#HELLO I COME BEARING A PLAYLIST

[warm-mangoes-with-chai]

Just found something after 3 years,,,, life is with living still,,,,🥹

Bottom line? NEVER give up, my fellow yuri soldiers 🧡🤍🩷

[ijustmissyouraccenths]

It’s You

Where Y/N’s chaotic energy clashes with her grumpy, tattooed neighbor, her mission to get on his good side turns into stolen glances, quiet moments, and a connection she never expected.

Au Harry

Word count: 13,395

Content warning: Cursing, smut, alcohol.

The warm glow of string lights illuminated Y/N’s cozy Los Angeles apartment as the sound of laughter filled the air. The small space was a mix of bohemian chic and personal touches—a gallery wall of polaroids, a cluttered coffee table covered with open bags of snacks, and a few empty wine bottles standing like trophies from their earlier indulgence.

Y/N flopped back onto the couch, a glass of red wine in hand, her cheeks flushed from both the alcohol and nonstop giggling. Her two best friends, Harper and Lila, sat cross-legged on the floor, snacking on popcorn and chips, fully embracing the childlike joy of their adult sleepover.

“This feels so right,” Y/N said, her voice slightly tipsy. “Why don’t we do this more often?”

“Because we’re responsible adults now, remember?” Harper teased, adjusting her oversized hoodie. “Nine-to-five, bills, and pretending we know what we’re doing.”

“Speak for yourself,” Lila quipped, popping a gummy bear into her mouth. “I’m thriving in my chaos era.”

Y/N snorted, and Harper rolled her eyes with an affectionate grin. Lila was the wild card of the group, always coming up with unpredictable ideas. And she didn’t disappoint tonight.

“You know what we should do?” Lila suddenly said, sitting up straighter. “Karaoke.”

“Yes!” Harper exclaimed, clapping her hands. “Oh my God, yes. Do you still have that mic we bought for New Year’s Eve?”

Y/N groaned dramatically, but her smile betrayed her fake reluctance. “You mean the mic that nearly got us evicted? Of course, I still have it.”

Lila grinned wickedly. “Perfect. Let’s wake up the entire building with our stunning renditions of 2000s throwbacks.”

Without waiting for further approval, Lila dashed to the hall closet and pulled out the karaoke mic, triumphantly waving it in the air. Harper grabbed her phone, already scrolling through a playlist.

“You’re starting,” Harper declared, pointing the mic at Y/N.

“What? No!” Y/N laughed, holding her hands up defensively. “I’m not ready!”

“Too bad,” Lila said, shoving the mic into Y/N’s hands. “You can’t escape destiny. Pick your song.”

Y/N sighed theatrically before smirking. “Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you when your ears bleed.”

As Y/N queued up Since U Been Gone by Kelly Clarkson, the room erupted in cheers. The first few notes played, and soon enough, Y/N was belting out the lyrics with unrestrained enthusiasm, her friends joining in for the chorus. It didn’t matter that they were slightly off-key; in that moment, they were superstars in their own private concert.

Wine glasses were forgotten, snacks spilled, and every lyric was sung at full volume. It was the kind of night they’d remember for years—a reminder that no matter how grown-up they pretended to be, some things never lost their magic.

The girls were in full swing, harmonizing (poorly) to “I Want It That Way” by the Backstreet Boys. Lila stood on the couch holding the mic as if she were performing at Madison Square Garden, while Harper played air guitar with a half-empty wine bottle. Y/N was doubled over in laughter, her cheeks aching from smiling so much.

Just as they hit the iconic, “Tell me why—” part, a loud knock echoed through the apartment, cutting through their drunken fun like a record scratch. The girls froze, their voices trailing off mid-note. Y/N straightened up, exchanging wide-eyed looks with Harper and Lila.

“Uh… did someone order pizza?” Lila whispered, her voice unsure.

“Nope,” Y/N said, setting her wine glass on the coffee table. “Stay here. I’ll get it.”

With a mix of nerves and annoyance, Y/N padded to the door. She peered through the peephole and groaned. It was her new neighbor, Harry. She’d only exchanged a polite “hello” with him in passing, but he’d already struck her as the brooding, grumpy type.

Bracing herself, she opened the door.

There he stood: tall, disheveled hair pushed back in a lazy attempt at taming it, wearing a faded gray hoodie and black joggers. His sharp green eyes narrowed as he took in her flushed face and the muffled chaos behind her.

“Good evening,” he started, his British accent dripping with sarcasm. “I just wanted to say how much I’ve been enjoying your concert tonight. It’s like living next door to a live music venue. Only… worse.”

Y/N blinked, momentarily stunned by his dry humor. “Oh. Uh, sorry about that. We didn’t realize how loud we were being.”

Harry crossed his arms, leaning casually against the doorframe. “I figured. Thought I’d come over before I lost the ability to hear entirely.”

From behind her, Lila’s voice chimed in drunkenly. “Is it a noise complaint? Tell him to sing with us!”

Y/N turned and shot Lila a glare. Harper muffled a laugh.

Y/N sighed and looked back at Harry. “We’ll keep it down. Promise.”

He tilted his head, lips twitching into the faintest smirk, though his tone remained gruff. “Appreciated. Just… try not to turn it into a full-on festival.”

With that, he turned to leave, but Y/N couldn’t help herself. “You know, you could’ve just sent a passive-aggressive text or something.”

Harry glanced back over his shoulder, one brow arched. “I thought this had more impact.”

And then he was gone.

Y/N closed the door, leaning her forehead against it for a moment. When she turned around, Lila and Harper were staring at her like she’d just walked off the set of a rom-com.

“Um, who was that?” Lila asked, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Harry. My new neighbor,” Y/N replied, walking back to the couch.

“And Mr. Grumpy Pants is cute,” Harper added, grinning.

Y/N rolled her eyes, picking up her wine glass. “Yeah, yeah. He’s cute and cranky. Now can we please move on before you two start planning a love story?”

But the mischievous glint in her friends’ eyes told her they weren’t letting this go anytime soon.

The karaoke mic had been put away, and the girls now lounged in the cozy living room, passing a bottle of wine between them. The earlier buzz of excitement had mellowed, but the energy was still warm and lively. Lila was sprawled on the couch with her legs dangling over Harper’s lap, while Y/N sat cross-legged on the floor, sipping from her glass.

“I mean, let’s just talk about him for a second,” Lila began, her voice dramatic. “The mopey neighbor with the accent? And did you see those tattoos? They were peeking out, Y/N. He’s giving mysterious bad boy energy.”

Y/N groaned, her cheeks warming instantly. “Oh my God, Lila. He was literally just here to tell us to shut up.”

“Doesn’t mean he’s not hot,” Harper chimed in, grinning. “He has that whole ‘I’m grumpy but secretly charming’ vibe. Like, did you see the way he smirked when he made that little joke?”

Y/N tried to hide her flustered reaction by taking another sip of wine, but she couldn’t stop the blush creeping up her neck. She’d noticed too—his smirk, his sharp jawline, the tattoos curling up his forearm, just barely visible under his hoodie sleeves. She’d noticed everything.

“I mean, he’s okay, I guess,” Y/N mumbled, keeping her tone nonchalant.

“Okay?” Lila shot up, nearly spilling her wine. “You’re lying. You’re the worst liar ever.”

“Shut up,” Y/N said, laughing as she buried her face in her hands. “Fine, he’s cute. So what? He’s also my neighbor, and he’s probably annoyed with me forever now.”

“He’s not annoyed,” Harper said, nudging her with her foot. “If he were, he wouldn’t have made the effort to come over himself. He would’ve sent an email to management or something. He wanted an excuse to see you.”

“Right,” Y/N said, rolling her eyes. “Because nothing’s more attractive than a drunk girl singing Backstreet Boys at full volume.”

“Exactly!” Lila exclaimed, throwing her arms in the air. “You’re memorable. He’ll never forget you now.”

Y/N shook her head, laughing despite herself. “You two are ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” Harper said, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “But I bet he thinks you’re cute too.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed deeper, and she quickly changed the subject. But as the night went on, she couldn’t shake the image of Harry standing in her doorway, his messy hair, his smirk, and those tattoos. Maybe her friends weren’t entirely wrong.

The morning sunlight filtered through the blinds of Y/N’s apartment, illuminating the chaos left behind from the night before. Wine glasses, half-eaten snacks, and the abandoned karaoke mic were scattered around the living room. The girls were tangled up in blankets, sprawled across the couch and the floor like a scene from a sitcom.

Y/N was the first to stir, groaning as she rubbed her eyes and sat up. Harper was curled up on the couch with a throw pillow over her head, while Lila lay on the floor in a makeshift nest of cushions, one arm dramatically draped over her face.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Y/N teased, nudging Lila with her foot.

Lila groaned. “Why are you awake? It’s illegal to be this alive right now.”

Harper peeked out from under her pillow, her voice muffled. “What time is it? Do we even have the energy to exist today?”

“Barely,” Y/N replied, standing and stretching. “But I’m starving, so I’m making breakfast. Come help me.”

Harper and Lila grumbled but eventually dragged themselves up and into the kitchen, where Y/N was already cracking eggs into a bowl. Together, they whipped up a chaotic but delicious breakfast of scrambled eggs, toast, bacon, and a mountain of coffee.

The girls sat around the small dining table, eating in comfortable silence at first. Then Lila broke the quiet with a wicked grin.

“So… Harry.”

“Oh my God,” Y/N groaned, covering her face. “Not again.”

“Listen, I was just thinking,” Lila said, smirking. “Next time we do this, we should make it even louder. Really make him come back over.”

Harper snorted into her coffee. “Yes! Like, full-blown karaoke night but with amps and disco lights.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t stop the smile tugging at her lips. “You two are the worst.”

“But you love us,” Harper said, nudging her with an elbow.

After breakfast, the girls cleaned up and packed their things before heading out. Harper hugged Y/N tightly. “We definitely need to do this again.”

Lila nodded enthusiastically. “Louder next time. You know, for research purposes.”

Y/N shook her head, laughing as she walked them to the door. “You’re both insane, but I love you. Drive safe.”

Once they were gone, Y/N flopped onto the couch and opened their group chat. Almost immediately, messages started flooding in.

Lila: Next sleepover, let’s bring a fog machine. If Harry shows up, we’ll just act like it’s a concert.

Harper: Or we could rent a spotlight. Make it an event

Y/N: You guys are unbelievable. No more wine for you next time.

Lila: Admit it, you want him to show up again.

Y/N: …maybe.

Harper: KNEW IT.

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at her phone, her cheeks warming yet again. As ridiculous as her friends were, they weren’t entirely wrong.

The day passed in a blur of cleaning and tidying as Y/N tried to get her apartment back to its usual organized state. By the time the sun started to dip low in the sky, the chaos from the night before had been erased, leaving her apartment looking like a picture of calm domesticity. Feeling accomplished, Y/N decided to check her mailbox before settling in for a quiet evening.

She padded down to the mailroom in her building, dressed in a casual but presentable outfit—high-waisted jeans and a simple white top. As she rifled through the usual junk mail and a couple of bills, the sound of someone entering the room caught her attention.

Glancing to the side, she saw Harry walking in, his hoodie replaced by a fitted black t-shirt and dark jeans. His tattoos were on full display now—intricate designs that wound up his forearm and disappeared under the sleeve of his shirt. He barely glanced at her as he moved to his mailbox, unlocking it with practiced ease.

Y/N swallowed her nerves and decided to seize the moment. It was better to make a proper introduction now than to let the awkwardness from last night linger. Turning slightly toward him, she cleared her throat.

“Hey, neighbor,” she began, keeping her tone light. “Figured I should introduce myself officially now that I’m not, you know, half-drunk and screaming karaoke at midnight. I’m Y/N.”

Harry turned his head, his green eyes locking onto hers. His expression was neutral, almost unreadable, as he gave her a quick once-over. “Harry,” he said simply, his voice low and clipped.

Y/N bit back a grin, determined not to let his gruff demeanor throw her off. “Nice to meet you, Harry. Sorry again about last night. I promise we don’t usually host impromptu concerts. Unless, of course, you’re a fan of boy band throwbacks.”

Harry let out a soft exhale that could’ve been a laugh—or just a sigh. “I’ll survive.”

Encouraged by the hint of amusement, Y/N decided to keep the conversation going. “You know, if you’re ever feeling nostalgic, you’re welcome to join us. We could use a fourth member for our extremely off-key girl group.”

Harry’s lips twitched slightly, but his expression remained mostly stoic. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Y/N tilted her head, giving him a mock-serious look. “You’re really hard to read, you know that? Most people at least chuckle at my jokes.”

Harry glanced at her, his gaze steady and calm. “Maybe I’m just not most people.”

For a moment, Y/N didn’t know how to respond. There was something almost challenging in his tone, but it wasn’t harsh. If anything, it piqued her curiosity even more.

“Well, Harry,” she said finally, flashing him a bright smile. “Challenge accepted. I’ll make you laugh one of these days.”

He didn’t respond right away, instead closing his mailbox and tucking the letters under his arm. As he moved to leave, he paused, looking over his shoulder.

“We’ll see about that.”

And just like that, he was gone, leaving Y/N standing there with her stack of mail and a strange mix of frustration and intrigue swirling in her chest. One thing was for sure—Harry might be grumpy, but he was far from boring.

As soon as Y/N got back to her apartment, she tossed her mail onto the counter and grabbed her phone, already smirking to herself. She opened the group chat with Harper and Lila, her fingers flying across the keyboard.

Y/N:

Guess who I just ran into in the mailroom?

It didn’t take long for her phone to buzz with replies.

Lila:

Was it… oh, I don’t know… Mr. Grumpy Hot Neighbor?

Harper:

Harry! Tell us everything right now.

Y/N rolled her eyes fondly, typing out her reply.

Y/N:

Yes, it was Harry. I introduced myself properly. You know, as a fully functional adult and not a drunken mess.

Lila:

And? Did he swoon? Did he drop all his mail and propose on the spot?

Harper:

Or at least crack a smile?

Y/N sighed and leaned back against the counter, smirking to herself as she typed.

Y/N:

Absolutely not. He was… well, Harry. Polite but distant. He might’ve almost smiled, but I can’t be sure.

Lila:

Ugh, he’s really sticking to the mysterious moody thing. It’s so hot. What did you say to him?

Y/N:

I told him he was hard to read and said I’d make him laugh one day.

Harper:

Bold move, I love it. What did he say?

Y/N:

He said, ‘We’ll see about that.’

Lila:

STOP. That’s basically flirting.

Harper:

Right? That’s flirty! Subtle, broody flirting.

Y/N:

You two are ridiculous. It wasn’t flirting. He’s just… like that.

Lila:

Y/N, this is your rom-com moment, and you’re living in denial. Grumpy guy + sunshine girl is literally a trope for a reason.

Harper:

Exactly. Next step: get him to join us for karaoke.

Y/N:

Oh, sure, because he definitely seems like the kind of guy who wants to sing ‘Toxic’ with us.

Lila:

You never know. Maybe he has a secret karaoke voice that’ll blow us all away.

Y/N laughed to herself, shaking her head. Her friends were relentless, but she couldn’t deny that their enthusiasm made her smile. As much as she tried to brush off the encounter, she couldn’t stop replaying it in her head—the way Harry’s green eyes lingered just a second too long, the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips. 

It had been a couple of weeks since Y/N’s encounter with Harry in the mailroom, and she’d managed to push him to the back of her mind. Between work, friends, and her usual routine, she hadn’t bumped into him in the halls or around the building. Life went on, and the memory of his grumpy smirk became just another amusing anecdote to share with Harper and Lila.

Until one night.

Y/N was jolted awake by the blaring sound of the fire alarm. Disoriented and groggy, she stumbled out of bed and grabbed a sweatshirt, pulling it over her pajama tank top. She shoved her feet into sneakers, grabbed her phone, and headed for the door. The hallway was chaotic, filled with neighbors in various states of sleepiness and confusion, all heading for the exits.

Once outside, Y/N joined the crowd of residents gathering on the sidewalk. The chilly night air bit at her skin, and she crossed her arms to keep warm. She craned her neck, scanning the crowd to see if there was anyone she knew—until her eyes landed on a familiar figure leaning against a lamppost.

It was Harry. His hair was a mess, sticking out in every direction, and he wore a hoodie over loose sweatpants. He looked like he’d just rolled out of bed, which, to be fair, he probably had. His expression was pure exhaustion, and he rubbed the back of his neck as he yawned.

Y/N didn’t hesitate. She made her way over, her footsteps crunching on the gravel. “Hey, neighbor,” she said, coming to a stop next to him.

Harry turned his head, his green eyes narrowing slightly as he registered her. “Y/N,” he said, his voice rough from sleep. “This is… unexpected.” He waved his hand around. 

She grinned, shifting her weight to one foot. “Yeah, I was thinking the same thing. But hey, at least it’s the fire alarms being obnoxiously loud this time and not me.”

Harry’s lips twitched, and for a second, she thought she’d finally gotten him to crack a smile. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?” he asked dryly.

“Never,” Y/N replied, a teasing lilt in her voice. “It’s too good of a story.”

Harry exhaled softly, almost like a laugh, and shook his head. “Fair enough.”

They stood in silence for a moment, watching as a fire truck pulled up and a couple of firefighters headed inside to investigate. The air was crisp and carried a faint chill, but Y/N barely noticed. She glanced at Harry out of the corner of her eye.

“Do you think it’s an actual fire?” she asked.

“Doubt it,” he said, crossing his arms. “Probably just someone burning their midnight snack.”

“Sounds like a riveting Saturday night,” Y/N joked, earning another small exhale from him.

“Tell me about it,” he muttered, glancing down at her. His gaze lingered for a moment, and Y/N could feel her cheeks warm, though she tried to play it cool.

“Well,” she said, rocking back on her heels. “If it turns out to be a drill, I’m demanding a formal apology from management for ruining my beauty sleep.”

Harry’s lips quirked, just enough for her to notice. “I’m sure they’ll get right on that.”

For the first time, standing outside in the middle of the night with Harry didn’t feel awkward or forced. It was easy, natural even, despite his perpetually tired and broody demeanor. Maybe it was the ridiculousness of the situation, or maybe her persistence was finally wearing him down.

Before either of them could say more, a firefighter emerged from the building, shouting to the crowd that it was a false alarm. People groaned, some laughing as they shuffled back toward the entrance.

Harry pushed off the lamppost and looked at Y/N. “Guess that’s our cue.”

“Looks like it,” she said. “Catch you later, Harry.”

He nodded, his expression unreadable but not unkind. “Night, Y/N.”

As she headed back to her apartment, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a small spark of satisfaction. Sure, he was still grumpy, but she was getting closer to breaking through. And honestly, she didn’t mind the challenge.

By the time Y/N woke up the next morning, she had already drafted the text she knew Harper and Lila would demand. Still half-asleep, she grabbed her phone and opened their group chat, typing out the full story in detail.

Y/N:

So… guess who I bumped into at 3 a.m. when the fire alarm went off?

It didn’t take long for her phone to buzz with rapid-fire responses.

Harper:

Oh my God. HARRY?

Lila:

Please tell me you were both standing there in your PJs like the meet-cute of the century.

Y/N:

 No, it wasn’t a meet-cute. We just talked. Very normal. Nothing groundbreaking.

Harper:

What did you talk about?

Y/N:

I made a joke about how this time it wasn’t me being loud, it was the fire alarm.

Lila:

YES. Classic Y/N. What did he say?

Y/N:

He just… smirked. Or sighed. I’m honestly not sure anymore. He’s so hard to read.

Harper:

Smirking counts as flirting. I’m logging it.

Lila:

Definitely flirting. He wouldn’t have smirked if he wasn’t secretly interested. Men don’t waste smirks on people they don’t like.

Y/N:

Or he was just tired and didn’t care enough to argue.

Harper:

Nope. Not buying it. He’s interested. He’s just grumpy interested.

Lila:

Exactly! Brooding types like him don’t wear their feelings on their sleeves, but trust me, he’s intrigued. You just need to keep working on him.

Y/N rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t help but smile.

Y/N:

You two are absolutely ridiculous. We talked for five minutes, tops. Nothing more, nothing less.

Harper:

Sure, keep telling yourself that.

Lila:

Face it, Y/N. This is your slow-burn romance, and we are here for it. We’re already planning the playlist for your wedding.

Y/N:

Oh my God. I can’t with you two.

Despite her protests, Y/N couldn’t stop replaying the interaction in her mind—the way his eyes lingered on her, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. Harper and Lila were reading too much into it… weren’t they?

Shaking her head, Y/N tossed her phone onto the couch. She had no intention of indulging their wild theories. But deep down, a small, stubborn part of her couldn’t help but wonder. 

Y/N lay in bed, staring at the faint shadows cast by her bedside lamp on the ceiling. The city sounds outside her window were faint but constant—cars in the distance, the occasional murmur of voices. She’d been tossing and turning for what felt like hours, her brain refusing to shut off.

It didn’t help that every time she closed her eyes, all she could think about was Harry.

It wasn’t intentional, or at least that’s what she told herself. She’d been trying to push him out of her mind all day, but now, in the stillness of the night, his image seemed to surface unbidden. The way his messy hair stuck out when she’d seen him by the mailboxes. The tattoos peeking out from under his shirt sleeves, the intricate designs winding across his arms like a story she desperately wanted to read.

And then there was his face—sharp jawline, green eyes that seemed to pierce through her defenses, and that faint smirk he’d given her last night when she’d cracked her fire alarm joke. It wasn’t a full smile, but it had been enough to spark something in her. Something she couldn’t quite shake.

She groaned, rolling onto her side and burying her face in her pillow. “Get a grip,” she muttered to herself.

But it was no use. She kept thinking about the way his voice sounded—low, calm, almost soothing in its quiet confidence. The way he seemed perpetually unimpressed but not unkind, like he was holding back a part of himself from the world. And the way, despite all that grumpiness, she felt drawn to him.

The worst part was that she barely even knew him. A few brief encounters, a handful of words exchanged—it wasn’t enough to warrant this level of overthinking. And yet, here she was, wide awake at 2 a.m., her thoughts spinning in circles around a guy who probably wasn’t thinking about her at all.

She sighed, flipping onto her back again and staring at the ceiling. “You’re losing it, Y/N,” she whispered into the dark.

But no matter how hard she tried to distract herself—counting sheep, replaying her favorite movie in her head, anything—her mind kept drifting back to Harry. How frustratingly attractive he was. How much she wanted to figure him out. And how, for reasons she couldn’t explain, she kind of liked the challenge.

The next afternoon, Y/N tied her apron around her waist and stepped onto the floor of the bustling Italian restaurant where she worked. The warm scent of garlic, fresh basil, and baking bread filled the air as the sounds of clinking silverware and cheerful conversations hummed around her. It was her favorite kind of shift—steady but not overwhelming, just busy enough to keep her energized.

She loved being a server. There was something satisfying about knowing the menu by heart, from the way the chef perfectly folded the handmade ravioli to the rich, velvety tiramisu that always left customers raving. She enjoyed the rhythm of it all: taking orders, making guests laugh, weaving between tables like she was part of a well-rehearsed dance.

By the time her shift ended, the sun was low in the sky, casting a soft golden glow over the city streets. Y/N slipped her bag over her shoulder, said goodbye to her coworkers, and began her short walk home.

The evening was warm, the kind of weather that made her glad she’d chosen this neighborhood to live in. She liked the convenience of being close to work, the charm of the old brick buildings, and the occasional vendor selling flowers or roasted nuts on the sidewalk.

But as she rounded the last corner toward her apartment building, the sky darkened suddenly. Heavy clouds rolled in overhead, and before she could process what was happening, the first fat drops of rain began to fall.

“Seriously?” Y/N muttered, looking up at the sky as if it might offer her an explanation. Within seconds, the light drizzle turned into a full-on downpour. She didn’t have an umbrella, of course—it had been sunny when she left for work—and now she was too far from the restaurant to go back.

She quickened her pace, pulling her bag closer to her body to shield it from the rain. Her hair was already plastered to her forehead, and her clothes clung to her as the rain soaked through. She groaned in frustration but couldn’t help laughing at the ridiculousness of it all.

By the time her apartment building came into view, she was drenched. She jogged the last stretch, her sneakers splashing in puddles, and darted toward the lobby entrance. As she reached for the door, it opened from the inside—and there, standing in the doorway, was Harry.

Of course, it was Harry.

He was holding a takeout bag in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. His green eyes widened slightly when he saw her, taking in her rain-soaked appearance.

“Rough night?” he asked, his voice dry but laced with faint amusement.

Y/N brushed a wet strand of hair out of her face, shaking water from her arms. “You could say that. Apparently, the weather decided I needed a shower.”

Harry stepped back, holding the door open for her. “You’re dripping everywhere.”

“Thanks for the observation,” Y/N said with a wry smile as she stepped inside, water pooling around her feet. “I hadn’t noticed.”

He smirked, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer than necessary before he nodded toward the elevators. “You should probably get upstairs before you flood the lobby.”

“Wow, you’re so thoughtful,” she teased, her sarcasm barely masking the warmth in her voice.

Harry didn’t reply, but his lips twitched like he was holding back a comment. He stepped aside, letting her pass, and as Y/N headed toward the elevator, she couldn’t help but glance over her shoulder. He was still standing by the door, his attention now on the rain outside, but she could’ve sworn she caught him sneaking a glance at her as she walked away.

Y/N stepped into her apartment, water dripping onto the floor as she kicked off her soaked sneakers. She stripped off her rain-soaked clothes and tossed them into the laundry basket before heading straight to the bathroom. The hot water of the shower was bliss, washing away the chill of the rain and the lingering frustration of getting caught in it. By the time she stepped out, wrapped in a fluffy towel, her skin was warm and her mind was clearer.

Slipping into her favorite pair of soft pajamas—shorts and an oversized t-shirt—she towel-dried her hair and grabbed her phone from the counter. She hadn’t checked it since leaving work, and the screen lit up with a few notifications. Most were unimportant, but one text made her freeze.

Unknown Number:

Hey, it’s Harry. Got your number from the resident book. Hope that’s okay. I, uh, ordered way too much food. If you’re not busy and don’t mind eating with someone who’s terrible at small talk, you’re welcome to join me.

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. Harry had texted her? She stared at the message, rereading it a couple of times, unsure what to make of it. The grumpy, brooding neighbor had gone out of his way to invite her over for dinner?

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard as she thought about what to say. She could easily come up with an excuse, blame the rain, or even politely decline. But something about his message—how he’d gone through the trouble of looking up her number and even made a self-deprecating joke—made her hesitate.

Finally, she started typing.

Y/N:

Hey! I’m surprised you didn’t mention how loud I was running through the lobby earlier. I’d love to join, but fair warning: I’m in my pajamas. I’ll bring wine to make up for it.

She hit send before she could second-guess herself and immediately got up to rummage through her small wine rack. She picked out a bottle of red, grabbed her favorite corkscrew, and texted him again.

Y/N:

Give me five minutes to make myself look less like a wet dog.

His response came almost instantly.

Harry:

I wouldn’t have said anything about the lobby, but now that you’ve brought it up… five minutes works. Apartment 4D.

Y/N laughed softly, shaking her head. She quickly towel-dried her hair a little more, tossed it into a loose bun, and grabbed the wine. As she stood by her door, nerves fluttered in her stomach, but she pushed them aside.

Whatever this was—neighborly dinner, an olive branch, or something else—she was curious enough to find out.

Y/N stepped out of her apartment, the bottle of wine in hand, and made her way to the elevator. As she descended a floor, her nerves started to tingle, though she shook them off. It wasn’t a big deal. It was just dinner with her neighbor. Her very attractive, grumpy neighbor with tattoos and a British accent. Nothing to overthink at all.

When she reached Harry’s door, she raised her hand to knock—but before she could, the door swung open. Harry stood there, leaning casually against the frame, one eyebrow raised.

“I could hear you coming down the hall,” he said, his tone dry but his lips twitching into a faint smirk. “Subtlety isn’t your strong suit, is it?”

Y/N let out a laugh, rolling her eyes. “I’ll take that as your way of saying you’re happy to see me.”

“Something like that,” he replied, stepping aside to let her in.

Y/N walked in, glancing around as she entered. Harry’s apartment was similar in layout to hers but had an entirely different vibe. The walls were painted a deep, moody gray, with shelves lined with books, records, and a few small plants that looked suspiciously well cared for. A guitar rested in the corner by the window, and the faint smell of takeout wafted from the small kitchen.

“Nice place,” she said, setting the wine on the counter. “Very… broody chic. Fits you.”

Harry arched a brow as he closed the door. “Broody chic? Is that a compliment?”

“Depends how you take it,” Y/N shot back with a grin.

He shook his head, muttering something under his breath as he moved toward the kitchen. “Hope you’re hungry. I may have overestimated how much I can eat on my own.”

She followed him, glancing at the spread on the counter. There were containers of what looked like Thai food—pad thai, green curry, fried rice, and spring rolls. Definitely enough for two, if not three.

“You weren’t kidding,” she said, grabbing a spring roll. “Planning on feeding the whole building?”

“Only the loudest resident,” he said, smirking again.

She gave him a playful glare before grabbing plates from the counter and handing him one. “Lucky for you, I came prepared,” she said, holding up the wine. “This should balance things out.”

As they settled at the small table, Y/N couldn’t help but notice how relaxed Harry seemed. He wasn’t smiling, not really, but there was something softer about him tonight. Less guarded. And as they started eating, trading sarcastic comments and occasional small talk, she realized she didn’t mind the challenge of cracking through his tough exterior one bit.

Harry handed Y/N two wine glasses, their fingers brushing briefly as she took them. He didn’t say anything, but his lips moved slightly as if he was trying not to smirk. Y/N poured the wine, filling each glass just enough before sliding one over to him.

Meanwhile, he plated the food, carefully dividing the dishes between two plates. His movements were deliberate, almost methodical, and Y/N found herself watching him for a moment before realizing what she was doing. Shaking herself out of it, she grabbed her glass and followed him to the bar counter.

They sat side by side, the warm glow of the pendant light above them casting a cozy atmosphere. Y/N took a sip of her wine, her gaze flicking to Harry as he started eating in silence.

For a while, she stayed quiet, enjoying the food and the unspoken rhythm of their shared meal. But her curiosity got the better of her. Setting her glass down, she turned toward him slightly, resting her elbow on the counter.

“So,” she began, her tone light but probing, “why are you always so grumpy?”

Harry paused mid-bite, his fork hovering over his plate as he looked at her. His green eyes narrowed slightly, not in anger but as if he were trying to decide how serious she was.

“Grumpy?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, grumpy,” she said, her lips curving into a teasing smile. “You know, the whole emo, barely-smiling, ‘I don’t have time for your nonsense’ vibe you’ve got going on. Is it like… your thing?”

Harry leaned back slightly, taking a slow sip of his wine as he considered her question. “Maybe I’m not grumpy,” he said finally, his voice calm. “Maybe you’re just too… cheerful.”

“Cheerful?” she echoed, laughing softly. “That’s your explanation? I’m cheerful, so that automatically makes you grumpy?”

“Something like that,” he said, his lips quirking into the faintest smirk.

Y/N rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help smiling. “You’re deflecting.”

He raised his glass, meeting her gaze over the rim as he took another sip. “Maybe.”

“Come on,” she pressed, leaning in slightly. “There’s got to be a reason. I mean, you’re not actuallymiserable all the time, are you?”

Harry sighed, setting his glass down and leaning his forearms on the counter. For a moment, he seemed to be debating whether or not to answer. Finally, he shrugged.

“I’m not grumpy,” he said, his voice quieter. “I just… don’t see the point in pretending all the time. People put on this front like everything’s great, but most of the time, it’s not. I’m just… honest about it.”

Y/N tilted her head, studying him. There was something in his tone—something unspoken but heavy, like he was revealing more than he intended.

“Well,” she said softly, “for what it’s worth, I don’t think being happy is the same as pretending. And I’m not pretending.”

Harry glanced at her, his expression unreadable. “I noticed,” he said simply.

Her cheeks warmed, and for a moment, they sat in silence, the weight of the conversation settling between them. Then Y/N picked up her glass and raised it toward him.

“To being honest,” she said with a small smile.

Harry’s eyes flicked to her glass before he picked up his own, clinking it against hers. “To being honest,” he echoed.

And for the first time that evening, his smirk softened into something closer to a smile.

Harry swirled the wine in his glass, staring at the deep red liquid for a moment before setting it down and looking at Y/N. His expression was more open now, his usual guarded demeanor softened.

“You seem nice enough,” he said, his tone casual but sincere. “I could use a friend around here.”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the admission. For a moment, she wasn’t sure how to respond. Then a warm smile spread across her face.

“Well, that’s unexpected,” she said, her voice light with humor. “I thought for sure you hated me after the whole karaoke fiasco.”

Harry tilted his head slightly, his lips twitching in amusement. “Hated you? No. Annoyed, maybe. But hate’s a strong word.”

“Good to know,” Y/N said, laughing softly. “Because I was convinced you’d written me off as the world’s loudest neighbor.”

“I’ll admit,” Harry said, smirking now, “the karaoke was… a lot. But it’s hard to hate someone who sings ‘I Want It That Way’ with that much enthusiasm.”

Y/N covered her face with her hands, laughing harder. “Oh my God, I can’t believe you remember the song. That’s so embarrassing.”

“It’s unforgettable,” he said with mock seriousness, taking another sip of wine.

When her laughter died down, Y/N looked at him, her expression softening. “For what it’s worth, I’d be happy to be your friend. You don’t seem as scary as you pretend to be.”

“Scary?” Harry echoed, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, yeah,” she teased. “You’ve got the whole ‘grumpy lone wolf’ thing going on. It’s a little intimidating.”

Harry shook his head, but there was a faint smile on his face. “I’m not scary.”

“No,” Y/N said, grinning. “You’re not. You’re just… Harry.”

He didn’t respond right away, but his gaze lingered on her for a moment, something unreadable in his expression. Finally, he nodded, his tone soft but certain. “Yeah. Just Harry.”

As they continued eating, the conversation grew lighter, the initial tension between them fading into something comfortable. By the time they finished their meal, Y/N realized that beneath Harry’s gruff exterior was someone she genuinely wanted to know better. And judging by the way his smirk had softened into something warmer, she suspected he felt the same.

After finishing their plates, Harry leaned back in his chair, resting his forearm on the bar counter as he glanced at Y/N. There was a comfortable silence between them, one she hadn’t expected when she first showed up at his door.

“Thanks for coming over,” he said finally, his tone quieter but sincere. “I don’t usually… do this.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, swirling her wine in her glass. “What? Order too much food or invite people over?”

He smirked faintly, shaking his head. “The second one. I’m not exactly the ‘neighborly dinner’ type.”

“Well, I feel special then,” she teased, tilting her head at him. “Although, if you’re not usually this social, why’d you invite me? I mean, not that I’m complaining.”

Harry shrugged, glancing down at his glass. “You seemed… different. I don’t know. Most people I meet just seem fake, like they’re putting on a show. But you’re…” He paused, searching for the right word. “Real.”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the raw honesty of his words. “Oh,” she said softly, a smile tugging at her lips. “Well, thanks. I think.”

“I mean it,” Harry added, looking at her directly now. “You’re… not what I expected when I moved here. In a good way.”

Her cheeks warmed at his words, and she tried to play it off with humor. “Careful, Harry. You’re starting to sound like you actually like me.”

“Don’t push it,” he said with a smirk, though his eyes were softer than usual.

They fell into another comfortable silence, sipping their wine and letting the moment stretch out. Y/N felt herself relax more with each passing second, realizing how easy it was to be around him now that some of his walls had come down.

After a moment, she broke the quiet. “You know, for someone who claims not to be social, you’re pretty good company.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It is,” she said, her grin widening. “You should let yourself be social more often. You might surprise yourself.”

He scoffed softly, shaking his head. “One step at a time.”

They shared a small laugh, and Y/N couldn’t help but feel like this was a turning point. Whatever Harry had been holding back before, he was letting her in now, even if only a little. It felt… nice.

Eventually, she glanced at her phone and realized how late it had gotten. “I should probably head back,” she said, setting her empty wine glass down. “I’ve already overstayed my welcome.”

Harry stood as she got up, shaking his head. “You haven’t. But… thanks for coming. I mean it.”

She smiled, grabbing the bottle of wine. “Anytime, Harry.”

As she walked to the door, he followed her, leaning casually against the frame as she turned back to face him. There was something unspoken in the way he looked at her, a softness she wasn’t used to seeing from him.

“Goodnight,” she said, her voice lighter now.

“Night, Y/N,” he replied, his smirk returning.

She headed back to her apartment, her heart unexpectedly lighter. Maybe Harry wasn’t as grumpy as he seemed—or maybe she was just getting used to it. Either way, she found herself smiling as she closed her door behind her. And for the first time in weeks, she wasn’t overthinking anything.

The next morning, Y/N woke up to the sunlight filtering through her blinds and a faint smile lingering on her lips. The night before with Harry had been… unexpected, but not in a bad way. She stretched, grabbed her phone from the nightstand, and immediately opened her group chat with Harper and Lila.

Y/N:

So, guess what? Harry invited me over for dinner last night.

It didn’t take long for her phone to explode with notifications.

Lila:

WHAT. DETAILS NOW.

Harper:

DID YOU SLEEP WITH HIM?!

Y/N rolled her eyes, her cheeks warming despite being alone.

Y/N:

No, I didn’t sleep with him. Calm down.

Lila:

Boring. But continue.

Harper:

Okay, but like, did it feel like it was going there?

Y/N:

No! It wasn’t like that. He said he had too much food and could use a friend, so I brought wine, and we had dinner. That’s it.

Lila:

You brought wine. That’s a date move.

Harper:

Right? Totally a date.

Y/N:

It wasn’t a date. We ate at his bar counter, talked a little, and that’s all. But…

Lila:

BUT WHAT?!

Harper:

Spill, Y/N. Don’t make us beg.

Y/N sighed, biting her lip as she typed out her next message.

Y/N:

Okay, fine. I wouldn’t mind if something happened, but it’s not like I know much about him. I don’t even know what he does for work.

Lila:

Oh my God. You want to bang the mysterious, tattooed neighbor. I KNEW IT.

Harper:

This is your grumpy/sunshine romance, and we are living for it.

Y/N:

You two are ridiculous. I’m just saying he’s attractive, okay? That doesn’t mean anything’s going to happen.

Lila:

It’ll happen. The sexual tension alone is probably unbearable.

Harper:

Agreed. You just need to ask him questions about himself. What he does for work, what his favorite food is, if he’s single—

Lila:

Definitely ask the last one. For research purposes.

Y/N groaned, shaking her head but smiling despite herself.

Y/N:

You two are impossible. But fine, if the opportunity comes up, I’ll try to find out more about him. Happy?

Harper:

Ecstatic.

Lila:

Can’t wait to hear how this unfolds. We’re already planning the wedding playlist.

Y/N laughed, tossing her phone onto the bed. Her friends were relentless, but they weren’t wrong about one thing—she was curious about Harry. And as much as she tried to deny it, she wouldn’t mind getting to know him better… or seeing where this strange connection between them might lead.

Later that month Y/N walked into her apartment after a long day, expecting the usual cozy warmth to greet her. Instead, an icy chill hit her the moment she stepped inside. She frowned, rubbing her arms and heading straight for the thermostat. She fiddled with it for a minute, but no matter what she did, the heater refused to turn on.

“Great,” she muttered, pulling her jacket tighter around her shoulders. It wasn’t unbearably cold outside, but inside her apartment, it felt like a freezer.

With no other options, she pulled out her phone and scrolled through her contacts. She didn’t know many people in the building—just Harry, really. And as much as she hesitated, her fingers hovered over his name before she finally sent a text.

Y/N:

Hey, random question. Do you happen to have a small heater or something I can borrow? My heater’s broken, and it’s freezing in here.

A few minutes later, her phone buzzed.

Harry:

Why don’t you just stay here tonight? I’ve got heat, and I don’t own a portable heater.

Y/N stared at the message, her heart skipping a beat. She hadn’t expected that. Borrowing something was one thing, but staying at his place? She hesitated, her fingers tapping lightly against the screen. Before she could overthink it, she typed out a response.

Y/N:

Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude.

His reply was quick.

Harry:

You’re not intruding. Besides, it’s better than you freezing to death in your apartment. Bring whatever you need.

She bit her lip, a mix of nerves and curiosity swirling in her chest. Finally, she grabbed a bag and threw in some essentials—pajamas, a toothbrush, and a few other things—before bundling up and heading out.

When she reached his door, she knocked softly. It opened almost immediately, and there was Harry, leaning against the frame with his usual calm demeanor.

“Figured you’d take me up on the offer,” he said, stepping aside to let her in.

“Yeah, well, hypothermia didn’t sound appealing,” Y/N replied with a small smile, brushing past him into the warmth of his apartment.

As she set her bag down by the couch, she glanced at him. “Thanks for this, by the way. I really appreciate it.”

He shrugged, closing the door. “No problem. It’s just one night.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Wow, Harry. That almost sounded like you’re happy to have me here.”

He gave her a dry look but didn’t respond, instead gesturing toward the couch. “You can take the couch if you want, or I can grab some extra blankets for the guest room.”

She looked at the couch, then back at him. “Guest room? You have a guest room?”

“Barely,” he said with a shrug. “It’s more of a storage room, but there’s a bed in there.”

“Well, as long as it’s warmer than my apartment, I’ll take it.”

Harry nodded, heading toward the hallway. “I’ll grab some blankets.”

As Harry disappeared down the hallway to grab blankets, Y/N called after him, her voice light and teasing. “By the way, I brought some wine as a thank-you! You know, for saving me from my frozen wasteland of an apartment.”

She heard him chuckle faintly, his voice drifting back from the other room. “Thoughtful of you. What kind?”

“Red. A classic, nothing too fancy,” she replied, smirking as she started to take the bottle out of her bag. “Figured you’d prefer something a little understated, given your whole ‘mysterious and broody’ vibe.”

Harry reappeared in the doorway, carrying a thick blanket over one shoulder. He raised an eyebrow at her. “I think you enjoy calling me broody a little too much.”

“Well, it fits,” she shot back, grinning. “Speaking of which, I realized something earlier—I don’t even know what you do for work. So, enlighten me, oh mysterious one. What is it that you do?”

Harry paused for a moment, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “I own an art gallery,” he said simply, setting the blanket on the couch.

Y/N blinked, caught off guard. “You own an art gallery?”

“Yeah,” he said, leaning casually against the back of the couch. “Small place over in Silver Lake. Nothing flashy, just local artists and smaller exhibitions.”

She stared at him, her curiosity piqued. “I didn’t see that coming.”

“What did you see coming?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t know,” Y/N admitted, laughing softly. “Something more… I don’t know, corporate? Like sitting at a desk all day and brooding at spreadsheets.”

Harry actually laughed at that, a low, warm sound that surprised her. “Sorry to disappoint. No spreadsheets involved.”

“No, it’s not disappointing,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “It’s just… unexpected. I mean, you own an art gallery. That’s cool. Artistic and grumpy? You’re full of surprises, Harry.”

He shook his head, but there was a faint warmth in his expression, like her enthusiasm had caught him off guard. “It’s just a business.”

“Just a business?” she repeated, tilting her head. “Don’t undersell yourself. That’s impressive.”

He looked at her for a moment, his gaze steady. “Thanks.”

They fell into a brief silence, and Y/N felt the air shift slightly. It wasn’t awkward—if anything, it felt… comfortable. She gestured to the wine. “So, should we open this or what?”

Harry nodded, stepping into the kitchen to grab two glasses. “Why not? You’re my guest, after all.”

As he poured the wine, Y/N couldn’t help but think that for someone who seemed so guarded at first, Harry was slowly becoming an open book—one she was eager to keep reading.

Y/N leaned against the counter, swirling her glass of wine as she watched Harry pour his own. “So, how did you end up owning an art gallery?” she asked, curiosity getting the better of her. “I mean, that’s not exactly the most common career path.”

Harry took a sip of his wine, his gaze thoughtful as he set the glass down. “I’ve always loved art. Painting, sketching… that sort of thing. But it’s not exactly the easiest way to make a living.”

Y/N nodded, understanding the struggle. “So, the gallery was a way to stay involved in the art world?”

“Something like that,” he said, leaning his hip against the counter. “I came into some money after my mom passed a few years ago. It wasn’t a fortune, but it was enough to make me think about what I really wanted to do. I didn’t want to sit in an office or work for someone else. I wanted something that felt… personal. The gallery felt like the right choice.”

“That’s incredible,” Y/N said, her voice soft. “I mean, turning something you love into a business? Not many people can say they’ve done that.”

Harry shrugged, a faint smile on his lips. “It has its challenges, but I don’t regret it.”

Y/N smiled at him, feeling a new layer of respect for her neighbor. After a moment, he tilted his head, his eyes flicking to her. “What about you? What do you do?”

She hesitated, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “Oh, nothing nearly as impressive as you,” she said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m just a server. I work at an Italian restaurant a few blocks from here.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching like he was holding back a laugh. “Why do you say it like that?”

“Like what?” she asked, frowning.

“Like it’s nothing. You said you’re ‘just’ a server,” he said, taking another sip of his wine. “You’re in food service, right? That’s an art in itself. Just… a different kind.”

She blinked, caught off guard by his perspective. “I’ve never thought about it like that.”

He nodded, gesturing with his glass. “Think about it. You’re part of creating an experience for people. The way the food’s presented, the way you interact with customers—it’s all part of the artistry. Doesn’t matter if it’s a painting on a wall or a plate of pasta. It’s still something people connect with.”

Y/N felt her cheeks warm, a mix of surprise and gratitude washing over her. “That’s… actually really nice of you to say.”

“It’s true,” Harry said simply, his green eyes meeting hers. “Stop selling yourself short.”

She smiled, feeling unexpectedly lighter. “Thanks, Harry. I guess I’ll try to keep that in mind the next time someone complains about their breadsticks not being warm enough.”

He chuckled at that, shaking his head. “Breadsticks or not, it sounds like you’re good at what you do.”

Y/N sipped her wine, the corners of her lips curving up. 

Y/N swirled the wine in her glass, glancing at Harry over the rim. She hesitated for a moment, then decided to push the conversation a little further. “You know,” she began, her voice softer now, “you have a really nice way of thinking about things. The way you look at art, even food… it’s kind of impressive.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, leaning against the counter with an amused expression. “Is that your way of saying I’m not just a grumpy neighbor?”

“Maybe,” she said with a small grin, her tone almost teasing. “But seriously, you’ve got a smart mind, Harry. You see things in a way most people don’t.”

He tilted his head slightly, his green eyes studying her as if trying to figure out her angle. “Are you flirting with me, Y/N?”

She laughed, feeling her cheeks flush slightly. “And if I was?”

Harry’s lips curved into a faint smirk, but he didn’t answer right away. Instead, he took a slow sip of his wine, his gaze never leaving hers. “Then I’d say it’s about time you stopped pretending you find me intimidating.”

“I never said you intimidate me,” she shot back, her grin widening. “I said you have a grumpy vibe. Totally different.”

“Right,” he said, his tone dry but his smirk giving him away. “Good to know I’m not scaring you off.”

“Not even close,” Y/N replied, her voice confident now. She leaned her elbow on the counter, resting her chin in her hand as she looked at him. “You’re not as scary as you think, Harry. In fact, I think you’re kind of… interesting.”

Harry chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You’re full of surprises, you know that?”

“Right back at you,” she said, her gaze warm.

For a moment, the air between them shifted. The playful banter was still there, but beneath it was something quieter, something unspoken. Y/N didn’t know what exactly was happening, but she wasn’t in a hurry to break the moment.

Harry finally set his glass down, his expression softening just slightly. “Careful, Y/N,” he said, his voice low but with a hint of amusement. “You keep talking like that, and I might start thinking you actually like having me around.”

“Maybe I do,” she said simply, holding his gaze.

The corners of his mouth twitched, and for the first time, he didn’t deflect her comment. Instead, he just looked at her, something unreadable flickering in his green eyes. Y/N felt her heartbeat quicken, but she didn’t look away.

The mood in the room shifted as Harry leaned forward, his green eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that sent a shiver down Y/N's spine. 

He tilted his head slightly, his voice low and teasing as he said, "You wouldn't be able to handle me."

Her breath caught, but she wasn't about to let him have the last word.

 "Try me," she challenged, her voice steady but laced with anticipation.

Harry's eyes darkened, the playful smirk on his lips giving way to something deeper, something more raw. Slowly, deliberately, he reached out and placed his hand lightly on her throat-not gripping, just resting, his thumb brushing the edge of her jaw. The warmth of his touch made her heart race, and she felt her breath hitch as he leaned in closer.

For a moment, the world around them seemed to disappear, the only sound her own heartbeat pounding in her ears. Then, without another word, Harry closed the gap between them, capturing her lips in a deep, searing kiss.

It wasn't gentle, but it wasn't rushed either-it was deliberate, like he'd been holding himself back and was finally letting go. His lips moved against hers with a confidence that left no room for hesitation, and Y/N melted into the kiss, her hand instinctively reaching out to grip the edge of the counter for balance.

She kissed him back just as fervently, tilting her head to deepen the connection. His fingers slid from her throat to the back of her neck, pulling her closer as though he couldn't get enough of her. The heat between them was undeniable, and in that moment, nothing else mattered-not the chill of her broken heater, not the wine, not the playful banter that had led them here.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathing heavily, their foreheads nearly touching. Harry's green eyes searched hers, and for once, his usual guarded expression was nowhere to be found.

"Still think I can't handle you?" Y/N whispered, her voice a little breathless but tinged with humor.

Harry smirked, his hand still lingering at the nape of her neck. 

"Guess I underestimated you," he murmured, his voice low and rough. "But l'm not done yet.”

Harry's hand slid down from Y/N's neck to her wrist, his grip firm but careful as he led her through his apartment toward his bedroom.

Her heart pounded in anticipation, her breath catching when he opened the door and gently but deliberately pushed her onto the bed.

Y/N gasped softly, propping herself up on her elbows as she looked up at him. The intensity in his green eyes made her pulse race, and the energy between them was electric, the room feeling heavier with every passing second.

Harry stepped closer, his movements slow and controlled, like he was savoring the moment.

He placed a hand on her throat again, this time with a gentle but deliberate squeeze that sent a shiver down her spine. His thumb brushed along her jawline as he leaned in, his voice low and commanding.

"Are you going to be a good girl for me?" he asked, his tone dripping with authority and heat.

Y/N's breath hitched as she nodded slowly, unable to look away from his piercing gaze.

Her voice was caught somewhere in her throat, so she let her actions speak for her, tilting her head slightly into his touch.

Harry smirked, leaning down until his lips were just a breath away from her ear. His voice dropped even lower, a whisper that made her skin prickle with anticipation.

"I knew you would be," he murmured, his tone both teasing and possessive.

The words sent a jolt through her, and she felt her body react instinctively, her cheeks flushing as she surrendered to the moment.

Harry's lips brushed against the corner of her jaw, trailing down her neck as his hand stayed firmly but gently in place. Every movement felt deliberate, like he wanted her to feel every second of his attention.

Whatever control Y/N thought she had going into this was slipping fast, and the way Harry's touch consumed her made it clear—he knew it, too.

Harry paused, his intense green eyes meeting Y/N’s as he leaned over her. His hand lingered on her throat, his grip light but enough to hold her attention completely. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, didn’t move any closer. He just looked at her, his gaze softening slightly, as if he were silently asking her a question.

It wasn’t just a look—it was a pause, a chance for her to stop him if she wanted to. His eyes, usually so guarded, were now open and searching, silently asking for her consent.

Y/N’s heart raced as she looked back at him, feeling the weight of his unspoken question. She swallowed, her breath shallow as she gave him the answer he was waiting for. Slowly, purposely, she nodded.

Harry’s lips curved into a faint smile, a mixture of relief and satisfaction crossing his face. “Good,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with an edge of tenderness.

He leaned down again, his lips brushing hers as his hand on her throat tightened just slightly, enough to make her feel both safe and completely at his mercy. And as the space between them disappeared, Y/N felt herself giving in fully, her trust in him unwavering.

Harry's piercing gaze never left Y/N's face, his touch as light as a butterfly's wings. He slowly pulled her to the edge, his hands on her hips. The soft rustle of sheets filled the room as she sank into the bedding, eyes darting up to meet his.

Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of him undoing his pants, revealing his hardness beneath. She gulped audibly as he climbed onto the bed with her, their bodies pressed together from chest to knees. His hand trailed down her side, stopping just above her thigh and giving it a gentle squeeze. His touch sent shivers of anticipation up and down her spine.

"Tell me what you want," he whispered against her earlobe, his hot breath causing goosebumps to form on her skin.

She bit her lip, hesitating for only a moment before whispering back, "I want you to take control."

Harry's smirk was both predatory and reassuring as he nodded once in understanding. His hand slid underneath her shirt, tracing patterns across her stomach before moving higher till it reached its destination: her lacy black bra. He palmed one of her breasts through the fabric, eliciting a moan from deep within her throat that echoed around them. His thumb circled her nipple roughly, making it harden into a tight bud underneath his touch.

His lips followed suit, kissing along her jawline and trailing down towards that erect nipple. He flicked it with his tongue teasingly while simultaneously tug

His smile was wicked as he leaned back, a glint in his eye. "Is that so?" He trailed kisses down her neck, his stubble grazing against her sensitive skin, making her shudder with pleasure. His hand slid between their bodies and brushed against her center, indulging in the wetness there. She gasped at the sensation, arching into his touch.

"You're so ready for me," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. He pushed her shorts aside and slid one finger inside her slowly, feeling the tightness surrounding him. Y/N moaned softly, her hips grinding against his hand in encouragement.

Harry removed his finger, teasing her as he lowered his head to capture one of her nipples in his mouth. He growled softly against her skin, sucking gently as he began to thrust two fingers inside her in short, quick motions that sent waves of pleasure coursing through her body. She cried out softly, gripping the sheets beneath her as he continued his ministrations. He quickly undressed her and stared at her body. Y/N felt hot under his eyes. 

They quickly lost themselves in each other's touches. The squeak of the bedframe echoed in the room as Harry positioned himself at her entrance and pushed inside her slowly. She gasped at the fullness but welcomed it, urging him on with a nod of encouragement.

He slowed down, taking deep breaths to regain control as he braced himself above her. "Are you sure you're ready for this?" he asked hoarsely, gaze locked onto hers.

Y/N nodded fiercely, signaling him to continue. With a low growl of approval, he began moving inside her slowly but steadily, their 

bodies meeting in a dance of desire. Every thrust sent ripples of pleasure through them both, their skin slick with sweat under the dim light of the bedside lamp. The air was thick with an almost palpable tension as they moved together, the sound of their bodies meeting filling the room.

Harry's grip on her hips tightened, his rhythm becoming faster and harder, mirroring the desire that flared in his eyes. Y/N met him stroke for stroke, their eyes locked on each other as if they were the only two people in the room. The sounds of skin slapping against skin filled the silence beneath the duvet, broken only by their heavy breathing and soft moans.

Her fingernails dug into his shoulders as she neared her climax, his name falling from her lips in a whispered plea. Without missing a beat, he quickened his pace, his cock driving into her with urgency. Their connection was intense, overwhelming, everything she could have asked for and more.

As she cried out in ecstasy beneath him, feeling her orgasm wash over her like a wave, Harry followed close behind. His body tensed as he groaned loudly, filling her with his warmth and love. Their hearts raced in unison as they finally collapsed onto each other, panting heavily but content.

He rolled off her slowly, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead before rolling onto his back beside her. 

Harry lay on his side, propped up on one elbow as he looked down at Y/N. His green eyes were softer now, a flicker of mischief dancing in them as he smirked. 

"So," he said, his voice low and teasing, "are you going to text your little girl chat and tell them we fucked?" Y/N let out a surprised laugh, turning her head to look at him. 

"What? No! They'd never let me live it down."

Harry raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying himself. 

"You should. Tell them the hot, mysterious guy was really grumpy the whole time."Y/N laughed even harder, covering her face with her hand. 

"Oh, right. That'll really sell it. 'Hey, girls, just an FYl, my grumpy neighbor is not only hot but also excellent in bed. Highly recommend.'"

Harry chuckled, his grin widening. "Not bad. Make sure you add in the part about how I stayed in character the whole time-grumpy and all."

She rolled her eyes, still smiling as she nudged him playfully. "Fine. I'll throw in that your scowl is even sexier up close. Happy?"

"Ecstatic," he said dryly, though the amused glint in his eyes gave him away. YN shook her head, the laughter subsiding into a warm smile.

 "You know," she said, her tone softening, "you might be mysterious and grumpy, but you're also a little cocky. Just saying."

Harry leaned down, his face inches from hers.

"Maybe," he murmured, his voice low and teasing. "But I think you like it."

Her cheeks flushed as she looked up at him, biting back a grin. "Maybe I do."

"Good," he said simply, before capturing her lips in a slow, deliberate kiss that made her forget about everything else-including her friends waiting for updates in the group chat.

The week passed in a blur of near-misses and brief encounters between Y/N and Harry. She saw him in the mailroom once, where he gave her a small nod and the faintest hint of a smirk before disappearing upstairs. Another time, they crossed paths in the hallway, exchanging quick hellos but nothing more.

Neither of them brought up the night they spent together, and while Y/N tried to brush it off as a casual hookup, part of her couldn’t help but wonder if he was deliberately avoiding the topic. She didn’t want to push, figuring Harry would open up if and when he was ready.

Then, one evening, as she was curled up on her couch with a glass of wine and her laptop, her phone buzzed with a text.

Harry:

Hey. Sorry I’ve been so distant this week. The gallery is getting ready for a new showing, and it’s been… a lot.

Y/N stared at the message for a moment, her stomach fluttering. She hadn’t expected him to reach out, let alone apologize.

Y/N:

Hey, no worries. I figured you were busy. New showing sounds exciting though!

A moment later, her phone buzzed again.

Harry:

It is. Stressful, but worth it. You should come by. It’s this Saturday night. Bring your friends if you want.

Y/N’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Harry inviting her to his gallery? That felt… significant.

Y/N:

I’d love to. Are you sure you want me to bring my friends? They’re a little… loud.

Harry:

If they’re anything like you, I’m already prepared for chaos.

She laughed softly, shaking her head.

Y/N:

Fair warning: chaos is guaranteed. But I’ll be there.

Harry:

Good. I’ll send you the details tomorrow.

Y/N set her phone down, a small smile tugging at her lips. For all of Harry’s grumpiness and guarded demeanor, this felt like his way of extending an olive branch—a step toward something more. And she couldn’t deny that the idea of seeing him in his element, at the gallery, intrigued her.

She grabbed her phone again and opened the group chat with Harper and Lila.

Y/N:

Ladies, clear your schedules for Saturday night. We’re going to an art gallery.

Predictably, her phone exploded with responses almost immediately.

Lila:

Wait, is this Harry’s gallery?

Harper:

The grumpy tattooed neighbor has an art gallery?

Y/N:

Yes. He invited me. And before you ask—no, we’re not talking about the other night.

Lila:

Boring. But fine, we’re in. Is there wine?

Harper:

And snacks?

Y/N:

I’ll ask. But behave yourselves. He already thinks I’m loud.

Lila:

Oh, honey, we’re just getting started.

Y/N laughed, already imagining the chaos her friends would inevitably bring. But deep down, she was looking forward to Saturday more than she cared to admit. 

The week crawled by as Saturday approached, each day slower than the last. Y/N found herself obsessing over small details—whether Harry would be too busy to notice her, what kind of people attended art gallery showings, and most importantly, what to wear. She wanted to look effortlessly put-together, like someone who appreciated art but wasn’t trying too hard.

By Saturday afternoon, her room was a battlefield of discarded outfits. Finally, she settled on a sleek black jumpsuit paired with a cropped denim jacket and ankle boots—stylish but not over the top. She added a few gold accessories and a swipe of lipstick before grabbing her bag and heading out the door.

On the way to Silver Lake, she picked up Harper and Lila, who were already buzzing with excitement when they climbed into the car.

“You look hot,” Lila said, eyeing her outfit. “Very ‘I like art but I’m too cool to talk about it.’”

“Thanks,” Y/N said, laughing as she started the car. “I’m going for low-key, not intimidating.”

“Well, mission accomplished,” Harper chimed in, adjusting her blazer. 

Y/N glanced at them in the rearview mirror, grinning. Harper wore a bold red jumpsuit, while Lila had opted for a metallic skirt and leather jacket. 

By the time they pulled into Silver Lake, the sun had set, and the neighborhood was alive with energy. The gallery came into view, its windows glowing warmly against the evening sky. People were milling about on the sidewalk, chatting in small groups with glasses of wine in hand, while others filtered in and out of the bustling space.

“This is it,” Y/N said, parking the car and taking a deep breath.

“It’s so fancy,” Lila said, practically bouncing in her seat. “Look at all these people!”

Harper leaned forward, peering out the window. “I’m already picturing Harry brooding in a corner, glaring at anyone who talks too loud.”

“Probably,” Y/N muttered, her heart fluttering as she got out of the car. She grabbed her bag and adjusted her jacket before turning to her friends. “Okay, let’s not embarrass me too much, yeah?”

“No promises,” Harper said with a grin, looping her arm through Y/N’s as they headed toward the gallery entrance.

Inside, the space was even more vibrant. The walls were adorned with bold, eclectic pieces of art—paintings, sculptures, and mixed-media pieces that immediately drew attention. Soft music played in the background, and servers wove through the crowd with trays of wine and hors d’oeuvres. The hum of conversation filled the air, blending with the occasional burst of laughter.

Y/N’s eyes scanned the room, searching for Harry. She didn’t spot him right away, but she noticed how carefully curated the space felt—each piece arranged with intention. It was a reflection of him, she realized, meticulous and thoughtful.

“This is amazing,” Harper said, grabbing a glass of wine from a passing server. “He really knows what he’s doing.”

Lila nudged Y/N. “Speaking of, where is Mr. Grumpy Art Dealer? I want to see him in his element.”

“I don’t know,” Y/N said, glancing around again. “He’s probably—”

Before she could finish, her gaze landed on him. Harry stood near the back of the room, dressed in a crisp black shirt with the sleeves rolled up, showcasing his tattoos. He was talking to a small group of people, but his eyes flicked toward her as if he could feel her presence.

Their gazes locked for a moment, and he gave her a subtle nod before turning back to his conversation. Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, and she felt Lila squeeze her arm.

“Oh, he definitely saw you,” Lila said, grinning. “And I’m not imagining the way he looked at you.”

“Stop,” Y/N hissed, her cheeks flushing. But she couldn’t deny it—there was something in his gaze that felt personal, even in the middle of the crowd.

“Go say hi,” Harper urged, giving her a nudge.

“Not yet,” Y/N said, grabbing a glass of wine for herself. “I’ll wait until he’s free. Let’s just look around first.”

As they wandered through the gallery, admiring the artwork, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that Harry’s eyes were on her—even when she wasn’t looking his way.

Y/N wandered through the gallery, sipping her wine as she admired the artwork. Each piece was so different—some abstract, others intricate and detailed—but all of them carried a sense of purpose. It was easy to see that Harry had a good eye for curating.

She glanced across the room and saw Harper and Lila chatting animatedly with a group of women, likely bonding over their outfits or the wine. Typical, she thought with a smile, shaking her head.

As she moved to the next painting—a striking piece of layered colors and textures—she felt someone step up beside her. There was a shift in the air, a quiet presence that made her turn her head.

It was Harry.

He stood with his hands in his pockets, his gaze fixed on the painting. His black shirt, with the sleeves still rolled up, contrasted sharply against the warm tones of the art, and his tattoos seemed to blend seamlessly into the aesthetic of the space.

“It’s acrylic and resin,” he said, his voice low but steady. “The artist used palette knives for the texture and then poured resin over it to give it that shine. Took weeks to cure properly.”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard for a moment before she found her words. “It’s beautiful,” she said softly, turning her attention back to the piece. “I love the depth in it. It feels like you could reach in and get lost.”

Harry glanced at her, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “That’s the idea. The artist wanted it to feel immersive, like stepping into an emotional landscape.”

She looked at him, her curiosity piqued. “Do you know all the details of every piece in here?”

“Pretty much,” he admitted, his smirk growing. “Part of the job. I like to understand the process—it helps me connect with the artists and explain it to people who come through.”

Y/N smiled, sipping her wine. “It’s impressive. You’ve created something really special here.”

Harry looked at her again, his green eyes studying her for a moment. “Thanks,” he said quietly. “It means a lot, coming from you.”

She tilted her head, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. “Why me?”

He shrugged slightly, his gaze flicking back to the painting. “Because you actually look at the art. Most people just see it, but you’re trying to understand it.”

Her cheeks warmed at the unexpected compliment, and she turned back to the painting to hide her flustered expression. “Well, you make it hard not to appreciate it. The way you talk about it… it’s obvious how much you care.”

He didn’t respond right away, and the silence between them felt comfortable, almost intimate. Finally, he leaned in just slightly, his voice softer now.

“I’m glad you came,” he said.

Y/N turned to look at him again, her heart skipping a beat at the closeness between them. “Me too,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, the bustling crowd around them faded into the background, leaving just the two of them standing there, the art surrounding them as if it were part of their story.

Harry slipped his hand into Y/N’s, his fingers warm and steady as he gently tugged her through the gallery. She followed without question, her curiosity mounting as they weaved between groups of people. He didn’t say a word, just led her down a quieter section of the space where fewer people were lingering.

When they stopped, Y/N noticed the piece in front of them was a painting—bold yet delicate, with strokes that somehow conveyed both strength and softness. She tilted her head, studying it, drawn to the way the light and shadows played across the figure in the painting. There was something familiar about it, something that tugged at her memory.

She took a step closer, her heart beating faster as the realization slowly dawned on her. The painting wasn’t just beautiful—it was her.

Her breath caught in her throat, and she turned to Harry, her eyes wide. “Is this…?”

He nodded, his gaze steady but unreadable. “It’s you.”

Y/N stared at the painting again, her mind racing. The details were unmistakable—the way her hair fell, the soft curve of her face, the hint of a thoughtful expression she’d never realized she wore. But it wasn’t just her likeness; it was the way the he had captured something deeper, something vulnerable and raw.

“How?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Harry’s lips curved into the faintest smile. “I started it a few weeks after I moved in. I didn’t even know your name then. I just… saw you.”

Her chest tightened as she turned to him again. “You saw me?”

He nodded, his green eyes softer now. “In the mailroom. In the hallway. On your balcony once, drinking coffee. I didn’t know why, but there was something about you that I couldn’t get out of my head. So, I painted.”

Y/N felt her cheeks warm, a mix of emotions swirling inside her—flattery, disbelief, and something she couldn’t quite name. “Harry, this is… incredible. I don’t even know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he said, his voice low but steady. “I just thought you should see it. This is the first time I’ve shown it to anyone.”

Her heart thudded in her chest, and she took a step closer to him, her voice soft. “Why me?”

Harry’s gaze locked on hers, his expression open and sincere. “Because it’s you, Y/N. I couldn’t have painted this if it wasn’t.”

The noise of the gallery faded around them as she stood there, her hand still in his, staring up at the painting of herself. For the first time, she saw herself through someone else’s eyes—not as the loud, chaotic neighbor, but as something worthy of being captured in art.

And Harry, the grumpy, mysterious neighbor, was the one who had done it.

[stllmnstr]

something old, something new

hello have a 2.3k drabble about Heeseung still having feelings for his ex heavily inspired by the above behind the scenes no doubt mv pics and based on this anon prompt sent to me:

this was supposed to be short but I got carried away and ended up writing 2.3k on my PHONE in an hour so please excuse any typos 😭

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

Lee Heeseung loves weddings.

When he admits this to people, which is in and of itself a fairly rare occasion, they assume it’s for all of the usual reasons.

The open bar, the well curated playlist, the free food... After all, those are the typical things men in their mid twenties tend to enjoy. And Heeseung always nods along. Forces a laugh whenever his conversation partner cracks another age old joke about getting a little too tipsy on the dance floor.

Besides, it’s not like he’s immune to baser pleasures. At twenty-five, Heeseung does genuinely enjoy eating well and getting drunk on someone else’s dime.

But if he digs a little deeper, is a little more honest with himself, the real reason he loves weddings so much is the romance of it all.

A white dress thats been agonized over and alternated to perfection. A cake thats been taste-tested and intentionally designed with the lucky couple in mind. A venue that likely cost an arm and a leg, but it’s worth it, because it’s the place where two people get to display the love they have for each other in front of everyone that’s important in their lives.

And Jay, he thinks, has outdone them all. The ballroom Heeseung steps into with perfectly shined shoes is jaw-droppingly gorgeous. Crystal chandeliers bathe the high ceilinged room in soft, warm light that almost glows like candles at dusk.

The aisle separates two generously sized sections of seating from one another. Each table is laid with a crease less cream colored tablecloth and a bouquet of flowers that Heeseung doesn’t want to guess the price of. It’s stunning. It’s perfect.

And Jay, Heeseung’s best friend of thirteen years, deserves nothing less.

Jake seems to agree. Coming to stand next to Heeseung, he jerks his chin towards the door that leads to the neighboring room. “I just heard from a very trustworthy source that the open bar starts at 1 pm sharp,” he grins.

Heeseung has a sneaking suspicious that this trustworthy source is Sunghoon, which means it’s likely to be incorrect. Besides, booze isn’t what he’s here for.

“Hopefully not,” Heeseung nudges Jake’s shoulder, “since no one wants to watch you stumble down the aisle.”

“At least I’m just a groomsman.” Jake shrugs. “You, on the other hand, Mr. Best Man, have to be on your best behavior. Besides, I can handle my alcohol.”

Heeseung’s lips flatten. “I have several videos that prove otherwise.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jake waves his palm. “I’ll be good. I promise. No shots until after the ceremony.”

Heeseung just rolls his eyes. His younger friend might be a little more lax when it comes to conducting himself in public, but Heeseung isn’t actually worried. This is Jay’s wedding, after all. And no matter how much Jake and Sunghoon enjoy a good party, they also know how to take things seriously when it matters.

For a moment, Jake just looks around the room, taking it in like Heeseung had a few minutes prior. Similar actions, different conclusions. Jake doesn’t comment on the lighting or the tablecloths or even the romance. Instead, he says, “I can’t believe Jay’s actually getting married.”

“Yeah,” Heeseung breathes. Jay is the first in their friend group to officially leave bachelor-hood, and it does feel a bit strange to bear witness to. “Me neither.”

Jake is still shaking his head. “And he’s the first one out of all of us. That’s almost weirder. You know, we always thought it would be –”

Remembering himself, Jake lets the sentiment die on his lips.

It doesn’t matter, though. Heeseung already knows what he was going to say.

We always thought it would be you.

Four long years ago, at twenty-one, Heeseung had felt far too young for marriage. But that didn’t stop him from imagining what you’d look like in a white dress. What flavor of wedding cake the two of you would select from the box of samples. What overpriced venue you would decide to officially intertwine your lives in.

It didn’t stop him from tucking away a small, velvet box in the back of his drawer for safekeeping. From fantasizing about kneeling in front of you and finally sliding a gorgeous, sparking ring right where he wanted it to belong.

It didn’t stop him from making promises and plans. Adjustments to his life just to make sure there was always space for you.

But one year later, the box and the ring inside were still tucked away. And the love Heeseung kept safe suddenly had no place to go.

He told his friends it was mutual, that you’d made the decision together. But Heeseung never wanted to let go. Even if a job opportunity meant you had to move across the country. Even if it made no logical sense for him to follow when he was still finishing his degree.

It was circumstances, he explained to his friends, to his family. Not anything either of you did wrong.

But alone, surrounded by the four walls of his bedroom and the overwhelming clamor of his own thoughts, Heeseung just cried. Sobbed. The kind of tears that left him gasping for air and with a throb behind his temple.

Because he knew that he never would have done that to you. He would have turned down the job, would have found a way to make long distance work, would have transferred to another university to be close to you even if it wasn’t logical.

He would have done it, the big romantic gesture that gives the rom-com a happy ending and signals to the production team that it’s time to roll the credits.

But you didn’t. When he suggested long distance, you just sighed. And there were tears in your eyes too, but there was no fight.

So Heeseung, despite every bone in his body screaming at him not to, let you go.

And now, three years later, he’s about to watch his best friend get married and pretend it doesn’t sting. He’s happy for Jay. He is. But the selfish parts of him will always wish he was the one waiting at the end of the aisle instead. For you.

The universe has never made a habit of bending to his desires, though, and he fulfills his role as best man well. The ceremony goes off without a hitch, and Jake is appropriately steady-footed in his role as a groomsman.

The white dress is gorgeous. The cake is delicious. The venue is perfect. Whatever romance is, Jay and his fiancée — no, his wife — have captured it well.

Despite his earlier words, Heeseung makes a home for himself at the aforementioned open bar the second the ceremony is over. Knocking back another swig of whiskey, he appreciates the slight burn. At least it’s in his throat this time, instead of his heart. And at least it’s induced by alcohol instead of misplaced jealousy.

But he must have had one too many drinks, because for a fleeting moment, he swears that the late arrival that makes a hesitant entrance into the reception room is—

No.

There’s no way.

You only knew Jay because you knew Heeseung, and those flowers withered three long years ago. You have no reason to be here now.

But then he hears it, and oh the lurch in his heart hurts just as bad as it did the first time. Because despite the improbability of it all, that’s your voice that floats above the music and exchanged pleasantries with another guest. Even after all the time that’s passed, Heeseung would know it anywhere. Could pick it out of any crowd.

He turns to you slowly, as if he can delay the inevitable just a little longer. As soon as his eyes land on you, he realizes his mistake. He shouldn’t have looked at you at all, should have just slid off the bar stool and ran in the other direction because it still hurts.

You’re three years older, and the time has been good to you. The evening dress you wear hangs from your body in a way that only reminds him of what you look like beneath it, of the way running his hands and his lips and his love over the skin you conceal used to feel like second nature. The way you used to play with his hair with his head in your lap, trading small moments of intimacy after a long day.

It hurts. It aches and it stings and it burns.

He has to get out of here. He has to leave. Now.

Not caring if he’s making a scene, Heeseung stands from the barstool. The only reason he tries to be somewhat discreet is to avoid the heat of your gaze.

All the way to the door on the opposite side of the room, he doesn’t turn back. Not once. On the other side of the door, he lets his body go limp against the solid surface beneath his spine, just for a moment. He exhales a long held breath.

But the air is still stifling, even as he loosens the tie at his neck. Straightening back to his full height, he turns down a short hallway until he arrives at the small outdoor balcony he noticed earlier.

The air outside is cold, at least. Fresh.

On the horizon, the sun spends its last few moments of the day painting the sky in gorgeous, golden hues. Heeseung squints, but he doesn’t look away. Hands wrapped around the bannister that lines the balcony, he sags into himself.

Shoulders hunched, he forces a long inhale into his lungs. And then he releases it. His breath is a pattern he can cling to, something steady that tethers him back to reality. Something to focus on that isn’t the war in his mind.

But peacetime is only an illusion. After a handful of quiet minutes, he hears the door open behind him.

“Oh,” you startle. He knows it’s you, even from just one syllable. “Sorry, I didn’t realize someone was out here already. I’ll just…” Your words trail off into silence, but Heeseung doesn’t hear retreating footsteps, doesn’t hear the door close again. After another stilted moment, what he hears is, “Heeseung?”

Your voice is small. As if you can apologize just by being gentle. As if he’s a wounded animal you don’t want to startle.

And Heeseung, despite himself, does feel a bit like a kitten left out in the rain when he finds it in himself to turn and face you.

The only word he says is your name. His tone is steady, even. More so than he thought he was capable of. But he’s looking at you now too, and his eyes have never been good at hiding secrets.

“I…” You trail off again. You’re at a loss too. “How are you?”

“Don’t do that,” Heeseung shakes his head.

“I’m sorry,” you retreat immediately. But Heeseung remembers when you used to argue, when you used to fight back. When you valued the strength of your relationship over his wounded pride.

“Don’t be,” Heeseung shakes his head again. “You made your choice, so stick to it. You don’t get to…” He screws his eyes shut for a moment, fist clenching at his side. Opening his eyes again, he matches your gaze. “You don’t get to leave me and then apologize for it.”

Your breath hitches, but you don’t miss a beat. “I meant for intruding,” you tell him. “I was apologizing for disturbing you.”

But you remember how he used to love making space for you in his life. How his plans were your plans and his time alone on a balcony would only be made better if you were there, too.

And you still remember the day you were inspired by a strong bout of spring fever, how you dedicated an entire afternoon to deep cleaning.

You still remember the small, velvet box you found.

You didn’t open it, but you didn’t have to. The small, nondescript container scared you enough. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to marry Heeseung. You already had Pinterest boards full of white dresses and three-tier cakes and stunning venues. Suits that you thought would bring out his best features.

But you’d also just gotten the news of your promotion. Across the country. You didn’t know how to tell him, and you had less of an idea how to leave him.

But you knew you had to. He would follow you, if you let him. You were sure of it. But he was enrolled in the best university for his program, and you watched him fight tooth and nail to earn his spot there.

Heeseung was a bright light, a beacon of good things, and if you were honest with yourself, you felt like his commitment to you was something that only weighed him down.

He was an adult, too. A young one, yes, but a full, grown person all the same. Perfectly capable of making his own decisions, but you took that from him anyway.

And now, three years later, you can still read him like an open book. There’s hurt in his gaze, pain that lingers even now. There’s resentment, too, and you can’t blame him for it.

I still love you, you want to tell him. Because it’s true. Because you do. Because you can see it in his eyes, too.

But you’ve always been better at holding your tongue than him.

Instead, you turn on your heel, planning to exit the way you came.

Fingers around the door handle, the sound of your name stops you.

It sounds like he’s begging, like he’s pleading, and you can’t bear to turn and see the results of your devastation as surely as you hear them.

Instead, you remain motionless. You squeeze your eyes shut as tightly as you can.

And then, so faintly it’s almost lost to the wind, he says, “Stay. Please.”

.....

thanks for reading! send me a drabble prompt here if you'd like!

[dcxdpdabbles]

In the spirit of commenting more on fics/supporting authors, I’ve finally decided to stop lurking, and say, hey, hi, hello there!

How are you doing today?

I just wanted to say you’re one of my all-time favorite DPxDC writers—in fact, I’ve been following you and your work since The Bakery is a Front!…right?'s first chapter back in June 2023, and it’s been such an amazing ride getting to read all of the wonderful stories you’ve created! They’re all so very creative (and hilarious!), the pacing is always great, and I love how your way of storytelling is easygoing and mellow; it’s so casual and cozy and easy to get into (for lack of a better phrasing)!

And can I just say how much I adore the way you write each and every single character, and their reactions/inner thoughts/dialogue about whatever’s going down in the plot, be it an ongoing story, oneshot, the tags, or those adorable little “From a fic I never wrote” tidbits? 10/10 every single time! (Your dialogue’s super great!!!!!!!)

I can’t count the number of times I’ve gone and reread everything you’ve published, nor how much time passes by whenever I do so. All I know is that my worries go away whenever I read your stories; they’re quite comforting!

Your stories provide so much inspiration, it’s even gotten to the point where I made a mini analysis for Danny’s Grill, and two playlists for Danny Fenton’s Ex and The Adopted Son (though that last one hasn’t been updated, since I haven’t had a chance to officially finish the last three? parts lol; that, and both playlists share a lot of the same songs), though all of those were either unpublished or kept private.

(They’ve also given way to many plot bunnies lol)

It’s a sentiment that bears repeating: you are an amazing writer, you’re so big brained, and I love everything you’ve ever written; don’t let anybody tell you otherwise!!!

I wasn’t sure how to end this, aside from hoping you have a good day or whatever time it may be for you, so I’ll leave off with a quote from one of my favorite songs, from one of my all-time favorite musicals, that’s hopefully… er, comforting? Wasn’t sure how to describe it (and if it isn’t, then I apologize for that):

“Just keep moving on. Anything you do, let it come from you, then it will be new. Give us more to see.” — Dot (Sunday in the Park with George, “Moving On,”)

SUOGHSOHUOGFUOHUGFWUEH

THIS WAS SUCH A NICE THING TO READ!!!

Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! I can't believe you enjoyed those aus so much you made playlists and mini analysis, but it makes me so happy that you did.

[sunboki]

— HELLION INN. (TEASER) a Stray Kids fiction

🌖 : Lee Minho x implied! fem. reader

TROPE. dystopian! au, enemies to lovers, monster! au, apocalypse! au, “we have to get along to survive” au, angst, high stakes

WORD COUNT. estimated to be around 5k - 10k words

WARNINGS. gory descriptions, cursing, descriptive violence, implied intercourse, death, murder, usage of guns, injury, knives, reader and minho are “hunted”, mature themes

AUG'S NOTES. hi everyone! say hello to my long-rotting draft, turned fic! i tried something a little spooky for the october season, hopefully it’s to your satisfaction! i’m really looking forward to finishing this piece :)

PLAYLIST.

SYNOPSIS. Receiving an ominous letter in the mail, a monster invades Seoul minutes later, carrying an uncanny sense of smell despite its blindness. Countless people have been slaughtered already, and with your letter as the only meager explanation to this madness, you find your feet leading towards the one place it said was safe: Hellion Inn.

or alternatively :

Minho won’t let you die. Not if it means letting this Monster get him or hell’s dawning itself. You’re going to survive. Together.

Run, something is coming. Go to Hellion Inn, you’ll be safe there.

Something? What is something? A terrorist attack? War?

Never had such a letter arrived at your doorstep other than this Tuesday, with the morning sunlight peeking through half-opened blinds casting your pajama-clad frame in its cascades.

And again, you reread and reread, questions raging in a distorted frenzy amidst your once just-wakening mind. 

Little were you aware what would come. What already roamed Seoul’s streets, approaching closer, closer. 

One objective resides in too many possibilities. 

Find Hellion Inn. 

.

.

.

Stuffing the letter in your pocket serves as the most sensible solution while you go over your options. If you didn’t have a clue about what dishes would be cooked, you’d check the ingredients first.

And yet, upon turning on the TV, you find your meal already served. 

On a platter, dripping with blood.

“This just in, an unidentifiable entity is making its way through Seoul in a rampage. The creature is highly dangerous. It appears to lack vision, and speculation has deemed it relies upon its smell to discern other beings. The creature has not been detained at this time. Under no circumstances should citizens leave their residences, and in the case you’re on the street, please evacuate to the nearest shelter immediately. Further information will be released.”

Your blood runs frigidly cold, enough you swear you could’ve turned to ice.

All of a sudden, war or a terrorist attack doesn’t sound nearly as daunting as before.

A monster. Ruthless, bloodthirsty. 

Monster. 

Instantaneously are news sites everywhere exploding, posting footage, pictures, and accounts of the creature each second. 

More and more and more until-

It all goes dark, your home plunged into a black abyss meagerly sustained by the sun’s rays, phone in hand ultimately powering off. 

Electricity down. Fully.

This isn’t like a usual predicament of a public threat, not something you’re prepared for, nor something anyone was prepared for. There’s no drill for a monster, no tsunami shelter or high rise building to reside upon. 

Was it obliviousness? Or were you all simply sheep to a ravaging wolf?

The latter seemed most convincing.

An exhale. No, a growl is what breaks your train of thought. Like the chuff of a tiger, curdling in its throat. 

Above. 

You can’t even bring yourself to move, can’t bear to breathe in fear you’d give yourself away as a shadow covers that once hopeful sunlight.

No shadow, but a thing. A monster. 

How did it get here so fast? How.. how the hell is this happening?

The sound of tiles shifting on your roof makes your fingers twitch, eyes stuck wide. 

The worlds apex predators turned into the prey. 

Each pound of your heart lies evident in ringing ears, listening to those low, horrendous gurgles, repeating that same chuff before it shifts again.

Again and again, and you’re unmoving.

Leave. Run. Anything. 

Yet, you can’t move a muscle, glued in place.

Until you do, and your legs act before you can process a thing. Grabbing for items, whatever it may be. Mind unable to process in its frantic state.

No. No.

A plea as your hand wraps around the doorknob, beginning down the apartment complex’s stairs in rapid descent, listening to the slow growls of the creature.

Don’t look behind, just go.

A mistake you find yourself making even when a life is on the line.

Your life is on the line.

And when you spare that single glimpse, murky lifeless eyes stare blindly back at you, bulging from its skull as if they never were intended to be there. Skin a hallowed, fleshy tone — ligaments hung awry. 

Disorderly, distasteful. If you look close enough, you swear you could’ve seen a beating heart, watched the oxygen cells rush through a pumping bloodstream. 

Gaping jaws hold copious teeth, ant-like incisors residing on either side of a ceaselessly smiling mouth, the corners of what appears to be lips ascending all the way up to nonexistent ears. 

Four legs, two antennae atop its head. At least two times the size of a human.

Horrific.

Never had such a thing appeared so terrifying.

With the letter clutched in one hand and your powerless phone in another do you run, praying that nonexistent vision truly is nonexistent.

Well, until a car alarm begins to ring, and you feel your stomach climb to your throat simultaneously.

Because it twitches. Not even a glance-sort of reaction. The entirety of whatever neck that monster hones twitches to look at you with a nausea-worthy crack! of its ligaments. Those jaws parted, a flattened nose breathing in.

And then it lurches, and you don’t think you’ve ever ran as fast as you did now.

Far, far. As far as you can go. 

It’s futile listening to gargled cries for help amongst rubble, the reaching of hands for your feet you can’t even spare a moment for as those scraping claws continue their perilous dance after you, scavenging on people as they go. 

So the second an intact person comes into view—a boy, looking about your age (and freakishly calm at that) with fluffy hair and rounded cheeks retaining such youth—you’re racing ahead before you can even think, ramming through those convenience store doors in a flurry of panic and fear.

“Monster— Monster- there’s a monster we have to go-“

“Do you like grilled cheese?” He mumbles, and you wonder if he’s talking to himself or you, no less asking such a question during this downright apocalypse.

“No, no there is—“ A shriek pierces the air in the distance, the clutter of debris alerting the monster’s proximity.

You, in a frantic attempt to redirect his attention, place either hand on his shoulders.

“A monster. There’s a monster out there and if we don’t hide, it’s going to kill us.” 

The boy licks his lips, cocking a contemplative brow before looking toward the freezer section. 

“Freezer?”

At this point the creature might as well be turning the corner, and you don’t need to respond for either of you to go running as fast as your legs will carry you, stuffing yourselves into the biting cold just as the bells above the entrance door ring.

Scariest part is this customer is intelligent enough to open doors.

This customer isn’t human. 

Like slow-motion you hear it. The pounding of your heartbeat in your ears, the lack of air in such a tight space, the monster’s rumbling.

Your hidden counterpart lodged himself into a freezer opposite to you, eyes squeezed shut the nearer clicking footsteps on tile sounded.

Click.

Click.

Click.

You don’t realize your eyes are closed until you open them, met with the monster’s face, hundreds of razor-sharp teeth lining its mouth, stretched into that same, chilling smile while it stares at you through the glass.

It can’t see you. It can’t see you. It can’t see you, You internally plead like a mantra, suffocating on the scream rising in your throat.

The loud clanging of a soup can the boy throws has the creature’s disfigured face whipping around, and you wordlessly communicate through mere terrified-eye-contact what either of you are thinking:

Run.

Without conscious you go flying, ramming past discarded groceries and tormented bodies into Seoul’s open roadway, void of any vehicle whatsoever.

Except for one.  

It’s a tow truck, key still lodged into the ignition, window broken with streaks of blood lining the door where a middle-aged man’s body had been dragged out. He rests lopsided below the front tire, abdomen severed in half.

Grotesque. 

“Car- Car!” You cry out, wildly gesturing for him to follow suit while you pry the driver’s door open, the monster’s frustrated growl enough motivation for the stranger to throw himself in as well.

In the nick of time you press down on the pedal, winding the wheel in a quick motion just as the hell-sent smashes itself from the shop, evidently angered.

“I’m Han!” The man occupying the passenger seat shouts, the hole through the windshield causing enormous amounts of wind to soar through the car and synonymously blur your senses.

“What?!” 

“My name is Han! Han Jisung!”

Squinting whilst looking through your mirror at the wickedly approaching Monster, you veer past as many obstacles as possible — most being corpses — as fast as the engine will let you.

“Oh! Uh, I’m Y/N!”

Han nods, grasp clutched onto his seat the more you speed increases, recklessly maneuvering left and right as if dodging a crocodile. 

Unfortunately, this wasn’t a crocodile, but a blood-thirsty beast wanting nothing more than to behead you. How sweet.

“Do you… Do you know how to drive?” He yells, and you raise your eyebrows, narrowly shifting past a shopping cart.

“If you count Mario-Kart as driving, I’m a pro!”

Han audibly squeaks his fear in response, eyes squeezing shut as if to not stare at the monster’s face nearing the mirror.

The speedometer cries out, vehicle shuddering as you near train tracks just at the edge of the city. 

Hopeful. 

Fleeting hope when the roar of a train’s whistle soars through the air, the look Han gives you doing little to sustain your already thinned sanity.

Perhaps you’ll die getting hit by a train than this monster.

Perhaps it’s better that way.

“We’re not gonna make it we’re not gonna make it we’re not gonna make i—“

“SHUT THE FUCK UP—-“ You screech, foot slammed as far down on the gas pedal as possible, the rumbling of the train’s engine deafening. 

“HOLY SHITTTT—“ The man screams, mouth ajar as you soar over the tracks, preparing for impact only for a hair of the train’s front barely brushing over the car’s bumper. 

Currently realizing you’re still breathing and not dead, you floor the brake, either of you launching forward in your seats while the endless train keeps the monster at bay on the opposite side. 

Both panting hysterically, you place a hand on your chest, hoping to slow down the terrifyingly fast pace of your heart — close to bursting out of your chest. 

Your passenger, Han Jisung, turns to look at you, eyes wide as saucers, a gradual open-mouthed smile growing upon his flushed, sweat-stricken face.

“That was.. sick.”

sunboki, may 2022 ©

[theladyheroine]

Team Sonic’s Favorite Disney Movies! ✨👑

❥ Hello everyone! So, I was a little bored so I decided to make this lol, but I hope you enjoy! Thank you & have a good one! 🙌💕

Sonic 💙

Treasure Planet

He thinks Jim Hawkins is the coolest Disney protagonist: loves the action, the pirates, the dramatic flair of the characters, & the board! The solar board tricks are his favorite scenes! He sometimes asks Tails to make him one, but Tom says no. (Lol)

Loves the world building & even thinks about buying the original “Treasure Island,” says he will but completely forgets. Asked if there was a comic ver. or a graphic novel.

Was suspicious of Long John Silver, but adored their relationship at the end. Thinks his cyborg arm is cool!

Cars

Everyone saw this coming (lol) but Sonic adores the Cars franchise! Every single one! But prefers the first since they’re always the best ones, sings “Life is Highway” every time it comes on! Adds it to his running playlist or whenever he needs some good energy. The perfect mix of rock & country!

Wishes cars could talk after first watching this. Will sometimes go all the way to Arizona just to take a crack at running the canyons; Knuckles is the only one that knows…

Loves Cars 2! Thinks it’s hilarious but also pretty epic in its own way. Tow Mater makes him laugh every time.

Tails 💛

Big Hero 6

While the action & vibrant color schemes are amazing, he’s more interested in the advanced technology & world building. Loves Baymax & has even considered building his own version of a medical robot for Maddie’s work. But she claims they’re just fine. Tom has tried asking for a robotic housekeeper though!

Relates to Hiro Hamada a lot about wanting to prove himself as both a good friend & an inventor. Loves the passion Hiro puts into his work, but the big scene with Tadashi is a little too sad for Tails. 🥺

Cheers every time Baymax comes back! Will sometimes play the film as background noise when he’s working, or just the soundtrack.

Luca

The unique art style & colorful landscapes are what catch his eye first, until the whole sea monster bit rolls in. Loved the concept of them becoming human when dry, but sometimes doesn’t understand the science behind it. He might think a little too hard about it… 😅

Luca’s relationship with Alberto reminds Tails of him & Sonic when they met! You can guess who’s who (lol) but their hijinks with the race always make him giggle. It reminds Tails of Sonic’s antics.

Loves Luca’s want to learn & study things about the human world. Will look for a book about old Italian history or even sea creatures after he finished the movie. Every time!

Knuckles ❤️

Beauty & the Beast

Gets super into romance films after hanging out with Wade’s mom, & it’s always his first pick for family movie night! Enjoys the songs after Tom explains musicals, but Knuckles loves Belle’s endless curiosity & fearlessness. Absolutely despises Gaston though, sometimes he can’t sit through his song.

Enjoys the message of “beauty within” & loving someone for who they are, not for their appearance. If Shadow joins the family, they’re both watching this film! 😂

The ending always catches him off guard even though he knows what happens next. But the heartfelt moment between Belle & the Beast always tugs at his heart. Poor guy teared up a little when he first watched it.

Brave

Was immediately intrigued by the warrior princess! So much so he took up archery by carving his own bow & arrows. Until he used all the firewood to do so; he had to help Tom find more after that. But at least he’s a skilled archer now!

Finds the concept of a bear curse interesting, as to him bears are powerful but loving creatures. Honestly thinks it’s cool having a bear mom. He gets real invested once the action starts to kick in, & admires Merida’s valor greatly.

At one point he found a little bear cub out in the woods while training & believed it to be abandoned. Maddie flipped out when she saw it, & made Knuckles take it back home. He did & even became friends with the Mama bear.

Bonus! Shadow 🖤

Robin Hood

I imagine this was Maria’s favorite & she would always have this as an option for Shadow on movie night. A classic Disney film that also has a lot of whimsy & color, which Shadow appreciates since the main cast is so likable. Don’t tell anyone that though. 🤫

Loves romance as well & is not ashamed. Sees Marian & Robin as the perfect Disney couple since their will to be together is so strong. But sometimes wishes Maid Marian would do something other than wait for Robin, but he appreciated that pie toss! 🥧

Decided to take up archery along with Knuckles, but becomes frustrated he can’t get it right away. Eventually he gives up after attempting a trick shot on a smaller target, that being Sonic’s old baseball cap.

Finding Nemo

While Shadow loves his found family tropes, he really likes the film because of Nemo. Finds him & his little fin adorable, but enjoys Nemo’s determination to become better. Also don’t tell anyone. Especially Sonic! 😅

Finds the vibrant ocean images & setting very calming, but loves how educational it can be. With how animals work with their environment & whatnot. Especially the part with the whale, he gets so amazed but also very confused by it (lol).

Another secret is that he finds Dory funny; her little quips & funny moments usually get a small smile or even a chuckle out of him. Even her little noise effects during the jellyfish scene get him smiling! But her behavior reminds him of Maria a little bit, so he enjoys her screen time a little more.

[fqerielust]

crawlin back to you - cl16

now playing: do i wanna know? hozier's version.

જ⁀➴ ♡

synopsis: you swear you left Monaco for good. you left it behind you. but upon return to the godforsaken country, you find yourself facing the boy you swore you'd never hurt.

au: desi!singer!reader

requested: no

trope: exes to lovers

type: slight angst

warnings: swearing, reader's father is lowkey toxic, badly translated french!

word count: 1134

playlist:

do i wanna know? hozier

no. 1 part anthem arctic monkeys

i wanna be yours arctic monkeys

say yes to heaven lana del rey

f1 masterlist here !

"No." You shake your head immediately at the proposal of going home. "I'm not coming with you."

Sanjit frowns. Your brother has been pestering you this whole week to come back to Monaco and help him plan his wedding. It's not that you don't want to- you definitely do- but it's seeing your mother and father that slightly scares you. You can't bear to step foot into the house without thinking about the night that you left. You swore you'd never go back. And even if that meant leaving him behind, then so be it.

"But Y/n-" he pleads again, "Paapa isn't going to kill you for coming back."

You blow a wisp of hair out of your eyes. "But he's going to have that stupid look on his face and tell Amma that he told her so."

"You're acting just like him." Sanjit states, a scowl on his face.

That's what gets you. You hate to be compared to your father. Despite all the comments you get about you looking like him, you want to have nothing to do with the man. You'd go as far as to say you resented him.

So, just to prove your idiot brother wrong:

"Fine," you unplug your guitar, "I'll come with you."

You slide your shades over your eyes as you lug your suitcase out of the terminal at NCE. You'd forgotten the sun practically roasts you in Monaco. It'd been years since you were here, years since you moved in with your brother in the States.

"Keep up!" Sanjit exclaims a short way in front of you, "We'll miss the cab!"

You go as fast as your tired feet will carry you. Thirty minutes in the cab will do you nicely, actually. You could take a quick nap and rest yourself for the madness that you'll have to deal with in the upcoming week. You could prepare yourself to see him. Not like you need preparation. No, you didn't. It'd just be a quick hello to his mum and his brothers. Maybe an awkward handshake for him. Maybe nothing at all. Maybe, maybe, maybe...

Thirty minutes later, you spot the burgundy, Victorian house come into view. You see him then- in his front yard, clumsily kicking around a football with his younger brother. You know his eyes are narrowing at the strange vehicle in his quiet neighbourhood.

You know his expression changes when Sanjit gets out of the car. Maybe a hitch of breath when you follow. The time has done Charles beautifully. It's chiseled out his jaw, his lips pinker. Training has changed him as well- his frame wider and muscle on his body. He's grown into a vision of handsomeness.

He puts his hands on his hips, a wide grin on his lips as Sanjit approaches him, "Look who it is."

You busy yourself with unloading the suitcases with the man in the cab. Poor thing, the man casts you a look. Anything to not look at him. You're unable to stop the guilt twisting in your stomach. Summer was for love, and you'd left him. You manage to get the suitcases steady on the pathway leading to the front door of your parents' house, the incline of the hill already against you. But you manage. When you come to greet Arthur and Charles, your throat feels a little dry.

You feel like you're looking at someone totally different.

"Welcome back." He says dryly, extending his hand for you to shake.

You shake it. "It's good to be back." It's not, it's really not.

He nods at that, and Arthur makes a comment that you both don't really pay attention to. Before you say anything else, your mother is rushing through the front door, eager to see her 'babies'. Charles watches with a small grin as your mother squeezes you into a tight hug. She plants a kiss on your forehead, almost on the verge of tears at you coming home for the first time in years.

She's so ecstatic that the Leclercs are over for family dinner, for 'old times sake'. Sanjit wants Arthur's opinion on everything. He's going to be his best man, you know. His fiance wants to get married the Christian way, not the lengthy Hindu way. She'd rather it be short and sweet. He says she doesn't want too much expense, even though he can afford it because of racing.

You really can't stand the look your father's giving you. And between Sanjit's constant chatter about his fiance and Arthur and Pascale's constant input, you'd rather be anywhere else. Not in your room- it feels a bit small now that you've got a bigger one in California.

You excuse yourself to make a cup of chamomile. He'd call you an old lady for it. Quietly, you slide open the backyard door. You find him on the patio, sipping on his own cup of something. You take a seat on the rocking chair across from the swing he's on.

"Je ne pensais pas que tu voudrais me voir." He admits quietly. I didn't think you'd want to see me.

"Pourquoi ne voudrais-je pas te voir?" You reply, just as quiet. Why would I not want to see you? "Je ne pensais pas que tu voudrais me voir." I didn't think you'd want to see me.

"Come sit." He murmurs, patting the empty spot next to him. When you do, he shifts closer to you. "Pourquoi penses-tu que je ne voudrais pas te voir?" Why do you think I wouldn't want to see you?

"Je ne pensais pas que quelqu’un dans cette maison voudrait me voir." You confess. I didn't think anyone in this house would want to see me. He brushes a stray hair from your face as you continue, "Surtout, après que je viens de partir." Especially, after i just left.

He doesn't want to forgive you just like that. Not after almost a decade of you making no attempt to contact him. The week after you'd left, he realized you weren't coming back. No phone calls, no emails, no nothing. You'd left him for good. It was an unsaid break-up. He'd watch you leave, book the first flight out of Nice, just pacing your room with mascara running down your cheeks. He'd tried to talk you out of it. Out of leaving him and your whole life behind. You'd had none of it. So that was the end of you and Charles.

But he does it, anyway. He forgives you when he plants a kiss on your temple. And he knows you're grateful for the forgiveness when you lean in closer.

"Il n'y aura jamais un jour où je ne voudrai pas te voir." There will never be a day where I don't want to see you.

[teardropsonmyheartstrings]

I Think Fortnight Is About To Ruin Our Lives…

Hello, lovely people!

I come to you with a possible solution for the recent This Love mystery!

If you've been following this at all...

... you will remember, that there's some funny business going on with the song This Love, featured on the default playlist of the Stationhead app's official Swifties channel. It's usually truncated, but very occasionally plays in full, which can be considered a special, perhaps even meaningful event.

Very recently, this happened:

On April 24th (ET), the full version of This Love played 6 times, before the short version took over again. 

On April 28th (ET)--a Monday, btw-- an alternating pattern between short and long versions began, which would last for a FORTNIGHT (=14 days).

I’m not sure, If I’ve fully solved the riddle, but I’ve found an angle, that I find most compelling, especially in light of other evidence I sourced from this very same playlist. 

6 x Long on April 24th

6 x Long, with short versions in between, which I’m currently ignoring

9 x Long in a row, interrupted by 6x Short, followed by 6 x Long

6 x Long with short versions in between, which I’m also ignoring

My main takeaways...

9 and 6 in the "middle" stand out as the longest Long streaks by far.

The number 6 is very important. It may indicate June (which also is pride month), but may also link to Reputation TV, OR TS 12, if you add up the 6 accumulated Ls on both sides of the "main event". I’M NOT CLAIMING either. I’m just observing.  

If you look up “Taylor Swift, September 6th”, you won’t find much. On the other hand, if you look up June 9th… Oh, boy!

The most significant find: Surprise songs. 

-> June 9th 2023, Detroit:

Haunted & I Almost Do

-> June 9th 2024, Edinburgh:

It’s Nice To Have Dorothea & Haunted/ Exile

Let me dissect that further:

It’s Nice To Have Dorothea is about as gay as it gets

Haunted was played on BOTH June 9th occasions, the second time as a mashup with Exile.

Haunted was also mashed up with Exile in Sydney (February 25th)

These all seem to be very significant songs.

Looking at the playlist itself...

This is only a small section of the 3hr 3min, 47 song playlist, but it seems the most interesting part.

Fortnight

May or may not be the first song of the playlist, but I’m looking at this section as starting with Fortnight. Please bear with me…

Fortnight = 14 days

The transmission of the main part of the This Love code lasted a FORTNIGHT.

It concluded a FORTNIGHT before the AMAs on May 26th.

The June 9th date I suggested here, is a FORTNIGHT after the AMAs.

All Mondays, btw... Could that be related to the Fortnight lyrics?

Guilty as Sin?

Track 9 on TTPD

Runtime 4:41 = 9

6th song in this section

Bad Blood

Was on Eras set list, BUT Feat. Kendrick is the MV version… we all know what that looked like…

Florida!!!

3 x ! ! ! —> 3s seem important on here (~3hr run time of playlist, etc)

Do I really have to spell out how IMPORTANT this song feels for what's to come?! Maybe thats why it has exclamation marks in the name!!!

Enchanted 

Track 14 on this section of the playlist -> maybe a Fortnight reference?

Track 9 on Speak Now

3 tracks after Florida with the three ! ! ! 

Lavender Haze

I don’t need to tell you how brutally gay this song is…

22

Always seemed the odd one out to me, but let's look at it this way:

Track 6 on Red

6th track after Florida!!!

Look at the Spotify clip. It’s the reverse portion of the end of the I Bet You Think About Me music video. Which makes NO sense with the context of the song. But makes quite a bit more sense when you look at the evidence presented here.

Gorgeous

One of our gay anthems 

Runtime 3:29 (3x2= 6 & 9)

This Love

Immediately after Gorgeous with the 6 and 9 reference in the runtime

9th track after Enchanted

Usually skips after a few seconds (ca. 38sec)

Has been fluctuating between shortened and full version, which was the main giveaway that something is fishy here 

Fearless

Runtime 4:01

Same numerals as This Love with 4:10

OG/SV version, which makes you stop and question

OG version reminds me of the “We Are Fearless” mirror incident  

ICDIWABH

Runtime 3:38

Angel imagery in end pose, also used on single cover, and the single cover is the one used on Stationhead

14 (Fortnight reference?) tracks after Florida!!!

seven

very gay coded

could be about failed coming out (“I peaked at seven"—> Lover album, when Taylor might have been closest to coming out)

There’s a lot more to say about almost each and every song on this playlist, but I’ll leave it at this, before it gets all too confusing and the actual point gets lost. Only one last thing:

Just to be thorough...

This is the complete default playlist. Since it loops, we can't be certain of the actual beginning, but I found Fortnight to be a compelling starting point.

Which makes me think...

IF Fortnight really is the first track… then You’re Losing Me is the very last song. Let’s hope what all we stand to lose is the persona, the farce, the perfect girl—all in exchange for a happier, more authentic Taylor. 

[nolita-fairytale]

burn your life down | chef luca x fem!reader | part twelve

summary: luca meets the kimura family. you and joe grieve together.

warnings: angst, grief, death, fluff, conversations about divorce, second person pov, swearing, very little connection to the storyline of the bear.

word count: 4k

listen to: the official 'burn your life down' playlist

a/n: while this is in fact the second to last chapter, i will write more of them. teehee. but also, can we believe we only have one more chapter left?! let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist.

part eleven | masterlist | part thirteen

This is not how you pictured starting October, grieving the loss of the matriarch of the family you once called your own, while on the precipice of something new. Straddling the intersection of the old guard and the new feels more complicated than you imagined, because how does one manage to feel so full, so loved, yet consumed by so much despair all at once?

Not to mention the merging of your two worlds: your old life in London and your new one in Copenhagen.

Your new one in Copenhagen with Luca. 

The ceremony, mostly just for ritualistic purposes, considering Aiko was cremated – something only the Kimura siblings had been a part of, was held in the backyard of the Kimura. childhood home. You watch as your worlds collide, like two cars crashing into one another – something that seems inevitable, yet still manages to be equally strange, jarring, and confusing. Luca reaches across to shake Astrid’s hand, initiating the action of the merging of your two words. 

“I’m Luca. It’s nice to meet you. I’m so sorry for your loss,” he says, his voice compassionate and kind. 

“Thank you,” Astrid replies, a small smile on her face as she looks Luca in the eyes. “I wish we were meeting under better circumstances but. Thank you for coming.” “‘Course.”

“It’s so good to see you,” you exhale, a sigh of relief leaving your lips as your best friend wraps you up in her arms. 

You and Luca had shown up just before the ceremony started, and hadn’t even had a chance to say hello yet. Truthfully, you weren’t sure if it’d be right, if it’d be appropriate to show any earlier, wanting to give Joe, Astrid, and Lina the time they’d need beforehand. 

“I’m so glad you were able to make it,” she says, squeezing you tighter than normal. 

“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t have missed this for the world,” you assure her, as you pull back from your embrace. “It was a beautiful ceremony.” 

“Thanks,” Astrid nods. “Think she would’ve rather liked it.” 

You take a good look at your former sister-in-law. She looks tired, sad – the kind of tired and sad you get from running the entire show, from project managing your own mother’s posthumous arrangements. 

“Thank you for coming,” Astrid repeats, her compliment genuine, before zeroing in on Luca. “The both of you.” Somehow, in the midst of her mother’s funeral, Astrid still has the energy to send you a look – that look – the kind of look that says ‘we WILL be talking about this hottie later.’ 

“Love?” Luca asks you, as you turn your head to look at him. 

“Yeah?” you ask back. 

“I’m going to head back inside,” he begins, placing a gentle touch against your low back. “Let you say hello to your friends. But please. Take your time.” 

As you open your mouth to say something, it’s as if the timing couldn’t be better (or worse, but you’ll figure out how you feel about it later), as you spot both Joe and Lina approaching. They exchange a few words quietly between each other, walking over to you, Luca, and Astrid.

Joe walks with a sureness that comes from a lifetime spent being the golden son in a family full of daughters, while Lina keeps close to his side, protectively. 

“Hey, thanks for coming, mate,” Joe says, immediately extending a hand in Luca’s direction. His voice is warm, friendly, yet distant, as if he’s putting on his bravest face to get through this afternoon. 

“I’m Luca. Hi,” Luca introduces himself, meeting Joe’s assuredness with his own. 

“Joe. Joe Kimura,” Joe replies, shaking the blonde’s hand. 

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Luca says, courteously, your hand brushing against his at your sides. Joe only nods, his lips pressed together in a polite, yet tight smile, before shifting his attention over to you.

“Joe,” you address him, a small smile on your lips as you greet your ex-husband. “It’s-, it’s good to see you.”

It’s strange really, standing next to your new boyfriend, one that brings you comfort, that makes you feel safe and loved, in a moment of sheer vulnerability and heartbreak across from your ex-husband. 

“Hey. Thanks for coming. She would’ve been so happy to see you here,” he says, something softer in his voice as he refers to his late mother. Joe pulls you into a friendly, yet strained hug before releasing you. 

“Yeah, of course,” you reply, pulling away. “I really wanted to be here.” 

He nods, watching as you take a few steps backwards, so that you’re standing side by side with Luca once more. Lina lets out a disappointed sigh before greeting you, her greeting much more tense with Luca as he introduces himself to the last member of the Kimura family he’s yet to meet. The exchange is thick with awkward tension, but there’s no animus in it, from anyone, really. You don’t talk for long – just a few exchanges back and forth as everyone meets everyone – till Luca reminds you that he’s got to go on his way to meet up with his mum. 

“I’ll walk you out,” you offer, before excusing yourself from your conversation with the Kimura siblings. 

You know this home well, pushing through the crowd of people gathered in the family home, and out the front door. You’re not surprised that so many people have shown up to celebrate the life of Aiko Kimura, the legacy she leaves behind, apparent. 

“No need to rush, love. Feel free to stick around for as long as you need,” Luca says, with patience and grace in the words he says. 

You nod, giving him a half smile as you reply, “Yeah, I will. Have fun with your mom too.” 

There’s a pause between the two of you, both of you unsure of how to fill it. There are so many things you want to say, with no idea of where to start, or how to say them. 

“This is weird, right?” you ask, chuckling as a means to break some of the tension. 

He nods, cracking a half smile of his own, “Yeah, there are other ways I’d imagined meeting your ex-husband.”

You shake your head incredulously, as you sigh. The reality of the situation would be humorous if it were under any other circumstances, really. 

“How ya holdin’ up’?” Luca asks you, checking in before he goes. 

“I’ll uh… let you know when I know,” you answer, honestly. 

He mutters something under his breath, something about understanding, as he pulls you in close, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, hugging you close. 

“Thank you for coming. Thank you for being here with me,” you whisper, against his chest.

“No need to thank me, my love. I’m here for you,” he reassures you, something genuine in his voice that instills a confidence in his words. 

-------------------------------

“You could stay, y’know?” you hear the voice of the youngest Kimura sibling say, causing you to turn away from the photo board that hangs in the Kimura family living room. 

“What do you mean?” you ask her. 

“Come home,” Lina says this time, much more insistent, much more desperate. “You and Joe-.”

“Lina,” you warn her, as your face falls, because you’re not sure you can let her finish that sentence. 

You feel for her, really, and you can only imagine that it’s easier for her to focus on resenting your new boyfriend than it is to feel the pain of this loss. 

Lina sighs, shaking her head, her jaw clenched, “So it’s serious then? You and… the pastry chef?”

You wait a beat before answering,

“Yeah. It is.”

She shakes her head again, this time with an eye roll as she purses her lips disapprovingly. It’s as if she’s turning a decision over in her head, opening her mouth to say something, before closing it, going back to the drawing board. 

“But he’s an Arsenal fan,” she finally scoffs, with a snort, trying her best to add a little humor to what feels like an impossible situation by nitpicking at his favorite football team.

You laugh, adding your own playful eye roll to the mix this time. 

“I never said he had great taste in football teams,” you chuckle back, earning a groan from your former sister-in-law. 

The two of you share a look, one that says, ‘I love you, you dummy,’ and you can see that she wants to say something else. You don’t know what it’ll be about this time, so you wait patiently, giving the youngest Kimura the space to get out whatever it is that’s eating her. 

“I just-. I never understood… why you and Joe… why you couldn’t work it out,” she drags out, a disappointment in her voice as she finds the words she wants to say. 

So she doesn’t want to talk about her mom. 

You sigh, accepting that fact, while racking your brain for how to explain the question that consumed you for a year after. 

“Because, Lina…” you trail off, choosing your words intentionally. “It just wasn’t-, because I don’t know if we were supposed to. I-.” You pause once more before continuing with, “Because we just… grew apart. Wanted different things. And we both deserve to go find them, even if it means it’s not with each other.” 

You watch as she takes in your answer, only just beginning to process your explanation, as a man you recognize as Uncle Kevin approaches. 

“Sorry to interrupt, ladies. Lina, will you come help me with something in the kitchen?” he asks. 

“Sure. Yeah,” she nods her head, beginning to turn away from you. 

But Lina pauses; she’s not ready to go just yet. 

“It really is good…” she says with a sure nod of her head. “... to see you. I’m glad you came.”

Lina turns once more, following her uncle into the kitchen, without a look back. You take a deep breath, because it all just feels heavy. You’ve always been close with Astrid, but your relationship with Lina was different. She was much younger when you met Joe. While you and Astrid became close friends, much closer in age, you’d always suspected that Lina had put you and your relationship with her brother on a pedestal, the reality of your assumption becoming glaringly obvious now. 

You can only imagine the divorce was something hard for her to stomach, to understand, especially with her limited life experience. You remind yourself not to take it too personally as you slip outside, making your way back into the backyard where the memorial service was held earlier that day. 

There’s another photo board outside, propped up against an easel, with an entirely different collection of photos than the one inside. You smile to yourself as your eyes savor the familial images: younger versions of the Kimura children with their mother at the beach, baby Lina with a mess of noodles all over her high chair, covered in sauce, a photo of Joe’s graduation…. You reach out to touch one of the photos – a photo of you, Aiko, and Joe together, the day of your wedding. 

You can feel the lump in your throat growing, your eyes welling with tears as you’re suddenly overcome with a deep feeling of sadness. A few tears run down your face, and you sniffle, wiping them away quickly, as soon as you hear the sound of footsteps behind you. 

“I told Lina to be nice,” Astrid grumbles, as she approaches you and the photo board. 

With a quick raise of your eyebrows, you turn to Astrid before telling her: “Lina thinks I should stay.”

“Lina is barely twenty five and I don’t quite think her brain has fully formed yet,” Astrid quips dryly, and you know she’s not entirely wrong. 

“I can only imagine this is… all pretty confusing for her,” you say, suddenly feeling a little guilty for being here in the first place. 

“She’s young. She’ll get over it,” Astrid shrugs, brushing off your concern. 

To a stranger, her response would seem cold, callous, unemotional, but you know that Astrid has had to play the role of the eldest daughter her entire life. 

She’s had to be strong for everyone her entire life. 

“She always was a hopeless romantic,” you observe, turning your attention back to the family photos. “Lina.”

Astrid nods slowly, “I think she looked up to you and Joe. Looked to the two of you and saw what love could look like.”

“Just because it ended doesn’t mean we don’t still love each other,” you offer. “It’s just… different now. We’re not… in love, but we both still care for each other. Shouldn’t that be worth something too?”

“I think she’ll understand when she’s older,” Astrid replies in an attempt to offer you some kind of comfort. 

“How’re you doing?” you ask her, the words feeling silly as soon as they leave your mouth. 

“I’m… just going to be happy when this is all over,” Astrid admits, the fatigue in her voice more evident than ever. “Dunno if I’ve even had time to be sad. Been too busy doing… all of this. Think maybe I’ll crash the minute it’s over which… is bloody scary and also… guess, it’s something I’ve been waiting for too.”

You nod in concurrence, “Well, if you do, you know you have me. Right now I’m a phone call, a hop, skip, and a week away. You know, till we go home.”

She nods, stealing a glance your way, a small smirk on her lips in response to your usage of the word, ‘we.’ 

“And then of course,” you continue, slyly, hoping to plant the idea in her head now. “You can always eat, pray, love in Copenhagen… you know… if the mood strikes you. I feel like that would be, you know, healing.”

She snorts with laughter, “Yeah, I’ve got to get out there again anyways.”

There’s a short pause between the two of you, and Astrid’s still stuck on what you said earlier. 

The ‘we’ of it all, really. 

“So Luca’s really something. Showin’ up to your new girlfriend’s ex-husband’s mum’s funeral? That takes guts,” she says, prodding you for more information on Luca. 

“Yeah.”

“Didn’t think the bloke could be even more handsome in person and yet….”

You chuckle in response.

“Yeah he’s… he’s pretty perfect,” you exhale, sitting into the feeling. 

“It’s exhausting sometimes… trying to keep up,” you joke. “Only, then he tells me that I don’t have to be perfect and I can just be myself which… is even more annoying because it’s more proof that he is.”

“Well, I like him,” Astrid adds smugly, crossing her arms across her chest. 

“Yeah?” you ask, a stark contrast between her and Lina’s reactions. 

“Yeah,” she nods, enthusiastically. Her face softens as she says what comes next. “You look well-loved. That’s why I like him.”

“What do you mean?” you ask, hesitantly. 

“You look like you’ve found your heart again,” Astrid answers. 

And as you search her face for a reaction, for truth to her statement, you can see it in her eyes that she means it. 

-------------------------------

After spending a little more time with Astrid in the backyard, you decide it may be time to find Joe. You’re not sure what you’re expecting, but you think that you should prepare for almost anything. It doesn’t take long to find him inside, so you wait for the right moment, watching him accept condolences from a couple you recognize as neighbors, as they’re on their way. Your heart pounds in your chest, your nerves skyrocketing because it’s all just so… weird… as you approach. 

“Joe,” you call out to him, your voice grabbing his attention. 

He turns to you, a small smile on his face as he sees that it’s really you standing behind him. 

“Is now a good time to say hello?” you ask, trying your best to be respectful. 

“Yeah, ‘course. I-,” he begins, before pausing, looking around the room. “You want to get out of here?”

“Wh-?” you start. 

“Fancy a pint? I just don’t know if I can do this whole perfect son act for much longer,” he scoffs, a playful and mischievous tone in his voice. 

“Uh… yeah,” you agree, unable to hide the surprise in your voice. “Yeah, fuck. I could use a drink.”

You shouldn’t be surprised, really, as you follow Joe out of the house. Your brain is flooded with memories of sneaking out of the theater to go get french fries, of parties to head to another party, out of his childhood home when you were staying with Aiko during your first holiday with the Kimuras. 

There’s a pub down the street that you walk to, feeling naughty for leaving without saying goodbye, and relieved that you’re getting to escape from the bleak, depressing awkwardness that is any funeral. You remember this pub – one you and Joe used to frequent because it was only a few blocks away – when you’d moved to London. It’s a short walk and the two of you can’t get there fast enough, eager to flee the scene of grieving relatives and humorously sad music. 

You and Joe find two seats at the bar, sitting side by side as you clink the glasses of your ice cold pints. 

“Cheers,” you say. 

“Cheers,” he parrots, the both of you taking your first sips. 

“Fucking hell, I had to get out of there,” Joe exhales a huge sigh of relief. “Been at it all day. Makin’ other people feel better about my own mum’s death. I don’t know how anyone does this.”

“Yeah, it’s kinda fucked, huh?” you reply with a sigh. 

“Funerals are weird. I’ll tell you that, mate,” he agrees, lifting his glass to his lips once more. 

“This is…” you start, nervous yet bold in speaking truth to the moment. “... also weird, don’t you think?”

You watch as he thinks it over, a small smirk on his face as he agrees, “Yeah. Yeah it is.”

A beat. 

And then another. 

And you’re lifting your glass once more to your lips to take another sip of the amber liquid that brings you comfort in the moment. 

“Is it alright? That I came? That we… came?” you ask, a little more seriously now. 

Joe turns his head to you, and you can see that your consideration means a lot to him. He nods slowly as he answers:

“Yeah. I meant what I said before – that she would’ve wanted you here.” 

He pauses once more, taking another drink from his beer glass. 

“As for Luca. Well, it was bound to happen at some point or another.” You nod, your eyes fixed to the resin-sealed wooden bar top as you listen to him. “I think we both knew that this day would come… Can’t say it’s a walk in the park but… dunno if most things are supposed to be anyways.”

“Yeah I uh… I certainly feel like bambi learning how to walk for the first time on the wobbliest of legs,” you offer up, reassuring Joe that you have no idea how to navigate this either. 

“Yeah,” he sighs. 

“But,” you begin again. “We outgrew each other, yeah. Doesn’t mean I stopped caring about you. About any of you.”

Joe nods slowly, because he knows you’re right. He admires you for how fearlessly you’re charging into this conversation, and wonders if it’s the new boyfriend – Luca – whose helped get you to this point. 

He can’t tell whether he wants to thank the bloke or if he’s envious, deciding that it’s probably a little bit of both. 

“Doesn’t mean we can’t have a different kind of relationship,” you add, avoiding the cringe factor of using the word friendship, even though it’s what you mean. 

Joe waits a beat, because he really would like to be friends, because he really does still care about you too. 

“So how’s life treatin’ you otherwise?” he asks, as an olive branch – a yes to letting your relationship transform into something else. 

You spend the afternoon catching up, ordering baskets on baskets of chips, and sharing what he’s missed over the past few years: that you have a restaurant now, that you’ve come around to cold brew, even though you swore you’d always hate it, all about the Mikkelson twins and how much he’d probably hate their wild streaks. In return, Joe tells you all about his new teaching job at a uni, that he’s recreationally been playing with the symphony as of late, and that he’s just taken a little break from the dating scene. It feels strange and normal all at once. While Joe feels familiar, like getting to spend time with an old piece of yourself, this rhythm and new kind of relationship that seems to be unfolding before you feels foreign, the dichotomy stretching you to opposite ends of its spectrum. It’s not something you ever saw for yourself – becoming friends with your ex-husband – but in the moment, as the pathway presents itself to you, you’re not sure you mind. 

“I miss her. So, so much,” Joe finally admits, as the conversation returns to the matriarch you both love with your whole hearts. 

“I know. I do too,” you say, reaching for his hand this time. 

He looks at you, a softness in your eyes in response to the gesture, and with a small smile, you pull your hand away. 

“I want to make a dish… for her at the restaurant. To honor her. And everything she taught me,” you finally say, almost as if it’s a declaration. 

You search Joe’s face for a reaction, his expression beginning to break as his eyes begin to water. 

“I think ehm,” he begins, his voice breaking. “I think she’d really, really like that.” 

He clears his throat, because he’s not sure he wants to cry right now. 

“You better send pictures,” he demands jokingly. “And you’ve got to make it for us, the next time you’re in town.” Joe pauses once more, as if he wants to make it crystal clear what he really means when he adds:

“You and Luca.”

Your heart swells and breaks all at once, in response to Joe’s blessing, because it means so much and so many things. 

“Yeah. I-. We will. I promise,” you agree, your voice caught in your throat. 

Joe nods once more, a finite kind of motion as he straightens up in his chair. 

“C’mon. Think we should head back.”

And as you walk with Joe, it’s as if you both take your time, no longer in a hurry to get back to the Kimura family home as quickly as possible. There’s a weight with each step that contributes to the slower pace, and it’s hard to ignore the deep sadness that’s taken root inside of you. On one hand, it’s been a long, heavy day of grieving the loss of the Kimura matriarch – a woman who taught you how to cook, who loved you as her own, who poured every fiber of her being into building a family that knew they were loved. On the other hand, as you stand across from Joe on the street he grew up on, giving each other one more goodbye hug that lasts longer than the previous, this moment feels monumental. 

Somehow, you feel the shift, the changes between you and Joe, even deeper than the day you signed your divorce papers. You’ve moved on and so has he in his own way, and you know that as you turn to go, you’re only just beginning a new chapter with him. 

And with Luca, because it feels even more real now, more than ever.

The magnitude of it all hits you, as you straddle this ending and your new beginning. 

 It all feels very grown-up – very adult – and you can feel the pieces of you that you’ll leave behind as you do ‘said growing up,’ fall by the wayside.

“Goodbye, Joe,” you say, one last time as you try your best not to let your voice shake. 

“Take care, darling,” he says back, releasing you. 

And when you turn to go, all you can do is cry, grieving these endings, new beginnings, and the parts of you that you must leave behind.

[unsuperingyournatural]

easy

Priestly x Female Reader x Tish

dividers @saradika-graphics

The first time you walk into the sandwich shop off-campus, it’s because your roommate swears they have the best tuna melt in town. You don’t even like tuna melts, but you go anyway, craving something comforting after a brutal chem midterm.

What you don’t expect is to get completely derailed by a guy with blue hair, piercings, and a kilt, who greets you with a wink and a lazy, “Well, hello, sunshine.”

And then there's her. Tish. Radiant. Effortlessly cool. She floats past with a tray of food and a dazzling smile, her ponytail swinging like it has its own agenda.

You keep coming back.

Not for the sandwiches—though they’re damn good. Not even for the quirky posters or Trucker’s chaotic playlists. But for them. Tish’s teasing touches and Priestly’s playful banter. The way your chest tightens when Priestly leans over the counter to flirt, or how Tish giggles when you compliment her nail polish like you’re sharing a secret.

Your crush on Priestly came first. He was loud, sharp, impossible to ignore. You loved the way he challenged everything, including you. But Tish? She caught your eye from the moment you saw her. At first, her bubbly energy felt forced. But the more she opened up, the more you realized her sunshine wasn’t a performance—it was armor. And you wanted to know everything underneath it.

You're their friend. That’s all. That’s safe.

But safe doesn’t stop your heart from cracking.

It’s late. You’re sprawled out on the floor of Tish’s apartment with her and Priestly, an open pizza box between you and a horror movie flickering dully on the TV. The air smells like greasy pepperoni and warm beer. The three of you are loose with laughter, half-drunk on cheap alcohol and shared stories.

Tish gets up with a laugh, muttering something about fixing her eyeliner, and disappears into the bathroom.

The moment the door clicks shut, Priestly shifts beside you. The air between you changes.

“Can I ask you something?” he says, voice low.

You glance at him, already uneasy. “Sure.”

“It’s about Tish.”

Your stomach lurches.

“You think she’d ever go for someone like me?”

You freeze for a breath. Then you manage a smile—tight and practiced. “You’re you, Priestly. She’d be lucky.”

He grins, hopeful and boyish. And it wrecks you.

You set your drink down carefully, like sudden movement might crack you open. “I should get going.”

His brow furrows. “It’s late. Let me walk you back.”

You shake your head, forcing another smile. “No, stay. I’m good.”

You’re already standing, slipping your shoes on as casually as you can. You don’t give him time to insist.

Back in your dorm, you drop your keys, kick off your shoes, and collapse face-first onto your bed. The silence is brutal.

You picture them laughing, leaning in, kissing.

You bury your face in your pillow.

And cry yourself to sleep.

You don’t return to the sandwich shop for six days.

You don’t answer Priestly’s calls or respond to Tish’s texts. You can't bear to see them. Can't bear to feel the ache of something you’ll never have.

Priestly stares at your usual booth like it might conjure you if he looks long enough. Jen finds him there.

“Go to her dorm,” she tells him.

“What if she slams the door in my face?”

“Then at least you’ll know.”

He hesitates before asking Trucker for the van.

Trucker eyes him carefully, then tosses him the keys. “Bring her back if you can.”

Before he can leave, Tish yanks off her apron. “I’m coming too.”

You ignore the knocking.

But you hear them. Priestly’s voice, lower than usual. Tish’s, sharp and urgent with panic.

“We know you’re in there,” Priestly calls gently. “Your hallmates confirmed it.”

“If you don’t open up, I’m getting the RA,” Tish snaps, her voice rising with frustration.

You sigh, heavy and defeated, and shuffle to the door. You crack it open just enough to be seen.

They’re both there—Priestly looking anxious and rumpled, Tish’s arms crossed tightly over her chest.

They step inside without waiting for an invitation. Priestly shuts the door quietly behind them, eyes never leaving you.

“What the hell is going on?” Tish demands, voice firm but not unkind.

You shrug, arms wrapped around yourself. “Nothing.”

Priestly steps forward, his voice soft. “Don’t do that. You scared us.”

You look down, words clinging to the back of your throat. When you finally speak, your voice is barely a whisper. “I like you. Both of you. I know nothing will ever come of it—I just... couldn’t keep pretending.”

They freeze.

Priestly and Tish sit side by side on your bed, stunned, as you sink back into the beanbag chair across from them, curling your knees to your chest.

“I’m sorry,” you add quickly. “I get it if you don’t want to see me again. But you deserved to know.”

For a moment, the silence is unbearable.

Then Tish stands abruptly. “Get up.”

You blink at her. “Why?”

“Just—get up.”

You rise slowly, cautiously. “You don’t have to hit me or anything, okay? I know you’re straight.”

Tish doesn’t respond.

Instead, she closes the distance between you and kisses you.

It’s sudden. Soft. Warm.

You freeze in shock, heart pounding, breath caught—until the very last second, when instinct takes over and you kiss her back.

When she pulls away, she smirks. “Not bad.”

A startled noise escapes from the bed.

You glance over. Priestly’s jaw is slack, eyes wide.

“I’m sorry,” you stammer, cheeks burning. “I shouldn’t have—”

Tish waves a dismissive hand. “Priestly. Your turn.”

He blinks. “What?”

“Kiss her.”

He looks to you, waiting for permission. You give the smallest nod.

He rises, walks to you slowly, and leans in.

His lips brush yours—gentle, hesitant, reverent. You kiss him back, warmth flooding your chest.

When he pulls away, his voice is rough. “Wow.”

You exhale on a shaky laugh. “Yeah.”

Tish rolls her eyes. “God, this is every guy’s fantasy.”

“It’s not like that,” Priestly says quickly, his eyes flicking back to yours. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while.”

Tish arches a brow. “Sure.”

He turns toward her. “No, really. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her since that night.”

You blink in disbelief. “But… I thought you and Tish—”

Priestly scratches the back of his neck. “I was going to ask her out. But when you left… you looked hurt. I didn’t know why, but it stuck with me. And then you disappeared, and I realized…” He looks at you again. “Maybe it wasn’t Tish I liked most.”

Your heart flutters.

Tish glances between the two of you, considering. “Well, that makes this easy.”

You and Priestly look at her, confused.

She smirks. “You like us both? Then we give it a shot—with all three of us.”

Your heart skips a beat.

Before you can speak, Tish steps toward you again. “And you and I have some catching up to do.”

She hooks a finger through your belt loop and pulls you in for another kiss—this one deeper, possessive. You melt into it.

Then she turns and pulls Priestly into a kiss of his own, slow and teasing.

You watch with an ache blooming in your chest—until Tish kisses you again and grabs Priestly’s hand, bringing him closer.

She nudges you gently toward him. You kiss him again, this time less tentative, more urgent.

Then Tish’s lips press to your neck, her hands roaming, and a breathy moan slips out of you.

Priestly grips your waist, pulling you flush against him. You reach for them both, tangled in the heat of the moment.

Mouths meet, fingers trail, breaths quicken.

And the day unravels around you—breathless, heated, and electric—until the world melts away completely.

The sandwich shop hums with mid-afternoon chatter. A good-looking guy leans casually against the counter, hitting on Tish like he’s the first who ever thought to try.

Tish smiles, smooth and polite. “Sorry. I’m seeing someone.”

“Is it serious?” he asks, smirking like he already knows the answer.

Her smile widens. “Very.”

She hands him his change and turns away without another word.

At a booth near the back, you’re hunched over your laptop, finishing up a paper. You glance up just in time to catch Priestly grinning to himself behind the counter, clearly having overheard the exchange.

He looks over at you and winks, but there’s a softness in his eyes now that wasn’t there before.

You smile back, heart fluttering, and return to your assignment.

Tish appears beside you without a word, picking up your soda cup. “Refill,” she murmurs, brushing her fingers down your bare arm just enough to make your breath hitch.

She winks when she sees the reaction and walks off.

As she passes Priestly behind the counter, her fingers trail briefly along the back of his waist. He watches her go, biting back a grin, and goes back to assembling a sandwich.

Once, that might’ve made your stomach twist with jealousy.

Now it just makes you warm.

Tish returns with your drink and places it on the table in front of you. Before you can thank her, she checks that no one’s watching, leans in, and presses a discreet kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“Meet me in the back in five minutes,” she whispers into your ear.

She straightens, gives you a knowing look, and saunters off—adding just a little extra sway to her hips because she knows you’re watching.

You glance over at Priestly, who just witnessed the whole thing.

He’s laughing to himself, shaking his head. You narrow your eyes playfully.

You are absolutely getting him back for that later.

But when Tish tosses her apron onto the counter, throws you one last come-hither look, and disappears into the back?

You shut your laptop, check the coast is clear, and rise from the booth.

Time to teach her a lesson about teasing you during work hours.

And maybe drag Priestly into it while you’re at it.

[fungusrice]

Hello there, it's been quiet here! When will more Jackal facts drop? They are just sooo goood!%😳👉👈

Anywayys is there any other characrer you love from the movie? Ofc not on the same level like the Jackal but y know, just being there, appreciated. And if there is will you post on them too?

Hey! I'm still overwhelmed with my family until Friday, so you'll have to endure a little longer before I could drop thicker posts of our man again.

The blog is for Ryan, so I'll try to stick to this. From more character analysis to delicacies like memes, music playlists, edits, merchs etc. Aye, I have a lot of ideas for Jackal, so bear with me.

About my secondary favourite? Mhmm. Not sure if you seen this coming, but there you go.

Dennis Rafkin

I'm not the type who loves human characters in movies or humans in general. So you just witnessed a rare moment when one passed through my chaotic fog in that unholy brain of mine, but hey, cheers my guy―his struggle with the visions and energetic surges was entertaining, his fear from ghosts and the raw way of "functioning" as a human being just awakened my predatory instincts, and my playful sadism. I just wanted to see him freaking out more, scream a little longer, then consume him as a whole.

As a fellow psychic, I am well aware of the struggle that seeps from the sharpness of our transcendental senses. Of course, in this movie, he went through much more violent effects, but what being a psychic did to him in life, I totally feel it too.

So, yes. He is definitely my second favourite. I don't really care about the rest of the ghosts or anyone in the movie what-so-ever.

[comexwhatxmay]

I made our favorite blonde boy a playlist.

My apologies that it's mostly heartbreaking, though I did segue to some spite towards the end and ended on the slightest of hopeful notes?

loml - Taylor Swift: "when your impressionist paintings of heaven turned out to be fakes, well, you took me to hell too," "dancing phantoms on the terrace, are they secondhand embarrassed that I can't get out of bed 'cause something counterfeit's dead?"

Easy on Me - Adele: "I changed who I was to put you both first but now I give up," "I had good intentions and the highest hopes, but I know right now it probably doesn't even show"

The End of Love - Florence and the Machine: "I've always been in love with you, could you tell it from the moment that I met you? And we were a family pulled from a flood, you tore the floorboards up and let the river rush in"

I Have Made Mistakes - The Oh Hellos: "and oh, my heart, how can I face you now, when we both know how badly I have let you down? And I am afraid of all that I've built fading away"

The Love I Meant to Say - Smash: "you made me hear such music- without you here to guide me, I fear my soul will fly away"

Moon - Austin Giorgio: "I don't want pain, I don't want hurt, I don't want sorrow, I don't want tears, I don't want shallow- I have my faults, I know where they fall and for that I'm sorry" (shoutout to PossiblyARebel on Reddit for this one!)

hoax - Taylor Swift: "my best laid plan, your sleight of hand, my barren land, I am ash from your fire," "my only one, my kingdom come undone, my broken drum, you have beaten my heart- don't want no other shade of blue but you, no other sadness in the world would do"

What Could've Been - Gone West: "looks like you're on the mend and I'm on the bottle, we folded our hands with money on the table- tried moving on but I keep coming back again to what could've been"

The Night We Met - Lord Huron: "I had all and then most of you, some and now none of you, I don't know what I'm supposed to do, haunted by the ghost of you"

Please - Noah Kahan: "and all my dreams are no use when I'm wide awake, and I want to believe I haven't lost you, it's driving me insane"

right where you left me - Taylor Swift: "they expected me to find somewhere, some perspective, but I sat and stared right where you left me, you left me no choice but to stay here forever"

Six Feet Under - Billie Eilish: "our love is six feet under, I can't help but wonder- if our grave was watered by the rain, would roses bloom?"

All I Want - Kodaline: "when you said your last goodbye I died a little bit inside, I lay in tears in bed all night, alone without you by my side...but if you loved me why'd you leave me?"

Goddamn Shame - Delta Rae: "so does everything happen for a reason? Or is everything that's happened just a goddamn shame? And ever since you said that you were leaving, I've been trying to remember who I was before you said my name, 'cause I don't know who I am without you"

Someone You Loved - Lewis Capaldi: "I let my guard down, and then you pulled the rug - I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved"

my tears ricochet - Taylor Swift: "I didn't have it in myself to go with grace, and you're the hero flying around saving face...and if I'm dead to you why are you at the wake?"

the grudge - Olivia Rodrigo: "trust that you betrayed, confusion that still lingers, you look everything I loved and crushed it in between your fingers...and I doubt you ever think about the damage that you did, but I hold on to every detail like my life depends on it- my undying love, now I hold it like a grudge..."

You Oughta Know - Alanis Morissette: "and I'm here to remind you of the mess you left when you went away, it's not fair to deny me of the cross I bear that you gave to me," "it was a slap in the face how quickly I was replaced," "so he speaks eloquently and you can have his baby, I'm sure you'd make a really excellent mother" (I picked the musical version of this one because the genders are swapped)

In The Mourning - Paramore: "And in the mourning, I'll rise, and in the mourning, I'll let you die"

Link is here:

- divider credits to @olenvasynyt -

(Thank you all for SUCH a great week! This was my first one- I just read the books for the first time about a month ago and was team Tamlin since day 1. I love y'all and your work!! I don't know what I'm going to do once this week is over 😅)

@tamlinweek

[glaciertea]

Tales the Songs Weave

(Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader) Complete

Chapter masterlist

18+ (can view the tags here on ao3)

The romance, the sweetness, the angst don't worry, we got it~

Erotica sprinkled here and there. Teehee.

146,091 words

Notes: Hello there, I should've done this first, but as long as it's here. This is a fic I am currently working on, and I've been posting it on ao3, but also decided to come to a site that I haven't used in over 7+ years, so please bear with me, haha.

This fic is based off songs I believe will fit this man (out of the many), so if you are interested in checking out and following along the "official Spotify playlist" <-there you go!

This is a completed story, and I do hope you enjoy the read~

Summary: Miguel O'Hara is a leader. A leader who doesn't let anyone or anything distract him from the tasks at hand.

He's focused, unwavering, and ruthless.

But what happens when he abruptly pulls away from his territory and wanders into an unknown playing field he hasn't faced in forever?

Many say love holds no bounds, but how much will he be willing to break for you?

The List

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Bonus 1

Bonus 2

[roki-roki-roll]

Hello from the Hallowoods as songs by Jukebox the Ghost

Because I love both dearly :)

Million Dollar Bills - Lady Ethel Mallory and the Botulus Corporation

Brass Band - Very Instrumentalist/Solomon Reed vibe (tho I think it's Quartet cause it's on the season 4 playlist lol)

Ramona - The Countess to Yaretzi (More Love from the Moormire specifically)

Us Against the World - Violet and Bern (I love these two so much it's not even funny)

The Machine (Intro) - do I even have to explain?

Static to the Heart (specifically the live version cause it have a very specific piano slam that actually means everything to me) - Percy Reed (couldn't resist that one line lol)

Under My Skin - again do I even need to say?

Everybody Panic - Season 3 the fight in the North with Creep and the bears

Victoria -Victoria Tepiani my beloved

The Sun (Interlude) and The Stars - the Hallowoods as a whole but The Sun specifically when Marolmar gets got and then The Stars as Nikignik telling the story

Jumpstarted- I honestly can apply this song to any couple (or ship for that matter) cause it's my favorite jtg song but I think I'm going with Ricou and Nolan solely for the line "Take my advice and run while you still can"

Miss Templetons 7000th Dream - Penny Rescher (ep 184 specifically) (and if you include the transition into Static then Static would be Friday) or Danielle O'hara (come on it's dreams! how could I not)

Schizophrenia- Vincent (with Voltaire era) (vibes)

Devils on Our Side - Stitches (Percy and Diggory)

All for Love - Diggory Graves (IMPORTANT TO NOTE: these two songs are a set so DOOS begins AFL) (pretty much the whole Safe Travels Album gives me Diggory vibes but this one really hit for me)

I will probably add more to this eventually lol

[brain-usurped-by-bug]

My Curated Turbo/King Candy playlist!

These 22 23 songs were selected for their lyrical connection first and vibes second, although the playlist mostly consists of rock and electronic music. I have arranged the playlist roughly in narrative order for maximum vibes.

Tracklist (as of Sept 14, 2024), along with choice lyrics and overly deep explanations on why these songs fit.

"The End" - My Chemical Romance. Serves as an introduction to the playlist, and a warning of the downfall that is to come. "Save me! Save me! You Can't! Take me!"

"The Main Character" - Will Wood. A sharp transition away from the introduction, taking you back to a happier time. Despite the bright tone, the lyrics introduce a self centered character who feels he deserves love and attention. "I'm the main character, and you have to like me."

"I'm Gonna Win" - Rob Cantor. A Rock music. The lyrics speak of winning at all costs and a refusal to give up. "I'll never loose, I'll never die. You've seen me before, you'll see me again."

"Kickstart My Heart" - Motley Crue. Energetic rock music, representing confidence and the excitement of a race.

"Freak of the Week" - Freak Kitchen. Harsher rock music, the lyrics speak of a willingness to do anything for attention, including self mutilation. "Like me, like me, won't you like me?"

"Final Transmision" - The Living Tombstone. Electronic music, and the transition into the road blasters era. "Pushing off the payload, no cable to rewind him." "Eyelids getting heavy, sleep it off now kid, everyone knows now exactly what you did."

"Bloodstains" - Agent Orange. Angry rock, falling into mental illness. Considering homicide as a solution to his problems. "Ah things seems so much different now, the scene has died away. I haven't got a steady job, and I've got no place to stay."

"Alien Blues" - Vundabar. More mental illness rock. Disillusioned and disconnected to the people around him, popularity fading. "My teeth are yellow, hello world. Would you like me a little better if they were white like yours?"

"Cowboy Dan" - Modest Mouse. Sad cowboy rock, shortly before the road blasters incident. He is angry and dissatisfied with is place in life. he is a major player in his scene, but he wants more, he wants war. He hates how things have changed. he wants out. "He hops in his pickup, puts the pedal to the floor, and says, 'I got mine, but I want more'." "Can't do it, not even if sober, can't get that engine turned over."

"Toba the Tura" - Forgive Durden. Post-Roadblasters regret. lots of great lyrics here. "I watched the lamps fall, You pushed them over. They say you're gifted, Well I just see a scared kid." "The raw scorched Earth, It's a trophy of your worth." "Your cold wicked soul boasts a foul scent." "This mess that you made, it's a six-foot grave, It's a home for your lonesome bones that remain. We'll disappear you'll stay here, To rot as the king of the dark and forgot." "(Oh what have you done, disobedient son) What have I become? (You've broken the trust) Destroyed all I loved."

"My Crt" - Dream Puzzles. Moody electronic music about being hunted by a yellow eyed man inside a computer. Is he haunting himself, or is it an external force?

"Awoken" - Wooden Toster. He lives in pain and regret, but he has awoken from the monotony and is prepared to make a change. "Pushed by desire to change the way my stream will frow. now I've awoken and I'm taking back control."

"Sirens" - Bear Ghost. A drift into headcanon territory. He he's sick of hiding, so he goes out to have fun and let off steam, but he's terrified of being caught, and nearly is.

"A Mask of My Own Face" - Lemon Demon. A turn to the playful and sinister. A mask is put on, he goes around in disguise, and is proud of himself. "I'd wear it on Thanksgiving and I'd laugh in the parade at all the people hissing, knowing I'm the one they hate."

"Cabinet Man" - Lemon Demon. THE Turbo song. He reflects on his past and decides to take over Sugar Rush. Perfect vibes, to many fitting lyrics to list. Someone sinister is lurking in a game cabinet, assumed dead, existing unseen, unbeatable, breaking in. Half Human and Half Machine.

"My Ordinary Life" - The Living Tombstone. He's a king on top of the world, surrounded by admirers. He's on a high. He loves the glitz and glamour, but it's all a farse. "People blend together but I would be lost without their love. Can you heal me have I gained too much?" "Is there a real me? Pop the camphane."

"Ruler of Everything" - Tally Hall. He is playfully in control of everything, but his inner darkness still lurks. "Your facade is a scam, you know you're making me cry this is the way that I am. I've been living a lie, a metamorphical scheme."

"Dear Dictator" - Saint Motell. A return to rock music. The point of no return has long been passed. Judgment is on the horizon. "Nobody has ever seen his face, but fear his smile." "And at the trial they'll be no jury, and all the dead are gonna play witness. It's not too late to say you're sorry, but it's to late to truly mean it."

"Wolf in Sheep's Clothing" - Set it Off. A return to rage. He's lying and hurting people to keep his position. "So, tell me how you're sleeping easy, how you're only thinking of yourself. Show me how you justify, telling all your lies like second nature."

"House of Wolves" - My Chemical Romance. He knows he faces eternal damnation, but it's way too late to turn back, so instead he embraces it. "Take this to my grave." "Tell me I'm a bad, bad, bad, bad man."

"Unconditional Love" - Against Me!. Cybug Transformation. He is doomed, and not even unconditional love can save him now. "Half digested and eternal, somewhere lost in the ephemeral."

"Dead!" - My Chemical Romance. Death. “Did you get what you deserve? The ending of your life." "Have you head the news that you're dead? No one ever had much nice to say, I think they never liked you anyway."

.

"Puzzle Pieces" - Saint Motell. Bonus track! y/n sings about how Turbo/King Candy has designed himself, and is made up of all these pieces that don't fit together. "I can hardly move, I can barely breath, near your features."

[cablecar-s]

to love and self loath

Description :

With the death of her lover too much to bear, she makes the decision to run away from her life as Spider Woman, finding solace in the most crime ridden place in the U.S: Gotham City.

Note:

Hello! I'm currently just testing the waters of Tumblr at the moment, so bear with me because I have no idea what I'm doing. Constructive criticism is welcomed, just remember to not be mean >:/ Enjoy the first chapter!!

part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6

Prepare For Trouble

"You're Spider-Woman, right?" He looked at her with a knowing yet amused smile on his face, all the while the woman who stood before him could only stare at him with slight bafflement. Eyes wide, lips slightly parted, she blinked at him, beginning to stammer.

"I.. What? How could you..? What kind of crazy.." She let out a small mix of what seemed to be a huff and laughter in trying to play off his not-so-false statement.

Her crush could only give her a look that read all too clearly as 'Really?' which led her to promptly give up, a sigh of defeat leaving her lips.

"I.. Yeah, you got me. I'm.. I'm Spider-Woman." She looked at him with a defeated smile. "How'd you know though? I thought I was pretty secretive!" She raised her hands up in defense, making him laugh.

"Well, with how much you sometimes ditch me last minute every time I hear sirens going off or how you always disappear out of thin air when something big or small happens, it was pretty easy to deduce the reasons why." He chuckled softly.

"You are also talking to the most smartest person in his entire school." He quickly added.

The female vigilante could only slightly scoff at this, looking around, as if someone else could hear the ridiculousness that was coming out from his mouth.

"Really now?" She questioned, almost mockingly.

Slowly, the two teenagers inched closer to one another while continuing to bicker, a teasing smile on both of their faces until finally they were mere inches away from one another.

"I hope you're not waiting for something." The teenaged boy said teasingly, a smile on his lips.

"No, not at all." The girl hummed, smiling back.

With the night air nipping at their skin, the warmth of their breaths could be felt on one another. And as they leaned in for a kiss, the floor beneath them fell in an instant, and they were soon falling down the clock tower.

With her spider suit on, breathing now heavy, adrenaline pumping into her veins, she watched as the boy she loved since high school began falling, watching as her single web was shot down towards him.

It was silent in that moment, everything having gone in slow motion, her web slowly reaching out to him, but was only seconds too late. The web, sticking itself to the man at the last second, his head still hitting the cold, hard floor, killing him in an instant.

The sound of her cries echoed in the now broken clock tower; grief, guilt, and anger consuming her body, until...

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP

In an instant the woman woke up, covered in her sweat, her heart pounding against her chest. Her fight and flight instincts having kicked in, her eyes darted around her new apartment, her brain slowly catching up as to where she was. 

The muffled sound of cars honking from outside her window was heard, the slight musty smell that her apartment had, and the multiple of unpacked boxes laying around in her small bedroom had slowly calmed her down.

Memories from a few days ago came back to her again, making her sigh while simultaneously burying her face into her hands, that night continuing to haunt her time and time again no matter how many times she had tried to forget. 

Finally turning the alarm on her phone off, she got herself out of bed and went to her bathroom to freshen up, her morning not doing so well with that dream of hers. 

Pulling her hair back from her face, the woman left her bathroom and started to continue where she had left off from yesterday with unpacking her stuff. Putting her playlist on shuffle, she began digging through all of the boxes that held her belongings, putting them in their respective places.

The female vigilante was glad to have gotten away from New York, it gave her time to take a break from playing Spider-Woman—and to hopefully heal. Though it's obvious someone from above thought it would be funny that she would be transferred in the most highest crime rated city: Gotham City.

There goes her vacation.

Though Gotham City should be fine without the help of Spider-Woman shouldn't it? They have all the other vigilantes that kept Gotham fairly safe.

From Batman and Robin to Nightwing, Orphan, Spoiler, hell they even have someone to protect Gotham in the morning, which would be Signal. Of course there was also Red Hood, though she still wasn't so sure if he was to be counted since he did run a few drug cartels.

Wasn't really her business though, as long as she didn't have to do any fighting in the mean time of her slight vacation. 

Boy was she wrong.

"I need you to take some photos of our vigilantes." Her new boss ordered.

"I'm sorry?" The woman furrowed her brows, staring at the woman who was busy typing away on her computer.

"You heard me. Pictures. Vigilantes. Stat." Her voice was monotone, yet it had a slight intimidation to it. 

The vacationing vigilante did her best in holding back her frustration, moving her arms a bit to exaggerate her words just a bit. 

"But Gotham is a lot more crime ridden at night. Can't you have one of the men do it? I'm sure they'd be less likely to get mugged unlike me." She couldn't help but huff, nothing but familiar with this attitude this older woman had.

She was very much the same as Jameson back at the Daily Bugle.

It wasn't long until the woman peeled her eyes off from her computer screen to stare at the vigilante with sharp eyes.

"Listen sweetheart, the reason why you were even transferred here was because of the crystal clear pictures you had taken of Spider Woman over back from where you're from." Opening a file cabinet from her desk, she flipped through a few divided folders before pulling one out in particular and opening it up, slightly tossing it in the middle of her desk.

Photos that she had taken slid itself out from its place in the divider, all of them of which were in good quality and all had good angles to them, only because she was quite literally taking pictures of herself in order to even obtain a job as a photojournalist.

"So it's either you take photos as nice as these of our vigilantes or we can throw you back to New York, your choice." Quite literally, Jameson's female doppelganger looked back up at her new transferee before going back to typing.

Letting out a small sigh, a muttered "Yes ma'am" left her lips before leaving her new demon boss' office. She really can't catch a break can she? 

Well it's not like she wasn't a night person in the first place right? Being able to do whatever she wanted during the day, and once the sun had disappeared and the darkness and rain had taken over Gotham was when it was her time to go out and do her job.

The only downside was how incredibly freezing cold it was in Gotham once night had hit. She could stand the cold to some degree, as a New Yorker she was quite used to the cold, but Gotham was a whole other story.

She should probably install thermos into her suit. As much as she didn't want to think about vigilantism, she knew deep down she would end up doing it, only reason she had brought her suit, which was buried in the deepest parts of her closets.

As her uncle had said time and time again: With great power comes great responsibility.

Being way too busy being deep in her thoughts while slightly, not really, looking as to where any of Gotham's vigilantes may be swinging by, the hair's on her body shot up, the familiar feeling of a tingling sensation in the back of her head appearing.

With swiftness, she side stepped a hand that had tried to take hold of the back of her neck. Turning around, she found herself eyeing three men, all having sinister smiles on their faces.

Just what exactly was her luck today?

"Come on boys, don't you think three of you is a bit much for a single woman like me?" She questioned, a nervous chuckle leaving her lips.

Every step back she had taken, they had taken two steps forward. They had glanced amongst each other, snickers leaving their mouths.

"Not with a lady as pretty as you." One of them commented.

Slowly, they had backed her into a closed off alleyway, all three of them laughing once her back had hit the brick wall.

Her eyes darted around, checking every crevice, every shadow, trying to see if any of Gotham's vigilantes will swoop down to rescue her, and save her the trouble of having to take care of these men herself. 

But there was no one, not even the slightest of movements, not a glint of lenses shining in the dim lighting. Welp, looks like she's on her own for tonight. 

"You guys, really don't want to do this." She warned them, but they only laughed more. They always laugh. Who wouldn't though? A helpless woman who you've backed into a corner telling you they're gonna regret what they're gonna do?

Good thing she wasn't just any ordinary woman though.

"We're gonna have so much fun with you pretty lady." One of them cackled.

"Ugh, how gross..." She muttered.

Glancing around one last time, this time, making sure there would be no bystanders to witness as to what was going to happen.

Pulling up the hood to her winter coat, she let out a sigh, raising one of her arms, pointing it towards one of the men.

"You asked for it." 

In the blink of an eye, her webs shot out from her wrist, a long string going straight for the one in the middle, before he was heaved straight towards the woman before making a harsh impact with a trash can lid.

"Ooh, you'll be feeling that tomorrow." She winced.

Grunts of surprise came from the other two men, but no matter how odd it was for webs to shoot out from a woman's hand, they proceeded to run at the female. With ease, she dodged their attempted charged attacks.

Her hands, opposite of the two men, shot out webs and took hold of the back of their heads before she pulled at the connected webs, causing the two men to bash their skulls together.

"You'll definitely feel that tomorrow." She chuckled. 

Taking a few steps back, she hesitated for a moment and stared at them before quickly rearranging the positions of their bodies.

"Just in case..." She muttered. With their backs all facing each others', she bundled them up in her webs, a precaution if they ended up gaining back consciousness before the morning

Dusting off her hands, she let out a satisfied hum before securing her hood once more before quickly jogging off, not wanting to be found at the scene of the crime. That would only cause herself more trouble. 

"Lets just call it a night, I'm freezing my ass off here." She muttered to herself, trying to bring her coat as close to her body as possible, not wanting to lose what bit of warmth her body was keeping.

Unknowingly to the spider though, a mysterious figure with their infamous red helmet had stumbled upon her small clean up, the two barely missing each other.

He stared at the scene in front of him, his helmet quickly getting to work in scanning the mysterious webs. With his boots softly kicking at the small puddles on the ground, he crouched down, taking a closer look at the webs.

His helmet broke down the composition of the webs, seeing how it was made with a few chemicals. Reaching out his hand, he began to touch the webs a bit, trying to rip at it for a sample.

It clung to his leather glove, and it took a bit of force until it got unstuck, it almost took his glove with it with how hard he was pulling.

"The hell..?" He muttered to himself.

He rubbed his fingers together, some of stickiness staying on his gloved fingers. He took out his knife from one of his secret pockets instead and cut a bit of the web off, making it cling to his blade.

"This shit better come off..." He grumbled before putting his knife away. 

Standing up, he took out his grapple from his utility belt before disappearing into the night. 

---

The spider quickly shot up from her bed, her breathing irregular and covered in her sweat again, tortured once again by that never ending nightmare. Her eyes darting around her bedroom once more, she takes slow deep breaths before covering her eyes with her hands, the palm of her hands pressing into her eyelids.

Letting out a deep sigh, she got out of her bed, doing her morning routine once more. Scrolling through her phone, she looks at the news of Gotham City, most of them mainly about the many crimes of the city, some of politicians, and others of Bruce Wayne. 

Before putting her phone down though, a message popped from the top of her screen, it was from her new boss.

"I better have those photos by the end of this week!!!!" It had read.

The woman only rolled her eyes, turning off her phone so she could dump her face in water. 

Leaving her bathroom, she rubbed her moisturizer onto her face while making her way to her living room that also shared her kitchen. Starting up her coffee machine, she made herself a quick PB&J in the meantime. 

Leaning against the counter as she slowly ate her sandwich, the smell of coffee beginning to waft in the air, the vacationing vigilante took a good look at her small apartment. 

It was.. 

A bit bland to put it nicely. 

Guess she was going shopping today. Quickly downing her coffee without trying to burn her tongue, she quickly got dressed and headed out to do a bit of shopping, to make her apartment just a bit more welcoming for the time that she was staying in Gotham. 

Though she had a bit of a tight budget, she managed to buy a few things well within it that there was a little left over that she could buy herself dinner.

By the time she was done shopping though, the sun was beginning to set, meaning that it was nearly time for the criminals of Gotham to come crawling out of their hiding spots to cause some trouble.

"Shit..." She muttered under her breath, holding onto her plastic bags tightly, her shoes tapping against the cement as she quickly tries to make it back to her apartment before she got mugged.

Her senses have heightened a bit as a sense of panic and wariness began to settle in her stomach. Her eyes flitted about, cautious of every corner, every shadow, every alley, the last light sunset disappearing over the horizon.

Cursing under her breath, her steps quickened, and then there she saw it. A blur of bright red, green, and yellow flying in the air; it was Robin.

Her boss's text from this morning came back to her, which only made her curse more. Of course she didn't bring her camera. The handles of the bags hanging from one of her arms, she quickly fishes out her phone from her back pocket, turning the flash on to take a quick picture of Robin before he disappeared off into the night.

She cursed at his nimbleness, taking a small step back as he flies above her, but just as she was about to take the picture, she had bumped into something sturdy. 

Blinking, she slowly turned around, only to come face to face with someone's chest, Batman's symbol on a black shirt, but instead it was in red.

Slowly, she looked up, only to find herself face to face with the Red Hood.

Click!

The flash to her phone went off as she took a picture of him.

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