#and i can say that confidently considering im wearing one right now.

[odysseys-blood]

We live in a world where Echo is real but not Carl Hendricks... fuck this stupid gay world.

nah i saw that man when i went to go see my folks out in tbe boonies see

[genderqueerdykes]

i think that people forget that the transtrender thing from a few years ago predominantly effected and targeted transmascs. treating us like we were girls who just wanted to feel special. i honestly could not give you any examples off the top of my head of transfems being called trenders. im sure it must've happened at some point, but all of the "this is a normal trans person. and this is a WEEEIRRRRD TRENDERRRR who thinks that boys don't have to wear bras uwu i don't have to shave my legs :3 blue hair he/they/xe/it and if you don't use my one thousand neopronouns you're transphobic!!!!!!!!" stuff was so so so so obviously pointing towards transmascs.

and then we got out of it for a bit! things improved! transmascs started becoming comfortable with being gnc again! trans people in any direction started playing with neopronouns and mogai terms!

and now we're right back where we were before. not only that, but it feels so much worse. back then, i had enough confidence to puff my chest out and say "actually yeah! i wanna take pride in my neopronouns! i wanna dye my hair weird colors! i wanna have a billion neogenders! and if you don't like it, you can bite me!"

but now it isn't just attacking "surface level" things. it's attacking the very CONCEPT of being transmasc. i didn't have to seriously consider going back in the closet when the trender stuff started. but i have now. on multiple occasions. it's just so tiring. i have no idea how people think that trans men are somehow more privileged. it feels like we keep getting kicked down as soon as we find a new community to just exist in. im so fucking tired, man.

-TB

oh wow, true, i forgot about that. damn i haven't thought about that term in quite a while but you are very right. while i'm sure there were and are transfems affected by it, there's no denying that the bulk of the targets were explicitly transmascs and trans men. like, i'm almost certain the term was coined specifically to harass and misgender transmascs and trans men.

people have been erasing and being horrific to trans men and mascs for decades, they just keep changing hats and making up new terms. thank you for pointing this out, i really appreciate it. trans men are not inherently any more privileged than anyone else, especially if they're closeted, no transition, pre transiton/early transition, intersex, a person of color and so on. people just go out of their ways to punch laterally on trans men and mascs and it's so old. we don't have it better than any other type of trans person just because we are men and mascs. it doesn't make our lives any easier- it just gets harder after we come out. same as everyone else.

take care of yourself! thank you for sending this ask, i really appreciate you.

[quixtrix]

let's talk BL manga lore; on grooming, identity, and racism

spoilers for the official captain laserhawk bl manga ofc, plus brief discussion of grooming I've refrained from speaking about it because of spoilers, but it's been well over a month and I believe that it's time to openly discuss it. if you would still like to read the manga before reading this discussion, here's the link to buy a physical copy and you can search up 'Captain Laserhawk: Crushing Love' in your digital book store for it. okay time to talk about two, basically three subjects; racism, identity, and grooming. i'm starting with the grooming first, because that's the main focus of this manga. i would have to preface this by saying i've already discussed this topic in an earlier post (albeit it is a prediction, but it is a spot on prediction.) i'll briefly elaborate on it right now with what we know.

dolph's very first day with alex was carefully calculated to where dolph would be exposed to the world, but heavily rely on alex. he is shown around to alex's friends and is able to buy his own clothes, but it is under the heavy scrutiny of alex. alex ultimately decides what dolph wears, alex decides how the day goes, alex leads dolph. even when they have a beach day, take note of how alex holds dolph, dragging him around.

even the romance and the events leading up to when alex takes dolph's virginity are calculated. note how alex grasps dolph's hand, grabbing on tight enough to almost press down on his knuckles, loosening his hand, making dolph relinquish control. the context for the fight page is that after their sweet lil beach day, alex takes dolph down an alley where alex knows that he'll come across people who aren't the fondest of him. this event was calculated, alex knew it was going to happen, and he used it to test out his new lil boytoy.

also, alex taking dolph out to fight isn't just so he can get in the pants of a barely 18 year old. while holloway notes during this flashback that adrenaline is the greatest aphrodisiac, this is a test to see how good the new weapon he picked up is. how the new boy works, to see how eden's boy robot can benefit his group, not just him. its literally in the morning panels we get where alex talks with that woman, anna. they're talking about how loaded he is with tech, and while alex does consider that, he still actively thirsts over dolph.

also im jus saying if i personally was talking with one of my greatest confidants and they refer to someone i'm thirsting over as KID, i would personally be icked out. i would have a conscious and not do some weird shit, like literally refer to dolph in passing as kid in the next page. dolph aint even the first one who alex has done this shit to, as evident by this line by one of his friends, grace.

alex is a groomer and groomed dolph, case closed.

anyways! time to get on with what i really wanted to talk about, how racism and loss of idenity ties into dolph's character!

in this manga, during pillow talk between dolph and alex, we get dolph's backstory. dolph literally has only known this man for a day and he's giving him lore because alex treats him more normal than eden did. god. ANYWAYS ENOUGH DWELLING ON DOLPH BEING A VICTIM IN ALL WAYS INCLUDING BEING ONE OF THE OXFORD STUDY, we get to know about his brief life before eden took him in.

now let me turn for a moment to the show, and how we were told about dolph's backstory. this is VASTLY different than what we got in the show, with it being implied that dolph's parents were a white prostitute and a darkskinned immigrant man. this adds onto the idea that this supposedly impoverished, crack addicted boy came into this world not as an act of love, but as a mistake. not just a mistake though, his parents are supposedly the epitome of immoral, a prostitute and a criminal. not to mention that this also ties into the idea of the uncultured brown man and pure white woman, basically a racist idea that the scary immigrants who aren't like us good white christian americans (and honestly jus any homogenous group in general, though in america its ofc more applicable to white people), are corrupting our mother marys, our women. eden takes on this perspective in order to subconsciously frame in the minds of post american viewers the idea of this man as an other that they are helping and didn't at all snatch up from his mother for child experimentation. the concept of other is something that finds it's origins in fascism, and in order to mask the presence of said fascism, someone who is seen as apart of the other is given a seat at the table with the collective us, (as in the majority, or the ones that are supposedly superior), and will ultimately serve as an example of why the other are labelled as such. i go into this more with my rayman analysis. I brought up the specific portrayal of dolph's backstory from eden's documentary to showcase how eden has manipulated the view people have of this man. eden has not only manipulated the view of the in universe audience, but eden has manipulated our view.

in the propaganda documentary, we are shown photos of this man being a captain, someone of relatively high rank in the military. you can't even normally earn that through having an education, you'd have to have years of experience. he's portrayed as older than he is.

another thing, dolph fans, let's be honest with ourselves; before the manga, it was not uncommon to headcanon that man as a FREAK. with both the supposed images of dolph at a nightclub and the flashback of alex and dolph meeting outside a club, it wasn't too hard to think that the hottest man alive in that show who was fully born human was a freak. a sexual deviant. someone that a christian mother would be horrified enough by that she faints. the manga however, shows us that dolph really isn't any of that. hell, he didn't even get to go to a club before he met alex. in reality, he's around 18 years and his only sexual experience is his groomer.

say that again with me, he's around 18. he's just around 18, he's a young adult, and the environment he's grown up in has stunted him by treating him as a subject, a thing, cutting him off from anything that would humanise this child by not allowing him to see his mother. hell, even his childhood best friend serves eden by being the one in his ear, having him at her beck and call all in the name of eden.

we get none of dolph's true backstory in the show for any number of reasons. maybe it's on purpose, maybe it's a result of having to possibly cut down episodes, who knows? what matters though is that this adds a layer to the core problem defining dolph's life; the perspective others have on him warping who he is.

back to the pages with dolph's memories of his mother, we see dolph as he was when he was just a boy. he's his mama's boy, her son, a child. even when eden takes him in, he stubbornly clings to that bit of him that's pure, untainted by the idea of him being an experiment, a tool. this bit of him, this hint towards who he is supposed to be as a person, is something he clings to desperately. it leads him to follow eden's orders again because they promise that they've found his mother.

and yknow what happened with who dolph was told was supposedly his mother?

she was just a random ass indian woman.

wasn't even the right woman. they just used his identity issues because he's indian, and she was indian and in a cult that eden needed to take care of.

this, while admittedly is kind of funny, (like the confusion is funny in the moment look at ts) is actually fucked up crazy racism. they literally said that this random ass woman who happened to be indian was his mother like HELL!?!??!?!?

this insane fr. lucy didn't even double check LIKE GIRL THAT'S SUPPOSED TO BE YOUR FRIEND'S MOTHER WHO HE HASNT SEEN SINCE HE WAS LIKE 6 AND YOU DIDNT EVEN DOUBLE CHECK IF SHE'S THE RIGHT PERSON?!?!?!?

moving on from that, this actually brings up a deeper layer of dolph's identity issues; the lack of cultural identity.

i want to preface this by saying that i am not entirely sure if this is the right term for this identity issue nor am i claiming to be an expert on the type of identity crisis that i am about to discuss. that being said, this specific disconnect of cultural identity that dolph has is actually reminiscent of those adopted from other countries, or transnational adoptees. there seems to be a need within these adoptees to find out more about their own heritage or their own mothers and families that they now struggle to find. while dolph does not actively go out to reconnect with his heritage, he does exhibit desires to find his birth mother. this type of identity issue seems to ask the question of 'what could I have been if...?,' and it tends to mess with the idea of the self. adoptees that struggle with this question hold a desire to go back, to almost reclaim what would have been. yes, dolph is not adopted into a family, but he is still a child under the care of eden, which became like his family, which is why i believe that this kind of identity issue could reasonably be applied to dolph. it explains why he does what he does in the manga, and how it's ultimately wrapped up by him losing this desire and moving forward. albeit he moves forward by alex instead becoming his main purpose, but this serves as the first chain of the past that he leaves behind. with this, he severs a tie that would have made him continue to be stuck under eden's control, and possibly find himself. he answers the question of what could have been with 'it doesn't matter anymore.'

but actually, he doesn't answer that question. he leaves it be.

i am reading way too into this tho lol. i would say that he doesn't explicitly say it, and that we do see a lack of dolph's past being used against him in that way because dolph has freed himself from that part, but in reality, it's because eden can't pull the same trick twice. im aware that the manga focuses HARD on dolph's grooming, but i feel like they really could have properly wrapped up dolph's identity arc with his mother if it was acknowledged at the end, but i fear we are left unsatisfied. that's one of my gripes with the manga. it gives us things that tie up loose ends, but some of these ties have entirely missed the holes they were supposed to secure. but what is done is what's done, and here we are.

tl;dr, dolph was groomed by alex. dolph's identity has also been warped by eden heavily, by how they dehumanised him as a child to be a weapon internally, to how he's shown to the public to be a case that they've saved, and yet he still becomes something that is "disgraceful." textbook example of this poor boy that we have saved that is actually jus like all the others that we know. dolph also suffers under similar identity issues as adopted children do, and this specific issue of his is let go in order to allow him to begin moving on and finding himself.

as always, im open to discussion and critique! my askbox is open as well if you want me to yap abt smth else in the show :P

[conceptofjoy]

what do u think of dirk n hals Gender Situation given 10 or 20 years? if they ever finally settle down their various identity issues etc

......... great question..

dirk's masculine gender identity is fucking fascinating and there's always something new to consider when i look at it at a different angle. and i mean this also goes for bro too. like gender is a very complex thing in homestuck with many metaphors physical or thematical littered about. Dirk specific gender identifiers are lil cal (empty), being seen as cherry red (either failing at those standards or admired for achieving them), and bro-ism which in this instance is often interchanged with heroism.

canonically in caliborn's masterpiece, after dirk seals caliborn away into cal, and lets cal and arq go, homie has straight up lost all the signifiers he's identified with and is left in his pink god tier outfit. literally forced to reckon with the fact that he is a gay man, and how that actually may be way better than the alternative that he was trying so desperately to be seen as. idk there was a series of posts i made about it a month or so ago. this is like, the final realization dirk has in the comic. i mean i dunno about specifics of labels, but gay and genderqueer is like the basic all encompassing ones. to be honest most homestuck characters fall under this extremely broad category, as queerness is a huge underlying theme.

a dirk that doesn't immediately go through caliborn's masterpiece learns this the loooong way. cis guy-> trans guy (refuses to acknowledge this during the session but slowly gets it towards the end of 3 year voyage. will NOT say he is trans through his lips though.) and then shit just stagnates there. i think it depends on his environment, but 5+ years (depends on who he surrounds himself with. if its no one, he is COOKED.) is about the time needed to have those same revelations.

and then there's hal........ arq is one of them brightly colored gendersonas. like what swimz said, arq sacrificed her continued existence for her friends. i dont think arquius ever gave her gender a name because of how thoroughly she embodied it by her self love/ the joy she felt for being alive. it was already said by her existing. hal getting a body vs hal getting a body after being arquius r people who understand vastly different amounts of things about themselves.

a hal sans arq brain meld has a silent kind of depressive acceptance about them. yeah i got a body, things feel better, but it feels like there could be more i could be doing for myself right now, however do i really need it? umm sandpaper floor room esque. trying to figure out what to do with herself after getting less than the bare minimum of being a person. would take a bit to realize she can be a girl.

hal post arq brain meld. holy FUCKING shit i can feel like that?? suddenly no longer arquius's confident persona and is kind of freaking out about the various implications. there would be an amount of time where she falls into a depression, however tries to bring herself up back to that point because a part of her who was arquius knows she deserves it. she would over think the gender thing though, ok yes im a girl, BUUUTTT -etc etc-. almost for the same exact reasons why dirk is attached to those bro-isms. she was supposed to. red girl struggle. again, idk the specifics, gay and genderqueer is hella broad.

i do think hal is fem aligned and more confidently can call herself a girl over time, and dirk can finally wear pink without thinking about it and wanting to decapitate himself.

[amakumos]

first skate — yang jungwon.

synopsis. you and yang jungwon are both figure skating olympic gold medalists. deciding to teach your three year old son yejun how to skate, you two both realise that you might have a future olympic gold medalist in your hands. perhaps… it just runs in the family.

genre. fluff, established relationship, figure skating au, dad au, sequel to kiss and cry (would be best if you read that fic first before you read this one!)

pairing. figure skater! jungwon x fem! figure skater reader

word count. 1.5k

warnings. nothing really

authors note. HAPPY BIRTHDAY JUNGWON! i know this fic is a lot shorter compared to blue birthday from last year but! my most recent fic before this was 22k monster kiss and cry which is the fic that this one is the sequel of! i actually love kiss and cry ynwon so much they will forever hold a special place in my heart and i am glad to be bringing them back for wonies bday <3 also i am bad at fluff so </3 im sorry .. anyways pls enjoy and (shameless self promo) but go read kiss and cry too if you haven’t!

“Okay, all ready now!” Jungwon says, tying the laces on his son’s skates with a smile. “You ready, Yejun?”

Yejun nods, a helmet on his head and knee guards on. Jungwon helps his son get off the bench as you watch the father and son duo with a fond smile on your face.

Jungwon takes Yejun’s hand as he guides his son towards the rink, Yejun wobbling on his skates. You two had specially booked out the Taereung ice rink for a few hours before Irene and her students showed up to train for the day.

Yejun shivers slightly, and you know that the jacket he’s wearing right now is a little too thin. You pull out one of Yejun’s puffer jackets from your bag, handing it to Jungwon so he can help Yejun zip it up. “Better?” you ask, and Yejun nods.

“Mom and I are going to teach you how to skate today.” Jungwon says, and Yejun nods. When Yejun takes his first step into the ice, he wobbles a little bit, due to how slippery the surface is.

Jungwon guides his son around the rink, the 3 year old boy wobbling around as he walks across the ice. You skate around the rink, Yejun looking at you in awe.

“Wanna try and walk to mom alone?” you say, skating closer towards Yejun. “Go, go, you got this, Yejunnie,” Jungwon says, letting go of his son’s hand.

Yejun looks a little hesitant to walk towards you without his father’s help, but he takes one step forward, wobbling as he holds his arms out, as if he’s walking a tightrope. “Good job, Yejun! Keep going.” you say, clapping your hands, a bright smile on your lips.

Yejun takes another step closer to you slowly, and Jungwon proudly smiles as his son takes more confident steps towards you. Yejun reaches you quickly, and you pick him up, giving him a hug. “Good job, Yejunnie!”

Yejun giggles as he’s held in your arms, and Jungwon looks at you two with the softest look in his eyes. He had retired not long ago, just a few months before returning to the rink now with you and Yejun. Coming back to what he considered his first home with you and Yejun made the moment all the more special.

You set Yejun down, making sure he doesn’t fall over on the ice before letting go. “Okay, walk to dad.” you say, and Jungwon skates a little further to see if Yejun can make it without falling.

The boy wobbles a bit, but he manages to make it to Jungwon without falling over. “That’s my Yejunnie,” Jungwon says, holding his hand up for a high five. Yejun gives him a high five with his gloved hands, and Jungwon smiles.

“I think our son here is a future Olympic gold medalist.” Jungwon says, and you smile. “Definitely.” you nod.

“Yejun, let’s skate around the rink for a bit, hmm?” Jungwon asks, and Yejun nods. “Okay.” he says.

Jungwon takes a hold of Yejun’s hand, but the young boy shakes his head, telling his father that he wants to try and do it alone. “Oh?” Jungwon says, smiling. “Okay. Go, Yejun.” he says, as Yejun makes small, hesitant steps while you and Jungwon watch from behind him.

“He’s doing really good.” you say, skating up to Jungwon. “I know. Way better than my first skate.” he says, lacing his fingers with yours. You two watch as Yejun makes his way across the rink, getting more confident with each step he takes. He speeds up, and you and Jungwon watch in amusement.

“Look at him go.” you say, and Jungwon nods. But just then, Yejun falls over, and both of your eyes widen in alarm. “Are you okay?” Jungwon asks, and Yejun simply uses his hands to help himself get back up, looking at both you and Jungwon as if nothing happened before continuing to make his way back to you both.

“Oh my god.” Jungwon says. “I’m giving him all my medals.”

“You’re right. Our son is a future Olympic champion.” you say proudly, watching as Yejun smiles brightly when he finishes a whole lap around the rink.

“You’re so good at this, Yejunnie!” you say, and Yejun’s smile gets wider. “You guys skate good.” Yejun says, pointing at you and Jungwon.

“You skate good too, Yejun.” Jungwon says. “If you like it, we can sign you up for lessons.”

“Okay.” Yejun hums. “Can I see you skate?”

You nudge Jungwon closer towards the centre of the rink, and he laughs, skating towards the middle before stopping and turning to look at you and Yejun. “What do you wanna see, Yejun?” he asks, hands on his hips.

“You wanna see Dad spin, or jump?” you ask Yejun, who puts his hand on his chin as if in thought. “Jump.”

“Jump?” Jungwon asks, and Yejun nods. Jungwon nods, skating around the rink for a couple seconds before taking off into a triple axel — he hasn’t done these in a while, but he lands the jump well, even if he thinks the landing is a tiny little bit shaky.

Yejun looks at Jungwon in awe. “Woah.”

“Cool, right?” you say, and Yejun nods. “I want to see you jump.” he says, tugging on the sleeve of your jacket. “You heard him!” Jungwon says, skating back towards you two.

Jungwon ruffles Yejun’s hair as the father son duo watch as you skate around the rink, taking off into a triple lutz—triple loop combination jump. “Woah. Mom did two.” Yejun murmurs in awe, and Jungwon nods.

“Yeah. She’s pretty awesome, hmm?”

“Yeah.”

“Still got it.” you say with a smile. You don’t jump very often now, since you had retired from competition after you won your Olympic gold medal, claiming that you had achieved everything you wanted to do in your wildly successful career. You were glad that you could retire feeling fulfilled with what you’ve done across the years.

“Of course you do. You’re the greatest.” Jungwon says, pressing a kiss to your cheek. You smile brightly at him, slipping your hand into his.

You two turn to look at your son, who seems to be trying to replicate what you had done. He tries to jump up like you did, but can’t get enough height. He pouts, looking up at you. “I wanna do that.”

“I am sure you will be able to someday.” you say, and Yejun looks at you and Jungwon happily. He skates off (or rather, walks off) on his own, wobbling a little bit at times, but he's doing great considering it’s his first time on the ice.

“I think we may have a prodigy here.”

You and Jungwon are startled by the voice of Irene, who had coached the both of you. She looks at Yejun with a fond look on her face. “How many times has he been on the ice?” she asks.

“First time.” Jungwon says proudly, and Irene’s eyes widen in surprise. “Really? Oh my… that’s raw talent right there.”

“I think he likes it.” Jungwon says, watching Yejun skate on the ice happily. He doesn’t even need one of those skating aids.

“I would be happy to coach him, if you two would like that.” Irene says, and Jungwon looks at you. “Let’s ask Yejun.”

“Yejun,” Jungwon says, skating up to his son. “Hmm?” Yejun looks up at his father with a bright smile. “Auntie Irene is over there.” Jungwon nods towards Irene, and Yejun looks at her.

“Hi, Auntie Irene.” Yejun says, waving at the coach. She waves back, with a small smile on her lips.

“Auntie Irene says that she can teach you skating if you would like that. We all think that you have talent, Yejunnie. You know, Auntie Irene was our coach too.” Jungwon tells his son.

“You don’t have to if you don’t like it.” you tell him, and Jungwon nods. “And you don’t have to take it seriously if you don’t want to. It can just be a hobby.”

“I wanna be like you guys.” Yejun says.

“So do you wanna skate?”

“Yeah.” Yejun nods excitedly, and you and Jungwon smile at each other.

You give Irene a thumbs up, and she nods. She lets you three stay on the rink for a little while more, with some of her students getting a chance to meet Yejun, who greets them all with a bright smile.

When you three head back home, you and Jungwon pull out your gold medals from the cabinet that holds them. You two head over to the couch, where Yejun’s watching television.

“Yejunnie.” you say, sitting down next to him.

“Your dad and I think that one day, you’re going to win one of these things.” you let Yejun hold your gold medal, and he smiles. “Very shiny.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Jungwon says, draping his own medal over Yejun’s neck.

“If you decide to be a skater like your mom and I, I bet you’ll win tons of these.” he says. “You’re a legend in the making.” You and Jungwon smile at each other whilst Yejun looks at the gold medals in awe.

And with each and every lesson Yejun takes, he seems to get better and better — and it fills you two with nothing but pride.

What can you say?

It must run in the family.

[sxtvrns]

unspoken

🎶 now playing: hi - laufey

P: Ryōhei Arisu x Fem!Reader

S: You couldn’t leave the poor man laying on the street. He couldn’t help falling for the girl who was always by his side.

W: aib spoilers, cursing, alludes to sexual content, beach arc, arisu a bit ooc (downbad), mentions of death, violence

N: Y/N is your first name, L/N is your last name. this has been sitting in my drafts for too long also i havent even finished the series yet i left off on s2 ep5 but i practically know the rest of the plot cuz i got fuckin spoiled… i started this like months ago now im just trying to make sense of the plot anyways hot emo gamer nerd man woopwoop sexy ahh mf i love kento yamazaki

please interact if you enjoy!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Yuzu walks beside you with the rabbit she just hunted in a plastic bag, a confident strut in her step. “We should get your clothes washed. Then again, I don’t know if you have any other clothes to wear.” She says, noticing the stains and dirt on your attire from previous games. You point to a shopping mall down the street you just walked.

She sighs. “I guess you could loot the place. Then we can wash your clothes.” You begin to get excited until she puts a hand on your shoulder. “You’ll go by yourself, though. You know the way back by heart.” You freeze up, complying with her terms considering that she was right. It wasn’t like you needed someone to nanny you 24/7, you were just scared of the thought that something could happen while Yuzu didn’t know.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. You’re strong and have the ears of a bat.” She pats your shoulder, the compliment you found strange but accepted anyways. You notice a lump of clothes and a hand on the street, noticing it’s another person after approaching closer.

You jog over to them, sitting on your knees in order to get a good look at the stranger’s face. You move his hand, his arm ending up on your legs. You end up nearly laying down with him while trying to get your head lined up with his, your fingers moving his hair out of the way to see his face more clearly.

His face and hands are tainted and covered in dirt and dust, including his clothes and shoes. His eyes are half open, yet they fully notice you when Yuzu calls your name. “Y/N! What are you doing?” She begins to walk over, prompting you to turn back to the man. You stutter out a few words when you realize he notices you there. “…you… okay?”

He’s alive, that’s for sure. You can hear his soft breathing, and his arm tensed up. “I wanna die here.” He softly speaks, the sudden request surprising you before you can say anything. Yuzu catches up, standing behind you, her shadow looming over the man. She watches you play with the man’s fingers, observing the cuts and dirt in the crevices of the skin and under his nails.

“Is he alive?” She asks. You nod, wondering what to do. You don’t want to leave him there, but you knew that Yuzu wouldn’t just let someone into your bunker unless she was the one to bring them in. This guy seemed different, though. What had he gone through in order for him to want to starve himself on the street? “We have to go. It’s gonna get dark soon.”

You let the man’s hand rest on the ground as you get up, looking behind you occasionally to see his figure slowly turn into a small speck the further you walk away. “Why’d you stop for him? You wouldn’t do that for anyone else.” She was right, but you didn’t know if she’d believe your answer. “He feels guilty.” Those were the words you were looking for.

“Even so, wouldn’t anyone be full of guilt to lay on the road like that?”

You point at him. “Wants to die.”

Yuzu just nods as her head slowly turns to face the road in front of her.

“Fine then. We’ll just leave him.” You want to protest, but can’t seem to say anything. To Yuzu, you just can’t get the words out at all. She was so strong; her presence alone intimidated you. You always watched yourself around her, considering that you had to learn from her and you didn’t want to humiliate yourself.

You’ve always had a hard time talking to people. Was it the fact you were bullied for merely speaking, raising a hand up to answer in class, to have a normal conversation with anyone? Yes. Slowly, day after day, you stopped talking. No one noticed, anyways, so it didn’t matter. You’ve been to therapy for it, but when you tried to talk, it was hard to put how you felt into words.

The sentences formed, but you couldn’t say anything out loud.

You usually spoke in smaller sentences, nothing detailed but enough for others to understand, which wasn’t useful living in a world where detail is key. If you were given the chance, you’d simply point and finish your sentence from there. Yuzu’s trying to help you through it, but she states that going out to get paper is a waste of time. She’s smart enough to put the pieces together through your phrases, figuring out why you rarely spoke.

“You’ll go out tomorrow. We’re running low on fuel for the gas stove and we need batteries. You can get anything else you need while you’re there.” She says, not really giving you much of a choice. It’ll be fine, right? Low chance of you ever running into someone while you’re… alone.

You point to your shirt with small stains on it. “New clothes.” Yuzu also looks at your shirt, sighing. “You can get new clothes, too. Speaking of which, can you also get soap?” You try to visualize what it would look like to carry all those things in your hands. “Too much. I’ll drop it.” You say, holding your arms out in front of you. “I can get you a bag.”

You hated how fragile plastic bags were, how easily they’d tear and rip, especially the handles. If something was too heavy, the pressure would go onto your fingers, and it hurts more than it looks. You shake your head no, trailing behind Yuzu. “Geez, you’re so stubborn. Might as well get a reusable bag while you’re at it.”

The list of things never ends.

“I can do… two trips.” You hold up two fingers, your friend letting out a huff. “If that’s alright with you, I suppose. Our visas are still good for a few more days, then we’ll have to play another game. So be careful tomorrow; don’t get hurt.” Yuzu warns. You nod profusely, her patting your back.

The first trip there you’d gotten the gas and batteries and a few extra flashlights just in case, snagging a reusable bag to make the trip easier. You always snagged reusable bags, but for some reason they always went missing more often than Yuzu’s plastic ones.

On the way back, when you didn’t stare at the sky or the garbage on the street, you noticed the guy still laying on the street in nearly the exact same position. You walked over carefully, kneeling down again and moving his hair out of his face. He was still breathing, but was sleeping soundly on the cement. The air that exhaled through his nose brushed against your arm, startling you a bit, but you stopped yourself from nearly flinching too hard and waking him up.

That day, you left him be.

The next day, it rained.

Your bag had a zipper, so thank god that your new clothes didn’t get soaked that day. Even with your umbrella, the wind would’ve blown the rain onto your shirts and bottoms. You nearly ran home, until the sight of the same man still laying on the street in the pouring rain stops you. It could just be the horrible conditions, or the thought of his clothes getting drenched bothering you so much, but you run over and hold the umbrella above both your heads.

Your first thought was to carry him bridal style, but then you’d have to ditch the umbrella, which you obviously weren’t gonna do. Instead, you tap his shoulder, and when he doesn’t respond, you tap his cheek. He blinks a few times, and that’s all you need to help him up and support him with his arm wrapped around your shoulder. He still slouches, head down, but as long as he didn’t fall asleep on the way there, he’d be fine.

You slide open the warehouse curtain, Yuzu gawking at the sight of you supporting another person. “Close it.” You tell her. She gets up and runs past you, you remembering you had to climb a ladder to get up. Yuzu climbs up, helping you carry him to the elevated surface, letting you set the man down on your old cardboard bed. You take off his jacket, setting it aside while you take your shirt off and dry him as best you can with it. Even while you’re doing this, he doesn’t seem to wake up. His eyes remain half open the entire time until he’s fully laid down, them closing shut.

You zip up your outer jacket, being met with Yuzu looming over you. You begin to open the bag with excitement before she drags you to the opposite side of the site. “What were you thinking? Bringing him here?”

“3 days. He slept on the street for 3 days.”

“Okay, but still. You need to be careful.”

“He was giving up. I didn’t like that.”

“So what if you didn’t like that? If he wants to die, he’ll die.”

“I’ve seen death before. He will regret it.” Your words come together slowly, yet you still feel frustrated as you couldn’t say it how you wanted to. “You’ve been like him before. You should understand.” You add, walking back to the unconscious man. You lay down beside him, staring at his face.

He’s ridden with dirt and dust, and he smelled of it too, with a hint of blood and the tiniest smidge of something botanical. His clothes were soaked and they were soaking the cardboard beneath him. There was probably still some lying around this place anyways.

The first time you saw him on the street, he looked familiar, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. Now that he’s in your base, giving you the ability to stare at him for the next 10 minutes, you realize that this was the man that saved you in his first game that he played.

Yuzu looks at you, laying on the bare concrete ground after you sacrificed your former makeshift cardboard mattress for the stranger that laid next to you. “Y/N.” You don’t move, laying still beside the man. She sees your fingers brush his hair out of his eyes, his face fully visible. “I’m sorry. Come help with dinner.” You shift, then finally get up and join her, looming over her workspace and watching her prepare rice.

“I got an extra knife for you.” She hands you a smaller knife and a cutting board, along with some vegetables that looked like they were just washed. You place them down on the cutting board, frozen and lost in space. “You don’t want him to starve, do you?” Yuzu speaks up, snapping you out of it as you begin to help.

“You were right.” She says, the lack of context clues only making you confused. “I was like him. I did nothing. I felt like dying. But I’m here now.” She suddenly stops what she’s doing, looking at you. “I’m sorry. You did something good, but I still don’t trust him.” You nod.

You understood why she was skeptical of him. Something in you just couldn’t bring yourself to leave him behind.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Are you really just gonna stay with him until he wakes up?”

You sat down by the man a while ago, noticing he turned and laid face up while you were making food with Yuzu. She’s currently eating at your one-person makeshift table, staring at you from there. You shrug, eating from your own smaller canister. The bowls you found came in packs of four, which was convenient if he was going to wake up and eat.

It’s nothing but the light of the lamp on the desk and the skylight above that helps you see throughout your small living space. Yuzu is about to finish her food while you sit by the stranger, getting up to put your bowl away after finishing your food.

“He’s awake.” Yuzu says, your eyes shifting to the sight of him blinking. You get a clean spoon and cup and scoop a serving into the bowl you used, pouring water into the cup. His eyes meet yours, freezing you in place for a moment before you remembered who the food in your hands was for. You set the bowl and cup down next to him before sitting down by him again. His eyes follow you the entire time.

“Why did you save me?” He asks. You say nothing but stare at him, his eyes focused on the ceiling now. “You want to live.” You reply. He merely scoffs with a sigh. “But I don’t deserve to live anymore.” Your heart aches as he begins to cry, but as he speaks, you realize you’ve been in his shoes before.

“We know how you feel.” You say, your hand tucking his hair behind his ear. “How you feel… we have felt it before.” You look over at Yuzu, and she smiles with a nod, meaning you’ve explained it better. “I saw my mom die while I lived. After that, I tried to die. I saw death for a second, but survived. Death isn’t pretty. It is darkness. It is nothing.” Yuzu stares at you with wide eyes as you try to speak. Your hand trembles and pauses while your fingers brush through his hair. “Your friends want you to live, so live. You will die sometime; a game, your visa, but don’t force it. For now, eat while you are still alive.”

He stares at you, who sits in front of him with her fingers brushing his hair. He simply lays there, staring at the bowl of food. “Y/N, just let him be. He’ll eat it when he needs to.” Yuzu says, your hand reluctantly moving away from his head. You turn off the lights before joining her in the tent, laying next to her. Meanwhile, the man lays on the cardboard, exhausted, but wondering what you meant by all that and why you played with his hair.

He distinctly remembers you, getting on your knees to check him on the road. You carried him when taking him to the warehouse, and he could’ve sworn he’s seen you in a game before. What did you mean when you said that you’ve seen death? Did you reincarnate or something?

He was too tired to think about it.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You wake up, Yuzu not beside you and light shining through the fabric of the tent, meaning she’d gotten up earlier than you to warm up. You had less of an athletic prowess than Yuzu did, so you normally stayed behind whenever she went for her morning jog.

Leaving the tent, you first notice the empty bowl that held only a seed by the man’s head. With the sunlight shining bright through the windows, you wonder if he is awake or not. “Wake up. We’re playing today.” You say, the man lying still, nearly convincing you he was still asleep. You fill up a water bottle, waiting for him to respond but getting nothing. “Do you remember the one game?” You ask, knowing he won’t respond.

“Live or Die.” The name brings back painful memories of his friends, one of them coming out with a burnt leg. “You saved me there. I would have… died at the one door.”

“One door?”

“The door after the girl died.”

“The second one?” That’s the word you were looking for. You nod. “I didn’t wanna die then. I didn’t want anyone to end up like the high schooler.” He adds. You sit down in the same spot again. You take one of his hands, holding it, your fingers gently playing with his palm. “You saved Yuzu. She would not be alive if you did not scream.”

“Were you there?” He asks. You shake your head. “She told me.” You respond with a sigh. “I… don’t want you to die. Let us save you.” You loosen your grip nearly to the point where you let go of his hand. He slowly but surely sits up, back against the boxes. He takes a good look at you, your hair tucked behind your ears and eyes moving like they’re looking for something.

“Why do you talk like that?” His full stare intimidates you, given this is the first time you’ve ever seen his eyes when they aren’t closed or covered by his hair. You tilt your head, confused. “Your sentences seem… broken.”

You play with your fingers, staring at his hand and wish you were playing with it. “It is hard for me to talk. I was laughed at. Words are in my head… but they don’t come out.” You summarize, hoping he’d understand. He nods slightly, noticing your friend come back from who knows where. She tosses something up before climbing the ladder. “I got a tent for him. But no mattress yet. How long have you been awake? Did you stretch yet?”

You shake your head, noticing Yuzu’s eyes drifting over to the man. “Come with us?” You ask, holding your hand out for him to take. He accepts, being pulled up onto his feet. “Okay?” You check in while he nods. You offer him some water, nearly finishing your whole bottle. You take him by the wrist, descending down the ladder and pulling him with you to the gate.

“Let’s go.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Your fingers hold onto the sleeve of the man’s jacket gently as you walk into the highway tunnel. In his first game, he never introduced himself to you, and you never saw his name on his phone screen, though you remembered his friends constantly screaming his name after each door. He later introduced himself as ‘Arisu’, Yuzu seeming to know his name already before you did.

The walk is long to the registration, Yuzu sighting a bus heavily graffitied a bit in. Your hand grips onto his arm, Arisu noticing. “Are you okay?” He asks. “Nervous. Always nervous… for new games.” You explain, hoping he’d understand.

You had a bad habit of holding onto people before entering registration. Before you met Yuzu, everyone you accidentally latched onto cursed at you, or shook you off their arm, which was understandable. No one likes a stranger randomly holding onto their arm out of nowhere. You just hated the fact it was your first instinct. When Yuzu came along, she was the first person to listen—to understand.

But Arisu was content with it. He didn’t swat you off, or stare at you weirdly. He simply let you be, holding onto his arm like a koala hugging a branch. You worried that your grip was too tight or that he could feel you shake, but he didn’t seem to react, so those worries went away eventually. You clung onto him the moment you stepped into the bus, taking one of the phones before noticing there were three other guys seated in the back.

They’ve played their last few games together, however, one of them was visibly injured. In a world like this, injury holds you back from everything, which puts you at risk of death. You felt sympathy for the man, but also felt intimidated by him and his friends given that they were staring at the three of you intently.

Arisu picks up his phone, looking at the names of the participants, landing on yours.

L/N Y/N

“Ryō…hei?” You stutter, looking at your phone. Arisu looks down at you, a bit confused. “Y/N calls people by their first name. Sometimes.” Yuzu explains, which cleared some things up, but it didn’t help a whole bunch. “Can I call you that?” You ask. “Can you call me Ryō?” He restates your question, being followed by an eager nod from you. He simply shrugs and nods, and you’re glad he doesn’t mind.

One of the men huffs. “Your girlfriend?” He gestures to you, making you let go of Ryō’s sleeve and hide behind him. He shakes his head. “We just met today. Yesterday. A previous game.” His idiocy makes Yuzu shake her head while you try to hold in your laughs from behind. However, the man doesn’t seem all too convinced. “Whatever you say.”

The phone chime sounds, the robotic voice drawing attention to them.

Registration is now closed. The game is about to commence.

Difficulty: Four of Clubs

This was a team game. Your favourite kind.

There are a total of six participants.

Game: Distance

Rule: Endure the trial while striving for the goal within the time limit.

Clear condition: Safely attain the goal.

The game will now commence. 120 minutes remaining.

You look out the driver’s window, the tunnel seeming like it goes on forever. Your eyes are drawn to the dashboard of the bus, specifically the fuel. “It’s empty. Can’t drive.” You say. “Looks like we’ll have to run.” Yuzu says, Ryō’s eyes landing on the injured man in the back. “What about Takuma?”

You’re lost in thought for a moment, not wanting to die but also not wanting to leave the man behind. “All of you, run. I’ll stay with Takuma.” Yuzu and Ryō look at you as if you’ve said something stupid. “What? Y/N, we have to run.”

“We will try to do something. If I die, I die. I am okay with that. I don’t want to leave ‘Kuma alone. I will take care of him.” Yuzu suddenly hugs you, which catches you off guard. She pulls away, her face with a trace of disdain as she walks off, along with the two men that sat in the back. Before Ryō can leave, you grab his hand. Your thumbs rest in his palm before you warn him. “Don’t worry. We will be okay. You have to be careful.” He squeezes your hand, visibly doubtful as he walks off the bus to join the other three outside.

You watch from the window as they all run off, seemingly shrinking as they get farther away. You sit in the back, closer to the man. “Kuma? Is that your name for me?” He asks lazily, relaxing against his seat. “Yeah. Sorry.” You suddenly become timid at the sound of him laughing. “Don’t be. It’s cute.”

“Are you… giving up?” You ask, wondering how he’s so unfazed. “I am still worried. But even though we aren’t running, I feel as though we’ve already won.” He looks up at you and your solemn face. “We can’t do anything about it now, can we? I know you wanted to help me, but is there really anything we can do?”

“I don’t want to die. I know you don’t either. But I’m injured, and the only thing that can heal that is time. There isn’t enough time in this game to go away. So I understand what you’re saying. If we die, we die.” He waits for you to say something, looking at you when you stay silent. “What’s on your mind?”

“The… difficulty… is low. Why are they running so far? It shouldn’t be that far if it is only Four of Clubs.”

Kuma puts together what you’re trying to say, the look of realization on his face. “You’re right. But then, where is the goal?” You notice the graffiti reaching the bottoms of the windows, remembering how the bus was covered in it. You get up, leaving the bus, fingers brushing against the outside walls. There was nothing but casual graffiti gibberish that you never understood on the side with the door.

The other side, however, had a word written big and in blue.

GOAL

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Usagi’s water bottle empties after she offers it to the three men, who finish it in a heartbeat. She’s stopped by Arisu, who held onto her shoulder for a brief moment to get her attention. “Your friend… she confuses me. Why does she do these things?” Usagi’s automatically suspicious of Arisu, viewing his question as an insult. “What do you mean?”

“She’s very physical with my hair, my arm, my hands. No one does that to someone they just meet.” Usagi scoffs. “She cares. She’s worried about you. She’s worried about everyone. That’s why she offered to stay back with Takuma. When she held you back in the bus, she was worried about you, knowing that you’re still grieving. Y/N is a physical person in general, violent or affectionate. The only reason she kept going with it is because you hadn’t pushed her away. If you want her to stop, tell her.”

He didn’t want you to stop. Not really want, but more like he didn’t mind the gesture. He wasn’t bothered by it; really, he enjoyed it in the moment. It was comforting— something he hadn’t felt ever since his first game. Usagi laughs. “You should’ve seen her during a team game. She annihilated everybody, then went back to being all shy at the end.”

Arisu tries to imagine it, the thought of you killing people you didn’t know in order to survive. The more he tried, the more he wanted to push the thought out of his mind. The girl that gets clingy and nervous before games, the girl who convinced him to live, taking the lives of total strangers without hesitation? Honestly, he didn’t believe it. He didn’t want to believe it.

He realizes that Usagi’s already began running from the trial, forcing himself to catch up with her, along with the other two men.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You’re pacing frantically down the walkway of the bus, forgetting that Kuma was sitting at the end of it. “L/N, what’s wrong?” His voice stops you, remembering you hadn’t told him yet. You looked like an idiot panicking over a reason he didn’t know. “The goal. We already won.”

“What?”

“They should have stayed. This is the goal. We are safe, they are not.” Kuma looks at you in disbelief, eyes wide. “Really? So… we’d survive?” You nod, looking at the graffiti on the window. “We have to do something! They’ve all ran and they need to get back here.”

You sigh, overwhelmed with emptiness. “We can’t.” You want to cry, but the tears aren’t there to flow. “What? What do you mean, we can’t?”

“They are too far. I can’t get them. Not enough time.” You say, sitting down next to him. His face is ridden with tears; he’s been crying all this time and you hadn’t noticed. You hug him, patting his head. You’re sure he’s confused as to why you’re doing this, but really it’s because you wish someone would comfort you the same way.

Suddenly, you hear footsteps, your head lifting up. “What happened?” Kuma sniffles. You get up, running to the door. “Someone is here.” You answer, him looking out the window. You step out of the bus, seeing someone running with a motorbike towards the bus. “L/N!” He calls, his messy, disheveled hair coming into a better view.

“Ryō!” You call, looking at the window where Kuma is looking out of, seeing that he noticed the bike too. Ryō runs over with the bike, both him and the hunk of metal leaning against the bus. You hug him, feeling a sense of relief that he would also survive. But then again, what about Yuzu?

“The bike,” he pants, “can fuel the bus. There’s diesel in here to fill the bus. We can drive and get Usagi and Yamane back.” You look at the bike, inspecting the shiny metal and the tank, hearing fuel sloshing around inside. You didn’t understand much about motorbikes or vehicles in general, but given that Ryō ran all the way back here with the bike convinced you that he knew what he was doing.

You explained everything to him, seeing the drive in his eyes to get Yamane and Usagi back grow in his gaze. Ryō stood behind you, Kuma in the driver’s seat. The voice on your phone reminds you, 5 minutes left. You hear a loud rumbling, telling Kuma to step on the gas. Tell is an understatement– you screamed at him.

He roughly avoided the cars on the highway street, ramming through the darker section where you see a body lay on the ground next to an animal you can’t define. As Kuma continues driving, you open the door, holding onto the bars and peeking your head out the window. You hear faint panting from a distance, the rumbling getting louder.

The sight of Yuzu running for her life from a flood of water chasing after her comes into view. You hold out your hand, screaming her name. Kuma’s foot slams on the pedal, speeding towards her. The water barely touches Yuzu’s heels as you grab her hand, pulling her into the bus and closing the door before the water could flood in.

And for a few moments, it’s dark.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

A drop of water falls on your face. Then another, then another. You think of getting up, until you noticed you were resting on Ryō’s chest.

Thank god you survived, but what is life if you woke up in the most awkward situation ever?

Yuzu laid next to you, and Kuma stayed in his own little area in the driver’s corner. You shake Yuzu, forcing her awake along with Ryō. He then proceeds to wake up Kuma, opening the door above all of you since he was the tallest one there. He struggles, but manages to climb out first, Yuzu following, then you, then all three of you making an effort to pull Kuma out of the door.

“The bus is the goal. There was no point in running.” All of you stare down at the word ‘GOAL’, painted in bright blue on the side of the bus you were standing on. Yuzu jumps down first, followed by you, Ryō, then Kuma. Ryō’s hand still clasps onto yours even after he helped you jumped down, bidding Kuma a regretful goodbye in hopes of seeing him again somehow.

Trying to be completely realistic, you’d probably never see him again, and that alone made it more sad.

He doesn’t seem to notice that he’s holding your hand, squeezing it every once in a while, specifically when you see him noticeably about to cry. “Y/N, let go of him. Unless you asked first.” Yuzu notices, making you embarrassed and pull your hand away. “I actually did it first. Sorry, Y/N, I didn’t notice. L/N. I meant L/N.” Ryō apologizes, but you shake your head, assuring him that it was okay.

Deep inside, you wished he didn’t let go.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Yuzu had gone out for the next few days— sometimes you tagged along with her if you woke up early enough that she’d already left. You both had gotten intel on something called The Beach, and were planning to pack up and leave eventually to scour. She’s been going out to gather supplies for hunting and for shelter, including refills of water.

When you woke up to see Yuzu wasn’t laying next to you, you found solace with Ryō. He continued to talk about his friends, how they’d gotten here and how he witnessed them sacrifice themselves just for him to survive, knowing that they’d have to pick someone to live. He never understood why, and that is what he explained to you.

The entire time, your head rested on this shoulder, your hand playing with his own. “There are gaps in your heart you that cannot fill. That is what I’ve learned in this world.” You pause, piecing together a sentence in your head. “There is no time for grief. There is no time for anything.” You rest your hand on top of his with a sigh. “Do not let grief affect your need to win in games. You must focus, or you will break the last promise your friends made to you.”

“Hard for you to talk, huh?” He jokes, his shoulders lifting as he laughs, relaxing after. “How come you do all this?” You look at him, confused. “Like… this,” He shakes his hand that rests underneath yours. “And this.” He lifts the shoulder where your head rests. “You’re always next to me. Girls are never this close with me.”

You scoff, laughing, your fingers brushing over the back of his hand for a moment. “I wish someone cared for me like this. After my mom died.” There’s definitely a lack of closure in that sentence, which made the air awkward. “I want to… give you what I did not have. I hope you don’t mind. I can stop if you want.”

“No, it’s okay. I really don’t mind. Thank you. It’s just… I guess I never had anyone comfort me like this either.” Comfort. That’s the word. You mutter it quietly to yourself, remembering what it meant. You hadn’t felt it in a while as well, only feeling most comfortable whenever you stayed with Yuzu. Eventually, you found comfort in Ryō as well.

You traced patterns on Ryō’s hand, sometimes even spelling out words. It became a hobby of yours, and sometimes he’d try to guess what you were writing as well. “B…” He started, feeling the letters on his hand. “E, A, C, H…” He looked up at you with wonder in his eyes, being able to see something past his dark irises. “The Beach?” He says it as if it was something glorified. You nod, him grabbing your wrists. “What is the Beach? Do you know? Have you been there?” You’re overwhelmed by the questions he asks you, trying to process all of them at once.

“No. I heard another person talk about the Beach. I told Yuzu. Then she heard someone talk about it too. We want to know what it is.” You explain. Something lights up in Ryō’s head, the idea being explained to you. “Some people I’ve seen wore wristbands. They had numbers on them.”

“Follow. We will follow them.” You add, Ryō nodding eagerly.

“We’ll start looking. For supplies, then we’ll search at night. You can convince Usagi, can’t you?” You nod, only half sure of it. You felt that Ryō had a better chance of convincing her for some odd reason. Yuzu still intimidated Ryō— you could tell. He’d always seem… nervous around her.

Your hands are clasped together, his own covering them with a soft grip. “Don’t worry. We’ll make it out. We’ll stick together.”

That was a week ago.

Meanwhile Yuzu offered to take the solo tent as you were sleeping in a park during your period of locating the Beach. Her and Ryō bickered about it until she finally won (like usual), meaning that he’d have to sleep in the same tent as you.

Beside you.

You totally weren’t freaking out over it. Why was Yuzu so persistent to sleep alone anyways?

Except Ryō offered to sleep outside, in the grass, where all the bugs flew around. You heard slaps from outside repeatedly, trying to fall asleep. The thing with heightened hearing was that you heard everything. Almost everything. You heard the bugs buzz outside, you heard the soft pants of Ryō every time he slapped himself. It didn’t take you long to be so bothered by it, nearly breaking the zipper to open the tent.

“Come inside. Stop slapping your face.” You say sternly, visibly bothered. Ryō pauses for a second, kicking his shoes off before scrambling inside and zipping the tent shut. He looks at you, laying down normally, just realizing how close the two of you would be. You look back at him taking a deep breath after simply patting the spot beside you.

He lays down slowly, holding his breath, shoulders tense and tight. “Calm down. It’s only me.” You mutter, turning towards him. Your nose nudges his upper arm, your hand resting on top of his. You can hear his heart racing, yet he still didn’t listen to you. “Ryō. You’re okay.” You reassure, hearing him exhale and feeling his shoulders relax. Your eyes flutter shut in an attempt to fall asleep. His arm didn’t move, but you felt the tips of his fingers touch yours.

Just before you drift off, you feel his hand hold onto yours, his touch soft and comforting.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

This wasn't part of the plan.

You were being restrained by two men in bathing suits, being dragged into a large room where a bunch of people were standing in a circle. You tried to flail, but their grip on you was too strong. You first catch sight of Yuzu and Ryō, who are relieved to see that you were okay. "Y/N!"

“Ah, you three must know each other.” The man in front of you says, his orange robe blocking your vision. All your cards are laid out on the table, but it’d be too risky to grab them with two people guarding them with firearms.

From what the man said, there were three rules. You must wear a swimsuit, since firearms and/or weapons could not be concealed. Enjoy your life as much as you can, whether that be through doing drugs, having sex, or drowning yourself in alcohol. Lastly, death to the traitors, meaning the three of you didn’t have a choice but to accept if you wanted to live.

“L/N, Usagi… I’m sorry… for getting you involved.”You hear Ryō whisper from behind, your head slowly dropping, body language displaying that it was okay. “Don’t apologize. We were in this together.”

Judging from the man’s laugh, who you later learned was nicknamed ‘Hatter’, you were now a part of The Beach, like little pawns designed to win games that didn’t fully guarantee the benefit of being able to leave the hellish world.

You were sent into a room with one of the executives and Yuzu, being showed an array of swimsuits; one pieces, two pieces, bikinis, swim shorts, they had all kinds. Both of you darted for the same set, long shorts and a simple bra top, but let your friend have hands on it first, finding another one, black with swirls of grey on it, the top more cropped and shorter bottoms. You look at the executive, her arms crossed and sunglasses on, seeing her nod.

Before you leave, both you and Yuzu snagged an extra garment, a jacket and a thin robe, running into Ryō by the pool. His eyes land on both of you, but he’s drawn to you in particular, the way your robe is meant to cover but doesn’t do that at all considering it’s see through. Your chest, your waist, your thighs– he was being a pervert. He snapped out of it, looking away immediately.

And you walk over all innocent, checking your wristband in sync with Usagi, your own eyes trailing over his figure. He mostly looked the same, yet he seemed more stiff than usual. People had eyes on you, everyone you looked, there were stares coming from the bar, the poolside, even the beach chairs.

Your hand naturally drifts over to Ryō’s, toying with his fingers to distract you. He must have noticed something more, instead holding your hand fully with a tight grip. He doesn’t let go of you the whole day, afraid he’d lose you in the crowds.

The only time he let go was when everyone was separated into groups for individual games. The woman who was with you in the dressing room had Ryō following her, and you couldn’t help but feel your heart crack a little. Your eyes meet for a brief moment before he leaves, and he swears he can see the light in your eyes dim for a moment.

You managed to come back alive, and so did Yuzu, yet Ryō was nowhere to be found. As you walked down the never ending halls of the large resort, she brings up a topic you haven’t discussed once in your life.

“You like him, don’t you?”

At first, you’re confused as to who him is, then remember that there was only one him in the first place.

“Ryō?”

“You’ve been close with him. Touchy.” You nod, agreeing with her points. “You’ve always been that way, but there’s something… different. Different when it comes to Arisu.”

Your head tilts slightly, wondering how that could be. “You’re comfortable with him. You don’t second guess and always go for it. I’ve seen the way your face goes red when he accepts your gesture. The way you smile when he leans closer to you to make your habits of playing with his fingers more discreet. When he smiles at you, and you’re left lovestruck with your mouth hanging open.”

“Of course I like Ryō. He is my friend.”

“Not that like…” Yuzu searches for the words in her head, trying to put them together in a way you’d understand, but deciding to be straightforward. “You like him in a way you want to kiss him.”

You heat up from that thought alone. Kissing your friend? You weren’t sure if you were blushing from the thought of you liking it or the thought that it was embarrassing. “I haven’t… kissed anyone.” Yuzu looks around, dragging you into an empty hotel room and locking the door, letting you sit on the bed.

“Have there been times where you think of… inappropriate things involving him?”

“Sex?”

“…Sure. Sex thoughts.”

You sit there for a moment, embarrassed that you have thought about such dirty things. But Yuzu was right there, waiting for an answer, and you couldn’t get out of it despite having the choice to not say anything.

“His hands.”

“What about his hands?”

The image replays in your head like a movie. “On my waist, my hips, my thighs…” You list, unable to make eye contact with your friend. “His fingers…” You look down between your legs, not wanting to go into detail. “His lips.” Your hand brushes over your chest briefly before moving it back to your side.

“Aren’t you a virgin?”

“I know things. I’ve seen things.”

“But do you like Arisu for who he is? That’s the big question. Because if you don’t, I think you’ll hurt him.”

“I’ve always liked his personality. There are… things we… keep between ourselves that others don’t know about. I really like him, I do. It feels wrong to think such… dirty things about him. I can’t help it.” Yuzu sits down next to you, feeling a dip in the mattress on your left. “I ran into Kuina while walking around the club when you two stayed by the bar. She said to live life while I still could. And she mentioned you.”

“Me?”

“Even though we’re newcomers, she noticed you and Arisu. Even she could see the tension, despite never knowing what was going on between you two.” She holds your hands gently, one hand under and the other on top. “I’m not encouraging any… sexual activities… but I think you should tell him.”

“Tell him… I like him?”

“If he says no, I’ll kill him. And you of all people should know I will take that to heart. I feel this is the only time I’ve seen you so open, especially with Arisu. If that’s what it takes to see you like that all the time, then I hope you’ll go for it.” You smile and hug her, eventually feeling her take you in her own arms. “I will run back to you if it does not go well.” You state before you pull away. Both of you leave the room together, Yuzu going on her own after spotting a girl with a bikini top and jeans from afar.

You mindlessly check downstairs, outside, the club, and eventually back into the hallways, running into Ryō by the stairs.

“Y– L/N.”

“Y/N is okay.” You assure, walking with him close enough to have your fingers brushing against each other. “How was your game?” He asked. “Good. Easy.”

“Of course it was.”

It’s silent for a moment, and you pick up on a tinge of alcohol coming from Ryō. “Did you drink?” You ask, the scent not strong but prominent. “A little bit. Hatter wanted to discus with me. I’m not drunk.” You eye him, believing he’s telling the truth after not finding anything different about his mannerisms. “I managed to get a suite.” He says.

“How?”

“I played with Ann. The executive. Then Hatter talked to me and I got the room.”

“So… you are an executive now?”

“No. Hatter said I was… beneficial.”

Ryō takes your hand, guiding you up one more flight of stairs and opening the room, revealing a large space with a cozy seating area, a large window with the curtains closed, and a massive, made bed. His jacket is hanging in the bathroom, soaked and dripping but left to dry with a towel underneath.

“What happened to your robe?” He notices, looking back at you. “Held me back. Threw it during my game.”

You look at the door. “Should we tell Yuzu this room?”

“I already did. I ran into her before I found you.” You anxiously scratch the palm of your hand, staring at his shirt. “What’s wrong? Is there something bothering you?” You shake your head, the scratching intensifying. He grabs your wrists, separating your hands. “Don’t do that. You might scratch too hard and bleed.” He notices your hands shaking, knowing if he let go that you would continue.

“What’s the matter?” He asks, his grip loosening. Your heart is pounding, unable to make eye contact with him. “I want… to tell you something.” You stutter, breath shaky. Ryō could feel the pulse point on your wrist, unclear but fast thumps against his thumb. “I like you.”

His eyes widen, and he almost lets go, but instead you grab his hand and place it against your chest, feeling your heartbeat just as fast as he did from your wrist. He was trying so hard not to stare at your tits at the same time.

“I’m scared.” You mutter, hiding your face.

“Why?”

“That you’ll hate me… since you don’t… like me back.”

“Who said I didn’t like you back?”

You look up at him for the first time since you’ve entered the room, and his look is genuine. Your hand stays on his wrist, but he moves his own hand up your neck, a sudden chill shaking your body. He tilts your head up to make up for the height, and kisses you.

He’s kissing you, and you’re kissing him.

The moment his lips are on yours, you don’t want to let go. You wanted to kiss him for as long as you could, be in his arms for as long as they could hold you. You’re both a mess of tongue and lips, and you couldn’t get enough of it. You wanted more than he could give.

You both stumble over to the bed, being the first to lay down with Ryō hovering over you. His chest presses against your tits as he leans into you, making you groan. He pulls away, a whine emitting from you, his finger barely slipping under the band of your bra, looking at you endearingly. “Can we do this? I want to make you feel good. Please.” He practically moans, and you don’t even have to think, nodding profusely.

Maybe it’s the fact you’re horny as fuck right now, as he is, but god, you wanted to see him beg for you so bad. Seeing the position he was in right now, pleading for your consent, the way his eyebrows furrowed in desperation, you wanted to be the only one that could make him do that.

And by the end of the night, you certainly did.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Clothes are strewn on the floor, the light barely shines through the crack of the curtains. There’s a naked man laying next to you in bed, snoring softly with his mouth slightly open. His hair messy and his arm under your head, he lays there peacefully, his own eyes fluttering open and squeezing shut after being hit with the light of the sun. He opens them to see you, and your glowing, post-sex face.

“Hi.” You greet, further leaning on his arm. “Hi.” He replies, hand curling around your head to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “You’re so pretty.” He says, fingers playing with your hair.

“You are.”

He doesn’t retaliate and simply smiles, giving you your first kiss of the day. He breaks eye contact first, lost in thought. “Does this change anything between us?” He asks, looking back at you. “I don’t want this to be a one time thing. I… that was… really nice.” He refers to the night before with a smile, unashamed.

“I want… to be more… than friends.” The words come out staggered, but he understands, his smile growing slightly. “But I don’t want this to… hold us back in games. If we lose each other, we won’t join the other. The other… must stay alive. I don’t want me or you to give up… because the other half isn’t there anymore. Can you promise that?” There’s a tinge of worry in his eyes, but it slowly changes to understanding as your hand cups his jaw. He nods. “I promise.”

You kiss him once more, bringing the two of you back onto each other again. His free hand rests on your waist, moving to your back to push you closer, then down to your ass, your leg on top of his side.

“Jesus, I thought you two were done already.”

Yuzu is staring at you from a distance by the corner of the wall, seeing one of your undergarments on the floor. “Get dressed, we need to find more intel. Y/N, you can stay with Arisu, since you’re already with him anyways.” She eyes the position you’re in right now, looking at Arisu, then at you. “I’m assuming it went well.”

You nod. “It did.”

“I knew it would. I knew he liked you anyways. I was going to come in until I heard what was going on. You left the door unlocked. Lucky you two were so loud no one dared to walk in.” She leaves the room, the two of you back to admiring each other in the glow of the covered sunlight.

“I could never hate you, by the way. I feel like you’re the reason I’m still alive right now. Everything you said stuck with me… and I guess it kept pushing me to live.”

“What if I die? Would you… still have the will to live?”

“I’d keep living if that was your last dying wish.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

i want to say hi to you. i have no reason to. 🎧

[snaxle]

thank you for saying the truth about man hating ideology.

hating men isn't woke, and the only ones who'll care about it are the trans men you're going to hurt, idiots.

something also i think a lot of people seem to forget is that terf man hating rhetoric effects more than just men as well, and pretty much anyone can be negatively affected by it. which is why i think it's so dangerous when people confidently go around talking about how they think all men are gross and yucky while also supporting and/or being trans themselves. it's a bad mindset that unfortunately a lot of people fall into.

like im bigender, trans and a woman. pretty much all my life ive been negatively told by people that there's something wrong with me for dressing masculine, etc. one time i shaved all my hair off in support of a cancer charity and was bullied for looking too much like a boy, and that negatively affected my mindset for years and to this day im scared of having my hair shorter than my shoulders. i am not a man, nor do i consider myself a man but because other people perceived me as one they treated me like shit and it hurt a lot to know i was being treated differently than my peers solely for the reason that "ew boys/masculinity gross". (also. i dont even dress that "masculine". i literally just wear jeans and graphic t shirts and i guess that's Manly for people). there's other "ew gross you're a man😬" things ive encountered personally despite the fact that I Am Not A Man, which i won't get into because then i'll probably have to then talk about racism and how some white people perceive anyone who isnt white as inherently masculine, especially if they don't adhere to stereotypical feminine behaviour and appearances, but i can't be bothered to get into that right now.

this was not a good answer lmao sorry i had to get stuff off my chest

[violetbluegreenharmon]

i am literally violet harmon!!! she is me!!! guys i wouldnt normally say this but we r the exact age!!! although my bday is soon so that sucks :( i hate bdays. but i will be the same age taissa was when filming! did u know she was only 16! i like that because it makes it more realistic… i feel like all the actors now who plays teens are like 24! (sorry evan)!!!! but she is so amazing!! i could talk about violet for ever <3 i love her because of her style and personality… she was so well written!!!! although wish we got more solo scenes. she was amazing! she was in love which was TRAGIC 💔, she was emotional, listened to rock and dressed so cool!! but no!!! mum!!!! i dont smoke!!! i have never smoked a fag in my life and have only vaped a few times. she would probs hate vaping anyways because she smokes cigs. also ultraviolence is considered rock and alt pop so i can say i listen to rock!! right? anyways… feel like she would love lana del rey <3 i love her so much but who more… they are too different to say! but i love violet.. i love tate too.. tate girlie am i rite. no im violet so i have to love tate!!! and she loved morrissey!!! ME TOO!!! theyre from england too!!! a few years ago i was a lil obsessed w the smiths!! i stopped listening because it was sad and a sad time in my life but i listen to them sometimes!! i love violet smsmsmsmsmsmsmsmsm!!! I LOVE YOU ALL!! is this shitposting? anyway!! yes. i love violet. and her outfits so cute!! how she layers and wears very earth colours… red, purple, brown.. and florals !! v earthy and a grounded way to dress. shows clarity and confidence in the universe!!! fate and all that!! ✨ and she listens to grunge and rock.. well… i dont rrally listen to it too much. i listen to pop id say mostly but lana del rey mostly of all.. !!! by the way did you know she was originally written as a goth??? i dont wanna be goth so im happy. i feel like it wouldve been CLICHÉ yk!!! a goth.. who selfharms.. and kills herself… yeah no :). not a good thing. guys she killed herself 😭😭’you took so many’ OH NO!!! well i dont wanna speak to much abt this topic.. too sad. :( sorry! i love violet! and manga <3 she read nana! i havent read it its so expensive !!! one day tho <3 but what else.. she hates her parents. not me. i mean my dad a little but if u go where u no! anyways! praise violet <3

[dizgreen]

I think I’ve been on here long enough, so it’s about time I talk to y’all about my Grand Theory of Masculinity.

Yes that is what I call it.

Foreword: I’m a millennial, I’m about thirty years old and if there’s one thing that genuinely makes me think “god I hate the new generation” it’s all this bullshit Andrew Tate and Jordan Peterson shit about how to be a “real man.” I absolutely despise this narrative that being a man is all about only caring about yourself and forcing others down to build yourself up. I see it corrupting more and more young men every day and I truly dread the point in time that it takes hold enough to bring back toxic masculine fathers and grandfathers and RUINS an entirely new generation of kids.

So I decided to sit down and think about why it bothers me so much. I’m of the belief you can’t reasonably say you disagree with something unless you have some kind of reason or alternative solution. Thus, I’ve boiled down what *I* consider to be the true essence of “what makes you a man”

To start off with, I don’t believe that you need a certain set of genitals to be considered a “real man”, which is why I put such an emphasis on the word “masculinity.” I believe that sorting people according to exclusively their genitals or their preferred identity is a bit archaic, but I DO believe you can sort anyone, regardless or pronouns or genitalia, into specific definitions of masculine or feminine traits and behaviors. I believe in defining those things as two sides of a whole, like a yin-yang, and that it shouldn’t compromise someone’s identity in any way just for displaying or taking pride in those traits.

So, here’s my big definition. Are ya ready?

Safety.

Masculinity, TRUE masculinity, I believe, is defined as when someone has a certain aura that makes you feel safe or protected when you’re around that person.

Now a lot of you that are attracted to masculinity might be disagreeing saying stuff like “oh but I like dangerous men” or “no I like it when someone feels a bit scary” but attraction, which is a totally different aspect that’s specific to you. Even then, the VAST majority of people that say they like “dangerous men” typically mean “I like it when men are dangerous and threatening but treat me with love and care” and THATS SAFETY, BRO.

I believe that the true concept of masculinity has been corrupted overtime by the machinations of insecure and weak men trying to convince others that they’re actually what people want in a man. All the signs are there.

A man should be strong to help you feel protected.

“WELL IM GONNA GET ALL BUFF WITH BIG MUSCLES SO THAT NO ONE WANTS TO MESS WITH ME”

but you also have to show you CAN protect them.

“WELL IM GONNA FREAK OUT AND TRY TO FIGHT EVERYONE THAT LOOKS AT ME WRONG SO NO ONE WOULD MESS WITH ME”

A man should be able to provide for his family so they feel safe and comfortable in their lifestyle.

“WELL IM GONNA WEAR A SUIT AND CONSTANTLY BRAG ABOUT HOW MUCH MONEY I MAKE SO THAT EVERYONE THINKS IM RICH”

you know you actually have to give them attention as well though, right? You can’t JUST provide a paycheck.

“WHATEVER, ILL GET A COOL CAR AND IF THEY GET ANNOYED ABOUT ME NOT SPENDING TIME WITH EM ILL JUST GET A NEW GIRL, ILL TALK ABOUT HOW THEY ONLY CARE ABOUT MONEY ANYWAY!”

A man should be able to be confident in his decisions so that the people around him feel secure and more confident in their own choices.

“OKAY SO WHAT IM GONNA DO IS WALK AROUND AND TELL EVERYONE ELSE TO FUCK OFF AND SAY I DONT CARE ABOUT THEM! THAT WAY PEOPLE WILL BE FOOLED INTO THINKING IM CONFIDENT WHEN IM ACTUALLY DEPERATELY CRAVING THEIR APPROVAL”

When I try think of the most MASCULINE MAN MAN I can possibly think of, you know what the image that comes to mind is? A dad. A slightly overweight dad with a blue collar job and a beard who works his ass off to provide for his family and then comes home exhausted and still finds the time to play a game of catch or wrestle with his kids. I believe that image to be the absolute peak of masculinity.

I truly believe that when people have an attraction to men or women or nonbinaries, they seek certain aspects of masculine or feminine behavior. I believe that when people are attracted to masculine qualities, if you boil down the very core essence of what makes them happy with a masculine partner, you’re going to get “they make me feel safe.”

Again, I’m not saying this is something you need to care about at all or should use to define your gender. This is just my analysis boiling down what I think went wrong which led to this bullshit idea that a real man needs to walk around and demean others and ignore his family and only care about himself while disregarding everyone around him.

I think if we use this one little core tenant as the base idea of what to consider “masculinity”, it could really help the men, women, and nb’s that are seeking a goal or ideal to strive for in what kind of person they want to be.

Sorry for the long post but, TL;DR:

Masculinity is when you make someone feel safe in your presence. NOT when you ignore or demean others around you in an attempt to look bigger.

So Fuck off, sigma bitches

[bugbxyjunk]

hello cj. my name is oliver. you may know me as ollie of @ollieollieoxenfreeee.

answer all 100 of the questions. every single one. do it.

bet.

2. what’s the weather like?

Humid and veryyy warm, but much cooler than it has been!!

3. are you impulsive?

yes, oh my god yes, its a really bad problem

4. are you organised?

no but i am trying!!

5. are you self confident?

HAH. thats funny. no

8. what’s something you hate about yourself?

uhhh not to get all edgy but my like entire self of being? in specific probably my body. or my scars. really hate those.

9. do you have any pets?

Yes! 3, my babies 🥹

10. do you have any regrets?

too many to count man

11. do you have any siblings?

yes, 2 technically. but. i only say one

12. what do you think comes after life?

death, probably

13. what colour is your water bottle?

mainly blue, its git sharks on it :3

14. have you ever dyed your hair/would you ever want to?

its actually dyed rn

16. do you believe in aliens?

YES

17. do you believe in ghosts?

YES

18. do you believe in karma?

yes, actually

19.do you believe in astrology?

ehh kinda? not really, but i also don't know a lot about it

20. do you believe in luck?

Yeah

21. what is/was your favourite subject in school?

Not to be That Stereotypical Person™ but definitely art

22. what is/was your least favourite subject in school?

Math. i hated the class, i hated the teacher, i suck at it, and ive never been good at it.

23. how long have you been friends with your longest friend for?

Considering i only have one stable friendship, almost 3 years i think? maybe 2 and half

24. what do you do in your free time?

i have too much free time in the summer, and lately ive just been on my phone and listening to music/watching YouTube

25. what do you do under stress?

Cry? Panic?? okok fr though if theres a more suitable leader i let them handle things and panic quietly, but if i have to take the lead i can, then i fall apart afterwards. by myself. away from anyone else, of course of course

26. who/what do you turn to to vent?

okok honestly? no one? i mean i go to J (irl friend for those that don't know) for smaller/easier to handle things. but. really i try to deal with everything alone

27. spicy, sweet or savoury?

Sweet, probably

28. what’s your favourite drink?

Strawberry watermelon Ice drinks 🙏

29. what’s your favourite cuisine?

cuisine is so fancy for what I'm about to say, my mom's Alfredo shits delicious

31. what are you wearing right now?

women's beach shorts that r wayyy too big and a grey oversized Harley Davidson shirt

32. what’s your favourite time of day?

Night time !!

33. who do you trust the most?

My mom or J

34. do you trust anyone completely?

Nah

35. would you ever want to get married?

Noooo thank u im good

36. would you ever want children?

NO. i will b the uncle to J's kids, i shouldn't be allowed my own kids i can barely keep myself alive

37. do you have any allergies?

Pollen. and i think caramel??? i don't know i cannot eat that shit

38. do you hate anyone?

Yes

40. what is your relationship with your family like?

Pretty good now, it was pretty rocky for a bit and well childhood was. something. but its great now, my immediate family is my priority in life

41. what is your middle name?

Next question

44. do you like making art?

Yes! its kinda like therapy. and much cheaper.

45. do you believe in the death penalty?

Yeeesh thats a heavy question dontcha think? i think if you're a r--pis- yeah fuck the fuck right the fuck off. I do not care. but i don't think im allowed to speak beyond that, im not qualified

46. do you follow routines/plans easily?

I actually prefer them, i get overwhelmed without them

47. growing up, what did you want to do in life?

I wanted to be a pretty woman with a husband and children and be a vet, a lot has changed since then

48. what is your favourite album?

i don't think i really have one? i don't really pay attention to names/albums on what im listening to, i just enjoy the music. this is why music connoisseurs hate me

49. what’s something you’re grateful for?

My mama 🫶🫶

50.what’s a food you hate?

Tomatoes. for various reasons.

51. would you rather lose your legs or arms?

uhhhhhhhh legs? i guess??

52. what is the most important thing to you right now?

Getting ny shit together for school so i can get a good fuckin scholarship

53. what’s the last dream you remember having?

Something about my grandfather? and a train. it definitely had something to do with something I don't like digging up sooo

54. do you believe in soulmates/true love?

I guess, yeah i do. i think ive met mine, since they aren't always romantic. twin flame is the platonic version i think?

55. what is your favourite word?

Shark, maybe. Or like, Slippery, funky ass word

56. would you rather be loved, trusted or respected?

Loved or trusted, people don't respect me much already so like i can handle not being respected

57. would you want to be famous if you had the chance?

Depends i guess, id like act in something that sees people one day, so sure why not

58. what are/were you like in school?

Horribly quiet, and awkward, and clumsy. and also 'intimidating'

59. who’s the last person you talked to?

J my bbg 🫶🫶🫶

60. what would your perfect day be like?

Getting adequate sleep, spending the day at an aquarium with a loved one(romantic, platonic, queer platonic, i don't care), swimming, or just laying quietly with a lover, i don't need much to be Happy

61. where is a place that you’d love to visit?

THE GEORGIA AQUARIUM !!

62. what is your main goal in life?

Help as much of the ocean and sea life as i can, they're vital to this planet and just as important to take care of.

63. do you exercise often?

Not as much as i should, no

64. do you play any sports?

Im gonna be on the swim team again! i was on it in 8th grade

65. do you play any instruments?

Nah, but im gonna learn bass

66. what is your earliest memory?

Uhhhhhhhhhhhhh i don't wanna talk about it so lets say getting my first build a bear from my aunt

67. if you could have a superpower, what’d you choose?

Shapeshifting.

68. what kind of person annoys you the most?

Uhh people who assume they're better than you for "xyz reason"

69. what is your biggest pet peeve?

People who talk in the middle of tests, or people that are rude to cashiers/customer service people for no reason

70. what’s your favourite number?

13

71. have you ever been in love?

Yeah, and i sometimes i feel like i still am

73. what is your deepest fear?

damn this is getting personal jeez, death? serious sickness/ailments, and doctors. also my half brother and his ex gf

74. have you ever met anyone famous?

i don't think so

75. cats or dogs?

Cats!!

77. how do you deal with loneliness?

uhh im kinda used to it, but if i ever cant deal w it i get into the shower and crank the knob all the way to hot

78. what’s your favourite animal?

is this a real question. SHARKLSKSKSKSKKSKKSHSJDHH!!!!!!!

80. would you rather freeze or burn to death?

uhhhhhhh burn? i feel like it'd be quicker maybe

81. what are some of your bad habits?

Biting my mouth, picking the skin on my fingers, and yk other things

82. what do you do when you’re angry?

Yell, hit my pillow, get in the shower and crank the knob all the way to hot. cry.

83. what is something that you’d want to learn?

Astronomy

84. what’s your favourite insect?

hmmmm Picasso beetle, they pretty

85. what are your thoughts on euthanasia?

god, its sad but sometimes if there's no other answer it might be best? like if my baby, my dog, had an incurable thing thay made life a pain for her every day and she wouldn't/couldn't get better i wouldn't want her to be in pain. i never want to see any of my animals in oain

86. what are your thoughts on your name?

Love it, thought of it myself, just wish id come up with Cj first instead of what other people know me as irl (Corey/ my deadname)

87. what’s your favourite name?

My favorite name..hmmmm...i don't know, i love all names, they're special in a way that I cant choose a single best one

88. would you rather go back or forward in time?

Back, i suppose..fix some things yk?

89. what are your thoughts on roller coasters?

I don't know, its been years sinec ive been on one

91. do you believe in love at first sight?

Nah, i don't think you can love someone instantly. you can experience attraction at first sight, but i genuinely don't think you can love someone at first glance. unless its an animal, then obviously yes.

92. what is something you’re currently worried about?

School, life, my friend, my mom

93. what was your childhood like?

Ehhhhhhhhhhhhhhh lets not open that can of worms

94. how long do you usually sleep for?

when i di get to sleep? around 10 hours in the summer 💀, usually around 3-6 during school

95. what hairstyle do you have right now?

something like this

(NOT ME!!!!! found on Pinterest)

96. if you could be one age for the rest of your life, what’d you choose?

uhh probably like 25? maybe?? idk

97. what genre of music do you listen to the most?

Uhhh pop..indie i guess? musicals too

98. where do you come from?

The US 🇺🇸🦅🦅🦅

99. do you curse/swear often?

Yes i do

100. what is the meaning of life?

Boys kissing me.

[woodencuffs]

Woke up and saw I had a work order for an empty house that wasn’t being moved into until the next week and smiled. I gently shook the Princess awake and she opened her eyes slightly grumbling “goooood morning Princess I just realized it’s take your princess to work day.” Her eyes widened and the the mental fog seemed to clear from her “really I can go to work with daddy?” I stroked her head and nodded “just till lunch and then I’ll have to bring you back home but you’ve gotta get up and get ready if you’re going at all” she sat up and stretched the rest of the sleep away before asking “what should I wear.” An hourish later we where finally on the job site; it wasn’t really take your princess to work day but I was fairly confident no one would dropping by my site since I knew everyone’s assignments for the day and they all had their hands full on the other side of town; so I dressed her up in one of my old work uniforms that was too small for me, but of course too small for me was still too large for her but it should keep anyone who didn’t know any better from calling the company to ask why I had a girl out of uniform im my work truck or on a construction site. I worked outside for about an half hour before it was time to move inside, and I had her carry some equipment so she could feel she was helping. I locked the door behind us and began hooking up equipment to the lines I had pulled. She complained about how hot and sweaty she was from outside and I nodded to her “you’re right princess you need to cool down change into daddy’s favorite outfit” she blushed and began to protest she knew “favorite outfit” meant strip naked and what if someone walked in on us but I soothed her by explaining the doors locked and no one’s moving in till next week. She bit her lower lip and looked at me for a couple seconds before she began to remove her clothes. Once she was done I smiled at her and leaned in giving her a kiss before pulling back and saying “what a pretty princess you are… now on your knees for daddy” she obediently got down looking up expectingly at me as I undid my belt and dropped my pants; I shuffled a bit closer to her and she opened her mouth our eyes still locked, and I placed a hand on the back of her head and guided her mouth to my cock. It felt amazing as always I didn’t have to instruct her she was very good at this I just looked into her eyes and played with her hair only looking away to check the equipment status. Finally I had all the go lights on and pulled out my phone “daddy has to make a quick call” considering her mouth was full she couldn’t really reply and just kept sucking. I put the phone on speaker and went through the verification process and had them provision the equipment; since I had been on the phone she had been going at it with more intensity taking more of it in bobbing her head faster until suddenly she began to make the gargling gagging sound. Instinct took over and I muted the phone before grabbing the back of her head and pushing deeper into her listening to all the cute noises she made just for a few seconds before relaxing and sliding my dick halfway out of her mouth “shhhh daddy’s almost done” she nodded and went back to work. I unmuted the phone as the rep was calling out trying to reach me “sorry I choked on my drink for a second” I threw in a fake cough for emphasis “are we good to go? I see activation on my end.” They sympathized with the drink down the wrong pipe story and gave an affirmative on the provisioning we then wished each other a good day and hung up” as soon as I hung up I dropped my phone and grabbed her head and hair with both hands pushing her in and I thrust back in forth into her pretty mouth; she gagged and drooled but didn’t resist in the slightest. After a couple minutes I pulled out and looked at her as she started catching her breath. “Look you’re already a mess but damn you’re such a cute one” I helped her to her feet and kissed her again while one hand checked her pussy; she moaned and I felt how wet she was and smiled at her.

Looks like you’re a mess down here too; she protested about not being able to help it and I gave her a light slap on the ass before wrapping an arm around her waist. “We have some time before lunch let’s do a house tour” and guided her into one of the front bedrooms. Once in the first of three bedrooms I faced her and picked her up before getting to my knees while still holding her and laying her gently on her back. She looked at me expectedly and spread her legs out and began rubbing herself as I once again undid and dropped my pants; I smiled at her God she was so pretty and I told her exactly that as I slid into her both of us grunting with pleasure. I figured I’d start gentle as we had several rooms to work through so I slowly pushed my cock in and out of her while running one hand over her body and the other shoving my fingers into her mouth telling her how pretty she was and how good she felt; for her part she was gripping my arm tight moaning softly and looking at me with adorable puppy dog eyes. I felt I could’ve done this forever but we had a schedule to keep so I reluctantly pulled out of her got up pulled my pants back up not bothering with the belt and helped her up. I took her hand and said ok next bedroom

The next bedroom was right across the hall from the first I walked her in and then dropped my pants and laid on my back “ok princess hop on” she smiled and Quickly straddled me and dropped into reverse cow girl ; a little too quickly in her excitement as she ended up smashing my dick I let out a gasp of pain and surprise “princess be careful don’t break daddy” “oops sorry daddy” she giggled and then raised her ass up off of me. I gave her ass a couple solid smacks and she gasped before reaching between her legs to find my dick that was hardening back up as the pain was fading and the arousal returning and guided herself onto it. She started slow but steadily built up speed and force slamming down onto me deeper and deeper mean while I reached what of her I could from this position placing light slaps and running my nails across her lower back and hips. She was moaning and going relentlessly I realized at this pace I’d be finished before we’d gotten halfway through the house; I told her to slow down but she didn’t seem interested in that so I leaned up caught a handful of her hair with one hand and wrapped the other arm around her and pulled her back off of me making us lay back to stomach. We laid there for a minute listening to her gasping with the exertion she’d just put out and I placed a kiss on her check “now for the kitchen”

Once we’d stumbled to the kitchen i bent her over the counter and placed a hand on her upper back securing her in place then I wasted no time plunging into her. She moaned but after a few minutes began to wine about the counter being cold on her nipples i stuck some fingers into her mouth “shhh princess you’re all hot take a minute to cool off” she just moaned through my fingers laying bent over and I could feel her melting. I pulled out and released her but ran my hand under her from behind and felt how soaked she was “what a mess princess your soaked” she wined about not being able to help it and i patted her on the head “don’t worry princess daddy will clean it up” I turned her around to face me before lifting her up and sitting her onto the counter. I pulled her legs apart and begin slowly kissing the insides of her thighs working closer and closer in; she whimpered and i smiled i put two fingers inside her and began working them as I began to suck and do the alphabet on her clit with my tongue and mouth. She moaned and whimpered and I’d pull back to tell her how good she tasted or what a mess it was I had to clean up finally she was beginning to shake and I pulled back stood up and kissed her. Now for the living room

Her eyes went wide as the living room was right next to the kitchen but she just realized there was a large glass double sliding door on the far wall that gave an unobstructed view of the living room and kitchen. I lead her over to the glass door and stood behind her pushing her forward and then hooking both her arms behind her and sliding back in. We’d been going for a while at this point so I instantly went into a hard and fast pace as soon as I got a rhythm and between her gasp and moans she got out “d-d-daddy wh-at if s-s-someone s-seeeee-s us” I knew the chances of anyone being back here where super low the houses on both sides had already been built and the crews where 4 houses down the street it wasn’t impossible someone would randomly walk back here but super unlikely, but she didn’t know that “so what if they do princess? All they’ll see is a very good girl and they’ll see she’s completely owned by her daddy” I slowed a bit “because I do own you” and to emphasize I pushed into her as deep as I could and held it listening to her moan between clenched teeth. I released the arm hooks and she braces herself against the glass with her hands and I made a mental note to clean any prints later didn’t want to make it obvious what had been going on here. With my hands now free one hand grabbed her hair and pulled wile the other went around her throat “who do you belong to I snarled “you daddy” she managed to force out with what air she could muster “that’s right princess” I said as I released her throat with my now free hand I smacked her ass for emphasis *smack* “who” “you daddy” *smack* “who” “you daddy” *smack* “who” “you daddy” i stuck my free hands fingers in her mouth “and don’t ever forget it” I proceeded to fuck The shit out of her and she leaned her face against the glass desperate for support; part of me was worried about fucking her right through the glass and part of me thought that would make a great story, but we still had one more room to go so I relented. I pulled out and released her and she leaned against the glass for a moment legs shaking and gasping for air god she was so beautiful. I gently pulled her back to me “one more room princess” and guided her to the master bedroom.

Once in the master I looked her “who’s a good puppy” she was still unsteady from the fucking she’d just taken but she got on all fours “meee daddy im a good puppy” and then arched her back face down ass up. We where at the finish line and we where gonna sprint to it; I mercilessly fucked her slapping her ass, running my nails down her back, pulling her hair, grabbing her throat, and of course giving her my fingers. At this point hopefully no one was near the house because she was so lost in moment her moans where full volume and her whimpers where now squeals; I didn’t care though I was also getting lost in the moment. Finally I was close to finishing and pulled out of her and stood over her cock throbbing. She looked up confused at me “finish how we started” I said to her. She was tired, red faced, shaking, and breathing hard, but she was also a good girl no not a good girl the best girl; so she obediently got to her knees and latched her mouth onto my cock like she needed it more then anything else. I was rough with her again placing my hands on the back of her head but I was so close it only took a couple minutes before I finally pushed in orgasming hard “drink it all princess we can’t leave any evidence” I gasped feeling the after shock of the orgasm. She gagged a bit but obediently took it all till I finally softened and she let me slide out of her mouth. I helped her to her feet kissed her then hugged her tight; both of us shaking and trying to catch our breath after a few minutes I let the embrace go ok princess get dressed it’s lunch time and you did so good you get to pick lunch and have as much dessert as you want…..end

[bratshaws]

goodness gracious 11. brb x oc

( i mean look at those lips. sir how dare you. )

a/n: hello today we are going to talk about how Rooster has better lips than me . *starts slideshow*

pairing: plus size!oc x rooster

warnings: mentions of emotional abuse ( its not a lot but im writing it just to be safe <3 ) a hint of suggestive content. We are getting closer to the spice guys, i promise.

chapters:

1/2/3/4/5/6/7/8/9/10

(pls let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!!)

taglist: @mirandastuckinthe80s @roosterschanelslut @wiipes @lcahwriter @shrimping-for-all @gretagerwigsmuse @frenchtoastix

@lizzie-rdj

-

‘I’ll be waiting’ how smooth was that? How very confident was that phrase? That was the plus of sending a text message instead of calling or doing video chat, it hid how absolutely fucking freaked out you’d be.

Bradley, once he got her message, took a few seconds to reply only because he was digesting the fact she wanted the two to have lunch together, but she wanted to cook. He only had her sandwiches, but he knew from Shells that Bea was a great cook, so he couldn’t help but be excited about the proposition, not even thinking when he sent her his address.

Then he remembered, just after he sent her the message, that he lived alone and his apartment was less than organized. He wasn’t a slob, his mother raised him right, but he rarely spent more time than the weekends here and when he did he just passed out on his bed wearing nothing but his boxers.

 Which were currently his choice of clothing right now, the ones with tiny chickens on it - the lovely gag gift his friends gave him for his late birthday celebration -. He looked down at himself, cursed and tossed the phone to the side.

He had to change. Bradley rushed through his apartment, grabbing any type of tossed clothing and throwing it into his closet, kicking the door shut while he grabbed himself a pair of gray sweatpants and a white tee. Dressing up while standing should be considered a danger to society, because Bradley almost fell to his face while dragging his pants up his legs, having to lean himself against the wall to tie it up.

He then almost shoved his head through the sleeve hole, cursing and trying again, breathing out in relief when his head popped out of the collar. He ran his hands down the fabric, smoothing it before he checked his reflection on his bathroom’s mirror, running his hands through his hair to comb it down to the sandy waves he’d usually have.

Bradley fixed his bed, then checked the ensuite and guest bathrooms, before going to the living room where he took the mug he drank his coffee that morning to the kitchen sink, washing it quickly to place it back inside a cabinet. He inhaled, rubbing his hands down his pants, “Okay, it’s good.” he whispered, then checked his fridge to see if he had anything she could possibly use if she so wanted, sighing in relief when he saw it was still quite full of fresh veggies and meat.

His doorbell rang and he quickly rushed to the speaker button so he could talk to who was on the other side, “Bea?”

“Yea! It’s me. Can I come up?”

“Of course, sweetheart. Come on right up.” he walked back from the doorbell speaker, waiting until he heard the knock on the door. He eased his step, trying to not yank the door open, choosing to slowly unlock it, revealing her sweet face behind the door. She smiles brilliantly at him,holding white plastic bags with both hands.

“Hi,” she says, tilting her head up when he leans closer to peck her lips, “Sorry for the sudden message, I–”

“It’s okay,” he steps back, sweeping his hand into his apartment, “Do come in.”

He shuts the door behind her, watching her head turn left and right as she takes in his apartment. He panics for a brief second, thinking he left something behind, his eyes moving everywhere again just to check, but when she places her bag on the coffee table between his couch and the tv, she’s smiling, “I like your apartment.” she grins, “It’s very nice.”

It was a big apartment, perhaps too big for only him to live alone, but it was good enough if you were too tired. He watched her approach the piano on the corner of the living room, right next to his bookcase, running her fingers over the keys - a bit yellowed over time, it wasn’t a brand new piano after all - before she tilted her head to the picture of young Bradley being held by his father. Her gaze softened at the vision of little young, blonde Bradley, wearing a cowboy hat bigger than his own head.

She smiled sweetly, seeing how Bradley was the spitting image of his father, “You look a lot like him,” she comments, seeing the two had the same brighter than the sun smile. Bradley gets closer to her, he too looks at the picture with his jaw clenched just a bit.

“You think so?” he questions quietly, almost he is unsure of it himself, but Bea sends him a smile, then cups his cheek and he almost leans onto it. Her thumb gently brushes over his lips, over his mustache and she nods. He chuckles, kissing the pad of her thumb before he grabs the bags she’s holding, “So,you are cooking us lunch?”

“I am!” she smiles, following him to his kitchen, letting out a quiet woah at how large it was. It even had a marble top island in the middle with hanging lamps! She runs her hand over the sleek surface, then pulls back when she hears him placing the items on the kitchen counter  “I thought it’d be nice.”

“I can’t say I’m opposed to it,” he opens the bags, peeking inside, “What did you have planned?”

“Well,” she grabs the one he’s not messing with, pulling out the ingredients, “I was thinking about making something my nonna loved to make for Sunday lunches. It was tradition to go to her house every Sunday morning after church just so she could cook for us…so,” she pulls out a packet, “I thought it’d be interesting if I made us her spaghetti all'amatriciana.” she looks down at the fresh pasta packet in her hands, “Usually, she’d make these by hand but…I found a place close by that makes these fresh.”

Bradley looks down at the packet of spaghetti, the strips dusted with a fine layer of flour, “Sounds nice…what’s it called again?”

“Spaghetti all’amatriciana. It doesn’t take too long.” she smiled when his lips moved, repeating the word under his breath, “You can help me out, if you want to.”

“Oh? Won’t your nonna come haunt me if I mess up?” he teases, but stands close to her as she sets everything in front of her. Beatrice pauses, her eyelids lowering as she smiles, then turns to look at him with her gaze unreadable.

“She’d say you are a bel ragazzo and that she wouldn’t mind if you messed up.” he blinks, not sure of what the word meant, “Handsome boy, she’d call you a handsome boy.” Bradley breathes out an embarrassed laugh and his tanned cheeks turn darker, going back on setting the ingredients around them. There’s something with sugar inside a box that she asks him to put it inside the fridge while she gets everything set, which he does, lifting the lid just enough to see it was cream filled.

Thankfully his friends gave him a house warming gift, even if he didn’t used, of pots and pans and other kitchen utensils, or else he’d he fucked. Beatrice pulled her hair up on a bun, tightening it with a hairband she kept on her wrist as she helped him. He knew how to dice onions and crush garlic, he’s helped his mom cook before, so he was very proud of himself when Beatrice complimented him. 

She hummed to herself while cooking, some song he couldn’t identify, but she was smiling as she did it. He watched it with a small smile himself, rubbing his face with a hand only to turn around to get plates for them to eat, trying to keep himself busy. 

The smell was incredible. He ate Italian food quite often, even dared to cook some himself, but never had his own cooking smelled that good before, “Okay!” she chirps, “It’s done!” she grins, picking the pot to bring to the middle of the island. 

Bradley let her serve them both, about to sit down, but then he snapped his fingers, “Hold on,” he rushed the wine rack he had in the corner of the kitchen, hovering his hand above the bottles until he got the one with the red covering. He opened the cabinet above his head, picking two wine glasses, smiling towards the brunette, “Now it’s better.”

Beatrice’s lips parted in surprise, her cheeks reddening, tucking the skirt of her dress underneath herself as she seated on the stool. She interlaced her fingers in front of her mouth, trying to cover her smile as he popped the cork off, pouring them both the red wine. He slid the bottle to the side, sat himself down and raised his glass, “How do you say cheers in Italian?”

“Saluti.” she whispers, lifting her own glass.

“Saluti, then.” their glasses clink and each took a sip. She hummed in surprise, smacking her lips at the taste. This was good wine.

“This is really good.” she reached over to the bottle, checking the label while pushing her glass to the side.

“Mav got it for me,” he says, “Peace offering, I think he said.” he shrugs, fixing himself on his seat after he was done drinking, about to dig into the pasta but pausing, looking up at her, “Do I need a spoon?”

“If you want,” she shrugs, twirling her own spaghetti without the spoon, “I don’t like it because of the noise the fork makes when it scratches the spoon, “ her body visibly shudders and she shakes her head as if to get rid of the imagery.  “But it’s not necessary.”

Bradley thought about it, his stomach begging for him to just eat, so he decided to do it without the spoon. He twirled the spaghetti on his fork, not seeing Beatrice trying so hard to not pay attention to his reaction but failing, slowing her own chewing down with how tense she was.

It took him just a second for his eyes to close and him to support his forehead on the back of his hand, much like he did back on Mr.Spoons, and sigh deeply, “Jesus fuck, this tastes so good.”

“You like it?” she asked, her eyes and smile bright, “Really?”

He’s still chewing when he nods, but he’s way too happy to speak, so he takes another bite once he swallows the first. He closes his eyes, holding his fork holding hand up to his mouth, ‘You know what this tastes like?” He moves his hand for emphasis, trying to find the word, “Like those fancy Italian restaurant dishes that are worth more than half of your monthly income.”

She laughs, “Shut up, you are exaggerating.”

“I’m not! I’m serious! It’s probably the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” he gestures to his plate, “Look at this! Bea, this is just incredible.”

Her cheeks turn red and she looks down at her hands, tucking a fallen strand of hair behind her ear. She’s about to explode from happiness, just knowing he enjoyed her cooking - especially a recipe her nonna used to make several times over the years - just made her feel like she was on cloud nine. She chewed her own bite then took another sip of the wine, enjoying how it warmed her all over, mixing with the warmth of her own cheeks.

“This sauce is so good.” he mutters, slurping a long noodle. She couldn’t help but giggle against her glass, suddenly remembering something that piques his curiosity, “What’s funny?”

Her cheeks were flushed a bit and not because of her shyness, the wine was starting to get to her. It wasn’t like the time she passed out at the barbecue, she was just happy and a bit more open with her words “Just remembered a quote from the Golden Girls.” she smiles, “If this sauce was a person I’d get naked and make love to it.” 

Clearly Beatrice wanted to be funny, just an innocent comment about a show she adored. 

But unfortunately, Bradley was just a man.

 With a very sweet and attractive girlfriend who had no idea of how nice she looked with her light colored summer dress that exposed her shoulders and collarbones. He didn’t want to push her to do anything,even if it’s been a few weeks of them dating, the last thing he wanted was to make her uncomfortable.

He chose to drink his own wine before anything unwanted came out of his mouth, licking his lips once he swallowed it. She didn’t seem to notice the lack of reply, just continued eating her own plate in silence. Besides the words that made his brain turn on high alert, the lunch was incredibly nice.

It was delicious and he complimented her one more time while they finished. Once their lunch was done with, she went to pick the plates but he got them before she could do it, telling her she was a guest and to not worry her pretty little head because he’d wash them. She smiled, following him walk around the kitchen, her eyes focusing on how his white tee clung to his back muscles. Muscles that moved when he set the things down into the sink.

Much like Bradley, she also was just a woman who liked admiring the body of her boyfriend. The same one she pined for months. She blinked when he noticed him looking over his shoulder, his cheek flexed as he smirked, clearly happy he caught her staring, “I-I’ll, um!” she looked around, then quickly grabbed the wine bottle and glasses “I’ll take this to the living room!”

She spun out of the kitchen quickly, rushing over to sit herself down on his couch. Beige colored, suede, super soft. Her nervousness dissipated as she kicked off her sandals, curling her legs by her side, enjoying how comfortable his couch was, soon after placing the wine and glasses on his coffee table. Even more than hers she could say. The clinking of glasses and plates, followed by the sound of doors closing, signaled he was done washing them.

Bea tugged the side of her dress in hopes it’d cover up her thighs a bit more, smiling up at him when he walked around the couch, trying to keep his eyes away from the expanse of her legs, seating himself on the opposite side. “More?” she asks, gesturing to the wine bottle, Bradley nods and leans back, grinning in thanks when she hands him his glass.

They sip their wine quietly, eventually the bottle is nearing it’s end and both of them are pleasantly buzzed. She was giggly, her hair was falling out of the bun onto her back and shoulders and her cheeks got even redder, “You are so cute.” he murmurs, to which she bites her lower lip, that made his eyes dart to her mouth immediately, his tongue coming out to wet his wine stained lips.

“You always say that.” she whispers, this time pulling her hair out of the bun so it travels down her back, she shakes her head so the strands on her forehead rest by her temples.

“Hmm,I’m not lying.” he purrs, “Pretty girl that you are, it’s a shocker you didn’t hear it more often.”

She scoffs out a laugh, running her hands through her hair before she reaches for the last bit of wine in her glass, setting it on the coffee table once she’s done. The atmosphere got a bit thicker, the wine making them run a little hot under their clothes. Her hands played with her skirt a bit, sometimes revealing more of her flesh for his eyes to see.

Bradley inhaled deeply, swallowing the final amount of wine in one gulp, placing his glass next to hers, his arm stretched so he could reach the coffee table. He looked over his bicep to see her green eyes locked on his stretched limb and he honestly couldn’t help but make a bit of a show of pulling his arm back, curling just to run a hand through his hair. The muscle stretched the fabric above it and he heard her take a quick intake of breath. 

He chuckles, stretching his legs to cross them by the ankle, which makes her look up at him, “What?”

“Do you remember the first time we met?” he grins, “I mean, the very first time I showed up to the counter and you just scurried away from me?”

“I…” she licked her lips “...no?”

-

Rooster tapped his hands on the wooden counter, looking around for either Penny or Shells, his sunglasses low on the bridge of his nose. The music from the jukebox made him bounce his leg with the rhythm as he waited. He saw Shells close by but it wasn’t her who called his attention first. There was a new face there.

There was this gorgeous brunette wearing a Metallica t-shirt right on his opposite side, she was laughing at something one of the patrons said, her hair pulled up in a bun to expose her neck. He tilted his head down just enough for his view to get clearer, he had never seen her on the bar before and he was sure he’d notice if she did.

His whiskey colored eyes dragged down from the top of her bun to the dark wash jeans, then to the black converse on her feet. She was dressed comfortably, tending to the people on the opposite side of the bar while he continued staring.

 The moment she turned and saw him, her face paled and then turned a bright red. He didn’t even have the chance to call her before she rushed over to Shells, muttering something to the blonde that made her throw her head back in a laugh, only to trade places with the curvier woman.

Rooster opened his mouth, watching that now she was farther away and Shells was looking at him instead, “What can I get you, Chanticleer?” she teases, waiting for him to say something.

He frowns, but then just orders the usual, watching Shells grab the beers then moving his gaze to the back of the brunette who seemed to be trying to not look his way, “There you go.” Shells grins, but he stays put, “Hey, Rooster.” she snaps her fingers in front of his eyes, which startles him, “Your drinks?”

“Right, thanks Shells.” he leans away from the bar counter, eyebrows furrowed when the brunette still isn't looking in his direction. 

-

Beatrice frowns, looking at her hands, “You made me nervous.” she whispered, “I mean…you were the first guy I got a strong crush on in years…I got scared.” she whispers, “I got terrified, I didn’t know what to do whenever you were around.”

Bradley’s eyebrows lowered “Was I that scary to you?”

“It’s…not scary you were just…you. You know? You are just…really fucking hot and I couldn’t focus on anything but on you.” she blurts out, not meeting his eyes, “I lost count of how many times I stood there just staring whenever you walked in. When you talked to me for real, I felt like I was going to faint. When you offered to help me out with my armoire, I freaked out. I…I just feared doing something wrong and making you uncomfortable.”

He scooted closer to her, his arms on the back of the couch, behind her as his chest touched her shoulder, “Hey, pretty girl,” he begins, “Look at me. Hey,” he cups her chin so he can turn her head towards him and her green eyes appear frightened, “You could never make me uncomfortable.”

“But what if I do?”

“Then…we’ll talk about it and figure out how to prevent that.” he says simply, “Same goes to me, if I make you uncomfortable I want you to say it.”

“...you won’t get upset?”

Bradley recoiled, wrinkling his eyebrows, “Upset? Why would I–” the way she looked away from him, immediately going back to her hands, almost ashamed of her own words, “...ex-boyfriend?” she nods quietly.

“The last one,” she murmurs, running her index finger over the tiny flowers on her summer dress, “He didn’t like how I acted. He criticized and antagonized me a lot…I never told my family about it, because I think part of me felt scared that if they knew they’d kick him away from me… and I wouldn’t find anyone else. “ she inhaled sharply “They just found out I broke up with him weeks after I told them he was cheating on me…sad thing is that I think I already knew, it was happening for months, I just tried to be better for him.”

“What happened to him?”

“...after I broke up with him, he was very surprised. I think it was the first time in our relationship I actually voiced out how he hurt me and how much I didn’t want him to do that anymore.” she chuckles dryly, “He just screamed at me, called me names… but I never raised my voice, I never– I guess I just was too tired to scream. I just wanted it to be over, I was going to go to the college I wanted after years of trying. I was ready to let go of that toxic waste.”

Bradley just watched her say it in silence, the hand not behind her clenched and relaxed. Two things were going on in his head: that how the relationship happened explained a lot of her personality around him and while the shyness was very endearing it bothered him that part of it was because of a guy who just couldn’t respect her. The second thing was that her ex better not be in Cali anymore, because he didn’t like how the mention of him made the lights in her eyes dimmer and her body to curl away from his own, with her hand rubbing up her arm, as if she was trying to get rid of an invisible stain, “Did he ever–”

“Put his hands on me? No.” she says quickly and he breathes out in relief, “He knew if he did, my family would notice and he’d be as good as dead. He always said he thought my family was part of the mafia. He joked about it once to my dad and my dad just looked him dead in the eye and said ‘he was going to make him an offer he couldn’t refuse’... I’ve never seen him so scared.” her laughter subsided until only her smile remained. “It’s been…I think four years since we broke up, haven’t seen him since.”

Bradley, while very pissed at the thought of someone willing hurting Bea so much, was very proud of her too “You are very brave,Bea.” he says and she looked at him like he said something ridiculous, “You are! You broke up with a guy who treated you like shit.”

“It took me years though…”

“It doesn’t matter how long it took,” he adjusts himself on the seat so his torso is fully turned towards her “What matters is that you got rid of him, by yourself. Without needing your family's help to do it, it is very brave.”

She looks at him out of the corner of her eye, then chuckles, “You are the one that flies I don’t know how many feet up in the air and I’m the brave one?” 

“I think they both are on the same level of bravery.”

Beatrice’s cheeks hurt from smiling, but she cups his face and presses a kiss to his lips, silently thanking him for being so sweet. So incredibly sweet, “Thank you.” she whispers against his mouth, giggling when he leans over to kiss her once again, his mustache tickling her upper lip. 

She wraps her arms around his neck while he goes wrap his own around her waist, pulling her flush against him. Bea’s cheeks get warmed up yet again,she’s sitting on her knees - even then he’s still taller than she was - her bare skin touching the soft fabric of his sweatpants. She doesn’t know if it’s because her brain wants to forget about their conversation or just because she wants to be even closer, but she wants to sit on his lap…however, she was wearing a dress.

That was too soon, she thought. So she broke the kiss off, smiling down at his flushed lips and enlarged pupils, rubbing her thumb on his cheekbone. “You have very pouty lips.” she whispers, running her thumb over said pouty lips, feeling his breathing against her skin. “You know that?”

“Hmmm, what?” his unfocused gaze goes from her mouth to her eyes “Sorry, couldn’t hear you.”

“I said you have very pouty lips.” she repeats, pressing another kiss to them, happy to hear him hum pleasantly, only to almost whine when she pulls back. “Very pink pouty lips.”

Bradley blinks a bit, licking his lips as if he was trying to feel it himself, only to furrow his eyebrows, “Do I?” she nods, still cupping his face in her hands, “I’ve heard people say I have a nice smile, but never about me having pouty lips.”

“They are very soft too.”

“I think they feel a bit chapped…”

“You need some chapstick then,” she says easily, “To keep them moisturized.” she breaks her grasp on him, fighting back a chuckle when he pouts his lips even more, to reach for her bag. She pulls out her own chapstick, popping out the lid and turning the containter’s wheel so the white stick comes up, “This is cherry flavored so…you might smell like cherry for a few hours…can I?”

“Will you kiss me more after?” he questions, to which she laughs but nods, “Go ahead.” he keeps himself still so she could rub the cherry flavored chapstick over his lips, there’s no color on it so the only thing that happens is that his lips seem a bit shinier for a few seconds before the oils are absorbed by his skin. She sits back on her knees, closing the little cylinder with a click, watching him smack his lips a few times then lick them, “Oh this really tastes like cherry.”

“Yeah, but I think you’d be more of a…cocoa butter type of guy.” she smiles, “Since you like chocolate and such. Do they feel nice?”

“They feel a lot softer than I remembered.” he mutters, “But I might need a second opinion.”

Beatrice laughs, wrapping her arms around his neck once more, “Gladly.” then pressing her lips back to his.

[radnewspaperroom]

Yeeeeeeessssss!!

All it takes is someone saying his name a certain way and that switch flips inside him, the dunce cap is off and it's time to really come through. Like Lucifer did during I think it's S2 and 3, when he sends his crows out. He could of shirked it off, pretended he needed to bribe the crows or he didn't care enough.

But his brother needed him. And he knew it was serious.

There's a reason why Lucifer chose Mammon in the beginning and it wasn't just for the comedic effect: Mammon really is capable and strong when he needs to be. When he cares, and you're absolutely right! His brothers are so used to being let down by him constantly by him giving into his urges and being greedy/sneaky/pathetic for money, that they often forget that he's got what it takes.

Like during S1 when Levi has Goldie, Mammon instantly drops to his knees and begs and pleads for it when in fact he's defacto stronger than Levi and could literally just take it. He was willing to subjucate himself to MC in order to get his card back and to Levi that was throwing out his demon pride and any self respect he had to stomp on. They've seen this type of behavior over and over again. He's stolen from them, from the house and saw him constantly punished for failing to hide it from Lucifer.

And they became very vocal about it. Mammon devolved from the glue to the black sheep of the family until the events before the Exchange Program and he took the brunt of it for who knows how long. 260 at the very least as it's the time that he stole from Levi in S1 and Levi has been hounding him to pay it back, but because he's got no real incentive to do so (like Lucifer forcing him) he refused to do it.

And it's such a conundrum! A confident Mammon (I think anyway) would be a totally different person. Over time, his brothers insults have really gotten to him, and he doubts his own capabilities now! Over time, people calling you dumb, scum and worse will wear on our own self confidence and thought process. Even now in the current season, it's less as often but the younger brothers still doubt Mammon's capacity for getting shit done. And there been more than once he's said things that give a glimpse past the dumbass armor to show that their words really cut him deep and left wounds.

Even at his big ol age, he runs away from home when they go too far and he stays gone for days until he remembers he needs something or has worn out his Grimm or welcome somewhere and comes sneaking back, or his brothers go looking for him to collect him.

Before MC came along, no one would even consider apologizing, or what his feelings would be. But after a bit of lover therapist exposure, they've changed enough to where it's natural without intervention..... eventually.

We can see throughout the game, many times he's jumped to conclusions and finished their sentences or guessed what they were going to insult him with. Sure, comedic effect again but only for the reader. For Mammon, he was conditioned that the people he loved most, thought the worst of him, and like you said! It's like he decided fuck it, they're safe, i can be as bad as they think I am. It's my turn to give in and do what I want to do. At any cost.

Take the witches for example, anyone whose read the Devilgram story knows really why the witches hound him for money left and right. Mammon tells MC why, and Lucifer is in on the story, but none of the others know. And he makes 0 attempt to clear his name by telling them?! They all know witches hound him for money like sugar babies, or that he owes them a debt that Lucifer saved him from--and he's got 0 interest in trying to convince them of anything else!

He puts on airs of "oh Im so smart and great and everyone respects me and loves me and I'm very important" but he also just...allows his brothers to think he's the worst 🥹

I also wonder if his restraint against his sin and urges is why he goes so off the walls now. He knows it's a kinda torture to go without it, and has little to no self control anymore.

I remember hearing somewhere, again it may have been you lol that Mammon has the better control over his emotions and anger. He's the least angry or prone to outburst brother out of the 7 of them. That doesn't mean he doesn't get jealous, or angry but it's super fleeting. He's just loud for a minute is all

You could make him mad and then 2 seconds later he's forgotten about it or moved on. However, he's shackled to his sin in a way the others aren't. He risks personal injury via Lucifer to get a temporary high from gambling whereas the others very rarely have bouts of sin that go that far.

Sure, Asmo and Mammon are why they have a curfew and room inspections but no one pushes the boundaries as much as Mammon does. No one makes as much trouble and is strung upside down as much 😂

However, Lucifer mentioned back in like S2 or 3 about Mammon's car, and how proud he was of Mammon for working as hard as he could to afford it after they first fell.

I can't recall if it was his modeling job, but we know he's not above menial work like cook, waiter, street vendor, or work like content creator, fashion advice. But most of his money making attempts are little more than hair brained schemes.

Granted a lot of his get rich quick schemes do fail, and are preposterous, so it's easy to see why his brothers doubt him at most times. But they end up taking it entirely too far.

Mammon's lore for his sin says that if he's good with someone, they'll always have cash, but if he breaks it off someone they'll never have Grimm again.

Mammon tends to go through lucky streaks at casinos and where he will absolutely win against some people (his brothers, Solomon, the angels etc) but he will lose out against others (Lucifer for example) and I can't help but wonder if his self esteem is at play here a bit.

Lucifer is perfect and never makes mistakes, Mammon is full of himself vocally, but anyone whose played knows it's hot air. I truly believe that he thinks that he can't beat him. Because it's been mentioned multiple times about how when money is involved, it will be his in the end. That's why no one wants to get involved with him where luck is concerned, money is the prize and/or something they want. (an object worth money or time with MC) cause either he will win outright, or be dumb and try to rig it.

Like the Seraphina figure Levi wanted, Mammon was just lucky enough to get it and wanted to put the screws to Levi and denied giving him the thing until MC came around.

Lucifer however, he always loses against and I can't recall a time where he's tried to rig a game against him, probably because of 2 reasons: he wants to beat him fair and square, but also it's fucking Lucifer, of course he'll know if he tried to cheat.

I can't remember where it was mentioned, in fact it might have been one of your posts but the Devildom sees Mammon much in the way his brothers should. He's calm, cool and collected. He cares for others and wants the people he loves to be safe, happy and well cared for. He's a capable demon and good looking to boot.

Sure, he's not the best speaker, and his manners arent up to Barbatos and Lucifer demand, but he's a aristocratic demon with power and connections whose doing the best he can. Lots of lesser demons do respect him (as long as he doesn't owe them money) and he's respected and feared outside the HOL household and it always throws everyone except for Lucifer and Diavolo for a loop.

I really hope they show the devolving behavior as Lucifer takes up more the responsibility and they became comfortable, that Mammon shuts off his brain and decides to be the family's black sheep.

I also and curious to see how it's going to be effected with MC being present during that time. What will be the circumstances in which they go back in time? Are the boys expecting them? Is it by accident (*cough* Solomon *cough*) or does something bad happen that sends them back.

Imagine all the hijinks that will happen because MC knows the brothers as they are right now. Knowing their favorite drink or snack or things that will happen before they happen when they've just met. Knowing their self deprecating tactics and schemes and tricks. Will it change the boys forever on the other end of the timeline because they have their therapist earlier?

Maybe Mammon will have a shoulder to lean on, seeing as everyone's leaning so heavily on him in the beginning, maybe it'll foster some confidence and self esteem and we'll see his capable side more often. Or they'll remain totally unphazed by it all and all will return to normal when MC either Barbatos has to step in again to fix the timeline shootoff or Michael does his weird little divine intervention thing like he did before.

Can't wait to see Mammon being the only one who has any of his shit together

Emotional rock of his traumatised family, who had to repress any of his own feelings about what just happened so he could look after all of them to the point that now in present time when anyone tries to bring up his own issues he deflects them.

I hope MC being dumped into the past means we can finally talk about Mammon's issues since he's literally the only brother whose issues they've hinted at but never explored (eg: how he said he doesn't hold a grudge against the celestial realm but became uncharacteristically cruel when discussing the celestial realm with Luke in S3 & uncharacteristically serious when discussing it with Simeon in S4).

There are even times when they deliberately avoided talking about Mammon's issues despite exploring the others' problems (eg: in S2 when the brothers were all fighting with each other and Lucifer & Mammon's fight was the only one that wasn't solved)

Also, on my HANDS AND KNEES solmare begging y'all to explore Lucifer & Mammon's dynamic and first meeting more

[honeyhotteoks]

I understand about the fic, thank you for considering it anyway. Your latest chapter had me kicking my feet, I saved it in my tabs.

This is my gift to you for your service to delulu fantasies all over the world.

Yunho's Mars is at a Pisces degree which means he could have a thing for feet (and with the amount of feet pics he takes...I'm not surprised).

His Taurus Venus is at a Cancer degree which means he loves to embody the 'Prince Charming' lifestyle & if he's into women, he would want them to have the 'princess' look, all elegant & feminine. Probably would love to call you 'princess' as well.

His Mars & Venus in the 5th & 6th House means he could have 'casual' sex and 'one night stands' but it wouldn't emotionally satisfy him, he does view sex as a means of relieving stress so he can detach himself emotionally if he needs too.

100% dom, hard dom. If he's in a mood for an intense scene, he wouldn't mind having his partner be a 'slave' for him. Definitely the type to be interested in toys & open for experimenting.

Absolute praise king, degradation (giving & receiving) would be a turn-off for him.

Humiliation (giving) he would absolutely simp over.

The size kink is 100% real, he would prefer a partner that's smaller & shorter than him so he can feel protective over them. Would also love to be able to throw them around & pin them down as he pleases.

He can be a pervert, let's be real. What I mean is, he would love to show that your his in public.

An example is, he would love to respectfully destroy you while you're wearing his hoodie, then he would make you wear that hoodie while you're going out with friends.

Sir/Master/Daddy-huge corruption kink, I feel he would genuinely love the idea of an inexperienced partner that he can train to please him & only him.

Ppl talk about Hongjoong Stan's having daddy issues. The Yunho Stan's are the true Stan's with daddy issues, would love to be a D$LF when he's older.

Would love to choke & be choked, would love to leave huge marks everywhere and in rlly obvious places.

Finally, food play. Like whipped cream & chocolate sauce everywhere.

'I don't want to eat too much dessert Princess, not while I have the best looking meal right here in front of me' 😏😏

(For real, why do I think he would actually say something like that.)

I hope this will give you some inspiration for some yunho fics in the future.

If you want me to do this with another member, I absolutely would.

😵😵😵 IM LITERALLY LOSING MY MIND. I genuinely had to walk away from my computer like three times this is making me properly delusional. if you would be so kind, my friend is a san bias and i would LOVE to send her what you have to say about him. ♥

however.... i have yunho thoughts~

listen i didn't want to acknowledge the yunho foot agenda but it exists, like we all saw him spanking san's feet in ode to youth

i so agree with his whole prince charming agenda too, he has always seemed like the type of guy who wants a girl he can spoil a bit. he remembers everyone's birthdays, and he's extremely considerate when he gives gifts, so i think that would be double with a romantic partner.

i also agree with the lack of degradation but still corruption, he seems like the type to want to take care of his partner and ease them into being the perfect sexual partner for him. i can see him wanting a confident and successful partner in her own right, but being a bit jealous and possessive, he loves that she's all for him.

for the choking agenda..... inception yunho during tour was something else. and just yunho saying 'actually i get jealous easily' in this video...

anyways i'm fully delusional now and this is perfect fodder for my fics, thank you as always 💛

[svenotes]

stay with me | jjk

❝ maybe staying another night at your boyfriend’s isn’t such a bad idea ❞

[ PAIRING ] : jeon jungkook x reader

[ GENRE ] : established relationship au + smut and a smudge of fluff

[ WORD COUNT ] : 6k

[ WARNINGS ] : oral sex, some real good tongue technology on jungkook’s part, fingering, overstimulation, penetrative sex, creampie, LOTS AND LOTS of dirty talk, jk calls oc ‘baby’ and ‘pretty girl’ way too many times, oc worried that her bf is going to get tired of her, some mentions of anxiety, jk is the sweetest bf and even sweeter at sex, there is barely any plot and just a lot of sex im so sorry 

[ AUTHOR’S NOTE ] : i'm on my period and i got horny and then this happened

masterlist | wattpad cross post | ao3 cross post

“No.”

Jungkook shuffles behind you, the bed moaning. “You don’t even know what I’m going to ask.”

You shake your head, failing to suppress your smile as you slip on your thong. However, it does little to hide you from him. Glancing at the mirror, you see him shamelessly stare at your ass, licking his lips before he meets your gaze through the glass with a boyish grin.

You turn around to face him. “You’re going to ask me to stay.”

Jungkook hums, eyes dancing across your bare skin, darkening. Heat rushes to your cheeks as he admires you, confidence swelling in your chest and you take a moment to admire him. He sits at the edge of the bed, naked and yours, white, silk sheets pooled around his lower abdomen.

Your eyes trace over his rigid muscles, and your fingers itch to touch him. Even under the dim light, he is beautiful with his dishevelled hair and swollen lips. You finally meet his gaze and swear your knees almost give out. Heat pools in your stomach when you see the hunger in his gaze, breath hitching in your throat. Your thighs press together reflexively and it doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

“Wrong.” Jungkook pulls you at you until you're straddling him. He cranes his neck to press butterfly kisses along your jaw. “I was going to ask you to not leave.”

“Baby.” You thread your fingers in his hair, tugging at the strands. “That means the same thing.”

“Don't care,” he hums, pressing a firm kiss against your lips. “Don’t go.”

His plea tugs at the strings of your heart. It’s hard to say deny him. It’s especially hard to deny him with his dick hard, prodding against your thigh and his lips coercing you to stay cocooned under the sheets with him. However, the anxiety that builds in your chest is overwhelming and the thoughts that kept you up the night before still linger.

“Jungkook.”

“Unless you’re telling me you're staying, I don’t want to hear it.”

You giggle, leaning down for a sweet kiss. Minutes pass by before you pull away with a burn in your lungs and clouded mind. He chases after your lips, but you tilt your head for his lips to press against the corner of your lips, to his reluctance.

“Baby,” you start, “I need to go home and get new clothes. I’ve spent the entire weekend here and now I have nothing to wear.”

“I like you naked, anyway.” He grins as you slap his chest, failing to bite back your smile. “You can wear my clothes.”

“I have no underwear left.”

“I have a laundry machine.” He traces every curve of your spine, sending shivers down your back. “You’ll have clean clothes tomorrow.”

You brush the long strands of his hair from of his face. “I could grab some new clothes and come back tomorrow.”

“It’s going to be dark soon,” he reasons, unhooking your bra with two fingers and you cock a brow. “Leave in the morning — after breakfast. Dangerous people come out at night, y’know? I don’t want anything bad happening to you.”

“You would’ve won me over with that one if you didn’t unhook my bra,” you remark, pinning him with a look.

“Really? Wait, lemme redo that—!” You let out a heartfelt laugh, throwing your head back and he grins. “Seriously, don't go. I don’t want you walking outside late at night.”

“The sun’s only about to set, I can get home before it gets too dark.”

Jungkook’s brows pinch together, lips curling downwards. “You’re trying so hard to leave. Why?”

Your heart misses a beat and you pray he doesn’t notice the hesitation in your eyes as anxiety swells in your chest. Your worries flood your mind as a reminder as why you must leave.

“You're going to get sick of me if I don't give you some space.”

“I could never get sick of you,” he retorts, holding you closer with a shake of his head. “And I don't need space from you. Wanna keep you in my arms forever.”

Your gaze softens on him and his cheeks are coloured pink. “Kook.”

“I don’t want you to leave — not tonight.” He presses hot, open-mouthed kisses against the column of your throat. “Want you to stay with me.”

You indulge in the idea; one more night. You could stay one more night. You could. However, the fear in your chest does not allow for it. You’re scared — worried if he spends every waking moment with you he’ll soon get tired of you. Perhaps it’s a stupid thought considering you’ve been dating for over a year now, but the dread still lingers. No matter how much you reason with it, it haunts your thoughts — keeps you awake in the middle of the night even as he rests in your embrace.

He drags you from your reverie, pressing a kiss against the sweet spot under your ear and you let him have his way for now.

“Don’t go,” he says again in a whisper, pleading with his eyes. “Please. I want you to stay.”

Before you can answer he leans down to press his lips against yours. His lips meld with your own in a fervent kiss, his hand trailing down your body and tracing the curve of your ass, as he presses himself against your core. You roll your hips against him as the kiss becomes more sloppy and desperate with every press of him against you. Waves of pleasure shoot down to your core, your pussy clenching around nothing.

“Jungkook,” you moan.

His lips trail down the underside of your jaw, pressing a wet kiss against your pulse. A coil of desire begins to tighten at every nudge of his shaft against your nerves, nails digging into the skin on his back in response.

“Ngh — Jungkook, please,” you urge as presses his hips against yours, applying pressure to your bundle of nerves.

“Please, what, baby,” he hums, smirking against your skin. “Use your words.”

“Touch me. Please, ah,” you moan, throwing your head back against the pillow. “Need you to touch me.”

He throws your unhooked bra to the side. Bringing a hand to wrap around your breast, he squeezes it adoring how soft and pliant you are under his touch. You arch your back as his tongue flicks against your perked nipple.

“Are you sure?” He asks, his warm breath fanning across the pebbled bud on your breast. “Thought you had to go, hm?”

“Jungkook—!”

“I won’t stop until I’m satisfied,” he says, hoarse, searching your eyes for an answer. “I won’t let you go until you’re begging me to stop. Do you want that?” He rolls grinds his cock against your core, groaning. “Won't stop ’til I feel your hot, tight pussy milk me for every last drop. Ah, wanna feel you fall apart on my cock, see you all pretty and full of my cum, hear you beg for more and more until you break.”

You gasp at his vulgar words, the hot, white coil tightening in your stomach. You wish so badly for him to be inside of you when you clench around nothing. His lips wrap around your perked nipple, licking and biting you, eliciting the sweetest of moans from your lips as his tongue swirls around your bud.

Your thread your fingers through his hair, pulling at the strands at the nape of his neck how he likes it. He moans against you as you continue to experimentally roll your hips against him, desperate for some friction — for him.

“Do you want that, too, baby?” He asks, leaving a trail of kisses up the valley between your breasts. “Means you can’t go home though. You’ll miss your train if you let me do the things I want.”

“Are you sure you’re not going to get tired of seeing me every day?”

You try to laugh, but your voice comes out strained and full of worry. It doesn't sound like a joke as you hoped, voice shaking as you ask your question. Your heart thunders in your chest and you wonder if he can hear it.

Jungkook stills, his lips brushing against your collarbone. He pulls back to look at you, brows furrowed and eyes full of confusion.

“You think I’m getting tired of you?”

You look away from his piercing gaze and he doesn’t like it. Taking your face in his hands, he urges you to meet his eyes and you find yourself meeting his concerned gaze.

“Talk to me,” he says, softly.

You take a deep breath, eyes flickering to your hands resting against his chest. Mustering the courage to open up, you meet his gaze again as he patiently waits for your response, a thumb rubbing soothingly against the soft skin of your cheek.

“I—I’m scared that you're going to realize I’m not as great as you think I am,” you begin softly, voice shaking. “I’m worried if you spend too much time with me you'll get sick of me. I’m scared you’re going to get tired of me and leave me.” You pause, noticing the bewildered expression on his face. “I wanted to leave so I could give you space in case you wanted it. I didn’t — I don’t want to suffocate you.”

He’s silent for a long moment and you know it’s because he’s collecting his thoughts. However, a part of you still worries. You worry it's because he realizes he has grown tired of your presence. You worry he realizes that you have too much emotional baggage and doesn’t want to deal with it. You worry because you have a hard time accepting someone’s love.

“I haven’t done a good job at being your boyfriend,” he starts and your eyes widen, “if you’re thinking I’m going to get sick of you.”

“No,” you reply immediately, cupping his face. “It's not you. It’s my insecurities — my anxiety. You’re more than perfect. You say and do all the right things, Kook. I just… I’m scared one day you’re going to get tired of me — tired of constantly reassuring me, sick of having me around all the time and clinging to you.”

You’ve talked to Jungkook about it before. He knows about the thoughts that keep you up at night — the worries that gnaw at you until you’re in tears. He knows and he stays. He tries to help you in every way he possibly can. He holds you when you need it, whispers reassuring words, comforts you no matter when or where. He’s there for you in every possible way because he loves you.

But sometimes your anxiety gets the best of you — especially when it comes to him.

“Baby,” he starts and it’s hard to meet his eyes, “I will never get tired of you. I will never get sick of you.”

“You don’t know that—!”

He cuts you off, “But I do. I know because I can’t get enough of you. I don’t think I ever will. Every moment you’re not with me all I want is you. All I can ever think about is you. You drive me crazy and you don’t even know it. All I ever want is you beside me, in my arms, in my house with me. I always want you right beside me — right where you belong.” A pause. “You know I love you, right?”

“I love you, too.” Your response is almost immediate and he smiles, leaning to press a soft kiss against your lips.

“Do you know how much I love your laugh?” You’re silent. “Do you know how much I love making you smile; how much I love waking up beside you and falling asleep with you in my arms. How much I adore your victory dances when you win games and your snoring—!”

“Hey!” You complain, but there’s a smile curling on your lips to match his.

“I love you so much — every single part of you — I couldn’t possibly ever get sick you. I love you so much I don't ever want to let you go.”

Hesitantly, you look at him and let the sincerity of his words sink in. His eyes are full of adoration for you and your heart is enveloped by a sudden warmth only he can elicit in you. Lifting your hand between your bodies and extend your pink finger to him.

“Promise?”

He doesn't hesitate to wrap his small finger around yours before sealing the promise with a sweet kiss. “Promise.”

“Okay,” you say, gnawing on your bottom lip. “I wasn’t being too clingy this weekend? I wasn’t bothering you or being annoish—!”

“I’m going to stop you before you say more things I don’t like.” He smothers your face in his hands, eyes narrowed. “Remember, I wanted you here this weekend, too. And I want you to spend another night because I love you and I’m going to miss you when you’re gone.”

“Okay,” you murmur, shyly. “I’ll stay the night.”

“Good. I want my pretty girl beside me,” he chuckles under his breath, tucking a loose curl behind your ear. You notice his eyes grow softer, an emotion you cannot decipher hidden behind the awestruck in his eyes that leaves butterflies in its wake. “Move in with me.”

You blink. “What?”

“I—!" His eyes are wide as if he didn’t expect himself to say the word himself. His eyes flicker downwards before they meet yours again with purpose. “I want you to move in with me.” A deep breath. “My apartments too big for just one person and I miss you whenever you’re gone. You spend more time here than you do at your own place anyway. Move in with me.”

You search eyes and all you're met with is sincerity. “Are you sure?”

“Yea,” his smile is soft but it makes your heart swell. “Yea, I'm sure. I’m tired of waking up every morning and not having you beside me.”

“Moving in?” You ask, uncertainly.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you for a while, but I wasn’t sure if you were ready. And you don’t have to give me an answer tonight or tomorrow. I want you to think about it and if you’re not ready, that’s okay because I’ll wait for you. You’re worth the wait.”

“Kook—!"

“I already know I want to spend the rest of my life with you, ___.” Your eyes widen at the declaration and his cheeks are coloured pink despite the bright smile on his lips. “I know we’re not there yet, but I want you every single day for the rest of my life. So while I wait for you to be my wife, I want to move in with you.”

Jungkook momentarily stills before he realizes the soft pressure against his lips is your own, smiling into the kiss as he closes his eyes. He kisses you tenderly and sweet, but there is desperation behind them. You’ve kissed Jungkook thousands of times but he still makes your head dizzy as he slips his tongue between the seams of your lips. You’re not sure how long you stay like that, your fingers tangled in his hair and his own pulling you closer towards him.

He pulls back first, a string of saliva connecting you before he places another firm kiss against your lips. “Was that a yes?”

“Yea,” you breathe, grinning. “Yea, it was.”

He flips you onto the bed with practiced ease, your back hitting the mattress as he hovers over you. You giggle as he places butterfly kisses all over your neck and shoulder.

“I love you so much,” he breathes, face hidden in the crook of your neck. “My pretty, pretty girl.”

“Jungkook.”

“Yes.”

“I want to cum.”

He laughs, pulling away. “Shameless, too.”

He leaves a trail of kisses down your body until he’s a hair's breadth from your cunt. His fingers brush against your closed slit, arousal leaking through the flimsy material as he presses against your core. Your breathing becomes erratic when he presses a kiss against your clothed lips.

“Baby — fuck.” Your eyes roll back as he drags his tongue to your clit, the friction from the fabric on your nerves driving you crazy. “St-stop, agh, teasing.”

“You’re not in the position to make rules, baby,” he says, rubbing against your clothed clit. “I’m going to take my time with you — have you begging for me to taste your cunt. And when you do, I’ll use my tongue to lick every little drop of sweetness from your pussy. Make you come on my mouth over and over until you’re begging me to stop.”

You whine, “Please.”

He teases you, moving your underwear aside just enough to lick a long stripe from your pussy to your clit. Groaning, he meets your eyes as your underwear slides back in place.

“You taste so good, baby,” he purrs, pressing a kiss against your thigh. “And you're so fucking wet. Bet I could slide right into you.” His fingers are back on you, brushing against your clit but not enough to do anything. “You want me, baby?”

Your arch your back in response to his next ministration. “Yes.”

His touch is gone just like that and you whine, brows furrowed in frustration. He snaps the waistband of your thong against your skin with a smirk.

“Beg.”

“Jungkook—!”

You’re about to complain, but he cuts you off. “Beg or I’ll fuck myself using that pretty mouth and leave you dry. Tell me, baby, how bad do you want me?”

“Please, baby, I need you.” Your hooded eyes meet his heated gaze. “Need your fingers, mouth, cock — you. I need you so bad. Wanna feel you so bad, please.”

“Could be better,” he muses before he presses a kiss against your clothed core. “But I’m impatient.” He taps your hips. “Up.”

Helping you out of your underwear, he brings his face towards your core, blowing against your opening. His nose brushes against your thigh as he places another kiss against the soft skin, hooking your legs over his shoulder.

“You’re soaking and I’ve barely touched you.”

You hum, contentedly when his tongue brushes against your slit. “All for you.”

“My pretty girl,” he rasps, nose brushing against clit. “So wet and needy for me.”

Before you can complain again you feel his hot, wet tongue press harshly against your lips before he drags it up to your clit. He swirls the rosy muscle on your clit, teasingly until your moaning and breathless. Without warning, his lips envelop around your throbbing bud, sucking in full force you scream his name as your hips buck. Warm hands hold your waist down as he hums, tongue licking against your entrance again. For a moment he dips inside you, moaning at the taste of your sweetness before going back to suck at your clit the way you love it and you see stars behind your lids.

He repeats the motion over and over, swirling his warm tongue around your swollen bud and sucking it in a way that has you forgetting your own name. Against your slick lips, he whispers praises, before he slips two fingers into your warm cavern and curling his fingers inside you.

“O-oh, fuck—!” you gasp, fingers tangled in his hair. “Don — mmngh — don’t stop, ngh.”

“Gotchu,” he grins when he finds your sweet spot. “Does it feel good, baby?”

“S-so good.” Your nails scrape against his scalp and he emits a low groan. “So fucking good, fuck.”

His fingers continue their onslaught at a new pace, brushing roughly against the spot that leaves you breathless. His lips are back on your clit like a hot suction and you scream out from the overwhelming pleasure.

“So fucking tight,” he muses, pressing a kiss against your bud. “Your pretty cunt's taking my fingers so well, baby. You sound so pretty while I fuck you with my fingers, but you sound prettier when you cum, you know that?”

Your head is spinning from euphoria, ecstasy and the lack of oxygen, but it doesn't matter — not when he's bringing you closer and closer to your release.

“Mngh — J-Jungkook!” He sets a new violent pace that leaves you overwhelmed as he hits your sweet spot. His name falling out your lips like a broken record while he licks at your juices, groaning against your cunt when you fist his hair and pull him closer to you. An electrifying coil in your lower abdomen tightens, building further when his ministrations bring you closer and closer to your peak. You clench around his fingers, bucking your hips further into his hand, whimpering as you say, “God, yes — ngh, fuck. I’m so close.”

“Cum for me.”

Euphoric pleasure slowly, yet surely floods through your body, his lips enveloped around your sensitive bud as he curls his fingers against your soft spot. With one last flick of his tongue, you fall off the euphoric cliff as he laps at your juices. He presses harsh, but sure circles against your clit with his thumb as you ride out your orgasm. Your hip spams, thighs trembling as he coaxes you through an indescribable, mind-blowing release that leaves your vision white.

His lips don’t leave your nether regions, wincing at the oversensitivity. You tug at his strands of hair but he shakes his head.

“Not done with you yet,” he whispers, licking the fruits of his efforts once his fingers slip out of your dripping cunt. “Wanna have you crying my name. Wanna show you how much I love you. Will you let me?”

You lift your head from the pillow, leaning on your elbows as you sit up. He holds your stare, smirking before he flattens his tongue and drags it up your slit to your sensitive bud and you shudder. His grip on your thighs tightens to keep you in place before he lowers his head between your thighs, the hot suction back on your clit.

“Agh, Kookie.” You throw your head back, chest heaving. “I’m too—” Gasp. “—sensitive.”

“You can take it.” A kiss against your nether lips. “Wanna show you how much I want you — how much I love the taste of you. I’m not letting you go until you’re begging me to stop. You up for that? Want me to remind you how good I can make you feel?” He dips his tongue back in you and you hiss. “Can you be my pretty, little slut, baby, hm? You wanna make me happy, don’t you?”

“Y-yea.”

You feel him smile against your thigh. “Who does this pretty pussy belong to?”

“You.”

“That’s right.” A rewarding stroke his tongue. “This pussy belongs to me. You’re mine. This pussy is mine. Will you let me play with this pretty cunt, baby?”

He watches you with hunger in his eyes and the desire to have him use you as he pleases to seek his own pleasure overcomes you.

He brushes his tongue against your swollen nub, and you gasp, “Yes.”

“Pretty girl,” he hums and you’re immediately wrapped around his finger. “Do you want to be my perfect little slut?” You nod, meeting his heated gaze, a wolfish grin curling on his lips. “You're too good to me, you know that, baby?” He teases his tongue around your entrance, eliciting a whine from you. “My pretty girl.” Lips wrap around your clit and you scream, body falling limp against his sheets. “My perfect, little slut.”

And with that his tongue is on you, violently bringing you to another release. You are oxygen and he is a man deprived, burying himself deeper in your cunt. A growl emits from the back of his throat as you thread your fingers through his hair, your winces from oversensitivity shifting to moans of pleasure. He finds home between your thighs, reluctant to leave as he licks at every drop of sweetness you grant him. Jungkook brings you to release over and over until your tears stream down your face and you find it hard to take the pressure of his tongue against your overly-sensitive nerves.

With one last wave of pleasure washing over you, he pulls away. His cheeks are coated with a warm fuchsia, lips parted as he looks at your cunt with a predatory gaze. From his nose to his chin, he is covered in a sheen of your juices, eyes blown out as they meet your own.

He adores your fucked out expression, your chest heaving while you catch your breath. His tongue swipes at the remnants of your release on his swollen lips, the back of his hand wiping the excess off his chin before he leans down to catch you in a short kiss. When he pulls away, his eyes search yours for any sign that you want to stop, but he finds nothing.

“You did so well, baby,” he whispers against your lips. “How are you feeling?”

“You told me you would make me pretty and full of your cum.” His gaze hardens on you, dark eyes trained on your own. “‘M not full of your cum yet. Can you fix that?”

“Such a greedy slut.” A smile grows on his lips as he leans down to your neck, nipping at the skin. “I made you come on my mouth so many times, but you still want more. Greedy, needy slut.”

“For you.” You wrap your legs around his waist as you grind yourself against his dick. “Only for you.”

He groans, hips rolling in rhythm with yours. “You like being my slut?”

“I like being yours.”

He stills for all of a second before he breaks out into a grin, laughing as he presses a kiss against your lips. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

You wrap your arms around his neck and pulls his lips back on yours. As he leans towards you, his shaft presses against your folds. You’re barely able to focus on the kissing as you lose yourself in the overwhelming sensation as he grinds against you, coating his length with your juices.

A knot forms in your lower abdomen like a hot, tight coil wanting to snap. You can already feel yourself get needy at the feeling of his length against your folds, but before you can act upon it—!

“Tsk.” Jungkook clicks his tongue against his teeth as he catches you trying to slip his cock past your folds. “You want my cock?”

“Mhm,” you hum in a daze, eyes lazily meeting his. “Want you inside me.”

“It’s not going to be that easy, baby.” You furrow your eyes at that, mouth opening in protest. “Beg for it. Tell me how badly you want to be fucked by my cock.”

You frown. “That’s not happening—!”

There’s a teasing pressure against your pussy that makes you gasp, eyes rolling back as your mouth hangs open. A soft whimper escapes from you as he adjusts his cock to rub against you, mixing his pre-cum with your juices.

“What was that?” He asks, smirking and you glare at him through your lashes. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be. I can give you everything you want if you just—” he leans down until his lips brush against your ear, his finger grazing over your sensitive clit and you hiss, pushing your hips against his hands for more, “—beg.”

Again, you ignore his request but more so because he aligns his cock to prod against your cunt and you cannot focus on anything but your need to have him buried in you. You can feel the sudden weight in the pit of your stomach as you lick your lips.

“So hungry for my cock,” he grunts. “You want something to fill you up so good you forget your name, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you cry at the lack of attention on your sex. “Please.”

“Please what?” He asks, lips curling because he knows he has you exactly where he wants. “Words.”

“Please fuck me,” you give in, frustrated as your walls clench around nothing. You’re hungry for more — body craving more of what he’s willing to offer; of the undeniable pleasure he would provide if you just gave in. “God, I want your cock — need it. Need you to fill me up, need you to fuck me — nngh!” You moan, body going rigid against his as his head rubs against your swollen bud, fingers tweaking at your perked nipples. “Want you so bad, baby. Wanna be your perfect, little slut so bad. Have me however you want, I don’t care — do whatever you want to me. I don’t fucking care.” You grind yourself against him, chest heaving as the desire for him to fill you up becomes desperate. “Just fuck me, baby, please.”

“That’s my girl.” He rewards you with a kiss. “I’ll fuck you, baby. I’ll fill you up with my cock. Gonna bury my cock deep inside your slick cunt. Gonna stretch out your walls so good no other cock will be good enough for you — no other cock could ever fill you up like mine. No one will fuck you better than me.”

“That’s right, baby,” you urge. “Make me yours.”

Painfully, slow he slips his cock into your warm cunt, groaning. He’s big, in both length and grith, causing a slight burn accompanied by an abundance of pleasure. Moans fill the room as he fills you up to the brim, inch by inch until he no longer can. Your hot, slick walls clench around him and he groans, nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck.

“Stop that,” he growls, brows furrowed in concentration. “You’re so fucking tight, ah. If keep you do that I’m going to fucking blow my load.”

“Do your worst, baby,” you say, eyes hazy. “I want you to ruin me.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice, unsheathing himself from your cunt until the tip is nestled an inch within your entrance and then slams himself back into you. A lewd moan erupts from both of you as the stars decorate your vision. You arch your back, pressing your chest against his, eyes rolling back every time he sinks back into you. With each thrust and roll of your hips, he rubs himself against the spot that leaves ecstasy rushing through your veins.

“You’re so, agh, hot like this.” You can feel the pressure build in your stomach, the coil tightening with every brush of him against your sweet spot. “So hungry for my cock.”

“Feel so good in me,” you moan, watching as his dick slips in and out of your cunt. “Fill me up, ah, so good. Fuck, take what’s yours, baby.”

He visibly shudders at that before latching his lips on your perked nipple. His tongue laps around the perked bud on your breast, spare hand coming to knead the other before he swaps breasts.

You groan, dragging your nails down his back, sure to leave a mark. “Oh, fuck.”

Your eyes roll back as the head of his cock brushes roughly against the spot that has you seeing stars. He has your toes curling, his name coming out like a mantra as he ravishes your body, moaning into your neck. A knot of pleasure tightens, burning like a hot coil and he knows with the way you pulse around his dick that you’re so, very close.

You can taste the bits of your orgasm on the tip of your tongue, but it’s still not enough. You need so much more and he hears it in your pleas.

“Puh—please,” you breathe as you feel him press his lips against your pulse. “Hard—oh, my God.” You barely get the words out of your mouth before he’s ploughing into you with a force that knocks the air out of your lungs. “Ngh, like that, fuck. S-so good, baby. Feels so good.”

“Yeah,” he groans, biting your neck. “So good to me, fuck. Such a good fucking girl.” At that, you squeeze around him and he lets out another lewd moan. “You gonna cum?”

All you manage is a nod and a sharp breath of air. His hand slithers down your body to find your clit and he presses against it harshly, eliciting a hiss from you. It’s oversensitive from the multiple times he made you cum on his tongue, but he doesn’t care because he knows you love it. He’s quick to rub circles around the bud and smirks to himself at your vocal response.

“Don’t — ah — stop.” You feel the coil burn more, pleasure building in your body like rapid fire. So fucking close to your next release, even as the sensitive bud stings. “Gonna — ah — gonna cum.”

His lips are eager for yours, pressing against them in a searing, hot kiss as he tries to coax the orgasm from you with his sinful lips. You can taste yourself on him and hum. His release threatens to unravel before him, but he fights against it so he can feel you wrap around his cock when you cum. He lifts himself off you to admire the blissful look on your face as you slowly become undone before him.

“Pretty girl — ngh,” he whispers, hot breath fanning over your cheeks and you whimper. “All mine. Come — ah — for me, hm? Come all over my cock, baby.”

Sweat drips down both your bodies, your walls clenching around him as he fucks you hard. Every thrust leaves his head nudging against your sweet spot, clouding your vision white. A fire builds within you again, leaving you to gasp for air between every moan.

“Kook, I — ah, I can’t come—” Moan. “I can’t come again.”

Softly rubbing against your clit, he presses a chaste kiss on your lips. “You can take it. You’ve been such a good slut for me, tonight, baby. You can do it. Come around my cock for me.”

And with his words and one last thrust, the burning coil snaps, pleasure rushing through your body in euphoric waves. Your veins flood with ecstasy and he soon follows, his seed coating your walls. Overwhelming pleasure unravels within you both like a wildfire, spreading across your bodies as he continues his pace to ride out your highs. His lips find yours once again, pressing a lazy kiss against yours as you both ride out the last remnants of your orgasms.

Once he’s caught his breath, he slowly slips out of you, lifting himself to admire the way his seed spills out of your pretty cunt. You feel his cum spill out your cunt, down your thighs and onto the sheets beneath you.

“Such a pretty cunt,” he says aloud and your lips curl into a tired smile. “So dirty and full of my cum.”

He leaves the bed, heading towards the washroom to grab a warm cloth and you lay there, tired. Exhaustion seeps itself into your bones, lids heavy as they flutter shut. You don’t hear Jungkook return, but rather feel him when a warm cloth brushes against your swollen pussy, cleaning you up. He’s swift to clean you up the best he could before attending to himself and putting the rag away. Maneuvering over you, he brings the blanket over your bodies, nudging you to lay beside him.

“You were so good, baby,” he whispers as he pulls you closer towards him. “Always so good for me.”

“Mhm.”

He chuckles. “Are you tired?”

“Yea.” You nuzzle against his chest finding comfort in listening to his heartbeat. “I honestly could’ve knocked out after that first orgasm.”

He laughs, pressing a sweet kiss against your forehead. “Sleep. We have a long day tomorrow.”

“We do?” You furrow your brows. “Why? What’s tomorrow?”

“I’m gonna help you pack your boxes so you can move in by the end of the week.” You laugh along with him, throwing a leg over his own as you get comfortable. “Are you sure? You really ready to move in?”

Unable to hide your smile, you press a chaste kiss to his chest. “Yea, I’m sure.”

"You’ll be stuck with me for a long time,” he hums, exhaustion washing over him. “I won’t be letting you go for a while.”

"You better not.” Your smile quickly turns to a frown when you finally notice. “Jungkook?”

“Yea.”

“I'm hungry.”

all rights reserved © 2020 svenotes

[harry-writings]

The Happy Years

- The one where Y/n is unhappy in her engagement and finds an escape with her former lover

Part 1

Masterlist

(A/N) IM SO EARLY IM SORRY I KNOW I SAID 9PM BUT IM DONE SO MUCH SOONER THAN EXPECTED OKAY IM SORRY LOVE YALL <3333

-

Three years later.

The heaviest of thunderstorms hit the city of London by early morning, the loss of the sun and the gloom of the day leaving Harry bedridden for the first time in weeks.

He always tried his best to avoid days like this — trapped within his home, caged in memories that make every step he takes heavier than the last, wishing for just the smallest taste of salvation — because it’s when he’s left alone between these walls that the darkest parts of him come out, ravaging, feeding off of what’s left of him.

Rain reminds him of the day Y/n left. Thunder reminds him of Malibu. Malibu reminds him of all the things he ever used to do with her — on the bed, on the couch, in the hallways.

There’s no escape from what he’s done.

But when the time hits two in the afternoon and Harry still hasn’t gotten up from under his blankets, he decides that doing even the bare minimum with his day would be some sort of accomplishment.

He decided to get the mail.

And what a terrible decision that was, Harry thinks, as he sees an envelope addressed to him in unfamiliar handwriting by an unfamiliar name. Something about it upsets his stomach and throws him off key, knowing in his heart that he shouldn’t open it, but it’s heavy in his hands and he can’t ignore the temptation of it all.

Another terrible decision he’s made.

Please join us for the wedding of Alfie Lexington & Y/n Y/l/n.

Saturday, September 25, 2021 at 3:00 PM.

Dartmouth House. Mayfair, London.

The downpour feels like a drizzle compared to the cries Harry lets out as he reads the wedding invitation, his worst nightmare playing out right before his very eyes and if he wasn’t already so fucked up, he’d try his best to ignore it.

Y/n played her move. She wants him to strike back. She wants to win and watch him lose more than he already has. That’s all she has left of him.

His lips tremble as he sniffles, the invitation shaking between his palms as he lets reality sink in.

Y/n is getting married.

Y/n is happy.

Y/n is going to spend the rest of her life with somebody other than him — somebody that was once his friend.

It's unfathomable to him. The connection him and Y/n shared was unlike any other. They were drawn to each other instantaneously, their feelings of infatuation never once dying down because it was simply incapable of doing so.

They put each other first. They made each other better people, helped each other grow through all the droughts and winter days, and continuously found ways to become closer to one another. They were so comfortable and confident in their company, and so every day they spent together within those four years had never been anything less than pure happiness.

They were meant to be. He didn’t see it then, but he sees it now, and now that’s all he sees because everything he sees is her. 

To know that it’s no longer the same for her kills him from the inside out, because now she really doesn’t belong to him.

He lets out a sound that can only resemble what would be a whine and a groan made together, sobbing as he flips the invitation around, only to find another saved date he just doesn’t have the heart to see — an engagement party for all the invited to join.

He’s so overwhelmed with devastation that his brain becomes fogged, his body disassociating from itself as he rips the invitation apart, growling and screaming and wailing as he just keeps ripping it and ripping it and ripping it.

He’s destroying it in the same way it destroyed him until he gives up, slamming his fists down upon the counter, losing control of himself beneath all his pain and regrets. This wasn’t how any of this was supposed to happen. This isn’t what was supposed to come from this life.

He’s barely surviving as it is.

And he just needs to see her again.

But he doesn’t know how he’d react once he does. Whether he’d want to kiss her, to hate her, to love her all over again, he doesn’t know. His entire world is collapsing and he doesn’t know how to save it from falling apart. He can’t take any more risks when it comes to her.

But what is love without fear and danger? What would it say about him if he were to walk away from this now instead of trying just once more with her?

So with a heavy heart and a sobbing chest, he doesn’t take his chances.

And Y/n simply just couldn’t believe the sight in front of her.

Harry is standing at her doorstep, soaked head to toe, shaking in his bones. His lips are a light shade of blue and his eyes an alarming shade of red, somehow wetter than the rest of him. And as the thunder rumbles beneath her feet and nearly sends her to her knees, it goes to show her that he really is here, standing at her doorstep, and it’s not just a dream.

And she must have been struck by the shock of his presence because her tongue is suddenly tied, her throat dry, her lips fallen open yet forgetting how to breathe.

She just looks at him, soaking him all in, trying to understand what exactly led him back to the biggest mistake of his life.

“Harry?”

“So that was your way of getting back at me?! After three fucking years?!”

Her mouth falls open in disbelief, her eyebrows furrowing in defense. How he could possibly accuse her of something she didn’t even do — considering she hadn’t made any attempts to reach out to him since the moment she left Malibu — makes her feel even more betrayed than before.

He should know her better than this. He should know her from the inside out at this point, but she supposed three years really is a long time, because she’s never seen this side of Harry before. He seems so different to her now.

“Don’t you dare come to my home and try to make an ass out of me! Since when have I ever been the kind of person to get back at somebody?!”

Harry stutters for a moment, his anger and jealousy and hurt blinding him from the truth that Y/n never goes out of her way to get even. Her heart is too big, but he can’t shake this feeling that the person who sent him the invitation was out to do him harm.

And nobody had more of a reason to hurt him than Y/n.

“So the wedding invitation, then? You had nothing to do with that?”

He speaks it condescending, as if he didn’t believe a word she said, but that’s not what it comes down to. It comes down to the fact that she has moved on and found herself somebody so much better than him, and he has no one.

She shakes her head as if to gather her thoughts, confused about how he even found out about the wedding considering Harry quit the firm just hours after he left Malibu, leaving him with no contact to anybody that had any string tied back to her.

“Of course I had something to do with the wedding invitations! I’m the one getting married!”

She pauses then, her cold demeanor dropping into something Harry wants to say resembles a hint of relief, but it’s much more cross than that, much more serious, and he doesn’t expect what’s coming next.

“That’s what this is about, isn’t it? Me getting married?” She speaks it through a small, bitter laugh. “I should have known the only way you’d fight for me was by being with somebody else. You never could stand being second to me, as ironic as that is.”

“I could give two shits about you getting married.” He lies through clenched teeth, his stomach sick at the mere thought of it. “But I do have an issue with you inviting me to your wedding after walking out on me.”

Her head snaps back up to him.

“Wait, Harry, what are you talking about?” She frowns, trying to make sense of it. “I didn’t invite you to the wedding.”

Why would she?

They are no longer friends, no longer much of anything, so for her to take time out of her day to sabotage anything but herself wouldn’t feel right to her. Besides, it was her decision to never speak to Harry again, she wouldn’t ever take her word back.

Harry frowns then, too, because she isn’t faking her emotions. She’d always been terrible at doing so, and the way her eyes scream and beg for answers can’t go ignored. He, again, feels like the absolute worst person in the world.

“Then who did?” He whispers.

There’s only one possible answer.

-

Seven months ago.

Alfie insisted that he and Y/n had a New Year’s Eve party. They’d never had one before, as Y/n much preferred staying in with a bottle of champagne and celebrating with a lobster dinner and late night reruns of The Honeymooners.

But Alfie was persistent. Very persistent. Too persistent. So persistent she had no choice but to give in, and she just didn’t understand why.

She didn’t understand it as days passed and all Alfie talked about was the stupid party. She didn’t understand it when he rented out one of the most expensive venues. She didn’t understand it when he laid awake the entire night before, too anxious to fall asleep. She didn’t understand it when he asked her to wear his favorite dress.

She wished that she did the moment it happened.

The clock was ticking.

“Five!”

Alfie reached for Y/n’s hand.

“Four!”

Y/n noticed something shift in the air.

“Three!”

Alfie reached his other hand into his pocket.

“Two!”

Y/n knew what was coming.

“One!”

Alfie dropped to one knee.

“Happy new year!”

It was every girl’s dream — the fireworks, the balcony, the view, the prince charming that would whisk her away to spend the rest of eternity together — yet it couldn’t have felt any more like a nightmare.

It wasn’t what she wanted. Not then, not ever before, not once during the span of their relationship, and time seemed to have stopped moving forward.

There she was, in the center of the universe as everybody stopped and stared, gasping and gushing at the sight of a man on his knees for a woman. An act of vulnerability, of love, of submission, yet it didn’t feel like any of those things.

It all felt so wrong.

She began to cry.

To everyone else, it seemed as though she was crying from happiness. Her devoted boyfriend of two years finally asked for her hand in marriage, to be the mother of his children, to spend the rest of their lives tied together by a vow, unable to be broken. So it was no surprise when everybody let out an awe of endearment, nobody (not even Alfie) knowing her well enough to distinguish the difference between her happiest and saddest cries.

Harry would have known.

And that was all it seemed to come back to in that very moment in time.

Harry.

What she would have given to feel his hands on her waist, blocking her body from view with his, taking her away from all the unwanted eyes on her fragile body. He would have done it in a heartbeat because he always did — he always found a way to help her escape her horrifying realities, even the sweetest of ones.

What she would have given for it to be him kneeling in front of her… this all would have been so different.

Her lover of two years was promising her a future, yet all she could think about was somebody stuck in her past, yet so heavily prevalent in her present.

But she couldn’t say no. How could she when everybody expected the answer he was looking for, ready to toast to the bride and groom? How could she when phones captured the beginning of the rest of their lives, ready to share for all to see?

But she couldn’t say yes, either.

She settled for a nod of her head.

The crowd cheered, some clapping, others clinking their glasses, lovers kissing. She only caught a glimpse of those celebratory moments before everything around her drowned in her tears, voices of congratulations so distant beneath her heavy, hyperventilated breaths.

Alfie embraced her, then, and she felt his laughs of euphoria rumbling in his chest as hers met his, and she couldn’t even pretend.

She rested her chin on his shoulder, her expression void of everything that she should have been feeling. And her eyes went blank as they caught a reflection of her through the balcony windows — the last time she ever saw herself for what she truly was.

-

That same day.

Y/n was a mess waiting for Alfie to get home.

Seeing Harry again filled her with so many different emotions, she didn’t know which one to start with. She wanted to cry, wanted to scream, wanted to destroy everything and everybody that dared get in her way, she wanted to disappear. Yet she had done none of it. All she could manage to do was pace around her bedroom, biting at her nails and getting lost in her scrambled thoughts, her mind and body moving at a million miles an hour, unable to be tamed.

This is precisely the reason Y/n never wanted to see him again.

He does things to her, he always has. She hardly has any control over herself whenever it comes to him and she fucking hates it. No matter how sad, how mad, how hurt or how upset, there was something about his presence that made her see past all of that. It saddens her how much she used to love it.

But her moods swing at her relentlessly, the sadness turning to anger because yes, she is angry. She’s angry that he still has this much of a hold on her, especially after everything he’s done, and she’s even more angry that he hasn’t yet apologized for it.

Because it was all getting better. The constant wondering about what he’s doing or who he’s with and the continuous string of thought always leading back to him was all finally falling into its place. She was finally finding her place.

And then her fiancè did this.

When she hears the bedroom door open, she hardly gives Alfie any time before she starts a fight, wishing nothing more than to take it all out on him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Y/n fumes, everything tainted red with anger as she looks into his eyes and feels nothing but hurt and betrayal. “Inviting Harry to our wedding behind my back?! Do you not remember what he did to me?! Do you not realize what you just did?!”

He frowns, not sarcastic or menacing, but he genuinely seems upset that she’d ever even ask him such a question.

“Y/n…” Alfie sighs, and she suddenly hates the way he’s always managed to remain calm in the most heated of arguments. She wants to start a war with it, to go for the kill, to make him crawl and beg and bleed for her forgiveness. “Of course I remember what he did to you, which is exactly why I did it.”

Her hands turn to fists.

“Are you kidding me?!”

“I wanted to hurt him for hurting you! God damn it, Y/n… after finding out what he did to you all I could think about was ripping him to pieces and that urge never left me, especially after we got together.”

He slumps himself down at the foot of the bed, loosening the tie around his neck, almost too aggressively. And if she wasn’t so out of her mind enraged, she would try her hardest to understand his side.

But there is no excuse for this. There’s no excuse for any of it.

“So now you use our marriage as a way to get back at him?!”

Y/n may not love Alfie the right way, but she had never stooped so low to treat her marriage like a weapon, ready to strike at any moment in time. It wasn’t something she used to inflict pain onto anybody else but herself, no matter how hard it had gotten.

And though she once believed their engagement meant more to him than it ever meant to her, she can’t help but feel as if that’s just another lie she’d been forced to live with.

He went behind her back deliberately to hurt somebody even she never intended on hurting. He knew what was to come of this and yet here he is, letting it all happen for satisfaction’s sake.

It feels like all she will ever be is used.

“Is that what this is to you?! A point on your scoreboard?! A big ‘fuck you, i won!’?”

“Isn’t that what this is for you?”

“Don’t you dare turn this into my problem.” She spits through clenched teeth, punching at the dresser beside her with the side of her fist, face burning with fury. “I’m not the one sending him our wedding invitations!”

“And I’m not the one staying up past midnight scrolling through pictures of him on my phone!”

Her mouth shuts then, her hard and pressed features softening at the unexpected turn of the conversation.

She had been looking at pictures of Harry almost every night since Malibu, she just never expected to get caught. She could physically feel Alfie fall asleep against her, so she always waited thirty minutes before she took her phone out, looking back at everything that once was.

It was the only thing she ever truly wanted.

It’s what she kept going back to — a habit that came as naturally as telling her best friend about her day, about her perspectives on the world, about the lack of guidance in her life — like a phone call at the end of the day as a way to unwind.

She had make believe conversations with him as she scrolled endlessly through her favorite photo album, the thickness of his accent engrained in her mind as she thought of everything he’d say to her if he were still around. And if that wasn’t enough, she’d live vicariously through the memories they made together and replay those moments all night, until they lulled her to sleep.

“I told you from day one that —”

“That you’re never going to let him go, I know. I know that he was the love of your life at one point but this is just pathetic now, Y/n. Absolutely nothing short of pathetic.” She frowns, his choice of words making her heart sink because he knows exactly how to do it. And he sighs, rubbing his hands up and down his face as if he were in agony. “I didn’t know this was the kind of shit I was signing up for.”

Her eyes brim with tears but don’t offer anything more, only upset that he couldn’t find a way to understand her when she’s trying so hard. But he never has and he never will — not in the way she needs him to and not in the way that could ever make this work.

“I’m not sorry for what I did.” She confesses sadly, her bottom lip between her teeth and fingers picking the skin around her nails as she tries, yet again, to make him see. “He was my best friend before he was anything else to me. There was a time in my life where he was all I had.”

And though her heart is still with Harry in every aspect of every way, it’s true. He was her best friend and that’s what she misses the most. There was so much to him that meant so much to her and none of it could ever be replaced, not even by Alfie.

“You know I love you but you also know I'm not the same woman you fell for in Malibu. I’m my worst self when I don't have him around and your favorite parts of me don’t exist without him. Don’t pretend like you don’t see that.”

His hands twitch against his lap, his shoulders slumping because it’s true. The most lively and brightest parts of herself had died the first step she’d taken away from him that night. Sure, she’s still the most resilient and beautiful woman Alfie had ever known, but she’s never been the same since then.

She’s still in love with him and there’s nothing for him to do about it. He didn’t see it until he saw the way she sulked over Harry that night, all those years later, with a diamond ring on her finger that just seemed to weigh her down even more.

None of this means anything to her.

“It’s been three years, Y/n. Just find yourself a new best friend and move the fuck on already. I’m getting sick and tired of this.”

What he doesn’t understand is that she is, too.

-

Two weeks later.

Y/n shouldn’t be this alone at her own engagement party, but it’s the impossible things that always manage to find their way to her.

The party consisted mostly of Alfie’s friends, considering Y/n is much more of an introvert than he is and the small number of friends she does have seemed to have disappeared within the sea of unfamiliar faces. She felt lost for a moment, but when she finally found her fiancè, he had been too invested in his own friends to spare her a single one of his glances, and it soon became disheartening to wait for him to acknowledge her when the thought of her never once crossed his mind.

So she ends up on the steps of their back porch, sipping on a glass of champagne, overlooking the garden, breathing in the silence.

She closes her eyes and succumbs herself to the summer breeze, wondering what she has to do to find a single glimmer of happiness. Her life is just so sad, a labyrinth of betrayal and hurt and heartbreak she can’t ever escape.

Darkness is all she sees when she thinks about her future. There is nothing for her to look forward to. Every day will come and go the same way it has been — unwanted, dreaded, wasted, another failed attempt of contentment. It all seems so hopeless to her now.

The champagne doesn’t stand a chance when it comes to a lonely Y/n, and it isn’t nearly enough to curb her mood, either as she huffs at her empty glass, wishing she had taken another.

She sets it down next to her, placing both her elbows on her knees, getting lost in her world of sorrow, long forgotten by her lover.

Harry is the first one to find her.

He had parked his car across the street from her shared home with Alfie, and even from his distance he knew Y/n wouldn’t be inside. He knows her too well to know she wouldn’t find her place in crowded rooms where the attention is all on her, even if it was all in the comfort of her own home.

And the fact that Alfie didn’t know her senses of belonging well enough to accommodate them made him seeth. She is an independent, a lone wolf, a woman who moves solely in her own way and anybody who’s ever loved her knows that above all else.

He doesn’t care for her.

And he doesn’t need to go looking for her because he can feel her, as if the universe somehow bent its laws of gravity and pushed him straight to her back porch steps, where he finds her all alone.

She nearly jumps out of her skin when she feels a hand fall softly on her shoulder, but immediately sinks into comfort when she sees that it’s Harry moving to sit beside her, his hand refusing to pull away.

Finally, she has a friend.

“Hey.” She says softly, one of the corners of her lips turning slightly upward at his unexpected visit. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

He smiles briefly at her before he overlooks the garden, his fingers squeezing at her shoulder before resting his palms over his lap. And there’s something about being next to her again that makes everything around him fall back into place. This is where he’s meant to be.

“Honestly, neither did I, all things considered.” They both let out a chuckle, the atmosphere between them so horrifically sad yet so incredibly right. “But I just really felt like I had to be here for you tonight.”

Despite the years that had passed and everything that drove them apart, Y/n remains who he loves most in this world. His connection to her never died, so the sudden gusts of off and disturbing feelings Harry used to get whenever Y/n was troubled had never left him. He felt it all just as strongly — her anxieties, her fears, her tears and everything in between. And he’s glad that part of them never died because the look in her eye tells him everything he needs to know.

She’s absolutely miserable.

She sighs, the corners of her lips falling as she stares at her engagement ring, her thumb and pinky twisting it around her ring finger, itchy and heavy no matter which way it's worn.

“Me and Alfie aren’t doing so well.”

She didn’t have to say it because he can already see how treacherous they are together, but that doesn’t make it any easier for him to hear.

He lost his right to be selfish with her in Malibu, and though he does gain a sense of happiness knowing he may have a chance with her again, it’s significantly outweighed by her sadness. Nothing had ever pained him more than that.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

She shakes her head, her fingers reaching up to tuck fallen pieces of hair behind her ear.

“Don’t be. I don’t really know why he decided to do this, anyways.”

Harry’s lips fall.

“Marry you?”

Y/n’s leg begins to shake, her greatest and most absentminded nervous habit. And Harry had always been quick to place his hand over her thigh and rub at the surface, meeting her eye halfway and taking a deep breath in, to which she would always follow. He hesitates to do so tonight, but settles for it anyway.

She looks appreciative beneath it all.

She’d forgotten about Harry’s subtle favors over the past three years, so to feel it all again when she has been so low and neglected feels like a blessing to her. It feels like somebody finally cares for her, and that’s all she had been wanting all along.

Harry, she feels, is the only one who ever truly has.

“We just never talked about it. It was this big, ginormous, unavoidable, life changing question thrown at me with no warning at all.” Her forehead falls to her palms, as if humiliated by the memory. “In front of everybody.”

Harry’s heart crumbles from within him because nothing Alfie has given her has been anything she’s wanted, and that’s not what she deserves.

He remembers it so distinctively now — the way she poured her heart out to him just a few months before Malibu. It was the third Valentine’s Day they’d spent together and Y/n got so drunk, she spent nearly the entire night venting to him about everything she’d feared when it came to her future relationships.

With her head on his shoulder and her leg slung over his hips, Y/n’s thoughts were so destructive, she couldn’t bear to entertain them any longer, so she decided to let it all out.

“And what if my boyfriend proposes to me in a room full of people? I’d drown in sensory overload. And what if I want to say no? Or maybe? Or yes, just not right now? With all those people looking at me? I think I would pass away.”

Harry looked down at her in subtle curiosity, his fingers playing with her hair in the way they always liked. She was the only thing in his sight that wasn’t spinning out of his control.

“So how do you want to be proposed to?”

She hummed, as if contemplating her answer. But she knew. She already knew.

“In bed, probably. It’s so intimate and private there. So non-traditional. You’re the most done down at your first hour and something about someone wanting you at your worst, forever, is so poetic.”

She looked up at him with doe eyes merely seconds after.

“Will you make sure he does that for me, please? Promise me you’ll try.”

He smiled the best he could at her, pressing his lips down to her forehead. They lingered there for a moment, and Y/n’s breath was taken away.

“I’ll make sure of it.”

What makes the memory even worse was how much he really did love her and how blinded he was to it. He kissed her. He held her. He played with her hair. He slept beside her that night. He kissed her again goodnight. He brought her breakfast in bed the next morning. He did it all over again.

It couldn’t have been any more obvious.

But there’s something about the way she hasn’t expressed any of those concerns with Alfie that doesn’t sit right with him. It just doesn’t make any sense to him.

“Been with him for how long now, two years? And you really didn’t expect him to propose to you? Have you met you?”

She sulks herself deeper into her knees.

“I don’t know. I guess — I guess I just never really thought about it.”

Never thought about it?

“But you’ve always wanted to get married.” He says it more like a question than a statement, genuine concern and confusion in his tone of voice as his eyebrows furrow, trying to comprehend it.

She looks up at him with a void, empty expression.

“Yeah, but never to him.”

Her eyes linger on Harry’s for just a beat longer — just long enough to catch a glimpse of the way his lips fall and the way his face drains of color — before she blinks away from him, turning her gaze back toward the garden. The flowers have never looked so lifeless.

“Y/n… if I had known how you felt, I —”

“It wouldn’t have mattered.” Y/n shakes her head, looking back down at her trembling hands, tears now burning in her eyes as the sudden sadness of the conversation starts to weigh down on her. “You had four years to feel the same for me and you never did. My feelings would have done nothing to yours.”

“And I never did?” Harry asks incredulously, his voice low and faltered behind the heaviness of her words. “Is that really what you’ve been living with the past three years?”

Loose tears begin to fall down her cheeks because yes, she has been living with his unrequited love for six years and no, it’s never gotten any easier. It’s pathetic and ridiculous and the most unexplainable form of grief she’d ever carried, but it’s the most devastating kind. “How could I think any differently?”

“Because it was real, Y/n. Fuck.” He lets out a strangled, dry chuckle upon his words as he runs his shaking fingers through his hair. He’s nervous, absolutely terrified because if he fails to show her how deeply he feels for her now, he may never get the chance to again, and losing her is no longer an option for him. Not when she’s so close. “Because you know me better than anybody else and you know I wasn’t faking it with you. How could I have been? You would have seen right through me and you know it. You always do.”

Perhaps the love blinded her. Perhaps her heart was so invested it deceived her to see only the things she wanted as a subconscious form of self-preservation. It’s not an impossible possibility, and it’s certainly one she believed in throughout all this time, but a part of her can’t help but find a hint of truth stuck somewhere between his words.

The kissing, the touching, the tasting, the laughing and the loving did feel real to her. It felt real when she saw the way he smiled after every one of their kisses, and the way he reached for her when it was just to two of them, like he couldn’t get enough, and the way he moaned against her, and the way he told her he loved her, like he meant it.

She knows all of his movements and all of his habits — knows all the signs of his stress, his sadness, his tension, his ease. She knows the emotions he wears and the ones he doesn’t, notices everything he does and doesn’t do, and never once did anything he did with her seem anything less than genuine.

She hates that it’s taken her so long to see that, but it doesn’t fix all that he had broken now that she does. She wishes that it could, this life would be so much easier for her to live.

“You really hurt me.” Her voice quivers, low and quiet as she speaks her truth, and it breaks his heart all over again. Never has he heard her sound so sad in his life, and it’s all because of him.

“You think I don’t know that? I hate myself for everything I put you through because you didn’t deserve it. You didn’t deserve any of it.”

He pauses, waiting for her to say anything else, but it doesn’t come. All there is for her to offer are her silent cries and waterfall eyes.

“That night with Lydia… nothing happened. She caught me off guard and I panicked because how could I not? She was giving me everything I thought I wanted yet all I could think about was how I wanted it to be you.” Y/n’s breath falters then, a knot forming in her chest as she revisits the sight of that horrific night. “I tried so hard to talk it out with her, but she wouldn’t let it go. She kept persisting and persisting and she didn’t give me the chance to explain myself before you walked in on us.”

She didn’t truly know what happened between him and Lydia, but she had her ideas. Whether they kissed, touched, confessed their love or crossed bases, the truth would have only made it worse for herself. Ignorance was bliss when it came to them.

But she didn’t think nothing happened, either, especially when the first words that Y/n heard Lydia say to him that night was I love you, too.

Too.

Too.

Too.

Like he said it first.

She really hopes he didn’t, but she’s so afraid of his answer that she doesn’t ask.

But she doesn’t say anything else, either, because there’s so much more she needs to hear from him but she doesn’t know where to start. She doesn’t know what to do, yet she wants to know everything.

“You were all I ever wanted and I’m so sorry for the way I had to find that out. I’m so sorry that I had to hurt you to realize how ridiculously in love I am with you.”

And how ridiculous it’s gotten.

“It haunts me. It follows me everywhere I go. Every morning, I think about the way you slept beside me in Malibu and how perfect you looked before you even had the chance to wake. I still reach for you even when I know you’re not there just so I can say I tried. Every time I walk the street, I somehow convince myself that I see you walk past me and I always turn back just in case I missed you. Then I spend the rest of my day wondering where you are and how much happier I’d be if you were with me.”

And it’s all so true.

She is around him at all times. Her spirit lingers in the air he breathes, her shadow alive in every ray of sun that touches his skin, unable to be soaked away. The ghost of her is everywhere he is, always, and it pained him just as much as it comforted him.

“I come across all these women and go on all these dates in hopes to find someone that makes me feel half the things you do, just to go home hours later and watch all the stupid videos and photos I’ve taken of you throughout the years because it’s you that my heart is after. Nobody else.”

She melts into herself at his confession.

To know it wasn’t one-sided — the longing, the missing, the wanting so bad that he couldn’t help but look back at all their memories together. Whether he was beside those women or not, she had done the very same thing, and it’s almost as if those hidden moments of desperation were a silent call to one another.

He reaches his hand to her thigh again, his skin warming her to her bitter core, setting a fire in her that had burnt out many years ago. And she doesn’t stop staring at it.

“I love you, Y/n. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything else in this world. I love you so much that it drove me crazy to think about you spending the rest of your life with somebody else because I couldn’t imagine spending the rest of mine without you. But that’s my heartbreak to live with, not yours.”

But it is. It is because he’s the only one she’s ever wanted and living her life with someone else was once unimaginable. It still is. Even through her relationship with Alfie and everything they’ve built together, it wasn’t ever the same.

And it’s not a matter of her not loving him, because she does, just not in the way she loves Harry. He is a high she constantly fiends for, an intoxication that keeps her wild and free, an addiction like no other. Being without him makes her feel sober — in a constant state of withdrawal, falling down deeper into her urges, dependent solely on her relapses — and Alfie is just the mild distraction.

All of this is her heartbreak.

His fingertips rub softly at her leg.

“You’re the best person I’ve ever known. I don't know how I’m ever going to find a way to move on from you, and I don’t know if I ever will, but at least I had the chance to tell you everything you deserved to know. I didn’t think I’d ever have it.”

She still doesn’t answer him, but he didn’t expect anything more.

He wishes he could stay with her for just a bit longer, but he doesn’t want to overstay his welcome (if he could even call it that). And he starts to cry as he thinks about leaving her alone again.

She’s forever going to be his hardest loss.

“I have so much more I want to say to you, but this is your night with Alfie. I don’t want to be the one to hold you back from it.”

He squeezes the top of her thigh, dreading the let go. This may be the last time he sees her or speaks to her for a while, and that in itself is enough to make this so much harder on him.

“I’ll miss you everyday.”

He can’t even look at her as he says it.

His eyes are flooded with sadness as he stands from where he sat beside her, shaking fingers wiping at his tears, his heart the emptiest it’s ever been yet his chest heavier than ever before.

It suddenly dawns on her that she never wants to see him walk away from her again. She doesn’t want to go another dreaded day without him beside her, or go the rest of the night thinking of everything she could have said, but didn’t.

She wants him. She loves him. And she doesn’t want him to go.

“Wait.” She grabs his hand in both of hers before he can make it too far, her eyes wet but the brightest he’d ever seen them. “The party doesn’t end for a while and — and Alfie hasn’t come looking for me since it started, so…” She hesitates, his hands still in hers, and everything is right in the world again. “Do you want to take a walk with me? It doesn’t matter where just, please stay here with me?”

And how could Harry ever say no to her?

He lifts her up from where she sits, the first real and genuine smile he’s seen out of her since they’ve reunited spreading on her lips, and he wouldn’t trade this for the world.

They stray further than expected, catching up on everything they’ve missed throughout the years. It all feels so easy and so right, as if time had hardly passed between them, yet they’ve never felt more apart. Never once did they expect to live in each other’s world through late night storytelling and clandestine getaways.

They laugh. They cry. They reminisce. And they don’t let go of each other’s hand the whole night through.

-

Y/n returns to the back porch a couple hours later, grabbing the finished champagne glass she’d left on the top step to seem as inconspicuous as possible. Not that she necessarily has to, she doesn’t feel as though she’s done anything wrong, she just couldn’t imagine what would come from this if Alfie was to find out.

She slides the back door shut quietly behind her, the remaining guests only giving her a small smile of acknowledgement, none at all suspicious. Some offer her hugs and mingle with her, congratulating her as if it were their first time doing so, telling her how perfect of a marriage she and Alfie are going to have.

If only they knew.

But it isn’t until the last of the lingering guests make it out the door that Y/n and Alfie are left alone — the most dangerous place for them to be. And neither of them speak a word to each other, just meeting eyes for a brief moment in time, as if avoiding everything else that came with the night.

The air is heavy, the chill brutal, but it’s what Y/n is so used to. This is her normalcy.

“I’m glad you had fun tonight.” Y/n says plainly, gathering all the littered champagne and wine glasses floating around the kitchen.

In any other circumstance, she would have stood her ground much more strongly, but the bitterness inside her subsided to something much sweeter after her time with Harry. The weight of the world is gone, it seems, the moon and sun and stars aligned perfectly in her universe. She is weightless, floating, her spirit dancing along the edges of her own personal heaven.

The silence Alfie responds with doesn’t strike a nerve like it usually would. It rather goes unnoticed, only furthering her into her illicit dreamland.

Harry’s touch lingers on her skin and she can feel it all the same even though he’s gone. A shiver runs down her spine as she thinks back to the way his lips pressed against her cheek before parting ways, muttering the quietest goodnight, lovie against her skin, leaving her breathless.

She is endlessly hypnotized by him, forever under his spell, as if his lips were made of magic.

And Alfie’s heart sinks when he sees the look on her face. It’s been years since he’s seen it, yet it’s all so familiar once he does. It’s the same look he fell in love with when he first met her in Malibu.

It’s all so clear to him now.

“So we’re just going to pretend that you didn’t leave our engagement party with Harry?”

Y/n lifts her head to look at him properly for what seems to be the first time tonight, his question catching her off guard since she had so rightfully assumed he wasn’t concerned about her whereabouts, and Harry didn’t make his presence known to anybody but her.

But she doesn’t fight it, doesn’t deny it, doesn’t try to scrape for excuses that’ll only dig her in deeper because she doesn’t regret what she did or why she did it. She has no reason to.

“And we’re just going to pretend that you didn’t completely exclude me from our engagement party?”

Alfie’s hands slam against the kitchen counter, a bitter and sarcastic laugh falling from his lips, as if she had said something untrue. “So I don’t give you attention for two minutes and you decide to run off with some other guy?”

“Two minutes? Try two hours on a night that was supposed to be for us.” It’s her turn to slam her hands down, except hers land on her thighs. “I was sitting on our back porch all night and nobody, not even you, came looking for me.” She sits down on the island stool with burnt-out eyes and heavy shoulders, drained from the reality of their relationship, tired of trying for somebody that’s never held her heart the right way. “Harry was miles away and even he found a way to find me.”

And just like always, it all circles back to Harry.

She’s never been one to compare — verbally, at least — so there is a gloom that hovers over her after she says it, the guilt settling in her bones, but it’s the reality of their situation. An old lover held his hand out to her while Alfie refused hers, and it ended up exactly where it had always belonged.

“All you had to do was ask me to be with you.” He sighs, depleted, because it’s true. He would have been there the second she called his name. It’s the fact that she didn’t that shows him how incompatible he is with her wants.

“I shouldn’t have to.” She frowns, fingers fiddling with the skin around her nails as she contemplates what there is to say next. “Is that how this marriage is going to work? Me begging you to be there for me all the time? Because I’ve never been that kind of person. I will never be that person.”

Alfie breathes heavily in response but doesn’t know what else to do or say to get her to stay. She’s slipping right through his fingers and he can physically feel it — can feel the way she feels for another man, can see the way her eyes refuse him, as if hiding away from something.

But this isn’t about him, it can’t be because it was all going so well, so much better than ever before and nothing ever pushed her away, until Harry.

This is all him.

“You know he doesn’t love you, right?” Alfie breaks the silence, her heart along with it, because she needs to be reminded how badly he had done her wrong. She wouldn’t be turning him into the villain if she did. “He lied to you. He used you to get what he wanted. He —”

“He does love me.” She interrupts him because she doesn’t want to hear it. She doesn’t want him to talk her out of this, no matter how much she should. But it’s on the tip of her tongue, almost breaking from its resistance, and she can’t swallow it back down now. “He was there for me more than you were tonight and he’s not even the one I’m engaged to.”

Another deafening silence.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He understood her, loud and clear, but she’s speaking between the lines. There’s a part of her that’s holding back from something and he already knows what it is, he just needs to hear her say it.

So she does.

“I’m in love with him, Alfie.”

If the confession of her disloyalty wasn’t enough to tear her apart, the choked back sob she heard from Alfie undeniably did so.

She shuts her eyes, pained, unable to take it.

He doesn’t deserve this, but she’s left with no choice. She’ll only hurt him more if she stays.

So she doesn’t.

-

The morning after.

Harry didn’t know what was to come after he confessed his love to Y/n — whether it be a new day of a new life away from her, or the beginning of something so beautifully timeless, he had no idea.

The closure warmed him enough to lull him to sleep, to keep him deep in a dreamstate where all he envisioned was sunny days and the touch of her hand in his. He had never felt so light, so free, so liberated from the cage of guilt and unspoken truths that even if he were to never see or hear from Y/n again, it would have been okay.

He said what he needed to say, she heard what she wanted to hear and that’s all he could have done without interfering with her relationship.

But what he wakes up to is far from anything that ever crossed his mind.

Seven missed calls and five text messages. All from Y/n.

H, please tell me you’re awake. I need you.

I ended it with Alfie.

I don’t have anywhere to go and you’re the only person I want to see right now. Can you meet me at the coffee shop? I really need to talk to you.

Please wake up.

H?

Harry sits himself up in a state of panic, his eyes jumping between the time she had messaged him last and the time it is now. And he springs himself out of bed when he realizes that he hasn’t missed out on her yet, planning to get to her as fast as he can as he throws yesterday’s outfit, not at all caring about how it makes him look.

She ended it with Alfie.

He’s the only person she wants to see right now.

She needs him.

That’s all he can process as he scurries down the street, thinking of everything he has left to tell her to try and win her heart again. He knows he’s undeserving of it, and she does too, but that doesn’t stop him from loving her the way that he does.

His life is meaningless without her, so dry and bleak and depressing he can’t live another day like it. He can’t and he won’t because he’s going to fix this. He has to fix this.

And it doesn’t take him long to find her because there she is, sitting at their usual outdoor table, a large hot tea held between her hands, her leg shaking, her eyes distant. It's such a heartbreaking sight, and he suddenly wonders if she ever sat there after their breakup, waiting for him, hoping he’d do the very same.

The thought makes his head twitch to the side and fingers twist with guilt because no, he never did. He never went back to that coffee shop since the goodbye. It would have hurt too much, it would have reminded him of everything he’d ever done wrong and he couldn’t bear to face the person he once made of himself.

That person died along with her.

She stands from her seat when she sees him walking toward her, exhausted mentally and physically enough to nearly fall from her feet in the process. But her heart is racing a million miles an hour, her stomach fluttering as he grows nearer, her senses of anything but the love she has for him disappearing to nothing, as if it were just the two of them.

And she just needs to know if it feels that way for him, too.

“Y/n —”

“Did you mean it?”

Harry hesitates then, stopping in his tracks, his head tilting at her in curiosity but his features are softer, sadder, as if the question somehow broke him down further than before.

She doesn’t need to elaborate because he already understands what she’s asking. It was his mistakes and his selfishness that led her to question all his intentions, to doubt every sentiment he’s ever given to her, to wonder what was real and what was pretend.

But he doesn’t know what to start with, he doesn’t know what she needs to hear from him to be satisfied with his answer, or know if what he doesn’t say is what breaks this relationship.

“I need you to look at me and tell me that you meant it.” Y/n demands when he fails to answer her, tears flooding yet her face pressed and hard, committed to hearing every last bit of truth he has left. “Because I gave up everything I had for just the smallest possibility that you did. And that may make me weak, that may make me pathetic, and I may hate myself for the rest of my life knowing I made that decision but I can’t help feeling the way I feel for you.”

This is his last chance.

The window of opportunity is open and he is more than willing to dive head first out of it, but he can’t get ahead of himself. One wrong move, one wrong word, one wrong anything and he will have to endure an eternity of misery without her.

So he gives her more than she demands.

He grabs her face between his two hands, gently stroking her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs, his gaze set on hers so that she can see how deeply he feels for her and how desperate he is for her forgiveness.

“I meant it.” He breathes out, his lips so painfully close to hers, she can feel his breath as he talks and it makes her legs shake from beneath her. “I’m in love with you. You’re all I think about. You’re all I want.” He leans in closer, ever so slightly, just so the ghost of her lips can meet the ghost of his. “There’s never been anybody but you. Just you. Only you.”

Her breath stammers, quivering and cracking as she flutters her eyes shut at his words, unforgiving tears pouring down her cheeks. And she doesn’t know why she’s reacting this way — the love of her life is giving her everything she’s ever asked for and yet all she can manage to do is break down from everything she’d been keeping inside for so long.

He knees buckle as a particularly violent sob nearly takes her down, and if it wasn’t for Harry’s strong hold on her, she’s sure she would have collapsed to the floor.

Her tears, his shirt, his hands, her back.

This is the closest they’ve been to each other in so long, his heart nearly shatters along with hers. He missed this more than he missed anything else in this world.

“Don’t cry, baby. It’s alright. You’re alright.” Harry shushes her, his lips settling on the top of her head as he presses chaste kisses on it, his fingers combing through her unbrushed hair. “I’m with you, okay? I’m never leaving you again.”

And he holds her for a while, tying her together as she falls apart in his arms, vowing to her over and over again that this is all over. All the pain is over. Everything will be different now.

And it was.

It felt different when Y/n and Harry spent the rest of the morning sitting in their favorite coffee shop, at their favorite table, drinking their favorite lattes. It felt different when Harry reached his hand over to hold hers, this time with no ulterior motive.

It felt different when she held his hand back, and when she smiled down at where they were intertwined, as if they were an extension of each other.

And unlike the last time they were there together, he doesn’t have to let go.