#You know initially I was disappointed that this years hosting is gonna be such a MASSIVE shitshow

[texasthoughtsaboutnothing]

EDIT: I have received several new pieces of information that I'm distributing throughout the doc that further reinforces my stance on this, and is valuable to know. Also, I have sections where I'm more clear on my stance after thinking on it for a while and following more discussions on this. I hope I don't disappoint anyone with my thoughts.

If any part of what I've written here resonated with you, I shamelessly ask that you spread it in your preferred manner, and if you feel there's parts that need work please let me know.

Still gonna regret writing this, I'm sure.

[Warning: Long. Like, really.]

Because of all the shit happening with Arknights, PM is under fire once again as it ties into the larger narrative surrounding Korea and its full on gender war (a real thing that's apparently happening).

For those who don't know, way back in July Limbus Company got the event for 4.5 that included swimsuit versions of Ishmael and Sinclair. The fact that Ishmael was in a full bodysuit while Sinclair was shirtless with a collar led the Korean equivalent of 4chan to accuse PM's lead illustrator of being a feminist, which I guess is a bad thing if you're drowning in Korean culture war bullshit.

Turns out the lead illustrator was a man so they pivoted to the CG artist Vellmori and invented a whole host of bullshit links between her and an extremist group to try and get her fired.

And in accordance with their wishes PM fired her. Except they didn't. Probably?

Most everything known from this point onwards is, bluntly, tainted. It's a lot of machine translated Korean posts or, one way or the other, hasty conclusions from people with agendas (including me, no one is immune to propaganda).

Did Vellmori reach out to a newspaper to whistleblow on PM's flagrant disregard for worker's rights? That was the story at first but follow-ups implied it might be a complete fabrication or an overstatement of her grievances (EDIT, I have received information that while there was a phonecall to Vellmori from PM, it was to set up a meeting to properly hash out next steps and any claims she was fired over the phone are incorrect, and the newspaper that reported as such quietly retracted that statement).

Did a labor union jump the gun on spreading this story to gain political capital without reaching out to PM for their side of the story? Maybe if PM's version of events is true, but that's assuming a lot of malice of an institution doing it's best (EDIT, I have received information that the people directly responsible for handling the PM issue acted independently and were later found in violation of several union laws, including allegations involving CP that I do not want to and will not get into).

PM's story is that once the harassment flared up and involved physical visits to the development office, Vellmori wanted to quit. (EDIT, I have received information that the wording of the various statements can be interpreted as Vellmori leaving of her own volition but also under encouragement; if you see claims that she was forced to resign this is what that claim references.) There was a rumor about her getting 2 years of severance pay, but I don't know if that was ever corroborated and is likely false, but she would have gotten something in accordance with Korean Law which they were found in compliance of.

Everything after announcing her termination of contract (not translating the initial announcement, framing it as a company policy issue, keeping quiet on it for months, constant vague threats of lawsuits) was supposedly a bad attempt at trying to quell the harassment by making it go away. Instead, it exploded, and now if you're a fan you'll have to deal with this coming up forever. I know there's fans who follow me that'll resent me for making this post as they just want to move on (or think I'm wrong or misrepresenting some details).

I resent making this for what its worth, and am trying my best to be accurate, but for me this is part of moving on, acknowledging the bad and the factors that mitigate it. And yes, I think there are several mitigating factors.

Why did Cassie Wei, lead singer of Project Mili who is both Korean and a woman, speak out in KJH's defense?

Why hasn't, to my knowledge, Vellmori said anything since and by and large just disappeared if she was so poorly mistreated?

Why have, again to my knowledge, none of the Voice Actors and Actresses spoken out against PM in solidarity?

Why do PM continue to have partnerships with progressive companies like Arc System Works?

Why did the labor union retract their statements against PM and apologize following an actual investigation?

EDIT: New info. Why did the labor union censure the people responsible for handling the PM issue, who later quit the group seemingly in disgrace?

Why did PM not bring their own lawyers to the meeting with Vellmori while she was allegedly encouraged to bring hers?

None of these questions completely absolve PM of wrongdoing, if you were set on condemning them it's not hard to interpret each in a very uncharitable way. For example, most of this is easily answered by the fact we live under Capitalism and we inevitably all have to swallow our morals and ideals to make rent. I could retort that maybe PM did the same by capitulating in any degree to harassment (which they have done historically as what happened with Ruina's ending) and not specifically endorsing any ideology or political belief (which is wild considering the actual content of their stories). But I think that ends with a circular argument that boils down to whether you believe in PM or not.

To be clear, even if you want to interpret all the Vellmori stuff as charitably as possible, PM undeniably fucked up and has labor issues in its history. The artist for the manga Leviathan, Monggeu, came out during the whole thing to speak on her treatment as a contractor; how she was given an impossible workload and the company denied her requests for delays, delays caused in part by suicidal depression caused by the workload. Though KJH personally apologized to her, she was let go over the phone and spoke out only after she felt the company now had a pattern of abusive work policies. The author of Wonderlab also deleted her stuff in solidarity.

That's all bad. Really bad. I stopped playing Limbus because I felt extreme disappointment with the company and managerial tendencies of KJH. Credit to a reddit user I won't name for pointing this out, but this information is far more concrete than anything involving Vellmori as Monggeu broke her silence independently months after things happened on her personal Twitter. However, there isn't nearly as much focus on this or calls for Justice for Monggeu.

This opinion is mine and mine alone, but her situation, which I must stress was awful and shameful on PM's and KJH's part, doesn't tie into a culture war like "Vellmori being fired for feminist tweets" does. It is a clear cut example of bad labor and managerial practices that lead to harm towards an employee, but its an everyday tragedy, not a martyrdom. And so I wonder how much the treatment of labor is actually part of this discussion, the more actionable issue than changing all of Korean society. I wonder if PM's supposed kowtowing to incels is highlighted above all other context because it casts PM as an enemy in a culture war.

I say the above because I've seen online culture war stuff happen before, and it scares me beyond just whether a company I like gets redeemed in the eyes of others. I have seen lives destroyed in the name of a just cause for nothing, including good progressive causes like feminism. If the only thing that would satisfy or lead to forgiveness is a revolutionary purge, do you actually want to build anything?

I digress, and I hope I didn't turn you off too much with my thoughts and fears there. It's important though, because there was ultimately an apology from PM.

In it, among other things, they laid out their flawed logic on how they wanted to handle the situation, addressed their treatment of both current employees and past contractors, and promised to improve and protect employees better. Since then, things seem to have changed at least from an outsiders' perspective. The game moved away from a strict list of deadlines and towards a more open-ended dev pipeline. The game is less buggy than it used to be after updates. They changed policies on content to make it easier to produce by limiting VA without any blowback from their VA's so we can assume proper talks were had. Translations don't have as many errors as they used to while the quality has been maintained even after losing a major translator (which is its own tale of baffling choices by the company in its own right). And they've kept all this up for Season 3 so far without any announcements of delays and, in fact, far more content than usual. All of this, to me, points to better management.

Maybe I'm naive to think so but I want to believe that the evidence points to the crimes of PM not coming from a place of malice and antifeminism but incompetence. I need to stress KJH didn't kill or rape anybody, nor was he verbally or physically abusive. He was a really shitty boss, and I understand how much it sucks to have a shitty boss, believe me. But a shitty boss can become not shitty, and my hope is that happened already, and that a company that produces good art that's worthwhile will thrive as a result.

I say all this because I actually care about this company and art it produces. If I didn't, last July wouldn't have hurt so much. If I'm cringe for it, so be it, but I believe constructive change should be recognized and rewarded, and it's for those reasons I came back after following the game for the rest of its second season.

To be clear, you don't owe a company your time or your money even if they improve their culture and policies, and if you felt that what PM or KJH has done is unforgivable you are well within your rights not to engage with it ever again or even tell others about your grievances, as much as I might disagree. But if you want them to suffer, to lose business, maybe even to go under despite how many other women work for and with them... I don't know. Please don't just think of these people as enemy units in the war against feminism? Ask yourself that if Vellmori broke her silence tomorrow and asserted she left of her own volition and condemned groups like the PMUA, would you believe her or immediately assume she's under duress?

This is not a cut and dry, black and white moral issue where a great evil needs vanquishing, it's a messy as hell moral and labor issue involving multiple people wrapped up in larger cultural and social issues no one initially involved intended. There are real people involved who stand to get hurt, not to mention who's been hurt already. Justice can involve other things than a firing squad. Please at least acknowledge that much. inb4 "No and kindly die"

EDIT, regarding the lawsuits. If you didn't know, PM is currently suing the labor union and a separate organization once called the PMUA (Project Moon Users Association) now called the KGA (Korean Gamer Association). I have seen unconfirmed reports that the former has ties to the disgraced Korean Ratings Board exposed by Blue Archive Fans for crypto bullshit. In addition, I have seen criticisms of how the PMUA used donations and their effectiveness in actual addressing PM and its labor issues, including demonstrations on days workers and management weren't even present and being the ones responsible for leaking documents that Vellmori allegedly wanted to be kept private. All of that supports PM's allegations that these organizations were in fact targeting them as part of political ploys and they never cared about any of the victims or ideals they touted as representing. For all the above, PM is suing for defamation, which is well within their rights by my reckoning. Regardless of my thoughts, this is where we are now.

Last and by no means least, feminism is good. Wanna be clear on that, I believe in equal pay, reproductive rights, that grip strength is a stupid metric to measure human rights by, that men are not owed sex and love by women regardless of circumstance, the whole shebang.

Also, what's happening in South Korea is scary and serious and bigger than just a terminally online culture war shitfest, more like an active bomb about to explode. I support the women who live there and their fight for equality, I just don't think PM fundamentally has anything to do with it and constantly trying to drag it into the line of fire feels like faux activism. I think the scope of the gender war is very far beyond the limits of gacha game discussion, or for that matter the actions of a single company of, like, 50 people.

(I swear to god if Vellmori makes a post tomorrow accusing KJH of SA or something after I wrote all this I will throw myself into the ocean.)

This will actually be the last time I talk about this unless something changes, I want to believe I was respectful the whole time and don't mean to belittle anyone for their beliefs or choices (unless you're an incel, please be better, also take a shower).

[annieqattheperipheral]

Players & team front office responses

The Florida Panthers hosted the league’s first Pride Night in 2013, and the promotion gradually spread across the league until all teams were wearing rainbow-colored jerseys and using Pride Tape during the 2021-22 season without issue. (x)

Oct 2023:

An NHL spokesperson told ESPN that Pride tape had been allowed for years as an exception to its stick tape restrictions, which otherwise would allow players to use only black or white tape. The league said the current ban on Pride tape was to prevent teams and players from using it as an "end around" to violate the new uniform policy.

Stickers and ribbons are also banned from player uniforms, although coaches are allowed to wear ribbons.

...

Commissioner Gary Bettman: "What happened last year was that the issue of who wanted to wear a particular uniform on a particular night overshadowed everything that our clubs were doing. So what we said, instead of having that distraction and having our players have to decide whether or not they wanted to do something or not do something and be singled out, we said, 'Let's not touch that,'"

ESPN

Deputy commissioner Bill Daly: “I think the primary point is that nothing’s really going to change in the sense that our clubs will continue to celebrate these special initiatives and these causes and do a lot of cause messaging around those events,” he said. “The only difference this year is we’re asking the clubs not to employ use of the players on the ice during the game. As you know, probably, we had some issues last year with players feeling uncomfortable in supporting certain causes and we didn’t want our players to be put in those situations going forward.”

Sportsnet

"Game/practice restrictions don't interfere with players' ability to support in other settings. In fact, we encourage them to. (We) just don't want to put other player(s) in a tough spot simply because they don't choose to join."

Toronto Maple Leafs

Morgan Rielly - A

“It’s unfortunate. But I think as players and as people,” Rielly said Tuesday. “We’re going to continue to support those people and those causes that we think need it or are worthy and very deserving of it. Whatever statement was made is fine, but as players, we’re going to continue to offer support and be allies. We want to be a part of this community.”

...

Rielly, for one, won’t be deterred from speaking in support of marginalized groups.

“I wish players had the right to kinda do more and be more involved,” Rielly said.

“I’m going to continue to be involved in the community and offer support to those communities and those groups that want that and need that. As players, we’re going to continue to be involved, pretty much no matter what the league says.”

Brad Treliving - GM

Maple Leafs GM Brad Treliving said that both he personally and the Leafs as an organization have always been supporters of the 2SLGPTQ+ community. Memo or no memo.

“Nothing’s gonna change that,” Treliving said. “We’ll figure out our ways that we make sure that we do the right things and support as we always have and stay true to what we believe in. There’s always challenges in in the world, but that doesn’t affect how we support.”

sportsnet

Mitch Marner - A

“That’s something that I think a lot of people in our organization take pride in and have supported that community for a long time,” Marner said on the Jeff Marek Show Tuesday. “I know I have a lot of friends, I’ve got family, so that’s something close to my heart. I think I’ve said before, but everyone in this world should be able to express themselves as best as possible, and love who they love. They shouldn’t be looked at any differently… It’s unfortunate, but it is what it is. We’re still obviously going to support those communities, and still got a lot of love for them.”

Sportsnet

Edmonton Oilers

Connor McDavid - C

"I've expressed disappointment in not being able to wear the various jersey or the tapes ... whether that's Pride tape or pink tape," McDavid said Tuesday.

"Is it something that I'd like to see back into place one day? Certainly," McDavid added.

ESPN

"In terms of a league standpoint, is it something that I'd like to see put back into place one day? Certainly. You know, but that's not the way it is right now," he told reporters at Rogers Place.

...

"I've commented on this before. I think everyone knows how I feel," said McDavid, a three-time MVP of the NHL.

"I've enjoyed all the nights that we've celebrated here in Edmonton, whether that's Pride night or military night or Indigenous night, all the various nights that we've had and had a chance to celebrate. I've always enjoyed them. I can't speak for anyone else or the league."

Zach Hyman

McDavid's teammate, Zach Hyman, also used the word disappointing when asked about the ban on Pride tape but suggested he won't stop supporting the LGBTQ2S+ community.

"We'll be able to support them individually, but collectively that's out of the players control. Disappointing, but out of our control," Hyman told reporters.

"It's out of our hands. I know personally I enjoyed wearing the Pride jersey, the Pride tape, the military jersey, we had Willie O'Ree night, Indigenous night, all those great things that we support."

CTV News Edmonton

Nashville Predators

Ryan McDonagh - A

"It's a fine line in today's world and today's sports culture," McDonagh said before the Predators faced the Tampa Bay Lightning in their 2023-24 season opener at Amalie Arena. "You want to be your own self, be your own individual, represent yourself. But you also represent your company, your brand and your employer —everybody that you're working for.

"I think it's a work in progress as far as what's right and what's not. Ultimately the individual has the final say. I think that's what you found out last year with guys that made certain stances on things. That has to be continually discussed ... letting people make their own choices."

...

McDonagh said there are other ways players can show support for causes, though. For example, the rule doesn't prohibit players from wearing supportive shirts in arenas.

"Just because I'm not given the opportunity to wear a jersey doesn't mean I can't speak out for something I believe in," he said. "One opportunity closes, another opportunity opens.

"If you feel strongly for something, there's a will and a way to support anything you want in this world."

The Tennessean

Calgary Flames

Mikael Backlund - A

"I mean, it's their decision," said Flames captain Mikael Backlund.

"We're going to support Pride any way we can, other than the tape, and we're going to follow the rules and do what we're told."

Rasmus Andersson

"I mean, it sucks," said Flames defenceman Rasmus Andersson.

"It's something that's close to my heart and something I would love to support but, you know, it is what it is and we've got to find other ways to support it."

CTV News Calgary

Jonathan Huberdeau - A

“I fully supported it, and still support it,” Huberdeau said. “For me personally I still support it, and if I get the chance to do it, I’ll do it.”

Sportsnet

Vancouver Canucks

Patrik Allvin - GM

"Decisions like that, that’s something we follow the NHL, what they recommend,” said Allvin. “I think this organization has done a lot of good things in the community…we will continue to do that. But we definitely follow the league rules and what they’re telling us to do.”

Quinn Hughes - C

"I preached it before, last year in this locker room, this organization, with Pride, will always support that,” said Hughes. “It starts at the top of the organization with the Aquilinis on down. Whether we’re wearing the tape or the jerseys, it’s something that we’ll always support. We may not be doing anything on the ice but we’ll still be doing things off the ice to support it.”

Ian Cole - Canucks’ NHLPA union rep [fr??!]

"I know the reputation that this organization has,” said Cole. “When I came here, it was a really great selling point of this organization — how they approach these things…I think it is very important.”

...

“I think that the NHL wants zero controversy, which inevitably gave them controversy,” said Cole. “Unfortunately, they are the iron fist there and what they say goes…They’re the ones that make the rules. Unfortunately, as employees, we don’t get a ton of say in it. But I really respect and like what the Vancouver Canucks have done.”

[sidenote: this dude's got his own horrendous serious issues (tw: sa) so consider this the worst person you know said something passable. Also he had the NHLPA's support when he was suspended for the allegations so it makes me wonder if he gets at all that they need to take a stand here.]

Vancouver Is Awesome

Winnipeg Jets

Josh Morrissey - A

"It's always been something that I've tried to embrace, the different theme nights and, obviously, the inclusivity around the game of hockey," Morrissey said. "Try and have everyone feel comfortable to either play or watch or be a part of what I think is the greatest game on earth. So that won't change, I guess, as a goal personally to try to grow the game, regardless of what the memo says."

Kevin Cheveldayoff - GM

"I do know that this organization takes great care in wanting to be inclusive and the theme nights," Cheveldayoff told reporters in Winnipeg. "What the specifics of the memos are, I really can't speak to. I don't really have that yet.

"I'll have to obviously get briefed on that a little bit more. But I do know that the commitment from an organization standpoint is we'll do everything we possibly can."

CBC

San Jose Sharks

Anthony Duclair

"I know a lot of guys are supportive of that. I have no problem in the past to do it. It sucks that’s not going to be part of the league moving forward,” Duclair, who has worn both Pride jerseys and used Pride tape on his sticks in previous years, told San Jose Hockey Now. “It’s a little weird to me, a little puzzling to me.”

...

“For me, you’re also banning Black History Month,” the San Jose Sharks winger, of Haitian descent and also an outspoken member of the Hockey Diversity Alliance, opined. “I think we’re taking a step backwards, to be honest.”

...

All these guidelines might affect Duclair, who famously, before Martin Luther King Day during the 2020-21 season, wore skates that featured, per The Athletic, “the letters ‘BLM’ to support the Black Lives Matter movement, a raised fist logo and the phrase ‘Change Hockey Culture.’ The left skate also [featured] the logo of the Hockey Diversity Alliance.”

Duclair isn’t sure if such on-ice statements are now banned during Black History Night.

"That’s something I’ll have to ask,” he said. It sure looks like it though.

But one thing that Duclair knows, the NHL, is once again, falling behind other leagues, by not opening the door for new fans to feel welcome.

“That’s why the NBA, NFL, leagues like that, they’re always growing year after year, always getting new fans, new viewership,” he said.

San Jose Hockey Now

Pride Tape

The Pride Tape team is extremely disappointed by the NHL's decision to eliminate Pride Tape from any league on-ice activities.

The league has used language in recent days which would prohibit the tape from any proximity to NHL Hockey. We hope the league - and teams - will again show commitment to this important symbol of combating homophobia. Many of the players themselves have been exceptional advocates for the tape.

For the last six years we are grateful for the clubs and their players' support and visibility for inclusion in hockey. The NHL's amplification and global influence has been integral to Pride Tape connecting with players, parents, coaches, officials, fans at all levels in over 40 countries.

Seven years ago, Pride Tape was born out of adversity as a grassroots hockey initiative that remains resilient, and optimistic about our plans with hockey clubs, organizations and their partners at every level.

Thank you to everyone around the world who has had the courage to speak up for inclusion and stand up to the idea that Hockey is For Everyone. Despite this setback, we are encouraged for what lies ahead based on our recent conversations from every corner of the sport.

You Can Play

If Hockey is for Everyone, this is not the way forward.

It is now clear that the NHL is stepping back from its longstanding commitment to inclusion, and continuing to unravel all of its one-time industry-leading work on 2SLGBTQ+ belonging. We are now at a point where all the progress made, and relationships established with our community, is in jeopardy. Making decisions to eradicate our visibility in hockey- by eliminating symbols like jerseys and now Pride Tape immediately stunts the impact of bringing in more diverse fans and players into the sport.

We continue to be encouraged by our ongoing work and conversations with individual clubs, where we are working collaboratively to ensure Pride Nights remain vibrant events, providing visibility and a message of inclusion to the entire hockey community all year-round. We know this issue is not within the hundreds of dedicated staff within individual clubs who go to work daily to create a culture of belonging for everyone, everywhere in the hockey ecosystem.

We call on all allies, players, fans, and coaches at every level in hockey to amplify their voices and join us in this important conversation and to remind the NHL #WhyThisMatters. This includes the NHLPA and the NHLCA. Hockey is safer and better when more of us belong.

[desultory-novice]

Magalor gets the crown but neither turns on the main cast or gets controlled instantly and just kinda leaves.

(Bonus points if he gradually gets controlled, taking such a long time (like a couple months - a couple years) that people can see it happening but just can't stop it and have to watch it happen no I'm not copying adventure time)

Since you said Magolor left Kirby and the others alone, I'm afraid you'll have to deal with a Marx and Marxolor-heavy version of this prompt! (I sure hope you're one of my readers who either likes or doesn't mind some shipping between them, Anon! >w< )

I originally wrote this as a script to maybe comic-ify before I realized it was way too long and quickly transformed it into a prose piece!

"False King's Lament" Pairing: Marxolor Genre: Angst Words: 1,000 Warnings: Uh...they kiss briefly...?

[Read More]

A breezy question, spoken almost out of boredom, echoed with unexpected weight throughout the room. 

"How long you gonna keep wearing that?"

The wizard king turned in the direction of the voice: it came from his court jester, who spoke to him upside down, being in the middle of a series of complex acrobatic exercises. 

The jester was the only member of his court. For theirs was a kingdom of two.

"...Wearing what?"

"The big glittery crown on your head, your majesty."

They tried to invite others to join in their kingdom of laughter and good times. Most refused with looks of disgust or terror. Some took up weapons. Some simply ran. Of course, together the two of them had the ability to force anyone they wanted to stay, but after a time, the wizard king would sigh and say their screams weren't the ones he was looking for and let them go–to the jester's disappointment.

"The Master Crown is an object of unlimited power." 

The golden diadem in question, sculpted to resemble some kind of airborne creature, like a bird or a bat or perhaps a dragon sat atop the wizard king's head. The jewel in the center, a light opalescent color that every so often looked blood red in the light, sparkled on its own, as if it somehow knew it was being spoken about. 

"Why would I ever stop wearing it?"

The jester hopped forward, deft in his comically oversized shoes.

"Uh, cause it looks dumb on you?"

The veil of majesty on the wizard king's face fell away, one gloved hand massaging away the annoyance he felt in his brow from betwixt the crown's enormous claws.

There was no more dignity there as he dropped the royal charade to sigh at his longtime friend and lifelong partner in mischief.

"Ma~rx..." Irritation rose in the last notes of that name.

The jester, unfurling his wiry wings, crossed the distance between himself and his king with a single glittering flap.

"Seriously, Magolor. You haven't taken that thing off since you came back with it. I know you like looking all important, but come on!"

Magolor noticed Marx's ever delighted smile had left his face. His own countenance was a frown.

"Once more, I have to question you why I should?"

"...Can you?" This question was softer in pitch than that which initiated this conversation. Heavier in tone.

"What was that?" Magolor feigned a fool's ignorance. It was true that his hearing was not what it had been in years past. But to say he hadn't heard the jester's question would be the kind of lie that distinguished his life before his coronation.

"Can you take it off?" 

Firmer now. Marx no longer concealed his concern.

"....Why is that a question?" Golden eyes looked around the throne room for anything else to concentrate on. (Though had it not, at one time, been built for a purpose other than ruling? Had this empty castle in his image not been made to host more than just them?)

Marx wrapped his hands–though it was only Magolor who thought of the large, monstrous claws that way–close around the two ends of his jester's cap like they were cuffs, miming his king's horns.

"It's hugging your head pre~tty tight." His violet eyes glimmered as he stuck his tongue out of a crescent smile. "Even tighter than I do!"

Magolor laughed, suddenly at ease again. "Is that it? You're jealous over a piece of headgear?" 

He lifted the small jester in his large hands; up to the brim of his scarf for a secret kiss. But as the two pulled away, Magolor saw that the mirth in Marx's expression had been only temporary. A trap to encourage Magolor to let down his guard.

"I'm being serious for once."

Magolor absentmindedly bounced the jester from hand to hand as a distraction, Marx nimbly skipping and twirling along the stairs of the other's fingers in their little lover's game.

"Whatever you're worried about, don't be. I've spent years researching the Master Crown and its power."

The last two words came out with crushing force. "...I'm fine."

"Great!" Marx stopped, smiled, and hooked one hand on a white gloved finger, orbiting it like a trapeze artist to fling himself up on top of Magolor's head. "Then you'll be fine without it too!"

"...Marx, just let it go." Magolor wanted to crane back to pull him off but knew that he would not be able to turn his head to his satisfaction. He instead swatted uselessly at the air behind him.

"No, I won't." A once soft voice hissed with anger and determination. "Not until I get this creepy thing off your head, Mags."

Magolor's blind grasps grew quicker and more panicked. Marx stretched his wings to their full span and slipped the tips of his bony claws under the thick golden ones that wrapped crushingly close around the head and horns of his lover. 

The fake royal finally let the old weakness and helplessness of his former life slip through the cracks in his voice as he began to shout, "Don't! Don't tou-...!" Then, Marx began to pry at it.

"...Ngh!" Magolor groaned, feeling his head simultaneously forced up and pressed down by Marx's determined efforts to de-crown him. It was uncomfortable, but not unbearable. Yet. Still, he cried Marx's name through tight lips, pleading with him to stop before...

His howl of excruciating pain echoed through the room, bounding across every wall like a wounded animal desperate to escape as Magolor violently arched back, flinging Marx off of him like a missile.

"Ugh...!" Marx rolled several times before coming to a stop against the wall. He shook his head to clear the dizziness. "Mags, what the..."

He looked up at his injured king, whose hands were tightly clutching the crown that now appeared to be wriggling atop Magolor's head like it were alive. Magolor shook and shuddered, whimpering at the angry, punitive thrumming of the crown-creature that wore him.

Marx noticed that, in the struggle, Magolor's neck wrap had fallen. His round eyes widened, irises like dots, at what he saw.

"M-Mags...?"

The jester traced the path of the crown-creature's claws with those eyes. Unlike the ones clutching his brow and hugging his horns, these trailed down a ways before they disappeared entirely into Magolor's back, where body and gold fused together.

"Are you...satisfied...now that...you know?" A glint of a golden eye found him, wavering as the light illuminated a stillborn tear.

Marx flew around immediately to face him, kneading his claws gently into Magolor's curled fingers until they unfolded once more for him to hop up into. "How long has it been like this, Mags...?"

"I don't remember... Right after I put it on? Months later?"

Anger boiled over in Marx to the degree that he no longer knew where to direct it. "How do you not remember when this thing suddenly began crawling over your head and growing into your back?! How did you study it for years and not realize it wasn't a stupid crown at all but some sort of...messed up monster?! Do you even HAVE limitless power?! Then use it and get rid of it! Blow it up or take it off or whatever you have to do! You CAN do that, right?" 

The lying wizard ducked his head in shame; he did not want to lie.

"...What's it doing to you Mags...? What's it going to do?"

The jester, who in a moment had forgotten forever how to laugh, looked at his liege, his fellow trickster, and his love as the other opened lips split in a most unnatural way. "...I don't know..."

-

[ladylooch]

In an atmosphere of celebration 🥳 Congratulations on the 300

How about Kempe and reader celebrating a dating anniversary? Very romantic! Lots of affection, slow dances... candles 😍

The Way You Look Tonight with Adrian Kempe

A/N: First, Thank you so much!!! Second, you're speaking my language :) But I think you already know that! I went with a wedding anniversary because I wanted it to be so extra! And that is first wedding anniversary category.

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: Boob grabbing, so fluffy you’re gonna die.

Adrian Kempe has never been one to skimp.

And tonight, on your first wedding anniversary, is no different.

You just arrived back in L.A. to get settled before the season after visiting both of your families. 

After you finished lunch this afternoon, Adrian immediately sent you off to the salon so you could get your highlights and color retouched along with a quick trim. He surprised you with manicure and pedicure appointments at the same time, followed by full hair and make up. When you returned home, you were disappointed to find he was nowhere to be found. Instead, a gorgeous bouquet of deep, red roses with hints of baby breath sat on your counter. A note in his scratchy writing is resting with a corner under the vase.

A year ago today, we made the best decisions of our lives. Thank you for choosing me, beautiful girl. Happy first anniversary. Jag alsker dig.

P.S. Go upstairs. More fun awaits you.

You lean in, savoring the sweet smell of the roses before giddily bounding up the stairs. There, you find a black garment bag along with two Cartier boxes. You bite your lip, grabbing the smaller of the two and popping it open. Gorgeous pearl earrings greet you. They are reminiscent of your grandmother's that you wore for your wedding last year. The other box has a dainty necklace with yours and Adrian's initials lined along the swoop of the chain. A note from him says more initials can be added as your family grows with a wink.

The jewelry is stunning, but the black, beaded, A line dress really gets your butterflies swirling. It's paired with gorgeous ombre red to black, open toe Louboutin heels. You start to get a little sweaty at the price tag of all these items. You're not sure your gift for him of an engraved Rolex is enough. 

With your hair and make up already done by the professionals, you slip into the outfit he arranged for you. You’re pulling up your phone to text him when his picture appears on the screen with a phone call.

“Babe, where are you?” You whine immediately. He chuckles.

“You’ll see soon. A car is coming to pick you up. Get in it and I’ll see you soon.”

“Oooo kidnapping! I like it.” 

“What? No.” He laughs. “But the driver is named Jason. Check that before you get in.”

Jason does indeed pick you up in front of your condo ten minutes later. You chat while threading through California traffic. Eventually, you get to the beach. The sun is starting to set over the ocean, finding an angle that releases the relentless, summer heat. You’re dropped off in front of an expensive seafood restaurant with gorgeous ocean views. Their patio is usually stacked, but tonight it’s set only for two. 

You slowly walk in. The indoor part of the restaurant is busy. 

“Hi, I’m meeting Adrian Kempe.” The host eyes sparkle excitedly.

“Mrs. Kempe! We have been waiting for you.”

“Oh great.”

She leads you outside to where one table is set up. Adrian is out there, leaning against the railing overlooking the beach. He turns when he hears the door, grinning at you and only you. His hair is pulled back into a bun, just how you like it. He’s wearing a white, t-shirt button down, leaving his tattoos exposed for you to run your fingers along after a few glasses of wine.

“You look just as beautiful as a year ago.” He murmurs, leaning down to capture your lips. “Hi. I missed you all day.” He holds your hand as he admires the outfit he picked for you. It looks better than he could have dreamed on your curves.

“Me too. You’re the one who sent me away.” You remind him. Your hands grip the muscles of his back as you sway together for a moment. His lips rest against your head, breathing in the scent of your hair products.

“Was it worth it?”

“Yes. It was amazing. Thank you.”

“Good. You deserve all of that and more.” He leans away to grab you a glass of champagne. You take a small sip after a clink of your glasses in a cheers.  “To us. Forever.”

“Forever.” You agree, tilting your face up for another soft kiss. His hand at the small of your back presses you deeper. You lose a bit of your footing with his insistence of pressing you deeper into him. 

“Sorry.” He murmurs. “Want you closer than that.”

“Am I going to have to sit on your lap during dinner?”

“Yeah and feed me like a baby bird.” He chuckles, kissing your cheek. 

After you both finish your first glass of champagne, you grab another then sit down to start munching on your meal. You start with oysters and shrimp ceviche then move into a light salad with butter lettuce and a lemony dressing. You two take turns feeding bites from each others forks, leaning shoulders into each other and stealing kisses as the waiter takes your starter plates away.

“Thank you.” You murmur, then kiss your husband’s lips again. The privacy on the balcony along with the champagne is making you fee loose. “I hope we can recreate other parts of this night together.”

“There is more at home when we are done.”

“Yeah?” 

“Mhm. Champagne… candles… bubbles in a bath tub… chocolate covered strawberries….” He nibbles on the side of your throat as he says that. You let your head fall towards his, gripping his necklace under his shirt for some grounding. He’s recreating your honeymoon too and you hope what happened in that bed then repeats tonight.

Another glass of champagne is gone. Multiple courses begin to filter to the table including pasta, sushi rolls, crispy okra, and a ribeye with a decadent truffle butter sauce. You share everything, but are both too full to consider any dessert. 

“I have something sweet at home for when we want it.” He assures you when you feel guilty about saying no to chocolate gelato. “How about another glass of champagne though?” 

“Yes!” You wiggle against him as he pours you both another round. 

A recognizable, soft jazz beat begins to play in the outdoor speakers. 

Some day, when I’m awfully low… when the world is cold… I will feel a glow just thinking of you.

Your gaze meets his and you feel yourself tear up, remembering the soft steps of your first dance. It was such a hectic night, but all the noise faded when this song played. Adrian had held you so close, lips on your ear the whole time, signing the lyrics to you as you rested your head on his shoulder.

“Dance with me?” He murmurs, kissing along your knuckles hanging off his shoulder. His lips hover on the large wedding rings he gave to you. Their imprint stays in his lips for an additional moment when he pulls away.

“I would love to.” You set your glass on the table and let him lead you to an open area of the patio. He pulls you flush with him, just like he did a year ago, whispering into your ear how incredibly beautiful you are. Then he sings along with Michael Bublé.

“Lovely, never ever change. Keep that breathless charm, won’t you please arrange it? Cause I love you. Just the way you look tonight.” His European accent muddles the words a bit as he sings, making you fall for him again. You pull away, eyebrows pulled low in tender love for your sweet man. 

"Baby." You murmur into his neck. "This is too much. I didn't get-“

"You are worth all of this. I'm so happy. Our life together is better than I could have imagined it being even on our wedding day. I want to spoil you."

“You have. This was all so unexpected and so sweet. I love you.”

“I love you too. Happy anniversary.” 

The first pop of fireworks surprises you as they fly off from the beach into the ocean. Adrian hugs you tighter so you know you are safe against his chest. You tilt your head up to the sky, watching the next one burst in gold across the inky, black sky. 

“Oh my god!” You exclaim. At your wedding, you had wanted to have fireworks, but the dry weather conditions made it a last minute cancellation from the venue. “You got me our fireworks.” Adrian had tried so hard to get them to reconsider because he knew how much you wanted them with sparklers for your guests.

“I told you I would. Sorry they are a year late.”

“No, it’s perfect.” You admit as he transitions behind you, pressing your back to his front so you can watch together. Both your hands fold together over your stomach, admiring the glittering booms he arranged just for you.

It’s late when you get home. But you two are not tired. There is a glow coming from under your bedroom door as you walk down the hall with him. He pushes the door open from behind you, showing you an oasis of candles, soft music, rose petals complimented by a chilled bottle of champagne on the nightstand.

“I should carry you over the threshold. We never did that last year.” 

“Yeah you were too desperate.”

“Me? You were too.” He laughs, swooping you up. “You ripped the buttons off my shirt.” He brings you into the room.

“Still not sorry about it either.” He sets you down on your feet and you look back at him as he unzips your dress.

“Who is breaking into our house and doing these things for us?”

“Don’t worry about it. They’re gone.” He murmurs against your shoulder. He unhooks your small straps from your shoulders, letting the whole dress pool down at your feet. A groan sounds at the sight of your lacy butt cheeks pressing against his zipper. You rub your booty into him more, creating a hardening there. He reaches up to cup your bare breasts, holding them and stroking their tips into hard peaks. You melt into him.

“Bath?”

“Mhm.” You nod. He leads you forward, wanting to feel you brushing against his lap with each step.

You begin to strip him down in the bathroom. His shirt falls to the floor. You lean forward to kiss along his chest to his shoulder where you sink your teeth into him playfully. He chuckles, showing his straight teeth as you work on his belt next. His bottoms fall to the floor as his fingers hook in your panties, working them down your legs. He kisses his way back up your body, then offers you his hand to step into the tub. You both sink in, skin buzzing from the warmth and the night. You both want each other, desperately, but it’s going to be so worth the little bit of wait. 

“I have one last surprise for you.” He says as smooths bubbles across your arm. He points to his tattoo sleeve. Nestled inside the ripples of roses on his right bicep is your first name with his last, the infinity symbol, and the date of your anniversary. You run your finger tips over it, feeling the raised lines of the fresh ink.

“Babe. I love that. And you more than I can put into words right now. Tonight has been… unbelievable.” You sigh, leaning further back. “How is this all real? How are you real?”

“I constantly want to pinch myself that you’re mine.” He whispers. “So many times you could have left. This is not an easy life you have chosen.”

“No, but you make it easy.” You answer honestly. “If this was with anyone else, it would be so hard. But we have an amazing relationship. One I thought only existed in teen fairytales. I’m proud of us. I know we can handle anything as long as it is me and you.”

“Now to start planning next year….” 

“Oh my god.” You laugh, shaking your head at the thought. 

“Maybe no champagne tho…” He trails off. You turn to look at him, knowing this man aches for his baby in you. 

“I would be okay with that.” You admit. He grins, leaning forward to seal the deal with a kiss.

[docholligay]

I guess I want to get murdered for my birthday

Do me a favor and read to the end of this before you lose your mind. Maybe go take a walk. I certainly took my time. 

Now that three months have passed, and we’ve calmed down some, I hope we can all admit that Ukraine’s Eurovision win was a political one, unattached from the merits of the song. There was a LOT of feelings in the air right after the win, and there was some severe lack of critical thinking skills going on. 

“I liked the song” “I want to feel like Ukraine is being supported” and “They won because of the political situation, and would not have otherwise” are not COMPETING or EXCLUSIVE thoughts. They can all sit on the plate together just fine. There is not a single thing wrong with any of those thoughts. 

They got something like 96% of the available televote, I think. Wacky numbers. We all know that was not sheerly out of a deep love of sopilka and hip hop. You are not stupid people. They could have sent Embers, and won. Even more shocking is the jury vote--juries traditionally HATE this stuff, and that was also more a show of political support than anything. In normal times, they would have eaten Stefania for breakfast. The fact that Eurovision fanblogs and forums have dozens of posts about how the results might have gone if there wasn’t a war on Ukraine, with statistical backing a different formulae--a whole category of discussion--shows this point pretty clearly. 

There are a couple questions that came up and retorts offered in the immediate after, and I think now, when we’ve all had a breather, is a better time to talk about them. 

Was the result FAIR? In the sense that I think absolutely no cheating went on, yes, it was fair. Now another meaning of fair is “Did it deserve it?” and that goes onto all the questions above--I don’t think that’s answerable, I think it’s too slippery. But going from a sheer “was there funny business?” no, it won fairly. 

I think for me the more compelling question is: Was it SATISFYING? I’ve tried to think about this as if it had been Shum, a song I fucking LOVE, and not Stefania, which in full fucking fairness, I DO hate. If it had been Shum, I would still be disappointed, because I know for the rest of Eurovision history, it would never be thought of as a song that won in its own right. Stefania will NEVER be able to come up without the contextual discussion of the war and how it won. And anyone who tries to assert that the song was “just that amazing” is going to sound sillier and sillier as we go down the line. It almost immediately started to get whupped on by Space Man and SloMo in the streaming stats. SloMo has more than twice the streams. And I HATED SloMo, this is not me trying to elevate Spain here. It’s just the accurate numbers reflecting people’s actual attitudes. 

But mostly I’m frustrated that it made Eurovision boring. The winner was chosen the second the news rolled out. 

It can be frustrating to see a song crush before the competition even starts, and I don’t think it was very fair the way anyone who was annoyed and frustrated by the domination was shouted down as some kinda pro-Russian bot. Obviously this is part and parcel of the internet problem of thinking of things as binaries but come on now. Use your heads for something other than a hatrack. Being frustrated that what is at least OSTENSIBLY a song competition became some classically social way of ‘showing Russia’ without actually having to DO anything for Ukraine, is not an anti-Ukraine stance. 

UKRAINE won, but Kalush Orchestra didn’t, you know? I think it’s okay to support Ukraine and find that deeply frustrating. Eurovision has always been political, of course--who knows how the fuck Greece decided to allocate points this year, I’m sure it kept them up at night--but it’s usually not so NAKEDLY so, and I, as a long time and fairly invested fan, found it unsatisfying to try and engage with a decided contest. 

But much worse than that was the denial that it was a decided contest. I much prefer someone say, “It was a known game, disconnected from the song, and I am fine with that.” Fantastic. I have no argument with that! How could I possibly? Fair enough. My only hope is that we can hold with two hands, “I am fine with Ukraine’s political win” and “people who were irritated by it are not necessarily pro-Russia.” 

Thank you, and goodnight. 

[ressjeon]

i don’t think i’m okay | ksj

➻ pairing: kim seokjin x fem! reader

➻ summary: with many chances wasted, you couldn’t even resist anymore.

➻ rating: 18+

➻ genre: romance, smut, light angst, fluff, slice of life, idiotstolovers!au, lowkey crack?, childhoodfriends!au? (more like acquaintance)

➻ word count: 4k+

➻ warnings: mutual pining, light swearing, mentions of divorce and implied cheating, family problems, brief mentions of mental health struggles, kissing & making out, teasing (duh), unprotected sex (pls stay safe), missionary lovemaking with aftercare & pillowtalk (yie 🥴)

➻ a/n: surprised that I posted this fast aren’t you? here’s my submission for the “spring will come again” event hosted by @bangtanarmynet (prompts 5 & 18, at the end) and my attempt of fluff hehe. Listen to this song by Bazzi for the vibe (not the lyrics tho but idk lowkey) and it's inspired by one of my childhood crushes :)

Yeoksam Luxury Villa

We are pleased to inform you that your reservation has been received and confirmed.

You smiled in relief once you read the booking confirmation of the retreat for yourself that you've been planning for a while. You scheduled it for the last week of Spring so you’ll be able to relax and ready for adventure in the following Summer.

For weeks your mother had been pestering you to include the entire family or maybe just your sibling when you proposed to have a luxurious treat for yourself. You just wanted this moment to be for yourself since you're going back to your home country after so many years.

And besides, you're already having a homecoming party where everyone's invited so what's the point. Scrolling through your IG feed, you spotted him with one of your closest cousins, Jaekyung and you're contemplating on asking him to invite his best friend but you'll take your chances.

You: Psstt, uh are you done inviting everyone?

Jaekyung: You mean if I invited Jin already?

You: Fuck off prick I just wanna check in to make sure

Jaekyung: sUrE, sure but yeah he knows, he said he’s busy tho

A sad sigh escaped from you, your earlier excitement now replaced with disappointment. Wow what's new anyways, your silly little crush is still apparent even just seeing Seokjin's picture. 

Jaekyung has always irked you a lot because he's been teasing you about Seokjin since you were kids but you love him regardless. He’s like an older brother to you and has the same age as Jin so they practically hangout every time the latter comes to town.You may also have been too obvious of your little crush on Seokjin that he immediately noticed and tormented you both during birthday parties.

Sometimes you actually feel bad for Seokjin because of all the teasing he gets not only from your cousin but his older sister as well. You and her have been close mainly because you crave having an older sibling, especially a sister. You hated being the eldest cause of you know, gazillion reasons. You invited her and of course she said yes but then she told you how Seokjin might be coming too since he’s apparently free.

Then why did he turn down your cousin’s invite? Does he even remember you at all?

You felt a pang at the thought but you dismissed it immediately. You still need to pack up so no time to wallow. You're gonna go to this retreat with a Seokjin-free mind.

.

When you arrived at the villa, you were in awe of how gorgeous it is. Everything from the inside architecture and all the villa's luxurious services made you pretty damn hype to be finally fully relaxed. You met with the receptionist and told you to be in the lobby after dinner for a welcoming soiree so you’re even more excited to meet new people.

After settling your stuff, you went outside and toured the entire villa, enjoying all the scheduled activities you planned but truth to be told you mainly enjoyed being pampered in the spa the most. You never regretted having this despite your initial doubts with you being money conscious growing up.

During dinner, you didn't really care much to talk to people since all you can focus on is the food, so damn delicious as you have been starving with all the things that you did today and you're more excited for the soiree after anyways. You went back to your room to touch up since you feel like you look messy after eating so much.

Coming down the stairs to the foyer you noticed people talking to themselves already but most of them seemed to be focused on something, more like someone.

And then you hear it, a familiar melody echoing throughout the room that is being played by someone on the piano in the middle of it. At first you only focused on the melody, bringing back to when you tried learning the instrument in elementary only to stop in order to focus on your studies.

But as you came nearer, you're starting to notice who it is, with his prominent broad shoulders and his perfect posture even when sitting down. There's no doubt it's Seokjin.

You walked nearer, observing him graciously playing the piano with his delicate fingers. You marvelled his face, maybe it's just your eyes but he's gotten more handsome now, it's been almost 7 years since you left after all.

With you getting fascinated with Seokjin's musical skill you didn't notice how you're slowly walking closer to a display table near the corner, and when you moved a little to get a good angle of him, you accidentally elbowed the vase behind you.

The sound cracked into the air that diverted everyone's attention from Seokjin to you. You froze, embarrassed at your clumsiness but before you can apologize you see him turned to you. Seokjin's eyes immediately locked with yours, you noticed the disbelief in them though you wonder if he's only trying to remember your face with this perplexed reaction.

You blinked away and started apologizing to everyone around you, even trying to help the cleaners who insisted for you not worry since this happens quite often. You left in a hurry, not giving Seokjin a glance as you hurriedly passed everyone.

Jin is utterly shocked to see you here of all places, he couldn't believe that you're finally back. Are you staying for good or just visiting? Despite his surprise, he managed to catch your startled reaction on seeing him. 

He immediately stood up, ignoring the weird looks he's been getting and hushed complaints since he stopped playing the piano. He's been there for a while now because of countless requests from other guests and he's just too nice to decline. 

You heard footsteps behind you and now you're nervous because it's surely him. You saw the determined look in his eyes earlier beyond the surprise in them so you already guessed that he'll follow you. But why though?

“You saved me back there” he chuckled, breathing heavily as he caught up to you. You stopped in your tracks, a confused expression displayed on your face.

"Uh you're welcome hehe" you smiled shyly as you recovered, avoiding his stares. You've always been bad at making eye contact and it's not helping when Seokjin's staring at you intensely. 

"How have you been Y/N? Didn't think I'd find you here" he laughs nervously, pondering his approach with your stunned face. He's not gonna be an idiot this time, he already missed his shots before.

"Small world haha but you really remember me?"

You awkwardly laughed since you’re taken aback at how he's approaching you like you two have been long time friends reuniting.

But you and Seokjin weren't friends, just acquaintances since you see each other a lot during celebrations.

"What, you think I'd forget you?" he smiled at you when you turned to him but you didn't miss the regretful look in his eyes. And here you thought he's good at hiding his feelings according to Jaekyung.

"I don't know, you never really talked to me back then" you retorted.

"I just..,hey–"

A sudden darkness enveloped everything around you that made Seokjin yelped and you heard the panicked outcries from the guests in the lobby. You on the other hand remained calm as blackouts don't really scare you.

You were never afraid of it, growing up getting used to frequent blackouts from your little town you developed a skill of maneuvering in the dark. Only case now is that Seokjin's making you nervous so now you clumsily walk forward and hit the corner of the wall.

You let out a small yelp but Seokjin's immediately by your side, holding you tightly. You couldn't see his face but you can tell by his tense touch how worried he is.

"Are you alright?" he asked gently and you chuckled.

"I just bumped Jinnie"

"Jinnie huh?" he teased and you're so sure he's smirking right now.

"Whatever, let's go find some candles" you wavered and instantly grabbed his arm but he removed your hand and laced it together with his own.

You're so fucked, this is moving faster than you anticipated. 

Seokjin's surprised at how you easily moved in the dark and you tried to ignore the butterflies in your stomach when you're holding hands with him, with Seokjin after all these years.

.

You both ventured through the halls and stopped when one of the staff reassured you that the blackout won’t last for the whole night. Seokjin immediately asked for the candles (which are looking fancy btw) and the staff handed them to you. Seokjin tugged you nearer to him to observe your reaction and he can feel you’re still skeptical around him, after all, you’re practically complete strangers until earlier.

"Y-Y/N, I've been meaning to talk to you–"

"I know, but let's not talk in here" you responded softly which caused a big relief for Seokjin. You dragged him further away from other guests and staff, the little light from the moon outside guiding you both as you walked through the stairs. You were going to go in the direction to your room when he moved around the corner and you noticed that it’s towards his room.

“It’s nearer than your room and I might have a flashlight and more candles there" he responded obviously, looking down at the dimming candle which is why you agreed anyways. You are also mentally preparing for this "talk" of you and him. Is this it? Will he confront you about your obvious feelings for him? How fucking embarrassing would that be.

You both entered a large suite which didn’t surprise you. Knowing Seokjin, of course he would get one of the biggest suites in the villa. You laughed thinking how big this room is for one person, it’s that bigger than yours.

Even in the darkness, you can feel him peering at you and now you’re feeling jittery, all your laughter gone in an instant. 

“I-”

“Uh-”

You both laughed a little for answering at the same time, quite cute actually. Seokjin's still fetching some candles when you walk over to him, surprising him when you turn him around to face you.

"You've been really wanting to talk to me, so now we'll talk Jin" you smiled at him and he smiled back, looking at you like you're the only light in this dark room. 

But you are though, always have been in his life ever since.

"Okay so I know we've never really had an actual conversation every time we see each other before but.." he paused, he seems to be nervous. Kim Seokjin is nervous? You smiled in amusement which he didn't miss. What if..

"I like you"

Your widened eyes mirrored Seokjin's after you both synced again. But no laugh came after this time.

"No" you said dryly, your expression twisting into disbelief making him wince.

"Y-Y/N–"

"My cousin and your sister made my feelings even more obvious but you don't have to use that just to start a conversation Seokjin" you sighed in disappointment.

"No, that's not it and where is this even coming from?" his voice frantic after noticing your opposite response to his confession.

"No? How could you? How could you even like me when you couldn't even look at me before let alone talking to me" your voice laced in irritation.

"I don't think you noticed it back then" he sighed and closed his eyes. You didn't know what to say because you're very confused right now.

He took your silence as a sign to continue so he took a deep breath and opened his eyes, looking straight into yours.

"You know I've always looked forward to going to parties before, because then I'll get to play with your cousins who I treat as brothers since you know, I don't have one" he looked away and smiled warmly, remembering the fond memories of his childhood.

You wanted him to continue but you have so many questions for him. He waited for them but you don't know what to ask first. Annoyance and confusion battling themselves in your mind.

He nodded slightly, a knowing look on his face and turned his back at you. He needs to explain now before your patience runs out but he couldn’t focus with your pretty face in front of him.

“I wasn’t in a good place back then, my parents were always fighting back home so the only way I’ll get an actual break is when I go with my sisters to your town during gatherings. They’re divorced now though, Dad keeps saying that Mom cheated but I didn’t know who to believe that’s why until now I always leave the house as much as I can” he sounds defeated. You noticed how his broad shoulders slacked against the table and your face softened.

“Jin, I’m sorry I didn’t know” you’re full of guilt now, you should’ve just let him explain before. You’re too consumed with your own feelings that you didn’t even give Seokjin the benefit of the doubt, already assuming everything just because you think you’re the only one looking. Your heart broke at his revelation, how he’s still carrying that experience even today.

“Nah it’s okay, even your cousin didn’t know. Guess I have been really good at hiding it, well at least for everyone outside my family” he playfully responded, trying to lighten up the situation.

You walked closer to Seokjin, aching to hug him to comfort him but you didn’t wanna be too pushy. Just because he said he likes you doesn’t mean you’re allowed to cross boundaries already.

“Jinnie..” you said softly, wanting him to turn around.

“I just don’t go to those parties as my escape place and because of your cousins, I wanted to go because I wanted to see you as well ” you heart’s racing with another confession of his.

You couldn’t help it, so many times you could’ve been together. Maybe if you didn’t leave and paid attention more, it would’ve been different. So you instantly wrapped your arms around his waist and you heard him inhale sharply. shit, is it too much?

But then he released a contented sigh and leaned back into your arms, causing you to relax and smile at his response.

"I'm here Jinnie" you spoke gently.

He removed your arms and turned to face you, his eyes full of longing and affection. You reached for his face with one of your hands and he grabbed the other one, lacing his fingers on yours and brought it to his other cheek.

A tender smile appeared on his very handsome face as he leaned back in the table and you closed the distance between you. You both closed your eyes the moment your lips met, his soft and plump ones molding with your own. He removed his other hand from your fingers, running it down delicately through your arm and you shivered in his touch.

The kiss started off slowly and gently but minutes passed by and you both are starting to feel the neediness for each other. You released your lips from his and you both stared at each other's eyes, inhaling sharply after when his lips started kissing your jaw towards your neck.

You tilt your head on the side to give him more access but his hands grabbed your waist closer to him, situating you between his legs causing your legs to touch his inner thighs and he groaned.

Sensitive part then?

You smirked but it vanished when his hands went down to stroke the back of your thighs underneath your dress, gliding them higher and higher until he reached your bum. You gasped when he grabbed a handful, your hands grasping into his hair as he nipped your collarbones.

You don't really mind if he leaves marks but he's doing it lightly so it won't. Seokjin continued his teasing, purposely doing the same thing over and over again until he felt you getting impatient.

"Seokjin.." you whined softly and pulled his hair, making him moan. He didn't answer you and just smiled against your neck, pecking them lightly before looking back at your cute, scrunched up face.

You couldn't take it anymore and you know he's teasing. Of course, Seokjin won't be Seokjin without it.

He watched in daze as you slowly undressed yourself in front of him. He did not think you'd actually do this with him so he’s thankful, though he still wonders how lucky he is that you accepted his confession.

"Are you sure?" he asked softly and you nodded, clutching his suit.

"Off" you demanded.

He laughed quietly and started removing his clothes slowly.

"Jin I swear–"

You immediately stopped your ramble as soon as you saw his skin into view. Despite the dimmed lighting, you can still clearly see his well-built physique.

He's not muscular like other guys but you don’t really care anyways because it’s Seokjin. Your eyes scanned his face down to his body and you gulped when they reached his very hard member. You looked away now fidgeting but Seokjin just confidently stood up and grabbed your face to kiss you, his thumb caressing your jaw as his kisses turned intense. 

You reciprocated them with fervour, pressing your tongue against his lower lip asking for an entrance which he gladly accepted. Hands desperately roaming at each other’s bodies, you both slowly approached his bed, mouths not stopping at devouring each other until the back of your knees reached the edge.

Seokjin released you, his eyes studying your face, mumbling “gorgeous” before crouching down but you stopped him before his knees reached the floor.

"I want to," he insisted as his palms slid up through your legs, adding the yearning look in his eyes that almost made you say yes. 

"Next time Jinnie" 

"Next time?" he asked softly, scanning your face for any humor in it but you only nodded sheepishly, still shy with this whole thing.

"Mmhmm, I want you inside me now" you pouted, your arousal slowly clouding your shyness. 

"Why are you impatient?" he chuckled, looking at you amusingly, brows wiggling.

"Because the lights might go back on!" you whined.

"So?"

"Jinnie–"

"Are you ready?" Seokjin looked back at you carefully, bringing back your attention to him.

"Mhhmm" you nodded as your nerves increased when he stepped even closer to you with all his naked glory.

Lord thank you for sculpting him like this.

"Words, love" he cooed, laying you both in the mattress, positioning himself after.

"Yes, I'm ready. I have been wanting you for years Jin" you sighed, glad at expressing what you feel for him after keeping them for so long.

And slowly he entered you, making you gasp in pleasure at the feeling when he bottomed out. He's so big and you saw a little smirk appear on his face while letting you adjust. You look so gorgeous like this, staring lovingly into his eyes and he pressed a soft kiss on your forehead, God why did it take him so long..

Jin started moving his hips, slowly grinding himself into you, making his crotch rub into your clit. You gaped at his beautiful sight above you, both of his arms planted on each side of your head and the sweat now forming on his face as his pace is slowly increasing. 

A smile formed on your lips when he groaned at how you keep clenching around him .You ran your palms through his clamp biceps, feeling them up until both of your hands reached his face. Seokjin tilted his head and rubbed his cheeks into your palms, the love swimming in his almond-shaped eyes.

Seokjin masks his emotions so well so you almost teared up at how he's letting you see him with all of them out in the open, right here with you. Your touches roamed down to his chest and he shuddered, his elbows bucking down to the sheets and he latched his mouth into one of your nipples, sucking it slowly. 

You had to hold back your moans because the guests might hear you but Seokjin has other plans. His pace increased its speed and you spread your legs wider, allowing him to hit that spot inside you and you almost scream in delight. 

He silenced your moans by kissing you deeply and you responded to them with equal passion.

"Jinnie.." you whimpered as you feel your orgasm nearing, the feeling of his cock stretching your walls deliciously.

"Hmm? I’m close too, love" he whispered, and the endearment didn’t go unnoticed by you despite the pleasure that’s taking over your mind and your heart soared with love for this man.

"I-I'm here for you..fuck!" you cried when his fingers reached down to your clit, his thumb rubbing the swollen bud even faster than his current pace.

"My solace..I love you Y/N'' he gasped shakily, closing eyes shut when your walls clamped around his cock as you reached your peak. The intense pleasure from your climax didn't allow you to respond to him so you just draped your arms around him, hugging him as your breath came down slowly.

He's very close while he's helping you ride out your orgasm but his breath is quickening so you released him and he pulled out just in time, spurts of his cum hitting the mound of your pussy, so much of it that it dribbled down to your sensitive folds. 

All of a sudden, everything was bright and you covered your eyes, shying away from the brightness and Seokjin giggled.

"You're so cute" he smiled warmly at you and you squirm as you feel his cum dripping into the sheets. 

An amused smile loomed his disheveled face as he stood up to get his shirt, climbing back to the bed to clean you up and you beamed. You're really in this deep.

"I love you too Jinnie" you whispered, smiling at him affectionately and he waved you to come closer to him.You put your head on his chest, nuzzling into him while his arms caressed you.

He hummed and silence ruled over you for a while, you're just very happy right now. You still couldn't believe that your childhood crush is your..wait, is he your boyfriend now then?

"You know, your cousin's been teasing me about you since the first time we met" he blurted and you gasped dramatically as you got up, causing him to laugh at your exaggerated reply.

"Really? Gods he does the same to me!" you huffed and Jin just giggled, staring at you fondly.

"I was also gonna offer to teach you some piano stuff secretly before" he confessed meekly, catching you in surprise.

"How did you know? Oh wait, Jaekyung" you scowled, playfully rolling your eyes at him.

“I have another question” you eyed him warily.

He hummed while affectionately touching the side of your back, lightly grabbing your bum.

“Why did you turn down his invite?” 

He laughed hard, hands clamping on his stomach and you elbowed him, your eyebrows scrunching.

“It’s because I wanted to ask you in person, you know an excuse to start talking to you” he giddily responded and you grinned, he finally sounded happy this time.

Seconds later, you noticed his demeanour slowly changing into hesitation, his face contorting into nervousness and eyes refusing to meet yours when you looked at him questioningly. 

"Are-are you only visiting?" he asked quietly, unsure if he wants to know your answer. These years without you made his life dull and he doesn't know if he can handle you leaving after what just happened between you both.

"I don't know, am I?" you teased, fingers running circles on his chest and Seokjin immediately caught on to what you wanted to hear.

"You are not or I will go with you anywhere, girlfriend" he grinned, cocking his head playfully and leaned up, pecking your lips softly.

"Then no, someone just changed my reason to stay" you laughed heartily and instantly moved away when he was about to cage you, his intentions clear with the mischief in his eyes.

“Nope, in my room this time” you winked at him and got up immediately, grabbing on one of his oversized shirts and left him chuckling between the sheets.

This is gonna be a long vacation and you couldn't ask for more.

Prompts:

(5) There is a blackout in the whole building and now we stumble through our apartment, trying to find some candles

(18) At a luxury retreat, Socialite B overhears the most beautiful song and spends the rest of their vacation trying to figure who played that instrument (the writer can choose anything) until they discover it’s their first love - Person A.

tagging Jin stans: @sugasbabiie​ @jinned @erotikkook​ @aroseforyoongi​ @missgeniality​ @kithtaehyung​

©  ressjeon 2021. do not repost, modify, or translate.

[ptergwen]

web of lies

take a leap. if you start to fall, the net will appear to catch you.

photographer!peter x journalist!reader || masterlist

w/c: 7.1k

warnings: swearing, one drinking mention, descriptions of anxiety, and angst if ya squint

summary: peter can’t stop holding your hands, betty and ned are the modern day bonnie and clyde, ned is a terrible guy in the chair, the osborn’s are up to something, and mj hates you all

a/n: y’all i’m super excited about this series like i haven’t had an idea i’ve really loved in months? so it’s good to be back !!! there are tons of things i have planned and i can’t wait to share them with all of you hehe i really hope you enjoy part one <3 happy reading

to be honest, which is what you do best, you’ve had a thing for peter parker your whole time at the daily bugle. you actually almost told him once.

a couple months ago, peter walked you home on a night you worked overtime. he’d came in last minute to leave some pictures on your boss’s desk. no one else but you was there, hunched at your computer in the dim office lighting. peter was pleasantly surprised to see you, yet concerned for your well-being. you had to put your finishing touches on a story.

he didn’t feel comfortable letting you travel alone at that hour. so, he went with you when you were ready. his company was more than welcomed. you told peter about your article while you two sat on the subway. he’d listened intently, your head resting on his shoulder and his arm around you. he made sure you got to your apartment building alright as well.

“hey, peter?” you’d asked, halfway up the steps. he was waiting until you were inside and safe to leave. “hm? you good?” he’d smiled sort of expectantly. “yeah. i... i wanted to say...”

your words got caught in your throat when he gave you the softest puppy eyes you’ve ever seen. you couldn’t do it. for some reason, you were too scared to confess how you felt. “thanks again for walking me home,” you’d settled on. he’d seemed disappointed that was what you wanted to tell him. nevertheless, he said not to worry about it before taking off.

that one moment perfectly captures it all; how yours and peter’s narrative plays itself out.

—

“we’ve got an update on hydra v. the people!”

“those freaky giraffes escaped the zoo... again.”

“shoot one more spitball and it’ll be your last.”

“does anyone have an aspirin?”

welcome to the daily bugle, where the chaos never ends and the calm never starts. you’ll find new york’s finest writers, publishers, and creatives of all kind right here. that would include you. you’re one of the top journalists in the whole building, according to mr. norman osborn. he’s the brilliant and slightly insane man who runs this place.

although it’s rare for someone in your field, you were hired straight out of college. norman read a few pieces you’d written and loved them so much that he offered you a job. full time, full benefits, no questions asked. there was something special about the way you wove your words together. your writing had its own voice. a strong voice, one the paper was severely lacking.

you’ve been with the bugle for just over a year now. it’s not the quiet, nine to five gig you were initially expecting it to be. you’re each very unique individuals in your office, and there’s never a dull moment because of it. your coworkers can be found hosting debates on the riskiest topics or tackling each other for blueberry muffins, and that’s just a regular tuesday. the place is stranger than strange. but, it’s become home.

thanks to mr. osborn being so accommodating, you actually settled in rather quickly. another big help has been the friends you’ve made. your first was michelle jones, who prefers to be called mj. she’s a fellow journalist with a wickedly dark humor that trickles into her writing. if you had to describe her in one word, it would be blunt. mj is as real as it gets, and also eternally loyal. she keeps her circle small, so you’re honored you get to be in it.

mj sits right next to you, which means you’re always talking through your days. that’s due in part to the way your office is set up. there aren’t any cubicles, tables and swirly chairs taking up their space instead. norman heard it was more progressive, probably from his son harry.

harry is about your age, only a couple of years older. he hangs around quite a lot, but doesn’t do much with his time besides that. according to norman, he’s still seeking out his passion. he’s banking on him finding a suitable career at the bugle. he’d like to pass this all on to harry some day, hopefully sooner than later. either way, you don’t mind having harry here. he’s super funny and friendly with everyone.

there’s also ned leeds, who’s an editor and reviews most of your pieces. he’s sweeter than candy, even when he’s ripping your grammar to shreds. on the rare occasions you’re not discussing breaking news, you two talk about movies. ned is a film buff and gives you the best recommendations. you’re convinced he was a critic in his past life.

last but so from least is peter parker. he only works for the bugle part time, since he’s still in school. you both graduated from your respective colleges the same year. peter wants to get his masters degree, though. he’s a photographer who’s aspiring to be a cinematographer. him and ned have their passion for the industry in common, and that’s what makes them such great friends.

you learned this and more from the times you and peter have partnered up on stories. he’s one of your best friends not only at the bugle, but in your entire life. the many long nights you’ve spent collaborating have brought you close to each other. they consist of drinking and deep talks, along with some actual work. he takes the pictures, you do the writing. you’ve been told you make a lovely pair.

peter says it himself, too. you’d like to believe he means it as more than coworkers. he’s so caring, and smart, and pure, and peter. yeah, you like him an awful lot. you can hardly stand the feeling of it sometimes.

the fact that you you haven’t come clean already is ridiculous.

“goddamn. not again,” you mutter out. “em, you better come look at this. it’s bad.” mj wheels over to you in her chair with a puzzled look. her eyes follow yours, landing on your computer. “leeds just sent this? to everyone?” she questions, your reply a short hum. you’re both staring daggers at the email your screen displays.

ned is responsible for assigning each journalist their own topics to cover. he’s been lacking a bit recently, having you write up think pieces on fluffy things. in other words, stuff that no one cares about. he asked you to compare oat milk and almond milk just last week. you’d hoped this week would be better, but here you are.

“this is ass. who does he think we are, buzzfeed?” mj scoffs at her own words. the daily bugle prides itself on being a reliable news source, on paper and tv. you’re starting to stoop down to the low level of your competitors. “he assigned me some tiktok dance trend. i’m not writing a single word about that app.” she sets her elbows down on the table, head in her hands.

“aw, why not? grandma mj isn’t down with the kids?” you tease and click out of the upsetting email. “i don’t write for kids,” mj deadpans. she pushes her glasses up on her nose. “what’d you get?” “the evolution of memes,” you gloomily reply. you’re surprised norman has been approving these topics. then again, ned is the head editor. he can do whatever he wants regardless of approval.

mj glares over at the kitchen, where betty brant currently resides. she’s making two hot chocolates instead of her usual one. “i blame her,” mj mumbles to you. your eyebrows furrow. “dude, what? betty is an angel. she doesn’t even work in editing.” betty is the bugle’s highest rated anchorwoman. her and her news team are on people’s televisions every night.

“no, but she has been spending a generous amount of time with leeds,” mj grumbles. she’s admittedly very nosy. the upside is that she tells you any juicy office drama there is. “my theory is betty’s making him give us crap stories so she can report the good ones.” she glances over at you to see what you think. “no way. that can’t be allowed... or legal,” you laugh back.

as if on cue, ned appears next to betty in the kitchen. he takes the extra hot coco that’s piled high with whipped cream. betty tucks a sheet of paper into his suit pocket and kisses his cheek, then he’s gone. you can only gasp as you watch this unfold. what has she done to poor, clueless ned?

“not such an angel anymore, huh?” mj smirks in satisfaction. “suddenly, she has red horns and a pitchfork,” you bitterly agree with your tongue in your cheek. betty waves to you two on her way back to broadcasting. mj gives her a fake nice finger wave, you ignoring her. “we can’t sit back and let this happen, em. we have to do something,” you decide. “let’s tell norman.”

uninterested, mj takes off her glasses and starts to clean them. “like he’ll believe us. yeah, golden girl betty brant is sabotaging the writer’s room,” she rewords her previous statement to put its stupidity in perspective. you throw your hands up. “she is, though! we literally watched it happen!” mj puts her freshly wiped glasses back on and sighs.

“i doubt norman would care, y/n. every newspaper to ever exist is corrupt somehow.” your pessimistic old pal has a point. however, you’re not so willing to accept it. “why can’t we be the first one that isn’t?” you offer a small smile. mj snickers, wheeling back to her own computer. “those are words of the innocent.” she’s already tapping her fingers across the keyboard.

“i thought you weren’t doing the tiktok piece,” you say under your breath. you’re slightly pissed mj turned you down, since she’s the reason you know about betty’s meddling. “i’m not,” mj answers sharply. “i’m gonna email quentin and ask if we can change our topics. happy?” quentin beck is another editor in the building. he’s not bad, but he is intimidating. no one typically goes to him as their first option.

“i’m thrilled,” you confirm and grin at mj to emphasize it. “thanks for stepping up. you’re forgiven.” “i didn’t realize i had to be sorry,” mj notes, this time in a playful manor. she shakes her head as she begins writing. “you and your morals.”

what you value most in your career is honesty, under any circumstances. of course, the other daily bugle writers are the same. norman strictly prohibits clickbait and crazy headlines because that isn’t real news. you leave that to companies like buzzfeed. you’re honest in the sense that you say whatever has to be said, what everyone else is too afraid to. you’ll speak your truth no matter who tries to stop you.

it didn’t used to be that way. there’s some childhood trauma that remains deep in the back of your mind. you’ve left that behind you now, having over a decade to cope with it. hey, they say the past is in the past. what’s important is your takeaway, that you would never let yourself or anyone else be silenced from there on out. never again.

quentin ends up giving you the okay to write different stories. he lets you and mj choose choose your own because he’s got “better things to do” and you’re “big girls.” what a peach he is. mj goes with how capitalism is continuing to provoke global warming. she has something to say about every major world issue, and you admire the hell out of her for it.

you’re a bit stuck when it’s time to write your article. it’s terribly ironic because you pushed for this. you aren’t too worried, though. the city is crawling with material, so you’ll find what you’re looking for eventually. lucky for you, some much needed inspiration comes skipping out of the elevator.

“morning, peter,” you hear liz greet him at the front desk. she’s your floor’s receptionist. her wisdom and patience keep this place going. “hi, liz. how’s it going?” he asks. “things have been quiet... mostly. can i do anything for you?” liz peers up at him. peter sports a shy smile. “uh, yeah. mr. osborn wanted to see me?” “right. hang on.” she nods, dialing his office phone number.

it’s endearing how peter calls him mr. osborn, seeing as the rest of you go with norman. he’s probably the politest guy you’ve ever met.

grinning, liz puts down the phone. “you can go in whenever you’re ready. good luck!” peter laughs nervously and turns to leave. “thanks, you too.” his face falls when he realizes his mistake. “wait, i- i didn’t mean to say that. that was stupid. you’re not-“ “it’s fine, peter,” liz reassures him. his anxiety makes him trip over his words sometimes. that, and he’s a bit dorky in general. you find it rather adorable.

you also wonder what exactly he needs good luck for. he’s not even supposed to be working today, so your curiosity as to what’s going on has been piqued.

“um, i’m gonna go now. bye!” peter rushes off, his face tinted pink from the embarrassing encounter. you’re hoping he’ll stop and talk with you for a little while, but he heads straight to norman’s office. your whole body deflates at that. mj notices from her peripherals.

“what’s the matter? missing your hubby?” she coos, her words dripping in sarcasm. “no,” you lie. “i’m... i don’t know what to write about.” ok, there’s some truth. mj gives you a couple pats on the shoulder. “ask parker for help. you two work... well together. don’t you?” this must be the zillionth time you’ve heard that.

“we do,” you murmur and glance at norman’s closed door. peter is hidden behind it. “i just don’t wanna bug him. he has finals soon, and whatever norman is putting him up to. it’s my job, anyway.” mj pokes your arm. “those sound like excuses to me,” she concludes, still jabbing at you childishly. “you really just don’t wanna tell him you like-“

“can you keep it down?” you hiss, yanking your arm back. “he’s literally right over there.” peter stands up and shakes norman’s hand. you catch it through the blinds on his window. “y/n, you were drooling over his mere presence only minutes ago,” mj prefaces, a smile pulling at her lips. “you can handle three little words. i like you, that’s it. spit it out already.”

you’ll never admit this to mj, but she’s right. you lost your momentum after your first failed attempt to say the three little words. you’re still not sure what stopped you. you’d shared the details of that faithful night with her, and she’s been pushing you to try again since.

the door to norman’s office opens, and out walks peter. he’s beaming after their conversation, which seems like a good sign. harry passes peter on his way in to pay his dad a visit. he claps him on the shoulder, peter happily accepting before continuing his stride back into the main office. it takes a moment to register that he’s coming towards you.

you quickly set your focus back on your computer so he doesn’t think you’ve been watching him. even though, you definitely have.

“y/n!” peter calls your name. he’s on the opposite side of your table, in front of you. “peter!” you match his tone. “i was just dropping by. i thought i’d say hey while i’m here.” he’s still grinning. “what’re you doing?” he looks cute as ever in an oversized and cream colored sweater. his curls are slicked back with a tad too much product, cheeks rosy. you gaze up at him when he rests his arms on the table.

“pretending to be productive,” mj answers for you, pressing her lips together. peter cocks his head to the side. “pretending?” “ignore her. she’s being a shit stirrer today,” you explain. “like every other day,” he jokes, earning a laugh from you. mj just tuts and keeps writing. “talk about me like i’m not here,” she mumbles to herself, then gets back into her article.

“anyways, i thought you didn’t work today?” you ask to take the attention off yourself. also, because you’re curious. “oh! get this.” peter perks up even more, if that’s possible. he has energy like no other. “you know alex in broadcasting? betty’s camera guy?” “what about him?” you wonder. “he called in sick earlier this morning, with the flu or something.” he’s oddly excited to announce this. that prompts you to make a funny face.

biting back another smile, peter elaborates. “mr. osborn needed someone to fill in for him, so he picked me. i’ll be here all week.” it makes sense, since peter knows how to work a camera and does so wonderfully. you give him a celebratory push at his chest. “peter, that’s amazing! this is the perfect way to transition from pictures to film, right?” he’s nearing his finals at school, which consist of more movie-like projects. the news will be great practice.

then, he’s off to hollywood. you’ll put that out of your mind for now.

“exactly! i think it’ll be a good place to start. the pay isn’t bad either.” peter wiggles his eyebrows at you, you giggling once again. you do a lot of that when he’s around. that’s going to be more often now. “plus, i get to see you. everyone wins.” he squeezes your hand that was just on him. your heart begins to thump. “except alex,” you challenge, playing with his fingers. “but, for real. i’m happy you get to do this and that we’ll be spending more time together.”

“thanks, y/n/n. me too.” peter grins and leans over, taking a peek at your computer screen. there’s a blank word document on it. “you never told me what you’re up to,” he chuckles. “guess mj was right... nothing.” “i’m always right,” she chimes in from next to you. you look between the two of them with a scowl. “i haven’t found my story yet. i don’t know, this never happens.” peter nods as you share your dilemma. “no good ideas are coming to me,” you murmur.

“they will. you have a way of attracting things.” he licks his lower lip, your heart completely stopping this time. “well, i gotta go set up for rise and shine with betty brant.” he waves his hand like he’s presenting his words. that’s what betty calls her morning news segment. “be careful with her. she’s being really sketchy these days,” you warn peter, mj grunting in agreement.

confused, peter purses his lips. “really? ned says she’s a sweetheart. they’ve been going out for a while.” mj pops her head up and adjusts her glasses. “did ned also tell you she’s bribing him to give her all of our scoops?” she’s asking rhetorically because she already knows the answer. of course he didn’t. “it’s one thing to not like her. you’re just making things up now,” peter huffs.

mj kicks your foot under the table. “i told you no one would believe us. not even peter gullible parker.” “it’s benjamin,” he corrects her. “whatever,” she brushes it off, resuming her work.

peter does tend to be sort of naive, to only see the good in things when there’s plenty of bad. you’re the same in that way, unless you hang around mj for too long.

“is that true? betty’s stealing your stories?” peter turns to you and asks. you gesture to your screen. “i don’t have one, so you do the math.” he hums sympathetically. he’ll listen to you, never mj. “i’m sorry. thanks for telling me, y/n. i’ll watch out for her.” he bends his fingers to look like goggles, putting them around his eyes. you sigh lightheartedly.

“are you twenty two years old or twelve?” mj remarks, but not without a comeback from peter. “you’re, like, eighty five. worry about that.” they’ve had this type of banter for as long as you’ve known them. it’s equal parts amusing and exhausting. “don’t be late on your first day.” you snap peter out of it with a knowing smile. he returns it.

“i hope something crazy happens so you can write about it.” he’s walking backwards now, towards the elevator. “see you later, pete,” is all you say back, yet another laugh threatening to escape you. “see you. bye, michelle,” peter says just to bug her. “it’s mj,” she groans without looking up. he shrugs. “not so fun, is it?”

after peter is gone, you try to get back into work. or rather, you try to start your work. what he said about you having a way of attracting things keeps ringing in your head. was he flirting? no, he couldn’t have been. peter parker doesn’t flirt. words aren’t his strong suit, and you have countless memories that prove this to be true. earlier with liz, for example.

you’re probably reading way into this. peter was simply doing what any good friend would do and gave you advice.

it’s late in the afternoon when anything worth mentioning happens again. peter is still with betty, as far as you know. they’re probably preparing for the nighttime news now. all you’ve done since seeing him is nibble on snacks and bug mj, who’s almost done with her story despite your distractions. this is really bad, considering your deadline to submit is at the end of today.

you’ve never missed a deadline.

mj emails her work to quentin while you repeatedly bang your head on the table. she hits send before deciding to entertain you. “whatcha doing over there?” she cautiously prompts, powering off her computer. “trying to get an idea. i’m desperate, if you couldn’t tell.” your voice is muffled. “i could.” mj grabs your shoulders and pulls you back so you’re sitting up. you childishly pout.

“y/n, the only thing that’s gonna give you is brain damage,” mj says sternly, then softens her tone. “why don’t you ask for an extension? norman gives me them all the time.” whining, you slump down in your chair again. “yeah, but you’re you! we do things differently, have different expectations put on us.” she’s back to cold mj after you say that. “alright. at least i did something today besides pine over that little-“

mj’s insult for peter is interrupted by harry. “ladies, what’s shaking?” he comes up to you two with a the hint of smirk on his face. you manage a nod to acknowledge him. “oh, hey... harry,” mj unenthusiastically replies. she’s the one person who isn’t really a fan of him. “not much. y/n was just having a tantrum.” “she was not,” you dismiss her. “it’s work stuff. you know your dad.”

harry clicks his tongue in a teasing way. “yep, the grind never stops in this joint. boss man is...” he does the sign for cuckoo with his finger. you laugh a little at that. “in a good way,” you add on. mj only watches you two, blinking blankly. harry gives you a definitive pat on the back. “before i forget, he wants to see you.” that gets mj talking. “norman?” she questions. “your dad?” you choke out at the same time.

“who else? he said you two have to talk.” harry flashes you a weary smile. “have fun in there, old sport.” you’re too busy biting the skin off your bottom lip to respond. “mhm... she will,” mj speaks on your behalf. even she sounds worried. saluting you both, harry leaves to go pester your other colleagues. you’re completely and totally fucked.

“that’s it for me!” you grin sarcastically, freaked out by harry. “i’m fired, aren’t i? i’m definitely about to get fired, and it’s all because-“ “relax!” mj cuts off your rambling. she reaches down and grasps at your wrists. “get it together, y/l/n. you’re the best we have, okay? you aren’t going anywhere.” your grin becomes a frown. “then why does norman wanna talk to me? and, why don’t i have a story?”

mj always has the answers, but this time is the execption. she lets out a breath. “i don’t know. you’ll go find out and tell me what happens.” there’s no use protesting. you’re going to have to face whatever you’re about to at some point. “ok,” you give in, defeated. “i’ll be back soon, i hope.”

the walk to norman’s office feels like a walk of shame. mj can do nothing but sit back and observe it. if this ends the way you think it will, you’ll be collecting your things and won’t ever return. norman is a kind man, and he’s usually pretty understanding. he doesn’t mind the workplace shenanigans as long as you get your job done. unfortunately, you haven’t today.

you hear your boss’s booming voice when you approach his door. inhaling deep, you knock on it, and the room goes silent. “come in,” norman responds after a few seconds. mustering up a smile, you open the door to be met with your doom. “hi, am i interrupting something?” you check. “not at all! you’re just the person i wanted to see. sit, sit,” he beckons you over. he’s not using his angry voice, so maybe you’re in the clear. you enter the room as told.

you’re shocked to see a terrified peter is already in one of the chairs. he visibly relaxes a bit now that you’re here. what the hell is happening? whatever you were expecting, this was the last thing.

taking the armchair next to peter, you sit facing norman’s desk. you nudge his arm to get his attention. his big brown eyes lock with yours. “what’s going on?” you whisper. “no idea,” peter whispers back. the two of you turn to norman again when he claps his hands. he’s plopped down into his cushy leather seat.

“so,” he begins, gaze flicking from peter to you. “you kids know why you’re here?” “is it because i missed my deadline?” you blurt out. you’re once again a nervous wreck. peter doesn’t speak, just winces. “not that. although, i did hear from ned that you turned down his assignment.” norman flicks at a post-it on his desk. “i asked quentin for one instead. me and mj,” you explain, peter’s eyes going wide.

“you talked to quentin? that guy’s bad news,” he murmurs to you. “how so?” norman questions, since it’s his employee. “he- he, um,” peter clears his throat before answering, “he’s super critical, you know? hates all my pictures.” “i love your pictures,” you assure him, the corners of his lips turning up. “your style is so cool. yeah, though. quentin’s pretty bitter.”

considering this, norman drums his fingers on the desk. “i’ll look into that. but, that isn’t why you’re here. i’m letting you off the hook this time.” your whole demeanor changes and a huge weight lifts off of you. “really? you are?” “i have a scoop of my own that i want you to cover,” he continues, peter bumping your knee happily. a toothy grin takes over your face.

“since peter will be sticking around for a while, i want him to join you.” norman waits a beat in case you have any questions. it’s been a minute since you last worked together. peter laughs in disbelief. “you want me to take over for alex and do this?” norman nods proudly. “y/n will need the extra hands, if you have them.” “yes, sir. i do,” peter immediately confirms. “my last class is next thursday, so i have the time.”

“wait, so you’re almost done? that’s awesome!” you bump peter’s knee this time. “yup, all that’s left is finals... and studying.” he mindlessly takes your hand, lacing your fingers together. you’re enjoying his gentle touches. “thank you so much, norman. seriously, i appreciate this a lot,” you tell him and mean it. “hey, no problem,” he chuckles at your eagerness. you grip peter’s hand tighter.

“what’s the story?” “ah, yes. the most important part,” norman starts, peter sharing an excited look with you. “how familiar are you two with spider-man?” his excitement fades at the question posed. it’s unbeknownst to you, caught up in the moment. “uh, same as everyone else, i guess,” you casually reply. “how come?” “he’s your subject.” norman points at you both. “you’re gonna study him over these next few months.”

peter’s hand goes limp in yours, and he gulps hard, throat feeling dry. “you mean, like, an exposé?” “no, no. there will be no exposing,” norman clarifies. “i’m sure he wears the mask for a reason.” that settles peter only slightly. you’re not sure why he’s so tense all of a sudden. “what’s our aim here, then?” you steer the conversation.

“see what new york’s favorite hero gets up to every day, how his life is beyond the crime fighting,” norman further describes your task. peter exhales a shaky breath, shifting away from you in his seat. the golden sun hits his face and reveals a bead of sweat dripping down it. you stare at his figure in worry. “you okay, peter?” “fine. i’m just... hot,” he murmurs back. his sweater does look pretty heavy, so you concede.

getting back to norman’s story, you grimace at the idea. “do you really think people will want to read that? for lack of a better term, it sounds kind of...” you pause. “basic.” “i thought the same thing at first,” he surprisingly agrees with you. “harry pitched the idea to me this morning. you won’t believe it! the other night, he caught spider-man hanging outside his window.”

“harry... harry saw him?” peter squeaks out. he uses the wool material that feels like it’s swallowing him to dab at his forehead. “he stopped on his balcony. must have been pretty late, the kid’s a night owl,” norman says about his son. your face lights up as you listen to him. “he took some shots of spidey in action, when he swung off. i saw a few. they were pretty great.” he’s grinning at his son’s success.

“maybe he’ll get into photography with you, pete,” norman suggests. peter gives him a weak smile in return. “we’d be happy to have him.” he usually has a lot more to say about his career than that. his behavior is starting to genuinely concern you. “anyway,” norman gets back on topic, “it got me thinking. how much do we really know about this guy? we’re supposed to blindly put our trust in him?”

you’re beginning to see the appeal now. you’ve written your share of pieces on the avengers and their methods, tackling the same questions norman just asked you. spider-man shouldn’t be overlooked, especially when he operates so close to your home. this could be another revolutionary superhero story in the making. and, you get to bring peter along for the ride.

“you know what? this has a lot of potential,” you smile at norman, then peter. he has his phone in his lap, fingers flying across the screen. it must be something important. you’ll discuss with norman while he takes care of that. “we could make it a weekly thing, about spider-man’s adventures. find out what we can about the man behind the mask...” peter shoots up in his seat. “without taking it off,” you finish, putting his mind at ease.

“see, i knew you were gonna love it! it was a blessing in disguise, you missing that deadline.” norman bangs his fist on the table with a hearty laugh. “what do you say, peter? you still in?” peter slips his phone back in his pocket. his tongue pokes out to wet his lips. “oh, of course. i can’t wait to work with you, y/n/n,” he speaks in a monotone voice, adding on, “again.”

something is definitely bothering him, and it isn’t the weather.

“i gotta go. betty needs me upstairs, so,” peter moves to get up, his body stiff. you assume that’s who he was texting. “thank you again, mr. osborn.” he’s rushing out of the room just like that, until you call after him. “um, don’t you wanna set a time to meet up? so we can get started?” you reasonably ask. “i... i really gotta go. find me later,” peter tells you, giving you both a tight lipped smile and running off.

“the dynamic duo is back!” norman announces to you. you’re disappointed you can’t share that sentiment with peter.

he’s absolutely booking it down the stairs, not bothering to wait for the next elevator. this is bad. this is a nightmare.

peter went from having one of his best days in a while to the worst in not even a full round of work. today started off fine, and got better when norman promoted him. it got way better when you came along. he saw your smile that makes his insides tingle, heard your laugh that’s the prettiest sound to grace his ears, held your hand that he never wants let go.

things went a bit downhill after that. betty was pushy and yelled at him a lot, demanding he only film her good angles for the segment. you and mj weren’t wrong when you told him to be careful.

later on when he saw you again, everything was okay. he was physically shaking as brad told him mr. osborn requested to see him. brad is mr. osborn’s assistant. a try-hard for sure, but good at his job. why did mr. osborn call him in? did betty complain already?

they’d been sitting in mostly silence, save for small talk until you came knocking on the door. simply being next to you was enough to ground peter and his racing thoughts. it was enough, then it wasn’t.

the whole day had gone to shit after he found out you were going to be writing stories about his alter ego. not only that, but he was helping. during the pitch, he’d texted ned to meet him in the bathroom. he was really anxious and needed a friend who understood why.

ned accidentally found out peter is spider-man last year. it’s a long story that involves peter hiding from some bad guys in the building and ned shrieking so loud the lights flickered. they’re cool now that peter talked things through with him. his secret has been kept, from what he knows.

pushing open the men’s bathroom door, peter is a mixture of sweat and ragged breaths. he’s panting from his fast descent down the staircase. he takes in his disheveled appearance using one of the mirrors. his styled hair is now damp and undone, hands trembling and palms sweaty, chest heaving. here’s his daily reminder that anxiety is not cute. as if he didn’t know.

his stupid, gigantic freaking sweater is only making things worse. it’s suffocating him. no one else is in here, so peter pulls it over his head and tosses it to the ground. he’s got a t-shirt on underneath that happens to be black. what a convenient day for him to wear the hottest material there is.

peter splashes his face with some cold water next to try and cool himself down. that doesn’t do much for him. his face still feels like it’s on fire, but now it’s wet. he takes his hands through his mop of curls, backing away from the sink.

“fuck. fuck, fuck, fuck,” peter repeats to himself. he’s silent for a moment, then rage overcomes him. he kicks open a bathroom stall. “shit! i can’t do this. what am i supposed to-“

the door creeks open, so peter shuts up in case it isn’t ned. it thankfully is, and he wears a deep frown at the sight of his best friend. “dude, what happened? you look...” “terrible. i know,” peter finishes for him. he tugs at his locks in another attempt to tame them. ned approaches him carefully. “you’re not, like, dying... are you? because betty was telling me you have to-“ “of course you were with betty,” peter exhales in frustration. “no, ned. i’m not dying.”

in ned’s defense, the text he received was very alarming. all peter wrote was, ‘EMERGENCY. SOS.’

“i mean, yeah. it was my break.” ned sits on the ledge by the window, close to peter. “you do the same with y/n.” the mention of your name upsets peter all over again. he hides his face in his hands as ned watches. “if you’re not dying, then what’s the problem?” ned finally asks. “me and y/n...” peter removes his hands from his face, meeting ned’s worried eyes. “mr. osborn wants us to do a project together.”

“uh, peter? you’ve been saying how much you miss her forever, dude! you’re not excited?” ned snorts at him. he means well, but he has no clue what he’s talking about. “no. it’s supposed to be about spider-man,” peter answers angrily. this isn’t the support he was hoping for. realizing the severity of the situation, ned gets serious.

“oh... but, you’re still doing it?” he questions. “i didn’t have a choice,” peter scoffs out. “i can’t let either of them down.” “you’ll expose yourself!” ned escalates things further. “it’s not like that. we’re gonna follow spider-man around and post updates on him,” peter says, technically in the third person. he’s given an are you insane? look from ned.

“you are spider-man! and, no offense, but you’re not so good at hiding it,” ned refers to himself finding out. “how are you gonna be in two places at once?” damnit, peter hadn’t thought about that yet. he can’t be taking pictures of spider-man and swinging from building to building simultaneously. “i- i’ll figure it out,” peter stammers, unconvincingly.

ned looks him over in a disapproving way. “jeez. you’re really putting your life on the line for this girl-“ “woman,” peter interjects, not loving ned’s attitude towards you. “have some respect.” unfazed, ned gets up from the windowsill. “speaking of women, remember betty? you’re still on the clock,” he changes the subject. peter nearly forgot he has to go film her segment.

“i’ll head up to her now,” peter gives in. he scoops up his discarded sweater, not bothering to check his appearance again. ned follows behind him to the door. “we wrote her script together, you know,” he gladly informs peter, who already knows from you. “not really a flex,” peter mumbles his response. “peter, lighten up.” ned hits at his shoulder. the two of them exit the bathroom.

“you’ll figure this out later. i can always help.” he shoots him a sugary sweet smile. “thanks, ned. for talking with me and everything.” peter doesn’t smile back. they do a quick bro handshake, then they’re going their separate ways. “have a good show, dude!” ned yells back, to which he doesn’t get a response. peter doesn’t have it in him.

he allows himself to take the elevator back up to broadcasting. he’s so drained from the several anxiety attacks he endured. while peter waists for the elevator, he contemplates all the issues he’d better solve. it’s a relief to hear it ding because it brings him back to earth. that doesn’t last long because both you and betty are there when the door opens.

you’d each had the same idea, to find peter. unlike betty, your intentions were good. you asked liz if she saw peter leave. she told you he went downstairs, so you did also. betty was already in the elevator when it got to your stop. she was looking for him because, you guessed it, he had to record the news. the small space was filled with tension as you and betty occupied it.

“perfect. we’re going right back up,” betty beams, motioning for peter with her index finger. “hop in!” “coming,” peter does as told, going to stand between you and betty. she presses the button for your floor and theirs. the doors close. “pete?” you speak up, voice soft. “you kinda ran off earlier. i thought you were with betty.” “clearly, he wasn’t,” betty sneers.

you’re less concerned with her and more with peter. the sweater he looked so huggable in is now folded in his arms, his face splotchy and jaw clenched. he must have gotten triggered by something back in norman’s office.

“are you sure you’re okay? you... you can talk to me about it.” you take a step closer to peter, your doe eyes searching for his. he meets them with a tiny smile. at least, it’s real this time. “i’ll be fine, y/n/n. ‘s nice that you came to check on me, though.” “don’t mention it.” your arms loop around his neck and bring him into a hug. peter hugs you back by your middle, chin resting on your shoulder, breathing out in relief.

you keep your hands on his shoulders when you pull back. his stay on your sides, a lopsided grin now crossing his features. “spider-man...” you quirk an eyebrow. “how are you feeling about that?” “should be cool,” peter somehow maintains himself. “i’m mostly looking forward to doing it with you.”

listening in, betty joins the conversation. “what’s happening with spider-man? anything i should know?” her hand reaches into her bag and emerges with a notepad. does she ever think of her own content? “she’s nothing if not persistent,” you grumble to peter. chuckling, he pulls you into his chest. if he didn’t hold you back, you would’ve pounced on her.

“we’re gonna do a piece on him,” peter tells her. “you can’t copy or steal this one because it’s already been approved,” you contribute, smiling smugly as peter holds you tighter. betty is taken aback. “are you accusing me of stealing? who said i-“ “ned ratted on you... sorry,” peter says in a sing song voice. squealing, you jump away from him. “he did? we were right?”

“mj’s never wrong,” he reiterates. “mj knew about this? oh my god, i can’t believe her!” betty stomps her foot. “we got you on candid camera.” you make a clicking noise with your mouth. peter mimes taking a picture to back you up. “alright, alright. i won’t do it again,” betty mumbles, turning away from you two in annoyance.

“finally!” you hold up your hand for a high five, which peter gives you. “we really do make the best team,” he hums. your fingers intertwine with peter’s, and he lays his palm flat against yours. he prays extremely hard you don’t notice that it’s sweaty. you do, but you couldn’t care less.

“i was wondering when you’d wanna start our... research?” peter asks you, his lip between his teeth. “you were saying something earlier. maybe we could make a schedule.” “how elaborate of us that would be,” you tease. that earns a breathy laugh from peter. with a knowing smile, you put your free hand back on his shoulder.

“what are you doing tonight?”

-

peter parker taglist

@saturnpeter @tpwk-grande @itstaskeen @missyouhollnd @becicamina @dummiesshort @zspideyy @watchitimreadinghere @my-patronus-is-mabel-pines @dpaccione @karispotters11 @theofficialzivadavid @thehumanistsdiary @kelieah @aayaissaa @petersgroupie @annab-nana @tayyx @swtltlmrvlgrl @magicalxdaydream @haoluvver @kjune113 @captainamirica @marvel-dork98 @emmastarz @killingbxys @viriditie @misshale21 @veryholland @liliswifts @tommydarlings @rebelemilu @peterspideysense @cr-uelsummer @dreamy-clousds @quaksonhehe @quxxnxfhxll @blackbat2020 @babyblue19 @falconxbarnes @zachary-s @dirtytissuebox @dracoswhore007 @heavenlyholland @thsquad @etheralholland @dhtomholland @awh-lilies @tomshufflepuff @multifamdomfan12

-

if i forgot you please lmk!

[carolmaximoffs]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY CAIT OMFG i can’t believe so many of the coolest ppl in my life that i know are aquas. ily you’re NINETEEN that’s wild!! you know i love a good roommates or friends w benefits fic gimme gimme gimme 😗💜

a/n: THIS IS SO LATE AGH...here is your long overdue wanda x reader roommates fic, my love! so sorry for the wait, but thank you for your sweet words and your patience <3 @subtlebucky

pairing: wanda maximoff x reader

warnings: none really? maybe a curse. references to drinking, partying. jealous! reader. apologies to anyone named jillian, beck, or yasmine. sharing a bed, but not in THAT way. 

WHEN YOU WAKE UP, you smell coffee already brewing. You stretch leisurely as you pad into the main part of your shared apartment, faux-flirtatious smile already gracing your lips.

“Smells good, baby!” You call. The laughter dissipates from your body as you pause in the kitchen doorway. Wanda is indeed sipping coffee in the kitchen, but is also standing between the legs of a tall, rather buff girl you’ve never seen before who’s perched comfortably on your island. “Oh.”

"Jill, this is my roommate, Y/N," Wanda says, perfectly at ease. You wonder if your eye really does twitch at the sight of Wanda's hand on Jill's thigh, but you pray it's just your imagination.

“Hi, uh, I didn’t - we’re not - hi.” Your face burns as you duck past them, reaching up into the cabinet for your mug before realizing it’s missing. You whirl around, about to ask Wanda, when you see it. And Wanda must realize it the same time you do, because she gives you this tight smile and wide eyes. Jill sips idly from your favorite cup, the one with the funny handle and your initial in rainbow gradient. Pietro, Wanda’s brother, had gifted it to you a few Christmas’s back - you know he’d have stopped Jillian from using it. Instead, you fill the most boring mug you and Wanda own - black, with a white outline of Sokovia in a red heart - and send your roommate a sour look. “I’ll just...”

You jerk your head towards the bedrooms, and stalk off. Maybe out of embarrassment, but mostly out of stubbornness, you pretend not to hear Wanda apologizing and making excuses on your behalf as you leave.

.......

Two weeks later, just when things are returning to normal, it happens again.

Well, more or less. It’s significantly darker out now, and this time you’re putting leftover Chinese food in the fridge when the door bursts open. Wanda all but falls into your apartment, a sharp-nosed girl with a deep violet buzzcut hot on her heels. Space Army Cadet and your best friend are hand in hand, the latter barely tossing you a glance as she drags her guest down the hall. And yeah, you’ve seen Wanda bring people home before - even brought a handful of people home yourself. Hell, one of you two’s closest friends was an ex of hers; oddball physics major, Vis, had been Wanda’s lover for the notable first three years of college.

 Lately, though, you’d noticed this...pit in your stomach, carved a little deeper with each new bedmate. Every time you shook it off - it wasn’t any of your business what Wanda did in her free time. Was it because they were women? You catch yourself wondering, but no - you’d never had an issue with that, why would you start now? Shutting the fridge, you shuffle back to your room, turning your TV up to drown out anything from Wanda’s room next door.

The next morning, the eccentric friend is nowhere to be found, but you did find there was a severe lack of alcohol in your coffee as Wanda cheerily filled you in. Buzzcut’s name was Yasmine, she was in Wanda’s European lit. course, and they’d gone out for drinks to celebrate Yasmine nearing the acquirement of her masters. You stare into your cup and hum at all the appropriate points, choosing not to point out that it was only November and nowhere near graduating season. Maybe Yasmine was on the fast track - Wanda always did like the smart ones. 

You become so absorbed in thought you don’t notice at first that your housemate has stopped chittering away. When you look up, it’s to a pouty frown. You shift in your seat, suddenly uncomfortable. “What?”

“Are you...okay?” Wanda’s frown deepens, brows furrowed as she brushes a stray lock of auburn from her face and folds her arms over her chest. “We...You’ve been a little distant lately, I guess.” 

“I’m fine,” You say breezily, rising to your feet to dump the dregs of your coffee in the sink. Some irritating heartstring twangs at your tone - you hate brushing Wanda off, but what are you supposed to say? Hey, can you stop bringing girls home? I think I’ve caught homophobia. You repress a shudder at the mere thought as you move to sweep past her and get ready for your first class, but a small hand curls around your bicep.

“Just...don’t be a stranger, okay, kedvesem?” Darling. Swallowing the lump in your throat, feeling curiously parched, you can only nod. Wanda lets go, but you can feel her fingerprints burning like a brand even when you’re lying in bed that night.

.....

The holidays go off more or less without a hitch; there’s a very scary hiccup shortly before Christmas when you come home to find Wanda curled into Vision’s side on the couch, the pair of them sharing a blanket. But Wanda looks...as if she’s been crying? Love Actually is playing, Wanda’s go to Christmas comfort movie, and Vision is texting someone called ‘Peter M.’ with an alarming number of heart emojis, so you continue onward. 

Your subconscious must be looking out for you otherwise, because it’s not until New Year’s that you see Wanda with a mystery lover. Actually, you don’t see much of Wanda at all outside of Christmas, and even when you do, it’s always just the two of you at home. Of course, because of this, she insists on dragging you out for a New Year’s party. When her twin, Pietro, gangs up on you via Facetime, you give up arguing and steal a shimmery black slip from Wanda’s closet before flipping them the bird. 

Pietro arrives around 10 to pick the pair of you up, obnoxiously laying on the horn outside of your apartment building. Wanda trips several times as she tries to shove on her other heel and put lipstick on at the same time. Making it out the door is a whole other ordeal - after a short spat about Wanda needing a jacket, an awkward moment when the elevator doors open on some neighbors practicing for midnight, and finding Pietro just about to buzz in to get you, you and Wanda are sliding into the backseat of Pietro’s obnoxiously cramped sports car.

“Ladies, your prince, or princess, awaits!” Pietro announces grandly as you pull up to a shabby loft just a few blocks away. You can hear the music from the street, sighing inwardly as you force yourself to get out of the car. Wanda smooths out her flowy black pants - you keep your eyes trained politely above her shoulders to ignore the fitted, maroon sequined top with the plunging V-neck she’s paired with them. 

“I’m actually meeting someone here,” She says casually to her brother as the three of you make your way in. Pietro waves her off with well-wishes, but throws you a questioning glance. All he gets however is a shrug in reply, this is certainly news to you. He accompanies you to the makeshift bar where you fill a cup with copious amounts of liquor. It usually wasn’t your vice, but the strobe lights alone could be cause to drink. You made a mental note to ask whose idea this party even was in the first place. when you turn around, though, Pietro, too, has slipped off into the crowd.

So you do what one is supposed to do at sweaty, too-loud functions such as this one - push yourself from your comfort zone, get comfortably tipsy while you wedge yourself into the mass of bodies and move with strangers. As mentioned, liquor and strangers have never been favorite pastimes of yours, so once you finish off your second drink (maybe third - you deserved it), you set out searching for Wanda. Her glittery form is tucked into a corner with a small group you don’t recognize, but you definitely note that she’s in the lap of a tall, dark, and handsome type. She spots you before you can get to her, making excited grabby hands as you get closer. 

“Y/N!” The bubbly young woman squeals over the music. She leans forward to be heard better, and you gulp. “This is Beck! And Jade, and Marcie, and you remember Yasmine!” 

You offer only a wave and tight smiles as you, too, lean in further. “I’m gonna get an Uber!”

“What?” Wanda pouts dramatically, Beck snaking an arm around her waist to steady her as she jolts back in disappointment. “It’s not even midnight yet!”

“No, I know, I’m just not really feeling it, I guess!” Yasmine leads over to whisper something to Jade; it’s the furthest thing from your mind as Wanda reaches out to squeeze your hands understandingly. 

“I’ll see you later! Kisses!” You repeat the word weakly before shoving once more through the mass. The sidewalk and cool bite of the outdoors is a welcome respite - your driver doesn’t speak all the way to your apartment, and you give them 5 stars for it. After a cold, quick shower, you curl up in your fuzziest bathrobe with a cup of coffee and flick through Netflix. You know when midnight rolls around when the neighbors upstairs, hosting a party of their own, cheer and shout to each other. It can’t be 20 minutes later that your door is met with a tentative knock.

On the other side is Vision in the most disarray you’ve seen him in - he’s in pajamas, for Pete’s sake, hair and glasses askew over a chunky knit sweater. He’s supporting an equally-bleary but much more drunk Wanda, and passes her to you with a wrinkled nose.

“Y/N!” She crows, dissolving into giggles as you shushed her. “I wondered where you went.” 

“I told you I was coming home, bubs,” You mutter, hugging her back briefly before you notice Vision is still standing in your entryway. “Hey, how about you go get changed, and then I’ll make you some eggs?”

Wanda agrees, talking animatedly even as she walks away. You look back at Vision, smiling wearily. “Thanks for bringing her home safe, Vis. Did you want a cup of coffee, or...?”

“No, thank you,” Vision quips, polite as ever as he tugs his sweater down over his hands. He jerks his dimpled chin the direction Wanda had disappeared in. “Take care of her, please.”

“Of course,” You reply, instantly, brows furrowing. He nods briskly before turning to leave. “Thank you again.”

“Of course. Goodnight.” He’s almost to the elevators when you call a ‘Happy New Year’ after him, and that earns you a smile. “Happy New Year to you as well, Y/N.”

Back inside, you find Wanda spread eagle on her bed in mismatched socks, an old college hoodie, and the same underwear you’re pretty sure she wore to go out tonight. You poke her heel and she makes a frankly unhuman gurgle into the duvet. “How much did you have?”

“Nah a lah,” Is her muffled reply. “We’on dwink anymo’.” 

You realize she’s right, though you figured she was at least taking some of those dates to bars. Maybe not, though - Wanda was always a romantic. You push the mere though away and tug at the arm closest to you. “Yeah, I know. You’ll feel better if you eat something, though.” 

Her protesting grunts are less effective than when she kicks out blindly, narrowly avoiding your hip, and you huff. “Fine, I’ll bring the food to you.”  You make to leave, but she’s captured your wrist now. Wanda turns her head to make powerful puppy eyes at you. “Stay. Sleepy.” 

“I...yeah. Okay.” You were still a little tipsy in your own right - neither of you were college kids anymore, after all. Wanda’s smile was blinding as the pair of you made your way under her numerous layers of blankets. When she turned the lamp off, you wondered if she could hear your heart thundering in the dark.

“Y/N?” She whispers, just when you think she’s fallen asleep. 

“Yes, Wanda?” 

“I love you.”

You hum in acknowledgment, brushing it off as dreaming.

--------

Midday, you’re roused by someone laying across your stomach and shaking you awake. It’s Wanda, long lashes fluttering prettily as she rests her chin on folded elbows. You scrub sleep from your eyes as you croak, “Morning, sunshine.”

“Morning, Y/N.” She says your name with purpose - sort of always has, you realize. You’re running over last night in your head, and like a mind reader, Wanda answers your every question. “Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“Still love you.” Wanda murmurs. You meet her gaze - completely clear, if not a little glazed over with absolute adoration. She pushes up a little, lips hovering over yours. They brush just barely when you speak, sparking like live wires. 

“I love you, too,” You breathe, and finally, finally, she kisses you. 

Things make so, so much more sense then.

[wuahae]

OMG OKAY CAT STRAP IN BECAUSE THIS IS GOING TO BE A RANT

i cannot. actually believe that blue box bitch is making hui compete on bp999 after being in the military for two years. what the fuck. as a ptg fan it is super discouraging to see and i’m rlly worried about the future of pentagon :((( the gp999 contract was an exclusive 2.5 year contract, and if it’s the same for bp, then hui will not have been in a comeback for pentagon for nearly FIVE YEARS !!!!! being a uni is like being punished by god for real

also, this minghao thing hurts bro. ik he probably didn’t say it with the intention of being malicious but that does not change the fact that the sentiment is harmful… idk man, feels bad lmao. i’ve struggled w body image issues my whole life and to hear something like that come from minghao makes me feel uncomfortable and rlly insecure. never would have expected that from him (or any of them) but tbh that’s probably my mistake lol

sorry to dump all this on u and i’m sorry i’ve been m.i.a 😔😔 my tiny lil dumb brain is not working lately so i’ve been trying to take it easy ahdhsh ilysm cat 💛💛💛 take care of urself -🦁

i’m strapped in!!

THE BLUE BOX FJWKFKDK and yeah ,,,, i heard it was gonna be a full 7 year contract this time with the first half promoting only with the new group and the second half promoting with both your own group and the bp999 group?? but like idk i hope he pulls a nu’est where he gets super super popular and makes it to the end and then he doesn’t get voted into the final group wkhdwkkfwk but honestly we never know what the situation is until the show comes out with his interview :/ i’m not even a uni (real) i’m just a casual fan but its just so ….. 😭 btw the fact that hwanhee and xiao from up10tion who debuted around the same time as ptg are here too ,,,,, the trainees are about to get shown up!!!

and ok. when i first saw it the minghao thing was really disappointing to see and i know that this is said all the time but it doesn’t make it less true ,,,, east/southeast asian culture tends to carry the sentiment that being bigger is inherently bad and it’s not surprising that there was a clip of him saying those things and repeating that rhetoric when its the culture he was raised in.

BUT. THIS IS A REALLY BIG BUT. i also heard people saying that it was a mistranslation and the clip that went viral is actually not showing the full context? (p.s i don’t want to seem like i’m defending him or excusing minghao if he really did say those things but i’m just relaying what i’ve seen!) but basically the translation on the video kind of misconstrues what minghao was saying. the full context was that minghao was asked what advice he would give someone who was skinny and wanted to gain weight, and then asked for advice for someone chubby who wanted to lose weight. minghao then says that what’s most important is loving yourself, because when you love yourself you can know what’s best for yourself, whether it be exercising to gain, lose, or maintain your weight. and that initial thing where he says “stop eating” is said like . jokingly/sarcastically, because the host had previously said that he lost 15kg in one month from not eating and minghao was just referencing that again (and also after he says the joke he gets serious and says that this sort of thing was something he can’t just say carelessly, which is why he goes onto explain his actual answer and advise). the overall message he was trying to say was to love yourself no matter what size you are.

even so, i doubt minghao is completely guilt free in what he said (even if he didn’t mean it like that), especially since he’s still implying there’s a certain “body type” that’s considered healthy(?). but again, if it comes out that minghao really did say it like that then i’m disappointed but not really surprised, but also i think we shouldn’t jump to conclusions before getting all the facts straight :’)

[favefandomimagines]

Be Kind (r.c)

Summary: the facade Rafe puts up has caused tension in your relationship

AN: this is inspired by the song ‘Be Kind,’ by Marshmello and Halsey. also threw a little klaroline quote in there

quick PSA, i don’t condone anything Rafe does in the show at all. He killed a cop and was just a sadistic asshole. SO THIS IS NOT CANON RAFE i just wanted to make that clear and i DO NOT condone domestic violence of any kind, verbal or physical.

You’ve put up with Rafe Cameron for two years. But you didn’t used to phrase it like that until recently.

Rafe puts on a mask when he’s with Topper or Kelce or any of his other Kook friends. He never used to do that with you. He wasn’t afraid to show how he was really feeling. But when he turned to drugs, that mask was kept on permanently.

He wasn’t kind to you anymore. Didn’t call to ask how your day was, didn’t stay up late with you combing his fingers through your hair while he vividly described your future after college.

It was almost as if the cocaine made that version of him dormant. It wasn’t something you ever planned on getting used to. But for the foreseeable future, you had too. 

There was a huge Kook party that was being held at your house, your younger brother Topper being the host.

That’s how you and Rafe initially got together. It didn’t matter that you were one year younger. The connection was there. 

All of your ‘friends’ were there and you somehow managed to convince Topper to invite the Pogues. They were more your friends than anyone on Figure 8 anyways.

You didn’t know Rafe had brought the drugs. Not until Kiara was the one to point it out. He had told you he quit a long time ago so you had to see it for yourself. 

“Y/N, I thought you said Rafe quit?” She asked. You followed where she was pointing and saw your boyfriend doing a line off the glass coffee table.

Both Kie and JJ saw your face contorted with not just anger, but disappointment and disgust as well.

Rafe gets angry when he’s high so you knew you had to get him somewhere quiet until he came down. Usually he always started a fight with JJ or some other random person just for the sake of fighting. 

You carefully approached him, him having at least four inches of height over you.

“Baby, maybe we should go get you some water.” You said sweetly, touching his arm gently. “I’m fine, Y/N.” He protested, pulling his arm back rather violently. “Rafe, come on.” You said, masking the fear you were feeling. 

You kept pushing and hoping he’d give in to your pleas. “God, Y/N, you’re so fucking clingy! No wonder none of us like you.” He spat back at you.

By that point, everyone was watching in anticipation to see how you’d react to your boyfriend speaking to you like that. “That’s enough, man.” Topper interjected.

His words hurt you and that was clearly evident due to the tears that welled up in your eyes. “Alright, fine. You wanna be an asshole, that’s on you.” You snapped, turning to walk away from him. “Don’t turn your back on me!” Rafe bellowed. “I should have turned my back on you months ago with all the shit you’ve put me through!” You yelled back. 

You thought he’d scoff and roll his eyes like every other argument. What you didn’t see coming was Rafe bringing his hand up as if he were going to hit you. Rather harshly by the looks of it. 

The action made you flinch as Topper moved quickly to stand in between you and Rafe, as JJ and John B pulled you away.

The realization of what Rafe could have potentially done finally hit him when he saw the look on your face as JJ had his arms wrapped around you and his face softened.

“Y/N, I-I don’t know-“ He started before you cut him off. “Fuck you, Rafe. We’re done.” You sneered, before letting JJ and Kiara take you away from the party.

Once you had left, the mood of the party died completely. People beginning to clear out and Rafe standing there, trying to understand what just happened.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Topper yelled at his friend. “Topper,” Rafe started. “That’s my sister, dude! And she loves you, would do anything for you and you were going to hit her!” Topper said. “She was good for you. And you threw her away.” He added, before walking off to clean up the mess.

Rafe stood there, not a single ounce of a solution in his brain. Topper was right. You were the best thing that happened to him and he treated you like shit. And he knew he was doing it too. It was always after his dad tore into him about something he messed up. So he didn’t believe he deserved you so he pushed you away.

Ever since he started doing drugs, he gave you every reason to leave. But you never did. Not until you thought he was actually going to physically hurt you.

Rafe would never think of laying a finger on you in a way that would hurt you. But when he was on cocaine, he wasn’t Rafe. And clearly that didn’t stop him from hurting you verbally.

The Pogues brought you to the Chateau after JJ pulled you away from your own house. You hadn’t said a word since then and it was starting to worry JJ and Sarah.

JJ had known you just as long as he had known John B and he knew you better than most. You were a Kook but long before the prejudices started, you were their best friend.

Which was why he knew that when you weren’t talking, there was too much going on in your head.

The rest of them went inside while you sat on the front porch. JJ and Sarah stopped in the doorway and looked from you to each other.

JJ slightly nodded his head before walking over to sit by you.

“You can talk about it. You know you can tell me.” He said. You let out a deep breath before resting your head on your friend’s shoulder.

“He didn’t used to be like that. He was good to me but then he started doing the drugs and it just got worse.” You started. “Do you think it’s me? And it isn’t really because of the drugs?” You added.

JJ moved so he could look at you before he spoke. “You’re my best friend, Y/N. And I can tell you that it has nothing to do with you. It’s on Rafe if he can’t see what he’s had next to him for two years.” He said.

You have him a sad smile before putting your head back on his shoulder.

—

It had been two weeks since you had broken up with Rafe. His efforts to get you to talk to him happened every day, relentlessly.

Rafe showed up to your house not knowing that you weren’t there. When the door opened, Topper saw a very distraught Rafe standing there.

“What are you doing here?” Topper asked. “I need to see Y/N.” Rafe answered. “She’s not here. She’s with Sarah and Kie.” Topper told him.

That was when Rafe had taken off the mask, taken down the facade, and let all of his emotions show.

Topper had never seen his friend in such a fragile, emotional state before. “There’s no way out of this, bro. She’s never gonna come back to me.” Rafe cried.

“You know what you need to do then? Stop doing drugs. Stay sober and never even attempt to lay a hand on her again.” Topper told him. “I need to see her. I need to know that there’s still a chance.” Rafe said.

Topper sighed before checking the time on the Rolex on his wrist. “She’ll be home in fifteen minutes. You can wait for her upstairs.” He said.

Rafe thanked Topper quickly before rushing upstairs. He entered your room and felt the difference of tone in the room. It felt sad and different and he knew that he was the reason for it.

He could easily spot out the holes on your dresser where picture frames used to be. Pictures of the two of you that you couldn’t stand to look at anymore. He noticed the top drawer was open and empty. The drawer that held a couple of his t-shirts and sweatpants for when he’d spend the night. They were now in a duffle bag on the floor. 

Another thing he noticed was the Midsummer’s dress you were supposed to wear to match him. It was placed back in the garment bag and hanging on the back of your bedroom door. Probably so your mother could take it back. 

He remembered how excited you were to wear it, you tried it on for him and modeled it for ten minutes before he convinced you to hang it back up in your closet. 

About fifteen minutes later, Rafe heard the front door open before hearing your voice call out to your brother, causing his heart to speed up.

“Topper, I’m home!” You called, as you walked up the staircase to your room. “Wait, Y/N, I need to warn you.” Topper stopped you. “About?” You questioned. “Rafe.” Topper answered.

Your face fell at his words, not needing a further explanation. “He’s here?” You asked. “Yeah. He’s in your room.” He said.

You sighed as you nodded your head curtly before continuing your trek to your room.

Opening the door, you saw Rafe seated on the edge of your bed with tears in his eyes. A photo of to two of you in his hands. It took everything you had not to just run over there and tell him everything was going to be okay.

“What are you doing here, Rafe?” You asked, keeping your composure. “I needed to see you. To apologize for-“ He stopped himself, not wanting to relive that night’s events.

“I’ve been clean since that night but I can’t do this without you. It’s so hard. I start thinking about you and then how I lost you and it makes me want to just forget about it for a while. I need your help, Y/N. Please.” He added.

You looked at him, the broken boy who sat in front of you and sighed. This was the Rafe you missed and it seems as if you were starting to get him back.

“No more drinking. And no more drugs. Rafe, what you did scared the hell out of me. I’ve never seen you like that before. Yelling at me and telling me that I’m clingy and bitchy is one thing but hitting me is unforgivable.” You spoke.

Rafe stood up and approached you feeling a sense of hope. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I will never do anything like that again, I promise. Just please forgive me. I love you.” He said.

You took a moment to process his words and to find any trace of a lie. But when you couldn’t find one, you gave in. 

“If it happens again, I’m done.” You said quietly. “It won’t. I promise.” Rafe said. You nodded your head as Rafe pulled you into him. It wasn’t until then that you had let out the sobs you were so desperately trying to keep in. 

The two of you stayed that way, holding each other and just crying for what felt like hours. 

“You’re a mess.” You laughed, wiping the tears off of his face. “Yeah, you’re one to talk.” Rafe replied. “You know that I love you, right?” He asked. You nodded your head before speaking. “I love you too.” You replied. 

[alfredosauce50]

Ghost of jealousy [Possessive! America x reader]

Wordcount: 5,545 Synopsis: Alfred gets upset when he finds you hanging around Mathias during his Halloween party. You tell him he’s your friend, but everything escalates into an argument, so he takes it outside to his car. He regrets everything he’s done, but you refuse to talk to him while he drives off to find some lodging for the night—an old inn. While you avoid him by staying in a separate room, it becomes apparent there’s something very off about this place. Something otherworldly. Will he make it up to you by saving you before something terrible happens? 

(I was inspired by this song by Michael Jackson, “Ghosts”) The reader is referred to as she/her.

It didn’t bother you that Alfred always disappeared during his parties. He was the host, after all, and you were merely another attendee, boyfriend or not. There were guests to interact with, excitement to arouse, and the general gist of event-running. So while he was off doing his business, you loitered around in the kitchen with one of your friends. You were dressed as a mermaid, with a seashell bra and all, while Mathias was in his pirate get-up.

Here away from the incessant pounding of Halloween classics and chatter, you could actually hear him talk. "I think it’s cute that we’re matching! Are you sure you didn’t wear this on purpose just so we could look like a couple?" He grinned, earning a small gasp from you.

"Hey! It’s not my problem you wear the same thing every year, Mathias. I—on the other hand, change it up." You gloated a little at that, giving his hip a light bump. He had been sipping a cup of punch, but spilled some as a result. "Ah! Jeez.” Because it was so dark, with only jack-o-lanterns and fairy lights to illuminate the house, you never even realized.

"What’s wrong?”

"Why don’t you smell my coat to find out?” He hummed mischievously. Cupping a hand around your head, he pulled you in and pressed your face against a mysterious wet patch.

"Ew! What was that?!" You pulled away and rubbed your cheek as he exploded into a fit of laughter.

"... Juice?"

"That’s right, min prinsesse. And it’s all your fault." Leaning in with his hands on his hips, he tapped your nose. A dash of guilt was present in your eyes, so he quickly added this. "Don’t look so stressed, (F/N)! I always forgive what you do to me. Mostly. This time, if you wanna make up for it, you’ll have to go to our after-party for once!"

You blinked. "After-party? You mean with just you and Lukas and everyone?" He nodded excitedly. The question was innocent enough, but really, you had another concern in the back of your mind. Every year, you and Alfred would spend a night together after the festivities. You could only imagine how upset he’d get if that didn’t happen. He always valued the time together with you, even to the point of being a little excessive. "Mm... I don’t know. Alfred and I usually do something afterward. I’ll ask him."

His wide grin faltered a touch. Alfred this, Alfred that. Mathias couldn’t exactly say he was jealous—though he’d joke about it, a lot—but wasn’t he a little controlling sometimes? "Mm, mm. Not good enough. I won’t take no for an answer!" Scooping you up in a bridal style carry, you let out a small yelp and reached out for his neck to stabilize yourself. "Let the King of Scandinavia save you from the evil clutches of American capitalism!"

"Mathias, you idiot!" You hissed through a flustered expression, but you couldn’t deny you were enjoying yourself. While he laughed away, bouncing you in his arms, you bonked him on the head numerous times. "Put. Me. Down!"

"Ow. Ah! Okay, okay, stop hitting me!" The Dane was as big of a goofball as your boyfriend, but just less serious most of the time. That was right. As your relationship with Alfred progressed, he was less easy-going than he initially seemed. More stubborn. Argumentative. And you never imagined how soon you would see this side of him.

"What’s this about saving (F/N) from the evil clutches of American capitalism?"

The chorus of you and Mathias’s laughter came to an abrupt end. Uh oh. Turning to the voice, you found yourself staring at none other than your boyfriend, dressed in a long orange coat with a Jason Vorhee's mask on the side of his head. And his arms were crossed with an unamused expression. Only then did you feel yourself get set down to the floor. Great. "Alfred, hey! We were just talking about his after-party. You know, the one where they have a lego-building contest?"

"Mhm. Sounds fun. But we’re doing something even better." Reaching out to your hand, he pulled you away from your friend, much to your displeasure. Mathias didn’t look all too happy either. Alfred then managed a small smile, but it was a little strained. "So c’mon, babe. Most of the party’s events are ending, anyway. Let’s go to my car." He squeezed you in his grip and turned to leave, all with you in tow.

But you weren’t having it. Couldn’t he at least let you explain yourself a little better, considering how upset he seemed already? You stopped, the action pulling on his arm so he would too. "Wait, Al. He asked if I wanted to go, and I kinda want to. Just this one time, please? Lukas, Berwald, Tino, and Emil are gonna be there too—" The fact that you were listing all these names only made it blatantly obvious who was in right, and who was in the wrong.

All you were asking for was some time with your friends. But he played the jealous boyfriend role all too well.

He turned to you with a frown. It was annoying enough to see Mathias carrying you like that. But going to a sleepover with him? He couldn’t be any less enthusiastic. "No, (F/N). Halloween is our thing. We’re supposed to spend the night together like we always do." Reaching out to your cheek, he caressed it gently. "You can hang out with them any other day of the year. Just not today."

Unlike other times, you didn’t give in. He already showed up with an attitude, so sweet-talking wasn’t going to cut it. Especially when you felt Mathias’s hand on your shoulder. The thought that he was behind you and trying to calm you down only egged you on to stand your ground. "Any other day? You’d have to exclude Valentine’s Day, Christmas, New Year’s, and St. Patty’s as well. I never get to celebrate them with my friends, either, so can’t you let me go this one time?"

The room fell silent. Even with the Dane’s friends present, nobody spoke a word. And nobody had to because they all shared one thought.

Alfred was being way too controlling.

Almost as if he could read their minds, he felt himself crumble under their scrutiny. "I’m not talking about this here with you." Without another word, he pulled you out of the house against your will.

"And why not? Is it because Mathias is here?" You retorted, feeling bile rise in your throat.

Once you and he disappeared out the door, Lukas made a brief comment.

"... He really has to stop doing that." 

“Yep. Man, I wish he’d just step on a lego." The blonde heaved out a sigh. 

"Fair enough."

Once Alfred managed to get you outside his car, he turned to you to finally give you an answer. "And what if it is because he’s there, (F/N)?" He exasperated, already feeling his tongue start slipping now that he was alone with you. And his words only held more impact against the deafening silence of the night. "The reason why I don’t want you hanging out with them on special occasions is cuz’ he’s in the group.”

“Why? Do you hate him or something? But that’s got nothing to do with me!" You ripped your hand from his grip to see his eyes widen with shock. This was the first time you ever lashed out, so he could already feel the inklings of regret well in his chest. He should’ve just shut his trap and let you go.

But something told him he would’ve never let that happen.

"They’re my friends, Alfred! You can’t expect me to pass on every invite they give me just because you don’t like someone!"

He dug his hands through his sandy locks of hair stressfully. 

"That’s the thing! Mathias obviously doesn’t just wanna be friends with you! He likes you, I can tell!" He yelled. 

The cat was finally out of the bag now. What had been plaguing his mind for months was this—competition. And he hoped that admitting it would somehow get you to understand his behavior, no matter how uncalled for it had been.

But you didn’t. You refused to.

Your jaw dropped, but not out of surprise. Instead, it was pure disappointment. "Even if he did, are you saying you don’t trust me with him?" You scoffed, folding your arms at him.

At this point, Alfred knew how bad he fucked up.

"No, that’s not what I—" His brows knitted together, and his cerulean blue eyes welled with moisture. "I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant. I just..." But it was.

Wasn’t it?

Otherwise, why else was he so possessive of you?

"It’s exactly what you meant. If it wasn’t, you’d be defending yourself by now." A small smile curled up at your lips, and it was from anything but mirth. It was your defense mechanism to keep the waterworks at bay, but even that had failed you. The tears finally came spilling over the rim, streaming down your face as he watched on with guilt.

"Even if you hate him, he’s not what you think he is. It wouldn’t matter if he loved me. He wouldn’t do anything because he respects me." Reaching up to your eyes, you rubbed them, but the effort was in vain as you let out a sob. "If you’re so quick to doubt me, then maybe..." You struggled to string together the words as you continued to cry. "Maybe we shouldn’t..."

Maybe we shouldn’t be together anymore. 

Alfred froze. Anything but that. And yet, you had all the right in the world to think of ending things. But his heart couldn’t take it.

"No, no, no... Don’t you finish that sentence..." You would probably hate him after this, but kissing you was what he first thought of. The connection between his and your lips managed to silence you, and the close proximity let you feel the waves of heat radiating from his face. And he continued to kiss you, gently, for as long as you let him until you decided to shove him away.

"Don’t." You whispered faintly, albeit firmly. Leaving his side to get into the passenger seat of his car, you buckled yourself up and turned to the window.

He breathed out a sigh, but joined you in the driver’s seat. Facing you with remorse so deep, it made his eyes droop. "You know I love you, right?"

You were still crying, and you never spared him so little as a single glance.

He royally screwed up, for sure. 

The engine purred to life. Now, to find a place to stay for the night. Hopefully, he could make up with you before lights out. But his gut told him it wouldn’t be so simple. The car began to move, crushing sticks and leaves under the wheels as he drove on a dirt path deep in the woods. He picked this cabin for the ominous ambiance, but he was beginning to regret his choices. The same could be said for everything he did tonight, hell, the same could be said for how he acted all these months.

He was the jealous, insecure, shitty boyfriend.

And the whole time, he never realized how kind you were to put up with him.

He wanted to tell you he trusted you. To pull you into his arms and apologize a million times. But what could he say to convince you when he’d come off as a liar? Even he didn’t know if he could be honest. Why did Mathias’s presence get him to feel like this, anyway? He boiled it down to how similar he was to him. Like you always said, he and Mathias were two of the same person. Loud, fun, and obnoxious sweethearts. So of course he started comparing himself to him.

And he was doing it right now. He couldn’t imagine Mathias ever having these kinds of problems if he dated you. Fuck. Aside from self-loathing and bitter regret, he was beginning to feel the beginnings of ugly jealousy all over again.

Are you serious right now, Alfred? He thought. 

Narrowing his eyes on the road that seemed to disappear, he slowed to a stop. Was it just him losing concentration over these thoughts, or did he really lose his way? Perhaps. But at least he found something. He peered around his windshield to see a few rooftops resembling an old, vintage villa in the distance. Could that possibly be a motel?

He sped up and drove closer and closer until he reached a clearing. Climbing out of his car with you trailing close behind, he made his way to the entrance of the establishment. There was an open lawn in front of the building, and in one of the gardens stood a wooden sign with "The Aura Inn" inscribed into it. Neither of you thought much of it, let alone read the little sub-paragraph of text below it.

"Let’s go." Looking at you over his shoulder, he held out a hand for you to take. You just brushed past him and kept walking. Right. He forgot for a second that you were mad at him.

The only thing that concerned you was having somewhere to stay the night, so the reception was the first stop. Making up with him could come later.

Upon arriving, you were greeted by nothing but an empty room. There was no furniture besides a wooden counter, and even then, it was lacking quite a few amenities. There was no receptionist here either, and yet, the lights were on. That could only mean one thing. Somebody was here, just not in a way you liked. But you were just overthinking, weren’t you? Needless to say, this inn was starting to feel a little off to you.

Gripping the scales of your mermaid dress, you turned to Alfred with a nervous glance. Immediately, he responded with a reassuring smile.

"You okay, babe?"

Hold on. Did he just call you babe? Your mood went sour when you felt yourself nearly give in to him. What he did couldn’t be forgiven so easily, otherwise, how could he take your feelings seriously? So you forced yourself to lie.

"Yes." You murmured. "I’m perfectly fine."

He knew you were lying, but he couldn’t blame you.

"Okay. I’ll just... Get us a room. I think this is an Airbnb." He pulled out his phone.

The thought of sleeping in the same bed as him irked you, to say the least. After the stunt he pulled today, which effectively stopped you from going to Mathias’s after-party, you needed some space. That was right. How come after all these years, you’ve never been to one of his infamous after-parties? Even though you were a close friend of his? It was simple. Because Alfred never let you go. God, thinking about it just made you relive the anger all over again. 

So before he finished the booking, you reached out for his arm.

"Wait. I don’t want to be in the same room as you."

He paused, and you saw sadness flash in his eyes. And once again, you found yourself tempted to cave. But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

"... Oh. Sure." Alfred finished with the online forms and walked you to your room. The halls were long, winding, and dimly-lit. You would’ve thanked him for accompanying you in this unsettling place, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. Once you managed to open the door, which wasn’t locked, he gave you a reluctant goodbye. Resting his arms against the doorframe, he gazed down at you with a bittersweet smile. "Night, babe. I’ll see you in the morning—"

The door slammed in his face and he cringed.

"... Love you too." He murmured, clenching his fists against the door. This was by far the worst argument he’s ever had with you, and it was all his fault.

Pressing your back against the door, you felt blood rush up to your face after hearing what he said. He nearly had you. But you managed to seal yourself away in the safety of your room. It hurt to push him away, but you had to. He couldn’t keep having his way. Alfred needed to accept the consequences of his actions, and you needed to be strong enough for that to happen. 

And plus, he needed to get used to not having you around him all the time. But the boy was excessively clingy, and you let this carry on for far too long. 

Unpacking your things on the bed, you got your things ready for a shower. As you melted into the hot embrace of the water, your concerns of this inn melted away too. It was just Halloween jitters, wasn’t it? Turning off the faucet, you dried yourself off with a towel before getting dressed. When you exited the bathroom, your room was plunged into almost pitch-black darkness. But you never turned off the lights.

Perhaps this was an energy-saving function. 

Well, it saved you from the effort of going to the light switch, anyhow. 

Before you moved from your spot, you shuddered at the feeling of a cold draft blowing against your body. Looking over to the source, you were shocked to see that the door was wide open, letting the dim halls stare back at you. 

There was probably a little wind tonight, and somehow, you didn’t shut the door properly. Making your way to close it again, you made sure you heard a little click. When you did, you didn’t feel any wind from outside at all, not even a gentle breeze. 

Weird. 

Setting your things down on the bedside table, you climbed into bed and tucked yourself in. While you made yourself comfortable, you faced the entirety of the room, which had a small wall-mounted TV, rocking chair, and desk. Of course there was a rocking chair. And you somehow couldn’t tear your gaze away from its faint outline in the dark. 

Then, it began to rock. 

Forwards and backward as if an invisible entity was sitting in it. 

“!” Your blood ran cold and you buried your head underneath the blanket. Something was in the room with you. Unlike before, you couldn’t blame it on the wind because you just closed the door. As you came to terms with that reality, the icy hands of fear gripped around your heart. Your breathing grew ragged and uneven. There was something behind you. Someone behind you. 

You could practically feel their presence creeping towards you. Closer and closer to your bed as the carpet compressed under its footsteps. Your chest constricted when you felt the bed dip under a weight. 

Then, it began to crawl. 

But you were too terrified to scream, let alone move. 

In that moment, you never regretted your decisions this much in your life. And you never wished more for Alfred to be with you.  

Unbeknownst to him as he finished up with his own shower in his room, you were left paralyzed in bed. If he’d known what was happening, he would have run to you as fast as he could. But he didn’t. He only assumed you were busy brooding over him, and maybe even second-guessing your relationship with him. The thought was reasonable, and that upset him to no end. Throwing his towel to a random spot in the room, he fell on his back onto the bed. 

Reaching out to the ceiling to stare at his arm, he sighed. 

“I’m so sorry...” He murmured, lowering his hands to cover his face with them.

If he was lucky, he’d be able to make up with you by the end of tomorrow. But for now, he was burdened with uncertainty. But his attention was quickly diverted to something else. A laugh. Your laugh. Sitting up with visible confusion, he listened in to the muffled sounds of your voice down the hall. 

The walls here were thin, so it didn’t surprise him he could hear you so clearly. 

But what did was what he heard next. Another voice talking, and it belonged to a boy. His heart sank to the pit of his stomach as he registered it as someone he knew. Mathias. Wait a second, what the hell was he doing here? But there was no way he could be, right? Didn’t he have an after-party to be at? The longer he eavesdropped on the conversation, the more obvious it became that it was Mathias. And they were talking about him. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t come this year. Again. But you know how Alfred gets.”

“Yeah... Don’t worry about it. This can be our own little after-party. Just as long as he doesn’t find out, you’ll be fine!” 

Wait, what? 

From what he heard, it sounded like you really had moved on. But you never had the decency to tell him, and that was what filled him to the brim with betrayal--it broke his heart. Was this why you wanted to be in a separate room tonight? Sliding himself off the bed, he stormed out the door to find you. His glasses were already fogging up, but he never bothered to clear them as he marched down the empty halls. 

Your voices grew louder and louder, all until he came to a stop outside a room he never booked. That was right. He applied for one with a single bed. He could only imagine what you were doing with Mathias in a room with a double bed. 

The laughing continued behind the door. 

“You know these walls are thin, right?” He began lowly. Swinging open the door, the noises disappeared along with the people inside. The room was completely dark, and when he flicked on the lights, you and Mathias were nowhere in sight. Not a soul was in here. 

“... What the fuck.” He grumbled.

He swore he heard you both giggling away like school children. Did you two hear him coming and hide somewhere? He was skeptical, but he checked around nonetheless. In the wardrobe, then under the bed. There was no sign of either of you. The shower, maybe? Stepping into the bathroom and pulling open the curtains, he was prepared to catch you red-handed. But there was nothing there except for a porcelain white tub.  A defeated sigh fell from his lips. What the hell was going on? Alfred was completely sober, a miracle considering he usually drank at his parties. So he had a terrible feeling he wasn’t just hearing things. That only pointed towards one explanation. 

This inn was totally haunted. 

And whoever, or whatever that haunted it was toying with him.

He swallowed thickly and turned to the mirror, only to jump at what he saw. The reflection revealed a figure standing behind him. 

It was Mathias, except his face was twisted in a sick smile. 

“Holy shit--!” Alfred paled as he stared face to face with the entity. As he lost himself in its soulless, blue eyes, he was overcome with dread, almost as if the spirit was forcing fear into him. Reminding him of his failures, insecurities, and the uncertainty of his relationship. All of his faults flashed in his mind again and again so incessantly, he thought he would break down on the spot. 

Where is (F/N)? 

She doesn’t want you anymore. 

You should just give up. 

And the deeper in he spiraled into these self-destructive thoughts, the wider the entity smiled, its lips stretching to impossible lengths it became grotesque. Darting his wide eyes around the reflection in his bout of panic, he saw its hand reach out to his shoulder in the mirror. He didn’t know how he managed to do this, but he spun around quickly to defend himself. And there was nobody there.

In his brief moment of disorientation, the spirit shot out two arms, breaking the barrier of the glass. Tightening its hands around his neck, Alfred was pulled back against the mirror and choked. “Gh--!” His airway was completely constricted by the iron grip, and he was forced to struggle a few inches above the ground. 

Digging his fingernails into the hands, he never felt them loosen. 

So he did the unthinkable--he started to smash his fist against the mirror. It hurt like hell and left his knuckles bruised and raw, but the thought of you in danger kept him going. That was right. There was no saying if you weren’t being choked, attacked, or worst. Punching the glass again and again, it finally shattered, and the grip around his neck loosened. 

The mirror was reduced to shards and fell into the sink.

Falling to the ground in a loud thump, he stood up while coughing violently. 

The arms disappeared, and so did the entity. 

And Alfred had a feeling it had to do with the mirror it was in. 

Leaving the bathroom with heavy breaths, he ran back to his room and picked up his chainsaw. Halloween had the perks of carrying around dangerous tools, and he was never this glad that he took it with him instead of leaving it in his car unattended. Too bad he was out of costume, though. But a white tank and boxers would do. Holding it above his chest, he revved his chainsaw and ran out the door. 

It was time to fuck shit up. 

You were still stuck in bed, but the spirit managed to remove your blanket. A soft whimper fell from your lips as your only form of protection was stripped away. If you thought you were terrified, then you would prove yourself wrong with a whole new level of fear as two arms wrapped around your neck from behind. No way. Was it going to choke you? One of its legs was thrown over yours, so you were completely enveloped by its limbs. 

As you trembled away in the dark, you let out a soft cry when you felt its warm breath tickle your ear. 

“I missed you. Why didn’t you wanna stay in a room with me?” It cooed, the voice sending shivers down your spine. It sounded strangely similar to Alfred’s, and what he said was exactly what he would’ve said too, except it wasn’t him. You never saw him come in, and the last time you checked, he wasn’t invisible. 

“... W-What... What are you?” You stammered, feeling a hand glide down your bare thigh. “Stop--” 

“I’m his desire, sweetheart.” It began in a low and alluring voice. “Every feeling in the Aura inn festers into a semi-physical form. That’s why I’m here right now. Because he wants you.” 

You screwed your eyes shut. Just what the hell kind of place was this inn? A magical hut that personified emotions? “... Can you please let me go? I don’t like the way how you’re... Hugging me.” You pleaded, only to feel the entity tighten itself around you. 

“But I don’t want to. He doesn’t want to.” It responded with a hum. “I reflect everything he wants. And currently, he wants to see you more than anything. Especially when he’s dealing with jealousy... And having a hard time at that.” 

“Jealousy?” It wasn’t shocking, per se, but he had you curious. If desire festered into a sultry form of someone and hugged their object of affections, what did jealousy turn into?  “... I knew he was jealous of Mathias. But that’s not the problem here. We’ll sort it out later. If you’re desire, then what’s jealousy like?” 

It let out a deep, foreboding laugh. “Depends. If it’s only a little bit of envy, he’ll start hearing things that hit his nerves. Nothing but... Harmless fun.” You felt yourself get rolled onto your back, and you were caught off guard by what loomed over you. It was Alfred himself, or more accurately put, his personified desire, but this time, you could see him. “But if his jealousy gets mixed in with insecurity, that’s when things get pretty ugly...” 

You furrowed your brows with concern. “Ugly? How so? Is he gonna be okay?” 

It craned his head from side to side. “Who knows.” 

“But I’ll tell you a few things that I do know. Jealousy tends to be pretty sneaky. It’ll snoop around in mirrors and attack him.” You tensed up all over. “So Alfred will have to smash every mirror in the inn to get it to come out. And when it does, all he needs to do is be with you to send it away.”

Loud chainsaw noises were heard down the halls, silencing both you and the entity. Following that was the shattering of glass. 

“... Hm. Looks like he already figured it out.” 

Joy filled you to the brim and you smiled wide. “He really did! I’m so glad!” Reaching out to hug the entity around its chest, you pulled away and slid yourself off the bed. 

“Thank you, um, Alfred’s desire! I’m gonna go find him now!” 

He laid on his side and watched you run off. “You can just call me Alfred.” 

“Okay, Alfred!” 

While you exited the room to stand in the halls, you found yourself staring at a number of doors that were wide open, and the lights on inside. You assumed those were the rooms he already cleared, which meant he still had quite a bit to do. But he was fast. Appearing out of one room, he continued tearing down door after door to smash every single mirror and window in the inn. And soon, he managed to reduce every piece of glass present into shards. 

Once the chainsaw revs came to a stop, you called out his name. 

“Alfred!” 

He jerked up at the sound, then glanced around. “(F/N)!?” While he was on the first floor in the courtyard, you were on the second in the mezzanine, so he had to glance up to see you. “Oh God, I was so worried! Are you okay?” He shouted. 

“Yes!” You called back. “This place is... Super haunted. Let’s get out of here!”

“You called it. I nearly got murdered!” 

Running down the stairs to meet with him, you practically jumped onto him after he dropped his chainsaw to the ground. Embracing you with his strong arms, he pressed kiss after kiss all over your face. While he did, you spotted another figure standing by the stairs. Was that Mathias? You couldn’t take a better look at him before he disappeared into thin air. “Oh my fucking god. I missed you so much.” He exasperated, setting you down on your feet. “You won’t believe what happened. I’ll explain everything in the car.”

As he led you out of the Godforsaken inn, he gripped you tight with his hand. And you squeezed right back. “Let me guess. You were attacked by something in the mirror so you shattered every single one here. I know.” 

At this point, you and him had arrived outside his car.

Turning to you with shock, he placed his hands on his hips. 

“And how the hell did you know? I thought it was original enough that you wouldn’t be able to guess!” He exclaimed, much to your amusement. 

“Mm... Not really. With how many horror movies you’ve watched, I wouldn’t put it past you to come up with a solution like that.” Giving him an affectionate pinch on the cheek, he rubbed the spot with a light pout. You considered telling him the truth, but you already wanted to forget tonight. If he didn’t know about it, then moving on yourself would be so much easier. 

“Now, I think you have some apologizing to do.” 

He softened his gaze. “Yeah... I really do. Sorry for everything. Sorry for being a dick. And not just... For today.” Pulling you into another hug, he nestled his chin into your shoulder. God, did it feel good to have you in his arms again. “I’m gonna be real. I never hated Mathias. He’s my friend. But seeing him with you gets me... Really jealous. And it’s not cuz’ I don’t trust you, it’s because I’m...” His cheeks grew rosy. “I don’t know. I just feel...”

You knew he’d get stuck at this part, so you helped him. 

“Because you feel insecure?” 

“... Yeah.” 

“You idiot...” A soft, content sigh was heard from your end. “It doesn’t matter how similar you are to him. You don’t have to try to make any changes or keep him away from me for me to choose you.” 

His heart fluttered as he released you with a sheepish smile. 

“I really needed to hear that. So, thanks.” Alfred murmured, reaching out to cup your cheek. “Kinda lame of me to put you through that. I should’ve just talked it out with you.” 

“Yeah, you dumbass.” You grumbled, but it was on an affectionate note. 

“So, do you think we’ll make it in time to the party for me to carpool with Mathias back to his place? I wanna see what they’re building this year!”

He frowned, but his expression was short-lived as a smile began creeping onto his lips. “Are you serious right now?” 

“I’m kidding!” 

🎶 Tell me, are you the ghost of jealousy?

This is a request. Thank you for requesting.

[dagss]

What did you think of this year's Césars? PS: I've been watching your movie recs andI loved Adieu Les cons, Gazon maudit and Raw. Zone Blanche is also ridiculously great.

u mean the winners or the ceremony itself ahah? (both weren't that great idk, although the ceremony was hosted by antoine de caunes my meowmeow ksjksjksj)

last year i had seen most of the movies and it's so cool to watch award shows when you know about every movie, but this year i missed a lot of them and only watched the women directed ones so i was out of the loop for most wins, mostly for illusions perdues which won a bunch of categories but i still don't feel like watching it idk 😢 i had watched all the shorts but my favorite ones (des gens biens & le départ) didn't win, sobz. my fav animated short (le monde en soi) didn't win either but the actual winner (folie douce, folie dure) sounds dope, ngl. will watch it.

so happy that valerie lemercier got the best actress one tho, she's so funny she deserves it for her whole career,,, still gotta watch aline tho.

i'm also kind of disappointed la fracture didn't get many noms/wins because it was legit amazing and highlighted a huge systemic problem with french healthcare so idk if you'd relate as a foreigner but it's still a really powerful watch!! lots of anguish and despair, chef's kiss

on another note there's also a small polemic rn on filmtwt about the way the animated movie category got shortened and the winners' speeches were rushed by management, because the program was like 30 mins behind schedule. personally, that felt really wrong to me since animation already lacks room to exist in this ceremony and more generally it lacks recognition in french cinema. i just sat there trying to listen to the super important points the animators were trying to make while the crowd and host were ostentatiously annoyed at the speech being "too long"... it literally wasn't.

also disappointed for adam driver who came all the way here, sat through 3 hours of lame french jokes and didn't win anything 💀

there was a lot of positive things too tho, it was way less boring than other years, the sparks performed so may we start live (i sang my heard out ngl), omar sy was there and made people dance, xavier dolan read a tear-jerking homage letter to gaspard ulliel (dunno if you know who that is but he's an actor who recently died from an accident and it was so sudden and shocking coz he was only 37), cate blanchett's speech was admirable and she spoke french my love!! (even though she told people to shut the fuck up lmao that's going to be a meme on french twitter now)

the extra positive thing is that, despite getting many noms, bac nord didn't win anything, and that's great since neonazi scums reclaimed it almost immediately after it came out & the (white) director didn't want to clarify, nor admit his movie was political, nor acknowledge it had an obvious right-wing vibe about its depiction of poc and Paris' poor districts 🙄 i don't know if i'm gonna watch that one, regardless of the director's initial intentions, his reaction to justified criticism really bothers me, and so i'm glad it didn't win 'cause the nazis were like: >:(

anyway i think i'll add onoda, maalbeek, folie douce, folie dure, aline & le sommet des dieux to my watchlist. from the nominated movies i'd already seen, i'd recommend la fracture, the father (obvi) & annette (i hated most of the songs tho ksjksksksj). oh and also boîte noire was super cool and i love pierre niney!! (i might have said that already i think???)

--

i'm so glad you liked my previous recommendations, ah!!! was gazon maudit funny to you? i'm so scared the humor might get lost and the movie might feel weird to people from other cultures 😭 i'm especially glad you like zone blanche omg, even in francophone countries people don't talk often about it, smh.

[mymedicine]

Stardust

~7k of sweet fluff & painful angst w jazz singer harry

moodboard

sum - y/n reflects on her own insecurities, the nuances of her shitty job, and her past relationship with the most popular vocalist at the club while watching him perform.

warnings - alcohol, angst, swearing, self-deprecation, misogyny/workplace sexual harassment (it’s pretty light, relatively speaking, but I don’t want to undermine how wrong any and all harassment is, not matter how seemingly minor), excessive use of italics and the word “belong”

notes - this is inspired in part by the several years i spent singing in a jazz group, wherein i had to learn about 382404 jazz standards. Stardust is one of my all time favorites! anyways this is maybe a little different than a typical one shot, but i hope you like it anyways as i worked very hard on her :’)

/

“Didn’t you have a thing with him a while back?”

“What?” Taken aback, Y/N snapped her eyes open wide. Just the words brought a shiver down her spine and a nagging twist in her heart. “No…we uh…we almost…” She stammered hastily, herself not even knowing where the sentence was going. How could she even begin to explain their relationship?

“Almost..?”

“Yeah,” Y/N sighed, trying in vain to hide the longing in her voice. “Almost.”

The club was busy tonight, as it always was when its star vocalist was performing. The Fine Line had hosted hundreds of local artists in the seven years since its opening, but only one had managed to bring his show anywhere outside its four brick walls. Harry Styles had gone above and beyond, in fact. And now that he’d been picked up by a renowned pianist and the pair had and toured around the country together, his presence in the tiny club was rare delight. Never one to forget his roots, Harry was fulfilling his vow to return to the club that kickstarted his rise to stardom every year.

“Well, lots of people would be very happy to have ‘almost’…” she gave Y/N a pointed look, “…that beautiful man.”

Y/N knew Sarah meant well, but the words tightened the soreness she was feeling in her chest. Of course he was beautiful. It was blatantly obvious to everyone who laid eyes on his delicate chocolate curls, charming green eyes, and bright crinkly smile. But Y/N didn’t just see him; she knew him. And she knew he was just as beautiful on the inside.

“It was complicated.”

An understatement. Not a lie. No more lies.

Y/N moved her arm away from the bar as Sarah swiped a wet rag on the counter where she’d been leaning. It hardly mattered, Y/N reckoned. The bar would be stained with watered-down scotch and lukewarm Prosecco spilled by the hands of rich and poor alike mere minutes after the club opened for the night, and Sarah’d have to clean it all over again. Still, Y/N kind of envied the bartender. Sarah had a safe place behind the bar to stay busy in all night, away from too many hungry, unwanted gazes. Not only that, but it would be so much easier to avoid the stage (or rather, the man performing on it) if she didn’t have to deal with the rowdy patrons seated in the front row.

“Complicated?” Sarah repeated with a mischievous tone and that same pointed stare.

“Are you single?” she’d asked when a jolt of confidence suddenly hit her. Alcohol-induced confidence, of course. Her shift had been over for a half hour and John had yet to declare last call.

“Yes, well…it’s sort of complicated.” he’d replied, whiskey coursing through his own veins.

“Complicated how?”

“I just…” He trailed off and looked away from her as if searching for the right words, eyes gazing thoughtfully at the few patrons who were still lingering after his set “…consider myself married to my job…”

“In that case, I consider myself twice divorced and scorned.”

He chuckled, returning his eyes to meet hers from where he was perched on the barstool beside her. “That bad being a waitress? At least you got a show from an outstanding vocalist.”

“What vocalist is tha? I’m only here for the pianist,” she teased, nodding her head in the direction of where Mitch was chatting with a group of immaculately dressed, heavily made up women. Too made up, Y/N thought. The Fine Line was a humble hole in the wall jazz club where anyone could get cheap drinks and decent entertainment, not the goddamn opera house. She refused to consider that the reason for her hostility toward their appearances could be anything other than that. She wasn’t jealous—they were pretentious, overly obsessed rich girls who fawned over anyone with talent or wealth. Harry and Mitch, of course, had both.

Her irritation melted away as Harry laughed again, the sound somehow even sweeter to her than the dulcet singing for which he’d become famous.

“Yes, Sar.” Y/N crossed her arms, subconsciously moving her body away from the stools in front of the bar and the memories they held. How could she explain their relationship?—Well, it seems she couldn’t.

Sensing her friend’s unease, Sarah let the issue go. “Well, at least you’ll be getting nice tips tonight,” she said diplomatically. “You look extra pretty and ’s gonna be packed.”

Yes, one reason Y/N had meticulously ironed her black tea-length skirt and cream blouse (even though they’d both be covered by her apron), applied a smooth, thin line of eyeliner, and stuffed an emergency tube of glossy lipstick in her brassiere was in anticipation of the club being crowded with plenty of older men whose generosity depended upon her appearance as much as the quality of her service. An omission. Not a lie.

“Thanks.” Y/N smiled stiffly, “Hope it’s worth it.”

Complicated indeed.

Despite her mild annoyance and the growing ache in her heart, Y/N felt a surge of gratitude for Sarah. Before she took over for John a few months ago, Y/N had struggled to befriend any of the other staff at the club. The other waitresses were nice enough, but Y/N just didn’t have the energy to initiate any sort of friendship. The weight of her lost lover, her financial struggles, her personal unhappiness…it was too much to unload on a meaningless workplace friendship.

With Sarah, it was easy. Her alliance didn’t require any work or thought or feeling. She was easy to talk to and even easier to absently listen to as she talked Y/N’s ear off. Whether intended to take Y/N’s mind off her inevitable confrontation with her past or not, Sarah’s rambling was a welcome distraction. She prattled about the poor quality of the alcohol, her disbelief at the outrageous prices they charged, how “fucking freezing” it was outside, how she was excited to gush over the women’s outfits for the night, how insufferable their manager was, and how she hoped Harry’s pianist was as amiable as he was talented and handsome (and that she’d even be able to speak to him in order to find out).

Y/N eyed the clock above the bar as Sarah continued chattering and swiping a rag over each pint glass. The hands seemed to move faster than usual—far too fast for comfort. They were less than fifteen minutes shy of opening, which meant there was more than likely a line forming outside and that the man of the hour had already arrived.

He’d have come through the back door and sat himself in the makeshift dressing room back there, probably having some tea with honey and trying to stop himself from babbling to Mitch, knowing it killed his voice. Y/N wondered absently what he was wearing. She pictured him in a flashy suit with his hair tousled and messy, maybe some of his favorite clunky rings adorning his fingers. Her heart squeezed impossibly and though she knew he wouldn’t be in the dining room just yet, she shivered at the thought of his eyes on her, his hands on her, his voice in her ears.

She tried to busy herself with watching Sarah clean, but she couldn’t help her eyes from glancing at the clock. She fidgeted in her barstool, drumming her fingers on the counter as the minute hand completed yet another rotation.

At six fifty-three Y/N couldn’t take it anymore so she bid Sarah farewell and made deliberately slow work of walking to the ladies room. But of course, she couldn’t help but notice that there was a clock in there too. She fished out her lipstick, desperate for something to do. Still, her eyes flicked up to where it hung above the mirror and her unsteady fingers stained her chin with the pink gloss. She begged the clock to slow down—no where near ready for work. Would she ever be ready to return to the club knowing she’d be sharing the space with her past lover?

Six fifty-seven… She wiped her chin with the pad of her thumb…Fifty-eight…She smoothed the non-existent wrinkles on her apron…fifty-nine…

Time.

Seven o’clock. The Fine Line’s doors opened and hostesses ushered the eager guests inside. A warm din quickly filled the room as patrons flooded in, greeting the staff and chatting to each other. Y/N merely watched from the side of the bar as the happy, well-dressed people sat at bar tables, corner booths, and even couches near the stage where it was cozy and intimate. Behind the bar, Sarah was already serving the more eager customers and chatting with them effortlessly about their outfits and the weather. Y/N felt a surge of disappointment—no, anger at herself for being so useless. He wasn’t even in the room and yet, he affected her every move.

Finally at seven oh seven, Y/N plucked up the courage to pell herself away from safety and actually do her job. Encouraged by the icy glare her manager, Robert, was sending her, she plastered a fake smile on her cheeks and sauntered over to the back corner of the room to greet her tables before taking their drink orders. Prosecco, house cabernet, whiskey neat, water with lemon—all so predictable and bland.

At seven twelve, Harry took the stage.

She caught sight of him just as she was setting down the glass of iced water with lemon. The older woman who’d ordered the drink thanked her kindly, but her attention was elsewhere. Harry was anything but bland—this she of course already knew, but the sight of his handsome figure after so long nearly made her drop the glass.

Needing no introduction, he and his pianist sauntered into the spotlight seemingly from out of nowhere. Y/N watched helplessly from the back of the room as cheers erupted from the crowd almost immediately. She could only see glimpses of him through the shadowy backs of her patrons’ heads, and still, he was an absolute wonder to behold. He was shimmering head to toe in a glittery black and gold blazer with tight pants and shiny black shoes. Y/N couldn’t tell from where she was frozen whether he was wearing rings or any other jewelry, but she wouldn’t doubt it—even his hair seemed to be dancing with sparkle.

Y/N managed to escape her daze as Harry effortlessly took his place in front of the piano—center stage, right where he belonged. He stood behind the microphone, his bright smile partially concealed by the mouth of it. Even before he said a word, his confident stature and striking outfit accompanied by Mitch’s smooth fluttering of the ivory keys captivated the room. The cheers from the crowd roared louder, the sounds of clinking glasses and high-pitched whistles making his smile grow impossibly bigger.

Meanwhile, Y/N retreated back to the corner of the bar to…hide? To sulk? She wasn’t sure, but she leaned on the counter anyways and surveyed the room. Was this where she belonged?

“Good evening, my friends,” He murmured into the microphone, immediately silencing the room with his low voice and thick, alluring accent. Wide eyes and glowing smiles greeted him from every corner. He glanced around the room, taking in the dark faces and familiar cozy atmosphere of the club he’d grown up singing in—looking for something (or rather, someone).

“I’m Harry Styles…” He paused, smiling wide and shutting his eyes to let the soft piano chords wash over himself and the dining room. Mitch looked up from the keys at his friend and returned the relaxed grin. “And this is the incredibly talented Mitch Rowland…” Harry continued, “We’re gonna play some jazz tunes for you tonight. Please sit back, relax, have a drink or two. We’re all here for a good time.”

He gave Mitch a slow, confident nod, and so began their set.

Even with a narrow, partially obstructed view of him, it was exceedingly obvious to Y/N that Harry had outgrown The Fine Line. His voice cascaded off the stage, flooding the room and engulfing everyone in it. He improvised effortlessly, as if music was his native language rather than English. It was evident that he understood the difference between art and artistry. Art existed for sake of the audience, but the latter existed within the creator himself. He was a vessel through which artistry flowed and pictures were sketched without any paint, stories told without any words. It was a gift granted upon people like Harry, whose purpose on Earth was to share it.

He was smooth jazz personified, the epitome of serenity with a touch of spunk evident in his glittery outfit and playful tone. He managed to strike the perfect balance between traditional jazz and contemporary funk, booming forte and soft pianissimo, bubbly disposition and mellow temperament, relaxed and chaotic, carefree and attentive—it was precisely why the world loved him so much.

Y/N watched fondly as he reached up to hold the mouth of the microphone, and there it was—a glint of metal catching the light. His H ring was big and clunky around his finger, but still strikingly beautiful against the dim spotlight and his painted nails.

“My hands are cold.”

“Yeah? Should I warm ‘em up f’you?”

Suddenly his hand had engulfed hers. Just like that, they were holding hands. Y/N felt her heart threatening to leap out of her chest. His calloused, ring-clad fingers around hers sent waves of warmth through her palm, her forearm, her chest, the feeling so physically overwhelming that she stopped walking.

He followed her lead, turning to face her and take her other hand in his free one.

She couldn’t see much of his face in the darkness, but the stars cast a delicate glow on his prominent features. She could make out the outline of his crooked nose, his sharp cheekbones, his bunny teeth toying with his bottom lip.

“Hah,” he mused. “Knew you just wanted ta hold my hand.”

An icy wind ripped through her. She squeezed his hands a little tighter, ignoring the slight pain his rings gave her. She instantly felt warmer.

Being with Harry had been a fantasy—a lie, even. He was simply too good to be true. Just three weeks of diner dates and flower bouquets and jazzy serenades and whispered pillowtalk, and she was in love. Three weeks was all it took for Y/N to fall absolutely head over heels for him. Over a year had passed and she still wasn’t over a love that was built in three weeks.

As heavenly music pervaded the room and alcohol continued to flow, the patrons grew rowdier. Y/N was already on edge with the constant ringing of her ex lover’s voice in her ears and all the repressed love resurfacing, and each wandering hand and lingering touch pushed her a little closer to her breaking point. She was swamped with two tables both choosing to order hors d’oeuvres for the evening, which irritated her to no end (Who orders food at a jazz club? Especially this jazz club, where even the simplest drinks were barely palatable. The Fine Line would surely find away to fuck up charcuterie, and then she’d have to go and deal with their complaints about it).

“Excuse me, love. Aren’t you the waitress?” The man’s meaty hand stopped her in her journey to the back to fetch the food, snaking its way to the small of her back. Y/N shivered at the feeling of his sweaty palm through the cotton material of her apron.

Instinct told her to steal a glance at the stage. Did he notice her discomfort? Did he care? Do I care if he cares? She was no stranger to these kinds of interactions with inebriated men and he was still performing like he didn’t have a care in the world. She didn’t need him to save her from this drunkard or any of the club-goers hounding her.

Y/N put on a fake smile and looked up at his face, “Yes, sir.”

“Can you make me anotha drink?” He slurred.

“I can put it in with the bartender, just give me one moment—“

“That bitch over there?…” He make a sweeping gesture toward the general area where Sarah, too, was swamped. “Where’s the actual bartender?”

“Uhm, sir…Sarah makes all the drinks—“

“Bullshit, she’s just a girl—”

“Sir—“

An exaggerated eye roll, “—good for nothing little bitches, both of you—“

“If we’re all so worthless to you, why don’t you get the goddamn drink yourself!”

The man looked appalled, mouth wide open in a shocked silence. Y/N felt a tinge of satisfaction knowing she’d wounded him. But the tiny flame was quickly extinguished.

“Y/N!” It was Robert’s angry voice smashing through her joy like broken glass. He thundered over to her, coming out of nowhere just in the nick of time.

“Yes, sir?” She sighed, eyes trained on her feet. They were aching in her tight heels—just another affliction she’d grown accustomed too.

“That’s not how you talk to paying customers here! It’s barely eight o clock and you’re already on strike two for tonight. You’re lucky I’m feeling nice enough to giving you one more chance.”

Robert’s raised voice caught the attention of a few guests in the near vicinity. Y/N felt a wave of shame wash over her, like she was a child being reprimanded by her parents. For a moment, she absently wished that she was nine or ten years old again, with no responsibilities, no heartache, no problems. But she wasn’t a child; she was a grown woman and she needed this job to survive.

Y/N bit her tongue and uttered, “My apologies, sir,” through clenched teeth.

The scene seemed to have caught the singer’s attention from across the room. He finally caught a glimpse of her from the stage and Y/N could practically see his heart somersaulting in his chest. He paused for a beat, halting his languid swaying to focus on the glimpse he caught of her profile in the crowd. He could only see her face very faintly in the dark, crowded club, but it was more than enough. Y/N felt as if his gaze was stretching time…stretching until she felt the sting of a hand slapping her wrist at her side.

She snapped her eyes away from the stage and turned toward the source of the strike. Unlike Y/N, who couldn’t even seem do her job when he was in the same room as her, Harry recovered quickly once her gaze left his, blinking his own eyes as to escape the reverie.

Robert sent Y/N another dirty glare, seething, “Get back to work before I send you out for good.”

Y/N nodded meekly, taking a deep breath and forcing herself to carry on. She rubbed her sore wrist and bruised pride. It definitely wasn’t the first time Robert had given her a harsh censure, but that didn’t make it sting any less.

Meanwhile, Harry returned his attention to his performance. “This last song is called ‘Stardust,’” he mused into the microphone, effortlessly holding the attention of every patron in the club. “’S one of my favorites. ’S about love…and lost.” He paused, sending the crowd a charming smile. “Big thanks to Mitchy…” he gestured grandiosely toward the pianist, who played an impressive jazzy riff in response, “…and of course, each of you. You made me the man I am today, and I’m forever grateful.”

Y/N swore he looked right at her as a melodiously chanted those words. He knew where to find her now and his gaze was purposeful, intense, and unwavering. Not for the first time tonight, her heart felt like it’d stopped beating in her chest.

Harry hesitated to continue, happy green eyes lingering on hers while Y/N wondered absently if it was only his lover—only herself, that could see the longing hidden in them. She smeared on her best blank expression, no longer having the energy for even a fake smile, and focused on keeping her tray steady. She plucked four more full glasses from the bar and balanced them precariously on her tray before meandering around the dining room to the rhythm of Harry’s song. A year ago, the sound of his voice would have made her own heart sing. Today, each note twisted the knife in her heart a little more, torturing her with what she couldn’t have.

“Mitchy’s been teaching me a couple things…”

He had a beautiful baby grand in the middle of his living room. It was clear from the way the piano took up nearly the entire room that he invested in things he loved—not spaces.

“Oh yeah?” She wrapped her arms lazily across his chest, embracing him from behind while he sat at the bench.

Harry’s fingers glided across the keys and played a few random chords and licks before finally producing a soft, familiar melody. Y/N absently recognized the tune and smiled fondly, hoping he could feel her grin in his hair.

“Heaven…I’m in heaven…” he sang gently, easily falling into the swinging rhythm. Y/N felt the vibrations of his voice in her own chest, heart beating wildly.

His fingers continued floating over the piano, fumbling here and there, but nonetheless impressing her with his skill. “And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak…”

“…And I seem to find the happiness I seek…” Y/N clumsily joined him in the lyrics she vaguely knew. Her voice wasn’t nearly as effortlessly harmonious as Harry’s, but was equally as joyful.

“When we're out together dancing, cheek to cheek…” They finished in unison, a final resolving chord echoing between them. Only fitting, Y/N squeezed her arms around his chest impossibly tighter and pressed her cheek to his. Warmth surged through her from where their skin met, joy following close behind.

As he sang his final piece of the night, his voice glimmered throughout the room like, well, like stardust, Y/N thought. He was a star in every sense of the word, eyes gleaming, teeth shining white, and heavenly voice brightening up the darkness of the club. His blazer glittered in the light and cast bright refractions on all the walls as he swayed to the rhythm, while the heavenly sounds of his artful scatting convinced Y/N that she was indeed in the presence of an angel.

She felt his eyes on her all the way from the stage, even in the throng of drunk patrons and busy waitresses. It was impossible not to. The weight of his gaze and the rasp of his voice surrounded her.

“Though I dream in vain...In my heart it always will remain…the stardust melody, the memory of love’s refrain.”

The memory of love’s refrain? The last chorus was overwhelming. A strident ringing overshadowed Harry’s voice in her ears. Her vision blurred, the lights and the people and the glasses blending together and fading. The stardust melody...the memory of love’s refrain...in my heart...

Suddenly, as if all her limbs had disconnected from her brain, Y/N’s hands slipped from under the tray. Prosecco spilled all over her apron in the next instant, staining the once white fabric champagne. His song, his voice, his gaze…he’d rendered her useless.

She heard Robert’s booming footsteps before she saw him. “Y/N! How many times do I have to tell you off tonight?!” His voice sounded distant in her ears. Loud and angry, but far-away...as if he were calling to her from another world.

This time, the clamor didn’t go unheard by the guests, nor by Harry. He frowned visibly and stuttered. He began to rush his goodbye speech, quickly thanking the crowd.

“That’s strike fucking three,” Robert continued shouting and flailing his hands dramatically. “Get out. I don’t want to see your face here until next week!” His harsh words drowned out Harry’s final, hasty farewell reminder to ‘treat people with kindness.’

Y/N said nothing and remained frozen in response. She stood exhausted in a puddle of alcohol and broken glass, physically unable to carry on the facade any longer. She turned on her heel, desperate to be out from under both Robert’s furious gaze and Harry’s musical spell. As she stumbled toward the exit, she felt like her legs would give out at any moment and finally crumble against the insurmountable pressure. Harry’s were just one of hundreds of pairs of eyes that lingered on her as she struggled. She paused near the door and grabbed onto the coatrack for support, blinking away tears and choking back sobs.

Harry raced over to her, swiftly maneuvering his body through the crowd confused club-goers. When he reached her, he instinctively caught her wrist in his grasp. His rings were cold and sharp against her sore skin—the contrast between the cold metal and his hot palm familiar and comforting and painful all at once.

“Are you okay?”

She replied immediately, “Yes.” Not a lie. She still had a job for now, she had a decent coat wrapped around her, she had a bed to sleep on tonight, and she was breathing. She was okay.

He was panting, voice sounding raspy and strained from overuse. A drop of sweat trickled down his forehead and he flicked it away with the back of his hand. “Are you…are you sure?”

“I want you to have this.”

“It’ll never fit me, H. Your hands are even bigger than y’head.”

He reeled back, feigning offense with a furrowed brow, but he could only move a few inches away from her on his tiny bed they were sharing.

“Fine then, meanie. I won’ give yeh the pretty little chain I got for it,” he said tauntingly.

Y/N’s heart soared as she took in his impish smirk and dopey eyes dancing with a glint of happiness. She ignored his teasing tone, choosing instead to melt over his words. Of course he’d gotten her a chain, she thought—he always thought of everything.

He stretched his arm over her, shoving his bare chest in her face. Playfully, she poked her tongue out to lick his nipple, to which he exclaimed a melodramatic “Oi! Quit tha!” And laughter fell from both their lips as he reached for the drawer in his nightstand.

He pulled back but kept her tucked close to him, leaving just enough space to dangle the chain he produced from the drawer in between them. Y/N studied his pale, nimble fingers as they worked, opening the clasp and slipping his S ring onto it. As he finished, her eyes met his once again. His hair was in his face and the early morning sunlight cast a soft shadow of a single curl over his eyelid. Still, she could make out every detail of his eyes, every vision into his thoughts and shimmering fleck of emotion.

“Are you sure you want me to wear this?” She hummed pensively, not having to look away from his eyes to know that her fingers were tracing the swallows on his collar.

“Yes, but only if you apologize for bein’ mean ta me.”

She giggled again, the sound pure and lovely—like music to his ears. “I’m very sorry,” she humored him, “I love your big head.”

“Shut up, you absolute pest.” He gently pinched the skin at her hip with one hand, and with the other, slipped the chain over her head. She beamed at him, hearts in her eyes and love in her heart.

“Now I’m with you. Always.” And with that, he hauled her into the circle of his arms—right where she belonged, the sounds of her gentle laughter muffled in his chest as the sun rose to illuminate the morning.

Of course she wasn’t okay! She hated her life and she loved Harry. How could she not? He was brilliantly talented, funny, thoughtful, and charming—but in her eyes, oblivious to her internal struggle. She didn’t belong with him. She could never belong with him! A tired, talentless, immature woman destined only to wait tables and lie for the rest of her existence. Maybe she’d marry one of the Fine Line’s patrons whose hungry eyes lingered long enough, whose hands grabbed her waist tight enough. She’d bear his children and go on hating her life and craving something more. That was her truth. No more lies.

His expensive shoes thumped on the stone behind her as he ran to follow after her outside. The lights from the sign outside the club were making his jacket glimmer and shine as he moved, even in the darkness of midnight. She turned to face him, reluctantly meeting his eyes from where he stopped a few feet away from her.

Y/N waited for him to say something else. He’d run after her, after all. And yet, he was silent aside from heavy panting echoing his exhaustion and frustration. He was opening his mouth and frantically shutting it again, desperate to say the right thing but terrified of failing—again.

She felt her heart squeeze in her chest with every second passing in tense silence. Y/N had a hundred things she wanted to say to him, but all she could come up with was: “Thanks for the show, Harry. You were brilliant.”

He furrowed his brows and shook his head, “Y/N, wait…I—”

“Good night.” Her hands trembled by her side—for more reasons that just the bitter cold, as she turned to leave. He let her go, again.

It was a long walk home.

The cobblestone streets felt achingly familiar, yet entirely foreign underneath her. The gentle click, clack of her heels against the stones, the bitter chill and the whooshing sounds of harsh wind, even the glow cast by pale moonlight against the walls of alleyways was all the same. All the same, every goddamn day.

The only difference tonight was the sticky remnants of spilled Prosecco on her skin and the agonizing force of her emotions. The words of his song lingered in her brain, invading her thoughts and inevitably slowing her pace as she stumbled over her feet. She felt heavy and wearied with the cumbersome weight of her regrets and mistakes and shortcomings and insecurities returning with her former lover. It took everything out of her to leave him again. To break her own heart again.

Y/N knew she was lucky to live alone. She didn’t have to rely on a man to support her. She had a job, she had friends, she had a comparatively good life. But she’d never be good enough for him. Without the sight of him and the feeling of his skin on hers fresh in her mind, it might’ve been possible to force the thought out of her mind.

She stepped through the door and immediately noticed how her apartment somehow felt even colder than the bitter chill outside. She shut the door, ignoring the stinging draft and peeling off her heavy coat. Even with the physical weight gone from her shoulders, her muscles still felt tense, achy, and forlorn.

She hadn’t felt this kind of pain since…since she’d left the first time.

Y/N dug around her coat pockets and her medicine cabinet for aspirin or peppermint oil or something to numb the pain. Coming up empty, she retreated to her bedroom, where her eyes fixated immediately on her nightstand.

She paused as a tear strolled down her cheek as visions of what was inside the drawer invaded her mind. She’d blocked out his memory, thrown away his t-shirts, forgotten the sound of his voice and unlearned his habits. But she couldn’t throw away this tiny piece of him. To her, it was anything but tiny. Every one of her billions of neurons told her to get rid of the damn thing, but her one aching heart wouldn’t let her. It was the one thing keeping her chained to him.

Her hand hesitated at the knob of the drawer. She felt weak, jaded, and at the mercy of her agonizing memories.

The chain lay face up at the bottom of the drawer, the S as big and clunky as its counterpart, as shiny and beautiful as its owner. The sight of it sent a tidal wave of memories through her head and a fresh stream of tears down her cheeks. God, she thought, I want him so bad.

Clutching the ring and chain to her chest, she collapsed onto her cold sheets and finally let the sobs wrack her body. His raspy voice rang in her ears, the sweet melody of Stardust sounding dissonant amid her own voice, amid her worst lie of all—the lie that haunted her memory. I don’t want you.

A harsh knock knock knock interrupted the cacophony in her mind.

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. She leapt out of bed and furiously swiped the tears off her cheeks. She debated running to the bathroom to rinse her face, but another set of harsh knocks shooed away the thought. There’s really only one person it could be—one person who knows where she lives and knows she’d fall at his feet every single time. Her aching feet dragged her body across the cold floor to foyer. With a trembling hand, she turned the handle to her front door.

And there he was, at her doorstep in all his shining glory, as if he’d come to sweep her off her feet once again. His hair was frizzy and longer up close than it had looked onstage. The happy glint he had while in his element was absent from his eyes, now watery and pained but as big and beautiful as ever. She swore the moonlight had grown brighter as it shone on his figure, as if whatever higher power out there refused to let him exist for even a moment without a spotlight.

“Y/N, please hear me out.”

At that moment when the words fell off his lips, she’d never felt further from him—not even when he was hundreds of miles away in a city she’d never heard of singing for strangers she’d never meet. Even then, they’d be sleeping under the same stars. But with Harry right in front of her, standing at her door still clad in his glittery blazer, they were worlds apart.

“I don’t have to hear you out, H,” she whispered, the nickname slipping out before she could stop it. It tasted sweet on her tongue, but the sound of his name in her voice made her chest ache. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

“I do, though. I- I…” He trailed off, looking down at his shiny black shoes as if hoping to find the words he was looking for in his reflection. “I didn’t make you feel wanted. I didn’t do enough to make you happy…to make you feel like, you belonged—belong with me.”

His speech sounded broken and clumsy. Y/N absently posited that for him, English really was a second language to music. Scatting came so easy to him. It was infinite—each note and syllable holding meaning, a line of his story, a feeling in his soul, a piece of his heart—not limited by the constraints of speech. How could he possibly find words in the English language to express how he felt about her? How he felt about himself? He sounded like he was suffocating, like he was drowning, like the stone floor was slipping out from under his feet.

Y/N could see his anguish. She recognized it. She lived it.

“You belong on the stage, Harry.” Keep your voice even, she chanted to herself, don’t let it show. That was her life. Chin up, lipstick on, hair slick, mouth shut. A constant battle between don’t lie and don’t let it show. She’d perfected the balance in the year since her relationship. But Harry, of course, managed to make all of that resolve crumble to ruins without even trying.

“I belong with you,” He told her desperately, himself not hiding any of his agony.

“No. I belong to the club. You belong to the music.”

Harry threw his head into his hands, rubbing his glossy eyes furiously. “Is it selfish of me to want both of you?!” He cried, shoving his ring-clad fingers through his curls.

Y/N’s breath hitched and she paused, not quite knowing what to say. Yes, she thought, it is selfish. You want the music, the fans, the money, the fame, and the girl. All I’ve ever wanted is you.

“Come with me,” he continued when Y/N didn’t speak. He reached both hands out as if to touch her, but seemed to think better of it and clenched his fingers into fists between them. “Come with me on tour and we can…we can—“

“I can’t.” She said evenly, desperately willing the tear in her eye to stay put, but she was exhausted.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re a superstar Harry! You’re America’s shining sweetheart! And one day you’re gonna realize that I’m not like you. I’ll only hold you back. I’m not enough for you. And I never will be.” She raised at voice at him. She knew it wasn’t fair to shout at him when she was angry with society, with herself. The metal S still clutched in her palm suddenly felt colder and heavier than before. The chain tangled in between her fingers, refusing to release its hold on her. Perhaps it was actually the other way around. Maybe all she had to do was let it go… Is this what I want? To let go again? To lie again?

“Don’t you get it Y/N! The way you see me, like…like some kind of perfect sparkling star…” He abandoned the invisible barrier between them and grabbed her cheeks between his palms, forcing her to look at him, “that’s exactly how I see you.”

The feeling of hands hot against her skin and the words leaping from his mouth like memorized lyrics ignited a supernova inside her—a familiar blazing fire of joy and guilt and love. She felt paralyzed in his grasp, unable to look away from his eyes where she swore she could see specks of gold dancing around the pools of green.

He continued after a beat, “To me, you’re the brightest goddamn thing in that shitty club! Your heart, Y/N—it’s made of gold! I love the music and I love Mitchy and I love the fame but I’d give it all up in a millisecond for you and regret absolutely nothing.”

His words strummed her heartstrings, the vibrations echoing through her chest, her lungs, her shoulders, and finally, her head. She inhaled a heavy breath, putting all her strength into staying upright and squeezing the ring to her palm. No more lies.

“I know you don’t believe me. I know you. I know you hate yourself, you lie to yourself, you think you’re not…you’re not enough…” “I know everything about you and I still love you…”

Y/N reached up and gingerly placed her hands on top of his, holding his palms against her cheeks. He silenced himself as she held the backs of his hands and moved them behind her head. She tore her eyes away from his, and stepped into him. With a strained exhale, she wrapped her own arms around his waist, the sequins on his jacket rough against her clenched fists which held his ring. The blazing symphony crescendoed inside her as she felt his arms squeeze her into his chest.

There were still so many words left unsaid, so many notes still unplayed. As Y/N cautiously stepped over the line between their worlds, she knew her insecurities would catch up with her. And Harry knew their struggle was far from over. They’d both left each other with uncertainty and guilt and longing and life like neither had never known before.

Their love was the stardust of yesterday, but the sun would rise tomorrow.

happy endings are for weenies. yes i am a weenie.

thank you for reading <3

please kindly reblog & let me know if you enjoyed!

[fanfictiondreamscape]

The Ouran Academy Deviant

Request: if not already requested...May I request Bad Reputation for Haruhi from Ohshc x Female reader? 

Title: The Ouran Academy Deviant

Genre: songfic~, a lil comedic (just a little bit - if you squint you might see it), and slightly romantic. still very floofy tho, WOO. 

Pairing: Haruhi Fujioka x Fem! Reader

Notes: The influx of Ouran requests that have flown in is making me melt, seriously. Dead fandoms are really becoming my primary writing topics now, aren’t they? Either way, I love this request and feel like this could go in so many new directions that mimic total bbe - and the pairing just makes everything feel so much more powerful. Like, Haruhi and a total troublemaker? YES. 

This is extremely long, as well, so prepare to read something that is (arguably) longer than anything else in this vein that I have written. 

Also, I felt like this would work amazingly in one-shot form, and I took some slight liberties. That being said, proceed with caution. The only thing I would warn you about is vulgar language! 

Below the cut! 

Haruhi Fujioka and (L/n) (Y/n), the odd couple of Ouran Academy. One is a scholarship student, in a club, with a clean track record. She comes off as kind, intelligent, respectable to the utmost level - especially so for dealing with things in the particular way that she does. 

(Y/n), on the other hand? She skips school, could care less about her grades, and decides to forego the uniform whenever she does go to school. She sneaks off to do very unladylike things, comes off as incredibly intimidating, and appears to be someone rewarded by fear rather than respect.

The two could not be more different, but the one thing that drove them together was simple: Tamaki. 

(Y/n)’s older cousin was the one that dragged her to school that day, he was the one that introduced her to the club after a tiring day at school that consisted of her slacking off in class and skipping in the academy bathrooms, he was the one that provided an easy form of detention for her when she got penalized by the staff. 

During the time that she was cleaning and helping in club duties, she had run into Haruhi in her work, and despite what she had said, Haruhi still helped her. “I don’t give a damn, you’re a host aren’t you? Go woo some chicks over on those couches.”

Normally, that would’ve been the end of things. Which makes the next events more shocking.

...

Tamaki had noticed his cousin and his newly-appointed apprentice working together, and in their battle of wits and capabilities, he also picked up on their chemistry. From then on, he was driven to make the two a couple. Though, his methods are extremely unconventional.

One random day, he had invited (Y/n) to his mansion, dragged her to his bedroom and shared a talk with her. She had initially come off as disinterested, but his attitude made her open a bit more. 

“Sooo, my dearest cousin, I have a proposition for you!” he had declared. (Y/n)’s interest was peaked, but a part of her advised her to avoid asking. That side lost to her curiousity.

“And what may that be, because if it so happens to be one of your over-the-top plans to try and get me to drag my ass to school I’m leaving.” Tamaki played the dramatics before getting to the point. 

“Oh, dear (Y/n), it is nothing of the sort. It is a resolution to a problem of yours, though.” 

The (h/c) raised an eyebrow, leaning in and nodding. “Go on.” 

The blonde let a small smirk settle on his face, and when he had announced his idea to her, she jumped up and was already on her way to leave the room. 

“Wait, wait, wait! Hear me out, please!” She paused, took in a deep breath and rolled her eyes before allowing herself to continue speaking. (Y/n) didn’t need this amount of annoyance before she left to wreak more havoc, but she also didn’t want to send the only person that cared enough to help her to his emo corner. 

“What if I say yes to this? What’s the catch gonna be? I’m not jumping from Class-C to Class-A just so you can play the part of the savior.”

“Well, first of all: you wouldn’t be bored. You have already shown that you are highly intelligent, you just need the proper amount of stimulation. You can get there!” She paused, then nodded, and gestured for Tamaki to continue. “Second of all: you need something to do during school other than vandalize the alley walls and bathroom stalls. You’re extremely pretty, and-”

“And I’m going.”

“Wait! Let me finish, I promise that you won’t absolutely hate it,” he pleaded. (Y/n) was still hesitant to go along with his plan, but again - don’t want to send the only person that cared enough to help her to his emo corner. 

“Fine, but make it quick.”

Cue the sparkling eyes. 

“Thank you! Anyway, I think you should join the Host Club. We can open it up to girls that want to appeal, and this would make your record look better for the future! After all, you want to succeed, right?” 

With a sigh, (Y/n) walked back to the bed and sat down. She had to debate the idea - she did want to do well following high school, and she did know that the way she was going halfway through the year wouldn’t be good for doing just that. Tamaki was right to advise her of this, but she didn’t want any obligations tying her down for the rest of her high school career. 

Tamaki was bouncing on the balls of his feet as he watched his rough-and-tumble cousin run the benefits and drawbacks in her head. His lips were pursed and his hands were drawn to his chest tightly, gripped with anticipation. 

“I’ll think about it. You are right, I’ll give you that, but the likelihood that things would be that easy right now is low,” she answered calmly. She had a tone of seriousness as she spoke, and it was laced with fear. 

He had heard the way that she went about her response, and while he was admittedly a little disappointed that she wasn’t jumping for joy at his idea, he also knew that she didn’t work like that and didn’t intend to work like that. This was the best possible scenario for an answer that he could get, and that thought excited him. 

“You won’t regret it, I promise! Let me know after you think it through, I can get you prepared and set quickly!” (Y/n) nodded hesitantly, and then got up to leave. 

“I’m gonna leave, but I have a lot to think about, now...” she paused, a small flurry of red crossing over her face at the thought of what she was about to say next. ‘Thanks’ wasn’t a word in her dictionary, but now? It may have to be. 

“...Thanks, Tamaki.” 

His head darted up at her figure as he leapt up with joy and hugged her tightly. He had also lifted her up and managed to spin her around before she kicked him in the shin and got dropped. When Tamaki hit the floor gripping his leg, she was already walking down the hall and alerting the maids of her departure. 

...

Now, she sat in Class-A in her second year. The twins were sat behind her and didn’t bother trying to prank her, no one in class was brave enough to stand up to her or correct her when she exhibited some unladylike behavior in class, and some guys that were deemed crazy by the school populace attended the host club to chat with the new ‘Wild’ type. (Following Mori and Honey-senpai’s graduation, of course) 

(Sad boi hours-) 

She was surprisingly popular according to the polls that Kyoya had taken, and when taking this into consideration, she became the go-to for information from the club’s king himself. 

Despite Tamaki’s initial intentions, though, she had only become more quiet and focused on causing more harm outside of school hours. 

On multiple occasions, she had gone to the bathrooms and decided to tag the windows with an ‘X’ after covering them in black paint. She had also gone outside to rearrange what she could in the garden after blocking any cameras that would pick up her actions. 

Safe to say, she still maintained the reputation that she had achieved in her first year attending. 

Her antics were also upped by a new friendship with the twins. She had begun to teach them ways around the school and new ideas for pranks, some that would push the school regulations harshly, and joined them in their endeavors to terrorize certain students that would do certain things to them or someone they cared about. 

Otherwise, Tamaki was happy to see another facet of his plan come alive - Haruhi and (Y/n). The two were beginning to get along very well, very quick. It seemed as if the new year and new experiences lit a fire under the (h/c)’s ass, and she had begun to talk more. At least, to people she knew wouldn’t wimp out due to her words and actions. 

The change had made the blonde leap out of happiness, the observation that his most treasured cousin was beginning to grow up and become a better person - at a slow pace, but still, there’s improvement. 

“(Y/n), you’ve got some customers waiting for you,” Kyoya informed her, making said female groan in frustration. 

“They only come here to try and get into my pants, and they still think I’m gonna give those sleaze-bags a chance after the fuck-ton amount of times I’ve told them off.” She stood up despite her statement, brushing off her black skirt and pulling her tie down just the slightest to make herself presentable. “Whatever, I know you’re gonna crucify me if I don’t do it - money, after all.”

A smirk settled on Kyoya’s face as he watched her reluctance. “Of course, dear. Don’t want to keep those undergarment-chasers waiting, do we?” (Y/n) rolled her eyes. “If they try anything, leave and let someone know, of course.”

She chuckled at the taller male, “Of course, Ootori. I’m not dumb, I could easily put them in their place.”

The two shared a look before the female seated herself on the assigned couch. 

...

The year was passing by quickly, and as her popularity rose, Haruhi’s attention to her became more evident. (Y/n), admittedly wasn’t oblivious to the attention that she was being provided, but she was oblivious to the attention she was providing.

Now, the two sat next to each other in the cafeteria and talked about whatever was on their mind (at least, they did this when (Y/n) decided to show up to eat there instead of setting up pranks for the staff members). The two were showing an immense amount of attraction to the other, yet they wouldn’t come to the realization that they were crushing on each other. 

Even the Ouran Host Club graduates could pick up on the two’s liking to the other, despite not seeing them as often as they may have liked. When they did pop in, they tried to push the two together more often with the help of Tamaki himself and the twins. The whole of the club was in on a plan to get them together, sooner or later. 

Sadly, that would have to wait for the group as (Y/n) had started to revert back into skipping habits not long after her and Haruhi had developed a close bond.

Though the school had pressed for the person that decided to skip school at least once a week (which was still an improvement from the three days minimum that she’d jump for previously), they still failed to punish her severely due to Tamaki’s pleading and cover-ups. 

She was running thin, and frankly, her snark to other students was becoming more apparent. She had begun to let off more expletives than usual at anyone that pissed her off in the hallways, and would run to the bathrooms with no real explanation before planting herself in the nearest stall for the next class period.

This was starting to annoy staff, and Tamaki was walking an extremely tight rope due to it, but he was determined to help his cousin. He would stop at nothing to get her back to the person she was growing to be. 

One day, a Thursday, (Y/n) had run off to the bathrooms yet again. This time, school had ended, and while he knew that this would be a brash decision for someone so self-proclaimed gentlemanly, he ran into the girl’s bathroom to tlak to her. 

His footsteps weren’t the most silent, but he doubted she could hear him over the amount of mumbling she doing in the first stall. 

“This isn’t really happening, you’re just imagining this. You just like them as a friend.”

Bingo. 

“(Y/n)-chan?”

“The fuck- Tamaki? What the hell are you doing in the women’s restroom?”

The two left the area after letting Kyoya know that he and (Y/n) wouldn’t be attending to the club for a while. Despite his initial annoyance, Tamaki reassured him that it was something extremely important. 

They had decided to walk around campus for a while, mostly in silence as he waited for her to talk. He knew better than to press her on topics such as this, especially at times like these. 

“I’m worried.”

Tamaki’s violet eyes reflected worry, his brows furrowed in concern for (Y/n). “About what? You’ve gotten so much better, and you’ve told me that you like it. So, what’s worrying you?”

She sighed and gestured to the garden nearby with her head. Her eyes were silently pleading, acting as a way to indicate that she wanted to sit down. Whether that was out of fear for her emotions or Tamaki’s he was unaware, but he followed her outside and seated himself on the bench that had been laid before the lavender plants and roses. 

“It’s...it’s Haruhi.” The girl paused, took a  breath, and continued yet again. “I don’t know what...what I’m feeling for her..”

With a comforting hand resting on her shoulder, he spoke quietly. “What do you mean by that? You both enjoy each other’s company, from what she had said and you have shown. It isn’t contempt, is it?”

“No! No, it’s not that, it’s just...I think...I think I like her.”

Tamaki practically lit up at the statement. “You do? I swear, she does too, she’s just really oblivious. I can get you two together, but-”

“Tamaki, I appreciate the offer, but I know she doesn’t like people like me. Haruhi doesn’t like people that can’t keep the word ‘fuck’ out of their vocabulary for five seconds. She doesn’t like people that refuse to maintain a reputation that’s squeaky clean and extremely fucking poised. Worse yet, I know that even if she does like me, her reputation would be ruined by my shitty one - and that’s simply by default!” 

Tamaki remained silent as she continued, his hand still resting on her shoulder as his raised arm fell to his side slowly. He leaned in to listen to what she had to say closer. “I don’t want to drag her into my bullshit, otherwise I would’ve said something already! She just - ugh - she deserves someone that isn’t so nasty.”

As she let her face settle into her cupped hands, he sighed. Some thinking had to do the job, because she had been making such good progress and she was gaining more proper respect because of it. 

He knew she wouldn’t care otherwise, as she liked getting into trouble and basking in the adrenaline rush that came with the things that she did, but Haruhi had to remain well-mannered or else she’d be gone from the academy. 

Then it hit him. 

“How about this? You go home and think over this for the day, take a few days off from the club, and get some rest.” (Y/n) was listening attentively, wishing for something good to come from her cousin’s words. “Of course, you’d still have to attend school, but you could sneak some stuff in during break - you didn’t hear that from me.”

The female chuckled a little at his words, but she gestured for him to continue. “We were planning to have a ball soon, and Mori and Honey-senpai will be attending as prized guests. You can join us in hosting, but if you want to to, you can leave early.

“We want you to be as comfortable as you possibly can, after all - that, and.... Well, I know you and Haruhi like each other. I’m going to do whatever I can to make this happen.”

(Y/n) paused, seemingly frozen for a good second, before she leaped out of her seat and started smacking his shoulder. “What the fuck, Tamaki? You know that I don’t want that, she’ll be ruined! Anyway, she doesn’t like me! Seriously, how the hell do I handle you sometimes?”

Laughter left the male’s mouth as she slowed down, eventually letting her screaming cease in favor of a similar giggle. A gleeful smile gradually formed on her face, and the two finished their small sessions of laughter with panting. 

“My god, Tamaki, you are one crazy asshole, aren’t you?” she inquired playfully, breaths peeking between the words as she regained her breath from her sudden actions. 

In an abrupt action, Tamaki’s dramatic abilities came into play, feigning a face of horror as he uttered loudly. “That was extremely unladylike - you’re lucky I haven’t called for daddy!” 

The (h/c) gagged before grabbing what she had of her things and flicking him. “Let’s go; I need to go home, and you need to go back to the host club.” The taller blonde dropped his act and followed suit. 

As they left, a shorter figure stood by for a while after. A small brunette stood huddled tightly in formation to hide behind a pillar, having listened to the conversation that the two had shared. 

The amount of vulgarities that lined (Y/n)’s speech was a little shocking, but that didn’t phase Haruhi as much as what the content of it did. ‘She...likes me? I never noticed, I just...wow.... Is this why she’s been going through my head so much?’

She smiled hopefully, making sure to run back to the host club before Kyoya had added anything more to her already over-the-top debts. 

...

A few weeks had passed by now. More havoc was seen around the school from a week prior, all by (Y/n)’s doing, and the host club was back and full for the first time in a while. 

The week was prefaced with the aforementioned female sitting behind a curtain doing whatever she needed to do while listening in on any and all meetings that the group shared. Her grades were the highest they’d ever been - something that both scared and calmed the teachers - and she had been saving time for after school to do anything that was particularly crazy. The best part of all of this was that she had not only been able to begin attending classes again, but that she had also begun to think.

Thinking about things helped her out now, and she managed to get away with many more annoying things before jumping the stealthy gun and going absolutely crazy with her pranks. It also helped her out with her emotions, and she had realized something very important. 

Especially so since the ball that Tamaki had proposed they held was to be this weekend. 

(Y/n) had been debating on what to do for the coming event, but eventually settled for her tendency to wing it for stuff like this. She had an idea of what she wanted to do, but things change and she wasn’t down to make any specific plans for the day. 

Otherwise, there was something that she was heavily torn on. Her feelings towards the androgynous brunette host were getting harder to contain, the twins were starting to see the effects that had come with it, and they were holding a prank over her head if she were to avoid telling her soon. (Granted, they weren’t aware that she knew, but she had ways of getting information out of people - intimidation tactics definitely work.)

She wanted to yell them to Haruhi if that’s the last thing she did, but two turnouts hit her square in the face. What if she said no? Well, then she would be devastated, and considering that this is the first person that she has actually cared as much about (romantically, of course), she’d be worried. If that were to happen, would she push herself further into herself? Would she lose the progress she’d be getting? Maybe she’d permanently jeopardize her chances at a future?

On the other hand, what would happen if Haruhi said yes? Would she run away and claim that is was false, or would she stand by and be at a loss for words? What about Haruhi’s reputation? Normally, (Y/n) would be preaching and standing by her status as a deviant at the high end establishment, but this? This was different, and she knew this - it was inevitable that her reputation would follow Haruhi and ruin the already somewhat tainted one that she already had. Privileged prissy students were already something to tip-toe around for the beautiful and wealthy, but a poor scholarship student was bound to face more detrimental consequences by the student body. 

The whole scenario was leaving the collected girl in an extremely confused mindset, and it was starting to peek out to anyone that was able to see that her notes had little doodles hidden in the lines of the topic notes. She knew how to hide it, but Tamaki - the normally oblivious prince - had been the person to see the coded messages in her notes when he was helping her with her work for a project. 

The fear that was hitting her due to this was harsh, much more so than normal. For once, she was truthfully scared - she didn’t like it. 

Haruhi, on the other hand, noticed her improving after the chat she had eavesdropped on a bit ago. She also, for once, noticed that (Y/n) had become a bit more interested in what she was doing, sometimes even trying things that she normally wouldn’t try. 

From time to time, Haruhi would throw out a random idea for a prank that she had wanted to see as a joke, and it would have come up on the campus courtyard within the week. It flattered her, and seeing as she knew that (Y/n) was one to prank and cause trouble wherever, whenever, and for whatever? It made her flustered, frankly. 

With the ball coming up soon, too, she was determined to relax for the night, hopefully with the (h/c) beside her. No fear, nothing, just an image of her and her continually-developing crush standing beside each other under the stars - cheesy imaging, sure, but she enjoyed the thought.

They both had opposing stances on the event, though, and that was what Tamaki had caught onto first. He had seen the glances that had seemingly become more representative of longing, and he wasn’t going to do it. He had a plan, and he’d be damned if it didn’t work. 

...

“Ready, men?”

“Yes, sir!” 

“Are the decorations in the room prepped?”

“Yes, sir!”

“How about the music?”

“Ready!”

“Great, now the scenery. Balcony completed?”

“You got it, boss!”

“Amazing! Now, boys, let’s go cater to some girls, hmm?”

The gaggle of hosts had gather together earlier than others, already coming prepared and dressed, excited for the formal evening. A plan was looming over their heads as well, and they were driven to get it completed to perfection.

The subjects? Haruhi and (Y/n), of course! 

The two were unaware, courtesy of strict regulations regarding the scheme, and a new relationship was most definitely going to be formed later in the night. For benefit of both, privately, but they had to get the ship to sail. 

While the boys were meeting, (Y/n) was at home going through her closet. Big fancy ballgowns were never up her alley despite the many times that her parents had tried to force her to wear them, but they had given up after she would wear them with some ‘improper’ shoes or switch the dress out for a button-down and formal pants. 

She had run through all of the gowns in the front of the closet before reaching the back, finding where she hid all of her favorite formal clothing. It mainly consisted of options that people around her would normally trash her for, but she had persisted in her action to wear it. 

There was a plethora of short dresses that she found comfortable, even some lighter colored ones that she would typically gag at and hide away from. There was a section strictly reserved for dress pants and shirts, and some ties were set up beside them on a shelf. There was even some shoes that she would wear for formality purposes if they were absolutely necessary (read: for future privilege purposes). 

What stood out to her in her search of what to wear, though, was a silky (f/c) dress, complete with a small back lacing detail and a low-cut neckline. A pair of tights with a lacey pattern in black, a simple choker, and some sensible combat boots would tie the whole look together - might as well dress up to dress up and dress to impress while she’s at it. 

She reached the garments, grabbing what she could fit in her hands and leaving said closet in choice of getting dressed. 

Haruhi was being cornered by the twins and dragged to a room near the club room where there was a wide collection of clothing to choose from while (Y/n) had the benefit of taking her sweet time. 

Hikaru had tossed a dress that he had presented to her on a mannequin (which proved that the garment would be extremely skimpy), as did Kaoru, but Mori and Tamaki were quick to jump in and remove her from the dresses and to a changing room. She was promptly handed a dapper suit and told to get ready. 

(Y/n) had slipped the (somewhat) formal wear on, making sure that everything fell just right. It didn’t take long until she had called for someone to help her with her hair as she had little intention to wear makeup, and if she were to, it’d be very little. 

A servant of the family had slipped into the room and started to brush through her hair, and decided to curl it just the slightest. It fell to frame her features perfectly, and as the servant left and she did some light makeup, a smile started to spread across her face. 

For once, a formal event left her excited. Whether that was her suppression of the fear from the day before or a weird way to redirect it, she didn’t know, but she enjoyed the feeling. The fact that the thought was leaving her excited also drove her to fluff her hair a little bit before grabbing her cell phone and her bag. 

As she was on her way out of her room, she stopped and looked in the mirror. With her hair done, some makeup on, and a dress that usually would skip over unless she had a good reason - she paused. She stood stock-still and looked over herself in the mirror, seemingly glancing over a girl who she didn’t recognize. 

It was so different than her typical baggy t-shirt and torn jeans, so much so that she couldn’t believe that it was actually her reflection. She looked...pretty, for once, not grunge-y and dark. It brought more confidence to her as she texted Tamaki that she was on her way to the school. 

She got into the limo that he had sent for her, and she was on track for the academy. 

Haruhi had been getting prepped at the academy, courtesy of the host club. Kyoya and Tamaki were making sure that the decor of the ballroom was up to par, the twins were waiting beside the hairstylist and makeup artist they had hired for her, and Mori and Honey were greeting and making conversation with the females that had decided to attend the event.

Annoyance was a familiar expression on her face as she had tools prodding at it and people pulling her hair in what was supposedly called ‘styling’. She was willing to put up with it for the night, though, if it meant that (Y/n) would be able to see her. 

She didn’t know how this would have hit her, but she was finished not long after a knock was heard on the door. She was already full with an odd mixture of fear and excitement, but when she saw the (h/c) female walk in, her jaw almost refused to leave the floor. If it weren’t for Hikaru, it most certainly would have stayed there. 

Tamaki had rushed into the room, got a view of his little cousin all dolled up, and ran to hug her tightly. The air left her lungs for a second, but that was prevented due to Mori pulling him off her. A small ‘thanks’ was uttered before she was pushed towards Haruhi. 

The image in front of her held the same power that she had to Haruhi. She, the troublemaker who refused to keep her mouth shut, was left speechless. Her hair was done in a refined manner, her face held some light touch-ups, and the suit that she donned was making her features appear more clean and sharp. 

“Wow, you look...you look gorgeous, (Y/n).”

“I could say the same to you, Haruhi.”

The whole of the hosts watched on in intrigue, waiting for someone to say something more, but that was interrupted in favor of discussion. After all, each of them had to uphold a specific image for the night, and if that was a failure to up hold, well...beware the wrath of an annoyed Kyoya and an angered Tamaki. 

 It took around fifteen minutes to make sure everything was covered accurately and thoroughly, and the club was left to the night. 

They made an announcement, presenting the festivities of the night and the reward for the best dancer. Similarly to the previous year, the winner would receive a kiss from Tamaki, and the night would go on. 

Everything had begun with extravagance, catering was going on and handling the plethora of attendees with quick succession. (Y/n) had the pleasure of witnessing Haruhi go googly-eyed at the mention of fancy tuna for the umpteenth time, busting out laughing at the image of her holding a plate in one hand and a fork in the other, stuffing the food in gleefully.

In contrast to Haruhi, (Y/n)’s interest was peaked by the amount of shenanigans that she could pull overnight. The doors were open to the club, and if there were rooms left out and were lacking anyone inside them, that meant that those were primary times to pull pranks. She had already snuck out of the ballroom to a supply closet to create chaos in a staff room nearby. Haruhi had watched her run off and enact her plan, refusing to stop her in favor of watching the glowing glee that radiated from her as she did so. 

Everything that had been happening was being monitored by Tamaki, and alongside Kyoya, the twins, Mori, and Honey-senpai; they were almost ready to push the big plan into action. 

Operation (Ship/name) was to be put into action in T-minus ten minutes.

The night had continued to pass by happily, and around the start of the competition, Hikaru and Kaoru had dragged (Y/n) and Haruhi off (respectively) into different hallways. They had to interrupt their conversations, but everything was just starting. 

While Kyoya had been initially keeping an eye of the plan, he had requested that Mori and Honey stand by the twins while the competition was being done. Tamaki was stood beside him and had provided specific action for the duo as before they took their leave. Thankfully, a majority of the attendees were caught up in the night, and failed to notice the group of hosts leaving. 

As the twins had brought the respective person to an assigned room, they had made sure that the lights were kept off for a bit longer. The subjects of the plan were left to wander around the room in the dark, eventually finding themselves by bumping into the other. 

When the quartet had heard the sound, they had made a quick job in turning the ceiling-rigged lights on. This left the two under an indoor view of sparkling lights that mimicked that of stars, making the two realize that something had been planned. (Y/n) had remained staring at the ceiling lights while Haruhi was left staring at the floor, only then letting the situation hit her. 

The two of them had remained in their own little worlds as Mori had let the curtain blocking balcony open, leaving moonlight to creep into the impeccably decorated interior and allow it to glow under the night sky. Everything seemed too surreal to be generally close to reality, but the setting provided a sense of pride and comfort for the (h/c) female, which then led her to make a brash decision.

“Hey, uh, Haruhi?”

The said brunette lifted her head from the tiled floor to make eye contact with her, and the view that met her sight left her breathless for the hundredth time that night. The glow from the moon let her features pop, almost made her appear to be glittering, and she couldn’t form any coherent thought for a second. 

Eventually, something did come to her head, but it took an extra prod from aforementioned female to do so. “Uh, yeah? What is it?”

“Well, I...”

The hidden group had stood behind in a dark corner, watching the scene before them unfold. Honey-senpai had a hand pressed against his mouth as he gripped Usa-chan tightly, Mori maintaining his stoic face despite his eyes, and the twins gracing michevious grins. Tamaki and Kyoya had left to ‘deliberate’ on the winner, but they were watching with interest from a corner opposite to that of the other four - Tamaki had his own han dclosed around his mouth so no squeals of joy could be heard in the quiet room.

“I, uh...I like...you.” 

Haruhi’s eyes widened at her shy declaration. She had known the girl for a while, but she had never expected this to be how she handled something like this. Normally, she’d jump right in and shout the claim, not beat around it and stutter. This shocked her, and before she could utter a response, (Y/n) had spoken again.

“Listen, I know you may not like me, or you do - whatever. I just needed to get this off my chest, and if your answer is no, don’t be afraid to tell me.” She came off as bold, but one look in her eyes would tell even the most unaware being on planet Earth that she was truly terrified of the answer. 

“(Y/n), I like you, too.” 

It took everything in the viewing crowd’s power to keep themselves from shouting praises and congratulations at the two females. 

(Y/n) lips twitched upwards, forming the largest smile anyone of the group had seen on her face. It didn’t match the usual mischief that it normally did, nor did it seem like she was hiding something; for once, it looked like a real smile from a place of happiness rather than benefit. “Really? Great, I just feel the need to warn you of something before you say anything else, if you even decide to do so.”

Haruhi’s interest in the statement was brought to the speaker’s attention as she continued, “I get that I have a bad rep, and that what comes out of my mouth could rival that of a sailor. And, despite that, I’d normally jump at the chance to ask you out, but...”

The crowd of hosts watched on in anticipation, both worried and hopeful that thei rnew declared OTP would hop onboard the ship and allow it to sail. 

“I just want you to have a good time here, and I don’t want any of my fuck-ups to reflect on you. People here are vicious, and you’re already in the vein of students that get shit on. I should be the only one to deal with any stupid fucking repercussions from my own bullshit, and I don’t want to pull you into it. Now that I’ve told you that, you can tell me if you’d-”

The interruption was very sudden, and the way that it was done left even the hosts shocked. Haruhi had pulled (Y/n) to her and kissed her, preventing her from continuing her worried rant. A few seconds had passed before the magical moment ended.

The both of them were left breathless following the contact, and Haruhi’s next words brought joy to the (h/c)’s face. “I don’t give a damn about your reputation, all I know is that I like you and would like to date you.”

Tamaki had watched on in calm glee, the scene giving him a sense of joy that he hasn’t felt in a while. Seeing his troubled sister come out of her previous stump so strong made him so proud, and brought a new sense of pride to him along with it. She has truly shown that she has changed for the better while maintaining her typical attitude towards that world. 

“Thank fuck! Okay, now that that’s done, you wanna dance with me, your newfound girlfriend?”

“But there’s no music, (Y/n),” Haruhi chuckled out. A gentle smile sat on her lips as she spoke. 

“You think I give a damn? We don’t need any music to dance, y’know.”

Music had started to play from the background, cued by Tamaki pressing play on the radio remote. Speakers blasted a gentle slow song, and though the girls were now made freshly aware of the said blonde’s actions, they decided to forego any ounce of annoyance in favor of each other’s arms around the other’s waist. 

The slight squeak of (Y/n)’s boots and the slight shuffle of Haruhi’s suit was comforting the to whole of the club. 

Before long, the two had ended their short dance, allowing the six men that stood watching from the corners to reveal their presence. They had made it clear that they were only doing this to make sure everything went smoothly for the both of them, but before their short spiel could be completed, (Y/n) ran and jumped onto her cousin’s torso. If Tamaki’s hug left her breathless, her hug left him completely dead. 

The group had left the girls together in the room while they had decided on the winner in another room, and when they were done, they had gone to gather the girls for the announcement. 

Once the winner was crowned and the night had regained any sense of energy that it had lost, the new couple had made their way to the dance floor. The spectacle of two members of the club dancing together had left some of the attending students speechless, but the two remained unbothered as they had waltzed around the floor gracefully. 

Some people had watched on in awe at the two, never stepping in to stop them. Some of the viewers also gushed at the image, presumably falling victim to the ship that they had shown over the span of the year to this point. 

Once the end of the song was coming to the climax, (Y/n) had returned the kiss that was given to her by Haruhi earlier in the middle of the floor. The onlookers’ jaws had hit the floor as they continued to get into the action, the twins watching the scene while trying to suppress their laughter at the expressions of the people around them.

When (Y/n) pulled away from the lip-lock, she laughed at the incredulous expression that rested on Haruhi’s face before flicking her shoulder. “You little-” 

“Oh, trust me, baby - I already know.”

The crowd had let the moment pass somewhat, and the night continued along well. As the night was ending, though, some people had shot dirty looks at the two. This, of course, prompted (Y/n) to flip them the bird and a formal ‘Fuck you’ as they exited the building. 

“Was that really called for (Y/n)?” Haruhi asked in amusement, watching as she shrugged her shoulders. 

“A girl can do what she wants to do, and that’s what I’m gonna do.”

The remainder of the night was left to the club, Kyoya directing the staff to clean whatever mess there was the other five males were left to their own devices. The girls had left the commotion in favor of the starlit room, leaning against the balcony and watching the clouds in the slightly-chilly night sky move in formation. 

As they had been throwing out suggestinos as to what shape they were forming as they moved, Haruhi proposed another question for the (h/c) beside her. “What about your reputation? Wouldn’t dating a scholarship student ruin that for you?”

(Y/n) paused, did a double-take to her and the ledge she was leaning on, and spoke up. “Please don’t tell me that you’re asking the same damn thing I did earlier? I already have a bad rep, and I frankly don’t care about it.”

“But, it might make it worse-”

“I don’t give a damn ‘bout my bad reputation, and I would highly appreciate it if you would refrain from claiming that you would be detrimental to it. I taint my reputation, nobody else.” 

“Fine, fine....”

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Feel More Alive

Word Count: 1,503  Warnings: language & (gag) mention of William A/N: The second that I saw this piece of artwork, I heard I Can’t Stand It by VHS Collection in my head, so the title comes from that song. 

(ARTIST APPRECIATION SUBMISSION)  

Happy Friday everyone! I know it’s been a little while since I posted one of these, and since there has been so much amazing art lately, I thought I would get back to it. This one made me gasp aloud when I first saw it, even though I KNEW it would be incredible from the second I sent the request in. @pheedraws​ literally never disappoints and always delivers absolutely stunning portraits and drawings, and this one was no exception. 

Phoebe! How do you do it? How do you manage to get so much emotion and expression in your art? How do you fit so much detail and light and life into these pieces? You are an art enchantress... an ARTchantress, and I never cease to be amazed at the magic you create. 

So from me to you, THANK YOU so much for sharing your talent with all of us. You are fabulous, you are appreciated, you are a frickin gem. 

He should not be allowed to look that good in purple aubergine and yet... 

The wide expanse of the city spread out before him as he took his seat across from the solid plate glass wall. The hotel bar that he was in offered one of the most stunning views available of Singapore at night, and while he’d been to the city countless times before on business due to the island-nation’s favorable international tax rates, he couldn’t remember the last time he had visited purely for pleasure. When was the last trip I took where I wasn’t working? He couldn’t remember that either, only able to recall the various times he’d been in the room where he sat now. Outside, the lotus shaped structure of the ArtScience museum went from orange to violet as the lights changed, the reflections bouncing off the water below and coming through the window to tint Logan’s cheeks. Maybe one’a these days I’ll get down there, check it out. I bet- 

A server came by then to deliver two tall, slender champagne flutes, and Logan let his thoughts trail off as the woman smiled. “Is there anything else I can do for you right now, Mr. Delos?” She tucked her small round tray beneath her arm, the fingers of her free hand skimming the bottom hem of her dress where it sat almost plastered to her thighs before trailing those same fingertips over the table top. Subtle. 

It wasn’t her fault. He knew that the staff here had been instructed to cater to whatever requests their high profile visitors might have. In the past he would have taken her up on her offer, but this trip, while still business related, was different for a few reasons. Logan returned her smile, undoing the button on his jacket and leaning back in his seat. “No, thank you, I’m all set for now.”   

She let her tongue slip out from between her lips before giving him another slowly spreading smile and bringing her hand up to innocently toy with one of her dangling earrings. “Well, if anything changes, I’d be happy to-” 

I’m sure you would. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks.” He lifted his glass to her, cocking one eyebrow as he did, then brought it to his mouth and took a large gulp. The woman nodded and turned to head back to the bar, but Logan caught her throw one last glance over her shoulder at him as she did. 

I should talk to the manager, tell ‘em that they can stop tellin’ the staff to do that with me. He let his eyes scan the room then, flitting over the faces of the people at the other booths in search of one face in particular. He laughed to himself as he brought his glass back down to the table. They’d probably look at me like I had six fuckin’ heads.  

It had been a few years since he’d chosen this location as a meeting place for a business contact, mainly because of the way things had unfolded after his last meeting there. Last time I sat in this booth I… He looked down and to his right at the empty cushion beside him. On Logan’s last visit, that space had been occupied by an attractive young man with captivating eyes with whom he’d planned to leave the hotel bar, had the Argos Initiative representatives he was meeting-if I can really call them that now that I know- not shown. He ran his palm over the dark leather upholstery. Can’t remember his name. Maybe I never even… It wouldn’t have been the first time Logan had gone to bed with someone without knowing what to call them. But I didn’t, not that night, not with him anyway. He closed his eyes and drew his hand back to the table, pointer and middle finger running up and down the stem of his glass before turning his head to the left, an involuntary frown forming as his eyes landed in the spot where William had sat on that last trip. 

He closed his eyes and turned his attention back to the floor to ceiling windows before opening them again, the golden lights of the lounge’s chandeliers joining the countless others in his field of vision. He’s gone now, no use in… Though Logan had already run though every single second of his trip to the park with his former brother in law, chastizing himself for not taking control of the situation sooner- If I’d have just fuckin’ shot her, if I’d have dragged his ass home- he hadn’t gone back further than that in his “what ifs”. But now, sitting here where it all began, he couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened had William not called it a night so early, had he been in the room with Logan when just a twitch of Angela’s finger had frozen the entire assembly of Hosts. He’d had to have seen it then. They’re not real, they’re...they’re not alive, they… With a sigh he trained his eyes on his glass as a string of tiny bubbles rose to the surface. If he’d have seen what I saw, felt what I felt, there’s no way he would have… I’d at least have seen it sooner, seen it before I brought him to the park and… 

Fuck. He hadn’t wanted to think about that time, or the initial meeting with Argos. This trip was different not only because of what Logan had gone through since the last time he’d set foot in Singapore, but because of who he had with him this time- you. He’d been hesitant to bring you with him on this trip, not because he wasn’t sure of how he felt about you or because he wanted to take the lounge’s servers up on their offers to take care of whatever he needed, but because he wasn’t sure what being back in that place would be like for him, what feelings it might bring up. While this was a business trip, and you were a contracted Delos employee, that’s not all that this trip was, and he didn’t want it to be shrouded in the pain of his past. You knew everything that had happened, so it wasn’t that he wanted to keep anything from you. I just don’t want her to have to deal with this now. She shouldn’t. She deserves...she makes me... 

His thoughts dropped off again as the face he’d been looking for finally emerged from the hall that led to the restrooms, and he felt his chest expand as he took a breath in through his nose, his mouth dropping open to let it back out. Damn. Teeth snapping back together as you moved toward him through the crowded room, Logan watched the amethyst and orange reflections from the city lights paint swatches of color across your white dress. The rush he got just from looking at you made him feel more alive than any Host could, no matter how lifelike they were, and your smile as you noticed him noticing you was enough to banish all thoughts of his last visit to the lounge.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to take so long there was,” you rolled your eyes. “Some poor girl was crying in the bathroom mirror so I,” you twirled your hand as you sunk into the seat next to him, your knee brushing his. “I talked to her for a minute and-” 

But Logan didn’t hear the rest of your sentence, instead swallowing it with a kiss as one arm wound behind your back to pull you even closer to him. “Don’t be sorry,” he spoke against your lips before pulling back to look into your eyes. “Just don’t go anywhere else.” 

Your cheeks lifted into another smile as you brought one hand up to rake your fingers through his thick hair. Damn that’s… “That can be arranged, Logan.” You leaned in then, biting down gently on his earlobe and making him suck in a breath. “Unless,” you whispered, pressing your lips to his skin and raising goosebumps, “unless you wanna come with me.” 

Oh she has no idea what she just… “Now there’s an idea.” He picked up his glass, emptying it down his throat as you winked and did the same, then grabbed for your hand. “C’mon.” He pulled you to your feet and then with another tug, dragged you into his side. “Lemme show you the rooftop. ‘F I’m gonna buy this place, I should at least give you a private tour.” 

You hummed, a spark igniting in your eye as you rose on your toes to kiss him sweet and slow, drawing it out and making his heart race like no one else ever could. As the two of you made your way out of the lounge and into the elevator, Logan realized that his past wouldn’t haunt him anymore; that there was no longer any reason for him to hold on to the ghosts when there was so much life right in front of him. 

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.

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Thank you a million times to all you fabulous artists! If you are an artist in the Ben Barnes fandom, or if you want to surprise an artist with a quick drabble, send me a message or link me to the piece of artwork that you would like me to write about. Let’s show these talented folks how much we appreciate them and the things that they create!

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[my-watch-begins]

Sam Drake x Reader: The Sam Drake Experience.

Warning: smut, language.

Words: 2995

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4

~•~•~•~

Costumer service sucked. You were fucking sure that Hell involved running a little shop owned by Satan, and all he allowed in were people who complained about how they wanted their latte with a bit more milk and they could tell you hadn't put enough.

After a stressful day, all you wanted to do was take your bra off and sit on the couch with a glass of wine, even though it might be too early to start drinking. Plan in mind, you swung your apartment door open, then closed it with your feet, leaving your bag on a chair next to the door.

The TV clicked on after pressing the button, after that you threw the control on the couch and reached behind your back to undo your bra. Your apartment door was knocked, and you walked the short distance to it, still trying to undo your bra.

"Who is it?" You ask, knowing well who it was.

"It's me" he replied, you opened the door and found Sam standing in your doorway. "Shitty day?" He asks, walking into the apartment, you close the door behind him and finally unlock the back strap of your bra.

"It's the usual these days, the holidays make people crazy" you unhooked the straps out of the cups and pulled your bra from beneath your shirt.

"Have I ever told you how I cannot comprehend how the fuck do women take out their bras without taking their shirts off?"

You chuckle, seeing him pull out the lone bottle of wine you had from the upper cabinet.

"And you?" You plop on the couch and hear the click of his lighter.

"Meh-" he lets out in a little whine "had to postpone a trip because of the holidays"

"You were leaving on New year's Eve?"

"Duty calls" he sits next to you and hands you a glass, you take it a clink it with his before taking a sip.

Sam had been your neighbor for a while, almost a year, and after he'd hosted you in his house when you lost your keys, you had become good friends, really good friends, talk for hours kind of friendship, but not everyone thinks we're dating kind of friendship. Sam knew about your past romantic disappointments, having been there for the aftermath of finding some random girl jumping on your then boyfriend's dick when you came home early from work. Ever since then, you hadn't want anything to do with men.

Sam knew about your lack of love life, you knew that he had the exact opposite. Living next to him lead you to hear, and wonder, just what the hell he did to women in bed to have them scream and make their voices quiver for hours sometimes.

"Where were you going anyway?"

"Had a job in Spain. Guess I'll leave it for later"

"And what are you gonna do for New Year's?"

He gave you a twist of his eyebrows as he smirked.

"Maybe I'll head over to Nathan's, after that maybe a bar, there's usually some wild girls out there that night"

You snort, shaking your head.

"And you?" He inquired.

"Probably stay here. And no, I'm not going with you to your brother's. And definitely not with you to a bar to watch you get instantly laid"

"You can be my wingwoman, even better, I can be your wingman" you grimaced, leaving the now empty glass in the side table next to you.

"No thank you, you'll be an even worse pick for men than me"

"Don't be like that" he teased, nudging your shoulder "maybe I'll find the love of your life"

"Well, I don't want to meet the love of my life, right now I could do with just a good fucking"

"Oh wow!" He gasped surprised "well, that's an entirely different subject because I don't think there's that many man out there that are going to help you with that"

"I'm not that un-fuckable" you argue, making him giggle.

"I'm not saying you are, just saying they're not going to do it right"

"Oh, and you know how to do it right?" You teased, bitting your cheek to avoid let out a giggle.

Sam and you teased eachother about sex all the time, if the subject ever came up in a group of friends he would always try to stick out with his stories and tips and tricks about women, and you usual just brushed him off, thinking it was a man thing to do. That was what you initially thought, up until the point when he actually started bringing girls around on the weekends and you could just hear not only how he made woman feel, but how much he enjoyed having them quiver underneath them... Well, you assumed they were always underneath, Sam didn't look the type to let a chick straddle him for long.

"There's a difference between fucking a woman and fucking a woman, you know" he emphasized, taking the last drag out of his cigarettes.

"Yeah, I know the difference" you say, your eyes wandering around the room, trying to remember the last time you actually had a good time in bed.

"You know-" he began with a little voice that made you snap you head back to face him.

"Don't you dare" you warned.

"I'm just saying-" he excused showing you his palms.

"That you could take me to bed" you concluded for him.

"That I could show you the Sam Drake Experience" he motions at you with his hand.

"The Sam Drake Experience?" You giggled "fuck no, Sam"

"Why not?"

"Because we're friends" He frowned in confusion at your answer "I know how the movie goes and how it ends, it's always like 'yeah, we can be friends with benefits' and guess what? They fall in love. I don't want love right now."

You stand up and motion at the door.

"I'm going to take a shower so-"

He hastily stands up and walks to the door, but after he opens he turns on his heels.

"Fine, forget I said it, and besides, just offered to fuck you, not asked your hand in marriage"

You push him by the shoulder, turning him towards the door with an amused chuckle.

"Get the hell out of here" you grabbed the door just as he stepped out "I'll see you tomorrow"

"Happy New years" he says over his shoulder as he walks down the corridor towards his apartment.

You closed the door and leaned on it, crossing your arms at your chest.

The following days after new years, things between you and Sam continued their normal course thankfully, because you really couldn't see yourself without the one person with whom you liked to watch movies, or share long talks over a drink, he'd beckoned you to go back to college, and you were currently studying online for a pharmacy degree. In return for the constant state of anxiety you were sometimes summed into around finals week, he had offered to stay up with you, crunching for the hours before an exam. You crushed it when you two studied together. Sam was just that friend who warmed up your heart.

So, when he brought up the solution to your problems, you hated knowing that it really could fuck up what you had, and you definitely didn't want to lose your buddy.

You had given up smoking, but that day you felt like you needed to ponder over a cigarette before walking to his apartment.

You had been so stressed the first week of the year, and with classes starting soon you felt like you needed to disconnect for a second. Music didn't help, getting drunk either, that just made you overthinking everything more, and you didn't know why but you felt like Sam was the only way out.

You walked to his apartment, stopped halfway and sighed, unsure if you should continue, you turned your head to your place, then shook it and resumed your walk, there was nothing really for you at your place but space for more stressful things to build up, so you just reached his apartment and quickly knocked the door, knowing that the faster you had Sam in front of you you wouldn't be able to back down.

He opened the door, moving into the apartment and letting you squeeze through the door, he had a book in his hand and strewn papers on the table.

"You busy?" You asked, removing your jacket.

"Kind of, what's up?" He asked pointing at the chair in front of you.

"I'm here because-" you stopped long enough for him to quickly wiggle his eyebrows suggestively at you, throwing the book on the table with a loud thump.

"Because-" he teased.

You threw your head back with a sigh.

"Don't make me say it"

"I really want to hear you say it" he stood in front of you, with your head tilted back you could get a good look at his face looking down at you.

"The Sam Drake Experience" you grunted reluctantly, he laughed loudly, placing his hands on your shoulders.

"Come on" he placed his hand on your shoulder blade and pushed you to the bedroom "it'll be fun"

"I have conditions" you turned around just as you crossed the door, Sam linked his hands in front of him and gave you a smile, he was having the time of his life with the whole ordeal, you could tell. "First, I don't want you to give me love kisses" you pointed at him "I want fuck kisses"

"Right" he nodded.

"Second, I'm going to take my shirt off" you gave it a tug "and I don't want you to look at my tits like you've never seen a pair of tits before, they're normal boobs."

He hummed thoughtfully, a sly smirk still painting his face "alright".

"And for the love of Satan Sam, I don't want to ruin the friendship"

He shook his head instantly denying with a twist of his hand "we won't, don't worry"

"Do you promise?" You pushed.

"I promise" he quickly placed his hand on his chest, then grinned. "I have questions too" lifting his other hand he began counting "spanking, hair pulling, choking?"

You tilted your head to the side, your eyes glinting with excitement "ooh, yes please"

"Right" he said with a low voice.

He walked a step to you, and you wanted to walk back, but quickly reminded yourself that his bed was right there. Also, you wanted this, there was no reason to pull back.

"So, I'll tour you in the SDE" he began joking, you couldn't help but choke on a laugh "usually me and the other participant walk into the room, most times with a few more drinks than what we have now, we're usually kissing at this point"

He placed his hands on your neck, he pressed his thumb on your chin and lifts your face up to meet with his "I have an angle I like to kiss women in, they usually love it" his voice lowers down to a whisper, he pressed his pointer finger on the spot just below your earlobe, suddenly making you shiver "you're actually the perfect height for this" he compliments.

He leans in, but stops an inch before your lips. You'd taken a breath and closed your eyes, readying yourself for the kiss that never came. You hear him chuckle, and your hands push on his chest scoldingly.

"Stop fucking with me"

"I thought that's why you came here for?" He jokes again, you try to pull back, getting angry for all the teasing, but he tightened the grip on you, keeping you still "fine, I'll stop, but it's not fun if I don't tease"

You were about to reply to that when he suddenly crashed his lips to yours, you tasted him, his lips, the small pricks of his five o'clock shadow, his tongue teased your lower lip, but before you could open up he followed with his teeth, scrapping your lower lip and pulling, turning his head around to continue the kiss from the other side.

His hands slipped from your jaw directly to your backside, squeezing your glutes tightly and pulling you up on your tiptoes, your body flushing with his. You could feel his hard chest under your hands, you'd kept them on his sides, balling his shirt with them. He lets out a grunt and lets go, making you lay your feet back on the ground and stumbling back just a bit. He stared at your flushed face, your skin turning red at your lips and cheeks.

"Good" he praises "now after the kissing, I like to take the shirt off to, you know-" he swiftly pulls his shirt over his head and discards it to the side "let the guest see the goods" he motions at his chest, you laugh a little, rubbing a hand on your sore lips. He motions at you to do the same, and still with a smile you grab your shirt and pulled up.

You inspect the look on his face, his eyes moving from one of them to the other, his bottom lip sticks up quickly, leading his hand to one of them.

"These are nice" he cups one of your breast and your breath gets caught in your throat, not only his hands were big enough to cup them, but his hands were cold, and the contrast with your hot skin made you jump a little. His other hand reaches to you other breast, pinching your nipple and swinging it side to side.

"Sam I will murder you" you threaten slapping his hand from your nipple, seeing that he was just playing with you, he laughs, making you chuckle as well. Retreating his hands, he leans in to grab you by the back of the thighs and pulls up, jolting you to the bed. His hands head over to your pants, unbuttoning them and sliding them across your legs.

"You haven't made a comment" he leers over you, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you up on the bed.

"You haven't shown me the goods" his eyebrow tugs up and he motions at himself, you chuckle, inspecting his muscles under a layer of chest hair, his broad shoulders were probably your favorite part of his chest. "I've seen you without a shirt before" you excused. He moved to stand on the side of the bed, taking his pants off and joining you, kneeling between your legs.

"Are comments allowed?" He asks, placing his hands on your knees and pulling up, your feet hold your legs up, and he runs a tempting hand down your inner thigh, you pull you arms up over your head, making your boobs stretch in the process "like you look fucking beautiful right now?"

"That's an objective truth" you tease.

"Pet names? Babygirl, or baby in general?"

"Sure. But I'm not calling you Daddy, you're not my daddy"

He sinks down, matching your face with his, his hand sneaks below you to grab a handful of hair from the back of your neck, he pulls not to roughly, making your chin tilt up.

"You will" he assured in a low voice, his teeth scrape your chin, then your lower lip, then he begins a trail of half kisses half bites down your neck, collarbone, stopping at your breast. "We'll leave the girls for later" he bends down, sliding a bit down the bed as he finally reaches between your thighs.

His arms sneak under your legs, you feel the back of your thighs supported by the strong muscles of his arms and shoulders.

Your hips buckled in anticipation when he moved your panties to the side, then your mouth fell agape when his tongue ran across your slit, grumbling once he set out to work your clit with his tongue.

You began with eyes closed, letting out little whimpers as he worked you, but they suddenly developed into high pitch moans when he snuck two fingers inside you, reaching so deep into you your hands flew down to his shoulders as you pulled up your head to look down at him. He grabbed both of your hands with his large one, pinning them just above your belly button, you cried out when his fingers  thrusted into you at a speed you didn't know how he could achieve, his tongue still trained on keeping a good place over your clit. As you were getting closer, your moans were long, having to take short breaths between them to catch up. You stopped feeling his tongue on you, but was quickly replaced by his other hand, leaving your hands free for you to fist the bedsheets beneath you, then your hips buckled out of your control as Sam's fingers drove you to an orgasm, you cried out, arching your back and loosing control over yourself, your body tensed as your orgasm ripped through, and you welcomed it with a long moan, so erotic that made Sam grunt in response as he felt his fingers being gripped by your walls.

He waits for you breathing to catch up, then slips his hand out of you and pats you on the thigh.

You hear him chuckle, and open your eyes just as he slips from the bed and walks out of the room. You pant, running your hand through your scalp, then clear your throat and pull yourself up on your forearms.

Sam walks in with a bottle of water and sets it in the nightstand. His hand dips lower to the drawer and pulls it open, taking a condom with him as he looks over at you.

"That's the end of round one" he swings his hand in a presenting manner.

"Oh Jesus, how many are there?" You joke, moving to lay on your side.

"We'll see how many you can take"