he will suffer. He must.

He understands that there is no Hell torturous enough for Burning Spice to damn him to, no corner of the earth he can scuttle off and cower in, nothing he can say or do to quell his spitting fury. He will beat him, break him, put splinters beneath his fingernails, slather him in lamb's blood and throw him to the wolves, tear out his guts with his bare hands and use them to hang him from a bridge. And all the while, he will scream and shout every last ounce of his disappointment. His longing. His sorrow. All he wants anymore is Golden Cheese. He needs her. And he KNOWS Shadow Milk needs Pure Vanilla in the same way - and instead of accepting that precious gift, he chose to be boring and lie like he always does about EVERYTHING in his worthless life. If Shadow Milk has a joke, a poem, a scathing criticism, however he chooses to dress his EXCUSES- no, Burning Spice won't hear them. They will seep into the earth, never to be of use again, along with every last drop of his blood as Burning Spice split every last vein open with his axe

He understands that Eternal Sugar will be tempted to play a song for him. Let her fingers dance along the strings of her precious harp one more time, just for him, even though she lost her taste for music long ago. Soft, sickly sweet crooning about how much of a coward and a failure he is. A melody that graces his ears with the warmth and affection of a seditious courtesan dutifully handing her king his poisoned tea. And he would listen and scowl and say nothing in reply - he needed to dedicate his focus to staying awake, because the last thing he wanted was to fall asleep in Eternal Sugar's presence. It was what she hoped for; in his dreams, she could demonstrate her REAL frustration. So he'd deny her that chance for as long as he could, and let her trill that Hollyberry's disappearing act was more captivating than his would ever be

He understands that it never mattered that Silent Salt was born mute, for he was nevertheless a master of expression that rivaled even Shadow Milk himself. The tremor in his hand as he gripped his sword tighter. Tighter. Tighter. The loud, clanking stomp of his armored boots as he marched towards Shadow Milk, unyielding to any obstacle or distraction he tried to throw onto his path. That aura, more powerful than any of theirs had ever been, cold as steel and equally as heavy and suffocating, looming over Shadow Milk like a storm over the sea. The bleeding imprint of his gauntlet on Shadow Milk's cheek. The lilies - soft-hearted fool, he always has at least one on hand - he'd shove into Shadow Milk's mouth and down his throat until he choked and perished in his shaking grasp. The tears Shadow Milk could sense welling in those furious, bloodshot eyes hiding behind that helm. Perhaps it was for the best that Silent Salt was truly born silent; Shadow Milk shuddered to imagine what horrors would spill from his mouth and strike the whole world down otherwise.

He understands that Pure Vanilla's love is persistent and unconditional. There is nothing Shadow Milk can say or do to push him away, not really. He can reject him a thousand times and he will always return and try again. The man wrapped himself around Shadow Milk's finger willingly; he and his heart and soul were forever his to toy with as he pleased.

... He understands that somewhere, in his heart of hearts, he wanted to say yes. He wishes he did. No one will ever hate Shadow Milk more than Shadow Milk himself for choosing not to, no matter his reasoning. No matter the outcome.

He understands that he bears the exact same curse as his compatriots. He understands there is no cure, no solution, no salvation. Not that ones such as them deserve such a mercy, anyway.

... It doesn't matter. None of it matters. Fools, the lot of them. Every single one.

Somewhere in the hollow pit of his damned soul, Shadow Milk understands that he's the biggest fool of them all. Such is the burden of Knowledge...

"You and I... We are meant to be together." okay everyone pack it up. go home. it doesn't get worse than this. I fear all other ancient x beast is #cancelled forever because how the utter fuck do you compete with that. My god. Dark Cacao would die on the spot, his old fucking heart would give out processing a sentence that romantic. Golden Cheese would choke and die from the physical manifestation of her own pride and ego before she could ever utter a sentence that open and honest. Hollyberry is choosing to laugh it all off and pray she can drink away and not think about it. White Lily would fall into another witch pot of bubbling goo before confronting said feelings. Only Pure Motherfucking Vanilla is that clincally batshit and unburdened to spout his feelings 1000% unfiltered to a guy who just killed his friends and got his rocks off psychologically torturing him.

Mystic Flour being utterly repulsed by such naïve, meaningless sentimentality, still clinging to the remains of the apathy she so cherishes and champions even as it slips through her fingers like flour through a sieve; hating herself to her very core because somewhere within it, she KNOWS her heart beats and aches for that ridiculous man, but she would end her own suffering before she allowed the truth to poke its head out from the shadows of her subconscious for even a single second

Burning Spice knowing how he feels for Golden Cheese, reveling in it, LIVING for the way his heart thunders in his chest and his breath hitches at the mere thought of his little bird. Never being afraid to tell her so, to pour out the contents of his dark heart without any filter (and Witches know he needs one at times...), either through his mouth or through the blade of his axe. But... still knowing that it isn't quite enough. Not for her. Because there's still something missing from his confessions. That soft, sugary sweetness that took away enough of the edge to his overwhelming spice that even he himself noticed it. That raw honesty - a different kind than he's used to, not quite what he employs. The kind that well and truly leaves him vulnerable and open to judgment; things he hates himself for fearing, even if it's only in relation to her and no one else. The kind he simply cannot have, that he cannot carry out. He tells Golden Cheese how he feels for her the way he WANTS to, not the way he NEEDS to. For that, he must change. And damn it, he can't handle any more change. It'll kill him, and he doesn't want to die anymore. Not while she's there to make his life fun again

Eternal Sugar sighing, rolling her eyes before letting them flutter shut again, because she knows this song and dance. She once helped countless others perform it; such was her lot as Happiness. And she chooses to ignore it, tuck herself back into bed and retreat into the world of dreams once more. Letting laziness govern her actions, like always. Running away from everything again - including her feelings for Hollyberry, and the fears and doubts that shroud them. Choosing to do nothing with the fact that Hollyberry is a runner and a quitter just like her, instead of taking initiative with her life and emotions for the first time in ages and telling Hollyberry point-blank that they could run away from the world together if she truly wanted

Silent Salt secretly lamenting his condition more than ever before, for now more than ever can he truly say that it is a hindrance, a curse, a stain on the tapestry of his life. Because no matter how well he's trained himself to express his thoughts and feelings through his actions, he knows that there are times where words really DO speak louder - and he can't speak them at all. He can never look White Lily in the eye and open his mouth and allow his praise and adoration to leap freely from his tongue. She will never feel the warmth of his tone as his words embraced her. She will never shiver and swoon at the joy and passion that dripped from every single letter - and there would've been many, there would've been more than could ever have been recorded, for he would've sung his feelings from every rooftop on earth until his lungs gave out. But he can't. He never will. Does he try to pretend it's better this way? Does he try and fail to cope with his lovesickness like his comrades do with theirs? Or does he accept the bitter reality for what it is, no ifs, ands, or buts, only hiding the gloom and doom he knows is written all over his face behind his helm just so he doesn't have to see it for himself?

And, above all of these things, bundling up the other 4 Beasts' feelings and tucking them away... Above all else, they are angry. They are angry at Shadow Milk. Because he achieved what none of them could. He got everything he wanted. His Ancient admitted his love for him, with all of the raw sincerity one could possibly afford another. The other Beasts would do ANYTHING to hear their Ancients speak to them in such a way. To acknowledge and embrace their connection, to confess to loving and longing for them; for their countenance, for their voice, for their touch, for their very souls. Shadow Milk got to reunite with his other half - who chose him willingly, wholeheartedly.

And Shadow Milk chose to throw it all away in the end. Let it all go to waste.

If any of them ever see him again, they're going to let him know EXACTLY how they feel about it all. Maybe it can count as practice towards crafting a proper heartfelt confession.

[luvoooenha]

Lucky charm!

Pairing- Boyfriend! Jake x Girlfriend! Y/N

Summary- Jake, the top soccer player at UNI, always relied on Y/N’s support—until a huge argument left him distracted before a big game. Without her in the stands, he struggled to play, missing shots and worrying his team. Realizing how much he needed her, a teammate called Y/N, who debated but ultimately showed up, looking her best. The moment Jake saw her, his focus returned, and he played like himself again. After the game, they made up, proving that Y/N was truly his lucky charm.

Warnings- FLUFF, FLUFF, FLUFF, anger, angst, arguments, happy couple… (jokes! Not really)

Word count- 1.8k

plsplsplsplsplspls dont copyyy my work!

“You don’t get it, Y/N!” Jake’s voice was sharp, frustration thick in every word.

“Then explain it to me, Jake! Because right now, it feels like I’m the only one trying.” Y/N’s arms were crossed tightly over her chest, her voice shaking between anger and hurt.

Jake let out a humorless laugh, running a hand through his hair. “You think I don’t care? That I don’t appreciate you?”

Y/N exhaled sharply. “Jake, I’ve been to every single game, every late-night practice, every stupid press conference where they ask you the same questions. And not once have I ever complained.” Her voice broke slightly, but she pushed on. “But the second I bring up how I feel, I’m the bad guy?”

He opened his mouth, but no words came out. The look in her eyes—raw and filled with unshed tears—made his chest tighten.

“I can’t keep doing this if you don’t want me here, Jake.”

His stomach twisted. That wasn’t what he wanted at all. But his stupid pride got in the way, and instead of telling her the truth—that he needed her more than anything—he muttered, “Maybe it’s better that way.”

The second the words left his lips, he wanted to take them back.

Y/N’s face fell, her jaw tightening as she nodded slowly. “Okay.”

And just like that, she turned and walked away.

Jake stood frozen, watching her disappear into the night.

He had just made the biggest mistake of his life.

-

The silence between them was louder than anything Jake had ever experienced.

Y/N hadn’t texted. Hadn’t called. Hadn’t shown up to practice.

Jake told himself he was fine. That he could focus better without distractions. But when game day rolled around, it hit him like a freight train.

He jogged onto the field, scanning the stands on instinct. But the seat where she always sat—third row, left side, just behind the team bench—was empty.

His stomach clenched.

He tried to shake it off as the game started, but his body wouldn’t cooperate. His passes were off. His speed felt sluggish. Every shot he took either hit the post, went wide, or was blocked by the keeper.

The frustration built with every mistake, weighing him down like lead.

The final whistle blew, and UNI had lost. Jake barely heard the post-game speech from his coach, too busy replaying every missed opportunity in his head.

When he got back to the locker room, he didn’t even bother taking off his cleats right away. He just sat there, elbows resting on his knees, staring at the floor.

Jay, his closest teammate, nudged him. “Dude. What’s going on?”

Jake exhaled slowly. “Nothing. Just an off day.”

Jay scoffed. “Nah, man. This is more than that. I’ve never seen you play like this.” He paused. “It’s Y/N, isn’t it?”

Jake didn’t answer.

Jay sighed. “Look, I don’t know what happened, but it’s obvious you’re a wreck without her.”

Jake clenched his jaw. “She’s probably better off.”

Jay rolled his eyes. “Yeah? Then why do you keep looking for her in the stands?”

Jake said nothing.

Jay grabbed his phone. “I’m texting her.”

Jake should’ve stopped him. Should’ve told him to leave it alone.

But he didn’t.

Y/N sat on her bed, knees pulled to her chest, as she mindlessly scrolled through her camera roll. Each swipe brought a new memory, a new reminder of everything she and Jake had been before it all fell apart.

There was a photo of him grinning at her during one of their late-night study sessions, his notes forgotten as he balanced a pencil between his nose and upper lip, trying to make her laugh. She had rolled her eyes at the time, but she could still remember the way her stomach had fluttered when he looked at her like she was the best part of his world.

Another picture—Jake, covered in sweat but grinning like a fool after a big win, his arm slung lazily around her shoulders. She had been laughing, caught mid-cheer, his jersey draped over her like a second skin. She had been so proud of him. She always was.

And then, one of her favorites—a candid shot of them from a lazy Sunday morning. Jake, shirtless and half-asleep, stealing bites of her breakfast as she swatted at his hand, laughing at his shamelessness. His hair had been a mess, his eyes still heavy with sleep, but he had looked at her like she was the only thing that mattered.

Y/N’s chest ached.

She missed him. More than she wanted to admit.

Her fingers hovered over his contact, the familiar urge to text him creeping in. But then, like a cruel reminder, his words echoed in her head.

"Maybe it’s better that way."

She swallowed the lump in her throat, locking her phone. If that was what he wanted, then fine. She wouldn’t be the one to break first.

But then, as if the universe was laughing at her stubbornness, her phone buzzed.

Jay: Jake’s a mess. He needs you. Badly.

Her heart clenched.

She should ignore it. He was the one who pushed her away. He was the one who made her feel like she didn’t matter.

But… if that were true, why was he struggling so much?

Y/N exhaled slowly, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Her expression was unreadable, but her eyes betrayed her, filled with something she wasn’t ready to name yet.

She could walk away. Let Jake figure this out on his own. Prove to herself that she didn’t need him as much as he needed her.

But that was a lie.

Because no matter how angry or hurt she was… she still loved him.

And she wasn’t sure she ever wouldn’t.

With a resigned sigh, she grabbed her jacket and touched up her makeup.

If she was going, she was going to make an entrance.

She headed out the door, her heart pounding.

Jake needed her.

And whether she liked it or not… she needed him too.

-

Jake jogged onto the field, his mind clouded with doubt.

His body felt heavy, his nerves shot. The last few games had been a disaster, and the weight of failure clung to him like a storm he couldn’t outrun. He tried to shake it off, stretching his arms and bouncing on his feet, but nothing felt right.

Then, instinctively, he looked toward the stands.

And everything stopped.

His breath hitched. His heart stuttered.

Y/N was there.

Sitting in her usual spot—third row, left side, just behind the team bench.

Jake blinked, half-convinced he was imagining it. But no, it was real. She was real.

And damn, she looked good.

Her hair was styled just the way he liked, her makeup subtle but stunning. She wore his favorite shade, the one he always said made her eyes stand out, and even from across the field, he could see the way her lips curved in something between challenge and amusement.

She came.

A rush of energy shot through his veins, the kind he hadn’t felt since before she left. His pulse pounded, but this time, it wasn’t from nerves—it was from something deeper, something electric.

His lucky charm had returned.

And just like that, everything clicked back into place.

The whistle blew, and Jake was unstoppable.

Every pass was precise, every shot powerful. He weaved through defenders with the confidence he’d been missing, his movements sharp and deliberate. The frustration that had been drowning him for days melted away, replaced by pure instinct.

And every time he scored, he didn’t look at the scoreboard. He didn’t look at his teammates.

He looked at her.

Y/N sat there, arms crossed, trying to look unimpressed. But he saw the way her lips twitched, the way her fingers tapped against her thigh. She was proud of him—he knew it.

By the final whistle, UNI had secured the win. The crowd erupted in cheers, his teammates swarming him with congratulations, but Jake barely acknowledged any of it.

His eyes were locked on her.

Without a second thought, he sprinted toward the stands, pushing past the crowd. Y/N had already started making her way down toward the field, and when she stopped in front of him, they just stood there, staring at each other.

For the first time in days, Jake could breathe again.

“I was an idiot.” His voice was breathless, raw. “I didn’t mean any of it, Y/N. I was just—” He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his sweat-damp hair. “I was scared. Of how much I need you.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, arms still crossed. “Yeah? I figured, considering how hard you flopped without me.”

Jake huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “I deserved that.”

“Damn right, you did.”

A small smile tugged at her lips, but Jake didn’t miss the way her tough exterior wavered, the way her eyes softened just slightly.

He took a step closer. “Y/N, I mean it. I never should’ve pushed you away.” His voice dropped to something quieter, more vulnerable. “You’re everything to me.”

She sighed, finally uncrossing her arms. “Jake… you can’t shut me out when things get hard. That’s not how this works.”

“I know,” he admitted, his gaze never leaving hers. “And I won’t. Ever again.”

Y/N studied him for a long moment, and then, finally, she sighed in defeat. “You’re lucky I like you, Sim.”

Relief crashed over him, and before she could say anything else, he closed the distance, wrapping his arms arowund her and pulling her in tight.

She hesitated for half a second before melting into him, her arms circling his waist.

Jake buried his face in her hair, inhaling the familiar scent of her perfume, and everything felt right again. “I missed you,” he murmured.

“I know,” she teased, voice muffled against his jersey. “I could tell from your embarrassing game stats.”

He chuckled, pulling back just enough to look at her. “Guess I need you to keep me in check.”

“Clearly.”

Jake reached up, brushing his thumb over her cheek, his voice softer now. “So… does this mean you’ll be at the next game?”

Y/N smirked. “As long as you keep winning.”

He grinned, pressing a kiss to her forehead before whispering, “Then I guess I have no choice.”

Because she wasn’t just his biggest supporter.

She was his lucky charm.

isa note! - lallalala first story!!! lalalall so excited! lalalalalla

taglist~ @firstclassjaylee

if wanted to be tag plspslplspsls let me know! 💗

[hi-i-love-u-bitch]

Sonic game where Eggman kidnaps all the "important and dangerous" characters, leaving behind Tails, Cream, and Charmy. He thinks Tails is nothing without Sonic and will just fall into despair again (like with Infinite) and hide away again. Cream and Charmy are just annoying children to him, not a threat.

That was Eggman's first mistake.

These are the three most feral children known to man. They were raised by equally feral teenagers who have faught gods on multiple occasions and won. They have seen and been through absolute bullshit! And you dare underestimate them???

Tails: Little bro has the morality of a roulette wheel if his love ones are in danger. He is looking for ANY excuse to crashout. Sure, he's a bit of a scaredy cat at times but also he's fucking 8yrs old. But that doesn't matter right now because being scared don't mean shit to him when his big bro and friends are in danger. He has lost Sonic once and was too scared to do anything but Chaos be dammed if he's EVER gunna let that shit happen twice. Gerald Robotnik would quake in fear at the weapons of mass distribution this child would create just to save his brother. And don't think it's just his brains you need to worry about, this boy has been hanging around and rough housing with Sonic and Knuckles for YEARS. When it comes down to it not only will he throw hands but he WILL bite a bitch if he has to.

Cream: As innocent and unsuspecting as she maybe this little girl hands around team dark and team rose all the time. Though one seems much more intimidating than the other DO NOT BE FOOLED!!! Amy and Bigs are absolute heavy hitters and have taught Cream all the basics to defend herself if need be. This little bitch is STRONG! Like damn near Knuckles and Amy strong! Amy gave her one of her old "light weight" hammers as a gift and that shit weighs at least 80lbs. That's not even mentioning all the hand to hand combat Rouge and Shadow have DEFINITELY taught her in secret. Let's also not forget that she can command an army of Chao to attack at will if need be.

Charmy: The most feral of the three. He picked up some ninja skills from Espio and is just as clever in problem solving as Vector. Little bro can sneak up on you out of nowhere then kick you ass! You don't think he can? Bro flies around carrying a lanky teenage ninja and a grown ass crocodile, the fuck he can!! He is just as much if not more of a menace to society as Tails is. Also you just stole the two most important people in his life and you think he's gunna let that slide? Nah, he is going to kill you! Well maybe not "kill you, kill you" but he'll get damn near close to it. Also, bro is the biggest instigator, he's going to be egging Tails and Cream to do some reckless shit just because he knows it'll cause Eggman a lot of personal stress and because he thinks its funny. Dude is petty as hell and WILL be praying for your downfall.

So yeah, by the end of it Eggman was absolutely cooked by a group of elementary school students. 🤣