#If anyone wants more of this style just throw a message of 'do-it' into my inbox

[hoshifighting]

ask translation: today's rant, girls, i can't get it out of my head that jeonghan is totally that "friend" who sends you a message a second after you remove the @ of your last relationship from your bio. "baby, I saw that you deleted his @, did something happen? Is everything okay? you know you can talk about anything with your hannie, right?" "wow, what an jerk, do you want to come over today, princess?" WARNINGS: smut, fingering, doggy-style, friend!jeonghan, recent break-up

PORTUGUESE VERSION

it’s a matter of seconds. you barely take his @ out of your bio, and the “ding” from your phone already notifies you. guess who? that’s right—jeonghan. and you know exactly what he’s going to say before you even open the message. it’s almost automatic; his timing is so damn perfect that you almost think he’s been stalking your profile, waiting for the smallest slip-up, a little sign.

“hey, baby,” he starts, casual as ever, “saw you took his name out of your bio… something happened?” you read it and can practically see his smug little smile while he’s typing, just loving the drama. “tsk, motherfucker,” you mutter to yourself, but you’re laughing. then he follows up: “you know you can tell your hannie anything, right?”

you roll your eyes, but ignoring him? impossible. the next message doesn’t even let you hesitate.

“god, what an idiot. wanna come over tonight, princess? got that wine you love…”

and there he’s got you. he knows it. he knows that the “heart-to-heart” is just a flimsy excuse, you know what he wants, and that “motherfucker” you muttered? already forgotten. the worst part is you don’t even resist. you’re already texting back before you can think twice:

“give me fifteen. actually have the wine, or i’m out,” you shoot back, adding that little side-eye emoji he always teases you for.

not even five seconds later, he replies: “bet.”

at his place, things start slow—he hands you the glass and goes, “spill it all, babe.” you actually try talking about your ex, maybe add some drama for effect… but he cuts you off, saying he doesn’t wanna hear about that “loser,” and before you know it, the conversation’s become something else entirely. he teases you, like always, and it doesn’t take long before that “friendly” vibe slips into something much more serious.

the wine might as well have gone straight between your legs. minutes later, jeonghan’s there, face buried between your thighs, his mouth working over the wet clit while he keeps his eyes locked on yours. he makes it look like an art form, taking his time, slow, drawing you out more and more—and you, impatient as hell, nearly losing it every time he stops just to throw in some little comment. he lifts his head slightly, lips glistening, with that smug glint in his eye.

“how could he lose you, huh?” he’s not actually asking; he just wants to see you needier. you press your thighs against him, trying to make him shut up and eat you out, but he just laughs, naughty.

“god, you’re so impatient, knew you’d be like this…” he knows exactly the effect he has on you.

you let out a frustrated moan, and he laughs again—he’s clearly feeding off this. “relax, princess, not gonna leave you hanging.” he says it, but he doesn’t speed up. you’re practically begging by the time he finally decides to quit playing games.

he fucks you so good that if you’d known it would always be like this with him, the idea of dating anyone but jeonghan would’ve never even crossed your mind.

he’s got you on all fours on his couch, no mercy, thrusting deep with that thick cock, your cries coming out rough and strained, head tilted back as he holds nothing back, fingers gripping your hair just to make you scream his name louder. the angle leaves your gasps sounding suffered, desperate.

jeonghan, obviously, is eating this up. he notices when you’re already dripping all over his couch, and just to make it even worse, he gathers up that little drip and rubs it right on your sensitive clit, making you melt like jelly, your body going limp on his couch until he eases his grip on your hair so he doesn’t hurt you.

he moans shamelessly, the sound probably even louder than yours, and it catches you off guard. he doesn’t hold back, telling you how long he’s wanted this, how many times he’s dreamed about fucking you exactly like this.

“you have no idea how long i’ve wanted this pretty pussy, baby…” he whispers, and you feel that delicious shiver on the back of your neck. “if you hadn’t picked that dumbass… we could’ve been fucking like this ages ago.”

he thrusts deeper, but moving slower, just so you can feel every inch as he murmurs in your ear. his touch is firm, fingers gliding down to squeeze that sensitive spot, giving it a playful pinch just to watch you shiver, rolling your eyes as you gasp out his name.

“this is what you wanted, princess? gonna appear here on my place, begging for my cock again.. and im going to give you what you want... always.”

[peachiejeongin]

Back to Blue | Han Jisung

Synopsis: Jisung messages you out of the blue one day, and before you know it, you are at the Stray Kids dorm dying his hair back to blue.

Pairing: Han Jisung x Reader

Genre: established relationship, fluff, crack

Warnings: None! (Unless shirtless Jisung counts)

WC: 1.6k

Notice: My loves, this was an entirely unprompted fanfiction. I have a couple requests scheduled and I'm working on a longer fiction, so I was not going to write anything at all today. But after reading a few stories about Hyunjin's buzzcut and Felix's dark hair, I realized I had not seen many stories about the return of Bluesung on my feed; therefore, I decided to write my own!...and I may or may not have sped-wrote it in about an hour or two. Whoops! Nevertheless, enjoy the story, my darlings! (I am also attempting a new format style, so enjoy that as well!).

Divider By: @strangergraphics-archive

It started with a random text on a Saturday afternoon.

Hannie<3: Hello, my beautiful, gorgeous, amazing specimen of a partner who I love more than anything else ever! You: What do you want, Ji? Hannie<3: Sooooo, our hairstylist may or not be out sick with the flu, and your amazing boyfriend who is ALWAYS so nice to you may or may not be wanting to bring back an old hair color so....wanna come help me dye my hair blue? :D

You blinked at your phone, rereading the message over and over again as if you were trying to find a joke in the wording that you had missed; he could not be serious, could he?

You: Why not just go to an ACTUAL salon? Hannie<3: And have them mess it up? Absolutely not! You're the only one I trust with this so can you pleeeeease come do it for me?? You: Hannie, I'm going to hold your hand when I say this. You: I have never dyed anyone's hair before. Hannie<3: Boxes have instructions for a reason!

You narrowed your eyes at your phone briefly, quirking your lips into a line; you pondered the text for a moment before sighing and typing out a reply.

You: I'll be there in fifteen.

Minutes later, you were at Jisung's dorm, standing in the doorway to his bedroom with a skeptical expression etched onto your face; your boyfriend just grinned at you like an eager puppy.

"I knew you wouldn't be able to resist the urge to play mad scientist with my hair."

"You're acting like I'm about to give you an entirely new identity," you retorted, stepping inside and tossing your keys onto his bed. "Remind me why you want blue specifically? I thought you wanted to stay natural for a while."

Han shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I did, but blue is like my color, y'know? Fans loved it, and, let's be real, I looked amazing!" You rolled your eyes at the final comment but could not help the smile that eased past your lips.

"Fine," you told him, "but if this goes wrong, I am taking zero responsibility."

"Noted," he replied, leading you down the hallway to the bathroom; a box of blue hair dye already sat waiting on the counter.

"Wow," you teased, picking up the box and analyzing the instructions. "You really went all out with the cheap stuff. Y'sure it won't turn your hair green?"

Han laughed at first, but his eyes widened slightly, his playful expression morphing into one of slight fear.

"Wait...it's not going to do that, right?"

"I guess we'll find out."

Han let out a dreadful groan as you opened the box, pulling out the black rubber gloves that came with it; you pulled them on with a moderate snap as Han took off his shirt, throwing it somewhere on the messy bathroom floor. He perched on the edge of the bathtub, wrapping a small towel around his neck as you read the instructions in order to figure out just what you were doing.

After scanning over the steps and figuring out the process of unprofessionally coloring hair, you took out the color and the developer and poured both into the applicator bottle, shaking it harshly in order to quickly mix up the dye. Once the agents were fully combined, you stepped closer to Han, sitting yourself beside him on the rim of the tub.

"Okay, tilt your head back," you instructed, squeezing a tiny amount of hair dye onto your finger tips.

"Wait," Han suddenly said, looking up at you with large, doe-eyes. "What happens if it actually turns my hair green?"

"Hannie, it's just hair," you replied, running your clean hand through his hair lightly. "You'll be fine."

"But my appearance is my livelihood!" He clutched a dramatic hand over his heart, pretending to tear up at the thought. "If my hair is ruined, I'm ruined!"

"Well, you could always shave your head and wait for it to grow back!" you playfully remarked. "Hopefully by then, your stylist will feel better!"

"A shaved head?!" Han gasped dramatically, his words loud and bewildered. "Do I look like my name is Hyunjin? We can't have two kiwis in the group!" You chuckled at his melodramatics before halting suddenly, furrowing your eyebrows slightly.

"Wait, Hyunjin shaved his head?"

"Oh, nevermind that!" Han playfully shook his head as he spoke. "Can you just get started before I go crazy?"

"You're already crazy, Hannie, but okay."

You slowly raked the blue dye through Han's hair, being as gentle as possible just in case you caught any missed tangles or knots. You went by sections, going by the layers of Han's hair. As you worked, Han squirmed as if he were a child.

"Ow!" he yelped unseriously. "That was a tangle!"

"Han, my fingers literally ran through a couple of strands," you retaliated, trying not to laugh. "How could I have hit a tangle?"

"I don't know, but that's what it felt like," he muttered, pouting and wincing for effect.

"You're such a baby," you teased, brushing through his hair more softly. "I know you don't act like this with the stylists, so just behave for me, would you?"

"Fine, fine," he conceded with a sigh. "In my defense, though, it absolutely kills me to sit still for an hour with them, too."

"Keep yourself distracted then," you suggested as you began to work on the second section of hair. "Like, just talk to me about whatever will make time pass by for you."

Upon your statement, you and Han began to discuss everything and nothing, from his plans for the week, to a new song he was working on, and finally the latest group chat antics with the other members. You had to pause your efforts multiple times during conversation, scolding Han for turning his head away from you while he was speaking. By the time you had finished applying the dye, you were both laughing so hard that your sides were aching.

"Okay," you sighed out victoriously, peeling off your gloves and throwing them away along with the applicator bottle. "Now we wait."

"For how long?"

"Thirty minutes," you answered after re-checking the box's directions. As you pulled out your phone to set a timer, Han let out a frustrated groan, slumping dramatically off of the bathtub's edge and onto the bathroom floor.

"I am going to die of boredom."

"You could always help me clean up," you suggested, glancing pointedly at the blue streaks adorning the whie porcelain of the bathtub, as well as some spots that had made their way onto the floor.

"Absolutely not." Han sat up quickly, shaking his head. "That's your mess."

"Excuse me?" you shot back while chuckling. "Are you not the one who squirmed, flinced, and turned your head so aggressively that you got hair dye everywhere?" Before Han could answer, you pulled out a washrag from one of the bathroom drawers, turning on the faucet to wet it slightly and tossing it to Han.

"Now, get it before it dries up!" you commanded, getting out a second rag for yourself. "I don't want to explain to your managers why the dorm's bathroom looks like a Smurk emporium."

To your gratitude, and more so Han's, cleaning up the smeared hair dye made the time pass by swiftly; within what felt like moments, the alarm on your phone had gone off.

"Thank goodness!" Han yelled, standing up from where he had been kneeled on the floor, working on a particularly tough stain. "Moment of truth!" Han made his way to the shower, sliding open the door before glancing back at you.

"Privacy, please!" he cheekily commanded, waiving you away sassily.

"Yeah, whatever. Just don't forget to use this, ya goof." You handed him the small packet of hair color conditioner before striding out of the bathroom.

"Text me when you're done."

You were sitting on Han's bed, scrolling through social media for what felt like an eternity; you were never able to understand how one person could take such a lengthy shower. You got the urge to go knock on the bathroom door and ask what was taking so long, but before you could, your phone buzzed.

Hannie<3: All done! Come look! :D

You smiled at the text, sluggishly standing up and making your way to the bathroom. You opened the door to find a beaming Han, his squirrely smile lighting up the entire bathroom as he ran his hands through his hair whilst looking in the mirror; it was blow-dried, which was probably why he took longer than expected, but most importantly, it was vibrant, shiny, and blue.

"Ladies and...well, just lady!" Han exclaimed as he turned to you, a prominent, joyous sparkle present in his eyes. "I present to you: the return of Bluesung!"

"No kidding!" you responded, ruffling his hair lightly and fluffing it up slightly. "I think I nailed it!"

"You did!" he agreed, grinning from ear to ear. "I am dangerously attractive now. Well, I've always been attractive, but even more so now, baby!"

"Alright, alright." You rolled your eyes, lightly pushing at his shoulder. "Calm down, Blueberry."

"Careful," he warned, the gleeful glint in his gaze turning into a mischevious one. "Call me that again, and I'm dying your hair."

"Fine by me," you retorted while smirking. "I've been wanting to go purple for a while, Blueberry."

"Oh, you little!" Han picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder and playfully bickering with you as he spun you around the bathroom; however, even through the teasing and the unserious arguing, one thought crossed your mind:

Blue really did suit him.

Taglist: @velvetmoonlght, @amararosesblog (If you would like to be added to the taglist, please let me know!)

[touyaismycomfortboy]

♡ Suki's sweetheart.

a/n: i'm rewatching my hero academia, and I got to the dorms episode and rewatched the scene where everyone was sad bc of aizawa's lecture, so he made kaminari use his quirk to make him dumb to make his friends laugh and giving kirishima a gift and dksjgnkdjg I just love sweet bkg so I need to write these headcanons <333

this is only my second fic so let me know if you like it!!! still figuring out my style and such so if u have any requests for stories or recommendations on how to make my posts more aesthetic or just wanna say hi pleaseee do <3

word count: 0.7k

synopsis: headcanons about what bkg would do if he found you sad <3

pairing: katsuki bakugou x gn!reader

genre: pure fluffy comfort

if he walked past your dorm and heard you crying quietly, he wouldn't approach you immediately. he'd walk into his own dorm quickly, go onto tiktok/instagram and go into his folder of saved videos he had for you, and spam your dms with funny/stupid videos he thought you would like.

he doesn't really scroll on his phone like that, but if anyone ever sends him a funny video or he stumbles across one he immediately saves it in his "y/n" folder.

after a couple minutes of spamming you, he'd nonchalantly walk into your room like he didn't see you crying a few minutes ago and crawl into your bed.

he was a man of few words when people around him were sad, never really knowing what words to say. so he just lays next to you with his arms open and lets you nuzzle into his chest while he wraps his big warm arms around you.

if you didn't know, nitroglycerin smells sweet. since he secretes it he smells like sugar/caramel, and it's hard to stay sad when you're cuddling your boyfriend who smells like dessert.

once you stopped crying and it had died down to soft sniffles, he'd grab your waterbottle off your desk and make you drink water, no ifs, ands, or buts. he had to make sure you were taken care of.

he'd wipe the remaining tears off your cheeks and ask if you needed anything, making sure he didn't talk too loud. you were in a very vulnerable state right now, he didn't want to upset you again.

if you were hungry, he'd make you watch the videos he sent you on his phone while he vanished for a few minutes as he went down to the common room kitchen and make you a simple snack, but it still tasted delicious because, well, katsuki is a great chef.

he'd watch you carefully as you ate the snack, seeing if there was any lingering sadness in your face or body language.

he'd ask you if you wanted to talk about it even if he didn't know what he'd say to you, he'd just listen to you if you did talk about it and nod along to your venting.

if it was someone who hurt you, he'd have to resist the urge to leave your room immediately to go blow those extras to smithereens, just sitting there and hugging you instead. having to remind himself that hurting someone else wouldn't make you feel better.

even if it was getting late and you guys had school the next day, he'd refuse to leave your room until he knew for sure you were 100% better. once you finally got him to leave, he would remind you a thousand times to text him if you needed him.

on the off chance that you did message him during the night, he had a special text tone just for your messages that he would wake up to. he'd quickly throw on some sweatpants, not bothering with a shirt as he would quickly (and quietly) walk to your dorm room, open the door and crawl into your bed once more.

on those nights, he wouldn't leave under any circumstances. he'd spend the night with you to make sure he was right there if you needed comfort. if you wanted him to leave, he would leave the bed and not the room. he would rather sleep on the cold hard floor than leave you alone while you're upset.

[ultrone]

just saw your hcs about fuckgirl!nat and they were so good that got me thinking... what if she fell in love with reader? how would nat convince R that she wants more than a few nights together?

⨳﹙❤️‍🩹 ♰﹚fuckgirl!nat falling in love w reader

omgg i love this thought <33 — context

at first, she'd ignore it, avoiding thinking about it altogether. she liked doing her own thing, so admitting her feelings, even to herself, wasn't her style. deep down, though, she knew. but whether she admitted it to herself or not, you didn't pay much mind, since she kept her cool as always.

then, a conflict started brewing inside her. on one side, she craved a real connection with you, but on the other, she preferred independence and shied away from commitment. sometimes, she'd ponder over it while watching you sleep peacefully beside her. but once she left your dorm, she'd throw herself into other things to keep her mind off it.

but gradually, she began showing her feelings through actions instead of words, even if she didn't intend to.

the first thing that gave it away was that she didn't call it quits with you after the two weeks mark. she brushed it off, saying she just really enjoyed being with you—sexually, of course. but who was she kidding? she didn't even last a week with the hottest girl on the hockey team.

around the third week, she started sleeping in. that was unusual for her; she usually slipped out before her fling woke up, or at least tried to. but now, she lingered, whether it was staying in bed longer or sitting by your window to smoke. whenever you woke up, she was there.

she cared about her self-image, though, so she tried not to do anything that seemed inconsistent with her usual behaviour. so even though she was doing these things, she'd play it off like, "my roommate’s being annoying these days. don’t feel like heading back if that's cool with you lol," and then end up staying over the entire week 😭

at first, whenever she noticed you were awake, she'd just leave without much conversation. but as time went on, you two started talking. it began with small talk, but then turned into long conversations. slowly, she started opening up to you, sharing things she hadn't with any of her previous flings. they weren't too personal, just stuff like her favourite songs, opinions on certain topics, even her favourite disney princess—yeah, she has one. it might've seemed trivial, but it meant something.

but alongside this, she started sending you mixed signals; sometimes she'd be affectionate and intimate, but then she'd pull away and act distant. the more she shared with you and the closer you got, the more distant she became at times. once, she didn't even come over for a whole week.

naturally, you started to worry because now you felt closer to her than ever before.

“it’s not that deep bruh, i’m just busy with homework. don’t feel like screwing tonight anyway,” she’d say. and her words stung, because you didn't see her as just a fling anymore. but maybe you misjudged her, and the rumours were true. maybe she really didn't give a shit.

so, of course, you started pulling away too. even when she tried reaching out and acting like she hadn't been a jerk, you kept your distance. you ignored her texts and calls, locked your door at night, and avoided her on campus.

eventually, she got the message and left you alone, moving on to the next person.

nat never admitted it, but after things ended between you two, she hardly felt satisfied with anyone else. she'd pretend she was, but truth be told, whenever she closed her eyes, she'd think of you. the sounds you made, the way your skin felt against hers, your hitched breaths against her ear—it was only when she thought of you that she'd climax.

she’d also remember those mornings you spent together, her fingers through your hair while you slept, stopping as soon as she felt you stir.

though there was still no contact, you couldn't help but notice her from afar. catching her staring at you often, she'd quickly look away, but it happened too frequently to be coincidental. it happened in the cafeteria, the locker room, even the library—what was she doing there anyway? she didn't even study.

it wasn't until some other girl got overly touchy and flirty with you at a party that nat finally reached out.

 ୨   ﹙ 🦇 ﹚drabble ୧  

natalie, nursing a cheap beer in her hand, watched with silent fury as the girl wrapped her arms around you. she cursed to herself, taking a swig of her drink to calm her nerves. it was ridiculous how possessive she felt. she knew she had no right to feel jealous since she'd never even made her thoughts known to you, but there it was–jealousy bubbling beneath the surface. angry at herself, natalie pushed through the crowd, stepping between the two of you.

"excuse me," she interrupted the interaction, the other girl stepping back in surprise. her voice held a dangerous undertone, the mocking tone replaced by a sharp edge. "she’s with me."

with a forceful grip on your arm, natalie pulled you aside, leading you towards the balcony. the cool air outside felt refreshing in comparison to the warm, stuffy atmosphere indoors. she pushed you up against the railings with little effort, standing so close that her body almost brushed up against yours. her breath hung heavy in the still air, her grip tight around your arm.

“so,” she said, her tone soft yet menacing at the same time. “are you with her?”

"so?" you retorted defiantly. "why do you even care?" your words sounded harsher than intended, but you were growing annoyed. she had ignored you and now acted possessive? no fucking way.

her grip tightened around your arm, the change of tone in her voice making her serious. "don't play dumb," she said forcefully. "just answer the question."

"i'm not playing dumb, and screw you," you said angrily, moving your hand away from her grip and pushing her away. "you treated me like shit and then acted like nothing happened, and now you're being all territorial?" you asked incredulously. "what's your fucking problem? do you have any idea how much pain you put me through when you ghosted me?"

she stepped back, surprised by your sharp words. for a few moments, she stood still, seemingly stunned by your response. her face remained expressionless, but from the quick way her gaze darted to the ground, she appeared to be caught off guard. eventually, she straightened up, a bit of coldness settling in her demeanor.

"my problem?" she replied. “you’re my fucking problem!”

"why the fuck would i be the problem?" you demanded, your voice rising slightly.

"why would you be the problem?" natalie echoed, her voice tinged with frustration. "because every damn time i try to move on, i see you everywhere. i hear you and think of those days we spent together. every time i try to just go and be with someone else, i’m always thinking of you instead."

you stood there, taken aback by natalie's raw confession. her words hung heavy in the air, punctuating the tension between you. "shit, natalie," you said, your voice softer now, your anger dissipating into a mix of frustration and empathy. "why didn't you say something? we could have talked about this."

"i couldn't," she admitted frankly, her expression softening slightly. a brief silence followed, the sound of traffic below filling the air. "i was scared," she confessed. "i've never felt this way about anyone. and you know my reputation, i don't exactly fit the 'girlfriend material' mold," she added with an ironic chuckle.

"so, i stayed away," she went on. "i convinced myself i could just stick to the usual. have a fling, move on, forget. but it never worked." there was another pause, this one lasting longer than it should. the atmosphere between you grew heavy, almost like a weight pressing down. "i’ve been trying to move on from you for so long," she confessed, "but no matter how many other people i tried to be with, no one ever measured up. nothing felt the same."

"the way i could just watch you for hours as you slept beside me, the way i always looked forward to sneaking into your dorm at night, the way my hands trembled when you touched me, or the way my heart raced every time i thought about you..."

she had to pause to gather herself, her voice starting to crack and falter as she continued. "i was scared to feel that, so i avoided it."

a heavy silence hung in the air as nat took a deep breath, finally calming down.

"then i realized," she continued, a newfound seriousness in her voice. "that no matter how many shitty one-night stands i had, no matter how many random people i tried to distract myself with, none of it mattered. i would always come back to you, to those feelings that i've tried my damn hardest to run away from."

she stepped closer, her voice lowering to a barely audible whisper.

“but now, i'm willing to put all that aside, because i know what i want."

as nat finished speaking, her words hanging in the charged air between you, she closed the distance between you with a determined step. without hesitation, she reached up, gently cupped your face in her hands, and pressed her lips softly against yours. the kiss was tender yet full of the intensity of her emotions, conveying everything she couldn't put into words. you couldn’t resist returning the kiss, missing the familiar taste of her lips, like cheap beer and cigarettes. as she pulled you closer by the waist, you wrapped your arms around her neck.

"i want you," she continued after breaking the kiss, her voice firmer and more certain. "i want to be with you. i know i haven't treated you fairly, i know i've made a lot of mistakes, but i promise i'm willing to change all that."

you looked into her eyes, searching for any signs of dishonesty, but found none. “if you ever hurt me, i swear i’ll fucking kill you, natalie,” you said seriously. "i'm not just a toy for you to play with, do you understand?"

"i'm never going to hurt you," she replied softly, her hands still gently caressing your waist. "i know i've been a jerk, i know i've been distant, but trust me, i'm not going to do that again. not when you mean this much to me," she said sincerely.

"you mean it?" you asked, feeling the tension in your chest release as you saw the honesty in her eyes. "you're not going to disappear like you did last time?"

"i promise i will never break your trust again," she said solemnly. this time, her words sounded more genuine, as if she believed them herself. she tightened her grip on your waist and continued, "from now on, i’ll always be upfront with you, no matter how messy or hard it gets. i won't give you any more mixed signals."

“well, looks like i’ve gotta believe you now,” you said, suppressing a smile. “i'm ready to trust you again; let's just hope it works out this time.”

the two of you stood in silence for a while, soaking in the moment and each other's presence. you couldn't help but notice the faint smile on natalie's face, as if she was just as relieved as you were to be together again. then, she finally broke the silence.

"so, does that mean you’re my girlfriend now?" she asked, a playful smile spreading across her face.

“all yours,” you replied, pulling her into a deep kiss, which she eagerly returned.

[grapejuicestyless]

I Just Want To Be Loved.

Harry Styles x Fem!Reader

Summery: It’s been the long haul for you and Harry. You spent everyday together for years. Recently, all you’ve been doing is spending your time apart. Is it so much to ask for him to come home?

Love on tour was there full definition of love. The atmosphere was filled with warmth and a kindness that seemed unique purely for the shows within it. Friendships blossomed in every section and fans showed their appreciation with projects projecting rainbows and meaningful messages to prove it. It was everything you’d think love could be.

So it made sense as to why Harry kept adding more shows, prolonging the inevitable end of the years he’d spent away from home. He, just as much as anyone else, loved to be loved. I couldn’t blame him. If I was him, I would’ve done the same.

Yet still, even though the tour was pure fluff and happiness, it drew a bubbling sadness from deep within every time he frolicked onto that stage. A sparkly, blinding reminder that once again, he was out making a name and I was at home, holding onto the ounces of love he shared over the phone each night.

The excitement coursing through me when he announced the final shows was extreme. Though I pretended to be bummed for the sad ending, and the tough parting from the band and the fans, I couldn’t be more happy to get my Harry back.

I longed for those peaceful moments in the mornings, my hands tracing his nose and his fingers playing with my hair until our touches became lazy and we dozed back off into a light slumber. I missed those loving times that were stolen from me with every new date added.

It felt selfish, to want to take such a core memory from the fans, people who Harry adored like his friends. People I’d grown to love throughout the years of our friendship and eventually our relationship. I’d had Harry at my fingertips for years, they only had him for a night. Yet it was so hard to share him.

Thinking deeply, I fought with my inner thoughts about the delicate line that was selfish and justified until my phone buzzed in a heartbeat pattern on the kitchen counter.

Turning it over, I watched Harry’s name pop up, hearts decorated around his name, “H,” as I had set it as on my phone.

I leaned forward, forearms resting against the cold countertops and the ripped collar of Harry’s shirt twisted between my fingers while I waited happily for the image of Harry to load up on my screen.

“Hi, Baby!” He called excitedly in all his post show sweaty glory. He had curls stuck to his forehead and his cheeks were shiny and sparkling under the yellow lighting of his hotel room.

“Hi, H. How was your show?” I laughed at his exasperation. He made it obvious that he had rushed into his room to call me, the heavy breathing he tried to muffle and the quickness of his chest giving him away.

“Amazing, baby. It’s just so crazy that it’s real, you know? They all came for me and my band! It’s always so surreal seeing sold out stadiums with people who came for my music.” He rambled, the same speech every single time. How he felt so lucky that something so grand could have happened to someone so average like him, even if he was far from average in my eyes.

Still, my cheeks hurt from smiling. Seeing him happy was the greatest happiness of all, to me.

“You know you deserve it. Worked so hard these past few years and now you get to celebrate it with the people who love you. I’m so proud of you.” Our eyes met, a comfortable silence forming while our smiles turned into shy giggles and eyes averting from each other like school children in love.

“I love playing for these people. I cant believe how lucky I am to be with them almost everyday of the week.” I nodded, not feeling the need to respond.

“So, that’s why my team and I were thinking…” He led me into it with false hope. Hope that he was going to say something about coming home to throw a party where I could remain attached to his hip and love on him as he did to me.

“We’re going to add a few more shows before we finish off the tour.” I nodded, still smiling.

“Like in between? Don’t you think that will be too many shows in a week?” I asked, blinded by my excitement to see him. Silence fell over the phone call, this one heavier and more tense.

“Well, not exactly.” He tried to start explaining. The smile hurting my cheeks slowly faded into a confused gaze, proudness and glee turning into hurt and a heart breaking realization.

“We were thinking of adding a few more shows in Asia and Italy around September time. Maybe even have another Harryween in the states!” He explained, looking at the ceiling. His hands eventuated his explanation dramatically, like always.

All I could do was stay silent, heart pounding into my ears and a lump in my throat expanding into a dull ache that only seemed to rise.

“Y/n, isn’t that great?” My face was frozen, eyes widened and looking straight into the blurry green ones on the glitchy FaceTime call.

“Y/n?” He called again, his voice sounding more concerned.

Maybe it was my lack of response, or the tears welling in my eyes. Maybe it was that he thought I was frozen and couldn’t hear him, or maybe all three. But I was stuck. Stuck between wanting to support all of his decisions, trying to do what was best for him and wanting to just be selfish for just a moment.

I wanted to scream at him not to add anymore shows. I wanted to yell at him for making me wait for him for so long. I wanted to be overly emotional until I turned into putty in my own hands. Yet, even in my own conflict, I couldn’t find it in me to say no to him.

“Yeah, that…that sounds great, Harry. Really, I’m excited for you.” He nodded, not fully convinced.

“O…okay. Y/n, are you okay, you look a little pale. Have I said something?” What haven’t you said? You’ve just told me your leaving me yet again.

Stay? Just stay? Please, I want to be loved. I just want to be loved. I want to be loved by you and only you. I want you to forget about everything and just let it be us again.

“No, no. I’m just getting tired. It’s getting late over here. I’d better get to bed. Goodnight, H.” My tone was monotone, lacking any emotional depth behind it. It was obvious everything I said was a lie, but he let himself accept it halfway.

“Okay, sleep well. Call me when you wake up, okay? I love you. Goodnight, baby.” I hung up the phone, throwing it as soon as it beeped to a silence. The rage I felt was ungodly. It was pent up, having been stuffed down like a gross mass of phlegm bubbling up, waiting to be spat out.

Suddenly, the lump in my throat expanded to a broken cry, a painful rip rippling down my body. An ache that had been dull for the past few months coming full surge at me in one painful swoop.

I just wanted to be loved, was that too much to ask for?

———————————————————————-

Part 2 will be coming 🫶

[nausicaamusiclover20]

Hello Nausicaa, hope you are doing well! Can we get 90s Lars x pro tennis player reader please? He used to play tennis when he was a kid, so he still follows all major events, and she’s so beautiful and fierce on court he gets obsessed with her? So after reader wins a major tournament, Lars asks to be introduced to her? At first she doesn’t care despite all his charm (girl, I swear, 90s Lars could talk anyone into anything) but in a few weeks she agrees on a date - she’s just tired of all the flowers and gifts he was sending. But surprisingly they hit it off?

Also, can the reader be taller than him? Looking at Connie and Jessica - it’s safe to say he likes tall women. Thank you)))

Thank you, I wish you're having a good day. I hope you like it because I'm feeling very tired today❤

Beyond the game

Tennis has always been my life. I’d dedicated everything to it—sacrificed relationships, time, and even parts of my sanity for the game. But winning a major tournament? That was supposed to be the culmination of it all. The moment where everything I’d worked for paid off.

And yet, after the tournament, all I could think about was Lars Ulrich.

It wasn’t like I’d never heard of him. I’d seen the name, heard the rumors, but I hadn’t given it much thought. He was the drummer from Metallica, a rock god, not the kind of guy I typically paid attention to.

But when he showed up at my post-match celebration, I couldn’t help but notice. He was everywhere: charming, magnetic, with that intense smile of his that probably got him whatever he wanted. He approached me with all the confidence of someone who was used to having doors opened for him.

“Hi, I’m Lars,” he said with a grin, offering a hand like we were two ordinary people meeting for the first time.

I didn’t shake it. Instead, I raised an eyebrow. “You’re Lars Ulrich, right?” I asked, trying to sound indifferent, like it didn’t matter.

“Yeah, that’s me,” he replied easily. “But I’m not just a fan. I wanted to say congratulations on the win. It was impressive.”

I nodded briefly, not really interested in the flattery. I had more important things to do than entertain some celebrity. “Thanks,” I said, turning to walk away, my coach calling me over.

Lars didn’t take the hint. Over the next couple of weeks, I found myself receiving gifts—flowers, expensive chocolates, a hand-written note almost every day. At first, I thought it was funny. But after a while, it became annoying. I didn’t need a rock star to send me things to get my attention.

But Lars didn’t stop. Every day, another gesture. He didn’t just send the usual flowers and gifts; he sent things that felt more personal, like he was trying to get to know me. He’d comment on my matches, send messages telling me how he was watching, how he admired my style of play. It was flattering, but also... exhausting.

Finally, one day, I snapped. I was tired of the flowers, tired of the constant attention, tired of it all. So, I sent him a short message: Dinner. Tomorrow night. 7 PM. My treat.

I wasn’t expecting much. Honestly, I wasn’t even sure why I agreed to it. Maybe I just wanted it to end. If he had a chance to prove himself in person, maybe he’d back off. I couldn’t keep ignoring him forever, right?

When I showed up at the restaurant, I was prepared for another round of charm and persistence. But what I found wasn’t what I expected. Lars was relaxed, easygoing, almost... normal. He wasn’t throwing compliments at me every five seconds, and he didn’t seem to be in any rush. It was a simple dinner, just two people sitting across from each other.

“So, tennis, huh?” he asked, his voice casual, his gaze warm as he watched me. “How do you do it? Make it look so effortless?”

I smirked, pushing my plate aside. “It’s not effortless. It’s hard work. It’s blood, sweat, and tears.”

“Yeah, but there’s something different about you,” he said, leaning forward just a little, eyes never leaving mine. “The way you play... It’s like you’re one with the game.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that. Most people didn’t bother trying to understand what it meant to be in the game. But Lars was different. He wasn’t just admiring the surface. He was looking deeper.

“Well, I guess I don’t really have a choice,” I said, trying to brush it off. “The game is everything.”

He chuckled, the sound light but with an edge of sincerity. “Yeah, but that’s why you’re so good at it. You’ve got something most people don’t. And I can’t help but admire that.”

I paused, looking at him for a moment. “Alright, you’re persistent. I’ll give you that.”

Lars smiled, that damn grin of his I’d seen in every magazine. But this time, it didn’t feel like he was trying to win me over with it. It felt... natural. Like he was just being himself.

We talked about other things, too. Not just tennis. We talked about music, about travel, about the weird quirks of our jobs. It wasn’t about impressing each other; it was just two people finding something in common. And, to my surprise, I found myself enjoying it.

By the end of the evening, I realized something I hadn’t expected: I was actually looking forward to seeing him again. There was something refreshing about him, something I couldn’t quite put into words. And despite all the gifts, all the persistence, he hadn’t made me feel like an object of desire. He’d made me feel... seen.

As we walked outside together, I felt his gaze on me. He leaned in for a quick kiss on my cheek, and for a moment, I didn’t pull away.

“I’ll be around,” he said, with a grin that I couldn’t ignore. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

I shook my head, but part of me was already wondering what that meant. “You’ll regret that.”

“Not in a million years,” he replied, his voice soft but certain.

I couldn’t help but smile. Maybe he wasn’t the persistent rock star I thought he was. Maybe, just maybe, there was more to Lars Ulrich than I had first assumed.

And maybe... just maybe... I was starting to see it.

[intheorangebedroom]

Hi Maddie! I hope you are having a wonderful September and you are enjoying the start of autumn. This might sound obsessed or weird, but PTMY and TYBTM are seriously some of my favorite things I've ever read... ever, like I'm putting it up there with novels I've read. It is insane to me how much talent there is in this fandom. Like the Pedro girlies are literal authors, putting out works of art. For me, you are the best of the best! Obviously, both stories have me very hot and bothered lol, but it's just the way you write intimacy and relationships, the peculiarities of your characters and the world's they inhabit so brilliantly, beautifully. I'm sure you know that at times you write like it is poetry! It is so immersive and I love it deeply. My question (apologies in advance) is about writing. I was wondering if you have any tips on (a) how you have improved as a writer, like in terms of how you've been to find your style? (b) how to overcome perfectionism? I've been wanting to take a crack at some Frankie ideas I've had, but I get so weighed down by self doubt and inertia. And also, I worry it's just not original enough. Okay, sorry for the rant! I will never be as good as you OBVIOUSLY lol, but for you I am grateful. I'm so excited for the next part of TYBTM and sad we are almost halfway to the end. I'm so excited for whatever you have in store for the future. Sending you so much love and hope you're having a great day.

Hey Nonnie 🧡

I apologise in advance for the length of this answer. 

Your kindness, your generosity and your time mean everything to me. I’m the worst at expressing gratitude when I’m paid a compliment. "Compliment" doesn't cut it to qualify what you said about my stories, it’s too much, it’s so incredibly kind. You made me so soft but also so much stronger. Thank you 🧡 My first impulse upon reading your message was to throw away my phone and scream I’VE NO IDEA WHAT THE FUCK I’M DOING but I owe it to you to at least try to answer you. Also do you need some blood? A kidney? I have two. You name it it's yours.

I would like to start with the second part of your question, if you don’t mind. 

I have never ever thought any given piece I wrote to be perfect. At best, I think it’s not that bad, but that’s when I read it again a month after posting, because at the time I post it, it’s more like omfg if I read that shit one more time I’m gonna stab myself in the eye.” 

But life is too short for perfectionism. I’m sorry to be speaking like an old fart, but it is. You blink and it’s over. If you have a milligram of creativity in you, do not hesitate. Channel it. Create what you want, what you like. I’m serious. DO IT. Enjoy doing it. 

Self-doubt is a fucking bag of dicks. I’m riddled with it. In every corner of my existence. Every step of the way. Every word I type (not in my mother tongue…). How many times have I wanted to give up, especially during PTMY. The current tybtm chapter has fucking killed me dead. I hate it. It’s not good. Bad. But I’m forty fucking five years old and I’ll be damned if I let self-doubt and fear prevent me from achieving what I set out to do.

When I came back to tumblr in 2020, I saw numerous posts saying “you write for yourself first,” and I did not really understand what they meant. It’s nice to have an audience! It’s nice to be liked and validated! It’s nice to connect with people over something you’ve created. Musicians play live, and get a hell of a kick out of it, right? Why not us, writers? And one day, I think at the beginning of tybtm, it hit me. I understood. Fuck yeah I’m doing this for me. Because I need it. I need to tell this story. I need the satisfaction of having done it. The entire process makes me both incandescently happy and abysmally miserable, and you know what? That’s the fucking spice of life. I want both. I am alive when I write. Through the pleasure and the pain. So if you need it too, well, go for it. Don't let anyone, including you, tell you you're not good enough. Got for it.

There are 99% of chances that what you’re gonna write has already been written. So what? It hasn’t been written by you. No one sees people, life, or Frankie the way you do. Even if you write an age-old trope, even if you write the same trope over and over again in every story (me!), you’ll still bring your own precious singularity to the story, the characters, and the narration. That’s worth EVERYTHING. Please trust me. Maybe no one will like it. Maybe every one will like it. Whatever. At the end of the day, you still did what you set your heart on. I cannot stress enough how important this is. Carpe diem, baby.

Then, how did I improve as a writer, oh Nonnie, I’ve no idea. I don’t think I’m any good. I don’t think I am legitimate to give you any advice. 49.5% of the time, I think I’m too much (too gothic, too lyrical, too big with the feelings and emotions). 49.5% of the time, I think I’m not enough (not precise, concise, clear, good enough). But alright, I’ll try. For you. But please bear in mind I say all this in the most humble spirit.  

I write. All the time. In my head, in the shower, walking in the street, driving, aaaaaall the time. And then I type it down in a doc. And edit it and revise it again and again and again, until it feels smoother and/or I want to puke at the thought of having to go through it again. 

I try to take my time without panicking. If I’m stuck or in a bad mental place, I try to let it rest a bit.

My first year at uni, I studied screenplay writing. I would be unable to tell you precisely what I learned, but I think some of it is ingrained? In terms of conveying intentions through actions and dialogues (I know I tend to write pages and pages of introspection, and I swear I try to restrain myself, even if it doesn’t always translate to the doc).

Then, I’m an art vampire. I soak up everything I can, especially painting, music, and movies. I let it inspire me. I take notes on my feelings, fleeting emotions that I can’t articulate at first, and reflect and work on them until they become fully formed ideas I can inject in the writing. 

I read. A lot. And sometimes not at all when it feeds the self-doubt (comparison, you bitch!). I wait until I feel better, stronger. It may take time. 

With books/fanfics and movies, I analyse the narrative process employed. What I liked or disliked, what moved me, what didn’t. I take notes. To that effect, you can read reblogs of your favourite fics! Sometimes people reblog with some pretty neat analyses, just soak it up!

My obsession is finding the Right Word. I can spend days on the quest. A thesaurus helps. And sometimes it doesn’t. I also read my stuff out loud, because I like when it has a certain rhythm. And when the meaning of a sentence doesn’t work in a rhythm, I rework it tirelessly until it does. Fun times... 

I want to say that if you take the leap and start writing, after a while, you will feel instinctually what works for you. What feels right in terms of personal style. Maybe at the beginning you'll subconsciously write like someone else, but with practice and patience, your style will come out. If you need someone to cheer you on, I'm here.

Oh yeah because, very important, I whine to the very good angel friends in my phone whenever I’m stuck (they will recognise themselves if they read this)(okay they are @dreamymyrrh and @pedrit0-pascalit0). I forfeit all dignity and beg them for virtual hugs. I don't know what I did to deserve them.

And lastly, I have been privileged to witness the genius of Kelli ( @frannyzooey ) in the works and wow. She's it for me. Everything she writes resonates with me, so I just soak. it. up.  

So yeah. to sum it up: carpe diem and be a vampire 🦇

Hope that helps 🧡

I’m also gonna leave that here: 

Claire ( @just-here-for-the-moment ) is one of the best people I’ve been fortunate enough to meet here. She’s patient, sweet, kind, and SO FUCKING SMART. Don't be afraid to reach out.

Nonnie, again, I'm so sorry this is so long. I sincerely hope you'll find something useful in all this gibberish. If not, come back to my ask box with any question. And again, thank you 🧡 From the bottom of my broken vampire heart, thank you 🧡

[brokentoys]

is it me or .... are people just more reluctant to follow blogs now? or maybe the RPC is just not as big as it once was and it feels that way? now, i'm not saying this is a bad thing -- after all, ppl are def free to have their boundaries and choose to write with whoever. but... i am noticing it's way harder to new blogs o' mine to gain traction. like i have blogs that practically "fail" just because nobody rly wants to interact with 'em or follow me back. HELL, when i started this blog, it actually took 3 months before i started getting new followers. for those 3 months, i only wrote with like 3 other ppl and those were friends or followers of my prev blog. and it's not a reaching out prob because like, i ACTUALLY did follow others and either never got any follow backs, or got a declined message (which that's fine too) and now this blog has a fairly good amount of followers.

but like i've had blogs that i've given up on or practically gave up on BECAUSE i have barely anyone to write with. usually it's my more niche muses with no rp scene. but like why i think this must be a new thing is because i was actually looking through my old RP graphics and i found some from a blog that was around 2016. it was another niche muse from a very old show (liek 1960s) and liek that fandom ALSO had no rp scene yet i had a "follow forever" graphic for reaching 200 followers???? that was so long ago that i don't remember much on that blog, but to see i had that many followers is just surprising. that's liek half the followers i have here.

and it just makes me wonder if people have just become more reluctant? more reluctant to follow and more reluctant to get out of "comfort zones" and write with characters they're not as familiar with? which again! is ok. if somebody wants to keep writing with characters they know, that's fine. but it does get a lil disappointing when you have ideas and they virtually go nowhere due to disinterest. it also just makes me wonder why things seem to have changed. is it due to how toxic the rpc became? is it bc the rpc in general is less active? is it because ppl just decide to stick to familiar canons / ocs 'cos that's more fun to them? hmm.

i guess to end this on a final note is that... personally, i care about muses but i don't care about them at the same time. like the whole reason i LOVE RPing and why i did it in the first place isn't to write with certain characters, it's to place my silly blorbos into situations -- it doesn't matter WHAT situation it is. it doesn't matter if we're doing "tails gets trolled" style rps and crossovers. my goal is to have batshit insane fun with other people. that's why i do follow muses from canons i've never heard of. it's also why i struggle to fill in interest checkers or when a mutli asks "what muse do you wanna write with?" because frankly? i'd be happy to write with ANY muse. like you can throw any muse at me, and i'm happy. oc? canon? niche canon? unfamiliar canon? i want it all.

[honeyhotteoks]

in the spirit of the writers' game (except its not actually a question so no presh) do you have any tips on getting integrated into fandom community? i have like 12 bajillion fic ideas bumping around in my head that i wanna gab to someone about but i dont know how i'd like.. get someone's attention without it being.. weird? or like manufactured... i'm reticent to post because so much attention spooks me Out of writing which is like, not the end goal lol

tldr how do i make friends please and thanks but in the least pathetic way possible

this is a great question!! i'll be honest with you, i'm not sure if i'm the best person to answer this, but i'll do my best.

for some context, i'm actually very introverted. i really struggle to make friends both online and in real life. while most of my meaningful friendships are fandom based, typically it's because a pretty extroverted person snapped me up and then i got comfy talking, not really from me doing the outreach first.

when it comes to writing and a writing community, i'm also pretty insulated. i would love to be friends with some of my favorite writers on here too, but honestly i just can never bring myself to reach out, and my adhd is really intense so i tend to miss messages/notifications/engagement when other people reach out to me.

all of that being said, if you're interested in creating a writing space for yourself in this fandom, i do have some advice, and maybe you'll be better at grabbing onto the potential friendships that do come from that, which is the part i struggle with.

to start, i'd recommend becoming an active participant in the reading community if you aren't already. i'd create a fandom blog for yourself here and/or on twitter and use that to just start engaging with fic you like - reblog stuff and add fun tags, compliment the authors you're loving, drop messages off anon from that account if that's something you're comfortable doing. just start getting your username and your pfp on people's pages more and more. (this is one of those reasons i'll never change my username or my pfp btw, people know this as me and they've known that for a long time so in a small way it's kind of my writer's brand)

then think about what you're writing or want to write. is it big multichaptered work? smutty oneshots? romantic imagines? list-style stuff / scenario stuff like "hyung line headcanons" etc? figure out what you feel compelled to write, not just ideas, and start to write them. write them for yourself even if they're "bad" or unpolished and just enjoy that process a little bit while you're engaging as a reader / casually making fandom connections.

once you feel like you might have ideas to share, i think it's completely fine to make a post asking if anyone would want to beta read or if anyone else would want to talk about fics/headcanons etc. if you really want someone to connect with before you ever post your fic, i think this is the best way. i personally don't love messages asking me if i would be willing to read or edit someone's fic because to be honest that's a huge undertaking and i always find i'm too critical / take it too seriously. i also think when it's done this way it kind of makes the relationship a little awkward overall.... some people might be okay with it and i might be overthinking it, but that's just how i feel in general. BUT if you find people by asking the community and people are reaching out to you, that's completely different imo and i've done that in the past in other fandoms.

then once you're ready to throw a hail mary and post something, whether it's beta read or not, i'd recommend taking some time to do the following:

consider the look of your post and the aesthetic. people are so much more likely to click on it if it's formatted well and has some kind of a header image. go look at what other people do, what you like, and what you want your fic 'look' to be.

edit, and edit again. i know it's exciting to want to post asap, but if you're nervous, read it again. in my opinion, fic that you post should be fic that you want to read. if you're struggling to read your own work because something is a little clunky or you find yourself skimming it...... someone else might feel the same

post it at the right time. you don't need to be a marketing major and try to like drive engagement, but if you post it at 3am on a sunday i promise you people will miss it, and then you'll be struggling with the feeling of why did no one like my fic that i spent hours on etc.

your first fics aren't going to get much attention. that is totally okay! keep going, keep trying, and over time you will find your audience.

reblog reblogs.... if you get a reblog of someone adding tons of tags / fun comments / a review of your work etc., reblog their reblog and thank them! answer questions! engage! opening that door in this way as a writer will help build a little community of your own.

i would say that over the last three years here i've gained a little community of my own. i have consistent readers, anons and mutuals i recognize, people that i look forward to engaging with every time i post something even if they don't realize it. that means SO much to me as a writer, but truly it took a long time to create that space for myself here. admittedly though, even with that being true, i really struggle with connection but that might not be apparent to people just following my blog. i guess this is all to say, comparison is the thief of joy. as you start to create your own space here, reader or writer, don't spend time looking at other people and other blogs and wishing you could have xyz too. focus on what you truly want, what makes you happy, and do it for the love of writing. the rest will surely follow in time. 💛

[lemoncrushh]

Too Far From Texas | Chapter Six

STORY PAGE

Word Count: 5716

Since I didn’t have to be back home until 2:30 when Jasmine got home from school, Lorelei and I slept in and ordered room service for breakfast before heading out on the road. We’d received a group text from our agent Kris, informing us that we’d nearly doubled the sales from the Houston book signing, and she was eager to book us for a longer tour, possibly starting with Dallas, but she’d let us know the details before the end of the day on Friday. I reminded her that if at all possible, I’d rather not start until Wednesday since Tuesday was Halloween and I wanted to be with my kids. She said she understood and would do all she could.

When I arrived home, I quickly unpacked and dropped a load of laundry in the washer to get it out of the way. Then I made a cup of coffee and sat on the sofa with my phone. I hadn’t talked to Harry since the texts the night before, and I was anticipating at least one new one or perhaps a voicemail, but I was a little disappointed when I found nothing.

Deciding it was still early, I sent him a short message saying I hoped he was having a good day. Then I texted Tod to ask how Jasmine’s doctor’s appointment had gone. I was relieved when he said it went fine, just an increase in pill dosage, and that she’d been smiling that morning when she left on the school bus.

The girls were both happy to see me when they got home that afternoon, and we all sat in front of the TV and ate ice cream and watched SpongeBob before they both retreated to their rooms while I prepared dinner.

I wasn’t sure why, but I found myself checking my phone every ten minutes, hoping to see Harry’s name pop up. I laughed at myself and shook my head. I was being ridiculous. It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours and already I was expecting some sort of reassurance. So, I’d had the nightmare, big deal. He didn’t know anything about it for one thing, and he definitely didn’t know how it had thrown me for a loop. Plus, he was busy. In fact, I didn’t even know exactly where he was - if he was still in Chicago or had left already for another city.

After dinner I was trying to distract myself by watching a sitcom when I heard my phone ping on the table. Lorelei.

Hey look at your boy.

Underneath was a link to an online article titled Boy Band Star Goes Solo. I rolled my eyes at the term but tapped on the link anyway, muting the TV and sitting back to read it. The subtitle was more encouraging: Former One Direction Singer Harry Styles Creates the Album the World Has All Been Waiting For.

Duh! Of course! The album was coming out the next day. I was an idiot; I’d completely forgotten about the release date. I’d already spent nearly two weeks enjoying the album in private. Now the rest of the word was going to hear it.

That was why I hadn’t heard from him. Of course he would have been busy all day.

Rolling my eyes once again, but this time at myself for being such a dimwit, I read the positive article. By the end, my cheeks hurt from smiling so much. It was a rave review. I was so incredibly proud.

I was about to reply to Lorelei when I noticed at the bottom of the page was a link to something else about Harry. Clicking on it, I saw a collage of photos, all from various stages of his career. The young photos made me giggle, the more recent ones made me swoon. Goodness, he was a looker.

The bottom of that page, however, took me to something I immediately wished I hadn’t seen.

Harry Styles in Chicago with New Girlfriend? read the caption. Girlfriend?

I inspected the handful of photos. To anyone it would look as though he was out shopping. He was standing by a counter, he was outside on the sidewalk, he was laughing. Nothing out of the ordinary. But it was the final word that made my stomach flip. In all of the photos, he was standing next to a female. I couldn’t see much more than her profile, but she was definitely pretty. And in the final photo, they were embracing.

I wanted to throw up. Not just because I was jealous, but because I felt like I was far too old to be. Jealousy was for young, insecure girls, not grown women.

Deciding I’d seen enough, I tossed my phone on the sofa and walked down the hall to get the girls ready for bed. Emery automatically pressed play on the CD player, Harry’s voice booming through the speakers. My jaw set, I walked over to it and pressed stop.

“Mommy!” whined Emery.

“No music tonight, Em,” I shook my head. “I don’t feel that great. Just go get your shower, okay?”

“Okay,” she frowned, heading for the bathroom.

As Emery showered, I helped Jasmine change into her pajamas, gave her a drink of water with her medicine, and tucked her into bed. When I turned out the light, Emery had returned to her room, her hair still wet as she danced naked to no music. She giggled when she saw me, quickly pulling her pajamas from her drawer. I towel dried her hair the best I could before she brushed it and climbed into her bed.

“Tomorrow’s Friday,” she sang as she held her arms out for me to hug her.

“I know,” I kissed her.

“Are we going to look for a costume again?”

“Yes,” I nodded.

Emery cheered, pumping her fists.

“Did you see Harry?” she asked.

I looked at her, confused. “When?”

“When you were away.”

“No, baby,” I replied. “I was in San Antonio. Harry’s in...Chicago. Or he was.”

“Oh.”

I smiled as I recalled. “I did talk to him on FaceTime though.”

“You did? I wanna FaceTime him! Can I?”

I chuckled. “We’ll see. Get to sleep, monkey.”

Giving her another kiss, I turned out the light and shut the door, returning to the living room. With slight hesitation, I picked up my phone again. Lorelei had sent another text.

Did you read it?

I hastily texted her back.

Yes. It was great.

I thought so too. I feel proud of him, even though I don’t really know him.

I sent her a simple smiling emoji.

Tell him congratulations from me.

Ok.

You ok?

Lorelei knew me too well. She knew that my short replies could only mean I was not in the best of moods.

Yeah, just tired. I think I’m turning in early.

Ok. See you in the morning.

With a sigh, I switched off the TV that was now showing an old episode of Everybody Loves Raymond and turned out the lights as I headed toward my bedroom. I changed into my night clothes, washed my face and brushed my teeth vigilantly before pulling back the comforter.

When I climbed into bed, the cool of the sheets hitting my toes, I breathed in and out slowly. My stomach was in knots. And the thing about it was, I was more upset with myself than anything. I knew better than to think the worst of Harry, but even so, we had yet to put a label on our relationship.

I laughed at myself again. Relationship. Harry and I flirted on the phone. That was it.

Still, curiosity getting the better of me, I reached for my phone and brought up the page again with the photos. He was most definitely in Chicago in them. In fact, he was at Macy’s at the FAO Schwarz toy store. That seemed like an odd place for him to be.

I took a closer look at each photo, as though looking harder would make me feel any less anxious. He seemed as though he was having a good time. But other than the final photo where he and the girl were hugging, they didn’t make any physical contact at all.

I huffed, turning the ringer off and dropping the phone back on the night stand. It could have been anyone. A friend. They could have even just run into each other while he was out and about. It didn’t mean anything.

Rolling over onto my side, I switched off the lamp and buried my hands underneath my pillow. I made myself promise not to jump to conclusions, that I needed to give him the benefit of the doubt. There was no reason to assume anything until I could hear him out.

I just wished he’d call.

The next morning, I made my coffee before I got Jasmine up for school. My fingers itched to reach for my phone, but I made myself wait until later. After Jaz left, I took a shower and woke Emery. As I was getting dressed, I finally decided to check for any messages. My stomach flipped again when I saw I had a voicemail from Harry.

“Hi baby. Sorry I didn’t get a chance to call you before now. I’m in LA. It’s 10PM here, which makes it midnight where you are. I reckoned you’d be asleep, but I just wanted to leave you a message. You should be receiving a box from the post sometime tomorrow...or today I should say. It’s for Emery, but it’s a surprise so don’t tell her it’s from me until she opens it, okay? I um...I miss you...and um…”

I heard a slight pause then as he sounded like he was trying to gather his thoughts.

“I...I’ll try to text you or something tomorrow, but it’s gonna be a fucking...wicked busy day…” he chuckled. “So if I don’t, please know I’m still thinking about you. Always. Goodnight, love.”

I was a moron. Here I was worried that he had some other girlfriend while he was getting ready for the biggest day of his career. And to top it off, he was sending my daughter a package. Yeah, somebody shoot me and put me out of my misery because first class moron right here.

“It has to be a friend of his,” Lorelei insisted as she scrolled through the photos of Harry that I’d told her about. “Or maybe someone in the industry. His manager or producer or something.”

“I would think if it was someone like that, the press would have known her name,” I remarked. “But you’re right. It’s probably a friend. Maybe someone he happened to run into while he was in Chicago.”

“Exactly, hon,” Lorelei nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “And by what you told me he said in his voicemail, I don’t think you have a thing to worry about.”

“You’re right, you’re right,” I threw my hands up and sunk into my chair. “I knew that, I guess I just needed to hear it from someone else.”

Lorelei smiled as she perched on my desk like usual. “So have you read any more reviews?”

“I haven’t had a chance yet,” I replied, “but I noticed he’s already number one on iTunes and he’s trending on Twitter.”

“Of course he is. I think he has the record for the most followers or likes or something.”

I quirked a brow. “How do you know that?”

Lorelei rose from my desk, a smug look on her face. “I know things.”

I laughed as she strode out of my office, flipping her blonde locks.

I took the opportunity then to download the album from iTunes. Although I’d already been listening to the CD in my car, I felt like contributing and showing my support was the least I could do. As Harry’s voice sang through my computer speakers, I began pulling up any review or mention of him I could find, reading all of it. Every single article gave him praise.

“Don’t be expecting the sugary bubblegum pop of 'What Makes You Beautiful'. The One Direction singer has grown up, maturing into a solid musician in his own right.”

“If any pop singer was thought to do well this year, it was Harry Styles. And he’s proven it with his solo album. Giving nods to some of his musical influences, it’s a taste of the old and current, dipped in something completely new and his own.”

“The world didn’t know what hit it when Harry Styles graced the silver screen in his first major motion picture. Now he’s done it again with his first solo album, proving that this is his world and the rest of us are just living in it.”

By the time the last track started, I was giddy. I was in heaven, my eyes glistening with tears. I was so happy that everyone was enjoying the album as much as I was. I was so incredibly proud. I wanted to hug him.

After Lorelei and I returned from lunch, we were on a conference call with Kris, setting up our plans for what she referred to as the official book tour for The Loving Kind.

“So here’s the idea,” stated Kris. “I know I said we’d probably do Dallas, and we will. But I’ve rearranged some things that I think would suit better. Instead of starting with Dallas, we’re actually gonna do it last.”

“Last?” I inquired. I loved how Kris always talked about Lorelei and me in terms of “we”. As though she’d be going too.

“Yes. We’re gonna start in New York.”

“Yay!” cheered Lorelei as my jaw dropped. I hadn’t realized we’d be venturing out that far.

“Why New York?”

“Because it’s The place to launch a bestseller. And besides, your story’s set there. I’ve already booked you for the Barnes and Noble at Union Square for the third, and…”

“The third?” I sounded. “That’s next Friday.”

“Yes ma’am,” said Kris. “You’ll be flying out on Wednesday afternoon. You arrive in New York at 10:55PM.”

I looked at Lorelei and we both shrugged. Alright then.

Kris continued to give us our travel plans, the itinerary and hotel reservations. Then she went on to tell us the list of cities we’d be visiting after New York: Chicago, Nashville and Dallas. When we hung up the call, my head was spinning. This was really happening. Lorelei and I were actually going on a book tour.

“Look!” exclaimed Lorelei a couple hours later as I made my way to my desk after a bathroom break. She was holding up her phone, but I couldn’t quite make what she was showing me until I got closer. It was a tweet from The Late Late Show with James Corden.

“Tonight: @Harry_Styles and @kevinhart4real.” Underneath was a selfie of the two of them with James.

“Oh my God!” I shrieked, a little too loudly.

Lorelei giggled as she danced beside me. “Your boyfriend’s gonna be on the Late Late Show.”

“Stop it,” I chuckled, lightly slapping her arm.

“Look at him, he looks so cute!” she said, holding up her phone again.

I took a closer look at the picture, but mostly taken back by how green his eyes looked. I must have been staring for a few seconds when I heard Lor whisper.

“You miss him, don’t you?”

I glared at her. “I…”

I stood there with my mouth open, but no words came out. Lorelei blinked slowly as she nodded. Then she turned around to head back to her office.

“I...I just talked to him the other day!” I finally called out.

“Uh huh.”

“He just texted me last night!” I argued, catching up with her.

“I know,” Lorelei nodded again, gathering a few papers from her desk.

“How can I miss him already?”

“It’s okay, Stace, you’re allowed to miss him.”

“Lor!”

She turned to look at me, her right eyebrow raised.

“Are you gonna shut the door, or are you just gonna stand there yelling at me?”

Finally realizing I was standing inside her office, I turned around and closed the door behind me. I heard Lorelei chuckle low as her heels clicked across the hard floor. I twirled around swiftly, my hands on my hips.

“What are you laughing at?” I scoffed, the writer in me knowing better than to end a sentence with a preposition.

“You,” she replied. “No, I’m not laughing at you. I just think it’s adorable.”

“It’s not adorable,” I narrowed my eyes. “None of this is adorable.”

“Then what is it?” she asked, stopping at the end of her desk to drop a couple papers in the shredder.

“It’s…” I paused, trying to find the best term. “Unfortunate.”

“How so?” Lor sat in her chair, crossing her arms.

“Because...he’s in LA...and I’m here. And he’s super busy and super famous and...and I don’t know if I’m ever going to see him again. Oh God!” I groaned as I leaned against the door.

“Stace,” said Lorelei softly, “It’s okay to miss him. I told you, I don’t think it’s silly. He likes you, I know he does. He wouldn’t be texting you and FaceTiming you and sending you flowers and buying you coffee if he didn’t. If I’m being honest, I think he’s as smitten as you are, maybe even more.”

I ran a hand through my hair and stood up straight. “Yeah?”

“Mmm hmm,” she nodded. “And if it’s in the cards, when the time is right, you’ll see each other again.”

I smiled, releasing a huge breath. “Thanks, Lor.”

“Anytime,” she beamed. “Now let me finish this before the hour’s up.”

I retreated back to my own office then, starting Harry’s album over again, admittedly missing him like crazy.

“Can I open it now?” Emery asked, bouncing in her chair.

“Yes,” I rolled my eyes with a smirk.

The package had arrived while we were eating dinner, but I’d told Emery to wait until we were finished, and afterwards we would go shopping for her Halloween costume. She giggled with glee as she grabbed the box and tried to rip it open.

“Hang on, Em,” I instructed, walking over to her with the scissors. I slit open the tape, allowing her to open the box the rest of the way.

“Oh! My! God!” she screamed when she saw what was inside. “I don’t believe it! It’s a Lapis Lazuli costume!”

My eyes about popped out of their sockets. “Are you kidding me?”

“Look!” Emery exclaimed, pulling a blue dress from the box and holding it up. “Oh my gosh, there’s wings!”

Dropping the dress, she reached in again and held out a set of clear wings that to me almost looked like dripping water. I’d never seen anything like it.

“Wow!” I breathed, picking the dress off the floor and examining it. “I can’t believe he did this.”

“And a wig!” screeched Emery. I chuckled when she pulled out a bright blue wig from the box. “Can I try it on, Mommy?”

“Of course,” I nodded.

In two seconds, Emery had her clothes off, ready to try on the dress. I helped her with the zipper in the back and attached her wings. I smiled as she twirled around. It fit perfectly. Then I went to the bathroom, returning with a hair tie and pins so I could pin her hair back for the wig. The blue hair made her eyes pop.

“You make a beautiful blue crayon,” I teased.

“It’s Lapis Lazuli!” she enunciated every syllable.

“Oh, okay then,” I smirked. “You look fantastic. Do you like it?”

“Yes!” she bounced on her toes.

“We need to thank Harry.”

“Yeah! Let’s FaceTime him!”

I laughed and shook my head. “He’s very busy today, monkey. He probably can’t talk right now. But how about we make a video and send it to him?”

“Okay!”

I grabbed my phone, preparing it for the video. I instructed Emery where to stand and to be sure to tell him thank you.

“Hi, Harry!” she beamed, shifting her body from side to side. “Thank you for the Lapis Lazuli costume you sent me! I love it sooooo much. And I love you!”

As she said her final words, she jumped up and down, then ran closer to the phone to pucker her lips and blow Harry a kiss. I tried my best not to giggle until I stopped the video. Setting up a text for Harry, I typed a quick message saying that it was from Emery, then added the video and sent it. Then I gently helped her take the costume off and put it back in the box where it would wait until Halloween.

I stayed up to watch The Late Late Show. I was exhausted, and I knew I very easily could have set the DVR, but I wanted to watch it when it aired.

My heart fluttered in my chest when James announced Harry’s name, and the door to “the blue room” opened. He looked amazing. I could barely take in what he was saying to James as the audience cheered. Or maybe it was the cheering coming from my own head. Either way, I was ecstatic to see him, and so was everyone else.

The interview was both comical and insightful. James, having known Harry for quite some time, was very candid with him, but also knew what questions to ask about his album and solo career. It was apparent that he was just as proud of him as I was. Kevin Hart, who sat next to Harry, made me laugh so hard I was crying. Overall, it was a fantastic show.

Then came the performance. Although I knew there wasn’t another musical guest, and James had made it a point to mention that Harry would be performing his new single for the first time on television, in my mind I suppose I was still trying to grasp the reality of it. It wasn’t until they came back from commercial break and James introduced him once again, that I finally knew it was happening for real.

I was on the edge of my seat, my hands rubbing their sweat off on the knees of my pajama pants. I sucked in my lips as he began to sing, my own nerves for him taking over. But he didn’t seem nervous in the least. In fact, by the time the chorus kicked in, I knew he was in his element, and he actually made me feel at ease. Soon I was singing along with him, a huge grin on my face as I bounced gently on the couch.

When the song was over, James returned, giving Harry a hug and a goodbye to his studio and television audiences. As the credits rolled, I watched the people cheer and clap as Reggie and his band played the outro. But the best part of all was the charismatic smile on Harry’s face as he conversed with James. He exuded pure joy and pride. And I felt myself slipping further into whatever it was I had already started to feel for him.

I couldn’t sleep. Although I’d been tired before the show, my brain was buzzing afterwards. I laid in the darkness until I decided the point was moot and I turned on my phone. I scrolled through a few more articles about Harry, including one about that night’s performance, again all positive. The world adored Harry.

I wondered what he was doing. My fingers itched to text him, but I knew it would just go unnoticed, at least for now. As I read one more short snippet, my phone pinged and my face lit up. Harry.

Tell Emery she is very welcome. And she makes a beautiful Lapis Lazuli.

Thanks :) Will do.

Two seconds after I sent my reply, my phone rang and my heart beat out of my chest.

“Hi!” I answered.

“You’re awake,” he said. I could hear noises in the background.

“Couldn’t sleep,” I replied. “Exciting day.”

“Oh yeah? What happened? I mean besides the costume of course.”

I laughed. “You, silly.”

“Me?”

“I’m so proud of you.”

Harry made that little contented sound he’d made during our first major phone conversation. “Thank you, baby.”

“So how does the world’s biggest star end his biggest day?” I asked him.

“I um...I’m at a party. A small party. At Jeff’s.

“Oh.” I knew who Jeff was only by reading. He was Harry’s manager as well as a close friend. “That sounds fun.”

“Yeah. I walked outside to watch Emery’s video. I’m glad she likes it.”

“She’s ecstatic. I can’t thank you enough, Harry. You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s no problem, love. I was happy to do it. Although I have to thank my friend Jen for helping me.”

“Jen?”

“She’s Cindy’s cousin. Cindy Crawford?”

I stuttered, trying to get my words out. Who? What?

Harry chuckled. “Cindy’s a good friend of mine. Her cousin Jen was in Chicago while I was there. I ran into her at the toy store when I was hoping maybe I could find the costume.”

“Oh,” I sounded, the pieces connecting in my mind. “Jen.”

“She was there with her little girl,” Harry continued. “I couldn’t find the costume and she suggested I contact a specialty store that she’d bought from before. They didn’t have any in stock, so I had to have it ordered and sent to you.”

I sighed a shaky breath. Once again, first class moron.

“Harry,” I managed to say.

“Yes, love?”

“You’re something special.”

“Hmm. So are you.”

I swallowed hard. There was so much more I wanted to say. Like how he deserved everything that came to him, and then some. Sure, he was talented and worked hard. But he was also a kind soul. Someone who was willing to go out of his way for someone he cared about, or even someone he hardly knew. I’d never met anyone like him in my life. And if I thought about it too much, it might’ve overwhelmed me. Instead, I cleared my throat.

“I’ll let you get back to your party.”

“Okay, baby,” he said softly. “Sleep well.”

I hung up, laying my phone on the night stand. I curled up on my side with a contented smile on my face. I hadn’t told Harry about New York and the book tour. Today wasn’t about that, or me at all. It was his day. And all was right with the world.

The next two days flew by. I did my grocery shopping on Saturday with the girls, although I didn’t buy that much since I would be leaving in a few days. I was still on a high from the previous day, and the fact that I didn’t hear from Harry at all didn’t even bother me. It just meant he was busy, as he should be, and it made my heart swell.

My mother came over for Sunday dinner, a tradition we’d begun after the divorce for the weekends in which I had the kids. I made a roast with potatoes and carrots, she provided a squash casserole and a pecan pie.

As we ate, she made her usual discussion about her until it shifted to me. I informed her that I would be heading to New York in a couple of days for the book signing and that Jasmine and Emery would be staying with Tod. Although she didn’t care for that, she knew it was for the best.

“You know you can work it out with him if you wanna take them for the weekend or something,” I said.

She made a face. “We’ll see.”

We then got on the subject of Halloween, and I cringed when Emery jumped up and told my mom she wanted to show her her costume. As she ran to her room, my mother looked at me.

“So, you found something?”

“Kind of…” I started, interrupted by Emery’s return.

“Look!” she exclaimed, dropping the box next to my mother’s feet. She pulled out the dress and wings. “I’m gonna be Lapis Lazuli!”

“Do huh?” my mom asked, making Emery giggle.

“It’s a character from Steven Universe!”

“That’s pretty,” my mother smiled. “I bet that looks great on you.”

I held in my breath as Emery, bless her heart, nodded and dropped the costume back in the box and ran back to her bedroom with it.

“What time’s your flight Wednesday?” my mom inquired, changing the subject.

Any other time, that would have drove me up the wall. But this time I was grateful. If Emery had spilled the beans about Harry, we would have gone into a round of twenty questions. I just wasn’t ready to divulge any information on Harry Styles, how I knew him, and why he had sent my nine-year-old a Halloween costume.

Later that evening, however, while the two of us were playing cards at my kitchen table, Harry texted me.

Just wanted to say I miss you x

I miss you too, I texted him back with a grin.

What are you doing?

Playing gin rummy with my mother

Oh, hi mum!

I giggled, resting my chin in my hand as I tried to concentrate on my cards in the other.

“Stacey,” my mom scoffed, “that’s rude.”

“What?” I furrowed my brows.

“Texting someone while I’m here.”

I rolled my eyes. Whatever.

Are you winning?

Yes

Good. Can I call you tonight?

You can call me anytime, Harry.

Even with your mum there?

She’s leaving soon. Probably about an hour.

“Stacey, do you want that card?”

“No,” I shook my head and drew a new card from the pile.

She’d love me anyway.

I laughed again.

I have no doubt. Even though she’s giving me the evil eye right now.

Oops. Off to my last interview of the day. Call you later.

Can’t wait.

My mom ended up staying until it was time to put the girls to bed, but fortunately Harry didn’t call before then. She requested that I call her when I arrived in New York, but I reminded her that my flight got in late, an hour later than Texas, and she would be asleep. She settled on my agreeing to text her when I landed, and she would call me the next morning.

I’d already changed into my pajamas, brushed my teeth, and was rummaging through my closet when my ringtone sounded.

“Hey you,” I said, quickly putting him on speaker so I could have my hands free.

“God, it’s good to hear your voice,” he groaned.

I smiled. “You just heard it two days ago.”

“Are you in bed?” he asked, sidestepping my remark, but also adding to the fire.

“No,” I chuckled. “I’m going through my closet, trying to decide what to pack.”

“Pack for what?”

“Well, Mr. Styles, on Wednesday yours truly and her best friend will be embarking on an adventure. We’re officially doing this book tour thing.”

“Ah, baby, I’m so happy for you. Where are you going?” he inquired.

“We’re starting off in New York City. Then we’re doing Chicago, Nashville and Dallas.”

“Stacey…”

“I’m so nervous and excited at the same time,” I expressed.

“You’ll be in New York on Wednesday?” Harry asked.

“Yeah. Well, late that night. Is New York cold the first of November? It probably is, huh? I should pack a coat.”

“Stacey. Baby…”

“Yes?”

“I’ll be in New York this week,” he announced.

My throat suddenly felt dry and the blood rushed to my head. “What?”

“Yeah,” Harry chuckled. “I’m recording Ellen’s show in the morning. It’s gonna be airing on Tuesday, but by then I’ll be in New York. I’ll be there until Saturday.”

“Harry!” I exclaimed.

“It’s fate, baby,” he said.

“Oh my God,” I clutched a fist to my chest.

“I mean...I’m assuming you wanna see me,” he teased.

“Are you kidding?” I squealed, making Harry laugh.

“What time’s your flight?” he asked.

“Late,” I replied. “It doesn’t get in til almost eleven.”

“Oh. Well, we’ll work it out. No worries. I’m not about to miss seeing you.”

“I can’t believe this,” I sighed, dropping my shoes on the closet floor and crawling onto the bed. The packing was suddenly unimportant.

“It’s meant to be, Stacey,” said Harry, his voice low.

“Yeah.”

Lying down on the pillow, I listened to Harry tell me some of his schedule for the week. It was all so thrilling, and I continued to be full of pride for him, though I couldn’t help but wonder how I could fit into all of it. But he reassured me by expressing his excitement of seeing me again, as though I was top priority.

We talked into the night until he finally insisted I get some sleep. My thoughts were too much of a whirlwind to fall asleep though. I was going to see Harry again. In person. In the flesh! Holy shit, was I nervous. I was more nervous than I was that night he came to my apartment. I was more nervous than I was before either of my previous book signings. I tossed and turned for over an hour until I finally got up to make some decaf herbal tea.

As I sat at my kitchen table, my head rested in my hands, it finally occurred to me why I was so nervous. It was because of something Harry had said on the phone.

“I plan on seeing you again,” he’d said. “And I plan on taking you out. And I’m gonna kiss you again.”

My body shook as I let out a breath. He’d also made a comment about his hotel bed being lonely, and he’d wished he was holding me. I knew what that implied. I wasn’t naive. But I suppose at the time I hadn’t expected to see him again, not really. Sure, I’d hoped, but I guess I just didn’t think it was actually going to happen. Now it was going to. I was going to be with him and…

Yeah. I was nervous as hell.

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[ceiling-karasu]

I had a dream about one of the OCs I made a while ago (also murder mystery theater).

I know back in March I was discussing different AUs and OCs I could use for future projects, and I had a few issues with one that made me think I should axe that project, so I kind of put them on the wayside. (And hey, since we have been talking about neglecting certain OCs...)

My first problem was that I had four (fifth route scientist path absolutely not) different directions the AU hedgehog could go, but each way would require the OC to have a different personality and backstory. I wound up calling them Omelas, Yossarian (like Catch-22), POW, and Victorian mystery illness as placeholder names. Actual names would come much later. The other issue is that I later found out someone else had some similar ideas, but the ideas for each are different so I think it should be fine.

Either way, it was just a little too complicated to be viable, I thought.

But I had a dream this week that made me realize I could do all of the backstories and plots, if I split the one hedgehog into four different characters with intertwining stories.

Also, much more Flower Hill corruption than I originally had planned, but works out better.

It is kind of long, and only has basic ideas I want for the plot, so I'll put it under a read more.

Omelas

Some Flower Hill generals (or other high ranking position in the army) secretly invade some villages outside the borders of Flower Hill and abduct hedgehogs to pad their numbers. After all, the weasels will run out of bodies at some point, so they might as well throw some bodies that are not from Flower Hill at them.

Omelas is the child of a Korean/Ainu style village in which children are raised communally (and maybe girls aren’t given names until marriage, that is a regional thing in the past), and the hedgehog in question is just treated as an 'extra burden' since they are female. The area itself speaks a specific language dialect since it has been remote for generations, but the village head has been discouraging that.

The young hedgehogs are taken by the generals and sergeants, who mark them as Flower Hill hedgehogs trying to escape conscription, so no one asks many questions, especially since many of them can't give proper names, so other soldiers think they are lying. The military leaders involved get large bonuses for capturing deserters, as well as for how many conscripts they have under them, so two birds one stone.

Eventually, most of the other non Flower Hill hedgehogs die in battle, while the survivors plan rebellions behind the scenes.

Omelas, possibly as part of a ploy by the group to 'send a message,' causes a scene including destruction and threatening Flower Hill in the other dialect one day, that gets herself in trouble. The military police during the trial finds absolutely no record of her existing in Flower Hill before the army, which backs up the stories that had been going around, uncovering the corruption. The investigation unit that has to come in realizes that they now have an international incident on their hands if anyone finds out, and also if the records have been falsified, then there are an untold number of angry foreign hedgehogs planning a rebellion, and they don't know where they are.

Omelas is sent to work on a farm as punishment for the incident she caused, and also to keep them out of the way while Flower Hill tries to figure out what to do about the abductions (probably nothing, most of them are dead anyway, and it could be easier for the others to be written off as weasel sympathizers and ‘gotten rid of’), especially since the villages no longer consider the missing hedgehogs their own.

I kind of want her to be named after a mushroom. I really like the name Enoki/Enokitake, but that is a Japanese word, and it is Pine Mushrooms (songi beoseot) that are the major delicacy in North Korea, so I have to work on that.

But either way, she hates Flower Hill from the bottom of her heart, but also knows the weasels would kill her, so she has to bide her time and hope the rest of the survivors do their part.

Yossarian:

A young hedgehog from a family where each member has an impressive military career, especially in sniping (almost wondering if she should be related to Wonsi, my other hedgehog OC from a sniper family, but those AU ideas are not connected). When she was young, she found a sick and starving mouse child who had crossed the border and tries to help them, only for a squirrel friend a few years older than her to murder the child for being one of the enemy. Everyone praised the squirrel (possibly because they thought they might be next), who later went on to be a squad leader/general, which makes Yossarian question Flower Hill and why everyone outside needs to die, especially if they are too weak to be an issue. She doesn’t question the war or conscription in general, though, just why she has to do it.

Since she is an excellent sniper during conscription, her term limits keeps getting raised, and she is put in an 'exception' group. Like in Catch-22, this group can only end the conscription if they go on a set amount of missions, but that number keeps getting raised whenever they near the cap.

The leader of the group (I don't know military terms and commander seems to be wrong here) is the squirrel friend, who offers to let her out if she marries him in a televised wedding to show off Flower Hill's unity. At some point he forges paperwork saying that everyone in the unit has decided to stay in the military full time for another two years (have not decided if the 'exception group' explanation was a lie he came up with). Most of the group is happy that they did not have to waste the time filling out the paperwork, but others fall into depression, disrupting the unity of the unit.

Thus, Yossarian feels trapped and resents Flower Hill, while also feeling very protective of the few squad-mates she likes, and starts sniping enemy mice and weasels in the shoulders, in such a way that they can never hold guns again, but can still otherwise work. This earns her a reputation with the Weasel Unit. Killing someone brings no joy, but she finds it disturbing how excited she gets to wound someone, since it means they can finally be free, as she wishes to be.

But what would she even do outside of the army? Be a farmer? That would be disgraceful for the family, but can they really see themselves as being a part of the military or marrying the squirrel forever?

Finally, Yossarian snaps and assaults the commanders themselves when they call her in to send her on a long mission, screaming about the lies and false paperwork, which surprises and confuses them (also the squad mates who thought she was happy), because would have assumed she would be happy to work for Flower Hill in that way (oh, but there are a few like her every now and then, but they usually wash out earlier), but yes, that squirrel should not have done that.

He only gets a slap on the wrist, and Yossarian is 'diagnosed' with combat fatigue and stress due to expectations, but still needs to be punished, and is sentenced to work on a farm.

Meanwhile, a small investigation is started.

POW

A failed squirrel scout who gets captured and is a POW for a while before being rescued. But it is assumed he must have talked or turned, and is sent to a detention/re education facility instead to figure out what information they gave (he gave nothing). The detention facility actually does worse than what the weasels did to him, emotionally at least. Flower Hill was supposed to care about him, but they have completely betrayed him, and are not giving his injuries proper medical attention. Also, he is really afraid to go back out, considering everything he had gone through. Even the friends who are allowed to visit look at him as if they think he is weak and pathetic somehow.

He is not actually supposed to be in the detention facility. His commanding officer was a nepotism hire who accidentally gave him the wrong information, and then forged evidence of him being turning traitor to cover up his mistakes. Or maybe was even bribed by the weasel unit to give him over, and the rescue is a ‘problem’ for whatever deals he has going on if anyone looks too closely at the capture. No one in the facility questions the paperwork, though, and don’t explain anything to the squirrel.

This can go two ways:

POW eventually goes into sepsis from the injuries (maybe appendicitis, although really just humans, monkeys, possums, and rabbits who get that but hey, fiction?), and is only saved by the his old drill Sargent who was brought in to scream about what a disgrace he was, but recognized he was dying. That, or the facility gets raided by the Weasel Unit, and some enemy soldiers recognize him and appear so genuinely concerned about his health that he accidentally confesses and answers all their questions. Maybe both.

Or, he agrees to go back out on another mission so he can leave the facility. The handlers falsify some records to say he is fully retrained and recovered, but upon joining up with the Weasel Unit in disguise, has a panic attack and goes catatonic, which combined with his other health issues, freaks out the mice. The doctors turn out to be his original interrogators, who send him back because his reappearance in such a way actually answers the majority of the questions they had been asking about Flower Hill the first time they captured him, so they have no need of him anymore.

The workers could actually be fired or jailed for what they did to him, so they write it off as him developing sympathies for the enemy and helping them (perhaps albeit under duress) which nets him a labor sentence on a farm (especially if they spin it as he somehow brought the weasel unit to attack the facility and let them in). But his physical injuries linger, making it difficult for him to work, and there may be quite a few mental issues involved, which only gets worse as actual investigations begin and find him at the center of the turmoil. Also the drill Sargent starts asking a lot of questions.

Victorian Mystery Disease.

Basically a hedgehog with a failure to thrive issue. They have been sickly since birth with some sort of fatigue disorder, which everyone assumes is laziness. No matter how hard he tries, he cannot move very far without feeling exhausted and slowing down. Maybe some chronic pain issues as well.

Eventually he gets diagnosed as a malingerer, and as punishment to 'fix him,' he is sent to a farm to labor as punishment.

He is very upset about this, and has been frustrated his entire life with his inability to be 'normal,’ like everyone else.

Honestly, I’m kind of thinking Fibromyalgia. I’d didn’t expect to find this term when looking up symptoms as I was about to post, I was going to leave it open ended or give them regular anemia problems.

Murder Mystery

As I said in the original post, The idea for all of this came from when I was playing The Murder of Sonic the Hedgehog the day it came out (those actual playtime segments were really stressful and made my mind jump around), and I did want a train to be involved at some point.

Which serves as a good meeting point for the characters, while they are being transported to the farm. They can't exit the train, so they are mostly allowed to roam free.

So, it could start en media res, which each of the four accidentally getting drunk at different points and bemoaning their problems. (Omelas because her guard suggested she tries a drink because she will never get the chance again, Yossarian to drown the stress and shame, POW to steady his nerves because he saw Weasel Unit soldiers, and Vic because it was an accident).

A bartender has the most horrifying night of his life, making him question his habits of getting strangers drunk to listen to their life stories, and briefly reconsider his alliance to Flower Hill.

A foreign reporter has the most fascinating day of her life.

The Poirot style international detective is very concerned.

Meanwhile, the train tracks have been switched, stranding the train in the snow, while several prominent people on board are murdered one by one, and the four are some of the prime suspects...

The Farm

The original plan was for the farm to be at the ocean. But that would provide too many opportunities to escape (although weasel unit infiltration would be easier). I am actually thinking of making the punishment farm be in Dol Jogagga, the rock carving/sculpting village I made up. After all, the sculptures are important for international relations, so they could use some help with the farms.

And they were roommates.

The four live in one small farmhouse together and farm what they can. They are told that if they can manage a certain amount of harvest several times in a row, then they can go back to the rest of Flower Hill.

They dislike each other either for being foreign or for being weak, but eventually heal and unlearn propaganda, maybe. Which is the opposite of what was supposed to happen.

So, basic farming, recovery, and slice of life in this village. Dol Jogagga is protected with enough sentries that there is almost no way to escape without them noticing. But they are remote enough to not stigmatize the laborers like the rest of Flower Hill. In fact, they are a little suspicious of the commanders, and can feel sympathy for the four, so are relatively nice to them, and try and help the best they can. Also remote enough to have their own dialect as well, which the four sometimes accidentally use, to the amusement of the villagers.

Maybe some enemies to lovers with Omelas and Yossarian. POW and Vic can just vibe as roommates and try and fix/understand their illnesses together.

Omelas learns that life does not have to be a tragedy and starts to relax a bit. Maybe starts growing mushrooms and starts a successful business. Everyone else learns to find farming very relaxing.

The corrupt investigative officers and other officers realize that the four are actually enjoying themselves, and people are asking too many questions, but cannot change the punishments because it turns out they got kickbacks from them in the first place. Plus, changing the punishments would bring even more suspicion upon everyone involved in the corruption plots, so they try and trick them into leaving on occasion.

Corrupt investigative officers/military police keep coming by to try and make the four confess to something since otherwise they know too much. Maybe sometimes Weasel Unit scouts do sneak into the village and shenanigans ensure.

Anyway, thanks to the hurricane, it has been raining for days here, and some parts of my area have been evacuated. I'm uphill, at least.

But it had me dreaming that it was a hazy, pleasantly humid, raining midday afternoon. The type of day when the chores are done, and there is not much to do. The hedgehogs and squirrel are cuddled up at the entrance way of the house, either drinking tea or mushroom soju, sliding door opened. In the distance, one of the nosy and aggressive investigators has arrived to harass them again, but since it was an unsanctioned visit, did not know the exact house, and are falling into muddy fields, getting further and further away.

It was very relaxing.

[wordsofhoneydew]

happy friday!!

put on your fucking seatbelts y’all because these fics will have you screaming, crying, throwing up, hyperventilating and climbing the fucking walls

read the tags. some of these have kinks that not everyone is into, so just make sure you know what you’re stepping into! the other half of these are just fluff fluff fluff!! enjoy!

home is where i’m with you by @luainthewild

where alex seeks the meaning of home and finds it in Henry's arms.

OR: Henry has to spend Christmas alone; Alex refuses and invites him to Texas. Ensue family crack, a lof of fluff, sexy dancing and love confession on a christmas card.

(We) Loved Her First by @hgejfmw-hgejhsf

When I thought about all of the things I wanted to say to you both today, my initial urge was to write a letter. I could borrow Dad’s fountain pen from his top desk drawer and watch the ink soak slowly into the cardstock paper, to blow it dry and carefully crease it in three places before sliding it into an envelope and sealing it with the wax seal Papa bought a few years back, that he said we could use to send our Christmas cards to Sandringham in a more formal way so that Uncle Pip wouldn’t expect to find us wearing matching Christmas tree onesies inside.

But then I realized, a letter isn’t your style. It isn’t our style. Your story, the same story weaved together countless times throughout my life into a tapestry of your love that blanketed me at night whenever I needed comforting, was told through a series of pixels swirling through the air and crossing the void of space and time within moments. So, I decided it was only fitting to continue that tradition and to follow in your footsteps…an email, it is.

OR

Alex and Henry's daughter sends them an email just before they walk her down the aisle on her wedding day.

we might just get away with it by smc_27

Henry is the most gorgeous man Alex has ever seen. And Alex has seen a lot of gorgeous men. He’s a fucking model.

“This is Henry Fox-Mountchristen,” Prada’s current PR lead says, and Alex smiles and pushes his hand out. “He’s a journalist covering the merger.”

Alex doesn’t know what merger or what it would have to do with Paris Fashion Week. But he does know that Henry holding a glass of champagne as he shakes Alex’s hand is maybe the sexiest thing ever, and there is just no explanation for that.

“Hi. I’m Alex.”

Henry says, “I know,” and then does this weird, forced smile at Bianca and walks away.

Alex doesn’t know how to like, not be completely obsessed with things he wants.

OR, Alex is a model. Henry is a journalist, and a bit of an asshole. Alex wants him anyway, even when it doesn’t feel good.

Leave A Message by @sherryvalli

"This is Alex Claremont-Diaz's phone. If it's a business matter, I don't know how you got ahold of this number, but if you have my number that means you probably have Zahra's. Call her instead. If you're friends or family, just text me. If you're anyone else, I'll call you back as soon as I can."

Or: Alex's voicemail message over the years, and the messages people leave for him.

in the dead of night by @littlemisskittentoes

“Hm, am I still dreaming, or is there very pretty boy playing with me under the covers?” Alex’s voice is gruff. Its edges are coated in lingering sleep, and the drowsy-slow pull of the words lulls them to a deeper accent than he usually lets slip through. The syrupy drawl skitters the length of Henry’s spine.

or, Henry knows he can always rely on Alex to tire him out when sleep is far off.

[tabithatwo]

jackie is a mean girl and i don’t get why people defend her nasty ass. girls like her who think they’re pretty so they can do anything piss me off then they all jump in to defend each other for shitty behavior. watching you do that tells me exactly who you are.

WOW! What a thing to say to a stranger!!

The bigger person in me would probably say clearly you’re hurting and that’s making you decide to be just awful and I hope you heal BUT I had a killer month so she’s actually not home today and instead you get my honest reaction, which is probably fine since you sure gave me your unfiltered opinion!!

Jackie isn’t a mean girl. It’s not even a matter of opinion, it’s a matter of who can pay attention to a fucking show and who cannot pay attention to a show and dives into their own stereotypes and throws them around and covers the text with their own bullshit.

You can have a LOT of different views on Jackie (and any other character!) and they can fall into the purview of differing interpretation (I have a lot of specific reads on her character that I know are not popular opinion and I don’t think people are wrong for disagreeing with!), but I’m sick of pretending like this black and white, jackie is an uncaring cruel mean bitch line of thinking is a valid opinion. It’s just fucking not, like you’re just making shit up at this point. And that’s okay! View media however you want! If you want to imagine that Jackie is a mean girl then that’s your right!

But to come into peoples asks and onto their pages and just spew shit like this is suuuuuch bullshit. And I’ve hesitated to straight up tell people they’re wrong before because that really isn’t my style, but you know what? This was fucking mean and WEIRDLY personal and I’m tired, so you come to me with this shit from now on and I will simply tell you that you are fucking wrong and you have really fucking bad media literacy <3

(If you have these opinions on your OWN BLOG AND NOT IN MY ASKS WHILE YOU COME FOR ME PERSONALLY IN THE SAME BREATH I will see it and think damn I couldn’t disagree more, but I won’t comment on it like that because it’s YOUR SHIT, does this make sense to everyone, do we see the distinction?)

Anyway, you don’t know shit about me. And I don’t know shit about you but since we’re making assumptions here, maybe you were treated poorly by someone and you can’t stop labeling other girls and women unfairly based on that experience, but tbh the way that you are so locked onto hating this teenage girl character and so willing to tell me that you know “exactly who I am” and imply that I’m a “nasty ass mean girl with shitty behavior” really leads me to believe that whoever you are projecting onto Jackie might not have even been mean to you! because you seem to be pretty damn comfortable being the mean one yourself!

Anyway to anyone who is reading this, please don’t do this to people! I know it’s just the internet, I know people can turn off anon asks, I know I know. But also? Sometimes people are having really bad days and something like this would really fuck with them and we are all capable of NOT doing this shit! It’s actually sooo easy to not be an asshole in someone’s messages <3 and if someone has sent you shit like this, just know that it says literally nothing about you and everything about the person saying it, so try your best to just brush it off and carry on! <3 <3 <3

[autumnalwalker]

Find the Word Tag

Thank you for the tag, @ahordeofwasps.

My words to find were never, night, nail, & need.

Passing the (optional) tag to @theimperiumchronicles, @sarahlizziewrites, @druidx, @blind-the-winds, and the usual open tag to anyone else who wants to join in.

Your words to find shall be muscle, morning, matter, & message.

Never: Empty Names - 23 - Compression

She waits a second for any objections and then places her palm on the bare skin between his shoulder blades.  He’s warm.  She feels the surrounding muscles reflexively tense on contact and then slowly relax.  He’s all muscle beneath the robes, but it feels different from what she’s felt through Eris’s tank tops when pulled into an embrace.  Leaner.  Less bulk but still toned.  She’s heard of mages tapping into their own metabolism for fueling magic to burn excess fat and retain figures in defiance of diet, but that doesn’t build muscle mass.  The skin on his back and arms doesn’t look like it could ever be anywhere near as sickly pale as hers is, but it is noticeably lighter than his hands and face, even accounting for makeup.  She wonders when the last time was that he wore anything with short sleeves.  Does he even have other clothes?  She’s never seen him wear anything else.  

Still less distracting without the robe on than with.  Probably says more about her than him.  Do all wizard robes on Orthon look like sleek dresses with wide sleeves, or is it just because he copied his mentor’s style?

Night: Empty Names - 23 - Compression

“No vertigo, nausea, or other adverse reactions to the counterseal,” Ashan reports once he and his double return to Lacuna.  “This illusion feels as natural to create and control as my conjurations.”  He glances over at said illusion practically bouncing up and down in excitement.  “Well, almost as natural.  Thank you, truly.”

With those last words Ashan lightly puts a hand on Lacuna’s shoulder.  When his double tries to do the same it passes through her slightly and becomes both there and not there to her vision, like an object only visible through one eye.

“You’re wel- whoa, that’s weird,” Lacuna stumbles her words in surprise.

Ashan pulls his hand back with a puff of exhalation and the illusion throws its head back in silent laughter.

“Ah.  My apologies.  Illusions can be like that when exposed for what they are.”

“It’s fine.  Kind of cool actually.  Do they normally reflect the caster’s emotions like that too?  That’s not something I’ve read about.”

Ashan’s reflection has just enough time to blush hard enough to be seen through the perfect makeup before flickering out of existence.

“Merely a random aberration born from tiredness, I am sure,” the real Ashan says coolly and evenly.  “It must be well after midnight by now.”

“Sure it is.” Lacuna grins and chooses not to poke more fun at the matter.  “Let’s call it a night.  Morning?  Whatever.  Either way, I think we can call this experiment a resounding success.  What do you say?”

“Indeed,” Ashan agrees.

Nail: Empty Names - 9 - Test Run

Just a little further to climb.  Not a bad warmup for her, really.  As long as she’s burning Sullivan’s money, maybe she should add a rock wall to her equipment request along with the other training gear. 

One more stretch.  Grab the main pole of the bowsprit.  Heave.  Swing herself up.  Nail the landing.  Dust off her hands.  Nearly lose her balance when she hears Sullivan slow clapping and sees the others already on the deck.

“What the Hell?”

“I conjured a ramp,” Ashan says matter-of-factly. 

Of course he did.

Need: Empty Names - 23 - Compression

She bends over to use the keyboard and mouse, foregoing sitting down for fear of not wanting to get back up again.  She stops the recordings and takes a brief glance at compiled readouts.  Nothing catches her eye as out of the ordinary, but she’ll need to check it again in the morning when she’s more awake.  She shuts down the test chamber, starts to shut down the computer, and then remembers she forgot to check her email all day.  Nothing urgent, thankfully, but there’s an unexpected message from RevaTech asking if she’d be interested in scheduling an interview and reconsidering working for them.  Weird.  Maybe someone from her old team heard it had taken her a while to find a new job?

She nearly deletes the email but then thinks better of it, flagging and archiving it instead.  Not that she has any intention of leaving where she is now.  Still… It’d be a heck of a coincidence, but with what she gathered yesterday evening and this morning over breakfast about Sullivan and Road looking into something involving robots, it couldn’t hurt to keep open as an avenue to explore later.

[jkoo-njoo]

College crush - 3

summary : college au l when the frontier between a crush and an obsession blurs, how can you draw the line?

pairing : shy n clingy bf! jk × black fem! reader

genre : fluff, soft yandere | headcanons

word count : 2150, on going story

warnings : stalking, fixation, home intrusion

author’s note : Hi loves ! This is supposed to be the second to last chapter of this story, but I don’t feel like ending it so soon. I’m still hesitating on wether to write a sequel in the form of drabbles or just add 2 or 3 more chapters instead of just one. You tell me what you would prefer most (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵) Enjoy my angels ~ ♡

previous | next / masterlist

3/ the moth searching for light through darkness, with hope

- the first time : just reaching out to you

Jungkook was really set on taking the leap of faith and sending you a message directly.

he is very nervous but also confident that you will appreciate this gesture because he has backup :

a few days ago, after the bi-weekly photography class, he followed you a bit around before going home

you went to grab coffee with some of your friends at the local café

and he just sat at a table behind you lot, making sure not to be noticeable

he was glad that you and your friends had the habit of talking a bit loudly so he didn’t have to sit right next to you to listen to your discussions

anyways

what he heard that day left him completely speechless

you guys were talking about the type of actions you’d consider romantic from a significant other and what you’d love to experience

best believe he was absolutely tuned in when it was your turn to speak

and that’s when he heard you say that you were a delusional and hopeless romantic that would really love to have a secret admirer that sent you letters and gifts

everyone clowned you and kept telling you to give it up because it would never gonna happen

but he, on the other hand, couldn’t be happier

he was going to make your dream happen, with the upmost joy doing it.

fast forward to today, with Jungkook going insane over trying to choose the perfect first-letter-from-a-secret-admirer between the 3 piles of tens of already written letters he had in his room

he settled for this one short letter :

“Like a bee drawn to a flower, I am endlessly attracted to your being, your beauty and existence essential for my survival.“

he signed — your secret admirer not yet ready to put any indication about his identity

he folded it with great care and put the message in a beige ancient style letter that he sealed with red wax

he hesitated on perfuming the letter or not but he eventually decided against it, because what if you don’t like the odor and throw away his letter, rejecting him before even checking him out ?

he was ready to go all out for you, but that didn’t mean he wanted to take reckless risks

he truly wanted to make an impact on you in the best way possible. And that included being very meticulous

when he was done, he walked up to the building next to his and deposited the letter in your letter box, whilst shaking uncontrollably the entire time

he did that in the middle of the day, so he figured he’d check the day after if you opened your letter box

he went there 3 days in a row and noticed that you didn’t really check your letter box that often

so he went against one of the main restrictions he imposed on himself : not to go all the way up to your front door.

but he did. and from now, he’d give you letters by putting them in between the front door and the wall, just above the handle so you’d inevitably notice them immediately every single time.

- the second time : being too greedy

this little back & forth of him writing letters and giving them to you lasted a few weeks

he would send you letters every 2 to 3 days, and they would vary in length but never in substance

they would always be very light and easy to read, whilst intensely dripping with passion and love

the one he sent you yesterday was :

“if anyone ever asks me which is more important between my life and yours, I would tell them that I have died to myself and that I live only for you.”

he was taking his secret admirer job very seriously.

and judging by the way you would take all of his letters and not throw them out — he regularly checked the dumpster assigned to your building — you were visibly enjoying it.

one day, the routine got interrupted when he came up to drop off the LLOTD [love letter of the day] and…. your door was unlocked.

in his defense : he was sliding the letter between the door and the wall like he always did, but this particular time it didn’t want to stay in place ; the letter kept falling

so he grabbed the handle to have more balance while trying to make the letter fit in the crevace

then the handle just… moved. and opened the door.

he didn’t even do it on purpose like,,, it just opened ???

and now he was standing there, frozen in the middle of the hallway with the handle still in his hand, unable to move.

his hands inevitably start to sweat because even if he’s stuck, he knows what he wants to do ; but he can’t bring himself to do it.

he has always dreamed of entering your place. He has been wanting this for so long.

and there was now a golden opportunity to fulfill this dream……. he couldn’t let it pass by him. He just couldn’t bring himself to close the door and go home

so… he enters.

he is absolutely delighted to be in your space ; but he’s also getting very overwhelmed

there is so much to look at, so much to smell, so much to admire and ingrain in his brain

he gives himself like 5 minutes to get around and puts on a timer to make sure to go out on time.

you are living alone so your room’s decoration is very sweet & unique

also meticulously clean and organized

though he takes notes that he should buy you a basket to put your fruits in it, and a duvet cover so you can snuggle your cute self inside, and more plushies to horn your bed

he cannot wait until the time he gets to decorate this place with his own special touch too

the timer goes off indicating that it was time to go back to his place

he pushes the letter between the front door & the wall, then leaves

he was in such a state of euphoria that when he got back to his place he wrote like 5 letters in one sitting

when he noticed that you never really locked your door but just shut it, and since he knows your schedule by heart, he starts breaking into your home a bit more often over time

each time, he tries as hard as he can to not touch or move anything

he only verifies that you do not throw his letters by checking your bins, and lays on your bed while daydreaming of cuddling with you on it while watching movies, or play with you on your pc set up

he is very careful to not do anything that would make you notice that someone is coming into your place while you’re not there, because he doesn’t want you to be scared.

he would never deliberately cause you to be uncomfortable, afraid or to resent him

but it’s getting harder and harder everyday to not touch or take anything when he wants to go back to his place with each and every object that you use as a souvenir

he’s getting tormented…

so close, yet so far from the goal,,,, it was driving him crazy.

- at the same time : a curious appreciation

it’s been a few weeks since you’ve been regularly receiving love letters from a secret admirer

you would be lying if you said that you weren’t completely enjoying and indulging in it

at the beginning, you thought that it was a prank, because it was just so random & the timing was almost too perfect since you started receiving letters right after that one discussion with your friends

but it started being more recurrent, and it progressively made you flattered to receive such sustained and lovely attention

the words of this admirer were sure having a strong effect you.

so much that you kept absolutely every single one of their letters in a little box hidden in your nightstand

nowadays, you were catching yourself waiting for their letters or thinking about their words more than once throughout your day

you didn’t talk about it to your friends because you didn’t want them to make fun of you ; or worse : that one of them admits that this has all been a big joke and that it was all fake

this is your own little secret that you keep between you and your heart

and it’s just letters, beautiful letters at that. The admirer does not seem to be a creep, so you’re safe. There’s no need to alert anyone… right ?

at some point, you’ve tried to find out about the identity of your admirer.

the only information that you have at the moment is their signature : they sign every single letter with the mention — your secret admirer

you do not even know their gender. This is as anonymous as it gets like you cannot make this up

you have no idea about who it could be : no one in your social circle or the circle of your closest friends seems to be a good enough pretender to this spot, so it was surely intriguing you

but what you do know is that you are going to meet them soon. You have to.

- the rest of the time… too far gone to go back

eventually, one of your hoodie disappears. Like straight up vanishes.

you noticed it because you were looking for something to wear as lazy pajamas and it was one of your appointed “trash clothes” to put on

it is not that serious though like you must’ve just lost it.

So you wore something else and went on with your life, not caring much about that.

a few days later, you received a letter from your secret admirer.

it was weird because they haven’t sent you anything in like 10 days ; that was very out of character for them.

so, you were relieved to receive something from them again, but this letter was rather unusual

it wasn’t a poem ; but an apology.

the title was “please pardon me my love” and their writing was very clumsy, like they’ve been shaking while writing it.

in the letter, they admit that they took your hoodie — you assume that it must be the one that you lost the other day. They apologize for it by saying that they just wanted to have a piece of you with them and knowing that you didn’t value this particular hoodie that much they couldn’t help themselves. They promise to buy you absolutely every clothes that you want, and that they’ll replace the hoodie with a new one of your taste by tomorrow. At the end, they beg for your forgiveness and implore you to not stop loving them ; some water drops that you assume to be dried out tears adorning their words.

if you were being honest, you really couldn’t care less about the hoodie disappearing ; but it did make you feel kinda uncomfy knowing that they intruded your sacred space

their confession made you reflect on the past few days, and validated the feelings of confusion and uneasiness you felt seeing some of your belongings slightly changing places sometimes while you did not recall moving them yourself

you were definitely not crazy nor were you having hallucinations.

despite this… you still couldn’t find it in you to fear them or worry in any way.

like, they just took a hoodie that you didn’t care about. This was harmless, right ?

so, for the first time since the beginning of this whole ordeal : you decide to write an answer to them

you didn’t take yourself too seriously : you told them that you weren’t mad about the hoodie, but that the next time they come in here they better clean up your place a bit because you were pretty busy at the moment and didn’t have the time to do so

you would leave it on your desk tomorrow and see what happens

but for now, it was time to sleep and rest. Or at least try.

[ryuzatodraws-archive]

It'll sound weird I know and I'm sorry that I come anonymously but with how things are, I dont want to get bullied by others for saying it. But as much as I do not appreciate your art, I've had the opportunity to talk to you and you're one of the nicest people in this fandom. You really distinguish yourself like that. Im on multiple platforms so I see a lot of the harassment you go through. Truth is, what makes me mad is that people are getting bullied for having anything to do with you, for *fictional characters*, but I've never seen anyone invest this energy for the actual bad stuff that happen and that are perpetuated in this community. Only a small community of fans raises their finger when there's blatant misogyny or racism for example. And those concern real people, the band itself or other fans that fall victim of them. I do not personally support your art, but I find it very easy to not follow you. And if I was severely offended by it, I'd simply block you. Also how are you responsible if people repost your pieces ?

Ghost fandom will make a fuss about someone they don't like instead of just blocking, but will turn their eyes when there's a bigger problem. The fiction is somehow far more important for ghost fans than actual problems that affect real breathing people. The hypocrisy and audacity are disgusting. They're here doxxing people and threatening them on platforms while acting like they're on the right side.

Major respect for you, still being there after all of that.

I gotta agree with the whole “fiction is more important” aspect that they have.

What irks me is that when I was on Twitter again some time ago , I followed my friends like what a normal person would do right? And they would actually harass my friends. Who did nothing but just followed me.

Like they didn’t even post art, or anything. It’s just that they see that I’m one of their mutuals and the attack starts. I deactivated Twitter because I don’t want anybody to attack my friends just because they have something to do with me.

It’s a weird place isn’t it that when people didn’t get their priorities straight and think that what they are doing are good when in fact it’s straight up harmful.

I really don’t mind if people didn’t like my art, I’m not the one going into people’s DM and start sending hate messages.

I just wish they stop hurting others just because of the “oh you know that guy? Well you’re a terrible person” that’s insanity

I stayed because there are people who matters here and I just want others who don’t follow their style of HCs to know that hey it’s ok if you don’t follow canon, not everybody in the fandom is like that.

Also because I’m stubborn as fuck lol and no teens are gonna throw me off a fandom because of hate mails