#and she forgets that most other people her age don’t have the kind of free reign she does

[queencvbra]

thinking about how there are so many normal teenage things Tory doesn’t understand because she’s been basically living unrestricted since she was 13, even more so after her mom’s sickness got worse and there was no way she could enforce any kind of parenting on Tory

[crazilust]

astrology observations pt. 5 (i believe)

remember, if this doesn’t resonate, leave it, scroll away and forget it. i wanted a summer theme, so i’ll do it on this post why not 💛

🐬🍋🌊🌅 🐬🍋🌊🌅 🐬🍋🌊🌅 🐬🍋🌊🌅

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄ ▄▀▄▀▄▀▄ ▄▀▄▀▄▀▄ ▄▀▄▀▄▀▄ ▄▀▄▀▄▀▄ ▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

🐬 I wish I could look a Sag sun in the eyes and tell them that no matter how little or big they achieve, they’re worth something. That they don’t have to chase the next big shiny thing, that they don’t have to be a millionaire by age 30, that they don’t have to « be someone » because they’re already someone.

🍋 We’re always talking about how lucky Jupiter natives are and how free spirited they are, but the truth is, Jupiter is also about expansion and sometimes I feel like that expansion translates in a pressure to be exceptional. And in this society, in this world, being exceptional is only valued at a material level. The number of Sag suns that I’ve met that felt like complete failures at like 20 years old is not normal. They’re so harsh on themselves. I wish I could give them all a big hug

🌊 The power of pisces mercury lies in their intuition. As virgo’s sister sign, it makes sense that Pisces mercuries don’t find their answers through logic and evidence-based facts but rather intuition and feelings. It can be hard for them to trust that gut feeling or to feel intelligent cause if someone asks them « well how do you know? » their answers most likely will be « Eh, just a hunch » But trust it, it’s one of your many gifts

🌅 I used to be so fascinated with people with Aries and Gemini in their birth chart cause I found them so comfortable with people, the life of a party type of people and so damn charming. As I grow older though and begin to see life in nuances of grey instead of straight black and white, I’m able to realize that those people often suffer from people-pleasing tendencies, a sense of self that is either broken or fragile and codependent behaviors. It’s like their sense of worth is tied to how much people like them.

🐬 Cancers are very loyal, I know it’s not a popular sign on mainstream medias and people love to shit on them, but the truth is, Cancers will have your back, no matter the placements. If you’re ever loved by a Cancer, make sure to treat them right !

🍋 People who are not that much into astrology will meet a Leo and be like “omg, you don’t act like a Leo at all, you’re not arrogant or an attention whore” When we look at Leos celebrities, it’s easier to see that arrogant, flashy, extra side. But irl, we rarely meet that “kind “of Leos, right? (Except at bars lol) The reason for it, I found, is that Leos, for the most part, have personas. First of all, they’re a lot more private than you’d think. I believe that most Leos loooove attention, but they also know when it’s appropriate to show it or not. Depending on their other placements, they’ll decide when to grab that spotlight and when to leave it to others.

🌊 I had this girl that I knew that was a Leo sun (and I’m sure a bunch of virgo placements) and everybody was shocked of her sun sign because she was introverted, quiet and observant. But she was still a theater girl, wanted to be the main character (preferred the villain), veryyyy assertive when it came to her boundaries or what she liked and didn’t liked, and very extra and colourful in her outfits. The reason why I don’t like mainstream astrology is because it’s a bit childish in the way it describes a sign. You can love attention but show it in a way other than screaming and dancing on tables. This girl, for example. To me, she was a Leo sun to a T.

🌅 Aquarius placements 🤝🏽 their desires to connect with someone through intellectual stimulation, but refusing to show and acknowledge their deep rooted fear of intimacy and vulnerability

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄ ▄▀▄▀▄▀▄ ▄▀▄▀▄▀▄ ▄▀▄▀▄▀▄ ▄▀▄▀��▀▄ ▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

and that’s it from me, folks.

-B.

[satansapostle6]

Love The Sinner | Dexter Morgan

Dexter Morgan, a vigilante serial killer hiding in plain sight, loses sleep for the first time in his life when he’s met with the very last thing he expected: a kindred spirit.

Warnings: Violence. Mature language and themes. Sexual content.

Part One. Eyes of Darkness.

Most people, when they’re getting arrested, shit their pants with fear. Some scream, some cry. Some rage, and some try to run, and some just freeze. That’s what you usually see, when you’re in your parents’ living room, and your dad can’t wait to turn on the TV to the channel dickety-six news, of all things. But sometimes, people have other reactions when being handcuffed and shoved in the back of a squad car. Sometimes people enjoy it, for one reason or another. I smiled when Miami Metro put me in cuffs on the news. Laughed, even. You see my story is many things, but boring certainly isn’t one of them.

Let’s start simple. My name is Nicole Carvalho, and as of today, America knows me as ‘Murderous MILF’. You really can’t make these things up; I love this country. I keep reminding myself, if I ever go free, I need to clip that out of the newspapers. But see, right now, at this very moment, I’m sitting alone in an almost blindingly white interrogation room at the precinct, waiting for a cop to question me while they study me on the surveillance footage. I can’t lie, I’m sitting back right now in my chair, smirking. You see, I killed the men who violated and later took my baby girl’s life, and I’m currently very pleased with myself.

I don't think my grandfather pictured this when he left Brazil. This truly is the American dream; committing a crime and letting your own peers decide whether or not it was justified. In all honesty, a jury will be much kinder to me than ‘God’ has been. So, I figured I’d let myself have this one thing. I think I waited about a half an hour before they sent someone in; a female detective. They must’ve figured a matching vagina couldn’t hurt. The first thing I noticed about this detective was that she was strikingly young; close to my age. I’m thirty-six, so I would estimate her to be maybe a little younger.

But apart from her age, the next thing I noticed about this detective was that she was very robotic in how she interacted with me; she didn’t necessarily look like she wanted to be there. She barely looked up at me when she came in, holding my files and looking down at them like a teenager doing a presentation in high school.

“So. Nicole Carvalho. I’m Detective Morgan.”

She sits down across from me less like I’m a murder suspect and more like she’s interviewing me for a secretary job. I look at her, sitting forward as I join her in the conversation, still smug as ever. I think she was secretly hoping I’d say it, the four words that usually drove most cops insane that, for some reason, no one ever thinks to say in the movies.

“I want my lawyer.”

I smile as I say it. Detective Morgan also smiles, looking down at the table before getting up. I’ll never forget how pleased she sounded.

“Guess that means I can’t ask you anymore questions.”

She gets up and walks out, and that’s the end of it. In all honesty, I don’t think she was looking forward to questioning a woman about the murder of her daughter’s rapist. After the detective left me alone, I was allowed to call myself the lawyer that I had in mind. This, of course, was a friend of a friend, a perfectly shady guy named Johnny Bertelli, who was, in the nicest way possible, a fucking scum bag. You see, I work as a project manager at a marketing firm, so I’ve met my fair share of good lawyers, but Johnny was the fucking best.

He made Johnnie Cochran look like an idiot. He was the kind of lawyer who laughed at the prosecution in court, and I needed him. So there i was, in the Miami Metro precinct punching a number I’d gotten off Google into a wall phone. I looked around the precinct as I waited for someone to pick up, and suddenly it was like I felt a pair of eyes on me. I turned around, and I saw a pretty timid, mild-mannered looking guy who seemed as if he’d been standing there trying to figure out how to get my attention.

But the strange thing was, he didn’t seem to want my attention, at all, actually. If anything, he seemed perturbed by the fact that I was looking his way. I looked over at him, not knowing what the fuck his story could’ve been. Miami’s a weird place, because in this moment, I realized the guy wandering the precinct in a Polo and khakis could very well be an employee. I looked at the guy, not knowing what he could’ve wanted with me as I struggled with the phone. Funny enough, he actually just wanted to be helpful.

“You gotta press pound,” he says quietly, “For the call to go through,” and I almost laugh.

I appreciate the odd moment, just thanking him.“Thank you.”

He just nods, and says nothing as he quietly retreats to wherever it was he came from. I took his advice, and sure enough, the phone worked and patched me through to Johnny’s office. I wasn’t quite sure at the time, seeing as I was obviously a bit preoccupied, but I felt that strange man’s eyes linger on me for a moment. Even as I turned around, I could sense his surreal sort of presence that he had. Sure, I was used to having men’s leering eyes on me out in public; it was hardly unusual. But this was different.

Like he was less looking at my body and flesh, but more so imagining what was underneath it.

*****

The next couple years of my life were eventful, to say the fucking least. Johnny of course advised me to take my case to trial instead of taking a plea, for obvious reasons; there was no way any jury was going to give me the maximum sentence, or God forbid, the death penalty. I was a single mother who stabbed her twelve year-old daughter’s rapist seventeen times. In the eyes of the public, I was practically a fucking hero. Johnny’s confident that any jury would feel sympathetic to me, despite the brutality of what I’d done. As he says, the facts are still there.

My neighbor, a weasley little creep named George Randall got me, and my Isabelle, to trust him, and took advantage of her in the worst way. Then she killed herself, because of what he did, and I had to find out through a note left on her desk for me to find. So, I went to George’s with an empty baking dish of his, and once he let me in, I whipped out the knife I’d borrowed from him, the same knife I used to use to cook for my little girl, and I made his stomach burst like a water balloon. At this point, I’d already chosen to show little remorse for the crime I’d committed, feeling perfectly at peace with the possibility of prison, or the death penalty.

But Johnny said there was probably no need to be too fearful of either. He’d even told me there was a possibility I’d just get a few years, and then parole, or something, and I wasn’t sure that wasn’t bullshit, but I also liked his confidence. The reality of it was, Johnny had made much worse people look way better. To him, my case was already closed. All I had to do was play the part of the grieving mother, which took no effort on my part. I had to wait almost a year for my case to go to trial, which I of course did outside of a cell.

This gave me enough time to get all my affairs in order, or so to speak. My job was okay for the time being, and I knew I’d probably still have it so long as I wasn’t convicted of murder, given my ‘years of dedicated service’. Things were going to be relatively fine, eventually, but for now, I was stuck being paraded around like a jester on some twisted apology tour for avenging my daughter’s death. I’m a pretty good actor, but even my patience has its limits. And maybe wearing my white So Kate’s to court wasn’t necessarily the best judgement call.

But Johnny, being more than worth the money I pay him, made it work. I walked into the courtroom with him, humble and graceful, and didn’t let my eyes linger so as not to appear guilty. But even then, I caught a glimpse of him in the room. The guy who helped me with the phone. He was watching my trial, probably just as a police department employee. Probably.

“Will the defendant please rise?”

I complied with Judge Willis’s request, with my trusty guard dog by my side. I remained dignified, my head held high, but not too high, of course, as the proceedings began.

“Miss Carvalho. How do you plead?”

“Not guilty, your honor,” I told him.

The damage was done. My fate rested entirely in the hands of twelve strangers, and for some reason, there was a thirteenth who seemed oddly invested in the outcome.

-

Part Two.

[supersaiyanjedi14]

SABEZRA WEEK: Day 5 (Oct 27): Free

*My AU: Ezra and Sabine’s next big milestone as they send an up-and-coming Jedi apprentice off to his first day of training.* 

“And you have everything packed?” 

“Yes.” 

“All the pieces of your armor?” 

“Yes.” 

“Spare ammo for your gauntlet?” 

“Yes.” 

“Extra power packs?” 

“Yes.” 

“Comlink, datapad, chargers, all our contact info?” 

“Yes.” 

“Toothbrush?” 

“Mom.” 

“Extra pairs of-” 

“Mom!” 

As he was finishing up the landing cycle, Jedi Master Ezra Bridger couldn’t help but chuckle at the antics coming from the back of the ship. It was one of the unique contrasts of the Mandalorian people that they could be extremely fussy and doting on their children despite their fearsome reputation. Mandalore the Defender had many attributes that distinguished her from the usual mold of her people, but on that front, she more than lived up to the standard. Sabine had been triple checking everything Brycan was bringing with him for the past week, as if he was going on an extended vacation in another galaxy or something. Ezra couldn’t blame her for being protective, especially given everything they had lived through and the lifestyle their boy was bound to take on. Still, Brycan was fourteen, an adult by Mandalorian standards and more than capable of being away from home for a few months at a stretch. 

“Sabine,” he called as he got out of the cockpit, “go easy on him. It's not every day you start off at a Jedi Academy. Right, buddy?” 

“Yep!” Brycan responded with a triumphant fist pump. The teenage boy was dressed in a mix of travel garb and combat gear that perfectly reflected someone raised by a Mandalorian rebel and a Bokken Jedi. A simple black flight suit, virtually indistinguishable from what most of the other students would be wearing, the only noticeable outward difference being the bright red vest draped over it. Underneath, however, one would be quick to find the sky blue Mandalorian breastplate, while the proudly displayed vambrace strapped to his left wrist spoke for itself. 

Sabine sighed and brushed a strand of her now blue hair out of the way before smiling herself. “I know, I know,” she relented. “Just want to make sure my little Bry’ika is has everything he needs.” She moved her hand up to playfully rub her son’s short black hair. Despite his earlier embarrassment, Brycan took it in stride and couldn’t help but smile. Even without his constant mentioning of the subject for the past month and the feelings he was broadcasting through the Force, Ezra could tell he was excited about this. He had received plenty of training from his parents growing up, some would say he was a full Jedi already. But being at the academy, at the heart of so much history and knowledge, and with other apprentices his own age? That was a kind of learning at the heart of the Jedi tradition, one that Ezra and most of his peers had been sadly unable to get for themselves. 

The landing ramp lowered just as Sabine ended her affectionate noogie. Brycan grabbed his duffle bag and eagerly made his way down, his parents trailing behind him. As they stepped into the Yavin jungle, the sensations of life all around them, Ezra felt the Force with a degree of intensity and fullness one could only find here. There had been darkness here for centuries, but the light was taking its hold once again, just as the Jedi were gradually returning to the galaxy. 

Ezra brought his attention back to the present when he felt Sabine’s hand clasp his own. He looked on to his eager son, briefly noting the glimpse of a silvery cylinder bouncing on his belt. He suddenly remembered something he needed to say. 

“And don’t forget,” he said, moving to catch up with Brycan, “the other students don’t have their own lightsabers yet. So don’t go parading that thing around.” 

“Don’t worry, Dad, I won’t.” Brycan assured his father. Sadly, the apparent mark of humility quickly gave way to a cocky grin. “It’s not like I’ll need it anyway. I’m already a better fighter than any of these guys.” 

“You sure about that?” 

Before anyone could register the direction of the new voice, a brown blur came barreling out of the brush, tackling Brycan to the ground. Ezra and Sabine jumped a bit, their hands instinctively reaching for their weapons, but they stopped themselves when they got a better look at the assailant. 

Brycan Bridger, warrior of Clan Wren and child of two of the New Republic’s greatest heroes, was flailing on the ground as a girl no older than he had pinned him down, twisting his arm as a playful smirk graced her features. 

“Say it.” 

“No!” 

“Say it!” 

“I said no, Jaina!” 

“Dude, just say it.” a third voice chimed in as a boy with the same brown hair and eyes as the girl came out. “She’s gonna keep you there all day otherwise.” 

“You’re not helping, Jacen!” Brycan growled. 

“I don't’ know, I’d say he’s helping quite a bit.” 

“Why you little-” 

“Okay, okay, that’s enough.” Ezra stepped in to pull Jaina off Brycan. The young man brushed his pants off as he shot a half-hearted glare at the elder Solo twin. 

“Lucky shot.” 

“Consider this a lesson in keeping your guard up, my son.” Ezra laughed as he rubbed Brycan’s head. He then turned to the two newcomers, who were unquestionably his son’s two closest friends despite the little ambush. “And I trust the two of you will help him grow and learn from this experience?” 

Jacen and Jaina rolled their eyes. “Yes, Master Ezra.” 

Sabine laughed and walked up to the twins. “I'd say it’s good to see the two of you staying out of trouble, but that would require me to forget who your parents are.” 

The twins gave a half-hearted shrug as Brycan came over. “So, what’s going on?” he asked excitedly. “How many other kids are here?” 

“Last I checked,” said Jaina, ticking off her fingers, “About two dozen so far. Uncle Luke hasn’t said anything about how we’re being divvied up yet, but I saw him talking to one of the other Masters about room assignments.” 

“Well, what’re we waiting for?” Jacen asked. “Let’s go, we’ve got Jedi training to do!” 

Brycan’s excitement burned like a hyperdrive engine as he chased after his friends, leaving his parents standing by the ship. Looking over, Ezra saw Sabine looking on with an expression that mixed pride and sadness in equal measure. One that they had both received from Hera plenty of times over the years. He put his arm around her shoulder and pressed a kiss to her cheek. 

“He’s going to be fine.” he assured her. 

“I know, it’s just...” she gave a deep sigh as moisture gathered at the corner of her eyes. “How did he grow up so fast?” 

Ezra wanted to reply with a good comeback, something about how Brycan was so lucky to have grown up the way he did, afforded a luxury both of his parents had been denied. 

Instead, he held his tongue, and joined Sabine in simply looking on as their son ran off to a new chapter of his life. Brycan Wren-Bridger was on his way to becoming one of a new generation of Jedi Knights. 

[writingmaidenwarrior]

Meir's and Feyre's first meeting

@fictionalbullshitter kinda reminded me I only shared bits and pieces of this since it took me days to finish this. I tag those who seemed interested in the snippets so far. Tell me if I am wrong, if you like to be tagged in the future. @verba-writing @cljordan-imperium @oh-no-another-idea @ettawritesnstudies @ashen-crest

The sunlight told him it must be close to noon. Meir went through his stuff and grabbed his dirty clothes from the road to pack them up for the washing women to drop them off on his way to Maud. If there was one thing, he was sure off today, then it was no new assignments, contracts or whatsoever for a week at least. Relaxed and calm due to being home, this mother of all bruises on his rips started to hurt like shit, and he knew he wouldn’t be fit to fight like this.

Hair still wet but bound together in a messy bun on his nap, he made his way to Maud. Mer’Teval was the same as always. Busy streets with busy people going through their day’s work, chatting and yelling after the kids while in the distance The Crystal shone like its namesake enforcing how distant the royal family was from the daily life of their subjects.

Meir snorted at this. Just four years ago he could enter The Crystal to his liking and enjoy a small fraction of the amenities as royal guard, but now he was here, just one of many. Just another misfit. Deep down, in those small moments of honesty, Meir admitted, he liked this life more. It was real, but most of all, he was free.

“You are healers! What would Ashetan say about his followers treating a person in need like this?” The angry voice of an equally angry beast-woman pulled Meir out of his musings. His gaze followed the sound and found her in a faceoff with one of the other healers in town. Curious about the situation, he stepped closer. “We don’t treat your kind here. Get lost.” “My kind? What do you mean?” Anger left for confusion, and the cat ears on the beast-woman twitched rapidly. Her tail lashed left and right. “You know what I mean.” The healer, a sturdy older woman, nodded towards something on the beast-woman’s chest. “You…” A mean hiss followed before she turned around.

Meir still stood a few steps away and followed her side by side with the hope to catch a short glance on what got the healer riled up like this. Abruptly, the beast-woman stopped and took a deep breath. “Ok, Feyre, you can do this. You can find a stupid healer, who still remembers their stupid vow. This is a big city, and you are a big kitty.” A small smile crept on Meir’s face as he overheard her motivate herself in this adorable way. The smile froze when he finally caught what the healer took offense in: The crest of the necromancers. Confused about a female necromancer, he almost lost her in the crowd. He heard of them, and he also heard of the necromancers teaching everyone interested in their doing, but a beast-woman was clearly something he never saw nor heard off.

Feyre stopped again when she tried to make out the signs on the shops to see if one was a healer, and gave Meir the chance to catch up with her. His bag of dirty clothes in his arms, he stepped in front of her with a small smile. “Hello, I happen to see how the healer treated you and I might be able to help you.” Her eyes narrowed at him. Slowly, she crossed her arms in front of her chest. “You can?” “I know a healer who didn’t forget her vows to Ashetan. I happen to be on my way to her.” “You have a kind face and a charming smile”, she stated. Nothing on her posture changed. Even her ears gave away how tensed she was. “Is this a problem?”, Meir inquired innocently. “Kind faces hide the cruelest hearts.”

He was sure he looked as dumbfounded as he felt. Even if you never could really estimate the age of beast-people, Feyre seemed young, and such a statement from someone young was a bad sign. Meir reached out to shake hands. “I don’t know who hurt you to make you think this, but I am Meir. I am really just on my way to drop off my laundry and see a healer. I don’t even have my daggers on me. You could overpower me any given second if I would pull something weird on you.” For another long second, she just looked at him until she loosened up. “Show me the way then, but don’t think I won’t hurt you.” “I don’t doubt this.” Reluctantly, she shook his hand. “Feyre.” “A lovely name.” “Also a sweet-talker?” “Only if I meet sweet people.” Again she narrowed her eyes on him, what he took as a warning sign. Feyre was clearly a cautious woman. Slowly, he turned around and motioned into the direction where Maud’s small healer’s place was situated. “It’s down the street in a side alley. She is a friend, or more like an aunt?  Maud has a huge and caring heart, but also a huge mind and lots of opinions she won’t hold back. So, I apologize beforehand if she starts rambling about how the other healers treated you or politics or maybe both. You never know with her.” With a glance over his shoulder, Meir made sure Feyre followed him. She was only three steps behind him and started to look slightly scared at his warning. “Aunt?”, Feyre repeated, obviously confused. “She and her husband Amon kinda took it upon them to take care of misfits like me. You know, make sure we stay alive and won’t do too many stupid things.” He chuckled at this and shook his head. “What’s so funny?” “They aren’t successful with me. I hope they have more luck with Iskra. Poor girl really deserves to get known, singing herself coarse every night.”

After he said that, Meir realized how he rambled. Even if he was always a talkative guy, this wasn’t normal. While walking, he turned around and continue walking backwards, knowing the way to Maud in his sleep. “There is something about you”, he remarked with his index finger raised at Feyre while he held his laundry bag with other the hand up to his body. “You mean, beside my self-control? Others would have hexed you to make you shut up halfway through your rambling.” “Done that, been there, kinda fun.” He grinned cheekily and turned around again under her annoyed groan. “Give me a moment”, he warned her with the laundry bag raised and vanished into the house of the washing women. “Meir! Where have you been? The girls already bet on you either being dead or behind bars for good now”, the old warden greeted him. “Neither, as you can see. Got an assignment and just got back yesterday. Would you be so kind and also mend the shirt that got ripped?” Using his best puppy look on the old lady, Meir pulled out the purse to pay in advance as always. She sighed defeated. “You really need to learn how to do it yourself, boy.” “I can do it, but no one can do it as good as you, and I would only ruin your work with pricking my finger while mending it and get new blood in it.” “I get it, you damned smooth-talking bastard. Now get lost, before I change my mind.” She took the coins from him with a smile and a shake of her head. When Meir turned around smiling, he found Feyre who rested with her shoulder on the doorframe. Her face looked thoughtful. “Let’s go ahead. Maud is only a little further.” Softly, he pressed past her after dropping a bow. “Are you always sweet-talking?” “It never hurts to be nice, does it?” “Maybe.” With a gentle nod, Meir motions onwards. Maud’s place was only a few more houses down the street and whatever Feyre needed help with, it hopefully lightened her mood. “So, Feyre, what are you doing alone in such a big city? Aren’t mages usually in contract with adventurer groups?” “I am.” “Don’t they have a healer.” “No.” Abruptly, he stopped and held her by her shoulder. “What kind of adventurer groups doesn’t have a contract with a healer?” “A stupid one who thinks hiring a necromancer will keep them from any harm”, Feyre spat. A quick movement with her shoulder freed her from his grip. “Can we go?” “How badly wounded are you?” “Nothing bad, otherwise I wouldn’t be able to walk, right?” “Yeah, right…” Skeptically, he eyed her. Her getting more defensive the moment her adventurer group got mentioned put him on a tensed alarm. Kellen warned him about the rise of wannabe adventurers who ignore the rules of the kingdom and pulls clueless newbies along them. Greedy bastards who think they can skip on contract fees with healers and priests, not dividing the money fairly to those they hired, additionally and take borderline illegal assignments. All things he heard so far from Feyre pointed towards such a group, which meant she must be fresh out of training and had no clue about what to look for. Or the tower sold her out, for whatever reason.

In silence, they reached Maud’s healer house. Rhya came running outside with an empty bucket. “Whoa, slow down, curly. What’s the matter?” “Enriks again…” Meir groaned, knowing well it means the poor guy managed to get into something poisonous again and is now full of blisters that needed to be opened. “Let me get the water. It’s easier for me. Why don’t you help this young lady with her problems so long?” Happily, the female halfling handed him the bucket and grabbed Feyre by the hand. “What’s your name, sweets? How can I help you?” “Uhm… Feyre… I am with some adventurers and got some cuts and bruises that I like to be taken care off. Especially the one on the back.” Rhya smiled encouraging and nodded, sending her thick ginger curls flying. “Come in. We get your wounds cleaned up first thing, once this big buffoon comes back with the water.” Feyre’s laughter was the last thing Meir heard before he left for the well two houses back.

[pandajaye]

With love, Eijirou

Characters: Pro Hero!Red Riot (Eijirou Kirishima) x OC!LaNetta Date, Pro Hero!Dynamight (Katsuki Bakugo), my bestie’s amazing OC Pro Hero!Menti (London Bakugo), Pro Hero!Chargebolt (Denki Kaminari), Pro Hero!Cellophane (Hanta Sero)

Fandom: My Hero Academia/Boku No Hero Academia

Warnings: verbal online harassment

A/N: I can’t believe I’m stepping away from Enji with this…. BUT HE’LL ALWAYS BE THE MAJORITY OF MY FICS I SWEAR!!!!

Also a special thanks to my lovely friend Shuna for always being there for me and helping me create our wonderful world together. I love you so much.

In this day and age, heroes are very respectable people. They go out and risk their lives for others when evil decides to step out of the shadows. Some of those amazing people came out of the UA High School's hero course a few years ago and the world has been a brighter place ever since. There are still a few bumps in the road every now and then but for the most part, everyone is living in harmony. Heroes have even found enough time to settle down and find significant others.

Significant others like LaNetta, the fiancée to Unbreakable Pro Hero, Red Riot!! Or sometimes known as Eijirou, Kirishima, or even still Shitty Hair by his best friend of many years, Katsuki. They still enjoyed patrolling town together from time to time. Civilians are always so excited to meet them, running up and asking for pictures or autographs. They love the attention most of the time. Especially since Eijirou was like a world wonder with how big he had grown since high school. “How tall are ya, Red Riot?”, a young citizen would ask him. He'd always respond the same way. “Seven feet and two inches, thanks to my veggies and working out!” When the citizen would get disappointed he’d add on, “But don’t worry. A little ramen and takoyaki every now and then won’t hurt ya.” with a wink, making them smile. The people love him a lot. He’s so kind-hearted and gentle and never lets his battles with big bad jerks change him.

That sweetness of his comes out with his loved ones the most. Always helps Netta out around the house and makes sure she knows how grateful he is to have her, she does the same for him. They met three years ago when a villain tried to make off with her purse. Kiri handled the situation immediately with light work. When their hands touched as he was handing the purse back to her, they both immediately felt a spark of some kind. It was wonderful. The connection deepened when his beautiful red eyes met her gorgeous brown eyes. He was usually brave but she made his knees weak and his forehead sweat. No matter, he couldn't leave without asking out this gorgeous woman he'd been lucky enough to meet that day. It would be like trying to hit a bullseye blindfolded with a bow and arrow, but still, he did shoot his shot with the help of a very nervous look on his face and a flower he quickly bought from the small florist’s business they were standing In front of.

“U-Umm…. H-Hi…. M-My name is… Um… My name is…. Uhhhhh…” “Red Riot?” LaNetta helped, “Huh? Oh yeah! YEAH! My name’s Red Riot!” You know that look a puppy gets in his eyes when he’s happy and his tail is wagging? Imagine that look on Kiri. Cute, right? “I’m Unbreakable hero Red Riot! But you can call me, Eijirou Kirishima. Or… y’know… later tonight so we can get to know each other better.” LaNetta couldn’t help but giggle at his flirtation. “That was smooth, Red Riot. And cute! Especially the forgetting your name part. Here’s my number, let's do our numbers now before you forget, okay?” She took her phone out of her purse and asked for his own phone so they could do a quick exchange. “I’ll text ya later and if you’re free, we can definitely get to know each other better.” Eijirou nodded with excitement. “Heck yeah! I gotta take this thief to the authorities but I hope we’ll see each other again real soon. Text ya later! Bye!” Netta watched happily as her hero left with the criminal that tried to steal her purse.

That was the last time she saw the thief, but not the last that she saw Red Riot. Now, she saw him daily for the most part. Unless he was on a mission and couldn't quickly come home and take a break. Even then, they kept up communication when they could. She was always waiting back at their home for him with open arms and his favorite meals. His favorite meals were a part of many important things she had memorized about him. She knew his favorite music and movies and how to help him relax after a long day at work. He knew all the same things for her, too.

Netta may not have a quirk of her own, but she does have a successful career that allows her to work from home most of the time. While Eijirou is away at work fighting for just and saving Japan from villains, she's at home doing the same. Except these villains are fictional and in video games, but she does fight live. For a while now, Netta's income has been rolling in from her job as a live streamer. The number of views wasn't so hot at first. She did learn that being in a relationship with one of the top five heroes of Japan brought in a lot of positive... and negative attention.

It wasn't too often, nor rare Netta would notice a lot of weird or negative comments in the chat of her live streams. A few men in her live chat would make her uncomfortable and say things about her looks. 'You'd get more views being topless sweetheart, just sayin' ;)' or 'That's a face I'd want in my lap' It gave her an icky feeling and would sometimes get the best of her emotions and make her upset to the point she'd end the stream early. Other men would argue about how girls suck at video games, the usual dumb trolls. On the other side, other women would bring negative vibes to her streams. It was a little harder to ignore ladies also making fun of how different she looked and saying she didn't deserve to be with Kiri and that he belonged to them or would soon leave her for them. Some would even ask her to tell him the flirts they'd post.

Sometimes, Eijirou would join her while she streamed. They would entertain themselves with multiplayer games together. He was aware of the haters and trolls and would deliberately place himself closer to the camera and kiss her each time they had a small break or victory. "I know it's hard, but you can't let those meanies get to you, babe. I love you so much, and if they can't accept that, they're more bonkers than a Mortal Kombat character that got their brain knocked out of their head. Y'know?" She chuckled as he gave her head pats and a kiss. "To all of you haters and trolls out there, leave my sweet nerd alone! I'm not too good for her. It's completely the opposite! Every day I have the opportunity to wake up with her in my arms is a blessing that I wouldn't trade for the world. I LOVE MY BEAUTIFUL GAMER GIRLFRIEND!" He accidentally hyped himself up too much, making Netta blush. "Oh goodness, Ei." She smiled, hiding her face in her hands to hide her being flustered.

That was just how Kirishima was. He was obsessed with her from the first day he met her. Little did he know, they had been around each other already. It wasn't until after they'd started dating that he discovered that they actually went to UA high school at the same time! While Kiri was enrolled in the school's Hero course, LaNetta was in the General Education course. The first time she noticed him was at the UA Sports Festival. His bright red spiky hair and super amazing quirk caught her attention. She still remembers hoping he'd beat that Tetsutetsu guy in their first fight where they knocked each other out. She also remembers when they had their second battle and how flustered and excited she got when he finally beat Tetsu. It's still one of the coolest memories she has of high school. Another time she got to see him in action was at the UA school festival. For a brief moment, it felt like he looked at her while dancing on stage with class 1-A but she never really allowed herself to hold onto her hope since there were a lot of girls around her at the time.

Whether or not he had been looking at her then, he was definitely looking at her now. How she stayed cool while he was nervous the first time they met is still a mystery. Usually, she was the anxious one. But the moment felt so correct, so right. Maybe because there was no reason to be anxious. What happened was supposed to and that's why she felt so comfortable back then. Now she's exactly where she's supposed to be and it's more than satisfying. It's constantly relieving to be in such a loving environment. Netta didn't really have friends when she was growing up, but now she had some pretty cool ones. They were Kiri's friends first but when she learned that they accepted her, she was ecstatic. Katsuki, London, Kaminari, and Sero are all wonderful people whom she constantly feels grateful for getting the opportunity of meeting. Kiri's heart felt warm and full when they expressed their approval of LaNetta. He still remembers talking to the guys when they met for drinks the day after.

*****

"She's just so sweet and kind and nice and adorable and oh my god those thiiiighs. Aw man... those things feel soooo goood. Y'know?" Kiri's sweet words were slurred but cute. "And get this... SHE WAS AT UA AT THE SAME TIME AS US! What?!" Kaminari and Sero looked at each other before laughing at him. "Dude. We know." Sero rubbed his giant drunk friend's back. "We know." Eijirou sat up and glared at them. "How the *hic* hell? What do you mean you know?" Kaminari pretended to be offended by his words. "Maybe because I ALWAYS spot the cuties before you do. It was hard to not notice how every time we saw her she'd be looking at you."

The world around them froze, or so it seemed. Did he hear that correctly? She was always looking at him? Wow. It definitely must have been fate that they found each other. She liked him before he even knew her. "So she's really been in my corner forever? Wow. Heyyy, wait! How come you never told me about her? I could've talked to her and we could've been *hic* high school sweethearts!" Denki shrugged. "I don't know. You didn't really give off "I want a girlfriend" vibes. Like you were more focused on school and being manly so we just didn't mention it." They had a point, he was focused on school a lot. And being manly. Katsuki chimed in next. "I didn't say anything because I was too busy to care." Sero chuckled and elbowed Denki. "Or was it because he was too busy getting his butt kicked by London?" In classic Katsuki fashion, Katsuki dragged his thumb across his neck to non-verbally threaten them.

"I guess you're right. Doesn't matter now anyway. I love her so much. She's the one. I know it. I-*hic* I-I don't know how I know it. But I do. There's something about her that just feels like... like...-" "Like when you're putting one of those cool fruit-themed wooden puzzles together in the doctor's office and the orange slides in its space real easy?" Kirishima, Sero, and Katsuki stared at him, saying enough with their looks and brief silence. "Yeah, dude. Just like that. Anyways... I'm just really grateful to know that everything worked out for us. Let's do a fuckin' toast or *hic* somethin'." The gentlemen all raised the beers they'd been drinking. "To true love! May I gather the courage to one day propose to LaNetta." "Cheers!" The necks of the bottles chimed beautifully together.

*****

That was over two years ago. Eijirou and LaNetta's relationship has grown so much since then. He realized for himself that he really did want to marry her as he lay in bed next to her that night. And now he was even more sure of it now. With Katsuki's help, he was able to come up with a sweet little proposal plan that he knew she would enjoy. It wasn't too small, and it wasn't too big and extra. Just nice and personal to them. It all started with a special breakfast for his love. Netta had a long night streaming, causing her to go to bed late. The game she was playing was sort of difficult and she kept having to retry over and over again. It lasted all the way to three in the morning before she finally decided to give up. She hated having to throw in the towel on games so Kiri stayed up to comfort her with cuddles and kisses. Since she stayed up so late, she would also sleep in, which gave him some time to cook her favorite breakfast. Waffles with fresh sliced strawberries and blueberries mixed in with whipped cream to put on top, some cheesy scrambled eggs and bacon paired with a small serving of rice and orange juice for his sweet girl who loves her vitamin C. Before he started on breakfast, he had set out her favorite fluffy pink bedroom slippers and one of his hoodies to wear on top of her pajamas. A sticky note was attached to it with a little heart around the words 'Good morning, love ya!'.

"Aww, that's cute." She smiled at the note when a scent turned her to sniffing the air. The smell of Kiri's cooking made her heart flutter. They both knew how to cook well so they'd take turns, some mornings they'd cook together. Cooking with a few kisses in the mix was the best way to make breakfast. Slippers on her feet and hoodie keeping her warm and cozy, she stepped into the kitchen and saw the breakfast he had made for her. The grin that grew on her face couldn't be stopped from appearing. "Eijirou Kirishima, why are you so good to me? I feel so lucky." Kiri smiled at his girlfriend and sat her plate down on the table for her. "I'm good to you because I love you and you deserve the best. Take a seat before your food gets cold, babe." She followed his directions and took a few bites. "Oh man, Kiri, you are so amazing. Handsome, sweet as can be, and a chef, literally every girl's dream." He laughed and kissed her cheek, sitting next to her with a plate he made for himself. "Yeah but I only wanna be one girl's dream. Yours. And that's it." Netta blushed at his words, his love was never unexpected but it still always gave her such a good feeling deep inside. "Awwwww! I love you, Mountain Man!" She scooted closer and kissed his cheek this time before she continued eating. He wrapped an arm around her for a little side hug. "I love you, too, Gamer Girl."

They finished their breakfast and decided to spend some time cuddling on the couch. "Not to interrupt this sweet moment but I just wanna let you know that I'm proud of you no matter what. I know last night was rough with that crazy difficult game.” He rubbed Netta’s back and kissed the top of her head. “I can imagine that it must've been so annoying and I know how much you hate having to give up for the time being but I also know you’ll do so much better when you get back to it. You’re always so strong and smart, whether you notice it or not. I do notice it. And I’m so very proud of every little and big victory that you have.”

Netta sat up from laying on her boyfriend and looked over her boyfriend's face. “Why are you being so sweet today? What’s going on? What are you planning?” She asked, making Kiri smirk. He shrugged and looked away from her. “Nothing. Just being sweet to be sweet cause I love you so much. And... maybe... I have a little something planned for later." Netta guided Eijirou's face back towards hers. "Babe? What do you have planned? Tell meeeee!" She whined. No, she didn't care how whining as an adult made her look, he'd still love her so it's okay. "Nothing fancy. I just invited our friends over. That's it, I swear. Everyone was available so I thought it would be fun to have like a little potluck thing. Is that okay with you?" She rolled her eyes. "Of course, it's okay, Kiri. It does sound like a lot of fun." That made him smile. His plan was off to a great start. "Awesome, baby. I'm about to head out in a little bit. Kats and I are going grocery shopping together and he'll be here in a few minutes. What do you want us to make for dinner?" Netta took a second to think about it first before coming up with an idea. "How about.... teriyaki yakitori skewers smothered in sauce? Sound good?" Kirishima loved Netta's yakitori skewers. She always gave him more meat than veggies on his skewers and for that, he adored her. "Sounds beautiful, babe! I love you so much." He held her face and gave her a fun and sloppy kiss. "Aww, I love you, too, Kiri-Bear!"

It wasn't long before Katsuki showed up and he and Eijirou headed off to the store. While they were gone, Netta used this free time to get in a little nap and then clean the house before everyone showed up. Little did she know, Kiri was on a mission slightly more important than just grocery shopping. "I know it's normal but I hate being so nervous about this. What if she says no and hates me forever?" Katsuki almost smacked his blockheaded friend in the back of the head with the lettuce he was holding. "Shitty hair, you're a fucking idiot. Netta's crazy about you, no matter how bad you stink from the gym." Kats' comment made Kiri try to sneak a smell of himself but he was all good. "The way you look at her with so much love in your eyes is exactly how she looks up at your gigantic ass. That girl probably dreams about you. You're meant to be together. We all know it and we all see it. Don't be nervous. Have you started the letter yet?" Kiri shrugged and looked away. "Well.... not yet. But I promise I will. I have an idea for all that I want to write. My heart will do the rest." Kats rolled his eyes. "Oi oi oi, so cheesy. I know she's gonna love whatever you write to her since you two are meant to be. Now let's hurry up and get out of here. We have a few more stops to make." They got the rest of what they needed from the grocery store successfully and headed out with a purpose.

When Kiri got back home from the store, Netta had cleaned up pretty nicely. Even lit a nice cherry blossom-scented candle. "Hi, honey! How was shopping? You guys were gone for a good while." They exchanged a small kiss as Netta grabbed some of the groceries from his hands. "Yeah, sorry, it was packed in there. And a sweet older woman was taking some time counting her change but we didn't wanna be rude so we just politely waited." That made Netta smile and her heart sing. She loved how kind and patient he could be with not only her but those he doesn't even know personally. "Awww, my big, polite boyfriend. How nice of you!" A blush grew across Eijirou's face. He loved hearing compliments from her. Her praise always means a lot to him and he absolutely adores it all. It gave him a confidence boost that was satisfying and long-lasting and raised his self-esteem. "Heh. That's me. Anyways, everyone will be here after a while, so let's get cooking. Shall we, m'lady?" Kiri bowed like a respectful prince and held his hand out, Netta curtsied in response. "We shall, my sweet Prince." They strolled to the kitchen, already prepared to cook in harmony. An indicator that the food would be filled with love. Very fitting for the night.

It wasn't a complicated dish at all which they would balance with making it with quality. They tasted things together and gave each other advice on how to improve on something. Netta made a small mistake on something but Kiri comforted her and kept her on track. Sometimes she overthinks her mistakes and gets so ready to call them failures when they're simple fixes. Her anxiety starts but Kiri manages to extinguish it before it gets the best of her. She appreciates his big loving self so very much. There was a knock on the door just as Netta was adding another layer of sauce to the skewers. "Kiri-Bear, could you-" "Got it, babe!" He beat her to her question. When he opened the door, both parties had made it and were just on time. "Hey, Bomb Squad!" Kiri greeted the Bakugos first. "Hey, Kiri!" London waved, jumping up to hug him. He missed her earlier when he and Kats were shopping but he was happy that his bestie was here now. "Hey, Lon. Ooh, you smell good." Kiri observed before setting her back down so she could stand. "It's a new vanilla scent that Kats bought me. Isn't that right, Pumpkin?" She smiled as Katsuki bent down for her to hold his face and kiss him. "Damn right, baby. I'll do anything for my wife." Katsuki winked at Kirishima who got nervous all over again thinking about what would happen tonight. Since Kats was carrying the Bakugos' dish, he only carefully bumped shoulders with Kirishima. "It's okay. You got this." He whispered before heading into the kitchen to greet Netta who London had already beaten him to.

"Yo! Eijirou!" Hanta's voice brought Kiri out of his nervous thoughts. "Yo! Sero! Can I help you with that?" His good buddy was carrying a pretty heavy-looking pot and it would be a disaster if he dropped it. "No thanks, bro. I got it. It looks heavy but it's not really. I appreciate the offer though. Should I put it in the kitchen?" "Yep! Netta's in there with Lon and Kats. She'll show you where to put it." "Roger that!" Sero replied, making his way to the kitchen. "Oh! And Denki's coming in behind me! We carpooled but he's taking forever to get out of the car." Just as Kiri looked back at the door from looking at Sero, Denki was coming in with his dish. "Hey, I heard that, Tape Boy! Dumb meanie." Denki pouted while walking in. "Hello to you, too, Kami." Kiri chuckled, closing the door behind him. Kami's voice slowly decrescendoed to a whisper. "Hey, man. You aren't nervous about tonight, are you? I am." Eijirou's head tilted in confusion. "Um... why would you be nervous exactly?" Denki looked up at his big red friend and shrugged. "You know... I'm not really sure. Good luck man." He nodded, turning around to join the others in the kitchen. Kiri sighed. "Thanks, man. Really made it so much better." He stated sarcastically. He took a deep breath and headed to the kitchen with the others.

LaNetta, London, and Kaminari set the table while Eijirou and Katsuki prepared to set the dishes out on the table once the first group was done. When dinner started, the table was decorated with not only good food but with good friends. There were updates from each other's personal and daily lives. Funny stories like one London told about how Katsuki fell asleep with a green face mask on. "And y'all... oh my goodness. He wakes up, goes in the bathroom, and scares himself!" The table erupted in laughter imagining Katsuki's brief panic. "He really forgot he had it on, huh?" Sero asked. "Yes! I guess he didn't feel it and all of a sudden he sees the boogeyman in the mirror. I got to see it cause I was just passing by the door and it was perfect timing. And I mean PERFECT! You guys should have been there!" Everyone laughed again. Kiri couldn't help but look at Netta while they laughed. She always looked so beautiful with so much joy on her face. She looks... awesome. He looked down at the table as his laugh slowed but noticed his heart rate picked up. Now. Now was the time to do it. When he looked up, Katsuki was looking right at him, he caught the hint in Kiri's eyes and gave him a nod of reassurance, Kiri returned it before activating Operation: Proposal.

"Ahem. Hey, Net'." Eijirou tapped LaNetta's arm to get her attention. "Yeah, babe?" Netta leaned in close to listen to him. "Do you think you could bring me some water from the fridge, please? My throat's a little dry." He cleared his throat again to add to his act. "Oh yeah, sure, babe. I'll be right back." "Thank you, sweetie. I appreciate you." Kiri kissed her cheek before she got up. "Of course, baby. You know I always got you." Netta smiled at him again before leaving and he felt his heart thump again. Just like it did when he watched her laugh. Oblivious little LaNetta hummed as she went to the fridge and got out a bottle of water for her Kiri-Bear. When she came back, she completely froze. Everyone in the room was looking at her. Most importantly, Eijirou Kirishima was down on one knee and holding something behind his back and a letter in the other hand in front of him. "E-Ei? What-... Baby, what is this?" Netta's voice had gone soft and quiet. Kiri swallowed and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

"LaNetta Date... I never expected to be in this position. It isn't something that I really ever used to think about to be honest, y'know? Being a hero, that's what the hype was... for me... a-at first. Like back in school and a little bit after I graduated. Uh... anyway. Somewhere along the line, I realized something. Something important. And that is..." Eijirou had no idea that he had teared up, unaware of the tears rolling down his face. "Love. I realized that love... means a whole hell of a lot more to me than being a hero. And of course, I love my friends and family and such but I'm talking about a different kind of love. Not friendship love, though you are my best friend. Not family love, though I'd love to eventually have one with you. But the type of love that... I don't even think I can explain. That's just how big it is actually. That's how much this means to me." He sniffled this time. "That's how much you mean to me. I can't even explain what kind of love I feel for you because it's bigger than me. And I'm the biggest damn thing in this whole apartment next to the fridge." He laughed a bit and Netta and everyone else did with him. "I have a lot of love for you. The way you made me feel the day we met has gotten better and better and better and life just feels that much brighter since I've met you. The way life happens through your eyes is more beautiful than any Picasso. The way you love me and you encourage me and support me is just so impactful and makes me feel valid and makes me always wanna work hard so that I can be the best I can be for you and come back home to you."

Eijirou put the letter back on the table and pulled his hand from behind him. LaNetta quietly gasped seeing the small, red, velvet box in his hands that had held her so lovingly many a time before. "I want to continue coming back home to you. I want to continue not only being loved by you but loving you and every little detail about you. You are so gorgeous. So pretty. So smart and clever and amazing and lovely and awesome. So beautiful, both inside and out. I love that about you. I love you. It would be a wonderful and super manly honor if you could stay in my life forever and ever and allow me to love you forever and ever. LaNetta Date..." Everyone listened closely in emotional silence.

"Will you marry me?"

The ring box opened and the diamond inside sparkled tremendously along with the tiny red gems within the band itself. LaNetta uncovered her mouth, no longer worried about a cry escaping. "Yes." She answered, tears wetting her glasses and falling down the sides of her cheeks. "Yes, Eijirou. I will marry you." The biggest grin Kirishima's face could ever manage grew on his face. Tears welled up in his eyes during his speech and finally fell as he slipped the ring on her finger. "I love you so much, LaNetta!" Eijirou stood up and hugged LaNetta like there was no tomorrow, their friends clapping for them. "WOOHOO!" "CONGRATULATIONS!" They cheered. Katsuki did a double-take when he looked at how much Denki was crying. "Wow. Are you okay?" He asked. "MHM! I JUST- I JUST- I LOVE THOSE CRAZY KIIIIIIIIDS! WAAAAAHHHHHH!" Denki sobbed, making Katsuki look at him with brief disgust before rubbing his friend's back. "It's okay, Denki. Let it out, bud." He soon regretted telling Kaminari to let it all out when he saw how much snot was involved. Respectfully, he stopped touching him. To his delightful surprise, London had turned around to give him a quick kiss. "That was so beautiful." She whispered. He smiled and wiped the tears off her cheeks. "It was. They're gonna have their happy ever after. I'm happy for them." "Me too." London settled into his arms, laying her head on her husband as they watched their friends have their first kiss as fiance and fiancee.

When they pulled away from each other, they couldn't help but laugh. Both of them had not only their own tears on their face, but they were pretty sure they'd been combined. Tonight they were exchanging tears and soon they'd be exchanging vows. "Chile, while we sitting here crying up a storm, we still got food to eat! I gotta replace the liquid I've lost from crying. Somebody pour me some tea." "Actually, I also bought some champagne at the store today for the occasion. Kats took it home with him but brought it back over here. I'll get the glasses." Kiri kissed Netta again then went to the kitchen. "I'll help you out, bro!" Sero chimed, getting up and following Kiri into the kitchen. LaNetta's face was stuck in a smile and her friends loved seeing it. "So... how do ya feel?" London asked. Netta sighed happily. "I feel... amazing. I hope this isn't a dream. I also feel silly 'cause how didn't I know he was doing this but Katsuki and all of you were behind it?" Katsuki, London, and Denki all looked at each other before shrugging. "I guess now we know why you need glasses." Katsuki teased, earning a gentle smack to the chest from London. "Be nice. This is her night. You can tease each other some other time. Tonight we celebrate!" Just then, Kiri and Sero returned from the kitchen.

"And what better way to celebrate than with champagne." Everyone braced themselves as Kiri popped the cork and poured glasses for Netta and everyone else before himself. "Oh, dude! You gotta do a toast!" The others agreed with him and Kiri was convinced. While he stood up, everyone else lifted their glasses. "A toast to eternal love, total manliness, and the fact that I get to spend the rest of my life with the most amazing woman I've ever met. To love!" "To love!" Everyone called after him before cheering. His and Netta's sips were quick as they had more kisses to give. "Ewww. Get a room, you two!" Sero teased this time. "We have one! It's right down the hall." Kiri pointed, taking another quick sip. "And I have a feeling it's about to be used greatly tonight~" Netta added. Kiri felt himself blush and grinned at his gir- no... fiancee. "Oh yeah. It's about to go down tonight, Gamer Girl." "Damn right, Mountain Man. You already know." They smirked gleefully at each other.

Gracefully, everything settled back down and they all went back to eating until they couldn't eat anymore. They spent some time talking and letting their food digest before getting ready to leave. Whatever was leftover was offered for to-go and everything else was given to Kiri and Netta before they took their own empty dishes home. "Congratulations again, you two." "Yeah! Way to go, guys!" Their friends gave their good wishes as a part of their goodbyes. The newly engaged couple watched and waved as their friends left, closing and locking the door after the headlights disappeared. They cleaned up the kitchen and everything before going to get ready for bed and the sweet night ahead of them. Once they were comfortably in bed, Eijirou held LaNetta in his arms, kissing her over and over and over. "Wow... I still can't believe I did that. Are... Are you satisfied with how I proposed?" Netta could sense a little worriedness in her fiance's voice. "Yes, Eijirou. It was better than I could ever wish for in a million years."

"Yeah? How 'bout a billion?"

"Yes, Kiri."

"A trillion?"

"That, too."

"A zillion bajillion?"

"Kiri."

"Yes?"

"Kiss me."

"Yes, baby."

He smiled leaning in close. "Here it goes. A nice, quality kiss." He kissed her soft lips, caressing her face and rubbing his thumb along her cheek. It was filled with passion and fire that only they could and would ever be able to understand. It was signature and special and unique to only them. His hands found themselves squishing her wonderfully chubby tummy. Her hands found themselves in his charming red hair. They had a hold on each other that was out of this world and they'd never want it to change. Their lips separated and their panting put into perspective just how hard their kiss became. "I love you so much, Eijirou. That letter you wrote to me was so beautiful." Netta smiled and looked into his eyes. "I love you so much, too, LaNetta. You know though, there was one last part to the letter that I didn't read out loud." He said, holding her closer. "Oh yeah? And what was that last part?" Kirishima's lips pressed against hers in a kiss once more before he answered. "It was..."

"...With love, Eijirou"

[falseconfdence]

꒰⠀⠀⠀⠀seo changbin.   twenty-four.   cis male.   he/him.⠀⠀⠀⠀꒱        hold your f*** horses !   greyson hwang   has just been spotted walking into revolution headquarters. they are best known for being the label’s resident   front desk worker   and have been working with the label for   three years.    they share a lot of interesting things about life in the music industry on their social media, so make sure you don’t forget to follow them at   @greyskiies.  the office knows them for being   heedless   but i swear they’ve got a   tenacious   side as well. maybe that explains why they’re always associated with   a sleepless night accompanied by the soft glow of the bedside lamp,  black ink stained notes scribbled onto tanned skin,  headphones at the ready as they dangle around your neck.   their coworkers even voted them most likely to   sneak into a recording studio.   we’ll see how they live up to that reputation.

MORE INFO

father left when he was pretty young, raised entirely by his mother. he’s quite close to her and his older sister. all in all he had a decent childhood filled with happiness and love despite his father’s absence. 

discovered his love for music at a pretty early age, he was always just a musical kid. as he grew into his teens, he got into producing and composing his own songs. he dreamed of one day becoming a singer or a hit producer. 

alas though !  dreams don’t always come true. greyson’s certainly didn’t. thus he’s ended up working as a measly front desk worker at revolution records, while he dreams of becoming more.

makes a habit of sneaking into the recording rooms to use company equipment. he often sends songs to his mom, having told her when she moved away from new york that he was a recording artist.

basically, he didn’t achieve his dreams, his family all grew and moved on from the city, and he’s lying to them about being successful. all while working at the place he dreams of, just in a different sense.

in terms of personality, he's obviously very persistent. he doesn't give up easily and is headstrong in that way. he's not easily embarrassed at all.  " heedless "  is a great way to describe him as it’s basically to say he doesn't care to draw attention to himself good or bad, he just does and says what he wants. 

he isn't mean or an asshole by any means, he’s definitely more soft hearted but not excessively kind. he won’t let people walk all over him, and will stand up for himself and for others. still, he’s more gentle than anything else.

you can find greyson’s stats HERE and some wanted connections HERE  !!  please feel free to hmu in ims or on d*sc0rd for plots  !!  thanks for coming to my ted talk <3  

[vonkarma2]

3 + 6 + 20 + 40 + 44? For oc asks

3. Have you ever adopted a character or gotten a character from someone else?

Not that I can think of I’m trying to think… I guess the closest would be making Meat City characters in a collaborative world, but I don’t think I’ve ever like made an oc together with someone else to my knowledge, + I definitely haven’t paid for an adopt or been gifted someone else’s character. I could be forgetting something but I don’t think so no :P it would be cool though maybe sometime in the future

6. Two OCs of yours that look alike despite not being related?

David and Tiago look somewhat similar for now, but I think I’m going to redesign David to make him stand out a bit more/convey his personality better. Rocio and her dad both look a bit like Shamash. Outside of that though I really try to contrast people’s looks so I don’t think many of them look that similar?? Maybe they do lol idrk

20. Do any of your OCs sing? If they sing, care to share more details (headcanon voice, what kind of songs they like etc)?

Saida: Originally, she wanted to play guitar, but she quit bc it was too difficult, + singing was ofc much easier so she decided to focus on that instead. She has been like actively studying for a while and she’s in the chorus of her school. She ofc likes punk rock/hard rock type music. She’s not like super talented or anything but she is pretty solid at least for her age, and she’s good at like not holding back and putting a lot of power in her vocals.

Melanie: She isn’t particularly good at singing whatsoever, but she does really like doing it for fun. She thinks it is incredibly embarrassing, however, so only does it when she’s alone. She likes a lot of genres of music, but she actually prefers pop + r&b style vocals over those of rock music.

Remy: In making pop music, he does have to sing sometimes, + his alien species has both like highly improved hearing and wider vocal range than humans, so he is considered really good. That being said, he doesn’t find it particularly enjoyable, he’s more of a dj/electronic musician, so he’ll like heavily modulate or like distort his vocals in some way to make them more interesting to him.

40. Any fond memories linked to your characters? Feel free to share!

Mostly talking abt them with people shout out to anyone who’s ever talked abt ocs with me even if it was only for a little bit I always love doing it. Staying up late to work on writing for them was also really fun, and ofc I’ve made some drawings I’ve liked of them that were a lot of fun. Artfight as well

44. Something you like about your OCs in general

I have to come up with another one rip 😔😔😔 I should have saved the masc women thing for this one. Has anyone actually read all of these to get that reference I feel like I’ve done 500 even though this is literally the fifth one. Ok anyway this is like a personal taste thing but I like how for the most part most of my ocs are generally nice people, like don’t get me wrong I love terrible evil mean characters in general and making them sometimes as well, but it’s nice to think abt these people who all want to help each other and would probably get along. Super super corny I know but I like to think about it nonetheless. Here are the biggest exceptions to this rule

Joanna

Rocio

Aya

Salem

Tora

Henry

This other girl whose name I haven’t come up with yet she’s the one who looks like this

if anyone who has read this far has an idea for what her name should be please comment with it lol

[starlingsrps]

just forget the world.

alex has very easily become a part of manon’s life in a way that makes her realize exactly how lonely she was. adrien is gone nearly every night now, closing the store and taking off, usually only returning again when it’s time to fire the ovens. naturally, these activities are not for her to know of. as much as she would like to argue and pester because she is a resistance member too, the finality and firmness with his denials makes her think that it’s for a damn good reason. 

so she spends her nights with alex. he’s good at staying quiet and away from windows during the day and she’s not entirely sure what he does do all day, to be perfectly honest. but he’s someone to talk to and play cards with at the end of the day. it’s been so long since she was around people her own age that she’d forgotten what it was like to not be the child in the room. he can make her laugh, however rusty the sound. if it seems like he never stops talking, he at least has interesting things to say. they probably talk too much. like the other downed pilots they’ve harbored, he’ll be gone soon and she won’t know what happens to him next. getting attached is a terrible idea but she seems to have done it anyway without realizing.

“what do you miss most?” she asks one evening, trying to distract him while she checks his arm. he doesn’t have much of a pain tolerance and distracting him seems to help. frankly, he’s kind of a baby about it.

he shrugs his free shoulder. “i don’t know.” he pauses to think. “home or the base?”

“either, i suppose,” she says, probing the bone. it’s healing nicely, if she does say so herself.

“let me think about it.” he winces as she checks for signs of infection. “what do you miss? from before.”

she goes quiet, trying to think of anything. she was barely eighteen when the occupation started and anything before that feels like it belongs to a different person. the things that did bring her any joy were so slowly taken away from her that she never had a chance to replace them. she misses school of all things, feeling pretty without worrying about it catching the wrong eye. she used to like dressing up and fussing with her hair and makeup but the wolf whistles and predatory looks had taken any pleasure out of it. she dresses simply now, braiding her hair and keeping her eyes down.

she misses susanne like a limb but doesn’t know how to say it without it sounding dramatic. it’s the truth but it doesn’t feel like something she’s supposed to say. he doesn’t know what happened to her and she doesn’t feel able to explain it tonight.

“i don’t know either,” she says with a shake of her head, sweeping the rest away. “movies, i guess. we haven’t had anything new in ages.”

“we always got them,” he says. “back at base.”

she rolls her eyes and he seems to catch that she’s kidding because he laughs. “flyboys.”

“could die tomorrow: what if i missed the new gary cooper?”

 “perish the thought. i know you don’t miss new movies.”

“going outside,” he says promptly. “don’t get me wrong; you’ve both been great but…”

“you’re a little penned up.”

“and on my birthday.”

he says it like a little kid and it makes her laugh as she rewraps his bandage. “it is not.”

“it’s august twenty sixth, right?” she nods

and he looks triumphant. “it’s my birthday.”

“well , how old are you then?”

“twenty one. you want to see my papers?”

"you don't have them." she gives him a skeptical look but his face is as serious as she’s ever seen it so she supposes he’s not pulling her leg. she sighs, unfortunately sounding exactly like her mother, and he laughs under his breath. “fine. put on your shoes and follow me. if you tell adrien about this, i’ll kill you.”

he does as she says and they wind down the narrow stairs out of the flat and down to the alley. it’s dim and a little damp but at least doesn’t smell. there’s some light from the street lamp at one end and her bicycle propped against the wall. as a slice of paris, it’s far from the best she could offer but it’s not the same four walls he’s been seeing.

“voila,” she says with a flamboyant gesture. “paris.”

he takes a few steps forward and manon lunges forward to grab him by the collar. he stops, looks over his shoulder at her and grins. “not even on my birthday?”

“not even on your birthday,” she says gravely. adrien would kill her if he found out he was even in the alley and frankly she’s not sure if his smile or the fear or being caught that has her stomach in a knot. “get back to the step.”

he gives her a sharp salute with his free arm and edges around her to get back to the step. “yes ma’am.”

she glances at her watch and leans against the brick wall of the shoe shop next door. “five minutes of paris, only because it’s your birthday.”

“five whole minutes of paris,” he says, his voice a little dry. “incredible.”

“i could make it one.”

he laughs. “fine. so where are we?”

“in the city? the seventh arrondisment. the tower is that way, les invalides is that.” he cranes his neck at her words like he might be able to see over the buildings. “i’d take you to see them if i could.”

it’s quiet here at night once all of the shops close and people lock themselves indoors, quiet enough that the sound of approaching boot heels has them both freezing. immediately, manon feels like she should shove them both inside and never ever do anything this stupid again but knows that sudden movement is an easy way to get unwanted attention from a german on patrol. 

there’s nothing else for it but blind, foolish action. she grabs him by his shirt front and pulls him down to kiss him. he’s stiff with surprise for a split second but quickly turns enthusiastic. his hand brushes along her hip and her waist to rest at the back of her neck to hold her in place to kiss her deeply and thoroughly. she’s dimly aware of a flashlight beaming down the alley and something muttered in german before boot heels click in the opposite direction but a bomb could drop in the street and she wouldn’t be able to tear herself away.

alex breaks away first and manon realizes her fingers are still clutching his shirt. he nuzzles her neck, making her sigh. her heart is pounding and for once, not due to fear. she’d forgotten how that felt. he smiles against her neck and lifts his head. “god i wish i had two hands right now.”

manon laughs and relaxes her fingers. “you managed.”

that smile again, the only thing she can see, before he kisses her again. this time, it feels real. not a distraction, not a disguise: this belongs to them. it’s slower, easier. his hand slips to her waist, pulling her flush against him and she stretches up to wrap her arms around his neck. she notices things, tucks them away so she can remember the first good thing to happen to her in years when he’s gone - the sound he makes into her mouth when her fingers tug at the hair at the back of his neck to get him closer because it doesn’t feel like it will ever be enough, the safety she feels in his hand curled around her waist. his heart pounds against hers. she could stay like this forever but the church bells down the block start to chime the hour and it startles them both out of the reverie.

“i think it’s been more than five minutes,” he murmurs finally.

through heavily lidded eyes, she glances at her watch over his shoulder - it’s been more like twenty. immediately, the wariness that has been her companion since the occupation returns and she supposes she should be thankful that another patrol didn’t pass and hear them speaking english or adrien decided to call it an early night for once. “we should go inside.”

they do and once inside, she feels as awkward as she ever has in her entire life. she wants to kiss him again and he’s looking at her like he wants to kiss her again. she could. he could. 

she darts into her bedroom instead

[loveditapp]

Love And Relationship Quotes

• Dignity and love do not blend well, nor do they continue long together.

I saw galaxies in your eyes👁

• Finding your true love is not hard, you just have to be patient and find it with your heart. ❤

• Don't change yourself, for someone to make him love you, just be you, the right man will come.

• You can love the person you trust but you can not always trust the person you love.

• Love is the greatest feeling in the word but it can also be the worse.

• Being in a relationship is a full-time job. So don’t apply if you’re not ready.

• Love is when you accept a person the way he or she is.

• You’ll never understand love until you have experienced it.

• Our together is forever.

• I can't wait until I can roll over at 2 a.m. To find your lips 💋instead of a text.

• Girls want guys with a future, guys want girls with no past.

• Dear crush!! You've crushed me.

• There is nothing that is more beautiful than true love at a young age.

Download Lovedit app for more these free content from play store

• Love is when you can spend every second of every day with someone and it still isn’t enough.

• I want to be with you until my last page.

• You don't cross my mind👨, you live in it.

• Love is a fruit in season at all times and within reach of every hand.

• I didn’t forget that I love you, I just realized that you love her more.

• I fell in love with you because you taught me how to love myself.

• I only get jealous because I LOVE YOU, and I don't want anyone else to have you.

• Look at the stars. Countless, right? They represent the number of thoughts I’ve had of you...

• Six billion people in this world and all I need is you. :]

• They say Disney World is the happiest place on earth, obviously, they haven’t been in your arms.

• I need you like a heart ❤ needs a beat.

• A million feelings, a thousand thoughts, a hundred memories, all for one person......

• People say love is kind of like your virginity you can only give it to one person!

• Being in love. never goes out of style...

• When I hear your name, my heart smiles.

• Love is like a swing sometimes it’s down sometimes its up.

• Someday someone is going to look at you like you’re the best thing in the world.

• Love isn’t easy that’s why only those who are capable to tackle it, get it.

• You know a girl is serious when they say your name in a text.

• If you truly love someone, you should be more interested in keeping them happy than in being right.

• My hearts stops when you're with me.

• Love is like a game, the more serious you are, the more pain you get when you fail.

• By the way, I'm wearing the smile you gave me.

• Without you, there is no reason to wake up in the morning.

• If there ever we can't stay together keep me in your heart 💜 I'll stay there forever...

• Love is like air. You can feel it, but you can’t see it. Because love isn’t from the eyes, but from the heart.

• Hugging is a silent way of saying «YOU MATTER TO ME».

• Love is not expecting, love is accepting.

• I'll always be there to lift you up whenever you are down.

• You are the only clock 🕐 that’s ticking in my heart!

• All because of our little arguments and weird conversations, I fell in love with you.

• The one who know you than you know yourself love him like you love yourself because you are so lucky to have a man like him😄❤.

• Thank you, my love, for always making me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.

• You and I just have that connection😊.

• I get high on words and long talks.

• Love is an art that comes directly from the heart.

• A tight hug can do much for someone that's hurting.

• Long distance relationship will work if two people involve are strong in faith, love, and respect for each other.

• A strong woman is man's most powerful weapon.

• Your cute smile is all I need to battle all struggles in my life.

• Every morning I wake up happy because I know I will see you.

• Sacrificing your happiness for the happiness of the one you love, is by far, the truest type of love.

• You’ll always have a place in my heart, cos that’s where I keep my valuables.

• I look at you and you look at me...now I know why the best things in life are for free...

• Not all who make love, make marriages.

• Sometimes the people you love the most, are the ones that hurt you the worst.

• Fight for the fairy 👼 tale it does exist.

• I will take care of me for you if you will take care of you for me.

• Love starts with a hug, grows with a kiss, and ends with a tear.

• If I Can Only See You in My Dreams, Then Let Me Sleep Forever.

• If you can’t handle me at my worst, then you don’t deserve me at my best.

• When we first met, I had no idea that you would be so important to me.

• You are everything I want & more than I deserve.

• There is no true love without jealousy.

• When in love, eyes become ears and the heart becomes the eyes.

• Need advice on relationships? Get in touch with broken

soul or a one-sided lover.

• If the home 🏡 is where the heart ❤ is, then as long as I'm with you, I will be at home.

• Love can make you smile 😊 but can also make you cry

😢

Download Lovedit app for more these free content from play store

• You don’t love a woman because she is beautiful, but she is beautiful because you love her.

• You may not trust the people you love❤. But you can always love the people you trust.

• When you smile you simply light up my world to an extreme.:)

• I am like the minerals of water without taste without you.💧

• Being ONLINE doesn't mean that I'm chatting with others, It means, I'm waiting for your Text... 😊😊

• My love is for you something I'll never run out of.

• l love🙈u and that only matters...🥀

• You fall in love with the most unexpected person at the most unexpected time.

• Everything is better when we're together.

• I fell in love with you because you taught me how to love

myself.

• The best relationship usually begins unexpectedly.

• I can’t stop thinking about you, today... tomorrow... always.

• Being with you what I call happiness.😊

• If love is a game I want to play as long you don’t cheat!

• Love ... is loving someone even if they don’t deserve it...

• I want you to be happy😊, but I want you to be happy with Me.

• I may not be your first date, kiss or love...but I want to be your last everything.

• Love is not easy but I’m holding on to this...👫

• You were the sunshine of my life. But I guess an eclipse came in between.

• Love brings out the stupidity in you. It makes you want to

cry and laugh at the same time.

• I fall in love with you every single day.

• Love doesn’t cost you money or riches it costs you time and effort.

• I’ve found this new disease, it’s called LOVE. I know its contagious cause you gave it to me.

• The best feeling is when you look at him...and he is already staring.

• Tears can be trusted more than a smile. Because there will

be a true reason behind every tear.

• If loving you is wrong, I don’t want to be right and if I’m wrong there is no right.

• If you want to be together, you have to-get-her. 😃❤💑

• My love for you is like the ocean...you can see the

beginning but never the end. (:

• Never frown, because you never know when someone is falling in love with your smile.

• Anywhere with you is better than anywhere without you.

• Love is something that everyone is looking for but most will never have.

TO BE CONTINUED

Download Lovedit app for more these free content from play store

Too Read full article

On your mobile- Read full article for free

On Desktop - Read more

[winetae]

⇨ set myself on fire (m).

ex bf!yoongi. college au. 3355 words. slight age gap, slight angst. hand holding. dirty talk, possessiveness.

With him, you were always trying. Trying to be more, trying to be less. Bending, shrinking, expanding. 

.

.

Break-ups, you eventually learn, are not a good look for you.

Self-doubt keeps you awake at night more than caffeine ever has. The lack of proper sleep has disastrous consequences on your school life and your general appearance.

Even the most skilled makeup artists would consider you a lost cause. All their professional training and years of experience would not be enough to breathe new life into your dull and haggard appearance, not when your exhaustion is still so visibly apparent through the layers of concealer you regularly apply under your eyes. When you stare at yourself in the mirror you see a ghost, a creature from the past anchored in the wrong reality.

This goes on for a week, then two. You probably would have hit the third week mark if your friends hadn’t staged an emergency intervention.

“Your first big split can be hard, I get it.” Mari pats your shoulder. “That’s why you gotta listen to us. This can't go on any longer than it already has.”

Liz is a little less sympathetic. She’s always hated your ex-boyfriend and has no reservations reminding you of what an asshole he is.

You don't agree with her snide remarks but know it's useless to argue. Any objection has her rolling her eyes.

"You think being nice is ignoring your calls for a week?"

"It wasn't a week-"

"Do the details matter?" she crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow. "If he really respected you, he'd let you know he was gonna be busy instead of letting you waste your time and energy worrying about him."

Maybe she's right. Maybe you need to stop finding excuses for his every action.

Thanks to your friends' gentle but firm guidance you learn that there’s a code of conduct one must follow post break-up. Detailed steps one must take to numb the side effects of heartbreak.

It’s challenging to keep track of every little thing you’re supposed to be doing - and not doing - but you’re determined to become a functioning member of society once more.

RULE 1. BLOCK THAT MF. Your friends collectively warn you to lose your ex’s number. Delete it, block it, forget it. It makes moving on easier, they insist.

RULE 2. STAY OFF SOCIAL MEDIA. Don’t keep tabs on him. Seeing him be happy without you will make you swim in misery (and wine).

RULE 3. KEEP BUSY. Meet with friends, talk to family. Study, work out - whatever keeps your mind occupied.

The list goes on, some rules making less sense than others, but you’re so desperate to move on at this point that you’re willing to try just about anything.

It works - for the most part. You’ve never been more social in your life and the constant human to human interactions take up most of your free time and energy.

You try your best. Really, you do. It’s not enough, but it helps. So far you’ve successfully avoided any major meltdowns.

RULE 13 : NO LISTENING TO SAD SONGS/WATCHING SAD MOVIES in particular has kept you from recreating the typical kdrama scene where the lead wallows in her own sadness, a tub of ice cream in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other, before a nicer, smarter, more handsome love interest sweeps her off her feet.

It’s week six, almost week seven, when your friends decide that you’re ready to take the next step.

“What you need is a distraction,” Mari says, wagging her eyebrows, the implication of her words evident.

“She’s not that kind of girl.”

“What do you mean?” Except you know exactly what she means. You just want to make her say it. 

“Well, aren’t you the relationship type?” it’s defensive, like she knows she’s said the wrong thing. 

“Sometimes.” You say, but the answer is distracted, your mind elsewhere.

You’re thinking about lists and rules, adding this one to the ever growing manual you’ve sworn to follow. RULE 26. DATE OTHER PEOPLE. THERE ARE OTHER FISH AT SEA.

“You don’t need to find the love of your life right now. Just - like go out, have fun. It doesn't have to be a big thing."

"Why don't we go clubbing!" Mari proposes, excitement building in her tone. "Even if no one catches your eyes, I think it’ll do you some good to go out. We haven’t been out together in forever!”

You think about the alternative. Going home, watering your plants, microwaving the leftover lasagna, feeling bad for yourself. Reluctantly, you nod.

“That settles it then!” Liz cheers, already making her way to her closet to dig up the perfect outfit. “We’ll help you find a hot rebound. Nothing is better than good dick to help you realize there are plenty of great options!”

Next to you, Mari nods sagely. “It’ll help you - make you realize that there are other guys out there. Your world is much bigger than one single person, no matter how great you thought they were.”

Her words of advice settle into your bones, haunting. You want to believe her but if there's anything these past weeks have taught you, it's that your heart is stubborn. It cares little about what's better or nicer or kinder.

When you return her smile, you know deep down that you're only setting yourself up for disappointment.

.

.

.

.

Rule 26 is tiresome work, requiring more effort than advertised. But like every rule before this one, you give it your best shot.

It doesn’t take long for your eyes to zero in on tonight’s target.

The guy in front of you is handsome. Objectively. Prominent features with long lashes and pouty lips. Slicked back hair, well dressed, and clearly on the lookout for a one night stand. He ticks all of your boxes - if you had any to begin with. 

Somewhere over his shoulder you see Mari shoot you a thumbs up, grinning like a proud mom, and the sight helps steel your resolve. You can do this.

It doesn’t take long for the both of you to shift to the dance floor, chests pressing against one another.

His hands on your waist are warm. The way he’s moving his body - the slow grind of his hips against yours - it should be enticing.

But you feel - detached. Your brain registers everything that’s happening to you in an almost clinical way. Two hands, a set of lips, the rub of stubble against your cheek. Your body is responding in a rehearsed fashion, like it’s following a set of pre-set instructions, and all the while your mind is elsewhere. 

You’re not distracted, you realize. You’re bored. The space between your ribs and beating heart is just as hollow as it was before. Briefly you wonder if the emptiness will ever fill itself back up again, or if you’re supposed to live the rest of your life searching for the missing pieces that used to make you whole.

“Gotta go to the bathroom.” You squirm out of his grasp. There’s no point in playing this game anymore, not when the promised prize is this lackluster.

“Oh yeah. Sure.”

He nods, smiling, but his eyes are already flitting around the crowded room, on the lookout for your replacement. You wander off, weaving through the crowd of swaying bodies, and take a left instead of right, heading for the backdoor instead of the bathroom. 

The midnight air is cool against your skin and you breathe it in greedy gulps.

Your mind clears and suddenly fatigue seeps in. Here, hidden in the shadows, you allow your mask to slip. You’re tired of pretending that everything is okay, that this endless list of do's and don’ts you’ve been following is the only way to achieve happiness.

And maybe this is the universe’s way of telling you that you should stop running away from your feelings. That no matter how much you pretend, the truth is always there, sitting under the scabs you’ve covered up with makeshift bandages.

There’s a pull, a magnetism you’re weak to. Your eyes land on his familiar figure like you knew he was there to begin with and your world comes to standstill. A feeling you can’t name threatens to burst from your chest.

The gravity must be a two-way street, one of two planets circling around each other, for his gaze somehow lifts and your eyes meet for the first time in months.

The moment he spots you, a three second beat passes with him frozen in place, like his body doesn’t know whether to flee or disappear into the ground. Then, after a small eternity, he relaxes back into his signature slouch, resigning himself to whatever twisted plan fate has schemed against him.

When he doesn’t budge from his position, you decide to approach him, well aware this is going against RULE 4 : AVOID YOUR EX AT ALL COSTS. ANYWHERE HE IS LIKELY TO SHOW UP, DO NOT GO. With every step you take all of your hard work goes down the drain but -

But.

For the first time tonight, your chest thrums with nervous anticipation. You feel alive again - not a shell of the person you used to be or a puppet imitating who you wished you could become.

“It’s been a while," you start off, hoping it comes off casual. It doesn’t. 

He sneaks a glance in your direction before looking back down at the cigarette plucked between two lips. He lights it and takes a long drag before looking back at you. 

“You’ve been doing well.” 

The phrasing throws you off. It’s not a question so you don’t know how to answer. You also don’t know why he thinks that, if it’s the fact you’re out right now instead of sleeping through the pain of a broken heart, or if he’s asked one of your friends how you’ve been doing. Maybe he’s seen your life through pictures, drawn up conclusions that only reinforce his decision.

“… I’m trying to.” 

Trying. With him, you were always trying. Trying to be more, trying to be less. Bending, shrinking, expanding. 

Something in his face softens at that. Maybe he realizes it, too. 

“You will be.” He says it with a note of finality, of certitude. Like the few years he has more than you grants him knowledge you’re not privy to.

“Well, what if I won’t?” You huff, wrapping your arms around yourself. “What if - what if I feel like this forever?”

It’s a childish question, one that probably cements his view of you. In the past you’d always crafted your sentences with care, trying to match his maturity in words but the break-up has made you realize he’d always seen through your act.

A smile plays at his lips, not reaching his eyes. “Forever is a myth. You’ll see - you’ll find a guy who actually deserves you, and everything I said will start to make sense.”

It’s infuriating - the way he decides these things for you without your consent. Like your feelings don’t matter when faced with logic and facts.

“I love you. Doesn’t that count for anything?” 

“You don’t want love,” corrects Yoongi, albeit gently, like he knows his words might shatter you if he isn’t careful. “You just want me.”

You swallow, mulling his words over. Trying to understand the unsaid.

“I’m no good for you.” He repeats his words from the break-up.  

“But-” You look down, frowning. “What does that matter? I’ve always been happier with you. Now I’m just - I’m…I don’t know anymore. I don’t know.”

Your voice tapers off. You just feel so stupid. Young, stupid. Sifting through the ashes of your relationship, desperate to salvage the bits that hadn’t burned to dust. 

Unshed tears blur your vision. You clench your jaw, determined to not break down completely. Yoongi's features twist, his heart weakened by your pathetic appearance, and for a fleeting moment you can see past his unyielding veneer.

“Kitten,” it’s spoken softly, so softly you can pretend it’s a term meant solely for you. 

You can see he regrets saying it as soon as the word tumbles out, unbidden. A slip of the tongue. Yet, you latch onto the sliver of comfort offered before he can take it back.

As soon as you step into his personal space, your world shifts on its axis and adjusts. You feel all the floaty parts of yourself slot into place as they were meant to be. 

“Yoongi, I miss you.” 

When he stares into your eyes, you don’t look away, hoping he’ll see the truth for what it is. How those three words fail to sum up the extent of your never-ending yearning. 

“It’s for the best,” he says. Still, he allows you to take his free hand in between your own. It’s cold to the touch, like his skin is carved from marble, but it only makes you squeeze tighter, hoping your warmth will be enough for the both of you.

“Maybe.”

If life was a chess board, with set rules and clear winners, maybe you’d relent and accept that there was a better fit for you somewhere out there. Someone who was emotionally available, who made time for you, and gave you the validation you needed.

You didn’t start dating Yoongi expecting these things, though.

“But what relationship is perfect?” You demand hotly, fire in your veins. “I’ve never wanted that from you. I don’t care about that. You said I didn’t want love. That’s not true. I don’t believe what you gave me wasn’t love.”

Yoongi listens, patient as always. He takes another drag from his cigarette and silence hangs in the air, heavy with want and regret.

“It’s not fair to you.” He looks away, weak. “I feel like I can do anything and get away with it. I don’t want to have that kind of power over you.”

Your mind races as it processes his confession. It’s the first time he’s phrased it in other terms than ‘you should’, ‘you deserve’, you, you, you.

“I don’t…can’t we work out this out together? Is it easier for you to shut people out than fix things? Was it… was it that easy breaking up with me?”

“It’s not easy.” He wets his lips. “It hasn’t been easy. I only - I’ve only wanted what was the best for you. What I thought would be the best for you. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I was hurt, though.”

Yoongi squeezes your hand back. The touch is everything you remember - secure, comforting, reassuring.

“I’m sorry. I’ve never wanted that.”

“I know.”

A pause and then, whispered in the night for only you to hear, “I’m afraid I’ll keep hurting you.”

“Whatever you’ve done in the past… It hurts more now, when we’re apart.”

He swallows audibly but his eyes never leave yours. In them, you see your emotions reflected. Logic and facts are meaningless now. The love you'd tried to smother out blazes into a wildfire, so untameable and overwhelming Yoongi can only get caught in it.

When you stand on your toes and lean in to press your lips against his, he doesn't move to stop you. What remains of his cigarette falls to the floor by his feet, forgotten.

.

.

.

It’s disgustingly easy falling back into bed with Yoongi. You’re partly to blame, though, for having built your world around him, for programming your body to only respond to him. When he kisses you and your knees go weak, you can’t imagine anyone else getting you this keyed up. His hands play you with as much skill as a virtuoso masters his instrument, plucking sigh after sigh of pleasure from your lips.

“These are cute.”

His thumb plays with the small bow adorning the front of your brand new pair of underwear. A self-care gift to yourself. They'd looked nice when you'd tried them on but now they look slightly out of place - the ruffled, pale pink fabric a stark contrast against his black bed sheets.

“Yeah…” You lift your hips, trying to entice him without needing to voice out your needs. “Wanted to get laid tonight.”

“Yeah?” Yoongi smiles but there’s an edge to it. He laughs as he snaps the band of your lace underwear against your hipbone. “You planned on bringing any old guy home tonight?”

Yoongi doesn't get jealous. But - sometimes - he gets weirdly possessive, intent on reminding you how only he affects you. It's silly, this need for validation, especially because you've never shied away from telling him how much you want him. You suppose that's just another difference between the two of you - you speak love in words, him through actions.

“Uh-huh. Wanted to forget.”

“Hmm.”

His hands continue to map out your body. He's lazy about it, like time isn't important - even though the both of you have to be up by seven to catch your morning lectures.

“Found someone but - wasn’t fun. Only thought about - ah - you.”

“He would’ve been so lucky, though. Look at you.” His hands travel up your thighs, opening up your legs further so that you’re exposed shamelessly. “So fuckin' pretty.”

Your mind flickers back to the guy you'd danced with earlier. You can't even remember what he looks like, let alone his name. All you know is that no one in that club you could have gone home with tonight could ever measure up to this.

“You still get so wet, kitten.” Yoongi kisses down your neck while deft fingers slide under the band of your underwear. He swipes through the small puddle of arousal, his fingers ice cold against your heat.

A moan escapes your lips, your hips pushing down against his hand in search for more friction. He lets you do as you please for a few drawn out seconds before pinning your hips in place, growling against your ear in warning.

“Tell me,” He forces you to hold his stare. “Would you have let him play with your pussy, hm?”

You bite your lips, hesitant. “N-no.”

“Liar.” Yoongi kisses you, tongue pressing against your own, until you can’t think straight. “You think he would’ve gotten you this wet? Sopping like this?”

His fingers thrust harder to prove his point, loud squelches ringing in your ears. It’s so fucking embarrassing to hear the proof of your desire but Yoongi smirks, amused by your discomfort.

“No, no.” You moan, pussy clamping to keep him buried deep. “Only y-you. I’m yours.”

“That’s right, kitten. I trained your pussy to take cock, get it this fuckin’ wet.” He yanks off your new - now sodden - pair of underwear and stares between your legs, famished. A shiver runs down your spine, each filthy word going straight to your core. "Gonna make you squirt all over my tongue. Remind you who this pussy belongs to."

"Fuck." You squeeze your eyes shut, afraid that the image of Yoongi's head between your thighs will be enough material to push you over.

"Look at me." Yoongi slaps your thigh, his expression unforgiving. "You're gonna watch me while I eat this pussy."

You nod, already half delirious. You know you're no match for his tongue - a fact he loves reminding you the best way he knows how. Before meeting Yoongi, you'd always been wary of the idea of oral sex. What if you smelled weird? Looked weird? You'd never imagined a guy could actually get off eating you out but Yoongi literally thrives off the sounds you make when his lips are attached to your throbbing clit. He wants you loud, neighbors be damned.

"Cum whenever you want," he instructs, lowering his head so that he's eye level your soaked cunt. Hunger is set deep on every line of his face, the muscles in his jaw tense from having to hold himself back.

You blink, not believing him for a second.

"Cum," he challenges, his pupils dark with arousal. "But I'm not gonna stop until you're begging for my cock."

[silv3rswirls]

Comforting their s/o when they cry (Ateez)

Note: Some of the members came out short than others based on the scenarios I picked for them

Tike taken: about 30 minutes/unedited

♡Seonghwa♡

Crying over an argument

You and Seonghwa were busy people. You worked part-time and went to school, while Seonghwa could often get caught up with KQ and Ateez. So, spending time together could be hard to find at times. But you made it work, mainly by trying to plan things the best you could around Seonghwa’s schedules. Most of the time it worked out, but lately, it hasn't. You just couldn’t cancel and reschedule all the important events coming up and unfortunately, your dates with Seonghwa had suffered.

That’s why both of you were standing around in the dorm bickering at the moment. Seonghwa wanted to go out with you tomorrow afternoon, but you were swamped. “Can’t you reschedule it?” He asked again, “I want to take you out.”

“I can’t” you pressed, “I really can’t miss this, I’m sorry.”

“But you keep saying that, we haven’t spent time together in weeks.” He frowned, frustration building in his voice. “Can’t you cancel? Do you just not want to spend time with him?”

“I always cancel!” You snapped, “I always reschedule so we can be together, so don’t say I don’t want to spend time with you!”

A thick silence fell between the two of you and you hadn’t even noticed your tears until Seonghwa came to brush them away. “I try really hard to accommodate you, and I don’t mind, but sometimes I just can’t, okay?”

Seonghwa wore a guilty expression as he took in your glassy eyes and stressed demeanor. “I’m sorry...do you really plan everything around me?”

You nodded, “I want nothing more than to go out with you all the time, but sometimes things are just too much, okay? I’m sorry I can’t go tomorrow-”

He hushed you, “don’t apologize, I shouldn’t be so persistent in your rescheduling.” He rubbed comforting circles on your hand as he held it, “just forget about tomorrow, let’s just enjoy the time we have together right now.”

♡Hongjoong♡

He's late for a date

Seeing you slowly descend into tears as he tried to explain why he was late hurt. He hadn’t meant to get caught up at work, but he had and your evening date had momentarily slipped his mind. Hence why he was nearly thirty minutes late. He had found you, bored on your phone as you kept up the waiting. He had swopped in with apologies and excuses, but hearing them only made you sadder than you already were. It wasn’t the first time he had forgotten, in fact, you almost expected it. It didn’t make things sting any less, so as you listened to him explain how he had gotten so caught up in work you felt the sting of tears building in your eyes, unable to hold them in as you choked back a sob.

“Don’t cry!” Hongjoong had pressed himself closer to you. It truly took him off guard, seeing as you were also so understanding of these kinds of things. “Don’t cry, I’m sorry.” It tore him up to see you crying because of him, but his heart broke when he heard you mutter than it was to be expected of him as you tried to wiggle free. His hold on you grew lax as he looked back on all the times he had done this. With a pang of guilt in his chest, he realized that he had come to expect you to accept his apologies and excuses, accidentally taking advantage of your usual kind and supportive energy.

He waits until the two of you are outside, following you to your car. “Just go home, I don’t feel like doing anything anymore.” You sniffled, fishing your keys from your bag.

He nodded but went in for another hug, wrapping his arms tight around your body and pressing his face into your shoulder. “I’ll do better” he mutters, “I promise, I’m so sorry for tonight.” Tentatively he rubs away whatever tears are left in your eyes and kisses your forehead, “text me when you get home, okay?”

You nod with a small smile, sharing one more hug before heading off.

♡Yunho♡

Crying of frustration

Yunho immediately brought you in for a hug when he noticed your frustration spilling into tears. You had been working on your schoolwork the past few hours, studying and preparing for your exams while he watched a movie beside you. You had been turning your mind over and over trying to understand the material in front of you, but every time you tried to work it out you found yourself either wrong or too lost to keep going. Frustration set in early as you tried to keep going, but as you did so your eyes clouded with tears and they escaped right as Yunho came back with a snack for the of you.

“Awe, baby don’t cry” he cooed, arms tight around you as he pulled you away from your work. He could understand being so overwhelmed and frustrated, but seeing your break down into tears over it tugged his heartstrings harder. “It’s okay, just take a break.” He squeezes you tight, almost like he was trying to squeeze your frustration away. He made you take a long break, have some water, and a snack to relax. In the end, he sat by your side and helped you through it, a bit lost as well but eager to help you. He keeps his arm around you the whole time.

♡Yeosang♡

A pet passes away

Yeosang had no idea what to do when you tearfully explained how your beloved family pet had passed away the previous day. You had come to him with teary eyes but as you explained the situation further you broke down to full sobs. His eyes grew wide as you broke down, understandably so. “I’m sorry” he spoke softly, taking your hand gently and guiding you to sit down. Losing a pet could be so painful, he just wanted to take all your pain away.

He knew he couldn’t just make it disappear, so he let you get it all out on his shoulder. Rubbing your back and handing you tissues. Yeosang wants to be there for you all he can, despite being a little jumbled and awkward with his actions at times. He makes sure you cuddle up close with him, petting through your hair and reminding you of all the good memories with your pet. He wants you to smile back on all the good things.

♡San♡

Watching a sad movie

With a storm raining outside, you and San had chosen to settle down for the evening with a movie. Cuddled under a blanket with snacks and light conversations as the movie San picked at random ran through its time. You had liked the movie at first, a kind of coming-of-age film as it slowly went through the main character’s life with her friends and family.

It was towards the end where you found your face heating up with tears. The main character was reminiscing in her old age of her youth and all the people that impacted her life, focusing heavily on one of her childhood friends that she had a falling out with. They had never spoken again, going separate ways in life seemingly not missing the other. It ripped at your heartstrings a bit too personally as you were only reminded of an old friend you had drifted from. As the credits rolled and you sat with old memories you could feel your shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

“Baby?” San was caught off guard to find you crying. You explained how close to home it had hit you, and San scrambled to change it to something happier to take your mind off of it. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have picked a sad one.” He frowned, holding on to your tightly. Even long after your tears stopped he keeps you in his arms, cuddling and talking sweetly with you for the rest of the night.

♡Mingi♡

Overwhelmed

Mingi’s go-to had been to scoop you up in a bear hug. He knew with just how hard you had begun to break down that it wasn’t just over breaking a glass. He listened to you desperately try to explain how it was so much more than the glass, how hard you had been trying to hold everything in the past month or so. He clings to you for the rest of the day, encouraging you to let everything out and cry as long and hard as you need to. He’ll be there for you through it all.

“Come to me whenever you need.” He assures you that it’s okay, he wants to hear about all your worries and frustrations. The both of you lay down, cuddling as you recount how emotionally blocked you had been. Talking away all the big worries on your mind as Mingi listened to every word. He keeps his arms tight around you.

♡Wooyoung♡

Not knowing why

Wooyoung had come home excited to see you after a long day. He had many things stored away to tell you about, questions about your day, about your next date, anything that had come to mind during the day. Eagerly he found you in bed, the big smile on his face slowly fading as he noticed your quiet crying. He tones his energy down and sits beside you. Carefully he runs a hand over your back, catching your attention as you turn over to face him. “What happened?”

You shake your head, “I don’t know...I just needed to cry I guess.” You seem upset, unable to figure out exactly why or what you were crying over. Seeing your boyfriend’s brow knit in confusion and a small pout taking his lips only made you cry more. You had buried your face into his thigh, but Wooyoung wasted no time crawling under the covers with you. “It’s okay” he soothes, an arm around your waist as the other rubs away your tears, poking and pinching at your cheek in an attempt to get you to smile. “Sometimes we just need to cry, it’s okay.”

♡Jungho♡

Stress

“Everything’s fine, I’m here.”

Jongho had been with you when you began to break down. He was sitting on the sofa of your place as you pace around, on the phone with work as major changes were taking place. Watching you frantically scribble down dates and notes, anyone could easily tell how stressed you were getting.

When you finally hung up, standing over the table quietly and playing with your pen he got up to check on things. He found you rereading everything you hastily scribbled down, chewing your lip as you tried not to start crying. Between school and work, you were feeling nothing but stress and worry over how things would turn out in the coming days.

“I-I’m sorry” you hiccuped, rubbing your eyes. Jongho hadn’t known what to do at first, but he’s quick to let you wrap your arms around him and try to compose yourself. He strokes your hair, again muttering that it was okay to cry on his shoulder like this. “We’ll figure it out together, okay?” He keeps an eye on you even when you break away and takes a few deep breaths.

[junghelioseok]

heart-on.

↳ your one-night stand definitely isn’t relationship material, but maybe—just maybe—your manager’s son is.

◇ hoseok x reader ◇ smut | strangers to lovers!au ◇ 10.1k [1/1]

❛❛ my boss is always telling me how perfect her son would be for me and she promises he’s coming to the next holiday party and don’t worry he’s heard all about me too and ALSO there’s this dude i slept with once a couple of months ago and sometimes he still sends me dick pics when i ask him to at 3 in the morning cause seriously dude’s got a good dick ❜❜

notes: welcome to the first installment of the serendipity series! we’re starting with hoseok, because, well, have you met me? 🤣 be warned, however, that this isn’t anywhere near as edited as i’d like so i’ll probably give it another read/edit tomorrow but for now!!! here it is!!!

⇢ series masterlist. | inspired by this post.

warnings: dirty talk bc hoseok’s got a bit of a mouth on him, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, kids!), sexting. dick pics, obvi. brief mention of a dead pet goldfish :(

You’re refilling your mug when you hear it. Voices filter out from the kitchen, floating past the coffee station where you’re pouring yourself another drink and hanging in the open air of the hallway that leads back to the rest of the office. They’re familiar voices, too—voices that belong to the resident gossips of your workplace. Lottie’s pitchy, nasal tone melds with Hyejin’s higher one, their conversation interrupted every so often by an exaggerated exclamation or gasp from Sandra, the third and final member of their trio.

“Haven’t you heard? Carolyn’s divorce was finalized over the weekend, the poor thing.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine how she’s feeling. I mean, getting back into dating at her age? Goodness!”

“And now she’ll be all alone at the holiday party, too. How sad is that?”

“It’s tragic. Poor thing.”

Rolling your eyes, you grab a packet of sugar and tear it open, upending it over your mug and watching the crystalline granules fall into the dark liquid within. You know for a fact that Sandra and her husband can’t even stand to be in the same room for an extended period of time, considering how they’d spent most of last year’s holiday party talking to entirely different groups of people. You’d sat two tables away from them during dinner, and they hadn’t even made eye contact once. And as for Lottie and Hyejin, well, you’re certain that their relationships aren’t much better. All three of them are miserable people as far as you’re concerned, and you make a mental note to check in on Carolyn—a sweet woman in her thirties who always keeps chocolate bars in her purse—on your way back to your desk.

“Sheesh. Vultures, the lot of them. Don’t you think?”

You whirl at the sound of your manager’s voice. Kyunghee Jung is a dark-haired woman in her late fifties, and she laughs when she sees your startled expression, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Easy! You’ll spill your coffee if you’re not careful.”

“I’ll probably have a heart attack first,” you reply, pressing a hand to your chest. “What was your job before this? Some kind of intelligence operative? Are you a super spy?”

Kyunghee laughs again and joins you at the counter. “Nothing even remotely as exciting as that,” she answers, plopping her mug down beside yours. It’s decorated with what looks like every color of the rainbow, a massive smiling sunflower taking up the majority of the surface, and the only remnant of the ceramic’s original color is on the very edge of the handle where there’s a lopsided little patch of white. The piece is clearly handmade, and a stark contrast to the simple mint green cup that houses your coffee. Looking at it, it’s impossible not to smile.

“I love that,” you remark, inclining your head at her mug. “Was it a present from one of your kids?”

“Hoseok,” she confirms, running a fingertip along the imperfect handle fondly. “I’ve told you about him before—he’s right around your age.”

You chuckle. “Right, I remember. That’s why he’s the perfect match for me, right?”

“Come now, there’s more to it than that,” Kyunghee defends, waving a hand. “But yes, to answer your question. He gave it to me as a birthday present when he was eight.”

“Well, you never told me he was an artist,” you tease. “Does he have an Etsy? Can I buy one of these off him? Does he do custom orders, maybe?”

Normally, your manager is more than happy to play along with your jokes, but today Kyunghee fixes you with an uncharacteristically serious look. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?” she asks. “He’s coming to the holiday party, after all. I figured you could finally meet.”

You blink. Kyunghee has been making offhand remarks about how well you would get on with her son, Hoseok, for over a year now, but you’ve never even come close to broaching the topic of meeting him. You don’t even know anything about the man beyond the fact that his name is Hoseok and that he works somewhere downtown. He also favors tall socks and yellow suspenders if the framed photograph on Kyunghee’s desk is any indication—or at least, he certainly did when he was still in diapers. Whether he still does, is anyone’s guess.

“Wow, I had no idea he was even interested in coming,” you manage when you’ve recovered from your surprise. “Did you bribe him?”

If Kyunghee notices that your voice is a few pitches higher than usual, she doesn’t remark on it. “Oh, you know. I just told him that this would be his last chance to score free booze on the company’s dime.” She laughs. “Three more months and it’s going to be all beaches and sunshine for me. I might even become a cruise person in my retirement.”

You gasp and slap a hand to your heart. “Kyunghee! Think of the environmental impact!”

“I said I might!” she retorts immediately. “Sheesh. Even in my old age, it’s hard to conveniently forget how shitty and unsustainable those damn boats are.”

You pick up your mug and raise it in a salute. “Well, the oceans thank you.”

“My husband doesn’t,” she answers with a sigh. “He’s been dying to book one of those trips that stop all along the Mediterrannean coastline, and I can’t exactly blame him.”

“That is tempting,” you admit. “You’ll have to send photos, if you do end up going.”

“You’ll be sick of me and my photos before the first day is even up,” she promises. Then she pauses, her eyes darting toward the kitchen where silence has fallen in the last few minutes. “Speaking of being sick—you think the vultures are still hovering around in there? I haven’t had lunch yet, and I need the microwave.”

Obligingly, you edge a little closer to the kitchen doorway and poke your head around the frame, scanning for Lottie and her sidekicks. “Coast is clear. Enjoy your lunch, Kyunghee.”

She nods and raises her mug at you, returning your salute. “I always do.”

///

As soon as the work day ends, you fall into your usual routine. Your commute home is easily walkable on nicer days, and though the winter weather is brisker than you’d like, you decide to walk for the sake of stopping at the convenience store on the corner of the block.

Once you arrive back at your apartment, you change into your comfiest sweats and a loose tee. You turn on some music while you throw together some dinner, and settle onto the couch half an hour later with a full plate and Netflix. Television is a welcome distraction from the events of the workday, and you manage to get through three full episodes of your current show before your pesky brain decides to revisit the events of today, replaying the conversations that you’d both had and overheard.

There’s no denying that you’ve been single for quite some time now, and for the most part, it’s been by choice. Ever since graduating from university, you’ve chosen to focus more on your career, and it’s paid off both in terms of the important position you hold in your company and your above average salary. And yet, you can’t help but think back to the gossip you’d overheard earlier—about the supposed tragedy of being single and attending the upcoming holiday party alone. Your mind wanders to Kyunghee’s son, Hoseok, and how he’ll be in attendance this year. You wonder what he’s like, and whether he really is perfect for you, as Kyunghee seems to be so fond of mentioning.

And then your mind goes to Jay.

You met Jay two months ago, on a well-deserved night out after a hellish workweek. The bar was crowded, and the music coming from the neon dancefloor in the back was just loud enough to drown out your inhibitions. That, combined with the alcohol swimming through your system, made you bold. You sashayed your way across the dancefloor, dodging inebriated bodies and swaying limbs as you fixed your attention on the head of pale lavender hair and deliciously broad shoulders that awaits you just behind the bar counter. The bartender is nothing short of gorgeous, and you’ve thrown all caution to the wind. Sure, several other women are eyeing him like he’s their next meal—several men are, too—but you need another drink. And while he prepares it, you plan to flirt.

A lot.

The bar counter is sticky with spilled liquor, but you don’t pay that any mind as you lean across it, the wood digging into the narrow strip of exposed skin left by your cropped top. “Hi!” you call, and the bartender looks up from where he’s just finished pouring a round of shots for a group of raucous young men.

“Hi yourself,” he says, his pillowy lips stretching into an easy smile. “What can I get you?”

You pretend not to notice the way his eyes flicker down to the dip of your cleavage and instead put on the sultriest smile you are capable of mustering. “Vodka soda,” you tell him, injecting a bit of purr into your voice. “A bit of lemon too, if you have it.”

“Trust me, I have it,” he assures, his smile growing as he reaches for a clean glass and a clear bottle. “Name’s Jin, by the way. I’m here all night, if you need anything e—”

A loud clatter and the sound of breaking glass interrupts the rest of his sentence, and all eyes at the bar go to the source of the disturbance. Conversations stutter to a halt, and even the thumping bass of the music seems to dull. Jin darts to the other end of the bar, where you can see that one of several barstools has fallen to the ground. There’s a man on the ground as well, surrounded by shattered glass and spilled dark liquor, and your eyes widen when you realize that you know him.

And arguably, a little too well.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. People are starting to lose interest in the spectacle, turning back to their own conversations and continuing on as if nothing had happened at all. The man is beginning to clamber to his feet, and a few people lend a helping hand as Jin begins barking out orders for everyone to step back so he can sweep up the broken glass. You seize upon the opportunity, latching on to the nearest arm and pulling them close so you can hide behind them. Vaguely, you’re aware of them sputtering in surprise, but you only have eyes for the man who had fallen off his stool, watching him carefully as he brushes himself off and tries to play it cool despite the sizable patch of whiskey soaking his white shirt.

“Hey, uh…” Your human shield is speaking. “Are you okay? You’re squeezing me pretty tight.”

That draws you out of your daze. Abashed, you loosen your grip on his arm and look up into his face, your throat going dry when you realize how handsome he is. His black hair is parted over his forehead, a stray strand falling into warm brown eyes set above a straight nose and an inviting mouth. There’s a freckle above his top lip, just shy of the center, and your inebriated brain wonders just what it would be like to kiss it.

“I, um—” You clear your throat and try again. “Sorry about that. I just didn’t want him to see me.”

Your newfound companion raises an eyebrow and glances over his shoulder at the drunk man, who is now being ushered out of the bar by his buddies. “You know that guy?”

You nod, cringing. “Yeah, his name’s Trent. I… may or may not have dated him for a few months last year.”

The man laughs out loud. “You dated a Trent?”

“What, like you’ve never made a questionable life choice?” you challenge. “Besides, you shouldn’t judge someone based on the sins of their parents. It’s not his fault they gave him a terrible name.”

“Sure, but it is on him for going along with it,” he replies with a shrug. “I would’ve changed my name as soon as I could if my parents had named me Trent. But hey, that’s just one man’s opinion.”

You laugh. “Okay then, Not-Trent.” Relinquishing your grip on his arm, you let your fingers graze his hand before pulling away entirely. “What do you say we continue this conversation over a drink?”

The man, whose name is decidedly not Trent, catches your fingers in his and gives them a gentle squeeze. “Happily.”

One drink turns into two, and then three. By the end of the hour, you are feeling pleasantly warm, the alcohol spreading through your veins like molasses and turning your surroundings into a hazy blur. The music has grown even louder, pounding against your eardrums, and you grab onto Not-Trent’s wrist as he sets his now-empty glass back down onto the counter.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” you ask, raising your voice to be heard over the thumping bassline. “I can’t even hear myself think.”

“The parking lot’s out back,” he suggests. “Why don’t we get some air?”

You nod and stand up on wobbly legs, cursing your decision to wear heels when you stumble into your companion. He steadies you with a gentle but firm hand, and you don’t miss the way his touch lingers on your lower back, his palm warm through the material of your blouse.

Together, the two of you pick your way through the throng of swaying bodies on the dancefloor. The bassline thuds in your ears, dark and hypnotic, and you can feel the reverberations thrumming across the slats of your ribs and echoing in the cavern of your chest like a second heartbeat.

It’s almost a relief, then, when you step out into the cool night air. Your ears continue to ring for a few seconds, but it soon fades and leaves behind only the muted hum of traffic from the street and the faint sound of music from inside. At your side, Not-Trent releases a long breath and leans against the brick wall of the building, and you turn to take in the steep slopes of his side profile as he tilts his head up toward the velvety night sky.

He’s handsome. Dressed in ripped jeans and black leather, he’s a sight to behold, and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been craving a bit of intimacy for quite some time now. The alcohol swimming through your system makes you bolder than you normally would be, and you reach out to lay a hand on his arm. He turns toward you with a silent question glimmering in his irises, but you simply step closer, until you’re pinning him against the wall with your body and you’re breathing the same air.

“Hey,” you say, your voice an airy whisper. His eyes are near obsidian in the dimness of the parking lot, illuminated only by the orange glow of the streetlamps on either end, and your gaze flickers down to his mouth before roving to the freckle that sits upon his top lip. “Kiss me?”

Your companion’s eyes widen. His lips part, but no words come out, and you’re about to repeat your question when he finally finds his voice again.

“That’s really… that’s not a good idea.” Awkwardly, he clears his throat, but the hoarseness of his voice and the harsh bob of his Adam’s apple give away his true desires. “Look, you’ve been drinking. We both have, and—”

You cut him off, pushing up to your tiptoes and planting a messy kiss to the soft dip just beneath his bottom lip. “Don’t care,” you mumble against his skin. “I want you.”

Your companion laughs weakly. His hands find their way to your waist and pause there, as if he can’t decide whether to push you away or pull you closer. “You don’t even know me,” he murmurs.

“I don’t have to know you,” you reply. Your fingers drag down his chest, trailing along the delicate silver necklace that rests against the black of his shirt. From the chain hangs a round pendant, the surface engraved with the letter J. Slowly, you trace it with a fingertip, the metal shining even in the dim light, and satisfaction blooms in your heart when your companion’s throat bobs again. “I want you,” you breathe, soft but insistent. “Isn’t that enough?”

“I—” He clears his throat and tries again, and you wonder if he realizes that his hands have slid down to your hips, or that there’s a growing hardness against your lower stomach that’s becoming increasingly harder to ignore. “Look, I’m flattered—really, I am. And you’re… I mean, fuck, you’re gorgeous. But I don’t think we should do anything when you’re clearly not in the right frame of mind to be making this kind of decision, and—”

“And, nothing.” You wind your arms around his neck, pressing close and grinding subtly against the bulge in his pants. You smirk when he releases a low hiss from between his teeth, and hide it by laying a trail of kisses along the stretch of bare skin exposed by the dip of his collar. “Stop being such a gentleman,” you whisper. Your fingers trail down his chest, past the silver of his pendant and down to the faded denim of his jeans, teasing at the cool metal of his belt buckle. “I want this. But if you’re not interested, I can always go back in there and—”

The rest of your sentence dies in your throat. Your companion has tugged you flush against him in one smooth motion, and your gasp is cut off by the firm press of his mouth against yours. Immediately, you melt into the kiss, and a moan tears from your lips when he spins you around and pins you against the brick wall of the building.

“You’re a spoiled little thing, huh?” His breath fans hot against your cheeks, and you shiver when you meet his eyes and see the dark promise reflected there. “Used to getting what you want, huh, princess?”

Your breath hitches at the endearment—something your companion doesn’t miss. “Oh, you like that?” He chuckles hoarsely, and when he speaks again it’s in a rasp that sends heat straight to your core. “What else do you like, hmm? You want me to be rough with you, princess? Or should I be gentle and treat you like a queen?”

You reach up, raking your fingers through his hair and skimming across the soft strands of his undercut before finding purchase at his nape. “You talk too much,” you whisper.

And then you’re crushing your mouth back against his, whining when he immediately takes back control of the kiss. His grip slides downward, his fingertips digging into the skin just above the curve of your ass, and you squeak when he grabs the back of your thigh and hooks your leg around his waist.

“You feel that?” he rasps into your ear, nipping at the delicate shell and chortling when you keen. Your skirt has ridden up dangerously high on your spread thighs, and you let out a soft whimper when he grinds harshly against your center. The lace of your panties and the denim of his jeans are the last barricades between you, and you wonder, vaguely, whether your companion has a bit of an exhibitionist streak when he slides one of your sleeves down your shoulder and begins kissing a trail down to the swell of your cleavage. “You feel how hard you’ve gotten me?”

You lean down, kissing the soft spot where his jaw meets his ear before letting your teeth graze against his skin. “Why don’t you do something about it then?”

He hisses out a sharp breath, his hands tightening their hold on your hips. “You’ve got quite the mouth on you, huh? I can’t wait to make you eat your words.”

Any retort you may have had is interrupted by a sudden swell of music and the sound of a slamming door. Whirling to face the source of the noise, you immediately spot a familiar head of lavender hair atop broad shoulders encapsulated in the black uniform of the bar. Jin hasn’t noticed the two of you yet, his attention fixated on his cell phone screen, but he looks up when you let out a little squeak of surprise and shove your companion’s chest in an attempt to create some distance between you.

“Hey.” Jin raises a hand in greeting, a knowing smirk curling his lips. “This phone call shouldn’t be too long, so please. Don’t stop the party on my behalf.”

Heat floods to your cheeks. There isn’t much use protesting against his insinuation, considering the rather compromising position you’re in. Much to your relief, though, your companion simply huffs out a chuckle and waves Jin off. “Thanks, man, but we’ll get out of your hair.” Lowering his voice, he turns back to you. “Coming, princess?”

You nod. He offers you his hand, and you take it gratefully, adjusting your skirt so that it drapes properly over your hips and thighs again.

“Have a good night!” Jin calls after you, amusement lacing every word. You can’t work up the nerve to respond, and luckily, you don’t have to. Your companion leads you around the corner of the building, where several rows of cars are parked beneath an orange streetlamp. On this side, the exterior brick wall is painted with a mural, and you admire the colorful galaxies and nebulae swirling amidst silvery white stars and the word serendipity spray-painted in pale blue.

The last car in the row is parked just beneath the letter Y, and it’s here that your companion stops. The sleek black vehicle has an almost vintage feel to it, and you glance up when you hear the jingle of metal.

“I’m guessing this is yours?”

He nods, pulling a set of keys from the pocket of his leather jacket and inserting one into the lock. “Yeah. You like it?”

“It’s beautiful,” you tell him, tracing the edge of the passenger window “Makes my car look like a total piece of shit by comparison.”

Your companion chuckles, pulling open the driver’s side door, and you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the window as he presses a button to unlock the rest of the doors. Your hair’s a bit of a mess and your mascara has smudged beneath your right eye, and you hurriedly swipe at it as your companion turns his attention back to you.

“So,” he says. “Now what? I can give you a ride home, if you want.”

Deliberately, you let your gaze drop down to his crotch, where his bulge—albeit waning—is still visible. “Seriously? I thought you were going to… what was it again? Make me eat my words?”

And just like that, it’s as if a switch has flipped. His eyes darken to obsidian, his lips settling into a stern line, and you barely have time to draw in a breath before he’s caging you against the side of his car and molding his mouth to yours. Your lips part beneath the onslaught, and he wastes no time in dipping inside to explore, licking into you until you’re both breathless.

“Inside,” he breathes once you’ve broken apart, and you instantly obey. You wrench the door open and all but tumble into the backseat, and he isn’t far behind as he slots himself between your spread thighs. Your hands fly to his shoulders where you help him shuck off his leather jacket, tossing it carelessly to the front where it lands in a heap on the dashboard before focusing your attention on the hem of his black t-shirt. Your companion obliges you as you push it upward to expose his toned abdomen, grabbing it by the collar and pulling it off the rest of the way when your reach falls a little short in the cramped interior of the backseat.

“Your turn,” he whispers when you try to reach for his belt, his hands settling around your wrists. “It’s only fair, princess.”

Pouting, you let your hands fall limp in his grasp, and he chuckles as he leans down to pacify you with a kiss. Deft fingers find the hem of your blouse, pushing it up until you can twist out of the material. You throw it aside with no regard for where it lands on the ground, and lay back as your companion drinks you in, his dark gaze raking across the lacy black lingerie that decorates your curves and skims you like a second skin. “Fuck,” he breathes, his voice hoarse with a combination of amazement and disbelief. “You’re stunning.”

You smile, trailing a fingertip from the dip of his collarbone down to the silver necklace that sits prettily against his bare chest. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you tell him, tracing the letter engraved into his pendant. “Jay.”

Your companion—newly dubbed Jay—smiles back. “You’re something else, princess,” he murmurs, before leaning down to kiss you again. He explores your mouth thoroughly—languidly—before moving down to nip at your neck, and already, you can feel the beginnings of marks beginning to form, blossoming across your skin as irrefutable proof of your tryst.

It isn’t long before Jay frees you from your bra, watching with carnal fascination as your breasts spill out of the lacy material. You whine when he reaches out to cup one, his palm hot against your bare skin, and he smirks crookedly when a pinch to your nipple makes your back arch off the leather of the seat. “So pretty,” he rasps. “I can’t wait to see how you look stretched around my cock.”

“Stop waiting, then,” you tell him, trying again for his belt buckle. This time, he lets you fumble it open, leaning back to watch you work with hooded eyes and a lazy little smile. Emboldened, you push aside the denim of his jeans and free his cock from the confines of his underwear. He’s hard and hot and heavy in your palm, and your tongue darts out instinctively at the sight of the pearlescent precum beading the tip.

“Jay,” you murmur, thumbing across the head of his erection and smirking when he hisses in pleasure. “Fuck me.”

Jay seems to consider your demand, mischief flitting across his features before he manages to school his expression into something more neutral. “Where are your manners, princess?” he asks, pushing your hand away and giving himself a few long, slow strokes. “Say please, if you want it so bad.”

For a moment, you consider refusing. Jay seems to be the type of man who enjoys a good game, but between the state of his cock and the earlier interruption, you’re pretty sure he’s nearing his limit. And even if he isn’t, you are. And so, you shelve your pride for the time being, and trail a hand down the length of your bared body as you bat your lashes up at him. “Fuck me, Jay,” you repeat. “Please. Want your cock so bad.”

His answering smile is equal parts amusement and satisfaction, and altogether sinful. “That’s my girl,” he rasps, before shoving your panties aside. Lining the head of his cock up, he enters you in one smooth thrust, and you moan as your walls stretch to accommodate his girth. You’re more than wet enough to take him in his entirety, your eyes fluttering shut when he bottoms out, and he groans hoarsely as he takes a second to relish the feeling of your walls gripping him so tightly.

“Fuck. You’re so wet, princess.” Jay dips a thumb into your slick, spreading it across your clit and rubbing a few experimental circles around the sensitive nub. He groans when you clench around him, his hips stuttering, and you squeeze around him again just to hear him grit out another curse. “Shit. I’m not going to last long at this rate.”

“Don’t care,” you murmur, rocking against him and sighing when the motion sends him a little deeper into your core. “Just fuck me, Jay. Please.”

Jay leans in, a dark lock of hair falling across his forehead as he plants an indulgent kiss on your waiting mouth. “Anything for you, princess,” he breathes. Slowly, he pulls back until only the tip of his cock remains inside you. Then he’s slamming forward, and you can’t even find it in yourself to care about the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin or the way the car rocks. Jay’s thumbing across your clit in tight circles that he times perfectly with the rock of his hips, and you wonder whether the rapidly building pleasure in your belly is due to your dry spell or if he’s just that good. You can feel every inch of him as he fills you up repeatedly, his brows furrowed in concentration and his dark hair flopping as he drives deeper in search of the spot that will have you seeing stars.

You know he’s found it when the pleasure in your belly spikes, your back arching off the backseat. Your skin is sticky against the dark leather and you’re certain the sweat gathering at your temples has destroyed the last of your makeup, but Jay alleviates your concerns with a particularly well-timed thrust and a harsh nip to the soft spot at your clavicle. You keen out something unintelligible, and his lips stretch into a smirk against your skin.

“That’s it,” he encourages. “Cum for me, princess.”

That’s all it takes for the mounting pressure to snap. Your body collapses into a searing orgasm, the pleasure flaring out like a supernova and spreading through your veins like wildfire. “F-fuck, Jay—” you gasp, your fingers scrabbling at his back for purchase and no doubt leaving scratches in their wake. “Fuck, you feel so—”

The remainder of your words trail off into garbled nonsense, and Jay huffs out a strained chuckle as he begins chasing after his own orgasm, rutting against you in a way that both prolongs your pleasure and sustains his own. “Shit,” he groans, his eyes fluttering shut. “Fuck, that’s it. Look at you—taking my cock so well. So pretty and perfect and—”

Whatever he was going to say dissolves into a groan as he gives a few more erratic thrusts before his release overwhelms him. Creamy warmth floods through you, and you rub his back tiredly as his head drops onto your shoulder, his breath flaring hot against your skin as he rides out his orgasm.

It takes several long seconds for the pleasure to recede. Your legs are still shaky when Jay pulls away, straightening up and tucking himself back into his jeans. There’s an empty ache in your core now that you are no longer stuffed full of his cock, and already, you are missing the feeling. Still, you push that aside as you sit up, adjusting your panties and wincing at the wetness that soaks the material and sticks to your skin.

“So,” Jay says after a moment’s silence, and you glance over at him when he huffs out a short chuckle. “That was fun.”

“Not bad at all,” you agree weakly, an irrepressible smile tugging at your lips.

Jay grins. It’s a bright, infectious grin—and it’s one that you’ve already grown rather fond of in the short period of time you’ve known him. It’s a grin that showcases his perfect teeth and crinkles his eyes into crescents, and one that all but forces you to grin back.

“Here, give me your phone,” he says, and you watch as he punches in his number once you hand it over. “Just in case you ever wanna do this again,” he tells you, handing it back. “Don’t be a stranger, princess.”

You glance down at his contact information, saved under the moniker you’d given him and affixed with a short string of emojis. “I won’t,” you tell him, chuckling. “In fact, I just might take you up on the offer.”

-

The screen of your laptop has long since gone dark, and you stretch your arms overhead before waking it again. Rolling your shoulders, you navigate back to the main Netflix menu, hovering over the resume button and watching the trailer loop in the background.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think about Jay often. You’ve texted each other quite often since that night in his car—usually when you’re bored and alone and have had a few too many glasses of wine in the evenings. You’ve found yourself tapping on his name instinctively during those odd, ambiguous hours—when late night and early morning meld together and you’re aching for a bit of relief.

And as if he knows you’re thinking about him, your phone buzzes against the coffee table, the screen lighting up with a familiar name.

[11:22pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: thinkin about u, pretty girl 😘

It’s followed by an image, and your heart rate picks up, thudding loudly against your ribs as you open it.

Fuck.

Your memories of Jay’s face—made all the more hazy by the alcohol and the amount of time elapsed since your first and only meeting—truly don’t do him justice. Though the photograph cuts off just above his nose, you can still admire the sharp angle of his jaw and the fullness of his puckered lips. His skin is golden against the white of his t-shirt, and you lick your lips before thumbing across your screen to respond.

[11:23pm] You: yeah? what else are you thinking about, hmm?

His response is instantaneous.

[11:23pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: thinking about that pretty little pussy of yours

[11:23pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: how good it looked in that pic u sent me tuesday 👅

You barely even notice the way your hand begins trailing down your body, pushing aside the elastic waistband of your sweats. It’s as if you’re on autopilot, as your fingers find their way to the damp spot growing on your panties.

Yeah? you write back with your free hand, already teasing at your clothed folds with the other. Tell me more.

///

It’s an uncharacteristically warm Friday morning when you find yourself in the elevator with Jimin, a good friend of yours who works on one of the lower levels of your office building. “Morning,” he says as he steps in, a large iced coffee in hand despite the fact that it’s still very much the middle of winter. Then he squints, leaning a little closer. “Oh my god. You got laid!”

“Oh my god, not so loud!” you hiss, whacking him on the shoulder and jabbing the button to close the elevator doors. “And no, not exactly. I’ve just been texting Jay.”

“Texting, sure.” Jimin mimes air quotes around the word and rolls his eyes. “You’re sexting him, and we all know it. How many pictures of his dick do you have saved on your phone now?”

“Oh my—” You sigh, trailing off. “Can we not talk about this right now?”

“Right, of course.” Jimin takes a sip of his coffee and pretends to check his watch. “When would you like to talk about it then? Do you need to check your calendar? Can I book an appointment for later this afternoon?”

You stick your tongue out at him. “Shut up.”

Jimin just grins, his lips puckered around his straw. “So, how’s Jay? Have you asked for his real name yet?”

You shrug. “What’s the point? It’s not like we’re friends or anything. We’ve literally only met the one time.”

“Yeah, but that’s just because you’re a coward,” Jimin points out. “What’s stopping you from meeting up with him again? You have his number. You have at least one photo of his dick. Ask him out already!”

“It’s not that easy, though,” you sigh. The elevator doors open to let a few more people in, and you move to the side and lower your voice so that only Jimin can hear. “Jay—he’s not exactly boyfriend material. I mean, we fucked in his car the first night we met.”

“So?” Jimin frowns and takes another sip of his iced coffee. “You talk about things besides sex, don’t you? You definitely told him about your goldfish dying, at least. I mean, you told him before you even told me!”

“Yes I did, and he was appropriately sympathetic about Mustache’s passing, unlike some people,” you sniff. “Get over it already, won’t you?”

“Never,” Jimin replies, ignoring your pointed jab. “I’m sure you only told him because you knew you could get a sympathy sext out of it. How many dick pics did you get out of that night, anyway?”

“You’re gross,” you tell him, punching him in the arm. “Not to mention that’s exactly why Jay’s not boyfriend material. He’s perfectly happy with—whatever it is we’re doing. I can’t just ruin that by asking him to get dinner.” You frown, gnawing on your bottom lip. “I don’t want to make this into something that it’s not.”

Jimin hesitates. “Fine, okay. I guess I can understand that.”

“Yeah.”

There’s a pause, as the elevator makes a few more stops. You watch the numbers crawl higher, and know that you’ll soon have to part ways with your friend..

“Hey.” You nudge Jimin with your shoulder, just as the elevator doors close and you begin the ascent to his floor. “Wanna know something interesting?”

Jimin looks up from his phone, where he’s scrolling through Twitter. “Always.”

“My boss’ son is coming to the party tomorrow.”

Jimin’s eyebrows disappear into his ashy blond hair at your revelation. “Kyunghee’s son? Hoseok, or whatever?”

You chuckle. “The one and only. She’s found about a million ways to bring him up in conversation this past week. She thinks we’re a match made in heaven.”

“Wow.” Jimin releases a long breath. “I wonder what he’s like, then.”

You shrug, adjusting the strap of your work tote over your shoulder. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

///

The morning of the party, you wake up to an empty refrigerator. Half stale cereal and the last dregs of milk from the carton become your breakfast, and you munch on that as you mull over the contents of your closet. You’re still in your pajamas, but you pull out your comfiest jeans and a sweater to change into after you finish eating. Then you turn to your collection of dresses, rifling through them and mentally debating the merits of each material and color.

You could go in one of two directions tonight. On the one hand, this is still a work party, and as such your attire should probably maintain a certain level of decorum. But on the other, you’re meeting Hoseok Jung for the first time tonight. You aren’t necessarily looking to start anything with the man, of course, but you do want to look good. With that in mind, you eventually settle on a deep red number that you pull out of the very back of your closet, made of a silky material that skims your curves and accentuates your best assets. Laying it on the bed, you begin your hunt for a pair of matching shoes. Twenty minutes of searching and another five of agonizing later, you step into the bathroom, intent on showering and getting on with the rest of your day.

Upon exiting the bathroom, you decide that tackling the state of your refrigerator takes top priority over your other weekend errands. Sitting down at the dining table, you take stock of what you have in your pantry, planning out your meals for the upcoming week and making a list of what you need to purchase in order to make them a reality. It’s just after one in the afternoon when you exit your apartment with a completed grocery list and your purse stuffed full of reusable canvas bags. The store is a short walk from where you live, and you decide to put in your earbuds as your feet navigate the familiar route. The temperature is surprisingly mild for winter, and the sun shines bright from its perch in the cloudless blue sky. It’s perfect weather for a walk, and the fresh air clears your mind and eases your heart.

At the grocery store, you forego the stack of baskets and instead grab a shopping cart. Weaving your way up and down the aisles, you check items off the list on your phone one by one. Eventually, you find yourself in the cereal section, grabbing a box of granola before turning to where your favorite cereal normally sits. It isn’t there, and you turn in a full circle, confused, until your gaze finally lands on the familiar box on the top shelf.

Great.

Sighing, you push up to your tiptoes, stretching your arm as far as it can reach. Your fingertips graze the shelf, but you can’t quite get a grip on the box itself. Glancing down, you scan the bottommost shelf and wonder if you can step on it to give yourself a boost.

“Need a hand?”

The voice comes from behind you, and a vague sense of familiarity sparks in your brain. Slowly, you turn around, and your entire body freezes when your gaze slides up to the speaker’s face.

“Jay.” The syllable escapes you in a near whisper. “H-hi.”

“Hey.”

Jay stands before you, looking like sin incarnate in a faded denim jacket, black sweatpants slung low on his hips, and not much else. At his throat, his silver necklace sparkles, the silver J pendant glinting beneath the fluorescent lights of the store, and you’re suddenly beyond grateful that you decided to put on a decent sweater before leaving.

“Here,” he says, stepping forward until he’s close enough that you can smell his cologne—sandalwood tinged with sweet citrus. “Let me help you with that.”

The sudden proximity has your breath hitching in your throat. Your heart thuds erratically against your ribs as he reaches around you, the denim flaps of his jacket gaping in a way that exposes even more of his bare chest. By the time he pulls back with your cereal box in hand, you feel almost faint, belatedly realizing that you’d been holding your breath.

“You wanted this, right?” Jay asks, and you aren’t sure if you’re imagining the innuendo underlying his words or the teasing inflection of the syllables.

“Y-yeah, that’s the one,” you manage, fighting to quell the uneven tempo of your heartbeat as you accept the box. “Thanks.”

“Happy to help,” he replies. Then he leans in, close enough that you can feel his warm breath fanning your cheek as he murmurs his next sentence into your ear. “Anything for you, princess. You know that.”

Heat floods across your cheeks. Your heart skips two full beats before taking off into a sprint, and it’s impossible to ignore the way your core begins to thrum, as if anticipating a repeat of that night you first met all those weeks ago. Almost instinctively, your eyes dart up to the ceiling where the security cameras are, and Jay follows the trajectory of your gaze with a low chuckle and a soft brush of your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

“Sorry, princess. As much as I’d love to get my hands on you, I’m kind of on a time crunch today.”

You can’t stop the wave of disappointment that washes over you, even if you’re in the exact same boat. “Rain check, then?”

“Rain check,” he agrees. Slowly, you reach up to touch the engraved silver pendant resting against his chest, rubbing it between your fingertips before tracing the curve of the J, and he catches your wandering fingers between his and presses a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“You know how to reach me,” he murmurs with a mischievous wink. His gaze lingers even after he’s released your hand, and you clear your throat awkwardly before turning to deposit your cereal box into your shopping cart.

The two of you go your separate ways then, exchanging goodbyes. You finish the rest of your grocery shopping in a daze, idly going through the motions at checkout and letting muscle memory guide you back home. Your arms are aching by the time you step past the threshold of your apartment, and you heave your shopping bags up onto the kitchen counter with a relieved sigh before returning to the entryway to toe off your shoes. You throw together a sandwich as you unpack your groceries, taking a big bite as you walk back to your bedroom to look at the dress you’ve picked out. Pacing over to the closet, you double-check your shoe choice. Briefly, you debate whether or not to wear flats instead of heels.

There are still a few hours left before you have to start getting ready, so you take the last of your sandwich back to the kitchen and whip up a smoothie to go with it. You scroll through your phone as you eat, browsing through the latest news headlines and scrolling through your social media accounts. Just before six o’clock, as the sun starts setting beyond the horizon and casting long shadows across your living room, you start getting changed. You snap a photo in the mirror once you’re dressed, pulling up Jimin’s name in your phone and sending it to him.

[6:13pm] You: last chance to come tonight

Your phone buzzes with a response almost immediately.

[6:14pm] Jimin: nah. i’d hate to step on hoseok’s toes.

You laugh. Not so fast, you text back. We don’t even know anything about the guy yet. What if he’s boring? Or sexist?

[6:15pm] Jimin: if u think kyunghee raised a sexist you’re seriously deranged

[6:16pm] Jimin: now stop taking selfies and get your ass out the door! you’re gonna be late!!!!

///

Each year, the holiday party tends to be a little over the top, and this year is no exception. The company has bought out the entirety of a restaurant for the evening, and you glance around in amazement at the twinkling lights and lush evergreen boughs decorating the walls and strung up along the ceiling. An assortment of sparkling ornaments hangs from the massive tree in the far corner, interspersed between silver tinsel and more lights. Grabbing a champagne flute off a passing server’s tray, you head farther into the restaurant, skirting around tables draped in creamy linen and greeting your colleagues and friends.

“Is she alone?”

“Figures.”

The voices come from the direction of the open bar, and somehow, you just know that they’re talking about you. Lottie, Hyejin, and Sandra are clustered in the corner with glasses of wine in hand, casting glances around the restaurant and gossiping about anything and everything with a pulse. You’re sorely tempted to grab the nearest pitcher of water off a table and pour it over their heads, but you suppress the urge and instead head over with a saccharine smile. “So lovely to see you, {Name},” Lottie says as you approach.

“I love your dress,” Sandra adds. “Very slimming.”

“Thanks,” you reply, putting on your brightest, fakest smile. “Yours is great too. How are you and your husband enjoying the party so far?”

Sandra’s face sours, and you hide your smirk in your champagne flute. Maybe it’s petty to bring up her rocky relationship, but you’ve been subject to snide comments from Sandra and her friends for years now and it’s become increasingly hard for you to bite your tongue. A few tables away, you spot Sandra’s husband, Rodney, take an enormous gulp of his whiskey and wince as it burns down his throat.

“We’re all having a wonderful time, aren’t we, ladies?” Lottie cuts in when Sandra takes too long to answer. “Hyejin’s date is over there with Rodney, and my boyfriend is fetching himself a drink. You remember Dev, don’t you?”

You nod, even though it’s a lie. “Sure. Say hi to him for me.”

Lottie’s lips curve up into a smile, her head tilting to the side, and you’re suddenly reminded of a snake rearing its head back for the kill. “So, what about you? Have you brought someone tonight, or—?”

“Hi ladies!” Kyunghee materializes at your side, her lips painted a festive red shade to match her dress. She’s wearing the disingenuous smile that she reserves for the resident gossips of your office, and you try not to let your relief show on your face when Lottie’s attention refocuses on your manager.

“So good to see you, Kyunghee,” she simpers. “Have you been here long?”

“Not as long as you,” your manager replies, nodding at the near-empty wineglass in her hand. “I see we’re already making a dent in the wine supply, and you’re falling behind, {Name}. Why don’t we go remedy that, hmm?”

She doesn’t give you a chance to respond, grabbing your arm and leading you away. Kyunghee is surprisingly spry for a woman her age, and you follow after her with some difficulty as she marches through the throngs of conversing people, all the way to the line at the open bar.

“I’d like you to meet someone,” she says, gesturing at the man standing at the end of the line with his back to you. “{Name}, this is my son, Hoseok.”

The man turns around at the sound of his name, a warm, affable smile stretched across his face. “Hi, I’m H—” he begins, but he’s cut off by your sharp intake of breath. His eyes go wide, his smile fading as his mouth falls open, and you’re certain you’re wearing an even more dumbfounded expression. “It’s you,” he says, his voice hoarse.

“Wh-what… how…” You trail off, speechless. The words flounder and die in your throat as your brain struggles to process this development, and you practically feel the way the gears in your head churn to a stuttering halt.

Because this man standing before you, the one that Kyunghee has just introduced as her son, is none other than Jay. He looks completely and utterly devastating in a navy waistcoat and matching slacks, a green tie shaped like a Christmas tree knotted loosely around the white collar of his shirt. His dark hair is parted, his undercut exposed, and you can’t tear your gaze away from the loose strand that has fallen across his forehead.

“H-hi.”

Jay—Hoseok—swallows. “Hi.”

Kyunghee glances between the two of you, her brows furrowing. “I take it you two already know each other?”

Hoseok’s ears begin taking on a scarlet tinge, the color spreading to his cheeks as he struggles to find his vocabulary again. “I—yeah. Yeah, we’ve met.”

“Right. Do I even want to know how?” she asks dubiously, before shaking her head and huffing out a sigh. “No, forget I asked. I don’t want to know. I’ll just leave you two to… catch up.”

Waving goodbye, Kyunghee disappears back into the crowd of partygoers milling around. Hoseok turns back to you, sucking in a deep breath, and you fight the urge to stare down at your toes as his gaze roves across your face.

“I can’t believe this,” he says, breaking the silence that’s fallen between you at last. “My mom’s been talking about you for months, but I never imagined that it’d be you.”

“You’re telling me,” you reply, finally having recovered your voice. “Kyunghee brings you up all the time, but I never thought… I mean, we didn’t even know each other’s names, and now…” You shrug. “Here we both are.”

“It’s a pretty crazy coincidence, huh?”

“Definitely.”

A beat passes, and then two. You’re fully aware that you’re staring, but you don’t dare blink, afraid that he’ll disappear if you close your eyes. Of all the things that you thought might happen tonight, this particular meeting wasn’t even close to making the list. Never would you have thought that the man you only knew as Jay would turn out to be Kyunghee’s son. Never would you have connected Jay to the photographed little boy in yellow suspenders on Kyunghee’s desk, or realized that they were one and the same.

From behind you, someone loudly clears their throat. Another voice calls for you to get a move on, already, and both you and Hoseok belatedly realize that you are still standing in line for the open bar. Hoseok’s eyes go wide again, and you nearly tread on his toes when you both try to move forward. “After you,” he says with a chuckle, gesturing for you to go in front of him, and that’s enough to break the tension. You step ahead of him with a laugh, catching up to the line, and Hoseok doesn’t stray far as he follows your lead.

“So, what are you drinking?” he asks, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Vodka soda with a twist?”

“Actually, I think I’m going to stick with wine tonight,” you reply, peering at the bottles lined up on the counter. “What about you?”

“Hmm. Jack and coke, I think. Nothing else is really calling my name right now.”

Grabbing your drinks, the two of you begin searching for a place to sit. You spot Kyunghee at a table near the front, and she smiles knowingly and offers you a thumbs-up when she catches your eye. Eventually, you settle on a table near the Christmas tree, the lights glimmering off the glasses and reflecting off your knife as you pick it up to butter a slice of crusty bread from the basket in the center. Hoseok follows your lead, grabbing a piece for himself, and the two of you munch in silence for a few seconds before Hoseok breaks it.

“You know, my mom says you’re the perfect girl for me” he says with a dry little chuckle. “Think she’s right?”

“I don’t know,” you answer. “It’s funny, though—Kyunghee’s been telling me the same thing. She sings your praises all the time.”

Hoseok laughs and scratches the back of his neck. “Oh, jeez, that’s kind of embarrassing. I’m glad she’s saying good things, at least.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” you tell him, grinning. “She’s only shown us one photo album from your childhood.”

His face crumples. “Was it the Disneyland one?”

You nod, fighting back laughter, and watch as Hoseok groans and lets his forehead meet the linen-covered tabletop with a dull thunk.

“I don’t like rollercoasters,” he mumbles into the tablecloth, his voice muffled by the material. “They make me queasy.”

“Even now?” you ask, and he nods.

“Yep.”

The clinking of a fork against a wineglass—amplified and broadcast through an array of invisible speakers built into the restaurant’s walls—interrupts any further conversation. You twist in your seat to watch your company’s leadership give their opening remarks, listening as they congratulate everyone for a great year and wish you a happy holiday season. The servers begin going out with plates of food, and you thank them as they set yours down. Hoseok does the same before raising his glass in your direction, clearing his throat and offering you a crooked little smile.

“Here’s to second meetings.”

“Third, if you count the store earlier,” you correct, and he chuckles and nods in agreement before clinking his drink against yours.

You spend the entirety of dinner chatting with Hoseok, getting to know him beyond the few facts Kyunghee has mentioned and what little you’ve gleaned from texting him the last two months. He tells you all about his dance studio, Hope World, where he teaches both contemporary dance and the occasional Pilates class. You find out that in addition to rollercoasters, he also dislikes sour foods and raisins, but he loves mint chocolate and sweet and sour pork. He also has a very low tolerance for alcohol—something he tells you as he tilts the rest of his drink into his mouth. “Should I be worried?” you ask as he sets his glass back down, and he chuckles and shakes his head, sending the loose tendril of hair flopping across his forehead.

Dessert is served, and subsequently eaten. The music is turned up, and people slowly begin finding their way to the open space that serves as an impromptu dancefloor. Hoseok rises to his feet and extends a hand toward you, and you only hesitate for the briefest of seconds before accepting it. He leads you out amongst the other swaying couples, his hand finding its way to the curve of your waist, and you rest your hand on his shoulder as he begins guiding you in a slow, simple waltz.

“So?” Hoseok’s voice is a low murmur, soft and gentle against the shell of your ear. “What’s the verdict?”

You blink. “The verdict?”

Even without looking, you can tell that he’s smiling. You can hear it in the lilt of his voice, and imagine it in the curve of his lips. “About me,” he clarifies, carefully pulling back so you can spin in a circle beneath his outstretched arm. “About us. My mom will never let me hear the end of it if she turns out to be right, but I still wanna know. So what are you thinking?”

“Are you asking if I think we’re perfect for each other?” you ask, giggling. “I don’t know if I believe in all that, to be quite honest. Destiny and soulmates—I mean, doesn’t it seem a little too good to be true?”

Hoseok hums. “Maybe. But considering all that’s happened to us in the last couple of months, don’t you think there’s a chance that it's all more than simple coincidence?”

“Maybe,” you concede. “Still, I don’t know if I can give you a verdict just yet. We haven’t even gone on a date.”

“We did do things a little backwards,” Hoseok admits, tugging you close and winding his arm around your waist. “Let me make it up to you, then. Are you free tomorrow?”

“What if I am?” you challenge.

“Then, I’d like to take you out for breakfast,” he replies without missing a beat.

The prospect of a proper meal with Hoseok Jung does something funny to your insides. Still, something makes you hesitate, and you avert your gaze as you search for your next words. “I wasn’t expecting to end tonight with a date,” you admit slowly. “I honestly didn’t even think you were interested in… well, anything beyond sex, to be honest.”

Hoseok’s face creases into a frown, and you look up again when he murmurs your name. “I understand why you would think that,” he says. “Really, I do. But honestly? I had every intention of texting you and asking you out properly. I was going to play it cool and wait a few days, which was stupid in retrospect. And then you texted me first.”

“I texted y—” You trail off. “Oh, god.”

“It seemed like you’d been drinking,” Hoseok says with a shrug, and you press a finger to his lips before he can say anything more. You remember the night in question, and you remember the bottle of wine you’d consumed. And you definitely remember the photographs you’d sent of yourself, and the ones Hoseok had been kind enough to send in return.

“Wait, so you were going to ask me out? And then I… I sexted you?”

Hoseok nods, and you groan and bury your face into his chest.

“I can’t believe this,” you mutter, and you feel laughter rumble through his chest before a hand comes up to stroke along your back.

“Believe me, I’m not complaining,” he assures you. “But I’d still really like to take you out, so what do you say?”

His gaze doesn’t leave yours for a second as he awaits your answer, and your heart skips a beat when you look up to see the earnestness in his eyes and the hesitant smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Breakfast sounds wonderful,” you whisper, and the smile that blossoms on your companion’s face is nothing short of radiant.

“Good,” he says. “Great. Breakfast tomorrow, then. Now, can I kiss you?”

You’re already pushing up to your tiptoes, your fingers fisting in the soft hair at his nape. “God, yes.”

///

“Hey, you made it!”

You beam. “Hi.”

You and Hoseok are about to commence your first date, having just sat down at a cozy little café for breakfast. Hoseok has pulled your chair out in true gentlemanly fashion, and you can’t help but smile over your menu at the few lingering snowflakes that have yet to melt into his dark hair.

“So, here we are,” you remark. “Our fourth meeting.”

Hoseok’s lips stretch into his signature grin, breathtakingly bright and infectious. “And hopefully many more.”

You grin at him. “Yeah? Too bad this is breakfast, because I’d drink to that.”

He leans forward, his grin widening. “Next time,” he says as his hand finds its way around yours, his fingers slotting comfortably into the spaces between your own. “We can do dinner, maybe. Or I can cook for you. But for now, I’m just happy that we’re finally doing this.”

You give his hand a soft squeeze. “Me too.”

“Just promise me one thing?”

The sudden seriousness of his tone has your brow furrowing in concern. “Sure, of course,” you reassure. “What is it?”

He winces. “Please don’t tell my mom about all the dick pics.”

[theonewiththefanfics]

Best Friends My Ass (one-shot)

Synopsis: Being in love with your best friend whom you’ve had since childhood can be tough. Being in love and being dumb can make it tougher. Meet the Reader and Harry. They’re the latter. And everyone’s fed up.

Pairing: Harry Styles x fem!Reader

Genre: fluff, maybe little bit of angst, tiny bit smutty, but not a lot

Warnings: swearing, two idiots pining for one another

Word count: 7524

Even when Harry was little, he’d known he’d have an odd path in life. Just because it was odd, didn’t mean it’d be bad, but it would make him absolutely stand out in the crowd.        When Y/N was young she didn’t see herself having any extraordinary adventures. Sure, she’d travel and explore the world with its secrets, but she didn’t have any plans to draw the attention of the masses. That was until Harry’d come into her life.        They were both young, still kids in that tender age where childhood crossed into teenage years, when they met. For Harry, it was like one of those scenes in the movies where the pretty girl walks into a room and a billion fans make her hair look like the wind is sweeping through it, and her eyes glisten like gemstones. Also known as the 'love at first sight' scene.        For Y/N, it was hard to keep her breakfast down as she walked inside the classroom, twenty pairs of scrutinous eyes on her, trying to figure out if the new girl was a predator or prey.        Luckily for Y/N, the biology teacher wasn’t a total witch and didn’t make her present herself to the class, and just pointed to the free seat next to a curly-haired boy. Luckily for Harry, that free seat was right next to him.        With a sigh, she dropped her heavy backpack beside the chair, giving the boy a shy glance, and was surprised to see a genuine and large grin right back at her. It wasn’t the kind people gave when they had bad thoughts. It was the kind people gave when they were truly excited and wanted to give a good impression. Y/N’s chest grew warm at the thought she might actually make a friend that day. And she did.        “I’m Harry.” He extended his hand for her to take, the grin never leaving his face.        She gave him a big, relieved smile. “I’m Y/N.”        Ever since then they were not only lab partners in classes they shared (which was biology, physics and math), but also in mischief. Together they managed to enrage Anne, annoy Gemma and absolutely horrify Y/M/N, and whenever one went down, the other made sure to go down as well.        So when a few years down the line, Harry had told Y/N about his idea to audition for X-factor she wasn’t surprised one bit.        “I mean, as long as you don’t trip and break your nose on stage, you’ll be fine.”        For that, she received a slap on her arm from him.        “I’m just saying!” Y/N defended herself. “You’re great at singing, Mrs Aberdeen certainly thinks so, you don’t have two complete left feet, and you’re alright to look at.”        That for the first time since the decision and application had been submitted, made Harry smile. He loved how easily Y/N was able to lighten the mood, to take his thoughts away from the bad, and just erase them with her wit and smile.

       “Besides.” She nudged his shoulder with hers and then intertwined their fingers. “I, Gem and our Mums will be right there for you. Won’t even blink until the end of the performance.”        With how her insides trembled in excitement and fear for her best friend, it truly seemed to Y/N she hadn’t blinked at all on that fateful day. Her breath hitched when the judges were talking. She couldn’t even remember what they said, all of it turning into white noise.        And then he got through, and Y/N screamed so much she was sure she’d blown out Anne’s eardrums, and had hugged Harry so tightly she was afraid she’d broken a rib. But with his victory also came a fear, because, for the first time in Y/N’s life, she was terrified as to where she’d stand in Harry’s. Since day one it’d been secure, but now, with the newfound fame of X-factor and who knows what kind of an amazing future, she didn’t know if he’d throw her to the curb, simply forget about the mundane friend from high school or maybe use her for something.        But it wasn’t like that. Not one bit. After insane hours of rehearsals, Y/N was one of the three people he always called. It was her, his Mum and Gem. Always. And he loved to listen to her speaking of what was happening at school, how the lessons were, which teacher turned out to be hooking up with which. As much as Harry knew he was made for the extraordinary, he loved the ordinary Y/N brought in his life. She was his safe harbour. But what he never agreed with were her own thoughts she was meant for a simple life, so he took it upon himself to bring a little bit of eccentricity in hers, as he explained how he’d gotten united into a band with four other boys, now going by ‘One Direction’, and it was his mission to join his newfound friends with the most important friend he'd had.        “This is Y/N,” Harry introduced her to the guys after one of their late-night practices, one where they weren’t being filmed. “If you do anything that even mildly upsets her, I’ll kill you in your sleep.”        The slap against his arm made him let out an ‘Ow!’ while the rest of the boys laughed and welcomed her with open arms.        In a weird way, Y/N became part of the band. She didn’t sing or play any instruments, but she was always around, gave her input on songs and setlists. That kind of closeness made all of the fears and doubts about losing a place in Harry’s life disappear. She was his personal hype-man while at the same time knocked him down a few pegs whenever the fame started to get to his head.        She was there for his highs and lows, for the break-ups and break-off in the band, and watched as he ventured into a solo career as much as she could with school and all, but when summer break rolled around it was like Harry couldn't get rid of her even if he tried. Not that he wanted. Sharing the success and happiness with his best friend was one of the biggest rewards he could have.        And Y/N would never admit it because it’d boost Harry’s already elephant-like ego, at least that’s what she said, but she kind of liked the attention she received because of him, especially because most of it was pleasant.        Had she been terrified that being known as Harry Styles best friend would make people think she was just a gold-digger, seeking fame and leeching it off from him? Yes. And there were people like that. But ninety-five percent of what people said on her social media accounts was actually nice, some even said ‘thank you’ that there was a person like her in Harry’s life to keep things real, and most importantly – cared about him through it all.        Harry also saw those comments; he loved to read about how people saw just how much Y/N cared, and it kind of stirred something in him. He didn’t know when exactly, but it was around the age of twenty-four for him and twenty-three for Y/N when he started looking at his friend in a different light. And it bloody terrified him. He didn’t know if she felt the same, and the thought of putting his heart on the line like that only for the possibility of it being crushed was the scariest thing ever.        He did, however, have an inclination as to what incident had prompted them to surface. The feelings that were. It was a night after a party. Y/N was on winter break from her master’s at uni, which meant he used every opportunity to spend time with her.        The hangover was real, I mean it’s what you got by mixing vodka, tequila and beer into an empty Sprite bottle and chugging it. Harry stumbled over sleeping bodies on his way to the kitchen in search for some leftover pizza he was sure he and Y/N in their drunkenness had ordered, as well as to make two cups of black coffee. He knew she hated the taste, but cold junk food and bitter coffee always did the trick with her. That was when he’d found her.        Although he’d woken up in Y/N’s room, she hadn’t been next to him. Instead, as it turned out, she’d gone on a food search sometime before him and had passed out on the couch, a Cookie Monster onesie on her body, but most importantly his signature pearls around her neck. And one of her hands even rested against her collarbone, as if scared someone would take them away from her.        That’d been the first time his heart had flipped in his chest at the sight of her, but most definitely not the last.        He did however keep this change in his emotions to himself. He wasn’t really sure what it was, so it would be unfair to dump that on Y/N and have her figure it out for him because he didn’t know where she stood on her own, let alone do the work for him.        Luckily, despite the tornado of feelings, their friendship didn’t falter, and when his Vogue cover came out, he was incredibly nervous for people to see it, but especially for those who mattered the most to him, like his Mum, sister and Y/N. Especially Y/N, for her opinion had become the most important one outside his blood relatives. After all, all his thoughts went to – if we dated, would she be as proud of me as she was of me as a friend?        Her support meant the most because he was away in the middle of filming; he had no way of getting physical comfort, so all of the messages, calls, social media posts and FaceTimes was the world to him, especially when Y/N sent a picture of herself with three copies of the magazine, two beside her head as she laid on her bed and one clutched to her chest, which she also posted on Instagram with the caption ‘Can’t hug you for real right now, so this will have to do. When I do get to you @harrystyles, I’ll crush your ribs with my love. And that is a threat.’        Then the comments came in from the rest, and one stood out more than the others.        Bring Back Manly Men.        At first, he felt odd about it. It didn’t really bother him, but at the same time, it made him sad. He knew that he was seen as somewhat of a controversial figure, as he painted nails, wore frilly blouses and now full-on dresses, which were all typically categorized as feminine things, but he never understood why a nail colour or the shape of a shirt suddenly became exclusively for just one gender. Which is why he was so grateful to have Y/N in his life.        “I mean, anatomically speaking, men should be wearing dresses and women trousers. It’s you who have all the dangly bits,” she said through a bite of food. “The Scots have been onto it since the beginning.”        Harry threw his head back in a laugh, shifting an arm behind his head. “So I assume your favourite pic is the one in the kilt?”        “Well, it did remind me of that awful punk phase I had back in school with all those safety pins, only in a more tasteful way, but no. My favourite one is you in that brown, grey off-shoulder jacket thing.”        “Why?”        Y/N wiggled her brows at him. “Shows enough of your cleavage but leaves enough for imagination.”        “Of fucking course.” Harry snorted, shaking his head. “Objectifying much?”        “What? I’m not going to deny that my best friend is a sexy beast.”        He wouldn’t say it out loud, but when she called him her friend, it made his heart clench in a painful way. Harry had been trying to be a bit flirtier around her, but given his open nature as it was, Y/N hadn’t seemed to notice it, nor had she seemed to notice how he looked at her while she was frowning at her computer screen.        Harry’d had relationships with some women who could be considered the most beautiful in the world, but if he’d had to say, in his opinion, who’d receive that title, it’d be Y/N. The way she snorted when she laughed too hard, the way small crow lines had already appeared next to her eyes from how much she smiled and the way her forehead creased when she was concentrating. It enthralled him to no end. He could read her life’s story on her face, how she’d lived and thought and experienced, unlike so many people he met who couldn’t move a muscle.        Though the reason she was so concentrated in that moment was because thousands of people had tagged her in a tweet of a woman, she’d heard of for the first time in her life (because Harry had been trying to keep that one off her radar), and what she saw made all the blood boil in her body more than any other hate comment had.        Without hesitation, Y/N atted her and tweeted “Bring back manly men. Please! Millions of people would let him raw them WHILE WEARING THE DRESS. I mean you tried, so I’ll give you the gold star you so desperately want, but that was pathetic.”        At that same moment, a notification popped up on the screen of Harry’s phone. He only had notifications on for one person, and when he saw what was written, he gasped, looking at Y/N. “You did not just do that!”        “What?” Y/N shrugged biting down on the chocolate bar she’d been savouring for the last half hour of their conversation. “I just said what everyone was thinking. Besides what the fuck does ‘bring back manly men’ even mean? Go chop some wood? Fight a bear in the Siberian woods? Have your ‘friends’ stab you to death at a political meeting?”        “You’re a menace.”        Y/N winked popping the last bit of the chocolate in her mouth. “Only to those who dare go for the people I love.”        His heart fluttered at the last word, but all he could do was mask it with a large grin and shake of his head.        For another hour they spent talking, Y/N kept hyping Harry up, tried to get as many plot details of the movie he was filming, while he avoided as many spoilers as possible and attempted to steer the conversation somewhere else, but when that happened, Y/N jumped onto his music, which he had told her all about. In fact, there wasn’t a music video made without her approval, and neither would his next one be. “You’ll fly out to see me film for ‘Treat People With Kindness’, right?”        Y/N sighed, giving him a sad smile. She hated disappointing Harry. “I’d love to. But you know with everything going on, I don’t think I’ll be able to.”        “Phoebe Waller-Bridge will be in it.”        She gasped, in real excitement. “Well, why didn’t you say so from the start?!”        “So that’s what this friendship has come to. I’m just your gateway to celebrities?”        “Harry you’ve always been just my gateway to the people living in LaLa Land.” But she let out a small breath much like she’d done before. “I really do want to come, Harry. You know that; I miss you like crazy. But Phoebe or no Phoebe, I don’t think I can.”        Harry bit his lip nodding, but he still needed to try one more time. “Is there anything I can say or do to get you here?”        “Get me a private jet and a quarantine mansion?”        “Deal.”        “Woah! Wait!” Y/N pretty much jumped up from her position in bed. “That was a joke! Harry Edward Styles, I swear to God, if you try an –“        But with a giant grin, he just blew Y/N a kiss and ended the call.        She was quite terrified if she was being honest, that Harry would do what she’d asked. He already had once. It'd been around Christmas time while she was still in First Year at uni, and she’d seen a glistening necklace at a jewellery store display. She hadn’t said anything, hadn’t even uttered a word, but just seeing the sparkle in Y/N’s eyes, was enough for Harry to make the decision and gift it for her.        When the next day, around five AM her time, she got a call from Harry’s manager Jeff, she was ready to rip both of them a new one, an e-mail with a plane ticket popping up in her inbox.        “I swear I’ll poison your drinks when I see you,” she’d grumbled, but couldn’t hide the excitement as she threw everything she could in the suitcase. “And no one will find your bodies, mark my words, Azoff.”        He snorted. “Yeah, tell that to the FBI agent listening in on this call.”        “Fuck. Gave myself away,” she said softly, giggling right after.        “You know he’s stoked beyond belief.” Jeff piped up. “He literally jumped out of the bed this morning, and during the dance rehearsals he didn’t miss a step.”        That made Y/N’s heart warm. “Well, you can tell him to curb it a bit. Otherwise, I’ll just stay at the fucking mansion – which, by the way, it was a joke, Jeff! I’m pissed enough he’s spending money on me as it is, let alone such a chunk on the plane, you didn't have to get me an actual mansion.”        “You know, for you, he’d give away all of it.”        “Yes, well, he might need it for his funeral, if he keeps spending it on me and on shit like this.”        The man shook his head but didn’t say anything else. He wasn’t the only one trying to drop hints to Y/N that Harry felt something more, but he’d leave it to the man himself. He didn’t need to possibly ruin everything, and have her decide not to come. His client was nightmare enough without her around, because Harry was like day and night when Y/N finally arrived on set for ‘Treat People With Kindness’.        To say he enveloped her in a hug would be an understatement as he didn’t let go of her for ten solid minutes, having grabbed her by the underside of the thighs and sat down on the ground just so he could prolong the feeling of being with Y/N.        The fact that she’d actually gone for it and hadn’t scolded Harry too much for spending that insane amount of money, for having brought a small piece of home to LA with herself where they were filming, made him now fully acknowledge the true extent of his feelings, especially as she didn’t pull away from their embrace, rather hid her face in the crook of his neck.        I mean, in the end, he did have to let her go because everyone had to get back to shooting, but not before Y/N had stripped the meticulous jacket from him, and went to have a glance at herself in the large mirror, one of the costume designers playing along and adjusting the clothing on her body, as if she was going to be the one performing.        Harry felt someone slide up to him and he looked over to his left, a smiling Phoebe standing there. She nudged his shoulder with hers. “You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”        He nodded, looking back over to where Y/N was still looking at herself in the mirror, wearing the heavy jacket as if it was nothing like it was made for her. “I’m a cliché, I know. But I can’t help it.”        “Of course, you can.” She squeezed his side. “All you gotta do is tell her.”        But it wasn’t that easy. Comparatively, getting Y/N to appear in the video was easier than coming to terms with the fact, all they’d ever remain would be friends if he didn’t do anything.        Yet the shoot for the video ended as quickly as it had started, and Y/N needed to fly back to the UK to defend her PhD paper, and Harry had to go back to filming ‘Don’t Worry Darling’, thousands of miles stretching between them once more. And Harry was a romantic, he couldn’t confess over FaceTime. Besides, he wanted to make it a special evening for her, plan something out, rather than risk a shitty connection cutting him off mid-word.        He hated it though. It’d been almost four years since Harry had realised his feelings had developed from just friendly into romantic, and still, he hadn’t said anything. Even the people who’d never met Y/N in person like Florence Pugh saw what was going on.        But unlike the cast and crew of ‘Treat People With Kindness’ who had to deal with his pining for maybe a couple of weeks, it’d been almost half a year for her at that point. Did she just want to call Y/N and tell her how Harry felt? Sure. She’d had enough of him coming into her trailer only to fall down onto her pillow and whine. But it wasn’t her place. So instead, she was going to figure out a way to get Y/N to the set and make him tell her himself.        Getting Harry’s phone away from him should’ve been the inspiration to the next ‘Mission Impossible’ script though, because it took her literally a whole day to fish it out from his coat's pocket, and she only had about ten seconds to find Y/N’s number (which wasn’t that hard given how it was the number with literally hundreds of calls next to it) and put it in her own phone.        Once their filming was done for the day, Florence rebutted Harry’s invitation to a movie night, saying a massive headache was coming on, so he wished her a good night and with slumped shoulders went to sulk on his own. Which is why she practically sprinted to her own trailer to finally call Y/N        An unsure ‘hello?’ greeted her ears before she responded. “Hey, this is Florence… Pugh.”        That stunned Y/N into silence for a few seconds before she spluttered out a greeting and said ‘hi’ as well. “Not to be rude, but how did you get my number?”        “Stole it from Harry’s phone. Look, he’s miserable. Keeps moping around, and I can’t take it anymore. Last night I found him crying in his pillow with your shirt over it.”        “What? Why?”        “Because it didn’t smell like you anymore.”        Y/N’s heart broke. “Why didn’t he tell me anything? We just talked, and he said he was fine. God, that man is so dumb sometimes.”        “Is there any way you could find a way to get here?” Florence asked biting down her lip.        She heard Y/N sigh at the other end of the line. “I’ll – I’ll try and figure something out. Have to know what’s going on at work, I mean it has been like two months since the video, so maybe…” She was more so talking to herself, but then remembered about Florence. “Listen, can I give you a message when I find out if my boss will let me?”        “Of course!” The actress was excited about the possibility of Y/N getting here, as long as it got Harry out of his depressive mood.        “Oh, and I’ll need to know what kind of restrictions are on set. I’ll figure something out with flights and quarantine, but I have zero clue as to what’s it like where you’re filming.”        Florence waved her off, even though she couldn’t see the motion. “Leave that to me. Just get your ass over here before the guy cries himself dry.”        It was a struggle though on all three ends – Harry was still moping, because not only had Y/N’s shirt lost its smell of her, but homesickness was hitting full force, Florence was getting more and more desperate as she attempted to take his mind off of things, but nothing seemed to work, and Y/N was trying to get on any possible flight to Harry while arranging two tests and an AirBnB she could self-isolate in for two weeks while attempting to set up her work from afar at the same time.        Two days after Florence’s call, Y/N sent her a message ‘Flying in tomorrow at 4 AM. Don’t tell Harry. He’ll feel even shittier cause I have to stay alone in quarantine. First test came back negative.”        She sighed in relief at the message and immediately texted back ‘i’ve got you a set pass ready, just need a picture. selfie will do. also, masks are mandatory on the lot, so bring those.’        Immediately Y/N sent a thumbs up, and a picture of herself she didn’t absolutely despise to be used on the ID card. All that was left was to pack. And spend two weeks in an attempt of not going crazy with anticipation before seeing Harry.        Those two weeks turned out to be worse than the two months between the music video shoot and going to the filming lot. Because throughout then, Y/N knew her only access to him would be through FaceTime, but to be about twenty minutes away from the man without the ability to touch him was pure torture, but at least Harry seemed completely oblivious to the change in her surroundings.        As they still continued on with their calls, not once did he mention her background, or how the paintings suddenly had managed to switch positions or the fact that Y/N didn’t even own paintings. She was sure she could’ve been missing an arm, and he wouldn’t have mentioned it with how tired he looked.        “Have you even slept, Har?”        “Not really,” he groaned, getting more comfortable in his bed. “We’ve had a bunch of early shoots and then late nights, ‘cause we need to get the continuity for the scenes, and then the day’s full of Zoom calls, and well, I can’t not call you.”        Y/N scoffed, scolding him. “You know damn well I won’t be offended if we sacrifice a couple of calls for you to get some proper sleep.”        “I know, but I will.”        Y/N sighed, knowing in a way it was her fault. She could tell him she no longer was hours of time zones away, but rather watched the same sunset and sunrise as him, but she also knew Harry, and he would be unable to stay away from her until her quarantine was over.        She was quite happy she’d sat through the fourteen mandatory days, because when she got on set, even though Harry was usually good at keeping his composure during a scene, despite the mask, he’d recognise Y/N anywhere, and all of the lines flew out of his head.        “Jack?” Florence’s hand came to cup Harry’s cheek, trying to bring him back on track. “You alright?”        But he didn’t even care about improvising to get out of the flub as his lips were split apart by a grin, and he dashed away, a loud ‘CUT!’ ringing throughout the set, but Harry already had Y/N in his arms, spinning the girl around.        “Best friends my ass,” Florence murmured as she went to the two.        Harry was speechless, Y/N’s face in between his hands as he looked her up and down. “How are you here? What? Why?”        “Thank Florence.” Y/N gave an attempt at motioning to the actress with her head. She set the whole thing up.”        Harry’s head whipped to his scene partner. “You knew Y/N was here for two weeks and told me nothing?”        “Your brain short-circuited when you saw her! You wouldn’t be of no use on set at all if I had.”        Harry scoffed, throwing an arm over Y/N’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s get away from this meanie.” But as he walked away, he looked over his shoulder and mouthed a grateful ‘thank you’ to her.        All Florence could hope for was that he’d get it together and confess, but it didn’t seem like he was in any sort of a rush. Y/N was set to be there for three weeks, but the thought of the woman leaving without knowing how Harry felt, leaving him in a sea of his own heartache, made her miserable, especially after a night they’d all spent together.        Harry really wanted Y/N to get to know the people he worked with so he invited the ones closest to him for a movie night, during which he himself had been the first one to actually fall asleep, of course.        For most of it, as ‘Westworld’ ran on in the background, he spent curled up in Y/N’s lap, his head resting against her chest with her fingers weaving through the shortened locks. She had to get used to the length, motion automatically wanting to go on longer than it was possible to. Soon enough, the soothing motions lulled her to sleep as well, their bodies leaning into one another and perfectly fitting together.        As tired as Florence was of seeing Harry, a person who’d become her friend now pine for someone so hard, it was absolutely heart-melting to watch the two interact. Everyone could see Y/N had the same feelings as Harry did for her, only she hid them a bit better. A little, but not by a lot.        No friends acted the way those two did around one another. Sure, people could be touchy, but not like that, not with such intimacy behind the motions. She felt like she was being a little creepy as she pulled out her phone to take a picture, but it was too cute not to.        A loud noise from somewhere outside set made Y/N shoot up straight, and Florence held her breath as she clutched onto her phone, having swiped it accidentally into video mode and filming the whole thing.        “No,” Harry whined, a hand reaching up for Y/N and grabbing at her elbow. “Come back. ‘S too early.”        She just nodded, grumbling something unintelligible but possibly along the lines of ‘don’t make me throw hands’ before laying down and snuggling into Harry’s chest.        Florence let out a large sigh of relief and decided to get some sleep as well before their annoying four AM alarm woke them up for set.        This time it was the other way around, as Y/N whined for Harry to ‘come back and keep her warm’.        Florence watched as Harry slipped out of Y/N’s grasp, but not before pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead and a whispered a promise to ‘see her when the Sun’s up’. The second the trailer door was closed, she slapped his shoulder, and Harry gasped in shock. “What'dya do that for?”        “Stop that! Stop that stupid dance!” She stomped her foot on the ground. “I’m sick and tired of watching you watch her with that dumb longing expression on your face. I can’t take it anymore. Why do you think I went through all that trouble to get her here?”        “I told you I would!”        She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Look, I know it’s not my place or anything, but she does like you. A lot.”        Harry threw her an uncertain gaze. “And how do you know?”        “Because that woman spent two weeks in self-isolation just to see you! She’s gone through how many of those awful Covid tests just to go and visit you! She’s dropped everything for you, has supported you through so much, and never fails to boost you up.”        “That’s what friends do.”        “No.” Florence shook her head. “That kind of loyalty… that’s what people in love give. I haven’t talked to my best friend in like a month. What’s the longest you’ve gone without speaking to Y/N?”        And with that question, she left Harry to ponder not only his feelings but the girl’s he was in love with as well. Because if he had to be honest, the reason he’d been dragging everything out, the reason he’d stayed pining for Y/N for years on end was that he tried to write everything she did off as something a childhood best friend would do.        The truth was more terrifying than anything because once that came to light, it’d change everything, and Harry didn’t know if he was ready. He wanted it, desperately so if it meant Y/N becoming someone he could love freely and openly, but not if by the end of it, she'd disappear from his life, leaving a hole the size of his heart in his chest.        His thoughts were cut short as someone knocked on the ‘Hair&Make-up’ door, and an assistant let in a pouting Y/N. Well, he couldn’t’ see the pout behind the mask, but he definitely knew it was there, making a smile come on his own face.        She plopped down in an empty sofa and crossed her arms. “I was cold.”        Harry snorted, wanting to shake his head, but didn't as to not ruin the hair stylist’s work. “You’re always cold.”        “And you’re a living furnace.”        “ ‘S that why you like cuddling? Leeching off my warmth?”        The same assistant who’d let Y/N in handed her a cup of coffee, which she was ready to kiss the woman for, but opted for a ‘thank you’. “We’ve established I only use you to get to other celebs. What makes you think I wouldn’t use you for those sort of things.”        For a moment, the trailer settled into silence, as Y/N enjoyed her morning coffee while the crew kept doing their own work.        “It’s so weird,” Y/N piped up, eyes racking up and down Harry’s body. “Don’t even wanna really look at you like that.”        He let out a mock gasp of hurt. “What d’ya mean? Am I suddenly repulsive to you?”        “No!” she let out a laugh. “It’s just odd seeing you without the tattoos. They’re such a huge part of you, even the dumb ones. Can’t really imagine you any differently.”        “Would you love me any differently without them?” The question was bold, even though he knew she did love him, he had to start making moves.        “No,” Y/N shook her head. “I don’t think so. I believe I’d be a different person then as well, but I’d love you all the same. As long as you’d do the same with me.”        Harry nodded looking down at his hands then back up at her, catching her eyes through the reflection in the mirror. “Don’t think there’s a dimension out there where I don’t love you.”        “I mean that is a bold statement,” Y/N said, sipping on the remnants of her coffee. “What if I’m like a weird, cat-skinning psychopath in one dimension? Would you love me even then?”        “Jesus Christ, Y/L/N, do you just normally come up with those gruesome scenarios or is it a hobby?”        She wiggled her eyebrows, standing up and throwing away the paper cup. “There’s a reason I have a VPN and clean my search history. I’ll see you in your trailer?”        “Yeah.” Harry nodded and smiled. “I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”        The next half-hour he kept hyping himself up, about how he was actually going to do it, but Florence intercepted him right as he was turning down the way his trailer stood. “How are you gonna do it?”        “I – “ Harry huffed and placed his hands on his hips. “In the beginning, I had like a whole romantic outing planned, but… I’ve dragged this on long enough, so I think I’ll just tell her.”        “Okay, good.” Florence nodded and slapped his shoulder in approval. “And if I don’t hear that trailer rocking, I will throw you in a ditch.”        Harry’s eyes widened at the statement, fully knowing she meant her words, but she was already half-way down the track, blond hair swishing behind her back.        It was then or never.        Slowly he opened his own trailer door as if it was Y/N’s place not his, but by the looks of how she’d sprawled out on his bed, she had made herself right at home. Just like she’d done it on the first day of school, but just with his heart.        “Hey!” She smiled looking at him. “You ready to film?”        “Yeah, but umm… I kind of wanted to talk to you beforehand.”        Y/N’s brows furrowed at Harry’s serious tone, so she sat up, nodding. “Sure. Is everything alright?” “It’s nothing bad, at least I hope you won’t take it in a bad way... I’ve actually been wanting to tell you this since that winter’s break party you had while doing your masters...” He let out a small chuckle but seeing Y/N’s eyes widen in a panic he stopped. “Oh, God,” she moaned. “You have a kid! Oh my God.” “What? No!” Harry spluttered. “Why the hell is the first thing you assume that I have a kid?” “I don’t know!” She was now standing facing him completely. “We’ve never had secrets between us, especially for as long as you’ve apparently kept them, what am I supposed to think? Maybe one of the girls you hooked up with got pregnant, and you’ve been hiding the fact you’re a baby daddy because you know I wouldn’t be able to keep the fact I can be the cool drunk aunt to myself.” All of that came out as is she’d prepared it ages ago. “Well, no.” Harry shook his head stepping closer so he could be chest to chest with Y/N. “I’m not anyone’s baby daddy. At least I don’t think so, but umm... when that moment would come... when I have a kid...” He looked up at the ceiling and sighed before lifting a gentle hand to cup her cheek. I wouldn’t want you to be the drunk aunt. I um...” There goes nothing. “I’d kinda like if you were the mom.” “Of course, I’ll be the Godmother!” Both of them said at the same time, making the other’s brain stumble over the words said. “Wait, mom?” Y/N’s question was breathless. “Like donate my eggs or some shit?” “No like, I’ve been in love with you for close to four years, and I wanna try and build a future with you, where you’re more than just my best friend.”        “Oh.”        That was all that managed to escape her mouth as he fully opened his heart, and Harry couldn’t lie – it shattered. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it was more than that. “That’s...” Y/N huffed sitting down on the bed. “That’s a lot to take in Harry. Like a lot.” “I know.” He sighed and sat down next to her. “Which is why I’ve been pushing this away for as long as I could, but... it was time. It wasn’t fair to you or me to keep on living like that. Look.” Harry took her palm in his. “Whatever you want us to be, we’ll be that. I - I mean I’ll be heartbroken if you say you don’t feel the same, but no matter what you tell me now, I won’t let you leave my life. I love you, and I’m in love with you. This is your choice which way you chose to go with.” Y/N shook her head, interlacing their fingers and finally looking up at him. “I don’t want you to be heartbroken. It’s the last thing, I’d ever want to see you like. And umm well, if it takes me using the pair of ovaries I have to admit I’ve been in love with you too to change that, I guess I’ll have to say it. I’m in love with you too.” Harry’s eyes glimmered with unshed tears of happiness, as he looked at Y/N like she’d hung the stars in the sky. Not that it mattered. He always looked at her like that. “You mean it?” “Yeah,” she chuckled, wiping away a few stray pearls from her own cheeks. “I guess I always thought I’d end up the drunk aunt in your life, so that’s why I thought you’d ask me to be whatever future child’s Godmother. But I love you, and I’m in love with you too.” “Can I – “ Fuck, Harry was too giddy for his own good. “Can I kiss you?” And when Y/N chuckled, nodding he swore he already was in heaven. “Yes, please.”        At first, the touch of his lips was gentle, almost afraid, but the second he pressed them to Y/N’s, and she gasped at the sensation, it became full of lust as passion, years of pent-up pining and angst and just plain old stupidity surfacing and morphing itself into a steamy make-out session.        In a split second, she was sprawled out on Harry’s bed, his toned body leaning over hers and teasing hands moving along her sides, making her squirm and ache for more of his touch, but she wasn’t the only one who wanted to explore a body with a new mindset of what was possible.        As Y/N moaned from Harry’s tongue invading her mouth, her hand couldn’t help itself as it slid down his chest, and her finger flicked against the button of his trousers.        “Can I touch you there?” Y/N whispered against his mouth, and Harry eagerly nodded.        “Please. Been dreaming about this for literally years.”        Smiling, she allowed him to continue and explore her mouth with his tongue, intoxicated on one another’s taste. In fact, Y/N was so far gone just from the kiss, she forgot how a fly worked and needed Harry’s help to open it.        “Get back here,” she grumbled as he chuckled, having leaned up a bit to make it easier for her to get the offensive piece of clothing off. “We’ll see how you fare with a bra.”        “Oh, I’m an expert.” His hands trailed to her shoulder where he snapped one of the straps against her skin, making her yelp.        “You do not want to do that when my hand is an inch away from your dick.”        But the threat had no merit to it, as she dipped her palm behind Harry’s boxers while his mouth went to soothe the sting and leave a little mark on her skin, which he’d get to admire later on.        The second, Y/N wrapped her hand around his cock an involuntary moan escaped into the air, as she gripped him. Fuck, she couldn’t wait until he was inside her, because, and it might sound a little cliché given how they were best friends who’d fallen in love with one another, but she was one hundred percent sure, he was made exactly for her.        But no matter how much she twisted her hand or how gently or roughly she rubbed the tip, he couldn’t get hard, and Harry was on the verge of tears, which Y/N saw and instantly pulled away, cupping his face.        “I’m sorry,” he choked out. “Fuck, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”        “Hey!” Y/N cooed. “None of that. It’s alright. Shit happens.”        Harry nodded understanding that she was right, but he still felt shitty and well, he felt insecure about it. “I just. Fuck. Usually, when I think of you, I’m hard in like a second.”        And although all Y/N wanted to do was smirk and tease him about the fact that he thought of her while wanking himself off, that wasn’t the right moment.        “I promise, you turn me on, you do." He sniffled. "This had never happened before.” But Y/N wasn’t offended or sad, and her laugh wasn’t mocking or trying to hurt him.        “Harry you’re dead tired.” She cupped his cheek with one of her hands, and if he’d been ice cream he would’ve literally melted. “You had to wake up at four in the fucking morning and won’t go to sleep until two the next day. Let yourself rest a bit.”        “But,” he whined and then huffed. “But I wanna love on you. Wanna show you just how crazy I am about you.”        “And you will. You know I’ll always hold you to your word. But this won’t be fun for either of us if mid-fuck you suddenly collapse on me asleep. I don’t need to go to the A and E and explain the broken nose is because my boyfriend decided to take a nap while shagging. A nap on my face.”        But Harry hadn’t really heard anything she’d said after Y/N mentioned the b-word, a dopey smile on his face. “I’m your boyfriend? You really want me like that?”        “I mean I would prefer if you were Phoebe…”        Harry pinched her side, making her squeal before tackling her in a hug. “Shut up!”        And that’s how the two fell asleep (and were woken up twenty minutes later by an assistant in a panic given how Harry was supposed to be on set in five minutes)  – wrapped up in one another’s arms, smiles on their faces, and no longer best friends, but lovers.

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Everything tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64​ @supernaturalbaesduh​ @breezy1415​ @crazy--me​ @thatawkwardlittlefangirl​ @sea040561​ @staryeyedgirl​ @deathbyarabbit​ @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91​ @dalilx​ @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns​ @averyrogers83​ @in-the-end-im-still-trash​ @gallifreyansass​ @dewy-biitch​ @avxgers​ @unlikelygalaxygiver​ @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees​ @bnhvrdy​ @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl​ @sj-thefan​ @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue​ @im-squished​

Harry Styles tags: @sarcasticallywitty15​ @breezykpop​ @girlboss99​ @harrystylesdoesntknowiexist​ @alliyjane​ @sirtommyholland​

A/N: I loved writing this so much :)

P.S. my tags are always open

P.S.S. I don’t take requests, sorry. Also, please don’t repost my story on other platforms (wattpad etc) without specific written permission. 

[spockandawe]

mmm, thinking about the guanyin temple scene, and the things jin guangyao finally says once people corner him.

Wei Wuxian laughed from anger, staring at Su She. “Have I ever done anything to you? I didn’t see you as an enemy— I didn’t even know you!”

Jin Guangyao said, “Wei-gongzi, shouldn’t you be the one who knows this best? Would you be safe just because you didn’t see him as an enemy? How could that be? In this world, everyone begins without enemies. Yet someone eventually moves to strike that first blow.”

and we only see a sliver of his childhood, but like, in just that TINY moment, first

The woman said, “Oh, why would I lie to you about something like this? Her son is running errands for us right now. There, that’s him.” The woman twisted her waist, waving at a boy holding a tray. “Xiao-Meng! Come here!”

The boy did as he was told and walked over. “Anxin-jie, what is it?”

All at once, Wei Wuxian understood everything.

The clients studied Meng Yao with judgmental eyes. Meng Yao asked again, “Am I needed for something?”

Anxin grinned. “Xiao-Meng, are you still learning all those things lately?”

Meng Yao paused. “Which things?”

Anxin said, “The things your mother wants you to learn, like calligraphy, etiquette, swordsmanship, meditation… How are those things going?”

Before she even finished, the clients began to chuckle as if they thought something was funny. Anxin turned around. “Don’t laugh, I’m telling the truth. His mom’s raising him like a young master of a wealthy family. She taught him to read and write, bought him all sorts of swordsmanship pamphlets, and even wants to send him to school.”

A client exclaimed, “Send him to school? Did I hear wrong?”

“No! Xiao-Meng, tell these gongzis. You’ve gone to the library before, haven’t you?”

The client asked, “Is he still going?”

Anxin said, “Nah, he came back just a few days later. He refused to go back, no matter what. Xiao-Meng, did you not like studying, or did you not like the place?”

Meng Yao didn’t say anything. Anxin giggled, poking a red-painted finger at his forehead, “Little one, are you angry?”

She pressed quite hard. A light, red mark appeared in the center of Meng Yao’s forehead, almost like a shadow of a vermillion mark. He touched his forehead. “No…”

an adult woman makes a point of calling him over just so she and her clients can laugh at his expense. and then moments later

Suddenly, someone screamed. The sound of cups and saucers shattering came from the second floor as a guqin crashed down, smashing to pieces as it hit landed in the hall. It scared the wits out of the people enjoying themselves at the nearby tables. Anxin stood, almost tripping, yelling, “What happened?!”

Meng Yao cried, “A-Niang!”

Anxin looked up. A burly man dragged a woman out of a room by her hair. Anxin tugged the sleeve of the client next to her. It was unclear whether she was nervous or excited. “She’s at it again!”

Meng Yao rushed upstairs. The woman covered her head, trying her hardest to pull her clothes up her shoulders. As she saw Meng Yao run over, she hurriedly cried, “I told you not to come upstairs! Go down! Go down this instant!”

As Meng Yao tried to peel away the client’s hands from his mother, he was kicked in the stomach and rolled down the stairs, causing a wave of exclamations.

This was the third time Wei Wuxian had seen him kicked down a flight of stairs.

The woman screamed as the client grabbed her by the hair again, dragging her all the way downstairs, where he stripped her and threw her onto the street. He spat on her naked body, cursing, “Hags do nothing but haggle— This old whore thinks she’s fresh meat!”

he watches his mother get physically attacked and thrown naked into the streets, just because she tried to get decent payment for her work. and he’s kicked down the stairs for trying to help her

After the kick, Meng Yao hadn’t been able to get up, and was still lying on the ground. The lady grabbed one person with each hand and dragged away both the mother and son.

that’s so much unnecessary cruelty! in such a small time! and it’s not like everything is magically fixed once he enters the cultivation world, he still has to deal with all the pointing and laughing, getting kicked down the stairs of jinlintai when he just tried to present himself to his father, the gossip without regard for whether he can hear it, people wiping their hands after they accept a cup from him, madam jin beating him, hearing his father drunkenly talk about how his mother was such a huge pain in the ass, and he didn’t want to support her because it would have been annoying. there was so much suffering that he never ““asked”” for in any sense.

and given the ways that wei wuxian and jin guangyao are parallels for each other, especially in terms of the hardships they endure, i definitely think it’s both interesting and important that the story repeatedly emphasizes 1) wei wuxian’s terrible memory, and 2) jin guangyao’s perfect memory.

Wei Wuxian knew that ‘for once’ referred to how his memory had been good, for once. He couldn’t help but smile. “Don’t always be so angry about it. It was my fault before, alright? Besides, my terrible memory is thanks to my mother.”

Wei Wuxian propped his arm on Lil’ Apple’s head, spinning Chenqing in his hand. “She said you have to remember the things others do for you, not the things you do for others. Only when people don’t hold so much in their hearts will they finally feel free.”

This was one of the only things he remembered about his parents.

vs

Jin Guangyao could remember the name, title, age, and appearance of any person after just one encounter. Even years later, he’d be able to greet them without any fault, and carry out a solicitous conversations as well. If he’d seen someone more than twice, he would remember all of their likes and dislikes, and would therefore be able to cater to their needs.

there’s a lot at play in the different ways that the two of them react to the suffering they lived through, but that line about ‘someone always moves to strike that first blow’ really stuck with me. preemptive hostility doesn’t feel like wei wuxian’s style in general (post-burial-mounds ptsd excluded), but the difference in how they react to being singled out and mistreated is really striking. madam yu hits wei wuxian for being shirtless in the summer heat, even though everyone else was too, and when there’s a quiet moment he’s kind of :(( over ‘why is it always ME’, but he gets distracted in like two seconds, and pushes it all away. jin guangyao can compartmentalize like a motherfucker, and even as a child, he’s good at keeping a smile on his face no matter what, but he isn’t able to forget. 

i don’t have a clean-cut conclusion to come to, only that i’m a picky binch when it comes to how people characterize jin guangyao’s actions. this is a story where i personally struggle a lot with how badly these characters hurt each other, and how sympathetic i am to all of their motivations. i find the story agonizing, in a lot of very good ways, and i’m constantly overflowing with thoughts about how jin guangyao specifically parallels the people around him, and how his actions compare and contrast to the decisions those other people make. rereading the flashback sequences was one of the most painful parts of this whole reread process, and then the guanyin temple scene in general hurt way much more than i was expecting. for the most part, i have too many feelings screaming for attention right now to do justice to any of them, but this particular character note jumped out at me, and i felt compelled to share.

[phoenixyfriend]

Anakin and the Jedi Babies: Where There’s a Whill, There’s a Windu

Context: original post, chrono

(Summary of the AU: Disaster lineage got tossed back in time. Anakin stayed 21-ish, but Obi-Wan and Ahsoka got deaged, took new names for time-travel reasons (Ylliben and Sokanth, or Ben and Soka) and have been officially adopted by Anakin.)

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

“You’re attached.”

“You’re just now noticing?”

Master Windu eyes him for a few long moments, and then joins him on the ground. Anakin can’t help but smirk. There’s something gratifying about having respect from the man, in this life.

“The other members of the council are concerned.”

“And you aren’t?”

“I am, but for other reasons,” Windu says.

Anakin doesn’t meet his eyes, doesn’t even respond for a long minute. He just looks out over the Room of a Thousand Fountains, spread out below them like hundreds of jungles pieced together in a jigsaw of flora. It’s been his favorite room in the Temple since he was a child, and it’s always overwhelming.

“Most of them have accepted that you adopted them because of Mandalorian customs, and that you stayed where you were due to the will of the Force,” Windu continues. “But they are… uncomfortable with how blatantly your attachments show.”

“Mandalorians are loud and refuse shame. It rubbed off.”

“You said you would kill for these children.”

“I’m their father. That’s kind of expected.”

Windu’s expression is tired. A little tired of stress, but mostly tired of Anakin’s shit. “You know what I’m trying to get at.”

“Do I?”

“Skywalker.”

“No, I’m serious. I need you to spell this out. I’ve had a million slightly-contradicting lectures on this topic, and I’ve been told pretty clearly that I misinterpreted a solid half of them. If you want a constructive conversation, you can’t be vague. I’m thirty-three years old and a father of two, Master Windu, so yes, I’m attached. What you mean by that word is going to change where this conversation goes.”

It’s gratifying to see the Master actually think it over.

“Ylliben’s tattoos have been causing the most recent stir,” Windu finally says. “They nearly all relate to family, whether new or old, and the symbolism is concerning to those who are already upset about the Mandalorian upbringing. They worry that he’ll remain too tied to people he grew up with, and unable to maintain neutrality in future diplomatic ventures, or at risk of a fall if one of the people he’s seen fit to memorialize is injured or killed. The assume a similar state of mind may be applicable to your daughter and yourself, especially given the off-color jokes about how possessive your children are about each other.”

“They’re worried about emotional immaturity,” Anakin summarizes. He offers a wan, unimpressed grin. “They do realize he’s fourteen, right? Nobody’s emotionally stable at fourteen. The hormones are out of whack.”

“I’m aware,” Windu grinds out. “And I’m aware that your histories, of war and all such things, make your ties much stronger, but you can see why the Council worries, especially those who are wary of the memories your children carry but won’t explain. I’m the only one you’ve told, Skywalker.”

“Plo and Depa know.”

“Plo and Depa aren’t on the council.”

“Yet.”

“Skywalker.”

He relents. “It’s not about Mandalore, Master Windu. It’s about Tatooine.”

Windu lets that sit for a few moments, and then sighs. “I don’t know enough about Tatooine to parse that.”

“Shmi and I are former slaves,” Anakin says, as bluntly as he can. “I was freed at nine, she at eleven, and for all that we are free, we’re not freeborn. We were born slaves, and raised slaves, and we were freed too late to forget that life. The way we think is always going to be affected by the way we grew up. That applies to all sentients, more or less, but it’s… the slave mentality is completely at odds with Jedi teachings, because Jedi teachings can only be taught in a safe environment.”

Windu nods slowly, and says, “That does make sense, but it’s… forgive me, but that’s why we don’t normally take children older than four.”

“From the perspective of teaching cultural values, that makes sense,” Anakin allows. “Teaching a Jedi child that’s cared for with communal resources that they do not need material things to be happy is fine; trying to convince a slave child of the same, someone who grew up being told they do not deserve material things, and that their owner can take anything at any time, including family? I lived that life, trying to adjust to ascetic Jedi values that coincided poorly with slave rules. I know exactly how poorly that transition can go when the person caring for the child doesn’t know how to handle the points of conflict.”

“Do you regret joining the Jedi?” Windu asks.

Anakin shakes his head. “My Jedi master, bless him, cared, and tried very hard, but he wasn’t ready to handle a kid like me and in hindsight, I know that. He needed grief counseling, and I needed therapy, and neither of us was getting it. I don’t… I don’t believe anyone in the Temple would have known how to handle a kid like me.”

“But you don’t regret it.”

“I was meant to be a Jedi,” Anakin says, as firmly as he can without getting unnecessarily bitchy about it. “My struggles with the Code aside, I was meant to be here. But the Temple doesn’t have any resources for children who come older, and I think… I think you do need that.”

“You just outlined why a child can’t follow the Code if they come from a different enough background,” Windu says.

Anakin shakes his head. “No, that’s not—I think a kid like me can learn to be a Jedi, if a little unconventional, if they’re taught correctly. The desperation to cling to anyone and anything you have can be unlearned. It takes time and effort, but it’s possible. Soka and Ben are good at balancing Tatooine care with Jedi control. If you talk to Ben, you get an entire philosophical breakdown about it, but I’m more concerned with the child psychology, because that’s what could have broken me.”

Windu frowns. “You’re building up to something.”

“I think the Jedi need programs for children found older who can’t become full Jedi,” Anakin asserts. “Even those who cannot reconcile what they absorbed growing up with the Code and Jedi tradition… they, we, need guidance. The Council tried to reject me for being too old, and now that I’m grown I understand why, but… Master Windu, what do you think would have happened to me if I hadn’t had my Master to fight for me, and had been turned away?”

“We’d have looked into placing you back with your mother and, upon finding out that she was still enslaved, secured her freedom,” Master Windu says. “Qui-Gon Jinn had taken responsibility for you, and thus you were a ward of the Temple until such a time as you were safe again. It would have been cruel to keep you from your mother if we were not to raise you a Jedi, and crueler still to allow you to return to slavery.”

“And you think I’d have been safe with her?” Anakin asks. He needs Master Windu to understand this. “You think that would have ended well?”

“You don’t?”

“Ventress,” Anakin says. “Maul. Aurra Sing, even.”

Windu considers that. He looks across the grand, green room of the garden, and finally speaks. “You think you’d have been found and corrupted by a Sith.”

“I’d already helped Naboo win a battle. I was a powerful child with no support system in this respect, eager to please,” Anakin says. “Ventress and Maul both got twisted into Sith Apprentices. Aurra Sing was just a bounty hunter, but… even if the Jedi had never found me, and the Sith remained unaware, do you think I’d have ended up better than Sing? Or would the pressures of slavery have led to my Fall anyway, eventually slaughtering my owner, the Hutts, the entire system of Tatooine’s hells?”

Windu rubs a hand over his forehead. “I understand what you’re getting at.”

“It’s not just me,” Anakin says, as carefully as he can. “Even without the Sith, there are plenty of Force-Sensitive children in terrible situations that are liable to Fall just because of how power is wielded by those at the bottom. Refusing to take on students who are already at risk… the Jedi are meant to monitor Force users to prevent Sith and other dark-aligned people from harming the galaxy. It’s one of our primary duties. If the Jedi are allowing darksiders to rise just because of an age limit…”

“I get it,” Windu says, just a little aggressive. “I understand. Give me a minute.”

Anakin tries to wait. He’s older now, he can do that. He can be patient.

He tries to convince himself that it’s true.

“You have a point,” Master Windu finally allows. “And with the knowledge that the Sith are out there, still, it’s a more salient point than most would think. The EduCorps already has a subdivision for teaching meditative techniques to low-level force users who need to learn shielding but aren’t sensitive enough to be Jedi, or are just too old, but I see your point about encouraging a program for powerful Force-Sensitives that aren’t discovered early enough to integrate into the community in full.”

“And a more comprehensive Search pattern for the Outer Rim?” Anakin suggests. He shrugs at the look he gets. “What? You’ve seen my midicount. I was on Tatooine for almost a decade, and the only reason anyone found me was that Qui-Gon had to crash a ship in the middle of nowhere. I’m sure the Force led him to me, given all the coincidences, but that’s still a solid nine years that nobody did, despite how I apparently ‘shine like the sun’ or whatever.”

“Humble.”

“The last time I took a midichlorian test on a portable counter, it literally broke the device. That’s not arrogance, that’s just absurd.”

Windu looks exhausted by the comment. Anakin can’t bring himself to feel too bad about it.

“What about Jedha?” Anakin suggests instead. “Jedi find the kids, but if they’re too old to be Jedi, we could coordinate with one of the temples at Jedha to see about having them raised in the traditions of the Whills? They’re a little less orthodox, aren’t they?”

“In some respects,” Master Windu says. “More constrained in others, but… it’s a possibility. Most of the overlooked children, yourself included, are from parts of the Outer Rim that aren’t part of the Republic, Skywalker.”

Anakin shrugs. “And many of them would have been happy to be found and collected by a Jedi, even if they couldn’t become Jedi. Not the Dathomiri, since they’ve got their own thing going on, but… from what I know about Ventress, she actually did have a Jedi Master before the situation on Rattatak became… what’s the word… untenable? He died and she was left alone, and she’d been a slave already and it just… did not end well for her. But that was a planet overrun by pirates and warlords, and would have been approved as a planet the Jedi could help without it being a weird colonialism thing… if the Senate weren’t made up of cheapskates, at least.”

“Skywalker.”

“My name isn’t actually a reprimand, you know.”

“You’re not supposed to just say that,” Windu groans, running a hand over his face. “The Senate’s choice in funding is not optimal, but insulting them in that way, even in private—”

“They’re assholes,” Anakin says, and doesn’t let his humor show. “Except my late wife, but she’s not part of the Senate in this time, so I feel no shame in accusing the entire shitshow of being cheapskates.”

Windu looks about ready to push him off the ledge.

“You’re never allowed to go on diplomatic missions, are you?” Windu mutters.

“Unless it’s to Mandalore,” Anakin clarifies. “Also, never send me to Tatooine. Ever. Please. I kriffing hate that planet.”

“I’m going to assume you have plans to kill a Hutt if we ever send you to—”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” Windu sighs. “I’ll discuss this with the Council, see how they feel about reaching out to Jedha for your suggestion regarding the Whills.”

“And you’ll tell them not to worry about my kids?”

“Skywalker, they are never going to stop worrying about your family,” Windu tells him.

“That’s fair.”