#but like if u agree pls message me or respond i NEED to talk to sm1 abt this

[iwriteshakespeareanninsults]

i hope this reaches the right people but , , , Some Kind of Disaster by All Time Low was essentially written abt John Hancock from fallout 4. No I will not be taking criticisms at this time <3

[harrystylescherry]

In My Feelings Part Six

a/n: holy fuck. part 6 is here. she’s done. she’s long. enjoy her and pls be nice to me. 

what it is: you and harry hate one another but that doesn’t stop you from fucking

warning: choking, cursing–i always feel like warnings can ruin the like, surprise or spoil the smut so im telling u now, if choking is too much for you, the other shit in this will not be for u either so read at ur own risk :)

word count: 28k --i am so sorry

pls pls pls reblog if you liked it!

i’d love to hear your feedback :)

SERIES MASTERLIST

here we go:

November 1, 2020

As you brushed your teeth, you tried your best not to get toothpaste on the little lamb’s face. You were leaning over your sink, almost bent at a ninety degree angle with the sleeves pushed all the way up to your elbows.

You had barely remembered putting on Harry’s sweatshirt to wear to bed the night before, but when you woke up that morning—fully sober—you couldn’t bring yourself to take it off. It was warm and still faintly smelled of him. You figured that your lapse in judgement the night before came from the fact that he rejected you, a fact that you tried extremely hard not to read into. Then again, how could you not? He had never rejected you before, not once. In fact, his need for you, his want for you, was the one constant thing about him. Desire was the one place you felt as though you had the upper hand and now…you had nothing.

It didn’t make sense at all. After all of it the night before: the talking, the flirting, him calling you baby, wanting to be friends, you admitting that you no longer hated him, him taking you home, he let you go upstairs alone. You couldn’t figure it out and each time you tried, you felt slightly worse about yourself.

You contemplated taking the sweatshirt off for the fifth time that morning as you dropped your toothbrush in its holder. You decided to keep it on, figuring that if you took it off, it would surely be lost in the pile of clothes covering your floor and then he would never get it back. You needed to keep it close so that you remembered to wash it later that day.  

After exiting your bathroom, you pulled the sleeves back down and then rolled them up so you had access to your hands before turning on your speaker where it sat on your nightstand. Before opening up your Spotify, you checked your messages with Harry again, even though you knew there would be no message. You hadn’t gotten a single notification since he sent the smiley face in response to you telling him you were safely in your apartment the night before. As you closed the messaging app, you sighed and then hit shuffle on the new LANY album.

You sat down at the tiny dining table that also functioned as your desk (which also served as a divider between your kitchen and the rest of the small studio) and opened your laptop. You knew you could’ve texted Abby about Harry agreeing to do the interview, or even called her, but considering how angry she seemed the last time you saw her, you decided it was best to give her the news in the most professional way possible. After putting in her email address and cc-ing the appropriate people, you wrote: Harry Styles has agreed to be interviewed by me. Some bits from the interview have been attached. His team will be in contact sometime this week. After attaching the word doc you had spent the morning preparing, you quickly hit send and sat back in the old chair.

It took Abby less than five minutes to respond in the form of a text. She wanted to know when to expect contact from Harry’s management and whether or not you spoke to him about a possible cover. The second text informed you that they wanted him featured in, or on the cover of, the January issue, meaning that everything would have to get done rather quickly. Apparently, they had already figured out who would be styling him and taking the photos—if he agreed to do it.

You deflated a little in your chair and rubbed at your eyes before picking up your phone to answer. You loved your job, you really did, but it was Sunday and you were tired of thinking about Harry. You needed a break.

He had been on your mind all day yesterday, and most of the day before that, and when you woke up that morning—you just needed a few hours, maybe even a day, where he didn’t exist to you. You wanted it to be like it was when you hated him because then you never had to think about him at all. There were no confusing and conflicting feelings, there was no curiosity about what he was doing, there was no checking your phone like a pathetic idiot who hoped she had missed a text. It was ridiculous behavior—especially since you barely liked him. Maybe this was the friend thing that Harry was talking about. Maybe you did want to be friends.

If that was the case, then what was stopping you from reaching out to him? Friends could text friends—in fact, Harry had explicitly told you last night that he wished you texted him. He wanted to talk more and so if you texted him, you really would only be doing it for his benefit. It had nothing to do with you. You needed to talk to him about the interview anyway. It was for him and for business.

Before you could stop yourself, you had tapped the ‘call’ button and brought the phone up to your ear. It was a mistake. Not only did you not know what to say, but you had never called him before and so you felt awkward about it, but you couldn’t bring yourself to hang up.

“Hello?”

“Hey!”

“(Y/N)?” He sounded both confused and surprised, despite the fact that he must have seen your name pop up on his phone.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“Hi, love. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing?” Your brow furrowed. “Should something be wrong?”

“No, no. Sorry, I just wasn’t expecting you to call me—ever.”

“Yeah, I guess it’s a little weird.” There was a dull kind of panic stuck in your chest.

“S’not weird at all.”

Neither of you spoke for a moment. There was an obvious tension, an obvious awkwardness, and you knew it was on you to try and break it since you were the one who called.

You cleared your throat and leaned forward in order to rest both of your elbows on the table, your right hand still holding your phone to your ear while you played with your earring with your left, attempting to distract yourself from your nervousness. “So, the interview.”

“Mhmm.” It sounded as though he was moving stuff around. For a second you thought about apologizing for bothering him, but decided against it. He would’ve told you if it wasn’t a good time, right?

“So I told my boss that you agreed and I sent her some of what we had and she liked it.”

“That’s great.”

“Uh, yeah. She wanted me to double check when you were going to contact the magazine to get everything finalized or whatever because she wants the interview in the January issue…and maybe a cover.”

“The cover, yeah?” You could hear the smirk in his voice.

“Yeah—but I told her that we hadn’t really talked about that and, like, that would be something to work out between you and her or whatever.”

“I’d love to be on the cover.” You felt a small bit of relief wash over you. “But only if you’ve got a part in planning it and all that. We’ve already talked about this, remember?”

You nodded even though he couldn’t see you. “Yes, we did.”

“Sound a bit disappointed.”

“I’m just not sure if they’ll go for that. I’m not exactly a photographer, or a creative director, or a stylist, or—“

“But you’re my friend. And I trust you.” You didn’t say anything. “Oh, right, yeah, sorry. Forgot we weren’t friends—or at least I’m not yours.”

“No, no, that’s not it. I-I could see us being friends. I would like to be friends.”

“When do you want to continue the interview?”

You were beyond thankful that he was changing the subject. “Well, if you do end up doing the cover, the timeline will be pretty tight so, soon.”

“Yeah, okay, just let me know what day works for you and then—“

“Wednesday!” You closed your eyes and held in a frustrated sigh when you heard how eager you sounded.

“This Wednesday?”

“Uh, yeah, maybe after you’re out of rehearsals or something?” You pulled at a loose thread in Harry’s sweatshirt. “Maybe you could come over and I could, I don’t know, make dinner or something?”

“You’re going to make me dinner?”

“Well, yeah. I mean, I’ll be getting home from work and you’ve got rehearsals so we’ll probably both be hungry. Anyway, I think it would be weird if you just came over for the interview. Like, awkward or something.”

Harry couldn’t believe what he was hearing. You were inviting him over to your apartment and offering to cook for him. He could hear how unsure you were, how nervous you seemed. He felt a lot more hopeful than he should’ve and fought the urge to think of it as a date. But it was, wasn’t it? You wanted to see him and you were making it happen under the guise of continuing the interview, but you could’ve easily agreed to let him know and ended the call. This was more than the interview—it was because you wanted to see him.

“Yeah, I’m free Wednesday night.” He actually wasn’t sure if he was, or how late rehearsals would go, but he wasn’t going to pass up this opportunity. He had never seen your space before—his “living in a box” comment from weeks ago came from Sarah who described your place as extremely tiny. He wondered what it looked like, what your style was, and had a feeling that if he he didn’t agree to see you then, he wouldn’t get the opportunity again.

“Good, okay, yeah.”

Harry placed his empty mug in the kitchen sink before turning around and leaning against the counter. He smiled at how cute you sounded, slightly flustered and obviously nervous. “Anything else, love?”

“Uhm, no. I don’t think so. I’m not sure when you’re done with rehearsals so I guess just let me know whatever time works for you.”

“I will.” Harry pulled his bottom lip between his fingers, unsure whether or not to ask the question. He wanted to tease you, to say “it’s a date,” but he had a feeling that it wouldn’t go down well. He wanted to ask if this meant you had a crush on him, jokingly ask whether or not you ask all the guys you interview to have dinner with you, but he knew that any one of those options would absolutely ruin whatever was going on between the two of you.

“Does this mean I’ll be hearing from you more often?”

“What?”

“This call.” Harry explained. “Does this mean we’ll be talking more often?”

“I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“It is, it is. Just wanted to make sure this wasn’t just a one time thing.”

“Okay.”

“It’s not a one time thing, right? Like, this isn’t just about the interview?” He cringed right after he asked it. He sounded insecure, which he hated.

“No, it’s not. I mean, probably not—I mean—“ You sighed. “I do kind of like spending time with you and so I guess I kind of could maybe want to be friends.” Your words were rushed, but he caught every single one.

“Good.” Harry’s phone started buzzing in his hand, and when he pulled it away from his ear, he saw that he had an incoming call from Jeff. “I’ve, uh, got to go, but I’ll talk to you soon, yea? Before Wednesday.” He didn’t like the idea of hanging up, but Harry needed to take Jeff’s call since it was to discuss the exact thing you had called about.

“Okay. Text me whenever. Bye.”

Harry said goodbye before hanging up and answering Jeff. They spent the next forty-five minutes to an hour discussing what Harry’s terms would be—there was really only one and it was the condition of your involvement. When Jeff asked why it was so important to him that you be involved (besides the “obvious reasons”), he admitted, without even thinking, that it was because you knew him.

Harry knew that this mostly wasn’t true. It had only been the past two months that the two of you had even started talking. You had only hung out together on your own once or twice (if the morning after a hookup could even be considered hanging out). Neither of you really knew much about each other yet—he knew where you came from, but only to the extent that you grew up in New York. He knew close to nothing about your family—or what kind of music you listened to, what you did in your spare time (besides going out), who your other friends were, if you were a sweet or salty person, what kind of movies you were into, what kind of guys you were into—if it was just guys you were into. You knew just as little about him.

That being said, he had a feeling that you understood him in some weird way. You would know what he was comfortable with and what he wasn’t. Also, you never had a problem telling people what you really thought, whereas Harry never wanted to come off as controlling or ungrateful in situations such as photoshoots. If he told you he didn’t like something, he knew you would absolutely make it known. One of the things he did like about you was that you always seemed to be looking out for the people you cared about—and he was kind of looking forward to being in that position, even if it was only for a few hours.

You spent the rest of the day going over that call in your mind. As you worked on the article and answered emails that couldn’t wait until tomorrow, your own words played back in your mind. Your invitation was too quick and too eager. Making him dinner? Telling him you wanted to be friends? Telling him you enjoyed spending time with him? What was wrong with you?

You couldn’t figure out why you were so eager, why you would even want him in your space, why you would want to make him dinner--but you did want those things. That was the scariest part. It took the entire day for you to convince yourself that it was because you did want to be friends and so you were simply being friendly. You had cooked for Sarah and Charlotte before—even Adam. The only difference was that Harry was the only one you had had sex with, which maybe changed things a little. No, you decided, it changed nothing. Harry could be a friend in the same way—and this was you trying.

November 4, 2020

You spent the entire day nervous at your desk. It was ridiculous and frustrating because what you were nervous for should’ve been the last thing to make you feel that way. It was Harry—Harry—the person you hated, then heavily disliked, then kind of tolerated, and then—well, now—someone you actually kind of enjoyed being around.

It was going to be a professional night—at least that’s what you kept promising yourself. He would come over, you would make him dinner and ask him some questions, and then he would leave. That’s it. There would be no kissing, no touching, no giving into him—if he even tried anything. You still hadn’t forgotten the fact that he rejected you a few nights ago.

It was also something you had kept to yourself. You knew you could’ve talked to Charlotte about it, but you were kind of embarrassed. You also didn’t want to sound pathetic, which was how you felt, because it shouldn’t have bothered you as much as it did. So what if he didn’t want to go up with you? Maybe he was way too drunk, too tired, or had an early morning. It shouldn’t have mattered regardless because you weren’t supposed to care. Whatever was happening with Harry was happening casually, randomly, without any kind of feeling involved. That’s how it started and that’s how it would continue.

But why did you need so much convincing? Why did you spend the entire day distracted by the idea of him in your apartment, in your kitchen, in your bed (again, this was not going to happen, but it was an intruding thought)?

Harry was the reason you had fallen behind schedule that day and why, at 5:30, you were just starting to get ready to go home. Usually, you were out of the office by five the latest, and that day, you had even planned on finishing a bit early so that you would have ample time to go to the store and change before Harry arrived at yours around 7:30. You were sure that you could still get it all done (especially the quick tidy you planned on doing) as long as you left right then and took a cab to the store because the tube during rush hour was impossible.

As you were pushing your desk chair in, you heard Abby’s voice call your name from behind you. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath before turning around.

“Yeah?”

“Can you come here for a second?” She had turned around and walked back into her office before you could say anything. You put on your coat and took your bag with you, hoping it would signal that you were attempting to go home, fully knowing that it wouldn’t make a difference.

When you entered her office, your eyebrows raised in surprise when you saw that she wasn’t alone. Occupying the two chairs in front of her desk were Tyler and Camilla, a photographer and stylist for the magazine. Suddenly it dawned on you. This was meant to be Harry’s team for the shoot.

In a meeting with Abby the day before, she explained the terms of Harry’s agreement (which you already knew) and told you to expect another meeting with the people she had in mind for the shoot—apparently this was the meeting.

“Hey, (Y/N).” Tyler greeted before getting up to drag the extra chair that sat in the corner of the office in between him and Camilla. You greeted both of them before taking a seat.

“So what do you think?” Abby asked as she clasped her hands together in her lap.

“What do I think? Of what?”

“Tyler shooting and Camilla styling. For Harry’s cover.”

“Oh.” You looked between the both of them. It felt incredibly awkward and intimidating to be in that position. You were just a writer. Tyler had done some amazing shoots and Camilla never missed when it came to her styling. They both had impeccable taste. You weren’t supposed to be giving them your approval. It felt wrong. “I think they’re great.”

“You didn’t even look at their ideas.” Abby said incredulously.

You fought the urge to bite back. Ever since the whole Harry thing, she hadn’t been as nice as she once was to you—and part of you understood it. At the moment, you had too much power for your rank and keeping her bosses happy meant allowing you the power you didn’t even ask for. Abby definitely wasn’t threatened by you, but she didn’t exactly seem to like the position you were in. You probably wouldn’t either if you were her.

Tyler pulled a mood board from next to him and leaned it against the desk. He talked about Sussex, trampolines, a fake sky against the real one; there were fabric samples and color schemes pinned down next to inspo photos. Then, Camilla pulled out a small binder and showed you some of her styling ideas. The dresses and skirts were what caught your eye.

“I think he would love that.” You said as you pointed to a long kilt.

“I was thinking of maybe asking Harris Reed to participate? Harry Lambert as well, obviously. I know he’s a Gucci rep too, so I think we should include something from them.”

You nodded and smiled at her.

“Satisfied?” Abby asked.

“Do you think Harry would like it?” Tyler asked as he moved the mood board back to the floor.

“Yeah, I do. I think he would like it a lot, actually.”

“Well, you know him best.” Abby leaned back in her chair with her arms crossed over her chest, a too nice smile adorning her face.

You sent her a sheepish smile and then glanced quickly at the clock on her wall. It was already six.

“Is there anything else?” You tried not to sound impatient.

“I’ve already talked to Harry’s people. There’s going to be a fitting next week. You need to be there.”

Your brow furrowed. “I do?”

“You do. Apparently, you being involved means involved.” You didn’t particularly like the way she looked at you when she said it.

Your cheeks heated when you felt both Camilla and Tyler’s eyes on you. You could only imagine what they were probably thinking and in that moment, you wanted to suffocate Harry. The idea of being involved seemed fine in theory, but it was turning out that it was going to suck. Apparently sexism was alive and well—you were sure that’s what it was, that they were thinking exactly what you thought they were. It was the easy answer. You were sleeping with him and that’s why he wanted you to be involved, it was why you got the interview, why you would be getting one of the biggest bylines of the year.

Sure, it was true that you were sleeping with him, but it wasn’t why you got the interview. You got the interview because you were the only one Harry trusted to do it—a direct result of the magazine messing things up with him twice before. Turns out, during one meeting they tried leaning into the “ladies man/sex god” angle, which was a huge mistake. Apparently whoever the writer was meant to be hadn’t done a single bit of research on the media coverage Harry had gotten over the years. As a One Direction fan (a secret you would take to your grave), you knew all about the womanizer bullshit.

The second meeting had apparently gone fine in terms of visuals for the photoshoot, but the stylist was intent on dressing him only in suits—extremely masculine and boring suits. Again, apparently no one had done their research. They even attempted to use the same writer.

Harry wanted you involved because apparently whoever had been making those choices at the magazine couldn’t do their job right. Sleeping with him was its own thing, completely separate from all of this. It was something you did when you were drunk, and once sober. It wasn’t anything, but you had a feeling that they all thought it was. It made your stomach turn.

“I can be there.” You tried to smile again.

“I know you will.” Abby stared at your for a moment before sighing and standing up from her chair. “Well, that’s all. I’ll send an email out once we’ve got an exact date and time for next week. You’re all dismissed.”

You stood up quickly and clumsily dragged the chair back into its corner as Tyler and Camilla got their stuff together. You walked out after Tyler and exchanged goodbyes with them before you power walked out of the office. For a second you thought about taking the stairs, but you were in heels and the idea of falling down several flights didn’t really entice you. So you tapped your foot in impatience as you took the elevator down what felt like a million floors and huffed in annoyance when it took just a little bit too long for you to hail a black cab.

Once you were tucked inside, you sent Harry a quick text telling him that you were running late. You asked if he would be okay to come over at eight instead and felt yourself relax when a small thumbs up appeared above the message.

Harry didn’t know what to wear. He was being stupid and he knew it, but he couldn’t stop himself from staring into his closet blankly for over twenty minutes. He wasn’t sure what the vibe was. It wasn’t a date—or maybe it was but he knew you would never call it that—but it wasn’t something entirely professional either, as much as you probably wanted to pretend it was.

In his mind, it was something akin to date. He planned on kissing you and flirting with you and trying to make you like him back. He didn’t like that his feelings were one sided. His teenage boy crush was in fact not a crush and he was pretty sure that if he really got to know you, it would be over for him. Which he had decided was fine.

He spent at least two hours the night before staring at his ceiling thinking about you and the way that he felt about you. He had known that he was pretty fucked for a while, but the way he had been thinking about tonight had more than convinced him that he was a goner. He had been for a while, but his constructed version of you got in the way of him seeing it.

He was meant to be at yours in a little over thirty minutes, which was exactly how long it would take him to get there. He sighed in annoyance before settling on one of his usual t-shirts, a pair of slightly distressed jeans, and one of his favorite cozy sweaters.

He spent the drove over debating whether or not he should pick up some flowers. He hadn’t thought about bringing anything beforehand, but the second he settled himself into the driver’s seat, it was all he could think about. It wasn’t a date, but it felt wrong to show up empty handed. If he brought a bottle of wine, it would be less romantic than flowers, but he wasn’t sure what kind of wine you preferred. He didn’t know what kind of flowers you liked either, but surely it was the safer option.

When he was only a few streets away from your place, he decided to stop at a small shop. He slid on a pair of sunglasses despite how dark it was outside and pulled his hood up. Thankfully, the shop was pretty much empty except for two people and the workers. He lingered in front of the wine section for far too long, picking up reds, then whites, reading the labels and trying to figure out what you would probably like. He finally settled on pinot noir, deciding that it was a pretty safe choice.

There was a small section of flowers towards the front of the shop where the self checkout machines were. He couldn’t get roses. They were too much, too romantic and would surely give away the fact that he saw this as a kind of unspoken date. The sunflowers didn’t seem to be very you, as much as he loved them and lilies reminded him too much of funerals. The mixed bouquets were extremely bright and ugly looking. So he settled on the pink peonies. They were pretty, not too much, and if he remembered correctly, were part of the small bouquet tattoo that was on your ribcage.

When his finger landed on the button next to your name, he was officially fifteen minutes late. Harry hoped you didn’t mind, especially since you had been running late first but still felt slightly bad about it. He had the flowers tucked into the crook of his left elbow and the bottle in his left hand while his right fiddled with his rings nervously.

He hated that he was nervous. It felt both lame and overdramatic. The two of you had hungout before, had sex, and hurled awful insults at one another with what felt like extreme comfort. Why should this be any different?

He knew exactly why. This was a date—he knew that you knew it was too. This wasn’t getting coffee, or being out with friends, or kissing because you were drunk. It was spending time together sober, in an intimate way. You had to know it was a date.

When his buzz got no response, he hit the button again and held it for a little longer.

“Harry?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“Sorry, sorry. I had…stuff all over my hands. Come up.” You sounded distracted even through the fuzzy intercom.

When Harry heard the door unlock, he pulled it open and walked quickly to the elevator. He knew he was eager, but he didn’t really care much. He was excited to see what your place looked like, what you looked like in it. That was always interesting to him: the way people behaved in their own spaces versus the way the behaved in other, more social spaces. He had a feeling you would probably be the same. You’d be confident and witty and stoic, but he hoped you would be a little softer, a little warmer, the way you sometimes were with him.

Whatever music you were listening to seeped under the door where Harry stood. It was muffled but he swore he could hear you singing along. He knocked three times quietly, but immediately realized that the chances of you hearing that were slim to none. He knocked again, a bit harsher, and a few moments later, he heard it unlock before it swung open.

“Hi.” Your eyes were bright but you seemed flustered.

“Hi.” You both stood there staring at one another for a beat too long. “Uh, these are for you.” He held out the flowers and you took them a little hesitantly, with a small smile on your face. “And this—I wasn’t sure what you liked, though so—“

“Oh! I love this one.” You interrupted as you read the label and Harry smiled back at you in relief. “Thanks. The flowers are really pretty.”

There was a heavy tension between you. Lately, it seemed as though there always was and he wanted it to go away but he wasn’t sure how to make that happen.

You two were staring at one another again. He wasn’t sure what the protocol was. Was he meant to hug you hello? Kiss you? Maybe on the cheek? He had no idea where to go from there and apparently neither did you.

You cleared your throat softly before stepping out of the doorway. “Uh, come in.”

He stepped over the threshold and watched as you closed the door behind him. “I seem to be a bit underdressed.” He joked as he checked you out.

It wasn’t actually a joke. While he was comfortable and casual, you looked about ready to go out. You were wearing a long sleeve black wrap dress that seemed to be made from suit material. It was short and ended a few inches below your butt. It was extremely low cut, a problem you had solved by wearing a silky, cream colored button up underneath. The first few buttons were undone, revealing your usual gold necklaces and he collar of the shirt laid casually over the dress; the blouse’s sleeves also peeked out a bit from under the dress’s. Harry’s favorite part of the outfit though, was the cream colored Gucci tights. They were sheer with an extremely minuscule fishnet pattern, with the Gucci logo patterned throughout. You looked amazing—and he felt frumpy.

“You’re not, really. I wish I was in jeans and a sweater right now.” He followed you towards the tiny kitchen space. “I wanted to change after work but I was so behind and it was either change or clean up my apartment and I figured cleaning was the right choice.”

He stood at the small island and watched you open a cabinet and pull out a pink, glass vase.

So, you did live in a box. There was very little kitchen space; the stove and sink were only a few inches apart and directly next to the sink was the fridge. The only counter space you really had was the small island that was a little less than half the size of his. The only other bit of counter space you had was to the left of the stove, but it was covered in cookbooks. The kitchen floor was tiled in black and white and you had painted the cabinets and base of the island sage green. He wondered if you were allowed to do that, but quickly realized that you probably didn’t give a shit.

On top of the cabinets, which he knew you could absolutely not reach, was different colored bended candles which had never been lit as well as two planters, one yellow and one a rust color, adorned with small smiles that had no plants in them. What looked like one of your brother’s class schedule was stuck to your fridge, along with a few family pictures (it still shocked him that you had three brothers, he wasn’t sure why), an old photo of a man that had been torn in half, and a handwritten recipe for lemon bars. Harry thought it was charming and so badly wanted to turn around and scope out the rest of the place, but didn’t want to be so obvious.

You placed two glasses on the island between the two of you before grabbing the wine.

Harry held his hand out. “‘Ve got it, love.” He opened the wine and began filling the goblets you were using as wine glasses. They were the same height and same shape, but the designs on them were different. “These are cool.”

“I got them on Brick Lane. You know the vintage market before the one that’s underground?” Harry nodded even though he was only vaguely sure of what you were talking about. “There’s an older guy there who sells old glassware so cheap. I got most of my stuff from there.”

“You really love it over there, don’t you?” He asked before bringing the glass to his lips.

“I do. I’m honestly there most Sundays.”

“Really? I might have to join you next time.” It was a test.

“I’d like that.” You tried to mask your smile by taking a drink from your glass. Suddenly, the sizzling noise coming from the stove became much louder and your eyes widened slightly. “Fuck!” You placed your glass on the counter and turned back to the stove quickly.

Harry walked around the island and joined you where you stood stirring. He stood close enough that every time you moved, your back brushed against his chest, but he kept himself from dropping an arm around your waist or running his hand along your back. “Smells good.”

“Let’s hope I don’t burn it.” You were sautéing mushrooms, garlic, and peas in a pan, while a small pot of broth sat heating up next to it.

“Do you cook often?” He asked as you removed the vegetables from the pan and put them in a small bowl, added more oil to the pan and then dropped in shallots with ease.

He felt your shoulder shrug against his chest. “I did for a while before I moved in with my grandparents but then my grandma did all the cooking.”

There were at least a thousand questions on the tip of Harry’s tongue. He was so curious about your family and had a feeling it would help him understand you in a way he couldn’t as of then. He was afraid of asking those questions though, especially since the night had barely started. He was afraid of upsetting you or putting you in a bad mood. He wanted tonight to go well because he needed it to.

“Do you need help with anything?” He asked dumbly as you poured rice into the pan.

“You can get me the wine if you want?” You said as you looked up at him over your shoulder.

“Our wine?”

“No, the small bottle of white. It should be on the island somewhere.” You waved the hand that wasn’t stirring the rice behind you.

Before walking away, Harry placed his left hand on the small of your back and dropped a quick kiss to your head. You didn’t react at all, which he took as a good sign. He knew things had been going well between the two of you and that he could be more affectionate with you if he dared, but the affection usually came after or before sex. It never usually happened in a normal moment—as normal a moment as the two of you could have, anyway. Even at the Halloween party, sure there was affection, but the two of you were drunk. And then he rejected you. He was still waiting for you to bring that up.

He quickly located the tiny glass bottle and brought it over to you along with your glass of wine. Harry stood next to you, leaning his left hip on the counter and waited patiently for you to pour the wine into the rice. After he handed you your glass and received a soft “thank you,” he continued to hover.

Harry was wondering if you’d let him kiss you. He didn’t really know how to go about asking. He was afraid it was too weird, too random, too couple-y, which you two were not—like, at all.

He wanted to kiss you. The need was growing as he watched you stir the rice carefully, a soft echo forming in the small space as you sang along to the song playing in your work clothes and slightly smudged eyeliner. He wanted to reach out and pull you into him—but he had no idea how. He didn’t know how to do anything with you, how to be anything with you. It all seemed too scary and complicated. You were intimidating and you always had been, but now that he had feelings for you, it was amplified.

“You look really pretty.”

“Hm?” You glanced up at him.

He cursed internally. The music in the kitchen was too loud and you weren’t paying attention and he said it too low. Why was this so hard? He had never had this problem when he was drunk—or at all. Compliments were always easy for him. He loved handing them out, especially when they were genuine. Again, the complication was rearing its head, his insecurities were out, and he was so unsure of how all of this could go.

“You look really pretty.”

You tried to fight back a smile. “Thank you.”

Harry reached his right hand out and tugged lightly on the tie of your dress which was wrapped around your waist. “I like this.” He could see that you were trying not to look fazed. He dropped his hand and then brushed the backs of his fingers on the side of your thigh. He was trying to warm you up, he was trying to make you want to kiss him too. He thought it was working.

You attempted to hide a shiver and knew he had you.

“I know what you’re doing.” You kept your gaze focused on ladaling broth into the rice, but a playful smile broke through. “And your lack of professionalism astounds me.”

Harry smiled and took a step closer, removing almost all of the space between the two of you. He looped his arms around your waist and rested his interlocked fingers on your right hip. “If you kiss me, I’ll go away.”

You let out a small laugh through your nose. “Promise?”

“Kiss me and I’ll pretend not to be hurt by that.” Harry grinned as he watched you roll your eyes dramatically.

“You’re such a child.” You complained as you turned your head towards him and leaned in.

He knew you would try to make it quick, attempt to appease him with a barely there kiss—and you did, already pulling away the second your lips touched his. His right hand left your hip quickly and landed on the back of your neck. Harry pulled your back towards him and stole another kiss, a deeper one, only pulling away because the sizzling had gotten louder again.

“Satisfied?” You asked, a small glow in your eyes.

Harry attempted to shrug nonchalantly. “For now.”

You shook your head and moved your attention back to the rice. “This was supposed to be about the interview.”

Harry wandered back to the island where he left his glass. “We both know that’s not true.”

“Have you spoken to Sarah at all?”

He knew you were going to change the subject. Certain behaviors of yours were predictable at this point: you would always run or change the subject instead of actually dealing with anything complicated, instead of ever admitting that you maybe liked being with him.

“Have you?” He knew you hadn’t, but he also knew how much all of it was probably bothering you and that you wouldn’t have spoken to Charlotte about it for a lot of reasons. He was giving you the chance to talk about it if you wanted to.

He watched your shoulders deflate as he refilled his glass. “No. I mean, I’ve texted her but she hasn’t answered me at all. Charlotte said the same thing.”

Harry walked over with both his glass and the bottled and topped yours up as well. “We haven’t really spoken either. Obviously, we talk at rehearsals, but barely. She only speaks to me and Charlotte when she has to. I think everyone else knows something’s wrong, but no one says anything.”

You sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For Sarah. I should’ve told her.”

Harry moved back behind you and squeezed your shoulders before letting his hands run lightly down your arms. “Oh, stop. It was none of her business. She’s the one with a problem, no one else. She’s got to get over it.”

“Have you said anything to Mitch?”

Harry sucked in a sharp breath and dropped his hands from your arms. “I wanted to talk to you about that, actually.”

“Oh, god. What did you do?”

“I haven’t done anything yet!” Harry laughed. “I want to tell him, I think. Everything is just weird and complicated now. It would be so much less weird if everyone knew.”

“I agree.”

“You do?” Harry took a sip of his wine.

“Yeah. Charlotte and Sarah know. It’s not like everyone else isn’t going to find out and, I don’t know, maybe Mitch could talk to Sarah.”

“She’s stubborn.”

“She’s also wrong.” You answered quickly and then took a deep breath. Harry knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of your anger and he hoped Sarah would get over herself before she was forced to learn what it was like.

“Do you need any help?” Harry asked again, not wanting to dwell on the Sarah situation anymore and also feeling completely useless. He had spent the past twenty to thirty minutes wandering aimlessly around your kitchen while you did everything.

“Uh, yeah, actually. Can you finish stirring the last of the broth in so I can get the salad ready?”

Harry nodded and accepted the wooden spoon from you. He listened intently to your directions involving the cheese and vegetables that needed to added back in before taking your place.

“Do you think I could ask you some questions while you do that or would that be too much for your brain?”

He rolled his eyes at your shitty joke. “Like, for the interview?” He received a sound of confirmation. “Go on.”

Harry heard you place your phone on the counter behind him and turned so he could look at you and the phone could pick up his words better.

“This era we’ve really seen you branch out into more traditionally feminine styles when it comes to what you wear in videos, during performances, on red carpets and all of that. Was that something you were scared to do or was it comfortable? How much has the way you think about the idea of masculinity changed since you’ve started getting into womenswear?”

Harry continued to be shocked by you and your questions. You weren’t reading off your phone or a piece of paper. You were in the middle of dropping greens into a medium sized, blue striped bowl. He knew you were smarter than him (you had made that more than abundantly clear) but it was moments like this where the fact really smacked him in the face.

Harry dumped the small bowl of cheese onto the rice as he tried to explain how his thinking had changed in the past two years. He had dabbled in the idea of womenswear during his first era, and even before that, but since then he had really jumped into the pool—which obviously accompanied a transformation in thinking.

He talked about Lambert and Harris Reed and how he didn’t find the separation of gender in fashion satisfying, how it only served to box everything in and how if you remove the binary from fashion, it becomes a whole lot more fun and creative.

“Is it true that you meditate twice a day?” It was a follow up he wasn’t expecting.

He chuckled. “Yeah, it is.” Harry dropped the vegetables into the pan before turning to look at you again. You looked confused. “What?”

“Twice a day is a lot.”

“It’s good for you, for me. It makes me feel better.”

“I could never.” You shook your head.

“Have you tried?”

“Yes, actually. In college I saw this therapist for a bit who tried to get me to meditate, but I couldn’t. Apparently it was because I couldn’t cooperate or take it seriously. I think it’s because my brain is just incapable of shutting down that way. I feel like it’s always in fight or flight mode. It doesn’t have time for breaks, you know?”

Harry’s brow furrowed. You were talking without even thinking about it. Your focus was on cutting up small cherry tomatoes and slices of cucumber. He knew that if you had remembered that your phone was recording, you would’ve never said what you did. You were opening up and he didn’t know how to respond. He wasn’t used to you talking to him like this and he had so many questions.

“I think so.” There was a beat of silence. “You were in therapy?”

You brushed off the question with a wave of your hand. “Wasn’t everybody at some point?”

“I guess, but—“

“Okay, everything’s ready now.” You were telling him to drop it.

You brought a large, glass, green bowl over to the stove and signaled for Harry to empty the pan of risotto into it. “Do you mind putting this on the table over there?”

Harry did as you asked as you grabbed the salad and successfully attempted to hold both glasses of wine in your hand.

The table was already set and Harry smiled when he saw the plates; they were white, with a bumble bee trim. The water glasses had tiny flowers on them and all of it seemed so sweet, set up on the small, square, dark wood table. The nicks in it were clear, as well as a stain from what seemed to be nail polish, but it made it all the more charming.

“Sarah got them for me last year. For my birthday.” You said while you put the bowl you were holding on the table when you noticed Harry examining the plates.

He thanked you when you placed his glass in front of him.

You both settled across from one another and dropped your napkins on your laps. Once you both had a good portion of risotto on your plates, you set your phone on the edge of the table between the two of you.

“Should we keep going?”

Harry spent dinner stealing glances around your apartment as he answered your questions and the two of you fell into tangent-like conversations.

A few feet away from the kitchen was the living room section of your apartment. On the back wall was your small, blue couch that had a chunky knitted blanket thrown lazily over its arm. It sat on a colorful, over dyed rug that looked old and worn. Your small, dark wood coffee table was covered in fashion magazines as well as a tabbed copy of what looked like Writer’s Digest. Between the couch and a door, which he assumed lead to the bathroom, was a full length gold mirror.

On the opposite was was a tiny fireplace that he was sure didn’t function at all since you had shoved a bunch of candles inside—which also seemed to have never been lit. Above the fireplace was a tv attached to the wall and an art print of a half naked woman, but it was very tasteful in Harry’s opinion. To the left, between the fireplace and the door of your place, was a tall bookshelf. It was overflowing with books, none of them seemingly arranged in any kind of order. There was even a small stack on the floor in front of it.

Straight ahead, parallel to the table the two of you were sitting at was your bed. It sat right under one of the only windows and was unmade, a cream colored comforter piled on top of the mattress. Its colorful, decorative pillows were on the floor and the green sheets seemed twisted in a ball. To the right of the bed, against the wall was a large, dark wardrobe that was left open. To the left of the bed was a clothing rack adorned with jackets and overshirts. Art hung all around the window and a hamper peeked out from its corner behind the wardrobe.

Harry concluded that it was very you. It was pretty and seemed extremely curated, but slightly messy and mismatched--all together charming. It was also cozy, which was what he had been hoping for most; it was proof that there was another side to you he hadn’t been totally privy to yet.

He was really enjoying this time with you. It didn’t feel as if he was being interviewed, but like he was simply talking to a friend, or on a date with someone who was genuinely curious about the kind of person he was. Your questions were insightful and, in a way, allowed him to completely control the conversation and the angle the conversations took. You never once tried to steer it away from what he was focusing on or ask any questions that lead a particular way.

You also added to his answers, helping him explain things he fumbled over or didn’t quite have the words or knowledge to explain exactly, mostly when it came to the whole concept of gender politics and talking about the books he enjoyed reading. He saw that you were enjoying being able to flex the gender studies knowledge you had obtained in college and so he allowed you to even explain things he already knew, simply because he loved the way you looked when you talked about something you cared about.

“I can clean up.” Harry said as you stood up from the table, your hands poised to pick up your plate and the salad bowl.

“No, it’s fine. I can do it.”

“No, love. You did all the work. ‘Ve got it.”

“Okay.” You sat back down, but only for a moment. It felt weird to sit and do nothing while he cleaned up after you. You also just weren’t very used to having someone do those things for you. You had lived mostly on your own since you were eighteen and before that, you helped a lot around your grandparents house, a result of the habit formed after your mom left and you had to step up when it came to your brothers.

“I’ll just help.” You said as you stood up again. Harry only laughed and shook his head, knowing it would be useless to argue.

“Have we finished the interview?” He asked as he scraped what was left on your plates into the garbage.

“I think so.” You thought for a moment before putting the bowls into your sink. “Maybe not. I don’t know. I haven’t exactly figured out how I’m going to write it yet. I might end up with a few more questions or need clarification or something.”

“Well, if you do, I’d love to do this again.” He smiled warmly at you and you tried to ignore the warmth you felt in your chest.

It had gone really well, better than you expected. You had managed to keep it professional despite the small kiss and his flirty touches. It hadn’t gone off the rails, but you were glad that you were the only person who would hear the recordings. You were sure that the two of you had flirted at some point, maybe throughout the whole thing--your cheeks were sore from smiling.

You liked having Harry like this: alone, intimately, sweet. You loved hearing him talk about all that he was interested in, found yourself completely drawn in as he explained his views on masculinity, and had to hold back with questions when he talked about the album you loved. By the end of the meal, you were more than sure you wanted to be friends—and there was a nagging feeling a crush had completely blossomed and had become so intense you felt as if you would burst.

You didn’t exactly hate the feeling. You weren’t exactly surprised by it either. Harry was attractive and he turned you on and made you feel better than any other man had before. He was also interesting, and multi dimensional and had more substance than any other man you had been with. That last part was probably because you rarely dated men who were smarter than you—and Harry wasn’t exactly smarter than you, but he was intelligent in areas you weren’t, like music and lyricism and stuff that you enjoyed but didn’t have the ability to completely access.

You had grown to appreciate him a lot, and by the end of the meal, wished you hadn’t hated him for so long. You had a feeling that the friendship the two of you could’ve had would’ve been extremely fulfilling. You hoped too much damage hadn’t been done, that your past actions towards one another hadn’t made it completely impossible for there to be a friendship at all. Not that you were sure there could even be one now since the two of you had been fucking, not regularly, but still fucking.

“I wouldn’t mind that.” You smiled back before turning on the sink and beginning to run the warm water over the bowls and pans.

When Harry walked over to place the dishes in the sink, he bumped his hip with yours. “You dry.”

Instead of arguing,  you simply moved over and pulled a dish towel from the drawer next to the sink, more than willing to not wash your dishes for once. 

“Do you actually think we could do this again?” Harry asked as he pumped soap onto your blue sponge. “Like, without the interview part.”

“You mean…just have dinner together?” He nodded. “Wouldn’t that be a date?” You teased.

“Wasn’t this?” His response was quick.

“What?” You were trying to buy yourself some time, trying to figure out what to say. “This was…for the interview.” You were flailing, at a loss for words—because it was, wasn’t it? You had asked him on a date. You made him dinner and let him flirt with you and kiss you and you flirted and kissed him back. You had invited him here to continue the interview, but you had the intentions of something else, seemingly without even realizing it. You had wanted to see him, and be with him and had tricked yourself into thinking it was for professional reasons, had tried to convince yourself it could only be for professional reasons. It wasn’t.

Before you could try to say more, Harry changed the subject. “Who is this?” He asked as he pointed a soapy finger in the air, gesturing towards the music that was playing.

“Gus Dapperton.” You supplied, still a little distracted by your realization.

“You must really like him.”

“Huh?” You took a plate from Harry and began to dry it, still only half tuned into the conversation.

“The album’s played, like, three times.” He smiled over at you.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t even notice. I can change it.” You put the plate down and went to grab your phone from the table as Harry tried to argue from his spot at the sink.

“No, he’s good. I was just teasing you.”

You suddenly felt extremely insecure about everything, the entire night. “No, it’s okay. I’ll change it.” You went to your liked songs and clicked on the first one: 45 by Bleachers.

“I love this song.” Harry said as it started to play.

By time you had returned to your spot at the sink, he was singing along under his breath and as much as you wanted to join in, decided to stay quiet because you loved the sound of his voice.

The two of you continued like that for a bit. Harry singing along to two or three songs under his breath as you dried whatever he handed you. The sound of his voice was comforting as you had a fight with yourself in your head. You weren’t even completely sure which songs had played as you tried to make sense of what was going on and what you were doing.

Harry had been all you thought about for days and you had looked forward to tonight all day—and you were nervous, something that you didn’t typically feel when it came to interviews or doing research for articles. You had asked him on a date and you didn’t even know it, or maybe you had simply chosen to ignore it. He was right—a rare occurrence, which meant that you had been absolutely clueless.

What were you supposed to do now? Did you like him like that? Maybe—but there definitely wasn’t any feelings. Maybe you liked him like you liked Nate in high school; the senior on the football team who you would’ve given anything to kiss. There were no real feelings then; just a confusing amount of lust (as much lust as a sixteen year old girl can have). Maybe it was an infatuation. Maybe you simply liked the idea of him. Maybe you didn’t want him to go home just yet.

“Harry?”

“Hm?” He was focused on cleaning the last pan, still mumbling the words to whatever was playing.

You let out a nervous sigh and wrung the dishtowel in your hands. “Do you—do you have plans after this?”

His eyes flickered over to you briefly. “No, I was just gonna go home and work on some stuff.”

“Oh, then never mind. You have stuff to do.” You shook your head.

“Did you want to do something?” You couldn’t define the look on his face.

“Well, yeah, kind of. Maybe I could make dessert to we could watch a movie or something?” You looked up at him tentatively and saw a look that wasn’t exactly encouraging. His brow was furrowed and he had pulled his upper lip between his teeth. You shook your head dismissively. “Sorry, that was a stupid idea. Forget it.”

He shut the water off. “No, no, (Y/N).” Harry said as he pulled the dishtowel from you and dried his hands. “I’d love to do something with you.”

“Yeah?”

He reached up and tugged lightly at your hair with a smile. “Yeah.”

He dropped his hand to your lower back and you tried not to lean into his touch. You were still confused on where you stood with all of this and how you felt. You thought that if he stayed and you stopped hanging on to the pacifier of professionalism, you could maybe figure it out.

“Great. Brownies?” You didn’t wait for a response as you started to walk away, but before you got very far, Harry had hooked his arm around your waist and pulled you into him.

He placed a kiss on your cheek before letting you go. “Brownies sound great.”

You left Harry to finish drying the pan and pulled a box of your favorite brownie mix from the cabinet you kept your baking supplies in. As you preheated the oven and pulled out a bowl and a spatula, Harry joined you at the island but on the other side so he was across from you.

He began opening another bottle of wine. “Can I ask you something?”

“You can ask, but I make no promise to answer.” You collected an egg from the fridge and vegetable oil from one of the cabinets.

“What happened to your parents?”

You froze. “Just jumping right in, I see.” You fiddled with the box and tried not to look at him.

“Sorry, I just—I didn’t really know how to ask.”

“Clearly.” You muttered.

“Never mind. I shouldn’t have—“

“No, it’s fine.” You cut him off. “We’re supposed to be getting to know one another again, right?”

Harry nodded before sliding your glass across the island. You took a big sip and then let out a deep sigh before dumping the packet of mix into the bowl. “My mom left when I was twelve; my youngest brother was three. And before you ask, no one knows why. I guess my dad did, but he always pretended he didn’t. She left most of her stuff, which always seemed odd to me but we kept it. The Manolos were my moms—I guess they still kind of are. She’s probably still alive.”

“The blue ones you wore?”

“Yup. Those are the ones.” You measured out the correct amount of oil and then water before adding them to the mixture along with the egg. “After that, the four of us moved into a small condo because my dad couldn’t afford the house without my mom’s income.” You cleared your throat. “It happened really fast. He got sick and then he was gone. I was sixteen and my brothers were still pretty young.” You hadn’t looked at him once, intent on mixing the ingredients together. You tried to sound nonchalant, but you didn’t talk about it often and could hear the emotion start to seep its way into your voice. “We moved in with my grandparents and I got a job to help them take care of us because they were retired. I helped a lot with my brothers—I didn’t feed them or like, buy them clothes or anything, but I told them stories about our mom, which our dad never did. I told my youngest brother about our dad because he was so little and couldn’t remember. Then I went to college, but stayed close because they still needed me and—”

You stopped talking and took a deep breath. It had all come out at once, seemingly uncontrolled, as if the words had been waiting to spill out to someone. The embarrassment made your cheeks hot and you wanted the whole thing to be over, so you finished it. “Then I left.”

You let go of the spatula and glanced up at Harry who had a sympathetic look on his face. You hated it. When he didn’t say anything, simply stared at you with his hand wrapped around his glass, you pulled the glass baking dish over and started pouring the batter into it.

“Anyway, I should probably get these in the oven.”

He finally spoke when your back was turned. “You don’t come from where I thought you did.”

“What?”

When you turned back around, Harry was staring into his glass and turning it with his fingers. “Your family…your background…it’s not what I thought.” He shrugged.

“What did you think?”

Harry hadn’t known anything about you other than what you had chosen to share, which wasn’t very much. You kept all of this information extremely close and so it wasn’t a surprise that he had taken his own guesses as to where you came from. You would’ve done the same thing if his background wasn’t public knowledge. It was human nature to be curious about the lives of other people and often, we adjusted our own judgements based on that knowledge. Because of that, you had a feeling you weren’t going to like Harry’s answer.

He scratched the back of his neck. “I thought you were really spoiled and, like, came from money or something. I always thought you just had everything handed to you.” You scoffed, obviously offended, as he continued. “It’s just the way you carry yourself, I guess. The way you act.”

“Are you saying I act snobby?”

“No—just, a little ‘better than’. We’ve already had this conversation.” You leveled him with a look that told him you didn’t care. You wanted him to keep going. He sighed. “I know you’re successful, but you’ve never been humble about it. Like, your ego has always been huge and the only other people I know like that had been, like, super privileged their whole lives. Always got what they wanted, had their parents buy their way into things.”

“It never once occurred to you that I had a big ego because I earned it? I’ve done everything on my own, I think that gives me a right to be a little proud about it.” You crossed your arms over your chest.

“And it does! It does.” Harry raised his hands in surrender. “It makes a lot more sense now, honestly. You should be proud. I’m sorry.”

You shrugged and dropped your arms from your chest. “Like you said, we’ve already talked about it. Want to pick a movie while we wait?”

A little over thirty minutes later, you were placing a few brownies on a small plate as Harry sat against the short, wooden headboard of your bed. He had helped you pull the tv out and swivel it so it was facing your bed, something you rarely did because it required you to climb on top of your old coffee table. You’ve Got Mail was paused on the opening credits and all the lights except for the ones in the kitchen were off.

You padded over, still in your dress and tights and placed the plate on the bed before climbing on next to him.

“Thanks for making it.” You said as you smoothed a hand over the comforter. While you tidied up the kitchen, Harry had kindly sorted your bed out, after declaring that it would be a more comfortable place to watch the movie. He was probably right; your sofa was in no way long enough for his body.

“Thanks for the brownies.” He said as he picked up a corner piece and took a bite.

It felt weird again between the two of you. The tension had returned and you didn’t like it. Why had tonight been so hard? Why couldn’t the two of you be normal? Did you have a normal? It seemed that everything between the two of you fluctuated so often it was hard to pin down a baseline, something to measure everything else against.

You took a brownie, also a corner piece, as Harry pressed play. For the entirety of the opening credits and the first ten minutes of the movie, the two of you sat shoulder to shoulder on your bed, munching on brownie and sipping from glasses of water and then wine in silence.

When the plate was clear, Harry moved it from the space between your legs to your nightstand. As he leaned back into your pillows, he lifted his arm above your head, signaling that he wanted you closer. You scooted over until your side was flush against his and let him drop his arm around you. After shifting to get more comfortable, you laid next to him, your chest pressed against his side, his hand rubbing your waist softly as your fingers traced tiny, nervous circles on his chest.

He moved down a little and rested his cheek on the top of your head but not before he placed a kiss to your hair. You could feel the warmth stir in you again. It was confusing when he was sweet like this. You knew he wanted to be friends and that he liked you, but this wasn’t normal friend behavior which twisted everything up in your mind. 

“Comfortable?” Harry asked.

You looked up at him, which forced him to lift his cheek from where it rested. “Yeah. Are you?” It came out quietly. You were so close; close enough that your nose brushed his when you looked up at him. His eyes flickered from your eyes to your lips—and then again. You closed the distance between the two of you and pressed your lips to his tentatively. It hadn’t ever happened like this before and there were nerves stirring in the pit of your stomach.

For a second, there was no response, and then the hand that wasn’t on your waist was holding your cheek and he was pulling you closer to his body. The hand that was on his chest went to rest on his neck, the brush of your fingertips sending a slight shiver through him.

He kissed you slowly and patiently. The nerves you were feeling had dissipated and had been replaced by an aching kind of need. The last time you wanted him, he denied you and you hoped it wouldn’t happen again. You spent the past few days trying not to think about the way his hands felt on your body, trying to curb the desperation that had shown itself on the night of Halloween.

Harry had become the person you thought about when you were alone at night—as hard as you tried to fight it. He was the one you imagined touching you even though your hands were so much smaller, so much softer, than his. It was embarrassing, really, how much pleasure you got from just the idea of him but he made you feel good and no part of you was able to forget it.

Harry moved forward, his lips still on yours, so that you were lying on your back and he was on his side. He dipped his tongue into your mouth as his hand left your cheek and trailed down your chest, over your dress, and landed on your inner thigh. He squeezed your thigh and massaged his fingers into the tight covered skin. You let out a hushed whimper and felt warmth blossom between your thighs.

Harry moved his hand over the outside of your thigh and pushed it under your dress to grab your ass. You bit his lip and response and he moaned softly.

There was too much fabric between the two of you; Harry’s sweater was just getting in the way. You pulled your right hand from where it was wedged between the two of you and settled both of your hands on the bottom of his sweater.

“Off?” He asked when you tugged lightly and you nodded. Harry pulled his left hand from where it was under you and sat up so you could pull his sweater off of him.

You smirked when you saw his t-shirt: women are smarter. “Nice choice.”

“Thought you’d approve.” He mirrored your expression before pulling his sweater from your hands and dropping it onto the floor. He hooked his finger around the tie of your dress. “Can I?”

You pulled at one of the strings in the bow, causing it to come undone. Harry replaced your hand with his and finished untying it and pulling it open. He moved back to his side and let his right hand slip under the silk shirt you were wearing underneath, trailing his fingertips over your warm skin. You tugged lightly on his t-shirt to get him to kiss you again and he obliged, kissing you at the same slow place as before.

Harry released a pleased hum when you snuck your hands under his t-shirt and ran your hands over his sides.

“Take it off.” He mumbled against your lips.

Once the t-shirt was over his head, his hands were tugging at the sleeves of your black dress, trying to get them down. You sat up slightly, both so you could reconnect your lips and to help him get it off of you. When you laid back down, Harry’s fingers started fiddling with the buttons of you blouse, but then he paused.

“Is this okay?”

“Of course it is.” It was a breathless whisper.

“Tell me if I’m going to fast.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. This was the slowest the two of you had ever gone. When his expression remained the same, you kissed him softly. “You’re perfect.”

He tried to hide his smile by kissing you and moving you back down so that he was half hovering over you. Your left hand went back to rest on his neck as his right hand worked at the buttons of your blouse. When he got the last one done, he pushed the material open and cursed softly when glanced at your body.

You had worn a cream colored set that day—you wanted to match the tights in case of any kind of unfortunate incident and you wanted to feel sexy that day. You needed the confidence boost since you had woken up feeling so nervous.

Harry trailed his fingers under the wire of your bra and then down until they caught on to the band of your tights. He tugged at it delicately before moving back down towards your inner thigh. He brushed his fingers over your covered clit and you whimpered again. When he applied more pressure, you moaned and moved your hand from his neck to grip onto his shoulder. Harry moved his finger down towards where you center was and were sure it was damp at the least.

“Fuck.” He breathed before he squeezed the inside of your thigh again. You heard the tear. His finger had caught onto the tiny hole you had caused the last time you wore the tights. It was extremely high up and on the inside of your thigh so you didn’t see the problem in continuing to wear them since the hole would always be covered.

“Of course.” You mumbled.

Harry shrugged innocently. “I can make up for it?”

“Oh, you will.”

Harry giggled softly and you couldn’t help but join him as you pulled him back down to kiss you. He shifted himself so that he was hovering over you completely. He pulled away just far enough that his lips grazed yours as he spoke. “How ‘bout I do that now?”

You nodded and kisses him again quickly before he dipped his face into the crook of your neck. He ran his tongue over the spot below your ear and then sucked lightly. Harry continued trailing kisses down your body and over the tights before he settled himself between your legs. You pushed yourself up onto your elbows and gave him a questioning look.

He was leaning on his elbows when he took his left hand and stuck a finger into the small hole in your tights. “I thought I’d just…”

“Harry.” You were giving him a warning.

You heard them tear and he pulled on them with his finger. “Could be fun, yeah?”

“You owe me a pair of tights.” You said as you moved your elbows and fell onto your back, deciding it was easier to just give in—maybe even more fun.

The rip was loud and you could feel the air hit the insides of your thighs. He had torn them straight across and created a large hole that gave him easy access to you.

He ran a hesitant finger over your panties before pulling them to the side. Harry hummed in what seemed to be anticipation as he ran a finger through your folds and swirled the tip of it around your clit causing you moan in slight surprise. When he pulled his finger away, you made a needy sound and he pushed your legs open wider so he could get comfortable.

The second his tongue was on your clit, your hands were in his hair. His tongue was warm and you could feel how wet you were. When he sucked the small bud into his mouth, your hips bucked and your grip on his hair tightened. He moaned at the action and began flicking his tongue over your clit quickly, building you up so that your breath was coming out quickly, in pants, before bringing his tongue back down through your folds and dipping into your center.

He was trying to torture you, to tease you, to build you up and then take the sensation away until you were frustrated and begging. You knew he liked to hear it and you would have to decide how nice to him you wanted to be.

Harry swirled his tongue over your clit and continued to trace it in circles as you pulled on his hair with each moan that left your mouth. He moaned against you when he heard you say his name. He sucked onto your clit again and had to clamp his right hand down onto your thigh to stop you from closing your legs.

“Fuck.” You groaned when he went back to tracing the bud in circles.

He could see you struggling to keep your eyes open. Your brows were furrowed and your lips were slightly swollen. Every few seconds he would catch you looking at him before your lashes fluttered shut again. He had a feeling you were close, but he loved having you like this and he wanted it to go on for as long as he could make it.

When he tried to move from your clit, your grip on him tightened and he knew you wanted to finish.

“Please, don’t move.” Your voice was breathless.

He stayed where he was and continued to do exactly what he had been doing. He could feel your legs start to shake on either side of him and your noises were becoming short and rushed.

“Fuck!” The cry was strangled as you arched your back against the bed and rolled your hips against his tongue.

He licked you slow, all the way through your orgasm and even as you came down. Just when you seemed relaxed and your breathing had started to return to normal, he pushed a finger into you, forcing a surprised moan from your lips.

“Harry,” you whined.

“Feel good?” He knew you probably wanted more, but he still needed to double check that it was okay.

“Mhmm.” Your eyes were closed again and your hand fell from his hair to rest on your thigh, the backs of your fingers brushing slightly over his cheek.

Harry kissed your hand before adding another finger. Your back arched again and you whimpered. Your hand fell to the bed where you grabbed unsuccessfully at the comforter. When we added his tongue your hips rolled against his mouth and you gave a drawn-out moan. He moved his fingers to match the rhythm of your hips and made sure to curl his fingers into you every time they dipped inside.

It felt like a lot to you; his tongue moved slowly as his fingers curled deep. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and tried to hold in the cry that tried to escape when he quickened the pace of his tongue. You felt the orgasm already start to build in your belly, but didn’t want to give up the feeling that quickly.

Your clit was sensitive and the roll of your hips became less rhythmic with every pass of his tongue. Harry pressed a kiss to the spot right above your clit, giving you a short break but your hips continued to move.

“Close, baby?”

“Mhmm—fuck, Harry.” Your eyes were squeezed shut and your hands were back in his hair, his curls wrapped around your fingers. When you glanced down, you could see his hips barely moving against the bed, trying to satisfy himself in any way he could.

His tongue began to move in precise circles around your clit when you pushed him further into you. Once your hips had lost their rhythm completely, he started moving his fingers faster and curling them in as deep as they could go. Your breathing grew harsh ad your chest rose and fell slowly as your second orgasm built gradually.

“God…” It sounded like a curse falling from your lips. “Harry, I-I’m coming.” You had to choke the words out as your vision split and you felt the sensation make its way throughout your entire body. Your moans came out an octave below a scream and you were sure your neighbors—all of them—could hear you, but you didn’t care.

Harry placed kisses on the small bud as he continued the movement of his fingers throughout your high. When you came down, you brushed your fingers through his hair softly and massaged the tips of your fingers into his scalp, fully aware of how hard you had been tugging. The mix of wine and two orgasms had made you slightly sleepy, but you weren’t done yet. You wanted what he had refused to give you Saturday night.

Harry moved back up to lay on top of you and placed a soft kiss to your lips.

“Take those off.” You whispered as you tugged on the belt loop of his jeans.

He pushed himself off of you and the bed so he was standing and undid his jeans as you took off your blouse and bra. When your hands went to the waistband of the tights, Harry shook his head. “Keep those on.”

You rolled your eyes. “I hate fucking with underwear on. It just gets in the way.”

Harry dropped his socks on the floor and then crawled back onto the bed. You watched him tug helplessly on the lace material of your underwear and tried to hold in a laugh. He adjusted his grip and tried again—and failed. A frustrated look took over his face as he tried a third time and again, failed. 

You couldn’t hold in the laugh any longer. “Want to try a fourth?”

“Forget it. Just take them off.” He sounded disappointed.

“Look,” You sat up and tore at the tights a little more to get to at a specific part of your panties. “You have to tear them here.” With one swift movement, you had torn them apart, giving Harry clear access to all of you.

“So you’ve done this before.” You couldn’t tell if he was impressed or disappointed that he was slightly behind your experience.

You dipped your hands under the tights and pulled your panties up so you could tear them again at the hip, that way they were off completely. “And you obviously haven’t.”

“Okay, okay, enough.” He pulled the delicate fabric from your hands and threw them behind him before grabbing your jaw before settling on top of you. “If I agree to buy you another pair, will you shut up?”

You smirked. “Maybe.”

“You’re so fucking annoying.” He mumbled as he sat back up. He grabbed your hips and turned you over so you were on your stomach and then pulled them towards him, forcing you on your knees. You bit your lip in anticipation, never shying away from Harry being rough.

Harry lined himself up with your center and pushed inside. He gave you no time to adjust before pulling back and driving into you, causing you to curse loudly. His left hand stayed gripping your hip harshly while his right hand moved up your back. He gripped onto the back of your neck so that you dropped your head onto the mattress, back completely arched, hands fisting the comforter in front of you.

“Fucking hell.” His voice was low and raspy.

When his right hand came down on your ass, you let out a small shriek, more surprised than anything.

“Okay, baby?” He asked as he rubbed over the spot he had hit, the warmth of his hand veiled by the tights.

“Fuck—yeah…I’m okay.” Your words were broken by moans as he continued to pump in and out of you. Your grip tightened on the comforter when his hand came down again.

Harry didn’t think he was pushing any sort of boundaries, you had done all of this before but for whatever reason it felt different then. Each time you cursed or moaned when his hand hit your skin, he was listening for any indication of pain or dislike in a way he hadn’t the last time the two of you did this.

He slowed down the speed of his thrusts and cursed when your moans grew in both volume and frequency. You liked when he went slow and pushed deep—he needed to remember that. He leaned forward and pushed your hair away from your face so he could see you—only your profile, but he liked to see the way he made you feel. He massaged the cheek that was growing red even through the thick material and gave you a second to recover before he did it again. Just as he was about to bring his hand down, he heard something that more than surprised him.

“I want to see you.”

“What?” He paused inside of you and squeezed your hip.

“I want to see you.” Your voice was small and, if Harry didn’t know better, you sounded almost embarrassed.

Harry felt his chest warm. He pulled out and pushed at your hips, signaling for you to turn over and lay on your back. Once you were settled, he hovered over you and kissed you slowly.

“Better?” He mumbled against the corner of your mouth. You nodded and kissed his cheek before turning his chin so you had access to his lips again. He reentered you with a low moan and dropped his forehead onto yours. You ran your hands along his biceps and squeezed when he pushed in deep. “Feels good.” He mumbled. “Fuck, you feel good.”

You lifted your legs a little more and held your knees closer to you so that he could push even deeper. When you saw his eyes flutter shut and his brow furrow in pleasure, you brought your left hand to his cheek and used your right to brush his hair back. “Look at me.” You whispered.

You had never wanted this with him before, this kind of intimacy. You never cared whether or not you could see him or feel him on top of you the way you did then. You felt this deep ache for connection in your chest and you weren’t sure at all where it came from. He needed to look at you. He needed to look at you the same way you were looking at him.

He lifted his forehead from yours and opened his eyes. You watched them roam over your face. “You’re so fucking pretty.”

Your hand went to the back of his neck and you pulled him back into a kiss. He dropped to his elbows and you could finally feel his chest on yours. He moaned into your mouth as he continued his thrusts.

“Fuck, Harry.” You sighed. You knew he loved to hear his name. “Fuck, that feels good.” When he heard your praise, he pushed harder and let out a groan.

“Oh…baby.” His voice was strained and you could tell that he was trying to control his thrusts. His hips held onto their rhythm as you brushed your nose against his, his lips hovering over yours. When he hit a particularly deep spot, you dug your nails into his sides, earning a pleased hum from him. You dragged your nails down his sides as he continued moving and it was clear that he enjoyed it.

He dropped his face into your neck—a sure sign that he was almost ready. He kissed and nipped at the skin of your neck, mumbling your name along with a few curses. You loved hearing your name as much as he loved hearing his.

A desperate whimper fell from your lips when his skin brushed against your clit. After the second time, he adjusted himself so it happened every time and the sensation was almost too much. “Holy…fuck.” Your words came out as a whisper and you were sure you would be leaving nail marks in his skin.

“Baby—oh, my god.” Harry’s teeth sunk into the spot between your neck and shoulder and you felt a tingling sensation move up your neck and into your hair.  You loved when guys did that—but it felt the best when Harry did it.

His hips began to slow and he was holding himself in you for a few seconds with each thrust. He would pant and then drive himself into you again. You knew he was trying to prolong it for your sake but you wanted him to feel good.

“Harry—baby, I want you to cum.”

“Yeah?” It was muffled since his face was buried in your neck.

You nodded even though he couldn’t see you, then vocalized your approval. “Yeah, babe.” You tugged at the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Fuck, (Y/N). Fuck…” His moans were desperate and needy.

You wrapped one arm around his neck and draped the other over his back as you pulled him as close to you as possible. You felt his breath against your neck and held in a shiver when his teeth grazed your skin. You whispered his name as your own orgasm built, although you didn’t care whether or not you finished for the third time. For the first time, this was only about Harry.

A gasp was followed by a rough moan and then a breathy pant before Harry pulled out of you and emptied himself all over your folds. You held him as he finished, running your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and scratching at the skin of his upper back.

He kissed your neck three times when he was done before pushing off of you and laying on his back. “Where’s the—“ He was breathless and you felt a weird sense of affection towards him—like you wanted to take care of him, to coddle him, to brush you fingers through his hair as he fell asleep. You tried to shake it off, tried to chalk it up to the sex haze you were in, but something in the back of your mind told you it was more than that, something in your gut told you that you needed to stop kidding yourself.

“Where’s…where should I get the towel?” Harry asked as he laid there next to you. He ran a hand through his hair.

You shook your head and sat up. “I’ll get it.”

“Wait.” He grabbed onto your arm and stopped you. He sat up and got to his knees in front of you. He grabbed onto the waistband of the tights and began to pull them down. You cooperated by pulling your knees in and once Harry had dropped them on the floor, he fell back beside you and kissed your shoulder.

You stood up, suddenly extremely conscious of how your body looked and walked quickly to your bathroom. You pulled the towel you used that morning from off the hanger behind the door and cleaned yourself up. Afterwards, you leaned your hands on either side of the sink and looked at yourself for the first time since you left for work that morning. Your eye makeup was smudged from what you and Harry had just done, your hair slightly tousled in a way that didn’t look bad, and your eyes were bright, excited—alive. You took a deep breath before pulling open your medicine cabinet. You were taking your birth control an hour late, but it was fine—you had taken it much later in the past and never had any problems. While you were in there, you decided to wash your face as quick as possible and peed to make sure there were no UTIs in your future.

When you emerged, Harry was still laying on top of the covers, his eyes glued to the TV which was still playing the movie.

“Alright?” He asked as you handed him the towel.

You nodded. “Yeah, just figured I’d get ready for bed while I was in there.”

You climbed onto the bed next to him and laid on your back. When he finished cleaning himself, he dropped the towel to the floor. He rolled over onto his side and leaned his head on his hand for support. His fingers went to your ribcage, where the small bouquet tattoo resided.

“Hm.” He traced the flowers with his fingers. “I got this wrong.”

“Got what wrong?” You were struggling to keep your eyes open.

“I thought this was a peony, but it doesn’t look right.”

“That’s because it’s a carnation.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?” You tried not to squirm as his fingers tickled over your side.

“Why these four flowers? It seems oddly specific.”

“It’s me and my brothers.” You crossed your right arm over your body and your fingers joined Harry’s as they traced over your left side. “I got it when I was eighteen. It’s the months we were born.”

“It’s the only tattoo you have.” His voice was soft.

“It’s the only one I want.” Yours was a whisper.

Harry realized then just how much he didn’t know about you. He always thought you were so cold, that you didn’t care about anything or anyone; he thought your callous attitude was natural, that you saw everyone as unworthy until they proved themselves otherwise beyond a shadow of a doubt—but that wasn’t the case. You were warm—unbelievably warm. You seemed to love your brothers more than you loved anything else and he understood that there was something maternal in you. It was innate because of your status as an older sister—he saw it in Gemma constantly—but it was amplified because you actually had to take on that role. He remembered the way you talked about your brothers: keeping tabs on them, guiding them, admonishing them and supporting them—beyond what a sister was meant to do. He believed you when you said it was the only tattoo you ever wanted. He trusted that they were really the only thing you’d ever love with every part of you.

He scooted closer to you and draped his arm across your waist. He kissed your cheek as he rubbed his thumb over your skin. “Can I stay?”

“Of course you can.”`

November 6, 2020

“He stayed?” Charlotte asked, her martini glass poised in front of her lips.

“He stayed.”

“Didn’t you have work yesterday?”

“I did.”

“You are not giving me as much detail as I deserve.”  

It was Friday and you were at Charlotte’s apartment for a martini and pizza night. Usually, the two of you did wine because Sarah didn’t like martini’s and they were honestly a little much, but Sarah still wasn’t talking to either of you and you needed the burn running down your throat.

You two were sat on her couch in your sweats, your hair tied back with Tame Impala’s discography playing throughout her apartment.

Sarah was treating her the same way she was treating Harry; she only spoke to her during rehearsals and when it was necessary. The night before, they band had gone out for dinner and Charlotte lamented about how awkward it was. Both Adam and Mitch knew about you and Harry—and neither of them cared—but Sarah had the power to turn a small thing into a colossal thing. According to Charlotte, Mitch was beyond encouraging and insisted on making jokes about it all rehearsal while Adam egged him on. Sarah was pouty and pissy and scoffed at every joke while everyone ignored. Charlotte said that Sarah needed to realize that she was only hurting herself—and that she was the only who gave a shit about the whole thing—and you reminded her that Sarah was the most stubborn out of the three of you, which was saying a lot.

“He just…slept over. We woke up at six—well, I woke up at six and got ready for work like normal.” You shrugged. “He slept until I brought him a coffee and even then he, like, stayed in bed until I was about ready to walk out the door.”

“Did he drive you to work?”

“He did.” You nodded.”

“Oh, my god. Did he kiss you goodbye?” Charlotte covered her mouth with her hand in excitement and anticipation.

“He did.” You smiled as she squealed.

“My god, (Y/N). He likes you.”

You shook your head. “No. Only as a friend.”

“Oh, fuck off!” She waved her hand at you. “Whatever. I want to know how the sex was.”

“Charlotte, that’s weird.”

“It is not!”

You picked up your martini from where it sat on her coffee table. “Yes, it is! You’re friends with him, you see him every day. That’s weird.”

“Oh, come on. You’re absolutely no fun.”

“Harry would disagree.” You said slyly as you took a sip from your glass.

Charlotte scoffed. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I’m pretty sure Harry would say that too.” You smirked and Charlotte rolled her eyes at you.

“Honestly, though. What’s going on here? The two of you are having sex seemingly regularly and you’re both staying the night and making dinner for one another. What’s happening?”

You shrugged again. “Nothing.” You shook your head dismissively. “I don’t know. He says he likes me and that he wants to be friends. I guess I want to be friends too. I was wrong about him, I think. He’s kind of fun and kind of hot—and he’s smart—in very particular ways—but I like listening to him explain things and talk about stuff. We had a really nice time the other night and the sex is great. I don’t know. I know I want to be friends, but everything is still kind of confusing.”

“You’re so fucking annoying. I could slap you.” Charlotte took a large sip from her drink. “You like him. Like, you fancy him. Just get over yourself and admit it. I am tired.”

You opened your mouth to answer, but no words came out.

“Let me walk you through it.” She positioned herself so she was facing you completely and you nodded, very much prepared for her instruction. “You like hooking up with him, right? Since, you know, you keep doing it.”

“Yes.”

“So you like him.”

“I mean, yeah. Now I do. I didn’t before.”

“No, but you like him, like him.”

“Oh.” You paused. “No, I don’t think so. I think I have a crush, though. Kind of a big crush, actually.”

“Babe, you’ve had a crush. I think we’re past crush.”

You furrowed your brow and pulled at your bottom lip. Charlotte was the only one who noticed that you did it in the same way Harry did—a new development. “I feel like you’re wrong.”

She rolled her eyes. “I am not wrong. You—“

“Hold on.” You said when you felt your phone vibrate and saw a certain editor’s name as the sender of the email. “Oh, my god.”

“What? You get a text from lover boy?” Charlotte asked, a smirk dancing on her lips.

“No.” You said, not reacting to her words at all. “It’s an email from an editor at the New Yorker. They’re going to publish one of my poems.”

“Like, actually?”

“Yes, actually.” You repeated as you looked up at Charlotte, your phone clutched tightly in your hands.

“Oh, my god! That’s great!” She grabbed your wrist and quickly sobered her expression. “Wait, that’s great, right?”

“Yes, Charlotte. That’s great.” You laughed when she went back to being excited for you.

“We’re going out tomorrow to celebrate. I’ll text everyone. I don’t care whether or not you want to. It’s happening. Just buy a hot outfit and be there.” She was already unlocking her phone.

You were about to tell her that it was unnecessary when your phone vibrated again. This time it was a message from Harry.

Guess who’s gonna be on the cover of British Vogue?

Ur taking too long

It’s me :)

You smiled down at your phone and sent him a response.

Guess this calls for a double celebration. Are you free tomorrow?

Double celebration?

Charlotte will text you the details ;)

Can you text me the details?

Or at least call me when you get home? Feel like we haven’t talked in ages

It had only been a day, but you would be lying if you said his text didn’t make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

“We’re going to The Roxy tomorrow night. Don’t make any other plans, alright?” Charlotte said as she texted on her phone.

“Alright.” You said as you sent Harry the details.

If you don’t show I’ll be pretty upset.

I’ll always show up for you

You desperately tried to ignore the way his words made you feel. It had just been a long time since someone had acted like that towards you. You hadn’t had a serious boyfriend or any guy even remotely steady since before you moved here. It was simply nice to hear those words, to think that someone was there for you. That was all.

November 7, 2020

The day had felt so long. You had changed your outfit a million times, had gone back and forth between hairstyles and lip colors. You checked the time with Charlotte three times and tried to pretend that it didn’t bother you that Sarah and Mitch wouldn’t be in attendance.

You showered four hours before you had to leave and spent way too long on your hair. You had to fuck around your apartment for over an hour since you didn’t want to do your makeup to early. You read some of Mary Oliver’s poetry as well as some of Helier Skelter—a book you had been trying to finish for over a year.

When it was time to do your makeup, you kept it simple—well, sort of. You kept your base makeup the same: light foundation, a shit ton of powder because you would be sweating, light on the bronzer, and a little heavy handed on the blush (both on the ops of your cheeks and your nose). You smoked out a wing on your eyes and dragged some brown shadow across your lash line and paid careful attention to your lashes. You dragged a deep red lipstick over your lips before shimmying into your dress.

It was short—your favorite kind. You had splurged on it ages ago but never thought an occasion worthy enough to wear it. You weren’t exactly sure what made you feel like that night was the right time—after all, it was only a poem—and you made sure to tune out the voice in your head that repeatedly whispered that Harry would like it. You didn’t dress for him, or any man for that matter. Well, maybe that was a lie. Two things could simultaneously be true, couldn’t they?

It was the same color of your lipstick: a deep, wine red. The neckline was a V and dipped only slightly into your cleavage. The straps were thin and lined with tiny little stones. It was tight on your torso and the skirt was an a-line, the fabric close to your body but not skin tight. The dress ended a few inches below your thigh; the bottom was adorned in jeweled fringe that was about an inch long, which didn’t add much to the length of the dress.

You paired it with a pair of strappy nude heels which often became painful after a few hours but a few drinks always seemed to fix that problem. You dropped your phone into your small bag along with your birth control—just in case—and sprayed your favorite perfume in the crooks of your elbows, on the backs of your knees and on the back of your neck, and then your puffy coat before walking out the door.

The plan was to meet at Charlotte’s for pre-club drinks but you were running about twenty minutes late and so you weren’t sure how much drinking you would get to do. You had a feeling you would be slightly behind everyone else for the rest of the night, but you didn’t mind that much—you weren’t a huge fan of blacking out to any degree, and had a habit of overdoing it at clubs because it was just so easy. You also swore that somehow the loud music made tequila completely tasteless—in a club setting it always went down like water.

You pulled the long coat tighter around your body as you waited for Charlotte to buzz you in. Other voices were clear over the intercom and it sounded like they were playing music.

As always, her door was unlocked, and when you pushed it open, a small cheer erupted around the room.

“There she is!” Adam called from his place at the kitchen island. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

“Sorry.” You said with a sheepish smile.

Harry held his arm open where he stood on the opposite side of the island and motioned you over. Once you were under his arm, he hugged you into his side. “Worth the wait, though.”

You rolled your eyes despite the smile on your face and moved to greet Charlotte. “He’s been very impatient.” She said into you ear. “It’s very sweet.”

You moved to Adam who held a shot glass between the two of you so you couldn’t hug him. “You owe me one, first.”

“Easy.” You downed the shot quickly and fought the urge to make a face. Adam clapped his hands together before pulling you into a tight hug.

“Hey, (Y/N).” Mitch said as he hugged you back. “Sorry, I couldn’t get her to come.”

You shook your head and tried to show that it didn’t bother you, but you weren’t sure how convincing it was. “It’s fine.”

“Take that jacket off!” Charlotte appeared behind you and tugged on the hood with a full drink in her hand.

You pulled down the zipper and shrugged it off your shoulders.

“Jesus Christ.” Adam said as you handed Charlotte your jacket and took the gin and tonic. “You look fucking amazing.”

“Mate.” You heard the warning in Harry’s voice and rolled your eyes for real.

“Thank you, Adam.” You squeezed his forearm before settling yourself next to him. You purposefully didn’t go near Harry—mostly to annoy him. Just because the two of you were fucking, didn’t mean he had the right to get all possessive—especially when it was a compliment from a friend.

“Charlotte, you look so good.” You said and she did a little spin in her dress, a small smile on her face. She was wearing a hot pink, sparkly wrap dress which looked amazing with her slightly faded orange hair. Teal eyeliner was smudged along her top lash line a little bit under her lower line as well. Her lipstick was a deep magenta and it might’ve been your favorite look of hers to date.

“Thank you.” She did a small curtsey after she spun. “Oh, there’s snacks near Harry if you want some—and some pizza, which is probably cold now.”

You knew she was trying to get you to go over near Harry. She tried her best to hide her smirk as she said it but she was the worst at hiding what was going on in her head.

“Mitch, can you hand me a slice, please?” He was standing on the other side of Adam and next to Harry.

Just as Mitch was about to pull one out for you, Harry slid the box away. “If you want it, you’ve got to come and get it.” He winked.

So tonight was going to be like this. This was going to be the downside to everyone knowing what was going on; there would be never ending teasing, jokes, expectations. It was so much easier when no one knew and you didn’t have to stand next to him if you didn’t want to or talk to him. It was easier when he had no choice other than to act like a normal fucking person around you. You knew the jokes and teasing would get old quickly, but you didn’t know how to tell Charlotte to quit it—and Harry to stop being so fucking weird—without sounding like a complete bitch. So you sucked it up and walked around the island to where Harry was standing.

He handed you the slice of pizza and then dropped his arm around your waist, his hand falling onto your ass. You ignored the small warmth between your legs and focused on being annoyed at the whole situation.

“So…we’re celebrating something tonight?” Mitch looked over at you with a knowing twinkle in his eye.

You swallowed a mouthful of gin before responding. “Sort of? I guess? It really is such a tiny thing, it doesn’t need a celebration.”

“I disagree.” Charlotte raised her hand.

“Well, you would since this whole thing was your idea.” You commented before taking a bite of your pizza.

“You’re being published in the New Yorker for the second time. And it’s a poem, which you said is the first time you’ve ever had a poem seriously published. So, it is a big deal.” She turned her attention to Harry. “And Harry’s going to be on the cover of British Vogue.” She pointed and moved her finger between the two of you. “And you two are finally being honest about fucking!”

Harry choked on his tequila and both Adam and Mitch let out a laugh while you stood there, absolutely wanting to disappear.

“Is it time to go yet?” You asked.

“Once every one finishes we’ll go.” Charlotte said.

At the same time, you and Harry raised your glasses to your lips and downed what was left. Mitch and Adam exchanged a look before doing the same. You all looked over at Charlotte. “Oh, fine.” She said reluctantly before finishing whatever was in her glass.

As everyone else collected their stuff to go, Harry squeezed your ass and dropped a kiss to your head. “Want me to get your jacket?”

You looked up at him. “I’m not wearing it.”

His eyes widened slightly. “You’re going to absolutely freeze.”

“It doesn’t go with my outfit.”

“So? You’ve just got to wear it until we’re inside.”

You shook your head adamantly. “It’ll look stupid.”

“You rather freeze than ruin your outfit for a few seconds?”

“Yes.” You said it as though it was obvious and he laughed lightly.

“Absolutely ridiculous.”

“So is that shirt.” You smirked as you pulled on its collar. It was electric blue and adorned in polka dots. He paired it with a pair of high waisted, black trousers, which you loved, and  pair of black Gucci boots.

He leaned down to you. “Bit rude, yeah?” He kissed you softly.

Just as he was about to go in for another, Mitch’s voice rang out. “Yeah, this as just as weird as I thought it would be.”

“Oh, fuck off.” Harry groaned as you laughed.

“Trust me, it’s weird for me too.” You said and ignored the exaggerated pout on Harry’s face.

“Whatever.” Harry said as he looked at his phone. “Car’s here!” He called as he walked towards the door and you all followed behind him.

The Roxy was what seemed to be a Great Gatsby themed club near Piccadilly. It wasn’t specifically Great Gatsby themed, but as soon as you walked down the stairs and a man opened the door, that’s exactly what came to mind.

Large, crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, glistening in the multicolored club lights that were above them. The entire wall where the bar was to the left was mirrored and framed in gold. The bar itself was made of dark wood and seemed ornately carved; both the men and women behind it wore jewel toned vests and bowties.

The dj’s booth was raised slightly above the dance floor and was covered in mosaicked mirror, forcing the lights to bounce off of the small pieces each time the lights on the ceiling turned.

The couches that sat on a platform along the right side of the club were velvet and matched the jewel tones that the bartenders were wearing. The stairs that led to the platform was blocked off by a black velvet rope and a security guard clutching a small list to his chest.

Harry led the way over to him and when he got there, greeted the man with a handshake. Harry leaned in and said something in the man’s ear, who then did the same to him, before he unclipped the black rope and let Harry through. The rest of you needed to get your hands stamped; once you were all adorned with purple feathers, you were allowed to join Harry at one of the couches.

“Come here often?” You asked as you sat down next to him.

Immediately, his hand went to rest on your knee. “Only twice, but Eddie works at another bar I like near my house, so he knows me.”

“Ah, okay.” You leaned into his side a bit and believed it was only because there was still a chill in you from the few short seconds you spent outside and not just because you wanted to be close to Harry.

Right when everyone settled, a waitress came over and asked for everyone’s drink orders. Harry looked over at you. “Want tequila or gin, love?”

“Surprise me.” You shrugged before turning to Charlotte who was tapping on your arm from beside you.

“I cannot believe how normal this feels.” She said.

“How normal what feels?”

“You and Harry being together.”

“We’re not together.” You said with a furrowed brow.

“What?”

“We’re fucking, not together. We’re friends, I guess—I think, but that’s it.”

“Wow, you’re really confused.”

Harry’s hand left your knee and landed on the back of your neck, pulling your attention away from Charlotte. “I haven’t said congratulations yet.”

You sighed. “It’s really so not a big deal.”

“It is! Poetry isn’t your best so it being in the New Yorker is huge.”

The furrow in your brow returned. “Who said it wasn’t my best?”

You saw the panic flash over his face. “You did?”

“Mm, no, don’t think that was me. Actually, if I’m recalling this correctly,” your pointer finger made contact with his chest, “it was you who had a lot to say about my poetry.”

“No…” Harry dragged the word out and shook his head in an exaggerated manner. “I would never.”

“Oh, you would and you have.”

“Mm, no. Don’t think that was me.” Harry leaned forward and kissed you—obviously trying to distract you from bringing up his past offenses.

When he pulled away, the waitress returned with the drinks and you took a sip of yours. Harry had gone tequila—straight tequila. You shouldn’t have been surprised.

You sat back against the couch and Harry draped his arm casually behind you. You crossed your right leg over your left and bopped your foot along to the familiar beat that was playing. You were already itching to dance, but didn’t want to go down there alone. You figured you would let everyone finish their first round before dragging them out into the crowd.

Halfway through your tequila, you needed a break. It was a lot. It was strong and you seemed to be drinking yours much quicker than Harry.

You cradled your glass in your lap as Harry leaned over your legs to talk to Mitch who was sitting next to Adam. Harry’s thumb brushed along the inside of your knee softly as he spoke and you had a feeling that the only reason he was leaning the way he was, was to be close to you. There was really no other reason for it, since the couch was slightly curved in order to be able to see everyone sitting down and the music didn’t seem as loud up on the platform.

Harry’s neck was only a few inches from your face. Your eyes trailed over the way the tendrils at the base of his neck curled over his skin. When he raised his voice, his neck strained and allowed a vein to pop out just a bit—the way it did sometimes when the two of you were fucking. Before you knew what you were doing, you leaned forward and placed your lips delicately on his neck. You pulled back quickly, extremely embarrassed by your actions, but no one said anything. They just ignored it as if was normal and the only reaction you got from Harry was a squeeze to your knee and a huge grin as he continued to listen to what Mitch was saying.

Despite feeling like you wanted to slow down, you brought your glass to your lips and took a big gulp and forced yourself to enjoy the slight burning sensation as it moved down your throat. You couldn’t believe you had just done that. That so wasn’t you. Usually Harry was the one inappropriately affectionate or handsy in public and around your friends. You were always the one on the receiving end of it, always the one telling him to relax, or cut it out, or not to be to obvious—until you gave in eventually and simply enjoyed his attention. You felt a little embarrassed and forced down the need you felt to do it again.

“Another round?” The waitress asked when she reappeared. Without looking at Harry, you nodded and said ‘please’. You downed the rest of what was in your glass quickly before placing it on her tray.

When Harry sat back into the sofa, he leaned in close to your ear and brushed his nose over the top of it. “You okay? You don’t usually do that.”

“Fine.” You examined your nails in your lap, inspecting an imaginary chip in the polish at your thumb.

He kissed the spot right above your ear. “We’ll dance in a bit, yeah?” As he said it, he squeezed your knee again, reminding you that your foot was still bouncing along to the beat.

“Harry said the fitting for the cover was next week?” Charlotte asked, thankfully allowing you to turn away from Harry.

“Yeah, it’s on Tuesday.”

“That’s a bit quick.” She said before finishing the last of what was in her glass.

“Yeah, well, they want it for the January issue, which is meant to be ready for print by, like, the second week of December, so.”

“Are you stressed yet?”

You shook your head. “I really only have to show up. The interview is done, I just have to write the thing.”

“Arguably the hardest part.” She was echoing your past words. You were such a perfectionist that getting through the first draft was often harder than doing all of the research and running around to collect information.

“Yes.” You shrugged. “I don’t know, though. I have this weird gut feeling that this one will just write itself.”

“Hm. Wonder why…” You saw her eyes flicker behind you as a smirk broke out on her face.

The waitress placed the refills in front of all of you and by the second sip, you were beyond antsy. You didn’t want to sit down anymore. The dj was playing some of your favorite dance songs and you were missing out on all the excitement down below you.

You placed your drink on the table and stood up. “Okay, I’ve had enough. I’m going down.” You looked down to your left. “Charlotte?”

“Obviously.” She scoffed as he stood up with you.

Your eyes roamed over the boys. Adam took a sip of his drink, Mitch looked away and Harry’s eyes raked up and down your body. “Think I’d like to watch for a bit, actually.”

“Whatever.” You huffed. Charlotte grabbed your hand and led the two of you away from the boys, down the platform and onto the dance floor.

Just when you reached an empty spot on the dance floor, Hands Together by House of Omni started playing—one of your favorites from when you were running around New York with your college friends.

You started moving your hips in time with the baseline, singing the words to Charlotte, who had no clue what the song was but had a huge smile on her face.

Harry was sure you had done it on purpose: chosen the one spot where he could see you perfectly. He had made the comment that he wanted to watch, but meant it as a teasing joke more than anything. If he did watch, he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands to himself in the slightest and although he wanted nothing more than to have his hands all over you in front of everyone, this was an extremely public place, with way too many eyes and it was in both of your best interests if he stopped himself from getting handsy anywhere that wasn’t the couch he was sitting on.

You were smiling as you danced with Charlotte. Each time she did a little spin, you tipped your head back and laughed. He could hear the sound in his ears and he couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face.

You looked more than amazing in that dress. He couldn’t stop looking at your body each time he was near you. The dress accented each curve of yours perfectly—it was sexy and delicate, and simple, but still special.

In the car, you were half on his lap—not because you needed to be, but because when you, Harry, and Mitch climbed into the second row of seats, he pulled you down onto him when you went to sit in the middle. His arm stayed tight around your waist the entire ride while his fingers trailed dangerously along the inside of your thigh. He had been ready for you since he saw you and couldn’t wait until later when he would get to have you all to himself.

At first, when he got the text from you inviting him out, he was a little surprised. Usually, you would’ve just let Charlotte invite him and pretend like you didn’t care whether or not he showed up. You never wanted to seem interested or like you wanted to see him even though he knew you usually did. If you didn’t, you would show up, or allow his invitation, or end up curled up together in someone’s bed each time you saw each other. This time, you had gone out of your way to invite him. You wanted him there with you.

He spent the entire day after the date trying to convince himself that it had actually happened. You asked him to stay, let him stay the night, were more than okay with him giving you a ride to work—you even initiated the kiss goodbye. He had somehow convinced himself that it was all in his head, but the invite for tonight made him think that he was more than right in thinking you were feeling the same way as he was.

Harry’s brow furrowed when he saw two guys approach you and Charlotte. He saw some blond talk to you but you shook your head—then leaned in so he could say something in your ear. Harry knew that it was probably innocent and that you most likely just couldn’t hear him, but he still felt a rush of jealousy.

“Mate,” He turned to Adam, knowing Mitch wasn’t much of a dancer, “c’mon.” He waved him along as he got up and started down towards the dance floor.

You smiled at the guy, who’s name was Sam, and thanked him for the compliment. He hadn’t tried to buy you a drink or dance with you, just told you that you looked amazing. It was sweet and pretty rare behavior from a guy at a club. Usually they always wanted something, but he didn’t even try to get close to you at first; he only did it when you couldn’t hear him at all.

Suddenly, you felt someone’s hand land at the top of your ass. You immediately knew it was Harry, just from the way he touched you. His chest was against your shoulder and without thinking, you leaned back into him.

“Harry.” He stuck his hand out to the guy who took it without hesitation.

“Sam.” When Harry dropped his hand, Sam gestured towards you. “You’re real lucky mate. She’s beautiful.” He was talking to Harry but looking at you as he said it. You blushed and looked away.

“I am.” Harrys voice was hard.

Weirdly, you didn’t feel the need to correct him, to make it known that, no, Harry was in fact, not lucky because you weren’t actually his. Instead, you were hit with a small swell of pride, something you never expected.

“Have a nice night.” Sam said as he waved and backed away from the four of you with his friend.

“Surprised you let me do that.” Harry said in your ear as he wrapped his other arm around your waist and held you close to him.

“It would’ve made it awkward if I corrected you.” You explained and he nodded against your cheek.

“Oh, so that was it.” He kissed your temple before releasing you. “I guess I’ve got to dance now.”

“Yes, you do.” You smiled and dragged him into the little circle that you, Charlotte, and Adam made.

“Oh, fuck yeah!” Harry cheered when a version of Lizzo’s Boys started to play.

Harry never failed to make you laugh when he danced. He was more than attractive all the time, and even when he danced, but he was always just a little off rhythm, always a little goofy, always so animated that you couldn’t help but throw your head back in laughter.

He pulled what seemed to be his usual moves: rocked back and forth, did an exaggerated step-touch while his arms moved above his head, rolled his shoulders back and moved his arms at his sides. At one point, he even tried to mimic the way you moved your hips and stepped with your feet, which made containing your laughter impossible.

You shoved him away from you lightly. “I do not look like that.”

Just as the song changed to one with a darker beat, he grabbed your arms and held you from behind. “You kinda do, but hotter.”

“Oh, shut up.” You said in a teasing tone as you tried to move from his grasp, but he only held you tighter.

“C’mon, dance with me.”

“After you mocked me?”

He dropped a kiss to your neck, right under your ear. “Stop, you know I think you look amazing. I love watching you.”

You felt yourself melt into him then, completely flattered and loving his attention. “Yeah?” You pushed back into him and didn’t miss the hiss that left his lips. You started dancing again, extremely aware of the way your ass brushed against Harry every so often.

He wrapped his arm around you and placed his palm onto your inner thigh and gave it a small squeeze. “Fuck, I wish you were mine.”

You leaned back into him and tried to ignore the warning bells that were going off in your head, but you couldn’t. They weren’t warning you that Harry was saying something you didn’t like—the problem was that you liked it too much. The problem was, when he said those words, your stomach erupted in butterflies and you felt the warmth between your legs grow. The problem was: maybe you wanted to be his.

There was panic itching at your chest and you didn’t know what to do. You couldn’t deal with these feelings now. You couldn’t spend the whole night with him while you were having a freakout about him. You needed to get away for a bit. You needed to get some air and just try and think for a second.

You turned around and placed a quick kiss to his lips. “I need a drink.”

“Let me come with you.”

“No, stay. I’ll get you one too.” Before he could argue with you, you were pushing yourself through the crowd.

What the fuck was going on? You wanted Harry? You wanted to be his? That was wrong. It couldn’t be right. It couldn’t be the truth. You could make it a lie. All you needed was somebody else. It was that easy.

When you broke through to the other side of the crowd, you were fully stressed out and in need of something strong. “Sorry.” You said when you bumped into some guy’s back.

“You again.” Sam said with a smile on his face and his card in his hand.

“Yeah, me again.” You forced a smile back.

“No, Harry?”

“No.” You shook your head. “Sorry about that before. He’s a friend, just really protective of us.”

“Just a friend, yeah?”

“Absolutely.” You said as confidently as you could. You were trying to convince yourself more than you were trying to convince Sam.

“Then how ‘bout a drink?”

“I’d love one.”

You were taking forever. Harry knew that the bar was probably insanely crowded, but you were always the one to push your way through the crowd and make yourself a priority to the bartender. Harry also already had a tab open so it wasn’t like you had to deal with the annoyance of paying for it.

Just wanted to make sure that you were okay, he excused himself from Charlotte and Adam and pushed his way towards the bar.

It took him less than a second to find you since the lights bounced off the fringe of your dress, causing you to sparkle no matter where you were in the room. He felt the the jealously burn his chest as his eyes narrowed in on you and the same guy he saw you with before. It didn’t look so innocent this time. He had handed you a drink and you took a step closer, letting him  brush his fingers down your arm.

Harry’s jaw clenched as he shook out his hand that had involuntarily formed itself into a fist. He shook his head in frustration before turning around and going back the way he came. He had no intention of causing a scene at the bar, but the two of you needed to talk.

He waited patiently with Charlotte and Adam until you came back, trying to dance with them and have fun but he was infuriated. He wanted to punch that guy in the face and scream in yours. He didn’t understand why you intended on doing this to him; why you felt the need to make him feel so good about the two of you and then purposefully hurt him.

Two songs came and gone before you got back to the group. He didn’t let you get a word about before he pulled the drink from your hands and dropped it in Adam’s. He pulled you close to him. “Bathroom. Now.” It wasn’t a suggestion and he knew you understood that from the way you followed closely behind him even though he dropped your wrist.

The bathrooms were neutral and so he pulled you into the only empty one, which was the last one in the long corridor. As soon as the door was locked behind the two of you he turned around and pointed his finger at your chest. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Your brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

“What are you doing? With him?” Harry pointed towards the door.

You crossed your arms defensively. “We were just talking.”

“C’mon, (Y/N). I’m not a fucking idiot. That wasn’t just talking. You were fucking flirting with him.”

“And so what if I was?” You were raising your voice now.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Harry’s laugh was bitter.

“What is your problem?”

“My problem?” He pointed to himself. “My problem is you fucking invited me here with you and then you go off and flirt with some other guy! What the fuck is that?”

“Charlotte invited you.” The response was cold and Harry felt as though he was going to scream.

“No. You fucking invited me!”

“As a friend.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.”

“Why do you care so much anyway? Why do you care at all?”

“Because I fucking like you! God knows fucking why, but I do! But fine! You want to go and fuck someone else, I don’t care!

“Fine!” You yelled back.

The two of you stood there staring at one another for a moment before Harry ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “Fuck this.” He turned and pulled the door open, leaving you standing in the middle of the bathroom at a complete loss for words.

You went back to the couch, hoping you would find Harry there but it was empty. Even Mitch had gone somewhere. Charlotte and Adam were still on the dance floor—and had seemed to make some friends and so you were left up there alone.

He needed to say it again. He needed to explain. It sounded like he said he liked you, as in had feelings for you but you needed to know more for it to be real, you needed him to clarify and confirm. There was a feeling in your gut telling you that you felt the same. You’d be lying if you said that hearing the words didn’t make you feel something—you just wished they were said in a different way, a different setting.

You needed to find him and figure all of this out.

After ten minutes, but what felt like ages of searching for him, you found him. He was dancing with some girl near the middle of the floor. Rather, some girl was dancing on him. You watched as he leaned down and whispered something in her ear—then you saw him dip his face into her neck, the same way he had done to you earlier.

Your stomach turned.

You backed up right into someone’s chest. “Fuck, I’m sorry.” When you turned around, Sam was standing there. A drink in his hand and a worried look on his face.

“You never came back. Is everything okay?”

You tried to blink away the tears that were starting to form. “Uh, yeah, sorry. Something happened with my friends.” You held up your hands to him and patted him on the chest. “I just-sorry, I just need a second. I need some air.”

You brushed past him quickly, but instead of turning in the direction of the entrance, you went back towards the bathroom since it was closer and you felt the bile start to rise in your throat.

The straps of your heels were digging deep into your skin as you walked quickly towards the long hallway. Thankful when you saw no line, you tried to twist the knob of the first door but it was locked. So was the next one. The third one and the fourth. The fifth was locked—and so was the sixth. You leaned back against the ‘employees only’ door and took a deep breath. As soon as the third door opened, you rush towards it, nearly knocking over the guy who was exiting.

Once the door was locked behind you, you rushed to the sink and leaned your hands on either side of it. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You mumbled as the tears began to fall. Your stomach turned again, the nauseous feeling coming back full force.

You walked over to where the toilet was and stood leaning against the wall next to it, wanting to be prepared if you actually did end up throwing up.

This wasn’t how the night was supposed to go. It was supposed to be fun, it was supposed to be a celebration. You and Harry were supposed to dance and have fun and be handsy and then go home and fuck. He wasn’t supposed to tell you he wished you were his and you weren’t supposed to want it just as badly. He wasn’t supposed to get mad at you for talking to some guy and he sure as shit wasn’t supposed to tell you he has feelings for you. He wasn’t supposed to be with another girl and you weren’t supposed to be crying in the bathroom, completely freaked out because you had feelings for him.

The admission made you almost gag, but it was true. You had been fighting it for so long but you had more-than-a-crush feelings for Harry. Feelings that went past what you felt for Nate in middle school. Feelings that went past anything you had for any of the guys you had every hooked up with or ‘dated’. Any relationship you had in the past only lasted a few months. It wasn’t that you were incapable of having feelings for people, because you were, and it wasn’t that you got bored of people easily, because you didn’t. It was that you just rarely let yourself feel them. It was always something you regretted after the relationship was over—and it was always something your friends admonished you for, but you couldn’t help it. You would fight the feelings tooth and nail until they felt too real and then you would back out and blow everything up.

You didn’t like the idea of doing that to Harry—he didn’t deserve it, but you couldn’t simply accept that this was how you felt and that it was normal and okay.

You were getting sick over fucking feelings. You were trying to fight them off in your head—but it made sense, didn’t it? You more than enjoyed spending time one on one with Harry, loved your time with him on Wednesday night, could kiss him for hours, missed the way he held you the next morning each time you spent the night together. He made you laugh and blush; he now respected your work and the kind of person you are. He made music you loved and was someone you found way more interesting than you thought you would. You had genuinely hated him, but now you liked in a way that was a million degrees past the kind of likeness that was reserved for friends.

You didn’t know what to do. Even if you wanted to talk to anyone about this, you couldn’t. Everyone was drunk, everyone was having fun, or trying to have fun—and you were alone. You were always alone; always having to pick up the pieces of yourself with no help from anyone else. You didn’t want to put this on Charlotte right now, you didn’t even want to bother Harry, not that he would let you. You needed to deal with this alone, the way you dealt with everything, never needing anyone’s help or wanting anyone else involved.

The need to feel better rooted itself deep in your gut, but you didn’t know how—but you needed to feel something other than the intense hurt and overwhelming want for Harry that was consuming you.

After deciding that you probably wouldn’t throw up and that a few deep breaths were ll you needed to cure your nausea, you walked back over to the sink and looked at yourself in the mirror. You breathed deeply, in and out, a few times as you swiped your fingers delicately under your eyes, making sure to remove any trace of tears. Unfortunately, it wasn’t completely successful; your mascara had clumped together, your liner was smudged slightly beneath your eyes, and the tear tracks were clear in your makeup under the bright bathroom lights. You took one more deep breath, smoothed down your dress and told yourself that you could fix this. You could feel better—with or without Harry.

On your way to find Sam, you purposefully walked right past Harry, but received no reaction. When you looked back to see if he has noticed you, his attention was on the girl in front of him, your existence seemingly easily forgotten.

Sam was at the corner of the bar, talking with his friend from earlier. “Hey, you came back!”

“I did!” Your smile took effort.

“I know you said you couldn’t earlier, that you had to stay with your friends, but…” He scratched the back of his neck. “You’re sure you don’t want to get a drink somewhere a bit quieter?”

His smile was warm and seemed gentle. He was by no means a bad looking guy. His hair was wavy and blonde, falling down on his shoulders. His eyes were blue and his lashes curled up in a way you wished yours did naturally. His jawline wasn’t as nice as Harry’s but still sharp and there was stubble along his jaw that suited him well. You could be attracted to him and maybe, if you were in a better mood you would be, but he wasn’t Harry. Not that it mattered anymore. You wanted to feel better and Harry didn’t seem to care about you anymore.

“Actually, I think I’d like that a lot.”

“Great, yeah. Cool.” You could tell he was elated—obviously not being able to sense that your demeanor had changed from your conversation at the bar. “Did you want to tell your friends you’re leaving? Then we’ll grab your coat?”

“No coat, but yeah. I’ll go tell my friends. You’ll be here?”

“Of course, I will.”

You weren’t sure if you liked how eager he was, how nice he was. You weren’t sure if you liked him at all but he seemed gentle enough and your birth control was in your bag and he most likely had a condom on him and you just needed to feel better.

After grabbing your bag from where it sat on the couch, you stood in front of it, surveying the floor in search of Charlotte, Adam, and Mitch. You pulled your phone out to send her a text and heard Harry’s voice behind you.

“Going somewhere?” The girl was with him and each had full drinks in their hands.

“He asked me to go home with him.” It most likely wasn’t a lie.

“Are you?”

You couldn’t read his face. “Maybe.”

“You should.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Really.”

“So now you don’t want me anymore?” You knew you were poking the bear. You wanted him to say the words again. You wanted confirmation that you hadn’t freaked out over nothing.

“Of course I fucking want you!” He took a step closer so he was only inches from you. You watched the girl back away and was happy to see her go. “But I’m not doing this shit with you anymore! You want me and then don’t. You hate me and then you’re sleeping over and wearing my clothes and you fucking invite me here because you want me and then you tell me that you might be going home with someone else?” He was pissed and hurt. “All you ever fucking do it play games. I’m tired of you being a bitch to me just because you can’t figure out what the fuck you want. So, look, I’ve figured it out for you, yeah? Fucking go. I don’t care anymore.”

It felt as if you had been smacked in the face. “Fine.” You brushed past him and made sure to forcefully knock your shoulder into his. You rushed quickly down the stairs and blinked back the tears that had returned. You were tired of this. All of it. You were tired of the club, tired of the night, tired of feeling that way, tired of Harry.

Harry dropped his drink on the table and ran his hands over his face. He was pissed but also upset. He didn’t really want you to go, of course he didn’t, but he was angry and he was tired of all the back and forth with you and he was embarrassed about his admission in the bathroom—it wasn’t supposed to come until he was sure you felt the same way, until he knew for certain you wouldn’t hurt him, but of course you did. It’s all you had done since the two of you met.

Against his better judgement, he went after you. He grabbed his coat from the couch and hurried down the stairs and pushed through the crowd with his phone pressed to his ear, leaving a message for Mitch, letting him know that he left. Whether he stopped you or not, he wasn’t going back inside.

He took the stairs up to the entrance two at a time, telling himself over and over again that you would be out there, that you would understand that you had hurt him enough for one night. When he shoved open the door and stepped out into the cold November air, he didn’t see you there. He didn’t see the guy that was trying to take you. He was a group of girls getting into a cab and the two bouncers talking with their hands deep in their pockets.

He cursed under his breath and started texting his driver.

“Looking for me?”

Of course. Of course you were there, leaned against the outside of the building, lit cigarette dangling between your fingers. It looked as if the cold didn’t effect you, your arms legs, and chest completely bare, but Harry knew that is he got close to you, your teeth would be chattering and your skin would be covered in goosebumps—but you liked to look strong. It was something he was learning over and over again.

“I was, actually.” He said as he shrugged off his coat. “What happened? Thought you were leaving.”

You shrugged as you walked over to him and took a drag of your cigarette. “Not really my type, I guess.”

“That was cruel.”

“You were cruel.”

“No, I was honest.” Harry corrected as he draped his coat over your shoulders and plucked the burning stick from your fingers.

“Doesn’t make it any less hurtful.”

He put it out beneath his shoe before looking up at you. Your eyes were red and your makeup wasn’t as perfectly applied as it had been earlier. “Have you been crying?”

You stopped his hand as it went up to touch your cheek. “I really don’t want to be here anymore.”

The whole ride to Harry’s your eyes burned. You were still freaking out—even more so after blowing off Sam. You made it all the way outside before you broke. He had the door to the cab open for you but you couldn’t step inside.

You didn’t want him at all and the idea of getting in that car with him made your stomach turn. The self hatred had started creeping its way in the second you turned away from Harry. The realization of your feelings hit you hard, harder than it should’ve and even though you were sure they had probably been there for some time, it was still a surprise. You didn’t have time to process them, didn’t have somewhere you could go and sit and talk it through, figure it all out for real.  

You were somewhere with no privacy, no sober friends, no stability, no comfort. Harry had been pissed at you, been with someone else, your heart was lurching, your mind was reeling and you were overwhelmed.

Once in the car, stuck under the crook of Harry’s arm, you still weren’t able to calm down. The silence of the ride sent your mind into overdrive. The same thoughts repeated over and over again in your mind: you had feelings for Harry. For a short time, you tried to convince yourself that maybe you actually didn’t. Maybe it was the alcohol that was trying to trick you, the simplistic jealously of seeing a man who you only ever saw as yours with someone else. Yours. That was the problem right there, wasn’t it? You had been thinking of Harry as someone that belonged to you when he never did, still didn’t, but it meant that all the time something had been there—feelings had been there and you were just too stubborn to see it.

Harry’s hand had been massaging your thigh the entire time you had been in the car, but he had also been silent, the two of you obviously lost in your own heads, thinking over the events of the night.

He helped you out of the car and held you close to him as he said goodnight to his driver before leading you up to the door. You reached up and kissed his neck as he turned his key into the lock and he sighed. His fingers fumbled to turn the knob as you continued to trace circles over his skin with your tongue, but when he finally got the door open, the first thing he did was push your body against its frame.

He kissed you hard before pulling away but keeping his forehead against yours. “We need to talk.”

“Tomorrow.”

He moved his head back when you tried to kiss him again. “Promise.”

“I promise.”

As soon as the words were out, his lips were back on yours. He walked you inside and managed to close the door despite you tugging on the collar of his shirt to pull him closer. His coat dropped from your shoulders and his left hand pushed under the hem of your dress so he could grab at your upper thigh just under your ass.

You could feel in the way he was kissing you and touching you that he wanted that night to be rough, which was exactly what you wanted. That night couldn’t be like Wednesday. It couldn’t feel soft, or passionate in the way where it felt as if he cared about you. You needed it to be hard, maybe a little fast, and you needed him to make it feel like he hated you again.

Harry groaned when you tugged harshly at the hair at the back of his head and pushed you back against the wall. He dipped his face into your neck and sucked hard at the skin. Your brow furrowed and you sighed before pushing him away slightly when the image of him doing the same to the girl at the club flashed through your mind.

He gave you a questioning look and you forced the thought away, pulling him back into you. You started working on the buttons of his shirt, wanting to slide your hands over his skin as soon as possible. When you tugged at his shirt a little roughly in order to get it untucked from his trousers, his hands moved to your wrists.

“Careful, it’s Gucci.”

“Do you fucking know how you sound, right now?” You mumbled.

He chuckled against your lips. “Right. Sorry.”

After undoing the last button. You pushed the shirt off his shoulders and down his arms, not satisfied until it dropped softly to the floor. As your fingertips trailed over his chest and you pushed your tongue into his mouth, Harry hiked up the skirt of your dress and grabbed roughly at your hips, forcing them into his.

You raked your nails down his chest and he hissed while moving his hands to grab your ass. He rolled his hips into your again and you cursed softly, feeling the warmth between your thighs deepen. Despite the emotional mess the night had been, your need for him had been building since you first saw him at Charlotte’s. You always wanted him when you were with him and often when you weren’t. He had somehow worked his way into every single part of your life: into your friendships, your work life, your love life. He was fucking everywhere and it wasn’t fair.

“I want to go upstairs.” You said as you gripped onto his jaw.

Without a word, he bent down and scooped you up from your knees. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he started moving towards the stairs.

“Harry, you’re going to drop me.” He ignored you. “H, you can’t. You’re not going to make it. Just put me down.”

“Would you shut up?” He kissed your neck. “Do you know how much I can lift?”

“Doo you know you sound like a cocky asshole?”

“Thought you liked that.”

You covered his smirk with a kiss and he moaned again as he took the last step.

Once you were in the bedroom, he dropped you on the bed and trailed openmouthed kisses down your neck and your chest as his hands pushed under your dress and his fingers dipped under the band of your nearly there thong. It was more of a g-string, really, but it was tasteful, delicate. The front was blush pink and lace and another small patch of lace sat at your back, while the fabric that connected both pieces was extremely thin and looked almost like ribbon.

He moved off you but stayed kneeling in front of you, eyes on your body as he ran his left hand down your leg before pulling your foot up towards him and undoing the tiny straps of your shoe. He kissed the inside of your ankle before setting it down and repeating the process with the other one. When he was done, you pushed yourself up so you were leaning back on your hands and kissed him.

“I want you in my mouth.” You whispered. What you really wanted was control. You felt as if you had lost all of it and desperately wanted it back.

“Fuck.” He sighed before placing his right hand on the back of your neck. Harry held you in a kiss as he leaned forward on his left hand, forcing you to lay back down, before he rolled the two of you over so that you were on top.

You rolled your hips into his once, twice. He bit your lip and whimpered. You pushed against his chest in order to separate your lips before moving down to the spot between his legs.

After he had hurriedly undone his pants and you pulled them off, you settled into one of your favorite positions: legs bent at the knees, ankles crossed in the air, your cheek resting on his thigh. You stroked him slowly and watched his eyes flutter shut before his head tipped back. He was trying not to buck himself into your hand and failing. He was trying to hold back, to give you the control you wanted, but it was obvious he was aching.

It pleased you to know that he had been feeling the same way about you the entire night, as much as you wished it didn’t. For a second, the intrusive thought entered that it wasn’t you who had turned him on, but the other girl—you forced it away. The jealousy was frustrating and unnecessary. Harry was yours. Wasn’t he? Didn’t he want to be? You hated yourself for how much you wanted it.

Harry’s hand went to your hair when you moved up to place his tip at the opening of your mouth. He was ready to do exactly what you wanted him to do. When he pushed you down to take in all of him, you squeezed your thighs together. He didn’t let himself hit the back of your throat, but he was close, and held you there for a second as a strangle groan left his lips.

“Fuck, (Y/N). Do it again.” He released the pressure on your head and let you come up. When you started to move back down, he pushed again and held you there. As you came back up, you sucked harder and made sure to swirl your tongue around his tip in the way you knew he liked.

He hit the back of your throat when you went back down without warning. Harry’s moans were strained as he gripped tightly onto you hair. You peeked up at him as you moved back to his tip; his chest was heaving slowly and his cheeks were pink. His grip on your hair tightened once more when he saw you looking and pushed you back down, hitting the back of your throat and causing you to gag.

You released him quickly but held your mouth over him, letting the spit drip down his cock, fully aware that he was watching. His hips bucked slightly into nothing and you knew you had him. He would do whatever you said, whatever you wanted. All you had to do was ask—and it would be a big ask, especially since Harry didn’t exactly seem like the type.

You gave him one more; as you went down you sucked hard and gagged when he hit the back of your throat but didn’t move. You let him buck his hips into your mouth twice as he cursed loudly between pants and had to pull you off of him.

When he dropped his hand from your hair, you moved to stand on your knees. After he brushed his knuckles over the corner of your mouth and then your chin and he tried to calm down his breathing, you unzipped your dress at the side and then pulled it off up over your head.

You left your underwear on since there was no real fabric there to get in the way and nodded at him. “Sit up. All the way.”

Harry followed your commands as you crawled over to him. You placed your knees on either side of him and rested your forearms on his shoulders while his went to your ass. When he licked your nipple, you let your head fall back and moaned. He closed his lips around it and tugged at it with his teeth, causing you to inhale sharply, but you liked it.

When you felt his fingers touch your clit, you whimpered and he cursed before running them over your barely covered center.

“You’re so fucking wet.” He moved your panties over with ease and pushed one finger inside.

You shook your head and when you opened your eyes, saw this his were focused on your face. You grabbed his wrist and pulled it away. “I want more.” You breathed as you lifted his cock from where it rested underneath you and lined it up.

You sunk down and immediately started moving your hips back and forth. A choked groan came from Harry and he gripped tightly onto your hips. You felt good—you felt full.

Each time you rocked forward, you cursed softly from the friction on your clit. Your forehead landed on Harry’s, which was damp with sweat. A surprise since, so far, you had done all of the work.

His hands moved back to your ass so he could help you rock forward, getting to a spot you didn’t know you needed to hit. “Fuck, baby.” He whined.

Quickly, you dropped your head into his neck and covered his mouth with your left hand. “Don’t call me that. Just shut up.”

He moaned in response because he probably thought it was a game, that this was you trying to have fun, trying to push him, see how far he could go and what he would allow—but you were more than serious. You couldn’t hear him call you that right now, couldn’t deal with the butterflies you got when he said it. You didn’t want to be soft now—you didn’t want to have those feelings right then.

You rolled your hips with more pressure and kissed Harry’s neck as he groaned against your hand. The orgasm was building quickly and each time your clit rubbed against his skin, your chest heaved and the furrow in your brow deepened.

“Holy…fuck!” It was a strangled cry, and partially muffled by Harry’s neck. Your hand slipped from his mouth and landed on his jaw, where you squeezed, as you rode out your orgasm.

“Fucking hell…” The moan was slow and tense. When he felt your teeth sink into his neck, he wrapped his arms tightly around your body. “Fucking enough.” He lifted you as he pulled his legs under him and pushed the two of you forward. Your legs shifted and wrapped around his waist as you landed on your back against the mattress.

Harry gripped harshly onto your jaw and kissed you roughly before driving his hips into you. You smirked when you noticed he seemed angry. This was what you needed. You needed it to be like it used to be. Before all of this, the sex was angry and rough and devoid of anything that mattered. It was where you were comfortable.

He held himself up with his left hand and wrapped his right around your throat. You released a pleased hum when he applied some pressure.

“Like that?” You nodded. He dropped down and hovered his lips right over your ear. “Can you please just be good?”

“Fuck…” It was a drawn out whisper.

His grip around your throat tightened again. “I asked if you would be good.” His voice was stern in a way it had never been before, because you had taken more control than you ever had. You liked knowing that he didn’t one hundred percent like being the submissive one—you like the arguing, the demanding. It was what was natural between the two of you.

“Mhmm.” It was small since his hand around your throat wasn’t exactly allowing for full sentences.

“Words.” He lessened the pressure.

“I’ll be good.” It was a lie.

He moved back up so he was looking at you as he continued to thrust into you. His hips hit yours hard and you winced with every few thrusts. He shifted quickly so that he was no longer holding your neck, but so that your right leg was hooked over his arm, allowing him to push deeper. When he hit a particularly deep spot, your dug your nails into his sides at his ribcage and dragged them down.

“Fuck, careful, baby.” His eyes were on yours and his gaze was sweet. He was searching your expression for any trace of pain, anything that told him he had pushed too deep or hit a wrong spot. Harry was looking at you as though he cared for you—and you knew he did, but the whole point of tonight was to forget about that. You wanted to forget that he cared about you at all, it would make it easier to deal with your feelings later.

“You could hit me if you want.” Your voice was soft and strained as he continued to push into you. Your eyes flickered from his lip between his teeth, to his eyes, where confusion and hesitancy swam. “Maybe you should.”

“Babe, d-do you want me too?” He dragged his fingertips across your cheek.

You nodded and looked back down to his lips, which were red and swollen.

He grabbed your chin tight. “Look at me. I need you to say it or I can’t do it.”

“I want you to hit me.” Your voice was strong and you felt your stomach tighten at the idea of feeling his hand against your cheek. You had done this before—a lot with a guy you had been seeing a little less than a year ago. The two of you weren’t good for each other and often, your feelings were conflicted and anger bubbled constantly between you—this always made everything feel better. It made it feel like you had some control in the way you felt, in how he made you feel, and you liked the sting, the euphoria that came with the pulsing.

Harry brushed his fingers over your cheek again but pulling his hand back and making contact. You whimpered and he immediately looked concerned. He needed to stop.

“Not hard enough.” You said.

“Yeah? Harder?”

“Please.”

He hit you again and that time you felt the sting. Harry cursed as a loud moan spilled from your lips. Your nails dug into his sides.

“Again. Please.”

He was more confident now and it was harder than the last. “Fuck.” Your voice was thick and your head felt like it was floating but you felt good—you felt better.

“Holy shit, (Y/N). Harry said as he trailed his fingers down your warm cheek. You could feel how hot it was, but the sting was wearing off and you needed it again.

“Again.”

“One more.” Harry groaned. His hips were rolling sloppily against yours. “One more.”

The last one was the hardest and it made you cry out in both pain and pleasure while you scratched at his biceps. “Harry…” You whimpered as he dropped his body on top of yours. His hand gripped your jaw again and he held your face as his thrusts grew more and moe lazy.

“Fuck, I’m coming.” He sucked at your neck right before pulling out. He kept his face in the crook of your shoulder as he finished all over your folds, his tip brushing against your clit with every stroke.

When he was done, he rolled off of you and you immediately got up and went to his bathroom. You grabbed a small towel from the shelf and cleaned yourself up. Just as you finished, Harry appeared in the doorway.

“You okay?” When you turned to him, he walked forward and pulled you into his arms.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You could hear that your voice was hoarse, but it wasn’t from how rough the sex was, despite what Harry must’ve thought.

“You’re sure? We’ve never…done that before.”

You squeezed his sides so that he would release you. “Yeah, I’m sure. I’m the one who asked for it, remember?”

He released you but held your face in his hands and carefully swiped his thumb over your still stinging cheek. “I know, love. I just wanted to make sure. Do you want water or something? A snack? I can get you something.” He could tell something was wrong and he wanted to help you feel better—and you wanted to feel better, but he was the reason you felt so awful.

“No, I’m okay. I’m just gonna get ready for bed. I’ll be out in a few minutes, okay?”

He nodded hesitantly and placed a delicate kiss to your lips. “Come to bed whenever your ready.”

Harry closed the door behind him and you locked it quickly. You went over to think and watched the tears slide down your face in the mirror. Your  skin burned—everywhere and the slapping only made you feel good for a fleeting moment.

Now, you were in the quiet. The people, the lights, the loud music was gone. You were the most sober you had been all night and your feelings for Harry weighed heavy in your stomach. You were sure if you fell into the river they would drown you.

You were struggling to fight these feelings for him and you weren’t even sure why you were fighting them. It was the part of yourself you never understood—the intense push to be alone. You didn’t want to be alone. You wanted someone to care for you and love you and you wanted to do that for them—but every time you got there, or as close as your brain would allow you to get, you blew it up. You got scared , terrified, and you ran. You always needed to be the one to leave, to ruin the other person—maybe that was the reason you decided to hate Harry so much in the beginning and why you understood him. Maybe you saw too much of yourself in him.

Everything felt as if it was moving to fast and your mind was doing somersaults and backflips trying to fight the intense gut feeling that you had feelings for Harry, that you could even fall in love with him. It rejected the whole notion, rejected him. It tried to remind you that you hated him, but the ache in your chest at the thought said otherwise. You felt a deep need for him and your mind tried to tell you it was a lie.

The tears continued to fall and your chest was getting tight. You flicked on the tap and tried to be quiet as you cried over the sink, not wanting Harry to hear any of it. You needed to get out of there. You needed to be alone. You couldn’t crawl into bed next to him feeling this way—it would be too much. You would shatter.

As the water ran, you calmed your breathing down and tried to pull it together. You wiped the tears from your cheeks and smoothed your hands over your hair.

You shut off the water and unlocked the door quietly. You shut off the bathroom light and pulled the door open slowly, confused when you saw that the bedroom lights were off.

When you took a tentative step into Harry’s room, you heard him snoring faintly and your whole body relaxed. You padded into the room quietly and picked up your dress from where it was on the floor at the foot of the bed and slipped it on as quietly as you could. Next was your shoes, which were a bitch to buckle in the dark, but you finally managed with a small sigh of relief. Sneaking out was easy since the bedroom door was still open and thankfully, Harry’s stairs were too new to creak. You tip-toed into the foyer and picked your bag up from the floor and pulling out your phone. Against you better judgement, you slipped on Harry’s coat and swore you would give it back tomorrow.

You slipped out the front door as quietly as you possibly could and then hurried down his driveway as you hailed an Uber. Once Sarah’s address was typed in, you pulled up your messages with Harry.

We’ll talk tomorrow. I promise.

[mskimkaty]

Quit | J.JH

Angst, Smut, fluff (little bit on the end)

Synopsis: You might think that some people who did you bad have little impact in your life, tip toeing from situations that you knew could repeat the same mistakes but there will always be that one person who will destroy all your resolve and you’ll find yourself fucking your rules for them.

Word Count: 7.1k

A/N: love u all. pls enjoy! (not really proof read)

Edit: uhmmm pls don’t judge me but this is actually my bf and my story of how we met to how we become couples. Alright. Enjoy!!!!

You hated how you didn’t take “searching for college schools” seriously, and now, you’re all but stuck for the rest of your college years in the same school you graduated from High school. You know it’s a good school, having to be in the top 7 elite schools all over the country that has an institution that offers all levels of education— but you honestly don’t care about that right now. You wished you didn’t choose the easy road in finding a good college because now you’re stuck with a university that has zero-base for their grading system, 75 marks as their passing grade, and put their students with fully loaded units— having up to 30 units per semester. How Asian can it get?

 Fourth-year high school wasn’t your year, when a particular boy, Jeon Jungkook broke your heart. He was a close friend first before he became someone more than that, you told yourself not to be involved with the likes of him in any way, you first meet during your junior year by a mutual friend—Joy, your best friend, was in the same class as him, thus, the reason the both of you became close.

 Joy warned you about him and you knew because that’s what you told her base on your first impression on Jungkook, but you still tested the waters. And that’s how you broke your heart for the first time, you let yourself trust him despite all the bad things that you heard about him, you ignore everything because you were happy around him, but you were tired of having a relationship without a label and the fact that he doesn’t want you to be seen together speaks so much. You went on a retreat for 3 days in your senior year as it was a requirement for every graduating students by your catholic school, you weren’t going steady per se, but you still talked nonetheless, as he was getting busy with basketball, and you, having the cheerleading competition around the corner, training, exams, and graduation. You both have so much on your own plates.

 You kept on seeing red flags— the way he’s not responding to your calls and messages for a week, you haven’t really seen him around the school as varsity players have their own retreat, and when you saw a photo posted in his Instagram account with a girl in your year. She was a transferee, that’s all you remember after receiving a text message of him saying sorry. You hated how forgiving you can be, you hoped you can be tough and talk back to him— but no, you never had the chance to say what you wanted to say to him. You just let everything go. You can’t even ask someone to comfort you because of the fact you were a secret. You didn’t even know why you agreed with that kind of set up in the first place. Why did you choose something temporarily for a piece of mind? You hated how easy you can get sometimes, but you closed that chapter in your life after cursing him for months in your head and some Friday night parties until you graduated High school.

 And now, you’re in your second year of college and very much single. You received a message from Seulgi, saying that she needs to cancel your plans from eating out because of a midterm exam that got rescheduled she was your best friend together with Joy, Irene, and Wendy since high school but college happened and the five of you went with different schools except for Wendy and Seulgi who enrolled at the same University. You have a heavy sigh, it’s not that you don’t have friends in your own department, you do. It’s just that all your girlfriends have classes and won’t be done until 3 in the afternoon— and you’re very much hungry.

 You saw a very familiar face exiting the lesson hall next to yours and you’re quick on your feet to hide behind the walls of your classroom.

 “Y/n, I’ve already seen you, you know.” Suh Johnny stands beside you with Ten beside him smiling at you, you three both did your handshakes after getting drag out of the room. “Have you eaten already?” Ten asks and you shook your head. Johnny put his arms around your shoulders and the three of you walked out of the campus to eat out.

 “Oppa, what’s that?” you asked Ten preferring to his phone when you all settled down while Johnny browses the menu on what to order. “Jaehyun asked if he can join.” He says to the both of you, you look at Johnny as you both shrugs. Jung Jaehyun was once an IT student, he shifted after a year into your department and incredibly smart in mathematics. He was instantly everyone’s friend in your year.

 “I’m cool with him,” Johnny says and they both look at you. You’re not really fond of everybody and not entirely friendly with everyone. You’ve been close with Johnny and Ten who were much older than you only because you knew them since High school. “It’s cool.” You muttered.

 “But you wouldn’t be comfortable around other people, though.” Ten commented. They were completely aware of your introverted ass. They know what happened to you during your fourth-year high school, not only with Jeon Jungkook but the fact that all of your female classmates during your senior year made you an outcast. You honestly find it funny now, since you know that you have four amazing friends who stuck with you through thick and thin. You wished you had taken up the opportunity when Seulgi asked you to join her for hunting college schools before graduating High school so that you can be with her throughout your college years, but what’s done is done, what happened to you in the past brought you here right now and made you who you are. It wasn’t a problem for you— you like having the quality over quantity. You like how your circle of friends isn’t that big, too many people in your life can cost you too much trouble in the end, you know that because you’ve already experienced it first hand, having many people in your life will only lead you to disappointments.

 You weren’t familiar with Jung Jaehyun, per se, you just had a class with him during the second semester of your first year of college, that one professor you disliked so much teaching algebra instead of business mathematics and had the audacity to fail you. You hated how you got a failed mark while Jaehyun passed the subject despite his absences, you acknowledge him for having a big brain when it comes to numbers but you still find it unfair how he passed and you failed, you wished you could be as smart as him. You first met him when Mark introduced you to him after your Psychology class, you were talking with Mark about your Final output for the subject when he came up to Mark— fist-bumping, while wearing a white hoodie and black jeans, had those big Nike bags that you knew Basketball players uses, his white sneakers clean and you look at yours— completely worn out and definitely needed a new pair.

 He was smiling at you, eyeing Mark while waiting to be introduced to you. That got you rolling your eyes at him unknowingly, making him slightly intimidated with you. You shot Jaehyun a fake smile— he was cute, charming, tall, and obviously another varsity player. God, your skin starts to crawl, another varsity player is being too friendly with you. You bid Mark goodbye, and that was the start of your acquaintances with Jung Jaehyun, he was everywhere, becoming the Mr. Congeniality of your Department in no time when he shifted after a year in Information Technology.

 The three of you waited for Jaehyun to arrive before ordering your lunch, you waited for another minute before the door opened and Jaehyun walked in wearing a black long tee and denim jeans paired with his clean white sneakers. He settled down beside Ten who was in front of you and you started to become uncomfortable. Johnny and Jaehyun decided to get your orders and you were left with Ten in your booth.

 “Y/N, Jaehyun’s a good guy, you already know him for half a year, why are you still uncomfortable around him?” Ten asks you as you heave a heavy sigh. It’s not that you're uncomfortable around him because of your trust issues, you’re uncomfortable because clearly, he’s your type, and you’re not comfortable with the idea of it, you know he already had a girlfriend, you saw his wallpaper for a second when he put it down on the table before locking it. “I’m not. It’s just that—Oppa, can’t I be shy around people?” you countered, Ten looked at you funnily. “Don’t kid with me, y/n- ah. You guys both have International Cuisine, right?” he asks and you nod. “Then, you’ll be around him more often from now on, loosen up, He’s a great guy, if he did something to you, just tell me and Johnny and we’ll take care of it for you.” he flashed you a smile and you brush it off while giggling at him. “Thanks, Oppa, but no thanks.” You say and the two came back with two trays full of food. “It’s on me.” Johnny settled down next to you and you shoot him a grateful smile as the four of you started digging.

 “Are you throwing a party for your birthday?” Johnny suddenly asked, you nod at him and he muttered a small okay while your eyes darted at Jaehyun— it would be totally rude not to invite him for your birthday party when the topic is already laid on the table. Plus, he was looking at the three of you intently, seemingly out of place with the subject of the conversation. “Jaehyun, you should come on my birthday, It’s on the 19th, just some drinks and food on me, nothing too grand.” You find yourself saying and Ten and Johnny were shocked that you invited him. you clear your throat and continued “Can you guys ask everyone? I haven’t seen Yuta, Jungwoo, and Taeil Oppa but I already asked a bunch of people.” You added. They all agreed. “Thanks for inviting me, I think I don’t have anything going on that day,” Jaehyun commented. “Sounds like a plan.” You say and the four of you continued digging in.

 That night on your birthday, everything made a 360-degree turn in your life. Having 23 boys in your flat and some of your girlfriends turn out to be so much fun. When you run out of drinks you find yourself on Jaehyun’s passenger seat as the two of you drive to the nearest store to purchase some alcohol— You and Jaehyun seem like the only person sober enough to walk and drive your way outside the comforts of your home. You felt really comfortable around him, he hasn’t made a move on you or anything, and you think that maybe it’s because he already had a girlfriend and is faithful to their relationship.

 “Why didn’t you bring your girlfriend with you?” you asked just to start a conversation. “You knew?” he asked you while throwing you side glances, you nod your head yes. “It’s kind of complicated, plus, we're not official.” He continued which made you shocked, he was being open with you shockingly. “What? Why?” for some reason, it made you really curious. He gives you a heartily chuckle “It’s complicated.” You only nod.

 When you came back to your flat, you and Jaehyun were left to sit together, Mark and Haechan were completely out of it, while Joy and Irene are having a conversation with Jisung and Chenle. It’s nice to see them conversing with each other. Johnny was busy preparing the drinks with Yuta, Taeyong, and Seulgi, while the others are setting up the karaoke on your flat screen Tv hanged on your living room’s wall.

 You thought that was the last time you’ll see Jung Jaehyun, or you thought that was the last time you’ll be together in the same room as well as be at the same table together. You forgot that you both have classes together, that you’re practically in the same department, you honestly forgot that you’re both in the same circle of friends.

 You’ve been closer with the guys as time goes by, they were nothing like the people from your High school, they were honestly cool to be with, it just that, they like to unwind sometimes, and that “sometimes” means every Friday of the week, unwinding with drinks and such. This time, Jaehyun was the host, and Jungwoo together with Taeil managed to dragged and convinced you out of girlfriend nights. You have been hanging out with them more than usual and you were getting closer with Jaehyun, particularly, you keep on looking for him at gatherings and he kept on looking out for you. There was an unspoken mutual understanding between the two of you, you know it was wrong, even if you find yourself giddy and happy when he messages you or when he calls you before you go to bed when the two of you meet in between subjects just to eat together. You knew you were repeating the same mistakes as you did with Jungkook, and you can’t help but fuck yourself because everything is wrong at the same time feels right. How screwed can you get? Why do you always choose temporary happiness over a peace of mind?

 That night, when most of the guys left to go home and some of them left to smoke outside, you find yourself alone with Jaehyun in his living room. You poured him and yourself a shot, the guys were surely taking their time outside. “One-shot.” You tell him and you both down the tequila in seconds, hissing at the taste burning your throats. You stared at him, thinking that you have to start distancing yourself from him, you don’t want to ruin what he had with his girl. Your stomach turns just by thinking about the possibilities of ruining someone else’s relationship. You were better than that.

 You move your gaze away from him, you were about to pour another shot when you felt Jaehyun’s warm hand on your neck pulling you closer. You felt his warm lips on yours, it was sweet and warm, burning you within, but the taste was anything but sweet— you tasted the tequila out of his lips as he licks your bottom lip that got you responding to him, you closed your eyes and find yourself fucking your boundaries for him. You wrap your arms around his neck as he pulls you closer by the waist, rubbing small circles on your skin. You break the kiss as you put your forehead on his, trying to catch your breath. He was about to kiss you again when you move your face away from him, trying to put some distance away from him. “Did I do something wrong?” you heard him saying. You wipe the smudged lipstick on your skin below your lips as you face him. “Jaehyun, you’re not completely single.” You said. “But I’m not in a relationship either, I told you months ago, it was complicated.” He sits beside you properly, a hand clamped together as you look at him.

 “Jaehyun, this is non-negotiable. I don’t want to ruin someone’s relationship.” You say, and Johnny walks in. you poured yours and Jaehyun’s shot glass clicking with his before downing it in one go. If Johnny felt the thick air between the two of you, he doesn’t comment on it.

 You choose to forget what happened when all of the guys started walking back inside. Started conversing with Johnny about this student in your department that got kicked out of the university because of some issues. You got your self a couple of drinks before standing up to head to the bathroom, but since it was your first time at Jaehyun’s house you ask him where it was, plus Lucas was incredibly taking his time in the bathroom so Jaehyun leads you to his room instead. “Just use mine, Lucas is taking forever.” He said. You nod and head for the bathroom in his room. His room was surprisingly clean and very much boyish in your opinion, the walls are painted blue, his bed covers are white and was neatly done, the cabinets are on the side while a bunch of basketball trophies is beside his computer.

 When you were done with his bathroom, you find him sitting at the end of his bed, browsing his phone while waiting for you. “I thought you already went down,” you said. Jaehyun looks up at you. “Can I look at your trophies?” you asked him and as he walks to you and standing beside you to look at his achievements during his High school days.

 “Wait, you went to Santa Clara?” you asked him. “So, you know, Jeon Jungkook?” you asked shocked at the information when he said as small “Yes. Why?”

 You shook your head and muttered nothing. “We went with some tune-up games in the past, but I know him, he and his group keep on hitting on our cheerleaders it was kind of funny.” He says to you and you laughed. “What’s new, but— wow, what a small world.” “Oh, that’s right he graduated from St. Vincent, right?” you turn your head at him and you see Jaehyun looking at you while waiting for your answer, you only nodded your head, not having the gusto to talk about Jeon Jungkook at the moment. You felt Jaehyun’s hands circling around your wrist, turning your body against him making you look up to him.

 You were completely drawn to him, from the way he pulls you closer by the waist, the way he lifts your head as he put his other hand to your face, he has you completely wrapped around his fingers. You felt his lips doing wonders to you and this time you let him kiss you. You find yourself wrapped around him for the second time. “Jaehyun—”

 “Hmm.” You felt him deepened the kiss as he pulls you impossibly closer, hips to hips pressed together and you hated how right it felt. “We need to go down.” you tried to push him away but he won't budge. Jaehyun, slips his thumb just above the exposed skin on your hips, rubbing small circles that got you moaning “If you haven’t noticed, I’m actually crazy for you right now.” He says under his breath and you felt warm all over. Jaehyun has his brows furrowed, his expression as if he was hurting all over the place, and you laugh at him. “Fine, I’ll spend the night here.” You hear yourself saying and Jaehyun only pulled you closer for a hug.

 When the night ended, Jaehyun tells the guys that he’ll be the one to give you a ride and no one suspects it— agreeing to him and biding the two of you goodbye while the two of you cleaned up the living room. Moments after, you find yourself having second thoughts about staying the night with him. You know this will only lead to you on Jung Jaehyun’s bed. “Do you want to go home?” he asks you as if reading your mind, and you shook your head. “But can we go grab some late snacks? I’m kind of hungry.”

 The both of you drove to McDonald's and ordered some take-outs, Jaehyun drove to a good spot and parked his car, handing you your orders after putting on some good music— fit for the atmosphere. “Ohhh, this is actually good, huh.” You say while smiling at him. Jaehyun put your drinks in the cupholder between the both of you and handed you some tissues after. The warm feelings are back and you hate to admit that he gives you butterflies in your stomach.

 “I mean, this could be our thing, y/m.”

 You didn’t comment on that. Digging into your burger as a distraction to the strange sensation that you kept on feeling. You were quietly eating your food while having mixed feelings about him. you know this familiar feeling— you’re not stupid enough not to know your catching feelings and that you’re starting to fall in love again.

 When you finished up, you turn your body towards Jaehyun, deciding to confess, it’s better to be turned down than to keep on catching feelings for someone who isn’t going to return it at all. It’s not like you to be so brave, in the past, you always wait and that was the problem. You wait until the opportunity slides away from your fingers— from you. Deciding to risk everything this time, you braced yourself for the rejection.

 “Jaehyun.” You started and he turns his head towards you. “You know, I like you, right?” you continued. “You’re not stupid and you know there is something going on with the both of us.” Silence feels inside his car to the point it got so thick you can even cut it with a knife. “I may sound like a bitch but you have to choose between me and her.”

 “Remember when I told you on your birthday that my relationship with her is complicated?” you nodded your head. “I wasn’t lying about it. We’ve known each other for a while and it’s been eight months that time when I wanted to take our relationship to another level.” Hearing him talk about some other girl and the fact he wanted to make their relationship official hurts you in so many ways possible. You find yourself nodding at him as you ignore the lump in your throat. “But she won’t even admit that she likes me, not even one “Thank you” for all the effort I’ve given her, I understand that saying she loves me is a different level, it’s an understatement, but you know, I’m just someone who also needed affections. I don’t understand her for being so high maintenance.”

 “I actually talked with her personally this morning.” He continued. “Was that the reason why you’re absent?” you asked mad over the fact that he was absent for some uncalled reason. “Okay, let me finish before you get mad at me, baby.” You hate how endearing that sounded but you let him talk anyways. “I told her, I was done waiting and that I was sorry that I didn’t keep my promise.”

 “You actually courted her?” you asked and he nods. “Yeah, she is high maintenance and stupid.”

 “And you know what she replied? She says that she’ll say yes to me if that will make me stay or shut my trap, even, you know how the thought of actually agreeing to that one person to be together was gone just for the benefit of the doubt? She should have said yes from the beginning, I don’t have issues with waiting, I waited for almost a year, I know I can do it again, but not like this.” He moves his hands in the air just to set his point. “Was it my fault that I fell out of love?” He asks you and you turn your head away from him, guilty with the fact you are the reason he fell out of love with her. “Y/n, just give me time, I don’t even need that much.” He says and you nod your head.

 When both of you got back to Jaehyun’s flat, it was already midnight, Jaehyun handed you his white clean shirt and boxer shorts to change in to. Giving you some privacy that you needed while he brushes his teeth downstairs. So many things have been running through your mind for the past hour, Jaehyun didn’t turn you down but he didn’t say that he likes you back, either. So where do you stand in his life? You should have gone home; you didn’t want the same mistakes you did in the past to be repeated, but you were tired of waiting and beating around the bush.

 Confessing to Jung Jaehyun that you liked him first made you feel naked around him, having your feelings out in the open. When Jaehyun walked in you were still dazed, thousand of thoughts running through your mind. This wasn’t the first time that you’ve to spend the night with him having sleepovers at Johnny’s or the others but this was definitely your first time spending the night with him.

 It wasn’t an issue for you to sleep beside him since you already confessed, anyway. And in no time, you slip off to dreamland instantly, shocked at how comfortable you are with having his arms around you as you drifted off to dreamland.

 You stir in your sleep when you felt Jaehyun’s hands all over your upper body as he peppers your neck with wet kisses. you fight the sleepiness and look at his nightstand to see that it’s only been two hours when you drifted off to sleep. “Jae, It’s only three in the morning. Can’t you do this later?” you asked as you fight the sleep in your eyes. You felt Jaehyun’s hands hover around your left mound, squeezing it slightly and you look at him fully. “You agree on doing this later?” he asks out of breath.

 “You expect me to fall asleep when you’re on my bed in my clothes?” he whispered in your ear and you moan when his fingers slip in your undies— rubbing circles in your clit. “Already this wet?” Jaehyun continued his ministration on you, adding another finger inside you while he kisses you on the lips. You felt him retract his fingers away and you were about to protest when you felt him lift your shirt just below your chin, your mounds completely in view and ready to be played with. His hands went back on your thighs as he separated your left leg from the other, urging you to open your legs more. His fingers are back on your clit, drawing small circles that made you clenching on nothing. Jaehyun frowned when he felt your walls incredibly tight when he inserted two fingers at a time. “Baby, so fucking tight.”

 Jaehyun throws his shirt over his head and helped you undress, completely impatient, and you tried palming him just to get a reaction. You heard him grunt lowly, shocked at how big he is when Jaehyun got rid of all the clothing. “That won’t fit on me.”

 “Where’s your casual bravado at?” he asks as he pulls you to his lap. You look anywhere but him as your cheeks started to flush. “Don’t tell me— are you a virgin?” you nod your head at him as you felt his cock stood out more to the revelation. “Fuck, well take it slow, baby.” Jaehyun guided you to his lap as you ride him, moving your hips as you coat his dick with your juices. You have your bottom lip trap between your teeth as you let his dick slide in your pussy’s lips. Feeling embarrassed but desperate you tried to push yourself back to meet his hips as you whine with the newfound sensations. You look so lewd above him riding his cock as your tits bounce from your movements, your eyes start to water from the thrill Jaehyun gives you. “I need to hear you.” Jaehyun pushes the messy strands of hair that frames your face.

 You moan at the feeling of his veiny cock sliding in between your pussy’s lips. He hums, pleased with your sounds around him, and rewards you by inserting his fingers all the way inside you, the numbers doing wonders and stinging you a bit, but it still felt better than having to clench at nothing. Jaehyun marks you up all over your neck and just above your mounds, flesh to flesh as you moan for him. He pumps his fingers in and out of you as you ride his cock continuously. He gathers you in his arms and lays you on your back, pulling your thighs against your chest, keeping your legs spread as he pushes inside you slowly, grunting. “I wasn’t planning on putting it inside, but you just feel so fucking good.”

 You cried at the stretch, slowly tearing you apart as he moves inch by inch just to be inside you fully. When he’s all the way inside of you, his breath leaves him in a shaky sigh, and he takes a couple of moments for the both of you before he started moving. You know Jaehyun was holding back, as he focusses on your breast as they bounce up and down in a humiliating manner as he pushes into you slowly for his liking, while his hands keep your legs spread wide for him, you felt embarrassed and humiliated with the way you’re positioned under him, but you can’t help every moan that escapes you as it started to feel amazing more than a while ago. The sting you felt was gone and all you can think is the pleasure that he gives you.

 “Fuck, you’re tightening up.” You turn your head to the side, trying to bury your face in the pillows around you as you hide your face from him, but Jaehyun doesn’t allow it, he bends down— his upper body draped over you, his face mere inched from yours, the new positions has his right hand pulling your right leg further upwards, thigh pressing harder against your chest. “Say it, baby. I need to hear you.” His gaze pierces through you, ordering more than asking you to obey him, and you find him looking sexier as he looks even as his skin glistens and how some strands of his hair started to stick over his forehead.

 Docilely and submissive, you answered him. “I- I want to cum, please.” You sounded so lewd; you didn’t even recognize yourself anymore. His gaze doesn’t free yours as his hips started to pick up the pace. “Do you know how hot you look right now? Spread out on my bed with nothing but my cock in you? fuck, fuck.” You started clenching around him as he put his thumb on your clit, drawing circles as you cry out his name in ecstasy.

 He fucks you through your orgasm, grunting as your walls get even tighter, making it harder for him to keep on moving inside of you but that made him ravish you more with fervor. Your orgasm feels like it will never end as he drags it out in order to reach his own high, finally, his hips stutter as he pulls out of you and pumps his dick more as he comes in your stomach and breasts.

 When he was done, he moves away from you and walks to the bathroom, you heard the faucet running and Jaehyun came out with a wet, warm towel in his hands and uses it to clean up the mess the two of you made. When he’s done, he tosses it to the side and scoops you in his arms, covering both of your naked bodies with his blanket that smells like him. He had you trap in his arms and sure it felt good to be treated like this, the feeling new to you.

 “Sleep, let’s not think about what happened for now.” He murmured and you agree. “I’m sorry.” You heard him say. You look up at him and see different emotions flickers in his eyes. “Honestly, I’ve seen this coming, I’m not usually like this but I always find myself fucking my rules just to be with you.” Jaehyun pulls you closer to him. “That’s because you liked me.” He told you before you drifted off to sleep for the second time.

 The next morning, Jaehyun give you a ride home, you— being awfully quiet after realizing everything that happened when you saw the bloodstains in his bedsheets that morning. You didn’t utter a word throughout the ride, reality downing to you one by one. Did you just sleep with a guy who wasn’t your boyfriend in the first place? When you got in the comforts of your home you smack your head for the stupidity. You knew how boys can be, and you just give Jaehyun the chance to have his way with you easily without a fight.

 When a day passed by without seeing even a shadow of Jaehyun, you sent him a message asking what was he doing. You waited for hours but you didn’t get a reply from him that day. You’ve been overthinking things and didn’t have the energy to be productive at all, you tried calling him but he wasn’t answering at all. The next day came and you checked your phone for any notification from him but there was none, you were about to get up when you heard a car honking in front of your house— you walk towards your window and there, you saw Jung Jaehyun, standing beside his car in your front yard, smiling up at you with his hands tucked inside his jean’s pockets. You ignore the raging butterflies in your stomach and hide the blush creeping in your cheeks with your hair as you give him a bashful smile in return.

 When you came down after washing up and getting ready for school, you kissed your mom goodbye saying you’re skipping breakfast and will just eat out in the café next to the University. You run to Jaehyun, his arms open and ready to catch you in his arms— and you embrace him. “Haven’t heard from you yesterday.” You push your self a little away from him to see a smile playing at his lips. “I miss you too.” He answered and for some reason, cat got your tongue.

 “It’s still early, do you want to eat out?” Jaehyun asked you when you both settle down inside his car and you nod your head after checking your wristwatch, you still have two hours to kill before your classes start, it’s Tuesday, so the both of you are packed up with your chef’s uniforms in your bags.

 “I hate cooking.” You tell no one in particular as Jaehyun started to drive away, “But you’re the top in our department.” you only give him a glance as you relax your body.

 When you arrived at the café next to your University, it was still spacious as it was still early, most of the time students would fill the room up, studying or just talking with their peers. You both settle down on the booth next to the window— Jaehyun, ever the gentlemen ordering and buying you your food. “Jaehyun, I really appreciate you spending your money on me, but next time let me pay for my own food.” You say when he came back with a tray of pastries and coffees in his hands. “Why?” he asked.

 “Because it’s your money, and we’re still students you know, we shouldn’t spend recklessly.” Jaehyun was bewildered by what you said and it was clearly written on his face. “Why?” you asked scared that you might say something wrong. “It’s just that, I was used to spending money for her even if I get to eat nothing as long as she gets hers.” He says. You felt horrified after hearing that. “No way, if you ran out of money, you say it and I’m going to pay for us, all right?”

“You sure you haven’t been in relationships?” there was a bashful smile playing at Jaehyun’s face, “No, it’s called basic manners, Jung Jaehyun.” You laughed at him. “So, I haven’t heard from you at all yesterday.” You watched as Jaehyun sipped at his iced americano— nodding at you as if you’ve stated the obvious.

“I ended everything with her, what she said doesn’t really sit on me right. I didn’t take her to be that hypocrite in the first place.” Jaehyun started. So, he was with her last night, you think, but not in the way that you think, he meets with her to cut and finish everything between them. “I just hate that every time we fought, she would always turn the tables around, guilt tripping me so I can admit that I’m wrong when she also has her mistakes in the first place. Don’t think that this happened because of you, it started happening before you even came, I don’t want you to beat yourself thinking that you ruined my relationship with her, because in the first place there’s no relationship between us.” You nod your head and all you can do is listen.

“Do you regret everything that has been happening?” you asked as you hear your heart beating rapidly inside your chest, you look at him and he did the same. “No. You happened unexpectedly, but no, I don’t regret you.” you fought the tears away, feeling the warmth and comfort inside, this has never happened to you, someone choosing you over anything, and you can’t help but tear up.

“Why are you crying? It’s not me who’s choosing you but you’re the one who is choosing me. If you haven’t noticed a lot of guys wants to be with you, so I’m really grateful that you liked me instead.” Jaehyun wiped the tears that threatening to fall down your check and pulling you close in his arms after. You put your head in his arms, everything feels surreal and if ever you are dreaming you don’t want to wake up anymore. “I really like you,Y/n.” you look up to him laughing as you cry harder, all this baggage and walls gone because of one person.  

That was the start of your relationship with Jung Jaehyun, all those crazy days and nights with him, long drives and Friday nights, eating and pigging out with him, he knows you more than the back of his hands, he knows that you get moody every month, he knew about your introverted ass, he knows that you can be basic and simple at times— you don’t expect too much of him and he does the same with you, on your first year of being together, you introduced Jaehyun to your whole family on your reunion day and they instantly love him— specially your brother and cousins. They enjoyed talking to him, and you’re honestly surprised at how welcoming you parents are to him, asking him to sleep over, Jaehyun and your brother having the same interest, playing computer games until the sun rises, His mother sending a box full of apples to your mother because he mentions that it’s your mom’s favorite.

Sometimes you get scared of breaking up with him, fighting isn’t something that the both of you can avoid, there are times the you just want to strangle him to death, but that makes everything real, being jealous and having make up sex, all those time the both of you fight for something trivial, those moments make your relationship stronger. And now you’ve been with him for the past 4 years, going steady and strong.  

“Babe, you ready?” you both settle down on his car, you just finish your final exams for this week, you and Jaehyun are up for a 2 hour long drive to get to your vacation house, most of your family are already there since this morning and the both of you have to finish your exams and classes first before joining them, you nod your head at him as he pull his jacket over his head and handing it you. Jaehyun knows that you get easily cold but you don’t want to turn the heater up and make him suffer as he tends to sweat a lot, that leads you to having his hoodies stack up in your closet.

“You have to cut your smoking off you know it’s not good for your health.” You say as you saw him scratch the back of his neck, a freshly lit stick in his mouth, when the both of you started going out you have seen him smoke a couple of times to the point that it got you curious and tried it, you have been smoking in the past but you cut it off as it was unhealthy. Jaehyun on the other hand finds it hard. “old habits die hard.” He told you once.

“You got to compromise, baby.” Jaehyun blew the smoke outside— his window rolled down and one hand on the stirring wheel, you got to admit though, your boyfriend looked hot. “Fine, what do you suggest?”

“Marry me after we graduate.” Your head snap back to look at him, as you waited for him to laugh and say that he was joking. Jaehyun throw the cigar outside reaching for the rubbing alcohol to clean his hands, you tend to hate the smell that clings to his hands whenever he smokes. You were awfully quiet, shocked at what he said, and you found yourself caught in your thoughts.

“If you promise to be with me forever, until the day that our hair turns white, then I promise to cut my smoking off.” He smiled at you, reaching for your hands that was placed in your lap as he pulls it closer to his mouth to give it some kisses. You can’t really say anything as tears started to fall one by one, you we’re just so happy that he thinks of being together with you for that long. “I know I’ve done so many things that disappoints you, but you still choose to be with me, and for that, I’m really grateful. So, I’m asking you this right now, I know we still have to graduate and we still have a long way ahead of us. And I would still have to buy you the most beautiful ring in the world. What I can give you right know is my hopeful words— promising you that I would be faithful and love you until the end, so are you going to say yes?” he asks while holding your hand.

“Yes.” the both of you laughed at the situation as you reach out to kiss him in the cheeks. “Babe! Stay seated or will get into an accident” he shouts but laughs with you.

You definitely don’t regret falling in love with Jung Jaehyun.

  Fin

[versadies]

Just throwing my two cents about this and you dont have to respond if this will make you uncomfy bc...i honestly think you don't need to apologize for that? 🤔

While I know OP has a point, and its very valid, I was also a supporter of the fact that "you can ship whoever you want AS LONG as you don't force your opinion on others and don't invalidate their own ideals and opinion. If they say no, then no." The problem of ships only lies when people force others their own opinions. I mean, everyone had their own preferences, though its a matter of right and wrong WHETHER you are going to openly admit that or not. Personally, I am not a fan of canon ships, that's why I can say this. I am on neutral ground. I don't ship Chilumi, Zhongchi or whatever there is. But if others like it, people should have not invalidate it, I think 🤔 since people are entitled of their own opinion and their own works.

I haven't read your fanfic of Chilumi to be clear, but if it has a tag "Traveler x Childe" or any indication of sort before they read it, OP should scroll down, maybe pretend you don't see it if they're uncomfortable with it, and call it a day. You are entitled on your own works, and maybe people enjoyed that particular ship idk?

I believed fiction is ALWAYS different from reality. And you writing these..."ships" doesn't define you as a person irl AS LONG as you know how to differentiate them. It was like that of yandere themes or dark contents. As long as a writer says that they doesn't support it irl (in this case, minor(?)xadult but I personally think the traveler could drink bc Zhongli's voicelines indicate as much skshwi) I supposed thats fine with fiction. AGAIN, as long as you don't force it upon others.

i'm not trying to start a fight or anything 😭😭😭 im just kind of tired seeing people tried to explain how to "invalidate"ーerr thats not the right word, but you know, try to make others dislike it?ーother ships when it was the cause of other people's happines siehwueh. What you read is your responsibility, like how writers have the responsibility to cater their contents (ie making proper tags, tw/cw, gender and stuff) so IF you did all of that, I don't think its your fault that they're uncomfy bc...its like...if you read the tag then why still read it if u know its gonna make you feel uncomfy?

People can argue with me over this fact, but I have my own opinion on this too. And like I said above, as long as you don't force others your opinion and respect their boundaries, that is fine :33

Hehe. ty for coming to my ted talk and its become so long too im sorry if it'll clout you 😭😭😭😭😭 and really, u don't have to respond to this at all :3 love ur writing btw hehehe.

my jaw dropped at how long this message was 😦😦😦

altho u also have a valid point, i just wanted to apologize to my dear mutual pollux because i didn’t want them to feel uncomfy about my post + i didn’t put any tag to it (the ship is already seen from the anon message so i didn’t think about putting any tag about it - which is a bad decision).

i would’ve put a warning/tag + keep reading option instead — but after a few mins thinking about it, i decided to delete it just to be safe and to prevent any fights happening in my blog.

pollux kindly informed me about why they alongside a few people are uncomfy and/or against the ship and asked if i could deleted it (which i did already and i apologize to the anon who asked about the ship 😰😰) so i don’t really think their intention was to change my opinion on the ship.

your explanation has also made me relieved bcuz i honestly felt scared that people might go after me (i have a fear for getting cancelled over something and getting hated) over something like this and because i agree about your words regarding ships :DDD

p.s. to those reading this: pls dont attack anon above alongside pollux regarding this matter and respect them + opinions just as how you respect my opinions as well <<3

[wienerbarnes]

Stressor

Pairing: Bucky x Reader (Cheek to Cheek)

Word Count: 2,622

Warnings: murder lol, mentions of gore/blood, mentions of rape (its described in like two sentences and theres a short non-graphic flashback, but pls pls pls message me if you dont wanna read and ill give u a sparknotes version), so theres angst but also some nice parts like bucky meditating okay

A/N: wrote this while procrastinating my art commissions but i bought my first laptop BY MYSELF after saving for months and im v excited :) lmk what yall think of this, i promise next part will be goofier/happier lol

MAIN MASTERLIST | CHEEK TO CHEEK MASTERLIST

“Shit… Fuck… Fuck! He’s gonna fucking kill me… fuck…”

The mumbles spill from your lips as you take in the scene in front of you. Puddles and puddles of blood covered the floor of your apartment, dirtying your beige tile and all the other surfaces with splatters. David lays in the middle, with about thirty-six stab wounds in his body.

When you and Bucky started the arrangement regarding your list, there were two rules you two agreed to follow - no matter what. First rule: Kills are never completed alone. You two are to complete the list together and help each other with everything that involves the person. Second rule: Bucky is to know everything about the person they’re killing. What they did to you, their name, their remaining family, where they live, what they eat for breakfast; everything. 

And here you were breaking both of those rules.

It was too good of an opportunity, you try and convince yourself. Bucky will understand, he’s always so understanding, he never yells, he’s always so nice to you; a choked sob escaped your body as your dirty hands fly to cover your face, tears flowing down your cheeks mixing with the blood now smeared across your skin.

…

TWO HOURS EARLIER

Bucky always told you to be extremely cautious when leaving the apartment. Even though it had been well over a year, almost two, since your prison escape, you never knew who could be watching. Every few weeks or so, your name pops up in the news, Whatever happened to one of the worst killers in modern history, How did she pull off such an escape from such a high security facility, Is she even still alive, etc.

But as soon as your name appears, it vanishes once more, replaced by some other injustice happening in the world.

Your feet take you inside a small bar, the musky scent intrigues you along with the copious amounts of peanut shells littering the floor. You take a seat on the stool and try not to pay attention to the fact that every single person in the room is staring at you right now. But you can’t blame them; you’ve dyed your hair a pastel pink now, body covered in baggy jeans and baby blue long-sleeved milkmaid top, a gift from Bucky. “You can’t wear that one t-shirt, that’s mine, by the way, forever.” He’d told you. Your rainbow painted toes and fingernails stand out under the dimmed lights of the place.

An older man behind the bar approaches you and places a napkin in front of you, “What can I get ya’?” You order some beer plastered on the wall because as far as you know, you’ve never even tried alcohol before, let alone know enough about it to have any kind of preference.

You take sips of the beer for a while, aimlessly watching the sports game playing on the TV, every once in a while glancing at the pool table where a group of older men play a game together. Suddenly, the stool beside you becomes occupied. You know it’s not Bucky, he doesn’t know you’re here and it’s not his cologne, but for a second you were hoping it was. A parallel to when you sat with him in that cafe all that time ago. When he bought you that apple pie and hot chocolate. I miss him…

You refuse to look over at the man sitting next to you, but you can feel his eyes blatantly staring at you. 

“So… what’s your name?” He breaks the silence and asks you. You don’t respond, simply just continue sipping away at your beer.

“My name is David.” He offers. A chill runs up your spine at the name and you look over at him. He looks so familiar… Where do I know him from? Have I seen him at the food market before? Is he Hydra? Did we go to school together? Were we in the Marines-

“Hey officer,” A deep voice curls into your ear, causing a chill to run up your spine.

“Fuck off, David. I’m trying to do my hair.” You don’t bother glancing at him in the mirror as you scoop more gel into your hands and smooth it onto the top of your head. You’ve let your hair grow to long and the strands keep sticking out of the bun, but the thought of asking any of the other women, or worse - the men, for help cutting it terrifies you. You’re still too new.

“Now, is that any way to talk to your higher up?” A large hand wraps around your middle and gropes your breast.

“I said fuck off.” A pointy elbow slams back into his chest, knocking the wind out of him.

“I’ll get you for that, just you wait. Fresh meat.”

Your body runs cold as you make the connection and you feel as though your entire body has shut down. You can feel the cold sweat gathering in your palms and your lower back. A lump forms in your throat and you want to cry; you want to scream. But something takes over, and although you feel terrified, you keep yourself composed; hide your anxiety.

“Do you want to get out of here? My place is only a few blocks away.” You ask, false sultriness dripping from your voice. David smirks at you, clearly not recognizing you from nearly a decade ago. 

He takes out some cash and places it on the bar, grabbing your beer from your hands and placing it on top, grabbing your hands after and leading you out of the bar.

…

Bucky sits on the floor of his living room, practicing his twenty minutes of meditation before bed. Alpine rubs her cheek against the bare top of his foot that’s crossed under his knee, but eventually gets bored before trotting around behind him to start climbing her way up his back. Bucky tries his best to ignore her tiny nails digging through his shirt, but can’t help but chuckle as she makes herself comfortable in the curve of his neck. “Guess meditation time is over, huh baby?” He whispers before gathering her in his hands and plopping her on his bed. He reaches down to roll up his yoga mat when he hears a silent buzzing from his kitchen.

Confused on who would be calling him this late, knowing that Sharon’s visiting a college friend over in SoHo and Sam’s on a date, he sees a number he doesn’t recognize flash on the screen. Bucky hesitates answering, but he knows telemarketers rarely call this late.

“Hello?” Bucky answers.

“B-Bucky?” Your shaky voice sounds on the other end. The sound is watery and raspy, like you've been sobbing your eyes out and screaming for hours.

“Bucky, I-I-I need y-your help… I fucked up,” Your voice is cut off by a hiccup as Bucky goes to grab his closest pair of pants to go over his boxers and he pulls on sneakers before grabbing the keys to his bike.

“Hey, sweetheart? Do me a favor and relax, okay? Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Bucky rushes out as he locks his door behind him before making his way to the staircase.

“I’m so so so sorry, Bucky… please don’t be mad at me-e… I broke t-the rules,” Choked sobs escape you and Bucky has never heard you cry like that before.

“Listen, I’m already on my way, okay? I’ll be at yours in twenty minutes, okay?” You don’t respond as Bucky listens to your crying and you eventually hang up.

Broke the rules? What does she mean by… oh. She couldn’t have… we had our next hit planned for a few days from now. Did she do someone else on the list? Bucky tries not to think too much about it until he can get to yours and figure out what’s going on, his motorcycle screaming through the quiet night.

…

You’ve been sitting in David’s blood for about an hour now. The liquid is cold, his body is cold, the phone in your hand is cold. Nice going, you’ve really done it now. Not only have you probably just cost yourself your freedom, but you’ve ruined your jeans and the top Bucky bought you. He’s going to be so mad at you; he’s going to be so mad that he’s going to have no choice but to bring you in. He’ll be laughing as the cops drag you away-

Your thoughts are interrupted by a frantic knock on your door, Bucky’s voice calling your name on the other side.

“If you don’t open the door, I’m breaking it down!” He calls. 

You slowly stand, trying not to slip in the puddle, before walking over to the door and opening it about halfway. Bucky’s eyes widen and his brows furrowed together as he looks your body up and down.

The blood on your clothes is starting to brown and you’re covered up to your forearms in blood. Splatters decorate your face, neck and hair, and your eyes are puffy from crying.

“I-I-” You begin to stutter. Bucky silently pushes his way inside to see the bloodbath waiting for him. He pushes the door closed behind him and stares at the body laying in the middle of the floor. Your knife still sits standing out of his face.

“Who the fuck is that?”

“Bu-Bucky- I can,”

“What, you-you can explain?!” Bucky snaps, turning to face you, and you’ve never seen him look at you like this. You flinch and take a half-step backwards, bumping into the door behind you.

Bucky turns back around, a flesh and silver hand running through his hair and roughly over his face.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” He begins, voice eerily even, still staring at the body. “You're going to go shower and wash all of the blood off your body. Then you’re going to make sure this apartment is spotless. I’ll take care of… him. And then we’ll talk when I get back. Are we understood?”

You can’t seem to make any words come out so you quickly make your way to your bathroom and close the door behind you softly.

You shower until the water runs cold and your skin is tinted red. Either from the blood or how hard you were scrubbing, you’re not sure, you just didn’t want Bucky to still be in your apartment when you stepped out.

It’s not that you were scared of him, because you weren’t. You knew that Bucky would never intentionally harm you, both physically or mentally. You were more angry at yourself. Bucky's done nothing but protect you; he’s kept you a secret, helped you indirectly work through your trauma, stitched you up, made you smile and laugh when you didn’t even think that was ever going to be possible for you anymore. You broke the only rules he asked of you. You disappointed him. You’ve put him in an even worse position than he’s already in by protecting your existence.

You turn the knob of the water to the right before stepping out and wrapping your fluffy yellow robe around your body, tying it at the waist. Your apartment is empty when you step out of the bathroom, Bucky nor David occupying the space. Your walk over to your sink and open the cabinet on the bottom to take out your cleaning supplies before getting to work.

…

Bucky’s calmed down significantly by the time he gets back to your apartment. He checks his phone to see that it’s almost five in the morning before reaching in his other pocket for your keys that he took off the table, slipping the key into the lock and jiggling it until pushing the door open. 

He’s not mad at you. Perhaps he was for a bit, but he realized that anger was just fear. Had anyone seen you? Did this guy do something to you? Did he recognize you and that’s why you needed to kill him? Did you kill him because you actually wanted to experience that again? He really hoped it wasn’t the last one.

You're sitting on your bed in the corner of the apartment, splatters still visible on the sheets but the floors are clean. The room doesn’t have an overpowering smell of bleach or cleaner, but there is no trace of a body here, besides the small splatters, but those can be passed off as splashes of wine. You did good.

Your feet are stretched out in front of your as your hands are planted behind your back, propping you up. Your yellow robe is tied around your waist but the edges sit high up on your thighs.

He sets your keys on your table, kicks off his shoes, and walks over to take a seat next to you.

“Did you know I was a Marine before all of this? When I was, like, eighteen?” You break the silence, still staring at the wall in front of you.

“Yes.” 

“The guy was my unit chief. He raped me twice during my first week there.” 

Bucky remains quiet as you explain, watching your face and it’s calm expression. You hesitate, opening and closing your mouth before opening it once more to continue.

“I went to some bar tonight and he hit on me. He didn’t recognize me, and… I don’t know. I thought I’d scare him or something, remind him what he’d done. But then he was here and he kept trying to feel me up even though I’d push him away. I didn’t have a plan yet. And then he snapped at me and then I snapped back…” You trailed off. 

“After I realized what happened, I panicked and I used his phone to call you.”

“I’m really sorry, Bucky.” You say, softer now. You bring your legs up to your chest, wrapping your arms around your shins.

“Okay. I forgive you.” Bucky responds after a moment.

The two of you sit in silence next to each other on the thin sheets. You’re staring at the passing cars out the window. He’s staring at your plant that’s sitting on the small night stand next to your mattress. You’ve changed out the silver tin it was sitting in to a light blue one covered in green polka dots. 

You tilt your head to meet his eyes and look away briefly before meeting them again.

“Can… Can I have a hug, Bucky?” You ask, with the smallest voice in the world, your sentence ending in a small crack.

Bucky doesn’t answer and instead scoots closer to you, wrapping his arms around your body and pulling you onto his lap, your thighs on either side of him, chests touching. His left arm wraps around your back and drags slowly up and down while his right hand rests on the back of your head, softly scratching through your still damp hair. Your hands are tucked close between both your chests and your breath fans softly against his neck where your head is tucked into. He silently breathes in your scent, the children’s strawberry soap you use mixed with a homey, warm small that’s just you. He watches out the window as the sky turns from a dark blue to a deep orange; it should be about five-thirty right about now and the morning traffic is about to start.

“There’s a ton of white cat hair on your shoulder, Buck.” He hears you whisper against him, voice slurring a bit with drowsiness, the last bits of adrenaline wearing off.

He smiles to himself and holds you until you're fast asleep, and then stays for a while after that, too.

[chroniccombustion]

Caught in the Grey (ch 2)

Genre: Trans!AU, hurt/comfort, romance, angst with a happy ending Rated: T Characters: Souji Seta (Yu Narukami), Yosuke Hanamura, Naoto Shirogane, Investigation Team, Izanagi/Shadow!Souji Warnings: depression, dysphoria, disassociation, self-hatred, implied suicide attempt, suicidal thoughts, mentions of homophobia, implied past child abuse and transphobia, canon-typical violence, mild sexual content Status: multi-chapter, incomplete

Playlist: Spotify | Youtube <- previous chapter | next chapter ->

The light has changed from dingy blue-grey to anxious pink by the time he realigns himself, creeping along the wall to spill down across the floor. There is a twisting sensation low in his stomach, a burning in the back of this throat. He runs his leaden tongue across his gums and they tingle in response. The ache is still there in every limb, echoed by a shaky feeling that makes his world feel like it’s slipping in and out of solidity.

He flips open his phone with his thumb. 7:19am the screen now reads, as well as a flashing notice from half an hour ago, proclaiming, 1 new message.

Shirogane-kun: SENPAI PLS CALL ME

Chapter 2: Been a Long Damn Day

“From the beach to the city, I been putting on a face. You’re no stranger to a mask, you ain’t lost or amazed. I been lost in a maze, been a long damn day, I been lost in a maze, been a long damn day…”

- (“Sinking”, Jeremy Zucker)

Shirogane-kun: SOUJI-SENPAI WHERE R U?

Shirogane-kun:  R U OK?

Shirogane-kun: PLS RESPOND

Shirogane-kun: SENPAI PLS I AM WORRIED

4 missed calls from Shirogane-kun

 Aibo: bro u ok? wtf happened?

Aibo: no srsly wth? what was that?

Aibo: prtnr we cant find u where did u go?

Aibo: shit the girls pageant is starting we cant leave

Aibo: not funny bro

Aibo: call me back man cmon ur freakin me out

Aibo: souji?

7 missed calls from Aibo

            14 new messages, 9 missed calls from Kanji-kun, ~*Rise!*~, Amagi Yukiko, Satanaka Chie, TEDDIE

 Souji stares down at the phone in his hand, squinting against the brightness of the screen in the pre-dawn gloom. 5:42am, it reads. Fantastic.

He shifts his weight to lean more against the side of the couch rather than the chilly wall and groans involuntarily when his entire body protests. He’s stiff, cold, and his everything is angry with him for sleeping on the floor. His uniform pants are still on from yesterday, though he has no idea just where his shirt and jacket went – or the flesh-colored bit of fabric that he wears underneath. At some point after running home in a blind, dissociative panic he knows he must have pulled them off because he remembers being shirtless before properly passing out, so, theoretically, they must be in the room with him somewhere. He doesn’t have the energy to look.

As long as his pants are still on.

As exhausted as he is, (mentally, physically, emotionally,) he knows he won’t be able to get back to sleep at this rate. He can’t work up the energy to pull out the futon or change into real pajamas, and besides, he’d just have to get right back up for school again soon after. His body aches too much to let him relax anyway.

So Souji sits there, folded over on himself in the corner between the couch and wall, and doesn’t read the slew of missed texts from his worried friends. He can’t; their escalating concern leaves a guilty stone in his stomach on top of the embarrassment he already feels. He knows they’ll be upset with him for not telling them where he is, that he’s okay, and it spikes his anxiety just thinking about it – which just makes it all the more impossible to open the rest of the texts. He’d barely made it through Naoto’s, forced himself to read Yosuke’s, before he’d had to quit.

Something else, though, is the quiet, creeping dread that has nestled into his already-anxious heart. He can’t read the rest, can’t bring himself to respond and ease their worry because he doesn’t know what to say. How can he possibly explain to his friends why he bolted like a frightened cat for seemingly no reason? They’d want to know what set him off, why it had caused such a violent reaction, and every reason Souji can think of just leads his brain deeper and deeper down the winding rabbit hole of Things He Doesn’t Want to Talk About.

How is he supposed to tell them what brought about his soul-shattering panic attack without revealing everything else?

Still. If he stays silent for too much longer then he’ll lose the window of opportunity to try and play this whole thing off as something they shouldn’t worry about. He also potentially runs the risk of one of them reporting him missing, or even just straight up going to his uncle. There is no easy way to go about handling this garbage fire of a situation and trying to think of ways to avoid it is only making everything so much worse inside his head.

Souji lolls his head back and watches the encroaching dawn slither through his windows and play across the wall across from him. It’s the only light in the room aside from his phone. Eventually, that, too, goes dark.

 The light has changed from dingy blue-grey to anxious pink by the time he realigns himself, creeping along the wall to spill down across the floor. There is a twisting sensation low in his stomach, a burning in the back of this throat. He runs his leaden tongue across his gums and they tingle in response. The ache is still there in every limb, echoed by a shaky feeling that makes his world feel like it’s slipping in and out of solidity.

He flips open his phone with his thumb. 7:19am the screen now reads, as well as a flashing notice from half an hour ago, proclaiming, 1 new message.

Shirogane-kun: SENPAI PLS CALL ME

He… wants to. Out of all his friends, Naoto would be the safest one to talk to right now. They know, and he wouldn’t have to think up some excuse as to why he fled from school the way he did. It would be… refreshing, he thinks, to finally be honest about a situation like this. (He also shamefully knows that of everyone he still owes an explanation to, he may have frightened Naoto the most. After all they’ve done for him the past two days, he owes them at least this much.)

His thumb only hesitates over the call button for a moment – just one – before he shakily presses it down. The line picks up on the second ring.

“Senpai! Oh thank god; are you alright? Where are you?’

Souji winces at the desperation in his friend’s voice. “I’m fi—“ He swallows against the dryness in this throat, hesitant to say “fine,” because he really, probably isn’t. He hasn’t been fine for days. “I’m alive,” he finally settles on. “I woke up at home but I don’t remember getting here.” There’s no point in lying, and it feels good – if only a little – to admit even the tiniest bit of weakness to someone he knows won’t use it against him.

There is a pause on the other end of the line. “You… ‘woke up’,” Naoto slowly repeats. “How long have you been there?”

“I don’t know. The whole time, I think.”

Naoto sighs and it sounds like a rush of tension being released. “Alright. Alright, it’s worrying that you do not remember, but at least you’re safe.”

There is another pause, a longer one this time, that Souji doesn’t know how to fill. When Naoto finally speaks again, their voice is tiny, quiet, sounding so very young and sad that it damn near wrenches Souji apart.

“…Senpai, you scared me. I knew something must have happened but...”

There’s no one there to see it in the dark, but Souji instinctively hangs his head, shame and guilt lashing at his chest. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

Something that sounds suspiciously like a sniffle comes over the line before Naoto vehemently says, “Don’t apologize. I know what panic can do to the mind, and I suspect you were not in complete control at the time. I just wish I could have helped.”

“You’ve already done more than enough,” he says, because it’s true.

Naoto doesn’t seem to agree. “What I have done is paltry compared to what needed to be done. I try not to make deductions about the Team anymore, but I imagine you require a great deal more support right now than a pack of makeup wipes.”

He doesn’t respond to that. He doesn’t exactly know how he can.

Naoto sighs again, this time sounding more frustrated than relieved. “I… That was invasive of me, I apologize.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not, but your patience with me is appreciated anyway.”

They go quiet for a bit, and Souji can hear faint noises in the background – rustling cloth, the creak of leather. He is reminded that it’s early-o-clock on a school day and that Naoto is probably in the middle of getting ready to leave.

“Souji-senpai?” they finally say, soft and cautious. If Souji were to have any other siblings beyond Nanako, he thinks maybe he wouldn’t mind having Naoto as family.

“I’m still here,” he answers, and it feels like a drop of warmth. He thinks he might smile if he wasn’t so drained still.

“Do you… need to talk about it? Whatever it was that happened, I mean.”

He thinks. Yes, in a way he does, if only to let Naoto in the way they deserve to be. It would be nice to get it off his chest, to have someone understand, but at the same time he doesn’t think he can. Telling Naoto – while safe – would also mean reliving the gut-dropping horror of Teddie’s words. Souji has just barely gotten purchase in the real word again, shaky as it is, and he’d rather not have that tentative stability taken away again. So he takes a breath and lets it out slowly through his nose.

“I… probably,” he says, “but I’d rather not think about it anymore.”

Naoto hums. “I understand. Sometimes it’s better that way.”

There is more shuffling. Then, “I’m terrible at this, aren’t I?”

Souji huffs – a quiet laugh that isn’t exactly a laugh but is closer than he usually gets. “I don’t think so,” he assures them. “You’re trying; that’s more than I’m used to.”

He thinks he probably shouldn’t have said that. He can’t bring himself to dwell on it right now.

A low, displeased sound comes through the earpiece, and Souji can vividly picture the stern furrow of Naoto’s brows, their lips pressed into a thin, stony line. Yeah. He really shouldn’t have said that.

Thankfully they seem to let it go (though he’s pretty sure Naoto never lets anything go and is just filing it away for later,) because the next words he hears from them are, “Did you sleep at all?”

“Uhm. A little. I think so, at least.” It certainly wasn’t long or well, but he isn’t going to mention that.

Another low, wordless sound. “Have you eaten?”

Oh.

He thinks back to the way his stomach had purged itself the day before last, how he’d been too dead inside to eat breakfast or even pack lunch yesterday. No wonder his body feels weak and shaky, his skull tight behind his eyes.

He swallows. “I… no. Not since… no.”

“Senpai.”

“I think… I might need to stay home today,” he whispers sheepishly. He feels like a child facing down the disapproving stare of an older sibling – which throws him a little since Naoto is younger than he is. He can’t tell if it’s comforting or just plain unsettling. Maybe a little bit of both.

“Do you want me to tell the others you have food poisoning?”

He startles. “That…” He clears his throat to try and regain himself. He’s surprised by how easily Naoto is able to handle this, how quickly they volunteer to cover for him. He hates that he’s surprised. He thinks Naoto would hate that he’s surprised as well.

“You’d do that?” he whispers, unable to hide the slight tremble of grateful awe.

Naoto’s voice is kind, gentle like warm water on an aching body when they say, “I’ll tell them whatever you need me to, Senpai, and nothing else.”

Souji makes a sound that he’s pretty sure is wet and mildly hysterical. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, Senpai. I mean that truly.”

He lets out a long, slow breath, careful not to do so directly into the phone, and lets the feeling of something safe and grateful and happy wash over him; like a place to rest when exhaustion peaks, or the warmth of a fire chasing away cold misery. Or, he thinks with a tiny smile, the glowing, sparkling, champagne-fizzy feeling that a bond sends zinging through his veins whenever its rank has risen.

Comfortable quiet reigns as the rank up run its course.

All too soon though, reality returns and through the phone speaker there comes a clock chime from somewhere in the background. Naoto makes a muffled sound as they apparently take their phone away from their ear for a moment.

“Do I need to let you go?” Souji asks when it seems like Naoto can hear him again.

They sigh. “Possibly. Will you be alright?”

He pauses. Aside from how shitty he feels due to lack of proper sleep and no food for two days, he feels… lighter. The anxiety from before has calmed somewhat now that he no longer has to drag his protesting body to school and face down his friends. “Yeah,” he says, and it’s nice to find that he means it. “I’ll be alright. I’ll…” he huffs – the faintest hint of a chuckle, “…spend the day recovering, probably.”

Naoto hums again. “Good, do that.” A beat of silence. Then, “Thank you for calling me, Senpai. If you hadn’t I was planning on coming by your house after school.” They make an odd noise that Souji thinks might be an audible expression of discomfort. “I would have done so yesterday, to be honest, had Kashiwagi-sensei not hauled us all off to change for the beauty pageant.”

Oh hell. He’d forgotten about the second pageant. He winces as he realizes just how awful it must have been for his friends – Naoto especially. “I am so sorry,” he says, his voice a rush of breath. “I shouldn’t have run out on you like that; after everything you did for me, I should have stayed to support you—“

But Naoto cuts him off. “Senpai, it’s alright. Panic and the mind, remember? Don’t apologize.” They make the noise of discomfort again, and Souji thinks he can almost hear the way Naoto’s face scrunches up when they deeply dislike something. “Obviously I survived, though it was… unpleasant,” they say, tone flat and unamused. “I won.”

“Oh my god.”

“Yes, I would like very much for that to never happen again to either of us.”

There is a muffled voice on Naoto’s end of the line and Souji hears what might be a hand covering the receiver. Naoto says something in return, though Souji doesn’t catch it. A few seconds pass before Naoto returns. “I’m afraid I have to leave now, Senpai. Would it be alright for me to text you during lunch to check on you?”

Souji feels the edges of his mouth stretching upwards, just slightly. He can’t remember if he’s ever smiled as much as he has in recent months. “If you want to,” he replies. “I’ll be okay, though; I just need to eat something.”

“Please do.” A sigh. “Take care, Senpai.”

“You, too.”

Naoto makes one last short noise of affirmation before the line disconnects and Souji is left to stare down at the call’s time stamp on his dimly glowing screen. 7:38. He’ll be late if he wants to try and make it to school.

He isn’t going to.

Looking up at the room around him he is surprised to find the morning light has started to fill it properly – more gold now than blue or pink. It’s brighter than yesterday, when it was a pale, sickly yellow reflecting the way his body felt like lead and his head like poison. He stretches his arms upwards, grunting as several things pop. Maybe today will be better, he thinks; maybe his mind got its fill of blackness over the past 48 hours and will leave him alone today.

Deciding that a good place to start would be finally acknowledging how empty his stomach is, Souji pulls himself to his feet and braces himself against the back of the couch as the waves of dizziness roll over him. He lets them pass, then pushes off the couch, shaky and weak. He’s glad it sounds like no one else is home – he’d hate to try and explain why he was hugging the wall on his way down the stairs. He steels himself, plants his weight on the balls of his feet as best he can, and slowly starts to make his way down towards the kitchen.

He only pauses once for breath at the bottom of the stairs, taking the opportunity to change his newest friend’s name in his phone from “Shirogane-kun” to “Naoto”. 

He feels along the bond of the Wheel of Fortune arcana and smiles at the newfound strength glowing back at him.

---

Souji expects school the next day to be an awkward affair, and to some degree it is. Thankfully no one outside the IT seemed to really notice his terrified escape two days prior; or, at least, no one outside his friend group says anything. He does, however, catch a few whispers floating around as he passes certain groups of people – whispers that sound suspiciously like they’re about the cross dressing pageant and how “good” he looked on stage, usually from tight clusters of giggling girls or between the odd pair of jittery-looking guys. He does his best not to listen.

The real unease, though, sets in when he slips into his seat in the classroom and Yukiko, Chie, and Yosuke – who is here early for once – all turn to look at him. He tries to give them a reassuring smile but it feels just as forced as it actually is. Yosuke especially seems unconvinced.

Luckily the teacher walks in just as Souji feels the back of his head starting to smoke from how intensely Yosuke is staring, so he’s spared having to face his partner just yet.

Unluckily, this just means that by the time lunch rolls around, Yosuke wastes no time in poking Souji’s shoulder to get him to turn around. Slowly, Souji does so, and fixes his best friend with a shaky half-smile. He’s so tired of his nerves running at full capacity.

“Hey,” he says, a little less steady than he’d like.

Yosuke raises a brow at him. “Hey, yourself. What the hell, man? Why didn’t you text me back?”

Besides them, Yukiko nods in agreement and Chie opens her mouth to join the conversation.

Souji doesn’t wait for her to speak. “Did Naoto tell you what happened?” It’s partially a stalling tactic – something he hates being so good at anymore – and partially to see what they think went down so that he can build a believable story off it. Naoto had messaged him during lunch the day before, as they said they would, and given him a rundown of the excuse they had spun for him, but he doesn’t want to just play off that. Yosuke is too observant for his own good sometimes, and his ego is fragile enough that Souji knows he’ll need to be extra careful when trying to lie his way around his best friend’s suspicion.

It’s Yukiko that answers. “Naoto-kun said you went home because you weren’t feeling well, and that was why you weren’t at school yesterday.” She tilts her head, dark eyes narrowing in concern. “But you disappeared so suddenly! You seemed fine before.”

“Yeah,” Chie exclaims, nodding vigorously. “One minute you were in the classroom with us and the next you were just gone!”

“And tearing down the hallway like the building was on fire. Seriously, bro, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you move that fast.” A flicker of worry passes over Yosuke’s face before it settles back into the oddly pinched look he’s been wearing. He stares at Souji with creased brows and a downturned mouth. “And apparently you just left? You didn’t even stay to see the girls! I woulda thought you’d at least wanna cleanse your eyes after seeing Kanji in a dress.”

Souji feels his face turn stony. When Chie makes a noise of offence and smacks Yosuke in the back of the head, Souji makes no move to intercept.

Instead, he chooses to look at Yukiko when he speaks, as though he’s answering questions in turn. “I was fine for a while.” He has enough to work with, he thinks. Maybe. Naoto has laid the groundwork for him to (hopefully) weasel his way out of this without too many roadblocks. He chooses a middle path between lying (he doesn’t like lying to friends now that he has them) and the truth (because no, no, not in a million years, no) and works the half-truths through a set of carefully constructed loopholes. He’s become far too good at loopholes.

He tugs at his own expression until it resembles something sheepish. His nerves help it look more real. “I made the mistake of not eating anything yesterday because I was nervous.” (Not a lie.) “Naoto actually found me in the bathroom… throwing up stomach acid.” (Also not a lie, as long as he doesn’t tell them when Naoto found him in the bathroom.) He looks away and rubs at a spot just behind his ear. He’s aware that it makes him look embarrassed – which is fine – but it also gives him an excuse not to keep eye contact.

Chie and Yukiko both make sounds of distress, talking at him and over each other in their concern and he thinks he may have managed to fool them. He glances at Yosuke and, yeah, no, that’s not convincement looking back at him.

“So you bolted cuz you had to go throw up?” Yosuke asks, his voice thinly tinted with disbelief.

Lay it thicker, maybe I can shock him into buying it.

Souji nods. “I’m sorry I worried you,” he says to all of them, but directly at Yosuke to make sure his partner feels special here. He stifles a grimace at how manipulative he has to be – how much of a coward he knows he’s being. He hates this. “I screwed up and made myself sick. By the time I got home I was in such bad shape that all I could do was lay down and pass out. I didn’t even wake up until yesterday morning.”

Again, it’s not technically a lie, even if he more disassociated than “passed out,” and he doesn’t actually remember anything from his panic attack. He’s aware that when the story gets around to the kohai, Rise will likely blame herself for insisting he participate in the pageant. A tiny peek over at Yukiko and Chie’s faces tells him that they’re feeling a little guilty, too. He hates this. He hates it.

And he especially hates the tiny little piece of him that whispers, “good.”

Trying to swallow the guilt in his own gut, Souji places his hands on his knees and bows low in his seat. It’s the last card he can play without despising himself entirely, and the final touch to what he hopes is a believable enough story.

Chie says something to him that Souji only barely listens to, while Yukiko puts a hand to her mouth and gives him a look like a sad puppy as he slowly sits up. Yosuke, however, seems unsure. His mouth is open slightly like he wants to say something, and he looks torn between worry and confusion.

Deflect. Distract.

Souji puts on a self-depreciating smile. “I’m really sorry, Partner,” (because he knows Yosuke is weak to the nickname), “I left right after Naoto found me. I would have said something but I was afraid I’d have to answer to Kashiwagi if she caught me trying to leave.” He twists his face into something that might be a non-verbal “yikes.”

And that’s what does the trick.

Yosuke’s expression switches to a more exaggerated version of Souji’s own. “Oh god. Smart thinking, man, she probably would’ve made you stay even if you’d throw up on her.” He shudders. “Her in a swimsuit is gonna haunt my nightmares forever.”

Souji actually balks at that. “Swimsuit?” has asks, genuinely aghast as he looks to Chie for confirmation. Oh. Well hell, now he feels even worse for leaving Naoto to their fate the other day.

Chie nods. “Yeah, we had to go up there in swimsuits and dresses and everything. It was humiliating.”

The way Souji’s face contorts in unbridled, empathetic discomfort is completely real and completely involuntary. “I am so sorry.”

Yukiko looks at him, puzzled. “Why? You didn’t sign us up.” She and Chie both shoot Yosuke a look that could curdle blood.

“Oh come on!” Yosuke sputters in response. “It couldn’t have been that bad.”

Something tightens in Souji’s chest and, not for the first time, he wishes he had the courage to shut Yosuke’s bullshit down. But he doesn’t, so he doesn’t, and the trickle of self hate from earlier drips just a little bit faster.

Souji bites down hard on the inside of his cheek.

 “At least everything you wore was meant for girls,” Yosuke is saying, holding his hands up as though trying to placate a snarling dog. It seems to be going about as well as expected.

He turns his head to shoot Souji a look that says ‘back me up’ but Souji simply raises an eyebrow at him. He might not be brave enough to tell his best friend off for being a prick, but he also has no desire to get pulled into the hole Yosuke is digging right now.  

Yosuke seems to understand that Souji isn’t going to help him, because his face is distinctly paler when he turns back to the girls and says, “You wanna talk humiliating, us guys had it so much worse in drag!”  

Wrong move.

Yosuke lets out a squawk as the girls rightfully begin to tear into him like feral cats; Chie with her fist and Yukiko with words like daggers. Souji lets it happen.

Silently, he digs out his bento and tries very hard not to be bitter. About the way Yosuke’s words leave a weird hot-stinging sensation in Souji’s chest, about how no one seems inclined to apologize for signing him up for the pageant; just… everything.

He squashes the thoughts back down before they can affect his outward expression. It’s fine, it’s okay, everything is okay; he doesn’t feel childishly irritated over the whole damn situation. He just wants the subject dropped.

“I should go apologize to the others,” he says as he stands. No one seems to really hear him, but Yukiko does spare him a nod as he passes. Chie is too busy digging her knuckles into Yosuke’s scalp to notice him leaving.

He heads out the door, bento in hand, and starts in the direction of the stairwell. He really does plan on apologizing to Kanji and Rise at some point today – and Teddie, too, of course, though Souji stills feels shaky at the thought of talking to him just yet – but for now he really just wants to find Naoto. He hopes they like onigiri; out of all his friends, Naoto is the only one he hasn’t yet had a chance to make lunch for, and food will be a good way to start thanking them properly now that the chaos has mostly died down.

It definitely doesn’t have anything to do with Souji finding his own appetite gone for the third time in several days.

---

Lunch with Naoto is a welcome break from the tension of his own classroom. He tries to apologize in person – because it’s more polite than over the phone – but Naoto doesn’t let him. Instead, they wave away his attempt with a light flush on their face and pull down their cap to hide it. It doesn’t quite work. Still, the air between the two of them is surprisingly easy to breathe and Souji feels the last of the jitters drain from his limbs.

They talk a bit. It isn’t for very long, since Souji had spent the first third of the lunch period spinning his not-story for Chie, Yukiko, and Yosuke, but the conversation is easier than he’s used to and he realizes with a kind of happy warmth that it’s because he isn’t having to hide. He doesn’t need to keep his voice in check, keep it purposefully low and quiet, so he’s actually able to talk a little more than he usually does and not worry what will happen if he lets his vocal chords do as they want. He’s practiced for years at this point, anyway, so the danger is minimal, but sometimes, sometimes his throat starts to hurt when he tries for a tone just the wrong side of comfortable.

He’s even managed to regain some of his appetite by the time the end of lunch rolls around and together, he and Naoto make a decent-sized dent in the humble bento. (It turns out that, yes, Naoto does in fact like onigiri, and that the seasoned rice with tuna is their unexpected favorite.) Naoto thanks him but he turns the tables and waves their thanks away in a similar fashion to what they’d done with his apology. They part with plans to spend lunch together again before the week is over and Souji finds he’s wearing the same small, genuine smile that only seems to come out because of Naoto.

He’s almost late getting back because he actually runs into Rise on the way to his classroom and takes the opportunity to apologize to her, too. She does start to blame herself, just like he thought she might, but a well placed smile that he knows makes her blush and a few words of reassurance have her giving him a watery smile in return. He makes it back just in the nick of time with one more friendship smoothed over.

The second half of the day is… interesting. Things seem to have gone back to relatively normal between him and Yukiko and Chie. Chie asks him how it went right before the teacher walks in and Souji flashes her a quick thumbs up. She grins.

No, everything is fine with the girls; it’s Yosuke that appears to still have issues. On any other day his best friend would be poking him in the back with the top of a pencil, tapping him in the side with a note he was passing, whispering snarky commentary about something one of their teachers says, but today…

Souji wants to ask just how badly Chie knuckled him, but he thinks that may be the least of the reasons why Yosuke isn’t interacting like he normally does. A lump forms in Souji throat that refuses to go away no matter how many times he tries to swallow it down.

It takes forever but the final bell eventually rings and, nervous as he is about, well, everything anymore, Souji slides around in his seat to give his partner a smile. He tries to make it as real as he can, calling on all the good things he feels about Yosuke and tucking his earlier frustrations away for the time being. As much of an ass as Yosuke can be, he’s still Souji’s best friend, and Souji would very much like that dynamic back now, if possible. He misses normal.

Just as he opens his mouth to ask if Yosuke wants to walk home together, the other boy stands and slings his bag over his shoulder. Yosuke hurries out of the room, only pausing briefly to turn around and walk backwards while flashing Souji a grin that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“I gotta get ready for work, I’ll see ya later, Partner!” And then he’s dashing out the door with one last, “I’m glad you’re better, dude!”

It hurts a bit, like a bruise he accidentally smacked that now throbs a dull rhythm. But, he supposes he might deserve it after the scare he gave everybody, and it wouldn’t surprise him if Yosuke were still upset about Souji not letting him know he was alright. He also can’t actually say his partner doesn’t have an after-school shift, so in the end Souji resigns himself to that little spark of pain and vows to text Yosuke later before he goes to bed. Maybe he’ll bring another lunch to share tomorrow. Just to be safe.

He stays and talks to Yukiko and Chie for a few minutes before Yukiko remembers that she has to go help set up for a large business dinner being held at the inn that night. Chie offers to walk with her and Souji bids them both farewell.

The biggest surprise of the day, however, is finding Kanji waiting by his shoe locker, looking more than a little trepidatious.

At first Souji thinks it’s about his disappearing act the other day; after all, Kanji is the only schoolmate he still owes an apology to. (Teddie is, again, a different matter altogether.) So Souji puts on the appropriate facial expression and readies himself to repeat the story one more time.

“Kanji, hi,” he says, nodding when his friend looks up at his approach.

Kanji stands up straighter from where he’s been leaning against he side of the lockers, but he keeps his arms across his chest like a shield. “H-hey, Senpai.” He looks away and doesn’t say anything more.

Taking that as his cue to start, Souji politely tilts his head and puts on the familiar sheepish expression. “I should apologize—“

“You busy right now?”

Souji blinks stupidly. He closes his mouth with a quiet ‘click’ and takes a second to recover from being cut off and thrown wildly off-balance.

Kanji flushes. “Sorry, Senpai, I just…” He clears his throat and looks back up, shoulders squaring. “I gotta talk to somebody about somethin’ and you’re kinda the only person I trust with it.”

Souji’s eyes go impossibly wider. He feels his brows somewhere up near his hairline and absently wonders where his perfect control over his own face went. “I…” he starts, still not entirely reoriented. He quickly switches gears and tries to tuck the confusion away to make room for Friend Mode. “O…kay?”

Well. It’s something. He clears his throat and stars again, the smallest of frowns creeping along his mouth. “Is everything alright? You know I’ll help in any way I can.”

Kanji gives him nothing but a stiff nod and poorly concealed nerves.

Souji keeps a tight leash on his expression. “Okay, well, let me get my shoes and we can walk together?” he tries. He not sure if he should be anxious or not but whatever Kanji needs him for, Souji knows that he’ll at least feel more at ease somewhere further away from school.

“Oh!” Kanji startles a little and steps far enough back that Souji can get to his locker. “Right. Sorry.”

Five minutes later sees them passing through the school gates, side by side in silence.

Without a clear destination, Souji simply steers them towards the floodplain. If the little seating area is free then that’s where he plans to take them; it’s a familiar enough place that he feels comfortable talking there, but also has plenty of open air so he can make a hasty – but polite – escape should he need to. He doesn’t like that his first reactions to half his friends these days have been self-debates on whether or not he can outrun them.

Kanji keeps fidgeting as they walk, like his fingers are tracing out knitting patterns to keep his mind busy. Souji doesn’t know if he’s ever seen Kanji so jittery when Naoto wasn’t nearby for his friend to sweat over. Their mutual crush is adorable in how obvious it is to everyone but them and Souji hopes one of them will make a move some day. They would make a good couple.

Matchmaking aside, Souji wonders if maybe he should try his apology once more – if only to break the cacophonous silence. He’s had more than enough silence from his own parents, thanks; he doesn’t like it from his friends.

The thought cuts a deep path through Souji’s chest and he grinds his teeth against it, though the pain is an old one and he’s long since grown accustomed to it. It’s been a while since his mind has turned to that particular dark corner.

(He tramples another thought before it can fully form – one that seems hell-bent on comparing certain old hurts with the newer ache of Yosuke apparently avoiding him.)

“I owe you an apology,” he says suddenly, his voice a bit too loud in his own ears. He turns his head to catch Kanji twitching like he’s been startled before looking over at Souji in confusion.

“Huh? What for?”

Souji keeps his features carefully schooled. “For what happened after the pageant. Running off and not telling anyone where I went.” He tilts his head and does not frown. “Freaking everyone out?”

“Oh, that.” Kanji rubs at the back of his neck. “I appreciate it, but you don’t gotta apologize to me, Senpai. Naoto and Rise both already filled me in.” He pauses to give Souji a long, appraising look. “How’re ya feelin’, by the way?”

That catches Souji off guard. It seems Kanji is just exceptionally good at that today. “I’m alright,” he says honestly. Once more, he avoids the word “fine” because that, to him, would imply more than just physical alright-ness and he just… doesn’t want to think about that anymore.

Kanji seems satisfied with his answer and turns back to watching the world in front of them. “Can’t say I wasn’t worried, ‘specially after seeing you bookin’ it down the hallway like that, but I figured you’d let someone know eventually.” He shrugs. “And if you didn’t me an’ Naoto were gonna go check out your house after school today.”

Souji actually chuckles at that, breath stuttering past his lips to form the sound. “So they told me.” He lets one corner of his mouth tug upward as he catches Kanji’s eye again. “Thank you. And I am sorry.”

Kanji flushes and looks away. “Nah, ‘s nothing.”

The rest of the walk is significantly less tense after that.

Subsequently, it’s also shorter than it had seemed a few minutes ago. They arrive not long after and Souji takes it upon himself to sit down and fold his hands over the tabletop, leaving Kanji to lean his hip against the opposite corner.

Well, here goes.

“Alright,” he says, taking a deep breath to steady himself. “What can I do to help?”

Kanji snorts, but it’s neither derogatory nor mirthful. He doesn’t look at Souji as he crosses his arms back over his chest. “Ain’t really somethin’ I need help with so much as I just need to... get it off my chest, ya know?” He frees one hand and makes a sharp, vague gesture near where his heart is. “I can’t keep it in anymore; I gotta tell somebody or I’m gonna go crazy and… well, I figured you’re the safest bet...”

Souji’s expression melts into something soft, warm, amiable. “Well thank you,” he says, genuinely a little touched, only for Kanji’s entire face to go cinnamon-red.

Kanji makes a noise of frustration, scrubbing furiously at his hair to hide his burning cheeks before just giving up and turning so that Souji is now staring at his back. “Damnit, that wasn’t—! UG.” He takes a moment to gather himself; Souji gives it to him. Eventually Kanji lets out a heavy breath and straightens up once more. He makes no move to turn around.

“Look, Senpai, you… You’ve always accepted me, yeah? You never treated me like I was some kinda delinquent or, or whatever Yosuke-senpai fuckin’ thinks I am—“

“Of course I wouldn’t,” Souji says, low and dark and steely. He feels the bitterness and self-dislike bubbling up from their deep-seated pools. Kanji is a good person – rough around the edges, yes, but still just a kid like the rest of them and a genuinely kind one at that. Souji hates how afraid he’s been of jeopardizing Yosuke’s opinion of him, of how he’s been too much of a coward to stand up for his younger friend and make Yosuke apologize for his homophobia. A team is only as good as its leader and Souji must really be a poor leader if he can’t even stop his own lieutenant from being a jerk.

It’s not just that you’re afraid of losing him as a friend, his mind whispers. You’re afraid of him finding out.

Souji glues his tongue to the roof of his mouth and clamps down on the horrible way his chest constricts.

Luckily Kanji is still facing away from him. “Y-yeah,” he agrees, oblivious to his senpai’s internal self-disgust. “Yeah, you’re cool like that. An’ that’s why you’re kinda my best bud.”

Oh, now that just makes Souji feel even worse. He’d forgotten that Kanji had told him that once, back when Naoto had first officially joined the IT, and hearing it again now is like a fist to the spine. He’s failed Kanji, he really has, he—

“And I mean! I know you an’ Yosuke-senpai are ‘partners’ or whatever, but I just… I guess what I’m tryin’ to say is that I trust you, Senpai.” Kanji sighs, the line of tension in his shoulders giving way. He tucks his hands into his pants pockets and stares at something out over the grey-sapphire shimmer of the river below.

Souji swallows. “Kanji…”

He doesn’t know what to say. What can he say, besides another useless “sorry”?

But Kanji just shakes his head and leans his weight back on his heels. He looks up at the sky, or maybe just lolls his head back in resignation, like a man coming to terms with the thousand-foot-drop that awaits him.

Souji knows the feeling.

“I think,” he says – and it’s so quiet that Souji has to lean forward to try and hear him better. There is a pause as Kanji takes a deep, long breath and lets it out.

“I think I might be bi.”

Souji is floored. Of all the possible things that Kanji could have just said to him, Souji was very much NOT excepting that to be one of them. It comes so far out of left field that it actually shocks all of Souji’s dark and guilty thoughts into absolute silence.

The quiet rings out between them, stretching into an impossibly long handful of seconds. Souji needs to respond, he knows he needs to, can see the way Kanji’s shoulders have started to tighten and hunch, but for the first time in forever Souji’s mind is empty and he cannot remember how to form words with his tongue.

So he just blinks like an owl and breathes out a soft, “…Oh.” Because really, how else can he react?

Something about how he says it has Kanji tentatively turning halfway around to look at him. Kanji’s face is guarded, like he’s ready at any moment to throw up his bravado, his shields, and the vulnerability it exposes is enough to finally, finally snap Souji back into action.

A warm smile spreads over Souji’s features, hardly even bidden, and he leans back to sit more naturally upright. He lets the smile crinkle at the corners of his eyes. “Thank you for telling me, Kanji.” He keeps his voice light, calm, kind; he is completely honest when he glances away and says, “I know how hard it must have been to say it out loud.”

Kanji’s eyes widen in realization. “Senpai… You, too?”

Souji makes a sound somewhere between a cough and a wispy bark of laughter. It’s stifled, but his shoulders jerk with the veiled force of the noise and he matches Kanji’s gaze with a tired, understanding one of his own. “Not bi, no,” he says pointedly, cocking an eyebrow and hoping it’s visible beneath his hair.

Kanji lets out a shaky breath. “Oh,” he echoes. He slides down onto the bench across from Souji, almost like he’s a block of ice melting in the sudden sunlight. “So you’re…?”

“Yeah.”

They sit in companionable silence for a minute, each processing the conversation so far.

After a few beats, Souji tilts his head curiously and asks, “What made you want to tell me?”

Oh, that…

Souji immediately dislikes how that sounded and his face twists minutely at the sour taste the words leave on his tongue. He hastily adds, “I’m honored that you did, don’t get me wrong, but—“

“Why’d I pick now?”

Souji sucks part of his lip between his teeth and nods.

Kanji sighs and leans back on the bench – which looks horribly uncomfortable, considering there’s nothing for his back to rest against. He re-crosses his arms and looks up at a passing cloud. “I started figuring it out a while ago and it’s been buggin’ me ever since. Like, it’s too big a secret to keep by myself, ya know?”

Souji does know. Oh god does he know.

He nods again, even though Kanji can’t see it properly while looking elsewhere. Kanji seems to catch it, though, because he keeps going.

“And after all that shit with my shadow, I just… I dunno. I’m sick of tryin’a hide from myself, so I thought, hey, this is a thing about me, might as well accept it.” He pauses and shifts awkwardly, clearly trying to consider his next words. His eyes flick over to Souji once or twice but he quickly averts them again right after.

Souji waits. He refuses to make this any more difficult for his friend than it already is.

He has a hard time keeping the surprise from his face, though, when Kanji mutters, “Weirdest part is, I knew but it didn’t really hit me until the stupid pageant.”

“The pageant?” Souji blurts. “How?!” Everything in his head scrambles a little, and there is a moment where he’s just gaping at Kanji like a fish with his mouth trying to form shapes and failing miserably.

He not sure how two people could have such wildly different reactions to that living nightmare of a day.

Kanji actually laughs at his outburst – a bit awkwardly, but still a laugh. “Yeah, the whole thing sucked ass, didn’t it?” He scratches at this cheek. “Kinda liked my dress, though…”

“It looked good on you,” Souji mumbles, still not fully recovered.

Kanji flushes and glances away. “Thanks, Senpai. You uh, you looked good, t—“ He trails off as he looks back over at Souji, eyes widening and brows furrowing.

Souji’s making a face; he knows he is, there’s no way he isn’t when there’s a layer of frost creeping its freezing fingers over his heart. He can feel the stretch of his lips over his teeth in a twisting grimace that’s well beyond his own control. Don’t think about it, please don’t think about it...

Kanji coughs into his fist. “Uh, I mean, you always look good, Senpai.” His expression does something funny, like he’s just realized what he’d said, and he apparently just gives up trying to salvage it. Instead, he props his elbows up on the table and drops his face into his hands. “Fuuuuuuuuck! See? That’s my problem! Naoto always looks good and you always look good, and I can’t catch a break!” He ‘thunks’ his forehead down onto the hard wooden tabletop. Souji hopes he hasn’t hurt himself.

 Kanji’s voice is muffled when he says, “That ain’t a confession, I swear, I just think you’re handsome, same as everybody else does.”

Oh.

OH!

Souji’s expression does a 180 and he can feel himself beaming. He’d been scared; after what Teddie had said, Souji had been expecting Kanji to say something similar, to say his bisexual realization had come about because of Souji in costume. (He suppresses a shudder at that.) But no. Kanji had called him “handsome” instead, which meant – awkward friendly attraction aside – Kanji had found him attractive as a guy. Not because he’d been dressed as something he wasn’t, Kanji had seen him at face value: a guy in a costume.

If he wasn’t so certain that Naoto would pistol whip him, Souji thinks he could dive across the table towards Kanji right now and kiss him.

He reins it in and settles for chuckling instead. “I’m flattered.” And he really kind of is. His eyes are fond as he adds, “I’m proud of you, too.”

Kanji sits back up again and flashes Souji a sheepish – albeit heavily relieved – grin. “You’re somethin’ else, ya know that, Senpai?”

Souji just beams brighter and gives him a noncommittal shrug.

Kanji exhales, the remaining tension bleeding out into the dirt below their feet. “Damn. It feels good to let all that out.” He laughs again, the sound light and relaxed. “I was gonna tell my ma first, but I think she already knows.”

Souji nods. His mouth turns imperceptibly downward and he says, with just a touch of chill, “A good mother usually does.” He tightens his face against the way it wants to crumple, and if there is a new ball of bitter thorns in his stomach then he chooses to leave it be.

Kanji thankfully doesn’t notice the way Souji’s expression has turned plastic. “Yeah,” he agrees, “and she’s said stuff before about ‘bringing a girl or a boy over for dinner’. I thought she was talkin’ about friends at the time but now I’m not so sure.”

He matches Souji’s gaze right as Souji manages to school his face back into something more natural. “I’m real glad I told you first, though.”

Warmth settles in on top of the thorny clot of pain and soothes the worst of the jagged edges. It’s still there – has been for years – but it’s easier to manage than it was a minute ago. Souji huffs through his nose, his quiet little not-laugh, and looks down at the table. Maybe he’s being selfish, but it makes him feel special in a way he thinks might be just what he’s needed.

“Me, too,” he says, and relishes in the feeling of fizzing, giddy brightness as the Emperor arcana jumps up another rank.

---

Souji goes home in a better mood than he ever expected to be. He makes dinner, watches TV with Nanako, manages to get a head start on the schoolwork he’d missed the day before. The only damper on his happiness is the fact that, despite Souji texting him several times throughout the evening, Yosuke has yet to answer back.

The sting from that afternoon returns and Souji is left frowning at his phone screen as he lies on his futon before sleeping. It’s… fine, he tells himself. I deserve this for scaring him like that. I’m overreacting.

He sets the phone aside and turns over, determined not to let it get to him. He’s asleep in minutes – well before midnight – and so doesn’t notice when the sky starts to open and drizzle gentle rain over top the resting world.

He doesn’t even stir when the clock strikes twelve and his television crackles to white-static life, a faceless monochrome figure peering out into his room with lightning-colored eyes.

[felixeslee]

92 q tag

hello this tag is highkey irrelevant now but it’s been in my drafts for ages so !! laskdgjasodigjsaldkgasodigjasdg which is why i wont b tagging anyone bc im so late but !! yeah !! ok !! !!!!!!!!!1111!!! lets !! go !!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

tagged by @hyuunjins @hyunjinh @straykiz and @dae-hwee from my w1 blog (lmaoo hi pindi this is sarah!! AIddgsdfk if youre aware of this blog but hope its ok if i do it here alskdg ) 

rules: once you’ve been tagged, you are supposed to write a note with 92 truths about you. At the end choose 25 people to be tagged. 

🌙 LAST

Drink: the water that I drank this morning!! Aka around 12 hrs ago asdgasdgoij pls stay hydrated kids 

Text Message: i texted my brother if he knew where my dad was lol,,,,,,, sldkjgaosidgj 

Phone Call: CALLED MY BROTHER BC HE WASNT RESPONDING MY TEXTS,,,,, he also didn’t pick up ldskgjsoidgjsldkgsjdg

Song you listened to: Goodbye My Love by Aileeeee <3 lovv 

Time you cried: TODAY ,,,, i was getting super anxious bc i didn’t know where my dad was ??? he was supposed to pick me up but he forgot abt me until like an hr later… sldkgjaosidgj 

🌙 HAVE YOU EVER

Dated someone twice: no :00 lmao i’ve never dated… ever alskdjgaoijsdf 

Kissed someone and regretted it: i havent had my first kiss yet HEH 

Lost someone special: unfortunately, yes :( 

Been depressed: sdgksjadoiglskdfosdijgalskdfaosdigjaksdgoaisdjf idk 

Been drunk and thrown up: lmao i’ve never drank ,,, at all,,,, the smell of alchohol scares me,,,,, evn my little brother has had a sip once and he’s 5 yrs younger LMAO ,,, but im a noob and don’t wanna try sldkgjosidjgs 

🌙 IN THE PAST YEAR HAVE YOU

Made a new friend: yay yes yeslgkdgsdf

Fallen out of love: i dont think i’ve ever evn been in love…. Sdlgksjdoigj 

Met someone who changed you: yes,,,,,,,,, 

Found out who your true friends are: uhhhh idk aslkdgjaosidjf i honestly can never tell when someone’s being a fake friend so!!!!!! Idk honestly lmao

Found out someone was talking about you: i did ! but it wasn’t for anything bad or anything……… they just criticized me behind my back?? But i agreed w their criticism so alsdkjgaosidgj  

🌙 GENERAL

How many people on tumblr do you know in real life?: ummm,,,, like 4?? We r mutuals evn though none of them r actually kpop blogs,,,, so i always feel guilty spamminig their aesthetic feed w my screaming tags and annoying shit LMAO but i lov them <3 

Do you have any pets?: NO :”( I WANT A DOGGO THO …. REALLY BAD…..

Do you want to change your name?: uhhh ik so many sarahs its not evn funny and my last name is hella basic too????? Theres 3 ppl that share my first+last name in my school alone….. So maybe i’d change it to my chinese name (yue) ?? also bc it sounds more sophisticated,, and i lov anything that makes me sound smarter than the reality of my dumb self LOL 

What time did you wake up this morning: LOL so my alarm rings at 6:40 but i get out of bed at 7:10 SLDGKJSODIF … and i need to get out of the house by 7:20 lsdkgsdoig 

What were you doing last night: physics and apush :SLDGJOSIDFJ the 2 most dreaded classes UGH

Something you cannot wait for: DINNER .. i love me some gud dinner

Have you ever talked to a person named tom?: thomas jefferson my mAN 

What’s getting on your nerves right now: when it’s so heckin cold i can’t concentrate + i hate taking notes when it’s cold??? Bc then my hands r like half numb and it HURTS WHEN I TAKE NOTES sldkgsoidjf ALSO WHEN I DRAW ,,,,, STIFF FINGERS R THE WORST WHEN DRAWING

Blood type: i think a????????????

Nickname: my most common ones r swisso + salad (i promise these make sense in context LOL ) 

Relationship status: return NullPointerException; //im a cs person,,, dont judge

Zodiac sign: capricorn!

Pronouns: she + her

Favorite show: i dont watch many shows but i love watching a gud studio ghibli movie when im feelin down

College: this QUESTION LSDKGJSODIGJ ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, i wanna go to college but will any accept me ??!?!

Hair colour: its naturally black but it’s currently dyed ombre from black → brown !!!!!!

Do you have a crush on someone: i havent had a legit crush in 3 yrs lmao……. 

What do you like about yourself: the fact that im a deep sleeper. Idk how light sleepers function omg like wouldn’t u wake up to like,,,,, everything??! :((( that makes me sad bc u hav no idea how much i lov a nice long undisturbed slumber

   🌙 FIRSTS

First surgery: okAY so like i've had 2 procedures done on my eyes lmaooo like (1) when i was a smol beb of like 1 yr old i rolled off my bed aaaannnnddd the corner of my eye hit the edge of the sharp corner of the bedside table!!! and then y1ke$ things got ugly loll (((yes, i wuz dum + clumsy since the day i popped from the womb))) its all stitched up now and i hav a tinie tinie scar aslkdgs okay and (2) there was something weird abt my tearducts LOL so u know when u get sad nd stuff ur nose gets runny and u sniff a lot??? well like that wasn't the case for me bc the passage way from my eyes to my nose was completely blocked off,,,,, which resulted in me lookin like i was full blown cryin like every 2 seconds... like if i kept my eyes open for too long my eyes would get watery and tears would flow out LMAO ,,,, i looked like i just never stopped crying,,, but it was just my eyes were just ALWAYS WATERING sdlgjsdif damn u have no idea after the procedure i was like 'do ppl live like this??? not having to wipe tears every 0.2 sec??? oh my god,,, i am livin THE LIFE' 

First piercing: i hav no piercings!!! Bc stabbing holes thru myself scares me sdlkjgsoidg but i love the way earrings look tho so :///// 

First sport you joined: dance or gymnastics???? I dont rly remember

First vacation: CHINA prob???? 

First pair of sneakers: i think sketchers LMAO ,,, the big thing  

🌙 RIGHT NOW

Eating: nothing!!!!!

I’m about to: do som sketches for my AP art class 

Listening to: my dad sing som old chinese folk stuff behind me LOL 

Want kids: i already adopted all 9 members of stray kids tho ??? idk if im ready for more atm 

Get married: LOL This question just reminded me of smol story from my childhood: so like i used to b rly close w these 3 other kids,,,, one other girl and 2 guys,,, and our parents were all rly tight too,, and our four families would just go camping together and it was rly :’’D fun and so we all made a pact that I would marry one of the guys and the other girl would marry the other guy and we’d all go camping together forever but then KINDERGARTEN HIT,,,, we moved schools and yeah im still rly close w the girl but i miss the 4 of us dkgjsodigjsdlkgsdf LOL 

Career: waterbottle 🌙 

WHICH IS BETTER

Lips or eyes: eyes? Eh idk i just never rly considered lips ?? LOL 

Hugs or kisses: hugs? I dont hav experience w kisses so sldkgjsoidgjsd yike syikes yikes 

Shorter or taller: TALLER

Troublemaker or hesitant: uhhhhh neither??? Like i just want someone playful + extroverted bc im quite introverted,,,,,,,,,, so if he was hesitant we’d just b super awkward and quiet,,, and i don’t like getting involved w sketchy troublemaker shit either LOL ,,, 

Older or younger: as long as they r in the same school grade level,,,, and i guess 1-2 yrs older is okaY? But lowkey freaks me out if too old 

Romantic or spontaneous: sldkgjsoidfj both? Like i lov someone who is unpredictable and spontaneous,,,, but on the other hand im lowkey a helpless romantic lasdkgjaoisdjf 

Sensitive or loud: both i guess too??? Its good to have someone understanding and sensitive but also someone who knows how to have fun  :) 

Hookup or relationship: hookups,,,,,,,, just dont make sense to me,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, like i get attached to someone p easily so even if i dont plan on being attached,,,, i’d probably get attached :(  

🌙 HAVE YOU EVER

Kissed a stranger: YIKES no 

Drank hard liquor: nO 

 Lost contacts/glasses: UH I HATE THIS BUT YES….. 

Sex on first date: yikes * (6.02 *10^23) adkgaosidjgaslkdf no thaNK you 

Broken someone’s heart: i dont know,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, like i might’ve but maybe im just not aware ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, but on a sidenote i think my old comupter science teacher gets a migrain everytime he sees me LOLLLLLL sdlgjsoidgjsldf 

Been arrested: no,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, :0 

Turned someone down: yeah lmao i kinda feel bad tho bc they were all good ppl,,,,  lskjgosidjf but thankfully im still good friends and pretty tight w all of them ~  

🌙 DO YOU BELIEVE

In yourself: ocassionally i try to :’’D

Miracles: lol yes 

Love at first sight: i used to ? but not anymore,,,, like i believe u can be attracted to someone at first sight ?? but i feel like love cannot be attained thru visual contact only asldgjoasidjalsdg

[hanalwayssolo]

My Attendance Is Bad, But My Intentions Are Good

A/N: My last piece is for day 2 of @glaiveweek! Permission to write my Kingsglaive babies having a happy time. Written in Crowe’s POV, because. My girl. Deserved. Better. :) Inspired by the entire team dynamic in Brooklyn Nine Nine (I want to explain this further but gosh I think it merits a different post) and governed by most of my headcanons with these cuties (again, to be explained probablyyyy on a separate post), so please expect lots of crack, shenanigans, a truckload of pop culture references, etc. 

Ahhh and tagging some folks again: @eternallydaydreaming2015 @hypaalicious @louisvuittontrashbags @cupnoodle-queen @theyearofdiamonddogs @nifwrites @themissimmortal

Nyx Ulric 3:02 AM Glaives, we have a situation.

Crowe was still awake in the comfort of her bed when she caught Nyx’s message in the Glaive group chat—one that Tredd renamed lil fuckaz for the heck of it earlier—and she followed the trail of messages that popped in her phone screen.

Nyx Ulric 3:02 AM I know you guys won’t believe this but

Nyx Ulric 3:02 AM Check the captain’s calendar

Nyx Ulric 3:02 AM and get this: he’s free tomorrow

Nyx Ulric 3:02 AM AND HE’S NEVER FREE

Nyx Ulric 3:02 AM And then I remembered

Nyx Ulric 3:02 AM WHY OF COURSE

Luche Lazarus 3:03 AM yes nyx we know it’s the captain’s bday tomorrow

Crowe smiled at Nyx’s overeager message thread; knowing Nyx, she immediately assumed her good lad of a friend was somewhere in downtown Insomnia, drinking his stress away. Also, she didn’t expect Luche to be awake at this hour. In any case, something about this conversation confused her. Apart from Nyx’s rowdy chat etiquette—which she was fairly used to—what bugged Crowe was her memory of things: she clearly remembered getting partied out a couple of nights back thanks to Drautos’s birthday party hosted by no less than the Glaive’s personally-dubbed veteran party animal, Clarus Amicitia.

There was a brief minute of pause in the group chat commotion, and then:

Nyx Ulric 3:03 AM Nobody asked you Luche stfu

Nyx Ulric 3:03 AM Anyway. As I was saying.

Nyx Ulric 3:03 AM Yes, it’s the captain’s birthday tomorrow

Luche Lazarus 3:04 AM i’m willing to bet my ass you’re planning an outrageous surprise party

Nyx Ulric 3:04 AM You can bet your pasty ass i will and WE SHALL DO IT

Before Crowe could even chime in, Pelna already butted in the conversation, and started wrecking his own havoc:

Pelna Khara 3:05 AM count me the fuck in

Pelna Khara 3:05 AM i’ll buy the cake

Pelna Khara 3:05 AM clarus didn’t let me buy the book cake last Year :(

Pelna Khara 3:05 AM *boob

Pelna Khara 3:05 AM ***boobs

Pelna Khara 3:06 AM had to correct that so y’all know the cake was shaped as a pair of boobs not just one

Of course, where there was trouble, Crowe already thought that Tredd was close by, raring to add to this steaming pile of shenanigans.

And when Crowe saw his name pop into her screen, she grinned. When it came to her personal assessment of her friends, Crowe was always right.

Tredd Furia 3:06 AM lmao

Tredd Furia 3:06 AM i’ll go buy the booze my fam

Tredd Furia 3:06 AM also is it just me or nyx is using punctuation marks or am i just 2 high

Nyx Ulric 3:07 AM Fuck you Tredd

Nyx Ulric 3:07 AM I was trying to drive a point

Pelna Khara 3:07 AM nah tredd just too high i can secondhand smoke your joint even from here

Tredd Furia 3:07 AM fuck u pelna :) :) :)

Nyx Ulric 3:07 AM Anyway thanks guys, we’ll do this in briefing room A

Luche Lazarus 3:08 AM i didn’t agree to the alcohol losers but whatever

Nyx Ulric 3:09 AM u scared daddy’s gonna dish out some disciplinary action, leader? ;)

Luche Lazarus 3:09 AM fuck u

Axis Arra 3:10 AM i can’t believe tredd woke me up for this shit

Nyx Ulric 3:10 AM And Crowe, I know you’re awake I can see your tiny bubble just lurking in this convo

Pelna Khara 3:11 AM wow axis just responded to a group chat conversation

Pelna Khara 3:11 AM blessed be the stars

Tredd Furia 3:11 AM this surprise party’s gonna be litttttt af

Nyx Ulric 3:12 AM hi there axis you and sonitus take care of the food

Axis Arra 3:13 AM ok

While the conversation rolled along, Crowe still had this nagging feeling that the entire arrangement was too… odd. Luche easily joining this nonsense was already out of the ordinary, but Axis—quiet and soft-spoken Axis Arra—replying to this mess and just agreed to help organize this shitstorm? Crowe had seen her friends do strange things, but this one weirdly made her queasy. Not to mention, they have been acting rather funny around her these past couple of days. She stared at her phone screen, trying to rake her thoughts on that last party. She was definitely sure that party happened. She could still taste the acrid smoke from that sordid bar, and she could still remember hooking up with that heavily tattooed man whose name was the only thing that she lost in her nebulous memory.

Just when Crowe was about to protest for a clarification, another message arrived from Nyx:

Nyx Ulric 3:15 AM btw where tf is Libertus at

Luche Lazarus 3:15 AM Poor Libertus Ostium, he is missing action

Luche Lazarus 3:15 AM So now I’m facing Nyx Ulric with his own faction

Pelna Khara 3:16 AM he’s very attractive in the north, Lucians like his chances

Tredd Furia 3:16 AM he’s not very forthcoming on any particular chances

Nyx Ulric 3:17 AM Gdi you all have been making hamilton references for a MONTH

Nyx Ulric 3:17 AM Can we get back to the task at hand please

Crowe sighed in exasperation as she scrolled away to more chunks of messages. Before the chat group could spiral into a new brand of trouble and out of its original topic, she finally managed to type her response:

Crowe Altius 3:18 AM libertus ran an errand with the crown prince’s advisor glasses boy

Crowe Altius 3:18 AM anyway

Nyx Ulric 3:19 AM THERE’S OUR FAVORITE MAGE

Pelna Khara 3:19 AM hi crowe moon of our lives

Tredd Furia 3:19 AM our khaleesi is here

Crowe Altius 3:18 AM you guys are fucking idiots

Crowe Altius 3:18 AM ANYWAY wasn’t the captain’s birthday three days ago???

Crowe Altius 3:18 AM pelna you even posted photos on your instagram acct

Crowe Altius 3:18 AM With the caption “today the Big D was born let us rejoice”

Crowe sat up on her bed and waited for a reply, but she later realized that she just unleashed a treasure trove of disaster with her last statement:

Pelna Khara 3:19 AM hey u gotta love that caption

Tredd Furia 3:19 AM and u gotta love the Big D

Nyx Ulric 3:20 AM i know luche does ;)

Luche Lazarus 3:20 AM haha very funny nyx

Tredd Furia 3:22 AM hahahahahahaha nyx gdi i choked on my fucking beer

Pelna Khara 3:22 AM that was some mighty fine dish that got served

Luche Lazarus 3:22 AM u sure u didn’t choke on some big d tredd :)

Tredd Furia 3:22 AM nope. but hey luche

Tredd Furia 3:22 AM ur ass is grass

Tredd Furia 3:22 AM and imma mow it

Axis Arra 3:23 AM eyyyy

Nyx Ulric 3:23 AM LMAO OK SEXUAL TENSION ASIDE

Nyx Ulric 3:23 AM Relax you guys

Nyx Ulric 3:23 AM I know we all love our big captain drautos so much

Crowe Altius 3:24 CAN SOMEBODY PLEASE ANSWER MY FUCKING QUESTION YOU BAGS OF HELPLESS DICKS

Pelna Khara 3:24 AM as you wish khaleesi forgive our brethren

Pelna Khara 3:24 AM to answer your question: yes, but that party was from the higher ups

Pelna Khara 3:24 AM his actual birthday is tomorrow

Pelna Khara 3:24 AM crowe my sun and stars trust me on this

Luche Lazarus 3:25 AM i can confirm pelna’s statements

Tredd Furia 3:25 AM same

Axis Arra 3:25 AM ^^^

Sonitus Bellum 3:25 AM hi

Nyx Ulric 3:25 AM i confirm pelna’s statements as well

As well? Nyx hated attaching that in any phrase, Crowe remembered, for reasons beyond her. Despite the group’s typical rascally response, Crowe still felt skeptical about the whole affair. With reservation, she decided to give her overthinking head a rest and get along with their shady plan.

She quickly thumbed another message:

Crowe Altius 3:28 AM fine whatever

Crowe Altius 3:28 AM count me in

Crowe Altius 3:28 AM anything i need to do nyx?

She chewed on her lip, praying to the gods that she won’t be assigned with something out of her comfort zone, so she added:

Crowe Altius 3:28 AM and by anything, i mean anything except talking to the other commanding officers and anyone from the lucian council pls

Crowe particularly had a severe dislike talking with her other superiors, specifically Cor, Clarus, and even King Regis himself, after saying something completely inappropriate at a Kingsglaive gala two years prior. After that embarrassment, she sealed everyone outside of her Glaive circle for self-preservation.

The sudden inactivity in the chat group made Crowe want to throw another message for good measure, until Luche broke the momentary radio silence:

Luche Lazarus 3:33 AM more booze

Crowe Altius 3:34 AM right

Nyx Ulric 3:35 AM You’re the best, thanks

Nyx Ulric 3:35 AM Let’s all meet tomorrow at 2pm sharp

Nyx Ulric 3:36 AM I’ll try to stall the captain to give us time for prep

Crowe sank back to her sheets and turned off her phone so she could finally get some decent shut eye without the distraction from the Glaive chat group. She stared at the ceiling, trying to quell the unusual excitement  that bubbled up in her chest, until it was brutally ambushed by a feeling that often creeped up on her whenever she started to enjoy any form of happiness.

On occasions such as these, Crowe wondered how celebrating birthdays would feel like. It was not as if she wanted to keep her birthday from everyone else—she just never knew what her actual birth date was. Having brought up as an orphan, she had figured that birthdays were only afforded to people living with their biological parents. Or people with legitimate paperwork. She had neither the luxury of those things. Sometimes, she would look at herself in the mirror, study her face, and scrutinize her chocolate brown hair, her brown eyes, and the angular structure of her cheekbones. Crowe thought that maybe, this was how her mother would have looked like, or her father...

Crowe groaned in disdain. She didn’t need the pity party at this ungodly time. She pulled the sheets over her head as she promptly derailed the depressing train of thought, pressed her eyes shut, and forced herself to sleep.

Crowe did as she was told and brought additional liquor with her on her way to the Kingsglaive HQ. She was pretty certain that alcoholic drinks were prohibited around the Citadel premises, but no one seemed to have caught her, so she just casually marched on toward the hallway. She rounded into a corner, where she saw Nyx standing by the doorway leading to the briefing room, holding his phone close to his ear.

When he saw Crowe approaching, he tucked his phone in his jacket. Nyx nervously beamed, “Hey there!”

Crowe raised an eyebrow out of suspicion. “What are you doing outside? Where are the others?”

Nyx answered, “Well, actually, they’re on their way but Captain Drautos is already coming in any minute—“

“Weren’t you supposed to be the one to keep him occupied?” Crowe asked, narrowing her eyes at Nyx. She had a bad feeling about this.

Nyx held her by the shoulders. “Yes, but change of plans. Look, can you please help holding off on the Captain for a while—“

Crowe instantly shrugged his hands off. “Nope.”

“Please?”

“Not interested.”

“With a cherry on top?”

“Gods, Nyx—you had one job.”

“Alright, fine,” Nyx ceased making any further effort, raising both his hands in casual surrender.

That was surprisingly easy, Crowe thought. If anything, Nyx was persistent, but this...

She let it slide. Crowe rolled her eyes and sauntered past Nyx. She opened the door and—

“Surprise!”

The confetti exploded from the party poppers in myriad of colors, together with the booming voices of the rest of the Glaives. The entire open space of the briefing room was filled with familiar faces—Libertus, Pelna, and Tredd each had a Li’l Malbuddy balloon in their hands, while Axis, Sonitus, and Luche carried a Li’l Malbuddy plush toy. The walls were decorated with scarlet-colored streamers and rows of gold letter balloons.

It took a while for Crowe to register that the balloons spelled a Happy Birthday Crowe! which totally did not make sense to her at all.

“Wait, what’s going on? I thought—guys, is this a fucking prank?” She bewilderedly trailed off. She was about to lash out until she saw Captain Drautos walking towards her, which even added more confusion to this entire event. “Captain?”

Drautos shook his head and addressed the Glaives. “You fools, I told you she wouldn’t get it if I didn’t give this to her first,” he casually smacked Nyx at the back of the head. They all burst out laughing. “Anyway, it’s because of this—“

The captain handed a brown envelope to Crowe, which she flipped open. Inside was a record, a file with her full name and her… birthdate.

Crowe gasped and croaked out the words in disbelief. “Wait, today’s… my birthday?”

“We found your records with Clarus’s help,” Drautos explained. “I regret ever mentioning it to Nyx as soon as I found out—the word spread like wildfire among your peers. It was a surprise that you didn’t find it out, with Nyx being a loudmouthed idiot. Anyway, the Glaives thought of throwing you a surprise party since you’ve never celebrated your birthday with us before—or uh, I’m sorry, I mean, it’s not that you didn’t want—“

“It’s fine, sir,” Crowe stared at the file she was holding. There it was, written in permanent ink: full details of her birthplace and birthdate. It didn’t disclose any info on her biological parents, but Crowe couldn’t care less. She read and reread, helplessly trying to wrap her head around all of this, until all she could say was: “Thank you. Really, guys, thank you—but wait. That thing in the chat was…”

“That was actually Nyx about to spill the beans with his drunken little mouth,” Pelna admitted, stepping closer with the Li’l Malbuddy balloon hovering above his head. The rest of the Glaives followed, gathering around Crowe. Pelna continued, “I was with him so I had to punch him right in the mouth for being dumb. We had a different chat group specifically for Operation Crowe. We humbly thank the gods that Luche was just smooth enough to save that conversation and we all had to improvise to throw you off the scent.”

“Well, someone had to keep you guys in check so you’re welcome,” Luche smugly added. “And by the way, you gotta thank the crown prince’s advisor for this merch. He tipped us off on where to find these.” Luche, Axis, and Sonitus rewarded Crowe with the Li’l Malbuddy plushies.

“You guys were… all together in this?” Crowe asked, and strangely enough, she was genuinely touched by the idea that everyone joined for this effort. She wanted to squeeze everyone into a hug and beat them all up for giving her feelings.

“Of course—everything for our little sister,” Nyx grinned, slinging an arm around Crowe’s shoulders.

“Don’t make me claw your eyes out,” Crowe said, elbowing him on his side that Nyx winced in pain.

“Whatever. Happy birthday, munchkin,” Nyx hugged Crowe. With the thought finally sinking in, tears of utmost happiness began to threaten her eyes. She wanted to punch herself in the face for wanting to cry.

Crowe looked curiously at Nyx, still controlling herself with her happy tears. “So is this why you guys have been acting weird for the past days?”

“See, I told you guys she’ll notice,” Libertus remarked. “Now, give her the damn cake before she starts crying!”

“I’m not crying! There’s just, I don’t know, a rock in my eye...” Crowe sniffed, and the rest of the crew laughed.

Libertus playfully shoved Nyx away from Crowe and wrapped her into a big bear hug. “Happy birthday, Crowe.”

“Thank you guys so much,” Crowe said with a teary-eyed smile on her face.

Roaring fits of laughter bellowed around the room when Pelna finally brought out a ghastly dick-shaped cake with a candle sitting at its tip.

Tredd announced, “So I know Pelna promised a boob cake, but Luche wanted the D—“

“It was the only cake available, asshat—“ Luche interrupted with a sneer. Everyone was still laughing at the atrocity of the confection in front of them.

“Sorry Luche, the D’s not for you,” Pelna teased. “Give this one a blow, baby girl.”

“Oh my god, I hate all of you!” Crowe laughed and cried. When it came to the business of brewing the finest hilarity and crazy antics, Crowe couldn’t trust anyone else aside from her comrades.

Everyone joined in and sang her an equally cheery and drunken happy birthday. And on occasions like these, Crowe found it difficult to permit herself to relish the happiness. But in the company of the people Crowe now considered as family, she finally did—and there was no place in Eos that she would rather be.

[thesarcastictree]

Chapter 1 - Play of the game

Hey, everyone! 

Author’s note: I did it! The first, however a shorter, part is out. I hope you’re gonna enjoy it. Remember - sharing is caring. ^-^

For my lovely best friend Susan, because she loves when I mention her.

Words: 3063

You have 1 new message.

I rolled my eyes as I heard the painfully familiar vibration coming off from under the pillow. My eyes hurt and my face felt disgusting, blaming the fact I again didn't take off my make­-up before taking an obligatory nap. The yawn was long, making me feel dizzy. I put my hand under the cushion, palpating a rectangularly shaped object, taking it out. 

Unlocking the screen of my phone, I sighed. Had I really been sleeping for only thirty minutes? I quickly tapped in the passcode, internally satisfying my clumsy self, since I hadn't made any mistake in the four meaningless numbers. 

Another message popped up, as my eyes met with the bright white chat.

forever alone bitch: YOU SLEPT ENOUGH COME PLAY noodle mommy: what  noodle mommy: did you seriously wake me up because of stupid ow forever alone bitch: yes now come  forever alone bitch: i wanna play compets noodle mommy: geez, ok noodle mommy: gimme five minutes forever alone bitch: gg noodle mommy: ??? forever alone bitch: you and your five minutes

I chuckled, shaking my head. Somehow, I managed to get off my bed in a record time. The procedure of undoing the paint I had stuffed onto my skin was, as well, quite quick. In a while, I sat down onto a spinning chair, putting on the headphones, giving up on the ball of cables that fell into my lap. As I waited for the Blizzard app to start, I swiftly found the playlist that had been my companion for a few months now. The brisk tones of one of my favorite songs hit my ears, and I laughed at myself and at my poor attempts of singing in Korean. "Geu bojogaen illegal, ille~~gal," I sang quietly, tapping the tips of my fingers in the rhytm, "but I want it anyway, anyway, anywa-" The invite to the group hit my screen, as soon as I got to the loaded menu. I, of course, accepted, joining the voice chat right after.

uncleREYES has joined the voice chat.

"Yo, nibblet, what's up?" I asked with a hoarse vocal, caused by the lack of usage. I got literally no response. Letting out a quiet sigh, the sudden hyped sound made me jump in my seat. "HELLO, HELLO, IT'S YOUR GIIIIR-" The microphone cut off.  "Yeah, hi," laughing, I started the queue for competitives. "-lright, you should totally see the video I sent you, because I'm fucking crying again. Why is MCCree so perfect? Why does Hanzo have to die in every fanfiction? Why can't they just be happy?!" Sometimes, I wondered how she was able to be hysterical over two characters from a game, but then again, I wasn't different. 

Well, okay, I agree. My obsession had gone perhaps too far, being it a few Korean idols, which made it even more difficult. They were real. They existed. They breathed the same air like I did, and their faces were literally everywhere I looked; printed on my phone case, set on my wallpapers - I even had a goddamn pillow case with Taehyung's face, biting his lip in the most seductive way ever. "You need help," I responded to her autistic screeching, glancing at the timer passing by the second minute.  "... and you are the one to say that." Susan barked back with ease. "Yeah, you're right. We both need help."

Susan and I, we had been friends since... pretty much forever. I met her during the start of the first year, as my kind of crazy classmate, also being an idiot into games. We'd argued for a few times, even stopped talking for another few months, but at the end of the day, noone could ever split our brotherhood, as we called it, apart. And there we were, the partners in any crime. However, little did we both know that the upcoming minutes were going to completely change our lives, for good. 

GAME FOUND! Joining the game...

Both of us went silent, as the map of Volskaya Industries showed, together with the name and rank lists of both teams. I briefly went through the players, and... something seemed off. 

"Susan?" I asked, frowning. She responded with a silent, almost unhearable: "Hm?"  "Don't panic, okay? We have a fallen diamond Widowmaker main against us, low plat, in premade with two other platinums," I began, taking a deep breath. It wouldn't be a big deal, if I wasn't a borderline golden rank, and my comrade a bit higher gold. Was our elo getting bigger, or did we just get randomly filled into the missing places of a long-buffering game? I cracked my knuckles, checking out the others' mains, even more confused. "How the hell am I not supposed to panic? I'll just play goddamn D.va, I'm not feeling the Ryu ga wagateki go-fuck yourself tonight." I let out a desperate laugh. "Yeah, enjoy it. One of the... well, the GucciBoy has about 100 hours on D.va. They have a 120 hours MCCree main too, what the fuck?" I whined, comparing the composition of our teams together. We seemingly stood no chance, yet I didn't feel like giving up.  I chose Mercy, even though I wasn't a big fan of her pick. I decided to go for certain, stable decisions, instead of a Hanzo or Widow, and it seemed like I perfectly fullfilled the expectations of our teamcomp. 

My attention, while we waited for the doors on attack to open, got caught by the allchat, as I smiled cheekily.

[ALL] Bunny: sugacheonjae? my ass... [ALL] GucciB0i: LMAO  [ALL] TuandonJuan: IT'S HIGH NOON SOMEWHERE IN THE WORLD

Susan's next yak reminded me of a dying whale, but I decided to ignore it. 

[ALL] uncleREYES: YES IN MY BED [ALL] TuandonJuan: GIVE ME YOUR ADDRESS HUCKLEBERRY

"I'm so adding him!" she hissed happily, as I heard the furious clicks of a mouse. We had about twenty seconds towards the beginning, and for some reason, I felt nervous. 

[ALL] Bunny: what is it, suga, you scared? [ALL] SugaCheonjae: Excuse me?  [ALL] Bunny: ;) 

That was the last hit my ego could take. I filled in with my Odile Widowmaker instead, ignoring the desperate cries for a switch back, as I just simply muted the teamchat. 

[ALL] xHeroO: can u pls report widow shes trolling [ALL] uncleREYES: can you please stfu and play, she's good  [ALL] Bunny: we will see about that [ALL] TuandonJuan: uuu [ALL] GucciB0i: spicy, I like that

"It's fine, yo, I muted them, anyway." I whispered to the microphone, to prevent Susy from distracting herself on pointless arguments with some kids. Wrapping my fingers tightly around the mouse, I covered the red light with my palm. The three of the enemy premades started to slowly dip over the edge of the cup of patience, that had already been pretty full.  The last seconds disappeared, and we rushed out of the building, with Reinhardt's shield leading us towards the point we were supposed to capture. I hooked myself at the edge of another house, dragging myself up in a long jump. Seeing the Symmetra's sentry turrets in the scope, I sighed, knowing already that it'd be pretty difficult to get over the arc, and then my point of view disappeared.  "Shit..." I cursed under my breath, waiting for the respawn. The first kill of the game was shining in the corner, as Bunny eliminated my courageous positioning. 

[ALL] Bunny: :) 

"Motherfucker."  Susy cleared out her throat with a loud cough, and before I tried to shut her up, her words pierced my ears: "Calm down, Natalie, you got this."  I nodded, not quite sure of myself, but I did. I truly also didn't feel like losing against a bunch of pricky platinum asses. Susy flew behind the entrance through the arc, destroying the sentry turrets, and losing her Mecha in exchange. Low on health, she jumped behind the corner, meeting up with Reinhardt's half-destroyed shield and Zenyatta's healing orb. I took a deep breath. It was my time to shine. I dediced to not make the same mistake twice. Instead of jumping on a visible place, I slowly looked out from behind one of the slopes, with my rifle scoped into the enemy team. At first, I couldn't quite spot a single thing not hidden behind Orisa's barrier, but then Symmetra made a simple, greedy mistake. I found the weak spot, quickly eliminating one of their major defense mechanism, dying to a bullet of the enemy Widowmaker again, afterwards. 

[ALL] Bunny: nice try :) [ALL] SugaCheonjae: Are you always this annoying? 

The beeping of a movement around the point assured me that I made a great move. Symmetra was down, and after the death recap, their Mercy too. Roadhog's hook wasn't something she could just simply survive. I bit my lip. The only proper problem on their team was Widowmaker, killing our squishy damage dealers without a fuss.  "She's on the rooftop-" I grinned, victoriously, pinning down Bunny's killing spree with a precise headshot. Reinhardt's shield protected us in front of the enemy's D.va ultimate and mister High noon got a bullet back, thanks to Genji's deflection. I got to kill Orisa on low health, before she placed the barrier, as we successfully captured the first point.

[ALL] SugaCheonjae: Everything's alright down there? 

I mocked at the cockiness the enemy Widowmaker showed before, Susy's 'ooooh' giving me the courage I didn't even know I had. 

[ALL] Bunny: you're just lucky

Yeah, of course, I thought to myself, hitting one head after another. Not even three minutes into the end of our timer we'd captured the second point, setting the score to 2:0 for our team.  "Good job, they don't even know what hit 'em."  I loved the enthusiasm in my friend's voice. And she was right - after a bad start, we didn't even let them move from their attack spawn, as Susan's arrow hit every spotted movement, and I finished off the rest. We won, almost effortlessly claiming the clear score. The victory poses triked through my screen and Susy, all proud, screamed, watching the animation of Widowmaker swinging, with my name underneath.

Play of the game SUGACHEONJAE as WIDOWMAKER. 

I quickly recognized the one last seconds before we captured the last point of the objective.  "Now, watch this." I grinned, biting the side of my index finger. TuandonJuan fell first. D.va's mech disappeared in Susy's scattered arrows and I quickly dragged my mouse over, finding Widow's peaking head, shutting down even the Mercy's desperate try to resurrect their last hope. 

[ALL] GucciB0i: GG [ALL] TuandonJuan: I'll find you in another life, unclereyes [ALL] uncleREYES: ;-; [ALL] Bunny: I could really use a hug right now... 

"Tsk..." I snapped. Disrespectful idiot, no wonder he fell to such low elo. We returned back into the menu. "Let me just go grab a coffee, and we can continue," I announced, taking off the headphones, heading to the kitchen. It felt good, really. I'd always liked to prove my skill, especially to such douchebags. 

Returning back to my room, I silently closed the door, placing the cup next to my laptop. What caught my attention were the extra three icons next to ours, and the names shining bright in the groupchat. 

[GROUP] TuandonJuan: howdy [GROUP] GucciB0i: HOW ON EARTH DID YOU TWO GOT ONLY GOLD FROM PLACEMENTS, I DON'T GET IT [GROUP] uncleREYES: its called skill, something you dont have [GROUP] GucciB0i: that doesn't make any sense [GROUP] uncleREYES: jeff hates us [GROUP] GucciB0i: touché [GROUP] uncleREYES: :^) [GROUP] Bunny: what are we waiting for? [GROUP] uncleREYES: coffeegirl [GROUP] GucciB0i: why did I read cowgirl [GROUP] uncleREYES: I almost wrote cowboy tbh [GROUP] TuandonJuan: what do you mean cowboy, im here all the time darlin [GROUP] uncleREYES: >.> [GROUP] uncleREYES: voice? [GROUP] Bunny: I'll pass [GROUP] GucciB0i: YA BOIIIIIIIIIIII [GROUP] TuandonJuan: anything for you

I slammed the M key, muting my microphone, hearing the honest laugh of my bestfriend and two as loud voices. 

TO: uncleREYES: WHAT THE HELL, SUSAN?!  FROM: uncleREYES: come onnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn he mains mccree i love him  TO: uncleREYES: i'm not playing with the bitchass widow  FROM: uncleREYES: he isnt even talking FROM: uncleREYES: please FROM: uncleREYES: i'll buy you cigs TO: uncleREYES: ...

"Hey, you can start, I'm back." I jumped into their conversation, which madly whirled around the best MCCree skin. TuandonJuan's voice made me chuckle, because he'd just found out that Susy also loved the Lifesaver skin the most.  "Is it the best Widowmaker under the sun?" I sort of cringed at the weird accent of the GucciB0i, but I took the compliment, proudly.  "Well, I'm definitely not Bunny, so it has to be me?" I grinned, as Susy started the quickplay queue, relieved that we weren't going to tryhard, because honestly, I felt like I gave everything skillful I had left in the competive game. However, that didn't mean I was going to be an easy prey to make jokes of, still visibly hurt by the offensive humor from the game before.   "Oh, shit, you're my new best friend," GucciB0i's oddly famous deep voice responded. Susy almost immediately grunted back: "Fuck off, would you? The spot is already taken!"  "I hope the spot of your boyfriend isn't taken, uncleREYES, because I'd definitely want to nominate myself." I choked on the sip of coffee, clapping as soon as I placed the cup back at its spot. "Alright, that was just too fucking smooth," I hissed, shaking my head. I felt utterly happy, because Susan deserved an equally disabled person in her life, to weight off all the bad events from the past. 

FROM: uncleREYES: im FROM: uncleREYES: fucking FROM: uncleREYES: in FROM: uncleREYES: love FROM: uncleREYES: who is that guy TO: uncleREYES: XDDDD idk

"Talking behind our backs, much?" GucciB0i seemed to have ears everywhere.  "Maybe...?" I teasily asked, laughing it off. The silence got quickly filled by TuadonJuan's adoration towards Susy's McHanzo kink. 

It... somehow felt right, yet stupid. Bunny still hadn't spoken and I felt guilty for making fun of him, but the again, he was the same in the competitive. I shrugged it off, mindlessly skipping the songs, finally getting to a slower cover of Adam Levine's Lost Stars from Jungkook.

"Please, don't see, just a boy caught up in dreams and fanta~sies-" I quietly hummed to the rhytm, as we finally joined the Dorado map. I didn't make a big deal about them hearing me sing, because honestly, in the talk of those two it occured to be as effective as hearing of a deaf person. I remained silent for next few seconds, until Jungkook's soft voice reached the refrain.  "Damn, I love that boy." I scoffed. "Who? Who?!" I rolled my eyes for a hunderth time that evening. "Jungkook, who else could I mean?" The only response in suddenly quiet voicechat was careless Susy and her laughing voice. "Girl, you love everyone. You have a pillow with Taehyung's face, Suga in name, Jin on hoodie, you want to rap like Namjoon and dance like Hobi. And now you say you love Jungkook, I'm confused."  "It's not my fault, okay, they are all perfect, shut up!" I whined, covering my blushing face, even though noone could see me, both in the darkness and through the screen.  "Sure, whatever," she chuckled back, paying all of her attention to damage-boosting of TuandonJuan's ass, playing, surprisingly, McCree, again. I picked Ana, thoughtlessly shooting my darts at everything that moved, either reducing or adding up on health. 

The final push seemed to be endless, as we either died or killed during the overtime. Finally finishing charging up my ultimate, I nanoboosed Reaper, who completely cleared out the point of the enemies, scoring a precise teamkill. Briefly realizing it was Bunny, I coughed, trying to somehow sound friendlier than before.

"Good job, bunny boy," I cheered, watching the scenario all over again from his point of view in the play of the game. He seemed to unmute himself, because the icon of him talking showed. I was expecting everything but not what I heard. Listening to the cover of Lost Stars on replay still, I gasped, as Bunny murmured a modest, yet elated: "Thank you very much for your ultimate, Sugasuga." 

For a brief second I couldn't quite believe what I heard.

"Why do you sound exactly like Jungkook?" I said more to myself, than to him, completely amazed by the discovery. "Nah, he doesn't." Susy opposed, visibly still annoyed by his previous behavior.  "I agree, he sounds nothing like the korean dude," TuandonJuan's voice interfered, and I raised my eyebrows in surprise. "You know BTS?"  I caught him off guard, visibly.  He laughed, embrarassed: "Yeah, my-my little sister won't shut up about them."  I smiled. "That's... well, understandable." 

"Aight, I agree with Sugasuga, though, he has something that makes him sound like Jungkook, but not quit-"  "Can you not compare me to that gaypop shit? Thank you." Bunny's voice went off again, and I scowled. "Did I say something wrong?" 

"Nah, he is... acting like an ass, tonight. You know, periods-" I held back my laughter. Guccib0i was cool, I could give Susy that. "Don't even fucking get me started about the periods, dude," she hissed, and I just legitimately bursted out, together with the others.

[GROUP] Bunny: fuck you too, T

We managed to play a few more games, before we said all the goodnights, and thanks for playing. I turned off the laptop, wiping my eyes, sliding under the cold bedsheets with the phone in my hand. 

forever alone bitch: told you they are not so bad noodle mommy: yeah, BUT im lowkey crushing on Bunny's voice forever alone bitch: wtf noodle mommy: fuck him though, GucciB0i is the S H I T  forever alone bitch: yeah we ship you two noodle mommy: "we"?  forever alone bitch: mark and me noodle mommy: ???? forever alone bitch: last seen a minute ago

Susan was right, though. They didn't seem like bad people. We had some decent laughs and giggles, plus, the GucciB0i turned out to be a pretty huge fanboy of Taehyung. 

Somehow, I couldn't wait for the next night, because that was the time we estabilished as another gaming session. I closed my eyes, hugging Taehyung's stuffed face, with a dorky smile, first time in a while feeling upon satisfied with how the day had ended,

[minblush]

These goals the boys (bighit) are begging for are promoting such a toxic atmosphere in this fandom. Almost cult-like. But you are a breathe of fresh air bc even some big blogs i liked for being "real" are now into this sheep mentality, this is scary.

Anonymous said:+ kinda funny Pied Piper exist when they are demanding so much lol

i agree that it doesn’t help with the atmosphere in the fandom, it’s gotten so much worse correlating with how much the boys asked of us and how much more the company focused on promoting them based on the records and numbers :( and i also think it’s pretty ironic coming up with that song now with how much they and the company had been asking and doing to get money out of us… i’m also bitter with bighit’s treatment of foreign fans because of what happened today, but anyways.. wish they gave us better things to focus on, at some point we are going to reach the limit and their goals will never be met and the fandom will always remain feeling guilty about it, so i wish the boys had more vague or personal goals instead of giving us specific numbers

anonymous  asked:

personally i think most of the fandom shows so much blind faith to the boys, to the point that it’s very unhealthy. of course, there’s nothing wrong with people wanting to show support for their faves, but some people show unwavering dedication to whatever they want. it’s kind of annoying and they think it makes them look like better fans when in reality they just show they’re in capable of anything realistic

i think it’s like that with most fandoms that are built around real people, because it’s so time consuming and there are a lot of things you have to deal with, but it reached pretty critical levels in our fandom, any time anyone says something negative it’s just HYSTERICS about how fake of a fan you are, or that you’re too dramatic for even thinking outside of anything the company/group wants you to… but yeah i agree with you, always gotta look at things with some level of realism

Anonymous said:ok in the beginning i didn’t really agree with you but now i do. i totally see ur point. ofc they have goals and they should have, but when what they achieve is because of us it can kinda feel like we’re stepping stones??? if u know w i mean. it’s great with ambitions but when you achieve something pls revel in it a bit more before being like “ok BUT now we want more thanks”. or have goals such as development as musicians and vocalists or smth that isn’t based on numbers… i sound bitter lol

yeah that’s how i feel too, and i think they shouldn’t make us feel that way as fans, they used to have many goals like that, about self-development, making good music, connecting more, expressing themselves better, but this time around it’s all charting and records and yeah, and what more it’s even specific numbers, and that’s just blergh.. you know the fandom will be disappointed with itself if we don’t get them to hot 50 next time

Anonymous said:I miss the time where the only things I understood about kpop were that the groups were large and that the members could sing and dance. I’ve never given a fuck about 1st places in music shows and daesangs tbh I still don’t get how all of this works properly. But i started making a big deal of it since the boys first win and at the time it was meaningful but like right now? I don’t even check if they won or not because I know they did. (1)

Anonymous said:It doesn’t feel the same because these wins and prices and stuff just don’t feel as rewarding as before idk how to explain it. I kind of have a feeling that all of this happens just because of the popularity so it’s just meeeh to me (I mean I’m always delighted and super happy whenever they got something, it just doesn’t feel the same anymore, kind of a routine, I got used to it too son I guess) anyway, about the streaming drama that is happening. (2)

Anonymous said: I’m sure that if I ever dare speak these words into life under an URL I’d be destroyed but, I didn’t change my location when streaming the album and I didn’t let my laptop run overnight to stream the MV. I mostly stream because I want to hear the songs and because I want the boys to get some money out of it. It’s great that they achieved the hot100 and it would be great if they make it into the top50, top20… Of course. (3)

Anonymous said:Call me dramatic but the achievement doesn’t feel that genuine to me, because they made it through people streaming while working, sleeping, eating, doing everything but listening to the songs iywim so it’s just because the fandom worked extra hard not because the song made it into the mainstream ears?  Idk nothing feels right lately and the boys have their mind flying over the moon and I hope they will get a break soon so they can reflect and think (4)

Anonymous said:about everything and put their wants and goals straight again. Because they give me the impression that they won’t stop because everything is going so fast and nothing feels impossible to them rn they really need a break. I have a lot to say but I feel that this ask is messy enough as it is. Thank you if you read all of this (5)

Yeah it’s true and only natural that the more awards / wins there are, the less it means to everyone, both us and the boys. I don’t think we’ll get a moment like their first daesang again tbh, i’m really grateful i experienced that moment live.

and you’re right that people are really awful with the streaming, i saw so much guilting everywhere.. like sorry, i work full time,i can’t leave the mv playing 24/7, i do what i can as a fan, everyone tries to help within their means.

it’s just that now it feels like even those sacrifices we make aren’t enough, because in the end we will always be asked and expected to do even more.

and i agree with you, honestly this album felt from scratch like it was made to get them a lot of success, but it lost a lot of what people like them for in the process (the boys’ input, their sincerety about the result), i was hoping that once they would achieve that HUGE goal that they talked about for years, that they and us would breathe out and feel like, yeah we got there, now we can do what matters. but i guess there is still more and more, they just want more sigh, i just hope that once it all starts going down (which it has to eventually) that it won’t be too harsh on them, i know they worry about it a lot

Anonymous said:1. I agree w everything youre saying rn. Before the live stages i honestly only liked mic drop and now gogo is up there too - all because of the vibe their stages give off. If not for that id continue feeling detached from it all, from them. This is my first proper comeback aswell ( other than the ynwa repackage ) and its honestly not what i expected. Esp w wings and now the theme of love yourself, i really expected more… sincerity? Idk if thats the right word. But that could be explained byAnonymous said:2. The fact that the boys didnt have as much of an imput in the album as their previous ones. Which i get w the company wanting to make the most of how big they are and wanted to make sure the album was great but. Idk, i feel like they couldve trusted the boys more since it was them that got themselves here in the first place ( not that bighit was just sitting back chilling but i hope you know what I mean ). And although I was starting to fall back into the hype of the comeback

Anonymous said:3. The recent vlive kind of put me off.. theyre all exhausted, thats so clear. Tae barley said anything and they all just need a rest tbh. And this may just be me being petty and sour, but when Namjoon started saying how they should talk about how they felt after their billboard win nobody really responded? And even Namjoon cut himself off and food became the main topic. Which is good, im glad theyre eating, but i hope you see what i mean? Man idk. Sorry for the length of these

yeah it was like that for me too, but seeing them up there reminded me of why they are the best for me ;-; i also wish for that, cause tbh the songs where boys could say something more were the the best ones on the album and made me FEEL things, while other songs, even if they were fun, they were just empty to me, like empty radio bops, sadly. i’m sorry the vlive put you off, i thought it was cute, though they were tired. i didn’t pay much attention to tae not talking, because he is often like that during broadcasts tbh, he isn’t as talkative as the others during group settings, and secondly he is a rEALLY moody kid, so since they are all tired (they did this between fansigns as well) ofc he would be sitting there with his arms crossed, that’s just how he is. however i agree that the billboard part was weird, the broadcast was to celebrate it but when namjoon tried talking about it they changed the subject after a minute when nobody was enthusiastic at all.. it just makes you feel like, you work so hard to get them these awards to make them happy, right? but if they’re not even really all that into it, then it’s all about the sales and the media play and the cred, so what are we doing it for? but that is me being bitter i guess ;-;

Anonymous said:my first comeback too and i’m a bit disappointed with the (i forgot the word) “theme” of the album compared to hyyh and wings (started when i saw the highlight reels… they’re beautiful but shallow lol). dgmw i love the songs they’re bops but something’s missing and i kinda hoped for “deeper” goals and messages. my other fave bands have goals such as individual and musical growth, learning new things, feeling better about their music and lyrics etc. i love them this won’t change that but still

the word is concept, and yeah me too. i agree with everything you say. i want to hear something more sincere next time, both music wise and their goals wise. like did y’all read the statement bighit had namjoon say after they got onto the hot 100?

“Our dreams are coming true this week with a number one entrance to 73 countries on iTunes, and we are excited to share it with ARMY. We are very thankful for Billboard’s support from the beginning, and excited that Love Yourself: Her is charting at No. 7 on the Hot 200 and No. 85 on the HOT 100 for "DNA” on the Billboard charts.”

this is the most robotic and number focused speech ever and it just makes me feel really -_- just be real with us dakjsd please

Anonymous said:honestly thank you so much for staying real and not being all up their asses.. like you can love a group and still be logical about things and staying true to yourself. it’s refreshing

ha thank you, i wish this wasn’t something i had to be thanked for though… i’m just hyper focused on making sure all my opinions are my own, otherwise i’d lose track of myself as a person

[bangtanbombimagines]

I Got You On My Mind [Part 5]

Jungkook Soulmate AU (Angst)

[Part One] | Previous Part | Part Five | Next Part

Summary: You and Jungkook plan another date after exchanging numbers. Since you’re under house arrest, Jungkook decides to spend the evening at your place. And things seem to go perfectly–until they don’t. 

Word count: 2.1k words

After you hobbled home from the music building, your body was exhausted. But you were still thrumming with excitement, clutching your cell phone tightly in your hand. You had finally gotten Jungkook’s phone number, and he finally had yours.

With great difficulty, you managed to pry off your shoe and make it to your bedroom. After carefully setting your crutches aside, you fell back onto your bed. Holding your phone above your face, you couldn’t help the huge smile that spread across your lips.

You opened your contacts, pulling up Jungkook’s profile. He had snapped a silly selfie when he put his number into your phone, and you stared dazedly at your soulmate’s photograph, feeling more fond than you thought was appropriate.

Hesitantly, you composed a new text message. You began to type a quick greeting, but it seemed too formal, so you erased it. “Hey soulmate,” you tried, then immediately cringed. Backspacing quickly, you stared at the blank text. Maybe it would be best to wait for Jungkook to text first.

Letting your arm–and your phone–fall to the bed, you stared up at the plain ceiling and tried to remember Jungkook before the car accident. After racking your brain relentlessly, you were left with a headache and no answers.

That only made you more curious–what was your first encounter with Jungkook really like? He seemed to like you enough now, so surely it must’ve gone well.

With thoughts of Jungkook on your mind, you slowly drifted to sleep, the world around you fading to black.

You woke with a start, your eyes shooting open. Beside your ear, your phone was vibrating loudly. Exhaling shakily, you placed your hand over your racing heart. Eventually, you picked up your phone from beside you, checking the lock screen for notifications.

When you saw what had set off the alert, you nearly dropped your phone.

Jungkook had texted you. Excitedly, you unlocked your phone and opened your messaging app.

RECEIVED 1:43 PM Hey Y/N 💩

You laughed at Jungkook’s poop emoji and quickly composed a response.

SENT 1:44 PM Hey 🍪

RECEIVED 1:45 PM What’s with the cookie?

SENT 1:45 PM It’s u

SENT 1:45 PM Kookie

You blushed, wondering if the nickname was a bit too much. Suddenly, your phone buzzed, but this time, it was a text from Jieun. Confused, you opened the new chat.

RECEIVED 1:47 PM Are u talking to Jungkook? He’s sitting a row in front of me. He’s staring @ his phone and MAD blushing

Laughing, you felt your embarrassment fade away. You quickly replied to Jieun with an affirmative and closed the chat. Returning to your conversation with Jungkook, you saw that he had already responded.

RECEIVED 1:47 PM …cute

RECEIVED 1:48 PM So I was wondering if you wanted to hang out sometime. Haven’t seen you in while

SENT 1:49 PM Like a date? Or are we aiming for platonic soulmates?

Another alert from Jieun appeared on your screen, and you cackled as you went to check her update on Jungkook.

RECEIVED 1:50 PM WHAT DID U DO?!?! HE’S COMPLETELY RED

RECEIVED 1:50 PM ARE U SEXTING

SENT 1:50 PM Jieun wtf

You squirmed around on your bed, feeling happier than you had since you left the hospital. The smile on your face seemed permanent, and you grabbed your pillow and squealed into it. Still, it was kind of depressing that texting your two friends could make you so excited.

Grabbing your phone again, you checked to see if Jungkook had summoned enough courage to respond. He had.

RECEIVED 1:52 PM Yes, like a date.

SENT 2:01 PM JIEUN!!!! JUNGKOOK IS COMING OVER FOR A DATE TONIGHT!! PLS HELP ME CLEAN THE APARTMENT AND MYSELF

When Jieun had come home, she frantically shoved the mess in the living room into her own bedroom while you limped around the house, dusting things. It was the most you had ever cleaned since you had moved in together, which was saying a lot.

Then, she had helped you into the shower, making sure you stayed upright as you bathed yourself. Your friendship with Jieun was a true one–both of you had long graduated any feelings of embarrassment around each other.

By the time everything was said and done, it was almost time for Jungkook to arrive. Jieun helped you onto the couch, setting your crutches against the wall beside you.

“I’m going to go to Lisa’s place for awhile,” Jieun said as she flopped onto the couch beside you. “Just call me when you’re ready for me to come home.”

“You don’t have to leave, you know,” you frowned, turning to look at your friend. Jieun just rolled her eyes at you. “I’m serious! I don’t mind.”

“Yeah, but I’m sure Jungkook would,” Jieun snorted. “I’ll let you soulmates do your thing. Just…be careful, okay? Don’t jump headfirst into something you’re not ready for.”

“I’m not going to sleep with him,” you replied, a little incredulously. Jieun winced at that. “We’re just going to watch a movie and talk, I guess.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Jieun said, standing up. She walked over to the foyer and grabbed a jacket from the closet. “Don’t let yourself get swept away by the emotions of the moment.”

“Wow, you’re pretty insightful today,” you commented, trying to lighten the mood. “You should write this shit down.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Jieun laughed. She slipped into her coat. “I’m going to head out now. Call me later, okay?”

On cue, there was a knock at the door. Jieun shot you a serious look before she turned to open the door, but you couldn’t read it. Then, she swung the door open, revealing a slightly nervous Jungkook, still dressed in all black.

Jungkook glanced down at Jieun, who said something quietly to him. From where you were sitting, you couldn’t hear, but you just hoped Jieun wasn’t threatening him. Jungkook frowned and said something back, and then the two brushed passed each other.

Jieun left, shutting the door behind her quietly. When you turned your gaze back to Jungkook, he was smiling lopsidedly at you.

“Hey Y/N,” he said, holding up a plastic bag in his hand. “I brought some Chinese. Hope that’s okay.”

“If I had any doubts that we were soulmates before, I’m completely certain now,” you replied, eyeing the bag hungrily as the scent of Chinese food wafted around the apartment. “You know the way to a girl’s heart.”

“Didn’t think it would be that easy,” Jungkook laughed, stepping out of his shoes and making his way towards you. He set the food onto the coffee table in front of the couch and sat down beside you. “So, what’s the plan?”

“Eating,” you replied immediately, still staring at the takeout. Jungkook laughed again, and when you glanced at him, his eyes were crinkled into crescents. If your heart clenched at that, no one needed to know.

“There was a really good movie I watched recently,” Jungkook said, unpacking the food that he had brought. He popped open the lids, revealing black bean noodles, sweet and sour chicken, and broccoli and beef. You could feel your mouth watering.

“I’m down for anything,” you replied, picking up your laptop from the coffee table. You turned on the screen and opened up your browser. “What’s it called?”

“The Girl Who Leapt Through Time,” Jungkook replied, breaking apart a pair of chopsticks. “Classic.”

“Seriously?” you asked, turning to gawk at him. “Are you a closet weab? How come you never told me before?”

“It’s embarrassing,” Jungkook said, blushing slightly. “I mean…do I look like I watch anime?”

“That’s true,” you agreed, reaching to grab your own set of chopsticks. You split them easily, resisting the urge to rub them together because you had heard it was a rude gesture. “Still, who am I to judge?”

“So you’ve seen the movie already,” Jungkook surmised, popping a piece of beef into his mouth. “I have a billion other suggestions.”

“I haven’t watched Your Name yet,” you commented, fishing out a piece of broccoli. “I heard it was really good.”

“Yeah, I loved it!” Jungkook exclaimed through a mouthful of noodles. “I’ll watch it again, I don’t care.”

And so you pulled up the movie on your laptop, streaming it to the TV in front of you. You and Jungkook ate quickly as the movie played before you. Paying more attention to the food, you startled when Jungkook began quietly singing the opening song along with the movie.

Discreetly, you glanced at Jungkook as he sang. His voice was beautiful, to say the least. He sang effortlessly and melodiously, his clear voice floating around the room. Eventually, the opening ended, and he nonchalantly returned to eating.

“Your voice is beautiful,” you remarked softly, still awed by Jungkook’s performance. He turned to you, his cheeks full of food, and blushed slightly.

“Oh, thank you,” he managed, voice muffled by his full mouth. He chewed with some difficulty, and once he swallowed, he spoke again. “Well, I am a music major.”

“Still,” you sighed reverently. “Some people are just born with nice voices. Damn, I could listen to you sing all day.”

Jungkook’s cheeks darkened, and he coughed awkwardly and turned back to face the movie. “I wouldn’t mind singing for you again,” he said quietly after a few moments. “You know, if you want.”

“Yeah, I’d love that,” you replied honestly. You and Jungkook turned your attention back to the movie with small smiles.

After the movie ended, you and Jungkook just talked for a few hours. You reminisced about the old memories you shared together, and you learned a few new things about each other, too. Like Jungkook was a good artist, and you could play more instruments than he could.

Eventually, you and Jungkook both realized it was time for you to part. It was getting late, but neither of you wanted to say goodbye.

“I should really go now,” Jungkook said again, although he made no attempt to move. “Like, I really should.”

“No one’s stopping you,” you replied, quirking an eyebrow. Jungkook pouted at you–a habit of his you weren’t sure if you’d ever get used to, since it seemed so out of character.

“Rude,” Jungkook said, actually standing up this time. He extended his arms and helped you to your feet, reaching around you to pass you your crutches. “But I guess I do need to leave. Jieun’s waiting to come back, isn’t she?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed. “I’ll walk you to the door, since that’s as far as I’m allowed to go.”

You and Jungkook made your way to the foyer, and he began to put on his shoes. The sight evoked a strange sense of deja vu, but you shrugged it away.

“Tonight was really fun,” you said, and Jungkook smiled up at you from where he was kneeling. Once ha had finished tying his Timberlands, he stood back up.

“I thought so, too,” Jungkook agreed. “I wouldn’t mind doing something like this again.”

“Maybe we could actually go out somewhere if my house arrest is lifted,” you laughed.

“I’m fine anywhere, as long as I’m with you,” Jungkook said shyly. And it was so cheesy, but you couldn’t help but blush. When your eyes met Jungkook’s, his were serious. “Is it okay if I kiss you?”

“Y-yeah,” you stammered, shocked at Jungkook’s request.

His hands came up to gently cup your face, and he stared intently down at you. Slowly, he moved forward, and your eyes fluttered shut. His soft lips pressed gently against yours, where he lingered for a moment. Then, Jungkook pulled away. When you opened your eyes, Jungkook was grinning at you.

“I’ll see you later,” Jungkook said softly, turning towards the door.

“Bye,” you said, your voice nearing a whisper. But Jungkook heard, and turned back to smile at you one last time. Then, he turned the doorknob and slipped out of the apartment, closing the door shut firmly behind him. Again, you were struck by a strong feeling of deja vu.

Then you realized–it was because you had seen this all before.

Jungkook in your apartment, standing in the foyer, putting his shoes on. Jungkook looking at you, a very different expression on his face. Jungkook, your soulmate, turning away from you and slamming the door as he left, his cruel parting words echoing loudly in your mind.

You remembered.

And suddenly, for the first time in weeks, you heard the whispers of Jungkook’s thoughts in the back of your mind. Quieter than before, but present nonetheless. Focusing, you were able to make out your soulmate’s voice.

“Fuck. I really, really, really like her.”

Tears began to pool in your eyes. You weren’t sure what to believe.

- Girl in Luv

Writing about Chinese food made me so hungry. But I can’t even eat anything good because I’m on a damn diet. ANyway, hope you enjoyed this instalment of the series! Sorry it took so long to write. Also this is unedited, so I’ll go back and make any corrections later. I’m going to try to wrap this story up in the next few parts. Let me know if you liked it! Thanks always for the support, and happy reading 💛

[avabenjamin]

‪"To the bone" trailer (also the new movie “feed”) ruined my night yesterday I was out here pacing and cryinnnn ngl. I’m not the gal to be this sensitive over a movie/show but hear me out. If this gets publicity like 13rw. I’m OUT. this ones way more backwards like if u care about people with EDS DONT PULL THIS SHIT (-: simple omg.

(Fully aware that some of the actors and the director have a past with an ed, and do amazing charity work) I’m not criticising lily or Keanu AT ALL, I appreciate her background with an ed.l and I think she’s so brave for it)

yes mental health should be talked about, but it’s like, that doesn’t take away from the character ygm? It’s a fiction film and the scenes of the trailer are taking the piss, there awful (triggering to the point of a relapse). It stigmatises mental illness, and 100% glamourises it. Her character is sassy, pretty and beautifully tragic, in a romantic way? get it taken down or im outta this joint /:‬

“I wish I had that problem” you wouldn’t wish for cancer or other life ending illnesses !!!

‪"it’s like you have calorie aspergers" *fist pumps* Get Away ya fool, they were celebrating??? when I was like 13 I would have watched it and get “tips"and shit. ‬I would have admired her character and thought of her as beautifully tragic. just based on the 2 minute trailer, it doesn’t show the ugly side of an ed.

‪nah im actually fuming with this ngl.‬ ‪it’s the production and choice of character really. her, being someone i imagine i’d watch (when I was younger) n think woah i wish i could be like her. It already looks very cookie cutter, stereotypical girl with an eating disorder, who’s too skinny, counts all her calories, looks a certain way, and denies everything. “You look like a ghost”.

To an extent, that’s very real, but that’s not how all eds are at all. Even the name suggests you have to look a certain way to have an ed. a healthy looking body doesn’t equal a healthy mind (eating disorders are a mental illness not a physical one.) ‬

‪ppl may see this as taking it too seriously, but 1 in 4 ppl die with this illness. And the trailer alone promotes the wrong ideas. The dealt by makeup and close up of her bones rllllyyyy is just a criteria to who and who doesn’t have anorexia… :/ it makes a lot of us feel so invalid bc we didn’t look that sick at our lowest. It also makes someone struggling think “I’m not sick enough yet bc I don’t look as thin as her, so I don’t need help rn” ‬ Kinda reminds me of Cassie from skins: “I didn’t eat for three days so I could be lovely” that saids the COMPLETE wrong message to susceptible young people.

WHAT is comical about eating disorders. all the people saying we can’t step on eggshells around EDs is bullshit because humans are inherently vulnerable and respond to role models thus a show portraying a beautiful witty teen with an ED will never be ok

(Also I ain’t the only one who feels this way about the trailer at all) Weight is simply a side effect of an eating disorder, but so is comparison. Maybe you were never tubed or forced into treatment or underweight. But it doesn’t make u less valid.

‪I’m still on the fence about this show, but I rlly admire lily and everyone for it. Just already have some issues with the way it’s been constructed. even tho it may help the minority of sufferers to have an idol etc, it still has its hung ups.‬ it would be amazing if it helped someone recover (as it’s a happy ending) it’s it’s cool to be proud of the context of the movie, but it promotes toxic actions and behaviours and 100% glamourises an ed, no doubt about it.

I’m sick to death of eds being portrayed in a glamorous light, or shown to be a phase/ problem that a little therapy can fix. To all vulnerable and impressionable audiences of the film, I fucking hope it doesn’t have a bad influence on ya bb

"To the bone" will be another middle class white girl who has anorexia and becomes skinny but makes some miraculous recovery. It will add nothing new to the eating disorder discussion and yet again, ignores OSFED. Anorexia is the most talked about and the most represented. There are countless movies and documentaries on it already with side characters having other types of eating disorders. For once I'd just like a movie that has an overweight/healthy weight person who has been starving and gets the help they need.

It make sufferers who are perhaps not as underweight (or who are unable to see themselves as that underweight) consequently see these underweight scenes and feel that they cannot seek help because they aren’t “thin enough” or “bad enough”. Just thinking of the millions of young people who will watch it on Netflix KILLS ME inside. The show will make people without an ed think that that’s the reality of EDs, and not take certain people seriously. I hope they at least portray the loneliness/ brutality of an ed, if not the ugliness. :/ This show will 100% trigger someone into a relapse, that may/ will kill them. when it airs in a week, and ur in recovery pls be careful.

‪I called Netflix to let em kno.‬ it’s a free call too. ‪if u don’t agree, leave it be, just don’t make it cinematic ukno. stressed tf out. sigh. ‬

[silkhyung]

MESSAGE DELIVERED | interim 1

→ Pairing: Jungkook x Reader / Namjoon x Reader → Genre: fluff, smut, angst, humor → Words: 2,659 → Rated: NC-17 → Warnings: language, sort of unintentional sexual innuendos

→ Summary: A text message sent to the wrong number turns into a long lasting affair between two people completely opposite one another. 

→ Note: Ok, so the interim parts are gonna be from Jungkook’s POV (to show how intertwined their lives are without them knowing) and I hope you remember the last paragraphs from the first part since they kind of hold significance in an early conversation in this one lol. Thank you for reading, hope you enjoy! :) 

(Also, these parts aren’t that important really (but this one is). They’re mostly because I love to write from everyone’s POV to make things more complicated lmao I’m sorry)

Parts: 01 : interim : 02 : 03 : coming soon

cr.

jungkook pov

━ 10:11pm Quick question Is it socially acceptable to just get up and leave a discussion? Maybe punch someone on the way out?

It takes a little bit of courage to send it, but when he finally lets his thumb press the send button and the message flies away with a sort of satisfying whoosh, he smiles and pushes it down the pocket of his tight jeans. He thinks it’s a little ridiculous, but it feels nice to message her again. It’s been three days after all.

He’s at Yoongi’s place with the rest of the band, and even though he gets glares from all of them - including their producer and owner of the apartment, Yoongi - for interrupting their heated discussion about promotions for the new song, the prominent smile on Jungkook’s face still can’t be erased as he fiddles with his fingers in his lap, waiting patiently for an answer from the stranger he still hasn’t figured out why he’s messaging in the first place.

“We should tell the bar we’ll play a new song, make them advertise it as the premiere of it”,  lead singer Jimin says, pretending to know things about promoting when literally all he knows is how to sing, crush on guys he can’t have because they’re straight poles and show a shoulder every now and then on stage to get the crowd going.

Yoongi rolls his eyes while crossing his legs elegantly. “That bar isn’t popular enough for that.”

“I agree”, Seokjin says, scrolling furiously on his phone as only a manager can. “We should find a more popular one for that, and you guys also need to step up your game on stage.” 

He gives Jimin a pointed stare that has the younger guy smiling awkwardly. 

“I saw the first person leave just fifteen minutes into your first set and even though they were wearing the most atrocious yellow cap I’ve ever laid my eyes on that I can’t help but think they just generally have bad taste, the point still stands.”

“Yeah, I noticed that, too”, Jungkook adds in, feeling the need to at least pretend he’s engaged in the conversation concerning the future of his band. He actually did notice that. “Awful cap.”

The sound of a text arriving in his phone makes the whole room turn to him to give icy, annoyed glares, and he apologetically nods while clicking off the sound on his phone. All of them continue the discussion while Jungkook focuses on his phone instead, not paying any attention to the rest of them.

━ Beatles Genius Y/N 10:13pm Are the other grandpas giving you a hard time? Maybe arguing over which board game to play before the inevitable afternoon nap?

Subconsciously, Jungkook smiles wide at the message, staring at the words for a few seconds before shaking his head at her. She has humor, and her teasing sarcasm is quite refreshing after hanging around Seokjin and his either flower power speeches or rude remarks about the band’s image on stage, which is mostly zoomed in on Jungkook and Jimin since Taehyung is sleeping on the couch.

━ 10:14pm Ur hilarious Pls note my sarcasm It’s vital for my dismissal of your comment

━ Beatles Genius Y/N 10:15pm LMAO You talk like a grandpa What proof is there really for me to know you’re not?

And then his smile dies a little, because what proof did she really have he wasn’t a creepy old man trying to eventually lure her away like any other internet troll? And how would he know she wasn’t the same, or worse? Yet still, he throws the thoughts away as quickly as they appear and promises himself he’ll be careful if it ever comes to that. For now, though, he is just going to enjoy talking to her.

━ 10:16pm Good point BUT I know who 1d are The fact that I know i can call them 1d should be proof enough tbh

━ Beatles Genius Y/N 10:18pm Nd so I believe you Maybe What’s up?

“Jungkook.”

Whatever he had been intending to write to her gets interrupted by Yoongi’s stern voice, stealing his attention away from his phone. The skinny producer is leaning forward in his seat on the couch, elbows on knees and hands locked together under his chin.

“What do you think about all this?” he asks the youngest in the whole room - whole group of all their mutual friends actually - and Jungkook knows it’s just to be a dick because they all know he hasn’t actually listened to a damn word any of them have said during the last twenty minutes.

“Oh, I, uh”, he begins a little uncertain, playing with the lip ring he got done just a couple of weeks ago. “I agree with Seokjin.” Nodding towards the eldest in the room, he gives another uncertain smile. “We should do as he says. He’s our manager for a reason, after all.”

Before he returns his attention back to his phone, he catches Jin’s proud nod, Yoongi’s roll of the eyes at the obviously disinterested answer and Jimin’s suspicious glare. He sees how the lead singer is about to say something and for some reason Jungkook just knows it’s about who he’s texting, but luckily Taehyung - who’s still asleep on the floor in front of the TV - fake-snores loudly and conveniently interrupts him before Seokjin starts cursing over how late their Chinese takeout is.

━ 10:19pm I’m sort of in a meeting And I’m bored af

━ Beatles Genius Y/N 10:19pm I see And you want me to do what??

━ 10:20pm Idk entertain me?

It’s silent for a whole minute and he’s just about to put his phone away and pretend he needs to pee or something to get away when his phone buzzes again.

━ Beatles Genius Y/N 10:21pm I’m not very funny

━ 10:22pm I beg to differ

━ Beatles Genius Y/N 10:22pm Thnx Okay so how about we play a little game and u tell me what you first think of when I say peanuts?

He raises an eyebrow at that, wondering where the hell she’s going with this but decides to just answer honestly anyway.

━ 10:22pm Salty

━ Beatles Genius Y/N 10:22pm Ok and burgers?

━ 10:22pm Tasty

━ Beatles Genius Y/N 10:23pm I see Rice?

━ 10:23pm White Sticky

She hasn’t read his last one yet, so he locks his phone and lets it lie in his lap while he rests back in the couch, spreading out since Jimin got up to take a phone call from someone he deemed much more important than an inofficial band meeting.

He nearly jumps out of his own skin when she finally responds and he feels the device vibrate lightly against his thigh.

━ Beatles Genius Y/N 10:28pm Lmao Ur answers are hilarious In a way That I regret mentioning Moving on!!! What color comes to mind when you think of apples?

Jungkook can’t help but let out a loud laugh as he reads over her messages, laughing at both the awkwardness of them and the way she sent them away with such haste he must’ve received all six of them in under six seconds. 

He ignores Yoongi and Seokjin’s annoyed but curious glares and gets up to walk into the tiny hallway instead so he can ignore them even more. He positions himself right by the door behind the coats so Jimin won’t notice him when he walks out of the bathroom.

For some reason, Jungkook wants to keep things private and undisturbed with her.

━ 10:28pm Cute Apples? Green

━ Beatles Genius Y/N 10:29pm Right! Everyone else I know thinks apples are supposed to be red and I disagree Passionately disagree

He notices she ignored his first text, but lets it slide, instead focusing on the fact that she ‘passionately disagrees’ and he can’t help but smile like a fool.

━ 10:29pm Lol gotta love that granny Smith

━ Beatles Genius Y/N 10:29pm Ofc good ol’ granny Smith would fall to your grandpa taste

Once again he lets out a laugh because of her, shaking his head while typing faster than he’s ever done before to someone.

━ 10:29pm Ur hilarious

━ Beatles Genius Y/N 10:30pm Lol you must not know many hilarious people

━ 10:30pm Ur hilarious

━ Beatles Genius Y/N 10:30pm Ok So what do you do since you’re in such a boring meeting?

Sighing, Jungkook runs a hand over his face. He doesn’t want her to think badly of him for being in a band, because he sort of feels like she will if he tells her the truth. Instead, he tweaks it a little to his own advantage.

━ 10:31pm I’m a part time chef while figuring out my future on the side

That’ll do.

━ Beatles Genius Y/N 10:31pm So you can cook? Nice

━ 10:31pm Yeah but what about you? What are you doing right now?

━ Beatles Genius Y/N 10:31pm Can’t disclose the exact location cuz I’m currently in a ninja fight But I’m in the library

━ 10:31pm Weird place to hold a ninja fight

━ Beatles Genius Y/N 10:32pm Ikr? I thought it was sketchy when they called me in But seriously I’m in the library Killing nothing other than myself with this slow reading

And suddenly he wants to know everything about her. What does she study? Is she in college? How old is she? What subjects are her favorite? Where did she grow up? What’s her favorite movie? Color? Food?

━ 10:32pm So you’re a student?

━ Beatles Genius Y/N 10:32pm Yeah I guess But I feel like I’m wasting my time tbh

His reply gets cut off by the front door opening, and turning around, he’s met with the smiling face of Kim Namjoon himself, looking like he just ran a fucking marathon both with the way he’s panting and with the clothes he’s wearing, and Jungkook raises an inquisitive eyebrow.

“Ah, Jungkook”, he smiles, wiping away a few beads of sweat rolling down his temple.

“Hyung?” Jungkook mumbles, locking his phone and pushing it down the front pocket of his jeans. “Where the hell have you been? And why do you look like…” Another glance at the guy’s outfit has him shaking his head. There’s really nothing to compare him to at the moment. He just looks absolutely ridiculous.

“Oh this?” Namjoon smiles, pulling his weird jacket off and Jungkook marvels at how he can go from looking like the coolest song writer and producer to looking like a dork from a work out video from the 80’s just like that. “A friend of this girl I like was hosting a charity run at campus with some club she’s in, I think, and I had to participate to win points, you know, because I don’t think she likes me very much.”

“Is she hot?”

Jungkook receives an unimpressed glare over the question, yet a very honest answer. “Of course she is. Absolutely gorgeous. Amazing ass.”

“I can forgive your poor choice of clothing, then”, Jungkook smiles, clapping the shoulder of his hyung affectionately a few times.

“The theme was ‘That 70’s Show’”, Namjoon laughs. “I would never dress like this otherwise. She wasn’t there to see it, though.”

The continuation of their conversation gets interrupted by Yoongi yelling at them both angrily, telling them Namjoon is too fucking late again and if it is because of that girl he’s been crushing on like a wimp he can go hide in a ditch, that Jimin has stopped acting like a girl over his latest crush and that Taehyung is now awake, so they’re all ready for the real meeting to start. 

Oh, and they should bring beer.

Jungkook offers to get the bottles while Namjoon pays the delivery guy who conveniently enough appeared just in time. 

While he’s alone in the kitchen, he quickly fishes out his phone to throw his Beatles genius a quick text so she won’t feel like he’s ignoring her.

━ 10:35pm Hey I gotta go get a verbal beating from my hyungs rn Kidding it’s just serious business stuff So you kno im not gonna be available

He waits selfishly for a few seconds for a reply, but when Yoongi impatiently calls for that beer he wanted, he leaves his phone on the counter to not get distracted during the now official meeting and walks in with a deep breath. This is probably gonna take all night if he knows Yoongi right, which he does, so he steels himself for countless of beers consumed and inevitable arguments between everyone.

Band meetings are his least favorite thing about being in a band. It’s not that he thinks of them as unnecessary or boring - because they’re not - they’re just not the most ideal thing to be caught up in all night when he’s the guy who joined the band solely because he thought he’d be able to live like a true rockstar rather than a very poor guitarist trying to make it on YouTube.

“Okay”, Seokjin starts, clapping his hands together while looking like he’s preparing to murder someone. “Let’s start discussing the new record.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes and prepares for his defensive speech of how he’s just a simple song-writer that can’t pull a song out of his ass just because people want him to and Jungkook thinks about what his Beatles stranger is doing, if she’s still studying and if she might actually be his complete opposite.

He thinks about her a lot during the meeting, and Jimin is the only one ballsy enough to comment on it but everyone knows that’s just because he has a crush on Jungkook and has had one ever since he and Taehyung found Jungkook playing guitar in an awful band in a dingy bar in Busan all those years ago.

“Who’re you texting so much lately?” Jimin asks the youngest when everyone’s clearing out of the living room and it’s well past 2am.

Jungkook’s too tired to go into it - and he’s pretty sure he doesn’t want to - so he uses the easiest explanation he can think of. “Joy.”

“So, what?” Jimin mumbles. “Are the two of you a thing now? You know what Seokjin thinks about attachments.”

Jungkook wants to mention the fact Jimin always seems attached to someone.

“I know, and we’re not a thing”, he says instead. “She’s just a good lay.”

It takes them ten minutes to say their goodbyes because Yoongi keeps telling them to drive back safely before he keeps reminding them he wants them in the studio in just a few hours, while throwing in a threat or two about ditching them if they don’t show up on time.

When they all part ways, Seokjin and Jimin to their own places, Namjoon to the apartment he shares with someone the rest of them haven’t gotten the (dis?)pleasure of meeting yet and Jungkook and Taehyung to their own shared apartments, it’s even more late and Jungkook really feels like a walking dead.

It isn’t until the two of them have walked to Jungkook’s old piece of crap car that he fishes his phone out again to check if he has any new messages.

━ Beatles Genius Y/N 10:36pm Okay good luck or something I guess lol Try not to punch anyone!

━ Beatles Genius Y/N 12:01am This is maybe because I’m very tired But I kinda enjoy talking to you :)

━ Beatles Genius Y/N 12:03am It must be because I’m very tired But ur still hilarious Night lol

He reads over the messages several times, the smiley and the words all shining back at him from the screen, illuminating his face in artificial light where he stands in the dead of night outside his car.

“Hey, can you hurry up and get us home?” Taehyung complains from the other side of the vehicle, slapping the roof for emphasis. “I want to go home and sleep.”

And when Jungkook makes the thirty minute drive back to their shared apartment, he wonders if the sort of warm feeling in his chest is because of the fact he’s going to sing more in the band now or because of the last seven messages he received.

next part