#I don't know what this is supposed to mean

[inkskinned]

you know, you know. no gods, no masters, no kings on pedestals. everyone is fallible. death of the author. you know! you are balanced about your intake of media - you allow the wiggle room, the grace, the gratitude, the skepticism. nobody above criticism.

but still. a weird gut-punch feeling, something akin to betrayal. you read the article. surprise! an author you love is actually: a serial fucking predator.

well, shit. what now. no, you knew he was a person (all people are), but now you're wondering - what have i overlooked by accident? what messages have i internalized that are strange and cruel? and also, like, what the fuck?

his actions lay a thick glaze on top of everything. like each place is now ruined, opaque in a new way. but okay, fine, you've done this before. you knew better, right? you've been betrayed by many a cherished childhood author.

still, this stickiness. fuck. can you pick up that book again. will you read it to your children. you've recommended it to others - will you ever do that again? and of course, of course, no parasocial relationships. you were theoretically above this kind of sentiment. but the artist informs the art, right.

so it's not something as clear-cut as feeling he owed you, specifically (a stranger) better behavior - just that you kind of, in a distant and odd way... sort of trusted him to do better. it's not like a real trust or something speakable, just the faint hope that the product (good books) was a thin representation of the soul. now it feels like the product (good? books?) was a mask. in some small or insignificant way, your previous support of this person lent them power. your money and your time and your laughter.

and the thing is - you have this terrible, echoing sensation. how many times will this happen? over and over. you find out that the singer you love is actually a predator. you learn over drinks that your favorite high school english teacher is in jail for what he did to her. you listen to the news idly and suddenly discover that a woman you used to idolize has been abusing her kids for an actual eon.

what can you touch without the static melting off. you can't even really complain about it too much (you were supposed to know better, and besides, you don't want the same re-split "it's not your fault, love what you love" basic advice), but now it's here. somehow, it feels like - you let him into your life.

it's not that things need to be pure or an artist has to be like, endlessly perfect, mindful. demure. it's more just this terrible truth that has been replayed through your veins so often it feels criminally vain. power corrupts, absolute power corrupts absolutely. did you want any one person to be worth that power?

it's just that he wrote books where he seemed to understand that. he seemed to know about hierarchies and unfair systems and bigotry and privilege. you thought they were books about what it means to struggle. you thought they were about having power and still using it for good rather than for control. he spooned you a narrative of being a good guy, a kind soul. you fucking bought what that fucking monster sold.

maybe that's why they were fantasies, after all.

[0samue0]

The best example of this, in my opinion, is Supernatural.

For those who don't know: Supernatural was created by Eric Kripke and supposed to be five seasons long. He did get his five seasons but by then the show had become so popular that it was decided to give them a season 6 (which eventually went up to 15) - without Eric Kripke who had already told his story.

The last episode of season 5 was heartbreaking. It was one of the saddest things I had ever watched because it beautifully tied up all the love and tragedy and hope and fear of the previous seasons. They won. And paid an incredibly high price for their victory.

It way truly gut wrenching.

And I was okay with that. Because while one of the brothers ended up in hell, locked up with the prospect of an eternity of torture he did that for his brother and for us. To live. Not just survive, but live.

And thanks to the absolute fantastic storytelling, directing and acting of that episode, both the viewer and the surviving brother could make peace with it and try to live our life to the fullest.

Which was the point when the supposedly dead brother showed up on screen without any and all explanations. Never ever have I been angrier at a plot twist. Certainly not at one that saved a beloved character from a terrible fate.

What followed were 10 years of the brothers being the most codependent idiots we've ever seen on TV. Honestly, I'd say 8 of the 10 following seasons can be summoned up with: Brother A dies, Brother B does something stupid to bring him back, Brother A is pissed at Brother B and swears to never forgive him until Brother B dies and A does something stupid to bring him back. Accompanied by gay pining and much suffering for the angel.

Have you ever wished for your favorite character to die?

I have. Around season 9 I got fed up with Sam being angry at Dean and was waiting for Dean to finally bite it again so that Sam would turn normal again.

Now, that doesn't mean I didn't like season 6-15. I wouldn't have watched them if I didn't enjoy them. I've just always been salty about the wasted ending from season 5.

And then the show's finale came and oh boy was it bad. It was sad too. One of the brothers died again but got the other to promise not to bring him back. And for some reason he actually followed up on that promise.

The problem was that it felt pointless.

Prior to that we lost Castiel, the angel, to his supposedly final death, right after (as all of tumblr probably knows) he had told Dean that he loved him.

And that destroyed Dean. For one episode. All in all the plot ended with the brothers losing everyone they had cared for but each other. They had won but at this point you weren't celebrating the victory, you thought "Ok. What's next?"

The wildest part was, that none of that was in any shape or form important for the last episode. They were happy, enjoying life, eating pie, not working through their emotions at all and dying thanks to sheer carelessness. One of them. He goes to Heaven, everyone and their mothers are there, including the apparently not dead angel.

Do you think they talk to Cas? Or to the kid they had basically adopted? To their mother whom they'd dearly mourned or the father whose shadow they had finally outgrown? Nope.

I mean, thank God it was their actual Dad and not their sperm donor that greeted dead brother and explained all of the above but still. There was no closure. No tying up loose ends, not heartfelt reunion.

Just a drive in the car and a time lapse of the surviving brother's live until he died of old age and showed up in heaven the same age he had been when his brother had died.

The End.

So yeah, the difference between a good ending and a bad ending isn't the "happy". It's the heartfelt.

i hate when ppl act like the only reason to not like a "sad" ending is because you can't take it or whatever. personally as a tragedy enjoyer, i hate a poorly written ending. i hate an ending that is just kind of a bummer. i hate an ending that feels mean-spirited to the audience. i hate an ending that's redundant. i love a sad ending that is thematically consistent, poignant, and bespoke to the rest of its narrative.

[karenandhenwilson]

Let's talk about the 21st century and queer rights

Sometimes I see a post and wonder what kind of world people live in, how ignorant and hateful they are of the community they claim to be part of, and even the most recent history of that community.

I saw this post with this line in it: "Its the 21th century, are we still suppose to justify people who lie at their partners in order to protect their reputation?" And I'm not reblogging because I don't want to have it on my blog.

So, let's talk about the 21st century and queer rights in the US, shall we, @queershits?

Did you know that same-sex marriage in the US as a whole has only been legal since the Supreme Court decision on Obergefell v. Hodges on June 26, 2015? Prior to that, the first state to grant same-sex marriage was Massachusetts in 2004, while the first civil unions for gay and lesbian couples became legal in 2000. But at the same time, 28 states had banned same-sex marriage and the recognition of those marriages from other jurisdictions until 2015. In fact, the federal government had been banned from recognizing same-sex marriages by the Defense of Marriage Act in 1996, which had been voided by the Supreme Court decision in 2015 but has only been fully repealed by the Respect of Marriage Act in 2022. That's all the 21st century. And very recent 21st century!

When Hen and Karen adopted Denny in 2011, they weren't married. Because at that point in time, they weren't allowed to in California.

Did you know that until the Supreme Court ruling on Lawrence v. Texas on June 26, 2003, same-sex sexual activity was illegal in 14 US states? And that even with that ruling 12 of these states have not changed their state's constitution, so that these laws aren't executable but still on the book and regularly used to harass queer people? (And didn't the current Supreme Court just say after overthrowing Roe v. Wade they'd like to take a good long look at Lawrence v. Texas, too? People might lose their rights again in those 12 states if the worst comes to pass here.) That's all the 21st century.

Did you know that "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" came into effect in 1994, allowing gay and bi people to serve in the US military as long as no one found out about their sexual orientation? If they were found out, they could face dishonorable discharges or even prison time. Either would be a permanent burden on their records for the rest of their lives. DADT was repelled in 2011 after a long and hard debate. That's well into the 21st century.

Karen explicitely states that DADT is part of the reason she didn't become an astronaut. (Though, NASA was never truly subjected to the rule as it is not a military organisation. But on the other hand, many of the astronatus are active or former military.)

Tommy was at the 118 in 2005. We know he was in the Army prior to joining the LAFD. That means Tommy served under the rule of DADT, which would have been an immense burden on him.

Do you know that there is a defense called "LGBTQ+ panic" often used in combination with a defense of insanity, provocation, or self-defense? This defense tactic is only banned in 21 US states, and most of those bans are very recent. In 2018, only three states had banned this defense. In 29 US states people are allowed to say "this person is gay/trans/queer/etc and I felt threated by that fact alone so I saw myself with no other choice but to hurt them" in a court of a law and the jury has to consider that argument. That's the 21st century.

Let's take a look at the kind of world Josh, Michael, and Tommy would have been children and teenagers in. That's not quite the 21st century, but it's near enough.

Tha aids epemedic started in the 1980s, and is — for the record! — still ongoing. But in the 1980s it was very much deemed a problem of the gay community only. And many, many people claimed outrageous things like "they're getting what they deserve". Josh and Tommy are both 80s children, Michael was a teenager in the 80s. We know Tommy grew up with a bigoted and hateful man like Gerrard as a father. He probably heard the above quote and worse regularly.

Have you ever heard the name Mathew Shepard, @queershits? (If not, go and educate yourself!) Mathew Shepard was a young gay man tortured and murdered in October 1998. Josh and Tommy would have been teenagers or maybe young adults (as we don't know the exact age of either of them) when that happened. It was all over the news and there were, again, people not shying away from saying he got what he deserved. I've no doubt Tommy's father (and Gerrard) was one of those people.

That's the world Josh, Michael, and Tommy grew up in as gay men that Josh talked about. They didn't hide to protect their reputation, as it was put in the quote above. They hid to protect their life and well-being. Finding the confidence and security to let go of that kind of learned behavior to protect yourself is so hard. But all three did it!

There are still people today who have to hide like this in the US. Because they're born into the wrong family or the wrong neighborhood or the wrong religious community where being queer is still seen as a ground to hate them, to exclude them, to hurt them, to kill them.

The number of hate crimes is rising again. The hard-won rights and freedom of queer people are threatened again. It's the 21st century, but that doesn't mean we are always safe or that we don't sometimes have to do shady things to protect ourselves or that we can lean back and enjoy the rights we have. Because many of us all over the world either don't have any rights or are facing the very real danger of losing the rights again that those who came before us fought so hard for.

[joemama-2]

velvet lies

pairing: gojo x fem reader synopsis: crippling debt and possible evictions have ruined you. working two jobs with no downtime, and a five-year-old son, you really don't know the meaning of taking a break. after continuous questions about his father, you have decided to finally let your son meet his dad. only thing is, he has no idea said son exists. and to top it off, you have not a single clue about what kinds of things will transpire from this sudden revelation. tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, fluff, romance, alcohol, classism, mom! reader, lying, abuse, MAJOR angst, slow burn, exes to lovers, (mentions of) cheating, scandals, death, blood, drugs, drama, family drama, miscommunication, blackmail, unhealthy coping mechanisms , depression, manipulation wc: 17k spotify playlist series masterlist < previous chapter < next chapter

“What do you mean you’re just ‘giving up’?”

“Satoru, calm down.”

“Oh, calm down? You expect me to calm down when you’re just letting whoever threw all this shit on Y/N, my son just…free? You’re really not going to look harder?”

Satoru huffs in a frustrated manner, rubbing his hands through his hair, and messing up the silver locks. When he was called by his parents so early in the morning to come to their place, he thought he would’ve been greeted with good news. Any news. Not this. He not only feels immensely annoyed, but also thrown under the bus. But what else was supposed to expect from them? He’s pacing the living room, his parents standing off to the side and watching their only child try not to lose his shit. 

“Satoru, we’ve all looked into this. But whoever took that picture was smart, they knew how to stay hidden. We’ve done everything in power, son.” His mother tries to placate him, holding her hand out in an attempt to gently plant it on his forearm. 

He promptly pulls away before she makes contact, fixing his mother with an icy look, lip curled up slightly.

“How convenient,” Satoru snaps, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “The all-powerful Gojo family, with all its influence, resources, and connections, suddenly can’t find one person? Spare me.” His pacing becomes more erratic, his steps heavy as if each one is an outlet for his frustration. 

His father finally speaks, his tone sharp and commanding, “Enough, Satoru. You’re not the only one affected by this. We’ve handled the situation as best as we could without escalating it further. Do you even understand the damage control we’ve had to do?” 

“Damage control?” Satoru lets out a bitter laugh, stopping dead in his tracks to glare at his father. “You’re more worried about your reputation than your grandson’s safety, aren’t you? Or Y/N’s for that matter?” 

His father narrows his eyes, his voice lowering dangerously. “Watch your tone. You think we don’t care? Everything we’ve done has been to protect this family.” 

“Family?” Satoru scoffs, gesturing wildly. “If you cared so much about family, you wouldn’t just let this slide. You’d help me hunt them down, no matter what. But no, you’re just sweeping it under the rug like everything else, aren’t you?” 

His mother’s voice trembles slightly, though she tries to keep her composure. “Satoru, please try to understand—there’s only so much we can do without creating more chaos. We can’t act recklessly.”

“You mean I can’t act recklessly,” he mutters darkly, taking a step back from both of them. His jaw tightens as he looks between his parents, disgust and disappointment etched into his face. “You don’t get it. None of this is just about me anymore. It’s about Y/N and Koji. They didn’t ask for any of this, and now they’re the ones dealing with it.” 

His father sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What do you want us to do, Satoru? Tell me, what more can be done that hasn’t already been tried?” 

“I’ll handle it myself,” Satoru growls, the fire in his eyes blazing. “You won’t. Fine. But I will.” Without waiting for a response, he turns on his heel and storms toward the door. 

Yamato’s hand shoots out, gripping his son by the elbow and effectively holding him in place. Satoru turns his head over his shoulder, matching his father’s death glare with one of his own—only it looks…scarier. 

The silence is palpable—disturbing. Akane stands half way in the middle, unsure if she should stop this now or let Yamato deal with it—deal with their son. She worries her lip between her teeth, brows furrowed together. 

“Satoru,” Yamato’s voice is low, firm, but the underlying tension cuts through the room like a blade. “Don’t forget who you’re talking to.”

Satoru’s lips curl into a cold smirk, one that doesn’t reach his eyes. He doesn’t pull away, but his entire posture radiates defiance. “Oh, I know exactly who I’m talking to. The man who taught me that family comes second to pride. Let me go, Dad, before this gets uglier than it already is.”

Akane takes a hesitant step forward, her hands trembling slightly as she reaches out. “Yamato, please. Let him go. This isn’t the time to—”

“Stay out of this, Akane,” Yamato interrupts sharply, his focus never wavering from Satoru.

Satoru scoffs, the sound filled with disdain. “Of course. Can’t let Mom get in the way of the big, bad Gojo men, can we?” His tone drips with mockery, but his glare burns with genuine anger.

Yamato’s grip tightens, his knuckles white. “You think this is about me? About my pride? This is about you—your recklessness, your inability to see the bigger picture. You can’t solve everything with brute force, Satoru.”

Satoru’s smirk fades, replaced by a steely resolve. “And you can’t solve anything by sitting back and doing nothing.” He yanks his arm free with a sharp motion, the force of it making Yamato take a half-step back. “You’ve made it clear where your priorities lie. Don’t worry—I won’t let this ‘family legacy’ get in the way of protecting my family.”

Yamato’s jaw tightens, his expression unreadable. “Satoru, the boy is your family but not that woma—”

“Address her by name, Yamato.” Satoru steps closer to his father, the two at towering heights. Truly a frightening sight to an outsider’s perspective. “Or you and I are going to start having some serious problems.”

Yamato’s lips press into a thin line, his stoic demeanor cracking just enough to reveal a flicker of irritation. “You think threats will get you anywhere with me, boy?” His voice is sharp, controlled, but there’s a distinct edge that betrays his frustration. “She’s the reason this mess even exists. She’s—”

“Enough.” Satoru’s tone drops to something cold, lethal. His cerulean eyes blaze with an intensity that could freeze anyone in their tracks. “You don’t get to disrespect her. Not when you’ve done nothing to fix this so-called ‘mess.’ Not when she’s been doing everything she can to protect my son—your grandson.”

Yamato stiffens, his brows furrowing. “Watch your tone.”

“I’ve been watching my tone my whole damn life,” Satoru snaps, his composure finally breaking. “But not anymore. You don’t get to sit on your throne and act like you care about this family when all you care about is the Gojo name. Koji and Y/N are my family now. Whether you like it or not.”

“You two aren’t married,” Yamato reminds his son, for what must be the thousandth time now. 

Really, Satoru’s losing his mind here. He knows that. He knows you two aren’t married. But he still feels an obligation towards you—the magnetic pull to protect you from outside scrutiny that could potentially harm you and Koji. So sure, you guys aren’t married. But that doesn’t change the matter of fact here. “And what if we were?”

Akane gasps, Yamato’s eyes visibly widening in surprise before lowering down to their normal state. His jaw ticks. “Stop, don’t make jokes like that. You’ve been promised to Himari for a while now.”

Satoru’s laugh is sharp, humorless, slicing through the tense air. “Promised? What century are you living in? I’m not some pawn for you to move around, Yamato.” His tone drips with disdain as he steps closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over his father. “You think a promise to Himari means a damn thing to me? I’ll marry who I want, when I want.”

Yamato’s composure wavers for the briefest moment before he narrows his eyes. “You don’t understand the importance of this arrangement, Satoru. It’s not just about you—it’s about securing alliances, protecting the legacy—”

“Legacy, legacy, legacy,” Satoru mocks, rolling his eyes. “Is that all you care about? Your ‘legacy’? Not your grandson, not the fact that your son is trying to do what you never could—actually be there for his family?”

Akane’s hands tremble at her sides as she steps forward, voice tentative but pleading. “Satoru, please. We only want what’s best for you—”

“No,” Satoru interrupts sharply, turning his icy gaze to his mother. “You want what’s best for you. Don’t twist it.” He shakes his head, running a hand through his hair as if trying to physically shake off their words. “Koji doesn’t need your ‘legacy.’ He doesn’t need your politics or your alliances. He needs a father who puts him first.”

“And Y/N?” Yamato retorts, his tone scathing. “Do you think she’s above this? She could be using you, Satoru. She’s a liability, dragging you—us into scandal after scandal. And now, with the boy—”

“Enough!” Satoru’s voice booms, cutting through the room like a clap of thunder. He steps even closer to his father, their faces mere inches apart. “You don’t get to talk about her like that. She’s the mother of my child. She’s family. And I’ll defend her with everything I’ve got.” His voice drops, low and cold. “So go ahead. Keep pushing me. See what happens when I stop giving a damn about your ‘legacy.’”

Akane’s quiet, labored breathing breaks the tension, her hand fluttering to her mouth as she looks between the two men. The silence that follows feels deafening, and for a moment, Yamato looks like he might lash out—but then he takes a breath, regaining his composure.

“Fine, you’ve made your point clear,” Yamato finally says, his voice low and measured. “But don’t expect me to clean up the fallout when this all collapses around you.”

Satoru huffs a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “I won’t. I’ve learned not to expect much from you anyway. A man who cares more about sealing business deals than the own well-being of his family.”

Yamato glares, his jaw tightening once more, but he doesn’t respond. The tension in the room is suffocating, a silent battle of wills playing out between father and son.

Satoru doesn’t wait for his father to break. Instead, he turns sharply, heading for the door. Before he leaves, he glances over his shoulder, his eyes steely. “You can take your promises, your alliances, and your legacy—and shove them. I’ll protect my family, with or without you.”

And with that, he slams the door behind him, leaving Akane and Yamato in stunned silence. The house rattles with Satoru’s exit. Akane slowly turns her head towards her husband, who is still staring at the spot their son once stood in. Her jaw clenches, French-tipped nails digging into her aged palms. “You…you’re breaking this family apart, Yamato.”

“It was already apart.”

That’s it. Nostrils flaring as she hastily stomps up to her husband and delivers a slap to his right cheek. His head shoots toward his left, unflinching. He doesn’t face his wife, even after he hears the sniffling come from her. 

The room hangs heavy with silence after the sharp crack of Akane’s hand meeting Yamato’s cheek. She stands there, trembling, her chest rising and falling with each labored breath. Tears well in her eyes, blurring the sight of her husband—unmoved, unshaken, and cold as stone. 

“You’re so blind,” Akane whispers, her voice quivering. “Blind to what really matters. Satoru…he’s slipping away from us, and you can’t see it because you’re too damn proud to admit you’ve failed him.”

Yamato remains still, his head turned, staring at nothing. “I’ve done what I had to do,” he replies, his voice devoid of emotion. “For this family. For its survival.”

“No,” Akane counters, her voice growing louder, cutting through the tense air like a blade. “You did it for yourself. You’ve always done it for yourself. The name, the power, the control—it’s all you care about. You don’t care about Satoru. You don’t care about Koji. And now…” Her voice cracks, and tears spill over her cheeks. “Now, you don’t even care about me.”

Finally, Yamato turns to face her. His expression is unreadable, a mask of stoicism, but there’s a flicker—just a flicker—of something in his eyes. Regret? Doubt? It’s gone before she can be sure.

“I care about this family,” he says, the words sounding rehearsed, hollow. “I’ve always cared.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Akane snaps, taking a step closer, her fists clenching at her sides. “If you cared, you’d see what you’re doing. You’d see that you’re driving Satoru away, driving us all away. You’d see that the ‘legacy’ you’re so desperate to protect isn’t worth a damn if there’s no one left to carry it. Aren’t you tired of this all?”

Yamato opens his mouth to respond, but the words die on his tongue. For a moment, he simply stands there, his towering frame somehow diminished by the weight of her words.

“You’ve lost him,” Akane whispers, her voice breaking. “And if you keep this up…you’ll lose me too.”

She turns and walks away, her heels clicking against the polished floor as she retreats, leaving Yamato alone in the echoing silence of the living room. He doesn’t call after her. Instead, he stands there, the faint sting of her slap lingering on his cheek, and for the first time in a long time, Yamato feels the weight of his choices pressing down on him.

Satoru’s driving faster than he should back home, inhaling deeply then letting it go. He stops at a red light, too close to the white line of pedestrians. His phone sits in the cup holder before being picked up once more, eyes narrowing at the article he was looking at before he stormed on the pedal home. 

“Satoru Gojo and girlfriend Himari Nakamura spotted with Y/N L/N! Trouble in Paradise? Is this an end to Hitoru?!”

He bitterly scoffs once more when he sees the idiotic title to the even more idiotic article. Once again, an intrusive element to his already asphyxiating life. He knew meeting up with you to drop off Koji’s jacket might have been pushing it already, but for some reason…he found himself wanting to see your face and hear your voice. Even if it was just for a few short minutes. He hadn’t expected Himari to find him so soon, which was why he knew he needed to cut it short and keep his cool before anything unsavory happened. 

Because of shit like this. 

Satoru’s grip tightens on the wheel as he glares at the screen, the words blurring as his anger mounts. His chest feels tight, like the very air around him is too thick to breathe. The headline taunts him—Hitoru—the mockery of it all, the never-ending reminders of the mess he’s in. Himari’s name keeps appearing in connection with his, like some knot he can’t untangle.

Hitoru—the name they gave him and Himari when they were pushed together by their families, the perfect picture of a relationship built on top of strict obligation, not love. His fingers tighten around his phone, the familiar buzzing of frustration building in his throat.

He snaps the phone shut with a sharp motion, tossing it back into the cupholder. But the damage is done. The images of you, of Himari, of the scrutiny that surrounds them, keep circling his mind. It’s suffocating. He doesn’t even want to think about it anymore—about how you’ve been dragged into this mess.

The light changes, and he slams his foot down on the accelerator, the engine roaring as he speeds toward home. But even as he drives, his mind races—faster than the car, faster than his thoughts can keep up. He can’t shake the image of his parents, the look in their eyes, the silence that followed his exit. And now this—this new intrusion. It’s like he’s always on the edge of losing something, something he can’t even define anymore.

He turns off the road onto a quieter street, his heart hammering in his chest as he parks in front of the familiar house. The world feels too loud, the air too thick, and all he wants is for it to stop—for it all to just stop.

He grabs his phone again, his thumb hovering over your name in his contacts. He pauses, staring at it, then pulls his hand away, staring at the water in front of him instead.

“Damn it,” he mutters to himself. There’s so much to fix, so many wrongs to right, but he doesn’t know where to start anymore. Throwing the phone onto the passenger seat, he knocks his forehead into the leather wheel. 

He wonders if you saw it already. Maybe you did, but maybe you didn’t. There’s a part of him that wants to text you to ask, and maybe even apologize. However, he’s not sure if that would be a good choice right now. He recognizes every little bit of you so easily, it’s startling. Maybe concerning?

The small downturn to your lips as you held back a frown and formed a smile, the pitch of your voice lowering in disappointment. The look in your eyes that glazed over with nothing but…betrayal? He cursed himself, eyes squeezing shut. 

You probably hate him even more now for not standing up for you as you would’ve liked—as he would’ve liked.  He’s starting to feel like his older self again, and he absolutely despises that. Fucking up and knowing it, but not fixing it up afterwards. He should’ve followed you back into your workplace and apologized for what Himari said to you, but he didn’t. He froze like a fucking idiot and in the end—chose another woman. 

Satoru’s forehead remains pressed against the steering wheel, the heat of it grounding him in the overwhelming rush of guilt and frustration. His thoughts swirl in chaos, a vortex of what-ifs and should-haves. Every moment he’d spent ignoring your pain, every opportunity to protect you he let slip by—it feels like he’s suffocating on the weight of it all. The truth is, he knows you too well. Better than anyone else ever could. And that makes it worse.

He can picture it so clearly: the way your lips had almost quivered before you plastered that smile, the way your eyes shifted, too tired to pretend anymore. He’s seen that look before, way more times than he’d like to admit. And it terrifies him now. Betrayal. Is that what he’d done? It was almost like he had carved a bigger wedge between you without realizing it, all because he couldn’t act fast enough, couldn’t be the man you needed. 

Did you still need him?

He slams his hand against the wheel in frustration, the sharp sound echoing in the otherwise quiet car. 

His phone buzzes on the seat beside him with a random notification, and instinctively, he grabs it, his thumb hovering over your name again. But no—he can’t. Not like this. Not when he’s this tangled up in his own mess.

What could he possibly say? 

He drags his hand over his face, muttering to himself. "God, what are you doing to yourself?"

Every time he tries to piece it together, another fragment of reality shatters in his mind. You’ve always been strong. You never asked for him to do more than what he could handle. But you’d been forced to handle so much already, and he... he’d let it all slip away.

Maybe you actually do hate me now.

He leans back against the seat, closing his eyes again, hoping for a moment of clarity. But the only thing he can hear now is the ringing silence in his head.

“Do you still love me?”

“…of course I do. I’d never stop.”

“Then why…why don’t I feel like you do anymore?”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know you are.”

“No, really. I’m—”

“Let’s go to sleep now.”

He actually feels like he’s going crazy. Snapping his eyes open. He’d never thought he’d be the person to hear voices from the past in his head, but now he’s starting to understand. His heart is beating faster than it should, mouth drying like the Sahara desert and his fingers are starting to feel fidgety. With a shaky, labored breath inward, he reaches for his glove compartment. Opening it and bringing out the picture frame you gifted him. 

It’s only been a few days, but Satoru has discovered that not just staring at his son, but at you, has calmed him down in his hardest of moments. 

Satoru’s fingers tremble as he holds the picture frame, his eyes drawn to the image of you. It’s a moment frozen in time, a snapshot of a time when everything was different. Your smile, your eyes full of a younger warmth and something more—something he wishes he could’ve seen in person. That smile, the one that always made his heart flutter despite the chaos surrounding them. 

It was just a small moment, a simple gesture—no grand speeches or dramatic declarations—but to him, it meant the world. And now, in the silence of his car, surrounded by the weight of everything he’d failed to protect, it’s the only thing that feels real.

He runs his thumb along the edge of the glass, his mind replaying the words from before—your words. His chest tightens.

“Why don’t I feel like you do anymore?”

It’s a question he still can’t answer. How could he? He was so far from being the man you needed him to be. He thought the love you shared was enough, but maybe it wasn’t. Maybe he’d let it wither, neglected it in favor of his own responsibilities, his own distractions, until it had slipped through his fingers like sand. But in a way, he saw the neglect. And again, he froze. And again, he chose to turn away from you, letting you walk away. 

“Satoru... I know you are.”

He flinches at the memory of your voice, still so clear, still so piercing in its sadness. He'd heard the pain in your words that night. The resignation. He should’ve comforted you more—should’ve tried harder to. It was your own understanding that whatever you two had left, he wasn’t offering it in a way that could keep you whole.

The picture frame shakes slightly in his grasp. The noise of it is almost deafening, drowning out the chaotic swirl of his thoughts. He closes his eyes, feeling the weight of guilt settle deep within his chest, heavier than anything he’s ever felt before.

I never wanted to hurt you. I’m so sorry.

His breath hitches. Maybe he wasn’t entirely lost. Maybe he could still fix this. 

With a shaky exhale, he sets the frame back on the seat, staring at it for just a second longer before slowly closing his eyes, and leaning back against the headrest, allowing the overwhelming weight of it all to settle over him. His heart rate evens out, his hands no longer jittering. His sweat has dried down and his shoulders feel lighter. 

Maybe he should apologize. For anything at this point, so long you know he’s regretful. 

He gets a ping at his phone again, one that has him reaching for it and unlocking it with quick ease. He’s set up a different notification sound for whenever you text him or call him—it separates you from the rest of the contacts. Also, it lets him know that your message or phone call is actually worth replying to. 

Y/N:

Can you watch Koji tonight, please? I’m going out with a friend. 

He hesitates, a wave of curiosity passing through him. What friend? Going where? He wants to ask, and he almost does. But logic wins over and he finds himself having better restraint than he would’ve expected. So, with a big inhale, he types back a simple ‘sure’. 

—-

He blames it on the fact that he hasn’t seen you dressed up in a while. That’s why his mind has suddenly gone foggy, lips parted and eyebrows raised as if he’s on the very verge of saying something. “You look…” Edible. 

Clearing your throat, you stuff your hands into the pockets of the small black jacket you adorn to keep you semi-warm throughout the night. But it probably won’t do much considering your legs are on full display for everyone to see. Your white-painted toes peeking out from the black heels you wear. And not to mention, the red dress you’re wearing that’s almost too tight and short for his liking. You’re wearing a glossy red lip to match, hair down, and jewelry that stands out perfectly against your skin. If he inhales hard enough, he’ll smell the sweet scent of your floral, strawberry fragrance that always leaves him wanting—feining for more. 

“…nice.”

Nice? That’s all he could come up with? He mentally berates himself, though he’s not entirely sure if he wants to give you the satisfaction of knowing just how good you look. It’s not just the dress or the heels—it’s your unknowing confidence in your stance, the way you carry yourself. It’s infuriatingly captivating. 

“Thanks,” you reply, not meeting his gaze as you adjust the strap of your small purse. You’re not oblivious to the way his eyes linger, but you refuse to let it affect you. Not tonight, not anymore. “Koji’s already asleep, so you shouldn’t have any trouble.”

Satoru nods, leaning against the doorframe, his hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatpants. “Who’s the lucky guy?” he finally asks, his tone deliberately casual.

You pause mid-motion, glancing back at him with a raised brow. “Why does it matter?”

He shrugs, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “Just curious. I mean, you haven't gone out much, so…”

“It’s a friend,” you say firmly, cutting him off before he can push further. “That’s all you need to know.”

His lips thin, looking briefly at his son’s closed door before back at your figure; watching you grab your keys. “Well…how are you getting there?” He asks, a hint of concern in his voice. 

“My friend and the guy she’s talking to are picking me up. We were going to meet him there, but he said he could pick us up instead.”

“What guy?” He can’t help but ask. “Is he a good driver? Do you know him well? Do I—”

“They’re picking me up,” you reiterate, cutting him off. Looking back at him, a plain emotion on your face. “I have it situated. Just worry about watching Koji, okay?”

The words sting more than he expects them to. He watches as you step out the door, your heels clicking against the pavement. “Please be safe,” he calls after you, his voice softer this time, almost hesitant.

You turn briefly, offering a small, polite smile. “I will.”

And just like that, you’re gone, leaving Satoru standing in the apartment, staring after you with a sinking feeling in his chest. The thought of you out there, dressed like that, with someone else—some other guy—makes his blood simmer. He knows he has no right to feel this way, but it doesn’t stop the jealousy from gnawing at him.

A few minutes and he decides to be nosy. Peeking out the window, looking down at the parking lot of the complex. He sees you getting into a car. Now, it’s not the fact that the entire car is blacked out so he can’t even see who’s in the car with you, or the fact that it has obnoxious lights on the rims. But solely the fact that it’s a Maybach. 

Since when do you know anyone who drives a Maybach?

Not that he’s trying to diss you or anything, but so far, he has no knowledge of you coming across any people who could afford that kind of car. Up until now. And that thought alone has him on edge. 

Or maybe it’s the signature, golden ‘Z’ emblem above the back license plate that he spots as the car drives off. His stomach turns. No. No. No. That couldn’t be. He’s just imagining that. 

No way you’re in a car with a Zenin right now. 

There’s just no way. 

“You look cute,” Hana comments, turning around in her seat. Smiling as she gives you a once-over. “Is that the dress we bought together that one time at the mall?”

“Yeah. You look great too,” you chuckle, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. You glance over at Naoya who’s currently fixated on the road. “Thanks for the ride, by the way. I appreciate it.”

“No problem,” Naoya replies without taking his eyes off the road, his tone neutral but polite. “Hana insisted we pick you up anyway.”  

Hana grins, turning her attention back to you. “Of course I did! It’s been forever since we had a proper night out. You’ve been cooped up for too long, Y/N.” She gestures dramatically, earning a small laugh from you.  

“I guess I have,” you admit, glancing out the window as the city lights blur past. “It’s just been… a lot lately.”  

Hana’s smile softens, and she reaches back to give your hand a comforting squeeze. “Well, tonight’s about letting go of all that. We’ll have fun, I promise.”  

Naoya glances at you in the rearview mirror, his sharp gaze lingering for a moment before he focuses back on the road. “Just make sure you don’t let loose too much,” he says, his lips curving into a faint smirk.  

You look over, seeing the corner of his lips upturned into what must be his permanent grin. You catch his eyes meeting you through the rearview mirror for a minute and it makes you feel naked. Clearing your throat and looking back at your window with an awkward chuckle. 

“Naoya, the overprotective chauffeur,” Hana jokes, earning a laugh from Naoya as he puts his hand on her thigh.  

“Someone’s gotta keep an eye on you two,” Naoya quips, his smirk widening as his fingers give Hana’s leg a light squeeze. “Especially when you’re dragging her along into whatever chaos you’ve planned.”

Hana rolls her eyes, brushing his hand off playfully. “Relax, Dad. We’re just going out for a few drinks and some dancing. Nothing too wild.” She winks at you. “Right, Y/N?”

You nod. “Right. I’m not exactly a party animal.”

Naoya hums, clearly unconvinced. “We’ll see about that.”

Hana waves him off.  He chortles a low, smooth sound that vibrates through the car. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m just here to make sure my ladies get home in one piece.”

Your lips part in confusion, brows knitting together. You glance at him, but he doesn’t elaborate. Hana, ever the chatterbox, quickly fills the silence. “Well, lucky us, then! Who else gets a chauffeur who also cares about their well-being?” She leans over and plants a dramatic kiss on his cheek. “Thanks, honey.”

Naoya laughs, but he subtly turns his head to the side and grimaces, wiping his cheek as if offended. You notice. 

The dynamic between them is easy and light, and though you try to relax, you can’t shake the feeling of Naoya’s lingering gaze every time he catches your eye in the mirror. There’s something unnerving about the way he looks at you—like he knows something you don’t. 

For now, though, you push it aside. Tonight isn’t about overthinking—it’s about having a moment to breathe.

But you shake it off, plastering a smile on your face as the car pulls up to the club. Hana claps her hands excitedly, unbuckling her seatbelt. “Alright, let’s get this night started!”

Naoya puts it in park and rounds over to the other side of the car, opening Hana’s far and surprisingly yours as well. Giving him a small nod in thanks, you go to loop arms with Hana, but she’s already doing that with Naoya. 

You falter for a moment, your arm awkwardly dropping back to your side. Hana is too busy chatting animatedly with Naoya to notice, her laugh ringing out as they start walking ahead. You follow a step behind, trying not to feel out of place.

The entrance to the club glows with neon lights, and the steady thrum of bass greets you as you approach. Hana bounces on her heels, her excitement contagious as she tugs on Naoya’s arm. “Hurry up! We don’t want to miss the good music!”

Naoya glances back at you, his sharp eyes flickering with something unreadable. “You good back there?”

“Yeah,” you reply quickly, forcing a smile. “I’m fine.”

Hana beams at you over her shoulder, oblivious to the moment. “Don’t let us leave you behind, Y/N! Tonight’s about you having fun too!”

“Right,” you murmur, falling into step beside them as the bouncer waves you three in instantly as soon as he sees Naoya’s with you. 

Inside, the club is alive with energy—flashing lights, pulsing music, and a crowd already losing themselves on the dance floor. 

In other words, it’s a sensory overload. The air is thick with the smell of perfume, sweat, and alcohol, and the floor vibrates underfoot with the heavy bass of the music that pulses from every corner. The dim, moody lighting casts long shadows across the room, but flashes of neon blues, purples, and pinks blink and fade in time with the beats, giving the space an electric, otherworldly glow.

To your left, a long, sleek bar stretches the length of the room, illuminated by LED lights embedded beneath the counter, giving it a cool, almost ethereal glow. Behind the bar, bartenders move with practiced efficiency, mixing colorful drinks, occasionally tossing bottles into the air as part of a flashy show to catch the attention of the crowd. The shelves of liquor gleam under the shifting lights, every bottle begging to be chosen.

The dance floor is alive with movement—a sea of people in various states of abandon, swaying, grinding, and throwing themselves into the beat. The DJ booth is elevated at the far end of the room, with an impressive setup of turntables, flashing screens, and a bright spotlight that shines down on the DJ as they command the crowd. Their hands are a blur as they adjust the controls, sending waves of sound crashing through the speakers, making the room feel alive with every drop.

Above, the ceiling is dark but dotted with small, moving lights that give the illusion of stars or distant galaxies, adding to the club’s otherworldly atmosphere. A few scattered tables sit around the edges of the room, reserved for VIP guests, and each one is surrounded by plush, velvet chairs and bottles of expensive liquor.

As you move through the crowd, you catch glimpses of people laughing, chatting, and flirting, but it all feels distant—like you’re part of the scene but not entirely involved. The club is packed, but there’s a strange sense of intimacy in the chaos as if everyone is trying to escape their real lives, if only for a few hours. The energy is intoxicating, but beneath it all, you can feel the weight of your own thoughts creeping back in, no matter how hard you try to let the music wash them away.

Naoya guides you two upstairs, which shocks you because you weren’t aware this spot has more than one floor. “C’mon, upstairs is where all the important people stay.” He says, his head tilting in the direction of where he’s referring. 

Hana giggles and practically bubbles with excitement. You on the other hand, not so much. Maybe it’s just the fact that you’re a very analytical person at heart, constantly checking and being sure of your surroundings. Of course, a few men pass you and Hana lingering stares, but none of them approach you. 

Naoya walks over to a small VIP booth that’s been blocked off, sitting leisurely down on the couch and bringing Hana down to his lap; her arms around his neck. You sit beside them, hands in your lap. Looking around, and yep, it definitely is a different vibe than downstairs. 

As you settle into the plush, velvet booth, the vibe upstairs feels even more exclusive. The lighting here is more subdued, with golden accents and low-hanging chandeliers casting a warm, luxurious glow over the space. The music from downstairs is muffled, replaced by a mix of smooth beats and more chill, electronic sounds, making the atmosphere feel like a blend of relaxation and quiet intensity. The view from the booth offers a perfect vantage point, allowing you to overlook the main floor, but with a sense of separation from the chaos. The air smells richer up here too—expensive cologne and the faint scent of cigars from the few people who seem to want a more private retreat from the crowd below. Glasses of wine and crystal-clear cocktails sit on the tables, adding to the upscale feel.

“All rounds on me. Let’s enjoy the night,” Naoya announces. 

“Thank you, babe!” Hana exclaims, nuzzling into his neck.  

Your eyes flicker to the other patrons in the booth with you. Some are laughing softly, holding drinks, while others sit in hushed conversations, the dim lighting making everything feel secretive and intimate. You can’t help but wonder if this is how the elite live all the time—an almost curated existence, designed for maximum enjoyment and minimal disruption.

A waitress arrives with a tray of drinks—various cocktails with elaborate garnishes, the scent of alcohol mingling with the floral air in the room. Naoya takes one without hesitation, handing it to Hana, who beams in delight. He looks over as if waiting for you to take one as well. You glance down at the assortment of drinks before finally picking up a glass, the amber liquid gleaming in the dim light. You take a small sip, the sharpness of the alcohol hitting your tongue as you try to keep your focus on the present moment, not letting your mind wander too far.

Naoya watches you with a raised brow, then leans back in his seat, his arm casually draped around Hana’s waist. He seems to enjoy the fact that you’re more reserved than the others. He chuckles lowly. “I wasn’t sure you’d be the type to go for the fancy drinks,” he remarks, his voice light but piercing as he studies your expression.

You give him a dry smile, shifting your attention toward the music pulsing through the speakers. “I’m not, but I figured it’s a good way to blend in,” you reply, trying to keep the conversation flowing without delving into anything personal.

Hana, always the life of the group, doesn’t seem to notice the tension hanging in the air. She’s already lost in the rhythm of the night, swaying her body slightly as she sips her drink. You, on the other hand, are a stranger in it all, unsure of your place here.

You’re don’t know how much time has passed, but it’s probably sooner than later when you’re nudging Hana over as Naoya is engaged in conversation with another man. “Hey, I thought we were going for the more…you know. Lively kind of night. Not a sit down and whiskey type.” You lace your words with a chuckle, though you speak the truth. You’d much rather be on the first floor, drinking expensive, but poorly made drinks and shaking your ass off on the dance floor with a bunch of strangers. 

“What’s wrong with being up here? Naoya said all the important people stay here.” She tilts her head, sipping from what must be her fifth drink already. She’s drunk, obviously. 

You’re teetering the line of tipsy and drunk. 

“Well, yeah, sure. But don’t you want to dance or something?” You ask back. 

Hana looks at you for a moment, her eyes softening with a thoughtful expression. She tilts her head, the buzz of the alcohol making her seem a little more carefree. “I mean, I guess, but I like the vibe up here more. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” Her words are a little slow.

You glance down at your feet for a moment, debating your options. The temptation to be more carefree is there, gnawing at the edges of your mind. But as the music and voices continue to swirl around you, you feel more and more out of place in this sterile, high-class VIP area. You can practically feel the weight of the high-heeled shoes digging into your feet, the tightness of your dress that’s become slightly uncomfortable as the night wears on.

You shoot a glance toward Naoya, who's deep in conversation with some well-dressed man. His posture is perfect, the kind of poised confidence only someone like him could exude, while you and Hana are caught up in your own corner of the booth, the alcohol clouding your judgment but not your awareness. It’s strange to be so close to people who are so at home here but yet feel so far away.

“I think I’m gonna go dance,” you say, suddenly making up your mind. “You don’t have to join me if you’re not feeling it.” You stand, brushing your dress down as you do. Your legs feel a little unsteady, but it’s manageable. You’re not a newbie to drinking, after all. 

Hana looks at you, her gaze blurry but her smile still wide. “Go for it, girl! I’m fine here.” She gives you a thumbs up, though she seems too drunk to be fully aware of what’s going on around her.

You nod, and make your way down the stairs back toward the first floor. The music is louder here, the bass thumping through your chest as you walk toward the crowd of people already dancing. Normally, Hana would never shy away from dancing with you—or straying away from you during a night out. So the fact that she’s suddenly willing to tonight makes you feel weird. But it’s probably just the alcohol. 

You shake off the momentary discomfort, the need to blend into this world of expensive drinks and quiet conversations. This is what you came for.

The crowd is exactly as you expected—a mixture of sweaty bodies, neon lights, and the pulsating energy of a hundred people trying to escape their realities, if only for a few hours. You take a deep breath, letting the beat of the music invade your senses. For a second, you feel a bit more free.

You grab a drink from one of the servers, not caring much about what it is, and make your way into the center of the dance floor. The drink is cool in your hand as you take a sip, feeling the sharp burn of the alcohol before you set it aside, letting yourself be carried away by the rhythm.

The night is finally starting to feel a bit more like it should.

As you lose yourself in the music, the bass vibrating through your bones, you feel the tension in your body start to melt away. For the first time tonight, you're not thinking about the drama, the men, or the uncomfortable constraints of the VIP booth. The club is full of people, all dancing, laughing, and letting go of whatever worries they might have had earlier. You let yourself blend into the crowd, moving fluidly to the beat, forgetting about everything except the thrum of the music and the freedom in the space around you.

It feels nice. Very nice, in fact. You can’t remember the last time you’ve been to a club, let alone go dancing. You forgot how freeing it feels. Of course, the alcohol plays a role in the freeing sensation, but it’s also the fact that you can let loose. You don’t have to think of anyone else but yourself at this moment. That realization makes your lips upturn, hips swaying and eyes closing in a euphoric blissfulness. 

You can tell it’s been a while since you’ve been down here by the way sweat beads at your forehead and the back of your neck. You don’t wipe it off, however. That’s the whole point. 

But as you move, you can suddenly feel eyes on you. At first, it's easy to dismiss the sensation, assuming it’s just the way the lights play across the room, making everyone appear to be watching. But the longer you dance, the more you realize that someone is actually watching, their gaze sharp and unwavering. You don’t need to turn around to know it’s Naoya.

His presence is unmistakable. Even amidst the blur of strangers, you can feel him like a weight in the air, his energy standing out amongst the crowd. He’s standing at the edge of the dance floor, his arms folded, his expression unreadable but clearly intent on you. You hesitate for a moment, unsure of what to do. Something about the way he’s staring makes your stomach flip, though you can’t quite tell whether it’s from excitement or unease.

You try to ignore it, but the discomfort lingers. You dance a little harder, moving to the rhythm, hoping the feeling will pass. But Naoya doesn’t look away. In fact, his posture shifts slightly, and the subtle smirk that plays on his lips only deepens. 

At that moment, you feel an unexpected shift in the crowd around you. You glance over, expecting to see some stranger encroaching on your space, but instead, it’s just the pulse of the music getting more intense. Still, you can’t shake the feeling that Naoya is watching you with something more than curiosity. His gaze is intense, too intense for a simple night out. 

The realization starts to gnaw at you. He’s waiting for something. And it’s not just the usual flirtatious attention. There’s a deliberate energy in the air, a challenge almost. 

You swallow thickly, trying to push the tension away. But it’s getting harder to pretend like you’re not aware of him, especially as you move.

“Having fun?” Naoya’s voice cuts through the noise as he approaches you, standing dangerously close, almost too close. You freeze momentarily, caught off guard by his forced proximity. He towers over you, the heat from his body radiating towards you, his gaze locked onto yours like he’s studying you, dissecting you. 

You open your mouth to respond but nothing comes out, your mind scrambling for something to say, anything to break the intensity of the moment. Instead, your eyes dart toward the exit of the dance floor. You need space. But Naoya doesn’t give you the chance to retreat.

“You seem a little distracted tonight,” he murmurs, his voice low as if they’re the only two people in the room.

You know he’s not just talking about the music. A part of you wants to pull away, to tell him you’re fine, but another part feels caught in his web. 

He leans in slightly, his voice nearly lost in the music. “I thought you’d be enjoying yourself up there. Why the sudden change of heart?”

You tilt your head, forcing yourself to stay grounded. “I just needed a change of pace, that’s all.”

Naoya looks you over with a raised eyebrow, his posture leaning just a bit closer. “I see.” His voice drops to a teasing whisper. “You’re not trying to forget anything, are you?”

You glance at him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

He doesn’t answer right away, letting the question hang in the air for a second. Instead, he moves closer, his hand brushing against the small of your back. His touch is light, but there’s an intensity behind it, a pull that almost makes you lose focus. The air around you thickens, the moment stretching out longer than necessary.

“I’m just wondering how long you’re going to keep running away from what’s really bothering you,” Naoya murmurs, his smirk never faltering.

You can feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. His words—casual, yet somehow pointed—cut through the haze of alcohol in your mind. It’s strange how Naoya can make you feel uncomfortably exposed even when he’s doing the least. That’s not normal. 

“I’m not running from anything,” you say, your voice steady but your heart suddenly a little heavier. “Just enjoying the night, like you said.”

Naoya chuckles softly, though there’s a sharpness to it now. “Sure, just enjoying the night. You do that.” He leans in closer, almost too close now, his breath brushing your ear. “But you should know, sometimes the thing you’re trying to forget ends up finding you, no matter how far you run.”

You tense, your pulse racing, and for a moment, you wonder if he knows something—something about you, about Satoru, or maybe even about your own deepest fears. His hands are on your hips before you know it, moving your body in a swaying motion to the beat of the music. 

And for some reason, you let him. Feeling the weight of his ominous words stay heavy on your mind, fixating on a random tile of the floor. You feel his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, unmoving. For a second, you feel yourself give in. Placing your hands atop his in a hesitant manner—testing out the waters. 

And instantly, you’re met with your answer, a nauseating pit forming in your gut. Lip curling into a tiny sneer. 

“W-where’s Hana?” You blurt out, pushing his hands away from you and turning around to face him. 

There’s a momentary look of shock on his face before he pulls it back down into his usual Cheshire grin, though you can tell it looks more forced than usual this time. His eyes narrowed. “Oh, Hana? She’s still upstairs.”

“And you left her there?” You huff with disbelief, your head shaking. You attempt to side-step past him, but he’s putting an arm around your shoulder before you can go. 

“Don’t worry, pretty. I can lead you to her.”

You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol clouding your judgment or the lingering discomfort from his presence, but you find yourself stopping. His touch, warm but unnerving, keeps you in place as his arm wraps around you. His grip feels possessive in a way that makes your skin crawl, and for the briefest second, you almost feel trapped.

You glance up at him, his grin too wide, too knowing. There’s something in his eyes—something that doesn’t sit right with you. His words float in your mind like smoke: “The thing you’re trying to forget ends up finding you.”

Forcing a tight-lipped smile, you tilt your head toward the stairs, where you know Hana must be waiting. “I think I’ll find her myself,” you say, trying to keep your voice calm, and detached, though your pulse quickens.

Naoya’s eyes glint with something unreadable, but he doesn’t let go. Instead, he tightens his arm around your shoulder, his touch more possessive than before, making it hard to breathe. “I’m just trying to help, sweetheart. What’s the harm in me escorting you?” His voice is low, almost coaxing like he’s trying to pull you into his orbit.

Before you know it, he’s taking you upstairs. All the while keeping his arm around you. You gulp down the lump in your throat, unsure if you should push him off and let him take you to your friend. Maybe you’re overthinking—overreacting. Once you two are upstairs, he’s walking past the booths. You glance at the booth you were once at, seeing no sight of your friend. 

Panic trickles in slowly as he takes you down a small hallway, turning to his right and opening the last door. 

You’re taking in everything. Women, men, glasses of alcohol. Some make out and others getting frisky with each other. The room feels even more suffocating than the second floor itself. But your eyes don’t just widen at what the others are doing, but what your friend is doing. 

She’s sitting beside some guys you don’t even know, white snowy lines laid out in front of them on the glass table. She’s leaning down, holding a finger to her nostril and just about to partake in the activity when you snatch her up by her arm. “Hana! W-what the hell are you doing?!”

Hana looks up at you, her face slightly flushed and her eyes glazed over, an uncharacteristic haze of confusion settling over her expression as she blinks a few times. The room is full of murmurs, laughter, and the sharp scent of something far stronger than alcohol. For a moment, Hana doesn’t seem to recognize you at all, or perhaps she’s just too far gone to care. The men around her don’t react immediately, their attention is divided between each other and whatever else is happening in the room.

“Hana!” you repeat, voice rising in panic, shaking her arm a little more forcefully. Your grip is tight, and you can feel the tremor in your hand as the weight of the situation starts to sink in.

She blinks again, then her gaze clears just enough to focus on you. “Y/N?” she slurs, a small frown forming as she rubs her nose absentmindedly. “What’s up? I was just… having fun.”

“This isn’t fun, Hana!” You pull her up from her seat, your voice trembling as you yank her away from the men. “This is dangerous—what are you thinking?”

Hana stumbles a little, her movements sluggish, and she doesn’t seem to fully grasp the seriousness of the moment. She laughs softly, her words laced with a slur that makes it hard for you to hear her clearly. “Come on, Y/N, chill out. It’s just a little fun. You’ve been so uptight lately... you need to loosen up, too.”

Your heart races as you glance back at Naoya, still standing in the doorway, his hand resting casually on the frame. His grin is gone, replaced by a coldness that seems to make the room feel even more stifling. You’re left standing there, breath shallow, with Hana still swaying slightly in your grip. You don’t know how long it takes for the fog of confusion to lift from her eyes, but when it does, her face falls.

Your stomach twists, both from the overwhelming sense of protectiveness and the lingering disgust at what she’d been about to do. You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. You’ve been friends for too long to just let this go. You can’t leave her here like this—not with those people, not in this situation.

You pull her closer, your voice softening. “We’re leaving, Hana. Now.”

A beat of silence hangs between you, and for a moment, you think she might actually listen, but then she looks at you with frustration, and then back at Naoya, who hasn’t moved an inch.

“Why are you always trying to control everything, Y/N?” she snaps, and it feels like a slap to the face. “I’m fine. Just let me do what I want for once.”

It’s the final straw. You can’t stand it anymore. You’re about to pull her out of the room, about to drag her away from this mess, but Naoya steps forward, a hand on your shoulder, forcing you to stop. “Maybe you should let her be, Y/N,” he says, voice calm but his grip tightening on you. “She’s not your responsibility tonight.”

Your anger flares, but your mind is spinning too fast to catch up. You want to scream. You want to slap him across the face, but you know better. You can feel the weight of the situation settling in, and something about being in this room with him, watching everything around you spiral out of control, is making you lose your footing.

And Hana—she’s still there, looking so lost, so far gone.

You feel the pressure of Naoya’s touch on your shoulder, almost like an invisible barrier, stopping you from moving. The walls feel like they’re closing in, the air heavy and thick with tension.

“Did you bring her in here? Did you force her to do things she couldn’t consent to?” You ask, forcing your drunken mess away for just a moment to deal with the situation at hand. 

His head tilts in faux innocence. “What? No. She said she wanted to meet my friends so I let her. I said I’d be back in a few minutes, I didn’t know she’d be doing anything like that.”

“But you still left her alone.” You grit. 

“So? She’s a grown woman. Besides, she’s not alone.” He gestures to the people inside. 

You can feel your heart racing, each word hanging in the air like a heavy weight, suffocating you more than the dense atmosphere of the room. Your chest tightens with anger and concern for your friend. The nerve of him—standing there, acting like he didn’t know what was happening. He knows exactly what’s going on, and now he’s just playing it off like it’s nothing.

“You still left her alone,” you repeat, voice sharper this time, forcing yourself to meet his eyes even though every instinct tells you to look away. “If you had any decency at all, you wouldn’t have let her get to this point.” 

Naoya shrugs, an almost bored expression on his face, like he’s done this too many times to count and knows exactly how to make people like you back down. “Decency? You want me to babysit her?” His lips curl into that smirk again, the one that sends a chill down your spine. “I’m not her keeper, Y/N. She made her own choices.”

Your hands shake, but you force them to remain steady. You glance at Hana again, who’s swaying, her mind clearly lost in whatever she was about to do, her gaze vacant. The sight makes your stomach churn, the reality of how deep she’s gotten into all this hitting you like a punch to the gut.

“Then why did you bring her here?” you ask, struggling to keep your voice from breaking. “Why even let her near this place if you knew what was going on?”

Naoya’s eyes narrow, and for a second, you think you might have actually caught him off guard. But then his expression hardens, and the slight tension in his jaw gives way to a shrug. “Because she wanted to be here. She asked to come. I didn’t make her.” His tone is colder now, more dismissive. “You know, Y/N, sometimes people just want to let loose. You can’t control everything. Maybe you should try it sometime.”

You flinch at his words, and that’s when you know—you’re not going to get anything else from him. He’s already too far gone into his own ego, into this sick game he’s playing. But you won’t stop. Not when Hana’s here, not when she’s clearly in over her head.

Taking a deep breath, you step forward, putting yourself between Naoya and Hana, your voice unwavering. “We’re leaving. Now.”

Naoya opens his mouth as if to argue, but you don’t give him the chance. You grab Hana’s arm again, more forcefully this time, pulling her away from the table. She resists at first, confused, but your grip is unyielding.

“Come on, Hana. We’re going.” You almost want to shout it, to get her out of there before anything else can happen, but instead, you keep your voice steady, calm, for her.

She blinks at you, her vision blurry. “But... Y/N... I... I’m fine, I just... I just wanted to try it...”

“No, Hana,” you snap, cutting her off before she can finish her sentence. “This is not you. You’re not fine.” 

The words hit her hard. You can see it in her eyes—the brief flash of clarity before the fog comes back over them. She sways, but you manage to keep her steady as you drag her out of the room, ignoring the stares and whispers of the people inside.

Naoya doesn’t try to stop you. He stands there, arms crossed, watching you leave with that same smirk plastered across his face.

You can hear him mutter under his breath. And you find that being your final straw again. 

You stop in your tracks, holding your friend to your side by her waist. Debating. “Hey.”

He barely has time to look over his shoulder before your fist makes contact with his cheek. He audibly yelps in a feminine manner, instantly holding the injured area. “Ow! W—hey!” 

His mouth is agape, eyebrows furrowed and glaring at you with looks to kill. You wring out your fist, glad you wore your favorite ring today. You can’t punch for shit, yet he’s acting like…

“You crazy woman!” He huffs out, the room going silent as he has his breakdown. Rushing over and pushing a couple of women out of the way to cheek his face in the mirror. He sees the red area, and his lip is busted. Whipping his head back over to you. “How dare you?! I’ll fucking sue you for this, you know?”

“Go ahead, I have nothing to give you.” You reply back, turning on your heel and walking out. Footsteps quick from the sheer adrenaline and small amount of fear that he’ll try to grab you from behind. He doesn’t, luckily. 

All that matters now is getting Hana out of this hellhole. As you make your way to the exit, you finally feel like you can breathe again. But just barely.

Once you’re outside, the cold air hits your skin, grounding you. Hana stumbles beside you, still out of it, but you’ve done what you came to do. You’ve pulled her from the edge.

But as you both stand there, the reality of what just happened settles in. You’ve confronted Naoya, punched him, and you’ve dragged your friend out of a situation she was too far gone to see. But now, as the adrenaline begins to fade, you can’t shake the feeling that you’re not done yet.

You look down at your shaky fist, seeing the red knuckles. “…shit…” you mumble under your breath, chest heaving up and down. You gasp and catch yourself on a light pole when Hana suddenly goes dead weight and almost brings you down to the concrete with her. It takes everything in you to hold her up.

Your vision feels wavy, feeling your feet stumble a bit to the right from your own inebriation before catching yourself mid-haze. “Okay, okay.” 

You’re bear-hugging her to your chest, holding your bodies up against the light pole. Breathing in and out heavily, eyes closing as you try to figure out a situation for this all. Your ride, gone. You didn’t even bring money for a taxi. And your friend is passed out drunk. You do a mental checklist of people who can haul you and Hana’s drunk asses back home. Only coming out with two viable options. And one of those is currently watching your son at home. 

Leaving only one other person. 

Satoru has been lounging around your place for a few hours now, bored out of his mind. He switches from laying on the couch, to rummaging through your cabinets and reading the expiration date on everything, to checking on his son. 

He sighs heavily, staring down at the familiar key he had gifted you that lies on the kitchen counter. Untouched. He still hasn’t asked about your confirmation of the place he bought for you two, he figures he can do that tomorrow. But the fact that you haven’t seemed to put much regard into it feels like a small dig to him, his frown deepening. Did you not care for it? Do you not like it? The fact that he went out of his way to buy you and his son a better place to live??

He needs to clear his mind. 

Walking over to Koji’s room, peeking in once more, everything is the same. His son still sleeps peacefully, snoring lightly and holding his Spider-Man close to his chest with his blankets thrown over him. The Spider-Man makes Satoru scowl again, forcing his eyes away and to the small hamper in the corner. 

He might as well do something productive now. 

Carefully, he walks in and grabs the hamper, walking back out with effortless silence. Going over to your washer and dryer, opening the two doors to reveal them. He already sees a full hamper on top of the washer and sighs. “C’mon, Y/N,” he mutters under his breath, shaking his head. 

Flipping the light switch on, he puts both hampers on the ground and it takes him a while to figure out how to work your washer. Afterward, he opens the lid and tosses on Koji’s small load, then yours. He tries not to hold onto your panties and bras for too long, not trying to be a perv. But he’s a man, after all. A man who may still have feelings for his ex. 

So when he sees a pair of blue, lace panties, he thinks he might get a hard on right then and there. You creep! He’s holding it in front of his face, admiring the dangling fabric. He’s surprised you still have this. He remembers the…day you got it, after all. Yep, he feels his pants tighten. 

The sick, twisted part of him tells him to give the panties a small sniff. What you don’t know won’t hurt you, right?

No, no. That’s disgusting of you, Satoru. 

He shakes his head, reminding himself that he can’t do this and that he has a girlfriend. And by the gods above, he quickly tosses it into the washer before he loses control. The rest of your clothes consist of pants, sweats, a jacket, a few shirts, and a….wait. 

…what’s this?

Getting to the bottom of your hamper, he comes across a shirt. One that’s too oversized to fit you. One that’s cotton. One that smells faintly like someone else he knows. One that he bought for his best friend two Christmases ago. 

Satoru stares at the shirt in his hands, his eyes narrowing as the realization hits him like a cold slap to the face. The fabric feels heavier in his grip than it should, and the faint scent clings to it—the unmistakable scent of someone else. Someone he knows. Someone who's apparently been a part of your life in ways that make him uncomfortable to even consider.

His stomach twists, a mix of anger and confusion flooding his thoughts. The shirt feels like a thread unraveling everything he’s been trying to convince himself of. He knows it’s irrational to feel the way he does, but in that moment, all he can think of is him. His best friend. The one who’s always been there. The one who seems too close to you. His grip tightens around the fabric, his stomach dropping. Gulping hard and forcing himself not to jump to conclusions. 

But that’s pretty fucking hard. 

Why the fuck do you have Suguru’s shirt? Why is it in your dirty clothes? Did he just put it there? Did he spend the night? Did you and him—

He tosses the shirt back into the hamper with more force than necessary, but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s there. It’s his.  

Satoru runs a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. What is he supposed to do with this? He doesn’t want to jump to conclusions, but everything about this feels wrong. He glances over at the pile of clothes—your clothes. He sees everything but that damn shirt. But it's there now, in his mind, looming like a specter. 

Satoru grabs the rest of the clothes, hastily tossing them into the washer, but it’s hard to focus. His mind keeps returning to that one question. That one shirt. And the nagging thought that maybe, just maybe, there's something he's been missing.

He almost feels like gagging as he closes the two doors and turns the light off, head spinning. He places a hand to his forehead, blinking hard. 

His head whips over to the front door when he hears muffled chatter from outside. 

“Thank you for coming on short notice,” you mumble in embarrassment, focusing your eyes on your fiddling hands in your lap. 

“Don’t thank me, Y/N. I would’ve come either way.” Suguru responds, smiling briefly at you before focusing back on the road. 

You’re just dropped Hana off. The trip felt way easier since Suguru opted to carry her in and to her bed, with you grabbing her keys and unlocking her door. When you left, you made sure everything else was locked. He didn’t even question anything, simply doing as you asked. 

Of course his gaze is riddled with concern, confusion, and skepticism. You don’t miss the way he keeps looking down at your red knuckles that you hide, but with the way you haven’t mentioned anything about the night, he figures you won’t talk about it. 

“How much did you drink? I brought some water, it’s on the door.” He juts his head in your direction. 

You glance down and grab the bottle, thanking him as you down it. “Um…just a few drinks. I’m not entirely sober right now, still.”

Suguru nods slowly, not saying anything for a moment as the car hums along the quiet road. He doesn’t push you to talk, but he knows something’s off. You’ve been quieter than usual, and the tension in the air is palpable. He’s been around you long enough to sense when something isn’t right, but he’s trying not to pry—especially when you’re clearly trying to avoid the topic.

When you finish the water, he glances over at you, eyes softening. “I know you’re not ready to talk, Y/N. But you know I’m here, right? If you ever want to—”

You nod quickly, cutting him off, but not in a way that’s dismissive. It’s more like you’re trying to assure him. “I know. Thanks, Suguru.” The words hang between you both, neither of you fully comfortable in the silence. Guilt hits you, so you continue. “I just…tonight didn’t go as planned.”

He nods, stopping at a red light. Finally taking the chance to look at you fully once more. His lips thin in displeasure when he sees your current state. Shivering, flushed cheeks, hazy eyes, hair messy. He sighs and reaches in the backseat and brings out a warm, thick black jacket. Putting it over your shoulders. “Put that on, okay? Keep yourself warm and hydrated.”

Your lips part, but you nod and smile slightly. “…thank you,” you murmur, holding the jacket closer. 

“And don’t thank me anymore, okay?” He replies, hints of playfulness in his voice like he’s trying to ease the mood. When the light turns green, the car moves forward again and gets closer to your apartment complex. 

You let out a quiet breath, the warmth of his jacket enveloping you as you pull it tighter around your shoulders. The night feels like a blur now, too many conflicting emotions tangled together. Suguru’s steady presence is a welcome relief, but you can’t help but feel like you’ve lost control in some way. Tonight wasn’t just a mess—it was a wake-up call.

As he makes the final turn toward your apartment, you glance at him, still holding the jacket close. His eyes are on the road, but you can tell he’s trying to read you without being too obvious. There’s concern in the way his brows are furrowed, even though he’s doing his best to keep things light.

“I didn’t expect the night to turn out like this,” you admit, voice quieter than before. “I thought it’d just be a fun time with Hana, but… everything kind of spiraled.”

Suguru’s expression softens, though his gaze doesn’t stray from the road. “I know you wanted to have a good time, Y/N. Sometimes things just… happen. Doesn’t mean you can’t recover from it.”

You glance out the window, trying to focus on the passing scenery. The bright lights of the city feel like a distant memory compared to the emotional chaos inside your head. You force your stomach not to start twisting. “I know. It’s just hard. I never thought I’d have to deal with something like this.”

Suguru reaches for the wheel a bit tighter, but his voice is gentle as ever. “You don’t have to carry all of it alone, you know? Not everything is on your shoulders. Let yourself breathe a little.”

You bite your lip. I tried doing that tonight, look where that got me. You stay silent as he finds a space and parks, deciding he’s dealt with enough of your burdens. 

“I’ll walk you up,” he mutters, unbuckling and getting out of the car to come to your side. He helps you out wordlessly, closing the door behind you and locking his car. 

Your footsteps falter for a moment. “I-is it okay if I lean—”

“Of course,” he cuts you off, holding a steady arm around your waist and allowing you to use him as grounding for your leaning weight. He’s practically leading you, but you have no problem with it. Even as you two enter the elevator, the silence doesn’t feel bad. It doesn’t feel uncomfortable. If anything, you’re leaning more into him, the side of your head against his chest. 

He glances down at the top of your head, pulling you just a tad bit closer and twisting the urge to plant a kiss to your hair. His thumb rubs small, soothing circles around your hip, feeling you lean more and more against him. 

The doors open and he’s slowing his movements for you. “Still with me?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

He smiles and looks forward. “Good, don’t go falling asleep. Get some water in you, maybe some bread.”

You can’t help but softly chuckle. “You know, you’ve been really nice to me, Suguru. Nicer than anyone else.”

Your words are getting quiet and more mumbled—slurred. But he can still faintly piece your words together. You feel the rumble in his chest from his coaxing laugh. “Yeah? I think I’m just acting how any other man would.”

“Not any other man.” You reply.

He pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue, getting a tiny idea of who you may be referring to. But he doesn’t want to ruin your night even more by saying his name. 

The quiet hum of the building is a comfort, a stark contrast to the chaos of earlier. You’re not sure how much of your surroundings you’re taking in; your thoughts are still clouded from the night’s events. The warmth of Suguru’s presence, his steady support, makes it easier to keep going. When you reach your door, he stops, giving you the space to find your keys in your pocket. You fumble a little, but Suguru doesn’t rush you. He stands patiently, his thumb still grazing the side of your hip. He’s careful not to crowd you too much, but there’s an undeniable sense of protectiveness in the way he stands close.

Finally, you manage to find your key. You glance up at Suguru, your eyes a little foggy. “Thank you… for everything.”

He smiles down at you, the warmth in his expression making your chest tighten a little. “It’s nothing, really. Just doing what’s right.”

You hesitate for a moment, not sure if you should say anything else, but the words slip out before you can stop them. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Suguru’s eyes widen slightly but his smile softenn. His hand traveling up to gently tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “You don’t have to worry about that. I’ll always be around when you need me.”

There’s a quiet beat between you two, the silence saying more than words ever could. You swallow down the lump in your throat, trying to keep the emotions from overwhelming you. You gently bite your bottom lip, the action causing his eyes to flicker down towards it. “I just…I feel like I haven’t been having anyone on my side lately. I’m…I’m glad I have you.” 

His insides practically melt at your soft, drunken tone of voice and the way you’re gazing up at him. Suguru feels his heart shift, warmth pooling in his chest at your vulnerability. He’s never seen you quite like this, so open and raw, and it makes him want to protect you in a way that’s deeper than he expected. The softness in your voice, the way you lean into him—it all pulls him in closer, making his resolve weaken just a bit. He swallows hard, stepping a little closer to you, but trying to keep his distance, knowing that you’re vulnerable right now, not fully in control of your emotions.

“Y/N,” he says gently, his voice low but steady. He reaches for your hands, lifting them from where you were gripping the door, and holds them softly in his. “I'm not the only one, I promise. But I’m always going to have your back. You never have to feel alone, okay? We all go through tough times, but you’re not carrying it on your own.”

You nod slowly, eyes glimmering with a mix of gratitude and something else he can’t quite place. Your fingers curl around his as if you’re grounding yourself in his touch, a small comfort in the sea of uncertainty.

“You’re not like the others, Suguru,” you murmur, barely above a whisper. “You make me feel… safe.”

The words hang in the air, delicate and full of meaning. Suguru’s chest tightens again, but this time it’s not from concern or pity—it’s from something else. Something warm, something that feels a little dangerous, but right. He tilts his head slightly, eyes narrowing, as he registers the way you’re looking at him.

“You’re safe with me,” he says softly, his voice almost a promise. “You always will be.”

You both stand there in the quiet, the weight of everything between you—everything unsaid—lingering. Suguru’s hand reaches up, brushing your hair away from your face again, his fingers lingering a little longer than necessary, like he’s trying to convey something in that simple touch. 

You blink, breaking the moment just enough to step back. “I should go inside.”

Suguru nods, not forcing anything further. He understands. “Yeah, go get some rest. Drink that water, and don’t forget about the bread.”

You tiredly smile, looking back at your door and putting the key in its hole. But, you find yourself hesitating. Movements stilling as thoughts overwhelmed your already vulnerable brain. You’re looking back at him before you know it. 

His eyebrows raise. “What’s wrong?”

You shake your head in response, your heart beating faster. He says nothing, just allowing the little staring contest to continue on. For some reason, it’s making you not want to face your reality. God, it’s the fact that you have no idea what you’re doing to him. How stuck he feels, how guilty he feels and how perfect it all feels at the same time. It’s almost not fair.

Maybe it’s just the fact that you’ve experienced more shit than you would’ve wanted to tonight—and of course, you’re a lightweight. Hence why you don’t really like drinking in the first place. But you’ve needed one recently. 

So yeah, your balance is not very steady, your head feels light but heavy at the same time, your lips are curved up into a smile on their own and your calculations are a little miscalculated. 

Because you could swear that with the way he’s looking at you now, his lids the slightest bit hooded that one could miss it, his tilted head, and the way he’s leaned in close enough that you can smell his intoxicating cologne…he’s looking tempted. 

And to be honest, so are you. 

The night air is suddenly quiet, you’ve been staring into his eyes for who knows how long now and your breathing feels shallower. It feels like a sappy romance movie you watched when you were a tween and wished upon a star that one day it would happen to you. Except it’s not the person you would’ve exactly wanted. But your body is still reacting all the same. 

What does that mean for you?

Your key is still lodged in the hole of your door, seemingly frozen—but awaiting. He leans in and your eyelids flutter. “I’m sorry.”

“F-for what…?”

“For being such a selfish man right now.” He places a steady hand to your waist as your body swayed backwards again. 

It’s just the alcohol talking. “I-it’s okay…”

“Is it?” He mutters, breath fanning your face. 

This time, you lean closer, practically moving up to your tip-toes. You notice the way his eyes have darkened, glancing down at your pink, parted lips. “Yeah, I think…I want to be selfish too.”

He smiles, matching your drunken one. Your right hand raises to his cheek, admiring the heat that wavers off of it. You think you want more of his magnetic heat. He doesn’t move, allowing you to do the work. Maneuvering your head up to close the rest of the distance. And you’re so close, so very close that you could practically lick his lips if you wanted.

His lips part, making space for your own to slot between them. Just when you’re about to—

Your door yanks open from the inside, jolting you back to reality. Eyes wide and looking over at the culprit.

Oh, fuck.

Satoru stands in your doorway, hair poking up at all different angles, jaw clenched and saccharine eyes darting around at the sight in front of him, of what he just interrupted. And it feels like you’ve just been burned, pulling back and away from Suguru like you’ve been caught cheating. Suguru matches your actions, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “S-Satoru…” you mutter, swallowing. 

“What’s this?” He asks, looking between you and his best friend. “He brought you home?”

“I—”

“She called me to pick her and her friend up, Satoru.” Suguru interrupts, meeting his friend with undeterred eye contact. 

However, that seems to be just the icing on top for Satoru. Turning his gaze towards you, looking up and down quickly. “…So…I’m watching our son while you go ahead and get yourself shitfaced, you’re gone for hours without any call or text to let me know you’re okay, and when you come back… you’re about to…kiss my fucking best friend?”

“Sato—”

“Shut the fuck up, Suguru.” He gives his friend a death glare, taking a step outside and forcing you to take a wobbly one back. Suguru doesn’t move. “Tell me, huh. You think I’m an idiot?”

“Satoru,” you reach out for his arm, but promptly pull back when he looks back at you. 

“And to think,” he scoffs, regarding you with an icy coldness that feels completely foreign to you. “I thought we had it okay for once. And now you’re fucking my best friend behind my back?”

“No! N-no, Suguru and I aren’t doing that.” You quickly protest. 

He simply scoffs and Suguru steps back in between you two. “Satoru, calm down, okay? We weren’t doing anything. Y/N’s been having a tough time and I’m just here to help her through that.”

“By what? Forcing yourself into her life? Into my son’s life? Who the hell do you think you are, Suguru?” He pushes the other man by his shoulder, to which Suguru does not fight back. 

You grimace, pulling back on his shirt. “Satoru, stop it, please. We aren’t doing anything like that.”

“Bullshit!” He snaps, throwing his arms up. “He gives you and Koji a present. I find his fucking shirt in your hamper, and now I just caught you two about to kiss. Did you fucking forget I was inside? Were you going to bring him inside and let him fuck you?”

Your mouth is agape, eyes blown wide at the accusations. The words hit you like a punch to the gut, leaving you breathless and unable to form a coherent thought. Satoru’s accusations sting, each one harsher than the last. His anger is palpable, the venom in his voice making it hard to breathe, and yet all you can do is stand there in stunned silence, feeling the weight of the situation crash down on you.

“No... Satoru, I—I didn’t—” You struggle to find the words, but nothing seems to come out right. How do you explain something that’s so far from the truth but also so complicated in its own way? 

Suguru, his expression tight with frustration, steps forward, clearly trying to keep the situation from spiraling even further. "Satoru, this isn’t the way to handle it. Y/N’s been through a lot, and I'm just trying to be there for her. That’s all it is."

“You think that makes a difference?” Satoru spits, turning back to Suguru with a glare that could burn. “You think you can just waltz in, playing hero, and it’s all fine? You don’t get to play the martyr here. Not with my family.”

You flinch at the mention of Koji, feeling the sting of his words even more sharply now. "Satoru, please," you whisper, your voice barely audible. "Don’t talk about him like that. You know I would never—" 

But Satoru cuts you off with a sharp gesture, his eyes dark with fury. "No, you don’t get to explain yourself anymore. I saw it. I know what was happening."

Your heart races as the silence hangs heavy between you, Suguru and Satoru locked in a tense standoff. You can feel the weight of the accusations pressing down on you, suffocating you.

“I’m sorry, okay?” you manage, the words coming out in a broken whisper. “I’m so sorry. But I swear, nothing was going to happen. Nothing. I just... I didn’t know what else to do.”

Satoru doesn’t respond, but you can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw clenches. Suguru looks between you both, his eyes softening just a fraction, but there’s nothing left to say. You’re standing at the edge of everything, and you don’t know how to fix this, how to make Satoru believe you.

“Satoru, Y/N’a a grown woman.” Suguru says. 

“Yeah? And what, that makes you a grown man?” 

Once more, Suguru is pushed by Satoru. You can see the growing irritability in Suguru’s expression, the way he’s doing his best to not give in and fight with his best friend. You’re torn, unsure of how you can stop this. Sure, you punched a man today, but he was a bitch. That doesn’t mean you can stop a possible  fight between two other men. “Please, don’t raise your voice, Satoru. I don’t want to wake Koji.”

“Oh, now you fucking care?” He huffs out. And that sentence alone puts a halt to you. Your mind momentarily freezes, going silent. He almost looks like he regrets the words as soon as they’re uttered, but it’s drowned out by his look of anger. 

Soon…you’re mirroring his fury. 

“What?” You quietly ask, letting out a deep huff. “What? What the fuck did you just say to me?”

This time, it’s you who pushes the pusher. He stumbles back barely, caught off guard by your suddenness before he’s planting himself in place. “Don’t touch me, Y/N.”

“Then don’t you ever say something like that! I’ve done everything I could for Koji and more. You had no idea what kind of shit I went through alone.” You grit out. 

“Because of you! Because of your own stupid decision to not let me in, let me help you!” He argues back. He's right. He's always right. And that’s why you two could never work together because while Satoru was always right, you were always wrong. They say opposites attract, when actually, opposites do nothing prove what the other could never be.

And after the events of tonight, you’re growing tired of holding back your explosion. Your drunken brain is telling you to fight fire with fire. 

“Because you were a fucking shitty person!” You shout back, aware of the fact that your loud voice may cause some of your neighbors to wake up. Koji to wake up. “And now you’re getting mad at me for trying to move on? For trying to live my life? Fuck you! You have a fucking girlfriend who treats me like shit and you let it happen!”

“You want to play that game, Y/N? Really?” Satoru replies, a dead firmness in his tone. 

Before you can respond, Suguru, ever the peacemaker, is cutting in again. “Y/N, stop it, okay? Go inside, you’re drunk. Satoru, don’t—”

He’s cut off by another push from Satoru. “Don’t tell me what to fucking do, Suguru. You’re trying to get with my ex behind my back, is that how low you’ve become?”

“Satoru,” he slowly exhales out, trying to calm himself. “I’m not doing that. Y/N and I aren’t getting together. I’m just being here for her.”

“By trying to get in bed with her?”

Suguru has begun to have enough. “Stop speaking like that, Satoru.” He gruffs out.

The atmosphere crackles with tension, and your pulse races as Satoru’s words hit harder than before, each one a slap in the face. You can feel the anger bubbling up inside you, pushing you past the point of control, past the point of regret. This argument feels like it’s never going to end—like it’s been building for years, simmering beneath the surface, only now it’s boiling over in a mess of accusations and past hurts.

Satoru’s sneer deepens as he stares you down. “You think I don’t know what’s going on? I’m not stupid, Y/N. Don’t think you can pull the wool over my eyes now. You think you’re going to move on with him after everything?”

You step closer to him, barely noticing the way your hands are trembling, your heart pounding in your chest and tears prickling at your eyes. “I’m not moving on with anyone. Not like you think. But you—” You pause, trying to steady your breath. “You’ve had no idea what I’ve been through. You’ve walked away at times when I needed you the most, Satoru. Don’t fucking act like I owe you anything now.”

Satoru’s expression darkens, his hands balling into fists, but you don’t flinch. “I’m sorry if you think I don’t care, but I’ve been in the fucking trenches with you, Y/N. Do you think it was easy for me too? To watch you shut me out? To watch you fucking struggle with everything while I—while I—tried to be there for you? But I was never enough, was I?” His voice cracks with a mix of frustration and disbelief, but it’s too much. It’s too late for apologies and explanations. You feel your vision blur with tears, and for a brief moment, you almost crumble under the weight of the argument, the hurt, the feeling of being misunderstood.

“You knew you could’ve tried hard enough. You knew that, you know that.” You argue, despite your shaky voice. 

His eyes narrow, and he opens his mouth to say something, but Suguru steps forward, intervening again, his voice low and firm, but there’s a warning in it. “Enough, Satoru. You’re not hearing her. This isn’t about you anymore.”

Satoru’s fists clench at his sides, his jaw tight with frustration. “It’s always been about me, Suguru. It’s always been about what I need, what I want. And now you want to play the hero? To take my place in my own fucking life?”

Suguru shakes his head, his expression hardening. “No, I’m not trying to take your place. But you’re blind if you don’t see how much she’s suffered. How much she’s going through. And how much you’re still hurting her by dragging all this up now.”

“Shut up,” Satoru snaps, and his voice is harsh enough to make you flinch. “I don’t need a lecture from you, not now.”

Suguru doesn’t back down, his eyes never leaving Satoru’s. “Then maybe you should take a fucking look at yourself first.”

For a moment, the three of you stand there in silence, the tension thick enough to slice through. Your heart is racing, your mind spinning with a mix of anger, hurt, and confusion. The words you’ve been holding back for so long feel too much to bear, too raw to say out loud, but now they’re there, sitting on your tongue, threatening to spill.

You take a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself, but the weight of everything is overwhelming. Your hands tremble as you press them against your sides, eyes focusing on the ground to keep from breaking down. But the words, the truth you’ve been holding inside for so long, feel like they’re going to suffocate you if you don’t let them out.

“I didn’t mean for this, Satoru. I didn’t mean for any of it,” you finally say, your voice thick with emotion. Your chest tightens, your breath shaky as you look at him, the tears threatening to fall. “But now you’re standing here, making it worse, blaming me for everything. I’m always getting blamed, no matter what. For trying to find happiness. For surviving.” You swallow hard, your voice quieter but still filled with the weight of everything you’ve been holding back. “But you don’t get to make me feel bad about trying to heal, Satoru. You don’t get to make me feel like I’m the one who ruined everything when you were the one who stopped trying.”

Suguru’s gaze flickers to you, a flicker of concern flashing across his face, but it’s Satoru who you focus on. The silence stretches, suffocating, before he speaks again, his tone hard, bitter, but with a hint of something deeper—something vulnerable. “I never wanted to leave you,” he mutters, almost too quietly. “But you shut me out. You kept pushing me away like I didn’t matter.”

“You didn’t try hard enough to matter,” you shoot back, your voice a little stronger now. “You didn’t try to understand. You didn’t try to see me. You only saw what you wanted, what fit into your world. And I couldn’t do that anymore. I couldn’t just keep being this thing that existed to meet your needs, while I fell apart. I couldn’t.”

Satoru’s eyes flicker, and for a moment, you swear you see something break in him. But it’s gone just as quickly as it appears, replaced by the cold, hardened exterior he’s been wearing for so long. “You think this is easy for me?” he spits, voice laced with something that could be self-loathing. “You think it’s easy watching you—watching him—take over everything I thought was mine? That’s not fair either, Y/N.”

“You don’t own me, Satoru,” you whisper, the words coming out stronger than you expect. “You never did.”

Suguru steps forward again, his voice steady but firm. “Enough. This isn’t going anywhere. It’s just going to keep hurting both of you.”

But Satoru isn’t listening. His fists clench again, his jaw tight as he shakes his head, the hurt flashing in his eyes. “I don’t know how to fix this, Y/N. I don’t know if I can. I don’t know if I ever could.”

The rawness in his voice catches you off guard, leaving you momentarily speechless. The anger and resentment still burn in your chest, but beneath it all, you realize that maybe, just maybe, there’s still something left. Something that isn’t as broken as you thought.

But it’s too late for that. It’s too late for him.

With a shaky breath, you look away, your heart heavy in your chest, and turn toward the door. “It doesn’t matter anymore, Satoru. It’s done.”

Suguru’s hand rests gently on your shoulder as you walk past, his silent support a comfort, even though the pain doesn’t fade. And Satoru stays there, his fists trembling at his sides, caught between regret and anger, as you step back into your home and shut the door behind you.

The tears overcoming your being once you’re locked inside, taking the jackets off haphazardly and tossing your purse onto the sofa. Holding a hand to your mouth to muffle your cries as you walk past Koji’s door and to your own room, silently shutting and locking it. 

You crumble into your bed, holding your pillow close, and making you feel like a little girl all over again. Letting your warm tears wash your makeup away and stain your white pillow. Feeling your body trembling from every sensation flowing through it right now. You feel your heart pick up way too fast for your liking and you’re almost sure you’re breathing at an erratic pace right now. 

You feel like no matter what, you can never do good in your life. You fucked up tonight by trying to kiss Suguru, you fucked up by keeping Koji a secret, you fucked up by even going out in the first place. 

Everything is crumbling down at you all at once and you think it’s about time you toss the rag in. Because everyone has their breaking point, you’re not sure if you hit yours yet, but it damn well feels like you have. And now you’ve probably broken up a years long friendship due to your own selfishness, to your own stupid intoxication. You’re wrong in every aspect. Everything is eating you alive right now, leaving just a hollow suit in its place. 

You wonder how things will look going forward. 

And you wonder if you’ve ruined any little chance at possibly having Satoru in your grasp again. 

A small knock pulls your attention, shifting your eyes open and looking over to the small head that peeks through. Oh god, this is the last thing you wanted. 

“Mama…” Koji’s small voice utters, slipping inside and coming over to your curled up form on the bed. “Mama, what’s wrong?”

You wish you had it in you to put on a poker face and dry your tears, giving him the usual lie. But tonight, you can’t. “…mama’s sad.” You whisper. 

His eyes widen, lip quivering down into a pout. Eyes glistening with his own onset of tears and he’s diving into your bed, scrambling up to your chest. Wrapping his tiny arms around your neck in such a fast way that it leaves you momentarily speechless. When he looks at you, you almost feel yourself wanting to cry harder at the sole fact that your son is seeing you like this, that he’s almost crying now too. “Please don’t cry, Mama. I don’t like you being sad.”

“I…I know.” You croak out, holding him close. “I know, Koji. And I’m…I’m so sorry. I can’t be strong today.”

He shakes his head furiously. “It’s okay! Because Papa told me that when I grow up, I’ll protect you. I’ll be strong and big like him. So…so maybe I can be strong today for you, Mama.”

Your heart shatters at his words, and despite the weight of everything that’s been crushing you, you hold him even tighter. The fragile little boy who’s trying so desperately to comfort you when he should be the one you’re protecting—it’s too much. You can’t hold back the flood of emotions anymore. You pull him into you, your arms trembling, but all you can do is let him in, letting his warmth and innocence wrap around your heart like a fragile balm.

“Oh, baby,” you whisper, your voice breaking. “You don’t have to be strong for me. You’re so strong already just by being you.” You bury your face in his hair, feeling his small body pressing against yours, his little heartbeat steady and comforting in a way nothing else can be. “I’m sorry you had to see me like this, Koji. I promise I’ll be okay.”

Koji’s small hands rub at your back, and his voice, though still a little quivery, carries the same hope and determination he always carries. “I’m gonna help you, Mama. I’ll make you smile again, okay? I promise.” His words, simple as they are, strike a chord deep inside, reminding you of everything you’ve fought for. You’ve fought to protect him, to give him a better life, to shield him from all the pain and hurt that came with being tied to Satoru, and now you’re breaking down in front of him. It feels so pathetic. 

But maybe you need to be broken in order to rebuild. Maybe it’s okay to let him see your fragility, so he knows it’s okay to feel and not bottle everything up. 

You breathe out a shaky laugh, lifting him slightly to kiss his forehead. “You’re my little hero, Koji. I’m so proud of you. I don’t deserve you.”

Koji, however, just shakes his head again, his small face scrunching up in determination. “No, Mama. I’m not a hero. You’re my hero. You always are.”

And somehow, in the midst of the mess you’ve found yourself in, his innocent words are the only thing grounding you. You’re not alone. You’re not broken beyond repair. You still have him. You still have him to fight for, to love, and to protect.

And right now, that’s all that matters. 

You hold him close, sinking deeper into your bed, feeling his small body curl up against you. The weight of the world still feels heavy on your shoulders, but for a brief moment, with Koji’s warmth surrounding you, you feel the tiniest flicker of hope. Maybe tomorrow will be better. Maybe you’ll figure things out. 

But for now, you let yourself cry. You let yourself grieve. Because tomorrow is another day.

a/n: soo many things happeneddddd. hoped u all enjoyed :)

taglist is now closed

taglist: @celestialforce @theclassbookworm @tbzzluvr @uhenivid @ofkilljoysandslytherins

@sadmonke @bunheadusa @shartnart1 @lady-of-blossoms @itsinherited

@duooy @ari-sa @dakotali @mew4-ever18 @iv-vee

@devils-blackrose @a-girl-with-thoughts @bitchycloudstrawberry @tiffyisme3760 @iheartshopping

@chiara-hotel @uriahs-barn @celloccino @roronoazorosbxtchh @pseudophyllus

@ratedrrrr @m1gota @tojideckmuncher @yigaclvn @sukunaslve

@eiizabeth-torres @cherrythiccums0 @satorustorm @zoeyflower @username23345

@i0313z @gourdlorddgubes @partypoison00 @quinnyundertow @sorilyae

@redzscare @aldebrana @nycmagi @s4ikooo1 @dreaming-lis @gigiiiiislife

@boothillglazer @miss-dior @miakxn @rjreins

[aimfor-theheart]

hey i'm back, have you talked about ex gf pit!fighter vi...just curious...you know...for a friend...

jazz i can't tell you the psychic damage i took from this ask. looking at it with mine own two eyes. i thought about it all night. i haven't talked about her yet but I WILL NOW !

ex gf pitfighter!vi who never really moves on from you. and she doesn't expect you to move on from her, either. worse than that, she doesn't let you move on from her. she checks up on you still, hangs around you like a stray dog, always on your heels somehow.

ex gf pitfighter!vi who "accidentally" manages to scare off anyone who may be interested in you at the bars or at the fights. she swears it's not her fault that people are too pussy to approach you (never mind that she's been mean-mugging them for the better part of the night). and if you do try to point out that she's been guarding you all night, she just shrugs and claims that if they were worth it, they'd grow a pair and approach anyways.

ex gf pitfighter!vi who still takes care of everything for you. who is still, unfortunately, the one you call when you need help with anything around your little flat or need someone to come pick you up from a night out of drinking. she always dutifully walks you home, let's you drunkenly chatter to her, and keeps her hands tucked respectfully in her pockets to try and crush the urges she has to reach out and snag you around the waist—or throw you over her shoulder, like she used to when you were dating and you got a little too drunk. regardless, you call for vi whenever you're in trouble, because you know she'll always be there for you.

ex gf pitfighter!vi who has a horrible possessive streak with you. one of her opponents tries to goad her about the fact that you're single now and she just—loses it for a few moments. like a bad dog, she attacks and doesn't let go. they call the round quickly but she doesn't let up, like she doesn't even hear them.

they have to pull her off the guy, still snarling, anger still vicious and hot and thrumming in her veins.

ex gf pitfigher!vi who sees you after the fight, knuckles all split and perhaps still a little wound up. you can tell something's wrong, sense it in the air, in the bunching of her shoulders.

"what the hell happened out there?" you ask her, leaning against the doorway of the med bay they have backstage of the fighting pit.

he said something about you, and i just saw red, she thinks. your name barely formed on his lips, and i just lost it. i hate the idea of anyone even looking at you like that. i hate the idea that i'm not yours anymore.

instead she bites out, "i don't know—adrenaline, or something."

"vi—" you say, "that wasn't just adrenaline. what's going on?"

and like a bad dog, she snaps, "what the hell do you even care?"

you look stricken when she says it, and she immediately regrets it, deflates a little.

"i'm not allowed to care about you anymore?" you ask.

"we're supposed to be broken up, sweetheart." she scoffs, finally moving to find the wrap in order to bandage up her bloody knuckles. you drift further into the room, passing the threshold of the doorway, and into her space. you take the gauze from her hands before she can begin to do it.

(you always used to bandage her up after her fights.)

"you don't really act like it." you retort gently, urging her to sit again and she goes easily. sits and lets you approach her. spreads her legs a little and though you drift nearer, you keep your distance. still, you take one of her hands in yours. palm to palm for a moment. she fights the urge to bear down on your hand, to close her hand around yours and pull you to her. pull you into her lap—

"how am i supposed to act?" she asks, leaning back a little to look up at you and—it's a good view, looking up at you like this. always has been.

carefully, you begin wrapping her hand with the gauze. your fingers are nimble, deft.

"you could stop calling me 'sweetheart', for starters." you say and she feels your fingers over the back of her hand, then back under her palm as you wind and wind the bandage around her. there's a ghost of a sad smile on your lips when she finds your face, when she watches your expression.

"you want me to stop?" she asks.

your face twists up a little; several emotions flicker across your face and you've always been so expressive. so open—her little crybaby, her emotional storm of a girl. in the end, the emotion that settles onto your face is some sort of regret or sadness. raw.

you tie off the gauze on one of her hands. you fiddle with the roll of it.

"no." you finally admit, lifting your eyes from your narrow focus on her hand to find hers.

your gaze clashes with hers.

heat sears through vi. an aching burns inside her chest, heart on fire.

ex gf pitfighter!vi who says fuck everything, and reaches out with her free hand to settle on your waist. who urges you closer to her. tugs a little and suddenly pulls you into her lap, makes room for you there with the flex of her hips.

the gauze slips from your hands and unravels across the floor.

"vi—" you warn, but it sounds just shy of desperate. her heart sings.

here you are, her baby, wanting for her so bad. trying to be so brave and strong and independent.

vi exhales, wrangling you into her arms, quelling your minor fussing with a little coo. she leans in a little, and says;

"tell me to stop."

you go still in her arms. caught. your breath hitches.

"this is a bad idea." you manage to get out.

"you want me to stop?" she murmurs, her now bandaged hand coming up to cradle your jaw, the nape of your neck. her thumb skims your bottom lip, your chin. she dips closer, nose nudging yours.

"tell me to stop, sweetheart."

a heartbeat. a breath later—

you shake your head, just fractionally, and mewl, "don't stop."

and who has vi ever been to deny you?

ex gf pitfighter!vi who doesn't stay your ex for very long ever. who always manages to pull you back in, hands all over you in the middle of the night, at the bars, after bad fights. who makes you furious, but also makes up for it tenfold.

ex gf pitfighter!vi who, like a bad dog, is always on your heels, who can't quite let you go when she's got you.

[hanniebaeee]

Wrong Chat?

Hyunjin x fem!reader

Warnings: None!

Genre: Best friends to lovers, flufffff, texts

Summary: Hyunjin, your best friend, drops you off for a coffee date with your colleague Mingyu. It's not a date at all, but Hyunjin thinks it is. And he rants in the wrong group chat - completely jealous and unhinged.

a/n: Wanted to make a Clueless series! Thoughts?

Part 1 - Clueless!

Hyunjin sighs dramatically as he flops onto the couch in his apartment. He's been pouting ever since he'd dropped you at the cafe where you're meeting Mingyu, your colleague for coffee.

Hyunjin: I’m actually losing my goddamn mind.

Hyunjin: She’s out with him. With. Him.

Felix: Hyunjin, it's just coffee.

Hyunjin: OF COURSE IT'S NOT JUST COFFEE, FELIX.

Chan: Oh no🙄

Minho: Here we go. Someone hold his leash.

Hyunjin: This is NOT good. Mingyu is - he’s like…

Jeongin: Are you okay bro?

Hyunjin: I AM NOT OKAY.

How is he supposed to be ok when you, the love of his life is out with some guy for "coffee"? Jisung had taken a girl out for coffee a few weeks ago, and now she's his girlfriend.

Hyunjin sighs. He couldn't think of you being anybody else's. You're his girl. And he's gonna win you over.

Meanwhile, you are sitting across from Mingyu, discreetly checking your phone as it buzzes repeatedly with notifications. You freeze when you see the texts. 

Oh, so this is why Hyunjin was in a bad mood the whole morning, you think. He barely said a word to you as he drove you to the cafe. 

Changbin: Dude, calm down. It’s just coffee.

Hyunjin: COFFEE LEADS TO DINNER, DINNER LEADS TO NETFLIX, AND NETFLIX LEADS TO YOU KNOW WHAT. ASK JISUNG.

Jisung: HYUNJIN.

Felix: 😳

Minho: Jisung you sly dog.

Chan: Hyunjin, touch some grass.

Hyunjin: I CAN’T, CHRISTOPHER. SHE IS MY GRASS.

Minho: Let it all out. Keep going.

Chan: Hyunjin. Deep breaths. IN through your nose, OUT through your mouth. 

Hyunjin: I SWEAR TO GOD IF HE LAYS A FINGER ON HER

Changbin: I don't think he's laying anything on her. 

Felix: Okay, Hyun, you need a time-out.

Hyunjin: No, what I NEED is for Mingyu to trip over his stupid perfect legs and fall face-first into a compost bin.

Mingyu smiles at you across the table, gesturing towards his laptop as he speaks. You are trying so hard to focus on the ideas he's laying down in front of you - the startup ideas that you two have been talking about forever. You smile back, nodding, while trying not to choke on your laughter.

Jisung: Stupid perfect legs? Hyunjin, why do you even know what Mingyu’s legs look like?

Hyunjin: Because I have eyes, Ji. I pay attention to the threat level.

Hyunjin: He's like 6 feet tall.

Jeongin: Threat level: Sexy. 

Hyunjin: THANK YOU, JEONGIN. No one asked you.

Chan: You're tall enough

Hyunjin: Not enough apparently

Felix: Hyunjin, calm down.

Hyunjin: No, because LISTEN. Who does he even think he is. Asking my girl out. How dare he. 

Hyunjin: SHE’S OUT THERE WITH HIM WHILE I’M JUST

Changbin: Lonely and deranged?

Hyunjin: EXACTLY.

Seungmin: Someone hose him down 

You are trying to concentrate on the graph Mingyu is pointing to now, but seriously, who are you even kidding. Your cheeks are warming up with the second-hand embarrassment from what's brewing on the group chat.

Hyunjin: And do you know what really sucks? She’s probably looking AMAZING right now. Like, how does she do that? How does she leave the house and make everyone fall in love with her?!

Hyunjin: And doesn't even realize that I love her? She obviously doesn't! Like I'm right here.

Jisung: Why don't you just corner her in the supply closet?? Omg I never thought I'd get a chance to give that back to you 🔪

Hyunjin: Bro. She's my best friend. It isn't the same.

Jisung: Excuses excuses

Felix: Oh SHIT. 

Felix: 🚨 STOP 🚨

Jeongin: Wait, what chat is this 👀

Hyunjin: What do you mean what chat?

---

Hyunjin goes quiet for a second.

---

Hyunjin: Wait.

Hyunjin: WHAT CHAT IS THIS???

Chan: You absolute clown.

Felix: I tried. 

Minho: LMAO

You: Hyunjin.

Hyunjin: Y/N. Baby. Light of my life.

Y/N: Here’s what’s gonna happen. You’re picking me up in 20 minutes. And we're gonna talk.

Hyunjin: Ok. Yes. Ok.

---

Hyunjin was still typing and you were about done with this. 

---

Y/N: Baby. Stop typing. 

Hyunjin: Shutting up now.

Changbin: She really did put a leash on him.

Felix: This is why I love her 😁

Y/N: And Hyunjin?

Hyunjin: Yes, angel?

Y/N: I love you too. 

Hyunjin: 😳😳😳😳

Hyunjin’s heart literally stops when he reads your text. You love him back. You love him back!!! He feels faint, his hands are shaky and he just needs to see you. Right now. 

Hyunjin: Picking you up now.

Y/N: Ok baby.

---

And finally, it was all calm again.

---

Chan: Well, at least we get a little peace and quiet now.

---

As you step outside, you spotted Hyunjin’s car pulling up, his face twisted in a mix of nervousness  and relief. His gaze immediately locks onto Mingyu, who waves goodbye. Hyunjin behaves just so that he can show you that he can be a good boy when he needs to.

You grin as you get into the car, and pull on the seat belt. When you look up at him, he's watching you eagerly, well he does look a little scared - like a child waiting to be scolded for doing something wrong.

“You ok, Jinnie?” You ask.

“Perfect. I'm perfect.”

You raise an eyebrow, fully aware of the effect you have on him.

“Is that so?” you purr, and Hyunjin gulps, as he nods.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, looking away. 

“You know,” you said with a sly smile, “if you had said something sooner, we wouldn’t have had to go through all this.”

Hyunjin’s face turns a sweet pink, and he can't help but smile a little.

“Can you say it again?” He asks. 

“Say what?”

“That you love me?”

You feel your own cheeks heating up as you your eyes meet. 

“I love you, Hyunjinnie. I have for as long as I can remember.” You whisper, and Hyunjin's head falls onto the steering wheel as he does his best not to scream out in joy. 

You giggle at his reaction and he looks at you again.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks shyly. 

“Yes please,” You say and that's that.

---

Hyunjin: Guess what, losers?

Hyunjin: WE KISSED.

Chan: Wow. Congratulations?

Minho: Was it a pity kiss? Be honest.

Changbin: I'm sure she did it to shut you up.

Hyunjin: It was magical.

Hyunjin: She looked at me, leaned in, and BAM. Fireworks.

Hyunjin: It’s what poets write about.

Jeongin: Or she just felt bad for you.

Hyunjin: NO.

Felix: Seriously, if you keep this up, she’s gonna see this and run the other way.

Hyunjin: She won't!

Y/N: Hyunjin.

Y/N: GET OFF YOUR PHONE.

Hyunjin: Ok bye.

Chan: Jokes aside, we're happy for you both.

Jisung: Of course we are

Minho: Y/N, sweetheart, get your man a collar

Y/N: Noted.

Divider by @saradika-graphics

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @eastjonowhere @pixie-felix @sailor--sun

[potatoplace]

Can't Help Falling In Love

The Afterthought: Chapter 6 | series masterlist

ACOTAR x Archeron!Reader

chapter 5 | chapter 7 | ACOTAR x reader masterlist

Story Summary: Your gained independence has brought you more friendships, a companion, and, surprisingly, a new romance.

Warnings: shitty Feyre, very mild drinking, iiii honestly think that's it? I cannot think of anything else, let me know if I missed something pls

Words: ~11.8k

Author's Note: omg so I'm tired so there might be mistakes BUT everyone let me know what they think!!!!!!!!!! IM SO EXCITED TO HEAR WHAT YOU THINK CAUSE OMG IVE BEEN SO EXCITED FOR THIS MOMENT. Also. Peep the fun lil cameo I made (I am sure you all will guess it easily lol it's p obvious imo. Also. I will share pictures if people ask 🤭) I hope you all like this chapter!! ps the title is from an Elvis song but I know it from Fools Rush In but that's what they dance to at the end

18+ only pls

🤍🤍❣️🤍🤍

Mor returned just a few minutes after you finished getting dressed, in a soft, thick navy cotton nightgown, your feet clad in soft, fuzzy white slippers.

You had already set the table- another purchase from the secondhand furniture store that you had made yesterday, coming with four matching chairs. The scuffed walnut wood matched your bed frame, which had been a good enough reason for you to choose it.

And, that you'd been able to carry it home. Slowly, but you had, and you'd returned for the chairs promptly, each time apologizing to the seemingly annoyed shop owner who had said nothing each time, only stared at you over the top of his book.

You let Mor in after the first knock, giggling when you saw everything she was carrying. She had a small duffel bag, a bag filled with food, and another bag filled with... well, you weren't sure yet, but it was stuffed to the brim.

"Did you bring enough stuff, Mor?"

"Oh, hush you," Mor said, breezing past you to deposit the food on the stable, her other bags deposited next to your bed. "I brought pasta! There's a creamy one that has a seafood blend, and some good old spaghetti with meatballs. Plus-" Mor pulled another, smaller bag out. "Breadsticks!"

"Did you get anything healthy?" You asked, taking the breadstick that she handed to you and taking a bite.

"Nope," Mor said through her own bite. "I mean, unless you count tomatoes being a fruit. Which I totally do. So actually, yes."

You shook your head and laughed as you sat at the table, Mor following right after. "As long as there's tomatoes, then. What's all the other stuff?" You asked, pointing your breadstick at her other bags.

"Well, one is my clothes for tonight and in the morning, and the other is full of housewarming presents!"

You let out an exasperated sigh, but you couldn't help the smile that spread across your face. "More housewarming presents? I don't know how much of this I can take."

"Oh, you will take them happily," Mor said sternly. "They're just some small things that I thought you might need, nothing big. Though I would love to help you find a couch tomorrow, if you're up for it?"

You looked at the bag, and back to Mor. "That depends on how much you got me, Mor."

Mor smiled brightly. "Ahh, so you can be convinced. Do you want to know what they are now, or food first?" You glanced down at your breadstick, and quirked a brow at Mor. "I mean the pasta, silly. So?"

"Uhh... Presents first, I suppose, as long as the food won't get cold."

"That should be no problem, if we keep it in the bag. I'll go change into my pajamas really quick, and then you can see what I got you!"

A few minutes later you were sat on your bed, Mor beside you, pulling your first present out as you held your eyes shut.

"Go ahead and open!" Mor said after placing something that felt like a book in your outstretched hands.

It was a book- and upon opening, you saw that it was filled with handwriting exercises, and beginners words. Meant for a child, yes, but...

"Mor, thank you," you said tearily, pulling your friend into your arms. "This is- oh, this is so amazing. Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

Mor giggled beside you. "You're welcome, Y/N! I know that glass Nuala and Cerridwen gave you is helpful for understanding letters, but I also know you'd prefer to do it yourself. Now, close your eyes again!"

The two of you repeated the process over and over again, until you'd received every present Mor had picked out for you.

She had gifted you a beautiful quill set, with a selection of colored inks along with a larger inkwell filled with the standard black. A diary, in a delicate shade of pink, along with matching letter paper and envelopes, a small kit to do wax seals for when you decide to send letters. Mor had also picked out a few lovely bars of hand soap, along with two cute crystal dishes to hold them. And Mor had brought you two new blankets, one a dark blue, and the other in a dark purple.

"You can never have enough blankets, Y/N. Never," Mor said seriously as the two of you moved back to the dining table, each of you having a blanket wrapped around your shoulders.

"I agree with you completely, Mor. And really, thank you for everything," you said sincerely, squeezing her hand.

"It's my pleasure, Y/N. I'm always happy to go shopping! Now- do you want some of both dishes? Cause... I do," Mor admitted with a grin as she pulled the to-go boxes out of the bag.

"I'd be happy to have both," you giggled, grabbing another breadstick from the bag, this one slightly cooler than before. "So- tell me what's been going on with the Hewn City? Unless you want to avoid work completely."

Mor sighed as she dished out some of both pastas for both of you, onto the pretty clay plates you had bought two days ago, with painted flowers decorating its surface. "Well, Keir has been a pain in my ass, using every available connection he has to try and stop the upcoming election. He's been holding these stupid little rallies at the nightly revels, trying to convince the citizens to stage a coup. Though why he thinks that would work when Rhys or Feyre alone would be able to shut it down, I don't know. Just... He's being a pain in my ass!"

"I'm sorry, Mor. Isn't there anything that Feyre or Rhys would be able to do? Or maybe... Maybe remove him from power, imprison him for attempting to overthrow their rule?" You suggested, then took a bite of the seafood pasta- absolutely delicious, the creamy sauce complimenting the scallops, shrimp, and shellfish well, the pasta tender.

"I've tried telling them that it may be the only way forward, but they don't seem to understand how bad it's gotten as of late. Azriel's been busy in Autumn or Illyria for the past few months, and Cassian's been monitoring Windhaven specifically as of late. And Feyre is pregnant, meaning Rhys is unlikely to send her to the Hewn City without him, which would leave only Amren in Velaris. So..." Mor took a dejected bite of a breadstick.

"So you're stuck there?"

"Pretty much," she sighed. "Though I made Rhys promise to give me at least one day off every week, so I'll be able to come back home, and I'll be able to see you!"

You smiled. "Good, I'm glad. I missed you a lot over this last month, Mor."

Mor's expression matched your own. "I missed you too, sweets. Now... Tell me how everything's been going with you?"

It was your turn to sigh after you swallowed your bite of spaghetti- also delicious, with the slightly spicy sauce and meatballs.

"Things have been... They're looking up now. Now that I've moved out, at least. And working has been really nice. Things around the River House... Besides Azriel, they've been really tough for me. Nesta and Elain... They make me so uncomfortable, and they hate me for no reason. At least, that's what it feels like. And Feyre doesn't seem to care, either..." You shoved another bite of food into your mouth, letting the flavor soothe your pain.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I really thought that Feyre would have tried to make them stop, especially after how rude they were dress shopping for Starfall," Mor said. "But I'm glad to here that things are looking up for you- And that Azriel has been sweet. And working at Sevenda's! You've done amazingly for yourself, love, all on your own. If..." Mor paused, considering her words. "If you decided to not have them in your life anymore, I wouldn't blame you. Feyre I would give another chance, but Nesta and Elain... They're taking their anger about their own situation out on you, I think. And that's unforgivable, seeing as they know how much it's hurt you."

Tears had welled in your eyes at her words, at how well she understood your feelings. "Thank you, Mor," you managed to choke out before the tears fell.

"Oh, sweets... Come here," Mor said, standing from her chair and pulling you up and into her arms, squeezing you tightly, a hand stroking your hair soothingly. "How about we do a face mask and eat chocolate? Does that sound good?" Mor asked after a while, pulling away from you a bit. You nodded your head, not trusting your voice quite yet.

"Let's do it, then."

🤍🤍❣️🤍🤍

The next morning was lazy, with you and Mor sleeping in and laying in bed for an hour, talking about everything and nothing. You felt like you were sharing hushed secrets together, like you had so long ago with Feyre when the both of you laid awake at night, your other sisters sleeping the night away as the two of you dreamed of a life you wanted to live, not just an existence of scraping by.

Eventually, you were dragged from the cocoon of your bed by your bladder, and after you had washed your hands you jumped on the bed, right on Mor.

"It's time to get up," you sang as you laid on top of your friend, giggling when she half-heartedly tried to push you off of her. "You said you wanted to go couch shopping, right?"

"Yes, but not this early," Mor groaned beneath you.

"If you want any chance of paying for it, you've got to get up now!"

"Okay, okay! You've convinced me, you're impossible to give things to unless I've already bought them," Mor laughed, and this time you let her push you off of her- not that you doubted her ability to do it if she truly wanted to. The two of you made your way into the bathroom, going through the steps of washing and moisturizing your faces. "We're stopping for breakfast in a café, though, I'm dying to have a muffin and some coffee."

"That's fine by me Mor," you laughed. "You can change in here, I'll change in the main room."

"Okay, just let me know when you're dressed so I don't accidentally peek on you," Mor said after she had grabbed her bag and returned to the bathroom. That left you to quickly strip out of your nightgown, down to your underwear. You slipped on a simple peach brassiere and into a clean, black woolen dress, in a similarly modest fashion to the one you had worn yesterday.

"You can come out, Mor," you called out, and a moment later the bathroom door swung open.

"Let's get going, I'm starving," Mor complained as the two of you slipped on your boots and outerwear, you of course wearing all of the items Azriel had bought for you. "Oo, I like these," Mor said, stroking the cape with an ungloved hand. "Did you buy it recently?"

A blush spread over your cheeks against your will. "Oh, uhm. Azriel gave the set to me, for Solstice."

A smile spread across Mor's face. "Oh? Azriel bought it for you?" Mor asked.

Your cheeks heated further at her actual question. "It's not like that, he's just being nice..." You mumbled.

"And what if he wasn't?"

You blinked at Mor for a moment, dumbstruck by her suggestion before you laughed. "No, no. I don't... That's not a possibility, Mor."

Mor shook her head. "But you want it to be- and it is. Any male or female would be lucky to have you, Y/N," Mor said gently, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Now. Let's go get breakfast."

🤍🤍💙🤍🤍

Three hours later, you and Mor were carrying a couch through the snow covered streets of Velaris, the legs dragging through the white powder. Its pink velvet fabric was a near match to the chair you had already bought, and had a low enough back to allow winged individuals to sit comfortably.

Not that you'd taken that too much into account, it was just a nice benefit for when Azriel came to visit.

Which he would be, tonight. The two of you had agreed to have dinner tonight, as your way of repaying him for your bed. It was the one night he would be in town this week, and since you had the day off it had seemed to work perfectly.

Mor was going out with some friends tonight at Rita's, an activity that you were fine not being involved in, and she had to return to the Hewn City early in the morning.

The two of you said goodbye in the late afternoon, a long hug and promises to coordinate time together and write to each other- you would even attempt to tell her about your week, if you were able.

You spent the time before Azriel turned up cleaning your apartment some, washing the dishes that you and Mor had used last night and putting away the gifts she had given you.

Then? You collapsed on the couch, a blanket spread over you as you enjoyed how soft the cushions were.

A shadow tangled in your hair moments before a knock landed on your door, and you shook your head at the silly little thing.

"Hello, Azriel," you said as you opened the door, face to face with the Shadowsinger, a round, covered dish in his hands. His shadows seemed antsier than usual, a few of them breaking away to swirl around your feet, a tiny smile creeping onto your lips.

His eyes tracked them, tightening for a moment before they met yours, hazel softening as he looked at you. "Good evening, Y/N."

Your smile grew. "Come in, you need to choose a recipe so that we can go shopping," you said brightly as you opened the door further, letting him into your apartment. "You didn't need to bring anything, you know."

"Thank you. I just brought dessert, and it was my pleasure. And I'd be happy to have anything you make, Y/N," Azriel said as he followed you into the kitchen, where you had two of your cookbooks set out on the counter. The ones that Nesta and Feyre had gifted you. He set the dish to the left of them, and you were tempted to peel back the foil covering it.

"None of that, you're going to choose a recipe that you want," you demanded, fully aware that you are being more assertive than you'd been with him... Well, ever.

But he seemed similar to you, in the way that you never liked to accept much of anything from others.

Azriel stared you down for a moment before sighing, a small smile creeping onto his face. "Okay. But you have to let me know if it's a recipe you wouldn't like," Azriel said firmly, waiting to open a cookbook until you had nodded your agreement. "Good."

He flicked through the pages until he settled on a dish you both thought sounded good- chicken and dumplings. "It was my favorite when I was younger," Azriel confessed as the two of you walked to the Palace of Hoof and Leaf, his shadows clearing your path as they had taken to doing over the past month.

"I can't imagine you younger, somehow," you giggled as you looked up at him, trying to imagine him as a gangly teenager. But the image never came, leaving you staring at the very masculine male next to you.

Azriel let out an amused snort. "That's fine by me, I was... I was awkward, back then. But, so were my brothers."

"You? Awkward?" You shook your head. "I don't buy it. You're too calm, all the time."

"That's now. Back then I was a nervous wreck," Azriel admitted, rubbing the back of his head.

"Well, if you're ever nervous now, you do an amazing job of hiding it," you said as you picked out the vegetables you would need, handing over your bank card to the stall owner for a moment, thanking them as you left. The vegetables were placed into the cloth bag you had brought with you, which Azriel plucked from your arms despite your protest.

"If you're paying for everything and cooking, the least you can let me do is carry the ingredients," he insisted. "Now, what else do we need?"

You looked down at your list, squinting at the poorly printed ingredients that you had written down before leaving. "Uh... Chicken, obviously."

"Right. There's a butcher shop just a few stalls down," Azriel said, leading you gently with a hand on the small of your back.

The intimacy of his touch made your breath stutter for a moment, before you reminded yourself that Azriel is your friend, nothing more.

Shopping flew by, easy, light conversation flowing between the two of you while you were in the outdoors.

Azriel carried everything for you, prying every item out of your hands after you had paid for it. But you didn't feel patronized by it, rather... You felt touched, that he wanted to carry the groceries back to your apartment, that he wanted to help out in some way. It was nice.

His helping hands attempted to extended into the kitchen, at which point you fixed him with your toughest stare, demanding that he stayed still.

"Just sit there and let me cook! Enjoy your wine!" You said to him as you dropped the dumplings into the pot. "This is me repaying you for my bed in the one way you would let me- so let me!"

Azriel sighed, but you could almost hear the smile he was wearing. "I cannot believe my shadows are siding with you."

"What?" You asked, turning away from the pot to stare at him, laughing at the sight you were met with. "Oh my- that's hilarious!" You giggled at seeing Azriel, covered in his own shadows as they held him to the chair, even lifting his glass of wine up for him.

"So you say, I find mutiny much less amusing," Azriel said, shaking his head with a smile on his face. "It smells amazing, Y/N."

Your smile grew, nose scrunching at his words. "Thank you, it should only be a few more minutes."

"I'm fine right here, no matter how long it takes."

🤍💞💙💞🤍

Azriel had left your apartment near eight in the evening last night, after he had insisted upon doing the dishes, of course. Dinner had been such a pleasant affair, with Azriel telling you about his work in Autumn and Illyria, and you talking about the small dramas of your fellow kitchen staff.

You could confidently say that you were friends now. Even better, you had gotten Azriel to agree to have dinner with you when he had a rare evening in town that wasn't taken up by court matters or inner circle dinners, though it hadn't been tough to convince the male. The next time you would see him would likely be on Saturday, though he had promised to send a note with one of his shadows if something came up.

Currently though, you were at work, nestled between Josi and Torma.

You'd woken up with an ominous feeling pooling deep in your stomach, one that you still hadn't shaken. But, you'd gotten yourself out of bed and to work; for that, you were proud.

Josi and Torma were going back and forth about where they should go for drinks that night.

"I think we should go to Rita's. Then we can dance!" Josi said excitedly, even doing a little jig, bumping her hip lightly into yours which drew a giggle from you. "See! Y/N thinks it's fun!"

"Dancing would be fun, that's true Josi. But I'm feeling more like sitting and talking a bit tonight, which is why Blue Bar would be a much better choice," Torma explained, giving Josi her best puppy dog eyes as she looked over your head.

Josi sighed. "What if Y/N comes dancing with us? Would you go to Rita's then?"

Your eyes widened at the suggestion. "I don't think-"

"Oh, please Y/N?" Torma begged, setting down her knife and putting her palms together. "Please please please? You haven't gone out with us yet!"

You scrunched your face at the idea. Drinking, dancing, and being near so many people... Was not your idea of a relaxing evening. "I'm not sure... I don't really drink," you said quietly.

"But you don't have to drink! You can just watch us be silly and bad at dancing," Josi enthused, setting down her own knife. "Come ooon, you know you want to see us make fools of ourselves!"

The thought of them stumbling around together on a dance floor did bring a smile to your face. "As long as you guys don't abandon me," you decided, your words resulting in enthusiastic high fives from your coworkers, only making you smile wider.

"Yes! Okay, we can either pick you up from your apartment at seven, or you can meet us at Rita's at the same time," Josi said.

"Uhh... Pick me up from my apartment, I think. Otherwise I might just stay home," you admitted sheepishly.

"Then we'll pick you up at seven o'clock sharp," Torma declared.

The rest of your shift passed quickly, with you leaving around five. You bid goodbye to your coworkers, promising them that you would be ready and enthusiastically awaiting their arrival in two hours.

You walked home, enjoying the slightly warmer weather that Velaris was having today. The sun was shining brightly, even as it began its descent below the horizon.

Still, even the lovely weather couldn't shake the feeling in your bones that something unexpected would happen today, good or bad.

And you were proven right when you arrived to your building, Feyre standing outside of the locked door, looking...

Angry.

Furious.

Your heart picked up in your chest, beating rapidly as you tried to assess why she would be angry... The only reason you could come up with was, well... Why you were standing outside of an apartment building.

"Hello, Feyre," you said, as neutrally as you could with your heart hammering in your chest.

"Y/N," Feyre said coldly, her hands pointing to the doorknob. "Let me in?"

Your brows scrunched together, but you unlocked the door, letting Feyre pass through before you. You led her upstairs, pausing before your door. Should you let her in...? You sighed and unlocked the door, allowing Feyre to enter your apartment. Your safe space.

You only hoped it continue to feel that way, after this visit.

"So... You moved out without telling me? Do you have any idea how dangerous that is? How worried I've been?!" Feyre growled at you once the door was shut behind you.

"Worried?" You asked with a mirthless chuckle. "You've been worried? I was gone for a week, Feyre! A week, and you couldn't be bothered to notice until Mor did!" You yelled at her, your own anger at your situation bubbling up. "Besides, it's not like I could leave the fucking city without your approval anyways, so what do you have to be worried about?! That I'm making my own life, with people who actually care about me?!" Feyre opened her mouth to respond, but you didn't give her the chance. "I felt like nothing but a burden, an annoyance in that house," you hissed. "And if you had actually cared about me, you would've noticed I moved out last Wednesday. And you would've noticed when I got a job. And you would have remembered that I cannot. Read." Tears filled your eyes as you brought up that little tidbit, the sting of it fresh whenever you thought of it. Water had begun pooling in Feyre's eyes, and you knew that if she spoke you would forgive her, even if you didn't want to. "Now get out, Feyre, unless you've decided that my apartment is now your property as well. Come back when you actually realize why I moved out," you said coldly as you opened the door, staring expectantly at her.

She did as you asked, passing through the doorway mere minutes after she entered. Feyre turned to you, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears. "I do care for you, Y/N. But you've got to stop acting like living at the River House was torture."

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, slamming the door in her face and locking it tightly.

Not that it would stop her, if she really wanted in...

You spent the rest of your time before your coworkers showed up curled in your bed, pillows piled around you and blanket pulled over your head. It was only when you peeked at the clock and saw it was ten to seven that you pulled yourself from your cocoon.

Hair brushed out and a small amount of eyeliner and pale pink rouge and lipstick applied, you quickly changed into a different dress. Your cozy black cotton dress was changed to a flowing, sapphire blue silk gown. The sleeves were loose, wider once they met your forearms, and the modest cut and floor length skirts left you feeling secure and covered. You felt pretty in it, one of the few nicer gowns you had taken from your closet in the River House.

You had just pulled on your boots and cloak when a knock fell on your door, Josi and Torma waiting outside.

"How did you get in the building?" You asked with a laugh as you locked up.

"Well, one of the other tenants had just walked in when we arrived, so we slipped inside!" Josi explained, locking arms with you as the three of you left the building.

"Ahh, that explains it."

"Yes. Now, let's get to Rita's! It's cold as balls out here," Torma groaned, taking your other arm and dragging the two of you along faster.

The air in Rita's was hot, a welcome reprieve from the winter chill outside. Josi went to order drinks for the three of you, while Torma led you over to a booth in the back of the bar.

The two of you had just settled in when Josi came back, four drinks in her hands. She set two in front of you, one was water, the other was pink and sparkling, smelling of strawberries and a hint of alcohol.

"I know you said you don't drink, but I thought I would get you something just in case! I had the bartender make it less strong for you. And if you don't have it, I'll drink it anyways," Josi giggled as she slid into the booth next to you, already sipping her own drink.

Normally you wouldn't have dared to touch alcohol, but your conversation with Feyre earlier... You could use a distraction. And, you were with your trusted coworkers.

You took a small sip of the drink, delighted at the way the liquid was fizzing in your mouth. It tasted as it smelled, primarily of strawberries with the slightest hint of alcohol- champagne, you thought.

"Thank you, Josi, it's delicious."

"I'm glad you like it! Oh- Torma, we have to dance to this one!" Josi squealed, setting her drink down and sliding out of the booth, pulling Torma along with her.

You watched them dance, sillier with each song as Josi had said they would, sipping your drink. You started feeling light, tipsy like you had at the one party you'd drank at, when you still lived in the human lands.

Maybe that was why you hadn't noticed him, until he was standing directly in front of you, wings tucked in behind him.

"Oh- hi, Azriel," you said quietly, a flush on your cheeks as you smiled at him.

"Hello, Y/N. I didn't expect to see you here," Azriel replied, sliding into the booth across from you. "You look like you're having a nice time."

You bobbed your head to the beat of the music. "I am. Josi and Torma convinced me to come out tonight. And I am glad they did, otherwise Feyre would have ruined my day," you giggled, the sting from your interaction with her not present with the alcohol running through your veins.

"You spoke with Feyre?" Azriel asked, a curious look on his face.

You sighed heavily and took another small sip of your drink. "Yeah, she was at my place when I got off work, and was mad that I moved out without saying anything. But really, it took her a week to notice!" You vented. "Not to mention she didn't even remember that I couldn't read... Nesta and Elain I understand since they hate me but..." you trailed off, a frown on your face.

One of Azriel's hands slid over your own, grasping it gently. "I'm sorry that you've been let down so thoroughly by your sisters, Y/N. I am happy to know that you're still living how you want, and making friends too."

You smiled dreamily at him. How was he so nice to you? "Thank you, Azriel. I'm glad that you're my friend, you're really nice."

Azriel smiled softly at you, his hazel eyes crinkling at the edges.

One of his shadows tangled itself in your hair, rubbing against your neck and drawing your eyes away from Azriel's. "Your shadows are so silly," you giggled, tickling the shadow with a finger.

"They seem to like you a lot," Azriel remarked, watching as more of his shadows nuzzled themselves against you. "By the way, I wanted to ask you if you're up for a surprise on Saturday, before we have dinner."

You blinked at him for a moment, your thoughts coming more slowly with what you'd drank. "Uhm... Is it a fun surprise? Or like... dragging me to a family dinner surprise?"

Azriel's lips pressed together, the corners of his mouth still tilting upwards. "A fun surprise, I promise. And if you don't like it, we can leave right away."

"Mm... Sure, I don't see why not," you said, trying to come up with what kind of surprise he would plan.

"Good," Azriel smiled. Josi and Torma had wandered back over to the table, fresh drinks for themselves in hand. "I'll let you spend time with your friends," he said, sliding out of the booth.

"Thank you for saying hi, Az," you said sweetly, smiling happily at him. "I'll see you on Saturday!"

Azriel nodded, a slight flush on his cheeks as he turned away, going back to whichever table he had been at.

"Oooh," Josi said from beside you, elbowing you gently in the side. "Someone has a crush on the Shadowsinger!"

You scrunched your face at her, but couldn't get the smile to slide off of your face. "No I don't," you whined.

"Oh yes you do," Torma joined in, poking your leg with a foot. "And I dare say he has one on you as well."

You blushed further at that idea, shaking your head. "No, no, we're just friends!" You insisted, but both of them gave you a knowing look.

"Uh-huh," Josi giggled from beside you. "Just let us know when you start dating, hmm?"

"It's not like that!" You giggled, gently slapping her on the arm. "It's not!"

Torma rolled her eyes playfully at you from across the booth. "Sure, Y/N. Now, do you want to dance with us?"

You looked out at the dance floor. You'd never been one for dancing, since you'd missed out on the years of lessons that Nesta and Elain had gotten. But...

You drained the rest of you drink, about a third of it, and scooted into Josi. "Let's go dance!"

🤍🤍💙🤍🤍

The next morning, you'd woken up with a slight hangover, which had been easily cured with a large glass of water, some dry toast, and a long bath.

Josi and Torma had grinned at you the whole day, talking about how they needed to take you out more often now.

You wouldn't say yes every time but... It had been nice spending time with them, and dancing had been more fun than you'd thought, with a bit of bubbly running through you.

The five days before you would see Azriel again- when you would know what surprise he had planned- passed by quickly at work, but dreadfully slow while you were alone at home.

You had taken to filling out the handwriting book that Mor had given you, your letters improving with every time you wrote them. And you felt you were nearing the point that you could attempt to read children's books, perhaps the book of fables that Rhysand had given to you for your birthday.

Feyre had yet to visit again, something you were grateful for. If she couldn't understand that being trapped and kept here like a forgotten pet, or worse, a chew toy for your sisters, was your problem? Then you didn't want to see her.

You were lonely while you weren't at work, but you could handle that. After all, you had time with Azriel after work today, and you and Mor were having another sleepover tomorrow night.

You had just started washing up to leave work when a shadow snuck into your hair, alerting you to Azriel's presence, likely in the dining room. You giggled at it, gently poking it with a wet finger before you dried off your hands. Sure enough, Azriel was stood in the dining room, talking with Sevenda in a hushed tone, both of them quieting when you walked through the curtain separating the kitchen from the front of house.

"Ah, Y/N! Someone came to pick you up," Sevenda said with a smile, winking at you when Azriel had his head turned.

You rolled your eyes at her, turning your attention to Azriel. "Come to take me to the surprise?"

"I am, in fact," Azriel nodded, extending a hand to you.

You took it without thinking, letting him lead you out of Sevenda's restaurant and into the snowscape of Velaris. His hands were soft, even with the scars that you knew covered them, and the calluses that you knew he should have, being a warrior and all.

His shadows were buzzing around the two of you excitedly, mirroring that of their master. Something about where you were going had Azriel as close to giddy as you could ever see him getting, a slight smile stuck to his face, his wings twitching every now and then.

Soon enough you came to a stop in front of a large building, various magical creatures painted onto the sign above the door.

Velaris... Animal... Shelter?

You blinked at the sign, confused. Surely you hadn't read that right.

"Come inside, I think you'll like it," Azriel said, gently tugging you into the building. Once inside, your ears were met with so many different sounds: meows, barks, bird trills, growls, hisses. There were a few rooms, all separated with glass walls and doors, filled to the brim with animals.

You were instantly drawn to the room housing felines- there were so. Many. Kittens!

"Oh my gods, can we go in?!" You asked Azriel, your face flushed from excitement and the cold as you met his hazel gaze.

"Of course we can, we just need to keep all of them inside the room." Azriel opened the door for you, letting you pass through first.

"Oh, they're so cute!" You squealed, approaching a pile of kittens, all conked out. You sat on the floor next to them, petting all of their fuzzy little heads and milk filled tummies, delighting in the squeaks they let out.

"This is an amazing surprise, Azriel," you told him once he sat down next to you, his wings drawing the attention of some of the active kittens.

"Being here isn't the only surprise," Azriel said. "If you'd like, you can take one home. I've already picked out some possible furniture you might like for the little one, if you decide to have one."

You gaped at him, completely shocked. "I can... I can take one home?" You asked, looking back at the kittens with new eyes. You could have a companion... Someone just for you.

"You can," Azriel said warmly, a smile on his lips when you looked back at him.

A grin spread across your face and your launched yourself at him, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck. "Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!"

His arms wrapped around you for a moment before you pulled away. "You're welcome, Y/N. I thought you might like to have a companion at home."

"Well you were right," you said giddily, turning back to the kittens. All of them were so adorable, so sweet while they were sleeping. But you would want one that was calmer while awake, matching your energy levels.

You and Azriel stayed in that room for two hours, playing with kittens and talking about what you'd both been up to over the past five days.

"The elections are heating up, and thankfully Rhys and Feyre sent me to the Hewn City to help protect the candidates going against the current leaders," Azriel told you as he let four kittens climb over him, even onto his shoulders and head. "Mor sends her love, by the way."

You smiled, both at the sight and the mention of your shared friend. "That's sweet of her, we get to have a night together tomorrow, which will be even more fun with my new little one," you said. "I still don't know which one I want, though."

"Take your time, you want to get one that you'll bond with well," Azriel suggested.

You looked around to room, trying to find any kittens that you hadn't interacted with yet. There, on one of the shelves... Mostly hidden behind a fluffy bed stuffed onto the shelf was a tiny kitten with glowing green eyes, her beautiful silvery coat shimmering even in the slight darkness of the shelf. You crawled over to her, extending a hand back to let her sniff. She hissed softly at you once, but let you run your fingers across her head, purring at the first touch.

Oh yes. This one.

She seemed slightly afraid of everything, hissing gently when you plucked her from her spot and cradled her in your arms. She was so tiny, and her fur was so soft and puffy, you wouldn't be surprised if she turned out to be a total fluff ball. Her tummy fur was the palest pink color, absolutely adorable. And her silvery fur had streaks of light tan running through it, along with slightly darker streaks of grey.

She was perfect. And the way her eyes closed as you pet her was so comforting to watch, you knew that you had found your fur child that you wanted to take home.

"I want her," you said to Azriel, tilting her in your arms so he could see her better. "She's so cute, and she seems nervous, like me."

Azriel laughed softly. "She's very cute, Y/N. Do you know what you'd want to name her?"

You looked down at her, trying to think of something that would suit her. At the same time, she let out the tiniest little squeak, that sounded like a soft 'eek.'

"M'aiq. Cause she's mine, and she made a little eek noise," you said, nodding your head at the name.

"M'aiq... That's a cute name for a cute little Starfall kitten."

"Starfall kitten?" You asked, wondering if that's why her eyes glowed green.

"Yes, every year, in the two months after Starfall, about one in every litter is born with a Starfall spirit inside of them. Or, at least, that's the explanation I've heard for why their eyes glow," Azriel explained, beginning to place the kittens that had climbed onto him back on the ground.

"Awe... You're even more special, my little M'aiq," you said cheerily, nuzzling your nose against hers.

Azriel led you out of the glass room and to the counter, where a fae took M'aiq and put her into a small carrier. He then led you into the shelter's store, where they had plenty of furniture, toys, and anything else you would need in stock.

You picked out a tall, carpeted structure that had a few platforms that M'aiq could rest on, as well as four different beds meant for small felines. A magically cleaning litter box and several food and water dishes also came home with you, as well as many, many toys.

His shadows sent everything to your apartment besides M'aiq in her little crate, which Azriel picked up for you. You tried to pry it out of his hands, but instead he slipped his free hand into yours and began leading you back to your apartment. Along the way you stopped in the Palace of Bone and Salt, picking up the things you would need for a simple pot roast dinner, seeing as you would be distracted for the rest of the evening.

Once you were inside the apartment, you immediately snagged M'aiq's crate from Azriel and pulled her out of it and into your arms.

"You're so cute," you cooed to her, petting her tiny head slowly.

You felt Azriel's eyes on you before you saw them, glancing up and smiling warmly at him. He looked away, the slightest blush on his face.

He is, too.

You placed M'aiq into one of the many cat beds now decorating your apartment, this one placed at the foot of your bed. "Stay there, sweetie, while I make dinner," you told her, her nervous green eyes on you. "I'll make you something, too, don't you worry."

Azriel was smiling softly at you when you turned to the kitchen, the expression making his face even more beautiful than normal.

You'd never understood how a male could be pretty, until now. But now you knew why Feyre called Rhysand the most beautiful male she had ever seen, because you thought that might be true of the winged male in currently in your kitchen.

"Did you need help with dinner?" He asked as you approached the bag of food he had placed on the counter.

"Hmm... I suppose since this isn't me paying you back for anything, you can help this time," you decided, setting out two cutting boards and handing him a knife. "Cut the potatoes into halves then quarter the halves, slice the carrots half an inch thick, and the onions into eighths please."

Azriel nodded and began rinsing the potatoes and carrots, while you grabbed some chicken from your cold box, dicing it after you started a flame under a pan with a bit of oil in it.

You balanced cooking the chicken for M'aiq and braising the roast while Azriel cut all of the vegetables, finishing at the perfect time, right when you needed them all to be added to the pot.

Azriel took over seasoning the roast while you fed M'aiq for the first time, grinning from ear to ear as you watched her devour half of the chicken that you had cooked for her. You'd get the portions down in no time.

With the roast in the oven, you and Azriel relaxed on the couch for a while, M'aiq in your lap.

After a little bit, Azriel had his shadows bring him a few reports after he made sure you would be okay with it, quietly filling them out with the scratch of his quill on the paper.

You decided, since you had tipsily told him that you were illiterate at Rita's anyways, that you would work on your handwriting in the book Mor had given you again, fighting the blush that had overtaken your cheeks.

But he said nothing about what you were doing, only giving you one curious glance before returning to his own work.

He was thoughtful like that. He thought about what would make you uncomfortable.

Your heart thumped in your chest at the feelings you were developing, ones that you had been fighting so hard to keep at bay.

But you were failing.

You were failing because this sweet, caring, thoughtful male did nothing but make your life brighter, Shadowsinger or not.

Doing your best to keep your attention on your workbook, you passed the rest of the time until the roast was done in a comfortable silence, the scratching of quills, crackling of logs, and M'aiq's soft purrs the only sounds in your ears.

Azriel checked the roast for you, after you had complained about having to move M'aiq when she was so comfortable and sleeping... And then he brought a bowl over to you along with a napkin, eating his own on the couch as well.

You felt so comfortable near him, even sitting so close, unaccompanied by anyone else. Two and half years ago you would have balked at the idea, the impropriety of it. But Azriel had been nothing but gentlemanly toward you, even when he had flown you up to the House of Wind.

And really... You would never be the whore that Nesta claimed you to be, after all you had never even been kissed in your twenty years of life, let alone had relations with someone. Just the thought of that sent anxiety through you. No, you would not have sex with someone until you were married, as you had been raised to do. You even... You even found it romantic, to save yourself for your future spouse.

So, being alone in your apartment with Azriel? That was an impropriety you were willing to overlook.

Azriel left your apartment near eleven at night, having spent extra time with you while you helped M'aiq settle in to her new home.

When you shut the door behind him, your heart fluttering from his presence, and now absence.

You turned your attention down to the fluffy ball in your arms. "What do you say, M'aiq? Are you ready for bed?"

Her soft squeak was enough of an answer for you. You settled her on the bed, next to your pillow while you washed your face and dressed for bed.

You laid down next to her, covers pulled up to your shoulders, with a hand poking out so you could pet her as you went to bed.

You didn't feel quite so lonely, laying in the dark now.

🤍🤍❣️🤍🤍

As soon as you exited work, you were assaulted by way of an aggressive hug from a bouncy blonde. Mor swung you around, giggling.

"I'm so excited to see you!" Mor yelled, squeezing you tightly.

"I'm excited to see you too, Mor!" You giggled after she set you on your feet again. "So, what's the schedule like for tomorrow?"

"Well," Mor started as the two of you began walking to your apartment. "I have to be back in the Hewn City by noon, and... I have a family dinner to go to tonight," Mor said with a sigh. "So I won't be with you for dinner, but I'm planning to book it out of there and have dessert with you!"

You nodded in understanding. "That's fine, Mor, but you should come to my apartment first! I have something to show you."

"Oh?" Mor asked, quirking a brow at you. "What is it?"

"If I told you now, it wouldn't have the same effect!" You insisted as you let her into your building, following her up the stairs. Your door swung open, and you heard the skitter of claws on wood. "Oops, I think the door spooked her."

"Her?" Mor asked, looking around before her eyes locked the far wall. "She's under the bed."

"Oh, M'aiq!" You called as you pulled off your boots before crawling next to the bed. "Come on out, sweetie, Mor is your friend," you said softly, rubbing your fingers together to draw her out. No luck, though, especially when Mor kneeled down to peer under the bed. M'aiq actually hissed at her, spitting and everything. You hated that she was distressed but... She was so cute.

"Awe, she's adorable!" Mor whispered. "And she's a Starfall kitten, oh that's so sweet. You know, they tend to bond strongly to their owners, some are even able to communicate with them. Not talking," Mor giggled when you gave her a wide eyed look. "More like... Their emotions can be shared with you, similar to daemati, but it's just a connection between them and their person. Maybe your little M'aiq will do the same."

You looked back to her, where she was now sitting, pressed tightly against the wall but no longer hissing. "That would be so cool," you whispered.

Four hours later and Mor was back in your apartment, lounging on your bed with you, M'aiq laying inbetween.

"So, besides the kitten, what else is new?" Mor asked you, popping a chocolate into her mouth a moment later.

"Well..." You blushed. "I... I like Azriel..."

Mor grinned at you. "I knew you would! And honestly, I don't see why he wouldn't like you. The two of you are so well suited for each other."

You shook your head. "I don't think so Mor, I'm... I'm human," you whispered, your eyes stinging.

"And what does that have to do with anything?" Mor asked seriously, tilting your chin back up so you would look at her. "So, you're human. Why does that matter?"

"Well, because... Because I won't be around for long, and it's cruel to shackle someone to me when I'll be old and grey in such a short time," you admitted, finally giving voice to your doubts.

"Who says you'll get old and grey?" Mor asked. "Maybe there's a way for you to not age, we just haven't found it yet. And besides, it's Azriel's choice if he decides to pursue you, he would know the possible outcomes. You deserve to be happy, Y/N," Mor said softly, her own eyes shining with tears. "I know that you're stuck here, and you would prefer to be in the human lands, but you still deserve to have happiness here, and if that means having a partner? Then that's what you should do, sweets."

You sniffled at her words, willing your tears to not fall as you stroked M'aiq. "Maybe... Maybe you're right... But I still don't think he likes me in that way," you said quietly.

"Well, I think what you think is wrong. I've never seen Azriel smile as much as he does when he's with you," Mor giggled, causing you to do the same. "And the two of you look so cute together!"

"Mor, stop," you laughed. "I don't want to get my hopes up..."

"Okay, okay. I'm just saying..."

You scrunched your nose at her. "Different topic. Tell me how things have been going with the election?"

"Well..."

🤍💙💘💙🤍

Friday night you and Azriel had planned to spend the evening together, but you were surprised to see him on Wednesday evening, after knocking on your apartment door.

"Hello, Azriel," you greeted. "What are you doing here?" Your eyes darted down, seeing his shadows swirling around his legs, a few darting out to brush against your legs. But more interesting was the box in his hand, pink with a matching ribbon tied in a cute little bow wrapped around it.

"I, uhm-" Azriel stammered for a moment before taking a breath. "I came here today because I want to ask you on a date, Y/N."

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart stopping. "I- what?"

Azriel's mouth tilted up in the corners. "I want to take you out on a date. I want to spend time with you, have a chance to court you. I like you, Y/N. And I was thinking we could go out for dinner on Friday night, if you decide to say yes."

Your brain short circuited. He- he likes you?

"I- Is this a joke?" You asked in a small voice, your heart bracing for the answer you were dreading.

Azriel's eyes saddened for a moment, his hands twitching where they were holding the box. "No, Y/N, I would never joke about this. I like you, very, very much. And I would very much like it if you joined me for dinner Friday night at seven," Azriel said softly, his eyes locked on yours. They shone with nothing but the truth, soothing your worries and sending heat to your cheeks.

A small smile slid onto your lips. "I... I'd like that very much, as well."

Azriel's smile at your words set your heart ablaze, the fire of your feelings stoked by the knowledge that he shared them as well. "Good, good. This is for you," Azriel said, placing the box into your hands once you held them out, his fingers brushing against yours. Just that little touch sent flutters through you, your blush deepening. "It's Elain's recipe, the white chocolate raspberry cake that you love," he explained. "I thought, even if you did not share my feelings, that you might like something sweet anyways," Azriel admitted, rubbing a hand against the back of his head.

"Thank you, Azriel," you said softly, touched that he would still care for you, even if you'd rejected him. "I'll... I'll see you at seven on Friday?" You asked shyly, still in disbelief.

"I'll see you then, Y/N," Azriel said, raising one of your hands and pressing his lips to the back of it. "Sleep well, dear."

Your heart thumped in your chest, hard enough you thought it might beat out of your chest. "You too," you said quietly, watching as he smiled once more at you, before disappearing down the stairs.

You shut the door, leaning against it after you locked it.

Had that really just happened?

Your eyes drifted down to the box in your hands, proof that Azriel had visited, had brought you it, had... Had...

Oh gods, you had no idea of what to do for a first date!

You set the box on a kitchen counter, opening it to see an adorable, heart shaped cake, decorated with pretty pink swirls of icing. It made you giddy, knowing that the cake was a present from a suitor. From Azriel. You cut a slice for yourself and grabbed a fork, taking the plate over to the table.

The cake was as delicious as you remembered, and M'aiq jumped onto the chair next to you, watching as you ate.

"If only you could give dating advice, little cutie," you mused, having another bite. No, you'd have to go see Mor for help.

🤍🤍❣️🤍🤍

The next morning, you knew that Mor was in town, visiting the River House to give a report on the upcoming elections to Rhys and Feyre- early, too, before you started your work day.

You bundled up early, your nerves getting the better of you. You needed her advice, and you needed it before Friday. Which meant this morning was your only option, even if it meant going to the River House...

You entered your former home, filled with anxiety. There was no way to tell how this would go, given your last encounter with Feyre, but you were determined to get what you needed, and that was a conversation with Mor.

Luckily for you, she, Feyre and Rhys were sat at the dining table, having breakfast. Mor was chugging coffee until she saw you, setting her cup down and rushing out of her chair.

"Oh, Y/N! I'm so happy to see you!"

"I am too, Mor, I was-" You looked at Rhys and Feyre. "I was hoping I could talk to you, if that's alright?" You asked nervously.

Mor glanced back at the two of them before nodding. "That's fine, sweets, what did you need?"

"Uhh... Can we go outside, to talk?" Mor nodded and followed you to the front door, slipping on her coat before leaving the warmth of the River House. You walked a little bit away before talking, you didn't want anyone besides Mor to know. "Okay, so... Remember how you said that Azriel might like me...?"

"Oh mother!" Mor exclaimed. "He asked you out, didn't he?!"

You blushed and nodded your head. "Yes, last night, and for tomorrow night. But I- I've never been on a date before," you confessed, wringing your mittened hands together. "I don't know what to do, I don't know what's expected. I've never- I've never even been kissed!"

Mor placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "Oh, hon! Nothing will be expected except for you to give it an honest try, and to be yourself! And as for never being kissed, I could change that," Mor offered, wiggling her eyebrows at you.

You swatted her arm, shaking your head at her. "You're very pretty, Mor, but I don't like you that way," you giggled. "But... But what if he... What if he doesn't understand that I'm... saving myself," you whispered, "For marriage?"

"Y/N, if Azriel is in any way demanding sex from you, then he doesn't deserve you. I also don't think Azriel is that kind of male, he seems like a true gentlemale, in my opinion."

Her words soothed the anxieties in your chest, calming you down. "I don't think he would either," you said shyly. "But I... I also don't know what to wear."

Mor's eyes lit up even more, and she clapped her hands together. "Oh, oh! We can go shopping when you get off work today! I'll make sure I can stay in town until eight tonight, okay? And I'll see if I can come over tomorrow evening before you leave and help you get ready, if you'd like?" Mor asked.

"Really, Mor? That would be lovely," you said, hugging your friend. She squeezed you back. "Thank you, I'll see you at five, yes?"

"Yes you will, sweets. Now, you get to work, and I'll get back to that meeting. See you later!" Mor said with a wave, turning around the way you came.

Your shift passed incredibly slowly, your mind drifting to every way that the date could go right- and also wrong. You had nearly driven yourself crazy by the time you had washed up and left the building, Mor waiting by the door with two steaming cups of tea in each hand.

"Let's get shopping, sweets!" Mor said brightly, handing a tea to you and leading you to a dress store in the Palace of Thread and Jewels. It was a different one than you had gone to for your Starfall dress, for which you were thankful.

Mor lead you through the store, showing you dress after dress in styles and colors that you loved. All the while, she gave you little tips of advice, most of them along the lines of "be yourself and know that he is just as if not more nervous than you are."

After trying on ten different dresses, you settled on a rose pink silk dress with a modest neckline and floor length skirts. The sleeves billowed out before coming in at your wrists, the silk laying across your body in a flattering fashion. You could safely say that your body had filled out over the past month, what with you eating a small lunch at work and having dinner most nights. Your curves were more pronounced, a bit closer to how you had been before being taken to Velaris.

Mor had also insisted on buying you heeled boots in a matching shade of pink, a gold heart buckle keeping the strap in place. They were cute enough that you didn't fight her on accepting them.

She walked you home, parting with a strong hug and a promise to come by a bit after you got off work tomorrow.

But for tonight? You had another slice of cake, then snuggled up with M'aiq under the covers, using her purrs to chase away your racing thoughts.

🤍💙🤍💙🤍

"You look gorgeous, Y/N!" Mor squealed as she stood back, having put the finishing touches on your makeup. "What do you think?"

You looked in the mirror, taking in the very light blush on your cheeks, the softly glittering pale pink eyeshadow on your lids, brown eyeliner complimenting your eyes, making them look even softer than normal.

"I agree! You do an amazing job every time, Mor," you praised, standing to hug your friend tightly. "Thank you so much for helping me get ready, today and yesterday."

"Oh, sweets, it's no trouble at all! In fact, it's been so long since my own first date that it's bringing back this memories, how fluttery your stomach gets when you see them..." Mor sighed happily. "Well, I should get going, otherwise Keir will riot."

"When are the elections over, again?" You asked as you walked her to the door.

"In two weeks, thank the mother," Mor groaned. "Then I get a nice, long vacation for three weeks."

"Just two more weeks, you can do it!" You encouraged, wishing there was something you could do to make it shorter.

"Yes, I know... And you had better tell me everything that happens tonight!"

You giggled at her words. "I will, Mor!"

"Everything!" Mor yelled as she went down the stairs.

You shut the door looking at the clock. Half past six. That was plenty of time for you to feed M'aiq her dinner and get dressed. And luckily for you, cooking something would keep your mind occupied enough to not panic about Azriel's impending arrival.

Your little child was fed and your dress pulled onto your body, pink boots slid onto your feet. All you had left to put on was your cloak, mittens and scarf, but that could wait until right before you left. Five minutes passed dreadfully slowly, and at 6:57 you pulled on your winter gear and descended the stairs after saying goodbye to M'aiq.

Waiting for you just outside the building door was Azriel, a bouquet of roses- red, lavender and white- in his hands.

"Hi, Azriel," you said, a blush instantly coming to your cheeks at the sight of him in a fine black shirt and pants, a change from his normal Illyrian leathers. The shirt clearly showcased his physique, something that you could appreciate. He had no knife belt on him tonight, his waist looked a bit barren without it.

"Good evening, Y/N." He pressed a kiss to the back of your mittened hand before pressing the bouquet into your hands. "I thought you might like some flowers," he said with a small smile, one that you easily returned.

"I love flowers, and these are absolutely beautiful," you said, raising them to your face to smell them. "And they smell lovely as well."

"I'm glad to hear it. Would you like to take them upstairs, or my shadows can, if you'd like?"

You bit your lip. If you went back upstairs... You might chicken out. "If your shadows could take them, that would be nice." In the next moment, the bouquet was out of your hands, whisked away by his shadows to the vase in your apartment. "So, where are we going for dinner?" You asked, locking your arm with his after he held it out, your hand holding onto his muscled forearm.

"It's an Illyrian restaurant, I helped the owner and his cousin leave the camps sixty or so years ago, and I've found that, except for your cooking, it's my favorite restaurant in all Velaris," Azriel explained as you strolled towards the Palace of Thread and Jewels.

"Really? That's so amazing, that you're part of the reason their dreams came true," you said, even more enamored with the male beside you. "You're going to have to recommend things to me, I wouldn't know where to start," you giggled.

Azriel smiled down at you. "How about we share a couple of dishes? That way you can try whichever ones catch your eye."

You met his eyes, a smile on your own lips. "That sounds perfect, Azriel."

His eyes sparkled as he opened a door for you, a hand on your lower back guiding you through, sending a renewed flush to your face.

You were seated a moment later, in a cozy booth near the back of the restaurant, two menus placed on the table. Azriel ordered a pot of tea for the two of you to share, which warmed your heart.

He already knew you so well.

"Now, what sounds good to you, dear?" Azriel asked, the pet name sending your heart into overdrive.

You looked down at the menu, but with your excitement and still somewhat illiterate eyes, you were lost. You bit your lip for a moment before deciding what to do. "What if you order your favorites, because I am overwhelmed by choice?" You asked, relieved when Azriel nodded his head.

"That would be their beef stew, made with Illyria native vegetables and their roasted Illyrian trout with roasted vegetables. Do those sound good?" Azriel asked. You nodded your head- both of those sounded fantastic, and you were excited to see what he enjoyed most.

When the server returned with your tea, Azriel ordered the food before returning his attention to you, the weight of it making your breath catch in your throat.

"So..." You started, entirely unsure of what to say.

"I'm glad you decided to come out with me," Azriel said, his eyes soft as they met yours.

"I am too," you said shyly. "I'm still... Shocked that you asked me to come out, though."

A soft frown slipped onto Azriel's face, and you wanted nothing more than to wipe it away. "Really? I'd thought..." Azriel's own face heated a bit. "I thought that I was rather obvious with my affections. I might be the spymaster of this court, but I'm woefully inept at hiding my own feelings, at least... When it comes to you," He admitted, voice low and gentle.

"So... We both like each other... And thought we were bad at hiding it?" You giggled.

"I suppose so," Azriel chuckled. "But truly, I am very happy that you're here tonight, with me. Now, tell me- How is M'aiq settling in?"

Now that was a subject that you could go on and on about, with only having her for a week now.

You had covered how she was doing wonderfully at your place by the time your food arrived, with Azriel dishing your plate for you. The gesture made you smile, all the little ways he took care of you already.

The food was absolutely fantastic, flavor bursting along your tongue. Both of the dishes were spicy, but not so much that you couldn't handle it.

Conversation flowed between the two of you as you ate, just as it always did. You talked about your dreams for the future, the few that you did have at this point, your brain already working Azriel into them- not that you admitted that to Azriel, it was a bit early for those sentiments. Azriel told you a bit more about his upbringing, glossing over the parts of his life before he had befriended Rhysand and been taken in by his mother. You didn't pry, but you were a little curious to know every part of his story, everything that had shaped him into the male you cared for.

Soon enough you were stuffed full of warm, delicious food, the plates in front of you empty. More than that, you were filled with joy from Azriel's company, from how he clung to your every word.

He led you from the restaurant, his hand placed on your lower back once more, the warmth of it radiating through the fabric of your dress. You walked along the Sidra slowly, leaning your head against Azriel's arm, trusting him to keep you from falling.

You were almost halfway home when you heard the most beautiful music, coming from two musicians playing next to a bar, one with a violin and the other with a cello. You slowed your pace, Azriel's arm tightening around you as you did so. Listening for a moment, and gazing up at the brilliantly shining stars above you, you had an idea.

"Azriel, would you dance with me?" You asked him quietly, tilting your head to look at him.

His eyes met yours, a smile glowing within them as well as covering his lips. "I'd be honored, Y/N. So long as you call me Az."

You smiled brightly at him. "It's a deal, Az." You let him turn you in his arms, clasping your right hands together and placing a light hand on your waist. Your other hand came to rest on his shoulder, grasping it lightly.

The two of you swayed together in a small circle to the lovely music, the light of the stars shining down on you.

It was the date of your dreams, if you were being honest. Lovely conversation and food, and such a romantic partner, willing to dance in the snow with you because you asked.

So when you finally arrived at your apartment, you were a bit sad the date was ending. But more than anything, you were excited for everything that lay in the future for the two of you.

Azriel smiled down at you softly, his eyes warm despite the cold temperatures. His wings twitched behind him, just before he leaned in a bit.

"Can I kiss you?" He asked as one of his hands came to cup your cheek gently, so, incredibly gently.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. He leaned in further, allowing you to close the last, tiny gap between your lips.

And when you did, you knew that you would never be the same. His lips were so soft against yours, so gentle and sweet that it stole your breath away.

Your mouth followed for a moment when he pulled away, your eyes fluttering open- you hadn't even realized you'd closed them.

"If it's fine by you, I'd like to see you when you get off work tomorrow," Azriel suggested softly, gaze flicking between your lips and eyes.

"I'd like that," you whispered into the space between you, the tilt of his lips more than worth having to speak so soon after such a life changing kiss.

"It's a date," Azriel said with a smile. "Goodnight, Y/N."

"Goodnight, Az," you breathed, unlocking the door of your building. He waited to leave until you were safely inside, the door locked behind you.

You just managed to get into your apartment before you collapsed against the door, overwhelmed by just how perfect the night had been. How perfect Az had been.

🤍💙💝💙🤍

General Taglist: @daughterofthemoons-stuff @lilah-asteria @meritxellao @twismare

The Afterthought Taglist: @darkbloodsly @angelbunny222 @uniquedreamsblog @romantasyreader28 @that-one-bibliophole @idkmyoldonewasembarassing @deathtopistachios @saltedcoffeescotch @sleepylunarwolf @babypeapoddd @kingshitonly @bravo-delta-eccho @bluebries81 @liahaslosthermind @deepestmentalitypersona @historygeekqueen @hermajestysworld @marina468 @esposamultifandom @astrokitty18 @larissa01-blog2 @acourtofbatboydreams @angel-graces-world-of-chaos @thelov3lybookworm @weekendlusting @dxjaaaa @thejediprincess56 @casiiopea2 @butterfix @sirenpearldust @marrass @satiresunflower @mae-foster @boo-shalala @optimisticbabydreamer @sttvrdustt @bunnybella186 @demon-master-zero @jaybbygrl @goodvibesonlyxd

[samzzarella]

Closer 😩

~pairing: se-mi / player 380 x fem!reader

~ fluff, drunk se-mi, confessions

Se-mi still hadn’t called you back. You sighed, tucking your phone away. Unwilling to chase her, you hadn’t gone further than a missed call and a few texts. But you couldn’t get her out of your mind, couldn’t stop thinking about the things you’d overheard her saying to Min-su

°°••....••°°

The night before, you’d gone to hang out at Nam-gyu’s with a couple of friends. Se-mi had been acting weird for the past few days, distant. She hadn’t been spending any time with you, or looking you in the eye. She was your best friend, and you had hardly spoken to her properly in a week. You decided not to confront her and cause a scene in front of everyone, and instead did your best to distract yourself. You chatted with Thanos, because at the very least conversations with him were pretty entertaining. You drank and laughed, letting all thoughts of your best friend seep out of your mind.

But of course, it didn’t last long. You were helping Nam-gyu refill everyone’s drinks when he asked you, “Where did Se-mi go? Could you find her and ask her if she wants a refill? Yeah and that Min-su too”. You really didn’t want to, but if you refused, you knew he would start asking questions that you did not have the energy to answer.

You begrudgingly headed up the stairs to find them, eventually seeing them having a tense conversation in the darkened hallway. You could’nt hear the words she was saying, but it didn't seem like they were fighting. You stayed out of sight, creeping a bit closernto hear what they were saying, figuring that the conversation must be about you.

“I just, ugh I don't know what to do? I mean, she’s my best friend, you know, and these stupid feelings just make things too complicated. If she knew how I felt I’m sure she would hate me. She would never talk to me again. I can't risk that. You know I’m not a coward. Telling her… would just make things worse. But I just can’t bear to be around her knowing that she won’t ever feel the same. I mean, have you seen the way she looks at that co-worker friend of hers. That stupid guy, I just hate him”, she was speaking faster than you could keep up with. What was she talking about? She liked you? You could hardly believe it, someone like her having feelings for you and being so overwhelmed by those feelings that she hadn’t even realized yours. The only reason you had brought a friend from work for a gathering was to make her jealous, but it seemed to have worked too well. She thought you actually liked him?

You couldn’t keep listening to this. “Se-mi?”, you couldn’t keep the surprise out of your voice. She spun around when she heard you, her expression painted with horror. “Did you hear all that?”, her jaw clenched, her piercing gaze shattering any will you had to confront her. In this situation, how were you supposed to tell her that you too had feelings for her? Before any words could come out of your mouth, Min-su interjected, “What’s up? Are the others calling us?” You sputtered out a yes, and Min-su hurriedly pulled Se-mi with him down the stairs, unwilling to be in the middle of whatever was brewing between you too. You stood there stunned for a few minutes before heading downstairs youself.

Se-mi was pulling on her jacket. “I’m leaving. I’ll see you guys later”, she didn’t meet your gaze as she slammed the door shut behind her. Ever clueless, Thanos asked you, “What happened?”

“Um, nothing. I dunno”. You were grateful that Min-su didn’t say anything either.

You couldn’t bear to be there a second longer and decided to just head home. When you reached your apartment, you immediately called Se-mi, but she hadn’t picked up. She’d even ignored your texts. There was nothing you could do but wait for her to reach out.

°°••....••°°

Your phone ringing shook you out of your thoughts. She finally called you back! And you could tell her everything and… nope it was just Thanos. Rolling your eyes, you picked up, your tone uninterested when you answered. But upon hearing the worry in his voice you were instantly on high alert. “Listen, you have to get here right now. I don’t know what you did to my girl Se-mi, but she’s turnt. I legit have never seen her like this”, he was, for some reason, almost rapping this information to you, and your brain was struggling to keep up with how fast he was talking. “What? Where are you?”, you questioned.

“Oh, we’re at my place”.

“Ok, I’ll be there in a bit”.

You were getting more worried every minute that passed by as you drove to Thanos’ apartment. Se-mi never got drunk. She didn’t like being vulnerable around others, in public. And especially not if it was with Thanos and Nam-gyu, because even though they were your close friends, you would definitely say they weren’t the most responsible guys. You pulled up to the building, nearly jumping out of your car.

°°••....••°°

She-mi rubbed her temples with a groan. It was such a stupid fucking idea to come here, knowing that the only advice Thanos would give in this situation was to get shit-faced. And of course, being a heartbroken idiot, she listened.

God, you’d overheard everything, all the feelings she had tried too hard to hide from you. In the end, all she could do was run away, and now your friendship was ruined.

The doorbell rang, practically drilling a hole in her head. Nam-gyu nibbled over to the door, pulling it open to reveal you standing there. “Se-mi, c’mon I’m taking you back home, you’re staying with me”. Even in her inebriated state, she knew there was no fighting it, and she wasn’t in any position to anyway. She obliged, letting you loop your arm around hers and pull her up. Saying a quick goodbye to the others, you led her to your car, setting her in the passenger seat and buckled her seatbelts before she had a chance to fall over. As you drove home, you kept checking to make sure she was alright as she began to doze off.

°°••....••°°

You held Se-mi up as you entered your apartment. She was held so close to you that you could smell the alcohol, as well as her own scent lingering underneath. Setting her down on the sofa, you filled a glass of water, bringing it to her. “Finish all of it okay?”, your voice was gentle. She emptied the glass and set it down, turning to face you. She looked up at you with wide, vulnerable eyes, her expression making your insides melt.

“Why are you taking care of me?”.

Your eyebrows furrowed, “You're my best fr- you're the most important person to me. Of course I'll take care of you”.

“Even after what you heard? Do I not… make you feel weird?”, she looked away, unable to meet your eyes. With a gentle hand on her chin, you pulled her gaze up to yours.

“I don’t feel weird because… I feel the same way Se-mi. I always have”. You didn’t even realize what was happening when, the next moment, her lips were on yours, soft and sweet. Instinctively, your hands reached up to grip her hair, hers cupping your jaw. Heat flared through your entire body as her tongue pushed into your mouth, the kisses becoming deep and hungry. You pulled away from her, both of you breathless.

Unable to read the expression on your face, she began to stutter out an apology. “I’m sorry… that was sudden and I didn't even ask or anyth-” “It’s okay Se-mi, I..uh…I wanted to kiss you too. But you’re drunk and I don't want to take advantage of you or something so…” “Hmm”, was all she replied, her eyelids dropping, and you could sense the exhaustion setting over her. You chuckled, “Let’s get you to bed alright?”. You helped her to your room, getting her settled with whatever she needed. As you were turning around, Se-mi grabbed onto your hand, grumbling sleepily, “Where are you going?”

“Oh I was gonna go sleep on the sofa…”

“Just c’mere”, she pulled you onto the bed. With a small laugh you settled in next to her, rubbing little circle on her arm. Wrapping her arms around you, snuggling her face into your hair. She let out a content smile, immediately falling asleep.

She looked so peaceful in her sleep, calm and relaxed, and you couldn't believe she was here with you, bundled up in your arms. Slowly, you too followed into the realm of sleep, chest rising and falling along with hers.

p.s. pls send requests for other squid game characters (especially headcanons), or even for any of the other fandoms I write for. <3

pt. 2…smut…? ;)

[oh-pretty-blob]

Scissors, I just cannot use them in the left hand. The don't work no matter what, but second I put them into my weaker hand they do. And yes same deal with so called left-handed scissors, because the main difference is (I did not invest in some expensive one so there could be more nuance then what I experienced) is having a piece of plastic that works as spring, and okay that works... Until that plastic breaks. Then they don't work anymore for my left hand.

If you ever worked in IT and had displeasure of being tasked with either making Ethernet port or making TP cable, you know shit ain't made for lefthanded.

Also keybinds are always made for the mouse in the right and keyboard in the left and I'm not only speaking about gaming, but also IDEs and system shortcuts, any business application really.

I like wristwatches but I don't wear them due to having to wear them on the left hand (and i got quite a few of them over the years because Noone ever thought I prefer to wear it on the right instead) because wearing them on the right means I cannot check time comfortably, nor can I adjust it if necessary.

Crotcheting and knitting requires you to mirror all the actions, but also painting and drawing do so. I got my grade docked because I "went against" teacher instruction and started painting from top right instead of the left side (when dealing with the acrylics during winter, so with the long sleeves), at one point I had to relearn how to paint because I did have to learn to hold my paintbrush like for writing calligraphy.

The school shopping was always a nightmare because I had to have special supplies "for left-handed", which were same as for right-handed but with x3 price markup. The worst offenders where ink cardriges for fountain pens, shit was suppose to help with smudging and all it did was being impossible to erase and unwashable. Shit smudged worse then normal ink.

The ui for a lot of tablet apps/drawing apps are favoring toward right-handed.

and my personal favorite:

i love getting validation as a lefty but also learning about new fun ways it continues to suck

[alexrosa13]

Supermodel

Xavier; Zayne; Rafayel; Sylus; Caleb; Jeremiah; Greyson; Thomas; Luke & Kieran x female!reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: non-mc!reader

Note: the photos are not supposed to represent you (all of them were found on Pinterest), there are no physical traits of reader specified, enjoy <3

navigation →

Thousands eyes on you and the only one that matters belongs to...

Xavier

★ jealous of every eye that looks your way, would fight if he doesn't like the way someone stares at you (would fight if the stylists touch you where he doesn't want them to, even if it's necessary to get an outfit on)

★ falls asleep anytime he's backstage with you, you have a lot of sweet photos with him sleeping at totally random places (mostly surrendered by clothes) (you also have videos of his reaction to watching your walks, filmed by your manager)

★ your manager must be a woman or you'll have a lot and - I mean a lot - of talks about it

★ prepare yourself to be stolen from the show right after it ends, still in your outfit from the runway

"Xavier put me down!" your demanding voice didn't help you to get out of his hold. You were thrown over his shoulder, still in the beautiful dress and heels (that to be fair were already yours) from the show, you had little chance to fight against him in this outfit.

"Why would I do that? I'm just taking you home, you said you were tired." his calm demeanor made your eye twitch, that cute-innocent looking face couldn't fool you, not anymore. Even when you couldn't see it, forced to stare at the back of his head, you still knew that he had that mischievous spark in his eyes.

"You know I would love to change this outfit for my own clothes first, the clothes that I, you know, came in there." you said, your voice sarcastic.

"Your manager will get them, and if they won't then I'll buy you new ones." your only reaction was a loud exhale, there was no point in arguing with this guy. Accepting your fate, you let him carry you on his shoulder with your eyes staring at his legs.

"Jealous hamster." you whispered to his back, whether he heard it or not he didn't let out any answer.

After all he knew you were right, he was jealous, especially since when you walked the runway he heard what some guys talked about, with one of them planning to ask you out after the show and the rest hyping him up.

Now, he couldn't let it happen, could he?

Zayne

★ your personal doctor, won't let you put yourself through any drastic diets and measures for your career

★ will try his best to attend all of your shows, either from the audience or the backstage if you'll invite him there, if he can't make it because of his work, he'll watch it later and either send or tell you compliments (depending on where he is when watching the show)

★ doesn't exactly show you off, but ever since his colleagues got to know through social media that he's dating you, they started randomly bringing you up in the conversation (even with the patients)

★ anytime you come to the hospital when he ends his shift to leave for a date or just to pick him up people will ask for photos, especially if the nurses heard about your coming with a heads-up

Zayne just finished up the paperwork and put on his jacket, ready to leave the office knowing that you were probably already here.

And he wasn't mistaken: right after he found himself in the corridor he heard voices from behind the wall before him, and right after he turned there he saw what was the commotion about.

His lover, you, standing in the middle of young girls, not older than 12, surrounded by phones of parents taking photos. He stood there for a moment, giving you the time to entertain your young fans.

"Okay darlings, I need to go, cause my date is finally here." you laughed softly, patting the shoulders of the two girls standing before you.

"But we wanted to make a fashion show with you." one of them said, clearly sad.

"Sweets, you don't need me to make your own fashion show, just remember to be confident and to have fun." you patted her head, and said a couple more goodbyes while heading his way.

Zayne didn't miss a beat, presenting you with his arm which you took with happiness clearly visible on your face, you waved your free hand as the last goodbyes to the kids.

"Who would have guessed, that I'll have competition even in kids." he said quietly, once you two were before the hospital and he was opening the doors to let you into his car.

You only laughed softly, letting him close the door after you sat down.

Rafayel

★ your nr.1 fan, present at every show, meeting you backstage before the start of the event, then sitting in the best place in the audience with his phone ready to record you, only you, and then leaving to pick you up from the backstage

★ you're his muse and the model for his art, sometimes even having a photoshoot with his art in the background (Thomas approves of the marketing idea)

★ loves taking your photos, and bragging about you, you're the center of his universe

★ everyone knows that the infamous Rafayel, dates you, because of his social media, full of, well, you know - you

"Another photo?" your laughter sounded together with the wind wheezing in your ears.

"You look absolutely beautiful with the ocean as the background, and the wind is a paid actor, cutie. I can't help myself." he put the camera down, satisfied with the result of his work.

"Not everything needs to be saved by pictures and videos, you know?" you tried to act annoyed, but couldn't, a smile visible on your face,

"I know, don't worry, that's why our private moments stay only in our memories." he teased you back, earning himself a punch to the shoulder. He jumped back, as if you actually hurt him, with that perfect, dramatic expression of his.

"Gosh, you're so annoying sometimes." you giggled, not reacting to his attics at all.

"AND you still love me! I mean I can't blame you, I'm super handsome and no one can resist me." his arms came to wrap around your waist, bringing your back to his chest.

"Sure, sure, you're my pretty boy." you turned around in his hold, squishing his face in your palms. When suddenly you stopped, looking at him intensively and bringing his face down to your eye level "Only mine." you whispered, in a provocative tone.

He gulped.

Sylus

★ power couple. he is your mysterious boyfriend whose name no one knows, but they know of his existence, mostly through your social media full of pics with countless bouquets of flowers, and the typical photos of a couple without your man's face in it.

★ they tried guessing that you're dating one of the other models that you seem to know backstage, failed countless times (they want to know who he is, why are you keeping them waiting girl)

★ he is actually present at most of your shows, watching you from the audience, he loves your confidence on the runway

★ buys you expensive gifts, loves showering you with the luxuries you deserve, and you love posting about it on your socials, bragging about your man

After yet another post with the huge bouquet of roses and a velvet box with a beautiful necklace in it your fans went wild.

Thousands of comments started coming up, asking once more for the reveal of the mysterious rich boyfriend of yours.

And you were currently sitting at the restaurant table, in a private room that he reserved for you after yet another successful show of yours, him sitting next to you on the huge comfy sofa with his hand resting on your thigh as you sip your drink, your head resting on his shoulder.

"It's so cruel of you to keep teasing your fans sweetheart." he said, the hand on your thigh gently moving in a calm motion.

"I can't help the fact that I want to keep you all to myself, but also love bragging about you." you looked up at him, stealing a quick peak from his lips. He let go of the glass he was holding, putting it on the table before the hand previously on your thigh moved to your back, then to your waist, pulling your body towards him, making your legs drop over his.

His second hand found itself hugging your legs so they won't fall off, and his lips found yours.

You put your drink blindly onto the table and wrapped your arms around his neck, basking in his attention.

Oh god how in love you were, you knew that you had him wrapped around your finger - he knew that too. And you both enjoyed that knowledge to no end.

Caleb

★ your biggest supporter, even tho he's not often present at your events, either due to work or the fact that it's not his most comfortable place to be

★ would and will watch all of your shows live if he can, texting you in a real time about how stunning you are, or how you were the absolute gem of the show, stealing the spotlight from other models

★ if he's not at the Skyhaven he will drive you to and from the event

★ absolutely does brag about you to his lower (and not only) rank colleagues, he may be higher in ranks but he's still only 25 and finds himself spending time with others during lunches or free time

He was at the gym, in the middle of a work out, doing push-ups with his phone under him and a wireless earphones connected to it.

He felt a pat on his shoulder, and stopping his exercise but staying above the ground, he took off one earphone, sending a questioning look towards the man who disturbed him, noting that it's the guy from the group he often hangs out with.

"Is that... A fashion show?" he asked sceptically, looking at the phone on the ground. Caleb stole a glance at the screen, noticing that it wasn't your turn yet he turned back towards the man,

"Yeah, my girl's walking in it." he answered, a slight smirk on his lips.

"Ain't no way man." the man clearly doubted his words.

"It's actually her turn, look." there you were, confidently walking down the bright runway, if it was physically possible he would have hearts in his eyes at the sight of you.

"With all due respect, there's ain't no way you pulled a woman like this." Caleb only laughed, before opening up his phone gallery, putting a photo of you and him at the full screen. You were kissing his check with his arm thrown over your shoulder.

"... Okay I believe you now, can't you, you know... Ask her if any of her friends is looking for a guy, maybe?" he only threw one last glance at him before putting the earphone back in and continuing with his work out.

He'll call you later to praise you, don't you worry about it.

Jeremiah

★ the sweetest supporter, always bringing flowers to your shows

★ stares at you like you're the goddess made for worship anytime he sees you on the runway

★ loves taking your photos when you visit him in Philo to help with the flowers before or after hours

★ sometimes he just looks at you, unable to turn away, not wanting to turn away, looking and looking, he could admire you for hours without getting bored: his reaction to you catching his wandering gaze would either be him shying away and blushing or throwing a cheeky comment your way to make you laugh: depending on the mood

You were taking care of the flowers, making them look more presentable before the shop was supposed to open. Jeremiah went outside for a second, and you didn't hear him coming back.

About five minutes later you turned around, and jumped with a gasp at the fact he was right behind you. He caught you before you could stumble on your legs, bringing you close.

"Jeremiah! You'll make me have a heart attack one day I swear!" you hit him gently on the chest.

"Sorry, I didn't think that I'll scare you." he laughed, noticing how you relaxed in his hold "I prefer to make your heartbeat race by other means." he whispered to your ear making you hit him once more and hid your head in his neck.

You didn't know yet that a new photo of you will soon find it's place on the wall of his apartment. Your day-to-day life before him was full of unhealthy habits, cameras and perfectionism, but together with him came peace, calm and a quiet place to let yourself be you.

He was your safe place.

Greyson

★ this absolute cutie would be so nervous if you'd invite him to the event

★ absolutely adores you and can't believe that he somehow got you to go out with him

★ would die if you ever model in lingerie, and I mean it

★ lives for the physical contact from you, loves to hold your hand and hugging you

Music played in the background of your apartment, you were watching the show that you walked in earlier on your tv screen, joking around, wearing your matching pajamas set.

He was absolutely smitten by you, watching your every move both on screen and right beside him.

On the screen you were about to walk the runway in the second fit when the song that you absolutely loved (because it made you feel badass) got to it's chorus, and in a playful mood you ran to the other side of the huge living area of your apartment.

He watched you with a smile, you mimicked your runway walk in your apartment, in pajamas, with no make-up and a messy hair, he cheered for you while laughing.

He adored you the most in moments like this, in the quietness of your apartment, without cameras forcing you to look your best. Finally getting to the couch you dropped down onto it, hugging him tightly.

He hugged you right back with a huge smile on his lips, he loved those private shows of yours the most, you were perfect like this.

Thomas

★ he probably is your manager, and if he isn't then he still acts like it backstage, probably besties with the person you hired to take care of your career

★ backstage everytime, he runs around you, making sure that everything will be alright and safe on the runway while also checking on you all the time: you need water? a snack? give him 2 minutes max

★ his public socials are full of pictures from your professional photo sessions, while private ones are just you in more domestic situations and casual outfits.

★ will run to you the moment the show ends, his calm demeanor slowly coming back to him after so much work and stress, please appreciate him

Luke & Kieran

"The mess today was bigger than usual." he was standing close to you with his eyes glued to his phone, already looking up photos of you.

"I know, having to change 3 times all in like 5 minutes is wild." you were finally allowed a moment to breathe, the stylists were running around helping the models take off the clothes from the runway "Darling, do you mind?" you turned around, showing him the zipper on the back of your dress.

Instantly he hid his phone in the pocket of his pants before his hands went to help you out. He helped you pull down the sleeves of the dress, with one of his hands holding up the front of your dress, making sure that your breasts won't get exposed. You put on a shirt over your head and only then he let go of the dress, helping you get out of it.

He handed you the bottom part of your outfit, his eyes searching the floor for your shoes.

Before he had the chance to turn around and search for them behind him he felt your hands on his face, making him look at you.

You placed a quick kiss on his lips, shocking him a little. No one even noticed, busy in their own worlds.

"Thank you for supporting me." you smiled, he hugged you with one arm for a moment before continuing his search for your shoes. Once he got them in his hands he kneeled down, helping you put them on "You're so sweet when you take care of me." you ruffled his hair a little.

He caught your palm and gave it a kiss before standing up. Gosh do we love a man who knows how to treat a woman.

★ if you're dating Luke: prepare for loud cheering every time you walk the runway and him being the owner of your fanpage

★ if you're dating Kieran: you're getting the calmer twin, loves taking the photos of you on dates, most of the time waiting in the separate hall for the show to end, watching you on the screens there

★ if you're dating both of them: you're in for a ride, they promote your socials on every platform they can, arguing with the people who found the audacity to hate you (got them banned so many times but they just keep creating new accounts), random selfies of your three are all over their phones, unpublished

★ your fans saw the photos of you walking somewhere with two masked people behind you, were they your bodyguards?

"You two love to annoy your Boss, don't you?" you laugh, they were just talking about the situation when they accidentally locked their Boss in the wardrobe with his not-yet girlfriend.

"Wrong!" Luke said, making the word last for like 5 seconds, like a buzz button.

"We love annoying everyone." said Kieran, high-fiving his brother and laughing with him.

You shook your head, coming back to drinking your bubble tea and scrolling through your phone.

You saw a post that made you almost spit out the drink from your mouth.

"What the hell is that?!" you showed the twins your smartphone with a smile.

Guess what a**holes, that girl is taken, and you have ain't no way of dating her, stop being delusional xx

"Oh yeah we posted that! Do you like that caption?" Luke asked, with a cocky smile on his lips.

You only laughed, they were unbelievable.

"What have I seen in you." you whispered, knowing fully well they heard you and you were seconds away from the tantrum of the year.

[letsyapthenightaway]

The Hockey Boy's and Mistletoe

Matt Rempe: Doesn't notice that the door hangs mistletoe until he accidentally runs into it and it drops to his feet. At first, he is like, "We know I'm tall; why would someone put Christmas decor on the door?" but once he notices what it is, he smirks and picks it up. Holds it before your face, then smiles, "You know what this means." Can't control his wide smile as he leans down and pecks your lips. Laughs softly once you pull away, hangs the mistletoe back up, and makes sure to watch his head when walking through doors.

Luke Hughes: He hears the teasing "oooo's" of his family and looks at them confused until someone is pointing up. Once he notices the mistletoe he get's flustered " oh come on!" Looks at you and shifts his weight on his feet, would ramble understanding if you don't wanna kiss him because of a silly tradition. Until you are pulling him down to you by his shirt for a kiss, is shocked but melts into it. Ignores the others freaking out about how cute and softly smiles at you. Steals one more small and quick peck before holding your hand as you both walk away.

This was supposed to be for Christmas but I never finished it obviously it's missing Jack, Quinn, and Connor.

[izels-writing]

j. potter — tell me about the first time you saw me!

Pairing: james potter x fem!reader

Summary: you ask james to recall what it was like when you first met. and when you first had a conversation.

Warnings: a bit rushed bc i had the idea and couldn’t stop writing, not edited, ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP, TIME JUMPING (whenever the italics start the scene, it’s present time), james being an angel boy, FLUFFFFF

(a/n: currently still writing pt 2 to my remus one, so enjoy this one for now :P)

tell me about the first time

you saw me.

"what?" james asked, looking up at you from across the bed. he stopped writing with his quill and gave an you an amused look. truthfully, dating james was rather strange. the fact that you were together in the first place was a shock to many.

you smiled softly. "you heard me..."

"why...—why does that matter?" he chuckled, looking rather nervous and sheepish.

"it doesn't," you shrugged. "just curious i suppose,"

james chuckled and fixed his glasses, looking at you with that adoring gaze you loved to see. you were sure if you could see yourself, you'd have that same look on your face.

"i mean, you and i ran in such different crowds, and we weren't exactly in the same league," you added.

"i know, you were so far out of my league it was scary to talk to you," james sighed, looking rather genuine. you blinked at him, wondering if he was joking.

"are you yanking my wand?" you laughed.

he looked completely serious.

"james, you were out of my league!"

james laughed. "in what world?!"

——

the party in the common room was in full swing, drinks being poured and music louder than anything else in the room. you watched from the sidelines, taking small sips of the firewhiskey in your hand—laughing whenever you made eye contact with your best friend, who was dancing with some guy.

parties were normally semi-enjoyable but today you weren't feeling that up to it. nonetheless, like the good friend you were—you still went with your best friend, hoping everyone else's moods would be contagious.

the game had been fun, with slytherin and gryffindor competing against each other—and gryffindor prevailing as usual. you, unlike your best friend, weren't much of a quidditch fan or any sport for that matter. you much preferred a quiet night in at the library over a party, not that you'd ever voice it aloud.

noticing you'd finished your cup, after a few more sips, you ambled over to the drink table as you knew you'd need just a bit more to actually enjoy the party—which coincidentally was near some of your other friends by the couch and loveseats.

"hey, could you hand me that when you're done?" you asked the tall, raven-headed boy who held the bottle of half drunken firewhiskey. he turned to look at you, and unbeknownst to you, his eyes widened a bit.

his whole world paused. for a moment, as cliche as it sounded, it felt like you and him were the only people in the world. you were beautiful and something about you was comforting in a way he didn't understand. but he wanted to. he wanted to understand everything about you, every intricate detail and quirk you wanted to share with him.

"uh, sure, i don't need it," he said softly, handing the bottle to you. you smiled, not noticing the way his eyes softened at you smile, and took the bottle—pouring some into your cup.

"i don't think i've seen you around before, what's your name?" the tall boy asked, turning his full attention to you.

"hm? oh, y/n l/n," you smiled. "what's your name?"

"uh...james, james potter," he replied. and if you knew him any better, you'd have definitely known he was being shy.

"oh right! you helped win the game, it's nice to meet you," you smiled. you stuck out your hand and he fumbled to put his cup in his other hand, so he could take your hand. you smiled in amusement, unsure why he was so uncoordinated for a quidditch player.

"well, i'll see you around," you smiled kindly before wandering off.

——

"hello," a quiet voice said. you looked up, your eyes meeting the hazel eyes you'd met once before.

"james, hi," you smiled.

"hello," he smiled again. "uhm, you come here often?"

you looked down at your sprawled out textbooks and parchment and ink, wondering if he was joking. you looked up again and nodded.

"just when i need to study or read really," you replied with a smile.

"oh, right," he chuckled nervously. "this is a library, duh..."

"are you doing some studying too?" you asked, noticing his bag on his shoulder.

his eyes widened and he looked around for a second before nodding. "uh, yeah! yeah, i am. just trying to find some textbooks for my DADA essay," he replied as smoothly as possible.

"oh! i have some," you commented.

he sort of stared, not in a creepy way, but an awkward way. you smiled softly.

"did you want to join me? we can share the textbooks," you suggested.

"oh, yeah. yeah i'd love to," james replied with a nervous smile. he pulled out the chair across from you and sat in it, struggling not to spare glances at you as he pulled out his materials.

from afar, sirius and peter watched the two of you. both had begun to feel secondhand embarrassment for their friend, as he seemed to lose his quick wit around you—becoming a shell of a person. a shell of a person who was head over heels for you.

"this is painful, pads—oh, he just dropped his quill," peter sighed, smacking his head on the side of the bookshelf in defeat,

"hey, it'll be fine. he'll win her over, if he can just figure out how to talk to her..." sirius mumbled, starting to doubt his own words as he watched james scrambled for an ink well that you seemingly had asked to borrow.

"thanks, i forgot my spare one in my room, i suppose," you chuckled, taking the inkwell and placing it within dipping distance.

"no problem, you can use my inkwell whenever your heart desires," he chuckled, attempting a joke that he realized wasn't funny as soon as the words slipped out of his mouth.

"thanks..." you smiled, chuckling quietly to yourself.

what the hell is wrong with me? james thought to himself.

——

no one's ever had me...

not like you.

"i knew i'd win you over eventually though," james boasted.

you scoffed, knowing this to be untrue. "you couldn't even look at me without stuttering..."

"what're you guys talking about?" remus asked, as he and sirius took their seats beside you and james in the library. two seconds later, peter joined you four.

"what james thought when he first saw me, his first impression," you informed the three boys.

sirius barked a laugh, earning a warning from madam pince. "the day you agreed to go out with him, was the day we all finally knew peace,"

you smirked, watching as james flushed with embarrassment. "oh really?"

"uh, yeah! all he could talk about was you! how pretty you were, how smart you were, how funny you were, how good your hair smelled—" peter droned on and on.

"you smelled my hair?" you asked james teasingly.

"every chance he got," sirius teased. james flushed an even darker pink.

"to be fair, your hair does smell good," remus pointed out, trying to save james subtly.

"thank you! it's coconut scented," you remarked.

as the boys began their own conversations, you turned to james. he could hardly look at you.

"hey," you whispered.

he looked up at you with a shy smile.

"if it's any consolation—" you said.

"you make me really nervous too,"

he smiled at your words and stretched over the table, planting a quick kiss on your lips. before he could fully pull away, you kissed his cheek—before the two of you immersed yourself in the conversation with the other three.

bonus;

despite years and years of being together, you had always made james nervous. but now, more than ever, he could hardly contain his nerves. it was like they were jumping around his body with no way out.

“james, are you alright?” you asked, smiling that beautiful smile of yours. you knew james to be a slightly nervous person, he was just that type of person.

and when you smiled that smile, he felt the nerves settle. no matter how nerve wracking and scary this was, the smile you had reserved for him was more than enough of a reward.

so, as you turned to him on the bridge where you both had stopped on your stroll, studying him—he finally mustered the courage. he kneeled down on one knee, shakily opening the small velvet box in his hand.

“y/n l/n, will you do me the honor of marrying me?” he grinned.

[sarahdawnsdesigns]

As a Knitter:

(A lot of this overlaps with Crochet, too)

Look for impossibly smooth stitches, or stitches that don't seem to have any definition to the yarn. Also, if you can 'read' knitting, apply that skill to the pattern pictures. Do you know (or can guess, or look up) what stitch that is? Also, since AI was trained on media, and a lot of mainstream media doesn't know the difference between knitting and crochet, look for crochet stitches in a knitting pattern (and vice versa, too!)

Do the yarn characteristics line up? What I mean by that is: does the pattern call for rustic wool but the images have the sheen of something like silk or rayon? This takes a bit of yarn knowledge, true, but it's worth it if you can spot it.

Look for various pattern images, - front, back, sides, etc. The more photos, the better (bonus if there's video!) And go into the reviews of wherever you're buying, as well, as you can often get clues from there.

Also, look at the actual pattern listing text. What are they telling you? Bare minimum, they should be telling you:

recommended yarn (with all colours used)

yardage/meterage (for all colours used)

yarn weight

sizing, (and not just a vague 'woman's small')

recommended needle sizes

a difficulty indication, and/or a list of techniques

If this isn't listed, that's a huge red flag for a bad-quality pattern - this is all stuff you should know before you hit 'buy'.

Also, as much as this advice hurts newcomers and smaller designers, I'd second the advice from elsewhere in the reblogs: to search the shop name/artist's name. Most fibre people I know have at least something else going on - a website, an IG account, a Youtube channel, something. You can get a pretty good idea if they're human by looking at other content they produce and where else they are on the web.

Finally: while yes, Digital Downloads are non-refundable on Etsy and many other marketplaces (which is part of how these shops are getting away with it), if you do accidentally buy an AI pattern and it doesn't make what is is supposed to make, you may be eligible to file a chargeback if you paid via your credit card. Because those 'products' (I feel bad calling them that, ugh) are, in fact, not as advertised, as they do not do what they are supposed to do.

Hey, if you do crafts (especially things like crochet, knitting, embroidery, etc), make sure to look up how to identify when a listing is AI generated. You do NOT want to waste money on an incredible looking kit or pattern that is physically impossible to make, especially if you're on sites like etsy hoping to support an actual artist.

[ch0llies]

REVIVAL | CHRIS STURNIOLO

A story in which a messy breakup lands you in your best friend’s Boston apartment a year after high school, and you find yourself face-to-face again with Christopher Sturniolo—your first love. As your paths cross again, the bitterness of how you left him still lingers, fueling every hated glance. But with your best friend dating his brother, you know is there’s no escaping Chris—or the tension that refuses to die. Is this revival destined to reignite, or will it crumble under the weight of your unresolved past?

story warning: filthy smut, angst, swearing, underage drinking, underage drug use, abusive behavior, morally skewed choices, toxic relationships, and overall mature themes. if any of this upsets you... don't read!

word count: 9k

CHAPTER FOUR:

The next morning, sunlight streamed through your blinds, and you groaned, pulling the blanket over your head. Your body ached from the chaos of the night before, and your head felt foggy from the alcohol. You had no idea what time it was, but the silence in the apartment told you one thing—everyone else was already gone.

Your door creaked open, and you heard Ava’s voice, light and teasing. “Rise and shine, sleepyhead.”

You peeked out from under the blanket, squinting at her. “What time is it?”

“Almost noon,” she said, leaning against the doorframe. “Matt, Nick, and Chris left a couple of hours ago. They had some stuff to do today.”

Your stomach twisted slightly at the mention of Chris, but you shoved the thought aside. “And you didn’t wake me up?” you grumbled, sitting up and running a hand through your messy hair.

Ava rolled her eyes. “You looked dead to the world. Plus, I ordered breakfast for us, so you can’t be mad.”

At the mention of food, your stomach growled, and you sighed. “Fine. You’re forgiven.”

She smirked and turned on her heel. “Come on. It should be here any minute.”

You dragged yourself out of bed, pulling on a hoodie and sweats before heading downstairs. The smell of coffee hit you first, followed by the sight of Ava unpacking a delivery bag on the kitchen counter. She’d ordered pancakes, eggs, and bacon, along with a large iced coffee that she handed to you as soon as you walked in.

“Here,” she said, sliding the coffee across the counter. “Figured you’d need this.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled, taking a sip and sighing in relief. “So, what’s the plan for today?”

Ava grinned, sitting down with her plate. “Well, there’s another party tonight at the campus. Same crowd as last time, but it’s supposed to be bigger. Figured we could go and, you know, network.” She wiggled her eyebrows.

“Network?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow as you sat across from her. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”

She laughed, taking a bite of her pancake. “I mean, it’s technically true. We wanna go to that school, right? Think of it as research.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “Right. Research.”

“Seriously, though,” Ava said, her tone shifting slightly. “It’s a good chance to check out the vibe, meet people, and maybe get your mind off certain… distractions.”

You didn’t need her to elaborate. The events of the night before—Chris’s hands on your waist, his lips leaving trails of heat along your skin—flashed through your mind, and you quickly shoved the thought away.

“Yeah, maybe,” you said, focusing on your plate. “We’ll see.”

Ava narrowed her eyes at you, but she didn’t press further. Instead, she took another sip of her coffee and started scrolling through her phone. “Party starts around nine. We’ll leave around nine, sound good?”

You nodded, trying to act casual even as your mind raced. The idea of running into Chris again—after everything—left you both nervous and excited, though you’d never admit it out loud. Whatever had happened between you last night felt like the beginning of something… dangerous. But as much as you wanted to avoid it, a part of you couldn’t help but feel drawn to him.

“Alright,” Ava said, snapping you out of your thoughts. “Finish your coffee, and let’s figure out what the hell we’re wearing tonight.”

You groaned, already dreading the hours of outfit planning ahead. But deep down, you couldn’t shake the anticipation building in your chest. Tonight could either be a fresh start—or the beginning of something you weren’t sure you were ready for.

As you sat across from Ava, finishing your breakfast, she glanced up from her phone, a sly grin tugging at her lips. “Oh, by the way,” she said, her tone casual in a way that immediately made you suspicious, “Matt wants to come to the party tonight.”

You raised an eyebrow, already piecing together where this was going. “Okay, and?”

“And,” she continued, drawing the word out as she took another sip of her coffee, “I already asked Chris if he wanted to come, too.”

You nearly choked on your iced coffee, setting it down with a loud clink. “What the fuck, Ava? Why would you do that?”

She shrugged, entirely unbothered. “Because I know the way your mind works.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you snapped, though your cheeks were already burning.

Ava leaned forward, propping her chin on her hand as she fixed you with a knowing look. “It means I can tell he wants you bad, Y/N.”

Your stomach twisted, and you glared at her. “No, he doesn’t. Not like that.” you said, your voice sharper than you intended. “I fucked him over. He’s still pissed at me. He literally said it.”

Ava rolled her eyes, leaning back in her chair. “Please. He might be pissed, but trust me—he’ll get over it. You saw the way he was looking at you last night. He was insane when you kissed Matt and had crazy jealous eyes all night!”

You crossed your arms, your irritation growing. “That doesn’t mean anything. Chris looks at everyone like that. He’s become a whore! Was that not already obvious?”

“Sure,” Ava said, her smirk widening. “But he doesn’t pull everyone into his lap and suck on their tits for five minutes straight.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “Oh my God, Ava.”

She laughed, clearly enjoying your embarrassment. “What? I’m just stating the obvious. You two have some serious tension, and this party is the perfect opportunity to, I don’t know, work it out.”

You peeked at her through your fingers, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Yeah, because a college party is definitely the place to resolve years of awkwardness and bad decisions.”

“Better than nothing,” Ava said with a shrug. “Look, all I’m saying is, he wouldn’t have let things get as far as they did last night if he didn’t want you. And judging by the way you’re acting, I’m guessing you want him, too.”

Your face burned as you stood, grabbing your empty plate and coffee cup. “I’m done having this conversation.”

“Suit yourself,” Ava said, still grinning as you walked to the sink. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you when he shows up tonight and makes it very obvious how he feels.”

You didn’t reply, your thoughts too jumbled to form a coherent response. 

An hour later, the familiar sound of a car horn echoed outside your apartment. You and Ava were lounging on the couch, scrolling aimlessly through your phones when she suddenly jumped up. “That’s Matt!” she said, grabbing her purse.

“Why is he honking like we’re in a middle school carpool?” you muttered, but you stood up anyway, slipping into your sneakers and grabbing your jacket.

“Because he’s Matt,” Ava said with a shrug, as if that explained everything.

When you stepped outside, Matt was leaning halfway out of the driver’s seat window, grinning like a maniac. “Come on, ladies! We’ve got groceries to buy, and I’m not spending all day waiting for your asses!”

“Matt. Shut the fuck up.” you called, rolling your eyes as you slid into the backseat.

“Yeah fuck you. What are you, someone’s dad?” Ava teased as she got into the passenger seat.

Matt smirked, pushing his sunglasses up onto his head. “No, but I am someone’s boyfriend. And I’ve got a say in what goes into your fridge if I’m spending half my life here.”

“Oh, you’ve got a say now?” Ava asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Damn right I do,” Matt shot back, turning the car out of your driveway. “Last time I opened your fridge, the only thing in there was a bag of shredded cheese and half a bottle of ketchup. That’s a crime.” He faked gagging at the ketchup.

“That’s survival,” Ava corrected, crossing her arms.

“Survival for a raccoon,” you chimed in from the backseat, laughing when Ava flipped you off over her shoulder.

“See? Y/N agrees with me,” Matt said smugly.

The bickering continued all the way to Market Basket, with Ava teasing Matt about his questionable eating habits and Matt firing back about how she always stole his leftovers. By the time you all parked and made your way into the store, the three of you were already laughing like idiots.

Inside the store, the chaos continued. Ava grabbed a cart, but Matt insisted on pushing it, claiming it was “a man’s job.”

“You’re so full of shit,” Ava said, smirking as Matt dramatically flexed his arms.

“Gotta make myself useful,” he said with a wink, steering the cart toward the produce section. “Alright, what’s first on the list?”

“We need veggies,” you said, pulling out your phone to check the list Ava had scribbled down earlier.

“Boring,” Matt said, wrinkling his nose. “Let’s skip that and go straight to frozen pizza.”

“No way,” Ava said, grabbing a head of lettuce and tossing it into the cart. “You eat like a toddler, Matt. We’re getting real food.”

“You say that like frozen pizza isn’t real food,” he argued, but Ava ignored him, reaching for a bag of carrots.

You grabbed a cucumber and held it up, grinning. “Matt, does this count as real food?”

“Depends,” Matt said, smirking. “Are you eating it or using it to fuck yourself?”

“Both,” you replied, making Ava laugh so hard she nearly dropped the carrots.

The three of you weaved through the aisles, picking out snacks, debating over cereal brands, and occasionally tossing random items into the cart just to annoy each other. At one point, Matt grabbed a jumbo box of Pop-Tarts and held it up like it was a trophy.

“Ava,” he said seriously, “this is essential.”

Ava stared at him, deadpan. “Put it back.”

“But it’s essential,” he whined, clutching the box dramatically.

“No,” she said firmly, trying not to smile.

You snatched the box from him and put it in the cart. “She’s no fun, Matt. I got you.”

“You’re my favorite,” he said, grinning as Ava rolled her eyes.

When you got to the candy aisle, Ava and Matt’s playful dynamic was on full display. Ava grabbed a bag of Sour Patch Kids, and Matt immediately grabbed it out of her hand, holding it high above her head.

“Matt!” she shrieked, jumping to grab it.

“Say please,” he said smugly, holding it just out of reach.

“Matt, I swear to God—”

“Say it!”

“Fine!” Ava huffed, crossing her arms and looking up at him with her big eyes that she knew got him every time. “Please.”

Matt handed her the bag with a smirk, and she smacked him on the arm. “You’re so annoying.”

“Yeah but you’re still gonna let me tap that later,” he said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and kissing the top of her head.

You watched the two of them with a mix of amusement and affection. Their dynamic was chaotic but sweet, and it was impossible not to smile at the way they teased each other.

By the time you reached the checkout line, the cart was overflowing with a mix of essentials, junk food, and impulse buys. Matt grabbed a pack of gum from the rack and tossed it into the cart, smirking when Ava glared at him.

“You don’t even chew gum,” she said.

“Maybe I’m starting a new habit,” he replied, grinning and as the final products crossed the checkout he didn’t hesitate to swipe his card, paying for it all despite Ava’s protest.

As you helped unload the cart, Matt turned to you with a playful grin. “You know, Y/N, you’re like my honorary sister in law at this point.”

“Oh, great,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Another sibling to annoy me.”

“Exactly,” he said, ruffling your hair like you were a kid. 

Ava laughed, handing you a bag of groceries. “Does that mean you’re gonna put a ring on it soon?”

“If I told you it would ruin the surprise, sweetheart,”  Matt said, wrapping an arm around her waist as the three of you headed back to the car.

The drive back to the apartment was just as chaotic as the rest of the trip, with Matt singing off-key to the radio and Ava threatening to throw him out of the car. By the time you got home and started unloading the groceries, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d laughed so much.

Back at the apartment, the three of you stumbled through the door, arms loaded with grocery bags. Ava dropped hers onto the counter with a dramatic groan. “Why do we always buy so much stuff? My arms are going to fall off.”

“Maybe because someone insisted on five kinds of cereal,” Matt quipped, setting his bags down with ease. “And let’s not forget your ‘essential’ lettuce.”

You smirked, grabbing a bag of chips from one of the bags. “And the Pop-Tarts Matt definitely didn’t need.”

“Hey, those are fuel,” Matt said, pointing at you with mock seriousness. “Athlete’s food.”

“For what sport?” Ava teased, unpacking a carton of eggs. “Competitive snacking?”

Matt tossed a bag of apples at her, which she caught with a laugh. “Keep talking, Ava. I’ll remember this when you’re asking me to touch you later.

“What’s the plan? Who’s driving?” you chimed in, setting a loaf of bread on the counter.

“Not me,” Ava said immediately, grabbing a tub of ice cream and sticking it in the freezer. “I want to drink.”

“Same,” you added, popping open a bag of chips. “So… Matt?”

Matt groaned. “Why do I have to do it? I want to drink too.”

“Because you’re responsible,” Ava said, fluttering her lashes dramatically.

Matt rolled his eyes. “Nah, no way.”

“You’re already unloading,” you pointed out, grinning. “Might as well keep the streak alive.”

“Y/N’s got a point,” Ava added with a smirk. “You’re doing great, babe.”

Matt muttered something under his breath about “ungrateful freeloaders,” but he kept unpacking. When he pulled out his phone and glanced at it, Ava tilted her head. “What’re you doing?”

“Calling Chris,” Matt said, holding the phone to his ear. “I always drive. I wanna have drunk sex tonight so Chris can pick up this one for once.”

You and Ava exchanged a look as Matt walked toward the living room, the phone pressed to his ear. After a moment, you heard him start talking.

“Hey, Chris. If you’re coming to the party tonight, you’re driving.”

You heard the faint sound of Chris groaning through the phone.

“You owe me for the last time you accidentally—- Yeah that’s what I thought.” Matt said. 

There was a pause, then a muffled, sarcastic response from Chris.

“Perfect,” Matt said, ignoring the tone. “See you soon. And don’t even think about bailing—Y/N and Ava are counting on you.”

He hung up and turned back to the kitchen, a triumphant smirk on his face. “He’s on his way. Under protest, but he’s coming.”

“Shocking,” you muttered, grabbing a drink from the fridge.

As you finished putting the groceries away, Ava turned to Matt with a grin. “Okay, new plan. Skincare.”

Matt frowned. “What? Why?”

“Because,” Ava said. “Your skin needs help, and you’re not going to this party looking like you just rolled out of bed.”

“Come on, Matt,” you added, smirking. “Don’t you want to look glowy and fresh?”

He groaned. “You two are ridiculous.”

But ten minutes later, Matt was sitting on a stool in the bathroom, a headband pushing his hair back as Ava slathered a cleanser onto his face. You sat on the counter, watching the scene unfold with barely contained laughter.

“You look so cute, Matt,” Ava teased and you took out your phone, snapping a picture with.

“Delete that,” he grumbled, though he didn’t move.

“No way. This is gold.”

Ava finished the cleanser and grabbed a serum, patting it onto Matt’s cheeks with exaggerated care. “You’re going to be the it girl tonight,” she teased.

“Yeah, because nothing screams ‘party animal’ like dewy skin,” he muttered, though a faint smile tugged at his lips.

You grabbed a face mask from the counter and held it up. “Ooh, should we do this next?”

Ava grinned. “Yes. Matt, you’re getting the full treatment.”

As Frank Ocean’s American Wedding started playing from Ava’s phone, you and Ava worked together to apply the mask, laughing at Matt’s exaggerated groans of protest. By the time you moved on to moisturizer, the three of you were laughing so hard your sides hurt.

“This is stupid,” Matt said, though he was grinning now.

“Shut up,” Ava said, pressing a kiss to his cheek as she wiped the excess product off her hands.

You leaned over, pretending to inspect Matt’s face. “Wow. A new man. Chris is going to be jealous.”

Matt groaned, pushing your hand away. “If he gives me any shit, I’m blaming you two.”

“Deal,” Ava said, laughing as she started cleaning up.

As Matt sat in the bathroom mirror after finishing his skincare routine, you and Ava stood nearby, wiping your hands with a towel and grinning at his reflection. His skin was glowing, and he looked genuinely refreshed, even if he pretended otherwise.

“You feel good, don’t you?” Ava teased, crossing her arms as she leaned against the sink.

Matt rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at his lips. “I mean… yeah, I guess it feels kinda nice,” he admitted.

“Knew it,” you said, laughing. “You’re one serum away from becoming a skincare influencer.”

Matt groaned, standing up and shaking his head. “Alright, that’s enough. I’m going to get dressed before you two come up with more ideas to torture me.”

He headed toward Ava’s closet, where he pulled out a few pieces from his designated section. You watched him grab a black fitted t-shirt and a pair of baggy wide legged jeans.

“Your own section in Ava’s closet?” you teased, following him out of the bathroom.

“Don’t judge,” he said, pulling the shirt over his head. “I spend so much time here, she made me clear a drawer. Then it turned into a whole section.”

Ava laughed as she rummaged through her closet for her own outfit. “You’re here more than your own house. It was either this or let you wear your flannels to parties.”

“Hey, my flannels get you wet, don't lie,” Matt muttered, grabbing a pair of sneakers from the bottom of the closet.

“He’s got a point,” you chimed in, dodging a pillow Ava tossed in your direction.

Once Matt was dressed and heading to the kitchen for a drink, you and Ava turned your attention to your own outfits. Ava pulled out a black lace shirt and paired it with a sleek leather mini-skirt and boots. She looked effortlessly cool, as always, her dark makeup and gold jewelry adding the perfect touch.

You opted for a mini cheetah-print skirt and red boots, pairing it with a cropped fitted black tank top that hugged your curves. Your makeup was bold, with a red lip to match your boots, and you styled your hair into loose waves that framed your face perfectly.

“Okay, we look hot,” Ava declared, spinning in front of the mirror and fluffing her hair.

“We really do,” you agreed, checking your reflection one last time as you finished curling the ends of your hair.

Just as Ava was spritzing perfume, the doorbell rang, followed by the sound of the door opening. “I’m here,” Chris’s voice called out, his tone already laced with annoyance.

Ava groaned. “Could he ever just walk in normally?”

You rolled your eyes as you turned back to the mirror to touch up your lipstick. But when Chris walked into the room, his expression shifted immediately. His eyes landed on you, narrowing as he took in your outfit.

“What the hell are you wearing?” he snapped, his tone sharp and angry.

You turned to him, startled by the hostility in his voice. “What do you mean?”

Chris’s jaw clenched as he gestured toward your outfit. “That. You’re dressed like a—” He stopped himself, his face twisting with frustration before continuing. “You look like a goddamn hooker, Y/N.”

Your stomach dropped as the words hit you, and Ava immediately stepped forward, her face a mix of shock and anger. “Chris, what the fuck?” she snapped.

“You’re asking for it,” Chris continued, ignoring her. “Walking around in that, at some party full of drunk assholes? Do you want something to happen to you?”

Your shock turned to rage as you stepped toward him, your hands balled into fists. “Excuse me?” you said, your voice shaking with fury. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”

Chris didn’t back down, his eyes blazing. “You heard me. You’re dressed like a slut, Y/N. Don’t act surprised when people treat you like one.”

Without thinking, you raised your hand and slapped him across the face, the sound echoing through the room. Chris stumbled back slightly, his hand going to his cheek as he glared at you, his jaw tightening.

“Fuck you, Chris,” you spat, your voice trembling with anger. “You don’t get to talk to me like that.”

Before he could say anything else, Matt stormed into the room, his expression dark. “Chris, that’s enough,” he said firmly, stepping between you.

“Matt, stay out of this,” Chris snapped, but Matt grabbed his arm, dragging him toward the door.

“No,” Matt said sharply, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You’re done. Go cool off, and don’t come back in here until you’re ready to shut the fuck up.”

Chris hesitated, his gaze flicking between you and Matt. Finally, he let out a frustrated sigh, wrenching his arm out of Matt’s grip and storming out of the room.

Matt turned to you, his face softening. “You okay?”

You nodded, though your chest was still tight with anger. “Yeah,” you said quietly.

Ava came up beside you, placing a hand on your arm. “Don’t listen to him,” she said, her voice gentle but firm. “You look amazing.”

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm in your chest. “Thanks,” you muttered, glancing toward the door where Chris had disappeared.

Matt sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll go check on him in a minute,” he said. “But seriously, don’t let him ruin your night. You’re killing it, Y/N.”

After the tense moment with Chris, you and Ava worked to shake it off, determined not to let his mood ruin the night. You both finished your makeup and touched up your hair, the energy between you lightening as Ava turned the music louder.

“Alright,” Ava said, twirling in front of the mirror. “We look hot as hell. Time for photos before we go.”

You grinned, grabbing your digital camera from your dresser. Ava struck a pose in the mirror, her black lace shirt and leather mini-skirt looking flawless under the warm lighting.

“Okay, okay, one of you now!” Ava grabbed the camera and pointed it at you.

You stood against the wall, popping one hip and adjusting your cheetah-print skirt. With a quick flash, Ava snapped a few shots.

“Alright,” she said, handing the camera back. “These are going on the fridge. Let’s go.”

When you walked outside, Matt was already leaning against his car, scrolling on his phone. He looked up as Ava approached, immediately straightening and jogging around the car to open her door.

“Your chariot awaits, my lady,” he said with a mock bow, making Ava laugh as she climbed in.

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms as Chris leaned against the passenger door, clearly waiting for you to get in.

“You just gonna stand there?” he muttered, his tone sharp.

You smirked, refusing to move. “Well, Matt got Ava’s door. Where’s my gentlemanly treatment?”

Chris rolled his eyes but pushed off the car and yanked the door open for you. “Get in,” he growled, stepping back.

You gave him a sugary sweet smile, climbing in slowly. He slammed the door shut a little harder than necessary, stalking around to the driver’s seat and muttering something under his breath. When he got in, the car roared to life, and he pulled out of the driveway faster than usual, his jaw tight with frustration.

As the car sped toward the party, you and Ava were already giggling, snapping pictures with your digital camera. Ava struck a few playful poses before grabbing your hands and pulling them over her chest.

“Here, cup my boobs for this one,” she said with a laugh.

“Wait, wait,” you said, adjusting your hands. “Let me make them look good.”

Ava threw her head back in laughter as you snapped a picture, both of you dissolving into fits of giggles.

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, handing her the camera as she grabbed your hands again and adjusted them over her chest.

“Do me now,” she said, snapping a few provocative shots of you with your hands on your own chest, pouting at the camera dramatically.

Chris’s sharp voice cut through the laughter. “Can you two stop?”

You looked up, catching his glare through the rearview mirror. His knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel, his jaw tight.

“What’s the matter, Chris?” Ava teased, smirking. “Jealous?”

“Not even close,” he snapped, but his eyes flicked to you for a split second before returning to the road.

You leaned back, smirking to yourself. His irritation only made you push further, holding the camera up to snap another photo of Ava adjusting her top.

Matt groaned, glancing back at the two of you. “You guys are insane,” he muttered, though the corner of his mouth twitched in amusement.

By the time you arrived, the tension in the car had reached its peak. Chris parked sharply, and before he could say anything, you and Ava were already out, linking arms as you headed toward the party.

The music was thumping, the bass reverberating through the house as you stepped inside. The place was packed, bodies swaying and people laughing as the party was already in full swing.

“Drinks first,” Ava said, dragging you toward the makeshift bar in the corner.

You grabbed cups of whatever punch was available, clinking them together before downing half in one go. It was sweet and strong, and you felt the warmth hit your chest immediately.

“Let’s dance!” Ava said, pulling you toward the crowded living room where people were already moving to the beat of the music.

The two of you joined the crowd, letting the music take over as you swayed and laughed together. The punch had loosened you up, and it wasn’t long before you were lost in the rhythm, the stress of the day melting away.

A while later, Matt appeared, weaving through the crowd until he reached you and Ava. “Found you!” he said, smiling as he grabbed Ava’s hand and spun her into him.

Ava laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck as they danced. You couldn’t help but smile at how effortlessly they moved together, their connection undeniable.

When Ava eventually left to grab another drink, Matt turned to you, holding out his hand. “C’mon, let’s keep dancing.”

You laughed, taking his hand. “Matt, you’re such a softie.”

“Shut up,” he said, grinning as he spun you playfully.

The two of you danced in a goofy, carefree way, your movements more about having fun than keeping rhythm. It felt easy, like dancing with an older brother, and you couldn’t help but laugh when Matt twirled you again, nearly sending you spinning into the crowd.

When Ava returned, she wasted no time stealing Matt back. You stepped aside, watching as they moved together, their bodies pressed close as they kissed and laughed, completely lost in each other.

The sight made you smile, but it also reminded you of the tension lingering between you and Chris. The thought made your chest tighten, and you decided to slip away, weaving through the crowd toward the quieter side of the party.

The party was buzzing, the energy intoxicating as you wandered through the house. With Ava and Matt lost in their own little world on the dance floor, you decided to entertain yourself, leaning into the freedom the night provided. It wasn’t long before the attention started coming your way—guys approaching you left and right, their flirtation dripping with confidence and curiosity.

The first was a tall, broad-shouldered guy who introduced himself as Landon. He had a dimpled smile and a cocky demeanor, leaning against the wall as he asked where you were from. You bantered back easily, his smirk widening with every clever reply you threw his way. But before the conversation could deepen, someone else swooped in—Jordan, a shaggy-haired skater who offered you a drink and made you laugh with his over-the-top party stories.

The attention felt good, and you basked in it, letting the night carry you from one flirtatious exchange to the next. There was Ryan, who complimented your boots and offered to teach you a dance move, and then Alex, who was a little too drunk but charming in his clumsy attempts to keep your attention.

But then, Cam approached.

He was tall with dark eyes and a sharp jawline, his confidence radiating as he leaned against the doorframe and locked eyes with you from across the room. His smile was slow, deliberate, and devastatingly attractive.

“Hey,” he said smoothly, stepping closer. “I couldn’t help but notice you’ve been lighting up this whole room tonight.”

You laughed, a little taken aback by his boldness but not entirely opposed to it. “Oh yeah? Is that your go-to line?”

“Nope,” he replied, grinning. “You’re the first person I’ve used it on. So, what’s your name?”

You told him, and the two of you fell into easy conversation. Cam was funny, quick-witted, and knew exactly how to keep your attention. His flirtation was bold but not overbearing, and you found yourself matching his energy effortlessly.

At one point, his hand brushed against your arm, and you didn’t pull away. His touch was light, almost teasing, as he leaned in closer. “You’re trouble, aren’t you?” he murmured, his voice low.

“You have no idea,” you shot back, your lips curving into a sly smile.

Before you knew it, Cam’s hand was on your waist, pulling you closer as his lips found yours. The kiss was hot and electric, his hands roaming as he pressed you against the wall. You didn’t care who was watching or what anyone thought—you were lost in the moment, letting the buzz of the party and the heat of his touch take over.

But just as his hand slid down to grip your ass, he was yanked backward, nearly stumbling as someone shoved him hard.

“What the fuck?” Cam snapped, glaring at whoever had interrupted.

Chris.

His eyes were blazing, his jaw tight as he stepped between you and Cam, his body practically vibrating with anger. “Back off,” Chris growled, his voice low and dangerous.

“Who the hell are you?” Cam asked, straightening up and stepping closer to Chris, his tone challenging.

Chris didn’t flinch, his gaze unwavering. “Doesn’t matter. You’re done here.”

Cam scoffed, looking between you and Chris like he couldn’t believe what was happening. “Dude, she’s into it. Why don’t you mind your own business?”

Chris didn’t say anything. Instead, he shoved Cam again, harder this time, sending him stumbling back into the crowd. The music seemed to fade as people started to notice the commotion, a circle forming around the two of them.

“Chris, stop!” you yelled, grabbing his arm, but he shook you off without even glancing your way.

“You need to leave,” Chris said to Cam, his voice cold and firm.

Cam raised his hands in mock surrender, his expression twisted with frustration and amusement. “Alright, man. Fuck you. She’s not worth the trouble.” He shot you a glare before disappearing into the crowd.

The tension hung in the air as Chris turned to you, his expression unreadable. “What the fuck was that?” you demanded, your voice shaking with anger and embarrassment.

Chris didn’t answer. Instead, he grabbed your arm, his grip firm but not painful, and started dragging you toward the front door.

“Chris, let me go!” you yelled, trying to pull free. “What the hell are you doing?”

He didn’t respond, his jaw set as he continued pulling you through the house. Once outside, you tried again to wrench your arm from his grip, but he was too strong.

“Let me go!” you shouted, your voice rising. “You can’t just—”

Before you could finish, Chris bent down and slung you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing. You gasped, your fists pounding against his back as he carried you toward the car.

“Chris, put me down! This is insane!”

But he didn’t listen. His hand pressed firmly over your ass, covering you protectively as he moved through the crowd of lingering partygoers. When he reached the car, he opened the back door and practically threw you inside, his movements controlled but rough enough to make a point.

“Are you out of your goddamn mind?” you yelled, scrambling upright as he slammed the door shut behind you.

Chris didn’t respond. He climbed into the driver’s seat, locked the doors, and started the engine, his face stony and unreadable.

“Chris, where are you taking me?” you demanded, your voice rising in frustration.

Still, he said nothing. The car sped off into the night, leaving the party behind as you sat in the backseat, fuming and confused. You didn’t know what his problem was, but the intensity in his eyes and the set of his jaw made it clear he wasn’t about to explain himself anytime soon.

The silence in the car was suffocating as Chris drove, his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel. You glared at the back of his head, the anger boiling inside you making it impossible to stay quiet.

“Chris, what the fuck is your problem?” you demanded, leaning forward in your seat. “You can’t just manhandle me like that and drag me out of a party!”

He didn’t respond. His jaw was tight, his eyes locked on the road ahead like he was trying to block out your voice.

“Seriously?” you snapped, leaning even closer. “You’re just not going to say anything? After all of that?”

Nothing.

Your frustration hit a breaking point. Without thinking, you climbed up onto your knees and leaned into the front seat, reaching for his arm. “Chris—”

“Sit down,” he growled, his voice low and commanding.

When you didn’t listen, he shot his arm out and pushed you back into your seat, his grip firm but not rough. “I said sit down.”

You stared at him, stunned for a moment, before letting out an exasperated huff. “You’re unbelievable,” you muttered, crossing your arms and slumping back into your seat.

The rest of the drive passed in tense silence, your mind racing as you tried to make sense of what had just happened. When Chris finally pulled up to your apartment, he got out without a word, walking around to your side of the car.

As he opened your door, you jumped out before he could touch you. “Don’t,” you snapped, holding up a hand. “I can walk myself.”

He said nothing, just stepped back and waited as you stormed toward the stairs. You could feel his presence behind you as you climbed, his silence heavy and imposing. When you reached your apartment, you fumbled with your keys, the anger and adrenaline making your hands shake.

As soon as you stepped inside, Chris followed, closing the door behind him.

“What the hell is your problem?” you yelled, spinning around to face him.

Chris leaned against the door, his arms crossed and his expression unreadable. “My problem?” he said finally, his voice sharp. “What the fuck were you doing with that guy?”

“Oh, here we go,” you snapped, throwing your hands in the air. “I was having fun, Chris. You know, something you clearly wouldn’t understand.”

“Having fun?” he repeated, stepping closer. “Letting some random asshole put his hands all over you is your idea of fun?”

“What the fuck does it matter to you?” you shot back, jabbing a finger into his chest. “You don’t get to police what I do or who I do it with.”

Chris’s eyes darkened as he stepped closer, towering over you. “It matters because you’re too fucking stupid to see when someone’s taking advantage of you.”

“Stupid?” you hissed, shoving him hard against his chest. “You’re the one who started a fucking fight like a goddamn caveman.”

Chris didn’t budge, his body solid as you shoved him again. “You’re out of control,” you said, your voice trembling with rage. “You don’t get to act like you care all of a sudden. Not after everything.”

“I don’t care,” he snapped, though his voice wavered slightly. “I just don’t want to watch you throw yourself at someone who doesn’t give a shit about you.”

“Like you care about me?” you countered, shoving him harder this time, your hands slamming against his chest. “Fuck you, Chris.”

“Enough,” he growled, grabbing your wrists before you could push him again. His grip was strong, his hands practically burning against your skin as he forced you back against the wall.

You gasped, your back hitting the cold surface as Chris loomed over you, his face inches from yours. His breath was heavy, his eyes blazing with something between anger and… something else.

“You don’t get it, do you?” he hissed, his voice low and dangerous. “You never fucking get it.”

The words hung in the air, the tension between you crackling like electricity. For a moment, neither of you moved, the only sound in the room, your ragged breathing.

Then, as if something inside you snapped, you surged forward, your lips crashing against his. Chris didn’t hesitate, his hands releasing your wrists to grab your waist, pulling you flush against him. The kiss was frantic, messy, and fueled by all the anger and frustration that had been simmering between you.

Your hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer as his lips moved against yours with an intensity that left you breathless. His grip on your waist tightened, his fingers digging into your skin as he pressed you harder against the wall.

Chris’s teeth grazed your bottom lip, and you gasped, giving him the opening he needed to deepen the kiss. His tongue slid against yours, the heat between you growing impossibly hotter as the tension that had been building for so long finally exploded.

It was intense, and overwhelming—and you couldn’t stop. You didn’t want to. All the anger, the hurt, the unresolved feelings—it was all spilling out in this moment, in the way his hands gripped your body like he couldn’t get enough, in the way your lips collided like they were meant to.

Chris’s lips moved against yours with an intensity that made your head spin. His hands were everywhere—on your waist, your back, sliding up your sides like he couldn’t decide where to touch you first. The aggression in his movements only added to the heat building between you, and you clung to him like he was the only thing keeping you upright.

He pressed you harder against the wall, his body flush against yours. One hand gripped your hip tightly, while the other slid up to tangle in your hair, tugging just hard enough to make you gasp into his mouth. The sound seemed to spur him on, his kisses growing rougher, deeper, as if he was trying to devour every inch of you.

“Chris,” you murmured against his lips, though it came out more like a plea than anything else.

“What?” he growled, his voice low and rough as he broke the kiss just enough to look at you. His forehead pressed against yours, his breath hot against your lips. “What do you want, Y/N?”

You didn’t answer with words. Instead, you pulled him back down to you, your lips crashing against his with renewed fervor. His hand slid down from your hip to your thigh, gripping it firmly as he hitched your leg up around his waist. The movement pressed him closer, and you couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped you when you felt just how hard he was against you.

Chris smirked against your lips, his voice a low rasp. “You like that, huh?”

“Shut up,” you muttered, but the way your nails raked down his back gave you away.

His lips moved to your neck, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down the curve of your throat. He bit down gently at a particularly sensitive spot, and you arched against him, your hands threading into his hair as a soft whimper escaped you. His name slipped from your lips like a prayer, and it only seemed to fuel him further.

His hand slid up your thigh, squeezing as his lips continued their assault on your neck. When his hand skimmed under the hem of your skirt, you shivered, the roughness of his touch sending sparks through your entire body.

“You drive me fucking insane,” he muttered against your skin, his voice rough and breathless.

“You’re one to talk,” you shot back, though your voice wavered as his hand inched higher.

Chris pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dark and filled with something primal. His lips were red and swollen, and the sight of him looking so wrecked only made you want him more.

His lips moved against yours, bruising and demanding, leaving you breathless and desperate. His fingers trailed higher under your skirt, gripping your thigh like he owned you, and your body arched into him, craving more.

But then, suddenly, he stopped.

His hands left your body entirely, and the cold air against your skin made you shiver. You let out an involuntary whine, reaching for him instinctively, but he stepped back, his jaw tight and his eyes blazing with fury.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice sharp and laced with venom. “Not getting enough attention now?”

You blinked up at him, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. “Chris, don’t stop,” you murmured, the words tumbling out before you could think.

He let out a dark, humorless laugh, shaking his head. “Oh, now you want me to keep going?” He stepped closer, his presence suffocating as he stared you down. “Should’ve thought about that before you started acting like a slut at the party.”

His words hit you like a slap, and your cheeks burned with a mixture of anger and embarrassment. “I wasn’t—”

“Don’t lie to me,” he interrupted, his voice cold and cutting. He leaned down, his face inches from yours, his breath hot against your skin. “You were all over him, weren’t you? Letting him put his hands on you like it was nothing.”

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it difficult to speak. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Wasn’t it?” he shot back, his voice rising slightly. “Because it sure as hell looked like it.”

You reached for him again, desperate to close the distance, but he grabbed your wrists and pinned them to the wall beside your head. His grip was firm, his fingers digging into your skin just enough to make you squirm.

“You don’t get it, do you?” he hissed, his voice low and dangerous. “You don’t get how fucking infuriating you are.”

Your breath hitched. “Chris, please,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“Please what?” he growled, his grip on your wrists tightening. “What do you want from me, Y/N? You think I’m just going to forget everything you’ve done? Forget the way you’ve been acting all night?”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. “I just—”

“Stop,” he snapped, cutting you off. He released your wrists abruptly, stepping back as if the distance would somehow extinguish the fire burning between you. His chest was heaving, his jaw clenched so tightly you thought it might snap.

You stayed pressed against the wall, your hands still hovering where he’d pinned them, your body aching from the absence of his touch.

Chris stepped back more, breaking the heated tension in the air. His sharp eyes bore into yours, his expression unreadable yet burning with intensity. The absence of his touch left your body humming with frustration, and you clenched your fists to keep yourself grounded.

He reached out, his fingers brushing under your chin before patting your cheek twice, condescendingly light. The motion made your cheeks flush with a mixture of humiliation and anger, but the faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth told you he knew exactly what he was doing.

Chris’s gaze raked over you slowly, his eyes traveling from your disheveled hair to your bare legs, still trembling slightly. “Go upstairs,” he said, his voice calm but commanding, leaving no room for argument. “Fix yourself.”

You stared at him, your chest tightening. His tone was infuriating, like he was dismissing you as nothing more than a problem to be solved.

When you didn’t move immediately, his smirk deepened, and he raised an eyebrow. “Now,” he added, his voice dropping lower.

The weight of his stare pushed you into action, and you turned, storming toward the stairs. You could feel his eyes on your back, that same patronizing smirk practically burning into your skin as you climbed, your frustration boiling over.

Upstairs, your body still buzzed with the aftermath of everything that had just happened. The tension, the way he’d touched you, the way he’d looked at you—it was maddening. You couldn’t stop replaying it in your head, every detail etched into your mind like a taunt.

Frustrated and desperate, you found yourself slipping under the covers, your hands wandering as your mind stayed locked on him. The anger you felt toward him was tangled with something else, something you didn’t want to admit. The way he commanded you, the way he took control—it left you aching, needing relief he hadn’t given you.

You spent the next hour trying to satisfy yourself, your mind unable to think of anything but his touch, his voice, the way he’d looked at you like he owned you. But no matter what you did, it wasn’t enough. The tension refused to leave your body, settling into your chest like a heavy weight.

Eventually, you gave up and took off your makeup, changed your clothes, and made your way downstairs, your body still buzzing with frustration. You found Chris sitting on the couch, his posture relaxed as if nothing had happened. He looked up when he heard your footsteps, his eyes softening slightly as they met yours.

“You look better,” he said, his voice unexpectedly kind. It threw you off, the sharp contrast to his earlier aggression making you hesitate.

You crossed your arms, wary of his tone. “What are you still doing here?”

Chris stood, moving toward you slowly. His hand found your waist, his touch light but deliberate. He looked down at you, his gaze softer now, almost tender, though something darker still lingered beneath the surface.

“You don’t need all that makeup,” he said, his fingers brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “You’re beautiful without it. And it’s better you’re here—safe. Not out there with people who don’t care about you.”

His words felt like a trap, laced with something you couldn’t quite place. You stepped back slightly, your eyes narrowing. “Chris, stop. You can’t keep acting like this.”

“Like what?” he asked, his voice calm, though his grip on your waist tightened slightly.

“Like you get to decide where I go or who I’m with,” you said firmly. “It’s not your job to control me.”

His jaw tightened, the softness in his eyes replaced by something harder. “I’m not controlling you,” he said, though his tone carried an edge. “I’m keeping you from making stupid decisions.”

You pulled away from his touch, your frustration bubbling to the surface again. “I’m not a child, Chris. If I want to go back and get Ava and Matt, I will.”

His expression darkened at your words, and he stepped closer, towering over you. “You’re not going anywhere,” he said firmly, his voice low and dangerous.

“Chris—”

“Stay here,” he snapped, his tone brooking no argument.

You glared up at him, your hands trembling at your sides. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

His eyes locked onto yours, his jaw tightening as he leaned down, his voice dropping even lower. “You’re not leaving, Y/N. End of discussion.”.

Your frustration boiled over as you squared up to Chris, shoving against his chest as hard as you could. “You don’t get to tell me what to do!” you snapped, your voice trembling with anger. “I’m going to get them whether you like it or not.”

Chris didn’t budge, his body solid and unmoving, his jaw tightening as he glared down at you. “No, you’re not,” he said, his voice dangerously low.

“Yes, I am!” you yelled, shoving him again.

In a split second, Chris grabbed your wrists, pulling you close until his face was mere inches from yours. His eyes blazed with something fierce and unrelenting, his voice steady but laced with a threatening edge. “No,” he growled. “You’re not going anywhere. You’re going to turn your beautiful ass around, sit your stubborn self back on that couch, and stay there. Do you understand me?”

The words hit you like a punch, the force behind them leaving you speechless. The way he looked at you—intense, commanding, and so sure of himself—made your knees weak despite your anger. He released your wrists, his hand brushing lightly against your cheek, and you hated how it made your chest tighten, how it made you want to obey him.

“And when I get back,” he added, his voice softening just enough to make it even more infuriating, “I better find you exactly where I left you. Don’t make me regret trusting you.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the way his eyes bore into yours made the words catch in your throat. Your resolve crumbled as he stepped back, grabbing his keys off the counter. Without another word, he left, the sound of the door closing behind him echoing in the silence.

You stood there, your heart racing and your fists clenched at your sides. Against every instinct screaming at you to follow him, you turned back toward the couch, sinking into the cushions with a huff.

About twenty minutes later, the door swung open, and Chris stepped inside, his arm steadying Matt, who was grinning like an idiot. Ava stumbled in behind them, laughing loudly as she clung to Chris’s other arm.

“We’re back!” Matt declared, his voice loud and slurred. “And we are feeling amazing!”

“Clearly,” Chris muttered, his tone dry as he guided them into the apartment.

Ava giggled, her cheeks flushed as she looked up at Matt. “We should go upstairs,” she said. “You know, for… reasons.”

Matt grinned, nodding enthusiastically. “Absolutely. Drunk sex! Best idea you’ve had all night.”

They started toward the stairs, stumbling slightly, but Ava paused and turned to you, her brow furrowing slightly despite her drunken state. “Wait, Y/N—what happened? You okay?”

Before you could respond, Chris stepped in, his hand lightly gripping Ava’s shoulder. “She’ll explain when you’re in a better space,” he said smoothly, his voice calm and reassuring. “Right now, you need to get to bed.”

Ava blinked up at him, clearly too drunk to argue. “Okay,” she mumbled, letting Matt pull her up the stairs. The two of them disappeared into her room, their muffled laughter followed by the sound of the door closing.

Chris turned back to you, his expression unreadable as he stepped closer. His presence filled the room, the tension from earlier creeping back in like an unwelcome guest.

“You stayed,” he said, his voice low and almost… pleased.

You glared at him, crossing your arms. “Because you told me to.”

His lips twitched into a faint smirk, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he grabbed a glass of water from the kitchen and leaned against the counter, his eyes never leaving yours. The room felt too quiet, too charged, and you couldn’t tell if it was the aftermath of your earlier fight or the fact that Chris was still looking at you like he had all the control in the world.

And the worst part? You hated how much of it you were willing to give him.

tags: @mattsobvimyfav @ilovejohnnieguilbertsblog @mattsturnii @starstrucktyrantinfluencer @watercolorskyy @strangecatpeach @katie1002 @1ovesiick @slut4christopherr @mattgirl4eva @mayalovesturn @chriss-slutt

[specialtysacrifice]

Idk if Mac had a strong sense of self before coming out. I think a lot of it was constructed and obviously based on people he thought he should be like. His dad, or action movie characters. It looked like he had a strong personality, being bossy and stubborn, but I bet if he was asked any typical "fist date" questions, he'd come off like a cardboard cut out, or like an action figure toy with a pull string. Only able to say obvious macho bro-ey answers, not understanding how to genuinely answer. And he truly believed that's who he was. He had to. Because if he wasn't that, wasn't a man, who was he?

Coming out, going back, coming out again, eventually having it stick, he doesn't know who the fuck he is or supposed to be. I think being Gay is a title/role to Mac in the same way being Straight or a Man was. He's only ever seen queers in a negative or, at best, stereotypical light so he doesn't understand the deeper levels to himself. He's just swapped roles from "macho rowdy ladies man" to "gay bear/hunk sex machine" in place of understanding himself on a deeper level.

There's an assumption that queer people have a deeper sense of self and understand ourselves better than cis straight people, but coming out isn't always a coming home. It can destroy your sense of self and leave you completely lost about who you are as a person. It can feel like starting from ground zero.

We see this with Mac almost immediately. Mac Finds His Pride has him lost the whole episode, apathetically going from one queer scene to the next as Frank tries to help him find what Type of Gay he is. Eventually culminating in an attempt to still gain his father's approval. I think the dance helped Mac process his relationship with god, but he is still very lost as a person by the end of the episode.

Another example, very obviously, is when they're in Ireland. Mac has lost all sense of identity. Already struggling with his catholocism and being gay, he's shortly stripped of his Irish identity as well (and immediately tries to figure out how to be Dutch? iirc). That's Mac's whole plot for that entire season pretty much.

He looks to other people to tell him what to do, almost refuses to make his own decisions. Who is Mac? What does he like to do? Not in relation or service to other people, but to himself? I don't think the writers, Rob, or Mac know the answers. He's not gay, he's Mac. What does that mean?

I don't know where else to go with this. Besides that, I feel that in The Gang Goes Bowling, we see just a little bit of Mac returning. Or rather, becoming. I hope we see more of him.

[scribblesandink]

"I... I guess I don't... Really.... Have any? I mean.... I didn't grow up religious, so the idea that anything but total heterosexuality is wrong was never really an idea for me. Almost everyone in my family and that I grew up around was queer, and the idea of judging someone for the gender of who they dated was..... Kind of unheard of? I mean I got a lot of shit for marrying Audrey, but that was because they saw her as almost beneath us because my family is full of arrogant dickheads"

"So.... You never saw it as weird to date guys? "

"Not really. I mean there will always be that discomfort at how society views it now, but eventually I just had to decide what was more important. Living as myself and trying to feel happy and comfortable in my own skin, or forcing myself to be just another asshole who pretends to be someone I'm not. And I'm perfectly happy with Audrey, I don't feel like I'm missing anything, but I know I would love her the same if she were a man"

"I... Guess that makes sense.... How did you... Know? "

"That I was bi? "

James nodded, looking away and fiddling with his fingers. Apollo scribbled on a piece of paper for his sake, knowing he was uncomfortable

"I suppose I always did. I always viewed male and female beauty as the same. I saw someone that I found attractive and was interested, not in spite of what gender they were but it wasn't really a contributing factor for me. But a lot of other people took a really long time to realize that they were queer, sometimes not realizing until decades into a marriage. And that's perfectly okay"

"What about their partner? Wouldn't it be really shitty to have that bombed dropped?"

"Not really, depending on who you're with. I told Audrey on our first date that I was Bi just so she was aware, it wasn't important when it came to the way we saw each other but it was something important to me that she knew because it's a part of my identity and how I view my place in the world. Being Bu doesn't make you any more or less likely to cheat than anyone else. Your views on monogamy are different and if polyamory is something you want to explore, that becomes less of a personal thing and more of something you need to discuss with your partner"

"Yeah.... No..... The idea of dating multiple people is super weird to me"

"And that's fine. It's not for me either, but I've dated people who were Poly and the most important thing in any relationship is communication. Especially when it comes to monogamy and sexuality"

"I guess"

"James.... All I can really tell you is you can't help who you are attracted to. You can't get rid of attraction to someone the same way you can't force it on another. Being queer isn't wrong. Sexuality is a spectrum that has always existed throughout history and the animal kingdom and no one is born wrong because of it. That's a modern thing"

Do you think covid existed in the Season? Do you think that for 2020-2021 Zeus couldn't host two Seasons. He had to wait until 2022 when restrictions finally lifted?

I'm gonna assume that covid didn't exist for my own sanity