#but this time she posted a pic of them together as like full body shots and i did a double take like. BOOBS?????

[gender-euphowrya]

damn the ''queer kids can sniff each other out'' thing is so true fr my entire middle school friend group is gay

[ingravinoveritas]

Hello! Hope, you are doing great! I have a question for you: What do you think about Michael's new photos from Anna's Instagram? As always here is Michael's eternal love to his daughters and just an old photo with Anna where he looks not even happy but pretty shy. I mean she always posts photos where Michael with her either trying to look happy or not looking at her at all...

Hi, Anon! I’m doing pretty well, thank you very much for asking! Pretty much just vibing over here and hoping Michael is having a delightful birthday with David in his basement. Haha.

I have actually had several people DMing me about Anna’s post, and all have shared sentiments very much like yours. (For those who haven’t gotten to see the post yet, you can check it out here.) And here’s a visual of the pic of Michael and AL, so we can discuss:

(By way of disclaimer, everything that follows are my observations/opinions. I have and will always maintain that I could be completely wrong about all of this, but this is my interpretation of the photo/post in question.) So, I did notice several things about this, one of which was that AL posted this not even half an hour after Georgia made this post for Michael’s birthday (and after responding to Georgia at that same time on Twitter here). All carefully timed for her to get as much attention as possible/build engagement from the whole “Last Leg” thing.

The second thing I noticed is that it is an old picture, like you said, because Michael’s hair and beard do not look like that right now. It also comes across as a bit awkward to me, because she is looking at him, but he’s looking at...the menu, and seems more interested in that than anything else. It’s a “candid” shot, but the energy of the picture is very stiff and posed, as if she knew it was being taken, but he didn’t. But it’s also telling, because if it is candid, that means Michael hasn’t had time to get his guard up, and so we can more visibly see his discomfort.

What also makes this interesting is the juxtaposition with the pictures of Michael with Lyra and Mabli. It’s almost like night and day, seeing Michael come to life with the girls, with that Michael energy we know and love so well. He’s so animated with them, so full of that light that Michael has within him...and then you see him in the picture with AL, and that light is considerably dimmed. This is not to say that Michael needs to behave with AL exactly the way he did with the kids, but we know he is demonstrative by his nature, and has never hidden it when he is in love with someone.

Yet his entire behavior and body language with AL is the opposite of that--that “shyness” you mentioned, Anon. Whatever the reason for that may be, we can’t say for sure, but it seems to speak volumes that two days ago, we had Michael on TLL saying he was going to keep David in his basement...and now we have this almost demure picture of him with AL, where rather than making himself bigger (as we know Michael has done and often does), he looks like he’s making himself smaller, somehow.

This picture is also another example of something we’ve seen several times before, and that is AL entering Michael’s space/putting her hand on the table and him not entering hers/keeping his hands in his lap. We saw this when they were on Gogglebox (when he had to look at the camera to remember to put his arm around her) and in this photo from Staged 3, and it’s been evident in so many other pictures of them together...and again, it is the complete opposite of how Michael has ever historically been with people he actually loves.

What I ultimately take from all this is that he has a clear passion for his daughters and for David, and he does not have that same passion for AL. And the fact that Michael does not make posts about her on his social media says to me that he can’t convincingly fake it, and he knows it.

So yes, those are my thoughts on the new/not-so-new photos from AL’s Instagram post today. I hope this helped to answer your question, Anon. Thanks for writing in! x

[nefastum]

What do you think of a GriffGutsCa modern day porn AU? I think the premise would be hot though the 3 of em being Pornstars.

Oooh this gives me ideas~ I enjoy this premise, love.

Come with me on a little ride, if you will ♡

-

⚠️// sort of nsfw ahead? //⚠️

I definitely feel like they would do self-published content rather than work for an agency.

Griffith has quite the online following. He has a page where he shares dramatic photos in elegant gothic fashion in various states of undress. Lots of lace and flowing shirts, corsets, and lingerie that shows off his best assets in a very regal and princely way. Prop crowns, swords, and even armor make their way into his photoshoots. Subscribers get access to uncensored versions and videos.

Being the supportive bf that he is, when Casca expresses interest in trying out taking some photos like Griffith, he was more than happy to help her set up her own page and boost her profile to his own followers (much to her embarrassment) She doesn't do the sets and costumes as much as Griff does, instead going for casual mirror shots or candid relaxed nudes sprawled on her bed. Her only condition is that her face stays anonymous, so she is usually wearing a medical mask or cleverly cropped out of the photos. Lots of sunset lighting and comfortable, teasing poses. Her page has a very comfy girlfriend vibe. She doesn't get into video work until a little later, but her bfs are more than happy to provide some more bodies for her scenes.

Guts was the last one to start his own page, and it took him awhile to get comfortable with the idea. After working with Griff and Casca in their vids a few times faceless, he finally relented to Griffith's encouragement and spun up an account. His photos and videos are much less scripted than his significant others'. Opting instead for candid post shower pics in the mirror or post workout dickpics. His followers are thirsty for it, though. Hell, he could photograph just his hands, and he'd have commenters asking him to spank/choke them. He's a little bewildered by the response, but it does feel nice to have people compliment him for taking pics of stuff he was already doing anyway. Nothing feels better than Griffith and Casca gushing in the comments under his posts, though. Their hype and appreciation is really all he needs. He doesn't start up a subscription account. Nothing he would post there that he didn't already post publicly, anyway.

Their followers were pretty collectively hyped the first time they confirmed they'd all be doing a collab on Griffith's subscription page. Full threesome scene, fully directed by Griffith with all the set dressings, costumes, and atmosphere he preferred. He played a king, desperate for the touch of real love, and his two loyal knights came to his evident rescue to fulfill their duty to him. Guts thought fucking in armor was a little bit of a pain, but he had to admit, seeing Griffith all dressed up like royalty but begging on his knees was doing it for him. Casca was grateful her helmet hid the faces she made as she took both of them at once. It was an intense scene, but they swore from that point on, more joint endeavors were in order. It made it easier to plan when they all lived together anyway.

-

Thank you for the lovely inspo, love~ I enjoyed this train of thought immensely 🙏 Hopefully you and others enjoy my take on GriffGutsCa porn creators!AU ngl, I kinda wanna see their pics now~ 😈🙏

[raplinesmoon]

Man of The Year (MYG x GN!Reader)

pairing: single dad!Yoongi x gn!reader genre(s): pure fluff, very minor angst au(s): graduation au word count: 2.7k warnings: some swearing, Yoongi is a little nervous, Yoongi is bad at flirting, this is so cute I could cry

rating: PG

summary: For the longest time, it’s always been Yoongi and his daughter, celebrating every milestone of life together. But today, that could change.

a/n: omg isi updating back to back fics? who is she? anyway this is inspired by that viral post of a little girl proudly taking pics of her dad on graduation day. thank you mars @joheunsaram​ for showing me the post and also letting me use her idea! i hope i did this justice. also inspired by one of my classmates who brought their little one dressed in a cap and gown to walk across the stage with them (so cute)! and big congrats to the class of 2022, i’m so proud of all the graduates, you deserve the world!!

listen to: man of the year by logic

A bead of sweat pools at the back of Yoongi’s head, sliding down his neck and into the special black robe he’d adorned. A heavy sigh escapes his throat. He’d probably have to get the robe dry cleaned. Another $10 spent on an item he’d never keep after today, and he knows money had been tight for the last little while. He’d barely been able to squeak by and pay Eunha’s school fees this month, begging his PI for a last-minute raise, who’d reluctantly acquiesced, knowing Yoongi was graduating soon anyway.

Yoongi resists the urge to scratch the itch that popped up mere moments ago and has now bloomed into a painful nuisance. Why were these outfits so damn scratchy? He’d never understand it.

“Appa,” his ears perk up at the small voice, the tiny hand clutching his own, and his fingers wind tighter around Eunha’s. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

Yoongi’s heart begins to pound even harder, and he feels like his world is caving in on itself. The meticulous plan he’d had for today had already begun falling apart at the seams, its delicate threads taunting him amidst the air conditioning of the auditorium.

He checks his watch. 9:50. The ceremony was supposed to start in ten minutes. No time to waste.

He scoops up Eunha’s tiny body in his hands, mind racing as he rushes out the doors, excusing himself when he bumps into random family members and friends of his fellow graduates. He can feel their stares, some of them full of pity and others full of scorn, but he pays them no mind. He was used to the scrutiny that came with being a single father, especially at his age.

“Eunha, baby,” he sets her down by the restrooms. “Can you go in all by yourself? Appa will be outside waiting right here for you, okay?”

If Eunha sees the desperate look in her appa’s eyes, she doesn’t say anything, giving him a firm nod.

“I’m a big girl, Appa! Don’t worry,” she reassures him, and Yoongi chokes back a few tears. His little girl was growing up, and it felt like life was moving chaotically fast. Soon enough, Eunha would be starting second grade, and then she wouldn’t need Yoongi to tie her shoes anymore, she wouldn’t need him to drop her off at the bus anymore, she wouldn’t need him to hold her hand when they went places anymore. The thought of it makes Yoongi’s heart hurt.

It was hard for Yoongi to remember life before Eunha. Her mom had been an old fling, one he’d forgotten had even fallen into his bed after a few rounds of shots. Until months later, when she’d shown up with a baby in her arms that she’d thrust upon Yoongi, who was young, stressed and yet to graduate college.

The moment Yoongi had picked up the little bundle in his arms, it had been love at first sight, her big eyes looking up at him as her pink gums broke out into the biggest smile. And from that day, he was no longer just Yoongs, Yoongo, Suga (his college friends’ stupid nickname for him). He was someone’s Appa. Someone so small and tiny and helpless, this little girl who trusted him with every fiber of her being, who had no one else. And so he became everything to her. Her caretaker, her best friend, her closest confidante.

His years, the prime ones of his youth, were no longer spent chasing money, girls, or booze. Instead, they were spent chasing after his graduate degree with Eunha by his side; busy mornings with the both of them rushing, her hair in two sloppy braids, as Yoongi dropped her off for the bus, silently cursing because he was late to class. His nights had been spent in the research lab, extracting and interpolating numerous data points while Eunha spun around on the rotating chairs, Yoongi sending up a silent prayer every five minutes that she wouldn’t choose an expensive piece of equipment to play with. But he wouldn’t change it for the world.

And no matter how many people told him that today was the best day of his life, he’d shut them down with a gentle smile, clutching his baby’s hand tighter, refuting their claims because it didn’t even come close to the moment he’d met his Eunha.

“Appa,” he jolts out of his daydream, finding Eunha standing next to him, looking up curiously at him. She giggled, a boisterous and beautiful sound echoing off the high ceilings, at the far-off look in his eyes. “Did you fall asleep?”

“No baby,” Yoongi reassures her, crouching to her height to smooth over the creases in her outfit and brush her bangs out of her eyes. “Appa was just thinking.”

“Thinking about what?” She questions him, but it was at that moment Yoongi chose to look at his watch again. 10:01. Shit. Storytime would have to wait for now, they had a graduation to get to.

“Eunha, no matter what you do, don’t let go of Appa’s hand, okay?” Yoongi says nervously, the size of the crowd that had begun to accumulate in the auditorium grating on his nerves. It was so easy to lose sight of a child in here. That’s why he had to be extra careful.

“Oooo-kayyy Appa!” Eunha says loudly, and a few heads turn in their direction. 

“Oops,” Eunha says, clamping a hand over her mouth. “Inside voice, I forgot.”

Yoongi gives her a fond smile, ruffling her hair, never letting go as he leads Eunha to their seats. Just two of them in the long row that seemed to stretch on forever. He sets his nerves aside for long enough to remember to let Eunha take the aisle seat, just so she’d be spared the awkward interaction with any one of his classmates who wondered why Yoongi had brought along a six-year-old girl with him. Shaking his head, he wishes his parents had been able to attend today. Their flight had been unexpectedly delayed, because nothing could ever seem to go as planned in Yoongi’s crazy, chaotic life. His eomma had been so upset, fussing that he’d have to spend his special day taking care of Eunha, but Yoongi had reassured her they’d be fine. They always had been, always would be.

Surprisingly, Eunha holds it together for most of the ceremony. Yoongi knew how difficult it was to keep children's attention, and even he found it hard to keep his eyes open through most of the unnecessary speeches. Or maybe he’d just skipped his morning Americano in the flurry of getting himself and Eunha ready. He looks over at her, her tiny figure leaned over in wonder, eyes trained on the stage, and is taken aback by the swirl of emotions on her face. He wasn’t quite sure Eunha understood what graduation was completely, but she seemed to grasp that it was a special, important, and emotional day for many people in the audience, and Yoongi couldn’t be prouder.

The announcer drones on, calling through the alphabet listlessly, and one by one, people disappear from the crowd to have their shining moment. Soon, the Ms arrive, and Yoongi’s nerves kick in. He couldn’t just leave Eunha alone in the audience when it was his time to go. No, that would not work at all. What if someone scooped her up? Or she started crying wondering where he went?

“Appa,” Eunha whines softly next to him. “My hair.”

He smooths through her tresses until they lay perfectly, twirling each long strand so delicately, that he almost misses the drone of “Yoongi Min” from the announcer.

“Yoongi Min?”

“F—” Yoongi starts, and then remembers his company. “Fiddlesticks! C’mon Eunha baby, let’s go up.”

In the most unexpected move of the night, Yoongi grabs his daughter’s hand, walking with her as she skips down the aisle, clad in a matching hat and robe similar to her father’s, and the two of them make their way up onto the stage.

Yoongi hopes he doesn’t trip, or that his hat doesn’t fall off when they hood him, or that for once, there are no quiet whispers, like the ones that plague his mind when he lies awake at night, wondering if he’s doing enough. If he’s good enough. But none of that happens.

Instead, thundering applause greets his ears, and the oohs and ahhs of the audience are apparent as he and Eunha walk across the stage, Yoongi clutching his daughter, his lifeline, as close to him as possible, while Eunha shyly buries her head in his chest. 

They’re clapping for him. He knows if he turns and looks at the crowd, he’ll see teary faces full of love and admiration, some of them standing on their feet, and his mind is unable to grasp that it’s all for him. Him and his Eunha. For once, Yoongi doesn’t feel like a subpar dad, or a struggling student. As the applause goes on, and Yoongi reaches the dean, he scoops up Eunha with one arm, shyly accepting the piece of paper he’d worked so hard for, both the loves and labors of his life finding him in this one moment.

“Congratulations Min family,” the dean says to Yoongi, his own tears pooling in his eyes. “You deserve it.”

“Appa! Smile please!” Eunha stomps her little foot in frustration, hauling her bee shaped bag over her shoulders like she’s a middle-aged mom asking to speak to the manager and not Yoongi’s daughter.

“I thought I was smiling in the last one!” Yoongi protests with a laugh, reaching out to pinch her cheek, but she turns away with a scowl.

“Appaaaaa! The pictures aren’t good,” she wails in exasperation, reaching out to show him his phone’s camera.  Yoongi had to admit, the photo was awkward, his smile nervous and his hands hovering in a strange position. He never knew what to do with them.

But he couldn’t throw in the towel, not when Miss Eunha was staring him down, hands on her hips, determined to get one good picture of her Appa, the proud graduate.

Yoongi smirks, giving the camera a slight wave, and hears a click-click-click, the shutter going off. 

“Better!” Eunha yells. “Be happy Appa! Today is a happy day!”

Something in Yoongi breaks at her joy, and the smile comes naturally and perfectly, and he knows they’ve gotten the shot.

“Do you wanna see Appa?” She holds the camera out to him, and he crouches to her height, squatting on his knees as the two of the study the picture.

“Excuse me?” A voice interrupts them, and Yoongi looks up to see the figure of a stranger, blocked out by the rays of sunlight, approaching them. He braces Eunha protectively behind him.

“Would you like me to take one of the both of you?” The voice asks again, and Yoongi realizes it belongs to a stranger. A very pretty stranger, in an outfit that was way too fancy to belong to a college student.

“I’m so sorry to intrude,” you continue, smiling brightly. “But I saw you both from way over there and you’re just too cute! You have to get a picture together!”

He sees you pause, and he prepares himself for what’s coming next, the question that’s always at the tip of everyone’s tongue. But it never comes. Instead, you offer him a dazzling smile, your previous offer shining with sincerity, and he feels himself flush under your gaze.

“I, uh, uhmmm,” he spits out, and somehow wonders how he’d made it through an entire PhD defense when he can barely utter two words in your presence. Maybe he’s more out of practice than he thought. After all, it wasn’t like being a dad and a grad student offered much time in the way of dating.

“Yes you can!” Eunha answers for him. “My appa grad-u-nated today! It’s a happy day!”

You coo at the cuteness of the little girl, her pride and admiration for her father shining brighter than the sun on this warm summer day. 

“Wow!” you remark. “Graduating is an amazing thing for sure! I bet your Appa is very smart and hard-working.” Yoongi blushes harder at your compliments. There’s a strange lilt in your voice, one that he hasn’t heard in many years. Could you… possibly be flirting with him?

“He is, he is!” Eunha agrees with you, shrieking in excitement. “My appa is the smartest person I know!”

“That’s awesome!” you reply, giving her an enthusiastic high-five. “You should be very proud of him.”

Looking up at the man, his eyes are still trained on the ground, almost like he’s embarrassed by being gushed about in this manner. Well, you think to yourself, he shouldn’t be. From the couple of moments you’d spent in his presence, it was clear that he was incredibly smart, and an amazing father. Not to mention incredibly handsome, his raven-colored locks shining in the light, a soft gummy smile appearing when he looks at his daughter.

“I’m proud of you Appa!” the little girl echoes, and you hear a choking sound, one that sounds like the man trying an awful lot to hold back a sob, You have to try hard to contain your own tears at the precious, tender moment you’d become privy to.

“Well,” you say, rubbing at your eyes. “How about that picture?”

The man and his daughter pose together, hugging each other tightly, bright smiles on both their faces, and you can’t help but giggle happily at how perfect they look, clicking a photo for them.

“It’s beautiful,” the man says quietly, staring fondly at the photo on his phone. He looks at you, and you’re taken aback by the deep emotions swirling in his eyes. Pretty, you think. Just like the rest of him.

“Thank you for this,” he says, reaching his hand out for you to shake. “My name’s Yoongi, and this is my daughter Eunha.”

Taking his hand in yours, there’s a million questions you want to ask him: is he alone? where is Eunha’s mom? why do his eyes look so sad?

But you keep them to yourself. The answers didn’t matter anyway, it was clear the two of them loved each other more than life itself.

“I’m ___,” you don’t know what prompts you to introduce yourself back to him. After all, it wasn’t like the two of you would ever see each other again.

Or maybe…

“___!” Eunha says enthusiastically, grabbing your hand. “Appa and I were going to have a pizza party to celebrate his grad-u-nation! You should come too!”

“Eunha!” Yoongi chastises, his cheeks redder than a tomato. “I’m sure ___ is busy, and besides, it’s supposed to be straight to bed after dinner, baby. You have school tomorrow, remember?”

“Appa pleeeeaaasee! I want ___ to come! Maybe you can have a new friend,” Eunha whines, the hidden implication of her words lost on her innocent mind.

“I, uh, oh gosh, I’m so sorry, she’s normally not this outgoing, I swear, I don’t know what’s gotten into her today,” Yoongi rambles nervously, eyes flitting from side to side. “You don’t have to join us at all.”

Taking a deep breath, you resign yourself to the fact that Yoongi doesn’t want you there. 

“Okay,” you say softly. “But celebrate lots for me, alright? You should be proud of yourself.”

Turning on your heel, you walk away, making your way down the campus path. Not even a few moments pass by when you hear the pounding of heavy footsteps behind you, lighter ones following in their wake.

“___,” Yoongi’s rich baritone calls out, and you turn to see him, flushed and sweating underneath his dark robes. 

“I, uh, fuck,” Yoongi continues.

“Appa!” Eunha chastises him. “Bad word.”

“Sorry,” Yoongi says sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. “I, uhm, wanted to ask if you’d reconsider joining me and Eunha for a pizza party.” 

The words tumble out in a rush, and he looks at your puzzled expression, quickly adding:

“Only if you’re free, of course.”

“Only if you promise to let Eunha have extra cheese,” you answer him with a wink, watching the way his throat bobs. From behind you, Eunha claps her hands excitedly.

“Okay,” Yoongi says, his gummy smile making another rare appearance. “Okay, extra cheese on me. After all, today is a happy day.”

A/N pt. 2: Thanks for reading! As always, any feedback or comments are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi 💜

[junghelioseok]

heart-on.

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

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

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

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

⇢ series masterlist. | inspired by this post.

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s tragic. Poor thing.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

///

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

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

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

And then your mind goes to Jay.

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

A lot.

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

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

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

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

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

And arguably, a little too well.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m guessing this is yours?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck.

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

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

His response is instantaneous.

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

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

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

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

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

///

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

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

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

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

Great.

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

“Need a hand?”

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

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

“Hey.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your phone buzzes with a response almost immediately.

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

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

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

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

///

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

“Is she alone?”

“Figures.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“H-hi.”

Jay—Hoseok—swallows. “Hi.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Definitely.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Even now?” you ask, and he nods.

“Yep.”

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

“Here’s to second meetings.”

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

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

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

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

You blink. “The verdict?”

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

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

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

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

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

“What if I am?” you challenge.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

///

“Hey, you made it!”

You beam. “Hi.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just promise me one thing?”

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

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

[tumblezwei]

I know nothing about chainsawman but i still encourage you to elaborate

The summary version is that just because an anime has a big budget and the ability to do The Most with fight scenes and coloring doesn't mean it's actually a good adaptation of those scenes.

It's not something I can explain in really great detail, but the entire time I'm watching the anime I can tell it doesn't give off the same...vibe as the manga. A lot of moments in the manga are remembered the way they are because of how weird they are. The composition, art style, and pacing of the manga do a lot to give relatively mundane scenes this sense of strangeness that gives the series it's identity. But the anime has a really had tendency of taking these scenes and making them feel so. Flat. The scenes are there, a lot of them are practically copied and pasted over, but they just don't feel right.

Maybe it has to do with the chance of pace from manga panel to animated scene? Maybe the lack of music that makes everything feel stale? Like, ok, let me go through this slower.

So here's some panels from the manga where Denji has just started living with Aki, and Aki is slowly losing his shit at having to put up with Denji's shitty behavior.

These pages are back to back and then it cuts to the next scene of them at work. The way the paneling is arranged, the slow change in Aki's facial expression, the pacing of it, it all comes together to show how living with Denji is kind of a fucking nightmare. And by giving us these short panels one after another, it makes this behavior seem back to back to back. Aki can't catch a fucking break and by the end of the scene you can visibly see how furious he is.

And now look at the same scene in the anime.

Like, look, maybe it's just me, but this just doesn't feel the same. The pacing is too slow, there's no music or any ambience at all which makes it feel flat and lifeless (and no, that's not me saying I need music for the scene to tell me which emotion to feel or whatever, but you gotta do something to add to the chaotic energy of this manga and it never does), and Aki's facial expressions just don't sell the look of building fury the way the manga panels do.

And I can't post any more pics on this post, but another example I can think of is Power's introduction in the same chapter/episode. In the manga the panel gives us a full body shot with a close up of her face to the side. The emphasis is on showing all of her at once, the messy clothing, her loud and brash personality, the way she holds herself. But in the anime they like, only show close ups of her? We get a shot of her feet before speeding past the rest of her body up to her face, where it lingers until she's done with her introduction and zooms out to show us her final pose. It's weird and awkward. And even after the shot zooms out we never get a full view of her clothing because it's blocked by her sweater.

Like if you had never read the manga and your first introduction to Power was this scene, you just wouldn't be getting the full effect of Power being a weird gremlin. It doesn't even feel like she's the focus of the scene. Her own introduction scene and the camera barely gives itself a chance to linger on her.

Added with the often times muted color palette, the seeming disdain to engage with it's own whimsy, and it's inability to really capture the way Fujimoto does facial expressions, I just don't think the anime is a worthwhile experience in comparison to the manga.

If you like the anime and think I'm full of shit, then more power to you. I'm not saying it can't get better or that I'm the only person allowed to have an opinion, but I just think that MAPPA spent too much of their time trying to replicate the manga scene for scene that they didn't really try and give it a personality lol.

[beepboop358]

A Prom in S4 Theory & Music Coding Predictions

Some leaked set pics indicate that there MAY BE a junior/senior prom at Hawkins High, which they are calling the "Lover's Ball". It's unclear if this prom will be included on screen, or if it will just be mentioned as an event coming up at Hawkins High because this flyer could just extra set decor. Regardless if the prom happens on screen or not, there will probably be some tension about 'who's asking who' to the prom that we will see in s4. Given that this picture was just leaked a few weeks ago, it probably falls closer to the end of the season sequentially.

Having a big school dance in s4 is suspiciously close to how they had the Snowball scene in s2. This would certainly follow the even/odd season patterns, (and actually add to the list of the patterns), which kind of makes me think we will see this prom on screen, or at the very least it will be mentioned in the course of the season.

The Duffer Brothers love Steven King and reference his work and especially 'IT' a lot in the show, but they haven't done anything with Carrie yet so maybe we will get a Carrie moment this season at the prom...

Carrie was on the video store fridays movie inspiration board for ST4.

At the "Lover's Ball", there will be definitely be some music coding relating to Byler. Since music coding is kind of a key thing in the show, I've been rifling through 80's songs to try and find some that may fit with s4's themes/character storylines (and I may do a seperate post about that later), but for this post I'm just gonna focus on what they might use at the prom for relating to Byler.

Since the season is most likely going to take place in 1986, I only selected songs that had a compatible release year so it would be historically accurate. (these songs would also be great for a byler playlist!)

Some strong contenders for the songs that might play at the prom to reference Mike and Will's relationship could be:

"True Colors" by Cyndi Lauper (1986)

This song is honestly too good of an option for them not to use. I'm reallllyyy crossing my fingers for this one.

It's hard to take courage In a world full of people You can lose sight of it all And the darkness inside you Can make you feel so small

"And I see your true colors Shining through I see your true colors And that's why I love you So don't be afraid (don't be afraid) To let them show your true colors True colors are beautiful (you're beautiful, oh) Like a rainbow Oh oh oh oh oh like a rainbow"

If this world makes you crazy And you've taken all you can bear You call me up Because you know I'll be there

"Heaven" by Bryan Adams (1984)

This first verse is literally just the story of Byler... 😭 The rest of the song applies but that verse verse is just sooooo accurate. (I'm crossing my fingers for this one too)

"Oh thinkin' about all our younger years There was only you and me We were young and wild and free Now nothing can take you away from me We've been down that road before But that's over now You keep me comin' back for more

Baby you're all that I want When you're lyin' here in my arms I'm findin' it hard to believe We're in heaven And love is all that I need And I found it there in your heart Isn't too hard to see We're in heaven

Oh once in your life you find someone Who will turn your world around Bring you up when you're feelin' down Yeah nothin' can change what you mean to me Oh there's lots that I could say But just hold me now 'Cause our love will light the way"

"Take My Breath Away" by Berlin (1986)

This song is on Will's Spotify playlist, and I thought it could also be used at the prom since it's a romantic song. I see it as an 'entrance to the prom' moment song, almost like a 'first look' - like the Mike and El moment at the snowball when she first walks in, but with Mike and Will this time. I think the lyrics clearly hint to this kind of 'first look' moment as well.

"Watchin' every motion in my foolish lover's game On this endless ocean, finally lovers know no shame Turning and returning to some secret place inside Watchin' in slow motion as you turn around and say...take my breath away"

Watchin' every motion in this foolish lover's game Haunted by the notion, somewhere there's a love in flames Turning and returning to some secret place inside Watchin' in slow motion as you turn my way and say...take my breath away"

"In The Air Tonight" by Phil Collins (1981)

This song was originally meant to be included in the snowball scene from s2, but it ultimately was not used and "Every Breath You Take" was used for this scene instead. Since it was intended to be a part of the s2 dance, that's why I think it may be used at the prom this season. (you can read the scripts on 8flix)

——— I forgot to include this explanation originally BUT, I think this song might be used to show some anger/resentment between the two, and to show a decent amount of tension, depending on their development this season. Like maybe Mike is kind of leading Will on in private by continuing to initiate intimate scenes between them, but in public Mike is still trying to put on his “straight boy act” and kind of being a jackass about it, and this song could be used to show the tension between them that has caused.

"And I've been waiting for this moment, for all my life, (Oh lord)

Well, I was there and I saw what you did I saw it with my own two eyes So you can wipe off that grin, I know where you've been It's all been a pack of lies.

Well I remember, I remember don't worry How could I ever forget It's the first time, the last time we ever met But I know the reason why you keep this silence up

No you don't fool me The hurt doesn't show, but the pain still grows It's no stranger to you and me"

"In Your Eyes" by Peter Gabriel (1986)

Some of the lyrics in this song just SCREAMS byler, just look at the 1st, 2nd and 4th paragraphs. I would be suprised if they didn't use this song in either s4/s5.

Love, I get so lost sometimes Days pass and this emptiness fills my heart When I want to run away I drive off in my car But whichever way I go I come back to the place you are

All my instincts, they return The grand facade, so soon will burn Without a noise, without my pride I reach out from the inside

In your eyes The light, the heat (in your eyes) I am complete (in your eyes) I see the doorway (in your eyes) To a thousand churches (in your eyes) The resolution (in your eyes) Of all the fruitless searches (in your eyes)

Love, I don't like to see so much pain So much wasted and this moment keeps slipping away I get so tired working so hard for our survival I look to the time with you to keep me awake and alive

"Heroes" by David Bowie (1975)

David Bowie was bisexual. A cover of his song “Heroes” is used in the show twice already, sung by Peter Gabriel. The song plays when they pull Will's fake body out of the water in season one and Mike cries in his Mom's arms, with some very queer-coded lyrics in the background, and after Hopper's letter in s3 (which is very Byler-centric)

"I will be king. And you, you will be queen 'Cause we're lovers, and that is a fact. Yes, we're lovers, and that is that. Though nothing will keep us together. We could steal time just for one day We can be heroes forever and ever. What d'you say? I, I wish I could swim, like dolphins, like dolphins could swim I, I can remember (I remember) Standing by the wall (By the wall) And the guns shot above our heads (Over our heads) And we kissed as though nothing could fall (Nothing could fall) And the shame was on the other side. Oh, we can beat them forever and ever. Then we could be heroes just for one day We're nothing, and nothing will help us Maybe we're lying, then you better not stay But we could be safer just for one day"

I just thought the above songs might be some highly likely possibilities given that they fit the year of the s4 and also make references to not only love, but the idea of hiding, pain, shame, longing, etc., and can make some (partially stretching here) references to other things in the show such as:

RAINBOWS and TRUE COLORS, SHINING THROUGH (rainbows imagery is always associated with Mike & Will in the show and a is symbol of lgbtq+ pride, True Colors shining through = who you really are on the inside finally coming out)

IF THIS WORLD MAKES YOU CRAZY ("crazy together", "only love makes you that crazy" and references the "world" motif in the show)

YOUNGER YEARS, ONLY YOU AND ME, YOUNG, WILD AND FREE (references "not wanting things to change" and wanting "to make things go how they were" part in Hopper's letter, and the "But we're not kids anymore" comment during the Byler fight)

ENDLESS OCEAN and SWIM, LIKE DOLPHINS (references water's significance in the show)

FLAMES (Will in front of the burning car in s4 teaser?)

LIES and LYING (Mike lying to El about how he feels)

INSTINCTS RETURNING, FACADES BURNING, WITHOUT MY PRIDE, I REACH OUT FROM THE INSIDE (Mike's feelings for Will are his instincts, the facade is the act he put on in s3 to seem straight, burning could reference Will & fire, and I think the last 2 lines of that 2nd verse reference vulnerability- perhaps in an apology/confession)

I GET SO LOST (confusion about his sexuality, feeling lost without the other) and SO MUCH WASTED TIME (known each other since kindergarten but were unaware the other felt the same way/was dealing with same things, they could have been even closer)

KINGS and QUEENS (the d&d game mike wrote where he has king Tristan give him a medal in s1)

STEALING TIME (references "turning back the clock, to make things go how they were" part in Hopper's letter and the time theme in s4 and time is central to the s4 plot)

AND WE KISS - AND THE SHAME (references the shame they both feel about being gay since it was so stigmatized in the 80's)

Byler @ Prom Possibilities:

If Mike and Will did dance together at the prom, they will probably get bullied because they live in a small conservative town. They will probably either run out, upset, or Eleven will step in to protect them which could lead to the Carrie moment.

Or Mike and Will will not dance together in the actual dance room, but instead sneak off to somewhere else in the school and have a private Byler dance moment where they can't be teased and it's just them together.

OR Mike and Will are still acting weird at this point in the season because neither of them is communicating what needs to be said out of fear, or one of them has confessed or done something to indicate how they feel, but the other hasn’t so everything is weird between them. There would be lots of tension from this and we would get lots of longing looks and adoring moments between the two of them from the sidelines. (I think this one is the most likely)

[beautifulletdownfics]

The Nearness of You - A Harry Styles One Shot

A friends to lovers one shot feat. birthdays, pining and stolen purses.

Hello, please enjoy this fever dream fic that came to me a week ago and is now somehow 13.5k and gracing your eyeballs. I’ve never written a one-shot of this nature before and it was quite a refreshing distraction from my usual, long-form fics. Thank you to Anne @oh-honey-styles​ for the encouragement (bullying) and for posting the pic that inspired it all. To everyone else, read on x katey *Because this is quite lengthy, I’d recommend opening in a browser because the Tumblr app can be glitchy*

My masterlist Chat to me here

“When you're in my arms And I feel you so close to me All my wildest dreams came true” The Nearness of You, Ella Fitzgerald & Louis Armstrong

++

You love the cold.

London in February isn't everybody's cup of tea, but you feel positively giddy walking down the icy Soho street in your new & Other Stories snow boots. The hard, black leather is already making your toes ache, and they're rubbing against the heel of your left foot, but they'll stretch to size, and you can tell these are going to be Your Signature Boots. The wind whips against your cheeks, red flushing them as you cross the laneway and push open the door to the chic little restaurant you've followed on Instagram for years but never had an excuse to try. Figures Harry chose it for tonight. Sometimes you wondered if the coincidences were a little too … Coincidental.

"Hi," you smile brightly to the maître d', "I'm uh … I'm here for the birthday? For Harry?"

Do I need to say his surname? You think to yourself.

"Can I have your name, please?" The suited man pulls a piece of paper out of the reservations book and waits for you to identify yourself. Your chest is rattling from the cold and the flurry of nerves you're all too familiar with ignoring.

"Y/N," you say your full name, taking in the dark floor of the restaurant, the flickering candles on the tables and lining the bar that takes up the entire left side of the room. The whole place is beautiful, just like you've double-tapped online; all deep reds and burgundies, vintage posters, and mismatched, dark wooden furniture. A jazz record plays just loudly enough to fuse the conversations at all the tables into one comfortable sound. It would make for a sexy place for a date, you decide, stolen touches under the table would feel thrilling and seductive.

The maître d' nods, you're on the list, "Back in the private dining room," he says, "Follow me this way."

You push your evening bag further up your shoulder and walk half the length of the bar, your eyes adjusting to the darkness. You catch the bartender watching you as you go, he's cute, and you give him an awkward little wave before calling out ahead of you.

"Sorry, excuse me," you get the attention of the man leading you through, "Can you point me to where I need to go? I'm going to get a drink to take in first if that's okay?"

"Just there," he points to the doorway at the back, next to the kitchen pass, "The curtain on the right."

Thanking him, you watch as he walks back to his station by the front door. You turn to the bar and rest your hands on the cool wood. They've stuck the pages together of old Little Golden Books for the drink menus, but you'll be ordering what you always get on birthdays, so don't take in the beverage options as you flip through The Tawny Scrawny Lion. You remember it from when you were a kid.

The bartender moves to stand in front of you, a gleam in his eyes and flirtatious smirk on his face, "Pretty good read, that one. You have to order a drink though, this isn't a library."

You laugh, he's laying it on a bit thick but probably just after the tip, "I was more a The Poky Little Puppy sort of girl."

He gives you a grin of approval, flipping a napkin up onto the bar in front of you, "What can I make for you?"

"I'll have two Old Fashioneds, please," you lean forward onto your elbows to give your feet a rest as he pulls up a second napkin and then two crystal, lowball glasses. "They're pretty," you comment without thinking.

"It's all about the glass," he confirms quickly, dropping brown sugar cubes into each one and then shaking bitters on top. Your eyes focus on the way the squares dissolve and fall in on themselves as he speaks again, "I'm Jack."

"Y/N," you give your name for the second time, throwing a brief smile his way, "I've never actually watched someone make these before."

Jack pauses and gives you a teasing look, "Do you want me to stop so you can get something to write this all down?"

You laugh and roll your eyes at him as he goes back to making the drinks. You're stalling. You know when you go through the curtain in the back there'll be a dozen people who're all dressed nicer than you, with more impressive jobs than you, who have funnier, more outrageous stories about the birthday boy than you. You'll need to stand awkwardly in the doorway for a few moments too long before Harry notices you, and then your greeting will be watched by all his cool, London friends.

You know better than to let any of that dull your shine—you really do—but you've had a rough few months, and if you're honest, you'd like your first time seeing Harry since the summer to be a little more low-key than this. So that's why you're wearing the new boots that hurt and might not suit the dress code because they're new and you feel good wearing them with this outfit. It feels a little special to be out celebrating Harry's (belated) birthday in a semi-new ensemble. You managed to fluke getting your hair and makeup just right, and yes, your legs do look pretty fantastic in these tights with the short, roll neck, knit dress, thank you very much.

"Here you go," Jack brings your attention back to him, you can smell the citrus twist in front of you, and the crystal glass deflects the light from the candles, "Can I put this on a tab for you? You're with the birthday?"

"I'll pay," you tell him, already digging for your card and holding it out to him.

"Oi!" You hear a very familiar voice call out from the far end of the bar, the hairs on the back of your neck stand up and you shiver, "What're you payin' for? What's she—don't take her money!"

You keep your arm out steadily to Jack and raise your eyebrows at him, "Take it," you urge him quickly, feeling him pluck it from your fingers just as you turn towards the voice you know so well.

That familiar Tom Ford cologne hits your nose just as Harry hurries up and deposits himself heavily against the bar, right up in your personal space. His broad frame blocks out the room to you, and he's lit softly in the dim light and looking radiant from within, as per usual. He's got his crazy eyes out—accusing you—and his eyebrows are pinched together slightly, but he looks good. Happy. Rested. Pleased to see you.

Harry's always pleased to see everyone, you tell yourself, Hold it together.

He pulls you into his chest for a hug. Your cheek presses just below his pecs, and you feel the way he's grown more defined since you last saw him. The material of his t-shirt is soft and smells clean. It's a tight squeeze he gives you, one that you resist reading into. Was it healthy for there to be so much comfort in a simple hug? Was your whole body allowed to tingle and fizz from the embrace of a friend? Was it pathetic to have been carrying around in your ribcage the same crush from when you were thirteen?

Affirmative. Without a doubt. Yes.

You haven't seen Harry since mid-September, the last time he was in London. Well, the last time he was in London and had time to see you. You're sure there were probably business trips, Christmas definitely. And going off Instagram, you think he might've flown into Manchester and spent a long weekend with Anne back in October, but if it was any of your business, it would've been your business. You needed to be grateful simply for what you got; intermittent texts about books he'd read or maybe a happy drunk voicemail if he thought of you at the right time. He sent an email at Christmas with a charitable contribution in your name instead of a gift.

"It's so good to see you," Harry says as he pulls away, all crinkled eyes and broad smiles. You don't know your grin has launched his heart into space and that despite having just gone to the bathroom, Harry feels due for a nervous wee. He thinks you look fucking gorgeous tonight. Knowing you've done your hair, and eyeliner, and picked that dress to come out and celebrate his birthday … It sends a jolt of desire straight to his groin—beauty blooms in front of his eyes in you.

Tell her, you idiot. Twenty-seven could be the year.

"Hi," you chirp at him happily and pick up one of the glasses in front of you, "I got you a drink."

Harry watches you fondly and then dramatically looks off to the side, lets out a little huff, "Typical Y/N, buying her own drink … You really think I wouldn't have one here for you?"

Nevertheless, he says a quiet thank you, takes the glass from you and deliberately sniffs it as if he's not sure what's inside or if he'll like it. You smack his arm lightly at the show and pick up your own glass, chinking it to the side of his and watching him over the rim as you both take your first sips. The familiar taste and view fill your tummy with gurgling happiness that sits high in your chest. He's dressed almost exactly how you expected him to be—smart, high-waisted dress pants and a printed t-shirt. You're glad you didn't go too formal, the restaurant is nice, but it's not Hatted or anything, not like the place he took you in LA that time, where you felt like the biggest idiot in the world for not realising beforehand, was properly fancy.

"Fuckin' delicious," he rumbles slowly, bringing you back to the cocktail, "A classic."

"Happy birthday," you tell Harry sweetly, thankful for what's likely to be your only quiet moment with him all night, "Sorry I couldn't make it to the LA party."

"Ah," Harry waves you off, "Your job's much too important here."

He means it. Harry's beyond proud of you. He's always telling people you work for the NHS, saving lives and keeping the country going. The party in LA was thrown together by some people at the last minute, and even though most of the friends he left in the backroom when he went to find the bathrooms a few moments ago were able to fly across for it, Harry's not the least bit put out by you not being able to. Would've been a big trip for you to do on your own and he knew there's no way you'd miss his London celebration. And you sent over a gift, which shouldn't have surprised him. His actual birthday was spent in LA, and that morning a parcel arrived from you—two new notebooks and a novel Harry read the back of and instantly knew he would love. It's what he read on the flight home to the UK.

Trust you to want him to have the gift on his birthday—go to all that trouble of packaging it and sending it over—when you were going to see him in London ten days later anyway. Harry could do worse than a friend like you.

"I just need a bit more notice than four da—

—Please," Harry's shaking his head at you, hating watching you apologise for something he really doesn't care about. "I'm glad you're here tonight," he tells you genuinely, fingers reaching out to brush your bangs away from your eyebrow briefly and—did the room just spin around you?—get a glimpse of the bronze sheen over your eyelids, "I haven't seen your new hair in person, looks lovely."

Lovely? he scolds himself, Lovely is a nice jam scone, lovely is a hug from mum …

"Oh," you coo, automatically sending your own fingers up to where Harry's had just been to reposition your newish bangs, "Thanks, still getting used to it, wanted to do it forever but wasn't brave enough to I guess."

"I like your natural hair colour, too," he continues slowly, eyes running over your whole head, "I mean, I loved how it used to be … But I like this a lot."

Shit, Harry's already failing to adhere to the strict series of pep talks he's given himself over the last couple of days. He's babbling, and he's probably just made you think he's not liked how you've had your hair for the previous twelve years. Is he buzzed from the cocktail or from the way your cheeks have gone a little pink since he touched you? His compliment made you squirm, and Harry wants to do it again and again until what he's feeling makes sense.

"Just, you know, feels like a throwback to the old days," he mumbles through another sip of the cocktail you both love, a glint appears in his eyes as he continues, "When you had Barbie overalls and would spend half a day plaiting your whole head in those tiny little rat tails."

Your mouth opens into a horrified O, and you let out a single laugh, "Rat tails? They were cool. And I was eleven when we met, I'd definitely already outgrown the Barbie overalls."

"Whatever you say," Harry smirks at you, signature dimples appearing on his cheeks, "I just remember those little beads from the ends of them ending up all over the bottom of the pool."

You smile at the memory. You remember duck diving with Gemma to collect all the beads so they could be put back into your hair the next day. Nearly drowning from laughing so hard at Harry and the other boys trying to stand on your backs in the water. Summers with Harry were always spent laughing. The local pool and skate park saw all your adventures. When Harry's dad moved in next door to your family after his parent's divorce, you and your brother hung off the fence, peering into the backyard to see if any toys or a trampoline might appear signally new kids next door. They didn't, and it wasn't until the summer when Harry and Gemma arrived for their holidays that you jumped the fence with ice lollies and offered yourself up as a new friend.

"Simpler times," you muse to yourself, looking up and catching the perplexed look Harry was giving you, "Spaced out a bit, sorry."

"I've missed my little weirdo," he grins at you affectionately, angling a little closer and levelling his head down to yours as he bit his lip and frowned, "Are you doing alright though?"

You let out a little sigh and avert your eyes to where Jack, the bartender, is busy making trays of drinks for different tables. Harry observes you carefully, a twinge of guilt forms for causing the sad look that's come over your face, but also for not having asked the question weeks ago. Gemma told him at Christmas, an off-handed comment about you being newly single. When he heard the evil gremlin in him was fucking relieved, just like he always was.

"I'm fine," you try a smile out and pull your lips up higher when you don't think Harry buys it, "Better. Had my crisis haircut and drank myself to tears with my work friends. Just a normal break up, really. M'getting used to them at this point."

A small, white lie.

Each breakup bruises you deeply. Talking about it afterwards fills you with a shame that makes you feel naked, like everyone else can see what's wrong with you but you. As though it's obvious why nobody's picked you yet. You don't ever want to talk about it afterwards, (especially not with Harry) don't want to draw attention to it. Prefer to let the disappointment and loneliness pool in your tummy and sit there heavily, weighing you down, waiting for the One Day someone spectacular might come along and be buoyant enough to float away with you.

You're looking for your forever. You want the cheesy romance, and the love, and marriage, and kids, and the whole stupid thing. You want to be wanted and loved and cherished. That's what you're ready for. You just can't find anyone who's ready for that with you. So, you date, have mediocre boyfriends who rarely make it to the first anniversary, then pick up the pieces and try again.

Wash, rinse, repeat.

"Well," Harry swallows, reaches out for your arm to make sure you look at him, "You look beautiful tonight. And it's his loss, he's clearly a monumental idiot."

You give Harry a noncommittal hum in response. Just as you're about to say something you shouldn't—get into details you bet Harry really isn't that interested in knowing—you catch the movement of someone appearing from the doorway behind Harry and then approaching you both.

"Harry, mate," you don't know the guy who's recognised Harry's back and is calling out for his attention now, "Thought you might've fallen in."

Harry snaps around quickly to the voice, blocking your view. You take another sip of your drink and pull in a deep breath. Not fitting into any of Harry' groups socially has its downfalls. If his sister wasn't around, you tended to have to make friends at anything Harry invites you to. You're not part of his Holmes Chapel crew or his LA friends, and you definitely don't fit into the London group. Over the years there have been faces you've come to find familiar, but you're still the singular, hanger-on friend from Harry's second childhood home.

Peering around Harry's shoulder, you catch the end of a look between the two guys you think alludes to this new friend gauging whether Harry needs rescuing from you. You briefly wish the ground would open and swallow you whole. You know that look well.

"Aiden, this is Y/N," Harry raises his arm and angles to pull you around in front of him.

You hold up your drink, awkwardly, "Hi."

Aiden gives you a hesitant smile, "Hello," then he raises his eyebrows at Harry, "Harry, you coming back in, mate?"

Harry bites his lip and chuckles, reading the look on his friend's face, "You're a prick, I don't need saving. Known Y/N since I was twelve, we were just catching up."

You feel yourself go bright red, and you're thankful for the forgiving lighting. This isn't the first time this exact scenario has happened to you. You've been on the receiving end of that uneasy look before—his friends checking if the girl who isn't there with anyone else is supposed to be there at all. Backstage at the O2, a member of Harry's security once hauled you to the tour manager's office to check your VIP credentials were legitimate. You'll take that story with you to the grave.

Aiden deflates slightly and waves a hand your way, "Shit, sorry, thought he'd been cornered by a fan again … I mean, a pretty fan to say the least but …" he coughs into his hand when Harry gives him a glare you don't see, "Great to meet you."

"No worries," you wave it off like it's nothing. The truth is your brain has short-circuited at Harry's palm resting on the small of your back, he's not moved it from when he first brought you forward. Friendly touches weren't strange between you, but this lingering, comforting hand is burning a hole in you tonight. You haven't been out and had anyone touch you since your breakup, and Harry is setting off all you nerve endings. You tilt your weight onto your other foot to pull back from him slightly, but Harry's hand travels with you. "We should go back, I might use the loo first though, is it that way?"

Harry watches you point in the direction of the bathroom, you're flustered and he really wishes he could tell Aiden to buzz off so he could just take another few minutes with you. Brief you on who was in the room you were about to go into. You wouldn't know any of them, and Harry always appreciated that you came to things on your own, particularly when you wouldn't know anyone aside from him once you got there. He should have invited his sister so you'd have a buddy. Or told you to bring a friend. Not a boyfriend, though.

He watches you take the final drag from your drink and put the glass down on top of the bar, "Thanks Jack, t' was dee-lish," you catch the attention of the bartender, throwing him a beaming grin. And Harry watches the way the guy's features light up at being called on by you. Envy rumbles in Harry's gut, he recognises the dumb smile and dopey nod of Barman Jack's head. Has felt it a hundred times himself when he's been on the receiving end of your quirky humour.

You walk away, and Harry feels Aiden watching him, "She's fit," he comments, trying to get a rise out of Harry, reading the room perfectly.

"Fuck you," Harry grunts at him.

++

Harry sits opposite you at the long table in the private dining room.

You nurse a glass of rosé and eat the food slowly, savouring it. You deliberated over the menu for a long time before settling on what to order, you've seen photos of most of the dishes online, but there were several new ones too. Harry goes off your recommendations but spends a lot of the dinner talking to the people sitting beside him. He knows if he tried talking to you right now, he'd just get lost in you, which is both rude for a birthday party and bound to be too conspicuous.

You insert yourself into a conversation with the girls sitting next to you and pretend you're good at making friends. They spend most of the meal talking about something that was on the telly the night before. You were on shift so missed it, but pretend to be interested or like you might've seen it—anything to not stick out like a sore thumb.

Harry watches you out the corner of his eye the whole time. You've shrugged off your jacket, and he recognises the gold necklace you've got around the collar of your dress, sitting over the black fabric on your chest. He's pretty sure it was a gift from Gemma a few years ago, you wear it all the time. Harry makes a note to get you something that compliments it for your birthday coming up. You're chatting to one of his mate's girlfriends and Lisa who's been on his publicity team for years. Those would've been the two he'd have introduced you to first as well. He can't stop watching the way your lips turn up every time something funny is said, or one of the girls makes eye contact with you. Watching you try with his other friends always makes Harry feel warm and giddy for some reason.

Fuck, he's missed you. And he berates himself for the fact he never seems to remember that until he sees you again. (It's strategic usually, his heart doesn't take your company well when he knows you're going home to someone else) You're so engaging and kind and unintentionally charming, and you always have time for him. Harry knows he's not an easy human to be friends with; he constantly ducks in and out and is never around for the big things, let alone being available to call on a random day to just hang out with. The friendship is always on his terms, and he knows it makes him a selfish prick. You definitely could've done with a call a couple of months back when you had your heart broken. Like always, he missed it, and by the time he was sending you a message about an episode of Midsomer Murders, he felt as though the moment to console you had passed, and Harry didn't want to draw attention to the fact he wasn't around for it.

"Harry?"

"Hmm?" His head snaps back around to the person next to him, thoughts still on you across the table. He agrees with whatever was said and does his best to catch up.

Harry's got to stop thinking about how you're single at the moment. He really does.

++

A few hours later, it's the girl sitting to your left, Lisa, who first mentions the idea of kicking on.

It's after dessert—after everyone sang happy birthday to Harry over a round of espresso martinis—and you're starting to think that if you leave now, you'll be home before midnight, which means the tube won't be too deserted to feel safe. You're also at a comfortable place to wake up without a hangover in the morning. Two cocktails and a glass of wine over dinner, because any more and you're scared you could say something stupid to the wrong (right) person.

Harry's face lights up, and he looks around the room, eager at the idea of going to a bar or two for more drinks. He's not been out in London for the longest time, and he's happily buzzed enough to not be too worried about running into people. Feels like this group of friends have gelled well together. How often does he get to have a night like this in London? Hardly ever.

"Yeah, let me sort out the tab and then we're good to go," Harry says, pushing his seat back from the table and standing up, his hands hunting his pockets for his wallet and phone, "I'll be right back."

When he goes, you decide now's as good a time as any to split. You pull your coat on and say goodbye to the friends you made over the meal. Lisa gives you her business cards as if speaking to you had been part of her job, you slip it straight into your coat pocket and can already picture it at the bottom of the garbage in your kitchen. You revisit the bathrooms, and when you come back out into the main restaurant area, Harry's still leaning against the front desk, chatting to the maître d' from earlier.

He feels your small hand land on his back and jolts upright at the contact, your gentle voice calling his name softly, "Harry, I'm going to head home."

He spins around, and you catch the fall of his face, "What? No … No. You're the one I want to hang out with the most," his bottom lip juts out and his brows furrow. "Y/N."

"Thanks a fuckin' lot, mate," you hear a male voice laugh at your back, they slip behind you and out into the chilly air, and Harry flips them the bird. You were pushed closer into his chest as they jostled past and he steadied you with his arms latched onto your forearms. Still watching outside, you see a cigarette lighter flare-up on the footpath and the end of an orange butt glow spectacularly in the night. When you glance back at Harry, he's not looking happy.

"Don't pout," you tell him lightly, you reach up and press the skin taut between his eyes smooth again, "Can't wrinkle that rockstar face of yours."

His face lights up, and his skin heats where you made contact, "You can't go yet."

"Harry," your features tangle into something like a grimace, "You'll have a better time without me. Everyone seems to be pretty tight—"

—Y/N," he gives you a final, pleading look, "Please come."

You make out like you're stomping your foot in defiance, "Fine."

"Score!" Harry cheers under his breath, shrugging his jacket up over his shoulders and saying a final round of thank yous to the staff. When you're out on the street at Harry's side somebody mentions the name of the next place and points the direction of it, Harry places a hand on your shoulder as you start to walk and leans down to your ear, "I just have one condition for you coming."

You pull back and look at him, "I don't think you get conditions when you've begged me to be here."

"A birthday condition then," he edits, pressing his lips together and smiling at you with his eyes, "You have to promise to do what I say before I ask it."

You narrow your eyes at him, "I suppose you only turn twenty-seven once. You can have a single wish from me."

Harry laughs and slips his fingers under the strap of your evening bag, "Give me this."

You think briefly he means to carry it for you, which is a strange thing for Harry to request. But then he unzips it in front of you and starts rifling around inside it, slipping your phone under his arm so he can move around the lipstick and tissues and emergency Galaxy bar to eventually pull out your small purse.

"Harry! What are you—

—Ah, ah!" He holds it all away from you and reminds you of the promise. "This is mine for the night," he says, slipping your purse into his coat pocket. "Otherwise you'll end up buying too many rounds."

You try to sneak your hand into the pocket after your wallet, "Don't be stupid. It's your birthday, I'll buy every round if I need to."

"Exactly my point," he steps away from you down the street, and you skip to be back at his side. He's stolen your money and your chocolate bar.

"Harry, give it back."

"Nope," he pops the 'p' and hands you back the bag, the Galaxy bar hanging from between his teeth, still in the packet, "You promised. Now hurry up and walk, and I might give you a bite of this. 'm freezing my balls off, we are not in LA anymore."

So that's how you end up in the next bar, your handbag a little lighter, squished into Harry's side with a pleasantly sour cocktail he paid for between your fingers. The booth is so far into the back wall you're not even really sure which direction the front door is anymore. Somehow, you've managed to sit ten people around a booth probably designed for six, but nobody seems to be bothered.

Your whole right side is on fire, though.

You can feel Harry from the top of your shoulder all the way to your ankle. His hip sits neatly next to yours, Harry's left elbow rests just above your right thigh, and your knees press together every time he gets excited when he speaks and unintentionally opens his legs up. If Harry's bothered by it there's no way you'd know, he's hardly looked at you since you all sat down, much less uttered a word of discomfort about the seating arrangements. Makes no sense really, when he seemed so desperate for you to stay out with them.

(Next to you Harry's felt like he was high most of the time, he's flashing in and out of the conversations around him. Because he can smell your perfume—Stella by Stella McCartney, he'd know that fragrance anywhere, you've been wearing it since you were seventeen—and you're warm and snug beside him. He feels completely insane. But he also feels inflated with a heart-crushing joy at having you so close. He's trying his best not to draw attention to it or to you because what he's always liked most about your friendship is that you're just his. God, he needs to do better at seeing you more often, talking more, being more. Each breath as he's touching you is like a crack of electricity through his chest that aches beautifully. Nobody else feels like this. Even when he's dated, what he's felt with them can't hold a candle to his boyhood crush on you.)

You sip your drink and laugh at the embarrassing story that's being told about Harry, oblivious to his torment. Oblivious to how Harry feels your forearm brush his leg and has the overwhelming desire to deposit his palm on your thigh and keep it there, probably forever.

It strikes you that the last time you saw Harry was before the current anecdote about him in Italy happened, and at the table, it's being spoken about as though it was ancient history. You wonder what historic classification your memory of thirteen-year-old Harry would get, that time he attempted to bleach his hair with lemon juice. He ended up with second-degree burns on his forehead from the acid reacting with the sun.

Or the time Gemma stayed in Holmes Chapel for the summer because she had her first boyfriend, and so you spent six weeks learning that maybe you'd been wrong about who your favourite Styles child was. Maybe the boy who, when you were eleven, didn't impress you much, suddenly at thirteen, demanded all your attention. Made that summer become the first where you considered your outfits and whether your mum sending you next door with homemade snacks made you look lame.

"… And of course, Harry can't walk away from a dance floor when he's on the tequila …" everyone around the table laughs. Harry peeks at you to make sure you are too, but he's not very good at it because you notice, a smile flares on your lips.

You're used to long periods of not seeing each other, it's how it's always been. Harry and Gemma spent the summers with their dad and then returned to Holmes Chapel for real life. Sometimes that's what it still felt like, as though each time you saw either of them you were acutely aware there was a foreign Real Life they would go back to without you.

Harry in particular. You were used to not seeing him for months on end, usually the whole school year. Just a few messages over MySpace and birthday cards, and then, when you were out of school, invites to parties Harry couldn't come to anymore—'I'm in Australia, how insane is that? Sorry, I'll miss your 18th …' or 'I can only stay until the 8th, could you maybe graduate a week earlier? ;)'—and emails every other month with a new mobile number for you to overwrite his contact in your phone with. You're not saying you feel hard done by in your friendship, you don't. It's just always very take-what-you-can-get with Harry.

"You've got your thinky eyes on," he's pivoted his whole body towards you, hips twisted in an entirely uncomfortable looking position. Harry's got his resting elbow on the table right next to where your hand holds your drink, and he's looking down at you with careful eyes, "Where are you?"

"The pool a dozen summers ago," you answer easily, pursing your lips together and running a knuckle along your hairline, "Thinking about your ah, burn incident."

Harry's face explodes in a grin, and his eyes roll up to the ceiling and then capture yours again, "For fuck's sake, you're never going to stop bringing that up, are you?"

"You were a horrible blonde," you remark quickly, "If you ever so much as blink in the direction of a packet of bleach you have to call me, okay? I'll have no issue telling you, categorically, you should never dye your hair."

"Categorically," Harry mimics you childishly, "Alright, I get it, you went to uni. No need to use words with fifty syllables to make me feel stupid."

You bring your glass up to your lips, "Come off it, Harry, you're ten times smarter than me."

His forehead raises, "You're the cleverest person I know. Don't make me call Gem to confirm it."

"Don't bring your sister into this, Harry," you deadpan.

He goes to reply but holds back, something unnamable travelling across his eyes as he watches you lick your lips after taking another sip of your drink. Harry's leaning a little closer than he might usually, and despite the fact he's a few drinks in he still smells only of Tom Ford and clean clothes. He's just about to ask you what you're doing the next day when he gets hit in the side of the head with a coaster.

"Hey," he cries out, pulling back from you and frowning around at the group trying to figure out who the culprit is," 'M the fucking birthday boy, watch it."

Lisa is the girl directly across from Harry and yourself, and she's is the one who threw it. She's giving Harry a coy smile and holds up her empty glass to him, a not so subtle request makes the drink in your hand feel like a concrete brick. Something dirty you don't like having. She's got captivating blue eyes and straight blonde hair—exactly Harry's usual type. Your heart sinks as he slides out of the booth next to you, laughing at her flirtatious request and taking a tally of who else wants a new drink.

"Y/N?" Your name is delicate on his lips, and it makes you want to cry. Why is it so easy for you to make things feel like they mean more with him?

You direct your smile his way, "I'm good, thanks."

His head tilts to one side, "You sure?"

"Positive," you nod, feeling your cheeks burn as everyone watches the exchange.

"Okay," Harry taps the table with the corner of his phone, "I'll be right back."

After a few moments, you sneak off to the bathroom, happy to see Harry's beaten you back from the bar when you return. He's sitting in your spot, deep in conversation with the person beside him who you recognise from the radio. Tentatively, you slip in next to him, careful not to touch him this time. Harry's got his hand casually resting on the table, turning your glass forty-five degrees one way and then back the other way as he speaks. You think about reaching over and pulling it out of his hand gently (you're losing your buzz, and Little Miss Bombshell across the table has made you feel silly and juvenile) but it looks to be an almost serious conversation, so you don't. With a smile plastered on your face, you look around the table, resisting the urge to pull out your phone to check if either of your flatmates has text you to meet up with them somewhere.

It's a delicious whiff of your perfume behind him that turns Harry's head. You're back from the bathroom, although nobody was able to confirm that's where you went when he got back from the bar and asked after you. Harry pushes your drink over and gives you a smile, taking note of the fresh layer of lipstick and messy oomph to your hair that perfectly shows off the new style and bangs.

Golden, he thinks, As always,

"Your new hair really does look beautiful," Harry tells you, the bar stilling around you as his face becomes all the world is for you at that moment, "Next time, don't wait for a dickhead to break your heart before doing something to make yourself feel good."

You swallow down the thickness in your throat, "Thanks, Harry."

++

Walking to the next bar, Harry can't stop himself from asking.

"What happened?"

You kick your foot out as you wait at a set of traffic lights, half the group ran to cross, but you, Harry and a couple of others were too slow, "What happened with what?"

Harry watches his breath fan out in front of his face, "With your ex, with …"

"Tim."

"Tim, yeah," he turns to look down at you, hands tucked into his coat pockets, "What happened with Tim?"

"Nothing really," you start strong, then shrug one shoulder as you think about it. It's safe to cross so you wait until you're stepping up over the gutter and onto the opposite footpath before you continue, "Probably a lot of little things but … Always felt like he thought I was asking for a bit too much. I guess in the end he just didn't like me all that much."

The way your voice drops kills Harry, he's not detecting self-deprecation but something far worse. He's detecting acceptance or acknowledgement or like you're confessing some truth that should have been obvious.

"Y/N," he stops walking and halts you as well, lets Adrian and Lisa walk around and out in front of you, "If he didn't like you very much then he's got some kind of chemical imbalance. I mean it, this guy's not worth a second of your heartache."

It's not like Harry's a dickhead about it, not like he thinks you should date people with more money or status or who are more impressive. A person isn't their job or what car they drive, he knows that. Harry's not about judging anyone, but you really do seem to date guys not worthy of you. He hasn't met many of them, but Harry knows this to be true because if they were worthy, you simply wouldn't be single right now. If you dated someone half-decent, there wouldn't be a chance in hell they'd let you go. You're beautiful and thoughtful and intelligent and funny—so funny—which means Harry knows without a doubt that this Tim guy was an absolute fuckwit.

"It's not necessarily about the guy," you start and Harry can hear the thick emotion in your voice, "Is it? It's about the idea. The disappointment is more about not getting the fairytale, not finding my person. Not getting the whole package everyone else seems to have found. I know Tim wasn't right—truth be told I didn't end up liking him very much either—doesn't stop me from being sad that I still haven't found it."

"'It'… That's what you're looking for?" Harry asks, eyes out front where the rest of the group are all stopped waiting at another set of traffic lights.

They're laughing and chatting loudly to other people on nights out, and hanging off street poles to get funny pictures. He doesn't want to catch up to them, not when the two of you are in the middle of this conversation that's making his heart race and his hands sweat. He starts taking smaller steps.

"Yeah," you breathe out, almost sounding ashamed of yourself, "Don't seem to be looking in the right places."

Look over here, Harry thinks.

"But I mean, each breakup I end up getting something out of it," you've flicked your positivity switch, "This time I got these boots and bangs," you kick out your foot and watch Harry take note of your footwear, "Last break up I got four houseplants and a new watch … It's not all bad. What about you?" you turn it back on Harry, "Are you seeing anyone at the moment?"

It's hard to tell with Harry. You either find out from his sister or sometimes, social media. Although that's all usually trash. Generally, when Harry's seeing someone, you'll hear it confirmed from Gemma, and the next time you see Harry, it'll be something you're assumed to know. You haven't seen Gemma since Christmas time though, for your annual festive get together, and she didn't mention anything. Tim had ended things with you a few days before, so that was the main topic of conversation.

"No," Harry confirms what you'd already deduced—and hoped—in your head, "Not for a while now."

"Got your eye on anyone?" You quiz faux cheekily, your smile a little too wide.

Yes, you, he says to himself as he looks at the side of your face.

You hope he's not got some girl in LA he's into. Just like you'd hoped his answer to the previous question. But the hope was silly, something that bloomed in your chest each time you saw him and died again before you were home in your bed, alone.

"I'll let you know," he says aloud.

You think you see something else there in his expression, but you know you can't have. Your mind is swirling, and you're feeling a tingling sensation all over that you know you shouldn't. It'll only leave you disappointed when you part ways tonight and don't see him for another few months. The tiny bits of maybe mores and perhaps are dangerous to things to cling on to now, they'll all turn into Nothings very quickly.

Someone steals his attention away from you when you get to the next street corner. Most of the group are gathered there, and you're not sure whether to believe it when Lisa says they missed the green man to cross the road because they were talking. She sides up to Harry and starts waving her hands around in an animated story about something or other. Harry crosses the street with her, and you give him up for the night.

But he's acutely aware of what's happened. Harry's not stupid—he's emotionally intelligent, and spent enough time with Lisa on nights out before—and he can see that she's deliberately pulled him aside. He likes her, quite a bit, but she doesn't make his insides flip, or his toes curl. She's firmly Just A Friend. Harry hasn't spent countless hours over the years thinking about her, lying to himself about how he's completely fine when she starts dating someone new. He's never thought about an alternative life, one where he stayed at school and went to uni and got a regular job and maybe (definitely) ended up with her.

He's imagined that life with you—more than once. More than a dozen times, if he's honest. For years now, Harry's bitten his tongue and smiled through the pain of not being able to have you. And sure, most of the time it's a dull ache, deep in the recess of his mind, that needs to be called on or conjured to really be felt, but it's always been there. He's always had an (Astronomical) Soft Spot For You. Ever since that summer you broke your arm falling off the back of the ramp at the skate park, and he first saw you cry. At fifteen he didn't know what the hollow but sharp pain through his heart was as he rushed to your side, but now he knows that was the first sign he didn't see you as just a mate. Would never again see you as just a mate.

And now, hearing you use the word 'it'. You say you're out there dating idiots trying to find it and Harry's just unwaveringly sure he that could be him. He wants to be it for you.

You've pulled out your phone and fallen behind, face pulled down as you type away furiously. Harry watches you out of the corner of his eye, half just to watch you and half to make sure you don't get separated entirely from the safety of the group.

"Y/N," he calls out, unable to keep up with Lisa's story and unwilling to try to tune back into it. She stops short, and annoyance flits across her face, but Harry still turns to you, still crosses his arms over his chest and gives you his best scolding look, "It's the oldest trick in the book," he goads you. Lisa sighs behind him, and he ignores it.

Your head slowly comes up and takes in Harry (and Lisa sulking behind him), "What is?"

"Fallin' behind so you can peek at my bum."

You point at the long coat Harry's wearing that goes to his knees, "Can't see half of you under that thing."

"Ah, ha!" He calls out, his pointer finger floating in the air right in front of your face, "So you've tried."

You shove his shoulder and step around him, trying like anything to act neutrally. You're aware Lisa is still watching on, and you're not used to your friendship with Harry being quite so carefully observed. You know your face has gone red and you're really not going to involve yourself in a pissing contest with her. It's not classy and certainly not your vibe.

As you walk away, boots clip up behind you, and Harry heavily drapes his arm right across your shoulders, pulls you into his side, "Was just teasin', love."

"I know," you respond quietly, not upset, not really.

"Though I might've made you sad," Harry continues solemnly, "Know you get embarrassed in front of people."

Your face cracks into a smile, "Opposite of you, hey, you're practically an exhibitionist."

He should flirt because you've led him to a pretty easy window into a dirty joke, but something has Harry hanging onto his regret, "I mean it, shouldn't tease you …Should be old enough to use my words, tell you what I think."

You've got no idea what he's on about, "Harry, the teasing was fine. Where's this bloody bar though?"

Up ahead, everyone's standing on the footpath in a clump. Harry can feel the next words on his lips but has to hold them in when his mates turn and see he's finally caught up. They're waiting a few minutes for a table, someone explains, then they'll be able to go in. Harry thinks how little he feels like another drink at another bar. A few people walk away from the group to share cigarettes. You're standing a little bit away, under the sign for the butcher next-door and kick your foot back against the wall like the slight movement might warm you up.

As he steps up to you, Harry watches you get distracted by the group of people spilling out of the bar you're all about to go into. He doesn't want to take advantage of knowing you're newly single also doesn't want to let this opportunity pass. You're always dating someone, or he is, or there's some other reason not to. There's always a reason to hold back from you and Harry refuses to believe it's the drinks he's had nudging him into this. Neither of you is drunk, he wouldn't even say he's tipsy anymore. Just warm and contemplative and less inhibited than usual.

"C' mere," he calls softly, the tips of his boots landing right in front of yours, your bodies a hands' width apart. He wants you closer.

"Harry—

He opens up his coat to you and when you don't move—your brain is busy short-circuiting—he acts for you and winds his arm around your shoulder to encase you in the warmth, "Get in," Harry says, "You're shivering."

You're shocked by the contact, at him being so close and inviting you in and then just taking you in his jacket. He's wrapped the lapels around both your bodies and forced you against his chest. He hums against you, but you're feeling incredibly awkward with your arms hitched up against your chest and pressed rigidly into his shoulders. You've not been in a hold like this before and certainly not with Harry.

He pulls back and digs around for your wrists, "You've gotta put them around me," he stretches his arms behind his back, taking yours with them and instructing you to really settle against him. "There, that's better," he wraps the jacket back around you, and the two of you stand like that—hearts pressed together, scents converging and your whole frame shaking against his—for what seems like far too long for it mean nothing. Right? Your thoughts ricocheted around inside his jacket and go nowhere, solve nothing in your mind.

Over your shoulder, he sees the rest of the group have gone into the bar. He's not surprised none of them called out, Harry's angled you both away from the door and with his head ducked down against yours they probably (hopefully) missed you both there.

It's Harry's twenty-seventh birthday, and maybe that's made him sullen or introspective. Made him think about the passage of time and how another year has passed him by, yet here he stands in the same place as ever—wanting you. Wishing for more, or waiting for a moment that feels right, or hoping something will happen. With growing older comes a sense of regret and an acceptance that twenty-six has happened and anything he wanted to achieve by that age but didn't he never will. There's only the future. Only the things he can do. And the mix of all that with the cocktails has Harry feeling as though he has to act on this. Every birthday he thinks maybe by the next one the Somethings or the Maybes might have happened, and you won't be standing in front of him as just his friend.

"Always had a thing for you," Harry says, his chin resting against the crown of your head while his arms link around low on your back, holding you against him, "I've always liked you more than I should."

Oh god, you think, your chest freezing in place, I'm hallucinating.

"What?" Now your heart is really racing. Or maybe it's completely stopped, seized up and fallen out of your chest onto the salt-covered footpath.

His voice comes out evenly as he repeats himself, "Feels bigger than a crush, but I guess that's what it is … Since we were kids."

(Oh, how those words have been his best-kept secret for all these years but now, in less than two seconds, he's let go of them more easily than almost anything else he's ever done)

"Y/N?"

Harry thought he'd be scared. Thought this would be a moment of panic. Every time he's imagined this he's thought 'and I'd be absolutely shitting myself because what if she doesn't feel the same way?' but now that he's said it he's almost completely calm. The only reason he's worried is that he can feel how hard your heart is beating—even through the layers of clothing—and surely that quickly can't be good for your health.

You're speechless, and he leans back so he can see your face and, oh your eyes. Why on earth didn't he say it to your face, so he could be looking in your eyes? Watch his words project across your expression and settle into your mind.

You look worried, and Harry's transported back to that time he had you on FaceTime when he was somewhere on tour with One Direction. He was telling you about how management was going to let them fly friends out on tour, bring a little bit of home along and give the boys some needed space from each other. You were nodding along and so excited for him but sure Harry was talking about someone else, that this was just news and he'd called up to tell you how he was inviting the boys he went to school with in Cheshire or people he met through X-Factor. Of course I'm bringing out you and Gem, you idiot, he'd told you when you were surprised to get an invite, Who else did you think I was talking about?

He kind of loves watching the look on your face right now, the cogs turning in your head and wheels spinning, furiously trying to figure out what Harry means.

Why isn't he terrified of what you're about to say?

"Why … but you've… and I've…"

Your hands have moved to his hips so you can see him properly, and Harry's encouraged by the fact you haven't pulled away or pushed him off you. You're watching him with a puzzled look on your face and a burning heat across your cheeks.

He brings his forearms up to rest on your shoulders and smiles at you, "I wasn't brave enough to act on it … Guess I didn't want to fuck it up. Didn't want it to not work out. Couldn't stand you becoming an ex."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Right." You don't seem capable of more than one word at a time.

"You feel bad for yelling at me about the chocolate bar now, don't you?" Harry's narrowed his eyes playfully.

That does it.

Your eyes snap back up to his face from being fixated on staring at his neck, "Chocolate bar … No, what the fuck, Harry."

He laughs. A real laugh that comes from the base of his tummy and squeezes his eyes shut and crinkles his nose. His head falls back, and it's a deep, uninhibited laugh, "Don't stomp your new boots at me," he eventually says, crooking his head down to be almost pressing his forehead against yours. "You've been my favourite girl for years, I've always been a pansy idiot who didn't want to wreck the friendship."

"Oh, and now you don't mind wrecking it?" You bark back sarcastically, unsure why you're angry at him but you are.

"No," Harry says softly, moving through your emotional responses seamlessly, "I don't think it's going to wreck it, do you? Think twenty-seven has finally given me the balls to pursue it. To tell you how I feel. How I've always felt."

Your eyes instantly ball with hot tears you weren't prepared for, "You're an idiot."

"I am," he agrees readily, fingers playing with the ends of your hair.

"Why have you told me this now," your voice is small, unsure.

Harry frowns, now he's starting to panic, "Do you … Do you not feel the same? Or do you not think maybe you could?"

Oh, if only he could have been in your head every time you saw him these last few years. Heard you talk yourself down and away from anything more than platonic, from any thoughts that might elevate you in his eyes. You've spent all this time trying to convince yourself to believe you were nothing more than a friend to him, and now this.

"Harry, are you sure you—

—I'm sure," he insists quickly.

"I just—

—I'm sure."

You're suddenly very embarrassed by the conversation the two of you had earlier about your ex. The conversation where you basically told Harry you're incredibly desperate to settle down and find The One. He's so achingly cool, and you feel like a little tinned tomato, thin-skinned and persistently flustered.

Tinned tomato? Really? You berate yourself, Case in bloody point.

"Y/N"

You scratch roughly at your forehead and grimace at whatever thoughts are going through your mind, "I'm just …"

Harry brings one hand up to fix your bangs, carefully sweeping the hair back across your forehead evenly, letting the pads of his fingers dust over your skin, "I think if you didn't feel the same you'd have said No by now."

His words steal the air from your lungs, "Harry, you've just always …"

"I've always?"

"I never thought …"

The smile comes up over his face gently, "It's me, Y/N, please finish a sentence. I'd really like to kiss you, but you haven't yet said anything to imply you'd be open to that …"

You pull your lips together like a reflex you can't help, you've rarely let yourself fall that deep into imaging things with Harry, but your body reacts to his words in an instant, "Promise you're not kidding …"

"I promise I'm not kidding," Harry said sincerely. "I'd never kid around about this, Y/N."

You believe him, and ten seconds of bravery comes over you, "I was thirteen."

His eyes narrow slightly, trying to figure out what you mean, "Thirteen?"

"My thing for you," you continue quietly, heart racing as adrenaline swamps your legs, "Started the summer I turned thirteen."

Harry hears the slight shaking to your voice and almost misses what you've said. Then it hits him.

"Oh yeah?" He squints at you and pulls up his nose with a smile, a secret little smile that will never belong to anyone but the two of you. The Smile that happened just before Harry leant down and kissed you for the first time, pressed his warm lips against your cold ones and really breathed you in.

He holds it like that for a moment, your lips touching but not moving. Then his hands come up to cup your face, and Harry moves his mouth to one side, just a touch. You open up to him, and he has the brief thought that this is probably the Most Important Kiss Of His Life. His insides curl in on themselves as he gets completely lost in you. Completely lost in how perfect this moment feels and how much finally kissing you feels like a relief.

You can't believe this is happening. You're still tucked into Harry's coat—warm and safe—but now you're joined at the mouth, and Harry's a really really good kisser. He's got his thumbs pressed into your cheeks and his fingers laced through the hair around your ears. When his tongue first licks your bottom lip and then goes searching for yours, you don't think you've felt yourself flicker On so quickly. A soft moan escapes your lips, and Harry's kiss somehow becomes harder, his nose bumping yours where he'd been good at keeping things smooth until then. As quickly as it intensifies, Harry takes a slight step back and drags his mouth away from yours.

"Y/N," he breaths out your name, sealing your lips with one of his thumbs as he pulls back. Harry's taking stock of your face (hopefully) getting used to being this close to you. Noting the way your eyelashes kink out at an odd angle right at the corner of your eye, and the freckle that's so close to the edge of your mouth he's never noticed it before. Harry's can feel your heart has slowed down, and the expression on your face right now is content, but curious. He's also sure he can see fear under it all.

"Well," your voice shakes, because Harry's looking at you like you've only dreamed and now that you're here you're not really sure what happens next. You kissed Harry.

He clears his throat lightly and his hands both fall to hold either side of your neck, "There's no way I'm going back to not being able to do that whenever I want."

Then, he kisses you again. You feel yourself melt against him as Harry's chest presses back against yours. You link your arms around his waist, clutching the back of his shirt between your fingers as Harry leads the kiss with a hand on your neck and the other holding your chin carefully. You've picked up right where the last one let off, hungry and exploring and a little bit desperate (perhaps a lot desperate) to have more of each other.

But then his phone rings in his trousers pocket, right against your hip, and you jump away in surprise.

"Shit," Harry mutters, pulling the stupid machine out, cursing the universe, "Sorry … It's Aiden," he tells you with an eye-roll.

And then you're back to reality. Your drinks have all worn off, your feet ache, your ears are freezing, and you've just made out with one of your oldest, best friends. Shit.

"Oh," you take a hearty step back, hands slipping out from Harry's coat and your body bracing the full brunt of the cold night, "Yeah … That's—

—Aiden," Harry barks the name of his mate down the phone while at the same time hooking his free arm around the back of your neck and pulling you close again. He's not giving up touching you that easily, and he doesn't care, quite frankly, about giving you any room to start internalising or retreating from him, "No, we've gone to get some food … I'll see you during the week sometime. Tell everyone thanks for—Yes, I'm serious … I don't care, saw all you lot last week … I'm hanging up now. Bye."

You listened in on the conversation because it was really all you could do. Aiden was obviously inside the bar, and they were all wondering where Harry got to. We've gone to get some food, Harry told him, so they'd know he was with you. (You supposed he was hardly going to say, 'oh yeah we've been out the front making out') Bits and pieces of the other end of the conversation, you were able to pick up on, but not enough to truly know what was said. By the end of the call, Harry was smiling though, you could hear it in his voice.

His nose found the shell of your ear and Harry leant into you, "Come back to mine, or we can go to yours … Watch a movie, play Scrabble, anything … Just wanna be with you."

"It's two o'clock in the morning, Harry," you murmur, your mind struggling to make sense of what's just happened. You're outside a club in Soho held against Harry's chest with lips that know what he tastes like and a body that's on fire.

"I'm not tired," he shoots back, "Are you?"

"Well, no but—

—Great," Harry turns towards the road, takes a few steps to the curb (you trot along with him under his arm), as he flags down a black cab. "Mine or yours?"

His question is simple, he prompts you to answer by calling your name as he opens the door for you and gestures for you to hurry up and get in.

"Yours," you say.

Harry doesn't speak much in the cab, you figure it's about privacy. You hope it's about privacy. The thirty-minute drive out of the city and to his place feels much longer. Halfway through he reaches over for your hand and gives you a reassuring smile across the back seat. You thought the journey might make you sleepy, the sitting down in a warm car would bring the haze over your eyes and bring the long day to a close in your mind. But you could never feel sleepy with Harry's fingers playing with yours, or when he leans over and kisses your cheek for no reason at all.

At his house, Harry tells you to make yourself at home while he turns on the kettle for a cuppa. You kick your boots off in the hallway, and your feet start throbbing in relief as you follow his retreating form. It's certainly not the lusty, hurried entry you imagined you might have. Which only plants doubts in your mind about what's actually going on between the two of you.

"I'm just going to use the bathroom," you call out ahead of you, turning back to the stairs and taking yourself up to Harry's second storey.

Upstairs you don't take long. You're looking a little worse for wear—who wouldn't at 3am—but you're not really in the mood to try to fix yourself. Even if you did Harry would notice, and that felt like something you wanted to avoid. As you walk back to the landing, you wriggle your toes in your socks and happen to look back down the upstairs hallway. You've been in this house dozens of times before but this time feels different. It feels quiet and intimate somehow. Just as you're about to go down the first step, you see Harry's bedroom door is open on the opposite side of the stairs to the bathroom, and you notice something that makes you stop.

The book you got him for Christmas is sitting on his bedside table.

You're standing over it before you realise that your legs have started moving, looking at a picture of Anne, Gemma and Harry, a bottle of water and the book. You pick it up, the cover a little bent and the spine cracked to where he's read. Harry's using the birthday card you send along with the gift as a bookmark. The top of the familiar design sticking out the top of the pages, you can't even really remember what you wrote inside. Something generic probably. Platonic.

Happy birthday, old man! Have a wonderful day, sorry I can't be there in person. Love, Y/N.

The floorboard at the top of the stairs creaks and you turn around to Harry looking surprised to see you standing over his bed. He's got two cups of tea and a family-sized Dairy Milk bar under his arm. Something churns inside you, this was Harry as you'd always known him. Except now you looked at his lips and wondered why the hell you weren't kissing him.

"Oh, yeah, I've been reading that," Harry sees the book in your hands and walks towards you, "It's excellent, unsurprisingly."

A smile starts on your face, "You doubted my selection ability?"

"Never," he returns quickly and then raises his eyebrows at you, "Looking for anything else?"

You feel your cheeks heat and you drop the book back into its place, "No, sorry, I was coming down the stairs and saw … I'm sorry."

Harry passes you a tea, "It was really kind of you to send something over. Was fun having something to unwrap on the day."

"I'm glad," you smile and take a sip of the tea. It's sweet, and you screw up your face, "This is yours."

Harry watches you with a strange expression on his face as the two of you swap mugs. He's worrying his bottom lip, obviously weighing something up in his mind. You see it when he decides what he' going to do about it.

"I've got something I want to show you," he tells you finally, tilting his head back to the door. "Wanna come see?"

"What is it?" You ask automatically, but Harry's already walking out the door, and you have to hurry to catch up.

He leads you into his study, and you hover in the doorway as Harry sets his tea and the chocolate down on the desk. He pulls Bananagrams out of the draw and places it next to the mug.

"We're actually going to play Bananagrams?" You ask.

He looks back at you, "You'd prefer actual Scrabble?"

"I didn't know what you meant by—I guess I …"

Realisation dawns on his face, and he widens his eyes, "Oh, you thought it was a euphemism."

"No!" You snap back quickly, feeling the heat rising to your cheeks (for the record, yes, you thought 'a movie or Scrabble' was a thinly veiled way of Harry suggesting … something else), "No, I just … I just don't think I'll be able to spell words right now."

"I didn't think you were still tipsy" Harry states, shit-stirring.

"I'm not!" You squawk at him. "I'm… I' m—You kissed me!"

He grins, loving the fact he's driven you a little crazy, "Yeah. Want me to do it again?"

Harry's playing with you. He's teasing. And you know it but what you don't know is how he's so confidently jumped to it. Not when you feel like you've been left on the street outside the bar trying to figure out what the hell this means, and what's going to happen tomorrow when he stops looking at you like that. You don't like to think this whole night could've been him playing with you, you don't know Harry to be that cruel. But there's a tripwire in your mind you keep getting snared on.

It's Harry.

"C' mere," he reaches his hand down across the room between you both, "C' mere and kiss me again. You don't seem to be getting it."

"Getting it?" You're cut off by Harry taking two big steps toward you and then planting his lips on yours again.

His palms find your hips, and you hold him in the same spot. It takes a moment for the two of you to find a rhythm, and even then, you're too in your head. You're struggling to remember what little Harry's said about this whole thing. You know he said he had a crush on you and you've gotten the distinct impression he wasn't too fond of your ex. But for all you know Harry's been kissing his mates like this for years but just never gotten around to kissing you. You might've been next on the list. He's a friendly guy. Maybe a crush isn't what it used to be. Or maybe—

He pulls back from your lips with a huffy expression on his face, "Y/N," he says quietly, "I'm a man with an incredibly fragile ego, whatever you're worrying about is really getting in the way of kissing you."

"I'm just—

—Let me show you what I brought you in here for," he interrupts you, takes your hand and tugs you towards the window. Then, he puts a hand on each of your shoulders and directs your attention to the wall.

It's lined with record sale plaques for singles and albums over the years—double Platinums and Gold-Somethings. Harry watches you eyes run over them all, a proud but unsure look in your eye. You're not sure why he's showing them to you, he knows that. He hopes you're not intimidated by them, he's certainly not showing you to try to score any points. There's a sweeter gesture behind it. He points to one leaning against the wall, not hanging. He's got it resting on the bubble wrap it was sent over in.

Stepping up closer behind you, Harry rests his chin on your shoulder, "That one's for you."

"What?"

"I want you to have it, been saving it for you … If I ever got brave enough."

The question falls from your lips before you really think about it, "Why would you want me to have it …"

Harry waits to see if you'll let on you've figured it out, he thought it was pretty obvious really, but you've never been one to elevate yourself or assume, and Harry knows that about you. So, when you don't keep talking, he confirms it for you, "That song is about you."

You just blink, eyes on the framed plaque taking in the name of the song and hearing it in your head.

It's about me? You think you want to hear it, you need to Google the lyrics and make sure you have them right in your head. Harry wrote a song about you. Harry wrote that song about you.

"When … When did you write it?"

"You mean why?" Harry raises his head and steps to stand next to you, he observes your face carefully.

"No, I mean when." You're starring at it like the plaque might answer the question, "When did you write it?"

Harry runs a hand over his head as he thinks, "A few years back, after that time you came out to LA … Didn't record it until this year though …"

Harry watches your face expand in surprise and then crumple back down to confusion. You really don't get it. He's not sure how to make you in one night. He supposes he can't. So he trails his hand up the back of your arm and then around your back, tilting his head down and waiting to see if you'll pull away. When you don't, he kisses the corner of your mouth and then opens his wider to take you lips in his properly.

It's different to the kisses outside the bar, now that you're both out of your outer layers Harry can feel your body against his in ways he's only dreamed, and it's sending everything straight between his legs. Harry's hands explore your back and the curve of your hips, thumbs almost reaching the underside of your breasts but not quite. It's a little awkward when he senses you've felt him hardening between you. Usually, lust clouds that moment, and Harry doesn't mind intimate partners being acutely aware of how they're affecting him. But with you he's a little hesitant, he senses the awkwardness on your side. Friends don't feel those body parts on each other, friends don't… He almost groans when your mouth leaves his without warning.

You think he'll probably change his mind about all this.

"Have you changed your mind?" You ask, not able to stop it.

Confusion colours his features, and his lips smack together, like he's savouring tasting you, "Wha—

"About wanting to be kissing me," you clarify.

"What? No." Harry's eyebrows have shot up, and he's shaking his head, "I barely even started! Didn't I just say I wrote that song about you—why the hell would I—want to do more than just kiss you—You think I'm gonna change my mind?"

You shrug, "Maybe. I don't know."

"Well," he stands up straighter and pins you with his stare, "I'm not. I promise I'm not going to change my mind. And I promise I'll never make you feel like you're asking for too much. Ever."

"Now you're trying to make me cry," you say, hearing him repeat back to you the insecurity leftover from your conversation about your ex. You're half kidding with your words but also not. You believe him. You trust him.

Harry grimaces, sways your bodies together gently, "I really hate seeing you cry, could you not? I had other plans."

You sniff through a laugh as Harry wraps his arms around your middle tighter," What plans are those?"

"Well, I literally thought Scrabble," he tells you through a smile, trying his best to make you laugh, "But I'm open to whatever dirty things you were thinking as well."

"You'll win Scrabble."

So, Harry instructs you to bring your tea and your sore feet back into his bedroom. He gets you a fluffy pair of hiking socks and tells you to take yours off, and your tights, and get comfortable on the bed with him and the block of chocolate. You've polished off a family size together before, the sugar going straight to your heads and always leading to a giggly night of reminiscing and Almosts.

This time though, you only get halfway through the tea and Harry pushes the chocolate off the bed onto the floor in favour of you straddling his hips. It started with a stolen kiss against your temple, and then another on your cheek, and one close to your lips, and then you captured his face in your hands and really kissed him. Within a few moments, Harry was dragging you over to him. His hands settle on the swell of your backside as it sits against his thighs and your lips trace the line of his jaw. This was really happening. You'd really let him peel off your dress and flick off your bra. His shirt was somewhere with the forgotten snacks, and you seemed extremely eager to keep feeling his hardness pressed between your legs.

"I swear to god, I never dreamed this would happen," he murmurs, hissing when your hips pressed into his at a different angle, "Was sure I'd be going to your wedding one day, completely miserable and probably end up drunk and causing a scene. Embarrass you so badly you'd never want to see me again, and you'd just run away with your stupid husband."

You pull back and watch Harry ramble, your bare chest rising and falling against his, "You're a real glass half full kinda guy, aren't you?" you smile at him.

"I just," his eyes drop to your chest, nipples puckered for him, and he scrunches them shut then drops his forehead onto your sternum with a big sigh, "This is fucking unreal, and my brain is just struggling to comprehend—you're breathtaking, and I feel like my chest is gonna explode."

"It's also 4am, so there's always the potential your brain is just plain tired," your index finger is drawing circles on the back of his shoulder as Harry leans against you, you pause and run your hand over the back of his head, "Maybe we should sleep for a little … I'll be here when you wake up," you say in response to Harry squeezing his arms around your waist tightly as if you were going to disappear. Or worse, leave.

His indescribable green eyes find yours in the light from the bedroom lamps, "Will you let me hold you while you sleep?"

"Yeah," you nod, although somehow that question seems more intimate than the lack of clothes between you at the moment. You're distinctly less dressed than Harry, who's still got his trousers on, you're only covered by your underwear.

"We don't have to rush this, right? Got all the time in the world now," still, as he speaks his palms trail up your back and then down again, skimming the sides of your breasts, "Just don't wanna miss anything is all."

"I promise I'm incredibly boring in my sleep, won't miss anything," you tease, "Might be the only time you get any peace."

Harry tightens his forearms around your back and finds the soft skin below your ear with his lips—once, twice, three little kisses—"I feel pretty at peace right now, just having you here. Feels like I'm living a dream."

You don't reply for a moment, but you let your body rest against Harry's in a comfortable hug, your voice is quiet, "You really wrote me a song?"

"I did."

"I've always loved that song."

“Well, it's been yours all along."

"Nobody's ever written a song about me."

"I should hope not."

"Are you going to write another one?"

"Without a doubt."

++

Chat to me here

[sweetjekyll]

Under The Same Roof, part 1 — BBH

pairing: Byun Baekhyun x Reader

genre: Roommate / Flatmate AU, one-shot, friends to lovers rating: teen and up warnings: none! tiny bit of fluff if you squint your eyes really hard word count: 1.2k 

summary: Baekhyun and Y/N have been flatmates for a while and romance is in the air.

Requested by anonymous: keyword “roof” + sentence “Oh my God. You’re in love with her.” from this writing game post.

Masterlist — PART 2

A/N: this was supposed to be a drabble, but I told you I couldn’t contain myself once I reached the 600 words I went over lol. this may as well have a part 2 if many people request it, but for now I left it as it is cause I like the suspense. I edited the pic for this but I didn’t add a watermark, it took me a while to find something that sparked my imagination.

⟶ To my dear readers: feedback is highly encouraged and important! as it gives me motivation to write with more passion, knowing that you like what you are reading. Please LIKE and REBLOG so more people can find this and read it. ❤ My askbox is always open for questions or to chat ❤

Enjoy! ❤

You and Baekhyun have been flatmates for about a year now, he needed someone to help him pay rent after his previous flatmate moved in with his girlfriend last minute and you needed a roof over your head since you didn’t want to live in the dorms at your university… Too expensive. The apartment on the other hand wasn’t anything luxurious either, just a two bedroom, one bathroom and a combined kitchen and living space area, enough to house 2 people, even if it wasn’t exactly that cheap yet quite affordable.

Baekhyun was trying to save money from his full-time job as a barista and bartender in the local university cafe, serving coffee by day and alcohol bar by night, meanwhile you were a majoring student who was mostly focusing on her studies but worked part-time at the same cafe Baekhyun did. It had its perks choosing you as flatmate, Baekhyun already knew you were a good person and that you were in need of a place to stay, plus you got along well on the job too. It’s not like you could exactly sleep over at one of your friend’s places forever so when he offered to take you in you accepted without second thought.

But boy, oh boy, was Baekhyun ever the loud type; some days you thought you were going to march out of your room and smack him on the head cause you could not concentrate on your textbooks while he was playing games with his friends, others you actually joined him when you two were alone. As loud as he was, he was also a sweet introverted guy with a tendency to be a social butterfly despite his reserved nature, in fact, you were surprised to meet so many of his friends you could barely remember all of their names. Two hands weren’t enough to count them all.

You considered him a close friend, after all, you were living together under the same roof, Baekhyun was there for you when you needed a friend and you were there when he wasn’t feeling like going outside to meet with anyone else. He wasn’t sure when or how it happened, but at some point he started liking you more than just a friend. He liked everything about you, from the way you bickered about the smallest of things in the apartment such as not leaving dirty mugs in the sink after breakfast, the way your voice was barely above a whisper in the mornings with pouting lips and sleepy eyes, the way you smiled at him after a long tiring day of classes and work, the way you sometimes managed to keep up with his high energy, your friendly and caring personality… Only a few times has he truly seen you mad like a beast, but thankfully it was never directed at him.

Baekhyun was sitting crosslegged on the brown two-seater in the living room, playing some shooter multiplayer game on the PlayStation with some friends of his you’ve met before plenty of times, Chanyeol and Sehun. You let out a quick sigh as you hurried across the living area from your bedroom to the front door, dressed in your work attire, you scurried to put on your shoes. “Okay, I’ll be at the bar the whole night,” you said as you grabbed your coat, ready to walk out before you were late. “Have fun, don’t wait up for me.”

Baekhyun’s eyes quickly moved from the television screen as he paused the game, earning groans and scowls from his friends sitting on the rug with each their back pressed to the sofa. “I’ll come pick you up, just call me when you close down.”

You smiled at Baekhyun’s offer and pointed a finger at him playfully. “I swear if you fall asleep, Byun Baekhyun—“

“Promise I won’t.” He held out his right pinky finger for you and you moved closer to close your pinky around his, a small gesture of friendship you came up with when you once came home a bit tipsy from a night out with all your friends.

“Alright, good night. Bye Sehun, bye Chanyeol!” And just like that you closed the front door after yourself as you went to work.

Chanyeol exchanged a silent yet teasing look with Sehun but it didn’t last long as Baekhyun unpaused the game to resume from where they left. “Dude,” Chanyeol begun after a few minute of resuming the game, he wanted to make sure that you weren’t going to come back for something you forgot, “are you two like… Together?”

“What!?” Baekhyun exclaimed, but he got distracted from the question and barely safe one of his opponent taking down his character. “Me and Y/N? No, we’re just friends.”

Sehun put down his controller and turned his torse to look up at his older friend. “But you like her, right?”

Baekhyun had to pause the game again quite annoyed and this time looked at the two guys sitting on the floor. “We’re just friends.” He stressed on the last two words. He couldn’t really hide it, they could hear the disappointment in his tone even if he was trying to not give it away. “Nothing more.”

“Oh my god.” Chanyeol’s eyes widened, he too discarded the controller on the coffee table and turned his whole body to face Baekhyun from his spot. “You’re in love with her.”

“I’m not!” Baekhyun scoffed as he tried to resume the game but Sehun snatched the controller from his hands, holding it away while his friend protested with a whine. “Okay! Fine! I am head over heels for her.” He confessed as his body slumped against the backrest. “I just don’t want to ruin the friendship we have if I ask her out on a date.”

“You’ve been grocery shopping together, buying clothes and furniture, all of our friends think you’re together.” Sehun pointed out as he got up from the floor and sat on the two-seater next to Baekhyun. “You act like a couple any time you’re in the same room.”

“So why didn’t you guys say anything?” He asked seriously confused. Yes, you and him got along very well, but he didn’t think you were getting along too well in the eyes of your group of friends.

Chanyeol shrugged. “Cause we thought you wanted to keep it private until you felt like telling us.”

Sehun laughed softly, earning a glare from Baekhyun since he didn’t know what was going on in the head of the younger guy. “So that’s why you haven’t shown any PDA! I was almost beginning to admire your self restraint from kissing her or holding her hand when you’re in public.”

“Hey!” Baekhyun slapped him on his chest, earning a pained chuckled from Sehun. “Look, it’s just that I don’t know how to tell her…”

“Just ask her on a date,” Chanyeol said while giving one of Baekhyun’s knees a soft slap. “If you don’t I’ll ask her for you. Who knows, maybe she reciprocates your feelings?”

“That’s a strong maybe.” Baekhyun shook his head as he reached forward to grab his controller from the coffee table.

“I’m pretty sure she reciprocates.” Sehun added as he too turned his attention back on the game, meanwhile Chanyeol just smirked as his brain devised a plan. It would work out, Baekhyun and you just needed a little help from Cupid.

[gender-euphowrya]

damn the ''queer kids can sniff each other out'' thing is so true fr my entire middle school friend group is gay

[feralnumberfive]

The Rewatch Academy: Episode 6 of Season 1

“The Day That Wasn’t”

I am in no way a good analyst so my little analysis and speculations probably sound a bit goofy or pretty wild and probably mean nothing at all. Everything I put into this post about each episode is purely what I noticed or thought, whether it’s funny or serious. I will be making jokes, so please just leave it at that (in no way am I trying to make fun of an actor and or character!) I am also in no way saying I noticed this stuff first. This is just what I noticed while rewatching these episodes

☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂

| 1x01 | 1x02 | 1x03 | 1x04 | 1x05 |

☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂

☂ Klaus is lucky that he never got the briefcase shot up

☂ *Hears Klaus flush the toilet and talk* Luther: Oh good, you’re up

☂ Also Luther gave Klaus about two seconds to get up before hounding him again on getting downstairs

☂ Sounds like Tom’s accent slipped a little bit when he said “three days”

☂ Yeah they needed to have a family meeting right away and yet they took the time to go get coffee or at least order it and have it delivered

☂ “Old bastard” and “Our little psycho” 

☂ I still don’t get at this point how they wouldn’t believe Five. Look at him, he himself is evidence of his time traveling! He was gone for 45 years, but to them it was only 17. Either way they try to grasp at that, Five would look older if he made it back without messing up. He knew about their father’s death without anyone telling him. I really think all the mistrust comes from the way he looks and the way he acts (they obviously believe he’s just crazy right now)

☂ “What did Five even see?”

☂ Also throw back to 1x02 and I didn’t realized this until now but Five doesn’t have his tie

☂ I know it’s for the title card gag but no one questions the random umbrella falling and popping open

☂ I aspire to be as sarcastic as Hazel

☂ So where exactly is The Commission HQ at? Is it a random location in the real world? If so then wouldn’t normal people happen to stumble upon it? What about their location in space in the comics? Is this in space?? All we know is that it’s in/based off of the year 1955

☂ “I’d like to discuss the logistics of my family’s safety at your earliest convenience.” He cuts right to what’s most important to him. No “How will you stop the apocalypse?” or “What’s my job?” and even “How will my body replacement work?”

☂ Five sounds almost like he’s snapped back into a work mindset. He's suddenly polite and calm with The Handler. Maybe being back in a work environment has made his brain automatically switch into being more professional. However he might also be acting this way to try to throw her off of him being antsy with a plan

☂ Here's some Commission posters shown throughout 1x06

☂ One of us, one of us, one of us-

☂ So basically The Commission makes up history? How do they know what to do and when to make something happen? How do they know it’s right? And what’s The Commission supposed to do when the world ends? Haven't they already fixed stuff in the past or are there just continuous time loops so they need to make sure things happen over and over again? If multiple historical events happen with multiple ways they are made, then which one gets to be in the original timeline??

☂ Dot: No hard feelings! 😁

Ma’am does it look like he’s going to accept that

☂ Wait why are Hazel and Cha-Cha considered the best Temporal Assassins if Five was/is the best?

☂ Well Five has the job of taking down the Hindenburg again but this time from behind a desk. So it’s possible to accomplish “corrections” without actually having assassins do the work. So I guess there’s just so many timelines that they need to fix every single one of them over and over? That sounds like a pain in the ass

☂ TUA portraits!

☂ Y’know I have to agree with Allison on this one. Vanya was left out, however she’s offering to talk with her about the important family matter and Vanya is just denying it. I get she’s upset, but her sister is offering to include her. After Vanya leaves Allison immediately wants to go after her to talk with her. On the other hand Allison should have told her it was an emergency meeting and that they didn’t have the time to ask Vanya to join them

☂ Klaus seems genuinely concerned/upset for Vanya

☂ “We need to figure out what causes the apocalypse. Now, there are loads of possibilities. Nuclear war, asteroids.” Wow spot on, Luther! I can’t believe they actually included foreshadowing for both apocalypses (even though technically it was a chunk of the moon, not an asteroid.) I wonder how much foreshadowing for S3 was put into S2.......

☂ I know it’s big joke about Luther and the moon, but the poor guy just really believes that he was on the moon for an important reason. I mean if I were in his shoes I would believe him too since he had to send a lot of daily updates and samples

☂ “Klaus shockingly has a point. What gives us a win this time?” Shhhh careful Diego, he’s right behind you

☂ Luther is initially the only one onboard with Five on trying to stop the apocalypse. All the others want to go off and do their own thing before the world ends. He tries to get The Umbrella Academy back together to work as a team, but his leadership skills are now severely lacking. Do people *cough cough* mainly people who hate him *cough cough* overlook Luther wanting to also get his family together to stop the apocalypse with his family? Definitely. 

☂ “We need the full force of the Academy to stand a chance.” Well golly gee, Allison, what did did Luther just try to do? Was that not him trying to round up all of The Umbrella Academy to stop the apocalypse? 

☂ Even though Vanya is ranting, how does she not hear all the creaking metal and shaking cars?

☂ *it’s sunny around them but just the block they’re walking on is rainy until she calms down* “ThAt’S a CoInCiDeNcE.” 

☂ The hall floor and Diego’s floor are so dusty

☂ It’s sweet that Diego wants Klaus to get clean in a safe way instead of going cold turkey 

☂ Dot, what does “utter silence” mean to you?

☂ “Look at you, deadly little thing.” You’re not wrong, but I don’t think he appreciates being called “thing”

☂ Such a smug smile

☂ So how does Five know all of this about Karl and his son? Does it talk about Otto never washing his hands in the file? That seems like an oddly specific detail but I guess in a case file it gives as many details as possible for the worker to figure out who needs to get assassinated

☂ There are a few cog references all relating to The Commission, so I wonder if this is a nod to “Teenagers” or if they’re just using this terminology

☂ Odd tattoos (sorry for the super blurry pic)

☂ “Can I ask you a cuckoo bananas question?” Hazel is such a fun guy

☂ “Wouldn’t it be nice to kill who you want for a change?” You mean like straight up unhinged murder? 

☂ The first time I watched this Hazel and Cha-Cha scene I for sure thought that Hazel was a dead man

☂ This scene just absolutely breaks my heart 💔

☂ *skips 25:24-27:42*

☂ Diego is just so accepting to everything Klaus is saying

☂ I’m sorry, are we suddenly on the set of The Phantom of the Opera?

☂ Diego, I think you’re forgetting a very important person in your life who you let down too who is also dead......(poor Ben can’t believe what his brother just said so he leaves)

☂ “Ordinary is not a word I’d use to describe you.” You’re right, it’s “Extra Ordinary” ha! Sorry Vanya, I had to use that joke

☂ Well at least we know Five ate a sandwich 

☂ How exciting! The same division that made a simple candy taste like a candy from the past, but technically it’s not the past since The Commission HQ is based in 1955, is building a human body! That sounds so promising 

☂ Sooooo whatever happened to Five’s new body? Is it just sitting in a lab somewhere?? Or is The Handler just lying about it to try to get Five to stay at The Commission?

☂ With the amount of time Five was staring at the suit, it obviously hurt him to know that while he has a new body within reach, he’s not going to get it because he’s about to leave

☂ “Course it’s a bit easier to see from 30,000 feet.” What is she talking about Reconnaissance aircraft? There was no mention of aircraft though so why would she bring that up? My closest guess is that she’s referring to strategic bombing in general, or even the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki

☂ It sounds like Five suddenly has a New York accent when he says “operator” when talking to The Handler about Gloria

☂ Fuck you, Veggie Tales Hargreeves

☂ *skips 36:47-39:48*

☂ Well there’s your hit, Klaus

☂ I love the camera moving with Klaus as he falls and the transition into Vietnam

☂ “Lock and load, Charlie’s away!” Wikipedia’s definition of a “Charlie” is  an American military slang referring to the Viiet Cong and North Vietnamese soldiers

☂ Klaus desperately calling out for a medic hurts my heart

☂ Well Luther if you had left then your body wouldn’t be the way it is now

☂ *fucking skips 45:41-50:00* 

☂ Ooooh I just really love the entirety of the “Kill Of The Night” scene! If you listen to the lyrics it’s about someone luring someone into a trap to get revenge because they messed with the wrong person (it’s also about love but we’re going to ignore that part). I personally believe it’s aimed at The Commission from Five because the entire time it plays he’s messing things up for them and in some way it’s like a little bit of revenge from him

☂ Why is Gloria confused on who Hazel and Cha-Cha are? Hasn’t she heard their names a ton of times especially since they’re some of the best assassins?

☂ How did Five know which tubes to put the messages in? 

☂ You can see at this part how Five immediately gets anxious and antsy. He has a wild look in his eyes. From this point onwards he’s constantly moving, shaking with energy, anticipation, and probably a little bit of anger

☂ “You’re a great disappointment to me.” That’s definitely not the first time he’s heard that

☂ “I don’t belong anywhere thanks to you. You made me a killer!” The first part of that stings. Obviously he feels like he doesn’t belong anywhere, but again I think has to do with the whole “good” and “bad” thing that’s going on. He feels like he doesn’t belong at home because he’s “bad” and has done a lot of dark stuff to get home (it doesn’t help that Luther voiced his acknowledgment of this  to Five and now he has that in his mind that Luther knows and somewhat views him as “bad”). Five 100% feels shame in what he has done, and definitely has an issue of coming back to his family with blood on his hands form what he has done. He doesn’t belong in The Commission anymore because he doesn’t want to stay there to do their dirty work to kill or give out kill orders. He’s done with that or at least wants to be done with that life.

The last statement though is Five taking his anger and guilt about being becoming an assassin out on The Handler. She brought him into The Commission, which in turn he became the best assassin across The Space-Time Continuum. It’s not something he’s proud of, and he never enjoyed killing (as much as I want it to be the DNA alteration I just don’t think it exists in the show or at least not yet). However The Handler replies with “You were always a killer. I just pointed you in a direction.” which you can immediately tell has struck a chord with Five. For the briefest second he looks taken aback and his eyes ever so slightly open wider in shock, whether he took that as the truth or just a terrible accusation isn’t exactly clear. Either way he doesn’t like being accused or hearing the truth out loud of always being able to be murderous, a killer. 

I believe it’s a mixture of The Handler just trying to get into his head and a combination of the truth. Reginald trained The Umbrella Academy to use brute force, but that doesn’t mean Five had killed anyone but he was definitely violent when it came to stopping bad guys (not to mention in the pilot script he was called a “Ruthless little war machine” after violently attacking and decapitating a bunch of mannequins)

☂ Diego: I’m going to go kill Hazel and Cha-Cha!........Riiiiight after I get done walking with my mom in the park

☂ He’s so happy to see Klaus again 

☂ ✨Gremlin✨

☂ Who exactly does Five owe a debt to? Maybe his family after accidentally leaving them and now he wants to save them? Or is it a singular person?  

☂ Ouch! Now that’s what I call a problem later!

☂ 

☂ Five using “Ya’ll” is weird to hear

☂ Five is talking to his siblings like he knows what’s been happening but in reality he’s rarely been at home so how would he know

☂ I love that Five doesn't even answer Diego at the end and instead just stares at his siblings 

☂☂☂☂☂☂☂

Feel free to comment or reblog with things you have noticed too!

[masterthespianduchovny]

Not Lovers, Not Friends, but Maybe Twin Flames

As much as the pro Gillovny crowd and the antis argue what Gillian and David are and aren’t, one thing remains true: not even the two in question can adequately describe their history and bond.

It’s something that just is.

They’ve both stated that they’ve tried to fight this thing, they’ve tried to turn it off, but it won’t die. They can’t sever the bond that made them famous. David and Gillian had to work through a lot of shit to get where they are and, even then, who is to say they’ve worked through everything.

When I read the article about Gillian describing her life when she was 28, one of the words she used stuck out as peculiar to me. Gillian said she and David had to work on their issues in a metaphysical way.

This is a recurrent thing with them. In so many words, they’ve described their bond as otherworldly--something beyond even them.

And maybe that is why their friendship seems lacking and that they come off as lovers even though they aren’t.

David and Gillian are twin flames.

The concept of twin flames differs from soul mates because 1. asserts one soul is split into separate bodies. 2. It’s not about love, it’s about truth.

Because this concept fascinating, I dig some digging and found some thoughts on it.

A Twin Flame, or Twin Soul, is a person who you feel connected to not just on a physical and emotional level, but also on a soulful or spiritual level.

“Twin flames can often cause radical personal awakenings for one another because they can see straight through to one another.”

AND

“Twin flames are intense and challenging relationships that force us to deal with our unresolved issues and become a bigger person.”

I know antis are rolling their eyes and firing up hate anons, but have you ever just connected to someone in a way that you can’t explain? This meeting, this bond, regardless of if you’re getting along or are butting heads, is one of the most intense relationships you’ve ever experienced. You don’t know why this person has such an impact on you, they just do. And it doesn’t have to be romantic, it can be platonic, or standing on the precipice of something you can’t explain, but this connection transcends relationships.

I’m not arguing that these two are in love and destined to be together. They aren't soul mates. But, they’re two parts of a whole and, in the past, they clashed so much because they saw through one another but never had time to deal with each other. When they were upset at one another, they were either being passive aggressive or saying biting remarks.

But, when they got along, they really got along. Not like besties, but two who clearly enjoyed each other on some time of level that was more than two colleagues goofing around.

Post the original run, I believe both David and Gillian have used the words intense and challenging or variations of it to describe their relationship. They’ve stated after time and space, they’ve gained an appreciation for each other and their words to one another have been kind, thoughtful, and considerate.

And...we see shit like this: 

This entire interview:

There is a closeness, an intimacy that people who are just work colleagues or just acquaintances don’t have. These aren’t the actions or behaviors of people who currently (👀) hate each other.

In the pic, Gillian doesn’t look uncomfortable or think twice when David does shit like biting her shirt. Most people would look at the other like they were crazy and Gillian doesn’t pay any mind to it. 

In the first gif, Gillian leans her his forward and David casually grabs it and pulls her forwards to sign the shirt. Interestingly, once again, Gillian doesn’t think twice and just goes with it. How many people do you know who’d feel comfortable doing that from either Gillian or David’s position? It’s what two people who are close in some capacity would do--two people who feel comfortable around each other.

For the second gif, that entire Jimmy Kimmel interview is wild as hell. Like, if you know you know. But, one of the things that stands out the most to me isn’t what they said or did, but Jimmy’s observance:

Jimmy: I’m surprised at how friendly you guys were and are. I was under the impression that you guys didn't like each other when you were shooting the show. Gillian: You mean friendly to each other?  J: YEAH, friendly to each other--very friendly to each other.  G: Well, you made us, like, have sex.  J: Well, yeah...I’m talking about even off camera.  G: We don’t usually do that every show. *referring to having sex on camera* J: There was a lot of camaraderie there it seems like.  G: It is. 

Jimmy goes down this line of questioning because he is absolutely BAFFLED by how friendly they're being towards each other. And, as stated above, it was even off camera. He goes on to have them clarify that he was’t mistaken about them not getting along at times when the show was on air, which they confirm.

Later on, Jimmy flat out says, “What the hell is going on between you two?”

Keep in mind, this line of questioning is about one of the reasons they butted heads back in he 90s and neither David or Gillian are uncomfortable or dodgy. They’re relaxed, happy, giggly and all over each other while talking. Jimmy is honestly perplexed because none of this matches up with what he heard and what they literally just confirmed. I’m honestly curious as to what Jimmy was thinking, but would’t say.

And, as usual, there is a lot of touching that neither are actively thinking about. Just two people having fun talking about how they had a tense relationship back then.

Antis will say that this is PR, which, of course it was. But, what they mean is them getting along is an act. I’ve said once before and I’ll say it again, if people think that DD and GA getting along is acting, they’re ALWAYS acting. As a reminder, Jimmy himself noted that even when they cameras weren’t rolling, these two were incredibly friendly to one another. This isn’t just something he noticed, it was something he felt compelled to remark to them. It’s absolutely absurd to think even non recorded interactions between them when they aren’t working is acting. Why in the hell weren’t they acting back in the 90′s when they were throwing shots and being passive aggressive towards each other?

I honestly think it's irrelevant if they’re friends or lovers because their bond is so much deeper than that regardless if they talk every day or every three years. And I believe that people who are adamant that Gillian hates David are full of shit. That pic is from 2016, the first gif 2018, and the last gif 2016.

They’ve supported one another’s work endeavors outside of the X-Files and even did an X-Files zoom event together just last year. Gillian even asked Dvid to participate in her charity even last year as well.

These are two people who’ve made peace. They most definitely still have their issues (most likely not what antis claim because they love projecting their issues as issues Gillian has), but that’s for them to work through just like everyone else. David and Gillian are in a good place at the moment even when we don’t see them interacting. The detractors just need to deal with the fact that they are the only ones holding onto their past and making up shit that doesn’t exist. Just because they are in a better place doesn’t mean they won’t disagree at times. But, Gillian and David love, care, and respect one another and that’s the only thing that matters.

[vespertineflora]

3zun Combo Fics

XiYao

we're alone in the dark E, During Canon, Classroom Sex, 4.6k It's the first time Jin Guangyao has had the chance to use the jade token Lan Xichen had given him for free passage in and out of the Cloud Recesses, and it's during this first late evening visit that Jin Guangyao discovers that Lan Xichen has been having fantasies about him for far longer than he ever could have guessed--and that Lan Xichen is very eager to act on one such fantasy.

your love is all i can think about E, During Canon/AU, Love Letters/Sneaking Around, 10.4k After Lan Xichen finally goes all the way with Jin Guangyao in the aftermath of the Sunshot Campaign, responsibility forces the two apart for far longer than either of them care for. When they finally get to see each other again after three long months, having to sit through hours of a discussion conference when the love of his life is just across the room is more than the poor, sexually pent up Lan Xichen can bear, especially as Jin Guangyao seems to realize he likes the effect he's having on him.

in your warmth i forget how cold it can be E, During Canon, Cold Weather Coziness, 3.3k After a long day of traveling in unexpectedly heavy snowfall, Jin Guangyao arrives in the Cloud Recesses and needs Lan Xichen to warm him up.

rest with me a while E, During Canon, Fluff/Smut, 3.8k The day of the Phoenix Mountain Hunt is a stressful one for Jin Guangyao; Lan Xichen can see how tense he is from just a glance. His offer to help Jin Guangyao with his preparations has been turned down more than once, so Lan Xichen isn't sure what he can possibly do to help him... until he realizes there might be one way he might be able to add a bright spot to Jin Guangyao's day. no angels could beckon me back M, During Canon, Post-Coital Cuddling/Confessions, 1.6k What he had with Lan Xichen should have been enough; Jin Guangyao hadn't intended to confess his feelings, and he certainly hadn't meant for them to be confessed like this.

bare your heart to me E, During Canon, Smut and Hurt/Comfort, 9.5k It's impossible for Lan Xichen to say when he first takes notice of it, but a strange exchange one night makes him realize something rather concerning: he hasn't seen Jin Guangyao's naked body in nearly a year. The realization leads to Lan Xichen chasing after the answer to this mystery, ultimately uncovering a painful truth about the daily horrors of Jin Guangyao's life in Carp Tower.

Daylight Can Be So Violent (series) (in progress, but all pieces are functional one shots) if i told you what i’ve become E, During Canon, Confessions/First Times, 13.7k (pt 1) It's Lan Xichen's first visit to Lanling since Jin Guangyao's ascent to the position of Chief Cultivator the previous month, and with everything he's been through recently, he's perhaps tenser than he otherwise would be, spending a peaceful evening with his dearest friend. Luckily, Jin Guangyao has some ideas about the best ways to relieve stress.

heaven help me (i need to make this right) E, During Canon, Light Bondage, 8k (pt 2) The last few months have been... more than Lan Xichen could have ever hoped for. The reconstruction of the Cloud Recesses is complete, which means his uncle is in a good mood. His brother is healed, moving around and spending time with A-Yuan. And his relationship with Jin Guangyao... well, to put it simply, Lan Xichen couldn't be much happier--though Jin Guangyao has no shortage of ideas for them. It's during one of his regular visits to Lanling that Jin Guangyao suggests they... try doing things a different way.

and i'd do anything E, During Canon, Candle Wax/Praise Kink, 4.7k (pt 3) "Do you trust me?" It was that question, and Lan Xichen's resounding yes, that had landed him here, his wrists tied to the bed posts above his head, silk scarf wrapped lovingly around his eyes, his chest heaving with every hard breath, his cock dripping precum in a sticky pool against his stomach, and drips of wax in various stages of hardness scattered all across his skin.

if there was nowhere to land (i wouldn’t be scared at all) T, During Canon, 5+1fic/angst, 10.7k Meng Yao hasn't lead an easy life. He's been pushed around, beaten, and taken advantage of for nearly as long as he can remember... Falling down stairs is one of the worst things he's been through, and he's fallen more times than anyone should have to. OR Five times someone makes Meng Yao fall down a staircase, and one time someone saves him from falling.

they call me underneath M, Post-Canon, Grief/Mourning, 4.2k Lan Xichen never intended to visit the cemetery where his sworn brothers were interred together, but now that he's here, he can't make himself leave without at least trying.

a fine time to regret T, During Canon, Grief/Comfort, 2.3k As it turned out, even knowing Jin Rusong was going to die didn't give Jin Guangyao the chance to prepare himself for it.

NieYao

hold on to what we are T, During Canon, Fluff, 1.9k Meng Yao is dedicated to working harder than ever as the Sunshot Campaign is ramping up, but Nie Mingjue wants him to come to bed.

if you need it, then i need it (and only we'll know) E, During Canon, Sex Pollen, 13.1k Meng Yao and Nie Mingjue are on what they assume to be a normal scouting mission into Wen territory--but the day is turned on its head when they get a bit too close to some strange looking plants that release a thick cloud of pollen as they approach. By the time they make it back to camp, they're both already feeling the effects, and the camp's doctor has some mixed news to share. The bad news? The pollen will lead to a deadly qi deviation if left untreated. The good news? They know how to treat it! Now it's just up to Meng Yao and Nie Mingjue to act on it (and on the feelings they've been secretly harboring for one another for months).

when it comes time to rest my head E, Canon Divergent, Hurt/Comfort, 20.8k When Nie Mingjue spots the freshly bloodied handkerchief Jin Guangyao accidentally drops, his first sickening conclusion is that he's just caught him in the middle of some nefarious deed--but Nie Mingjue investigates further, and instead uncovers a series of injuries across Jin Guangyao's body that tell a much more heart-wrenching tale than the one Nie Mingjue first suspected. Can Nie Mingjue earn back enough of Jin Guangyao's trust to get him to accept the help he so clearly needs? Can he convince Jin Guangyao... to come back to Qinghe with him? i need your broken promises E, Canon Divergent, Werecat!JGY, 11.7k The night Meng Yao is promoted to be Nie Mingjue's deputy, he makes two requests: to be left alone on the night of the full moon, and to not be asked why he needs to be left alone. Nie Mingjue is extremely curious about this odd appeal, but he honors it regardless. Years later, when Nie Mingjue proposes, Meng Yao repeats his requests as the only stipulations for their marriage, and Nie Mingjue once again promises to let Meng Yao keep his secret... until he realizes that perhaps the secret isn't as well kept as he once thought, and he confronts Meng Yao to learn the truth.

the day bleeds into nightfall T, During Canon, Angst and Romance, 2.5k When Wen Chao attacks the Unclean Realm, Meng Yao rushes to release Xue Yang, and Nie Mingjue catches him stabbing his general. Nie Mingjue might have thought he was doing Meng Yao a mercy when he banished him... but Meng Yao isn't sure he agrees.

love me hard oh, love me right E, Modern AU, Rule 63 PWP, 2k Sometimes Meng Yao just needs to be gently dommed by her girlfriend until she cries, and you know what? That's valid.

the love held in her hands E, Modern Fantasy AU, Rule 63/Fairy!MY, 3k When Nie Mingjue's tiny fairy girlfriend asks to be fingered, Nie Mingjue immediately considers it to be a bad idea... but when her search for something more appropriately-sized drags on too long, she decides to give in to Meng Yao's impatient demands.

NieLan

the common tongue of your loving me E, Modern AU, 69ing, 3.7k Lan Huan and Nie Mingjue have been dating for almost two years now, but Nie Mingjue is always coming up with ways for him and his beau to have some new sort of fun in the bedroom. (Submission for NieLan Month 2020, Day 22 Desperation/Beauty/Awe. This is also the 69th fic I've uploaded to my AO3 account haha)

3zun

home is where my love waits E, Modern AU, Sexted Pics & DP, 5.1k Meng Yao is out of town on business for the weekend and Lan Huan and Nie Mingjue have the brilliant idea to send their absent boyfriend some spicy material to keep him warm while he's away (and definitely not because teasing him is very fun). When Meng Yao gets back to his hotel room at night to discover the proverbial feast, he's both very turned on and very frustrated to be so far away--but luckily for Meng Yao, they have more than adequate plans to make up for their teasing once he gets home.

i’ve had no love like your love E, Modern AU, happy birthday jgy!3some, 9.2k It's Meng Yao's birthday, and after working all day, he travels to Nie Mingjue's place in a swiftly escalating winter storm, where a night of warm wine and even warmer company awaits... Nie Mingjue and a tipsy Lan Huan have a delightful plan in place on just how they can warm him up.

how could i ask for more E, Modern Genderbend AU, CNC Roleplay, 14.3k When Meng Yao and Nie Mingjue ask Lan Huan what she wants for her birthday, they strongly imply it can be a sexual favor. Lan Huan asks for so little in the bedroom; she always seems content to just join in whatever activities her girlfriends partake in and never makes specific requests for herself. Of course, when Lan Huan actually indulges their suggestion, the last thing they expect from her is a detailed, written fantasy that she hands to them with an entirely red face... But if such a thing is what Lan Huan wants, Meng Yao and Nie Mingjue will make sure to give her exactly what she's asking for. Written for Whumptober 2020, Theme No 6. PLEASE… (“Get it Out” | No More | “Stop, please”).

there’s a hole in my soul (can you fill it?) E, Modern AU, Hurt/Comfort & Panic Attacks, 6.2k Meng Yao and Nie Mingjue were exes... until Lan Xichen fell in love with both of them and they decided to set aside their differences for his sake. When they're all together, life is bliss--but Meng Yao's relationship with Nie Mingjue is strained at best, and he notices early on in this reconciliation that the only time Nie Mingjue seems willing to hold him or be affectionate with him is after they have sex. Meng Yao has learned that, on the rare nights and weekends when Lan Xichen is away and he needs affection, that having sex with Nie Mingjue is the quickest and easiest way to get it. Lan Xichen just so happens to be out of town after Meng Yao has a particularly bad day at work. He needs the comfort more than ever, but when he tries to get it from Nie Mingjue the only way he knows how, it doesn't go the way he plans.

in my arms you’re safe and sound T, Vampire AU, Hurt/Comfort & Feeding, 2.9k Jin Guangyao is a dhampir who is fully turned when his father accepts him into the family--but Jin Guangshan treats him terribly, and when Nie Mingjue begins to realize how far this mistreatment goes, he drags Jin Guangyao off for a conversation which quickly escalates into an emotional shouting match that results in Nie Mingjue deciding that Jin Guangyao needs to be removed from Carp Tower immediately. Lan Xichen finds them just in time for the three sworn brothers to head together back to Qinghe, where Lan Xichen personally discovers one of the many awful things Jin Guangshan has done to hurt Jin Guangyao.

how were we to know E, Canon Divergent, MAJOR HURT/comfort, 12.9k (check AO3 for warnings on this one!) After the Sunshot Campaign, Meng Yao took Lan Xichen's offer to come live with him in the Cloud Recesses, sparking the beginning of their romantic relationship--which in turn uncovered their individual romantic histories with Nie Mingjue, and led to a shared romantic present with him. In the years since, the three have been in love and quite happy with their shared arrangement. However, eventual grief lingered at the back of their thoughts; they all knew the effect the saber spirit was gradually having on Nie Mingjue's mind and on his temperament, causing more frequent and more violent outbursts... Though none of them could have guessed the particular sort of violence it would lead Nie Mingjue to commit one night alone with Meng Yao.

when you are lost and i am gone M, Canon Divergent, Character Death, 2k When Lan Xichen had received the letter from Meng Yao, he'd left the camp at once to meet him in the forest outside of Nightless City, but even still, he arrives a second too late to do anything but watch as one of his friends cuts down the other. a light on the other side M, Modern AU, JGY-centric, 2.6k As a child, Meng Yao had only ever met his father in passing, as he had a family of his own and wanted little to do with the child that resulted from his affair with Meng Yao's mother. But when Meng Shi passed away tragically, 13 year old Meng Yao was sent to live with his father, spending the rest of his teen years in a living hell until he was able to escape... A few years later, another affair and another tragedy brought infant Mo Xuanyu into the Jin household and Meng Yao returned to keep him safe from the fate he'd suffered himself. Life there is awful, though not nearly as bad as it was before, as Meng Yao spends most of his time alone caring for Mo Xuanyu. However, a few months into his return, Meng Yao is presented with a unique opportunity when, late one night, he finds Jin Guangshan collapsed on the floor of his office.

[phoenixyfriend]

The Catboy Valois AU

This one is a little cursed, and inspired by this Totally Spies post.

This AU does contain some nsfw content, which I will place at the end of the post and mark for (it’s right after the dog pics). Once again, this was brainstormed on the GG server, back in October of 2019. Biggest contributor other than myself was @atagotiak​.

So I decided that, at some point, I need to see one of those inexplicable and very horny modern catpeople AUs.

Where a fraction of the population just happens to have cat ears and tails etc. for... minimal reason.

Tarvek def has them. Bc twink. Sticking to the tropes, you know.

All the Valois are catpeople because most of history didn't have the option of interbreeding, just coexisting. Something something sterile hybrids because chromosomes.

Andronicus Valois, Catboy King

Lucrezia was full human and Aaronev never had a chance.

"Most of history" because recently they scienced up ways to get around it, so there are catperson/human hybrids, like Gil and Zeetha (Klaus is human, Zanta is not).

Klaus is kinda glad Gil has cat ears bc this makes people automatically assume he can’t be the dad even if they realize it’s technically possible.

This means Agatha gets her boys.

The human (Lars), the hybrid (Gil), and the cat (Tarvek).

Anevka's initial robot body doesn't have the cat features just due to the fact that Tarvek was aiming for Bare Minimum, and then when he added them in later she decided she liked being able to pick when she had them.

I am morally obligated to reblog the callout art @mercurialvoid​ did for me a few years ago.

We’re not gonna talk about that, though.

human Othar/catgirl Anevka

SCENT MARKING

It's considered Undignified but everyone still DOES it, just... discreetly.

Agatha thinks nothing of it when Zeetha rubs their cheeks together while training and then someone looks at her funny and asks if that's her girlfriend or something.

And Agatha Realizes that she's currently got Belongs-to-Zeetha scent on her and has to scramble to explain that Zeetha kind of adopted her as a little sister because it's the closest approximation she can come up with that still has Acceptable Connotations.

I think platonic marking is a THING but mostly within families, children, and really close female friends, like holding hands. (Toxic masculinity does apply.)

And kolee-zumil is effectively family relationship.

Agatha can't SMELL the scent markings but she gets used to them.

Also like. There's probably different levels of scent marking depending on the body part. Wrists and cheeks are different.

Jagers that used to be catboys have better senses of smell, and are the ones sent to find a Heterodyne.

Agatha and Lars make out but don't go all the way because Agatha is not ready. (Meanwhile, Zeetha can literally smell how horny these dumb kids are.)

TINY BABY GILVEK FACE NUZZLES WHILE STILL ON CW:

(Imagine how much more dangerous the baby gilvek airship-exploring shenanigans would be given one is a catboy and the other is half catboy.)

Gil just kinda scent marks on literally everything/everyone. The boy is affection-starved well into adulthood. He probably purrs too. And purring is probably considered kinda undignified.

Tarvek purrs when he’s designing clothes in his head. He’s embarrassed when he realizes. Everyone thinks it’s cute tho.

Also when crafting super-complicated diabolical plans.

Purring isn’t very diabolical. So it’s embarrassing and doesn’t fit with the aesthetic at all.

It’s hard to do an evil scheme while being an image-conscious catboy.

Gil only. Sort of knows how to cat. He's not very good at it. Zulenna helped but...

Is Von Pinn a cat? Gut says yes. Though it makes it less likely she'd be mistaken for Lu as the students did, but hey! She’d appreciate that.

She probably wouldn’t know how to cat.

Or maybe she would, given we’re assuming hereditary and she was made for Andronicus... She probably knows a bit abt how to tell other people how to cat, but she doesn’t know how to cat herself.

The Muses... not designed to look like catpeople. Ruined the minimalist bodies RVR was going for, going by canon's lack of consistent ears or noses

Agatha does not realize at first that Von-Pinn is a cat-lady because her ears match her hair and every time she sees Agatha her ears go back, and the tail is hidden under the hobble dress.

Otilia is very happy to go from catwoman body to Giant Metal Cat body

KITTY BANGLADESH DUPREE

She's got a faint pattern to her fur that's, on closer inspection, very much indicating she's a PANTHER.

Consider: Tarvek starts working himself up into a frenzied panic and the nearest Trusted Person starts petting him to calm him down and he like. Melts.

TBH tho, a good portion of canon Tarvek’s behaviour can already be described as “cat does something stupid and immediately after attempts to pretend he has dignity even though everyone saw the stupid thing.”

Once Tarvek calms down... Lazy Cat Time.

OH

NECK PINCH

CH would be ecstatic that Agatha snagged two suitors, then swing around to devastated that they’re both catboys, and maybe delusional enough to attempt to cut the ears/tails off like that’d solve anything then come around to “well there’s always science” once it’s fixed.

All Valois have high necks on their outfits, at least at the back

So nobody tries to Deactivate The Cat

(One less thing for Anevka to worry about.)

Because, you know. Canon decided to cut Agatha in half to acquire an heir, so we can’t exactly say the Castle is all that sensible.

It does calm down once Agatha mentions she has Lars, though.

Per @lyratalus​: Krosp could be... so much more dangerous in this AU. What if he was designed to be emperor of all catpeople?

Cats never do what they're told anyways, and you can’t really control people without wasps, but the attempt was made! Vapnoople was ambitious!

Long story short, there's a spark of Something but then they just bat him off the table.

Imagine Seffie making Martellus Stop by deactivating the cat

Violetta is the cutest lil catgirl...

SHE GETS REALLY BRISTLEY WHEN SHE'S MAD

HE'S NOT A TWINK AND IT'S WEIRD. Not even a twunk???

Martellus is

So fucking ODD for a catboy

Like it HAPPENS but it means that human women are more likely to find him attractive than catgirls (and even that's a bit of a long shot on the basis of personality).

(Gil excused from the catboys-are-twink-to-twunk rule on the basis of being half human, and his dad being Basically A Wall.)

That said, for Andy I’m gonna go with "buff as fuck but sooooooo charismatic that all the catgirls, and human girls, flocked to him anyway."

So that’s at least two Bara catboys in this AU

Tarvek is canonically more or less the same size/shape as Gil, but... in my heart, Tarvek’s a twunk. He’s got muscle but he's not AS big, and he's got intense Twink energy, especially since Tarvek actually is queer.

(And they're both straight so they're not even technically bara, just Buff.)

(Not twinks either but...)

(Twink is a fun word.)

Colette is human and Seffie isn't but they'd need science for babies ANYWAY so who cares? It's a lot of Seffie laying her head in Colette's lap and purring as she falls asleep because Colette just keeps petting her.

Catboy Martellus still makes sparkhound shapeshifters. He's a catperson...  but he's still a Dog Person.

Martellus and his dynamic with the sparkhounds:

He loves them, they love him. But they’re embarrassing sometimes.

THIS MARKS THE BEGINNING OF THE NSFW CONTENT

ANYWAY back to the point, which is that a lot of these catperson AUs are just... really super horny.

Which is valid.

Ears are technically erogenous zones for everyone but for the cat people... it's a Lot. It's also not like. Inherently sexual? But it can be. Like spooning. It feels nice ALWAYS but with the right person it's also HORNY.  Or like brushing someone else's hair. 

Ear rubs and headpats that result in like, intense sensation? Good actually.

Also I’m declaring that catpeople have heats. Or at least like. Heightened mating seasons? Extra horny times.

So you have Agatha and Lars normal, Gil kinda horny and confused, and Tarvek rubbing himself against the nearest spouse in hopes that someone's going to fuck the living daylights out of him.

Valois probably take suppressing things as a matter of course bc it’s hard to stay alert to assassination attempts when overwhelmingly horny. When Tarvek deliberately forgoes them eventually, everyone is touched by how much trust it shows.

Without suppressants, the horny is either something you can cope with or something that is intense but comes in Very brief periods. Either one day a month, or a week twice a year? Something like that.

Honestly though, imagine if Gil tried to hide being a catperson for the sake of the Empire or some nonsense, and had to just suffer when in heat?

Agatha likes to watch the boys go at it because there's something about Fangs On Neck that's super pleasurable for cat people and she can't provide that for Tarvek but Gil certainly can.

Bonding marks aren't a thing but possessive biting is.

(Since birth control is so easily accessed in GG, I feel like Lu’s opinion of catboys would be a super gross objectifying thing.)

(Which. Yeah.)

(Lucrezia basically has that opinion on any man in canon that isn’t immediately useful to her for science reasons.)

[fallingsunflower]

BESTIES I'm so sorry - I hit my post limit waaaay earlier than expected! Some of y'all joined me on my backup account, (which I also hit the limit on lmao), but I'm back now.

I had over 400 asks to go through and I'll give you a warning that not all of them will appear (either because they were old or because they were topics we already answered). But here is a giant list of asks I compiled for you from when I wasn't allowed to post lol they don't really require my response but I found them entertaining to read. Hope you don't mind I've just put them all together in one post. It's also to save me from using up my 250 posts lol

"this is all so embarrassing like my god imagine when the promotion of the movie starts how horrible it will be for other people who made the movie too"

"SELL UR TICKETS TODAY WATCH THE MOVIE ILLEGALLY, next article we’ll be talking about these two assholes filing for bankruptcy. cheap harlots. don’t mess with your meal ticket."

"hate to say it but i defs think they‘ve got a sliver of the gp’s attention for five minutes"

"I am scanning through all these photos looking for just ONE where he looks like he's smiling and enjoying this. It's so crazy."

"I guess those are all the pics we’re getting right now. But I wouldn’t be surprised if they finish the Italy trip off with one more major Backgrid photo shoot."

"Olivia’s trending on Twitter but not Harry. Like it’s obvious who’s getting the PR gains here!"

"If they dont give us a 6 month or more break after this im gonna need them to pay for my therapy bills from now on bc of this damage no joke let me crawl back into my shit hole now 😑"

"The palce they at is referred to as “tuscanys best-kept secret”. Everyone point and laugh."

"she looks like she’s enjoying all of this. he looks like he wants to push her into the water."

"a few people said he’s keeping his shorts pulled up or covered in all the shots because of the Nike branding which they ask to not get photographed. What a setup."

"Man I knew the second those Tomdaya pics came out of them kissing and how they were trending so fast that HO were going to do something to 'top' them. Its pathetic /// FRRR. she probably hoped for the positive reactions that people gave tom & zendaya but unfortunately, miss girl got the opposite. when will they realize that nobody, but his fans, find them cute lmao can they just stop, it’s so embarrassing 😭😭😭"

"He really out here doing this with someone who almost old enough to be his mother, shiiiiiiiit. Sickening. Sick of these 2 for real now, i was fine with the good old blurry back content and whatnot but this? Crossing a line here nobody wanna see that shit and knowing how people feel goooooood damn."

"I aboslutely despise kendall for obvious reason but this one is actually worse than the hendall one bc you couldnt really see as much as now dis gos tang."

"She’s also wearing the cross necklace again. I feel like if that was so meaningful to her she wouldn’t risk loosing it in the ocean 🙄"

"guys have eyes on tmz. I Do not have tw now. they were so aggressive towards them"

"I'm sorry for Harry because you lost your damn mind bro"

"Now why the hendall pics are better ?? NO SHADE BUTT"

"I’m genuine confused like do they actually want dwd to flop or what? I just threw up in my mouth I sure as hell ain’t gonna watch their sorry ass movie. Is it supposed to flop? I’m so confused!"

"The match was not interesting enough so they cooked up something different especially since people were pointing out how they staged the PDA. And the page 6 article is out already!!!"

"Who the fuck thought this was a good idea"

"Is it just me or does harry's face looks really blank for someone out on a Romantic date with his alleged girlfriend.?"

"if thats it, harry hasn’t no game🤣🤣🤣🤣"

"so this is why the tabloids weren’t talking about the match pics! they didn’t have any value on their own. now with the yacht pics? my oh my they’re gonna get the clicks of their lives. her team was prob like “wait a sec we got something for y’all”"

"If they were models hired to act like a couple they wouldn't get the job......"

"Not them starring right at the camera in some of them help make it less obvious will you"

"HENDALL🤣🤣🤣is that uuuu"

"Harry’s ass crack thought it should make an appearance too."

"What a great day for team PR, happy Monday you guys! Let's pop the champagne 🍾🍾🍾🍾 P. S. They both need acting lessons, tbh"

"It’s quite interesting how everything that’s happened before I’ve seen predicted weeks/and in advance on blogs or fan accounts. Like his life has always been so predictable but damn"

"He was hiding the Nike check. That’s why his swim trucks are rolled up to an absurd degree even for him. He knew he was gonna get photographed."

"What I’m noticing is wether people like them together or not, everyone’s saying they’re aren’t a hot couple…there was more chemistry in the Kendall pics by far"

"i also find it weird that he’s not smiling in any of the pictures and it would be one thing if there were five pics from ten minutes of time but there are like 70 from an obvious extended period of time"

"It's interesting everyone involved is being Team Try Hard. Yet the universe says no. The last set of pics, Tom and Zendaya overshadowed. People even paid more attention to Angelina and the Weekend (even if business possibly). Fast forward to today and all this fakery only for Gwen/Blake to tie the knot. His team needs to get a clue. She needs to go. Harry needs to clean this up fast."

"Ok i looked at one hugging pic and one kidding pic and they could not look more stagged. It looks unatural ,strange and weird from all angles. You can clearly see from their body posture they are posing for a photographer from backgrid."

"Like I said in my ask a couple days ago the day we get kissing pics is the day that I believe this is all a stunt and I was right. They took a page out of hendall 2016 and it’s looks so forced and awkward. Hendall did it better cause at prater they had chemistry. They must be scared this movie is going to tank because they are pushing this way too hard"

"Real, PR, or whatever relationship it is, they’re fucking boring. You are on a yacht in Italy, can’t you have a little bit of fun? I can’t believe how boring they are, I just can’t. Even if it is just PR, can’t you make a fucking dumb joke so you can laugh or something? Do they have anything in common like to talk about or discuss or make fun of? I’d literally killed myself if I looked like that in a relationship. They are not communicating in any photos we’ve got. They are just walking, or sitting. Even when they hold hands or kiss or hug, they never communicate."

"okay but did ya’ll see the pic of her diving in?? i can’t stop laughing 😭😭😭😭"

"they look horrifically awkward i cannot believe what harry is doing"

"“HEY PAPS COME GET A PIC OF US KISSING TO MAKE OUR RELATIONSHIP MORE BELIEVABLE!!!!!”"

"his ass is hanging out and her bra is almost off what in the hell"

"Hqs on a yacht like that? Mhmhmhm hmmmmm / I bloody well hope that’s not the extend of their acting. That’s dire! 🤦‍♀️"

"this is literally the most predictable “couple” to exist. first, people talked about them showing up the game, and they did. second, people were just talking about kissing pics... AND THEY JUST CAME OUT LMAOOOOOO"

"annnnnnnnnnnnnd there it is. YOU KNOW THEY KNEW THERE WAS A CAMERA."

"ok but where’s the pda or did that get made up? cause these have to be the most awkward pics i’ve ever seen which makes me feel better 😂 also i can feel the meme’s coming with the one of her diving off the boat"

"I call it how I see it they are both assholes and full of shit. Like do your fake kiss somewhere else I do not want to see it!"

"Can they at least act like they’re having a good time?"

"hahahaha I can't stop laughing with that photo of O it's literally her knowing she's being photographed and diving into a professional swimmer style😭"

"the pics are so organic that Olivia is looking straight at the pap before kissing Harry."

"he looked a lot happier with kendall in their yacht pics compared to today’s. i know that was PR too, but he was very smiley and seemed talkative. with this girl it’s like the complete opposite lmao."

[beepboop358]

"S4 Sneak Peek" Teaser - SECOND PART

This is my second post about the st4 sneak peek teaser, regarding the second half of the st4 sneak peek teaser, which contains the new images for s4.

(the first part of this s4 sneak peek discussion regarding the first half of the teaser can be found here.)

The California group; Will, Mike, Argyle, Jonathan (and El for part of the season), are not shown in the s4 footage, neither is Joyce, who we also know is in California for at least part of the season. There are several possible reasons why they aren’t included, one being that they are waiting to release any content surrounding Joyce and Will’s storyline until both of their individual teasers are released, or that their storyline contains major spoilers too sensitive to reveal at this time.

Now getting into the images…

The Grandfather Clock:

It is striking midnight, which could be a reference to the doomsday clock, or just time running out until something catastrophic happens.

This clock has been seen several times in promos:

My running theory is the clocks represent memories, which will be re-visited through the powers of the upside down/the void, essentially “time travel flashbacks". If you want to read more about this theory it's in my post here. I think the grandfather clock being positioned in the upside down, further supports this theory.

A clock was also seen in the "Eleven are you listening?" teaser, striking 3 a.m., aka "the witching hour".

Eleven in s4:

In the first image, Eleven looks like Joyce. She has the same hairstyle with the bangs. Whether she is mimicking Joyce after getting closer and more attached to her, or Joyce gave her this haircut, she undeniably looks like Joyce. She is wearing Hopper's flannel, but her clothing style also looks similar to Joyce's, just like her hair.

Eleven has obviously been kidnapped by the “bad men”, probably government agents for Hawkins Lab. From her facial expression and lack of movement, she isn't struggling or trying to get away from their grip on her, and that the black van behind her has its doors open and she is facing away from it, which means they probably just took her out of the van. Her facial expression indicates she is looking at something, full of disbelief and confusion. The tan ground and blue sky tell us this is obviously California. It was confirmed by leaked set pics of Joyce and Jonathan's cars license plates that the Byers move to Cali. I have a theory Dr. Owens/the gov. paid to re-locate the Byers to keep a low profile for Eleven, or at least gave them some money to use to re-locate to a place far away from Hawkins, because Joyce can not afford the kind of house they are living in there in Cali by herself with the kind of job she previously worked.

The second image of Eleven in the lab could be a memory/"time travel flashback", or it may not even be El, it could be another test subject that just looks like her, since they all did have shaved heads, but I feel like the person has very similar facial features to Millie, so it is probably Eleven.

The Hawkins group:

We have Nancy, Steve, Robin, Max, Lucas, Dustin and Erica left in Hawkins to investigate what is going on there. They are in the Claremont house, rumored to be "Vecna's lair" (the rumored new monster in s4)

The group appears to be looking at the grandfather clock, but we don't know for sure.

Usually all the couples are visually paired together in shots (which is especially prominent in s3) but here in this shot Max and Lucas are not standing next to each other, and in the bike riding shot they aren’t riding next to each other either. Max and Lucas are always breaking up and then getting back together in s3, so I wonder if them not standing together and not riding next to each other indicates a more permanent break up between the two.

Max is also at the center of the formation, and everyone stands around and behind her. I have a theory Max will be more central to the plot this year in discovering whats going on in Hawkins. Steve also appears to be looking directly at Max, as if he is reacting to or going to respond to what she is saying or has been saying.

Max, Dustin, Lucas and Erica riding their bikes could be them running away from something, rushing to get somewhere to deliver news/show up to something that's about to happen, etc, we really don't know.

The Dice:

The number 7 can be seen as one of the prominent numbers in the middle of a dice roll during a D&D game with the hellfire club. The number 7 is associated with Will and Mike, but also could allude to the "Eleven are you listening?" teaser where a puck was dropped on the number 7. 3 and 5 are also prominent numbers here.

I think the hands with the ring is Eddie or another new character. Neither Mike or Dustin's hands look like that. The person sitting next to him could be anyone. This person is seen wearing a hellfire club shirt, and we have seen everyone we know to be confirmed members of the club - Eddie, Mike, Dustin, wear this shirt in bts pics.

Hopper:

This shot is most likely of Hopper in the Russian prison, using a flame thrower as a weapon for his escape, or to defend himself from someone/something.

The car on fire:

If you slow the teaser down to 0.25x speed, you can see the mysterious figure is walking towards the flaming car, approaching it. This means this person was most likely not in the wreck. Although it would make sense for it to be Joyce's car because she drives a Ford Pinto which was an extremely flammable car due to design flaws Ford neglected, the back of the Ford Pinto is rounded, and this car does not seem to have a rounded back. During the scene in the woods in s3 after Joyce and Hopper kidnapped Alexei and Hopper's car won't start, it blows up. Joyce makes comments about how she could have died in the car explosion, which could be possible foreshadowing.

The mysterious figure appears to be a man, I'm guessing a young adult/teenager based on the stripes on the sleeve of their shirt - it just feels like something a teenager would wear, not a middle aged adult. My bet is that this figure is either Will, Jonathan, or maybe Mike - just based off of the body shape of the figure and that they would fit the age group.

The one thing we know for sure from this picture is that the car explosion happens in Hawkins. The skinny, tall trees that can be seen on the side of the road, only grow in certain places, mainly in the southeast of the US, and the Hawkins portion of ST is filmed in Atlanta, GA where these trees grow. These kinds of trees can’t grow in New Mexico where the California portion is being filmed, and definitely not in Lithuania, where the Russia portion is being filmed. In the show these trees only appear in Hawkins, Indiana. These trees are seen during Hopper's letter - when the Byers drive past the "Leaving Hawkins" sign. The slight curve in the road right where the skinny trees can be seen is very suspiciously similar.

Chrissy:

Described as the most popular girl in school hiding a dark secret, Chrissy's death/disappearance will probably be what sparks the suspicion, action, mystery, of the Hawkins storyline. It will be the event that triggers the Hawkins group to investigate what's really going on, and if the upside down is back again in Hawkins.

Steve under water:

He seems to be looking for something, it's unclear what, why, or exactly when in the season this scene will occur. Water has an underlying significance in the show, and last year the stranger writers account kept tweeting reminding everyone to drink water, and tweeted that Steve wasn't drinking enough water. There's definitely something going on here with the water references. That tweet about Steve not drinking enough water could allude to his possible death/serious injury. Steve is a popular contender to die this season, but I wonder if/when Steve dies, Dustin will also die because of the comment he makes in s3 to Steve saying, "If you die, I die."