#ALSO IGNORE THE WINDOWS NOTIF IN THE CORNER IT DOES NOT EXIST

[dailyedgeworth]

today, a work in progress? bc i think it looks funny but also bc my drawing arm is starting to hurt and uh. i never stretch?

[strawberry-nugget]

𝙈𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙞𝙘 | E.Kirishima x Reader

Pairing: Kirishima/ reader, Bakugo/ reader (mentioned)

Summary: You shouldn't want him and he shouldn't want you, it's sinful and forbidden. But he can't help coming back to you, and you can't do anything but take him in every single time. Until today that is.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: Aged up characters (twenties), NSFW 18+, plot with some p//rn but it's not very detailed, unprotected sex (please use condoms everyone), cheating, casual penetrative sex, jealousy, the seggz is pretty vanilla though

↪A/N: tennis player Kirishima, tennis player Kirishima, idk how I came up with it but I can't get it out of my head, written for @doinmybesthere 's 3k event collab and based on The Hills by the Weeknd, don't be shy to tell me if you liked it, I almost wrote 4k in a day which is unusual for me

5.30pm [Missed Call: Red]

5.31pm [Missed Calls(2): Red]

The bubbling notifications are spamming your phone, each call, succeeding the other in persistence and length, making your phone crawl onto your coffee table in restless buzzing. To your salvation the device is on silent; you're just unable to bear the overwhelming sound of your ringtone echo through the empty walls of your apartment, to let it bounce between concrete like a slimy ball, only for it to hit you on the face with tremendous force.

It's one of those days that you can't answer Kirishima. Too perplexed in the wields of your mind, blaming yourself for this horrendous situation, delivering raw swears at him for simply existing.

You don't know how it came to this nor when was the exact moment things switched. Was it at the party that you met him? Or the thousandth time you took him in and let him ruin relationship after relationship. Either way it was horrible for not only you, but also him, and all the people that have been caught up in the sidelines of this rotten affair.

You shouldn't want this anymore and truly, you don't. You're tired of being the second choice, of hiding behind your little finger, crying yourself to sleep at night, only to put on a sultry face for every time he comes. Once, twice a month.

[New Messages: Red]

Babe, you there?

Read 5.38pm

[New Messages: Red]

Babe I got practice at 8.

I know you're reading those.

Read 5.39pm

[Red is typing…]

[New Messages: Red]

I'm outside btw

A fresh, tremendously sharp wave of anxiety rushes through you at the little notification -it can't be like this again, not today. The thudder in your chest is unbearable, heart too weak to stomach the weight of your decision, fingers too reluctant to type out your response.

He's probably smirking while staring at his phone, not a single care in his head. It's loathing to your mind as you confirm your speculation, shooting a glance out of your window, landing your eyes on his car.

He shouldn't be here.

His thousands dollar car doesn't belong in your urban street, not in your side of the town. And it's so dangerous that he's doing this to see you. You've played the worst scenarios in your head a thousand times, millions of headlines on sites and the news about this; Eijirou Kirishima, on his way to claiming a fifth Grand Slam, caught in affair with university student.

Atrocious, degrading, exposing. A hit to his career that would bother the media for a couple of weeks and paint your name in mud along the way.

Why can't he just be content with the model that he's with? You're nothing like her, not as pretty and you don't have her body, you don't have her face, but he still says he finds you better, says he knows you better, but he just can't be with you.

[You]

Can't do it today

Sorry

You're good to yourself, only when you deny him and only when you feel the satisfaction of being the one to do so. It's pointless to sulk over saying no. He can go fuck other girls, play with their hearts and leave you to your otherwise peaceful life. Even if it is just for today.

You don't have the chance to let a smile creep to your face when your doorbell rings. The jiggling sound bursts into your eardrums once and twice, three dreaded times and they're enough to make your stomach churn, your neck tight and your skin ache.

You contemplate on opening the door for him, subconsciously letting yourself feel like a vulnerable prey, who, after running away to save yourself, is choosing to walk into the wolf's den, so willingly that you can feel yourself drifting away with each step you're taking towards the door.

"Babe,"

The swing of your door handle, the crack of your wrist, the creaking of your door as it opens to reveal him; they're all embarrassing. You can't tell if they fall short on his ears, too caught up in the way he looks -all swollen muscles and tall legs. You're running out of courage to say no and he knows this.

He's not as innocent as this cheeky smile frames him out to be, he's not the sweetheart everyone wants him to be either.

He's Eijirou, who's selfishly standing on your door, who's barging his way in your apartment, who's grabbing your cheeks and slamming your face in his, biting your lips until he draws blood, just to punish you for standing up against him.

Your door is slammed behind him, one bend of his knee and it's falling into its rightful place. To shield the sins of your affair, to bring you comfort and privacy as he attacks parts of your neck, your chest. Places that only squeeze perfectly under his touch.

"Babe," He calls again, in between soft kisses. "What's gotten into you?"

You frown and try to look away, past his cocoa colored orbs, past the swelling that's taking over his lips -and yours- with a numbing, tingling sensation.

"Eijirou—"

"I don't have much time in between training, I got a game the day after tomorrow."

It's always like this, you know. He doesn't have to tell you twice or try to excuse his own self for what he does or how he acts. You're pushed between schedules, or slammed into his timetable like a truck when he feels like indulging with you again, hidden between the lines of his free time.

You're sure at this point that it's the thrill he's after. The sinful taste of your lips on his, how he feels in control while chasing after you, when you can't keep up with him.

His lips don't taste like sour cherry anymore, but you let them wiggle against yours with triumph, you let him want to catch his breath as he pulls back and you put the minimum effort in returning the passion you receive.

You pull back, ignoring the words he's whispering against your face, only to take in his features once again.

Soft black hair pulled into a low ponytail, spiky bangs that fly all over his face and his tips drowned in a fiery, foxy red. The only reminder for who he was before his tennis career blew up. For who he was before he turned into this cocky womanizer whom you're desperately after with a longing heart.

"I'm just not in the mood today."

"Well let's get you in the mood then huh?"

He smiles, nose scrunching and chapped lips hiding behind his gums as his hand moves to your thigh, tagging your shorts with furry. As if he's desperate to have you, right here and now. As if bending you over the couch will help put out a fire in him. That's how he always convinces you to keep this going.

He's making you feel like not having you this way is insufferable.

You're buried in the crook of his neck while being pushed onto the couch, nibbling a soft spot that you've found, rubbing his skin on the top of your tongue. You know how to do this without leaving a mark, you can hold back from wanting to take all you can get from him.

But today it's different. It's going to be the last time.

It's not like any other time you've told yourself that you are going to end this. Today you're going to leave a mark, you're going to bite your way into his skin and drink from his poison -the intimate attention he's only ever willing to give- and you'll get drunk in it.

"Fuck," He grunts against your lips. "Fuck, don't stop that feels good."

You don't stop, eager to listen to him, to breathe into his neck before you wrap your lips a little lower and closer to his collarbone. You should be asking if this will cause him problems, but gone is the guilt that veils your coinsense otherwise. You suckle on a spot and then another, stealing his groaning moans one by one as they fall from his lips, plushing them softly in a spongy part of your brain, where they can rest forever, until you've forgotten them.

"Get your shirt off Eijirou," You plea, ogling eyes watering from the pressure that's applied in the apex of your thighs and he's quick to follow your command, lips curling upwards in a sweetheart smirk.

You're going to miss the way the apples of his cheeks cover his eyes when he smiles like this. But there's no going back for you and him.

With legs that feel like burning rubber you hug around his horse, watching the way his muscles flex and fold with his snappy movements. His shirt, tousled and wrinkly, tossed in an unknown corner of your living room, only for him to guess where it is after he's gotten his fix of you.

Thick fingers probe at your sides, pulling your shirt downwards in a silent plea, take off your shirt, give him the satisfaction that he wants, indulge into this as much as he wants you to.

But today, you're not in the mood for this. So instead of pulling your shirt off, you unbuckle your pants, pulling them down at the most dreadful speed, making him bite his lip impatiently.

You won't miss this, the way he's expecting so many things of you.

And if he notices something's wrong, he doesn't say a word, presumably content with getting what he wants; the rear view of the gap between your legs, where he can bury himself and get lost for the next thirty minutes.

"Fuck baby," he moans. "Why do you smell so good?"

You grunt, averting your gaze from his as he pushes your bangs away from your face with the back of his hand. You want to miss his puppy eyes. Ghosting him won't be easier for you if you don't.

But damn if he couldn't read you this well, things would be easier.

"Not in the mood to talk?" You look even further away to avoid the question, "babe, you can tell me if you're not well, you'll feel better if you let it out"

You don't need someone to tell you how to feel. You've decided when the two of you are going to be through. It's set and done, even if he feels at the top of the world right now, you won't inflate his ego anymore.

"M fine Eijirou, put it in," You bite his lip, putting huge effort in making him forget about what he thinks it's bothering you. "Want you to put it in m'kay?"

Sultry, fake voice, he's heard it all before and he doesn't have the right to call you out for it. Whatever he does next, you're his for the moment and for the last time.

Repeating is your rightful way of convincing yourself of not giving up on your decision. If only he could have broken up before deciding to wet himself in you, if only you hadn't taken him so eagerly, if only you hadn't become just like him. Welcoming him despite availability status, afraid to lose him, saying that a little sex wouldn't hurt. If you could do this on repeat, then you could get rid of him quite as easily.

You're not better than him and he's taken your vulnerability to him for granted. He's loved the attention you've paid him from time to time, whenever he's given you so much as a mere call.

You should pretend to moan, to hurt his ego, but as he's delving into you, slowly, mellowy, his kisses feel like burning sunshine, August breeze against your skin, kissing your shoulders lightly. It hurts that this salvation is coming from his mouth, as it moves rhythmically against every inch of you.

"Fuck, fuck, ah, you feel so good, you know that?"

You don't answer, nor do you wrap your lips around him. You don't move them against his when he goes to kiss you, but you coo into his warm embrace once his hands come to cradle you in a tight embrace.

"I love you," He slips up and you contemplate on whether you have to start hating him from this very moment. "I just wanna be with you, I—" He grunts. “—this is why you don't believe him, but nonetheless you hold a moan in as well. "Fuck, I'll break up just for you.”

Now that's a new one. A new addition to the long list of red flags you have with his name on top. You can't fall for it. You absolutely can't. If you do, he'll treat you just like this, he'll fuck behind your back and kiss you goodnight before going off to sleep with someone else. Like he's slept with you, once, twice, thrice.

And you're going to hate being the one who's fooled, despite deserving it more than anyone else. And another girl, or guy, is going to be his subject of desire.

You shouldn't want him to be yours, but you're lewding your 'I love yous' out of your mouth like they're nothing, poisoning your heart until there's nothing left but dust and sucked up blood, all devoured by the greed he's made you feel.

"You love me too?"

"I do," You cry, rocked between him and the couch, neck hurting by the way he's digging his teeth in yours.

"I'll fucking leave everything for you babe,"

He shouldn't. He won't. You tell yourself he's only saying this because he wants to come, to make you feel dirty with his actions and fish out words that make him ecstatic or send him over the edge from your mouth.

Rhythms are peaking, his hips burning from his movements, foreheads are dripping in sweat, lips taste salty against each other. The perfect picture, the most tingling sensation, and you're too fucked to go back, or keep yourself content with him. It feels the same as the last time, a numbing knot in your stomach, commanding you to rip your heart out and throw it away, spooning mewls out of your mouth.

If you could, you'd mute him, not wanting to listen to how beautiful he sounds as he's coming down from his high. If you could, you'd look away, and wouldn't try to burn the image of his body as he's falling apart in your mind.

"That was—" The sigh that leaves his chest through his mouth is liberating, you can tell—"amazing. I still love you, so much babe."

His hand soothing the pain of his thrusts, does nothing to make you feel better. You want to shove it away, but you don't, unhappy with the way you're turning out to be.

"It's time for you to go, Eijirou, isn't it?" You remind him. A hand pushing him off of you and quickly smoothing your T-shirt over your legs to deprive him of the view that'd make him wear a smug of triumph.

"So quick to get me to go. Did you find someone else again sweetheart?"

You don't reply as you're putting on your underwear and pants, shoving his shirt into him with a heavy hand.

"You did, didn't you?"

"None of your business, go off to your practice, your girl, don't patronize me anymore."

He gruffs, beautiful features scowling in that stormy gaze that reeks of his authority, "Here I am pouring my heart on you and you found someone else"

"Eijirou, it's seven thirty, if I were you, I wouldn't be late for practice. You got a game the day after tomorrow."

No more dealing with his pouting, you're going to bawl your eyes out if you have to do it. The sooner he's out of your house, the sooner you'll get this over with; the tight lamp in your throat, the image of him smiling at you like this, him admitting feelings that he shouldn't have.

Hurting him isn't the role that suits you. Because you can't do it. You can't hurt that warm sunshine he has on his face. He has to be the one to hurt you like he's been the one to drive you away. It's too late for him to change or reverse your roles.

You don't want to fight and he knows it.

He knows you, so well, well enough to use you as he wishes to, letting you believe you're using him too. You're going to make him watch you slip away, and he won't do anything about this.

So he's eager to leave as you're pushing him out of the door, he doesn't cup your cheek with his hand, and doesn't kiss your forehead tenderly like he always does.

"You should come to this party Mina is throwing, let me meet your new guy."

Like hell you'd ever do this, he knows, but teasing won't hurt a bit. Eijirou can deal with you dating other men, he's claimed you well before, he'll do it again if he has to, especially now that he's decided to have you.

"Yeah yeah, and if I do, don't ever call me again, 'kay?"

You're too good to not do as he says, or not to fall back to him, and he's too good to not come back to you. To him, you're a match made in heaven, to you, you're a lost cause, burning in the fiery pits of hell as atonement for your sins.

He doesn't know that you'll fall apart before dressing up, how you'll tell yourself you're not doing this for him, but as a statement against him.

You're no better than him, in fact, you're worse.

…

The only problem is, that when Eijirou pulls up at Mina's party after practice, you're already there. Drink in your hand, flared jeans hugging your legs, layered tank tops that cover the bruising truth of this evening, laughing at whatever your friends are saying.

When he puts out his phone, calloused fingers furiously typing a text addressed to you, you're too far gone into another glass, dancing a little dance before grabbing everyone's cups to go for a refill, greeting them in that silent way of yours, drunken smile.

And then you'll pass him by and blink at him, you'll mutter a small greeting and he'll grab you by the hand and whisper in your ear just how hard he'll take you driving the night. You'll swoon, moan, forget about the drinks and follow him anywhere he leads you.

That's how everybody knows about the two of you.

This time, though, you don't cast a single eye on him. In fact, you're tainting him, walking past him while ignoring him, leaving him awestruck and hurt, like his confessions earlier in the day meant nothing to you.

It's a hit to his heart, how your jaw drops as you bump into Bakugo over the kitchen counter, eyes too wide at the sight of him. How your finger dances playfully on his chest and as you smile at him when he whispers something in your ear.

It's infuriating how you drop the cups near the sink and follow Bakugo outside, or how the blond waves at him with a pressed smile against his lips, signaling that he'll be busy for a while.

His insides churn, tummy aching in a feeling of guilt, one unlike anything he's felt before. Losing you doesn't taste in the way he thought he would, it's worse; sour and poisoning. It makes him flee the party, furious and bitter.

When he's back, his body is heavy, feet dragging him across his apartment, mind blank as he follows his basic routine before bed time, fixated on how easy it seemed for you to just ignore him and flee with one of his friends as soon as he came over to the party he invited you to, wondering how you could be so ruthless with him all of a sudden.

Sweet talking Kirishima with a smile of gold, the sweetheart of the professional Tennis scene and you're over him in the split of a second, pushing him away from you without an explanation or heart wrenching speech. Not giving him the satisfaction of some closure, just forcing the cold tempo of your sudden departure in the depths of his heart.

He pays no mind to the girl that sleeps beside him, back turned to him like she's oceans apart, despite the unspoken bound that's keeping them together. He'll leave her, make up for all the damage that he's done, in any way that he can manage to.

It all comes down to the fact that no one can love you like he does, no one can want you like he does. Someone can do it better, but you have to want him.

5.30am [Missed Call: Red]

5.31am [Missed Calls(2): Red]

[New Message: Red]

Fuck, with Bakugo out of everyone?

Delivered: 5.31am

[New Message: Red]

Did you have sex with him?

Babe answer me.

Delivered: 5.32am

[New Message: Red]

I'm breaking up with her tomorrow morning.

And I'll come over.

Babe.

Babe please.

Delivered: 5.33am

[New Message: Red]

I'll take you on a date and we can talk about us okay babe?

Let me know when you wake up.

I love you.

So much.

Delivered: 5.38am

Read: 10.23pm

[You]

(Attached Image)

Sorry 'Red' even if you sound like a total douche, cheeks forgot her phone at my place.

I bet on her answering your late night drama when she takes her phone back.

[Red is typing...]

Super thanks to @celestidarling for proofreading this and giving me the biggest pump of confidence to post

↪Up Next: Dragon King Bakugo

[hungline]

if these sheets were the states

pairing: yoonminseok  genre: angst, fluff, smut, online romance au, road trip au, rated xxx  warnings: sexual content, anal sex, car sex, misunderstandings  words: 2780 

summary: The drive from Connecticut to Illinois is long. Not as long as the drive from Illinois to California will be, but at least Yoongi will have company for that leg of the journey. 

It's a road trip. Something all three of them agreed to go on after Yoongi had finally gotten signed on by a record company. This is to celebrate Yoongi's accomplishment and to help Yoongi move into his new apartment in Los Angeles as well. 

It starts as a friend thing.

Yoongi meets Hoseok on twitter, in love with the songs he uses for his dance covers, and one day.

One day Hoseok follows him back, setting Yoongi's veins on fire when he first gets the notification on his phone. Hoseok follows him back and when Yoongi opens the twitter app, he finds a message waiting for him.

It's Hoseok because of course, it's Hoseok. A simple hey has Yoongi vibrating in his chair, fingers buzzing with the urge to message back. He has no idea what to say though and after consulting with Namjoon, he decides that firstly, Namjoon is no help at all, and secondly, a simple hey in return will suffice.

Hoseok takes the wait for a response graciously, all smiles even through text and Yoongi who once hated emoticons, gets a fuzzy feeling in his chest whenever Hoseok ends his messages with ":3".

Cute doesn't begin to describe it, at least not in the way that Yoongi thinks it should. And it definitely doesn't cover how he's feeling either.

They become good friends though, to the point where Yoongi begins to playback his newest tracks for Hoseok's scrutiny.

Hoseok immediately falls in love with Yoongi's music and ー unbeknownst to Yoongi ー with Yoongi himself.

The first time they rabbit, Yoongi doesn't turn his camera on until the very end, when Hoseok is too absorbed with the film they're watching to notice the change of color in the corner of his screen. Yoongi's a nervous shaking mess, but he eases into a calm demeanor gradually and when the film ends, Hoseok doesn't do a doubletake like Yoongi thought he would.

Instead, Hoseok smiles at him and it makes a delicious curl of something swell up in his chest until it's trailing down his arms and buzzing in his palms and fingers. Hoseok keeps smiling with that megawatt smile of his and Yoongi falls in love.

The next time they rabbit, it's by themselves - and the next five times after that as well.

Until their seventh time when a new friend of Hoseok's joins them.

Jimin is beautiful and he steals Yoongi's very breath away, but he's determined to not seem like some creep or weirdo and keeps his camera on despite his instincts screaming at him to turn it off, turn off the camera and run away. Because there's no way in hell that Hoseok would ever want to date him when there's someone like Jimin who exists.

And Yoongi gets the appeal too because he finds Jimin just as attractive as he finds Hoseok and there are butterflies in his stomach the entire time they rabbit. By the time their movie is over, Hoseok is asleep on his end, head pillowed on his arms with his hair covering what little is shown of his face and Jimin is smiling at him fondly. There's a twinkle in his eyes that Yoongi's seen on his own face whenever he's smiled at Hoseok on his screen as well.

Jimin is, without a doubt, either in love with Hoseok or crushing on him badly enough for it to be seen by anybody with eyes in their heads.

Yoongi knows he's lost this battle before it's even begun.

And yet, when Yoongi's getting ready for bed a few hours later, Jimin has followed him on twitter too. Yoongi blinks at his screen a couple of times before his fingers move of their own accord and he's gone and followed Jimin back.

Yoongi's screwed, but he may as well act friendly. This is for Hoseok's sake just as much as it is for Yoongi's own.

  The drive from Connecticut to Illinois is long. Not as long as the drive from Illinois to California will be, but at least Yoongi will have company for that leg of the journey.

It's a road trip. Something all three of them agreed to go on after Yoongi had finally gotten signed on by a record company. This is to celebrate Yoongi's accomplishment and to help Yoongi move into his new apartment in Los Angeles as well.

His furniture is already in his new apartment. Yoongi only has three bags with him in the car, one full of his clothes, one with his toilettes, and another half-empty to make room for anything he might buy on their road trip. They take little to no space in his trunk and Yoongi really hopes that Hoseok and Jimin didn't pack a lot of stuff.

When he arrives in Illinois though, he pulls off in a rest stop and texts Hoseok, double-checking that he has the right address before he continues on with his merry way.

The drive to Hoseok's apartment isn't as long as Yoongi would have made it out to be, but it takes little less than an hour. Hoseok is waiting for him on the curbside, one duffel bag in hand and Yoongi rolls to a stop beside him, his breath caught in his throat.

"Hey," Hoseok says, a wide and bright smile spread across his face as he leans in through the open window.

Yoongi stares for a long minute, almost unbelieving of just how much more beautiful Hoseok is in real life. Hoseok still smiles at him, waiting for him to come to his senses and when Yoongi does, he hops out of his car to open the trunk for Hoseok.

His duffel bag doesn't take much room and when Yoongi's shut the trunk, Hoseok leans in and kisses him full on the mouth.

Yoongi doesn't startle back or flinches away, merely leans into him and opens his mouth the teeniest bit to let Hoseok's tongue slide past his.

  The drive from Illinois to California is long and sometimes boring, but Yoongi has Hoseok for company and that makes it all a little better.

Hoseok is touchy as they drive and Yoongi likes the sound of his voice. Especially when Hoseok tells him in full detail how he fell in love with Yoongi from the first moment he had heard his music ー which actually dates back all the way to when Yoongi was in high school and posted his songs on soundcloud. Yoongi listens with rapt attention as Hoseok traces his fingertips over Yoongi's knuckles and tells him how he thought about Yoongi sometimes and tried not to let on how big of a fanboy he was until he noticed that Yoongi had liked a few of his tweets in a row and he'd immediately followed Yoongi back.

Yoongi pulls over when Hoseok says, "Sometimes when I'm lonely, I'll play your mixtape and fuck myself with my fingers while I think about sucking your cock."

Hoseok's smirk has never been wider than in that moment and Yoongi feels a little odd that he fell stupidly easy for that. But he just continues to stare, doesn't really do anything about the words Hoseok just muttered like some love confession and maybe in a sense, it is a love confession but Yoongi is too nervous to think about that now.

"Like that, don't you?" Hoseok teases, raising a brow at the elder when he continues to only stare. "Bet you want to take me in the backseat and make me choke on your dick."

Yoongi sputters and ignores the coy looks Hoseok throws his way as they continue to drive while the sun steadily goes down.

They stop at a motel soon after, somewhere in Utah, and Yoongi really only does it because the sight of Hoseok wincing as he grabs his lower back when he gets out of the car at a rest stop to use the bathroom really pulls at Yoongi's heartstrings.

(But also because when Yoongi rides Hoseok ー which he fully intends to do, thank you very much ー he wants Hoseok to be spread out on a bed.)

So, they spend a night in the motel and Yoongi whines as Hoseok fucks him fast and furiously with Yoongi bouncing in his lap. His thighs are spread wide for Hoseok and Yoongi takes it all like a champ, all too aware of how the tight clutch of his ass sucks Hoseok in and takes him in easily like Yoongi was born to be fucked by Jung Hoseok.

Hoseok domineers everything that night, unwillingly to let Yoongi feel nervous or wary of anything. He takes control and leads and it leaves Yoongi feeling breathless when Hoseok manages to make him come three times in a row that night.

Yoongi doesn't say anything when they wake up except a gruff good morning and accepts the quickie that Hoseok offers him before they lumber into the shower and clean up.

They're out on the road quickly afterward and Yoongi lets Hoseok drive the rest of the way to California, butterflies fluttering in his stomach when he thinks about seeing Jimin.

Hoseok's been receiving a lot of messages from Jimin while they drove across America and Yoongi still feels a tight coil of jealousy whenever he sees Hoseok's phone light up with another message from Jimin.

Because they all say or imply the same thing over and over again.

I love you. Can't wait to see you. You're so cute and precious to me.

So from the messages alone, Yoongi knows that Hoseok and Jimin are together because Hoseok responds with the same level of enthusiasm and affection that Jimin sends. And Yoongi never took Hoseok as the type to cheat on his significant other, but he's more concerned about the fact that Yoongi isn't jealous of Jimin for having Hoseok's love and affection to himself.

He's jealous of them both having each other.

He wants them. Not separately, but together. Wants Hoseok to fuck him from behind while Jimin kisses him. Wants Hoseok to suck his dick while Jimin fucks his thighs. Yoongi wants them both and he's going about this all wrong.

The rest of the drive to California is quieter, Hoseok speaking less and less as they grow closer to their destination. Yoongi doesn't say anything either, just accepts all the touches and kisses and revels in all the attention Hoseok gives him because he knows that once they reach California, whatever is going on between them will end.

Once they cross the state border of California, Hoseok pulls into an empty rest stop and ushers Yoongi into the backseat where he spreads himself open for the elder and fucks himself back on Yoongi's cock. Yoongi grips his hips the entire time and bites a hickey into Hoseok's throat before he remembers the silent vow he made to himself about not leaving any marks because Jimin would be sure to see them. Except that when Yoongi bites down, Hoseok comes with his name on his lips, not Jimin's.

And that by itself blows all of Yoongi's rational thoughts out of the water as he makes it his duty to leave a necklace of hickeys on Hoseok's throat for Jimin to see the next day.

  When they pull up to Jimin's house, it's mid-afternoon and Jimin is at the door with his three siblings hanging off him.

He smiles at them and waves, then enlists his siblings to help him with his bag. Hoseok pops open the trunk of Yoongi's car and rearranges the bags so Jimin's will fit. Jimin kisses his siblings goodbye and doesn't step towards the car until they're all back inside.

Jimin then turns and throws his arms around Hoseok's neck, pulling him down to kiss him fiercely.

Yoongi watches on, tensing the teeniest bit when Jimin's fingertips press against the hickeys peeking from the collar of Hoseok's t-shirt. However, Jimin's undeterred by the sight of them, how fresh they are, and Hoseok leans into his smaller frame, giving his control over to Jimin. Jimin hums in content, a hand now reaching out blindly.

It isn't until Jimin pulls back from Hoseok's mouth that Yoongi realizes Jimin was trying to grab a hold of him.

Yoongi almost topples over with the force of Jimin's kiss, but Jimin bunches a hand into the back of his tank top and keeps him steady. Hoseok is there then too, pressing himself up against Yoongi, leaning in once Jimin has leaned back to press a kiss to Yoongi's forehead.

They form a huddled circle between the three of them and Yoongi looks into both of their eyes, looking for some kind of answer as to what the hell is actually going on.

Jimin winks at him, then kisses him again, only pulling away to whisper, "I expect an identical necklace."

Yoongi flushes, his face feeling hot as Jimin reaches over him to touch Hoseok's hickeys again. Hoseok presses himself closer, smiling that megawatt smile of his and Yoongi is so gone.

They climb into the car again, Jimin waving goodbye to his siblings who have their faces pressed up against the window and Yoongi holds Hoseok's free hand while Jimin lounges in the backseat as they drive away. It probably still smells of sex back there, but Jimin isn't complaining and that right there answers all of Yoongi's questions.

It goes without saying that Yoongi really had nothing to worry about to begin with.

  The Californian coast is beautiful at night.

Stars reflect upon the water's surface and Yoongi is glad that Jimin suggested they take this route downwards to SoCal. It's nighttime and the moon hangs in the sky, casting it's pale light down upon them.

Yoongi's been more than tempted to pull over and climb into the backseat, but for the moment, he's more than content to just watch.

Jimin has Hoseok spread out in his lap, lips on his heart-shaped mouth, with his hand creeping up Hoseok's shirt. Hoseok is panting and whining and Jimin takes to twisting his nipples before he lets his mouth trail lower to add to the collection of hickeys that Hoseok is already beginning to accumulate.

Hoseok cants his hips upwards into Jimin's other palm, dragging Jimin's mouth back up to his and Yoongi watches it through the rearview mirror. How Hoseok reacts to every touch of Jimin's hands on his skin, how loud he gets whenever Jimin flicks at his chest or scrapes his teeth along Hoseok's throat and jaw.

It's beautiful, to say the least.

Jimin and Hoseok know that Yoongi is watching them too. They're putting on a show for him, waiting for the moment his control will break and he'll pull over to finally ー fucking finally ー join them in the backseat.

Because it had all started as a friend thing. They were friends up until the point that they weren't just friends anymore. Hoseok had kissed Yoongi, had been dating Jimin and Jimin had known that Yoongi and Hoseok had gotten up to things on their way to California, but Hoseok had discussed it with him at length how they'd get Yoongi to join them. It had worked obviously because Jung Hoseok is no idiot, but Jimin had never doubted that anyway.

The only one who doubted anything at all had been Yoongi. Because he'd been in the dark and in denial of the way he felt for them both, for the way he wanted them both at the same time. He hadn't given himself the chance to hope until Jimin had kissed him with nothing but desire and fondness and relief instead of the anger and jealousy that Yoongi had initially expected.

Because Jimin and Hoseok want him too, want each other and all three of them together. It makes perfect sense really.

Yoongi's an idiot and that's pretty much a fact, but Hoseok and Jimin are wonderful and want him back as well ー and that too is a fact.

Yoongi, eventually, pulls over when there hasn't been another car in sight for twenty minutes and pushes his way into the backseat where he topples onto Hoseok and immediately kisses Jimin. Jimin holds him steady, tipping his head back to kiss him properly while Hoseok wiggles his shorts off and starts rutting up into Yoongi, his cock painfully hard. Yoongi keens and leans down to kiss Hoseok while Jimin coos at them, petting their hair and moving them into a more comfortable position.

Because it had all started as a friend thing, it definitely had, but that's not how it ends.

It ends differently.

It ends as a more than friends thing.

But it doesn't end. It keeps going on for a long time. Even when Yoongi is thirty-five, living in a tiny house in Santa Ana, he still has Hoseok and Jimin and they are definitely much more than friends still.

[emotionally-imbruised]

1 | Lights, Camera, Organized Crime.

Word Count: 5.9k

“And finally, I’m thinking upon entrance to the gala there will be a spot in the lobby displaying the information of the charity the proceeds of the entire night will be going to. Miss Benson, has your family decided on said charity?”

All eyes of the people sitting in the large boardroom move to the blonde-haired woman sitting at the head of the oversized oak table however, Veronica’s attention is not on them. Instead, the young businesswoman is sat on the edge of the seat with her left knee shaking anxiously as she stares down at the phone sitting in her lap, hoping it will light up with a notification from one of her brothers very soon. A silent moment passes, and her phone screen remains dark, which causes her to groan internally. Still not paying attention to anyone else, she lets out a sigh before moving her gaze to look out the large floor to ceiling window that exhibits the bustling streets of Manhattan below; allowing her mind to wander.

“Miss Benson?”

“V-.” A hushed voice sounds to her left while a foot firmly comes in contact with her shin; finally gaining her attention.

“What?” Veronica snaps her gaze to Alison, her cousin and business colleague with a harsh tinge in her voice; unsure of what she could possibly want right now. Ali doesn’t answer but rather just nods her head in the direction of everyone else who is intently watching the two of them. With a quick breath and adjustment to her posture; Veronica politely addresses them as professionally as she can. “I’m sorry, what was the question?”

“We were just finalizing everything for your parents’ memorial benefit on Friday night, have you and your brothers agreed on a charity for the event?”

She observes the board that is displayed behind Carly, the event planner that was hired and sees a number of different charities listed for her to choose from. “Uhm yes actually. All of them.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Carly asks incredulously, and everyone else looks at each other questionably. “But there’s only ever been one charity chosen each year.”

“Well maybe it’s time to switch it up, don’t you think?” Veronica challenges with a straight face. “This gala raises an obscene amount of money every year and my parents were very charitable, as you all know. So instead of donating some of the proceeds to one charity, donate all of the proceeds to multiple. All the charities you have listed sound great, but also add in New Alternatives if you could please.”

“New Alternatives?” The planner asks as she quickly starts frantically typing on her laptop. “The one regarding LGBTQ+ homeless youth?”

“Precisely.” With one last look around the boardroom, V begins standing from her chair; smoothing out her silky white blouse and black pencil skirt before slowly inching her way towards the door and continuing. “I have no doubt that your plans will allow the night to be a success like always, Carly. This all sounds fantastic and I appreciate everything you’ve done but if you don’t mind, I am needed elsewhere.”

“Oh, of course. Thank you for your time Miss Benson.”

The click of her pointed black heels that sounds as soon as she steps out of the boardroom is almost deafening in the empty hallway, but she pays no attention to it as she is now on a mission to get back home to The Upper East Side of the city. Once she’s made it about halfway down the hall, a door clicks shut, and she hears footsteps following after her — but she couldn’t be bothered to look back and see who it is. “V, wait up.”

There’s no need for her to turn around to know that Alison has come after her and she really doesn’t have the patience to either. But still, she pauses her movements and slowly turns to face her cousin. “I really don’t have time to get grilled right now.”

“Okay, then give me a quick summary of what’s going on because you’re clearly distracted. Everything alright?”

Knowing she’s not going to be able to get out of this one, V quickly glances around to make sure nobody else is listening before replying in a hushed tone. “Spencer and Logan still aren’t home.”

“Still? Ronnie, it’s been almost three weeks.”

“I know,” she responds and shakes her head, making sure to lower her voice before continuing. “When they said they had business to take care of in London, I didn’t know what the hell they were getting into and fuck, I just want my brothers back.”

“Those two are going to be the death of this family I swear to god,” Alison groans as she drags her hand down her face aggravatedly. “And I’m assuming this business is the business I think it is and not what everyone else assumes. Oh, let me go out on a limb here and guess that my brother has something to do with it too.”

“Wouldn’t doubt it. They’ve been so focused on everything related to our other line of work and I’m starting to get concerned. I’ve been covering for them in meetings and press interviews for the past three weeks now with the news buzzing about this damn gala, but for all I know the two of them could be dead somewhere in Europe because of some gang related thing… I don’t know Ali. I’m actually going to go insane if I don’t hear something soon and Chase hasn’t told me anything.”

An awkward silence inflates the space between them, but it’s short lived as if on cue Veronica’s phone buzzes with a notification from her oldest brother saying ‘home.’

“That’s Spence, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is. I’m going to go see them,” Veronica tells her and starts walking towards the elevators again. “If it comes up in the news that my brothers or yours were found dead, don’t be too alarmed. It’ll be because I was the one who murdered them. Actually no, I’ll leave Chase to you.”

Alison remains quiet as she watches her little cousin storm down the remainder of the hallway and disappear out of sight, before silently muttering to herself. “Oh, those boys have no idea what’s coming for them.”

The rainy, windy air whips Veronica’s ponytail around as she pushes her way through the heavy revolving door that acts as the main entrance to her family’s establishment. Rolling her eyes to herself, she lets out an aggravated sigh as she looks up to the cloudy sky above and pauses for a second; taking in the building she just walked out of.

It’s not the largest skyscraper that shadows the streets of NYC by any means, but the infamous Benson Buildingis definitely a staple with its unique structure and appearance that still allows it to stand out even with being in vicinity of other popular attractions such as the Rockefeller Center and Radio City Music Hall. The best part of it, however, is that it is only a few short blocks away from The Sterling; the Midtown located hotel that Veronica’s family owns and operates.

Of the many things Benson Inc. has ownership of, The Sterling hotel chain is of the most successful and has grown internationally. Having only one other location in the US, that being in Los Angeles —The Sterling has expanded into numerous countries; having locations across the world in large cities such as Toronto, London, Paris, Rome, Tokyo, Sydney and Dubai just to name a few. The Benson family has truly become an empire of sorts; one that is under the control of three young adults, but an empire nonetheless — even though ⅔ of those said adults might be regretting their entire existence once their little sister is done with them.

Veronica loves her brothers, she really does, but when they pull shit like disappearing on her for three weeks to take care of her family’s so-called ‘gang’ related issues without even a simple text; it’s best to run for shelter once she shows up to confront them about their stupidity. Just like she’s about to right now.

She gains a bit of attention from the people standing outside of the building she just exited, including that of a sole paparazzi that tries to get the latest scoop on the upcoming benefit as well as the whereabouts of her brothers. Veronica knew this would happen. Regardless of how hard she tried to cover for Spencer and Logan, their absence is easily noticed when it comes to meetings and other serious affairs that the three siblings are expected to attend; which is something that the last three weeks has consisted of a lot and is what happens to be fueling V’s internal fire as she ignores the pap and blends herself in with the crowds of fellow New Yorker’s littering the sidewalk, until she rounds a corner and is able to get into the fancy black car that sits there waiting to take her to see her brothers.

It’s a short drive to The Sterling, but with the way Veronica is gnawing on her bottom lip and anxiously shaking her leg once again; it really doesn’t seem that way. As soon as the driver finally pulls up to the main entrance of the hotel, she wastes no time in scrambling out of the vehicles backseat and muttering a quick thank you before making a beeline for the front doors.

Normally she’d take the private entrance located on the opposite side of the building that gives her quick and easy access to the elevators without gaining much attention, but she doesn’t. Right now, she’s on a mission and couldn’t care less about who sees.

Some of the hotel employees recognize her as soon as she steps foot through doors however, they don’t try to engage in conversation like they usually would as she sends them a quick nod and smile before continuing on her way to the elevators; even gaining the attention of some guests as she flawlessly strides over the lobby’s tiled floor. Her impatience is evident in the way she aggressively presses elevator button and taps her fingers against her crossed arms; letting out a huff once the lift doors finally openand making way into the small space alone before pressing in the code that allows her access to the penthouse floor.

There’s a handful of people scattered around the living room talking and helping with the adjustment of bandages that are covering the skin on a few of the guys, but all eyes snap to Veronica as soon as she steps off the elevator; some of them even exchange nervous glances with each other while she continues walking further into the room in an oddly calm manner.

“Where are my brothers?” Everyone stays silent and that feeds her annoyance even more. She waits another moment to see if any of these grown ass men standing in front of her will grow a pair and tell her what she’s wanting to know. As they all remain quiet, V audibly sighs as she shifts her weight from one foot to the other and narrows her gaze at them. “Seriously?”

They still say nothing and just before Veronica can lose her cool, a voice rings from down the hall. “Oh, hey Ron. What’s going on?”

“Chase.” She greets her cousin through gritted teeth as he waltzes into the room nonchalantly, pausing once he sees her cold glare. “Where. Are. They?”

“Well uh, they’re-,” he stammers as he takes in just how truly pissed off she is and tries to think up a quick excuse to cover for his cousins. However, he doesn’t have such luck and ends up letting out a defeated huff. “Logan is in the kitchen.”

“Thank you,” she responds curtly before walking away from them and grabbing one of the pillows off a nearby sofa; but pausing after a few steps so she can look back at Chase over her shoulder. “I’ll deal with you after...That is if your sister doesn’t beat me to it.”

Veronica can see the internal panic he has at the thought of Alison reaming him out and knows she’s done her job. Without anything else to say, she continues onwards to the kitchen with the pillow in hand before coming to a halt in the doorway to give her brother a quick once over.

Of the three Benson siblings, Logan has always been the wild card. Impatient, unpredictable, and sometimes (usually) irresponsible, but with the biggest heart of gold; he grew up driven to get what he wants, even though he may have had an odd way of doing it. Being the middle child, he was always one to follow in his older brothers’ footsteps but also be a huge influence when it came to his younger sister. Veronica grew up adoring both of her brothers, but Logan has always been her partner in crime; which is what makes her even more pissed off when she takes in his current state.

He hasn’t noticed her yet, so he mindlessly continues roaming through the cupboards he’s standing in front of while sipping on what appears to be a glass of rye and coke — based on the bottles that litter the counter nearby. He isn’t wearing a shirt which allows V to see the various cuts and bruises that cover his skin that are clearly from whatever the hell him and Spencer got up to; all of which compliments the swelling around his left eye that undoubtedly will be bruised by tomorrow.

Veronica remains silent as she watches and waits for him to turn around. After a brief second, he finally does turn and immediately widens his eyes once he sees her standing there glaring at him. “Oh fuck.”

“Are you kiddingme!?” She yells before hurtling the pillow at his head — internally cursing herself when he dodges it.

“Hey woah woah woah, chill out for a second and let’s talk about this.”

“Chill out? Logan, how the hell do you expect me to be calm after you just disappeared for three weeks huh?”

“Ok I get that you’re mad, but it was Spencer’s idea,” he tells her while holding his hands up in defence. “There’s a reason and you can blame him for it.”

“I don’t give a flying fuck who-.” She stops as she glances down at a large piece of gauze that has remnants of dried blood splotches covering the right side of his stomach, one bandage she didn’t notice before. “Wait, did you get shot?”

“No, don’t be dramatic,” he scoffs casually. “I was stabbed.”

“Oh my god.” She groans and drags her hand down her face, aggravated by how he’s so unbothered by all of this. “You stress me out, where’s Spencer?”

“Upstairs.”

“Great. We’re going to go talk to him because this is bullshit.”

Logan really isn’t given any time to respond as Veronica backs away from the doorway and starts making way to the living room again; expecting that he’ll follow with the quick glance she sends him before she disappears out of sight. “Guess I don’t have much of a choice.”

Spencer has always been the voice of reason when it comes to the Benson kids. This is why Veronica knows she’ll be able to express her concern and actually get through to him about it, unlike having to deal with Logan’s thick skull. Although he is the most stubborn person she’s ever known, Spencer has always had this soft spot when it’s come to his younger siblings; especially his baby sister. They share a mutual respect and need to protect one another, which just so happens the most comforting yet frustrating part of their relationship.

Without exchanging any words, Veronica and Logan head up the winding staircase to the next level of the penthouse and down another hall to the room that acts as Spencer’s office. When they enter the room, they see their eldest sibling sat behind his large wooden desk mindlessly ignoring their presence. He doesn’t bother looking up from the papers he seems to be so focused on but senses their staring. Another moment passes as he patiently waits to see if Veronica will calm down at all before slowly collecting all the papers spread out around him and pushing them to the side; finally moving his gaze to meet his sisters. “Alright, say what you need to say Ronnie.”

“You two are idiots! Do either of you not realize what I’ve gone through while you were gone? The meetings, conferences, the deals I had to take on just so I could cover your asses while you were off doing god knows what in London? Yeah, that was great. Hell, there was even one deal that went wrong just last week that Ihad to clean the mess up from and cover for because you two were nowhere to be seen. People notice stuff like this, but it’s whatever right? Just leave it to me to make sure everything is seemingly running smoothly and none of this gang bullshit is actually happening, when in reality it is, and it’s fucked. Everything is so fucked, and I just spent the last three weeks worried that I may never see my brothers again because of it… But neither of you really care about that, do you?”

“Of course we care,” Logan speaks up from beside her. “How could you even say that?”

“Because you left!” She yells and frustrated wipes at the tears that have formed in her eyes. “You both left with no explanation and I was thrown into this entire mess. You two know how I like to stay away from this part of everything. I just can’t do it, not after what happened to-.”

“Mom and dad.” Spencer finishes before clearing his throat and looking at her sympathetically.

“Didn’t like any of this before their deaths either, but we couldn’t let what dad built crumble.” She continues with a shaky breath. “We’re supposed to be a team when it comes to anything regarding the family business, but you two left me completely in the dark. Logan’s been stabbed for fuck sake and neither of you have made the effort to tell me why or what happened, so am I just going to have to guess what’s going on? I really hope not. The leastthe two of you owe me right now after everything that’s happened these past weeks is an explanation.”

“You’re right, and we will give you one.” Spencer replies with a sigh as he takes in Veronica’s tense body language. “But I need you to not freak out.”

“Ronnie? Freak out? Cause that never happens,” Logan says sarcastically as he plops down in one of the leather seats placed in front of Spencer’s desk; earning an all too familiar cold glare from his sister.

“CaUSe tHat NeVEr haPpeNs,” Veronica repeats in a mimicking voice before looking back to Spencer. “Please just tell me what’s going on before I throw something at him.”

“Ah yes, because we all know how good your aim is already.” Logan chimes in once more just to push her buttons.

“Would you shut up?”

“Would you stop being a control freak?”

“Would both of you grow the fuck up for once and not act like children?” Spencer groans and rakes his hands through his short hair. “Holy shit.”

Both V and Logan fall silent as they look at their older brother, deciding it’s best that they do as he says to not aggravate him any more than he already is. They remain quiet as Veronica slowly sits down in the seat next to Logan, and they send each other knowing glances before muttering an apology in unison. “Sorry.”

“Mhm,” Spencer replies with an eye-roll. “Now that we can all act somewhat like adults, I’ll get right into it. Long story short, prior to me and Logan leaving there was suspicious activity happening around the city. Every job we sent our guys out to do, failed. Drug deals, product movement, or just a simple meetup — everything was going wrong and they were being attacked by people who would disappear without a trace afterwards; leaving a lot of people hurt or killed in their wake. It was starting to get out of hand, so the two of us looked into it. After some digging, Logan had suspicion that there was an internal source giving away our location information to the attackers.”

“Ok so hold up,” Veronica cuts him off and shakes her head. “Someone close to us?”

“We still don’t know.” Logan answers while shifting his position to look at her better. “We had our suspicions which is what led us to London in the first place, but it was all a setup. Took us the whole three weeks to figure anything out and ended in a crossfire where this gang we came across showed up out of nowhere but knew our every move. The leader of the group we faced knew who we were, where we were from… knew of you too and tried to use your safety as a threat to us.”

“That all happened last night,” Spencer finishes. “We called Chase to make sure nothing happened to you and got on a plane back as soon as we could. We’ve only been home for two hours.”

“And neither of you thought that maybeyou should give me a heads up about any of this?” She asks incredulously while looking between her brothers. “What the hell?”

“We didn’t want to worry you.” Spence tells her firmly. “So, we made sure people were nearby to keep an eye out for you until we got back.”

“I can take care of myself, Spencer.”

“I know you can, but we needed to make sure nothing happened Ron. Not to you. I can’t break my promise.”

Veronica holds his gaze for a minute before slowly having to look away. Her, Spencer and Logan made a promise to their parents to protect and watch out for each other no matter the cost; which is exactly what her brother is referring to. “So, what now?”

“We need to be careful.” Logan pipes up. “Stay on the downlow, try not to attract any attention to us until we figure how we’re going to take these guys down.”

“Maybe stay out of the public eye for a bit,” Spencer adds. “Just focus on the hotel and businesses while trying to make a plan come together.”

“I- that’s going to be a lot easier said than done guys.” Veronica explains and they look at her questionably. “Mom and dad’s benefit is on Friday night.”

“Shit.” Logan mutters before the three of them fall silent, considering this and what it could entail. A few moments pass as they all try to think of something to do before Spencer speaks up again.

“Guess we’ll just have to wing it for now.”

Roughly two and a half hours later, Veronica is sat in the bar that is connected to the hotel’s lobby alone as she impatiently taps her nails against the counter. She glances around at the oddly crowded room for a Wednesday night, as her urge to just go home grows; but she ends up ignoring it as she reaches up to pull her long hair out of its ponytail and lets out a loud sigh.

Her mind has been racing since the talk she had with Spencer and Logan about the threat of imminent danger that seems to be targeting the three of them. It’s not news she was expecting to hear with everything else she’s dealing with in life, but alas, this gang is part of her life too and since it adds so much extra stress — she thought some alcohol could help take a little bit off the edge she’s feeling.

“Thank you.” She mouths to the bartender as he slides her a fourth Cosmo that just so happens to be on the house, again — one of the many perks to owning the place and all. The three drinks she’s already had are definitely creeping up on her, but she couldn’t care less as she picks up the new one and swirls it around a little bit before taking a sip. Normally she wouldn’t go for this type of drink because of the hangover she knows will come with it, but again, she doesn’t really care at this point.

As soon as she sets the cocktail back down onto the bar, her phone chimes with a new notification. Without much thought, she immediately swivels her body to the side so she can grab her purse from the barstool next to her and dig the phone out. It’s just a text from Alison saying she had heard about what happened in London with Spencer and Logan, as well as if there was anything she could do to help.

Smiling at how much her cousin truly cares about her wellbeing, V responds to the message by inviting Ali to meet here for drinks. After a few back and forth convincing, Alison finally agrees to meet up; saying she’d be there in ten minutes and to not ‘get into any trouble’ until she gets there. With one last ‘ok’ text, Veronica puts the phone back in her bag and spins back around to face the bar; only to be met by a stranger sitting in the seat rightnext to her.

“Oh my god,” she blurts and jumps back slightly at the sudden presence.

“Bit jumpy are we, love?” The young, handsome, curly haired man asks in a deep British accent; a playful smirk dancing on his lips as he does so.

“Uh, I- no, I was just distracted.”

“I can tell,” he responds with a slightly raised eyebrow before nodding to something behind her. “Seeing as you completely missed that guy spike your drink.”

“What?” She gasps and turns around to see a man in a black hoodie fleeing from the bar; watching him until he makes a sharp right and disappears out of sight. With a quick shake to her head, she moves her gaze back to her cosmopolitan that is now fizzing with what looks to be a pill of some-sort. Once whatever is in her drink finishes dissolving, she looks back to the stranger as he sips on his water and shrugs. “How did you-?”

“S’ not very hard to be observant,” he chuckles as he waits for the bartender to turn back around so he can wave them over and slides the Cosmo across the counter, away from her. “A water for the lady, please.”

Veronica takes a second to observe him but has to shake her head again, so she doesn’t lose her trail of thought. “How do I know you weren’t the one that spiked it?”

“Because there is a camera right there that I’m sure will show you everything I’m sure you’ve already pieced together in your mind, if you ask for it,” he tells her confidentially, and points to the small security camera that is positioned by the door facing them. “You seem like a fairly smart girl, m’sure you know I wouldn’t have told you if I was the one who did it.”

The bluntness of his words has her taken back for another moment, as he just studies her — observing as she jumps when her phone dings with another notification. She immediately reaches for her phone again, this time to see a text from Logan.

‘Are you home? Shit is happening, Spence is stressing. Are you safe?’

Is all it reads, and she can feel her skin physically go pale. She sits there in silence, staring at the phone and not realizing her hands have started shaking until a larger pair of ring-clad hands reach over and gently place over them; causing her to snap her gaze back up to the man.

“You ok, love?”

“I-uh yes,” she stutters as she stares at his enchantingly beautiful green eyes. “I have to go.”

He watches as she pulls her hands away from him and reaches over to grab her purse — scrambling off her stool as quick as she can and tripping over one of the legs in the process. In an instant, the man is there to steady her from toppling to the ground; making her internally groan as she glances up to see him looking at her with a stupid knowing grin. She takes this time to look him over and absorb in the fancy blue button up shirt he wears that isn’t done up all the way. It’s is doing a horrible job in covering the many tattoos that are etched onto his skin, but she just can’t seem to look away.

Two symmetrically placed sparrows that are inked just above his chest can be seen from underneath the fabric of the shirt and V finds herself overly entranced by that, as well as the cross necklace he wears for a few more seconds before he decides to speak up again. “I think you’re lying.”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Sure you are,” he agrees dismissively and straightens the two of them out, removing his hands from her arm and waist. “Now either you’re very drunk, or something bad is going on. Can’t tell which, but with how pale you just got… s’gotta be one of them. Can I help with anything? Call you a cab? Wait with you until someone you know can take you home?”

“I’ll be fine,” she repeats with narrowed eyes. “I appreciate the offer and for the heads up about the drink so, thank you, but I don’t talk to strangers as much as I’ve talked to you and it needs to stop… and I really do have to go.”

“M’Harry, nice to meet yeh,” he tells her in attempt to change the subject and extends his hand towards her, which she looks at skeptically before finally reaching out and shaking. “And you are?”

“Leaving.”

With a quick turn on her heel and a small hair flip, she has her back to him and starts walking away; trying to send a text to Alison as she goes about what is happening and to not bother coming anymore. Her heels click loudly against the marble flooring of the lobby once she steps into it, and just as she’s about to make the sharp left that will take her back to the elevators — a commotion coming from the right catches her attention instead.

Outside of the hotel, what looks to be a full-on showdown is going on. It takes a second for her eyes to adjust to the slightly blurred figures that stand outside the glass doors of the hotel, but she is quickly able to make out one of people as an unfamiliar man wearing a black hoodie, pointing a gun at… Alison.

“Oh no,” Veronica says to herself and instinctively heads right for the doors.

“Miss Benson, you can’t go out there.” A security guard tries to stop her, but it’s useless as she just walks right around him and continues towards the sliding doors.

“You don’t want to do this,” Ali tries to talk down the hooded figure with a shaky voice. Anyone who was nearby on sidewalk has fled the scene upon seeing this guy pull out the gun and has left just them along with the passing cars on the street. Police sirens can be heard in the distance, indicating their eventual arrival — but Veronica knows she needs to act now, and Alison is quick in noticing that. “Ronnie, go back inside!”

“Hey!” She yells to gain the attackers attention, which works, and the gun is soon pointed at her.

The man looks at her with a surprised look before collecting himself and bringing the watch that’s placed on his wrist close to his mouth. “I’ve got eyes on her.”

“Do you?” V challenges and continues walking towards him; making sure to keep her eyes locked on the guns trigger and how his finger is nowhere near it. “What for hmm? What do you want?”

“Stay back or else I’ll shoot.”

“Alright, go for it.” She challenges and continues stepping towards him, pausing for a split second before bringing her foot up to his groin. Hard. “Awe, too slow.”

The man hunches over in pain and Veronica uses this as a chance to knee him in the gut, making sure to knock the rifle out of his hand before he can use it. Just as she’s about to reach down to grab it and go, her attention is diverted when yelling sounds from down the street and two more hooded people round the corner — coming towards them at full speed.

“Ron, we need to go now.” Alison states as she grabs a hold of V’s arm and starts pulling her in the opposite direction.

Veronica just nods in response before reaching down to grab the other man’s gun and taking off. The two girls only make it a few feet before they’re ridding themselves of their heels so they can get away faster, but then a gunshot goes off from behind them; causing them both to jump. Alison doesn’t stop, but V pauses quickly to glance over her shoulder in time to see Harry standing there with a gun pointed towards the other two people. His gaze locks with hers momentarily before he breaks into a sprint to go in the same direction she is. “Run!”

Ali is ahead, but Harry and Veronica aren’t far behind as they make a sharp left and keep going as fast as they can in attempts to get some distance from their pursuers. V knows the other guys aren’t too far behind and isn’t doubtful of there being more nearby; which also has her feeling rather panicky. With a glance over her shoulder to see the very little ground they’ve made; she looks to Harry and decides to voice her concern. “What the hell do we do now?”

“See that car up there?” He breaths out and points to a black Mercedes Benz parked on the on the side of the road about a block and a half up. “Get to it.”

Alison and Veronica both nod in agreement and continue the final sprint to the awaiting vehicle. Once they reach it, Harry instructs them to get inside; which they do, before motioning for the driver to roll down his window so they can speak to one another. “Yes Mr. Styles?”

“I need you to get these two women out of here, ok?” He says between breaths and keeps his eyes trained on the men that are catching up to them again. “Take them wherever they need to go and then meet me at the spot in fifteen minutes.”

“Wait, what about you?” Veronica asks and looks up at him as if he’s gone absolutely insane. “You can’t just take on those guys alone.”

“I’ll be fine,” he tells her with a wink before shutting the door and knocking on its window as a way to tell the driver to go. The car speeds off and Veronica is left speechless as she watches the man she just met, and nonetheless just saved hers and her cousins life; turn around another corner and disappear out of sight.

[sinunamor]

An @aphsecretsanta gift for @52px !! Sorry about the late submission! Happy New Year!

Pairing: Ancient Rome x China (romechu)

Prompt: Long distance relationship, modern au

I do not celebrate Christmas, but I have an online friend who does.

Warmth seeped through his porcelain mug. Tired, lithe fingers curled around its smooth surface. A gentle press of lips, a small careful sip and the warmth spread through his chest. The morning fog rolled over the cluttered streets of San Francisco. His window presented him a view of Chinatown rising. Mr. Huang sweeping the front of his herbal shop, Ms. Zhou flicking on a neon light reading “welcome” and a “Merry Christmas” in English and pinyin for her bakery. Around them, the Christmas lights, candy canes and snowflakes signaled the end of another year.

He sighed heavily after the sensation passed, shuffling in his slippers towards the desk stationed in front of his window. Picture frames and assorted souvenir figurines decorated the corners of the mahogany desk. One frame pulled a little closer to his laptop than the rest. Wrinkled brown eyes flickered towards that wide spread of lips, those impossibly straight teeth, that youthful glint of mischief in his eyes. He sat back of the chair and took another sip. Jasmine green tea. The warm herbal scent carried many memories. He set the mug down carefully next to the frame and opened the laptop. He’ll enjoy the view better here. It must be nighttime in Italy.

***

He is the festive sort, that does not surprise me. He finds comfort in the company of others. He would send me photographs, selfies, of his travels and home in Italy. His apartment was so little, such home would be filled with many guests, neighbors, young and old. And he, the center of it all. I wonder if he would enjoy celebrating Lunar New Year with me. He’d enjoy the noise. It would be nice to see him happy.

***

He was half expecting it, Romulo wasn’t online. They did stay up particularly late last night chatting about Christmas plans in broken english and the occasional Italian. Yao briefly looked over last night’s exchange.

RV: nd you? you would be spending Christmas alone?

WY: Alone, yes, i’ll vidchat with Chen and his family...you? You would be throwing a ball

RV: Haha not this year. Decided to keep it small Just me nd my boys and my boys boys’ nd my little girl

WY: very small party so unlike you, i’m Concerned

RV: now you know how i feel!! Im always concerned when i hear you spend holidays alone

WY: i’m alright

RV: i know, i jus wish i can go over there nd spend it with you :(

I haven’t felt my heart pulse an ache in a long while. I do wish that could happen, but there is a half a world between us.

***

My name is Wang Yao, I have seen 48 springs pass me by. 48 years of hardships, blessings and everything in between. I have one son, of which I am very proud. Chen is his name, stayed in China and started his life there. He has his mother’s adventurous spirit, he attended San Francisco State. I admit, he was part of the reason why I came to California at all, but I suppose fathers are mostly protective of their children. While he studied, I was the roommate that cooked for him. But I understood fully that sons needed to make life without their fathers. When time and he graduated with a degree in Travel and Tourism, he and his then girlfriend moved back to the mainland.

So mostly, I was alone. I was too old to fully appreciate the costal nightlife and too young to play mahjong with the elders in the afternoons. An unfortunate generational circumstance of a part-time professor whose social life revolved around attending tai chi group in the mornings, afternoon chats with storefront owners and a dull lecture or two in Mandarin in the evenings.

My son worried for me. He does not see as old, he wanted me to find a friend, a “someone” as he put it, with whom to share interests and hobbies with. To attend events and explore San Francisco for no reason other than to have carefree fun.

***

“It sounds like you want me to find you another mother,” Yao joked over video chat one night.

His eldest son, Chen, laughed heartily. On his lap, an 8 month old daughter gurgling happily and wiggled closer towards the phone lens. Yao was very happy he managed a screenshot of her rosy cheeked face.

“Any partner will do,” Chen teased back. “Your children know you were never particular to any sort.”

Yao let out a frustrated sound, his hand twitched as if he could really swat his son a Pacific Ocean away. “You speak without saying anything!” he reprimanded, holding a glint in his eye.

“We just have your best interests in mind,” Chen smiled. “Ay baba, there are how many people in this world and you cannot befriend one?”

“Well, give me a phonebook of all the people in this world and I shall start inquiring,” Yao half-scoffed.

Chen pursed his lips, his baby babbling, “Yi yi yi!”. Yao cooed and sang at her, wanting so much to reach out and hold her.

“How about a forum instead?”

***

And that was how I met him. The world forum website. Chen had discovered its existence through one boring weekend spent on his school campus. It was a language learning forum but it was no secret that it also served as a dating site as it had the option to state that one was looking for a romantic relationship.

Of course what I had to offer was Mandarin, a fluent grasp on English, and some Cantonese. Yet, I did not feel like connecting with people from the mainland or the United States. The forum listed many, even unheard of languages, but none that held my interest for long. I wanted something simple yet unique, something uncommon but had a significant influence throughout human history.

I remember reading “Italian” and remembering how at one point in my life was enamored with the history of the small Mediterranean peninsula. Of all its accomplishments and failures, the dialects, the influence on art and politics. Of all the love and admiration for Italy as a whole.

It felt childish at first, but I was soon focused solely on the Italian threads, trying to start conversations with others within my age range. It was frustrating to find that it was never as easy as it sounded. Some seemed unreachable or plain dull and there was a great imbalance sent to my inbox from men than women. At first it was amusing, sending them off with an “Thank you for your kind compliments, as a man, I am very flattered” but as I was weeding out the active few with other intentions, there was not much left. I was soon logging in less and ignoring the few notifications I receive over the span of the week.

Until a “ciao bella ;)” reached me.

I do not know what intrigued me, it was not much different from the others that were sent and ignored. Perhaps I was in a good mood, perhaps I was in fact in a very bad one. Perhaps his profile did lure me in, as he claims to this day, but I responded:

“Wrong gender, it would be ‘bello’ not ‘bella’”.

Not even a minute passed before my computer alerted me of a new message.

“ciao bello ;)”

***

His name is Romolo Vargas and he is 4 years my junior. He wants to see the world, and he has been in half of it. He has 3 children, two sons and one daughter of which he is very proud. Unlike me, he is divorced and was spending his free time going to places he had longed to go as a child. He has been to Greece and Thailand, France and Estonia, countries whose name I cannot begin to pronounce. At first, I had thought I was an outlet for him to brag about his travels, about the women he wooed, but then he was always asking about what I done, how my day went, and how I felt. As if I was the most interesting man in the world.

Then the first Christmas came and he was insistent on sending me a gift.

***

“Baba, we are glad you found that friend,” Chen said over the phone. “But you never know this man’s true intentions. How do we even know a Romolo Vargas exists?”

“I’m well aware,” Yao muttered, feeling a tinge of annoyance course through him. “I’ll admit he’s a little flirty, but he never gave me reason to doubt his sincerity.”

“It hurts me to say this, truly it does,” Chen muttered. “But what if Romolo is just leading you on? What if this is a game that he plays?”

“On older men and women? Yes, I know,” Yao frowned, his tone a little harsher than intended. “Thought you had said I wasn’t that old to begin with.”

***

They would never understand the late-night conversations I had, of philosophy and bao recipes. While he was rising, I was preparing for sleep. We managed a balance of work and chat. We began to send each other pictures, photographs of our homes, what we see throughout our day and ourselves. There was never pressure or qualm to keep our discussions going, we just carried on naturally.

Then Chen suggested I should get a P.O. box instead. Bright boy.

His first Christmas gift was a small painted black rooster from Portugal, a few collected postcards from previous travels and a 3 page handwritten letter explaining the story of the little rooster, of his New Year plans and his gratitude of meeting me. I never felt so close and intimate to him before. I felt young again.

We carried on, occasionally sending each other trinkets and tokens of a blossoming friendship. I sent him tea leaves, recipes, inkstones and brushes, a book on tai chi and bonsai training. Soon my bamboo plant and bonsai pot was inhabited with little figurines from the entirety of Europe and western Asia.

The next Christmas we gifted each other the trust of each other’s phone numbers. The first video chat on our phones. When we saw each other on our screens, we laughed.

***

“I’m telling you, you look younger than you say you are! Are you sure you 46?” Romolo grinned. His backdrop was his gardens overlooking the coast. His curls, touched with glints of silver and gold lightly kissed his flushed cheeks from a chilled breeze.

“The sunlight suits you,” Yao admitted without another thought.

A soft, silent smile. Yao felt his heart caught in his throat.

“And I bet you capture it beautifully with your eyes,” Romolo muttered.

Yao wanted to hide behind his sleeve like a flustered schoolgirl. It was a sincere compliment, nothing that implied a growing love for him, no matter how he wished for it to be true.

***

This Christmas would be no different. We had agreed on only sending each other a letter as we haven’t been writing to each other lately. Yet, I had sent his favorite box of tea along with a translated poem I wrote in simplified pinyin. A silly little poem about the love of two birds on seperate nests with a grand river in between, using the strengths of their songs to communicate in new echoing melodies. He always expressed his admiration for Chinese calligraphy. I wonder what he will think of the poem. I wonder if he’ll attempt to read the characters himself before reading the translated bits.

I wasn’t so sure Romolo was going to send me something as well but I did not want to anticipate a gift. I’d prefer to be pleasantly surprised.

***

Yao opened another tab on his computer to check on his email, the local news and weather. Another chilly day as expected in San Francisco Bay. He silently debated going out to pick up groceries at the local market. He already gave himself a bread by sleeping in and missing his Tai Chi session. He stretched his lower back until he felt relieving pops. He sighed heavily, eyeing the little black Portuguese rooster. He reached out to grab it from its place between a figurine of the Roman Colosseum and a windmill figurine from the Netherlands. Yao smiled, running his thumb over the painted wing. The shine was mostly gone, but the sentimental par of him will forever remember the first intimate contact they had with one another. Gingerly, he placed “Little Romolo” back in its place, and stood up to make a light breakfast.

The lone click of chopsticks and the drone of a Chinese reporter from a streamed video on his phone were the only sounds disturbing the calm silence of his studio apartment. The cloud filtered sunlight bled through the curtains, casting greyer shadows in the dimly lit corner of his dining area. Yao rested his head on the heel of his palm, his leg crossed over the other, softly flapping his slipper against his heel. It would be nice to share the silence with Romolo. The reporter’s voice would be replaced with that of his low rumbling chuckles and gentle teases.

Yao’s lips curled up in a soft smile. Christmas would be lonelier this year.

He perked up to the sound of his phone buzzing to life. He turned his attention back to his phone and felt his heart leap. It was a message from Romolo.

RV: check yor PO box >:)

His lips spread into a wider grin. Of course the fool sent him something anyway.

Yao lightly brushed his hair and slipped into a light jacket, scarf and boots. He locked the door behind him with a an eager well-meaning click.

He strode down the hills with purpose. Simple, passing thoughts went through him. What if he gotten him a much larger present? A more expensive one? A painting? Yao chuckled at the thought. Romolo was more than capable for pulling such a stunt.

As expected, the post office was moderately busy. People in hoodies, beanies, scarves and the like made lines to send last minute gifts. Yao made his way towards his box, a small sized thing yet perfect for letters and small paintings.

Something caught his eye. His P.O. box had a note on it. Yao furrowed his brow and neared it. The note was in flowy cursive so he took some time to decipher what it said.

Look behind you <3

Yao’s eyes widened, turning around slowly before his gaze focused on a man that no longer blended with the crowd. That spread of lips revealing impossibly straight teeth and a youthful glint of mischief in his eyes. His brown curls stuffed under a beanie, still showing glints of gold and silver. A spread of lips so handsome, it made joyous wrinkles appear around his eyes.

“Romolo?” Yao whispered.

Romolo nodded.

Yao rushed into the man’s open arms, earning the stares of a few curious strangers.

It was him, physically, it was his scent, his arms, his hair, his breath. His voice. “Merry Christmas,” he muttered, wrapping his arms tightly around him in turn.

He must be dreaming.

***

“So I have my hotel room and everything, don’t worry!” Romolo explained quickly, his arms moving about the more he got excited. Yao found it endearing. They had stopped by a bakery to grab a sweet bread to commemorate the moment.

“I realize how it might have been an inconvenience for you, or perhaps,” Romolo chuckled nervously. Yao noted he looked a little older than he last saw him on video chat. He must be jet lagged. “A little strange since I did not tell you beforehand, er, outright.”

“It is a surprise,” Yao said. “But a welcomed one.”

Romolo nodded, his shoulders laxing in relief.

“How long will you be staying for?” Yao asked.

“A week,” Romolo sighed, placing his hands on the table. “I cannot stay out for too long during the holidays.”

Yao felt a hint of disappointment. There was no possible way Romolo will be back in time for Lunar New Year.

Yao eyed his hands and made the first hesitant slow reach for Romolo. Perhaps if he did not stretch it too far, he could pretend he was stretching his arm.

But he felt his fingers get caught. Pale, longer fingers were soon in between darker, thicker ones. They did not say a word, their touch molded around each other, feeling every callous and muscle. The strength of their knuckles and the softness of their pads. Romolo smiled softly at Yao, it wasn’t flirty nor teasing. Sincere. Like they have done this before.

“I’m glad,” Yao muttered.

He’ll save up to surprise him for next Christmas.

[ournervousstudentnut-blog]

Windows 10 vs Windows 8.1: which is best for you?

IT's been more than four years after the Windows 10 released, and though many users initially resisted the shift, it is most certainly here to remain. As always though, there are a number of die-hard fans of prior operating systems that have to make the leap.

Its mix of a far enhanced desktop experience, more intuitive integration of touchscreen features, a plethora of new programs and much better functionality makes it a very clear upgrade over its predecessor.

With loads of new features, improved, integral hardware service and enhanced performance it is also a worthy update for Windows XP and Windows 7 consumers also.

Windows 10 vs Windows 8.1 time

We have found no clear difference in boot times between both OS, not on the 2 computers we employed for this evaluation: a Lenovo ThinkPad X1 Carbon plus a Microsoft Surface Guru. Both notebooks flashed to the login screen in 2 minutes, under either Windows 8.1 and Windows 10; using just fractions of a second's difference between the boot times of the 2 OSes on each machine. 1 characteristic that could shave a couple of seconds off real-world boot instances is Windows 10's facial recognition instrument, which permits an individual to be logged at the moment they sit in the front of the PC. This characteristic, however, takes a particular Intel RealSense 3D camera and won't work with a normal webcam. Together with fingerprint readers, these cameras are now relatively common in high-end laptops, which provides Windows 10 a small edge. Winner Windows 10, by a whisker, but only in the event that you count the tiny possible time saving of facial recognition.

The Ideal port for the Ideal apparatus

But ignore all that if you are using a Windows 10 Telephone or tablet-computer, every one of which utilizes a version variant of Windows 10 to show an interface best suited to each display size. Windows 10's tablet-style, in reality, seems an awful lot like Windows 8 Start screen. Microsoft attempted to market Windows 8 as a working system for every single device, however, it did so by forcing the exact same interface across tablet computers and PCs--just two quite different device types. Windows 10 tweaks the formulation, allowing a PC is a PC and also a tablet computer to be a tablet computer, and it is vastly better for this. And if you've got one of these fancy two-in-one hybrids? Windows 10's Continuum mode has you covered. Except, because of Windows 10's shared heart and universal programs Windows 10 Telephones can even mime appropriate Windows 10 PCs when linked to an external screen.

However, what about gambling?

Here is more guarantee for Windows 10 on the gambling side. DirectX 12, in matches that apply it, should observe healthy improvements. However, in games that don't utilize DX12, it is likely going to be a whole lot closer.

As an instance, I conducted Tomb Raider on our PCWorld zero-point system. It's an Intel Core i7-4770K, 16GB of DDR3/1600, along with a GeForce GTX 980. I used exactly the exact same Nvidia drivers using both OSes. Be aware that I conducted Windows 10 construct 10162 instead of the current construct 10240, as that's the previous ISO of Windows 10 previews that Microsoft made accessibly --no amount of coaxing would get Microsoft's servers to kick anything newer. My tests reveal a certain, if modest, advantage for Windows 10. Here is Tomb Raider for one to gawk in: Other evaluations gave a bit more of a triumph for Win10, but that will not set the world on fire like DX12 is anticipated to games that support you're outside. We are planning a more comprehensive look at Windows 10 gaming functionality, so stay tuned.

Personalization

Back in Windows 8, large icons and easy options were in the forefront. The Start screen enabled one to easily organize and resize live tiles, boosting their performance and ease of use. Together with Windows 10, the timeless tiled and desktop UI are no more different interfaces. Rather, elements of these exist and highly configurable. Live tiles are incorporated in the Start menu, instead of inside their interface, in which they may be transferred, the place to reveal rapid info, or launching apps. Programs can be immobilized or transferred to the menu for simple access.

Start Screen vs. Start Menu

The one most significant addition to Windows 10 is that the yield of the Start Menu, especially for routine desktop computer and regular no-touchscreen-use consumer. The Start are full of Screen of Windows 8 never made sense when using a mouse and keyboard and mercifully Microsoft has addressed this. Rather, Windows 10 includes a Start Menu that integrates the Live Tiles of this Windows 8 Start Screen and it may be made to match the entire screen. It is far more intuitive and makes with a mouse/trackpad and keyboard easier. If you mostly use the background computer in Windows then Windows 10 will make you a lot happier.

Edge Browser and Virtual Desktops

I have listed these both together as they're caught up attributes. The Edge browser (that is still a characteristic restricted at the start ) is Microsoft's effort to claw momentum out of Chrome. Edge works considerably faster than Internet Explorer and is only available on Windows 10. Besides this Windows 10 eventually adds Virtual Desktops such as those seen on Linux and Mac OS X. These enable users without multi-monitor installations to make multiple virtual desktops that are useful for dividing utilization between leisure and work, work into jobs or whatever you need. It is a fantastic feature.

You adore Windows Media Center

Microsoft has revamped plenty of items in Windows 10, replacing a lot of its heritage desktop apps with universal programs. By way of instance, Windows Photo Viewer is dead, replaced with the newest Photos app. However, while you may get Windows Photo Viewer back into Windows 10, you can not get Windows Media Center back. As it has gone, together with DVD playback service. For all, this is not a massive loss -- most people flow instead of seeing DVDs, after all, as well as Microsoft,  has been attempting to kill Media Center because of Windows 8. However, for a few, it might be a deal breaker. If you are a Media Center enthusiast -- or in the event that you desperately enjoy some other heritage features that don't now exist in Windows 10 -- afterward Windows 10 might not be for you personally.

Cortana

Another key new feature of Windows 10 not accessible Windows 8 is Cortana - Microsoft's semantic electronic assistant. A sort of super-Siri, which may engage you in the dialog. Over simple speech recognition, Cortana constantly scours the web for advice to notify its interactions with you. Plus it learns from the behavior, contacts and so forth, to be able to better fit your needs. Cortana on Windows Phone is fairly good, and it is currently on iOS and Android. Therefore that the addition of Microsoft's digital helper is a large boost over Windows 8.

Windows 10 vs Windows 8.1: Pairing

Though it was the largest overhaul of this OS since Windows 95, Windows 8 has been unusually secure and bug-free from the get-go. Really we had it operating on regular work programs six months prior to launch. Windows 10 was, to put it charitably, a bit wobblier. Microsoft is frequently issuing updates for your applications, but these updates frequently lead to difficulties. It looks like every couple of months, there are reports of accidental file deletions, glitches, crashes and other various errors. General stability is definitely better than it had been, but the simple fact that these mistakes persist is bothersome. Thus far, we have not seen any bugs that we would believe sufficient to justify downgrading to a previous version of Windows, however, it must be stated that reliability is not Windows 10's strong suit - and it does not seem like it ever is. On the flip side, Windows 10 Enterprise users may cut out a good deal of the hassle - that we will discuss more in a moment - meaning it is not so much of a problem.

Action Center

Windows 8 Windows Store programs might not have been a joy to use on appropriate PCs, but one crucial benefit they stored rocked my socks: System-wide notifications. Where conventional desktop software will become self-explanatory silos, Windows Store programs will take you a pop-up telling at the upper-right corner of the display when, say, you receive a new email or some fresh direct message from Twitter. If you visit them, that is. Following a notification pops up in Windows 8, then it disappears into the ether, never to be viewed or summoned. It's true that you could theoretically view missed notifications in their programs' individual Live Tiles on the beginning screen, but that hangs out there? Windows 10 cures the ailing with the debut of its new Action Center, which looks in the right-hand facet of the taskbar. Missed notifications will live there until you discount then huzzah! . You will also find quick-action buttons that enable you to quickly manage Wi-Fi and Bluetooth, input Tablet Mode, and much more.

Windows 10 appears to provide essentially no appropriate performance benefit over Windows 8 mainstream evaluations, but let us not be overly negative--since there is no reason to be. Together with Windows 7, Microsoft updated the schedule for the way the OS coped with CPUs, which guaranteed improvements and battery lifetime economies for both Intel and AMD CPUs. That was not a check-off thing for Windows 10. Since Windows 8.1 performances were very great.

There are also some improvement from 8.1 to win10 with backup and previous version which you can restore you deleted file more easily. When you didn’t turn on the backup, try this tip how to recover deleted files windows 8 and hope you have a good luck!

And, let's not forget that Windows 10 ushers at DirectX 12, which should very much yield substantial performance increases in games that support it.