#i dunno!! i just get an aching feeling whenever i think about the part of my identity that stays with the family i rarely get to see

[goldiipond]

being mixed and disconnected from part of your culture is fucking wild man i had my belated graduation party yesterday adn my native grandma gave me a necklace with a pretty little stone tht had a handwritten note folded up inside the box that described its significance to our people as a token of good luck and spiritual protection and i fucking cried why did i do that!!

[saintzweig]

nsfw patrick zweig x camgirl!reader

– PART ONE HERE i know this is long overdue i'm so sorry :") i had to start over multiple times!!! this is not proofread because that's literally my brand atp

pinkponyclub is now live! click here to watch

patrick blinked at his screen, the cursor of his laptop stood still on the link that he's all too familiar with. the pink color taunting him as he debated whether or not to click on it. there's this unfamiliar feeling settling on the pit of his stomach, now that he has a face and name to put on the body he's been jerking off to. what's worse is you still don't know that he knows.

it's been nearly a month since your presentation and you hadn't talked since then, aside from the occasional greetings whenever you'd bump to each other on campus. it's been that long as well since he's watched you, and it's been painful. for some reason, he can't seem to touch himself without his mind going back to you, the urge to watch you once again getting stronger every minute. he aches for a release yet the guilt of knowing your biggest secret overpowered it.

"dude" art yelled over the defeaning music, "what's your plan? you getting laid or what?" the two tennis players found themselves squeezing through a bunch of sweaty young adults, having been invited to a frat party by some guy on the tennis team.

patrick shrugged, "dunno, dude." they finally made it to the kitchen, looking over the kitchen island filled with alcohol drinks and snacks which they helped themselves to.

"come on. you have to, man." the blonde spoke, grabbing a red cup and filling it with whatever the fuck's on the punch bowl. "you've been sloppy and irritable, you need to find someone to fuck before you get in trouble with the team."

"don't tell me you're still thinking about that girl" art said to which patrick just rolled his eyes, taking a sip from his cup and unsubtly grimacing at the taste.

he made the mistake of telling art about his dilemma, well– he didn't exactly tell him. art caught him staring at the website when he came back to their shared dorm after practice. 'you pay for that shit?'

"look, if you're still hung up on it just tell her that you know. it's not a big deal"

the brunette glared at the latter, "and say what? i know that you're a camgirl and guess what, i'm your biggest donator"

"we're in college dude, you're bound to come across a someone who sells themselves online atleast once" art said without a beat, unaware of the short figure that stood behind him. "patrick?" oh shit.

"wait, wait" patrick chased after you, which was difficult because of the hundreds of shoulders slamming into him. "let me explain"

you reached the patio when you turned to him, "you know?" your expression wasn't angry– you looked pale, nervous, like someone had just discovered your biggest secret. which he did. and he told someone about it.

"yes, i know. i didn't mean to, okay?"

"you didn't mean to know?" you look at him confused, your eyes wide and lips wobbling. he knows this isn't the best moment but he can't help the heat pooling in his stomach, you look so pretty looking up to him like this.

patrick sighed, rubbing a hand over the lower part of his face. "it just kinda happened. i recognized your room."

your eyebrows furrowed, "you recognized my room? what does that mean?"

"it means" he sighed, "i've watched you an embarrassing amount of times to the point that i recognized your room."

there was an awkward moment of silence while you processed what he said. not only did he find out that you're basically a porn star, he had just confessed to paying and jerking himself off to you.

"are you going to tell anyone else?" your voice was timid, scared. the way you looked at him caught him off guard, as if he holds so much power over you at this moment. it should make him feel bad, but it did the opposite. he thinks it's sick that the way you're looking up at him at this moment is giving him the urge to take advantage of you in your most vulnerable state.

but he still he ended up on your bed, watching you set up your laptop on your desk, turning the grainy camera on. "i won't tell anyone if you do something for me." which you accepted with absolutely no hesitation, which surprised him. you're willing to do anything for him to keep your secret from everyone else– and it's not like you haven't been fantasizing about him for weeks now, and you know you're going to make shit ton of money tonight so you have nothing to lose.

the camera light lit up, signalling that the live is starting and slowly, people started coming in. a few of them your loyal fans, proudly calling themselves your paypigs.

you walked over to the bed, climbing over patrick and settling on his lap, his hands immediately finding its place on your hips. you almost moaned as you felt your clothed heat press down on his bulge. patrick licked his lips, swearing he can feel your wetness through the fabrics separating you. his thumbs grazes the exposed skin just above your underwear while your hands were placed on his chest. the camera was pointed downwards, leaving your flustered faces out of the stream.

patrick begins to guide your hips, rocking you back and forth. you bit your lip, and patrick swears this is the hottest thing he's ever seen. he's so used to watching you on screen, never even thought of having the opportunity to actually feel you.

you take his hand from your hips, letting it rest on the hem of your pretty pink panties, mouth slightly parted as you stared at him with an inviting look. he immediately got what you meant, dipping his finger inside and coming in contact with your cunt, grazing your sensitive clit before feeling the slick. "you've wanted this for a while now, haven't you? think i haven't caught you staring at me like that?"

a whine bubbles up your throat, not even giving you the chance to lie and say no. he inserts his finger slowly, groaning at how warm you feel inside. "fuck, you look even prettier in person. such a shame they can't see your face, hm?"

without warning, he flips you over– mindful of the camera. your head hits the pillow and he slips himself in between your legs, grinding his erection on your core while his hand gropes your breasts under your thin tank top. his lips are on yours, he can taste the hint of your flavored lipgloss. "you have no idea how many times i've jerked myself off to you" he groans into your mouth, making you buck your hips up to meet his. "you like that, huh? like thinking about me fantasizing about you?" all you can do is nod.

he scrambles to sit up, tugging your panties down your legs. "can't wait anymore, need to fuck you now" he tugs his boxers down, freeing his hard cock. your mouth gapes at the sight, his thick and veiny members staring right at you. his tip is furiously red and leaking. you lift yourself up slightly, watching him spit onto his hand and rub it all over him as he positions himself at your entrance. his other hand pushes your knees up as he pushes himself in gently. throwing his head back as he grunts, your warmth and tightness swallowing him in. you arch your back in mixed pain and pleasure, "s-so big"

he chuckles, "i'm not even halfway in, pretty girl" he lets a few seconds pass before moving his hips in rhythm, your skin sticking together. if you haven't forgotten about the camera right now, you might've moaned his name, having practiced it multiple times by yourself. it seems like he had the same thing on his mind, catching the look on your face. "wanna moan my name right now don't you?" he smirks, his strokes getting deeper, making it harder for you to contain yourself as you mewled helplessly under him. "do it, want you to say my name" he breathes out, watching the way your chest rise up and down faster at his words.

"come on, say it" he grunts, the room filling up moans and the sounds of your bodies moving in rhythm. "be a good girl, hm?" and that was your last straw.

"p-patrick" you bit your lip, eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head as he hits your spot over and over again. you swear that you can feel every single on of his veins inside you.

"that's it, that's it pretty girl." he soothes you, grunting at the feeling of your pussy clenching around him. "wanna make you cum. bet these pigs want that too" he glances at your laptop, cock throbbing at the sight of the two of you on the screen. "can i?" he asks as he turns back to you.

you nod, eyes filling with tears and stomach clenching as you feel your climax approaching. your hands pull him in closer, nails leaving marks against his back. he nuzzles himself on your neck, biting and leaving marks all over. you reach up to tug on his curls, "f-fuck, pat. feel so full" he lets out a shaky breath on your skin, thrusts getting sloppier.

you can barely give him a warning as you feel yourself nearly on edge, "p-pat–"

"let it out, it's okay. cum for me, pretty girl. i got you" and you melt instantly in his arms. your back arched and your head thrown back on your pillow, turning limp under his body in seconds. he lets out a low groan as you tighten around him, feeling your fluid coating his cock inside you. he pulls out in a haste, hand wrapping around his base as he moves himself near your face, "wanna cum in your mouth" and so he shoves himself inside of you. immediately you hollow your cheeks and bob your head as you take him in, and he shoots his cum all the way down your throat. eyes on each other as his cock throbs between your plump lips. he pulls out, watching you swallow every bit. "shit, so pretty like this" he takes thumb and wipes the spit on the corner of your mouth.

"your next live is on friday, right?" he pants, completely disregarding how embarrassing it is that he's memorized your schedule at this point. "i'll be here, can't let you do this alone now."

[d6volution]

Reader who is just as much of a jackass as Jax is. Both of you are competing for the “best prank” on the rest of the circus members. However, one day Jax decides to ask Caine for a “massager” claiming you complained about muscle aches. Jax gives it as a gift, the reader not knowing the outfit contains the toy. He wants you to wear on the next adventure and hopes to push your buttons. Whether the reader gets revenge is up to you.

i think i get it! hopefully this is okay 🫶🏽

tags: make shift vibrator, fingering, outdoors, cursing cause i didn't feel like censoring it.

more below the cut. | minors dni.

"You're kiddin' ... there's no way Zooble would sleep through that." Jax grinned, at you .. a hand on his hip as you both walked through the halls at a moderate pace.

"Mhm, wait til you see them." Was all you said, clearly confident of your own doings.

Like clockwork, Zooble appeared, "What are you two assholes staring at?" Zooble squinted.

Jax couldn't help it, a thunderous roar of laughter erupted from his mouth and held his stomach. Pointing at Zooble with the opposite hand.

"What the hell is so funny?" Zooble didn't notice , they were so used to switching and swapping parts on their body that they failed to notice the comically bouncing googly eye on their face, replacing their usual left eye.

"N—Nothing, Zoobs. You look great.." You giggled and yanked Jax away before he gave away the joke before it had its time to play out.

You guys rounded the corner, "That puts me ahead three points, bunny boy." You said smugly.

"What? No way." He rolled his eyes, and the laughing fit quickly wore off.

"What do you mean, no way? Those were the rules !" You huffed, and relished in your frustration.

"The rules, of my game, dollface."

"Should've known you'd cheat.."

"Look, how about this, next adventure we go on. Double the points. Whoever comes out on top wins. Simple." He shrugs his shoulders.

"Hmp. Fine, you've got a deal." You were planning to get the one up on him. Even if it meant humiliating the other members in the process. There was nothing else to do in this digital world, so why not have some fun at the expense of others?

You two parted ways for the night, and unbeknownst to you Jax had a devious plan already cooked up.

"Hey, Caine."

The ringmaster was cleaning up the mess from the last adventure, "Oh , hello there Jax! What can I do for you?" His voice boomed like usual.

"You know, y/n said they've been havin' some trouble with... uh, back aches. real bad back aches. Needs, I dunno.. a massager or something. Got anything like that?" He gestured.

"Hmm.. I suppose I can cook something up!" He pretened to dig in his pocket, his arm disappearing all the way down to the forearm until he pulled out a make shift massager that had multiple vibrating parts.

Jax's grins grew wide, it was almost creepy how narrow his eyes got. "Thanks , Caine. You're the best." He caught the massager such Caine tossed to him. Jax waved and quickly went to his room. He spent the entire night carefully crafting an outfit for you, though right in the crotch the vibrator was hidden inside the cloth. The things you could make happen here we almost comical. But, Jax took whatever advantage he could get. No matter how ridiculous.

Now lastly. The remote. He'd be able to control whenever the "massager" turned on and off , plus fluctuate its intensity.

The next morning came in a flash, maybe because he was up throughout the night.. no matter. It's not like they get tired anyways.

He showed up at your door, outfit in hand. He knocked until you opened it.

"Jeez, Jax first thing in the morning and— ..... whats that..?" You pointed at the clothes folded in his hands, it was a one piece outfit but it cut off to make shorts at the bottom.

"For you, dummy." He teased and shoved it into your arms.

"You must be out of your mind if you think I'm wearing this Jax." You scoffed and held it up in front of you. It wasn't too provocative..  you just didnt trust him.

"C'mon doll, don't be a loser. Just wear it,— wear it and successfully pull one prank on a member and the winning title is all yours." He spiced up the deal, grinning at you.

You knew there had to be a catch, but if he thought you weren't going to take advantage of this he'd be wrong. "Fine. I'll win, and when I do. You have to anything I say for the entire day."

"Deal." He responded a little too quickly and you shut the door in his face. His smile remained and he hummed to himself as he went looking for the others while you changed.

It was odd how well this outfit fit you, snug but not too tight.. just when did he get your measurements..? Ugh, whatever. It was a little uncomfortable in certain areas , but what were you expecting? Jax to be some master tailor?

"I can't believe I'm doing this.." You muttered before exiting your room, meeting up with the rest of the lot just in time. Caine was explaining the ins and outs of todays adventure. Something about fishing at the digital lake. You weren't paying attention, trying to figure out a quick prank to pull on an unsuspecting member so you could get out of this outfit.

BUZZZZ.

You jumped and yelped, covering your mouth as you felt something vibrating against your clit. Your cheeks went red and you tried to keep still as a few eyes darted to you, but only for a moment. 'What the, fuck?' You thought, and immediately looked at Jax. Unfortunately he wasn't even looking at you.

"Alright, now go on my little superstars! Good luck!" Caine ended his speech and disappeared in puff of smoke.

You all exited the tent and headed towards the lake.. just then you fell another buzz and stumbled to a stop, Kinger and Gangle walked past you with concerning looks... followed by Jax. You walked with him , cheeks still red.

"Jax. I'm taking this stupid outfit off."

"Fine, you'll lose immediately though.. don't say I didn't warn ya." He said and seemed completely unbothered, clearly aware of how competitive you can be.

"Th.. That's not fair and you know it." You growled under your breath.

"Lighten up doll, maybe this is just what you need. A little fun and pleasure." He shrugged before the buzzing started again, and you let a whine slip past your lips before biting down on your bottom lip.

"Whoops.. hand slipped."

"You're going down you, little pervert."

You felt like steam was going to erupt from your ears. You pushed past him, flustered and frustrated. He just chuckled as you stormed off. Clearly pleased with himself.

The buzzing stopped and you breathed , you had to come up with something.. maybe you'd hook Gangle's fishing line to one of her ribbons so when she tries to cast it, it'll go all wrong and make her unravel.

The plan was nearly perfect .. except everytime you tried to distract gangle Jax pressed that damn button and the vibrator buzzed against your thobbing clit.

Every time you tried to initiate your plans , it was always interrupted. The buzzing didn't even stay on long enough for you to reach your climax so you were constantly being edged.. you had to take a break, you could feel your lewd jucies running down your inner thighs..

"I'm going to kill him.." You said, but the words left your mouth pathetically. You leaned against a tree, far from the others.. maybe if you came then you could .. function at least.

"Oh, wondered where you ran off to. Havin' some trouble there doll?"

"N.. No, Jax you'd better not—"

BUZZZZZ.

You almost crumpled to your knees but Jax was right in front of you, holding you against the tree. "Poor thing, can't even stand. How ya gonna win like this, huh?"

Your eyes were glassy, legs shaking. "Y.. You asshole.." Your legs were trembling and you could feel Jax's hand sliding up your torso.

"How about this, give up and I'll let ya cum dollface. No strings attached." He stared at your helpless form. Eyes clearly foggy with lust.

"N.. No way, hhck..!" The buzzing got more intense and you finally collapsed to the floor.

".. O..Okay , please..! please let me cum, Jax.." You whined, your cunt puffy and throbbing with need.

"Heh, that's what I thought.. good game, y/n." He croutched down in front of you. His body pretty much blocking yours fron any eyes that could possibly end up seeing you two.. he pushed aside the shorts and your panties and plunged two fingers inside of you without a second thought.

You yelped and instinctively scooted back but the tree kept you in place.

"Shh.. someone might hear ya, babe. Just cum on my fingers real quick yeah?" He whispered into your ear and your cunt convulsed around his fingers at the thought. You grabbed his arm but he didn't stop, still hammering his fingers in your squelching cunt.

"Fuck... you're so wet." He muttered and stared at your cunt as it swallowed up his fingers.

"Jax!" You yelped and your body jolted as you came on his fingers, panting a little.

"Ya good , doll?" He asked, slowly removing his fingers from your dripping snatch.

You nodded and helped you adjust your clothes, before assisting you to your feet. "How about you go get changed.. I'll make up an excuse if the others say something." He said in a more gentle voice now, his eyes were still wild with lust but he figured now may not be the time.

"R..  Right .. thanks, Jax." You still felt numb down there, your legs still a bit shaky.

"Oh, you still lost by the way. Heh."

Of course you did.

[hunterwritesstuff]

"Raindrops." Hunter Cruz and Thomas Connor comfort fic

Cw: Grieving, loss of parental figure.

(Divider by @bernardsbendystraws)

Thunder rumbled outside the studio, causing the lights to flicker a few times. Rain trickled down the glass panes of the windows of the building. “I bet this one will win, papa!” Hunter heard his younger self echo in his head.

“I dunno, kiddo! My racer looks just as capable!” His heart ached as he heard his father’s voice respond to his younger self. He just wanted to focus on work. He had to get this done as soon as possible, and the storm already delayed him getting to work by a couple minutes.

His pencil stayed on the scratch paper for minutes at a time, still as a statue. He hated this weather. But he loved it, too. It felt like the sky was crying with him. He didn’t feel…alone.

He sighed, getting up from his desk and walking to the break room. Coffee was always in the break room-it was like an omnipresent God of sorts-and he felt calmer in there.

Thinking about God got him frustrated. It made him think back to his Papa and how people kept telling him that it was “all part of God’s plan that he died out at sea!”. He didn’t buy it for one second.

There’s no God out at sea. It’s survival of the fittest. If you’re weak, you’ll get eaten alive out there. But then why did his Papa have to die out there? He wasn’t weak. He was one of the strongest people Hunter knew.

And yet…one of the kindest. He was strong, but he never failed to be kind or caring to those in need. He was always good with kids. Whenever there were storms like today, he would always be there in the blink of an eye to help Hunter stay calm. 

But he didn’t have his Papa anymore to help with that. His Papa was gone. Now whenever there was a particularly bad storm, he’d have to hide away until it was over. Just ride it out.

He held Manny tight to his chest. That was the last gift his Papa gave him. His most prized possession. He never washed it out of fear of losing his Papa’s smell. It was comforting to him. A small manatee plush, about the size of a small water bottle.

Then a loud crack was heard. Then the building went dark.

The power went out.

Hunter groaned, hiding in the first empty cupboard in the break room that he could find, squeezing Manny close to his chest. He hated this, hated being so afraid.

He just wanted his Papa, he wanted some angel to hear his prayers and bring his Papa to him to help him calm down, feel safe again.

Then he heard footsteps outside his cupboard. Familiar footsteps. Workboots that splashed ever-so-slightly with ink with each step, making a slight squishing noise as well. That wasn’t the only pair. A pair of flats. Dainty feet, small, light, fast. “-eard someone come in here. I think it was him.” One of the two said.

Hunter perked his head up slightly. Allison and Tom. “Alright, thank you. You can go back to the music department, okay? Make sure nothing crazy happens down there while the power’s out. I love you.”

��Love you too.” The delicate footsteps receded. 

A knock came on the cupboard door. Hard, rough, firm. Tom. Hunter merely squeaked in confirmation. “I’m opening up, okay, kid?”

“Mhm…” Hunter peeped softly. Tom opened the cupboard, finding Hunter curled up tightly in it, squeezing his manatee plush in a way that would’ve turned it into paste if it were real.

“Hey, kid…” Tom said softly. “You okay…?” Hunter shook his head no.

“Scary…don’t have Papa…he can’t help me calm down…” Hunter sniffled.

Tom thought for a moment, trying to think of a way to coax the young animator out of the cupboard. Eventually, he thought of a way to coax Hunter out. “May I…?” He asked, looking at Manny.

Hunter whined a moment before nodding. Tom gently grabbed the plush, handling it as though it was a newborn, putting on a funny voice. “Hey, Hunter, it’s me, Manny! I like the water! Don’t you?”

Hunter chuckled sadly. “I mean…I like surfing…”

“Oh wow! That’s soooo cool! Come on! It’s okay to come out! It’s safe! Nothing can hurt ya out here!” Tom said in the same, silly, goofy voice.

Hunter chuckled, rubbing tears out of his eyes, slowly climbing out. “Ohhh, I see. So the big guy who’s saved your life multiple times can’t coax ya out of a cupboard, but the manatee can?” Tom joked.

“Oh, hush…” Hunter smiled sadly.

“Are you seein’ this, Manny? Yeah! He’s got total favoritism! And by the way, you should give Tom AAAALL your barbeque chips! I agree, Manny. Wise words.” Tom teased, alternating voices.

Hunter laughed at the goofiness from the typically serious GENT worker. “You remind me of…” Hunter said as a somber look crossed his face.

“...hey, it’s okay, kiddo. I’m sure your pops is plenty proud of ya, needing a manatee plush to coax you out of a cupboard during a thunderstorm or not.” Tom smiled softly.

“...ya think so…?” Hunter asked sheepishly.

“I know so, champ!” Tom said in the Manny voice again, rubbing the plush against Hunter’s face. 

“Okay, okay, I get it!” Hunter laughed. Tom handed Manny back to Hunter, the young animator hugging the plush tight, Tom smiling warmly at the sight.

Then he held a hand over his heart, plopping into a chair. “T-Tom?!” Hunter asked worriedly.

“Ooh, ow, paternal ping, ow.” Tom grimaced jokingly. Hunter scoffed, elbowing him in the side.

“NOT funny!” Hunter chuckled despite himself.

“Oooooh, ow, paternal ping. Oof…” Tom continued.

Hunter rolled his eyes. “You’re fine.”

“Geez, and I thought I was supposed to be the spoilsport.” Tom scoffed teasingly.

Hunter sighed. “Geez…you’re really good at this…” He chuckled dryly.

“Y’kidding? One of the other guys at GENT-his name is Juno, sweet kid-is pretty much…just like you when it comes to storms. Now, it ain’t my job to ‘parent’ my coworkers, but Juno’s a runner, and if he’s down, productivity drops.” Tom explained. “The poor kid’s scared of his own dang shadow. He jumps at the slightest little sound and movement.”

“Huh…poor guy…” Hunter frowned.

“Yeah, we’re, uh…we’re workin’ on it.” Tom nodded. Looking over at Hunter, Tom pulled him into a one-armed hug. “...It’ll be okay, kiddo.”

Hunter squeaked in surprise at the sudden contact before melting into the hug. “...yeah…”

“Wanna head back out and do raindrop races until the lights come back on?” Tom asked.

“...I’d like that…” Hunter nodded.

“Go ahead, you can call me the name.” Tom smiled, rolling his eyes jokingly.

“...I’d like that…Papa…”

“Of course, son.”

[kallie-den]

Lifestyle Journalism Ch. 2

Emma is a journalist investigating abuses of mind control, but when  she encounters Amara, a personal trainer with ties to the elite, she  finds her intelligence and her career slipping away. Will her friend  Mel’s warnings reach her in time? And who is really behind Amara?

Chapter 1

If you enjoy my work and are looking for more, or you want to support me, I strongly encourage you to check out my Patreon! I  write erotica full-time, which means I need your patronage to keep  creating, and my Patrons also get benefits like early access to my  stories, extra stories, and the ability to vote on what I write next!  So, if that sounds good to you, head over and join the couple hundred  patrons I already have :)

---

A little over a week after Emma’s first encounter with Amara Rodriguez, she once again found herself stepping into the personal trainer’s apartment. Amara greeted her, as ever, with a warm, friendly, encouraging smile.

“Hey, Emma!” she said brightly. “Ready to work up a sweat?”

“You know it!” Emma replied, just as brightly. She followed Amara into her home gym and immediately started changing into the bright pink workout outfit Amara had lent her.

This was the fourth time she’d come to see Amara, and already, it was all becoming a habit. She showed up, got changed, asked Amara a few questions, worked out, and left. Emma wasn’t sure how to feel about that. It wasn’t supposed to be a habit, after all. Her interview with Amara should have been a one-time thing. But somehow, every time, she ended up exhausted and disoriented, struggling to remember what she had been meaning to ask. She barely remembered the second half of any of their sessions. It was getting frustrating.

But it wasn’t all bad. Amara seemed happy to keep meeting up with her - just as long as Emma kept up their bargain. Exercise in exchange for questions. Even that was starting to feel like a win-win. The day after her first session with Amara, Emma’s body had ached like hell, but after a week, the benefits of regular exercise had already started to appear. She felt more energetic, less sore, and more confident. Mel’s home-cooked dinners were helping with that too, probably. As it turned out, a healthy lifestyle felt pretty great!

Emma didn’t even mind that she was struggling so much with her investigation into abuses of mind control and hypnosis in the city’s fitness scene. Somehow, whenever she sat down and tried to focus on her work, she ended up feeling far too light-headed and distracted to make any real progress. Muckraking was starting to feel boring, somehow, and whenever she reviewed her notes at the end of the day, they were always riddled with typos and mistakes.

That should have been eating at her, but… it wasn’t. Emma just felt good. It was irrepressible. Perhaps it was the power of exercise. Perhaps she was simply warming to the idea of taking a break from her work, as Mel had proposed. Either way, Emma wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“OK, Emma.” Amara clapped her hands; Emma knew that meant they were ready to get started. “How are you feeling?”

“Good!” Emma replied, truthfully. “I think I’m getting the hang of this whole exercise thing. I actually went out for a morning jog yesterday.”

“That’s great! I’m proud of you.” Amara smiled. “We’ll make a regular gym bunny out of you in no time. Although, it would be remiss of me not to mention that, if you truly want to level up your exercise game, there’s one thing that really does the trick: hypnosis.”

A shiver ran down Emma’s spine. “Yeah?”

“It’s what most people pay me for,” Amara told her, smiling. “And it’s part of my regular service. Hypnosis is great for self-improvement. It makes it easier to focus. Easier to push yourself. If you wanted to, I’d love to start incorporating it into your workouts.”

“I… I dunno.”

Emma found herself a lot more indecisive than she would have been a week earlier. She was a lot more alert than the average person to the dangers of being hypnotized by a stranger, but Amara didn’t feel like a stranger. Emma trusted her. In particular, she trusted her exercise advice. Maybe hypnosis would be a big help. It wasn’t like every single hypnotist in the world was some rich asshole trying to turn people into helpless drones, after all.

But there was something else. Another factor, putting its finger on the scales: Emma had started finding hypnosis incredibly, incredibly hot.

Hypnosis wasn’t exactly an uncommon kink. Far from it. Given how the rich and elite wielded it as a tool of power, it was an easy thing for people of a certain persuasion to end up fetishizing. That was new to Emma, though. Somehow, recently, whenever she was blowing off some steam in private, she found her thoughts turning in that direction.

She couldn’t stop thinking about how it would feel to slip under someone’s hypnotic spell. The particular fantasy that kept haunting Emma was all about having the smarts and quick-thinking she was so proud of stripped out of her head, and being turned into one of those dim-witted, brainwashed bimbos that sometimes clung to the arms of powerful hypnotists. She fantasized about being stared at, posed, and put through the motions of dancing, or exercising, or performing, always while she was naked, or else wearing something pink and skintight.

It was embarrassing. But it also made her cum like nothing else, and a tiny little part of her was shivering in anticipation at the thought of finding out what hypnosis actually felt like.

“It’s OK if you don’t want to,” Amara added. “I know you’re wary, and that’s totally understandable. I won’t push it on you. It’s just that I think it could really help, especially with the concentration problems you keep having with our interview.”

Emma blinked and looked at her. “It could help with that?”

“Of course,” Amara assured her. “There’s nothing like hypnosis for giving you a little clarity of mind.”

That was all the excuse Emma needed to succumb to temptation. She remained a little skeptical but, deep down, part of her wanted to give hypnosis a shot. She wanted to indulge this new desire of hers. If it did help with her work too, that was just a silver lining.

She’d just have to make sure Amara didn’t notice how aroused hypnosis was making her.

“OK,” Emma said, a touch breathlessly. “OK. Yeah. Let’s give it a shot.”

Amara reached over and clapped her on her shoulder. “Atta girl.”

Emma blushed.

“So, um, what do you need me to do?” she asked, hoping to hide her embarrassment. “Do you have a pocket watch I should be staring at? A metronome? Do I look deep into your eyes?”

Amara laughed. “Only if you think they’re pretty. I like to do things a little differently. Have you heard of kinesthetic inductions?”

“Hypnosis with movement.” Emma nodded.

“That’s right,” Amara said. “Let me show you. Close your eyes.”

Emma was a little unprepared for how quickly things were moving, but nonetheless she obediently closed her eyes. A moment later, she felt Amara take her hand and lead her a few paces away, to stand on one of her exercise mats.

“Good,” Amara told her. “Now, focus on your body. Just like when you work out.”

Emma nodded. That was easy. Amara was even talking to her like she did when she was working out, in that voice that was so confident, so soothing, so easy to obey.

“Good,” Amara repeated. “I want you to visualize where you are right now. The room around you. The way you’re standing. The way I’m standing. Picture it all, in your mind’s eye. Can you do that?”

Emma nodded again. “In your apartment,” she murmured. “In your gym. You’re holding my hand.”

“Very good,” Amara said. “Keep your eyes close. I want you to notice the way that, already, your mental image is starting to fade. We forget things so quickly with our eyes shut. Where exactly are you standing? What’s right in front of you? Which exercise machine is that, over there in the corner? Maybe you remember. Maybe not.”

As soon as Amara mentioned it, Emma’s mind’s eye was starting to blur. Where was she standing? Amara had guided her to walk a short distance with her eyes closed. How many steps? How far had she moved? She wasn’t quite sure.

Emma started to feel a little dizzy. She squeezed down tighter on Amara’s hand.

“I’m here,” Amara said soothingly. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”

She reached out and rested a hand on Emma’s side, steadying her. An immediate wave of calm washed over Emma. Amara’s touch was familiar. She was used to Amara touching her and guiding her when the personal trainer was showing her how to exercise properly.

This was no different. She just had to let Amara guide her.

Amara tugged gently at her hand, and Emma took careful, tentative steps after her, moving where she was guided. With each step, it became more difficult to picture exactly where she was standing, and, with that reference point gone, everything else started to dissolve into mist.

“It’s getting harder to picture, isn’t it?” Amara seemed like she could read Emma’s mind. “That’s OK. I want you to simply let that happen, Emma. Take some deep breaths, and let your mental image of this room fade away.”

Emma did her best to obey. Once she accepted what was going to happen, it all started to fade away much, much faster. Soon, Amara’s touch was her only lifeline.

“It’s only natural,” Amara continued. “Images fade. Memory fades, and it’s OK to forget. Forgetting means less distractions. Less distractions means it’s easier to stay focused. And we want you nice and focused, don’t we Emma?”

“Yeah.”

Emma nodded too. That was a mistake. Nodding triggered a wave of dizziness. She felt like she was about to lose her balance and stumble, but Amara steadied her - this time, by placing her hand firmly on the top of Emma’s head.

“Focus, Emma,” Amara encouraged. “It’s OK. You’re not going to fall over. I’ve got you. Nice, deep, calming breaths.”

“OK.”

Amara’s words were already having a deep effect on Emma. As soon as Amara told her to be calm, she was calm. Emma realized she was rapidly slipping under hypnosis. That thought excited her, making her heart race even as her breathing slowed.

“Keep your eyes closed,” Amara repeated. “Look around, in your mind’s eye. What do you see?”

Emma made one last attempt to reconstruct the room around her. She failed. It was gone. She simply didn’t know where she was, where Amara was, where anything was - and without those reference points, it felt like the walls around her had all receded into infinity, leaving her standing in a void.

“Nothing,” Emma replied. Her voice sounded like it was coming from very far away.

“That’s right,” Amara said. “There’s nothing. Where are you? Where are you, that there’s nothing?”

It took Emma a long time to answer that question. “I’m… nowhere?”

That didn’t seem right, but it felt right.

“You’re nowhere,” Amara confirmed for her. Amara’s voice seemed to be coming from everywhere at once, and unlike Emma’s, it was intimate and close. “And all this nowhere? All this nothing? It’s all inside your head.”

“Yeah…” Emma breathed. She felt so much more empty.

“There’s nothing inside your head.”

“Nothing… inside my head…” Emma echoed dreamily.

“And when you’re nothing and nowhere,” Amara continued, “there’s no up.”

She used her hand to tilt Emma’s head upwards. The sensation of her orientation changing was disorienting, but strangely, Emma didn’t feel dizzy. She had Amara. Amara was her anchor.

“There’s no down.” Amara tilted her head down. “There’s no left. There’s no right.”

As Amara moved Emma’s head around, Emma was haunted by the phantom sensation that she was spinning, even though she knew she wasn’t. She was standing still, in place. But the spinning wouldn’t stop.

“And if there’s nothing,” Amara went on, “if you’re nowhere, then there’s nothing beneath your feet at all, is there?”

“N-no,” Emma whispered.

The void was deepening. Maybe she was spinning after all. She didn’t know. She couldn’t tell. There was nothing.

“And that means,” Amara concluded, “there’s nothing to stop your fall.”

Before Emma could comprehend the meaning of her words, she felt Amara rest a hand on her chest and push. Hard.

Emma fell backward, far too disoriented to catch herself. She was nowhere and nothing. She was spinning, and there was nothing beneath her feet. Nothing to catch her fall. Even as her brain screamed at her that she was falling, Emma turned as limp as a rag doll. To her, she was simply falling into a void, and the void went on forever and ever.

She never hit the ground. Amara was right there to catch her, wrapping up the journalist in her powerful arms and supporting her entire weight. But for Emma, the sensation of falling never stopped. It went on and on. There was no end to it. Nothing. She simply kept sinking.

Carefully, Amara tipped her back upright. Emma found her footing again, but only by instinct. Her head was blank.

“Open your eyes,” Amara instructed.

Emma obeyed, blinking a few times as she was dazzled by the sudden brightness. Having her eyes open did nothing to stop the sensation of infinite falling. Her vision was strangely distorted; it was like she was looking at Amara from down a very long telescope. Everything besides the personal trainer was indistinct; out of focus.

“You know that you’re completely hypnotized now,” Amara told her. It wasn’t a question.

“Yes,” Emma answered. An electric shiver raced down her spine.

“Good.” Amara was smiling. “This is what falling feels like, Emma. Falling into trance. I want you to memorize it for me. And whenever I tell you to ‘fall’, it’ll all come rushing back. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good girl.” Amara clapped her hands together sharply. “OK, Emma. Time for our interview.”

Emma blinked again, the loud noise helping to shock her back to awareness. But the sensation of falling was still there in the pit of her stomach, and the void that had been all around her was now inside her head. It was all so strange. Could she really interview someone like this?

Amara had said it would help, though. Emma couldn’t muster enough willpower to disagree.

“O-OK.” Emma set her hypnotized mind to the task of trying to come up with a question. “Um…”

“Why not start with something nice and casual?” Amara suggested. “Just to get warmed up.”

“Right.” Emma was grateful for the advice, but she still found herself drawing a blank. Her thoughts were unbelievably sluggish, and the simple knowledge that she was hypnotized right now was a thrilling distraction. “Like… uh…”

Amara laughed gently. “Why don’t you ask me my favorite color?”

As soon as Amara suggested it, it clicked into Emma’s head as the perfect question. “What’s your favorite color?”

Amara tilted her head to one side, amused. “Pink.”

Emma blinked. She’d never seen Amara wear pink; her workout clothes were always black. “Really? I’m surprised.”

“Pink is just such a lovely, bright color,” Amara explained. “I love looking at it. Don’t you? Doesn’t it just make you feel happy? Bubbly? Full of energy? It’s perfect for working out.”

Emma nodded, eagerly absorbing Amara’s words. Clearly, she had been right about hypnosis. Concentrating on what Amara told her was proving effortless.

“Just look at you, in those pink clothes,” Amara added. “You seem a lot happier whenever you put those on. It puts a smile on your face. Maybe even makes you a little giggly. Pink is great.”

Again, Emma nodded. She felt like she knew exactly what Amara was talking about.

“How about you?” Amara asked. “Got a favorite color?”

Emma was surprised by the question. She’d never really thought about it before. But one obvious answer came immediately to mind.

“Pink,” Emma replied, still in that distant, vacant tone of voice.

Pink made her happy. Pink made her bubbly. Pink made her full of energy. It made her smile and giggle.

“Oh?” Amara cocked an eyebrow. “Guess I nailed it with your workout gear. Looks like we won’t need to find you anything else after all.”

“Right,” Emma agreed. Pink was perfect. Why would she need an outfit that wasn’t pink?

“Next question?” Amara prompted.

“Yeah.” This time, Emma tried her hardest to come up with something. She couldn’t let Amara give her all the questions. That would be embarrassing. “Um… what… what do you like so much about exercise?”

It was lame, she knew. Another softball. But better than nothing.

“That’s easy,” Amara answered. “There’s so much to love about it. It’s good for you, right? Exercise is very healthy, and I love feeling healthy. Who wouldn’t? Who doesn’t love knowing that they’re giving their body the best? Not just exercise - diet, too.”

That made perfect sense. Emma nodded.

“Just look at you, for example,” Amara went on. “I can tell how much better you feel, now that you’ve been living a healthier lifestyle. I’m sure you can too, deep down. Regular exercise, better meals… it’s honestly a little bit addictive.”

Her words struck a chord with Emma. It was like she couldn’t even imagine Amara being wrong. She could feel it too. Addictive.

“And the raw sensation of exercise? That’s definitely addictive,” Amara added. “It’s physiological. All those endorphins, bubbling up in your brain while you work out. I just can’t get enough of it.”

Emma nodded eagerly. She’d noticed that as well.

“It makes it so easy not to think. Overthinking is such a problem, isn’t it?” Emma nodded emphatically at that. “It’s so hard to ever truly shut our brains off. Thinking too much causes so much anxiety. So many problems. Sometimes, it’s nice to make ourselves dumb instead.”

Emma shivered. Something about the word ‘dumb’ echoed deliciously through her body.

“I can imagine it’s the same for you,” Amara suggested. “It must be nice for a brainy journalist like you to stop thinking for a change.”

“Oh yeah,” Emma replied, with genuine enthusiasm. “It’s… it’s nice to be dumb.”

“Yeah?” Amara’s smile curled. “You like getting dumber?”

“Getting dumber feels good.” The words came to Emma’s lips effortlessly, like a mantra. And there it was again - that delicious shiver.

She was starting to love being hypnotized. After all, hypnosis made her dumber.

“Good.” Amara laughed gently. “But that’s not all, you know. I also love the attention.”

Emma’s ears perked up. “The attention?”

Amara nodded. “Absolutely. Working out gets you a lot of attention. Who doesn’t love a girl who’s in good shape?”

She flexed slightly, demonstrating. Emma’s eyes widened.

“But,” Amara added, like it was an afterthought, “you must already know all about that.”

Emma was sure she didn’t. “What do you mean?”

“You love attention, don’t you?” Amara said. “After all, you’re a journalist. Journalism is all about being in the public eye, right? Getting readers? Making big headlines?”

“I… guess.” Emma had never thought about it that way before, but she supposed Amara had a point. It did always feel good when one of her stories broke big. It was rewarding. “Yeah.”

“It’s natural,” Amara affirmed. “Attention feels good.”

“Yeah.” Emma was quickly growing more comfortable with that.

“You love attention.”

“Y-yeah,” Emma conceded. “I love attention.”

That brought forth another shiver of excitement. She was discovering so many new things to love recently.

“And exercising is a great way to get it.” Amara shrugged. “Well, there you have it, Emma. That’s why I love working out. Health, attention, and getting to dumb down a little.” She grinned. “I’m sensing you get what I’m talking about.”

Emma did. She really did. She understood Amara perfectly.

“Anyway, that’s probably enough warm-up,” Amara said. “How about you ask me one of your real questions, Emma?”

“O-oh! Um. Right.”

Emma frowned. Despite how focused she felt, she was still having trouble remembering what she was supposed to be asking Amara. Her head was swimming with fantasies and thoughts - about exercise, attention, hypnosis, and so much more. Her investigation was starting to feel like a distant priority.

Her investigation. It came back to her in a rush. Emma decided to go for the big question, now that she had hypnosis helping to sharpen her mind.

“I… I think that some personal trainers are exploiting people using hypnosis,” Emma said slowly. She needed to get this right - even if she still felt like she was falling. “Using the pretext of exercise to turn them into perfect, brainwashed slaves for whoever is truly controlling them. Amara, have you ever mind-controlled someone against their will like that?”

She wasn’t expecting Amara to admit to anything, just hoping that she might volunteer some information, or give something away in how she reacted. The last thing Emma had expected was for Amara to answer:

“Yes. I’m doing it to you, right now.”

Emma twitched, alarmed. “E… excuse me?”

“You heard me.” Amara sounded deadly serious.

“That’s… that’s funny.” Emma giggled nervously.

“I’m not joking,” Amara insisted. “I’m brainwashing you against your will, right now.”

A shiver of danger raced down Emma’s spine. The sensation of falling that she was still feeling in the pit of her stomach turned much worse, and her head was throbbing with sudden vertigo.

“But…” Emma said, frowning. “You asked. I… I let you.”

“Yes,” Amara replied calmly. “That’s what you think. Because I made sure you’d think that way.”

“B… but…”

Emma felt like the floor was once again collapsing beneath her feet. She wanted to argue, but her thoughts kept turning back to one, deeply troubling question:

If Amara was telling the truth, how would she even know?

And the worst part was, she couldn’t run. She couldn’t fight. She couldn’t assert control.

She was hypnotized.

She was so deeply focused that all she could do was stare at Amara, dumbfounded, as Amara continued to reshape her reality.

“Fortunately,” Amara continued, “you don’t need to worry about it. Because you don’t really care.”

Emma frowned. How could Amara say that? Of course she cared! This was exactly the kind of thing her work was devoted to.

Amara noticed the way Emma was starting to twitch and shiver. “Calm down,” the personal trainer said soothingly. “Remember, Emma. This is just an interview.”

Somehow, that made perfect sense to Emma, and she was instantly calm. The obvious, glaring contradiction in her circumstances and her reactions didn’t even register with her.

“Right.” She replied dumbly. “Just an interview.”

Of course. She’d carried out hundreds of interviews. What was there to be so worked up about?

“Just an interview,” Amara repeated. “You know how interviews work, right? You ask the questions. I give you the answers.”

“Right,” Emma said again. It was obvious, when Amara explained it to her like that.

“I just gave you an answer,” Amara explained slowly. “Would you like to ask me a question about it?”

“Uh…” It took Emma a long moment to think of something. Even the events of a minute or two ago were becoming foggy. “Yeah. Yes. Um… why… why don’t I care?”

It felt like a very strange question. But it was the only one that seemed to fit, given the answer Amara had supplied her with.

“Well, let’s see,” Amara replied, smirking. “You told me that you came here for your investigation, but that was a week ago, and you keep coming back. You don’t seem to do a whole lot of journalism with me. You just spend most of your time here working out. Isn’t that right?”

Emma mentally reviewed their last few sessions. It was. “Yeah.”

“That’s where all your time and effort is going.” Amara nodded. “Working out. So, isn’t that what you’re really here for?”

Emma’s brow twitched, but Amara’s logic was undeniable. Or at least, she couldn’t make herself think quickly enough to find fault with it. “Yeah…”

“You’re really here to work out,” Amara affirmed, cementing that thought into Emma’s mind. “Not for your investigation.”

“Y-yeah…” Emma agreed, with only slight reluctance.

“So,” Amara concluded. “You care about working out. Not about your investigation. Not about your journalism.”

“I…” That was a harder pill to swallow. Emma’s head started to turn from side to side in instinctive denial. “I… don’t…”

“Relax, Emma,” Amara chided. “Remember. It’s just an interview. Relax, and fall.”

Emma fell. Emma was always falling, and once again, she was still.

“If you cared so much,” Amara told her, “wouldn’t you spend all your time interviewing me, instead of working out?”

“Yeah…” Emma agreed dreamily. It was so easy to accept what Amara told her. Much easier than thinking for herself. Hypnosis made her too dumb to think, and she was so deeply hypnotized.

“So,” Amara pressed. “You don’t care.”

“I… don’t… care.”

Hairs raised on the back of Emma’s neck as she finally agreed, warning her of the danger. But moments later, she felt amazingly free. It was like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She didn’t care.

“You don’t care about your investigation,” Amara repeated. “Not compared to working out, anyway.”

Emma nodded. It was getting easier to accept with each passing moment.

“And that’s why you don’t need to worry about being hypnotized,” Amara concluded. “About being brainwashed. It doesn’t matter to your investigation. You care about working out. And hypnosis is very, very good for helping you to work out.”

“Right,” Emma agreed. It all seemed so much simpler now, and she was grateful to Amara for explaining it to her. She was learning so much from this interview.

“Speaking of which,” Amara said, grinning. “I think it’s about time we get to the real reason you’re here.”

She reached up and clapped her hands together in front of Emma’s face. To the hypnotized journalist, the sharp, loud sound was like a thunderbolt, jolting her back to awareness. Immediately, the details of the conversation she and Amara had been having started to recede from memory - but that bubbly new lightness remained.

Emma didn’t care. She was just here to work out! It was such a relief.

“So how was hypnosis?” Amara asked.

“Great!” Emma replied brightly. She didn’t remember much of their interview, but that wasn’t very important.

Hypnosis was good for working out. And hypnosis made her dumber. And getting dumber felt good.

“Glad to hear it,” Amara said. “Ready to get down to business?”

Emma nodded. This was what she was here for. Her pretty, pink outfit was filling her with energy, and the knowledge of how healthy she was being put an extra spring in her step. She loved working out.

Especially because each exercise left her just a little bit dumber.

“Well, before we get started, I have an idea,” Amara said. “You’ve got your phone, right?”

“Sure.” Emma slipped her phone out of one of her pockets, before giggling absently. “I… don’t know why.”

She had a strange feeling that she’d brought her phone here to take notes on her interview with Amara, but that seemed silly. The interview wasn’t important. She was here to work out.

“Fortunately, I do,” Amara laughed. “Do you have an Instagram account?”

Emma nodded. She’d started it for her work, although it had more or less fallen into disuse. Which made sense, since she didn’t really care about her work very much.

“Time to put it to good use!” Amara mimed holding up a phone to take a high-angle selfie. “You love attention, right? Show your fans a nice peace sign!”

***

A couple of weeks later, Emma was in Mel’s apartment, working out. That was nothing unusual. Emma had ended up practically moving in with her best friend. It seemed to make sense - Mel had the space, enjoyed her company, and Emma was already obligated to be there every evening for dinner. Why bother heading back to her own place each night?

The exercise was normal too, now. Emma’s thrice-weekly sessions with Amara were no longer enough. Not even close. Working out had become an obsession for Emma, and accordingly, she had taken up jogging, bought an exercise mat and a set of home dumbbells, and had a whole series of exercise routines she kept to diligently, morning and night.

Working out was her calling. Emma understood that now. It felt good, on so many levels. Better than her old work ever had. These days, she barely even thought about journalism.

“Emma!” Mel called out, from the kitchen. “Food’s ready, babe!”

Emma quickly finished up her set and headed over to the dining table, where Mel was serving up a meal of grilled chicken breasts, lentils, and some green vegetables. Fortunately for her, Mel seemed more than happy to cater to her newfound love of health foods.

As Emma sat down, she whipped out her phone and took a couple of quick pics of her meal. They’d go down great on her Instagram. Emma’s socials had really been blowing up, ever since she started posting about her fitness journey. Making connections with other, similarly-minded girls was so much more fun than all the boring, serious stuff she’d been using social media for before.

“Um… hey, Emma?” Mel called out. “Earth to Emma? Your food’s gonna get cold.”

“Oops!” Emma giggled, putting down her phone.

She’d been distracted, checking on the comments and views on the pre-workout selfie she’d posted earlier. It was funny; Emma had never really used Instagram much before, but now, she constantly caught herself scrolling for hours and hours, hopelessly lost in the thrill of all that attention.

Emma loved attention.

“Emma, are you doing OK?” Mel asked. Emma realized her friend was staring at her with concern in her eyes.

“Sure!” she replied brightly. “Don’t I look like I’m doing good?”

Mel nodded. Emma knew there was no disputing that. She was in the best shape of her life. Thanks to all that exercise, her body had become sleek and toned, shedding all the puppy fat she’d been carrying around before. She was starting to look like a model.

“I just…” Mel pressed hesitantly. “You seem a little… distracted lately.”

Emma giggled again. “I guess.”

It was hard to deny, but Emma wasn’t troubled by it. She felt great.

Mel wasn’t to be dissuaded by Emma’s upbeat mood. “Hey so, how’s your investigation going?”

“Uh…” Emma blinked. “My… investigation?”

“You know, that fitness piece,” Mel prompted. “Abuses of hypnosis. Stuff like that.”

“Oh!” Emma giggled. She hadn’t so much as thought about it in days. “I guess it’s… like… what do you call it? On the back burner!”

“I see.” Mel tilted her head, staring at Emma intently. “I’m surprised. You seemed so passionate about it!”

“I guess.” In truth, Emma barely even remembered. “But, like, priorities change. I figured you’d be totally pleased! You were telling me to take a break.”

“True,” Mel conceded. “I’m glad you’re taking some time off, babe.”

“Uh-huh!” Emma agreed. “Anyway, I think I was kinda wrong about some stuff.”

“Yeah?”

“I was soooo worried about hypnosis.” Emma giggled. “But now I, like, know better! Hypnosis is great.”

Hypnosis made her dumber, and getting dumber felt good.

“Right…” Mel said pensively. There was an odd look on her face. “I… you’ll still be careful, right? People still know you as a serious journalist. I really wouldn’t want someone, um, taking advantage. Say, when you’re out jogging, or on your way to Amara’s.”

Emma just giggled yet again. “You worry so much!”

“I guess I do, babe, when it’s about you.” Mel’s face relaxed into a smile. “Anyway, I’m glad to have you around more often. It’s nice. And I sure don’t mind the view.”

Mel winked, and Emma dissolved into yet more giggling. She knew what Mel was alluding to. Her dress sense had certainly taken a turn. She was currently wearing a pink sports bra, and a pair of pink and white dolphin shorts - and that was it. Nothing else.

All the better to get the kind of attention Emma craved. It was the same reason she’d started getting serious about makeup. Whatever made her Instagram selfies blow up harder.

And of course, attention from Mel was nice too. Very nice.

“O-K!” Emma chanted as she finished her meal, before bouncing up out of her seat. “I’m gonna get ready to take another jog around the block. I’ve still got, like, a little more energy to burn off.”

“Sure thing, babe,” Mel replied. “Just… remember what I said, alright? Be careful.”

Emma giggled. “You got it, bestie!”

She could tell Mel was worried, but she wasn’t really sure why. As far as she was concerned, it was all very simple.

Exercise felt good. Exercise got her attention. And exercise made her dumber.

Getting dumber felt good.

It was as simple as that.

What was there to worry about?

***

“Four!” Emma chanted, counting her sit-ups as sweat dripped from her brow to stain the pink exercise mat underneath her. “Five! Six! S… s… um…”

“Seven,” Amara reminded her, smirking.

“Right.” Emma giggled. She was turning into such an airhead. “Seven! Eight! Nine! Ten!”

“Alright!” Amara reached down to help haul Emma to her feet. “Great session today. Good job.”

“Yay!” Emma bounced in celebration, before reaching for her water bottle and taking a nice, big mouthful. As she did, she looked at herself in one of the mirrors lining the walls of Amara’s home gym - and liked what she saw.

After weeks of healthy living, she’d decided it was time for a small makeover. Emma had gone blonde, and she loved it. She’d been buying lots of new clothes, too. All pink, of course. Nice, bright colors like pink and blonde were perfect for her new mindset. And accessories like her pink water bottle and pink hairband really helped with her Instagram engagement.

Emma was rapidly becoming a social media diva. She just couldn’t help it. She loved the attention.

For that matter, she could see Amara checking her out in the mirror too. That made Emma giggle and preen. She loved all kinds of attention, and she knew lots of girls who loved her new, athletic body.

It was kind of a shame that Amara seemed reluctant to put the moves on her. The tall, buff personal trainer was incredibly hot, and Emma’s sex drive had been through the roof lately.

“OK!” Amara announced. “Let’s do a quick breathing exercise to cool down.”

“Sure!” Emma replied brightly. She was up for anything, and she knew what breathing exercises meant.

Hypnosis.

“Emma,” Amara said slowly. “Fall.”

Emma’s eyes fluttered as she let the bliss of trance take her. It was such a thrill, knowing that one little word from Amara was all it took nowadays.

Emma loved hypnosis. Hypnosis made her dumber.

“I want you to take some deep breaths for me, Emma,” Amara began. “And as you do, feel your heartbeat gradually returning to its steady, normal rhythm.”

Emma nodded sleepily. She was already so deep. All of this was completely familiar; they did it at the end of every workout session now.

“Now,” Amara continued, after a few moments, “I want you to take an extra-deep breath for me. And as you do, I want you to think about all the things that have been distracting you from your work-out goals over the past few days. Whatever those might be - stray thoughts, random pieces of information, unhelpful memories - I want you to feel them all gathering up in your chest as you inhale.”

Emma nodded again. This, too, was a familiar exercise. At the end of all their workouts, Amara helped her to forget things. This time, a whole bunch of old memories came to mind; for some reason, Emma kept catching herself reminiscing about high-school English class. She’d read so many books back then! Books with big, long words she didn’t understand anymore. She gathered up a bunch of thoughts about politics, too. It was annoying how they buzzed around in her mind whenever she caught the news.

“And now, breathe out,” Amara instructed. “And as you do, imagine all of those thoughts that you’ve been gathering up being pushed out of your body. Imagine them blowing out of your lips, and feel them slip out of your mind at the same time.”

Emma breathed out, and all those thoughts and memories left her, turning into nothing more than thin air.

She sighed happily and giggled a few times. She loved getting dumber like that. It made it so much easier to focus on working out! Plus, the way Amara used hypnosis for it was so hot. It was like one of her naughty little fantasies come to life.

Emma felt like, maybe, a long time ago, something about that might have bothered her. But at this point, she really couldn’t remember.

And she liked it that way.

Amara clapped her hands to wake Emma out of trance. “Perfect,” the personal trainer said. “I think we’re done for the day. Unless you want to ask me any more questions, that is.”

Emma tilted her head to one side, curious. “Um… questions?”

“You know,” Amara prompted, “for your investigation.”

Dumbfounded, Emma simply blinked. “What investigation?”

A grin slowly crept across Amara’s face. “Actually, don’t worry about it.”

“OK!” Emma accepted that at once. She loved not worrying about things.

As Amara watched the former journalist gather up her stuff, she reached for her phone. It was time. Emma was absolutely perfect. Amara sent one, simple, fateful message to her employer.

She’s ready.

---

I would like to express my gratitude for the generosity of  all those who  support me on Patreon, and to give a special thanks to  the following  patrons in particular for their exceptional support:

Artemis, Chloe, J, Secret Subject, Kathryn, Lucy, Dex, orangesya, Red, dmtph, Ember, Seph, MegatronTarantulas, Vanessa, Matt, Jeremy, Mattilda, Emily, William, ntad, Flluffie, Scarlett, Silgon, The Flock, ourladyoflilacs, Luna, Abigail, steb, Hypnogirl_Stephanie_, nicholas, Sue, Alan_, mintyasleep, Noelle, Lavender, Madness, Michael, Tasteful Ardour, Michael, Matthew, Full Blown Marxism, Anonymous, GrillFan65, Huge_Nerd, ZephanyZephZeph, Tram345, 8947jts, Chris, Breadloaf, Kyle, Emma, Jack the Monkey, Paul, Willow, Shadows exile, Drone 8315, Matthew, Alex, Madness, Sam, Selina, Daniel, Bubble_Butt, Francesca, WhyamIhere, John, Sarah, Crittergang, Setcab, Erin, Elysium, Bacon Man, Flintnsteal, JessieGinger, Arik, John, bluaph, Alexander, Kyle, Morriel, Jack the Monkey, Sola, NewtypeWoman, Envy, hellenberg, shoktherapy, L, Jim, Black Star, Kay, Michael, strange item, John, Praxis Memetics LLC, Frank, William, Olives, Christopher, Queenfisher, Charlotte, Faun, Riley, Brinn, Brendon, B, Jackson, Kyle, Dennis, Nandi, Jeff, Sanya, David, Morder, Myles_EXVS, Jade, Skylar, Foridin, gabbermoth, Jennifer, Selina, Jonas, Violet, Slifer274, paxDulcetGirl, Roxxie, Hal, Devi, Phoenix, Laurel, Kyle, Ivy, Jim, Michael, Bryan, Joseph, June, Yaoups

Finally, special thanks to ntad for commissioning this story!

[ryanlockheart]

in the smoky haze of the viper room, it felt like ryan and clint were the only two people in the whole world. he wasn't thinking about the inevitable photos that would be snapped of them together nor the repercussions if they got caught. all that ryan cared about was getting to have clint all to himself. he didn't know what any of this meant for them, but he did know he was going to crave his touch again. if ryan had it his way, clint would be in his bed every night until they got sick of each other. "already don't wanna go without it," ryan answered back. "probably'll just get worse once i knock you up, princess." clint had drawn him in so easily; all it had taken was a few shared glances, and ryan was sucked in. he was doing his absolute best to impress clint. he wanted to pull out all the stops and leave him no choice but to keep thinking about him. if that meant pulling off his shoe and planting clint's nose right into it, then ryan was more than happy to give him that. if it meant pounding him into the mattress until dawn broke, ryan would give him that. "my feet are all yours, princess," the raven-haired male whispered. "you'll be worshipping them twenty four, seven. won't be a day you don't get your fill of my feet, and that's a promise." truth be told, ryan loved the fact that clint got off on his feet, even before he'd even met him. no one had ever really let him explore that side of himself before, but clint was more than willing to embrace it. "you dunno what i'd give to see that," he said with a dark chuckle. "i'll tease you with my fuckin' feet. won't let you touch any other part, just my feet. you'll sniff and stare... i'll have you in nothin' but a little thong, and i'll just sit back and make you beg to fuck 'em... and once you've done a good enough job, i'd let you. bust your load all over them." ryan was going to have clint under his spell. hell, clint already had him under his, so it was only fair. he wanted to come back to clint time and time again for his needs to be met, and he wanted to take care of clint's whenever he needed. "i'll love whichever side you wanna show me," ryan snickered. of course, ryan realized he had the upper hand once he'd shove his nose right into the sole of his sneaker. they were his favorite pair, well-worn and still slick with sweat... but somehow, he was sure that only made it better for clint. "i know you could," ryan teased. clint was acting like it was the best thing he'd ever breathed in, and somehow, that just made ryan's cock ache even more. he had never been so turned on in his entire life. with his face buried between those pale globes, ryan's tongue fervently lapped at clint's pink rim. he was going to make sure that his lover left him, feeling higher than he ever had before, thanks to ryan. if he wasn't shivering from the pleasure at the end of the night, ryan wouldn't have been satisfied with his own job. the tip of his tongue slipped past that tight ring of muscle and angled upwards to find that sweet spot that would have clint moaning like he never had before. many words could be used to describe ryan lockheart as a lover, but selfish was not one. his hand came to smack at the slightly smaller boy's ass. "'s my pussy, and you're my fuckin' whore," ryan replied after pulling back. his chin was slick with his own saliva, and he didn't bother to wipe it away. "and 's fuckin' hot that you'll let me turn you into a little slut... and i love it. can't wait for you to guzzle my piss down or have three cocks splittin' you open," he whispered. his tongue returned to clint's pink entrance, eagerly licking the sensitive flesh. his fingers trailed down the chestnut-haired boy's taint and down his balls. "cum for me, princess," ryan demanded. "goon on my fuckin' sweaty shoes and bust a fat load." he just let his pace and rhythm grow hastier. he couldn't wait to see clint come completely undone, to have his toes curling in pleasure. "you wanna bust your load on daddy's face too? or you wanna make a mess all over the booth?"

the viper room was hardly a place that clint felt comfortable — it reminded him of the worst time of his life, working at a members only lounge in san francisco. dimly lit, filled with men with more money than they knew what to do with, and young boys falling head over heels with their credit cards. it wasn't clint's idea of a good time, but he also knew the club had the best blow in los angeles. ryan lockheart, however, had a way of softening the dull ache of his own checkered past, and making it all worth it. no one could get his heart racing quite like the actor, with his classic good looks and a sex appeal that put the wildest of fiends to shame. "that's what you think, daddy," clint retorted. "but once you have it, you'll never want to go without it. you're gonna be obsessed with my cunt, lockheart." if clint was certain of anything, it was that he knew how to attract a man. it was the only skill he thought he had before his career took off a few years ago — even so, he never could have guessed that he'd catch the attention of the ryan lockheart. "that's exactly what i want," clint replied eagerly. "i'd be the best little footslut for you, daddy. i'd have my face in your feet anytime you'd let me — it wouldn't matter where we were, or who was watching. i'd be too lost in your feet to really notice." at this point, clint was all in — no questions asked. every fantasy ryan had, he would fulfill; he didn't know where the other's head was at, but he did know that this wouldn't be the last time he got his hands on ryan lockheart. "i'll put on a show for you, daddy," he said. "i could definitely cum from your socks, your shoes... hell, i could probably get off just looking at them." before he could wrap his mind around all that he was revealing, ryan was coming undone right before his eyes. it was like something out of a dream — like they weren't in a nightclub, surrounded by people who's jaws would drop if they saw what they were getting up to. his eyes shut softly, letting ryan cover his face in cum and take whatever pictures he wanted. clint didn't care what he did with them, or who he showed them to... he only cared about ryan's pleasure, as fucked up as that sounded. "i can be a little brat, or an obedient little slut... depends on how good you do," clint giggled mischievously. looking over his shoulder, clint's breath caught in the back of his throat — never in a million years would he have thought he'd see ryan lockheart holding his own sneaker to his face, but there it was. he should have seen it coming, but the shoe being placed against his nose caught him by surprise. a deep groan slipped past his lips, eyes rolling into the back of his head. "f-fuck, daddy," he sighed softly, a bit of drool falling onto the booth below him. "you smell so fucking good... could sit here and huff your dirty sneakers all night long." clint yelped at the slap to his ass, falling face first into the shoe — his back arched deeper, showing off every curve and pushing his ass toward ryan's face. as hard as he tried, he couldn't even manage a single sentence — ever word he tried to say came out as unintelligible moaning as ryan's tongue lathered his puckered rim. clint had been with plenty of men — some good, some god-awful — but no one had ever made him feel the way ryan did. "'s y-your pussy, daddy," he stuttered out, voice muffled by the sneaker on his face. "makes me feel like a d-dirty little whore for you, daddy... and y-you like it. you like that i'd shove my f-face in your shoes for a taste of your feet, that i'd drink your piss and service all of your friends for you to pound me out." ryan was insatiable, playing with clint's body like a toy he knew every trick to. his thighs were trembling, toes curled in the little bit of his socks that remained on his feet. "'m your little g-gooner slut, daddy... gonna let you wear my pussy out, knock me up, and fuck me stupid," clint breathed, getting high from the sweaty sneaker on his nose. "e-eating my pussy so fucking good, jesus christ... g-gonna bust, daddy..."

[kageyuji]

asking him how to confess to your crush (him)

⤷ oikawa, suna, bokuto, iwaizumi ; [gn!reader]

TAGS: fluff/crack if you squint, confessions

NOTES: please reblog or i’ll cry

━━ OIKAWA

you can’t miss the momentary look of sadness, but he quickly hides it with a cocky smile

he tells you the cheesiest possible way to confess to someone. he doesn’t even know if it’ll work on not

(he actually hopes it doesn’t, but he can’t just be an asshole and tell you something that clearly won’t work)

but once he realizes that he is the person you like, his mind jumps to several different places all at once

he’s happy but also he can’t properly form words, please bear with him </3

“Oikawa?”

He hummed a response to you, ghost of a smile on his lips. He always liked the way you said his name, even if it was just his family name.

“I have a favor... so there’s this guy that I like, and I wasn’t sure how to tell him. Do you think you could give me ideas?”

You don’t miss the pout on his lips, the way his eyebrows furrow, the hurt in his eyes. If one were to blink, they wouldn’t have missed it. He smiled and laughed, quickly trying to hide how much his heart ached.

People — in reality, only makki and mattsun — had asked you if you had feelings for someone. But you never gave them an answer, just a flustered smile and a shrug.

“Uhm... I don’t know, depends on the person. You can get a bouquet or something, and chocolates maybe?”

A smile lit up your face. He had looked so pained to say it; his nose was wrinkled up a little, one hand at the back of his neck, eyes looking anywhere but you.

“Oh, yeah! That sounds sweet, he might like that. Should I ask him what his favorite flowers are?”

“Yeah.” His heart sunk impossibly lower.

“Got it. So, what are your favorite flowers?”

He looked up from where he’d taken a sudden interest in the floor, looking around for someone else. But no one seemed to be engaging in a conversation with you — actually, he realized it was only you and him in the room.

“No, I meant ask this guy that you like.”

“I just did.”

He doesn’t say anything at first, eyes wide and lips parted. There’s something in his eyes that you can’t quite read. Shock, or was in confusion? There was also an undertone of hurt, like he couldn’t tell if this was some sick joke or not.

“You mean... me? I’m the- you have feelings for me?”

Your heart fell then — of course you’d been nervous to tell him. But with the constant flirting, you were beginning to think that maybe it wasn’t just harmless and playful anymore. That maybe even if it was still done playfully, there was truth behind those words, behind the smiles and the winks he sent you.

“If you don’t feel the same way, it’s fine, I just-”

“No, no, that’s not what I meant. I was just a little surprised is all. I feel the same way, and you’re great, really, I just figured I wasn’t your type.”

“But you are.” You said, heating rising in your cheeks. Nothing could mask the smile he wore, even if he was trying not fight it.

“And you are my type. Guess we’re both lucky, hm?”

━━ SUNA

he is determined not to let you notice how his heart stopped in his chest

he still holds the same disinterested, bored look on his face as always, although he’s unaware you could see right through him

refuses to give you advice on how to go about confessing

in fact, the last thing he wants to do is be around you — he knows you were never his, so he can’t be upset, but it still turns his stomach

tell him before he can find an excuse to leave, or else your confession will be a lot more painstaking due to him dodging any interaction with you

“So uh... if you were to confess to someone you like, how do you think you would do it?” Your voice sounded so sweet, so genuine.

“Why? You have a little crush on somethin’?” He laughed.

“Yeah, actually.”

Oh.

You don’t miss the way his nose scrunches and the look in his eyes. He’s looking at the floor with narrowed eyes, almost as though the floor was the cause of his jealousy.

Well, not his jealousy — he wasn’t jealous, was he?

“Hm,” He hums, and you find him putting back on the same incurious face that he always wore. “I don’t know, elaborate confessions are pointless. Just tell the person how you feel. If they really like you, they won’t turn you aware for being simple.”

“Ah, that’s true.” You smile, though it’s fueled with nervousness. “So, one more thing I gotta say then.”

“Make it quick, I’ve to be somewhere soon.” Suna hates the bitter taste in his mouth.

He knows he shouldn’t care, after all he’s never worked up the courage to spill his heart to you, so he doesn’t have a right to feel like something is being torn — no, stolen — away from him.

“Right. You said simple, so... I like you, and I think you’re really sweet. And you’re funny and you’re so caring, even though you would never admit that. Um, I hope that was boiled down enough for you.”

“You’re kidding right?”

The tone in his voice is almost accusatory, although he doesn’t mean it to be, he just genuinely doesn’t believe you. When had you ever shown interest in him? Not that he was complaining.

“No. But it’s fine if you d-”

“I never said that. If you mean it though, maybe you can tell me the longer version of everything you like about me. Over coffee or something?”

━━ BOKUTO

ok first off, let me stop you right there, because baby boy is gonna get so sad :(

there is no hiding the hurt he’s feeling. he’s always expressive, even though he’s trying to hide it

please stop him there because his mood is only going downhill

actually tells you some elaborate, thought out thing that you assumed was from the top of his head

(although in reality, he’s thought about telling you how he feels on countless times)

but when he realizes that you’re talking about him he instantly does a 180, he looks like he’s in heaven

“Bokuto!” You call his name with a smile. You’ve found you can always get a matching one from him whenever you do so.

And of course he smiles back at you, the same excited look in his eyes as always. “Y/n!”

“I need advice.” You say.

His expression drops into one of worry at your tone. If there was anything that Bokuto hated in this world, it was seeing you upset.

“What is it?”

“I need to know how to tell someone that I have feelings for them.”

And just like that, you can see his heart break through his expression. His eyebrows pin up and he presses his lips into a thin line. You can tell that he’s trying not to show you how bothered he was by that one sentence.

He always was bad at pretending he was fine though. It was clear, if nothing else you could see his watery eyes.

“Oh... uhm. Can I ask who the person is?”

You’re hesitant to say it. But you don’t know why, because his reaction was your final bit of proof that he had feelings for you too. He hadn’t been subtle before, but now it was obvious.

“You.”

“What?” Bokuto said, although the word was breathless.

He doesn’t wait for you to respond to him. Instead, the wide smile he always wore appeared back on his face and he wrapped his arms around you.

Usually, Bokuto’s hugs are tight anyway. They’re filled with a need to be close to you and a need to convey the emotion of ‘you are the only thing grounding me right now’.

But this one was tighter. He buried his face into your neck, but you could hear the smile in his voice when he spoke. “I may have to confess to someone too.”

━━ IWAIZUMI

iwaizumi is a gentleman about it, as much as he doesn’t want to be

if anything, he wants to tell you right then and there about his feelings

but the fact (or rather, the thought) that you’ve taken an interest in someone else is all the evidence he needs to stop himself

the last thing he wants to do it mess with your emotions so he intends to stuff he feelings down to deepest parts of his mind in hopes that they’ll one day disappear

until of course, he realizes that he is the guy you’d been talking about

he gets giddy, believe it or not. he hates to admit it sometimes, but unbeknownst to you, you have so much control over his emotions

“So, Iwa?” You said, and he tried to overlook the cautious tone to your voice.

“Hm?”

“Uh, theres this guy that I kind of have feelings for. But the thing is, I don’t know how to tell him.” You sound nervous.

Iwaizumi assumes it’s from the thought of having to tell this person your feelings, yet he doesn’t realize that said person is him and it’s coming sooner than he’d realized.

He doesn’t say anything in response to you at first. His eyes narrow only slightly, then he takes a deep breath and turns back to you with his usual expression.

“If you’re going to tell them, do something sweet and simple. If you get all extravagant with it, it might freak ‘em out. Maybe... I dunno, buy a little gift and tell them?

He hid it well. The mix of jealousy, regret, and sadness in him was painful, but he clenched his fists and tried not to let his voice crack. If there was someone you knew that didn’t cry, it was Iwaizumi. Yet here he was, doing everything in his power not show how upset he was.

What was he even doing anyway? He was helping you find a lover that was not himself. Not that you even knew that, because in reality he’d never shown to you that he had feelings towards you.

That was something he was regretting a lot now.

“Oh I see, what kind of gift would you like?”

Ouch. As though this couldn’t hurt more. “I don’t know, depends on the person. Ask him, not me.”

“I just did, dummy.”

It took him a few seconds to process that, then another few seconds for the relief and happiness to wash over him. A smile rugged at the corner of his lips.

“That’s cute. You and I can go out somewhere this weekend and I can help you pick something out, hm?”

[ridiculously-over-obsessed]

8 fluff from prompt list 2 please :)

Ooo we do like some softness here 🥺🥰 coming right up lovely!! 💖

(8) “I’ll take care of you.”

Beca despised being ill. It was literally the worst thing in the world, she hated feeling gross and snuffly, hated the way it ruined her badass image, hated that she had to stop everything she was doing because her body had decided to get sick. But sick she was, and curled up into the smallest ball possible in her bed, sniffing hard as she waited for her headache medicine to kick in. God this was the worst flu she’d ever had, her whole body ached, her nose was bright red and sore from where she had constantly wiped and blown it, she couldn’t stop coughing which then made her head hurt worse, and she’d been sick three times. Kimmy-Jin had long since left their dorm room, glaring at Beca as if she deliberately gotten the flu just to annoy her, so Beca was all alone in her misery to take care of herself, which was the worst part about all of it (not that she’d ever admit that to anyone).

A knock came at the door as Beca groaned softly, not wanting to move from her cocoon of self-pity and snot as she shivered furiously. God, why couldn’t she get warm? She was under three different blankets for christs sake...

“S’open.” Beca croaked, hoping that whoever it was that was so rudely intruding on her flu-ridden day could hear her.

“Becs?” Chloe’s head appeared around the door as Beca looked at her from under hooded lids, “Are you okay, you haven’t been answering your texts...”

Chloe’s eyes fell upon the very visibly ill Beca, her concerned frown only growing deeper as she walked quickly into the room, kneeling beside Beca as she placed her hand on her forehead.

“Oh sweetie, are you sick?”

“Yeah.” Beca mumbled, too tired and ill to be sarcastic with her, “Stoopid flu...”

“You’re burning up.” Chloe sighed a little as she brushed Beca’s sweat dampened hair from her face, “How long have you been poorly?”

“Coupla days?” Beca shrugged a little, her eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of Chloe’s fingers in her hair, too out of it to hide her suffocatingly huge crush on her friend, “S’fine I guess... jus’ gotta ride it out.”

Beca started to cough hard again, covering her mouth with her hand as Chloe continued to stroke her hair.

“Oh Beca... you should’ve called, you’re really sick, you shouldn’t be on your own like this. Where’s your roommate?”

“Pissed off at the firs’ sniffle.” Beca grumbled, “I think she’s hoping I die so tha’ she can have the room to herself...”

Chloe giggled despite everything, shaking her head at Beca, “Well don’t worry Beca, I’ll take care of you, if only so you can spite Kimmy-Jin.”

“Thanks.” Beca chuckled, wincing as doing so made her achy body worse, “Ugh, I hate this...”

“I know...” Chloe soothed her, “Being ill is the worst, but it’ll be okay. I’ve got you Becs. I’m going to go and get a cold compress for your head and some cold medicine, oh and some chicken soup from that deli on the corner because that’ll make you feel better. When was the last time you ate?”

“Dunno.” Beca shrugged, “I keep pukin’ everythin’ up so...”

“Poor baby...” Chloe sighed, “Alright, soup it is then, that shouldn’t be too hard on your stomach. Rest your eyes, I’ll be half an hour tops, I promise.”

“Kay.” Beca mumbled, not needing any encouragement at all to go to sleep right now, “Thanks Chlo.”

“Of course.” Chloe beamed, “You’re my friend and you’re sick, it’s what you do! I’ll be back soon.”

Chloe pressed a soft kiss to Beca’s burning forehead, Beca hoping she’d write off her flushed cheeks as just another symptom of her flu.

Chloe was true to her word, staying in Kimmy-Jin’s bed (well she wasn’t using it was she?) whilst Beca was ill so she could be there for her whenever she needed her. There had been a particularly mortifying day for Beca when her fever gotten so bad that Chloe’d had to carry her like a child to the communal showers and place Beca under the cold blast of water, fully clothed, until it broke. Beca had whined and shivered and cried a little because she was so ill and so fed up of it, and Chloe was being so kind and caring and she was so gross right now.

When Chloe had carried her back to her bedroom, wrapped in a fluffy towel that she had brought from her place, and helped Beca get dressed (because Beca was too weak to sneeze nevermind dress herself), Beca had cried some more as Chloe hugged her.

“It’s okay Beca, I’ve got you.” Chloe hummed softly, stroking her damp hair.

“I hate bein’ ill...” Beca groaned, “I really hate it Chlo...”

“I know.” Chloe mumbled into her hair, “I know Becs. C’mon, let’s get you back in bed, I’ll braid your hair to get it out of your face and then you can sleep again for a little while.”

“M sorry I’ve been such a baby.” Beca grumbled as Chloe helped her back into her bed.

“It’s okay.” Chloe giggled, “You’re a cute baby. And allowed to be a baby when you’re sick.”

“Shud up.” Beca sniffed, smirking a little, “Um... Chlo?”

“Yeah honey?”

“Can you... can you cuddle me for a bit?” Beca blushed furiously as she sniffled, not looking at Chloe. God she hated being ill...

“Of course.” Chloe beamed brightly as she got under the duvet with Beca, a grateful Beca curling into her side and resting her head tentatively on Chloe’s shoulder.

“Thanks...” Beca whispered, feeling her eyes flutter shut again as Chloe’s arms wrapped around her.

“Anytime Beca.” Chloe smiled softly at Beca, watching as her breathing deepened and her head lolled towards her chest.

“I love you...” Beca’s voice was barely audible as she drifted off to sleep, but Chloe caught it.

“I love you too Becs.” She whispered into her hair.

Eventually Beca was better again, mortified at how vulnerable she had been in front of another person, but at least her flu was almost gone. Chloe no longer slept in Kimmy-Jin’s bed, but she still stopped by her dorm room to check on Beca as she got over the last of it, making sure that Beca wasn’t getting sicker again.

“I’m fine Chloe.” Beca grinned as Chloe pressed her hand to her forehead again, “Really, I’m good.”

“I’m just making sure!” Chloe smiled warmly, brushing Beca’s hair out of her face, “You do look better than you did last week, I was really worried about you.”

Beca rolled her eyes a little but was still smiling as Chloe pulled back, “Thanks Chloe. For taking care of me like that, you didn’t have to.”

“I know I didn’t have to.” Chloe rolled her eyes this time, “But I wanted to! I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“Ugh me too.” Beca grumbled, “Being ill is the worst...”

“Well, I’d better get going then.” Chloe was breezy as she got to her feet, not wanting to overstay her welcome now that Beca was better. She knew Beca was very protective of her personal space, of herself in general, and as much as she wanted to stay in this bubble where Beca wouldn’t just let her touch her but actively asked her to, but she knew it wasn’t fair to expect that of Beca now she wasn’t feeling ill and vulnerable because of it.

“Uh, I wanna do something for you.” Beca got up to follow Chloe to the door, “Like to say thank you?”

“You don’t have to keep thanking me Becs...” Chloe giggled softly, “But... you can take me out to dinner if you want... just the two of us?”

“Oh.” Beca blushed furiously, shuffling her feet a little, “Like um... like a date?”

“It doesn’t have to be! Not if you don’t want to, you don’t owe me anything like that, I promise!” Chloe quickly shook her head, feeling her heart clench a little. Dammit, she’d pushed too hard...

“No, no...” A smirk started to form on Beca’s face, “I’d like that...”

“Yeah?” Chloe beamed, “Great! Text me then?”

“You got it.” Beca nodded, gently grabbing Chloe’s waist and pulling her close as she made a daring move and pressed her lips softly to Chloe’s, “For um... for looking after me so well...” Beca blushed furiously as Chloe grinned at her.

“Well if you’re going to thank me like that...” Chloe draped her arms around her neck, lips brushing over Beca’s, “Then I can’t complain about it, can I?”

“You’re so weird...” Beca smirked, kissing Chloe again.

This might be the best flu she’d ever had. 

[yourmcu]

V-Day

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x reader

Summary:

You’re not like most people who enjoys Valentine’s Day. Can a certain redhead change that?

A/n: just a late valentine related imagine for all of u bc I’m incapable of posting this sort of stuff on the exact day. enjoy! (I’m finally using this iconic gif don’t mind me)

Word count: 1,753

Warnings: fluff

The 14th of February is just another normal day for you. You always find Valentine’s Day cheesy, you don’t see the point of celebrating it. That sort of thing isn’t as important as Christmas or Halloween. Not that you're bitter because you're single, you couldn’t care less about that, it just isn’t the occasion for you.

Tony outdone it this year. The compound looks like it was powdered pink and red overnight from all the decorations when you step out of your room. You almost don’t want to know what the main area looks like. Sam and Wanda are probably getting started on breakfast which would consist of everything shaped like hearts.

Your plan for the day is to stay in your room, only coming out for snack and drink refills, simple as that.

“Hey, Happy Valentine’s...” you pretty much tone out every v-day greeting that came your way, rolling your eyes playfully as you sit down with everyone, greeting them with the usual good morning. You expect the compound to be deserted by midday since surely all of them have plans with their partners for the rest of the day, which is perfect. For you. And for them, of course, yeah.

Sam and Bucky made their way to you. “So, Y/N, how are you?” Sam greets. You already suspect that they were hyping you up for something. “Food good, coffee good... sleep well?”

You turn to them with a smile on your face. “Alright, what do you want?”

“Well,” Bucky lets out a breathy laugh. “Sam here was just helping me-”

“That is not what’s happening. What he wanted to say was,” the birdman cuts him off. “We both wanted to take you out to dinner tonight, we can’t settle on who, so we’re letting you pick.”

You blink. They have to be joking. Do they not notice your routine during this time of the year? After socializing with the team you’d grab a day’s worth of snack, head back to your room, lock the door and lose your mind on video games until the next day.

Unhealthy, but it's for one day.

“Only if you want to,” Bucky adds hastily.

“Come on, this is a chance of a lifetime!” Sam insists, wiggling his eyebrows.

“We’ll go to your favorite restaurant.”

“It’s just a friendly date.”

What you fail to notice was Natasha listening to the events happening. Her foot taps against the floor as she discreetly waits for your response, taking coffee sips and bites of food and looking away whenever she looked like she's eavesdropping. No one else is paying attention, everyone has their own conversations.

Inside, she pleads that you’d turn both of them down, just because she’s planning to ask you out herself. They just beat her to it.

“I appreciate the thought but I’m sorry, I have plans,” you shrug. “Why don’t you take each other out instead? Not literally.” You give them another smile and walk out of the room, coffee in hand. 

Sam and Bucky nods indicating they understood. Sam tells his friend that if he had more appeal you’d agree to the date. But they take you up on your advice, already planning a guy’s night.

Natasha almost cheers when she hears the first part, only to spiral when she hears that someone had already asked you beforehand. You're unavailable. She could ask you out any day, but you deserve something extra special. She sees this day as her only chance to confess her feelings for you.

Her eyes trail you as you walk out, turning to Wanda when you were out of sight. “Do you have any idea who asked Y/N out?”

“I don’t,” Wanda replies, a bit distracted. “They’re lucky, I’ve never seen Y/N show interest in anyone since I met her. Anyway, I have to go, Vision and I have a whole day planned...”

Natasha huffs while people slowly file out of the kitchen. As far as she knows, Tony's with Pepper, of course, Wanda and Vision, Steve is probably going to join Sam and Bucky on their night out, and Clint is back at his farm celebrating with his wife.

And you’re with that person, which most likely someone who isn’t on the team otherwise she’d know. She's left by herself to mope.

-

Few hours have passed, maybe three, it’s lunchtime. As you suspected the compound is empty, so you make your way to the kitchen to make yourself something to eat.

Boxed mac and cheese is the only thing you knew how to make.

“Y/N?”

You almost drop your stirring spoon at the sudden voice. You feel embarrassed about your choice of outfit, you feel and look like a grizzly bear while she looks stunning, even if it’s just plain workout clothes.

“Hey, Nat.”

“I thought you were... out with someone?” Knowing you, she might’ve misunderstood when you said you ‘had plans’. You look so cozy she would love to hug you on the spot if she isn’t so sweaty.

You let out a curious hum, turning off the stove. “I was?” You giggle. “Where’d you hear that?”

“I didn’t, just, I assumed you’d be,” she mutters and finishes her water bottle. 

You're now grabbing a bowl for the mac and cheese you made. “I mean, Sam and Bucky did ask me if I wanted to but... y’know, if I’m being honest they’re not really my type.” You pause to look at her who was staring back. “Have you eaten? This batch I made is enough for three people, I think.”

Natasha nods at your offer. “They did say it was a friendly date.”

You stop scooping the macaroni and perk your head up with a grin. “So you were listening.”

“Not like I had any choice, I was in the same room.” Quick save.

“Mmhm.” 

Then there's  a minute of comfy silence as you clean the area you made the meal on, putting the pot away and stuff.

“Why don’t you have a date today?”

“What?”

“Anyone would kill to go on a date with you, Nat.” Is what you say in your head. But instead you say, “Well, you know, I didn’t expect you be here too.”

Natasha shrugs and before she could answer you add, “No one’s caught the notorious Black Widow’s attention yet?”

She chuckles at your words, looking up at you. “Who did you think I’d go out with?”

“I dunno, Steve-”

“God, no,” she quickly cuts you off and laugh,  you laugh along but at the same time sigh in relief.

“Crap, I just remembered I have a game to finish,” you hold the bowl of cheese and macaroni and stick two spoons on the side. “I’m cordially inviting you to my room, you are very much welcome, after you change.”

Natasha tells you she’ll see you there in a bit.

-

“Huh. I just noticed you do this every Valentine’s Day,” Natasha notes as she takes everything in. Your PlayStation's on, your trash bin is almost full of snack wrappings, couple of beers tucked at the side of your bed. “Cozy.”

“Why, thank you,” you say sarcastically, picking up a controller and waving a vacant one at her. “Feel free. Or you can just watch me fail at this game.”

Natasha decides to join the game a little later, now she's lost in thought on how someone like you spends such a day like this, or how beautiful you looked as your eyes dart at every direction of the screen and how you sometimes bite your lip when you're that focused in the game.

It's always the little things she likes about you.

Glancing at you one more time before eating a spoonful of mac, she turns back to the TV to watch how you're doing.

But you're witty, kind and easy to get along with, why wouldn’t you have a date - or why wouldn’t you want a date on Valentine’s Day?

If only you knew how she feels, she’d make sure to treat you well. Like you deserve. She’d take you on dates you’d enjoy every time the 14th rolls by. If you don’t like the holiday for some reason she’d find a way-

“NO WAY,” you cover your mouth and bump your head to Natasha’s shoulder in defeat, making her come back from her trance to look at the big red words on the screen, indicating you lost. “I almost had it!”

Natasha leans into your touch and pats your back. “You can try again.”

You groan. “I definitely will but for now, I’m gonna take a break.”

“Great,” she shifts a bit to get comfy, switching to Netflix and choosing whatever’s trending right now. “I’m just curious but, do you like someone?”

You hum in response, sipping on a beer, not completely processing what she said. “I - yeah. I guess so,” you tug the blanket closer and pout at the movie that’s on. You don’t like romance movies. You always prefer an action or a mystery one any day. “Do you?”

Natasha feels her heart ache for a moment. “Yeah. She’s kind and sweet, goofy but can still seriously kick your ass type.” Your eyes land to her hands. You knew fully well Natasha isn’t straight, she admitted and definitely doesn’t act like it. “There’s just something about her that makes me... love her.”

“She sounds great,” you mumble, starting to get lost in your own thoughts. “I guess I just-” you hesitate, just because the woman you're about to describe is the same one sitting next to you. “I feel bad for her that someone like me likes her.”

“Why would you think that?” Natasha chuckles, shaking her head.

You shrug. “She’s amazing. So out of my league, I’d say she’s so close but so far away but that would be really cheesy and ugly,” you laugh. “I don’t know, she deserves way better.”

Natasha hums. “Sometimes I think she needs to her worth, because what she doesn’t know is, she’s very much amazing in her own way.”

Looking up at her from her shoulder, your eyes light up and you don’t know when it happened, but you just found her lips pressed against yours softly.

Even if it was just a short kiss you feel breathless when she pulls away to look at you again.

“Just so we’re clear, we’re just describing each other like idiots right?”

“Yeah.”

Natasha leans in to kiss you again.

---

oh my god I want a hug

[shameless plug] check out my natasha romanoff ambience here

[kstewdeux]

@inukagfluffweek

August 14, 2021 - Family

Sure

Summary: Inuyasha & Kagome discuss starting a family

“Knee,” Kagome whined softly as her foot prodded her husband’s leg so it would go where she wanted, “Knee Inuyasha.”

With a tired sigh, Inuyasha slid his foot up until it rested comfortably against his thigh and adjusted his hips so falling asleep in that position wouldn’t make him lock up. It was a tried and true ritual. One that he didn’t mean to perpetuate but Kagome was always the last one to go to bed. Always. So by the time she changed and brushed her hair and washed her face and did whatever else she felt inclined to do, he was typically asleep in a position he found comfortable. Kagome told him he slept like a vampire but having met and fought vampires Inuyasha had no idea what she was talking about. Besides, he didn’t know why it had always seemed to matter how he slept. Sitting up had just been how he’d done it for over a hundred years and even though three years had gone by, he still wasn’t used to those while laying down business. Having a body trained not to move wasn’t ideal for laying down and he usually woke up stiff. His muscles locking up for absolutely no reason out of habit. Sitting up, having muscles that locked was useful. Not so for how the rest of the world went down for the night.

Still, Kagome slept laying down. Always had. Always would. And he planned on sleeping next to her for the rest of her hopefully long life. Which killed the monk. Even occasional overnight exorcisms were out of the question. Sunup to sundown only.

“That better?” he yawned and Kagome nodded against the arm she was using as a pillow while Inuyasha’s hand absently played with tendrils of her hair.

One of the things he liked best was that in this position he could feel her ribs expand with each breath and the steady rhythm was soothing. Every couple found a sleeping position that worked for them it would seem and with his primary issue being hardwired survival anxiety, a cuddling position where no backs were being exposed worked best.

Problem with this position was that it’d make co-sleeping with an infant dangerous. Not that…that they were trying or even planning on having brats. Hell, they’d never spoken about it but by some unspoken understanding, they’d been careful. Kinda. Sometimes. Okay, fine, mainly they’d been whinging it and been lucky as hell.

But…you know…maybe one day…

Lips twitching upward, Inuyasha allowed himself to imagine what their own puffy blob of flesh would look like. Newborn babies…well they weren’t exactly the cutest things in the planet. More they looked like boiled prunes - both in color and looks. And the screams. But once they hit a few months old they definitely started looking more like tiny people and you could start seeing the parents. From a strangers perspective anyway. Miroku’s twins had always looked identical but they went through phases and who they favored depended on which parent was standing closest….

God he hoped whatever they had one day - not that he was even sure they’d have babies - was a girl. He’d make a decent looking boy or girl. After all, minus the coloring, he looked just like his mother who had been very pretty. Kagome…Kagome would only make a pretty girl. Sota sure as hell didn’t look like her though so maybe there were some okay looking boy genes in there but Inuyasha for the life of him could not imagine what a Kagome-looking boy would even be.

Nah. If they did one day have a…

“Why you purring?” Kagome hummed bemusedly in such a way that left him powerless to stop said noise. A noise that he’d only discovered he made since she fell back into his life. At first it bothered him that she called the chest growl thing a ‘purr’ but seeing as how he didn’t have a better name, he just rolled with it.

“Dunno,” he laughed softly.

“What were you thinking about?” Kagome hummed as she slowly and awkwardly began trying to roll towards him - something which had the purring noise stop immediately. It didn’t matter that his brain knew they were safe and there was no need to worry about being exposed. His body though….was hard wired to worry.

She froze.

“I didn’t…”

“S’not the question. It’s the stupid back thing,” Inuyasha reassured her wearily before running one hand over his face, “Look, I was thinking about us having kids, alright?”

The slow smile that bloomed on her lips as she sat up brought the soft purring sound back.

“And what were your initial thoughts?” Kagome asked curiously and the purring sound intensified.

“How newborns look like meat sacks,” he offered as he stretched his legs out and yawned, “And how they’re loud. And obnoxious. And how they shit everywhere…”

“Ah but said things made you happy,” Kagome observed and shrugging, Inuyasha didn’t deny it. Couldn’t anyway given the vibrations rumbling from his chest. Well, that was what they assumed it meant anyway. Could be he was dying or something. Wouldn’t that be the final kick in the balls.

“Thinking about it and living it are two different things. Reality is I’d fuck them up,” Inuyasha countered with an ill-checked half-grin, “You’d have to go around fixing them all the time.”

“You’d be a good daddy,” Kagome soothed as she lay back down and stared up at the ceiling - allowing Inuyasha to fully relax by covering her back. She never really thought of Inuyasha as the anxious type but apparently that was his secret to surviving so long and once they’d figured it out and pinned down his triggers to better avoid them, he’d actually been significantly less…grumpy. In fact, he could be downright pleasant most of the time.

Miroku and Sango had told her on more than one occasion that Inuyasha seemed, at times, like a completely new person. In public, he was still by and large snippy and obstinate but among friends and in private, his natural state of being sans anxiety was much more Kagome-like than any of them previously believed. Looking back, he had always seemed to find comfort in being around others but he was never what anyone would call sensitive or attune to emotional needs of others. In recent months, however, he’d been surprisingly observant, kind and gentle.

Well, actually it wasn’t all that surprising. The gentleness yes but the rest of it? No. Every time one of them lost it during the quest, Inuyasha was always the one who stepped up and did exactly the right thing to bring his friends’ minds back to center. In fact, his brand of abrasive encouragement was what saved their souls from being devoured by the moth demon’s trap. Whenever any of them felt like giving up, Inuyasha had been the one to encourage them to keep going. In some ways Inuyasha was so forgiving it was beyond understanding. For all his insults and for all his aggression, Inuyasha could be…damningly gracious. Kikyo being, well, Kikyo. Sango stealing his sword. Miroku trying to kill him. Shippo pulling trick after trick. None of those things ever drove him away.

That wasn’t to say Inuyasha didn’t get irritable or react poorly when said things happened but he did tend to let things go eventually and truly act like nothing happened. And his brand of love was protection and providing so there was that too.

So maybe it wasn’t all that surprising that being kind and gentle was his calm state of being. Now that he was more comfortable and no one was in imminent danger of dying a horrible, painful death; now that Kagome had been returned to him and everything worked out, how his natural being manifested was different was all.

But his anxiety still did rear it’s ugly head on occasion. New things. Unexpected things. Any slightly uncomfortable thing and he’d instantly snap his abrasive behavior back into place. There were also his triggers of course but those could be negated.

For example, he never slept with his back exposed and now that Kagome was, sorta, an extension of himself, his body decided to make him skittish at night if she too was left ‘open to attack.’ Not fun for anyone involved - the amount of twitching alone had kept them both awake until they figured out the issue.

“Don’t know how to be a father,” he sighed sadly - the purring sound grounding to halt, “So maybe…maybe kids isn’t something we should do. What…what if I hurt them? They won’t be like me. They’ll be mostly human. I’ll be too rough.”

“No because of that fear, I imagine you’d treat them like they might shatter,” Kagome pointed out and with that, Inuyasha reached over to intertwine their fingers.

“I could turn one day. You…or they might get hurt and I’ll make it worse,” he offered in a small voice, “I’m dangerous. I shouldn’t…and what if they can’t control what I give them? What if they’re born and…and they’re just like that all the time?”

Turning her head to look at his defeated face, Kagome sighed and waited for him to look at her. When he did, the worry mixed with longing made her heart ache. He wanted kids. That much was clear from his expression as was the fact that he didn’t trust himself.

“Inuyasha, I always bring you back, don’t I?” she pointed out and with a faint nod of acknowledgment, her statement seemed to soothe some of the anxiety that needed checking, “And our baby will be part me too. So it’ll have both….”

“It could purify itself. Hurt itself,” he countered shakily, “And we’re happy just the two of us. What if I’m a bad father and you end up hating me? What if it ends up being a mistake? Ruins everything?”

“I will never abandon you,” Kagome promised as she brought his hand up to her lips and gave his thumb a quick kiss, “Never.”

A nod and a relieved sigh. Like he knew that to be the case but wanted to hear it anyway. There was still some tension though which meant his fears hadn’t been addressed completely and so Kagome waited for him to continue. It had taken a few months but anymore he discussed everything with her. From feelings to fears to his past. The only thing off the table was Kikyo but that was more her hang up than his.

From his perspective, he found himself much lighter when he heard her opinion rather than just imaging what she was thinking. His inner monologue was usually depressing and rather cruel. Always assuming everyone hated him or was upset with him in some way. That everyone thought the worst. How he needed to receive love was verbal affirmations. Kagome would’ve thought it was touch but she discovered words were much more effective. What would’ve happened if she just told him back then how deeply he was loved? But, alas, she didn’t and it didn’t matter. In fact, that would’ve been worse. What if he achieved this and then had her taken away?

“I mean, do you want kids? You’ve never really said…” Inuyasha asked wearily and Kagome knew if she said yes, he’d do whatever she wanted. Even if it terrified him.

No. This needed to be his choice. His decision.

“What do you want?”

For a long moment, he was quiet before he swallowed and closed his eyes.

“I think you want them,” he answered evasively before pulling up one knee and fidgeting slightly, “And I don’t know. I want…I want, you know, the type of things Sango and Miroku have with their brats. And what I had with my mother before she got sick. I want someone to…to…you know, there’s just some type of connection. I…I wouldn’t mind being a brat’s person.”

“Their person?” Kagome asked curiously and Inuyasha let out a long sigh as he swayed his knee.

“Like…like you know they’ll take care of you. You scrape your knee. They fix it. You get hungry, they give you snacks. You get sad and just…just they….,” Inuyasha floundered before seemingly choosing a word to describe what he meant, “A helper. I wouldn’t mind being their helper.”

“You’d be the best helper,” Kagome sighed affectionately and Inuyasha eyes fluttered open.

“You really think so? I don’t have the…the warm thing going…”

Nodding, Kagome gently rolled onto her side and scooted her back against his torso. Like clockwork, he assumed their former position and sighed contentedly.

“You…” she belatedly started to address his comment but he was already off to the races.

“I could work on that though. You know, with the twins,” Inuyasha opined hopefully - like he was trying to convince her that he could be a good father and encourage her to say yes, “See…see if I could get better at the whole…whole warm thing. I bet I could get the hang of it in a month or two. I mean look at how fast I mastered Tessaiga. You wouldn’t have to worry about…about me scarring the kid.”

“That has never been a concern,” Kagome chided affectionately earning a frustrated grunt. Oh yeah, he was trying to get her to just make the decision or convince her to just agree with his decision. A decision he’d clearly already made.

“Inuyasha, I know you’d be a great daddy,” Kagome finally yawned - earning a faint blush, “But don’t push yourself just because you think I want this. I only want babies if you do too. I’m honestly okay either way.”

She felt him inhale deeply.

“I think…I think I’ll see if…if I can do the warm thing then we can decide,” Inuyasha hummed before adding hesistantly, “I think I can do it but I wanna be sure.”

“I…”

“I mean, I’m pretty sure I could do it,” Inuyasha continued to think out loud, “But I just want to be sure, ya know? And I want you to be sure I’m good for it.”

At this, Kagome laughed softly despite herself - the hand by her head sliding up to cup his. Curling her fingers between his fingers, she pressed her fingertips against his palm.

“I know you can do…”

“J-just think about it,” Inuyasha interrupted shakily as he gave her hand a light squeeze “A-and I’ll think about it. And we can…talk about it when we’re sure.”

The miko grinned and replied with a soft laugh, “Sure.”

“Will you be mad if I…I think about it and say no?” he asked hesitantly and Kagome shook her head - making some of the tension seep out of him. For a long time, he was quiet and Kagome was just about to pass out when she heard his voice - small and timid - whisper those three little words he didn’t say that often.

“I love you. You know that, right?”

“I know. You show me all the time,” she affirmed and with a timid half-smile, Inuyasha flexed his hand ever so.

“Just want to make sure you know…”

“I do.”

“And you still love me, right?”

“Always.”

“Okay. Just want to make sure…”

[wastelandcth]

In the Meadows

day three of #5sosweek21: friends to lovers

summary: Lightning bugs and meadows with Luke turn into a confession. 

author’s notes: Luke 🥺 this is the first time I’ve ever written for him so I hope you enjoy! 

warnings: ooh pure fluff maybe a hint of angst if you really look into it.

masterlist || request

“Do you think you’ll ever find someone to love?” Luke asked into the quiet of the night, his voice carrying off into the wind of the breezy summer night. 

“I don’t know,” you sighed, “I hope I do but...sometimes I think I’m hard to love.”

“That’s ridiculous,” he chuckled, his head turning to look over at you laying in the grassy meadow, “You just haven’t found the right person.” 

“Dunno about that,” you laughed and shrugged, letting your gaze drift off from the beautiful blonde next to you and back towards the long grass swaying in the wind. 

You felt his gaze on you, felt the way his eyes looked for a reaction from you, burning into your soul as you willed yourself to look anywhere but him. To look as far as the horizon would let you before you gave yourself the chance to get lost in the blue of Luke’s eyes. To get lost in the reds and orange of the sunset was better than accepting the truth you’d known for a while, that you were in love with Luke. 

The breeze around you pushed Luke’s soft curls flying into the air, the soft tufts of hair smacking into his cheeks and forehead as you both scooted closer into one another, craving the warmth that the other provided. The meadow you’d both found yourselves in was quiet, the only noise coming from the soft breathes you both were taking as the world turned around you, as the sunlight dimmed until you were both surrounded by darkness. You and Luke had made it a tradition, to find a place out in the middle of nowhere whenever things got too much and you both needed an escape from the world. And you’d found yourself once again in the meadows an hour out of the city to find a sense of calm. 

“Have you gone out with anyone?” you asked quietly, finally finding the courage to look up at the blue eyes you’d dreamt of more times than what would be considered normal, “Or are you still on your I’m never touching another human being again mood?”

Luke laughed, the noise echoing into the open meadow, as his head shook from side to side. His arm around its way around your waist, pulling you closer as his smile grew. “It’s not my fault everyone I’ve been with has been horrible.” 

“Maybe you just have shitty taste,” you teased, “I think we’re better of single, we get to have fun with one another and not have to worry about a significant other being annoying about it.” 

Luke hummed next to you, his hand rubbing soft circles onto your waist as the sun took its final bow painting the sky with purples and soft pinks before the darkness enveloped you both. Your head had found a place on Luke’s shoulder as you watched the show in the sky, the comfort of his presence warmer than the summer day. You two were used to the silence, it was one of the important parts of your friendship with Luke that you were grateful for. There were actually a lot of things about your friendship with Luke that you loved. 

You loved how he always made you laugh even when you felt like crying, his awful jokes never failing to pull laughter out from you. There was never any pressure around Luke, you could be your true self and never have to worry about whether your hair was off or if your outfit was alright. You could have a movie night and giggle late into the night while fighting over a blanket and then wake up and have too many pancakes. It felt like being at home and that was the most terrifying part of it all. 

“And if you’re the one I love?” he whispered, his voice pulling you back from your thoughts. 

“I...you what?” You hadn’t even noticed that you were staring at him, hadn’t noticed that your eyes had been watching his every move. You hadn’t even realized you were leaning into him, not until your breath hitched and you felt the softness of his lips against hers. 

Luke’s lips had been something you’d dreamed about. You had always wondered how they’d feel against yours and if they’d be chapped or if they’d be soft. You’d wondered whether he’d smile into a kiss or if he’d be needy and crush his lips against yours. But no fantasy about kissing your friend, which that in itself was an unimaginable thought, could compare to the real thing. His kisses were soft and breathtaking, they left you feeling like you were floating and the whole world was just you and Luke. It was his soft hands on your hips and quiet giggles in between breaths. Kissing Luke was relishing in the feeling of his forehead against yours while your heart felt like it was about to burst out of your chest. 

“Look,” he breathed out, his swollen lips glistening under the light that glowed from under the soft grass. 

In front of you both, the grass swayed as the small lightning bugs floated through the sky buzzing with electricity much like how you felt. Your lips were still on fire, the ache of Luke’s missing presence as he moved away to stand was replaced when his hand reach out for yours and pulled you up into his arms. The world around you lit up, with buzzing bugs dancing in the wind as you and Luke sway together in a meadow. The flowers underneath you both crunched as you swayed to whatever song Luke was humming, you weren’t sure you’d ever heard it before but looking into his eyes all you could think about was how you’d never been happier to be alone with the one who could make you feel like you were filled with fireworks. Even as the bugs got closer and your shrieks escaped, Luke’s laugh felt like a rush of warmth as he took your hand and ran back to the car with you, both of you content with stealing kisses in the bed of his truck while the lightning bugs faded in with the stars.

join my taglist: @hoodhoran​ @moonlightcriess​ @mxgyver​ @calpops​ @karajaynetoday​ @notlukehemmo​ @calumrose​ @devilatmydoor​ @lowkeyflop​  @conversecake​ @hemmo1996-5sosvevo​ @ashtonsunflower​ @2fangirl4u​ @multistann​ @wiiildflowerrr @himbohood​ @in-superbloom​ @ashtonsunflower​ @suchalonelysunflower​ @killmywildflower​ @sebsbrokentoe​ @nicebasscalum​ @itwouldburnupintheatmosphere​​ @mikelitorisdotcom

[moonlit-raven-haven]

The Past

Where the reader and Harry no longer speak.

This is unedited!

Word Count: Just a bit over 3k

Warnings: angst

A/N: It’s been a minute since I’ve written something...I’m afraid it strays away from Keanu Reeves content though...sorry, but my love for Harry Styles can no longer be contained!

Inspired by the edit below from Instagram :)

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by 𝕤𝕜𝕪 (@stylessr1) on Oct 2, 2020 at 3:19pm PDT

It has been several years since Harry left Holmes Chapel, but the small town still held the title of home. His mum, sister, friends, mentors, first job, first love, first heartbreak, and many other people and memories live within the borders of the large village that is Holmes Chapel. But beyond the people and memories he holds close to his heart, the one person that made him miss his quiet life was Y/N; his best friend.

Y/N had been there from the beginning, witnessing all of the important moments in his life. From losing his first baby tooth, to joining One Direction, she never left his side, and he never left hers. The two were inseparable. But time passes, and life changes, even when we want so desperately to grab onto our current lives, wishing that some things will never change.

When Harry joined One Direction, she was thrilled; proud, and happy to see her best friend fulfilling his dreams. And that feeling didn’t stop when he went on his first tour with the band,even if it meant that he would no longer be working with her at W Mandeville bakery, talking in between customers that walked into the shop for their morning coffee and bread. Or that they could no longer see each other daily, cuddled up together on his mum’s couch as they watched reruns of their favorite television shows after finishing hours of schoolwork. But when you’re sixteen years old, you think that friendships last forever.

Y/N and Harry texted and called on a daily basis, only stopping to rest their eyes, sometimes their fingers still wrapped loosely around phones when their eyes finally shut, sometimes soft breathing being heard on the other line. But within months of One Direction’s fame skyrocketing, the texts became more scattered, the time stamps now hours apart from one another, when before they would be within the same minute. The calls went from everyday, to every other day, until eventually they stopped all together, turning into a monthly call to check on one another. The loss of contact was slow, but never quite complete.

Every break Harry would have from his life as a star sent him back to Holmes Chapel where he would embrace his best friend and tell her about all the cool places he traveled to while on tour, the new people, and the new memories he made. And after he would finally give her every detail of his new life, the one she wasn’t a part of, they would bring snacks up to her room, cuddle up, and watch reruns of their favorite television shows into the late hours of the night, finally falling asleep holding on to each other, scared that moments like this would cease to exist, and they did.

It became a tradition of theirs after the first tour. Harry would get home to his mum’s after being gone for months at a time, drop off his bags, eat a meal with Anne and Gemma, and then head off to Y/N’s mum’s house. He would knock on the door only to be greeted by her mom smiling and telling Harry where Y/N was at, and he would practically run to her location, wrapping her in a tight hug that would knock the air out of her lungs. Then her mom would make them tea, and they would find themselves leaning against the kitchen counter with warm mugs in their hands as he told his stories. Once he was tired, or out of stories to tell, they would put their empty and cold mugs in the sink before grabbing snacks from her kitchen, the snacks she would specifically ask her mum to buy for his return, and head up to her room. They would cuddle up together and gorge on snacks before unintentionally falling asleep, wrappers scattered around them as Y/N’s mum walked in and smiled, pulling out her cell to snap a picture and send it to Anne, writing “Seems like Harry is spending the night :)” before hitting send.

By One Direction’s fourth and final tour, things had changed quite a bit. Y/N now had her own flat, where Harry would stay whenever he came to Holmes Chapel, staying at his mum’s house only for a few days before heading back to her place. She had an education she was satisfied with, and had a stable job at a publishing company, working as a successful editor, one of the youngest the company had. Harry had informed her that One Direction split up before the news hit the headlines over a cup of tea, leaning against the counter as they always did when he was gone for long periods of time. There was a comfortable silence as the pair had sipped their tea, Y/N allowing Harry to gather his thoughts before speaking.

“I dunno love…I reckon I’m upset about the band breaking up...but maybe it’s a good thing for us y’know?...” Harry trailed off when his eyes got misty, earning a small frown from the girl that was next to him as she put her mug down and wrapped her arms around his waist, careful not to knock his cup of tea out of his hands. Harry couldn’t help the smile that spread on his face in that moment despite the emotion that had overcome him. He put the mug down next to her own and wrapped his arms tightly around Y/N, breathing in her scent when he rested his chin on her head. She was home to him, bringing him comfort even when it seemed things weren’t going well.

“Maybe I can start a solo career...release music I want...have m’own tours...have you by my side...traveling the world together.” Harry had said with the small upturn of his lips as he swayed them side to side in the small kitchen.

“You would want that?...For me to travel the world with you?” Y/N’s voice was muffled by the soft fabric of his sweatshirt as her face was pressed against his chest. She swayed side to side with him, the movement coming naturally, not being forced by Harry, but rather being brought on by the comfort he brings her.

“O’course I would want that love...it’s always gonna be you and I against the world…”’ He has said softly, being content with the feeling of the warmth radiating off her body and onto his as they held each other in the comfort of their home, swaying side to side to the sound of raindrops hitting the window. But that was five years ago, and where things had gone wrong is still a mystery.

-*-*-*-

Y/N is at work, editing a book for the company’s newest client when she receives a text from Anne. Being in the sanctuary of her own private office, she picks up the phone and smiles at the text.

Anne: Come over for dinner with Gem and I? xx

Y/N: I’ll see you tonight! :)

She types up a quick reply and hits send before setting her phone to the side and focusing her eyes back on the unedited manuscript in front of her. But her mind seems to have other plans, wandering back to him. It has been five years since Y/N has seen or talked to Harry, and she wishes that the ache in her heart will leave, and as time passes, she no longer feels a sharp pain in her heart, but rather a dull pain; a dull ache of longing, longing to see and speak to her best friend again.

She still speaks to Anne and Gemma, seeing them as part of her family. When the first meeting with them occurred a few months after Harry was gone from Y/N’s life, they had asked her what happened between the two, recalling memories of Harry and Y/N from their younger days. The memories made Y/N’s chest tighten as she let out a small laugh, simply shrugging her shoulders as the conversation moved forward, leaving Y/N with a bitter taste in her mouth as she hid the ache in her heart with a smile. That was five years ago.

-*-*-*-

After her shift Y/N gathers her belongings from her desk, deciding to take the Manuscript with her as she has fallen behind due to her wandering thoughts. She puts everything in a brown satchel, one Harry had given her a few months prior to the departure of their friendship, delicately closing the bag and running her fingers over her initials engraved onto the leather with lettering that resembles that of vines. She smiles at the memory that floods her mind.

“Surprise!” Harry had shouted as he practically ran into the flat that he shared with Y/N when he was home. He dropped his bags by the door, going towards their shared room and bed...the one they shared as “friends.” She jumped slightly at the slam of the door and Harry’s voice shouting through the small flat, having been reading a book in bed moments before the loud interruption. But despite being startled and having her attention diverted from the book at hand, she couldn’t help but grin as she got up from the bed and made her way out of their room as fast as her legs could carry her.

Upon reaching the hallway she crashed into Harry, losing her balance momentarily before feeling her feet float through the air, and she couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up in her throat as Harry set her on the ground again, bringing her into his arms and holding her as closely as possible.

“Got a small break from the tour...m’glad you have the day off...now I get to see your beautiful face all day.” Harry had teased as he let go of her, his dopey grin adoring his features despite the bag under his eyes from the jet lag, and his hair being tossed up in five different directions from having slept on the flight. Y/N had laughed and hit his chest gently.

“I gotta be pretty for two since you seem to look like a girl who just got dumped.” She teased back as she made her way towards the kitchen. “Ready for tea?” She questioned him as she pulled out their two favorite mugs and set them on the counter, eager to continue their tradition even if he hadn’t been gone as long this time around.

“Mmm…not yet, love, I got ya a gift.” Harry hummed as he walked back to the door, and picked up a rather large gift bag before he headed back to the kitchen where Y/N raised her eyebrow at him.

“This is new...m’afraid I didn’t get you anything though...shoulda warned me about gift giving…” She mumbled as she watched Harry set the bag on the counter.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, love. It’s a one time thing...plus, I just felt like spoiling ya this one time.” Harry had said, the smile on his face never leaving. “Open it.”

Y/N pulled the large gift bad towards her across the counter, Harry watching her face with admiration and nervousness, hoping she would like the gift. She pulls off the various pieces of tissue paper from the top that were hiding a…

“Harry...it’s gorgeous!” Y/N had said with an excited upturn of her lips as she pulled out a brown leather satchel. She sets it on the counter next to the gift bags and mugs for tea. She runs her fingers over the material, her smile becoming wider as she feels her engraved initials, vines adoring the letters. Harry let’s put a soft breath he was unaware that was trapped in his lungs from nerves, but despite the breath he released, his smile gets even wider.

“‘M so glad you like it Y/N...thought it would be useful for work…plus you’ll seem like even more of a nerd at work, editing your big manuscripts.” Harry teased as he walked over to the stove and turned the kettle on.

“Thank you Harry.” She had said giddily, a smile plastered on her face as she stored the satchel back in the bag before hugging her as tightly as she could, and he embraced her, just as tightly before pulling away. She leaned against the counter as usual and waited for the kettle to sound.

“O’course, love…so last month I was in Spain and…” And just like they went back to their usual routine.

Y/N smiles fondly at the memory, glad she has great memories with him, even if she feels a dull ache in her heart whenever she thinks of him.

-*-*-*-

The drive to Anne’s was filled by Y/N’s loud stereo and singing of the songs she knew. It wasn’t the same without Harry by her side, and despite five years passing, she missed him singing every song perfectly and teasing her for her off key notes. She would roll her eyes at him and take one hand off the steering wheel, gently flicking his arm before resting it back on the wheel in front of her. Harry would laugh and shake his head at her actions, before continuing to sing.

Y/N turns onto Anne’s street, seeing the familiar house she used to spend so much time in, opting to park out on the street, but as she’s about to turn off her car, she hear the familiar beat of a song, his song, and she can’t bring herself to turn the radio off. As the opening lines of “Adore You” begin to play, she finds herself smiling and quietly singing to the song. Despite not hearing from or seeing him in five years, she couldn’t help but still feel proud of the man she had called her best friend for so long. He had worked hard to get to his current status in the music industry, and it finally paid off.

She remembered when she heard his first album, listening to it the same day it was released; it had been two years since they spoke, but her heart was filled with joy. The music had flowed gently through her new flat, her previous residence filled with too many good memories of her and Harry that made her reminisce on what used to be. She had listened to every word he sang so intently it almost had felt as if he was with her, singing songs for her like he used to. But three years later now, she has refused to listen to his newest album, “Fine Line,” afraid that perhaps it would wake up the memories and the ache that she had done so well of burying deep within her.

So deep in thought, Y/N had barely noticed that the song had faded out, now replaced by advertisements and a talk show. She sighed softly, disappointed that her mind had drifted off to him again, it seemed to be something that was more consistent. Slowly she turns off the ignition to her car, setting the keys in the brown satchel in the passenger's seat before climbing out of her car. She closes the door gently and goes around to the passengers side, opening the door and pulling the brown satchel out, Y/N swings it over her shoulder and closes the door, locking the door and heading to Anne’s house.

Y/N walks up the path and knocks in the door, shifting her weight from left to right as she hears some shuffling behind the door before Anne opens the door, smiling brightly.

“Y/N! Come in please! It’s freezing out there.” Anne beckons the girl inside, closing the door behind them as they enter the place that once was like a second home to Y/N. Upon hearing Anne usher Y/N inside, Gemma emerges from the kitchen and grins, engulfing her in a wide hug.

“Gosh how I’ve missed ya! Don’t be a stranger, Y/N.” Gemma exclaims as she pulls away from their embrace. Y/N nods and smiles at the pair as the three of them head over to the table Anne and Gemma have already set up with food and the necessary utensils. Y/N sets her satchel on the corner of the chair she is currently sat on, carrying an easy conversation with Anne and Gemma despite the memories that flooded her mind. Harry would usually be sat next to Y/N, the pair sitting across from Anne and Gemma as they all told stories from their lives away from one another. She remembers how Harry would steal food off of her plate, pretend that he didn’t, and then proceed to share whatever dessert Anne made for them.

After dinner, Y/N offers to wash the dishes as Anne and Gemma go to set up the board games for the game night they usually hold after their meal. She’s washing the final dish when she hears a knock on the door, something rather unusual for the time of day, but she decided to ignore it; perhaps Gemma had invited a date, or a neighbor was in need of some sugar. Y/N begins to rinse the dish as she hears soft footsteps make their way across the living room and the click of locks coming undone before the door opens without a sound. The dish is now rinsed, and just as Y/N puts it on the drying rack, the grip her hands once held to hold the dish is gone, and she feels her heartbeat pick up in a way that’s barely noticeable.

“Hey mum...so sorry I’m late, m’flight got delayed due to the rain that was expected...no sight of it yet though…” The voice was muffled due to the space from the main entrance to the kitchen, but she could recognize it anywhere. It’s the voice that has signified home for years, now one that she hasn’t heard in person for years. Five years to be exact. It’s his voice...Harry’s voice.

-*-*-*-

A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed this! It’s my first time writing Harry in YEARS.

-*-*-*-

[pearlcaddy]

for the kiss prompt: 32 sometime in the future in the sparks verse?

32: A kiss so passionate, so perfect - that after they part, neither person can open their eyes for a few moments afterwards (Sparks verse)

Rated T for... I dunno that it’s steamy, so let’s go with Rated T for Enthusiastic Kissing

Now on AO3!

For the most part, Luke thinks that he and Julie remain professional.

And on stage, they do.

(Okay, the first time they publicly performed “Perfect Harmony” after Julie got her sparks, he may have fallen off his stool, but apparently the Boston crowd loved that. The label says fans find the whole “they’re soulmates and sometimes singing together overwhelms them” thing cute.)

But off stage, it’s sometimes a bit harder.

As the band stumbles off stage, the stadium crowd still cheering their encore of “Finally Free,” Luke can tell this is going to be one of those times. Because Julie immediately tugs his guitar over his head and passes it to Reggie before she grabs Luke’s hand and starts tugging him in the direction of her green room.

“Really? Again?” Alex groans, exasperated.

“Hey, you and Willie get all sparky over going to museums,” Luke calls back over his shoulder.

“Because we’re classy people! You are not being classy!”

Reggie scratches his head. “I still don’t get the museums thing. Like, does your bond get all weird when you look at the same painting, or—”

As Julie tugs Luke through the doorway, the last thing he hears is Alex snap, “—we are not discussing my bond! Boundaries!”

As soon as they get inside the green room, Julie grabs onto Luke’s shoulders and hops in the air, wrapping her legs around his waist. He catches her and spins them around as she pulls her lips to his, the bond between them firing around inside his heart like an electric current. “We have got to stop doing ‘Finally Free’ as an encore,” she breathes into his mouth.

“I like ‘Free’ as an encore,” he counters, tugging at her lips with his. “It always seems to end like this.”

She laughs, the sound coming out shaky around her heavy breaths. “The bond is too revved up from the rest of the set. That bridge of yours is going to do real damage to my heart someday.”

As the bond pulses with their joined heartbeats, his arms fumble, and he sets her down carefully on the edge of the makeup counter. “Are you saying I’m such a good songwriter that I make your heart stop?”

“Are you going to kiss me or gloat?”

He catches her exposed collarbone with his lips, chuckling into her skin. “Who says I have to choose?”

She threads her fingers through his hair, keeping his head close to her neck as he sucks his way up the smooth skin. “Careful,” she gasps out. “We’ve got the Rolling Stone photoshoot tomorrow.”

He immediately lessens the pressure of his lips, but can’t help quipping back, “Obviously that would be the first time anyone’s shown up to a Stone shoot with a hickey. The poor makeup artists would probably pass out from the indecency. What’s next, loud music?”

Slipping his lips behind her ear, he nibbles gently on the skin and grins victoriously at her breathy inhale. Then he slides his nose around the curve of her earlobe and drags it across her jaw as he pulls his lips toward her mouth. Before he can kiss her, she shakes her head. “Why do I put up with you?”

“I ask myself that every day,” he rasps back. It’s a sign of the difference the past year has made that there’s no bitterness in his tone or his heart. Obviously there are still days when he doubts himself, but twelve months of Julie Molina unabashedly gazing at him like he’s the fucking sun makes it hard to doubt the depth or sincerity of her love. Especially at times like these, when the bond curls between them like the flames of a bonfire, reminding him that destiny has linked them together. Whether for music or love, he doesn’t know that it matters.

Julie seizes the front of his shirt and yanks his mouth to hers.

By now, Luke has mostly gotten used to the feeling of the double-sided bond. The days of almost passing out whenever they kiss are mostly behind them, and he’s able to focus on the actual physical sensations of kissing her.

… and then there are kisses after gigs or intense rehearsals, when the bond feels like a firecracker or a wildfire or a bomb going off in his chest. Something so intense that it almost scalds his soul. He’s dimly aware of her mouth moving around his, open and hot and wet. Of the pleasant scrape of her fingernails against his scalp. Of her body, still warm from the stage and snug against his. But the bond overwhelms it all until he can’t breathe and it feels like every single one of his skin cells is dancing to a different beat.

He pulls back with a gasp and rests his forehead against hers, eyes closed as he tries to ground himself back in reality.

When his breath finally comes out of his lungs at a more normal pace, he opens his eyes to find that hers are still closed, chest still heaving. Something about the simple reminder of how mutual their bond is further soothes the ache of the six years he spent convinced that it wouldn’t be.

“You can change anything on the set list you like. Just please not ‘Free,’” he begs.

A blissful smile spreads over her lips as she finally blinks her eyes open, and she nods. “Okay,” she whispers faintly.

He nudges her nose with his. “I love you.”

“And I love you.”

[kissinginkitchens]

You Bring Me Home—Chapter Eleven: Water Under the Bridge (Finale)

a/n: welcome back my loves <3 It’s so weird to think that this is the final chapter of YBMH and I’m definitely having a lot of feelings about it (denial, mostly). I want to say a huge thank you from the very bottom of my heart for sticking with this story and these characters that I love so much. I’ve had the most fun over the past few months talking to some of you and hearing your thoughts; I cherish it more than you’ll ever know. With all of that said, I’m going to miss this era so so much but I would still love to hear from you lovelies, so please feel free to drop by my inbox and let me know what you thought of this series!! Feedback, criticism, all of it is welcome :) Much love, Mel <3

Pairing: Hawai’i!Harry x Original Character (Halani <3)

Warnings: swearing, angst

Word Count: 6.7k

catch up on parts one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, and ten

January, 2018

A strand of hair tickles Harry’s nose and his eyes flutter open. The faint sound of car horns and traffic outside reminds him of his location when his memory fails. He gently slips out of the bed and tiptoes over to the window, careful not to wake the girl sleeping soundly next to him. A thick layer of snow blankets every building and surface in New York City as far as the eye can see, and the grey sky above signals another storm on its way. 

I’m going to die of hypothermia, Alani shivers, nursing her steaming cup of tea as she walks away from the office window and takes a seat behind her desk. Even after living in the city for a year, she still hadn’t adjusted to the cold weather and feared that she never would. Her boyfriend had joked on numerous occasions that you can take the girl out of the island, but you can’t take the island out of the girl. 

“Vanessa’s on line three,” her assistant calls from the doorway. 

“Thanks,” Alani nods before bringing the phone to her ear. “So, what did you think?”

“It was brilliant,” the editor admits. “Insightful, witty. I think they’ll love it,”

Alani smiles and spins in her seat to face the window again. “St. James has been on my ass about this piece for weeks. I hope it’ll shut him up,”

“It will, trust me. Hey, I gotta go, but I sent the revision notes and we can discuss more later,”

“Great, thank you so much. See you at dinner,”

“Ta-ta.”

Alani reaches for a pen and scribbles a reminder onto a pink post-it note nearby. 

Bloody five-star hotel, you’d think they could afford decent pens.  Harry grumbles to himself, shaking the ballpoint to no avail. 

“Where are you going?”

Harry freezes in his tracks and turns to the brunette stretching out her tired limbs. He has to clear his throat to keep from saying the wrong name. 

“Just a quick walk,” he explains with a tight lipped smile. “Go back to bed.” 

She flashes a wide grin and snuggles back into the covers, but he secretly hopes that she’s gone by the time he returns. 

The snow crunches under Harry’s feet and he digs his hands deeper into the pockets of his coat. He had never been very fond of the cold, but he did have to admit that Central Park looked unbelievably beautiful in the winter. His phone buzzes inside his pocket and he digs it out to read the message. 

Mitch: Me and Sarah are going to Bisous in ten. Meet us?

Harry: See you there. 

********

“French is such a pretentious language,” Maleah scoffs, taking a bite of her pastry. “But I’ll be damned if I have to give up my chocolate croissants,”

Alani chuckles lightly and traces the restaurant’s logo of a red kiss printed on her napkin. Going to Bisous at least once a day had become a tradition during her best friend’s visits. 

“I’ll have to smuggle a real one back for you and then you can tell me if this one’s the real deal,”

“When are you going, again?”

“Next month,”  

Maleah wiggles her brows. “Oooh, Valentine’s Day? Are you taking Mason with you?”

“No,” Alani says casually. “It’s for work,”

“Well, who says you can’t mix business and pleasure?”

“Literally everyone.”

“Okay,” Maleah sighs, patting her full stomach. “Let’s go now before I get sleepy.”

The two friends make their way out of the busy restaurant and Alani’s shoulder brushes someone next to her. 

“Sorry.” she apologizes, making brief eye contact with the other person before doing a double take. 

Mitch purses his lips and turns his head back to the other girl at his arm while Maleah drags Alani out the door. 

********

“I mean, what the hell was that? I could barely keep my drum kit together,” Sarah laughs gently, sipping her coffee. 

“Cause of death: rocking too fucking hard,” Mitch shrugs. “There are worse ways to die,”

Harry stirs his black coffee with a spoon and watches the mini whirlpool grow. “Rob said you could feel it in the balcony, too,”

“I’m surprised you didn’t die,” Mitch pokes. “Mr. defective lungs,”

“Heyyy, I can’t help the asthma thing, alright?”

“Well it’s the last night,” Sarah chimes in. “Are we gonna try to beat the Kiwi record and go for four times in a row?”

Harry shrugs, a soft grin on his lips. “Dunno. Maybe if it feels right,”

“I say we cut out the middleman and just bulldoze MSG ourselves. What difference does it make if the fans tear the house down or if we do?” Mitch suggests. 

“Oh yeah,” Harry nods. “I’m sure Irving would love that.”

“Some food for thought.”

The trio finish their breakfasts and excitedly continue their conversations about the impending show, but the entire time, Mitch is haunted by the knowledge of Alani’s presence in the city. He debates telling Harry, but is suddenly reminded of the intense aftermath of the pair’s falling out. 

********

“Where’s Alani?”

“Don’t fuckin’ say that name to me ever again.” 

Mitch’s brow furrowed. “What’s going on?”

And with a simple question, anger had subsided into grief. Mitch still didn’t  know all of the details surrounding their split, but he had pieced together sufficient bits from Jeff and, in part, from the lyrics Harry penned in the following weeks. The slump had lasted through the fall and winter of that year, but as spring rolled around and the album’s release drew closer, Harry pulled himself together enough to promote and tour. It felt good to be on the road, and he found himself revitalized by the energy of those who came to support. Tour itself had been relatively intimate, as he had actively decided to play smaller venues than the sold out stadiums he was accustomed to, but the enthusiasm of the crowds hadn’t changed from his band days. As Harry occupied his attention with music, Hawaii grew smaller and smaller in the back of his mind. Eventually, it dwindled into a dull ache at the center of his chest, felt only on particularly long nights coaxed with a little bit of alcohol in his bloodstream. For now, he tried to focus on his last show at Madison Square Garden. 

********

Alani’s stomach turns. Had she really seen Mitch or had it been a remarkable doppelgänger? She hoped it was the latter, knowing that if he really was in New York City, Harry wasn’t far behind. This was by no means the first time she had been reminded of her summer love turned sour, but it stung just as much every time. The first incident was last April when she turned on the T.V. only to find Harry performing one of his new songs on Saturday Night Live. It had resulted in the loss of her favorite mug as it shattered against the hardwood floor in her apartment. Since that day, Alani had seen his face on countless billboards in Times Square and habitually asked taxi drivers to change the radio station or turn it off entirely. After a while, she had gotten better at dealing with the sinking feeling whenever he was mentioned, it was easier to detach feelings for someone who lived on a screen. Running into Mitch, however, had blasted a hole straight through the fourth wall that Alani had erected,  and she knew that there was absolutely no way she could cope with a similar encounter from Harry. 

“Oh shit,” Maleah gasps softly, looking through the windshield at the hundreds of people lined up on the pavement outside of Madison Square Garden. 

“What?” Alani asks, head still spinning. 

Her best friend immediately turns to her with a nervous smile and shrugs. “Oh it’s nothing. Hey do I have something in my teeth?”

Alani glances out the window behind Maleah and her eyes bulge. “Woah, what’s happening there?”

“Oh it’s probably, like, Lady Gaga or something. Anyways, look at this random text I got the other day.”

But it wasn’t “Lady Gaga or something.” The marquee reads “Harry Styles—SOLD OUT” in bold lettering. Alani retches into her bag. 

********

“Oh, for fucks saaake!” Harry shouts playfully, the sound of his obscenities echoing throughout the large venue. 

Mitch and Adam chuckle beside him and continue setting up their equipment while Sarah offers a comedic “badum-tss” on her drum set. 

“Okay then at that point, stage lights will come down and it’s ‘Meet Me in the Hallway’,” the technical director speaks into his earpiece.

Harry nods and watches the screen behind him roll through the animation that will play during the song. 

“Alright, then it’s—”

“Wait,” Harry interjects over the mic. “Sorry, can we run it?”

“Run ‘Meet Me’?”

“Yeah,”

Mitch tenses listening to the conversation that filters through his own inner ear piece, but he continues fiddling with the strings of his guitar.  

“Running ‘Meet Me’,” the director affirms. “Sarah, stand by.”

Harry’s eyes dart over to Mitch and he nods as a sign to begin. The guitarist clears his throat and strums the opening chords. 

Meet me in the hallway 

“M’gonna go wait in the hall…”

Meet me in the hallway 

“Give you some space to think and then we’ll talk, yeah?”

I just left your bedroom 

“I never wanted to hurt you.”

Give me some morphine 

“I hope you got all the material you wanted.”

Is there any more to do?

“Please don’t go.”

Just let me know and I’ll be at the door, at the door

Hoping you'll come around

Just let me know I’ll be on the floor, on the floor 

Maybe we’ll work it out

********

“Maybe I shouldn’t go,” Maleah offers. “I can catch a return flight tomorrow,”

Alani sits up in her bed and shakes her head. “No, Mi, it’s okay. I’ll be fine,”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. It’s probably just a stomach bug or something,”

Maleah gives her friend a tight squeeze and pulls away to read her face. “Let me know if you need anything, I’ll come right back,”

“Thank you,” Alani says, forcing a smile. “I’m so sorry to put a damper on your last day.”

“Nah, there’s nothing to worry about. Feel better soon, Nani.”

The door closes softly and Alani burrows deeper into the covers. She tries to bury the emotion back under a lock and key, but a gentle sob fights its way up her chest. It wasn’t supposed to be this way, she cries, but maybe it was. Just as the sun rises and sets, so had Harry entered and exited her life, and maybe that’s exactly how it was meant to be. After all, Alani had gotten exactly what she wanted, hadn’t she? So why does it still hurt? 

The snow falls gently outside of her window, but the entire scene blurs into shades of white and grey behind her tears. It had snowed just like this on the day she moved to the city. Shortly after the article about Harry had been published by a small gossip site, Alani had contacted the publishers and threatened litigation if they didn’t take it down. Unsurprisingly, they had also been contacted by Columbia Records and thus, the piece was removed that same day. Despite the quick turnaround, Rolling Stone had caught wind of the storm brewing on social media and reached out to Alani a few days later. They had been impressed that the elusive Harry Styles granted her an interview, but they didn’t push the matter much further. Instead, they had offered her one piece of her choosing to prove herself. If the reviews were favorable, she would be given a regular contributor spot, unpaid of course. They would re-evaluate at the beginning of the new quarter and negotiate from there. When January of 2017 rolled around, Alani’s writing was making surprising waves in the Rolling Stone community, so she had been hired on as a junior writer and assistant to the Editor in Chief. The pay wasn’t great, but it was a leap in the right direction. 

Despite everything that had changed in a year, a string of random letters on a building that Alani passed a million times had brought her emotions right back to the day she had tried so hard to forget. Her phone buzzes under the covers and she reaches out a hand to locate it. Her editor’s name appears and she answers it quickly. 

“Hello?”

“Darling, hello! Where are you?”

“Oh my god,” Alani groans. “Vanessa I’m so sorry,”

“Is everything okay?”

Alani sits up and clears her throat. “I have food poisoning,”

“Christ, from where?”

“Bisous,”

Vanessa sighs. “Poor thing. Okay, no worries we’ll just reschedule,”

“I’m so sorry, I’ll make it up to you,”

“No need to be sorry, get some rest and we’ll catch up later!”

The call ends and Alani gawks at the time. 7:30 already?  She slumps back under the covers and sifts through her social media, wincing when she sees several of her friends posting about the line outside of Madison Square Garden. No, Alani decides sternly when the sudden urge to go stirs in the pit of her stomach, absolutely no fucking way. 

********

“10 minutes!”

Harry scans the crowd from the monitor backstage. He pinches his lower lip between his index finger and thumb as the nerves settle in. 

“The house is packed,” Jeff comments with a hand on the singer’s shoulder. “And there’s still a crowd outside,”

“We did it?”

“You did it,”

So why does it still hurt? 

“Thanks for everything,” Harry says, bringing his manager in for a hug. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

Jeff pats Harry on the back. “All in a day’s work for the dream team.”

Before heading out, Harry stops one of the crew members and asks if any of the guests on his list have arrived yet. Names are read off, friends from different inner circles over the years, but there’s one name in particular that isn’t called. He offers a thumbs up and a forced grin before making his way to the stage.

It always surprises the technical crew at every venue that Harry has specific lighting requests for the house. Performers had their individual preferences, this wasn’t unusual, but no one made a bigger deal about being able to see the crowd like Harry did. He enjoyed being able to see each person and connect with them, especially when performing an album that was as personal as this one. But in every sea he searched, one face was always missing. Tonight’s audience, much to his disappointment, was no different. 

The crowd cheers as “Sweet Creature” fades out and the lights on stage dim. More than half of the show has already gone by and they’ve reached the point that is always a little harder to get through. Harry takes a swig from his water bottle and clears his throat to fight the lump that forms. He breathes in deeply and “Meet Me in the Hallway” begins, but no matter how hard he tries to focus on the technical aspects of his performance, it’s nearly impossible not to get dragged back into the moment when the song was written. 

“I should go back,” 

“H, I don’t know if that’s such a good—”

“I have to go back.” 

And so he had. After two hours of pacing the airport lounge, Harry had jumped into an Uber and sped back to the hotel. It had taken another agonizing twenty minutes to explain his situation to the front desk workers and retrieve his old room key, but it was no use. He was too late. The bed was still unmade, but there was no sign of Alani save for the faint scent of Baby Honey and a gold necklace tucked away between the sheets. 

The flight back to the mainland had already departed by the time Harry stumbled through the hotel lobby, and there wouldn’t be another one for three more hours. In the meantime, he decided to get some fresh air and clear his mind, hoping all the while that he would find Alani at the edge of the beach waiting to run back into his arms. She never did, and he was left with all the words he wished he had said. 

I walked the streets all day 

Running with the thieves 

‘Cause you left me in the hallway 

Just take my pain away 

Just let me know and I’ll be at the door, at the door

Hoping you'll come around

Just let me know I’ll be on the floor, on the floor 

Maybe we’ll work it out

********

“Great show,” praises Rob Sheffield, author of one of Harry’s favorite books, Love is a Mix Tape. “Drummer’s incredible,”

Sarah beams and Harry flashes her a grin. “Thanks. It’s Sarah’s band, really. I’m just the frontman,”

“Well she kicked ass. All of you did, and I can tell by the way the floor was shaking that I’m not the only one who thought so.”

“Thank you so much, that means a lot.”

More guests filter in and congratulate Harry and the rest of the band, but while he sincerely appreciates all of the love, he can’t help the way his eyes flicker to the door every once in a while in the hope that someone else will straggle in. He slowly loses that hope when the room empties and the night drags on. 

********

This isn’t ethical, Alani chastises herself, this is wrong on every level and you’re gonna pay. She runs her fingers over the Rolling Stone press badge in her hand and stares at the marquee towering over her. What the fuck are you doing? 

“Excuse me!” Alani calls when she sees an employee slip through a side door. “Hi, I know I’m really late but I’m actually here with Rolling Stone,”

The blonde-haired woman blinks and scans over the badge with an unamused look on her face. 

“Nice try,”

“No, wait,” Alani begs. “I have to get in there, please—”

“You and every other girl within a twenty-five mile radius.”

Alani takes a deep breath and re-groups. “You don’t understand. I really need to get back there, I’m working on an important piece,”

As the struggle continues, another woman in stiletto heels exits through the side door with a clipboard in tow. 

“My name is Alani Hale, see? Please just—”

“Wait,” the woman with the clipboard intervenes. The name sounded strangely familiar, probably from the blacklist, in which case security would need to be notified. “What did you say your name was?”

Alani holds her badge out and swallows hard. “Alani Hale, junior writer for Rolling Stone.”

The woman checks through the blacklist but the name isn’t registered. She does a cursory glance over the V.I.P section and her finger lands on a note that reads “Mahealani ‘Alani’ Hale—Code Carolina: escort backstage and inform Mr. Styles immediately.”

“Follow me, please,”

Alani trails behind, doing her best to keep up with the long strides of the woman with the clipboard.

 “Marta to security, I have a Code Carolina,” she murmurs into her ear piece. “Repeat, I have a Code Carolina.”

Alani’s heart races as they zig-zag through the arena. Did Harry know that she was coming? Had Mitch told him that they saw each other at Bisous? The answer was no, Mitch hadn’t told and Harry didn’t know. He had only hoped. Unbeknownst to Alani, her name was printed on the Madison Square Garden list and on every list of every show in all the countries scheduled. Through Paris and all through Rome, Harry had looked for her face in the crowd and he dreamed that one day his efforts wouldn’t be in vain. 

“Wait here,” Marta instructs, leading Alani to a back room with mirrors, a couple of couches, and a clothing rack. “Someone will be with you shortly.”

Before she can ask any questions, Marta is gone and the sound of her heels echo down the hall. Alani takes a deep breath and her lungs are immediately filled with the familiar scent of vanilla. Her eyes carefully rake over the scene and land on a familiar white shirt hanging on the rack and the words “Enjoy Health, Eat Your Honey.”

“Thief,”

“I meant to return it.”

Alani spins on her heel and Harry stands with his fists shoved deep inside the pockets of his flared pants, eyes cast down at the floor. She tugs on the sleeves of her coat and offers a shy smile. 

“It’s okay, looked better on you anyway.”

A brief silence follows and they size each other up like it’s a gunfight, each waiting to see who will draw first. His hair is longer and curlier, Alani notices, chest and shoulders broader, too. But there’s a familiarity in his creased brow and in the heart shaped curve of his cupid’s bow. Harry does his own inventory; dark, almond shaped eyes, check. Round face, cinnamon skin, check and check. Her long, wavy locks are now shoulder length, but he’d recognize the scent of Baby Honey anywhere. The two are absorbed in their own silent assessments for a moment longer, but Alani quickly gets the urge to flee after she counts too many similarities between this Harry and the one that left her with a broken heart. 

“I should go,” she croaks, taking a step back. “I shouldn’t have come—”

“Why did you?” Harry asks earnestly. 

Alani tugs at a loose thread on her sleeve before crossing her arms. “Saw your name outside and got curious. For a while there, I started to think that maybe I imagined you,”

Harry doesn’t know what to do with the knowledge that he had haunted her as much as she had plagued him. He had spent so long believing that he meant nothing to her, but nevertheless, a part of him left room for her return. 

“You did, this is a hologram projection,”

Alani smiles and her shoulders relax at his humor. It really was him. 

“Did you enjoy—”

“I didn’t see the show—” they speak at the same time, eager words overlapping. 

“Oh,” Harry laughs softly. “You didn’t miss much,”

Alani shakes her head and takes a single step forward. “No, that’s not true. I’m sure it was amazing,”

Harry offers a coy grin, the shadow of a dimple on his left cheek. One hand emerges from his pocket and his knuckle brushes against the tip of his nose. Alani catches sight of the silver rose on his finger and she still remembers how it feels under the pad of her thumb. 

“Are you hungry?” he asks softly, pulling her from her reverie. 

“What?”

“Have dinner with me?”

Alani blinks, her throat suddenly dry. “Oh. Well I don’t know, I don’t wanna interrupt—”

“Never an interruption,” Harry assures her. 

She nods and he takes a step back. 

“M’gonna go change,” he explains. “I’ll just be a minute.”

“What, you don’t wear custom Marc Jacobs suits to dinner?” She teases. 

He grins, amused, and continues backing away towards the door before correcting her. “It’s Gucci.”

Alani rolls her eyes and he disappears into the hallway. 

When Harry reemerges in a beanie, puffy coat, and light wash denim jeans, he leads them through a series of tunnels and exits. 

“Where are we going?” Alani asks, bracing herself for the snow outside. 

“It’s a surprise.” he offers and she doesn’t fight him on it.

********

“We’re not eating here?” 

A soft smile falls on Harry’s lips. He hadn’t realized just how much he missed her incessant questioning. 

“No,”  he replies, opening the passenger door with one hand and passing her the bag that contains their dinner. “Too crowded,”

“Oh,” 

It made sense that Harry would want to keep a low profile and avoid any possible paparazzi sightings of the two of them, but it still felt strange to worry about such things after they had lived so carefree in Hawai’i. But that was then, and this was now, things had inevitably changed. 

“D’you wanna play some music?” Harry asks, settling behind the wheel. The parallels between this moment and their first excursion together make her chest tighten. 

“How about,” Alani starts. “Your album? Since I didn’t get to hear it live,”

Harry’s breathing hitches. “Well, I dunno—”

“Please?”

He meets her pleading eyes momentarily and, against his better judgment, agrees. 

“What’s it called?” she questions. 

“It’s just my name,”

“Self-titled, very classy. I like it,”

“I thought about calling it Sign of the Times,” Harry reveals. “But it’s already been done before,”

Alani hums. “Prince,”

“Yeah,” he nods. “But then I also thought about going with ‘Pink,’ because, you know, when in doubt—”

“Go with the pink one,” they say in unison and Alani smiles softly. How had he remembered that?

“And it’s the only true rock ‘n roll color,” she continues. 

Harry beams. “Exactly. But then Jeff suggested that we just go with the name. Simple, but effective,”

“Okay, so now that we’ve got the background,” Alani pokes. “And you’ve sufficiently distracted me, can I listen now?”

He swallows and checks the GPS, still twenty-five minutes to go. 

“How about we hold off,” he suggests. “Just for now so we can listen to the full thing and really soak it in?”

Alani backs off. “Alright, deal.”

She presses shuffle on the playlist of her frequently played songs for the month and immediately regrets doing so. Clearing her throat, she goes to press skip but Harry stops her. 

“S’a good one.” he says gently, so Alani lets Adele fill the awkward space. 

If you’re gonna let me down 

Let me down gently don’t pretend 

That you don’t want me 

Our love ain’t water under the bridge

********

Harry opens the passenger door and Alani steps out, her eyes squinting to make out any recognizable landmarks in their surroundings. They remain a comfortable two feet apart and make their way to the entrance of what appears to be some sort of greenhouse. Alani is filled with more confusion, but she doesn’t ask further questions until they reach the white double doors. 

“What?” Harry questions. “Never been to the New York Botanical Garden?”

Alani’s eyes widen. “The—wait, you—we’re?”

“After you,” he chuckles lightly, opening the doors. 

“Are we even allowed? I mean is it open?”

“I pulled some strings,”

She enters cautiously, immediately met with an archway of blush colored flowers and string lights that takes her breath away. A long, narrow pond in the center reflects the image back and creates a kaleidoscope of pink, green, and golden hues. 

“How did you,” Alani begins, at a complete loss for words. “Who are you?”

Harry nods in the direction of an adjacent hallway. “There’s a ballroom set up for a wedding tomorrow night, but Jim said we could crash as long as we clean up after ourselves,”

“Jim?”

“The director.”

“Of course.” 

Sure enough, round tables with cream colored tablecloth and elaborate floral centerpieces are arranged around the room. A delicate, yet undoubtedly expensive, chandelier twinkles in the center of the room and casts such a warm glow that Alani momentarily forgets about the snow outside. 

“Dig in,” Harry instructs, setting the pasta on the table in front of them. 

Alani sits and gently sheds her winter coat as he does the same. Underneath his jacket, Harry wears a yellow shirt that catches her eye with the words “treat people with kindness” printed in black lettering. She freezes when she spots a gold chain with a sun and moon pendant nestled comfortably between above the words.

“How is everyone?” Alani questions politely to shift her attention. “Mitch, Tom, Jeff,”

“They’re good, yeah,” he nods. “How’re Freddie and your family?”

“They’re fine, and he’s living his blissful little life,”

“Good for him. Miss his cuddles,”

And yours, Harry thinks, but he pulls back. Alani offers a shy laugh and thinks about the elephant in the room yet to be addressed: the break-up. It’s worth discussing, but she sure as hell isn’t going to be the one to bring it up. 

“And how’ve you been?” Harry asks when the silence stretches out for too long. 

Alani chews and ponders the question. “Good. Been working a lot,”

“Where at?”

“Rolling Stone,”

“Really?” he beams. “That’s incredible, congratulations,”

“Thank you,” she replies graciously. 

Harry’s chin rests in his palm and he twirls a noodle around his fork. “So you live here?”

“Yeah, in the Village,”

“Wow. Greenwich Village, a real city-slicker now. Traded Stevie in for the Holland Tunnel?”

A bittersweet smile spreads across Alani’s lips at the memory of her beloved Bronco. “Sadly, yes. And you?”

“Malibu,” Harry divulges. “I hate the cold.”

“It’s not so bad. You can always cuddle up with the giant rats,” she jokes, which makes his nose scrunch.

“I’m just gonna pretend you didn’t say that,” 

“Speaking of pretend,” Alani wiggles her brows. “You were in a movie after all,” 

“I was,” 

“I didn’t watch it, sorry,” 

Harry feigns offense and Alani quickly back pedals. “I don’t like war movies!”

“And you hated my guts.” he teases, though it pains him that there might be some truth to his words. 

Alani shakes her head and fights the urge to reach across the table for his hand. “No, not really. It was kind of the opposite, actually.” 

Harry’s eye wanders to the outside of Alani’s wrist and a faint smile creeps across his face when he spots the black outline of a crescent moon. He wonders if there are any new inked designs that he isn’t aware of. Despite all the time that has elapsed, there is a familiarity in her presence that he hadn’t felt even in the comforts of his California residence. It was like kicking off your shoes in the doorway after a long trip. It was like coming home. 

They finish their meal and continue their light-hearted banter into the night. Harry tells his favorite stories from tour and Alani wishes more than anything that she could have been there. She details the events of her own busy life in New York and the highlights of working for Rolling Stone, one of which being the time that she got to meet Stevie Nicks in the flesh. 

“Did you tell her about your car?” Harry presses enthusiastically. 

“No way,” Alani chuckles, draining the last of her drink. “I wasn’t gonna embarrass myself in front of the Supreme,” 

“I think she would’ve found it flattering,” 

“Naming your child after someone is flattering, not a car,” 

Harry shrugs. “I think it’s cute,” 

“Yeah well,” Alani sighs. “You’re not like most people,”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

She mulls it over, studying the familiar sea glass irises that she never thought she’d see again. What had Alani meant by that statement? Truthfully, she didn’t know if she could put it into words, nor had she meant to say them in the first place. But something about Harry always made her feel brave, like she could speak her mind uncensored and he would understand without even trying. 

“I just meant that you’re, you know,” she starts. “Not judgemental. Like, I could tell you that I think I’m part alien and you’d probably try to help me find my home planet,” 

Harry laughs and leans forward with his elbows on the table, an unspoken challenge for Alani to continue her thoughts. 

“You make people feel seen and heard,” she says finally with a wistful look in her eye. “I mean, why do you think all those people lined up to see you tonight?” 

The last part of her statement is a deflection from what she really wants to say, which is that Harry makes her feel seen and heard. Despite all the time and space between them, it was still true and it terrified her. There was only so much bravery that Harry’s presence could evoke. The mood shifts suddenly when Alani’s phone buzzes and the name “Mason” with a pink heart emoji lights up the screen next to her glass of water. Harry hadn’t meant to look and he deeply regrets that he did. 

“You have a boyfriend,” he comments dejectedly, and though he hadn’t meant it to be accusatory, all words carry the sting of judgment when falling on guilty ears. 

“Oh, and I’m sure you’ve stayed celibate this entire time,” Alani bites back. 

Harry’s brow furrows. “I wasn’t—I didn’t mean—”

“I’m sorry, this was a mistake,” she apologizes, standing with her coat. 

“Wait,” he jumps up. “What just happened?”

“I have to go—”

“Just stop for a minute, please,”

Alani stops in her tracks and turns back to face Harry slowly. His jaw is tight and the crease between his eyebrows is deeper than she remembers. 

“I’m sorry,” she begins carefully. “Thank you for tonight, but I really shouldn’t be here—”

Harry’s eyes clamp shut and he runs a frustrated hand through his messy curls.  

“Can you stop acting like you’re doing me a favor by leaving and just talk to me?”

“What do you want me to say?” Alani pushes back. “‘I’m sorry that I saw your name in flashing lights and I got caught trying to spy on you’?”

“Alani—”

“‘I’m sorry that I tried to move on’?”

“Stop apologizing—”

“I’m sorry that I fell in love and fucked it all up because I was afraid and I’m sorry that I betrayed the one person who meant everything to me,”

Silence falls between them and the only sound is the sniffling of Alani’s nose as she tries, and fails, to hold back the emotions that pour over. 

“That’s why I went,” she continues, voice wavering. “Because I’m selfish and I couldn’t stay away. Every single day, I’m reminded of how royally I screwed everything up and it tears me apart, so I went to try to make things right and take some of that pain away. Even though I hurt you and there’s nothing I can ever do to change that,”

Harry swallows hard and his eyes sting, but Alani speaks up again before he can respond. 

“So please,” she begs. “Please, just let me finally do something right by you and let me go,”

He takes a cautious step forward and shakes his head. “I don’t want to,”

They both hold their breaths, anticipating the other person’s next draw. 

“And maybe that makes me selfish too,” Harry adds. “‘Cause I went back that day, back to the hotel,”

Alani blinks. “You did?”

“Yes,” he nods. “Because I wasn’t mad that you published the article, I was scared that it was the only reason you were with me—”

“Harry—”

“But then I realized that I didn’t care,” he laughs dryly. “Because I still loved you, and I figured that having you— having just a little bit of your heart and your attention—was worth it, even if you didn’t really love me back,”

He takes another step forward and the toes of their shoes nearly touch. “And maybe I’m being selfish now by asking you to stay, but you’re not the only one trying to get rid of the pain,”

Alani takes a shallow breath and studies the eagerness in his eyes. The sight makes her chest pound. 

“I’m sorry that I ever made you doubt,” she whispers. “But I meant every word I said, you were everything to me. You were the sun that my life revolved around and I was terrified of losing you because the truth is that I hate the cold, too,”

Harry gently reaches a hand up to her cheek and Alani leans into the warmth of his touch. 

“Can I show you something?”

You and your goddamn surprises. “Yes.”

He leads them down several winding hallways before flicking a light on in the gallery. Alani’s heart stops when she sees it. 

“Not quite as impressive as the real thing,” Harry offers. “But Ms. O’Keeffe did a pretty damn good job,”

An original Georgia O’Keeffe painting of a waterfall, their waterfall, the one that Alani had mentioned all that time ago, is displayed proudly on the wall before them. A replica had hung above the bed they shared on many nights and all at once a faint memory resurfaces. 

“Where did you say the original was?”

“New York Botanical Garden,” 

 “M’gonna take you one day,”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Alani takes a step closer to the artwork and examines the details of the oil on canvas. A few steps behind, Harry is only concerned with her reaction and pays little attention to the piece of art on display. As far as he was concerned, Alani was the only one worth admiring. 

“Do you remember what you told me when I asked why you went to the falls to write?” Alani asks. 

Of course Harry had, but he remains silent to let her continue. 

“You said that you liked going there,” she adds, deliberate. “Because it made you forget about every bad thing that ever happened to you, because none of it was real in comparison to the feeling of standing in front of that waterfall,”

Harry nods gently, but he still doesn’t speak. 

“Do you know what that feeling is called?”

“No,”

“It’s called home,” Alani says softly, turning to face him. “It’s what I felt, what I feel, when I’m with you,”

His breath hitches and he stands frozen as she carefully walks toward him.

���And while we’re making wishes come true,” she smiles delicately. “I never told you what I wished for the day we saw that rainbow,”

“What did you wish for?” Harry searches. 

Alani’s eyes fall to his parted lips. “That you would kiss me.”

His mouth curls at the edges and he releases a long breath. “Think maybe I can deliver on that one, too.”

Harry leans in, ever so slightly, and Alani closes the gap. They had been standing mere inches apart, but the meeting of their lips bridges an entire chasm. Over and over again, like waves against the shore, their mouths collide desperately as they pull each other closer with no intentions of ever letting go. 

********

February 14, 2018

“Comment est le temps?” 

Alani peers up at Harry and shields her eyes from the sun behind his back. “What does that mean?”

He grins softly and kisses the top of her head before taking a seat on the balcony next to her. 

“Means ‘how’s the weather?’,” 

“Oh,” she leans over, lips puckered for a kiss. “Full of perfectly Parisian sunshine,”

“Try sayin’ that ten times fast,”

Alani swipes his pink, heart shaped sunglasses and slips them onto the bridge of her nose with a contented sigh. Ahead, the Eiffel tower stands proudly in the distance and the lenses of her glasses tint the entire scene in a picturesque rosy glow. 

“La Ville de L’amour,” she hums. “Did I say that right?”

“Oui,”

“Hey, you know what I saw on the room service menu?”

Harry shakes his head. “No, what?”

“Piña coladas,” Alani wiggles her brows. “Think they deliver at midnight?”

He chuckles lightly and his hand takes purchase on her knee. “They better,”

“Never had a Parisian piña colada. Sounds romantic, though.”

“Sure does, sweets.”

Alani stands and reaches for Harry’s hand. He accepts and rises to his feet, pulling her close. Below, the sounds of the city serenade them as they gently sway in the chilly breeze. When Harry feels Alani shiver, he hugs  her to his chest and rests his chin comfortably on the top of her head. She feels his steady heartbeat against her cheek and smiles softly, fingertips smoothing up and down his back. 

“Are you ready for Valentine’s Day surprise number one?” he asks, pulling away slightly to meet her eyes. 

She narrows her eyes. “Where are we going?”

Harry pulls back with a mischievous smile, hands still attached to hers, and leads them back inside.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Alani giggles but she doesn’t push. Instead, she happily follows him out of their room, down the hall, and into the bustling streets of Paris. 

We don’t know where we’re going 

But we know where we belong 

And oh we started 

Two hearts in one home 

It’s hard when we argue 

We’re both stubborn 

I know, but oh

Sweet creature, sweet creature 

Wherever I go, you bring me home 

Sweet creature, sweet creature

When I run out of road 

You bring me home

[princessfbi]

I dunno if you got this already but eddie for the ask thing? I love him so much🥺❤️

My Sweet Eddie Diaz

How I feel about this character

I love him! I love how complex he is! He’s assertive and collected but sweet and insecure. I love how he’s got the duality of being uncertain of his place in a relationship but at the same time very sure of his role in a relationship if that makes any sense. I love soft!Eddie, petty!Eddie, and all the good and bad parts in-between. 

All the people I ship romantically with this character

Buck but also Eddie is one of the characters where I will settle for just happiness. He deserves to be happy. I have a lot of mixed feelings about Shannon but one of my things that really gets me is her continual push for wanting Eddie to be her partner. But the thing is, I don’t think she was willing to be his. She constantly pushed him and then when he would finally push back (ie the kitchen scene where she asked him to take a trip to LA after he got back, the bombarding him at his work) she would act like he was this unreasonable monster. And I get her point because Eddie was not listening to her when she was trying to communicate her needs to him. But I still don’t think he’s entirely to blame for the way the relationship ended up. Shannon’s death broke Eddie but I think Shannon broke him a little before then too. 

I also think that Eddie is incredibly lonely. You really see it when he is left to pick up the pieces of the broken salad bowl. I don’t think Eddie ever truly had someone in his corner. Someone who supported Eddie to support Eddie. Not Eddie, the single father. Not Eddie, the war hero. Just Eddie. 

So, I really just want Eddie to be happy with someone who will love him for him. 

My non-romantic OTP for this character

I love his relationship with Bobby. I think, like with Buck, Bobby serves as this very important figure in Eddie’s life. I think Eddie was raised to not seek validation from anyone yet he was given constant judgement instead. So for Eddie finding someone who not only validates him but then accepts him even when he falls is so important. Bobby serves as a real safe space for Eddie. Eddie is openly vulnerable with Bobby in a way he isn’t even with Buck, his best friend. 

My unpopular opinion about this character

I actually don’t think the fight club craziness was out of character. I think Eddie was brought up to bury all the “soft” feelings he had deep inside and pretend they didn’t exist but that isn’t sustainable. We’ve seen him sort of crash into a breakdown at least three times now. I think it all goes back to what I was saying a while ago about Buck and his appearance and how it reflects his grasp of control (or even what I said in my post about TK and the shoving of Carlos). I think Eddie at that time was spiraling and feeling completely out of control. I think his self worth was down the toilet. 

I don’t think Eddie was fighting to hit someone. I think Eddie was fighting to be hit. 

I think all the aches and pains and bruises from fighting served as a distraction whenever his mind would drift back to Shannon and Buck and everything else that was out of his control. If he focused on that then he didn’t have to worry about focusing on anything else. Because he was brought up not feeling like he was allowed to break down. Even when he was talking to Bobby, he breaks down but you can see he’s fighting it. He’s trying to hold back all these “soft feelings” and no one can get him to let go of them except himself. It served as a self punishment but it was also a way for him to exhale. The fighting served as a release and in his case, he found willing punching bags. 

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

I’d like to see Eddie breakdown. Like really and truly breakdown. I want to see him show that “soft” side with the people around him like Buck or Hen or whoever and just crumble. It’s great to see him with Bobby but I think that’s only a glimpse of the crack. I think Eddie crying to someone is a sign of his complete trust and I want to just see him unload that burden he’s constantly carrying. 

Give Me A Character and I’ll Break Them Down

[softkuna]

Yuuji Itadori | Sukuna || Interest || Fic

Everyone always says that they would absolutely enjoy and accept Sukuna taking over Yuji in heated moments. But what if someone didn't? What if they pushed him away, wanting and waiting for Yuji to come back?

 Content   ║ Yuuji Itadori x Insert x Sukuna. The curse within startled, chin lifting from clawed fingers. The brat had an interesting question. For someone so idiotic, his emotional competency was a fascination. Had Sukuna been too blatant in his emotions? Had he let thoughts escape into the nether that was their shared mind space? He had protected his own realm with his domain… surely Yuuji couldn’t have snuck his way into it without Sukuna noticing. The inner dwellings of his mind had ceased as her crystalline voice graced ears that weren’t entirely his.

Count      ║ 1,660 words.

Consider ║ Pole Dance. Part 2-ish of Dancer. Mention of sex work. Mentions of sexual assault (not explicit but as a topic). Fem insert. Third Person (she/her).

Creator    ║ Aight let me express real quick that this inspired me to continue part of that dancer fic so if it’s a little confusing please. I’ve also decided that the dancer series will probably be disjointed stories revolving around the same insert. I won’t put in names and shell retain she/her and third person. Hope you don’t mind! Also, this fic in particular doesn’t wholly answer this ask, but spoiler it will come. I was just naturally going with the flow here. I really hope you don’t mind.

She stood off to the side of the pole, hand pressing to her mouth as Yuuji climbed the beast. It was quite impressive. He used pure arm and grip strength. It didn’t take him long to realize that he couldn’t get any leverage when it came to jeans. His hand gripped at the rafter connecting to the pole, humbly showing off as he did a single pull up before completely dropping to a crouch on the ground, “Did I do it?!” the puppy-like excitement teetering in his words was beautifully accompanied by the toothy grin.

  “Ah, sure,” She pressed her lips to the side, swallowing back laughter as he pouted, face scrunching into some sort of a scowl, “What?”

“C’mon! What didn’t I do?”

“You really want to know?”

“Yes!”

  With false exasperation, she whined, “Fine,” She approached the pole, both hands gripping the steel, “for one thing, you didn’t climb it pretty enough. Sure, you climbed it, but it’s got a different vibe.” Lean arms pulled her up in a seemingly effortless motion, core tightened to maintain her posture, legs together. Forearms braced the leverage on the pole, “Lifting like-whoo” she dropped back to the ground with an exhale, “that, is different from a climb like this,” Her right arm reached up so that the pole made one leg of an ‘x’ with her forearm, “Your fist should be just above your line of sight.” Her bare shin of the left leg made a similar ‘x’ with the pole, “Your opposite leg should be raised so it makes a 90 degree angle with your hips.”

  Yuuji watched, enraptured by the instruction. She spoke so clearly and was so well versed in ~the ways of the pole~ that its general sexual context was nearly gone. Then again, she did say that it was more than just ‘erotic’. He watched as her right leg came so that the ankles compressed the pole between them, “Is this why strippers wear underwear?” It was a revelation! The light bulb went off!

  She shot him with an incredulous bullet from her position. It was something like a squat, weight distributed between the leverage of her leg while her grip kept her from leaning back, “It’s not underwear, you neandrathal! It’s costume. Although some girls wear lingerie for their shows…” Her expression fell flat, “You know what, that’s not important right now.” Her hand lifted from the pole, waving off the debate topic for another time, “you wanna learn how to climb this or what?”

  The pinkette nodded, taking a seat and criss-cross apple-saucing his legs. She continued, telling him the importance of a pointed toe. Much of it was more than he’d ever thought about before. It took a lot of skill and concentration. He even learned that there’s more than one division of pole dance: Exotic (the sexy shit), Flow (the spinny shit), and Strength (self explanatory shit). For competitions, there were levels. So much of it was so far above his head, he’d need to climb to even reach it.

  As she continued, there was a languid fluidity to her limbs. Something that he only half took note of amidst the awkward staring during her first performance that he saw. He recalled an odd sense of déjà vu and the bizarre way in which Sukuna had acted. While they didn’t wholly share thoughts, the entanglement of their beings bled through from time to time. The King of Curse’s indifference often led to nothing, but when it came to her, he seemed to be ready for anything. It created an unease in the pit of Yuuji’s stomach.

  “Hey…” His voice trailed, a hand coming to clasp the back of his neck, “You know I’m Sukuna’s Vessel, yeah?”

  “Uh-huh, what about it?” She pulled her body close to the pole, right arm now by her chest, legs straight. Left arm now crossed the pole. Both legs swapped their previous position, creating an elegant illusion of ribbon unfurling. She continued to climb.

  “Have you been around one of his fingers before?”

  The curse within startled, chin lifting from clawed fingers. The brat had an interesting question. For someone so idiotic, his emotional competency was a fascination. Had Sukuna been too blatant in his emotions? Had he let thoughts escape into the nether that was their shared mind space? He had protected his own realm with his domain… surely Yuuji couldn’t have snuck his way into it without Sukuna noticing. The inner dwellings of his mind had ceased as her crystalline voice graced ears that weren’t entirely his.

  “Don’t think so, why?” Muscles worked as she placed a hand under the coccyx of her tailbone, thumb pointed down. Her legs straightened horizontally to sit along the pole, as though it were nothing but a lounge chair.

  Yuuji scratched his cheek, “I dunno. I get a feeling that he knows you. Or maybe I saw you walking down the street? Sometimes I feel that déjà vu feeling when I’m with you.” He didn’t bring up the awkward bodily response he got that surely wasn’t his own like the melancholic heart ache.

  Sukuna was silent, awaiting a response. He knew he could speak for himself, but he felt no need to. This situation was new and he needed to acclimate to it. This vessel was experiencing him second hand. The swirl of memories and emotions this woman brought to the forefront of the now-curse’s contemplations leaked out to the vessel. A pot to hold ashes. Would she be able to feel the connection behind the ceramic?

  The woman tipped so that she rest along the pole upside down, hair flowing with the weight of gravity pulling it down. A pink flush came to her cheeks as blood followed the same course, “Honestly, you reminded me of an ex.”

  Sukuna’s eyes flickered open. Ex? Was that like the English letter Yuuji had to study? There were so many modern words he was unfamiliar with. He closed his eyes, focusing purely on her words, “The thing is, I didn’t date anyone,” there was a somber lick to the tone, “I saw you and felt… *something*. You know when you watch a movie and you know something bad is going to happen? Like that.”

  Yuuji’s head tilted one direction before flipping to another. His expression was contemplative. For someone who seemed so filled with unbridled energy, it caught her off guard whenever he showed this side. It hadn’t been all that long since she joined Jujutsu Technical College, but her blossoming relationship with Yuuji came about as naturally as bees made honey. The kid was about as sweet as it, too.

  Her attitude had been bitchy after the first full day. During work, she chat him up – was saccharine sweet. It was her go-to. Maybe I can get a buck out of him, she had thought. When she couldn’t and when they left, she caked herself in the mud that was her bitchy personality. She didn’t particularly enjoy being the way she was, but it was necessary protection. Despite this, Yuuji still dug through the dirt to get at her core.

  “Hey, can you do that flagpole thing?”

“Yeah. It’s called a western flag.”

“Show me! Please. You know… if you have time.”

  Men always made her cautious. She like the attention of it all, the lustful looks she’d get during a performance, the way men would try and literally buy her time when she play-flirted. She was a top performer both in talent and in business. People requested her, savored slots of solo shows. In her line of work, while she didn’t partake in the more lewd activities herself, it was still assumed that was her position, especially when they paid well.

  “Sorry bucko. No private showings.”

“No no! Not like that. I really want to learn how to do that! I wanna see Megumi’s face when I show him that I did it first!”

  Her brows scrunched up, lips pressing into a suspicious perch. If the guy were a dog, it didn’t entirely seem like he was barking up her tree that same disgusting way. His genuine interest was so whole heartedly pure.

  “Fine.”

“Haha! Yes!”

  After a moment of silence, Yuuji rose, placing his calloused hands along either side of her cheeks. His dashing smile riled up squeeze in her chest, gaze averting his. He pressed his forehead to hers, “I don’t want anything bad to happen to you,” His voice was soft, whispered almost, “His interest… I just want to be careful.” While she couldn’t see, she knew that his lips would be pressed into a line, eyes probably trained on a shoe scuff on the hardwood.

  “Don’t worry. I have no interest in a murderer.”

  Sukuna saw through Yuuji’s cheerfully slit gaze, the gorgeous expression of the woman he once knew. Proud. Independent. She always did throw caution to the wind, even when he would say her life was on the line. Even so, his chest ached. Not with sorrow or desire, but knowing those were the words she had said to him when she was brought to his shrine. Said in the same way, with the same disinterested glint in her eyes.

   Bonus:

Yuuji’s lips connected with hers, gently pecking and barely touching. As he pulled back, the remnants of his prior expression melted into a smile, “Need to get down, Mary-Jane. I’m getting dizzy hanging like this.”

  He barked a laugh, hand grasping the pole as he bent at a 90 degree so that his back exposed to her. She used her core strength to pull her legs away from the pole, minding her shoulder’s ability to rotate. As hand released their grasp, she landed on his back, legs wrapping around him. Yuuji came to a stand, his new-found partner wrapped at his shoulders and waist, “Does that mean you’re spiderman?”

“I shoot white stuff and get a spicy kiss? Hell yeah it does!”

 Taglist:

@auroria @wasabito @juliansbby @missalexbaskerville @3rdgymbros