#its a big cardboard box that just says. tea.

[softspaceboibrian]

The Heart Wants What It Wants || Jamie Tartt

Pairing: Jamie Tartt x Y/N where Y/N works at AFC Richmond || I used she/her pronouns, but there is no actual physical description, so the pronouns can be switched with whatever anyone wants or prefers!

Characters: Jamie Tartt; Keeley Jones and Rebecca Welton (Y/N's best friends); Sam Obisanya, Isaac McAdoo, Colin Hughes and Dani Rojas (Jamie's support team); Roy (being his usual grumpy self).

Summary: when Y/N goes into Rebecca's office to have her usual morning chat with her best friends, she doesn't expect it to result in a very messy confession from her crush.

Warnings: bad language, like a lot. slight sexual harassment. Roy being harsh with Jamie. Jamie being all over the place with his feelings. fluff, a lot of pining and crushing. just bad writing, really.

WC: 8355 (it's kinda long, I know... but I didn't know where to stop! sorry!)

A/N: This is my first time writing for JAmie or any Ted Lasso character in general. I hadn't written anything in months, and I guess it shows. but I was so sad that there weren't enough Jamie fics on here that I thought I could just write one of my own. hopefully people like it! I'm in the middle of my exam session, but if you have any requests or suggestions, feel free to write me!

this gif is completely unrelated, i just love phil dunstan

“Come in” Rebecca’s voice was clear and loud as always, even through the closed door. As you walked in, you took in the smell of hot tea permeating the door – definitely something you could always count on.

You greeted both Rebecca and Keeley, before plopping down on the sofa right in front of the big windows looking out onto the field. You looked out for a moment, noticing the team making their way outside to finally begin practice. You had been working at AFC Richmond for almost a year now, all thanks to Miss Keeley fucking Jones, obviously. Ever since you first day there, everyone had immediately started treating you as if you had always been part of the family, especially Rebecca. “If Keeley likes you so much, it must definitely mean something.” That was her excuse when she invited you out for drinks with the two of them on the second day. “Also, there’s only so many women working at AFC Richmond, we have to stick together, don’t we?” And the rest was history, as some author would say. Even the team had liked you since the get-go. Some more than others. There should be a disclaimer here: you had never cared for football, in any of its forms. But Keeley had been so persuading, making the job sound like a party. And she wasn’t lying. Being with the team was more fun than you could have ever imagined. Yes, some of them were self-centred, and some were self-centred pricks, even. But somehow, you had taken a liking to all of them. And now, after an entire year of working there, you knew them so well that she could even make out who was who all the way from Rebecca’s office.

You were so lost in your own thoughts, that when Keeley talked, you almost jumped out of her seat. “Babes, is everything alright?” Her voice was kind as always. “You seem off today.”

“Everything is fine.” You fixed yourself, turning around so to face both of your friends.

You smiled, or rather you forced yourself to make your smile feel as real as possible. But when you met Rebecca’s gaze you froze. She was holding one of those shortbread biscuits that Ted brought her in every morning and that you only had the pleasure to taste once and, well, you completely understood why Rebecca loved them so much. “I call bullshit.”

“What?”

“I said I call bullshit.” The woman put the last remaining bit of biscuit in the small, pink cardboard box, as to save it for later, and then made her way on the couch with you and Keeley. “You have been off for, well, quite a few days now. And I love that you’re an independent woman and everything, but Keeley and I are your friends. Actually, I would like to believe that we are your best friends. We care for you and we would very much appreciate it if you would trust us enough to come to us with your problems and thoughts.”

“Yeah, babes. You know we’re always here for you.” Keeley moved closer to you and leaned against the back of the couch.

You sighed, burying your face in your hands. You had wanted to talk with them for a while now, but you were always too afraid they wouldn’t care about it, or you were too embarrassed about how they might react to it. But this time it was them that asked you to tell them. And they seemed truly interested in knowing what was going on in your mind.

“Chop, chop, out with it.” Rebecca let her heels fall to the ground and set herself comfortably in the corner of the couch. Yeah, well, as comfortable as that extremely fitted pencil skirt gave her permission to.

You bit your lip for a moment, gathering all the courage you had. “It’s stupid, really.” You tried to laugh it off, hoping that they would just let it go.

But they didn’t. “It’s not stupid if it’s making you feel like this.” Keeley said, putting a hand on yours.

“Fine.” You sighed, looking off in front of you. “I think I may have feelings for Jamie.” You blurted out as quickly as you could.

“Our Jamie? Like, Jamie Tartt?” Keeley asked.

“I know it’s stupid. I shouldn’t like him, right? I know you think it’s stupid. I know you think he’s a prick, and you’re not wrong. I know that he’s a prick. Fuck, that makes me hate myself even more. How could I like a prick? Well, he had changed a bit, and now he-s a bit less of a prick. But still, he’s Jamie fucking Tartt, he’s probably one of the hottest footballers out there, in any way possible. He could fucking have whoever he wanted. Hell, he could have a fucking model. I’m sure he had model. He had you, Keels. And I’m just me. I fucking hate that I’m feeling this.” You started rambling on aimlessly, putting out there in only a few seconds all the fears and insecurities you had been holding in for the past who knows how long.

“Hey, love. Just, wait a minute.” Rebecca’s voice broke your train of thoughts, thankfully just in time, or who knows where you could’ve ended. “Let’s just calm down a moment, okay?”

“It’s just-” You sighed. “I hate that I’m feeling these feelings. I don’t want to feel them. Not for him. I don-t want to be his latest conquest that he’s going to move on from and forget as soon as he finds someone more interesting. I don’t want this. But I can’t help it. I… Fuck, I feel like I’m back in middle school. Shit, shit, shit. How old am I? 12? No, I’m not. I’m 25 years old, for fuck’s sake. I should fall for proper man. Not people like him.” Your eyes filled up with tears, which you tried to hide as best as you could, even though you knew that the other two would notice them, nonetheless.

And they did. Rebecca and Keeley shared a quick glance, before sliding even closer to you, both immediately wrapping their arms around your figure. “Listen, babes. You said it yourself. I’ve been with Jamie, and he was in his top prick form back then. Now he’s… he’s changing. I don’t know if it’s the training with Roy or if it’s Ted finally rubbing off on him, but he’s no longer the dickhead I dumped almost two years ago.”

“She’s right. He has changed.” Rebecca agreed with Keeley. “Also, you cannot tell your heart what it should and shouldn’t feel. It will only cause you more pain, and we definitely don’t want that.” The woman had this motherly instinct that you had always loved. She always knew what to say to make you feel better, or at least less shitty about yourself. “And remember, you could never do worse than me. I was married to the king of the shitheads.” She added, which made both you and Keeley laugh.

“Okay, let’s do this.” Keeley got up and ran to the door, only to lock it and run back to the couch. “If it’s alright with Rebecca, we’re going to take the morning off to talk, just the three of us.”

“Sounds perfect to me. I really didn’t have much to do anyway.” Rebecca was a great liar. You knew she probably had so many documents to read through and to sign. But she always made time to help you with your problems. And that’s why you loved her so much. “Is that right with you, love?”

You didn’t even need to say anything. You barely nodded, and next thing you knew, the three of you were sitting on the couch with no shoes on, a warm cup of tea each and a big chunky blanket on your legs. You never really thought they would be this open with you. Yes, they had made it clear ever since the beginning that they liked you and that they cared for you. But you had never thought that you could go to them for something like that and they would do all of that for you. But they did.

“Okay, let’s start with one simple question: are you two talking? Or, I don’t know, did you go on a date?” Keeley’s question was very straightforward and made completely sense. However, the answer wasn’t as easy to give.

“Well, we haven’t really gone on like a proper date. But we did spend quite a lot of time together last week.” You looked at the other two and you could feel them asking for more information with just their eyes. “It didn’t start as the best of situations…”

------------------------------ FLASHBACK ------------------------------

You didn’t really want to go out that night. It wasn’t really your thing. You usually spent your nights at home, reading a book or watching a movie. Or, if you were lucky, you would go out with Keeley and Rebecca for dinner and drinks, which you loved. What you didn’t love was going out for drinks with people you weren’t as comfortable with. But you had never really learnt how to say no to people, so when your old high school friend – who had moved to America for college and you hadn’t heard from since – messaged you on Instagram, saying that she was back in London for a few days and wanted to go out with you to “catch up”, you couldn’t really bring yourself to decline the offer or make up an excuse. So, you just agreed and made plans to meet up with her in front of a very busy and very fancy place downtown. You hated clubs, especially busy one, but even more you hated going to new places without people you knew. But you knew the girl, in a way. You were really close in high school, so things shouldn’t be too bad, right?

“So, you’re working for a football club! Never thought it would happen!” The girl shouted over the loud music which you were already hating with all your guts. But you just pulled through it.

“Yeah, it’s a good job.” You hated having to raise your voice so much, but it was the least you could do if you wanted to have a conversation with her.

“Do you know any famous footballer?”

“I mean, I know the boys from the team. I suppose they’re famous now. But yeah.”

“Would you introduce me to any of them?”

There it was. You had been talking with her for half an hour and, knowing how she was back in high school, you had been wondering how she hadn’t yet asked you about the guys. A small part of you really wanted to believe that she had changed and that she had stopped sleeping around with guys just because they were hot. But apparently, you were wrong. “Well, it’s complicated. They’re in the middle of the Premier season right now, and most of them are training really hard hoping to be rostered for their national teams. Plus, you’re only going to be in town for a few days, so that wouldn’t really work.”

“I wouldn’t mind moving my flight back for a footballer.” She smirked.

“Maybe next time.” You fake-smiled. “Also, who would want to go out with a football player? Most of them are self-centred assholes who only care about winning.”

“But they are sexy and they have money.”

“But you’re studying law in an ivy league college, you could be the one with money in the relationship.”

“Nah, I don’t really care about that. If a hot guy with money wanted to be with me, I would literally give everything up.” She said, as if that was the most obvious answer. Now you were remembering why you never reached out to her after high school was over.

You spent another half hour listening to her blabbering about something you didn’t really care about. And you could tell that she knew, but didn’t say anything. That was how things had always been between the two of you back in school: she was the popular one, with guys running after her, and her constantly cancelling plans that you two had made to go on a date with a different guy, while you spent your afternoons with the drama club, putting on the next show, to which she was always invited but she never came. It wasn’t all bad. You actually had good times with her. You spent a lot of time over at her house, and you were almost part of her family. But once you were no longer forced to see each other every single day at school, it didn’t take long for you to realise you were completely different. So, you just stopped looking for each other, making plans or going out. That’s why, when the messages stopped coming altogether, it didn’t really hurt you, since you were the first that had started to back out from that friendship. But years had passed and you had really hoped she had grown out of that phase of her life. But you were wrong. People never change, that was what you said to yourself as you were absentmindedly nodding to whatever she was saying now.

“Listen, Y/N, do you mind if I leave you alone here for a moment? There’s a guy over there that has been eyeing me for a while now and, I don’t know, I have this feeling I should go over there.” That was her usual excuse. I have this feeling. As if sexual craving could be described as an actual feeling. But you didn’t care, you actually wouldn’t mind to spend a few minutes by yourself. So, you just told her to go. And she did. Not a single “are you sure you don’t mind” nor an “it will be quick, I promise”. She simply picked all her stuff up and left.

And then you were alone.

You thought about leaving a couple of times, but you thought it would be rude because what would happen if she came back and you weren’t there?

So, you just remained seated there, in the small booth, waiting. And waiting. You looked around, studying the crowd, and hoping that she would just come back, or at least text you to let you know her intentions for the rest of the night. But that message never came. And you waited there, alone.

Until, after almost twenty minutes, a random man approached you. He had to have been at least 15 years older than you. He was dressed all fancy, a black blazer and jeans, a white shirt with the first couple of buttons left open to show a few sparse grey hairs on his chest, as if that was something that all women found sexy; I mean, who did he think he was? Roy Kent? He walked over to your table and leaned on it to get closer to you. “Is this seat taken?”

The first thing that hit you was the almost nauseating amount of perfume and aftershave, closely followed by the stench of cigarette and alcohol as soon as he opened his mouth. “I’m waiting for a friend.” You replied, hoping that would be enough to send him away.

“I’ve noticed you’ve been sitting here alone for quite some time now.” He smiled, and you wanted to throw up. “And I don’t she’s coming back. She and that boy looked very intimate if you know what I mean.”

That comment sent shivers down your spine. How long had he been looking at you? “I’m waiting for another friend of ours.” You said, hoping that he would buy it.

He moved closer to you. “Let me wait with you. I wouldn’t want to leave such a pretty girl out here on her own.”

You hated when people called you a girl. You were a grown woman, for god’s sake! But you hated it even more when that comment came from creepy old men that were nonchalantly flirting with you.

“They should be here any minute now.” You replied quickly. “And I actually prefer to sit alone.”

“Nonsense! Let me keep you company!” He smirked, sliding even closer to you. You were on the verge of tears, feeling this awful sensation in your stomach. You felt like you were going to throw up, and you weren’t sure whether it was because of his terrible taste in perfumes, the horrible stench of smoke, or just his presence in general. You wanted to just get up and get away, but it was as if your legs had forgotten how to move. You tried to insist, telling him that you were going to meet them outside, but he wouldn’t let you go. He started moving his hand, and you knew that, if you didn’t move, he would put it on your thigh. But, with tears pooling at the corners of your eyes, your body completely froze.

“Y/N!” A voice called your name. You turned around to look at the source. Your vision was hazy from the tears, and the strobe lights weren’t exactly helping you in that moment. “I’m sorry I’m late, I couldn’t find a spot to park me car.” He walked over to your table and waited for you to do or say something to sit next to you.

“You’re Jamie fucking Tartt!” The old man exclaimed. “Fuck, man. You’re great! My mates and I don’t really like Richmond, but you’re the best player in the team. You and that Oby- Obe-, you know, the Nigerian guy.”

“Yeah, cheers, man.” Jamie replied, taking a seat next to you. “Now, would you mind leaving us alone?”

“Is she your date?” The man asked, and you could tell that he was confused because why would a star like Jamie Tartt go out with a normal girl like you?

“Do you have a problem?”

“No, no!” The old man finally stood up from the table. “You enjoy her.” He smirked and gave him a wink, before looking at you up and down for the last time and eventually leave.

You finally could feel your body relax again when your attention was caught by Jamie talking. “What a fucking creep.” He shook his head, before finally looking at you. “Are you alright? Did he do anything to you?”

You shook your head. “I think you got here just in time.” You smiled at him, almost feeling guilty for probably having ruined his night.

“Were you here alone?”

“Well, not really. I was here with a friend but she left with a guy.” You stopped, quickly looking around. “But I don’t think she’s coming back.”

“Some kind of friend.” He sighed, still looking at you, as if he were studying you, trying to understand if everything was truly okay, trying to assess the situation. “Do you want to leave?”

“What?”

“I said, do you want to go out, maybe grab a bite?” He raised his voice, thinking that you might have not heard him over the loud music.

“Don’t worry, I’m okay. You can go back to your evening if you want. I’m fine, I swear.”

“I was here on me own.”

“You go to clubs alone?”

“Well, yeah.” He looked at you for a moment. “Listen, really, I don’t have anything to do here. And in any case, I would much rather spend time with you. So, if you want to leave and do something actually funny instead of waiting for some shitty friend to hopefully come back, then count me in.”

------------------------- END OF FLASHBACK -------------------------

“Did you go with him?” Keeley asked, looking at you as if she was watching the latest episode of a soap opera, completely hooked up to the story.

“We spent the entire night together.” You said shyly.

“Doing what?” You had never seen Rebecca so shocked and interested in a story in a while.

“We ate in a chicken shop; we stayed there talking for a while and then we took a walk.”

“How long did you stay out for?”

You could feel both Keeley’s and Rebecca’s eyes on you, demanding an answer, wanting to know more, to know everything. “Well, we took the sunrise as our cue to go home.”

“Babes! You’re telling me that you stayed up all night talking with Jamie?” Keeley squealed, jumping on her knees. “Like, you found topics to talk about for, what, 7? 8 hours?”

“It wasn’t that difficult. I didn’t even have to force it.”

“What did you talk about?” Asked Rebecca. And all of a sudden, the almost 50-year-old and 30-year-old women in front of you turned back into their high school personas and you almost wanted to laugh at how adorably funny that scene was.

“Well, a bit of everything, you know. Our lives, where we grew up, our favourite things, favourite food, favourite movie, favourite city, the books that have impacted us the most, the cities that we dream of visiting one day. Normal stuff.”

Keeley looked at you, in complete shock. “You talked about books. With Jamie. How?”

“He said that he had noticed I like to read and asked me about my favourite book. I told him and then asked him the same thing. And he told me.” You replied, as if that was obvious. But it was only then that you remember that Keeley had been with Jamie in the past and, if she was that shocked, it must have meant that, when they were together, he didn’t read. Possibly at all.

“Babes, remember when I told you he had changed since I had broken up with him, right? Well, that’s an understatement. When we were together, it was fun, but we didn’t really talk about that kind of stuff. He was much more superficial. I don’t think he never really asked me what my favourite food was. And the fact that he was taking an interest in all of those things about you, well, it definitely means something. I wouldn’t take that for granted.” Hearing Keeley, someone you trusted with all of your heart, someone you loved and looked up to, someone that truly knew who you were talking about, saying all of those things, made you feel things. You didn’t know what those things meant, but they were things you hadn’t felt in a long time. And for the first time in days, you were finally accepting the idea of having feelings for Jamie Tartt.

After a few moments of silence, Rebecca asked you “Was that the only time you spent time together?”

“Well, no. I mean, we’ve been talking basically every single day. He sends me a good morning text almost every day, and we talk a lot at night. Sometimes he calls me.”

“Okay, okay. That’s good.” Rebecca said, almost as if she was an investigator gather all the evidence. “But you didn’t answer my question: did you go out another time?”

You immediately felt heat rising to your cheeks. “We didn’t really go out.” You looked at the two women in silence for a moment. “Last night he… ehm… he showed up to my place.”

“What?” They both almost screamed at the same time.

------------------------------ FLASHBACK ------------------------------

You had just finished putting on your pyjamas after a long warm shower. You still had to decide what you wanted to eat, something you always dreaded because, as much as you loved cooking, you hated preparing food for one. You started making your way down the stairs and to the kitchen when your doorbell rang. You weren’t really expecting anyone, so the sound left you confused. You looked through the peephole before even saying anything, so that if it was someone you didn’t know, you could jut pretend you weren’t at home. But, when you looked through it, you were surprised to see Jamie standing right outside of your door.

You immediately took a look at yourself in the mirror right beside the door, trying to make yourself look at least presentable, before finally opening the door. When Jamie’s entire figure came into view, you noticed the food boxes in his hands. “Jamie?”

“Hi, Y/N! Ehm, I’m sorry to barge in on you like this but… ehm… I thought we could spend some time together, you know?” Was Jamie blushing?

You stood there, a soft smile on your lips, looking at the man in front of you. “Sure.” You giggled, moving to open the door even more, as a way to let him in.

“I’m sorry, I should have texted or called. That was stupid. If you’re busy I can just-”

You cut him off. “Jamie. I’m not busy. You can come in. I just wasn’t expecting visitors, so the house is, well, it’s not tidy.” You take a step forward to take some of the boxes off of him. “What’s with all of this food? Did you rob a supermarket?” You laughed, nodding your head as a sign for him to follow you, before making your way to the kitchen.

“No!” He laughed, and suddenly you felt this weird sensation in your stomach. “I didn’t know what you were craving and so I got everything that you told me you liked.” He said, while putting the boxes on the counter. “I got us a pizza to share, because you said you’re not a huge fan, but that you like to eat it while watching movies. I also got us kebabs because they’re always good, and sushi because why not. Oh, and I also got us those spicy Korean rice thingies that you said you love so much. What’s their name? Tee- To-”

You laughed as he struggled to say the word. “Tteokbokki.”

“Yeah, those.” He smiled, putting his hands on his sides.

“Just a question.” You walked around the kitchen gathering cutlery and plates to eat. “How many people did you think were going to be here? There’s enough food to feed an army.”

He looked at you and then the food, before bursting out laughing. “I told you! I didn’t know what you were craving. And I wanted to do something nice for you, but I overdid it.”

You put the plates on the counter and turned to look at him. “It’s okay, I appreciate it anyways.” You smiled. “But why would you wanted to do this for me? It’s not my birthday or anything.”

“I just… I had a very good time with you the other night.” Was Jamie blushing? Again? “And I was really in the mood to watch a good movie. So, who better than you to watch it with.”

You smiled, trying to hide the blushing coming onto your cheeks as well by turning your attention to the food on the counter. “Did you have a movie in mind?” You asked, while putting the different foods on the plates.

“You said that you really like Dead Poets Society, right? And that you think everyone should watch it at least once in their lifetime, right? So, I thought, since I’ve never seen it, we could, I don’t know, watch it together. If you want to, obviously.” He waited for you to plate the food to pick a couple of plates up and follow you into the living room.

“That actually sounds like a perfect plan, Mr Tartt.” You smiled, while taking a seat on the couch, waiting for him to join you.

------------------------- END OF FLASHBACK -------------------------

“Fucking hell, that’s adorable!” Keeley exclaimed. “He never did that for me! When he showed up uninvited, it was usually because he wanted to have sex.”

“Well, this is good!” Rebecca joined in. “He has changed. He listened to what you told him, he remembered your favourite food and your favourite movie. And before you say something like ‘but that’s not a big dead!’, yes it fucking is. It is a huge deal. Men aren’t always reliable. Rupert never was, at least. I vividly remember telling him my favourite drink at least a dozen times. And every single time he would get me something completely different. At the beginning I was too afraid to say anything, so I just drank it. But then I started to speak up. And still, he didn’t remember.”

“Yeah, okay, but him remembering that I like pizza only when watching movie doesn’t mean he feels anything for me.” You said, throwing your head back.

“I’m sorry, babes, didn’t you say that he told you that he wanted to spend time with you?” Keeley asked. “You said it yourself: he came to your place with all the food you had told him you liked and suggested to watch your favourite movie together because he had had a good time with you and wanted to do that again.”

“He decided to spend time with you rather than going out with other people or spend the night texting some random girl on dating apps.” Added Rebecca. “He chose to be with you.”

“I suppose you’re right.” You sighed. “I still don’t think he has feelings for me, though.”

“Whatever, babes.” Keeley took a sip out of her mug, before refocusing on you. “What happened next? Did you watch the movie?”

“Yes, we did.” You smiled at the memory. “He got emotional at the end. I’m not saying that he cried, but he definitely had glossy eyes by the time of the ‘O Captain, my Captain’ scene.”

“Which means he feels comfortable enough to show his emotions in front of you.” Rebecca noted. “And what happened next? Did he leave or did you spend another night talking?” She smirked, trying to make fun of you in a friendly way, almost mom-like.

“Well, he stayed a while longer.” You looked at the two women. “We talked a little about the movie, he told me what he thought of it, we discussed a little about why I thought it is a very important and still relevant movie, and he agreed with me. At first, I have to be honest, I thought he was just agreeing with me to not make me feel bad. But then he added to my argument and I stood corrected. He had truly understood the point of the movie and of my thoughts. For the first time in, gosh, I don’t even know how long, I felt seen, listened and understood by someone that wasn’t you two or Sam.”

Keeley brought a hand to her chest. “I have conflicted feelings because, by the way you’re talking, I want to tell you to just run out of here and into this man’s arms; but at the same time, every now and then, I remember you’re talking about Jamie, and it feels so weird because he’s so different from what I remember him to be like.” She explained. “Which is good, but kind of unsettling.”

Rebecca nodded along with what Keeley said, before eventually turning once again to face you. “What happened after you talked?”

“We decided to watch Modern Family, you know, to cheer ourselves up after the movie.”

“And?” Asked in unison the two women.

“And nothing.”

“I call bullshit.” Said Rebecca.

“Agreed.” Added Keeley. “What aren’t you telling us?”

“Nothing!”

“That’s not true!” They once again spoke in unison, which was starting to become quite weird.

“Nothing happened. We just… fell asleep.” You almost murmured those last words, almost too scared to say it out loud in front of them.

“I’m sorry, what?” Asked Rebecca, who had obviously heard and just wanted you to say it again out loud.

“We fell asleep!” You shouted. And you were so glad that Rebecca’s office was so high up and far from others. “As we were watching the show, he started leaning into me. At first, he laid his head on my shoulder, and then, somehow, we ended up with his head in my lap and my hands in his hair.” You could feel your cheeks burning up.

The two women shared a quick look, before turning back to you, huge smiles on their faces. “When did he fall asleep?” Asked Keeley.

“I don’t know.” You looked down at your own hands. “I fell asleep as well. I don’t know how or when, but when I woke up, it was like 3 in the morning, and we were lying on the couch. He had his head on my stomach and an arm draped over my waists.”

“What did you do?”

“Nothing.” You were fidgeting with your bracelet, too embarrassed to look up and meet your friends’ eyes. “I didn’t do anything. I didn’t want to do anything. I didn’t want him to go away.” For some reason your eyes started filling up with tears.

“Hey, babes. It’s all right.”

“No, it’s not!” You almost shouted, tears finally falling down your face. “It’s not fucking okay. I hate feeling like this.”

“Love, hey, just… wait a second. Take a deep breath.” Rebecca moved closer and wrapped her arms around you. “Why do you hate it?”

“I don’t know. I’m feeling all these things for someone that doesn’t even like me back.”

“You don’t know that, Y/N.” Keeley moved closer as well, taking your hand in hers and leaning her head against yours. “I mean, you’re the coolest person I know, you’re fucking smart and interesting, and you’re fit as fuck. I think most of the team has at least a tiny crush on you.” She smiled, hoping to cheer you up. But that didn’t work.

“Listen, love.” Rebecca squeezed you, before pulling away slightly. “As that song says, the heart wants what it wants. I know feeling like this is terrible, but there’s only one thing that you can really do, and that’s talking to him.”

“But what if he says that he was just being a good friend? What if I misread every single thing he has done and said to me up until now?”

“And what if you haven’t?” Keeley asked. “Finding you at that club was completely random, pure luck. But he then chose to spend the entire night with you. Just like he chose to send you a good morning text every single day, and he chose to come and spend the evening with you. Also, I’m almost 100% sure that he woke up as well during the night, but didn’t say anything because he didn’t want to go, just like you didn’t want him to leave.” Keeley brushed a rogue strand of hair out of your face. “I know it’s hard, but you have to act.”

“But I’m scared.”

“Which means that you care.” Rebecca smiled. “You care about him and about your relationship.”

You looked at the two women in silence for a few moments. You wanted to cry, and you wanted to scream. You wanted to run out of there and straight to Jamie. You wanted to hug Keeley and Rebecca ad tell them how much you loved them. But all you could do in that moment was smile and be glad for the wonderful friends you had. “So, I should go and talk to him?”

“Yes.” Keeley smiled.

“And you should do it right now.” Said Rebecca, standing up from the couch. “The team is going back inside, which could be a good moment for you to swoop in and talk with Jamie.” She seamlessly slipped back in her high heels and fixed her blouse. “And if anyone has anything to say about it, they will have to come to me. I’m the owner of this club, after all.” She winked.

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

The team had just made their way to the changing room, ready to hear Roy giving them “pointers”, or rather making sure they knew every little thing they had done wrong. But Jamie didn’t really care about that. Jamie knew that he had played like shit, but he couldn’t help it. His head was someplace else.

“Oi, Tartt!” Roy’s voice echoed in the room, and everyone’s head turned to look at the man sitting in front of his changing station. “What the fuck were you thinking, uh? You fucked all the assists. The team was constantly looking for you, and you were nowhere to be found!”

Jamie’s eyes remained low on the ground. “’m sorry, coach.” His voice was soft. “I’ll do better next time.”

His teammates couldn’t believe what they were seeing. Somehow, in the span of 24 hours, Jamie had lost all of his confidence. They looked at him and almost couldn’t recognise him. And the worst past was that no one really knew what to do with him, how to talk to him, how to cheer him up. Because that’s the thing with teams: you’re a family, you’re all extremely close, but you’re still a bunch of men that don’t know how to handle emotions and how to talk about their feelings. So, they just bottle everything up and hope that, sooner or later, it will just go away.

But right now, looking at Jamie, Sam felt compelled by something to just stand up and walk over to him, to say something. “Is everything all right?”

Sam’s voice startled Jamie, who was so deep in his thoughts he had almost forgotten he was at the clubhouse. “Uh?” Jamie looked up and was met by Sam’s concerned look. “No, yeah, everything is fine.”

“It don’t look like it, bruv.” Isaac joined in the conversation.

Sam took a seat next to Jamie. “You don’t have to talk to us about whatever is on your mind. We’re not going to force you. Just know that we’re here for you.”

“Sì, muchacho. We’re a familia.” Dani and Colin walked over as well, almost forming a barrier between him and the rest of the room, creating a safe space for him.

No one said anything for a few moments, most of them unsure of how to act, of what to say to him. They wanted to ask him, to help him, but they had no idea how. So, they all remained quiet, until Jamie broke the silence. “I feel so stupid.” Jamie’s voice was low. “I… I feel like a middle schooler.”

“What do you mean?” Colin asked.

Sam immediately turned to look at Jamie. “Did something happen with your dad?” And Jamie could feel the worry in Sam’s voice.

“No, no, I haven’t talked with me dad since Wembley.” He shook his head, rubbing his face. “No, I… You’re going to laugh…” He looked up, but all he saw was seriously interested faces, the faces of friends that were genuinely concerned for him. “I have a crush…” He almost whispered, but it was still loud enough for them to hear. They all shared a quick look amongst themselves, before turning to look again at the man sitting before them. “I feel so stupid because, usually, I have all this confidence with women, right? I’m so sure about me self that I don’t worry about the possibility of a rejection. It doesn’t affect me, usually…”

Sam nodded along with everything that Jamie said, as if he could relate to every little detail. “But with this woman in particular, you’re scared.”

Isaac asked the question that everyone wanted to ask. “Who is this woman?”

Jamie looked up from the ground, meeting everyone’s eyes. He could tell that his friends wanted to help him, but something was stopping him, almost too afraid to admit he had feelings for her, too scared that they would laugh in his face and say that she deserved better than him.

“Muchacho, you’re a beautiful man, and every woman would be lucky to be with you.” Dani always had this way of talking that could give confidence even to the shiest and most introverted person in the world.

“No, you don’t understand. This woman is different from the others.” He sighed. “She’s not a top model or an aspiring actress that wants to be with me because I’m famous. She’s… she’s different.” Jamie started fidgeting with the ends of his shoelaces. “And I’m different. I’m not the same person I was two years ago, I know that. And I think that’s why I’m so scared. Like, what if she doesn’t like me? What if she still thinks I’m a prick? Uh?”

“Listen, boyo. You said it yourself; you have changed. And if this woman doesn’t like your new you, then too bad for her.” Colin took a seat next to Jamie, opposite to Sam. “But if you truly like her, you should tell her. Don’t let your fear get in the way of your happiness, okay?”

“Yeah, like Selena Gomez said in her song, the heart wants what it wants.” Smiled Dani.

Jamie looked at those people around him, and for a moment he felt all the guilt for how he had treated them two years before rise to the top. Did they forget everything he had done to them? Did they forget how bad he had made them feel? He had treated them so poorly, and yet, now they were there, next to him, showing care and interest in how he was feeling. “Thank you, boys.” He smiled softly.

“You know we’re here.” Sam smiled, giving him a small push with the shoulder. “We’re family.”

“Yeah, bruv.” Isaac added. “But are you going to tell us who this woman is or not?”

However, their conversation was cut short by the door to the changing room opening, and Y/N walking in, looking around, clearly searching for someone. And that was when the boys realised Jamie didn’t need to tell them anything, because as soon as he saw her, he stood up. He fixed his hair and immediately took a step forward. None of them said anything. They just remained quiet and watched the scene unfold in front of their eyes.

“Jamie.” You smile once you finally met his eyes.

“Y/N” He replied, softly, taking another step towards her.

“Do you… do you think we could talk for a moment? Alone?” She said quietly, but the silence in the room made it extremely complicated for her not to be heard by everyone.

Jamie nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

You smiled, turning around to exit the changing room. Jamie took a deep breath, turning quickly to look at the four guys standing a few steps away from him. He nodded to them, and they nodded to him in return, as a way to say ‘you got this’ or ‘go get her’. So, he took one more deep breath, and followed her outside.

Once he stepped into the corridor, he noticed Keeley and Rebecca standing in the middle of it, looking at the two of them. Keeley smiled, which gave Jamie a boost of confidence, Whereas Rebecca was looking at him in such an intimidating way that immediately sent shivers running down his spine. He knew they were there for you, and he knew how much they cared for you, so it wasn’t difficult for him to understand what Rebecca’s gaze meant: ‘break her heart and I’ll break you’.

He greeted the two women with a quick nod, before realising you were still walking down the corridor. “Wait up, Y/N!” He said, jogging after you. “Where are we going?”

“Boot room. It’s the quietest place in here.” You looked at him, noticing his expression, as if he wanted to say something. “I already asked Will to leave us alone in there.” You replied, quickly grabbing him by his hand and pulling him through the doorway.

“You always think about everything.” He chuckled, getting into the room. He never really understood when or how that room had become like a sort of therapy room for the team, where most of them went when they needed to get something off of their chest or just be alone, but couldn’t leave the clubhouse. That place stank like hell. But he was glad nonetheless for the privacy. “You had your supporters with you as well, uh?” He smiled.

“Yeah.” You laughed under your breath. “They are actually the ones that forced me to come and talk to you.”

“Should I be scared, then?”

“No! No.” You shake your head. “I don’t think so.” You started pacing around the room, trying to give order to all the things you had in your head at the moment.

“Is everything alright?” Jamie looked at you, slightly worried.

You looked at him, taking a deep breath. “Yes.” You nodded. “Just give me a moment because I haven’t really thought about what I want to say to you. Or rather, how I want to say it to you.”

Jamie nodded, taking a step towards you and catching your hand before you stepped away again. “Do you mind if I go first, then?”

You looked at him, surprise painted all over your face. You didn’t know what to say, so you simply nodded, waiting for him to talk.

“Okay, so, first of all, I wanted to tell you that last night was… well, I really enjoyed spending time with you, and I really wish we could do it more often.” He smiled, squeezing your hand as a way to catch your attention. “And then to the difficult part... Okay. The boys told me to just be me self. But it’s difficult, you know? Because, like, I am always me self, but when I’m with you, I’m different from how I am with the others. Not in the sense that I’m not truly me self, but in the sense that, when I’m with you, I’m me self even more than usual.” He stopped, looking down. “Sorry, I didn’t really have anything prepared either.” He chuckles.

You couldn’t help but smile. “Go on, you’re doing great.” You said, trying to look at him in the eyes.

“What I’m trying to say is that when I’m with you, I feel like I’m truly me self. Like I’m the most authentic version of me. And I like it. I want to be like that always. But I feel like I can only be like that when I’m with you.” He looks at you. “I lied before. I don’t want to be with you more often.” You stopped and looked at him completely confused. “I want to be with you as much as I can. I want to be with you every fucking day.” You giggled, feeling the blood rushing up your neck and to your cheeks. “I want to make lunch for you. Well, no, okay. I want to learn how to make lunch for you. I want to take you out to dinner. And I also want to order in and watch a movie on a couch like we did last night. I want you to play with me hair because, fuck, that’s the most relaxing shit ever.” You bit your bottom lip, trying to contain all the happiness that you were feeling in that moment. “I want to go out with our friends and be able to show you off. I want to hold your hand as we walk down the street.”

“Jamie…”

“Wait a second.” He interrupted you, pulling you even closer. “I want you to wear my jersey at matches. And to cheer for me. And I want to kiss you whenever we win a match. In front of everyone. I want to go out and celebrate with the team, and while we’re there, I want to hold you close while we talk with them, and then be able to just walk home together and celebrate just the two of us. And I don’t mean have sex. I mean, that would be fun, but I meant like having a party just the two of us. Drinking, and dancing and laughing. Or we don’t have to go home, and we can just walk around town all night, like we did that time.” He became all serious all of a sudden. “I want to be able to protect you from creepy old men. Actually, no. That wouldn’t be necessary because you would never need to go out by yourself ever again.”

“Jamie, I…”

“Wait, I’m not done.” He interrupted you once more. “I want to be able to sleep over at your place and you over at mine. I want us to buy toothbrushes to leave at the other’s house. I want to wake up next to you like we did today, but I want that every single day. I want to have me clothes at your place and your clothes at mine. I want to drive Roy mad by telling him last minute that I’m sleeping over at your place, so he has to come all the way there. And after I’m done training with him, I want to stop at a cafe as I get back home and I want to buy your favourite latte, so that you can wake up to the smell of warm coffee every day.”

“Jamie!” You shouted, trying to stop him from talking.

“What?”

“Just-” Your hands found their way to the back of his head, as your eyes remained fixed on his. “Just kiss me, will you?” You laughed, before pulling him down towards you.

When your lips finally crashed against one another, you could feel the tension you had been holding in your stomach finally releasing. You pushed yourself on your tiptoes, as Jamie’s hands slowly and softly found their resting place on the small of your back, helping you up, and pulling you closer to his chest. Your hands played with his hair, and in that moment, you were sure he could feel your heart beating like crazy in your chest.

“So…” He whisper while pulling slightly away, only to press his forehead against yours. “Did you want to say something?”

You kept your eyes closed, too afraid to open them and realise that it was only just a dream. “I think you said everything.” You chuckled, trying to get some air back in your lungs.

“Well, if you wanted to say something…”

“Jamie.”

“What?”

“I love you.”

A/N: sorry, this was so long! so, if you read it all the way through, then thank you! please, feel free to leave me any kind of feedback and don't forget to send me suggestions or requests if you have them! thank you again! ily <3

[magicshopaholic]

Helping Hands

Summary: Seokjin makes a suggestion without realising its consequences. Yoongi tries to help but faces resistance. Hoseok skips dance rehearsal. Jungkook gets involved against his will.

Pairing: Seokjin x OC, Yoongi x OC, Hoseok x OC, minor Namjoon x OC (different OCs)

Genre: Mild humour, awkwardness, tension, angst

Word count: 14.1 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: language, alcohol, kissing, dubious sexual harassment

A/N: It's been a whole month since the last fic; I feel like I've been reborn as I format this post. Hope you all enjoy this - it's a lot of chaos and movement of plot. Enjoy and let me know what you think!

You will all be pleased to know that I have once again not edited this fic. Takes place approximately two months after Touch, three months after Near Misses, and about four months after Tea and Olive (and about a month after Final Destination).

Tagging: @bbl32@ quarter-life-crisis2 @meirkive  @faearchives @margopinkerton  @dreaming-with-happiness  @confessionsofamarshlily  @purpleseoul7 @sumzysworld

Listen to: "mr brightside" by the killers

seokjin masterlist | yoongi masterlist | hoseok masterlist | main masterlist

Chaeyoung [19:10] Big Hit lobby. SOS.

Something catches in Hoseok’s chest. Suddenly, Seokjin’s struggles with a combination don’t seem as worrisome.

“I’ll be right back,” he says shortly, picking up his jacket and racing down the hallway to the lifts, ignoring Namjoon calling his name.

Hoseok hurries into the lobby and scans the area, noting that nothing seems to look out of place. He spots her then; she’s by the sofas in the waiting area, standing on one hip and frowning mildly at her phone in one hand. The other hand is absently playing with the corner of a sparkly pink scarf around her neck.

He walks up to her, his heart already slowing slightly. “Chae,” he says, mostly to snap her out of her laser gaze at her phone.

She looks up at him and her face breaks out into a grin. “Oppa, hi!” she exclaims brightly. “What’s up?”

“What’s -” He shakes his head. “What do you mean? Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she says, nodding. “Why?”

“Because -” Hoseok frowns, fishing his phone out of his pocket and finding her text, wondering wildly if he’d imagined this. “Did you send me this?” he asks, turning the screen to her. “SOS?”

Chaeyoung raises her eyebrows and nods in understanding. “Yeah. Yeah, I did. The receptionist wouldn’t let me upstairs to see you without having to sign in and I needed to find a way to bring you down here immediately. I’m taking the bus home and it’s going to be here in, like, ten minutes.” She shrugs in a what-are-you-going-to-do kind of way.

Hoseok stares at her incredulously. “Are you kidding me right now? I just had a heart attack.”

“Why?”

“Because you said SOS! Save - Our - Souls!” he exclaims, clapping his hands to punctuate each word. “I thought something was wrong. I thought you were -” Here, he catches himself and forces himself to take a deep breath. “Forget it. What do you want?”

Chaeyoung doesn’t answer right away. She looks somewhat uncertain, as though just realising her harmless trick might have backfired. “I, uh…” She clears her throat and rummages in her tote bag. “I brought you a coffee,” she says, bringing out a clear glass with brown liquid and ice cubes rattling inside it. “It’s an Americano,” she adds, stretching her hand out to him until he takes it.

Hoseok stares. “And?”

“And -” She dives into her tote bag again, this time revealing a baby blue cardboard box. “- a muffin!”

His eyes dart from her face to the muffin and back to her. “I’m on tour. I can’t eat sugar.”

“Oh, it’s a sugar-free muffin.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Probably. I don’t know.” She sighs and Hoseok hopes she’s finally getting to the point. “Can we - can we talk somewhere a little more private?”

He struggles not to roll his eyes. “Okay,” he says drily, turning around and leading them to a meeting room inside a corridor behind the main lobby. He pushes the glass door open and holds it for her to skip inside, before closing it behind him. The white lights turn on automatically and the projector screen blinks to life.

“Alright,” he says, placing the coffee on the table and sighing. “What was so important that you needed to trick me into leaving rehearsal midway?”

“Okay,” she begins, placing her hands on the table and licking her lips. They are a glossy pink, notices Hoseok, looking light and natural yet perfectly made up. Maybe they’re pinker against her skin, or it’s the lighting. 

“- have a proposal for you. Oppa?”

Hoseok starts, realising he’s missed what she’s said while being distracted by the colour of her lips. Mortified, he clears his throat. “Sorry,” he mutters shortly, shaking his head. “Uh, I haven’t… slept. What did you say?”

She frowns but nods. “I was saying… do you remember when Chanyeol threw his fifteenth birthday party at our house and when all of you were playing Truth or Dare and I tried to join in, you said that the game was only for people without braces and then I ran away and cried in my bedroom?”

He stares at her, dumbfounded. “I… what?”

Chaeyoung raises her eyebrows. “I’m not making this up. This actually happened.”

“No, I - I remember. Oh, God,” he mutters, his neck starts to heat up with embarrassment. “Why are you bringing this up now?”

“And,” she continues, on a roll apparently, “remember when one of your idiot classmates sneaked in peppermint schnapps and even though I saw you all drinking, I still didn’t rat you out even after you were a jerk to me?”

Hoseok chokes, wishing the ground would swallow him up. “Is this why you showed up here? To remind me of my shameful past?”

“No, actually. I came here to give you a chance to redeem yourself.”

“Okayyy.”

“And to very generously unburden you of the plus-one you have for the three Michelin star restaurant opening at the St Regis tomorrow night at six pm, hosted by Marco Pierre White,” she adds seamlessly.

Hoseok stares at her for a moment before chuckling. “Wow, that was worth the journey. You bought a coffee and a muffin for that?” he asks, rolling his eyes.

Chaeyoung squeezes her eyes shut and clasps her hands in front of her chest. “Please, oppa? Please, please, please, please -”

“You want to be my date to an event?” 

“No, I don’t want to be your date - I want to be a plus-one. Just - just allow me entry into the event and I’ll leave you alone after that,” she promises. “You won’t even remember I’m there.”

Fat chance of that. But he doesn’t say it, opting to take a minuscule bite of the muffin and let her continue on her spiel.

“Look,” she sighs through her nose. “This is for work. I need content, okay? The last few stories I’ve submitted have been nothing special,” she says. “Those are the actual words my boss used: nothing special. And the other two in my team - one is the son of a CEO and the other is the literal niece of the editor. The only person I have is you,” she finishes.

He raises his eyebrows. “Me?”

“Yes! And if I get to cover this -” She lets out a low breath. “It’ll be everything. It’s super exclusive so it’ll be luxury, it’ll be art, culture, music, business. It’ll be everything,” she repeats, her eyes huge and wide and pleading. “I really need this, oppa, please, please?”

Something feels like it’s being squeezed in Hoseok’s heart and he resists the urge to pinch her cheeks. He sighs hugely and closes his eyes, wondering how the hell he went from barely being able to stand her to being on the verge of inventing a plus-one for her if needed.

“Oh, my God.” Chaeyoung gasps suddenly, her cheeks reddening. “You’ve already used your plus-one, haven’t you?”

“No! No - no, I haven’t,” he answers, shaking his head. “And… fine. I’ll take you.”

She freezes for a second, then breaks out into a grin. “Really? Oh - thank you, oppa!” she exclaims in delight, reaching forward and hugging him before stepping back and clapping her hands. “It was the coffee, wasn’t it?”

“That - that helped,” he agrees, reeling slightly in the flowery scent.

“And I promise you won’t even know I’m there,” she reiterates. “I’ll get there on time - I’ll take the bus. Just give my name to the door or whatever and I’ll get there myself and I won’t bother you at all.”

“You don’t have to do that,” he tells her, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at her dramatics. “There won’t be any cameras inside so you’ll be fine.”

Chaeyoung shrugs and beams. “Either way. I owe you big time. Or not, actually,” she adds suddenly. “You know, because of the whole… schnapps and braces thing.”

“Yes, I remember,” he says quickly, his face heating up again. “We’re even.”

“Okay, great. See you tomorrow!” She hugs him again before gathering her stuff and heading to the door. “Thanks again!”

Hoseok watches her leave through the glass doors, his stomach floating. A moment later, he picks up the muffin and takes a large bite of it and scoffs inwardly. Chocolate. 

He takes a second bite and heads back up to practice.

—

Seokjin takes advantage of the few minutes that Hoseok has disappeared and lies down on the floor of the practice room, spread-eagled. All he can hear are the sounds of his heart pounding from the intense cardio, his heavy breathing and the blood pumping in his ears.

“Hyung.” A foot nudges his shoulder. “Do the bridge combo with me.”

Seokjin doesn’t even open his eyes. “No.”

“Come on, we need to practice.”

He appreciates the we that Jungkook tactfully tacks on, but shakes his head. “I’m good.”

“Just once.”

“No.”

“Hyung, what about you?” He’s talking to someone else now. Seokjin is too tired to open his eyes and see who it is, but thankfully that person lets himself be known.

“No.”

Yoongi’s answer has a finality to it that Seokjin will never be able to achieve, its biggest achievement being that Jungkook doesn’t ask him a second time. Seokjin opens his eyes a millimeter to see the maknae skip to the other side of the practice room and harass Jimin, watching them for a few seconds before sighing and dragging himself up into a sitting position.

“How great would it be if I sprained my ankle or something right now?” he mutters to Yoongi.

Yoongi doesn’t look away from where Taehyung and Jimin, and now Jungkook, are practicing their routine. “So you can sit out the next couple of days and get some rest?”

“Exactly.”

He shurgs. “Tomorrow is a light day. Ish. Just filming in the morning and the other thing in the evening.” 

“Oh, yeah.” Seokjin doesn’t mind it. He’s not looking forward to it, per se, but Seulgi will be there, other friends from the industry will be there and since they won’t be in an English-speaking country, he’s sure to be less self-conscious while making conversation.

“Are you bringing Seulgi?”

Seokjin nods. “I told the company two weeks ago, when they emailed us the invite. I don’t miss the constant follow-ups, believe me,” he sighs, stretching. “Are you bringing anyone?”

Yoongi doesn’t answer for a moment. “I don’t think so,” he says eventually. “I guess I’ll have to tell the company. They’ll make a fuss, though, that I’m telling them at the last moment.”

“Wait, you still have your plus-one?” He waits for Yoongi to nod, just to confirm. “You know who really wants to go? Nari.”

Yoongi raises his eyebrows. “Your Nari?”

“My friend Nari,” he clarifies, having expected this. “But… yeah. I told her about it a couple of days ago and she said she tried to get tickets to it but the handful of public ones sold out in half a day. I mean… obviously, I can’t take her. But if you have an extra and you aren’t doing anything with it…” He trails off, giving Yoongi a meaningful look.

Yoongi frowns mildly. “You’re really okay with that? You, Nari… your girlfriend… together?”

Seokjin bites his lip and looks away. He and Nari had resumed their friendship tentatively - so tentatively that he doesn’t even want to talk about it for fear of jinxing it. He’d decided to give Nari space after that disastrous dinner, utterly confused as to why she was so angry with him all the time and what he was meant to do to make it better. Weeks passed with no contact until it occurred to Seokjin that if he didn’t reach out first, they would potentially never speak again.

It began with a single text; he’d messaged requesting her to wish her parents a happy anniversary. She’d responded hours later with a Sure, but since it was more than Seokjin had expected, he’d used it as a segue to mention her parents’ anniversary party years ago and the conversation continued. 

For the first time in his life, Seokjin was glad to be on tour. It provided the right amount of distance while also giving him a valid excuse to miss her - somehow, missing Nari felt like he was being unfair to Seulgi. He didn’t want to talk to any of his friends about it for fear of being right so he kept it restricted to texts as far as possible, something which seemed to suit Nari as well.

He’d been upfront about it with Seulgi; she’d sounded a bit surprised at first but didn’t say much more about it. He knew it couldn’t go on like this forever, though, that they would have to meet sometime. This event seemed as good as anything: Nari actively wanted to go, Seokjin had found a way for that to happen, and there was no pressure on any of them to host.

“It’s an event,” says Seokjin. “It’s not going to be the three of us alone.”

Yoongi nods but doesn’t pry. “Sure. I’ll let Nari know.” 

A weight seems to have been lifted from Seokjin’s shoulders. “Thank you.” 

Yoongi simply nods, but Seokjin sighs inwardly in relief. He would be seeing Nari again; maybe this would be the beginning of something new. Something different.

—

Nari’s hand jerks by a millimeter when her phone rings suddenly, causing her to disturb the clean line of sutures she’s practicing.

“Damn it,” she whispers, moving the surgical scissors to her left hand and retrieving her phone from the pocket of her lab coat hanging on the back of her chair. She reads the name on the screen and frowns, her momentary irritation forgotten as she answers it uncertainly. 

“Yoongi?” she asks, just to be sure. She can’t remember the last time she met Yoongi; it has to have been a year, at least.

“Hey, Nari.” There’s a shuffle on the other end. “Hope I’m not bothering you.” There’s a pause. “I texted.”

“Oh.” She checks her notifications to see two messages from him from half an hour ago. “Sorry. I’ve been busy today,” she says, placing the phone on the table, putting it on speaker. She’s alone in the skills lab for once and she’s determined to master these sutures today, even if she has to do it while on the phone.

“No problem. I, uh… do you want to go to this restaurant opening tomorrow? It’s called… Mélanges, I think. I have an extra ticket.”

Nari almost messes up another suture. Placing the practice kit to the side and frowning at the phone, she repeats his own words back to him. “Do I want to go… to the Melange opening night… with you?”

“That’s right.”

There’s another pause, this time lasting longer while Nari tries to process this. She wonders briefly if she’s missing something.

“You have an extra ticket? Or is it a plus-one?” she prods, hoping he’ll prove her wrong.

“It’s a plus-one,” he confirms, his voice a monotone. “The company gave all of us the option to bring someone.”

This, she knows. She knows who Namjoon will bring, who Taehyung will bring depending on what his situation with that racer girl is, who Seokjin will bring…

“Are you in?”

Nari bites her lip. “Why me? Don’t you have anyone else you’d like to take?” She says this with an awkward chuckle.

“No,” he says flatly. “And Jin hyung said you wanted to go and I have an extra, so I thought I’d ask.”

“Seokjin told you to ask me?” The words are out of her mouth before she can help it. She can’t imagine Seokjin would ever set her up, with Yoongi no less. Something feels like it’s sinking in her stomach, but it’s so slow and so heavy that she doesn’t have the mental bandwidth to focus on it right now.

“I have to get into a meeting.”

The hint is clear. Nari leans back in her chair, her gaze falling on the abandoned sutures. She’s scrubbing in on a CABG surgery tonight, one that’s sure to go on well into the morning. She has to get these sutures right by then, just like she has to be in a place where Seokjin setting her up doesn’t it bother her.

Besides, she really wants to go. It’s an opportunity to get out of the hospital and be in something other than scrubs and, if she’s lucky, put on some make-up.

“Um, yeah. Sure. What time?”

“It starts at six. I’ll text you the address.” There’s a click and Yoongi hangs up.

Nari watches her phone screen go dark, her mind moving in slow motion. Yoongi is the last person she ever expected to have this conversation with but then again, Seokjin is the last person she expected to meddle in her love life. 

But it’s time, she supposes. She would have had to see him sometime and if she’s seeing him with Seulgi, it wouldn’t hurt to have a date on her arm as well, even if it is a person who until today was only ever Seokjin’s quietest friend.

—

Chaeyoung stares at two pairs of heels, one white and one violet, wondering which one would be more professional and still the one that would allow her to stay on her feet longer.

She wishes they would speak to her. She’s already getting late and if the bus is also late, she can say goodbye to the first section of her research on the set-up and arrival of the attendants.

The doorbell rings just as she picks the violet pair. Pulling them on as she hops to the door, she opens it to reveal Hoseok, in an all-black ensemble, with the shirt unbuttoned to reveal a sliver of tan collarbone, and his hair perfectly styled.

“Hey,” she says slowly, placing her foot back on the ground. “What are you doing here?”

Hoseok, who seems to be momentarily surprised at seeing her in a dress, shrugs belatedly. “What do you mean? You’re my date for tonight, so… I’m picking you up.”

He says it like it’s obvious. Chaeyoung doesn’t respond for a moment, an ancient, repressed part of her heart skipping a beat at the sentiment. 

“Oh,” she says. “You didn’t have to do that. I was going to take the bus, but… come in,” she adds, opening the door wider.

“Unfortunately, my parents raised me better than that,” he quips, stepping inside with his hands inside his pockets. A faint, comforting scent of cologne travels with him, of something light and airy. “Are you ready?”

“Almost,” she replies, suddenly remembering her heels and bending to fasten them. When she stands up straight, she’s nearly three inches taller.

Hoseok raises his eyebrows. “It’s like magic,” he jokes dryly, his eyes dropping lower and his smile fading slightly. His gaze stutters around her chest before he meets her eyes deliberately. “Are you sure that’s not…” He swallows awkwardly. “Too revealing?”

Chaeyoung frowns and looks down, seeing the hints of cleavage she’d deliberately picked this dress out for. In her opinion, it made her look more womanly and less childish; it has come to her notice that she might be taken less seriously than her peers due to her youthful appearance and while it sounds like a compliment, Chaeyoung knows it’s no way to get ahead in her career.

“No,” she answers, adjusting her neckline. “Believe me, I chose this dress for a reason. You know, you really didn’t have to come,” she repeats, sounding slightly apologetic. “You’re doing me a big enough favour by just inviting me.”

“It’s not a big deal. The last thing I need is you calling me from outside the event because security won’t let you in.”

Chaeyoung chuckles good-naturedly. “Well, that doesn’t not sound like me,” she agrees, disappearing back into her room. “Still,” she adds from inside, “it’s really cool of you.”

Hoseok struggles not to roll his eyes and checks his watch. They’ll make it on time if she wraps up in the next couple of minutes. He wonders if he can talk her into wearing some kind of scarf before deciding it’s not worth the hassle, for it’s almost guaranteed to start a fight.

“Chae, I don’t mean to be that guy,” he calls out, hearing vague sounds from inside her room, “but we should head out soon.”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” she says hurriedly, clutching a fistful of jewellery and shuffling out of the room in tiny steps, he presumes, so as to not trip over her heels. “You really didn’t have to do this, you know. I’m totally fine getting there by myself,” she tells him sombrely. “I hate to inconvenience you.”

“Fine, I’ll just leave in that case. You can take the bus and meet me there.” He turns to leave.

“Okay, okay.” She grabs his arm and grins sheepishly. “Thank you for the ride, oppa,” she says sweetly.

Hoseok does his best to ignore the vague fluttering in his stomach. “You got it. Now can we go?”

“Yeah, just a minute.” She heads over to the dining table and lays out the jewellery and mercifully doesn’t spend much time deciding on the simple silver chain with a pendant dangling from it. Grabbing a small clutch from the table, she approaches him.

“Do you mind?” She hands him the necklace. “I spent an hour doing my nails to perfection today and I really don’t want to ruin them.”

“Oh - um, okay.” A little taken aback, Hoseok takes the necklace, noting the dark purple pendant that matches her shoes. Chaeyoung turns around expectantly and he gingerly moves his arms over her head to bring the necklace around her neck. Before he can say anything, she sweeps her long hair off her neck and over her shoulder, revealing more skin than Hoseok had anticipated.

His fingers slightly unsteady, he tries to focus all his concentration on the delicate silver clasp and not on anything else - not his fingers brushing the indents of her spine, not the thin straps of her dress against her exposed back, not her moving closer to him to give him a better view so he can -

“Oh!” Hoseok jumps backwards like he’s been burnt. Chaeyoung turns around, too, looking startled.

“What?”

“I -” He looks up to see her frowning. “Nothing. It - it’s done,” he stutters, watching as she feels for the clasp and tugs at it once.

“Cool. Thanks.” She nods, flipping her hair back and looking at him. “Are you okay?”

Not trusting himself to speak, Hoseok nods. He can still feel her hips brushing against his, the suddenness of it and the smoothness of the satin, mixed with the flowery perfume.

“Sure?”

“Let’s go,” he says abruptly, spinning on his heel and stalking out the front door. He hears her gathering her keys and closing the door and he subtly adjusts his slacks, making sure she doesn’t notice when she joins him.

—

When they enter the venue, Chaeyoung lets out a low whistle.

“Holy shit,” she whispers, her gaze darting around the interior bathed in golden light. “I owe you big time for this, oppa.” She fluffs out her hair and takes a deep breath as Yoongi joins them, to whom she gives a small wave. “Okay, I see Sooah. She promised me tips on which guest to start with so I can work my way through the crowd. Thanks again for this,” she says, squeezing Hoseok’s arm appreciatively and walking away. 

Hoseok watches her go in the direction of the small makeshift stage, her long hair dancing behind her. He can’t help but feel a little sorry as she does, for he was hoping she would at least hang around with him for the initial bit of the party.

“Isn’t that your friend’s sister?”

“What?” His train of thought interrupted, he turns to see Yoongi raising his eyebrows blankly. “Oh. Yeah. She needed access to a bunch of socialites for work, so I thought…” He gestures vaguely.

Yoongi nods. “She’ll definitely find those here. I kind of thought this would be a totally different crowd.” He clicks his tongue.

“The Samsung chairman is here,” he replies, tilting his head towards a group of men in slick suits. “So it’s that crowd. I mean, look around - there’s his daughter, she’s always in the paper. Then there’s… oh, that actor - Dong-won? Something like that. Choi Siwon is here, whoa… Suh Minjung, Kang Sera, Lim Hayeon…”

Yoongi pauses. Something stirs in the back of his mind. A name, a face, lots of diamonds, an air of superiority laced with insecurity. Just as he starts flipping through the memories, they’re joined by Seokjin and with him, his girlfriend Seulgi in a salmon-coloured dress, holding a martini glass.

“This restaurant is going to be insane,” declares Seokjin, once they’re done with basic pleasantries. “The appetisers are to die for.”

“The cocktails aren’t bad either,” says Seulgi approvingly, taking a sip of hers.

“I’ll take your word for it,” says Hoseok, his stomach already rumbling. He looks around again to see if he can spot Chaeyoung, his heart sinking slightly when he doesn’t see her. He doesn’t know how she’s planning to approach all these people tonight; he wonders if he should bring her a drink, just for liquid courage.

“Who else is here?” Seokjin asks.

“Taehyung and Jimin are running late, as usual,” supplies Yoongi. “Jungkook is here somewhere and Namjoon said he was reaching a few minutes ago…” He fishes out his phone, presumably to check.

“Isn’t that him right there?” Seulgi points towards the bar, and all three men turn to see Namjoon, tall and blond, at the bar. They watch as he accepts a glass of whiskey and takes a big sip from it, swallowing it with a pained frown before visibly forcing his face to relax as he starts to socialise.

“That’s not good,” remarks Hoseok in a low voice. “How was he in the studio today?” he asks Yoongi.

“I didn’t go. He said he could do it himself.” He shrugs apologetically. “I was fine avoiding him for a bit.”

Seulgi frowns. “Why are you guys avoiding him?”

Seokjin sighs hugely. “He and his girlfriend broke up and he’s… kind of using all his energy to be normal on stage and in public,” he ventures.

“So, he’s totally depressed in private,” says Hoseok, voicing what Seokjin had tactfully left unsaid.

She winces. “That’s rough.”

Seokjin makes a noise of acknowledgement. “We can’t let him drink himself to death tonight just because there’s an open bar, though. Someone needs to look out for him.”

Hoseok gives him a look. “He’ll be fine; he’s technically working. But I can do it,” he adds quickly, when Seokjin narrows his eyes at him. “For a while.”

“I’ll take over for you,” offers Yoongi as Hoseok leaves to go to Namjoon, looking at his phone again. “Nari’s calling - hang on.” He answers it and backs away from the rest of the group.

“Right.” Seokjin exhales and puts his hands in his pockets. “I almost forgot Nari was coming.”

He misses Seulgi’s fleeting frown. “Really? You mentioned it in the car.”

“Did I?”

“Yeah.”

Seokjin looks confused for a moment but then looks ahead to see Yoongi and Nari entering the venue, stopping at the bar first. They seem to be speaking in short sentences, his hands in his pockets and hers crossed over her chest as she looks around warily. Her eyes meet Seokjin’s for a moment and he smiles a bit in response, raising a tentative hand in greeting. At that moment, however, the bartender slides her drink across the bar and she turns away, nodding at something Yoongi says.

They walk over, Nari hanging back slightly as they approach. 

Seulgi speaks first. “Hi, Nari,” she says, giving her a small smile. “It’s good to see you.”

“Yeah,” replies Nari, looking slightly awkward. “You, too.” There’s a pause where no one speaks. “You look nice.”

“Thank you. You do, too.”

“Thanks.”

Seokjin, feeling rather like he wants to die, takes a deep breath. “Good to know you got the evening off.”

“Yeah, I was in a fourteen hour surgery last night and I’ve worked overtime this week.” She shrugs and her face relaxes a bit. “They basically told me to take the night off.”

He smiles a little wider, glad they’re at least talking, when Yoongi interrupts them.

“I’ll be right back,” he says abruptly, walking away with no further explanation, his gaze trained in one direction.

Leaving the others, he walks as quickly as he can without attracting attention, making a beeline for a person whom the universe has made it impossible for him to run into at Big Hit during the last two days that he’s been here in Seoul.

Miso notices him when he’s about ten feet away, her face lighting up momentarily at the sight of him before it immediately freezes into a warning one. Her eyes widen and she shakes her head infinitesimally, but he’s already reached her.

“Hey, stranger,” he mutters, sounding slightly breathless to his own ears.

“Go away,” she whispers through gritted teeth. “Now.”

Something feels like it’s getting crushed in his stomach when she looks away from him, but it’s only then that he notices who she’s with; a group of women, all dressed in designer wear and holding glasses of champagne, beginning to take notice of him one by one.

“You look familiar,” says one of them, looking brilliantly beautiful in a red low-cut gown. “Are you an actor?”

Yoongi starts to shake his head, but someone else answers for him.

“No. He’s Miso’s… friend.” Kang Sera, once again laden in diamond jewellery and a beige dress with smaller diamonds encrusted in it, smiles without disturbing the rest of her face. “You have been to my house,” she states.

“Well… yes, ma’am.” Yoongi nods, noting from the corner of his eye how Miso stiffens next to him. She’s in a white dress tonight, looking smaller and more delicate among this crowd of rich socialites than he’s ever seen her. He forces himself not to turn towards her. “It’s nice to see you again.”

Sera gives him that same cold smile before turning to her daughter. “Miso, you may go with your friend if you wish,” she offers. “You don’t have to stay with us. We’ll just bore you.” Everyone titters in response.

Yoongi is about to sigh inwardly in relief when, to his surprise, Miso shakes her head. “Thank you, Mother, but we’re just colleagues. Yoongi has other friends here. I’ll see you tomorrow at work,” she says to him smoothly, reaching over to switch her empty champagne flute from a passing waiter. She turns away again, this time with a sinking finality.

He swallows and backs away, before turning around and finishing the rest of his drink in one go as he walks away. He’s barely reached the bar again when his phone buzzes in his pocket.

Kang Chanel [18:50] I’m sorry. But you have to stay away tonight.

All of a sudden, the room seems a little brighter. Yoongi looks in her direction; she isn’t looking at him, standing silently and unsmiling among the other women of Seoul, looking terribly out of place. 

Min Suga [18:51] Why? I’m not afraid of your mother.

He watches as she subtly turns her phone towards her, her hand near her hip, and types out a reply with one hand.

Kang Chanel [18:51] You don’t have to be. Just do as I ask. Please.

Yoongi clutches his phone tightly, feeling every lingering ounce of worry and fear and downright uncertainty about Miso that he’s kept to himself the last two months while on tour. That’s the worst part: the uncertainty of what the hell her life is, of why she’s so guarded all the time. Every conversation he’d initiated stayed frustratingly limited to texting, making it far easier for her to divert the topic every time it came to her. 

“How’s it going?” Hoseok appears from seemingly nowhere, tapping his fingers on the bar. “Um… one appletini and… one Long Island Iced Tea,” he says to the bartender before turning back to Yoongi. “Hyung?”

“Fine,” he says shortly. “What about you? Two drinks?”

“One’s for Chaeyoung,” he answers. “She’s been gone for a while and I just want to make sure she’s okay and stuff. Have a drink with her, make sure she’s not lonely or bored. I brought her here; it’s only polite.”

Yoongi nods absently before frowning. “Weren’t you on Namjoon duty?”

“Yeah, but you’re going to have to take over now. If you want company, you can ask… no, Jimin is hanging around Sooah… oh, Taehyung is free,” he offers. “He and Jungkook are discussing the conditions for Dilara’s race this weekend but other than that, they might be fun.”

He considers this. “Sure. Not like I have anything else to do,” he mutters, taking his second whiskey and hopping off the stool.

Something is off with Yoongi, Hoseok is sure. But he isn’t about to let that negativity dim his focus. He grabs the drinks and snakes through the crowd to where he sees Chaeyoung with a couple of vaguely familiar chaebol-turned-actors, and Park Jimin. They’re all smiling and talking, and she has her phone out as one of them talks deliberately into the speaker.

“And that’s my official statement,” he declares, winking at her as Hoseok comes closer.

Chaeyoung laughs and locks her phone deliberately. “Thank you. I can’t wait to hear your unofficial statements now.” She turns to see Hoseok. “Oh - hey.”

“Hey,” he says, casually making his way in between her and the guy she was talking to. “Thought I’d get you a drink, in case you’re too busy to get one.”

“Oh, well… technically, I’m working,” she says sheepishly, accepting it anyway. “But one drink won’t hurt, I guess.”

“The more, the better,” her new friend says.

“Hyung, did you get a drink for me, too?” Jimin pipes up hopefully.

“Nope. Who are your friends?” he asks Chaeyoung, smiling frozenly at the other two.

“Oh, this is Lee Eunwoo -” she points to the first one “- and this is, of course, Kim Baekhyun from The Lost Ship,” she finishes, smiling brightly. It’s a different smile, Hoseok notices. He wonders if this is her work smile; either way, he knows it’s one he’s never seen. “This is -”

“J-Hope!” One of them - Eunwoo or Baekhyun - says loudly and in mild wonder. “Honour to meet you!”

Slightly mollified, he nods. “Er, thank you. Are you both -”

“Drinks!” he continues, snapping at a waiter and beckoning for him to come over. Hoseok frowns at him while Chaeyoung and Jimin visibly cringe, and watches as he supplies Jimin and his friend with fresh drinks. “To BTS!” he declares randomly, holding his glass out so everyone clinks theirs with it. 

“Chaeyoung was telling us about her job,” says the other one - Hoseok can’t remember which one he is. “She’s been working very hard tonight,” he adds, giving her another wink.

Hoseok imagines knocking his glass out of his hand so his drink spills down his crisp white shirt. “She’s a hard worker. Always has been,” he says instead, throwing a brave arm around her shoulders. He ignores Jimin’s raise of the eyebrows and the slight pink tinge that appears on Chaeyoung’s cheeks.

He hangs around there for a while, a chaotic group of twenty-somethings drinking with gusto at what was supposed to be a classy event. Sooah joins them for about ten minutes as well, taking a short break from her organising duties, and somehow influences everyone to chug their drinks and get fresh ones.

“I’m good,” says Chaeyoung, good-naturedly declining another drink. Sooah doesn’t push and Hoseok, relieved at Chaeyoung’s decision, is about to decline another one as well when one of the chaebols gets involved.

“I thought we were just getting started!” he groans jokingly. “It’s seven-thirty - the drinking has barely commenced,” he adds, taking another drink from a waiter, who pauses expectantly with the remaining drinks on the tray.

Something about the guy’s - Eunwoo, Hoseok decides - statement sounds vaguely challenging. Hoseok knows better, though. He should know better, but the image of Eunwoo winking at Chaeyoung compels him to accept another flute of champagne and clink it hard with his.

“Hoseok, are you sure?” Chaeyoung asks in a low voice.

“Of course, I am,” he answers, even as his vision swims slightly. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because you’re kind of leaning on me a bit,” she tells him, holding his shoulder to steady him.

“Isn’t that what friends are for?” he asks vaguely, taking another long swig of the bubbly champagne and feeling it go directly to his head. It stings his throat pleasantly and he welcomes the sensation, the only other ones he’s completely aware of being Chaeyoung’s hand on his shoulder and the familiar flowery scent.

She chuckles. “Sure. But maybe you should drink some water?”

It sounds like a good idea. He bites his lip, though, and looks down at Chaeyoung seriously. “And you’ll stay right here when I’m gone?”

“Absolutely,” she promises. “I won’t go anywhere.”

“Alrighty. I’ll come find you.” He pats her head and makes his way to the bar, using all his concentration to walk to the bar in a straight line. The further he gets away from that noisy group, the steadier he feels. He reaches the bar and stops himself next to a woman nibbling on an hors d'oeuvre. 

“Hoseok?”

He does a double take when he notices her. “Nari?” He blinks a couple of times to confirm that it is indeed her. “Wh - hey! It’s been a while. Are you here with, um…”

“Jin? No.” She shakes her head. “I’m here with Yoongi, actually?”

Hoseok wonders if he’s heard her correctly. “Really?” When she nods, he frowns. “Min Yoongi? Like, our -”

“Yes, that one.” She rolls her eyes as her drink arrives, along with Hoseok’s glass of water.

“Oh.” He takes a slow sip. “Does Jin hyung know?”

Nari exhales heavily. “It was his idea, apparently. Unfortunately, my date seems to be very busy and has been MIA for most of the evening so far.”

Hoseok feels rather like he’s missing something, but he’s intrigued. He locates Chaeyoung with some effort, still with the same group, Jimin still with them. Almost as though she can hear his train of thought, she catches his eye and waves, miming drinking something.

“She’s cute,” remarks Nari. “Do you know her?”

“Yeah, she’s my date,” he says, surprisingly easily.

“Mhm. Like a date-date or a date you kind of abandon once she’s inside?”

“Erm… a date-date.” Hoseok chews his bottom lip awkwardly. “God, I hope they serve the food soon,” he says after a few moments.

“Me, too,” she starts to say when, to Hoseok’s immense relief, Namjoon and Yoongi approach them, the latter giving Hoseok a meaningful look as he trails slightly behind the leader.

“Please tell me they’re serving the food soon,” groans Namjoon, placing his empty glass on the bar and standing next to Hoseok. “Oh - hey, Nari.”

Nari nods at him while Yoongi stands on her other side. “Cheers,” he says quietly, clinking his glass with hers, apparently not noticing her motionless stature. “Where’s Jin hyung?” he asks after a moment.

“No idea. How’s your night going?” she asks in turn, a slight bite in her tone.

He shakes his head. “Crap.”

She doesn’t bother answering, choosing to sip at her drink instead. “I could really use some food,” she mutters, mostly to herself.

“I’m heading over to the appetiser station. If you want to come,” offers Namjoon indifferently.

“Sure, why not?” With that, she and Namjoon leave the bar without another word to Hoseok or Yoongi.

“Wait, aren’t you supposed to go with him?” Hoseok hisses.

“Namjoon is a big boy. He can manage himself for a while,” says Yoongi dismissively. His eyes roam the hall, searching for Miso. Every moment that he doesn’t see her feels like something bad waiting to happen; the memories of the last time they were at a party and she disappeared from his sight haunts him. How late he’d been to save her, what possibly happened as a result of it… it’s kept him up more nights than he cares to count, despite Miso herself absolving him of any guilt.

His anger at the enigmatic Kang Jaesung rises again, as it has at various times in the last couple of months. He’s not here tonight, though; Yoongi has checked the guest list with Sooah, but it’s no matter. Miso’s father isn’t here, but her mother certainly is. 

Miso’s message floats through his mind. He knows he should adhere to her wishes but it’s so hard, so difficult to sit here and do nothing and know nothing when he has at least an inkling of how horrible her parents are. Just as he’s struggling with this dilemma, in an insane coincidence, Kang Sera takes Nari’s vacant spot and orders a drink.

Yoongi freezes, noting vaguely as Hoseok floats away with a fresh drink in his hand. Before he can decide whether to say anything, she seems to notice who he is.

“Miso’s friend,” she exclaims, the same half-smile on her face again. 

“Yoongi.” He pauses. “Nice to meet you again.”

“It’s nice to meet a friend of Miso’s. It doesn’t happen very often, actually,” she chuckles. “Remind me again how you know each other?”

“We’re co-producers at Big Hit,” he answers. “We’re in the same - we used to be in the same team. Until recently.” He bites his lip.

“Oh?” She raises an eyebrow. “Why aren’t you anymore?”

She wanted a change and I pushed her into it without knowing. “It’s just part of the deal,” he says instead. “We all work with different producers.”

“Interesting. You’re the only one I’ve ever heard of, though,” she points out. “I’m glad she has a friend. I worry about her sometimes, you know.”

Yoongi lowers his head, trying not to look too confused. He’s insightful enough to know that she’s not being genuine about concern for her daughter, but he also can’t tell what she’s getting at. 

“She’s - she’s good at her job,” he says eventually. “We’ve worked together for a while.”

It’s back, the cold smile, as though she’s forgotten how to show real happiness. “That’s great. You should come home sometime, in that case. For dinner. We have a world renowned private chef who can make you anything you like.”

Yoongi nods his head in silence, more preoccupied with imagining being seated opposite Kang Jaesung at the dining table and keeping calm rather than the private chef and his prowess.

He feels a hand on his shoulder. “In fact, if you’re free -“ 

Something appears in between them and Yoongi realises a moment later that it’s Miso, placing herself between them with her back to him. Her hair brushes against his shoulders and his heart catches.

“Mother, Minseo from Balmain is here,” she says calmly, cutting her off. “She said she was looking for you, so I thought I’d look for - oh. Hello, Yoongi.”

She glances at him for barely a moment; he can almost believe that they hardly know each other. 

Sera raises her eyebrows and her eyes flit between both of them before she nods. “Of course. Have a good evening, Yoongi. And it’s rude to interrupt, Miso.”

With that, she sweeps away in a flash of finery and Chanel No. 5. 

“Wow,” he exhales, shaking his head. “Your mother is -“

“Unbelievable,” hisses Miso, glaring at him before stalking away in the opposite direction from her mother.

“Wait, what?” Momentarily stumped, Yoongi abandons his drink and follows her. She’s fast, though; he doesn’t catch up with her until she’s halfway to the appetiser station, by the giant four foot menus with he five-course meal printed on it. There are fewer people here and she automatically slows down.

“Miso -“ He reaches for her arm but she flinches out of his grasp.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she whispers furiously, her head farting around cautiously.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to - look, you told me to stay away from you and I did, but -“

“When I said stay away, I meant from me and my family. Especially my mother,” she adds with a disgusted look. “Why can’t you just do what I ask, for once?”

“But I didn’t even do anything - she came up to me.”

“So? You couldn’t have walked away?”

“No, that’s rude!” he exclaims, still in the same exchange of whispers, sighing when she scoffs in disbelief. “Look, can you just tell me why -“

“No, I can’t, because it’s none of your business,” she snaps. “Stay away, Yoongi. I mean it.” As though completely unaware of his stomach sinking into his knees, she storms off in a sea of white.

—

Nari states at her reflection in the women’s powder room, the entire area bigger than her living room. She’s starting to realise she has no idea why she’s here or why she’d ever wanted to come in the first place. 

Even worse, she has no idea why it occurred to her one second after she told Seokjin that she wanted to go, that he would be bringing his girlfriend along. Far from it being a way to gingerly reconcile, it’s only serving to remind her why she’d chosen to stay away all this time.

She hasn’t seen any of the others for longer than a few seconds. Hoseok already seems on his way to getting wasted, Jimin greeted her warmly but then scooted off, while Taehyung and Jungkook haven’t been spotted at all.

Ironically, the only person she’s actually talked to tonight has been Namjoon, the one person Yoongi advised her dryly to try and avoid. It was one of eight words that her blessed date had uttered to her before disappearing. Namjoon was clearly in a bad way but misery loves company, and on some cathartic level, Nari was glad to be miserable with someone else who was also miserable.

Except Namjoon knew what he was miserable about. Nari had only an inkling that she refused to get into right now, when the stall door behind her opens, and Seulgi appears.

“Oh.” She looks surprised as well, taking a beat before standing one basin away from Nari. “Hi. Haven’t seen you much tonight.”

Nari nods, not looking at her. She wishes Seulgi hated her. She wishes she hated Seulgi, but beyond a nagging indifference, she can’t find anything.

She is not the problem, says a voice in her head. The voice is knowing, and Nari shuts it up instantly. 

With a huge effort, she meets Seulgi’s gaze in the mirror. “Yeah, I’ve been… around,” she answers. “Went out to get some air and stuff.”

Seulgi nods. She seems far more guarded than she had during the dinner, much more like their accidental chance meeting at the coffee shop. “Yeah, it’s more crowded than I thought it would be. Seokjin’s been in work-mode all night, talking to all these important people.” She shakes her head and half-chuckles. “It’s kind of boring.”

Tell me about it. “I’m just here for the food,” says Nari wryly.

A smile flashes across Seulgi’s face as she washes her hands. “Me, too. Can’t come soon enough.” She pauses. “You came with Yoongi, right?”

“Sort of.”

“Right. Seokjin told me. I wasn’t sure - I saw you with Namjoon a couple of times so I thought maybe…” She shrugs uncertainly.

There’s a couple of seconds where Nari processes what she means. “Oh. No. God, no.” She shakes her head vigorously. “No, no. Absolutely not.”

Seulgi raises her eyebrows at this emphatic denial. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. Sorry. Didn’t mean to assume.”

“That’s okay.”

She nods and begins rummaging in her clutch for lipstick. Nari sneaks a glance at her, wondering wildly for a moment what would happen if Seulgi’s assumption was true. If she and Namjoon did hook up tonight, the amount of alcohol it would take for that to happen, how Seokjin might react…

A moment later, she shakes her head, a little shocked at the road her thoughts took. She sticks her hand out under the faucet and rinses them with rigour, as if hoping to get rid of her momentary insanity.

She and Seulgi exit the powder room together, an awkward distance maintained between them.

“Do you want to join us for a drink?” Seulgi asks, pointing towards the party.

Nari follows the direction of her thumb and sees Seokjin standing with Taehyung and another person she doesn’t recognise, the latter two doing all the talking while Seokjin stands with them, hands in his pockets and comfortably silent. 

He doesn’t like these parties at all. There was a time, aeons ago, where Nari would be studying late at night and would suddenly get a text from Seokjin, complaining about the number of people he was around. They would then engage in a game of reverse twenty questions where Seokjin would get a picture taken with a handful of guests, and he and Nari would invent an entire background and personality for them.

That was Before, though. Now, Nari looks at Seokjin and then at Namjoon across the room where he’s speaking to someone else, nodding with a forced smile on his face. It’s a choice between mostly comfortable silence and minor small talk with a friend, and feeling like her heart is getting squeezed further with every breath she takes.

“Maybe later. Thanks.” Nari waits for her to nod before walking towards Namjoon, deliberately not looking in Seokjin’s direction. “Hey,” she says to him, as his companion floats away. “Do you want another drink?”

“Always,” he mutters, and they head to the bar and order two whiskey sours. Namjoon leans against the bar and surveys the room, exhaling. “Can this night end already?”

“I know, right?”

Namjoon frowns slightly. “Didn’t you come here with Yoongi? Where is he?”

“Who knows?” It was annoying her before, but now she’s over it. Mostly. “Last time I saw him he was talking to some lady at the bar.”

“Really? Who?”

“The rich one.”

He chuckles without humour. “That narrows it down,” he agrees wryly as their drinks arrive. They don’t bother moving but as it turns out, they don’t have to. Her aforementioned date appears then, frowning deeply at nothing in particular as he holds a glass with a tiny bit of golden liquid in it. He gives both Namjoon and Nari a cursory nod and finishes the rest of his drink in one go.

Before they can exchange any more words, Seokjin arrives with Hoseok in tow. He meets Nari’s eyes and gives her a tentative smile that she tries to return before averting her gaze. Namjoon’s words have reminded her of Seokjin’s role in this mess of a situation; his monumentally stupid decision of setting her up with someone who obviously didn’t want to be set up.

“Uh… Namjoon?” Seokjin asks delicately, his eyes on his glass now. “Is that your… fourth? Fifth drink?”

Namjoon pauses, his glass halfway to his mouth. “Third. Why?”

He shrugs. “Just. None of us have actually… seen you drinking for a while, so we weren’t sure. But, okay. Third is… not bad. Third is good.”

Nari struggles not to roll her eyes at how transparent all three of the newcomers are, and if she can tell what they’re up to, Namjoon certainly can.

“I’m fine, hyung,” he says at last. “Just letting loose a little bit.”

Yoongi scoffs, so softly that Nari takes a moment to realise. “What have you been the last two hours then?”

“Keeping your date company,” he shoots back calmly. “Good thing I didn’t bring one, turns out.”

On her other side, Yoongi nods, his jaw hard and his tongue in his cheek. “Not by choice, though.”

Namjoon freezes and even Nari winces inwardly. In front of her, Seokjin purses his lips as though bracing himself for something, while Hoseok openly flinches with his entire face.

“Is that what this is?” Namjoon asks after a moment, looking around at them. “You’re… what? Trying to keep tabs on how much I’m drinking because I went through a break-up?”

“Of course not,” says Seokjin the same time that Hoseok says, “Not exactly.”

Namjoon raises his eyebrows. “I’m doing a lot better than him,” he points out, gesturing at Hoseok, whose face is a brilliant red and is gently swaying next to Seokjin.

He looks like a deer caught in headlights at being called out, before his face relaxes slightly. “Ah, don’t feel bad, Namjoon,” he slurs slightly, placing a sympathetic hand on Namjoon’s shoulder. “We’ve all had fights with girlfriends, so we - we get it,” he says, gesturing towards all three of them.

Yoongi scoffs again. “Yeah, except we don’t make it everybody else’s problem.”

Seokjin clicks his tongue. “Yoongi,” he snaps admonishingly, sneaking a hesitant glance at Namjoon.

“I need some air,” he mutters, not looking at Yoongi. He places his glass on the bar in a deliberate motion and makes a show of displaying his empty hands to everyone, before leaving their small circle and striding away.

There’s some truly awkward silence while Nari sips at her drink for lack of anything better to do. Seokjin is still giving Yoongi a pointed look that the latter is avoiding while Hoseok, rocks back and forth on his feet before letting out a loud breath.

“Okayyy,” he says slowly. “So, I’m going to go find Chaeyoung. You know… make sure she’s doing okay and everything.” Nodding at his own words, he walks away in careful, straight steps.

Nari immediately foresees further discomfort, whether or not either Seokjin or Yoongi leave next, so beats them to it. “And I’m going to go…” She looks around hopefully, spotting Seulgi with Jungkook and deciding that even that is a better pair to be with right now. “... somewhere else.”

Yoongi avoids Seokjin’s gaze, interrupted briefly as he watches Nari walk away, before it returns to him.

“You really had to go there? We all know why he is in such a bad mood,” says Seokjin sternly, “but why the hell are you?”

Yoongi can’t bring himself to respond, for the answer is simply too ironic. The image of Miso walking away from him, her face when she’d first seen Sera speak to him, and her stinging rejection of his desire to help her make him want to yell into a dark tunnel.

Seokjin shakes his head in disappointment and walks off, leaving Yoongi alone to stew in his hideous mixture of anger and stress, and now guilt and shame. His feet take the lead, directing him automatically to Namjoon who has stepped outside near the smoking zone, both his hands in his pockets.

Yoongi stops beside him, half-hoping he’ll walk away. But he doesn’t; in fact, it doesn’t even seem like he’s registered the presence of another person.

“It’s a lot of second-hand smoke,” remarks Yoongi weakly. When Namjoon doesn’t respond, he sighs. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

Namjoon shakes his head once, slowly, presumably indicating his acknowledgement. Yoongi nods and is about to leave, except now that this topic has been broached, he can’t seem to follow his usual habit of not prying.

“I don’t get it, though,” he says, trying his best to be gentle. “How bad was this fight that she broke up with you? Is it the long-distance thing again? Because you’re on tour? I mean, it’s understandable that -”

“It wasn’t a fight,” interrupts Namjoon, not looking at him. “And she didn’t break up with me. I broke up with her.”

Yoongi frowns, for none of them would have guessed that. “What?” he exclaims, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice. “Why?” 

Namjoon is quiet for so long that Yoongi thinks he may not answer at all. “Someone broke into her house,” he answers finally, his voice barely more than a whisper.

A ripple of shock flows through Yoongi. “What? Like… by a burglar?”

“No. By fans. Our fans,” he clarifies, clearer now. “My - “ He breaks off, his tongue sharp in his cheek.

Yoongi remembers the few weeks of intense scrutiny and stress in the aftermath of that leaked video. It’s not hard to put two and two together. “Oh, shit,” he mutters, feeling another stab of guilt he wasn’t expecting to feel tonight. “Is she okay?”

“Yeah, she’s…” Namjoon trails away, then shrugs. “They didn’t hurt her this time.”

There’s a beat of silence. “Wait… is that why you ended it?” He tries to keep his tone neutral but isn’t sure he’s succeeded. 

“I had to. This can’t happen again.” There’s a note of finality in the way he says it, and Yoongi knows he’s not meant to argue with him. He bites his lip as he watches Namjoon, his jaw tight and his eyes frozen straight ahead.

“How - how did she take it?”

He makes a sound of defeat. “She hates me.”

Yoongi tries to picture Kaya - beautiful, mature, dusky-skinned Kaya with adoring eyes when she looks at her taller boyfriend - hating Namjoon, and he decides he can’t. “I’m sure she doesn’t hate you. She’s probably angry, maybe -”

“Oh, she is. But I don’t care.” He does a double take at Yoongi, then looks away. “I mean… of course I care… but she’s safe. She’s angry but she’s safe.” He swallows and continues looking resolutely ahead. “I’ll take any amount of anger from her if it means I’m doing what I can to protect her.”

Something in the way he says it makes Yoongi feel extremely sorry for Namjoon. The logic of his decision aside, it occurs to Yoongi how his twenty-six year old leader probably wrestled with this alone, and suddenly his jab at the bar seems extremely petty.

“Namjoon…” he begins, feeling distinctly like a bad friend and brother, “why didn’t you tell us?”

He shakes his head. “We’re on tour. And it’s not your problem.” He says it matter-of-factly, a moment before he squeezes his eyes shut and presses his thumb and middle finger against them. “But I’m sorry,” he adds. “I haven’t - I haven’t been a good leader.” He sniffs and exhales, not responding to Yoongi’s resolute shake of the head. “I’ll be inside in a minute,” he says, giving Yoongi a momentary glance.

Yoongi nods and grips his shoulder supportively before heading inside. The hall suddenly seems too small, too crowded and too stifling. He needs a cigarette, he decides, and heads to the lobby after checking that it’s devoid of photographers or fans. He passes by the powder rooms on the way to the coat check, when the door opens and Miso steps out, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

“Oh.” He halts, not knowing what more to say to her. She opens her mouth as if to say something, but apparently thinks better of it, side-stepping him and starting to walk away.

Namjoon’s words play in his mind. I’ll take any amount of anger from her if it means I’m doing what I can to protect her. It’s not the same situation, but it’s enough to spur Yoongi into action.

“Miso -” He waits until she turns around, then grabs her hand and motions towards the coat room. “Just one second,” he insists, immensely relieved when she rolls her eyes and follows him. Closing the door behind her and surrounded by designer shrugs, wraps and summer jackets, Yoongi finally breathes.

“You are impossible,” she states, but there’s less anger and more exasperation in her tone. “I swear, Min Suga, sometimes you act like you have nothing better to do than -”

Yoongi interrupts her. “I don’t care if you’re angry,” he declares.

She looks taken aback for a second at being cut off, but then her eyes narrow. “Excuse me?” she asks icily.

He hesitates; somehow, the words sounded far more impactful and heroic when Namjoon uttered them. “I just mean…” He closes his eyes, gathering his thoughts. He really doesn’t want to go overboard. “I don’t want you… to be angry with me. I’m not trying to make you angry but… Miso, I’m not afraid of your parents, okay?”

Miso sighs. “Yoongi -”

“And if I should be, at least tell me why,” he continues. “Because asking me to forget about it or pretend it doesn’t exist is not working. If you’re afraid of your mother, then -”

“I’m not afraid of her,” she blurts out, sighing and placing her hands on her hips before dropping them to her sides. “God, Min Suga… I can’t believe you’re making me say this. Do you remember that time I told you that my mother was sleeping with my twenty-four year old maths tutor?”

Yoongi frowns in surprise, remembering a cold night outside the Big Hit studio, shared cigarettes and mutual bickering. “Uh… yeah. You said you made that up,” he reminds her.

She gives him a look. “Obviously, you know I didn’t. She was sleeping with him… but I was sleeping with him first.” She doesn’t give Yoongi time to process this statement. “Right before I left for Australia? I was in a… situation with a classmate of mine. But then I ended it with him because I found my mom’s earring in his car and I left the country.”

Yoongi’s throat feels stuck. “What are you -”

“My mother was very young when she got married. My father ignores her. She craves attention, especially when it’s someone else’s.” Miso shakes her head and looks away. “And for some reason, she’s got it in her head that I’m her competition,” she finishes in a low voice.

There’s something she isn’t saying, but it’s also clear from the way she folds her arms across her chest that she isn’t going to. Something tugs at Yoongi’s heart as he watches Miso stare defiantly at something behind him, until her eyes dart up to him and she rolls them.

“Jesus, don’t make me spell this out, Min Suga,” she snaps, dropping her arms. “Just… do what I ask and stay away.” She doesn’t move, though, her hard gaze subsiding.

Yoongi closes his fingers into a fist to make sure his hand stays at his side. “You have nothing to worry about,” he says softly. 

Miso’s eyes flicker. “I’m not worried about anything.” But the annoyance and chagrin is fading and unlike every time she’s held his gaze while making some sort of sarcastic point, this time she’s struggling to hold it with the same confidence.

“Good.” His fingers loosen and he lets them. “You shouldn’t be.” He just about registers the statement dawning on her before he steps forward and kisses her, one hand in her hair and the other hovering against her elbow.

He can tell she wasn’t expecting it so he waits for her, waits until the shock wears off and she hesitantly responds, her eyes fluttering shut and her lips slowly increasing in pressure. He opens his mouth against hers only when she does, euphoric that she’s finally, finally telling him something. 

She tilts her head up a bit more and places one hand on his chest for support, and Yoongi gently clutches her hair, suddenly resonating so desperately with Namjoon’s words.

The door of the coat room opens then and Miso jerks away from him. Both their heads whip around to see Nari in the doorway, the surprise in her face already fading away when she sees Yoongi. With a quiet scoff, she steps back and pushes the door shut again.

Miso lets out a shaky breath. “Shit. Who was that?”

“Nari. She’s a friend. Don’t worry,” he adds when she turns slowly towards him again. “She won’t tell anyone.”

She nods and Yoongi realises his hand is still in her hair. He retrieves it with care, his heart still racing with what just transpired. Miso bites her lower lip as her gaze falls to the floor, licking her lips before she looks up at him again.

“Min Suga,” she murmurs, pursing her lips slightly. “You really shouldn’t have done that.”

He shrugs, trying to ignore the pit of disappointment in his stomach. “Too late.”

She shakes her head slightly but doesn’t look angry, or sad, or afraid. But there’s something in her eyes, something conflicted that convinces Yoongi not to regret his impulsive act. She reaches up and rubs the side of his lower lip with her thumb and he has to stop himself from taking her wrist. The skin is clear now but the memory of the bruise around it, something he’s now sure he knows the cause of, stays burned in his mind.

“Wait a couple minutes before you leave, okay?” She raises her eyebrows until he eventually nods, watching her as she slips out of the room and closes the door behind her. 

Alone, Yoongi muffles a groan into his hands. He obeys her, though, counting down the seconds until he deems it appropriate to leave. On his way back to that wretched party, however, he’s accosted by someone.

“Yoongi!” Kang Sera gives him a pearly smile, still guarded, still assessing. “What a coincidence. I haven’t seen Miso around for a while - would you have any idea where she is?”

Yoongi shakes his head, not trusting himself to speak.

“Oh. Never mind.” She tilts her head slightly and her eyes soften. “I do hope you’ll consider the offer I made, though. It would be so nice to have one of Miso’s friends over for dinner.”

He imagines admitting to Miso that she might be onto something, imagines the smugness that would accompany her response. She would be insufferable at his admission and for some reason, the thought excites him immensely.

“Thank you, ma’am, but that looks a little difficult. Have a good night.” He bows before she can say anything and continues past her, feeling more energetic than he has the whole night, his lips tingling.

—

Jungkook glances backwards at the appetiser station longingly, wishing they weren’t on tour so he wouldn't have to simply watch people eat. As fancy as the menu looks, they still haven’t served dinner and he is famished. Luckily, he’d managed to sneak in a protein bar in his jacket on Taehyung’s advice and in a fortunate turn of events, the coat room is out of the way enough from the main hall that they can break the rules.

He marches in a straight line, head down and careful not to draw any attention. Sneaking around the attendant at the desk, he slides towards the door, only to see it slightly ajar. He moves to open it a little further when he hears a voice inside - crying.

Or not crying, exactly, but there’s a shaking of the voice and some sniffling, and Jungkook feels his insides cringe at the awkwardness of catching someone in a moment of vulnerability. His stomach rumbles again at that moment and he closes his eyes, knowing he needs that protein bar before he snaps and swallows a tempura roll whole in public.

“- everyone else!” The voice cries, the voice high-pitched yet in a clear effort to not be loud. “No, no, that’s not what I’m saying, but you -” The voice, a woman’s pauses, and Jungkook can hear the garbled sound of a response through a phone speaker, sounding far calmer than her.

“But everyone else is here! You didn’t come for the Spring Gala last month and now this - it’s so embarrassing every time!” She pauses again and scoffs. “She’s fine! How does that matter? Is she all you care about?” There’s another pause and a sniffle before the woman responds, this time sounding far more annoyed. “She has some friend here, apparently. Doesn’t seem very impressive,” she adds in a mutter.

Jungkook wonders if he can sneak in anyway. The hunger is killing him and this woman seems so invested in her phone call that she might not notice him at all. Biting his lip and holding his breath, he slips into the dim room and looks around for his jacket. There are rows of clothing, though, and he hasn’t a clue how to locate his own.

“You said that last time, too! Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” There’s the sound of a response again, followed by the unmistakable click of the call ending. The woman sniffles again but stops abruptly. “Is someone there?” she asks sharply.

Jungkook freezes, but before he can devise a way out, the woman appears from behind a row of coats and glares at him through red eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out. “I was just looking for my, um -” He looks around desperately, hoping his black jacket will pop out to him from the sea of other black jackets.

To his surprise, the woman simply shakes her head and dabs at the corner of her eye with a knuckle. She’s beautiful, in an old-fashioned, seventies movie kind of way, her dress dripping with diamonds. Terribly uncomfortable, Jungkook clears his throat. 

“Are - are you okay?” he ventures bravely.

She turns away and sniffs again. “Fine. Just alone.” 

She says no more and Jungkook takes that as his opportunity to get the hell out of here, protein bar be damned. He can survive a few more minutes before dinner; he’s survived worse. 

“Well, I’ll just…” He trails off and makes a beeline for the door when she turns to him again. He halts, trying not to look too panicked at the sight of his exit behind her.

“You look familiar,” she states, frowning slightly. She smells of something vaguely sweet. It’s not perfume; it takes him a moment to realise she smells like Jimin - like cocktails. “Have we met before?”

“I don’t think so,” he answers, although she looks somewhat familiar as well, like one of the many faces on the socialite pages in Seoul’s local newspapers.

She gives him a watery smile. “Pity.” She reaches out and smooths down the collar of his shirt. “Such a handsome boy. I knew so many like you when I was your age. I’m sure you have a girlfriend, though.”

Jungkook shakes his head wordlessly, feeling his ears and neck heat up. She’s really close, this woman. Her nails are painted a calm nude and her cheeks and nose are rosy, probably from the crying. 

“Imagine that,” she murmurs, reaching up and kissing him. Jungkook is too shocked to move, freezing in his spot and feeling with staggering clarity her lips against his, the taste of her lipstick and her hand cupping his neck. It takes a few more seconds for it to click and the horror to settle in, and he immediately steps away.

“Sorry, I - I’m not…” Unable to form a full response, Jungkook passes around her and dashes out of the coat room.

—

Nari hurries out of the hotel, welcoming the slight chill of the evening and the fresh air after the pervasive goldenness of the hall. She’ll miss the dinner but nothing is worth staying another second at the most boring party she’s ever been to.

“Nari!”

She ignores Seokjin and continues on her way, eager to make it past the gate to where Jason will pick her up. She hears him shout her name again but doesn’t turn until she hears his footsteps right behind her and he suddenly comes into view.

“You’re leaving?” He sounds slightly breathless. “Already?”

“Seokjin, this has been a crappy night and I really don’t want to do this with you, okay?” she states and tries to skirt around him but he stops her.

“What? What did I do?” he asks, looking genuinely baffled. “I’ve been trying to talk to you all night but you’ve been avoiding me ever since you got here. Then I thought I should probably leave you alone because I saw you with Namjoon and then Yoongi for a little while -”

“You want to know what you did?” Nari feels as though she might burst. “How about setting me up on a date without asking me?”

Seokjin frowns in bewilderment. “Who are you - wait, are you talking about Yoongi?”

“How about setting me up on the worst date of my life, with someone who couldn’t even be bothered to talk to me all night?” she continues, ignoring him because now that she’s begun, she can’t seem to stop. “And then there’s Namjoon, who seems borderline suicidal, while Yoongi is making out with some girl in a coat closet and Hoseok seems to be on the verge of passing out while you’re -”

“Okay, wait, wait - hold on!” He interrupts her, looking thoroughly confused. He doesn’t speak until Nari falls silent. “Who was Yoongi kissing?” Nari turns to leave in a huff but Seokjin grabs her arm again. “And also… I’m confused. I thought you liked Yoongi.”

“I do like Yoongi. He’s a good guy - but a terrible date,” she informs him. “And I can’t believe you’d set me up with him! It’s like you don’t know anything about me - when have he and I ever had anything in common?”

“But -” Seokjin shakes his head. “Nari, I didn’t set you up. You said you wanted to go and he had an extra ticket, so I suggested he check with you. That’s all.”

Nari swallows, her heartbeat loud in her ears. “Yeah… he checked with me and asked me to go with him?”

“On a date?” Seokjin doesn’t look convinced. “Did he actually say it was a date?”

“Yes, he - oh, my God. He didn’t.” She freezes and covers her mouth with her hands. “Oh, my God.” Did she just imagine a date? She feels light-headed, suddenly reminded that she hasn’t slept properly in thirty hours. Her stomach crawls in embarrassment and she squeezes her eyes shut before turning around on the spot and starting to walk away in bigger steps.

“No. No way.” Seokjin darts in front of her again. “You don’t get to be mad at me and yell at me for something I didn’t even do.”

“Oh, believe me, I know this was all me, okay?” She shudders, unable to meet his eyes out of sheer humiliation. “I’m leaving. We’re on the same page.”

“No, we aren’t. I don’t want you to leave.”

“Tough. Move, Seokjin.”

“Nari -” He grabs her shoulders for one moment, stopping her in her tracks before releasing her. “You are mad at me. You’re mad at me about something but you don’t want to talk about it, so you’re just looking for other reasons to be mad at me, just so you can be mad at me. But I’m done,” he declares, and she hasn’t seen him look this serious in a long time. “I’m done being your punching bag and I’m done letting you chew me out until you tell me what’s actually bothering you.”

Her heart races uncomfortably. “Seokjin… I’m sorry I blamed you, okay? But I… nothing’s bothering me. I just want to leave.”

“Bullshit.” He fixes her with a look, his jaw sharp and his eyebrows slanted. “For heaven’s sake, Nari. Seventeen years. We’ve been friends for seventeen years - what is so bad that you can’t tell me?”

“It’s not… bad.”

“Then why can’t you tell me?”

“Because you didn’t do anything wrong!” she blurts out, frustrated. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” she repeats. “But I’m mad at you anyway, which means this is my problem. I can’t tell you because… because you can’t do anything about it.”

Seokjin swallows. “Tell me anyway,” he says quietly.

There’s a loaded silence between them and Nari knows it’s because they’ve reached the crux of the issue, the thing they’ve been avoiding all this time.  

But maybe this is it. Maybe this is the time. It would make a mess of everything, but maybe it wouldn’t. Maybe it would become easier if she put it into words, if she took a risk and stepped over the line once in her life.

Taking a step forward, she takes a deep breath. Her hands go up to his face, thumbs on his cheekbones, only an inch above her own. She bravely meets his gaze. He isn’t stopping her, or stepping away. His eyes flicker, and it’s anticipation. Nari glances from his eyes to his mouth, pink and plush, and touches it with her thumb before moving closer.

Do it. Every cell in her body wants to do it, to take the plunge and deal with whatever comes out of it. But even as she talks herself into it, her heart sinks because she knows, she knows that despite what she feels, it will make no difference if she drags him down with her, if she is the reason he becomes a cheater. So, she drops her hands from his face and steps back, feeling her heart bang against her ribcage painfully.

“Nari - ”

“I wish,” she says, looking at the ground as she searches her heart for the moment it all went wrong. “I wish… that after you kissed me at Hyeri’s house… I wish I hadn’t left.”

The last word lingers in the night. “So stay now,” he murmurs, almost pleadingly.

But Nari shakes her head. “It’s not really the same thing. It’s fine, Seokjin. Really.” She takes a deep breath. “I need to sleep anyway.”

Seokjin looks like he wants to argue, but doesn’t. “How are you getting home?”

“A friend is picking me up.” She doesn’t mention a name but something in how he nods makes her quite certain that he knows she means Jason. “I’ll just…” She trails off when she sees someone else behind him. “Jungkook?”

Seokjin frowns and turns around and they both see Jungkook ambling out of the hotel, looking dazed. “Oi, Jungkook!” Seokjin exclaims when he doesn’t answer.

Jungkook’s head snaps up, and he looks slightly unfocused. “Hey,” he mutters, trudging over to them.

“Are you okay?” Nari asks, observing his quiet demeanour.

He nods immediately. “Yeah, yeah. Just… not feeling well.” 

He’s clearly lying, but Nari doesn’t pry. “Okay. I’ll drop you home in that case. Come on.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen and he nods gratefully. “Yes, please.” He looks over at Seokjin. “I already told Namjoon hyung and he said we don’t have any pictures left…”

“Go,” agrees Seokjin, glancing at Nari. “And… take care.”

Nari doesn’t move for a moment, sharing a look with Seokjin before following Jungkook out of the gate.

—

“Careful, careful…” 

Chaeyoung takes careful, deliberate steps as she helps Hoseok up the steps. Her heels dangle from one hand and his shoes dangle from one of his, from when he’d insisted on taking them off because he didn’t believe that she should be the only one barefoot.

“That’s not what it means to be a date,” he’d slurred as they crossed the street to her apartment building a few minutes ago.

Chaeyoung had given up on trying to make him put them on, focusing instead on ensuring that his phone, house keys and car keys were with her, along with her own belongings, and getting him into her apartment in one piece.

“I still don’t understand why you kept drinking,” she says admonishingly as they begin ascending the last flight of stairs. “Just because one guy says he won drinking games in college doesn’t mean you make it your mission to compete with him. Especially when you’re clearly out of your depth.”

“Hey, now wait a minute,” he replies, his words flowing into each other. “I didn’t do it for fun. I did it for a good reason.”

“Which is?”

“That he was being an obnoxious jerk.”

Chaeyoung rolls her eyes as they reach her doorstep. Fumbling a little with her keys, she manages to open the door and drag Hoseok inside, who stumbles into her tiny living room and flops onto the couch.

“Is it just me or is it sweltering?” he asks, taking off his jacket and groaning.

“It’s just you,” she confirms, chucking her heels to the corner and heading inside to the kitchen. “Don’t move,” she instructs him on her way out. “I’m going to get you some water.”

Hoseok smiles dreamily in acknowledgement. “Careful, caterpillar. You’re starting to sound like an adult.” But his tone is filled with fondness and endearment, enough that Chaeyoung is willing to overlook the ancient nickname.

“I am an adult,” she informs him, returning with a bottle of water and dropping it softly into his lap. He leans back and grins up at her, cheeks red and hair ruffled. “In fact, after tonight, I think I’m the adult here,” she points out, sitting down next to him. “Drink.”

He obeys without fuss, downing almost half the bottle before emerging breathlessly. “Wow, that was…” He glances at the bottle and squints “... cold.”

“It’s summer.”

“Thanks.” He sighs hugely. “Okay, I’m going to take off.”

“Wait, what?”

But Hoseok is already standing before he halts, swaying slightly before stumbling into Chaeyoung when she stands up to stop him.

“You are wasted, Hoseok,” she reminds him, pushing against him to make him sit back down. “Unless you can get one of your friends to come pick you up, you’re not going anywhere. I didn’t drive your gigantic car all the way here just for you to crash it into a lamp post.”

He pouts. “Buzzkill.”

Chaeyoung sticks her tongue out at him but is relieved when he doesn’t argue further. “You should lie down or something, oppa,” she tells him.

To her surprise, he nods, looking drained and on the verge of passing out. “I should,” he agrees weakly.

“Come on,” she says, standing up and helping him up. She steers him to her bedroom, glad he’s taken off his shoes and jacket already. “Why don’t you lie down and I’ll see if -” She breaks off when he falls on the bed onto his stomach, groaning.

Chaeyoung purses her lips in sympathy. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I have any clothes that will fit you.”

“Issokay,” he mumbles into the pillow, his eyes already fluttering shut before he opens them with some effort. “Don’t you want to sleep, too?”

“Yeah, I will.” She pauses, taking a moment to register how absurd this would be to ten year old Chaeyoung; taking care of Hoseok, the love of her life, because he got drunk trying to keep up with every person she talked to tonight. “Hoseok,” she says after a moment, her own voice sounding slightly different. “I’m going to get you the rest of that water and one of those Pop Tarts you brought me back from America. You shouldn’t sleep on an empty stomach. Okay?”

He cracks a smile, his eyes still closed. “You smell nice.”

Chaeyoung doesn’t bother suppressing her smile at that. When she returns from the kitchen, Hoseok is asleep.

—

Hoseok wakes up the next morning and immediately wishes he was asleep again. His head pounds with a vengeance and his stomach feels bloated and empty at the same time. As soon as he thinks it, he feels the bile in his throat and immediately scrambles out of the room and into the hallway bathroom, and throws up all the contents in his stomach.

Ten minutes later, after puking his guts out and lying down with his forehead pressed to the cool tiles, he emerges from the bathroom and shuffles into the kitchen and dining area. Chaeyoung is scrambling eggs and the smell of fresh coffee wafts from the machine in the corner.

“Wow,” she comments, looking up with the spatula in her hand. “You look like hell, Hoseok.”

He responds noncommittally and sits at the small table, dropping his head onto his arms. He remembers two things right then: the first, that he has dance practice starting in exactly one hour, and the second, 

“Would you like some eggs?” she asks cheerily. “There’s coffee, too.”

“How are you not drunk?” he demands, raising his head and wincing.

She glances back at him with a frown. “Because I didn’t drink enough for a whole army? I was able to come home, change, drink water, scroll through Instagram for a while and wake up after a nice sleep.”

Hoseok is about to remark that he must have been dead to the world to not notice her awake when he catches a glimpse of the sofa. “Wait,” he says slowly, taking in the pillow and folded covers. “You slept on the sofa?”

Chaeyoung shrugs. “Yeah. Why?”

“But -” His shoulders fall. “I didn’t mean to kick you out of your own room. You could’ve slept there, too - there was  enough room.”

“Yeah, I thought about it, but I didn’t want it to be accidentally weird this morning,” she reasons calmly, bringing him a mug of black coffee with ice floating in it. “And the sofa is totally comfortable. So don’t worry about it.”

“But -”

“Eggs?”

He opens his mouth to continue arguing but stops. “Yes, please,” he mutters sheepishly. “Thanks, Chae. Really. I owe you one.”

“Even after the braces and schnapps thing?”

“Especially after that.”

She grins and places a plate of toast and scrambled eggs before him. “Eat. You’ll need the energy. Especially if you were serious about the whole Harry Potter marathon thing. Actually,” she adds, frowning, “don’t you have dance practice?”

“Um -” It’s a simple question but he can’t seem to answer it. “Why?”

“I distinctly remember you mentioning it to me in the car. I definitely remember you warning Namjoon not to be late or you’d throw a shoe at him,” she adds dryly. “If it helps, he promised he would do his best to be on time.”

“Huh.” The schedule is on his phone; Hoseok suddenly remembers he hasn’t seen it at all this morning.

“Your phone is on the centre table,” she supplies, pre-empting his question when a soft ding sounds. “Oh, that’s the Pop Tarts.” Both of them leave the table in opposite directions. 

Hoseok checks his messages and then his calendar. Yep, dance practice in forty-five minutes. He bites his lip; while he is feeling remarkably better than he had when he’d woken up this morning, his head still feels a bit heavy and his throat feels dry as sawdust, despite the coffee.

Just then, his phone pings.

Jimin [8:15] Leaving in 5. Suga hyung, Namjoon and Jungkook are already in the building. What’s your ETA?

It’s a good question. If he’s planning to drive his car home, shower, change and then leave, he might make it on time by the skin of his teeth. 

“Everything okay?” Chaeyoung asks from the dining table, legs long and lean in her cotton shorts as she leans slightly over the table and places the Pop Tarts in the centre.

Then there’s the alternative. Chaeyoung’s sofa, Chaeyoung’s food, Chaeyoung’s Harry Potter marathon. He wonders how he would ever justify it to himself when he realises he already has.

Hobi [8:18] Threw up this morning. Might have food poisoning. I’ll try to come in after lunch. Sorry.

Sending it, he slides the phone into his pocket and tugs open the collar of his dress shirt. “No practice,” he says as he returns to the table. He returns Chaeyoung’s surprised expression with a shrug. “This is good toast, by the way.”

She beams, taking a bite of her own. “Thanks.”

Hoseok grins back, feeling his stomach do a backflip. “Now,” he says, dusting the crumbs off his hands, “when are we starting this marathon?”

—

[elisysd]

Timeless - Taylor Swift

Masterlist- Previously - Next Chapter

I'm gonna love you when our hair is turning gray We'll have a cardboard box of photos of the life we made And you'll say "Oh my" We really were timeless

Being pregnant and not being able to tell anyone was actually painful to Lyanna. She couldn’t say anything to her family because she had read somewhere that it was better to wait until the end of the first semester, and she had not said it to Charles yet. It was not something to be told through the phone and since she would not see him before Abu Dhabi, it made everything harder. She did not expect how stressful it would be to go to her first echography on her own. Especially when her doctor told her that given her medical background, her pregnancy could become risky if it was not monitored carefully. That day, she came back home crying and feeling guilty. Her baby was not even born yet that she was already putting them in danger.

She looked at the ultrasound that her doctor gave her when Lyanna asked if it was possible to have one, as a memory, and let a tear fall on her cheek. At the moment, she considered calling Charles and tell him but she had to be strong. She knew how she wanted to tell him and her in her PJs, crying was definitely not it. She took a deep breath to calm her down and tried to think about positive things.

Finally, Las Vegas Grand Prix arrived. It was late at night and Lyanna had a hard time keeping he eyes open. She wanted to sleep so badly but she promised herself that she would watch every single races, for Charles. But being up at 3am was definitely tough. She deserved a medal. It was commitment at its finest. She just hoped the race would not be boring. Charles was starting P2, right behind Max. It was not the first time but still, Lyanna could not help but feel tense since she knew that every time those two were battling hard to keep their positions or overtake. They always pushed to the limits and sometimes were a bit too careless for her liking. A chamomile tea in her hands, a blanket around her frame and she was ready.

Everything started as expected, Max keeping the pole position despite Charles best attempt to overtake him at the first corner. But both drivers had an excellent start, making things harder to battle right at the beginning. It was a city track, something Charles loved but Lyanna knew that it was even harder to overtake on them and if Charles wanted to win, he had to take risks. Lyanna only hoped it would not be too much risks.

Everything went well for the first part of the race, Charles and Max still fighting with Charles only one second away from Max. Behind them, there were Pierre and Lewis, fighting together and unknowingly making things easier for Charles as he didn’t have to control what was happening behind him and could fully focus on the Red Bull. And then, mid-race was already there. On the radio, Lyanna could hear Xavi telling Charles to push and give his all, that it was now or never. And he did. Too much. His front wing collided with Max as Charles was attacking and Max was trying to defend. Both of them didn’t want to give up the fight. And what was supposed to happen, ended up happening. Both cars spun out of the track and ended up full force in the wall. Smoke could be seen coming from the cars and the Ferrari was nose first in the wall. Carbon debris were flying out and on the track could be seen the marks of the tyres going off the road. It was a big crash and Lyanna couldn’t help but scream as she watched the images playing in front of her. It looked horribly like Austin, a year ago. The broadcast flipped the image to the garage as the red flag was appearing. Lyanna felt like she was suffocating. It couldn’t happen. Not again. Not now. Not when when she was an ocean away with no possibility to intervene. Minutes passed and felt like hours when finally she saw a glimpse of a red racing suit coming out of the car, looking disgusted and angry. Lyanna let a small laugh of relief escaped her. He was okay. He was coming back home to her.

A few minutes later, she received a call from Charles.

“Charles! Thank God, I was so worried.”

“I’m okay but Max won’t be, I’m gonna break his bones after the shit that he pulled! Have you seen that? I pushed him and he pushed me back! That was unfair!”

“Calm down, Charles. It was just an incident on the race. I was freaking scared though.”

“I know. But I’m okay, I promise. I have to go, the race will restart soon. You can go to sleep if you want, I know you haven’t slept well recently.”

“Yeah… I didn’t feel good but I went to the doctor and he gave me vitamins. I’m better now.”

“I’m glad to hear that. I know I haven’t been home much lately but it’s just a few weeks more and then I’m all yours and yours only.”

Lyanna smiled at the thought that he was not just hers anymore. She was dying to tell him but she stayed strong. She told him she missed him and that she loved him and they hung up. despite Charles telling her to go back to bed, she stayed in front of the TV to watch the last part of the race, happy when the cameras were showing Charles but even happier when she was Pierre winning the Grand Prix in the most unexpected way. A few laps ago, a puncture made Lewis drop a few positions and made him unable to come back on top, letting Pierre and Alpine take the win. Lyanna was so happy for the Frenchman and texted quickly Kika that was there to tell her to say congrats to Pierre for her. She also knew that seeing his best friend winning would appease Charles ‘ anger and he would actually be happy for him.

The following days were no fun for Lyanna, just like her doctor had told her she was started to experience her first morning sicknesses and she was absolutely hating every moment. She could not even go out for a walk in the morning without wanting to throw up every time she was passing by a bakery and could smell the fresh scent of the pastries. And it was even harder to hide her pregnancy to Pascale that visited her one day, to make sure she was okay. Lyanna suspected Charles to have sent in his mom on a mission.

“I brought you groceries with every thing that is good for someone who has a tendency to have anaemia. And I bought you sweets as well because everyone need sweets.”

“You didn’t need to, Pascale, but thanks. How worried is he about me? Because I’m sure that if you are here it’s because of him.”

“You can’t blame him Lyanna. And I’m worried too, you’re like a daughter to me. You would tell him if it was serious?”

“Of course I would, but I assure you it’s not. I’m fine. Just need to rest, that’s all the doctor said. And that’s what I do.”

“Charles would understand if you couldn’t attend Abu Dhabi…”

“It’s out of the question. It’s equally important for me to be there that for him to win the championship.”

“You’re more important to him than a trophy Lyanna.”

“I know, but believe me Pascale I can’t miss this race. I really can’t.”

Finally, it was time for Abu Dhabi. Lyanna arrived on Wednesday in late afternoon and headed for the hotel. On her way out of the airport, she didn’t expect to come across some fans that noticed her immediately and rushed to her. They were a dozen and must have seen the Instagram stories she had posted at the Nice airport and checked the flight she was in to get her at the arrival. Everyone wanted pictures with her and give her gifts for Charles. The noise and the exhaustion made her head spun. She closed her eyes a brief moment to try to get back her composure but it was too overwhelming. Fortunately, someone ask the crowd to make way for her and a firm hand took her by the arms, as she felt her suitcase being lifted up. When she opened her eyes, they encountered Joris’.

“I’ve never been this happy to see you!” she sighed as soon as they were away and in the taxi.

“Charles asked me to come. The atmosphere is really weird around him, everyone wants to talk to him, have a picture, an autograph, anything really. It’s worse than the usual, I mean. And it happens to the people around him as well. You don’t imagine how many girls numbers I got since we’ve arrived this morning.”

“How is Charles?”

“Stressed out. An ass with the people around him. I’m glad you’re here, he’ll be a little bit easier to handle.”

As soon as she got to their share room with Charles she went straight to the shower. The hot water relaxed her body a little and she felt a lot more comfortable. Charles was not back yet, he had a meeting with his team as Joris had told her. She laid on the bed and enjoyed the last peaceful moments she could get before the Grand Prix. She woke up an hour or so later as she heard the door closing and Charles whistling. She got up as fast as a lightning bolt and rushed to his side before jumping in his arms. Charles only had time to prepare himself and intercepted her just in time. He laughed a little as she buried her head in his neck.

“Oh God, I missed you” she said.

“My name is Charles, not God.” he joked as she slapped his chest.

“Haha, smartass.”

“I missed you too. So, so much.” He planted a kiss on her forehead before bending to capture her lips.

The following days, Lyanna experienced firsthand what Joris told her. Everywhere they were going, people were following them, screaming their names. It was overwhelming, both for her and Charles. Fortunately, the paddock was a little bit quieter, a thought that Lyanna had never imagined to have.

Charles had press duties for the rest of the day, so she was free to do whatever pleased her, as long as she was staying inside the Ferrari hospitality or didn’t leave it alone. Joris was appointed to her, something that Charles made nonnegotiable.

“Sometimes, I feel like you are my babysitter.” She grumbled.

“Sometimes, I do feel like your babysitter.” He told her, nodding his head as he was giving her a cup of tea.

“This year went by so fast. I can’t believe that it’s almost over, that it’s the final race.”

“That, after all he has been going through, he finally made it. He will be world champion. With Ferrari.”

“How much do you think his life will change?”

“Well, for starter is going to have a street named after him in Maranello. And he will be a legend Lyanna. It’s one thing to win a world championship in F1, it’s already making you special. But winning with Ferrari, it’s a whole other level. You don’t remember every single drivers that won a championship, but for some reasons, you remember forever the ones that won with Ferrari. And after all this time, after all the shit Ferrari has been through, it makes it even more special. Il predestinato.”

“He will always be my Charles for me, no matter what.”

Sunday came very quickly without Lyanna seeing much of Charles. And it was probably better this way, every time she was alone with him she was worried of revealing her pregnancy accidentally. They arrived early in the paddock that day, before the crowd began to get big. Charles was focused in a way he rarely was. In his bubble, like he already had his eyes on the prize. Nothing Lyanna could say seemed to make him react. It was two hours before the start that she finally got some alone time with him, in the privacy of his driver’s room. He was changing into his racing suit as Lyanna was watching him intently.

“It’s going to be okay.” he repeated to himself.

“Do you need help with something?” asked Lyanna as he was fidgeting with his bracelets.

“Can you, maybe help me with them?” he shyly told her shaking his wrist.

Lyanna got up and took his hand in hers and proceeded to remove the bracelets carefully, taking her time to let her fingers wanders on his wrist and making Charles shivers. He was shaking. It was not noticeable from afar but being up close she could feel him. She put all of them in a plastic bag but the horse one that she put on her own wrist. Charles deeply looked at it, his hand still in Lyanna’s.

“I’m so grateful that you’re here. I needed you. I didn’t want to admit it, I thought I would be okay with the thought of not having you but I was wrong. I really, really need you.”

She put her other hand on his cheek, forcing him to look at her in the eyes.

“I’l always be here for you, no matter what. Even if I’m halfway across the world, my heart is with you. Wherever you go, I go. Whenever you fall, I fall. Whenever you rise, I rise. It’s us and the rest of the world.”

Charles smiled, oblivious to the fact that the ‘us’ had a deeper meaning than simply Lyanna and him. He put his arms around her and pulled her against him, his chin of the top of her head and closed his eyes.This was it. It was time for him to shine. One last kiss to her and he headed for the garage, his fingers linked to Lyanna’s.

He started on pole and Lyanna knew that there was nothing on this day that would stop him from crossing the finish line first. It was as if all the grid knew it too. There were no battles in front, Max let Charles took the lead and then it was it. No one in front of him, Max almost 12 seconds behind. The race flew fast and soon there were only five laps remaining. As Lyanna was watching the screen, her legs bouncing from the stress and anticipation, someone from the pitwall came to her.

“Fred is asking for you. He wants you to be the first person Charles will hear on the radio after his win.”

Lya’s vision was blurry from emotion and she nodded following on shaking legs the man. Fred smiled at her and she could swear that he also was about to cry. He gave her his headset as Charles was starting his final lap. Under the screams of the crowd and the joy in the garage he finally crossed the line as the checkered flag was being waved. Lyanna could not believe it. Fred as well. He looked at Lyanna and mouthed a ‘ready’ before pressing Charles’ radio button.

“Fred, we did it. We fucking did it.” She could hear his emotion. He was not crying but she knew that we was trying to control himself.

“Charles Leclerc, you’re a World Champion. Congratulations. I’m so, so proud of you. We are all so proud.”

She was trying to not say too much, knowing that the conversation was witnessed by million of people around the world.

“Lyanna?” and it was enough for him to break down. She could hear him cry over the radio and it was the final blow as the tears escaped her eyes without her being able to stop them.

As soon as he stepped out of his car he rushed to his team. he wanted to be with them but his eyes were frantically searching for Lyanna and Fred. When he finally found them, together, he ran and the full force of his body colliding into them, almost made Lyanna stumble but his firm hand on her back prevented it. One arm around her, the other around Fred he let all the pressure of the last few months wash off.

“Your dad and Jules are so proud, Charles. They are watching you and they are so proud.” told him Fred.

“It’s for them. All of that is for them.”

Finally back at the hotel, many hours after the end of the race and the celebrations with the team , they were both exhausted.

“Finally alone.” whispered Charles as he was putting a sweater and Lyanna was removing her shoes.

“Charles?”

He looked at her with a sleepy smile.

“I need to give you something. It’s a gift.”

She went to her suitcase and pulled out a box wrapped in red.

“My love, you didn’t need too.”

She shrugged and sat on the bed, taking his hand and inviting him to do the same. He unwrapped the gift and open the box. Inside, there was a baby onesie that Lyanna had been made by a stylist she trusted and knew well. It was a red one with the Ferrari logo. In the middle on capital letters, we could read ‘my daddy is a world champion’ and in the back a huge horse was embroided. Charles took it in his hands and put it in front of him, trying to process what Lyanna was telling him. When he finally looked at her, tears in his eyes, mirroring her own and whispered.

“You’re pregnant?”

She nodded, unable to form a coherent sentence.

“I’m going to be a dad. For real? Like, is it really? Are you sure?”

“I learned it a few weeks ago. Here, this is the ultrasound.” She took it as it was stuck between two wrapping papers.

Charles eyes were glued to the picture trying to memorise it. Finally, he looked back at Lyanna and without thinking took both of her hands and knelt down in front of her.

“Marry me.”

“What? What do you mean, marry you? Are you seriously proposing?”

“I’m deadly serious. I know I don’t have a ring and we are in a fucking hotel room in the middle of the night but I don’t care. Lyanna Michel, I fell in love with you a long time ago, you’re the best part of me and I can win all the world championship in the world, they don’t matter if you are not beside me. I want to good, the bad and the ugly with you. I want to wake up every morning happy to be calling you my wife. I want our big house and the big garden for the kids. I want to see you shine and win an Oscar and say that I’m your husband. I want it all. I want you. And i promise you that I’ll spend the rest of my life proving to you that you made the right choice with trusting me with your heart. Say yes. Choose us.”

“I was never going to say no in the first place. I choose you Charles Leclerc. It’s you, me and our baby. Forever and Always.”

========

author’s note: Well…. I’m not gonna lie, I don’t really know how to write the A/N. I’m really emotional knowing that it’s the last real chapter of Lyanna and Charles story. We still have the epilogue to tell them a proper goodbye. 💛 As usual, let me know your thoughts through the comments or ask box if your too shy. And don't forget to leave a like or reblog the story. It helps. And it lets me know that you like the story. taglist: @zendayabelova @purplephantomwolf @ru-kru @dakotali @blueflorals @aundercover @ruleroftheuniverse @fangirlika @writerscurse @elijahmikaelsonbitch @leclerc13 @karmabyfernando @stargaryenx @pitlanebabe @boiohboii @reengard @shikshinkwon

[theimpossiblescheme]

(Kind Of Not) A Big Deal

(My next entry for Carbucketty/Pouncival’s day of @flame-x‘s Kittens Week--I hope everyone enjoys!)

This whole thing was stupid, really.  It wasn’t like Macavity had really pulled his arm off or anything.  It was just twisted around a little–it was Carbucketty’s own fault for getting so close.  It would heal on its own, it was fine.  Honestly.

Jenny and Tanto didn’t seem to think so.  The former kept saying stuff like “Lucky you weren’t killed” and “What made you think you could take him on like that?” and “What were we supposed to do without you?”, all while shoveling spoonfuls of something that smelled like rotten fruit down his throat “for the pain” (what pain?  He felt fine, truly he did).  And the latter wouldn’t stop looking at him with those big, spooky blue eyes as they wrapped his shoulder in bandages that smelled like tea and dirt.  And now here he was, stuck in the healers’ den until they decided he was well enough to leave.  It hadn’t been so bad while Munkustrap and Alonzo were still here–at least when they fussed over him, they mentioned how brave Carbucketty had been to stand up to Macavity, even if only for a few seconds.  They appreciated him, being a future Protector like them and all.  But once they were healed up (and how unfair was that?  They were older, shouldn’t that make them slower to heal or something?) Carbucketty was left alone once more.  In the single most boring place in the Junkyard.  Probably without even a cool scar to show for his time, like Electra was gonna have.  Why didn’t she get sent here, too?  At least with her around, he’d have someone to talk to.

Whatever Tanto had put in his bandage was making him sleepy, so mostly he just napped to stave off boredom.  Half the time he’d wake up without any idea how long he’d been out, and Hathor would confirm for him that he’d missed most of the day.  And every single time he was horrified–what kind of Protector slept most of the day?  They needed to be alert at all times, sharp enough to hear a Pollicle coming halfway down the street!  If they slacked off, the whole Junkyard might get eaten or killed or worse (he couldn’t actually imagine what could be worse, but other cats said that all the time)!  He couldn’t keep laying around like this–he needed to get out of this den and back on duty!

So when Pouncival came to ask if he wanted to watch the morning patrol come in–”Maybe they’d let you walk them back to the gate”--of course Carbucketty said yes.  Even if watching was all he could do, that’d be enough to prove he was ready whenever they needed him.  He’d be like the wounded hero watching the army march home to victory.  Maybe then he’d get more appreciation out of the rest of them.

“Help me up onto the wall,” he said, bounding to his feet and rolling his shoulder to prove it still worked.

Pounce nodded, but looked a little dubious–oh, Everlasting Cat, not him, too!  “Or we could just go over to the gate and you can see through the bars.  Wouldn’t that work, too?”

“Yeah, but it’s not as cool, and I won’t be able to see them coming from very far.”  Pounce seemed to see the logic in that, nodding more vigorously this time and motioning for Carbucketty to follow him.  Right along the far wall of the healers’ den, there was a seam in the tarp that never closed all the way–they could sneak out through it.  Squeezing their way out, Pounce pulled over a stack of cardboard boxes and held out his paws for Carbucketty to climb up first.  Stepping up was no problem, but as soon as Pounce’s paws began to lift he felt his head start to float over his neck and a slight stinging in his shoulders…

Oh, right.  There was the pain.  Well, too late now.

He managed to stay upright all the way to the top of the boxes–he couldn’t just topple backwards and make Pounce fall, too.  Once he’d made it up onto the solid wall and could see out into the nearby alley, where Alonzo and Plato were leading back a group of Trainees with Electra and AJ bringing up the rear and laughing over a tiff with a particularly avid birdwatcher, Carbucketty felt the pain continue to shoot up through his arm and figured he’d better do the smart thing.

And fall forwards.

He heard Pounce’s panicked yelp and Alonzo’s equally panicked and very loud curse right before his jaw collided with someone’s shoulder.  It took him a moment to realize that Plato had caught him on his back and was now giving him a look of horrified concern.

“What are you trying to do, dislocate your other shoulder?” Alonzo demanded, giving him very much the same look.  “Aren’t you supposed to be in the healers’ den?”

His entire upper body felt like somebody had stuffed it with rocks now, but Carbucketty at least tried to shake his head.  “I j’st wanted to wait for you guys,” he wheezed out once his lungs were cooperating again.

As Alonzo squinted over the wall–and Pounce quickly made himself scarce, the traitor–Plato lowered Carbucketty to the ground as gently as he could and Electra came running over.  “You okay?” she gasped, paws hovering indecisively at her chest like she couldn’t decide to hug him or dust him off.  He probably would have batted them away anyway–his head hurt too much to care.

“He’ll be all right, he’s gonna walk back with us.”  Plato craned his neck down to look Carbucketty in the eye.  “You think you can make it?”  When Carbucketty nodded, Plato gave him a quick smile and motioned with his tail for everyone to keep going.

“I thought Jenny and Tanto were making you rest,” Electra said, refusing to leave his side even as he kept his eyes fixed in front of him.  “After that whole thing with Macavity throwing you.”

Carbucketty shrugged.  “I dunno, I just… didn’t want to let it get to me.  Figured it was the brave thing to do, right?”

At that, Electra gave him a very familiar Look.  The “All That’s Keeping Me From Punting You Across London Is The Fact That You’re Already Hurt” Look.  But somehow affectionate at the same time.  “You didn’t have to fall off a wall to make us think you were brave,” she drawled, the Look slowly softening.  “You already pretty much proved that a few nights ago at the Ball.”

He just shrugged again, but he still couldn’t help the little bit of pride swelling up in him at the recognition.  Especially from Electra, who was closer to his age and knew better than most adults about what really counted as a Big Deal.  It wasn’t his shoulder, really… it was more about how it had gotten that way.  About something other than a scolding for getting in trouble, because it wasn’t really trouble if it was for a good cause, right?  The sarcastic little smile on her lips, right where the edge of her scar faded into the fur, said she understood.

She knew who he’d done it for.  Not for himself, but for everybody else--the ones he cared about and all that sappy junk.  That counted for something, too.

Just for that, he wanted very badly to give her a little shoulder-check for old times’ sake, but all he could manage now was a mild tap.  She snickered and gently swiped at the back of his head.  They’d have time later.

And as soon as they got back to the Junkyard, he was asking her to put Pounce in a headlock for him.

[super-kristuff]

Day two of Kingdom Hearts 3 live-blogging. Just finished the world for Tangled, and it was a very different experience. Without the strong unintentional sexual tension between Buzz and Woody, we find ourselves with the equally strong but much creepier sexual tension between Rapunzel and Flynn.

Like, I think there are a lot of reasons why Buzz and Woody's relationship is honestly well constructed as a standalone experience in kh3, and I'm a bit disappointed that Tangled seems to retreat to the more traditional KH story motif of "the movie but Sora is there". The Toy Story world wasn't modeled after any movie, and so, the story could focus on the character development and even include Sora as a driving force for that development. The Tangled world keeps the transition from introducing Flynn as an untrustworthy outlaw to Flynn and Rapunzel getting together, but like, Flynn is entirely absent for most of the story?

Playing through the world was a bit anticlimactic at the moment, but looking back, I think it was an intentional attempt to highlight Rapunzel's character. The story elements were much smaller: Rapunzel discovering dandelions, Rapunzel asking you to fetch some birds by slowly sneaking up to them, Rapunzel making a rainbow in a pond. But like, although it's not as action driven as fighting giant mechs, I think it is more subtle appreciation for the details of the world and how we can interact with them. I think it's rare to see games exploring this kind of space, and OH HEY Flynn doesn't do shit during any of it. Like, I think you can talk to him, and he says the bog-standard, "We should get to the castle!" quest pointer stuff.

My point being that game is built around Rapunzel and emphasizing the unique joy she finds in the world around her, and Flynn gets no character development until they need to shove him into the position of love-interest. Idk. Maybe I'm reading into this too much. Maybe it's fine for Flynn to a cardboard cutout of the Prince in Shining Armor purely to fill that role in Rapunzel's journey? Like, I also want to explicitly state the game makes some innuendos at the end and makes sure to bring up that Rapunzel is 18, and like, I just found that whole facet creepy.

I also wanted to talk about level design here because it was another element that detracted from the experience. Like, one of my absolute favorite elements of KH is it's puzzle-box level design. I think Alice in Wonderland is an iconic example of how KH1 manages to use and reuse space in a level. I think the tea-room has 5? 6 entrances? It's big, small, upside-down. You're on the table, above the ceiling, in the fireplace. It's fun and enjoyable to become familiar with a space and discover that the solution to a puzzle required you to enter the room from a different perspective.

KH3 seems to abandon that philosophy entirely. It's levels are complex, but often-times, just large enough that you can't get a grasp on how all the pieces go together. And, I'm not sure you're supposed to? The game takes its Line-Attraction-Gift shop philosophy quite literally. I've revisited Hercules' world, and although it felt more like classic KH, it was also extremely linear? The levels just don't fold in on themselves except in the most obvious of ways.

I don't know. In short, Tangled was a fun experience, but not as flashy as Toy Story. But, it's not trying to be flashy, which is its greatest strength. I'm a bit worried that KH3 is married to its design philosophy, but I'm also hoping we'll see original KH worlds with more creative level design. (Traverse Town, Hollow Basion, etc) (I'm also hoping there is more to Twilight Town? Like, it is literally a crime that the world is technically one area. It is also a crime that they removed skateboarding from TT.)

Anywho, it's late here. Goodnight.

[starlight-storytime]

Danny proceeds to storm his parents lab, planning to head to the Zone and give Ghost Writer absolute HELL - when he sees the portal doors are open, but there's no swirling green. A post-it note in his mom's handwriting says dont want work ruining the holiday, so portals down for the night! Danny realizes with horror that with his portal closed and Vlad's turned off while he's schmoozing at an out-of-state holiday event, there's no way for Danny to fight Ghost Writer and end the story early.

Meaning, Danny has no choice but to let the story end at its natural conclusion.

Fuck. That. He internally growls, and plans to ruin every trope that happens.

As he runs off, he gets the meet-cute intro where Eyebags from earlier spills what looks like highly concentrated tea (meant to make up for the caffeine shortage of No Coffee at the coffee shop) on his arm. Danny can't brush it off quick enough to escape bc the heat actually hurt him, and is sucked into a dialogue.

"Oh gosh, I'm so sorry! That must have hurt, please let me pay - "

"Absolutely do not give me any cash with your number on it, I'm fine."

"My drink was scalding though! i know I don't look it, but I actually have money to spare, and it's the season of giving isn't it? Let me at least pay for -"

"My godfathers a Billionare, I don't need money, and I hate this season!"

Danny proceeds to run around a corner and turn himself invisible so the boy (who of COURSE was some young rich businessman) couldn't chase him. He needed a place to hide where he wouldn't be infected by anymore tropes, and he knew just the place.

Danny proceeds to run to Sam's house, bc her family is Jewish and doesn't celebrate Christmas. But, when he gets there, he's met with the unfortunately familiar face of Ruperlando chatting with the elder Mansons in the parlor. Danny only gets snippets of the conversation -

"-been so long since you've attended one of our events in Amity! What brings you to our small town?"

"Well, the bustle of the city gets to you, especially in my line of work -"

"- being an everyday hero like you must be hard, one officer against the masses -"

"Yeah, I've been thinking of settling down, but I'd miss my family. Wherever I moved, I'd need to have some family with me -"

Is all Danny hears before he's slamming the door and pulling Sam out of the house, not wanting the fucking cop who wants to settle down and start a family to even see him. He hurriedly explains the situation to her (she gracefully only laughs at him for four minutes) and Sam says he needs to stop running around wildly. She tells him to go somewhere where no tropes can activate, and hide there until tomorrow, when Christmas is over. Unfortunately, her house won't work, as her parents always host a Nondenominational Winter Party to socialize on this day.

Which is when Ruperlando suddenly opens the door, causing Danny to flinch and slip on the ice coating the doorstep. Ruperlando, of course, catches him in a flawless dip. His hold is firm and his arms don't even tremble and Danny is utterly mortified at being rescued by a government lackey. (He fucking hates the government.)

The pig gives a Hollywood smile. Danny hates him even more. "Hah, looks like I swept you off your feet."

"2 out of 5 stars, awful line, bastard."

"Excuse me?"

"As someone who makes puns and quips on the daily, that was an absolute bottom tier pick up line. No pizzazz, no creativity."

"Wait, you're the guy from earlier-"

"Instead of telling me how much you want to start a new chapter of your life in a small town away from the big city, how about you try stomping on a cardboard box in a highly visible area?"

"Why did you phrase that like it's a threat!?"

Danny didn't give Ruperlando a chance to notice the mistletoe above the door step (who the fuck put that there, the Mansons were Jewish, damn it!) before he was running down the street and waving good bye to Sam. He dead sprints two blocks to give the guy no chance to catch up, and then slowed to a walk as he tried to figure out where in town was safe. Definetly not the mall, any bakery/cafe, nor any volunteer centers. No wooded areas/parks, no sidewalks...Realizing he was currently in one of the dreaded high-trope zones, Danny stepped into the first store he saw.

Fuck. Danny cringed back as he spots Gucci Eyebags. This is a toy store.

The scene goes something like this: Gucci Eyebags is choosing between an animal themed toy and a nerf gun. He, of course, looks up when the door bell rings, and notices Danny struggling with the door that won't let him leave. Gucci Eyebags immediately strides forward and grabs the arm that has been burned earlier.

"Oh, it's you! Are you okay? I didn't get a name earlier, but I'm -"

"Don't you dare tell me your rich boy name, just help me get this door unstuck!"

Curse you plot convenience!

"Sure, if you'd let me give you enough for burn cream, or even just buy you a gift. I'm actually here to pick one up for my little brother, but we're kind of distant and -"

"No thanks, don't care, would rather die again, hope to see you never!"

Not wanting to hear a moment more of backstory, Danny says fuck being discreet, punches the glass out, and opens the door from the outside. Gucci Eyebags gawks in utter bewilderment while Danny makes his escape, turning into Phantom once he's out of sight and rocketing into the sky. Surely, if he's not in Amity, he can't be affected -

Danny hits a bird out of nowhere, and crashes to the ground.

He gets up from the ground and flies off, and then hits a tree. He tries again, and a kid's football hits him. He tries again, he somehow hits a building. He's gearing up for another one when he narrowly dodged a plane, and pauses. He's not sure what will appear to stop him from flying out of town if he tries again. He has the sneaking suspicion it might be a missile. Not wanting anyone to get hurt, he floats back to the ground in defeat, but stays in ghost form.

Ghosts tend only to give advice in holiday stories, not fall in love. Not being alive should be an unbeatable deterrent, right?

So, as the sun sets, Danny wanders as far away from the Nondenominational Winter Party as possible (it would absolutely be the center of trouble) and heads to the most unromantic place in existence to wait.

The cementary.

All the love interests are out-of-towners, which should mean there's no chance a brooding man with dark hair will come visit his wife's grave. And, since that's the only Christmas trope cementary's have, Danny should be safe. (He was missing the Truce party, but he wasn't disappointed. He knows if he went, he wouldn't be able to resist beating up Ghost Writer) Plus, Danny's always liked cementaries. After dying, visiting them was always so...peaceful. The exact opposite of the arguing and yelling Christmas at the house would be like.

He liked coming by to clean up the old headstones, and add flowers to unattended graves, so that's exactly what he does. Just floats around, creating ice flowers for empty graves and polishing stones. As the moon rises and it approaches midnight, Danny gleefully watches as the time ticks down. The leading men have definitely already found their love interests, and were happily dating someone who wasn't him.

Then, at 11:52, Biker Hottie makes an inexplicable appearance.

He's definitely too young to have a dead wife, but what other movie tropes do cementaries have? How is he here??

And, in his bewilderment and surprise at the (utterly built) Biker Hottie wandering among the gravestones, Danny forgets to go invisible before their eyes lock. Ah shit. Danny sighs as those blue-green eyes stare into him. He's still hot. It was unfair that this guy had to take off his helmet and turn out to be a Love Interest. When they first met and bantered, he hadn't pinged Danny's trope radar at all. beyond making his heart catch in his throat when he saw his face. He still didn't, to be honest. Holiday movie's thought mechanics who wore leather jackets were the peak of bad boy, and didn't go farther than allowing a max of one cigarette per film.

This guy had an old scar splitting his eyebrow, a suspiciously red-brown stain on his steel-toes boots, and hidden knives strapped under his jacket.

"And seriously, what Christmas Hunk has a white streak in his hair? That doesn't seem Hallmark friendly to me." Danny said outloud without thinking things through.

The guy let out a surprised bark of laughter, and grinned back at Danny.

"And what Christmas Spirit shows up as some glowing emo twink? I don't remember Dickens writin' you in, Jack Frost. Cut my fashion choices some slack."

His heavily accented voice was nothing like the sanitized, broadly American movie accent used in holiday films, and it made Danny still. Biker Hottie was too clearly from the inner city - Gotham's inner city, of all things, and he certainly wasn't a Wayne Exec - with a sincere roughness to his deep voice. Hallmark men were either smooth-commercial-buisness, or wholesome-charming-twang. He had a twang, and he was from a big city, but he wasn't some richie business or wholesome family man.

(And, if the lack of tropes hadn't caught him off guard, the guy's definitely not Ghost Writer approved dialogue would have.)

"I don't know, I like your fashion choices." Danny quipped back on autopilot, idly handing over a frost flower he hadn't found a grave for. "So, why are you here? Got a dead relative who loved Christmas and decided to spend time with them?"

Biker Hottie twirled the flower with amusement, staring at it with a genuinely impressed gleam.

"Yeah, and a daughter named Holly who wants me to get her a new mom as her Christmas gift." He quipped sarcastically, putting flower in his jacket pocket.

Wait. The words were sarcastic. He used sarcasm.

Danny startled out of his casual floating and whipped around to face the man. "Why aren't you acting like you're in a carbon copy Hallmark special!?"

"Why...would I be?" He seemed genuinely interested.

Danny laughed a bit hysterically, tugging at his hair as he gestured impassionedly.

"Cause I got cursed to live in a Christmas movie and it's been hell! A charming man from out of town who wants to settle down and start a family, a buisness man from out of town who keeps accidentally bumping into me, and you from out of town who almost ran me over!"

Danny froze as he realized what he had just said, turning slowly back to the man who was staring at him in slow recognition. Briefly, Danny was surprised he wasn't put off by his ghostly aura. Outsiders usually were.

"Ah, shit, sorry about that again?" He didn't seem to know what a huge secret Danny had just dropped. "Cool outfit change, btw."

"Please don't tell anyone about this. Oh Clockwork, please don't tell anyone -"

"Hey, just breathe, it's fine! I ain't a fucking snitch, and I live in Gotham anyways. With the dozen vigilantes we have running around, I've learned to keep my mouth shut."

The man slowly reached out and pulled Danny's hand out of his hair, his human warmth grounding amidst the peaceful cemetery. He didn't flinch when Danny was as cold as ice.

"....say something you'd never hear in a Christmas movie."

"The best gift I could get is the Joker's dead corpse with his entrails choking him out. Also, I'm demisexual."

Hallmark just barely realized gay people existed only this year, which could only mean one thing.

"Holy shit I'm free! Thank the fucking ancients I HATE CHRISTMAS." Danny literally whooped with joy and did a circle in the air, grinning down at the confused but smiling man.

"Congrats on not getting Hallmark-ified, it sounds like an awful way to go. I'm Jason, by the way." Danny thought it suited him. "Only fair you know my name now that I know you've got some kind of alter ego thing going on."

Jason bumped shoulders with him softly, as if trying to reassure Danny that his secret was safe. Danny could almost imagine what telepathic emotions the guy would be sending if he was a ghost, as if a barely there core was whispering intrigue-confidant-curious-hesitant-content.

"I should've known you weren't one of the pod people the moment you said you were a Gothamite." Danny laughed to himself, shaking his head. "I'm pretty sure the entire state of New Jersey doesn't even exist in the holiday universe -"

Danny cut himself off as he came to an abrupt realization.

He didn't feel the forceful tugging of the Plot anymore.

...But he still felt the same way about Jason that he had before midnight.

Still wants to ask about his cool bike and is amazed at his physique and wants to touch that scar and ask how long he's staying and so much more -

Oh. Danny realizes.

Ghostwriter was really asking for soup time at this point.

He had apologized for his first Christmas truce before, last year he even convinced Clockwork to help him make a copy of the original work he had ruined.

So why in god’s gracious earth did he wake up to Amity Park being in a hallmark movie.

Danny glared as the people milled about the center of town like they haven’t since the portal opening.

It was unnerving, the only thing really missing from the equation was some out of town love interest or something.

“Hey, excuse me.”

Tall and built with black hair and blue eyes.

Oh you got to be-

Keep reading

[nightcall99]

Dreams from 13.4.24

Dream 1 I was at work and felt like having some tea. I opened the cupboard under the work bench, where there was a kettle. There was no cord or base, the kettle was just sitting there by itself on the second shelf. I pressed the on (circle symbol) switch to boil the water, but it was already hot from being used prior so it didn't 'stay' on and the button returned to the off (line symbol) position. I couldn't believe that the water recently been boiled, since I hadn't seen anybody else use the kettle. I kept switching it on repeatedly, but it kept returning to the off position automatically. I placed my hand on the kettle, to get a feel for the temperature but I wasn't convinced, it was only warm. But then again, the body was obviously insulated. I just accepted that it must be hot enough.

Then I realised I didn't have any tea bags so I asked SM if he could give me one. I looked at him expectantly, and he looked amused. He went to retrieve his supply of tea bags, in a way as if he had been expecting me to ask. He told me he only had 3 left. He got out a cup for himself, so that he could have one of the tea bags too. I said, "Well if I'm about it, I'll get them next time". I think because ordinarily, I do not like tea. I heard my intern butt in and say that he would buy them next time, but I ignored him. I think it was some kind of fruity tea.

Dream 2 We had a baby mountain lion at home. It's the size of a small dog and very obedient. I see it perched on it's bed, resting. We had gotten it and some other animals too, from some kind of animal sanctuary. It had been a few days or weeks and I didn't really care, it didn't faze me until I thought that even though this mountain lion is really cute right now, one day soon, it's going to be huge. How will we look after it? Meet its needs? How will it have enough space to roam? It's illegal to keep these kinds of animals as pets, so we were being incredibly naive. I decided that we needed to return it. But how, since they would ask about the other animals that we'd taken too, which I think, were gone now. Or maybe we just didn't want to be found out and have to give the animals back, the details are hazy. Had we stolen all these animals, perhaps? I thought about putting the baby lion in a cardboard box and placing it in front of the sanctuary, but there would most likely be security cameras that will have full view of my license plate. The sanctuary might track me down and reprimand me.

For some reason, there are some scenes where I am seeing posters of the Tasmanian devil, pasted on walls. I kept saying to my brother, if it's a big cat, how can we hope to keep it for very long? I was sad since it was so cute and I was kinda attached to it, but it wasn’t good for it to stay with us. I think we did end up giving it up, but I don't remember how it happened.

Now my siblings and I were entering the train station platform, since we are on our way home now. And it just so happened that the train was approaching at that moment, which was good, because it meant there was no waiting. We made way to tap our myki cards (train ticket) on the reader, as you're supposed to do before getting on any form of public transport. I was afraid that I wouldn't have any money left, since it'd been a while since I'd loaded any onto the card. I also didn't think I would have enough time to put more money on, if I didn't, because the train was coming right now. I could if I wanted, I would just have to be extremely quick about it. And my speed would rely on other factors, like other people using the machines too. But when I tapped my card, it showed that my balance was $3.46 which was just enough for one more journey. To get home. My siblings tapped on fine too.

[samwisethewitch]

Earth-Friendly Witchcraft

Whatever religious or spiritual tradition they identify with, most witches agree that there is something sacred about the natural world. We draw our power from the earth beneath our feet, the sky over our heads, and the air in our lungs.

And yet, many of us live in societies that are actively contributing to the destruction of the natural world. Most developed nations have a linear economy, which means resources are extracted and then sent on a one-way trip to consumers who will use them and then throw them away. This leads to overflowing landfills, air and water pollution, and quickly disappearing resources. The World Economic Forum predicts that, if our habits don’t change, there will be more plastic than fish in the ocean by 2050. And I dearly hope that by now we’re all familiar with the reality of climate change and its devastating impact on global ecosystems.

I’m not trying to scare you, but I do want to point out the hypocrisy of drawing power from the Earth in our magic while simultaneously contributing to her destruction. If we truly want to consider ourselves spiritual allies of the planet, we need to make an effort to live our lives — and practice our magic — in ways that are less harmful to her.

You don’t have to become an environmentalist or switch to a zero waste lifestyle, but we can all make little changes for a more sustainable life. There’s lots of information out there about how to live a more Earth-friendly lifestyle, so in this post I’ll be focusing on how to apply that same philosophy to your witchcraft.

Steps to a more Earth-Friendly Practice:

Limiting your consumption will automatically lower your negative impact on the planet. Follow my previous guidelines for avoiding consumerism to start shrinking your carbon footprint.

Avoid plastic as much as possible. According to the WEF, 70% of our plastic ends up in a landfill or in the world’s waterways, and according to Julia Watkins, author of Simply Living Well, only 9% of household plastics get recycled. Plastic (unlike glass and metal) cannot be recycled indefinitely — it can only be recycled a handful of times before it becomes too degraded to be repurposed any further. There really is no way to make plastic safer for the planet, so it’s best to just avoid it altogether. Look for tools made of metal, wood, or glass instead of plastics, and try to order things shipped in paper and cardboard when possible.

Create spells that won’t leave leftovers. One of the big contributing factors to our current environmental crisis is that we just produce too much waste. You can avoid this in your magical practice by crafting spells that won’t leave you throwing away a big ball of candle wax, herbs, and paper. Kitchen magic is a no-brainer for this, since kitchen spells are meant to be eaten. If you want to do a candle spell, use small candles that will burn up completely — I find larger candles are more likely to leave leftover wax. Making magical bath salts is another great option for leftover-free spells — just make sure everything you include is safe to go down the drain and won’t contribute to water pollution!

Forage for your own spell materials. One of the best ways to avoid plastic packaging and cut down on emissions from shipping is to use materials from your backyard! Learn about the plants, animals, and minerals native to your area, and take regular nature walks where you can gather what you need. Remember to only take as much as you need and to be careful never to damage the plants you harvest from. Make sure to carefully disinfect any animals bits you pick up — you can do this by burying them in salt for a full moon cycle and/or setting them in the sun/under a UV light for several days. If you find a dead animal and want to strip and clean its bones for use in ritual, this is a much more involved process and will require special research, equipment, and lots of time. And, of course, never eat anything you have foraged unless you happen to have an advanced degree in botany.

Keep a magical garden. Another great way to connect with the planet and shrink your carbon footprint is to grow your own herbs, vegetables, and fruits. You can, of course, grow food for your kitchen if you have space, but even if you live in a tiny apartment you can grow a handful of magical herbs in pots. For a list of common houseplants and their magical associations, check out this post.

Shop for spell materials at a local farmer’s market. Buying local is a great way to avoid the environmental impact of shipping produce, and it allows you to support small farms. Farmer’s markets also typically carry seasonal produce, which can help you align your magical practice with the cycles of nature. Farmer’s markets are a great way to find seasonal fruits and vegetables for kitchen magic, but you can use the produce you find there for other types of spells as well.

Trade paraffin wax candles for beeswax or soy wax. Paraffin, the material used for most cheap candles, is a by-product of crude oil, which is not only highly unsustainable but contains carcinogens (chemicals that may cause cancer). Beeswax is a sustainable alternative, and beeswax candles produce a “clean” burn, meaning it does not negatively affect air quality. Soy wax is a slightly pricier, vegan-friendly sustainable option that also produces a clean burn.

Use undyed, unbleached paper for your written spells. The bleaches and dyes used in most commercially available paper have a toxic effect on the environment. Colored paper cannot be recycled or composted because it will contaminate everything it touches. Use plain, unbleached paper for your written spells, especially if you plan to bury them in the ground or dispose of them outside.

Make sure your essential oils are ethically harvested. Essential oils are tricky — although they are marketed as natural, many of them are produced through unsustainable methods. Because essential oils are concentrated, it may take thousands of pounds of plants to produce a single pound of oil. This can have a devastating impact, especially for endangered plants like white sage or palo santo. Look for ethically-sourced, wild-harvested essential oils — these are oils that are gathered from the wild in ways that don’t hurt the local ecosystem. Mountain Rose Herbs and Eden’s Garden are two brands that are committed to sustainable essential oil production.

Instead of burying a spell in a jar, bury it in a hollowed-out fruit or vegetable. Many traditions call for spells to be buried in the ground. Items like jar spells and witch bottles are traditionally buried on the witch’s property. The problem with this is that plastic and glass bottles do not biodegrade, and will remain in the ground for years. Instead of putting these materials in the ground, bury your spells in a hollowed-out fruit or vegetable. As a bonus, you can choose this item to support your intention. For example, you might use an apple for a love spell or a spicy pepper for protection. Just make sure everything inside the spell is also biodegradable!

Keep a compost pile as an offering to your local land spirits. Compost is an easy way to reduce food waste, and it gives your garden a boost! Even if you don’t have your own garden, you can give your compost to a fiend who does or look into donating it to a community garden. When composting, it’s important to maintain a balance between carbon-rich “brown” ingredients (leaves, undyed paper, cardboard, etc.) and nitrogen-rich “greens” (fruit and veggie scraps, coffee grounds, egg shells, etc.) — you want about four times as much brown as green in your compost. Start your compost with a layer of brown — preferably twigs or straw to allow good airflow. Alternate layers of green and brown materials as you add to the pile. Every time you add to your compost, verbally express your gratitude to the land spirits. Your compost should be moist, but not soggy — you’ll know it’s ready when it’s dark and crumbly and smells like soil.

Make your own tea blends with loose herbs and a reusable tea strainer instead of buying teabags. Witches and tea go together like peanut butter and chocolate, but the individual wrappers on teabags create a lot of waste. On top of that, since many of these wrappers are dyed, they may not even be recyclable. Keep your teas earth-friendly by buying dried herbs in bulk and blending your own teas. Making your own blends is not only better for the planet, but also allows you to choose each ingredient for a specific magical intention.

Find ways to use your trash in your craft. This one is pretty self-explanatory. Instead of throwing things away, find ways to use them in your magic! Use food scraps from cooking, like carrot greens and potato peels, in spells. Turn an old shoe box into a travel altar. Add your coffee grounds to spells to ground them and manifest results in the physical world. You get the idea. Be creative!

Research different models for Earth-friendly living, like the zero waste/low waste lifestyle, sustainability, and the solarpunk movement. This will give you more ideas for a sustainable lifestyle, as well as a sustainable magical practice.

The funny thing about Earth-friendly living is that, the more time you spend taking care of the planet, the more connected you feel to it. I encourage you to try some of the ideas on this list — you’ll be amazed by how quickly you develop a deeper relationship with the Earth and all her creatures.

Resources:

Of Blood and Bones by Kate Freuler

Simply Living Well by Julia Watkins

“By 2050, there will be more plastic than fish in the world’s oceans, study says” from The Washington Post

A Sustainable Mind podcast

Practical(ly) Zero Waste podcast

[hood-ex]

Just saw this : https://www.pinterest.com/pin/11892386499429142/

and I think that would be one of the best birthday cake for Bruce lol

Imagine if Dick and Alfred got this cake for Battinson.

"Go on, Bruce! Open it!" Dick says. He presses into Bruce's side when he reaches across the table and drags the cake closer to the edge. Bruce freezes at the motion, still unused to Dick's casual touches.

Dick looks up at him and there's an excited gleam in his eyes that Bruce has rarely seen during the few months that Dick has lived with him. Some part of him worries that Dick's excitement will go away if he doesn't try to look anything other than apathetic while he opens his cake and gifts. He forces himself to smile, and he can feel how awkward it is. It makes him uncomfortable. He wonders if it makes Dick and Alfred feel uncomfortable too.

He tries to lower his anxiety by undoing the latches on the cake's cardboard container. Two of his fingers are taped and the pressure against the box makes them sting.

His smile falters when he finally tears the flaps down. This cake looks nothing like any of the tiered cakes he's used to getting for his birthday. This cake is some sort of yellow, pill-shaped character with fondant eyes that are nearly as big as tea saucers. Two cowl ears sit on top of its head and there are unmistakable bat emblems emblazoned on its chest and utility belt.

Bruce knows it's supposed to be Batman, but he doesn't understand who the character underneath the suit is supposed to be. Should he know? Did Dick mention this yellow thing to him at some point and he carelessly forgot about it? He doesn't think he would forget something like that but maybe he—

Alfred clears his throat. "Master Dick picked it out himself."

Shit. Bruce needs to say something or act surprised or do anything other than what he's currently doing.

"Oh," he says. He refuses to look at anything other than the cake because he doesn't want to see Dick and Alfred's expectant stares. "It's..."

Dick busts out laughing. "Look at him, Alfie, he hates it!"

Panic floods Bruce's chest so suddenly that it's almost painful. "I don't—" the denial dies on his lips when he sees Dick and Alfred's matching grins. The horror of thinking he'd disappointed Dick vanishes in an instant when Bruce finally finishes processing what's happening.

"I told you he'd hate it," Dick crows, tugging on the cuff of Alfred's sleeve.

"So you did, sir," Alfred says. He gently pulls Dick's hand away with a pointed 'don't do that again' look before straightening his rumpled cuff. "I believe it's the most eccentric cake Master Bruce has ever received."

"Eccentric is a nice way of putting it," Bruce says under his breath. He thinks garish is more fitting for a cake that looks like a Batman Twinkie.

"Do you know what this thing even is?" Dick asks, thumbing over at the cake.

"No," Bruce says, and for some reason, that seems to fill Dick with delight.

"You can find out when we watch the movie," Dick says as if Bruce is supposed to know what movie he's talking about.

"There's a movie?" Bruce asks.

"Three of them," Dick says, and Bruce instantly feels something like dread settle in his gut. "Plus all the spinoff stuff."

Bruce glares at the cake monstrosity because it's what sparked this discussion. "That seems excessive."

"We don't have to watch all of them. Just the first one," Dick says.

Bruce doesn't sigh with relief but it's a very near thing.

[littlemisslipbalm]

I live in the neighbourhood

When Y/N moved to Hampstead she was unaware of the implications the decision would have on the course of the rest of her life.

or

Harry is Y/N’s eccentric neighbour who sweeps her up in the whirlwind that is his life

this gif bc its maybe my favorite clip of him EVER holy fuck - this is the harry of my dreams this is the harry of i live in the neighbourhood

HEY YALL it’s been a minute and I missed yall so much and I’m just about to be on break so maybe i’ll be back to posting writing regularly but with school its so hard and I think I’ve been working on this for months so yeah <3 lol PLS PLS PLS leave me feedback and reblogs and that stuff bc otherwise my writing just feels...empty and you have no idea the smile i get when even just the tags say like “god this was everything” it can be anything honestly but it keeps my passion up. Thank you again and hope you enjoy.

Word Count: ~10k | Warnings: swearing probably? no smut (yet), rich and famous harry - mentions of Taylor Swif 

-

She considered herself an average young woman in her mid twenties. She liked screaming Taylor Swift and Megan Thee Stallion songs alone in her car and thrifting on weekends. She hated cable because of commercials and when doordash didn’t deliver all of her order. She had asthma when she worked out or the air quality was bad. She had dumb celebrity crushes that her friends and her still laughed over with every new instagram post. She had hopes and dreams she had yet to achieve and she had past trauma that many would never know about, especially at first glance.

Sure, she was successful. She would admit that. How else would she be able to afford even the modest little house she had found in Hampstead? She had studied international business in college and hopped on a plane to London the first chance she got. After a few years of a more than decent paycheck and an advantageous stimulus check from her kind parents, she was able to move out of her starter flat into the suburbs. The definitive push for the move was two-fold. Her parents wanted her to take her dog and her apartment complex was strict on no pets. Then her promotion at work - which included a pay raise - made it hard to wave off taking full ownership of her childhood ten-pound best friend.

So with life happening as it usually does, Y/N first found herself scouring Zillow, then touring homes in the area, and finally standing outside a three bedroom, two bath, two-story cream house in Hampstead. Her house.

The little moving truck she had rented sat beside her as she stared at her future. The realtor had told her they would be there in ten minutes. For the next ten minutes all Y/N had to do was keep herself from combusting, or worse, sobbing.

She felt overwhelmed already. Renting a flat in London was one way to describe herself as independent. Owning a home in Hampstead seemed like a whole new level of adulthood she wasn’t sure if she was prepared for.

After taking a few deep breaths to ground herself, Y/N walked up to the gate that kept her front yard narrowly separated from the sidewalk. She lifted one hand from beneath the box she clutched tightly to her chest to push past the iron-rod gateway. The garden was cute, a little bland, and she thought to herself that maybe she’d develop some gardening skills now that she had her own front yard. The thought made her smile a little, refraining from laughing aloud while on her lonesome, since she had never taken interest in gardening before. But this house. This house. It was a new beginning. It was a fucking unwritten journal. Blank film. Unknown territory. She could be anyone in this house.

She gently placed the cardboard box on the first step up to the front door. There was no porch, but she couldn’t complain. It was gorgeous and she was lucky to get it at the price she did. The house was cream with dark blue accents and a grey shingled roof. Lots of windows. It was classic and it was hers.

After the realtor came with her keys and made sure everything seemed alright, Y/N’s couple of friends, Amélie and Daniel, arrived with their cars filled with items she had needed picking up from various stores. They helped her move her stuff into the house. Thankfully it was already half furnished, meaning she didn’t have to go out and buy beds or couches or any of those big items that are both expensive and a hassle to deal with.

By the time the evening had rolled around, everything was in the house and it actually seemed semi put together. Y/N looked around, sweat apparent on her face and hands on her hips, proud of what she had accomplished. The nerves from earlier had been drowned by pride.

-

The next day, she woke up from her first night in the house. It felt like a dream even though she was sure she was awake.  

She had to navigate her way to the airport today to pick up her dog from his long flight and then mainly settle into the house. Her house sat on Sherwood Avenue, one of the many streets in Hampstead. It’s neighboring houses were much larger. The ones directly next to and across from her weren’t drastically bigger but what she had yet to learn was that next to the house across from her there were two houses that had been joined together by their slightly eccentric owner. A man who would be the match that ignited the flame that was the rest of her life.

This unknown fact quickly became known after Y/N’s first few weeks in her new neighbourhood. The eccentric - more so absurdly rich - neighbor who conjoined the houses was Harry Styles.

The first time they crossed paths she wasn’t even aware of it. It was the day she moved in. He had been out for his usual morning run and was rounding the corner when she had pulled up in her moving van. Once inside his home, he snoopily watched on as his neighbour began to move in. He hadn’t taken note of much about her, just that she was new and that she had a nice pair of jeans on that day.

The second time, Y/N was convinced she needed to get her eyes checked because there was no way that she had just seen Harry Styles key himself into the house across the way from her. There was no way that she had moved into the same area as him, let alone the same street. It seemed far more plausible that she needed a psych evaluation or a strong glasses prescription.

But the third instance of them crossing paths, she was proven wrong. She was on her way back from the neighbourhood park when she saw a guy jogging towards her. With a yellow beanie and a black Columbia sweatshirt paired with running shorts and shoes, he was hard to ignore running straight towards her. The iconic curls, strong jawline, and soft green eyes were dead giveaways this time. After making brief eye contact as their paths literally crossed, she felt herself make a little face of odd interest. Her head quirked and her eyes narrowed, lips pursed with slight confusion. That was definitely him.

After that, she found herself seeing Harry around the neighbourhood a relatively good amount. She’d see him at the park, at the coffee shop, on their street, and more. They didn’t speak. She really didn’t think he would want to be bothered by his neighbours and she certainly wasn’t willing to test the theory. They sometimes gave a small smile of acknowledgement but nothing really friendly. Just ‘you exist and I know that’.

-

Fridays are Y/N’s favorite day. It’s the beginning of the weekend, she never has to go into work and it’s simply a nice day. People are happier, they smile brighter and it just seems like the world is a little better than usual.

Friday was especially amazing today because her childhood best friend, Cate, was arriving at London Heathrow in the evening. Y/N had begged Cate to fly out to see the new house in person and Cate had finally found the time to run away to England for a week.

She shut her front door carefully behind her and placed her headphones in her ears. Rori, that little terrier, who had made a similar flight to see Y/N’s place not too long ago, scampered out the door with her and jumped happily at her legs as she fiddled with her phone. Her coat ruffles around her disturbed from the morning air. It’s blanket-like fabric that consisted of a deep blue backdrop with felt giraffes sewn on it, kept her warm while she walked. With her mind racing with weekend plans and ideas for her and Cate to do both in Hampstead and the city, she crossed the street like usual and began to walk with her dog to the coffee shop for her morning tea.

Unlike usual, she fumbled just as she was putting her phone in her pocket and bumped into something large and definitely not sedentary.

“I’m so sorry!” She blushed and moved backwards from the man who had just been shutting his own front gate to head somewhere.

“S’alright. No harm, no foul.” He looks down at her and her dog. Rori seems excited by the stranger and sniffs him eagerly. A single paw prodding at the man’s long leg.

She grimaces, hearing the voice and stepping back allows her to fully recognize who she had just bumped into. Her neighbour. The runner. Harry Styles.

“Sorry.” She mutters again as Rori continues to prod at Harry’s leg.

She tries to coax Rori away, but Harry simply smiles and leans down to the small dog.

“Hi there buddy,” he coos and rubs the top of the fluffy dogs head, in between his pointy ears, “What’s your name?”

“Rori.” She states easily, Harry’s eyes flickering to her smoothly. Rori makes a smile babbling noise that sounds a bit like a tiny roar - hence the name - and Harry chuckles to himself.

“He’s really adorable,” he finally says and straightens up from his admiring of the dog.

The grimace becomes more of a smile on her face and she mumbles a “Thank You”.

As her neighbour - who hasn’t introduced himself (which wasn’t necessary, but still) or bothered to ask for her introduction - seems to be about to say something new when his phone begins to vibrate obnoxiously. He twitches, his large hands immediately going to his pockets for the important device. He checks the message and looks back at her face.

“Sorry, I have to run...um,” he’s not sure what to say. He really does have to go, but he doesn’t even know his neighbour’s name. He’ll have to make sure to get it at some point in the near future. Especially now that he’s acquainted with her dog.

“No worries,” she smiles completely this time, relieved for the whole interaction to be over. She felt like she was going to explode with each passing moment. In the presence of a legendary musician, c’mon, who wouldn’t be freaking out. All she could think about was how Harry Styles now knew her dog’s name. What the fuck!

-

Upon arriving at the airport, she waited patiently for Cate to walk out of the customs area.

When she did, the two young women began jumping up and down excitedly, Y/N squealing only slightly. They hugged and began chattering intensely, catching up on lost time that generally occurs when you live an ocean apart.  

Finally, one comment rings through the constant back and forth and Cate stops.

“Wait, what did you just say,” she questions as they begin walking to catch an uber back to Hampstead.

“I think my house might be haunted?” Y/N’s voice raising because she’s unsure if that’s what Cate was talking about.

“No, no, the thing after that. I think I must’ve misheard you.”

“Harry Styles is my neighbour?” Y/N’s brows raise as she looks over at her best friend, curious to know what she will say.

“Yes! Explain. Now!”

“It’s not really a big deal. It’s a nice neighbourhood, it makes sense that celebrities of his caliber want to live there.”

“That is not explaining. You have to introduce us!”

As they climb into their uber and settle in for the short ride back to Hampstead, Y/N sighs and tells Cate everything she knows.

“We’ve only just spoken today and I’ve been here for a couple weeks. He lives across the street and down one, I guess. I just see him around, it’s not like he knows who I am. He didn’t even get my name today, just Rori’s.” She laughs lightly, still finding it funny that Harry knows her dog’s name.

Cate nods, leaning in slightly to her best friend, hardly able to contain her awestruckness from the story and baffledness at Y/N’s calmness. “So, like, when do I get to meet him?”

“Girl, I don’t fucking know. Never, if you’re going to act wild. I don’t want the neighbourhood to think I’m not chill.”

“Sometimes…” Cate starts and leans away from Y/N jokingly, “I hate you.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

They both smile, bumping elbows silently. The song on the radio fading in louder as their words die out.

-

The next day, Y/N took Cate to the local park. It was expansive and connected to the football fields that local teams would play at. The park section was a luscious green that was maintained with copious amounts of watering by the township.

She and Cate settled on a patch of grass near a slender tree that would offer some shade if the sun’s rays became too harsh. The quilt they sat on was something her grandmother had made her when she was maybe 8 years old, meaning it was torn in places and completely worn in a different shade of pink than it had been initially.

They set up their picnic and played music, enjoying the sunny day. Something rare and fleeting as the fall began to creep up on Hampstead.

They eat and catch up on life for about an hour. Basking in the sunlight, Y/N had laid on her back and was staring up at the clouds passing along the sky. Cate was carefully watching their surroundings, simply taking in her friend’s new home, but possibly for another reason too.

“Hey, isn’t that…” Cate trails off, trying to subtly nod in the direction of an approaching figure.

Y/N sits up, her hands holding her up from behind her. Her hair fails in front of her shoulders slightly and it’s a little disheveled from being mused in the grass. She looks discreetly in the direction of Cate’s nodding and then looks at her friend and rolls her eyes.

“Yes, but don’t say anything, he might not even notice me and I’m certainly not calling out to him.”

‘Illicit Affairs’ by Taylor Swift is playing off her speaker and as she’s about to change it, Cate turns it up slightly. They share a glare with one another before trying to act casual again, even though both of their eyes kept flickering to the man who seemed to be continuing closer and closer to their set up.

It became clear that Harry was approaching them after all and Y/N tried to carry on an unbothered conversation with Cate, which was hard with the constant nudging of Cate’s foot on her shin.

He stops a mere foot away from their blanket, beaming at the two young women lounging on the ground. He makes an attempt at a casual wave, his large hand splaying his fingers quickly, before opening his mouth to speak.

Cate beats him to the punch. “Hello there!”

“Erm, hi!” He says nicely to her and then looks at Y/N.

“No Rori today?” He inquires.

“No,” she smiles, slightly blushing at the fact that he remembered her and her dog. “He’s napping.”

“Ah, I see,” He pauses, “I feel like I need to apologize.” He continues.

“For what?” She questions and Cate watches on anxiously, mesmerized by Harry and dying to see what happens next.

“I ran off before I could even ask for your name or introduce myself. It was terribly rude.”

“Oh,” she can’t stop smiling, “It’s nothing to apologize for, I’m sure you’re busy. Besides I had to get my day started, otherwise I would’ve been late picking her up.” She points to Cate who smiles sheepishly, still internally screaming over the fact that her friend is able to talk so easily to a celebrity.

Harry nods and looks at Cate again, “Just visiting I take it then?”

She nods quickly, words escaping her. Y/N chuckles under her breath and swoops in to save her friend any embarrassment. “Cate’s my best friend and she’s been kind enough to take time out of her extremely busy life to come look at my new house.”

He hums, still standing a respectful distance from their set-up. “Nice to meet you, Cate,” he says very kindly. Then he laughs, but in a way that is like he’s beside himself. The two women both quirk their heads at him. Y/N squints her eyes slightly, trying to understand the guy she is talking to and connecting him with the man that is all over the news all of the time for his musical genius.

“Now I know your dog and best friend’s names but still not yours. At this point, I’m begging you to tell me.”

They all laugh and Y/N feels nervous for the first time since Harry had walked up.

“You first,” she smiles slyly.

His eyes widen slightly in surprise, but then go back to normal. Harry was very smart, she likely knew his name, but one, she was trying to be funny and two, she was also trying to be courteous. He preferred to introduce himself rather than just be told who he is, even if people already knew. It allowed him to maintain some normalcy.

“‘M Harry,” He says with a smile.

“Alright.” She says and then remains quiet.

Harry’s lips quirk up in a faint smile, amused at her expression.

“I thought it was a ‘show me yours and I’ll show you mine’ type of situation or was I mistaken?” He finally asks when she remains silent still.

The two young women laugh and Y/N bites the inside of her cheek, both feeling flustered and completely in control at the same time.

“You weren’t mistaken, I was just thinking.” Then she pauses again and Cate thinks Harry is about to combust and Harry thinks he’s going to as well with all the anticipation that has been built up over his neighbor’s name, even though he was pretty sure he’d heard it in passing at one point or another but had forgotten quickly afterwards.

“It’s Y/N.”

Harry releases a facetious sigh of relief, “Oh thank god! Finally!” His words quickly turn into an infectious laugh that is paired with a shining smile and she feels like she’s swooning right then and there. The control has gone out the window and she’s taken with her neighbor. He’s wonderful in that moment and she forgets about Cate or the park or anything. It’s just Harry and how it seems like he’s smiling just for her.

“Now that I’ve gotten your name,” he smiles pointedly at her after his laughter has faded away. The smile doesn’t leave his face though, his eyes still crinkled, his dimples still showing.

She nods, encouraging him to continue. Cate feels like she’s watching a movie unfold in front of her and she wishes she could record the entire interaction.

“I can finally ask you, Y/N, where did you get that fabulous coat I saw you wearing yesterday?”

She twitches further upright, eyes bringing themselves directly inline with Harry’s gaze. “Oh,” she inhales, “The giraffe one, yeah?”

He nods.

“I got it from a Goodwill years ago. It’s some vintage company that used to only make sleepwear. I looked up the tag one time and it doesn’t exist anymore. Super cool, though. Wish I could buy more.”

“Yeah,” Harry says eagerly, even taking a step towards the women, “It was so intriguing. Maybe, if you didn’t mind of course -” he falters, losing his courage for a moment, “you could bring it over and my stylist could check it out. I would love something similar and I’m sure he could figure it out.”

She shrugs. It wasn’t crazy, especially not for Harry - she assumed. She was certain he often found things he liked but there was only one of them so he would just order his own. She couldn’t help the pride that was swelling inside her though it that moment. Harry Styles liking her jacket so much he asked where it was from and then wanting his stylist to look at it. She’d jump for joy when she was in the safety of her private home later tonight with Cate.

“One condition,” she says and Harry’s brows quirk amusedly at her.

“You are a very tit for tat person,” he muses.

“Fair’s fair,” she shrugs again and then looks around her quickly, “It’s simple so don’t get too worked up over it, buddy.”

He laughs slightly again and tries to figure out what she’s looking for. When she extends a scratched up, sticker-covered point and shoot film camera he smiles.

“Can you take a picture of Cate and I? It’s always just the two of us so we never have anyone to take pictures of us together.”

Harry grins at this and her sincere face. Cate is a little taken aback, because while it’s technically true, it’s not entirely factual. They have plenty of film pictures of them - maybe not recently though. And she wasn’t going to question Y/N right now. It seemed like she knew what she was doing.

Harry takes the camera and begins to look through the viewfinder. The women scoot closer together and Cate wraps her arm around Y/N’s shoulder. She leans in to press her cheek against her best friend. They smile up at the camera and Harry crouches slightly to get a better angle.

“Alright,” he mumbles, “Ready?...Cheese!”

Their smiles stay hung on their face as they listen for the click and when the faint sound befalls their ears, Cate laughs and Y/N pulls away. She reaches forward for the camera, her hand easily brushing Harry’s large one.

Their smiles meet each other and Cate can’t help but notice how they grow as the two of them look at one another.

“Thank you,” Y/N says sweetly and pulls back to retake her seat on the blanket.

Harry straightens up, his grin falling back into that signature smirk. “No problem.”

“So-” He begins but she cuts him off.

“Well, I’m sure I’ll see you around, yeah?”

He clears his throat, feeling thrown off. “Yeah, sure. I guess next time I see you we can talk about when a good time would be for your jacket to come over?”

His voice raises at the end of his question a little more than usual, he’s trying to get her to bite, but she doesn’t seem like someone who is easily thrown off. He is trying to read her and she’s been completely cool the entire time. It’s intriguing. Even more so than the jacket, even though he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like it, it wasn’t really his focus when he walked across the park to her and Cate.

“Yep! It was nice finally meeting you Harry.”

He feels the cue to walk off and says his farewells. As he walks off, back on course to his intended destination, his head is filled with questions. Most important of them being when he would see her again.

Cate and Y/N watch him walk towards the football fields. They see him meet with a group of men and it seems like they’re there to practice or play a game. Y/N couldn’t be sure.

“He likes you!” Cate finally bursts out.

Y/N rolls her eyes, “Stop trying to make me take the piss. That’s a fucking lie and you know it.”

“It’s not! He likes you and you obviously like him, I mean, but we been knew.”

“Having a crush on the famous Harry Styles when you’re 17 is different than me liking my neighbour Harry.”

“But you like him don’t you? He’s even better than he was when he was 19. Now he’s all grown up and established and more your style anyway.”

“Shut up! He could hear you.”

“He really couldn't, he's yards away, you’re just paranoid.” Cate continues to tease and ridicule her best friend over Harry and Y/N is just about ready to up and leave, but she also can’t help but laugh it off.

“I’m literally gonna kick you out if you keep talking,” Y/N says between laughs and the women feel like they’re back in high school losing their minds over the stupidest joke ever.

“Okay, fine. But all I have to say is I will hold this over you when you end up together.”

“Yeah, yeah. Sure, whatever. Just be prepared to wait forever because I can promise you Harry Styles and I are never ending up together.”

--

Two Weeks Later

Y/N walked to her door after hearing the doorbell ring and opened it to find her neighbour standing with his arm raised ready to knock.

“Hey, Harry,” She greeted easily, but not entirely sure why he was here.

They hadn’t really seen each other since their official meeting in the park. It hadn’t bothered her and it hadn’t really bothered Harry either. It seemed like they both had extremely busy lives that they didn’t plan on throwing out the window because they had said they would meet up at some point. She liked that.

Harry had come over because he finally had a break in his schedule and was hoping to talk about the jacket and anything else really. He was interested in getting to know her and he didn’t care to hide it.

“I was wondering if you wanted to go get a coffee or something?” He asked, leaning himself against her door frame now.

Her eyebrows raise and her eyes widen a little bit, not completely sure she heard him correctly.

“Right now?!” She asked incredulously.

She was wearing an oversized grey sweatshirt and black bike shorts that peaked out from underneath the sweatshirt hem. One of her socks was shoved around her ankle while the other was pulled up flat to touch the base of her calf. She didn’t think she was looking the most presentable at the moment. She had been basking in her day off by simply laying on the couch watching hours of Netflix.

He nods, his smile growing on his face. Her flustered expression only made him happier. She was always so nonchalant with him, he wanted to see her a little more antsy.

“Unless you’re busy,” he adds seriously, not wanting to bother her, just wanting to spend time with her.

“No, no. I’m not...I’m not busy. I just wasn’t expecting any plans where I would be required to go out in public. Let me just...um, come inside and then give me five minutes.”

“Sure,” Harry smiles again as he steps into her home.

Her smile is sheepish and much less genuine then the one Harry holds on his face as he takes in her abode. She tells him to make himself comfortable and then runs to her room to try and possibly fix her state in under five minutes.

She tears around her room, heaving off the frumpy sweatshirt and grabbing a long sleeve striped v-neck top she had hanging out half out of her hamper, a sign known to her that while it was clean enough to wear, if she happened to do laundry she should wash it. Slipping it over her head, she walks to her dresser and leans over to open the bottom drawer and unfolds a pair of dark wash oversized jeans. There’s no holes in them and she throws them on the bed so that she can slip out of her current pants. Next, onto the socks, she swaps out the current ones for a fresh black pair and finds her tortoise print boots to flick on. As she just about runs into her en suite bathroom, she zips the two boots up between steps. A quick comb through her hair, deodorant, two spritz of perfume, her eyelash curler and mascara and she’s running back to where Harry is waiting in her living room.

He blinks surprisedly at her promptness, usually giving people more time then what they say they need. She had indeed gotten ready in five minutes. He thought she looked breathtaking. And she felt like she was at a lack for breath in any case.

“It’s a bit cold out,” he glances to the window.

“Isn’t it always?” She smiles, finally catching her breath.

He chuckles and then nods, a smile appearing on his face as he feels a warmth in his chest at her wit.

“Ready?” He checks in.

She nods, grabbing a coat she kept hung by the door.

“Just the coffee shop down the way?” She inquires as they exit the house and she locks the door behind her.

Harry hums, waiting down a step for her to turn around and walk beside him. It was so strange to her, this felt all too normal with him. Like he was just a friend who had come to pick her up for coffee, her neighbor, nothing more.

“Did you hear the new season of the Crown is coming out soon?” Harry asks as they walk shoulder to shoulder (technically since her shoulder wasn’t in line with his).

“Really?” She looks at him, “I love that show!”

“Me too,” He looks at her and smiles happily.

“That’s amazing,” she breathes mostly to herself, half about the show and half about how Harry watches television and that he watches one of her favorite shows.

There’s silence. The brisk air pricking their cheeks as they walk down their street. Their puffs of breath create a slight mist of white ahead of them and then quickly dissipates.

Her eyes flit up to Harry’s chiseled jaw and face and she watches him as his eyes carefully and meaningfully take in his surroundings. Was it her turn to take a stab at conversation? It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence but she just wasn’t sure what was going on.

“You play football right?” She says finally as they turn onto the next street that would bring them closer to the café they both frequented.

She remembered seeing him there on several occasions. The tips he left were always overly generous, which she assumed you could do when you were exorbitantly rich. He always smiled when he ordered and knew the baristas by name. His order rarely differed and she hated to admit but she knew his two regulars. His actual “regular” was a 12 ounce black coffee, dark roast, no cream and no sugar. The other, his “I’ll actually have”, was a 16 ounce iced green tea, no cream and no sugar.

She couldn’t help that she was observant and that when ‘H’ was called at the bar she looked at what was pushed out, patiently waiting for him to come snatch it up with a smile and nod to the workers before he left. Sometimes he’d even smile at her over the lid of his drink as he exited the establishment. It was warm and inviting and she felt good about the twinkle in his eye that never seemed to waver no matter the day.

Now they were going there together and she’d have to pretend like she’d never noticed what he got as a drink.

He responds to her question with another glance at her and a simple “yes”. His hands shove into his pockets and one side of his pink lips quirk up. He continues, “I’m on a local team with some mates. We’re in a little competition with our league. The final match is coming up this Sunday actually...You should come.”

He says it so casually it almost doesn’t catch her off guard. Harry inviting her to his football game, maybe this was going to be her life now. Going to her neighbours football match. Going to Harry Styles’ football match.

“Sunday…” She sounds out, choosing to look out into the distance instead of at him. “What time?”

“Eight.”

“P.M. right?” She responds quickly, worried since she never wakes up that early and rarely before 10 a.m. on the weekends for that matter.

“Of course,” he chuckles.

They’ve come upon the café and he’s quick to grab the handle to open the door and let her go before him. She can’t stop the blush and smile that spread on her face as she ducks her head into the warm and cozy shop. Men had opened doors for her before and she really thought of herself as a strong woman who didn’t need a man for anything, but something about Harry’s action felt especially, and specifically, chivalrous. Why, she had no idea.

Neither of them stop to look at the menu. They were regulars and they both knew that about each other as well. He gestures for her to go first and she mutters her thanks before turning to the patiently waiting barista. She orders and is about to hand over her card when Harry suavely steps in and says, “Don’t worry about it. I invited you with me, I’ll pay.”

It was both completely unexpected and expected at the same time. Knowing she’d never win this fight, she thanked him again, glanced at the man taking her order and then stepped aside. Harry orders his own drink and then pays for both. Today he leaves double the amount he usually leaves for tip, she assumes since it’s two drinks he was paying for.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know?” She says quietly to him once they’re in a corner of the café waiting for their drinks.

He stands slightly slumped against the wall, closer to her height right now. He only shrugs, his good natured smile not once leaving his face since he entered this place.

“I wanted to,” he said simply right as the drinks were ready since it wasn’t particularly busy on this random Friday afternoon.

They glance outside and see that it’s begun to drizzle while they’ve been inside. She sighs, having hoped to walk around a little after being inside all day.

Instead, they sit at the corner table in the café, across from each other. She moves on from the paying thing, knowing it was simply how this guy probably operated most of his life.

He got a black coffee today, the cold and rain likely contributing to that choice.

As one pop song fades out, slightly under the sound of the coffee machines, she’s about to tell Harry she’s pretty sure she can make his final football match when ‘Cardigan’ fades in. It’s the second time a Taylor Swift song has been playing while she’s been in the presence of Harry and they were conversing. She tries to ignore one of her favorite songs at the moment. Harry doesn’t seem to pay much mind to it. His foot is tapping against his other, but it’s been tapping like that since they sat down.

“I think I could probably make it to your game,” she says finally after a pause and a sip of her own drink.

Harry grins at the response and launches into how great it will be if they win and how happy everyone will be. She smiles along and doesn’t notice the slight head swaying to the song that she’s begun.

“Fan of Taylor?” Harry inquires and Y/N’s face drops, eyes widening cartoonishly.

She stutters, a nervous laugh leaving her mouth before she can actually say something. How does she respond about liking Taylor Swift to a man who counts her as an ex. She’s at a loss.

“Yeah, uh,” she finally starts.

Harry watches her curiously, obviously noticing her discomfort as his question.

“I used to not really consider myself a fan. I don’t really follow her just because I don’t really follow...um...musicians,” she chokes out the last word realizing Harry fits that category. “But, after folklore, I don’t know, this album really spoke to me. I also really like Lover and...uh” she pauses again, sticking on 1989, an album she has argued with her friends about how it’s basically a tell all of the man before her and Taylor’s relationship.

He nods, hoping she’ll continue. He wanted to get to know her and he kind of liked seeing her squirm. “1989?” He finally supplies.

Her blush isn’t able to be covered this time. If her hair didn’t fall in front of her ears she was sure they’d be flushed with blood.

Then she draws out of her own self stress and looks at the smooth man before her and grows calm. He was amazing at winding her up and she didn’t want to seem like some young, impressionable fangirl to him. So, she squared her shoulders and straightened up in her chair.

“Yes, it was pop perfection as one of my college friends liked to say. I’d always listen to it at the gym.” Then she pauses, taking a measured breath, gaining her confidence back. Her eyes meet his, “Is there any songs off it that you particularly enjoy, Mr. Styles.”

He chuckles, mostly because of her emphasis on ‘Style’.

“Shake it off?” He asks.

“Oh fuck off!” She laughs and he joins in with her.

When they catch their breaths from laughing, they simultaneously take sips of their drinks and settle their eyes back on one another. Exes and songs written about oneself weren’t exactly the topics Harry had in mind for the coffee outing he had asked Y/N out on, but talks of exes had never been this funny with anyone else. He was grateful for her playfulness, her demeanor.

“Can I ask you something personal?” She asks quietly and seriously.

“I think we’re past that question, love,” he responds.

“Yeah, I guess,” she pauses and just about whispers, “Pretty much all of them are about you right?”

He shrugs again, his felt coat rustling around his seat. “We never really talked about every single song.”

She leans forward at the ‘we’ Harry is using about himself and Taylor Swift.

“But when I listen to the songs, I hear us in just about every one but a few.”

“Wow,” she breathes and sips her drink. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lived through something that intense and then someone commemorated in a masterpiece.”

“Do you have a favorite on that album?” He asks, moving on from her revelation.

“I love ‘I know places’, it has a cool sound. But I also really love ‘Wonderland’. They both have kind of dark sounds, yet it still is like what you have is so special that the bad bits are worth it. I don’t know, it just seems like a tv show. I don’t think my life could ever be that crazy or dramatic.” She doesn’t notice her use of ‘you’ because she had meant it as a form of analyzing the song theoretically as she had done hundreds of times with her friends,  but this time the ‘you’ is literally the ‘you’ the song is talking about.

“Love can turn anyone’s life chaotic.” Harry muses.

The green eye’s that flashed at Taylor throughout that album look at Y/N from across the table and she feels a flip in her stomach at his tone.

Maybe he notices her mild discomfort, maybe that’s just who he is. But after a beat, Harry’s onto the next topic on his mind. He launches into how he’s just returned from Scotland for a shoot for something so undercover he can’t even divulge to her, much to his dismay. She’s taken aback since she didn’t consider her someone Harry would divulge any of his private matters to, but it seemed like he already considered her a confidant. Just not for that. He wants it to be a surprise.

She smiles and listens attentively. She wonders as he goes on about his interesting yet absurdly lavish life whether he even knows what regular life is like anymore. Or if he’d even enjoy it if he experienced it.

Sure, coffee and football were plenty part of regular life . But the football league was something novel to Harry. He had just gotten to do it and he was thrilled by its normalcy.

She regarded him carefully, unsure what the next step was in this budding friendship. Was it dangerous to get involved with someone’s life which seemed to be filled with whirlwind rigor and constant change.

She liked her chaos, don’t get her wrong. She felt like she often was the odd one out in life. Always thinking differently than the ones around her. She often was the one to suggest spontaneous late night trips around town or exploration of an abandoned building known for spooky stories. She liked inviting friends over for themed parties for no specific occasions and she liked taking film pictures of friends like they were models even though it was only for her and her memories. She thought of herself as silly and fun, but what Harry described as his chaotic fun actually was regimented tight schedules of constant travel and work. Interesting experiences came out of that constant travel and work, but didn’t seem like something she necessarily wanted to get herself wrapped up in.

After coffee, they leave the café and it’s pouring now. Instead of going home, Harry insists on walking her to her place. She relents, realizing, once again, that Harry wasn’t someone who took ‘no’ for an answer. She then invites him in because it’s the polite thing to do. And Harry being Harry accepts.

“Want a dry sweatshirt while you wait?” She asks as she slips off her wet shoes and jacket in the entryway. Harry follows suit, his knit sweater being pelted with rain for the last eight minutes left him feeling cold and shivery.

He nods as he toes off his shoes and ventures back to the living room she had him wait in a few hours ago.

“Here,” She says as she tosses a grey sweatshirt in his direction. She believes it's her one from earlier, an innocuous pullover with ‘London’ in collegiate lettering on the front. He catches it as she rounds the corner to turn up the heater.

Her mistake was being so careless to not look at the sweatshirt before handing it over to her neighbor. Anyone else, maybe they wouldn’t have questioned it. But Harry, how could he not.

“What’s this?”

“A sweatshirt,” she doesn’t spare him a glance on the coach as she fiddles with the thermostat.

“It’s one of my sweatshirts,” Harry says and she can hear the smile on his face.

“That’s impossible, I’ve never borrowed-” Her brows had raised at what he said but now her words fall short.

He didn’t mean one of his personal sweatshirts that she possibly borrowed if they were better friends. No. He meant his merchandise.

“It was a gift,” she sighs as she turns to face him. He’s now wearing the sweatshirt proudly and grinning up at her smugly.

She rolls her eyes when he gives her a knowing smile.

“I didn’t know that it was the one I was handing you. Honest!”

“I thought you didn’t “keep up” with musicians,” Harry says playfully, his fingers making quotes appropriately.

“I don’t.” Her tone is serious as she plops on the couch beside Harry.

“I enjoy your music from time to time. Is that a crime?!” She finally exclaims when she can’t handle Harry’s knowing smirk.

“No it’s not, you could have just told me you were a fan!” She tries to stop him and protest that she wouldn’t consider herself a fan, but he continues, “I still would have wanted to have been friends.You’re one of the liveliest neighbors I’ve got. Everyone else on the street is rather dull.”

She chuckles, remembering finding out quickly that the street wasn’t a lively bunch.  

“I just wouldn’t say I’m a fan,” she presses and sits across from him.

He continues smiling like he knows the truth.

“I don’t think you’ve met an average person in awhile, Harry.” She finally says after they sat in silence for a few minutes because they were both too stubborn to be the first to talk.

“I would hardly call you average if that’s what you’re implying, Y/N.” He nods her way and he shifts on her plush couch, his legs adjusting themselves on their own accord. “And I know plenty of average people,” he adds huffily.

“I normally wouldn’t either, but compared to who you seem to surround yourself, I very much am. And that’s not meant to be a jab at anyone involved.”

His right hand sneaks up to his head to scratch at the base of a particularly perfect curl. His eyes squint a bit as his mind processes her claim.

“What are you trying to say exactly?”

“I’m just curious to see if you’d actually like me in your life. It seems like you want to be friends with me and that’s great, but realistically I don’t know how much I would fit into it.”

Harry scoffs, “That’s literally bullshit, just relax. I’m so chill you won’t even know what to do with me.”

Now it’s her turn to scoff. “Chill?!” She asks incredulously. Harry nods with a seriousness she hadn’t seen before.

“When’s the next time you’re flying off to another country for work?”

Harry pauses, “Um...the day after the final match. I’m beginning to film a movie, so I’ll be there for a month.”

“Busy bee,” she muses and they both chuckle.

There’s something about the somber look Harry is giving her. His eyes twinkled in the coffee shop and with playful winks she was excited to be in his presence. But after she mentions when his next trip is, he seems saddened. There’s skepticism behind his eyes and maybe he doesn’t like being challenged about who he is from other people, especially those who are new in his life.

But that’s who Y/N is, she’s straightforward and doesn’t lie to someone. If Harry was now her friend, she was going to tell it like it is to him. That personality trait she worried wouldn’t make her long for his world.

“So the cardigan? Do you have it here?” Harry changes the subject, clearly not wanting to actually consider a realistic friendship together instead just charging ahead with no hesitation. Whatever happened they would deal with it as it came. Maybe she should just go with the flow, let herself be swept up into his madness. Maybe it would be easier than fighting it.

“No.”

“Oh?”

“I do, I was joking. Where else would it be?” Her tone is light, trying to get back the shine she had seen Harry exhibit before it had vanished.

Maybe that was Harry’s effect on people. He was vibrant and like an Elton John song. You never wanted that shine to go away, never wanted the song to end. Never wanted him to stop shining his light on you. She felt this happening in just a few hours with him. When he was happy so was she and when he wasn’t entirely shining she wanted to do whatever she could to get it back.

A smile curls on his face and his green eyes narrow slightly. He’s trying to figure her out, know what she’s all about.

“Do you want to go and grab it?” His voice sweetening, almost like a tease. Maybe he means to bite his lip, maybe he doesn’t, but the effect on her is nonetheless earthshaking.

She pops up and smiles back, happy to have made him happy. As she walks out of the room to go get the cardigan that had started this all, her head tilts and she furrows her brow wondering why she felt such a sense of pride just for making him happy.

Would this man cause her to finally put someone else’s wishes ahead of hers?

-

“Are you on your way?”

She listens to Harry’s slightly worried voice crackle over the speaker of her phone as she shuts her door with the hand not holding her phone to her ear. His voice is raspy and muffled. She assumes it’s from the cold air of London at night and the scarf he is likely got wrapped around his neck.

“Yes! Jeez, I’m on my way. Walking over right now.”

It’s the final match for Harry’s football team and if they win the game then they get a trophy and it’s all Harry has been talking about since they got coffee and she handed over her cardigan.

Harry huffed an “alright” on the other side of the line and she called a “see you soon” before hanging up.

He was both eager for Y/N to come and possibly meet some of his teammates and a few of his close friends who he had invited and for her to arrive so that she wasn’t walking out late at night alone. He hadn’t known her for long, but he felt a certain protectiveness over her. She was relatively alone here, only two friends at work that she had mentioned and everyone else lived far away. She said she didn’t mind it, but Harry had a hard time understanding it since he surrounded himself with his friends as much as he could and was constantly either traveling or having them travel to see him.

He had even contemplated inviting her to come to Los Angeles with him for a month, but knew she would remind him of her ever important job that she couldn’t just randomly take a month off.

He’d have to ask her what exactly she did because every time he tried to remember, it always slipped his mind.

When her figure came into sight below the fluorescent lights, he breathed a sigh of relief. A grin spread on his face as she beamed at him and waved a bit. He didn’t understand how she couldn’t see how special she was. Every time he saw her he felt himself straighten up and feel a bubbling in his chest. Her smile was infectious and the way her eyes glittered when she looked away quickly and then returned eye contact made him want to stay in her presence forever.

“You made it!” Harry said and scooped her up in his arms, not realizing just how happy he was to see her, swinging her around in a half circle.

She laughs in surprise, but appreciates the warmth Harry’s hug offers her. She’s not quite sure they had ever touched each other before this moment beside shoulder brushes and hand touches. Nothing so...purposeful.

“I made it,” she confirms and pats him on his broad shoulders.

Questions in her mind raced as she questioned whether it was normal for friendships to happen like this. She knew in college friendships could happen this quickly. And that’s when it dawned on her, she really hadn’t made a new friend since college and that was why everything with Harry was so odd to her. She had forgotten what new friendship was. She needed to stop questioning everything and just live in the moment with a person she really liked being with.

Harry’s hands move from her waist and one stays to lead her forward so he can introduce her to some of his mates, as he had promised.

She felt at home in that moment. His hand on the small of her back, his heat radiating off of him and her hair swept behind her ears and her cheek pressed to his shoulder staring up at him sweetly.

She meets Charlotte, a member of Harry’s band who lives in London, her boyfriend, Mitch (who had just happened to find himself in Hampstead this weekend), Ben, and a few more people she couldn’t remember all the names of.

Harry’s team wins the game and Y/N’s not sure if she’s ever seen someone so happy to win an adult league football match. There wasn’t any official trophy except the one Harry had made himself and said he would even give to the other team if they won. It was engraved with the words “The World’s Greatest Football Team of Stars Ever. October 22, 2020”. It doesn’t even make sense but she’d been holding it for the entire night as he played.

He goes down the line of his friends who have been watching and gives them all jubilant kisses on the lips. When he reaches Y/N she holds out the trophy and he grins and gives her a kiss on the cheek. His lips are surprisingly soft and his scratchy stubble tickles her and she swiftly pulls back, a smile on her face and blush on her cheeks nonetheless.

Charlotte and Mitch share a look between the two of them and Ben’s eyes narrow slightly at the interaction. His eyes narrow just as they had when Harry had strutted over to the group with Y/N before the game. He had happily named everyone and she had shaken all of their hands with a warm smile on her lips. Ben had regarded her warily and she had shaken it off as the chill of the night air. But there it was again, not quite trusting of the neighbour girl Harry had just randomly befriended a few days ago.

The team and the friends of the team decide they deserve to celebrate this win, mostly at the request of Harry.

Y/N tries to find a time to leave, to return to her place so she can prepare for her day at work tomorrow. But no excuses will be heard from Harry and she has a hard time saying no to his sparkling eyes and gorgeous grin that she’s growing far too accustomed to.

She’s ushered down to the closest pub with the rest of them and finds herself chatting with Charlotte’s boyfriend. He’s the most...normal. She’s not sure how to explain it, but he doesn’t seem to be regarding her as different, unlike every other one of Harry’s friends. They were all perfectly nice and cordial with her, but she just felt like she wasn’t a part of their group, their world and she didn’t know how to explain it.

Charlotte and Mitch are rather nice too, but they’re more reserved with her. They’re musicians, like Harry, and they somewhat have that air of awareness around them that Harry sometimes gets. She thinks it’s from the fame, having to constantly be wary of who is around you, what everyone is doing, what is happening next. She doesn’t mind it, it’s just not something she’s used to.

She wishes she could just throw back some drinks and she could allow herself to be more...well just be more. More of a presence, more of herself, but she has a job she has to get to bright and early. Tomorrow was Monday and for her that meant work. So she sips a beer that Harry insisted be on his tab and she makes small talk with Charlotte’s boyfriend about how he’s been helping her produce her first EP. Charlotte occasionally pops in when she hears her name, but mostly is conversing with Mitch over something silly. Y/N knows because they keep laughing.  

Harry is going around to just about everyone in the party and she watches as he happily talks with every one of his friends. He’s ecstatic and she wonders if she’s ever experienced happiness like he has.

At midnight she attempts to make a French exit, as her mother always called it, and slip away with little to no farewells, but Harry spots her before she can.

“You’re leaving already?” Harry asks loudly, the euphoria of winning his silly little game and drinking a fair amount of pints has him at his peak boisterity.

“I have work tomorrow,” she says warily, slumping slightly from the weight of Harry’s arm slinging around her shoulder.

He turns serious and straightens up slightly, his green eyes looking especially dark in the pubs dim lighting as they look her dead in the eye. “Let me walk you home.”

“I can get home by myself,” she laughs, shrugging off his hold. “Plus, the host can’t leave his own celebration.” She gestures to everyone else happily celebrating on a Sunday, somehow not bothered by the beginning of the average week.

He steps closer, his brow furrowing for the first time that night. One of his large hands raises to his tousled hair and he runs it through the tresses. He even nibbles at his lower lip as he contemplates his decision. Then quickly and suddenly, he makes up his mind,

“No, I’ll escort you. Can’t have my neighbour walk home this late alone. I’ll just leave my card with Mitch. He’ll settle up the tab.” He smiles at his perfect plan and she grimaces feeling slightly embarrassed that he would leave his friends to walk her home. “Won’t you Mitch?” Harry calls as he grabs his coat from the wall next to the door. Mitch simply nods and Harry yells his farewells, Y/N waves meekly.

“That was...interesting,” she mulls over her words as they walk through the cold night air outside of the pub.

“Amazing, right?” Harry speaks over her less enthusiastic voice.

“You have a lot of friends,” she mused, trying to sound less disheartened than she had in her last statement.

Harry only hums and shivers slightly from the cold. His breath comes clearly out in puffs in the cold night air. Y/N’s is muffled by her scarf wrapped tightly up to her chin. She’s tucked his face as far into it as possible but her nose won’t stop from freezing as they walk.

Her hand goes up to it and she rests her palm to the tip of it. The motion grabs Harry’s attention and he looks directly at her curiously.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m freezing,” she muffles out, “This helps my cold nose not be so..cold.”

He chuckles and wraps his arm around her shoulder and she easily folds into him, welcoming any warmth right now.

After another moment of silence and them enjoying each other’s warmth and slight smell of whatever perfumes they had chosen earlier that night as well as beer and wood of the pub, Harry nuzzles his head above hers and then asks her something.

“Was that overwhelming for you?”

She’s quiet, thankful his eyes can’t reach hers right now. He was too powerful with those things.

“I, um, a little. I just...I just realized today that I haven’t made a new friend since college outside of work and it was overwhelming just hanging out with you. So all of your friends as well, yeah, it was a bit much for me.”

Harry looks out at the empty street ahead of them and sighs in realization. In his excitement, he hadn’t accounted how she might have felt tonight until just now. He wanted to kick himself for not thinking of her feelings, but other’s feelings slipped his mind so easily sometimes.

They round their street corner and she nuzzles back into his side.

“I’m sorry, love.” He rubs at her outer arm, “I didn’t think about it like that. I was just so excited for my plan to come together. Maybe next time, it’ll just be a couple of them rather than so many?”

“Sure,” she says quickly, wanting to make him happy, knowing how much he cared about his friends. “I feel like we need to hang out more with just you before I osmos into your friend group though if I’m being honest.”

“Well that can definitely be arranged,” he says and reluctantly lets go of her body. They’ve arrived at her door.

“I also want to see the inside of your house at some point.” She tugs at one of his hands before it can disappear into his warm coat pocket. “Houses,” she corrects.

“That can also be arranged,” Harry smiles with his lips closed. Pink lips and rosy cheeks extra bright from the cold. He plays with her fingers as the two stand close to one another, happy for the alone time and chalking the proximity up to heat sharing.

“You leave tomorrow right?” She finally asks.

His head falls and he sighs.

“Yeah…”

“It’s just a month,” she smiles, trying to stop Harry from being so dramatic. Especially when there was no logical reason for him to be so upset over not seeing his neighbour - she keeps telling herself.

“Are you sure you can’t quit your job and just fly out with me?” He pleads.

She throws her head back in laughter and shifts closer to him, her front porch light illuminating and shadowing every perfect place on Harry’s gorgeous face.

“Not even a chance.”

“That is a shame,” he takes an experimental step closer and she feels his breath fan across her cheeks at his last word.

She wrinkles his nose at the smell of his last beer, even though coming from him it was endearing.

Just as she feels him being to shift his head closer, she steps forward and gives him a tight hug.

“Goodnight Harry,” she whispers into his ear, “Safe travels.”

Then she’s stepping back and swiftly unlocking her door. She moves it slowly so as to not wake Rori and then Harry’s left alone and dumbfounded on her doorstep.

He definitely preferred being with her alone, but now he didn’t even have that chance until next month. And nonetheless she had just sidestepped his kiss with such ease he’s not even sure if he meant to kiss her. It had felt right, but why? Because it was cold and picture perfect? Or because he was enchanted by her and liked her as more than a new friend?

She slumps in her kitchen and fixes an Emergen-C to stave off the chill of the night and any germs that might have been lurking around the pub. She hopes when she walks to her bedroom she can check the front porch and see that Harry has gone home because she would hate to turn the light off on him.

How could he have expected her to kiss him just then? They’ve only just met each other a few weeks ago? And he’s Harry Styles and she just lives in the neighbourhood. What the actual fuck had happened to her life?

[kazububs-archived]

ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ, ᴍx. ᴍᴀᴅᴀʀᴀᴍᴇ

includes: Alter & Shion Madarame

summary: A talk show interview about my famous actor husband, Shion Madarame, as his spouse Alter Madarame.

cw: selfship, swearing

wc: 1.9k / fandom: Tokyo Revengers

a/n: This is for @arozaur and @arlertslove collab, "Selfship Collab"

“Thank you for being here with us Alter, it is so amazing to have Shion’s spouse here with us today, on our little talkshow.” Shaking hands I smile at the polite greeting. 

“Of course! It’s such a cute little town, I am so happy to be here.” 

“So tell us, we want all the tea about you and Shion’s relationship! Bring us back to the start, how did you two meet?” 

“Well….” 

Funny enough, we met through our high school. He was in the classic ‘bad boy’ and I was your average class president in our second year. The amount of times I was on his ass for picking fights or skipping class. I’m sure we were the schools biggest enemies. Hated him for the longest time because Shion was always itching for a fight, for someone to beat down, to steal from someone, or just get in trouble. It pissed me off. 

We just didn’t match at all, but you know what they say ‘opposites attract’. 

I remember it clearly as the day I fell for that idiot. Rain was pouring harder than the weather channel could have ever predicted, considering they didn’t predict it at all, I didn’t have an umbrella. So I was standing under the school entrance waiting for it to lighten up enough that I could walk home. But by the look of the clouds that wasn’t happening anytime soon. 

Looking around, I noticed a black jacket on the ground and a blond haired guy hunched over a small cardboard box. I was about to go over and tell Shion off for respecting his uniform, until I heard a little meow. Ignoring the rain dripping down, I stand a good distance away so he doesn’t notice me and just observe him. 

A small orange and black cat resided in the box, meowing at Shion as he stroked its back. And I just remember being so taken back by his actions, because the big rough and tough delinquent was being all soft and careful with a little kitten.

It was quite an adorable sight I must admit. And I remember my heart beating so fast I thought it was going to burst out of my chest, I couldn’t even be bothered by the rain anymore as I ran home; embarrassed at my crush on Shion that had formed that day.

“Wow, that's such a cute story! Who would have thought that Shion would have such a soft spot for cats.” 

Giggling, you nod, smiling at the fond memory that has led me to my life with Shion. “It’s been a wild ride but I couldn’t say I'd do it with anyone else but him.” 

The audience awes in unison as the talk show host puts a hand over their heart, awwing with the crowd. “That is so cute, I must admit. I love your guys dynamic! So you mention that you’ve met in high school, can I ask, how long have you been non-binary and how has Shion taken it?” Letting out a dry chuckle, I smile at the host. 

It’s funny enough to say Shion has known me when I was a female, and he was my biggest fan and supporter when I started to transition. We met when we were only 15 years old; kids really. At the time, I was struggling with my identity, so I was hyper feminine. 

You can ask Shion, I used to have so many colourful scrunchies, hair bands, bracelets and necklaces. Anything that I thought made me look more girly. But I soon realized that this person wasn’t me and I decided to change. I cut my hair shorter, coming to school on a monday with ear length hair, compared to lower back length that i used to have. 

Of course Shoin being the dummy he is, questioned my hair and asked if I was trying to look like a guy. I told him “Don’t be ridiculous, I’m just trying something new, what’s it to you?” I may have come off too harsh at the time, because he never questioned my appearance again. 

Though when I switched uniforms under the guidance of the academy, he asked me again what was going on, and that’s when I decided it was time to come out as who I was, who Alter was. 

I remember standing in front of the class, gripping my pants with almost a death grip out of anxiety. “Thank you all for your attention, I have a small announcement to make that I believe will affect all of you. Please pay attention, and ask questions if you feel it is needed.” 

Chuckling as I make eye contact with the audience, “I would like to think since Shoin has become such a star, I’ve gotten a lot better speaking in front of an audience and having people hold onto my words.” The host raises their eyebrows at me, “Did you struggle with anxiety when you were younger?” The question makes me chuckle thinking of younger me and how terrified I'd be to be talking on a live show. “Oh, for sure.” 

I came out to my class, and everyone was accepting, especially Shion; which wasn’t expected. If anything I expected him to give me shit for transitioning from female to non-binary, but he’s always been so supportive. 

The host gives a giant, tv-worth smile as they turn to the camera. “Well that’s such a cute story, now isn’t it? Stay tuned after these commercials for more stories of Alter Madarame, Shion Madarame’s spouse!” 

The director calls a break as makeup assistants run in to fix hair and makeup of myself and the host. “It’s really such an honour to be able to be talking with you, mx.Madarame.” The host cheers, as I flush at the comment, “Please you don’t have to say that, you’re honestly too kind, the pleasure is all mine.” 

“We're back on in 10!” The director calls out as we get back into position, laughing at nothing in particular as the cameras set back up on us. “Welcome back everyone, I’m here with Alter Madarame, Shion Madarame’s spouse! We’re here to hear the tea of their relationship with all the cute little antidotes!” They talk to the camera, turning back to me with the next question, “So Alter, please tell us, when Shion isn’t working or practicing for a role, what does he do?” 

Shion, being a famous actor, is often busy with work, but the rare chance he gets some time off, he adores blacksmith work. We have a little shed created just for him to work. Shion has admitted to me before that when he was younger, you know how people sleep with a bat beside their bed for safety? Shion does that but just a little more ‘Shion-y’, as he sleeps with his brass knuckles under his pillow. 

Their gold with amethyst gemstones on the knuckles in honour of me, with purple being my favourite colour. Though he’s also worked on weaponry, such as daggers, historical swords, hunting knives, etc. I can’t remember a time when he had a day off that he wasn't in the forge. Though he is very attentive to me, I adore horror movies and even though he gets scared so easily he’ll always watch them with me. 

One of our favourites to watch together is Killer Klowns from Outer Space, I love it cause it was one of my first horror movies, and he loves it cause it isn’t too scary but more on the fun side. 

A hobby that he’ll probably kill me to talk about is fostering cats. We work closely with a rescue shelter nearby, and take in the younger kittens to train them and socialize them mostly, and then send them back for families to go to. I have to admit though we did fall in love with a Russian blue cat, and ended up keeping her. You probably know her as our little Goose, and that’s where we got her from. 

Don’t tell Shion I said this but, he is such a sweetheart with the kittens. He’s so gentle and kind, it’s really making me consider kids with him just based on seeing him interact with the cats. But for now we'll stick with our baby, Goose. 

The host looks at me with wide eyes, open mouth like a fish gasping for air. “Children?!” She shouts, obviously not even thinking of any questions about it, as they quickly try to compose themselves. “Sorry, I was just taken aback. I thought you had made it very clear you didn’t want kids in any form.” Avoiding their gaze, I let out a little chuckle as I picked at my fingers. “Well you see…” 

“What do you mean you aren’t gonna get pregnant?” Shion whines out, as I sit on his thighs, massaging his back. Leaning down I pressed a kiss to his shoulder, “You know the mere thought of getting pregnant scares me, if we want kids we can adopt.” He pouts at me, though I can’t see it, I can almost feel the pout radiating off his body. 

“What’s wrong with just having pets and calling them our babies?” I mumble out as I roll off, laying down next to him. He chuckles, shifting around to face me. “Ain’t nothing wrong with that, just saying it would be nice to have a tiny human running around here, ya know?” Rolling my eyes, I just let my head hit the pillow, reaching my arm out to wrap around him as I tangle our legs together. “Cuddles?” I whisper out as he smiles, shifting to move me pressed against his chest.” 

The audience awes at the story, as the host turns to me, “So do you think you’ll ever have kids? Like human kids?” They laugh at their own joke, as I join along, “Well like I said, I don’t want to become pregnant, as it’s a fear of mine. But I can’t say I’d be against adopting children.” Smiling fondly as I think about Shion with our non-existent children. “Well that’s time, but thank you so much Alter Madarame for being here with us today! I’m sure our viewers are ecstatic to see their interview. Thank you again!” They smile out, as we shake hands, “Of course, thank you so much for having me, it was such a great time!”. 

I sigh, stepping through the door into silence. That was exhausting to say the least, I don’t know how talk show hosts do this as their full-time jobs. Just being on camera for two hours had completely exhausted me, ‘Can’t wait till Shion gets back home, for now I need to recharge.’ Thinking to myself as I grab a throw blanket and wrap myself up on the couch with our cat Goose. She purrs, coming to sit on my lap as I switch on Netflix and watching a baking show. 

Hours pass by as late afternoon turns into night. A half eaten container of chicken ranch poutine sits on the table, as I stay curled up with the cat. My eyes struggle to stay up as I nod off. Sleep starts to take over as I lean my head back on the couch, napping with the cat. The front door opens as Shion tries to slip in quietly.

Kicking his shoes off, he quietly calls out for me, “Alter? You here baby?”. Though turning the corner, his eyes widened slightly at the sight of me and Goose curled up on the couch, napping together. Shion lets out a breathless chuckle, as he joins us on the couch, grabbing a blanket to drape over the three of us. “Goodnight my babies.” Pressing a kiss to my forehead, Shion allows himself to join us in dreamland. 

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[cherriesfineline]

savior next door

im on a writing trance so expect a lot of writings from me hehe, here's what i wrote last night, enjoy besties.

- fluff & a tiny little bit of smut (not really lol) | not proofread, sorry

Pairing: HarryxY/N

WC: 3.8k

the one where Harry is Y/N's shy and virgin neighbor.

The constant feeling of uneasiness has been haunting Harry ever since he almost got himself in a car accident almost a year ago.

It hadn’t been his fault – he was crossing a random street in a quiet area of New York when a hand grabbed his upper arm and pushed him out of the crosswalk, where a car speeded through without even slowing down. “Watch where you’re going, you’re going to get yourself killed.” The woman who’d saved his life scolded at him with a worrying look on her face. He remembers her eyes were glowing in such a splendor, something he’d never seen before – it intrigued him to know who his life savior was, but before he could even make a comment, the woman stormed off and got lost between the seas of people around the corner, leaving Harry in an unsuccessful search for her.

Harry has never been a people person. He always avoids big crowds, social events and especially, study groups. His university journey so far has been a lonely and reserved one, having movie marathons when not studying or discovering new kinds of herbal teas. His only form of social interaction is the occasional chat with his across-the-hall neighbor Niall, whom he considered -kind of- a close friend; his only one, in fact.

“Heard someone’s moving in to the flat next to yours.” Niall knows Harry isn’t exactly a social butterfly, and maybe it’s the fact that Harry is younger than him and how he seems like such a harmless human what makes him feel like he needs to help him. Harry just shrugs at his comment, not really interested in any possible intruder to their peaceful hallway (where both their apartments and the currently empty one in the corner were the only three ones on their floor). And maybe it was the fact that it has been almost a month since Niall’s comment what made him furious when he saw the cardboard boxes on their hallway, forgetting about the possibility of having a new neighbor.

The sudden sound of glass crashing and a loud yell snaps Harry out of his frustrated trance, stepping around the huge boxes scattered around the door next to his to knock on the doorway of the open door. Even if he really isn’t very fond of having a new neighbor that doesn’t mean he’s not going to check on them to see if they’ve gotten hurt. “Is everything alright?” He still can’t see whoever is inside, but he decides on waiting if no one replies to step inside. But he doesn’t need to, because as he was about to make his way inside, a head pops up from one side of the entry hallway, assuming that’s where the kitchen is, as he notices the apartment is a replica of his own, but inverted.

“Hey, sorry, just dropped my favorite cup.” His breath gets caught on his throat when her life savior’s face appears in sight, the cutest frown adorning her features and her sweet voice resonating through his brain. Her eyes, exactly like he remembers shine with an unbeatable glow, like a thousand diamonds under a microscope, but the image he had of her on his brain doesn’t make her justice – she is even more beautiful than he remembers. “I’m Y/N, nice to meet you. You live in this floor?” Harry can’t help but be disappointed at the fact that apparently she doesn’t remember him.

“Y-yes, next door. H-harry.” He stutters. Her presence just makes him so nervous, he can���t help it. She is probably one of, if not the, most beautiful woman he’s ever laid eyes on. Her eyes are hypnotizing, the softness of them which appears to be constant warms his insides and he thinks he could spend hours upon hours staring right at them.

“Do I know you? I feel like I know you.” Y/N’s thinks out loud, her expression alluding to her thoughts trying to place him somewhere in her memories.

“Uh, I- I don’t think so?” Harry feels embarrassed, so he couldn’t come up with a better answer. He is silently hoping she doesn’t remember the time they met all that time ago – this is his chance, he thinks, to redeem himself, for her to see him as a normal dude instead of this clumsy and shy boy who couldn’t even thank her when she saved him from being ran over by a car.

He wishes he could read her mind. What’s her first impression on him? Does she think he’s cute? She probably doesn’t. He thinks she’s too pretty to even spare a second glance at someone like him; a shy boy with bad posture and still breaking out in his forehead despite being 22. And she, Y/N, a woman who could make anyone her own, a woman who probably makes every head turn her way when entering a room. Harry feels his chest deflate as his thoughts start beating him up.

During the course of her first two months living next door, Y/N and Harry barely interact. He keeps stealing glances her way whenever they run into each other in the hallway, getting shy and cheeks reddening when she catches him every time. He gets jealous whenever he hears her walking down the hallway from inside his apartment, obvious guests coming in and out of her apartment – and if the person (because he recalls hearing both men and women) is good enough, he can even hear her sometimes through the thin wall that divides their bedrooms, her headboard clearly mirroring his. He feels dirty and intrusive during nights like these, so he opts on putting headphones on, music playing in his phone to help him drift off to sleep.

But Y/N is fascinated by him, maybe not as much as he is with her, but enough to wonder how it’d be like to reallyhave him in her life. She knows he’s a very reserved man, her animated chats with Niall more usual than not drift towards Harry and how she wishes he’d just keep looking at her when she catches his eye instead of running away – not because her ego is enormous or anything, but she is aware of the obvious crush Harry has on her. “He’s not going to start conversation, you should just go for it.” She remembers Niall told her one night after having a small chat in his threshold; because all Niall wants is for Harry to put himself out there, but he knows he needs a little extra push.

But it all changes one night. A night Y/N drinks more than usual – shot after shot going down her throat making her feel nothing but dizzy, the sensation of puke going up her throat forcing her to call it a night. Barely making it out of the elevator she stumbles on her way to her door, and Harry hears her. The sound her combat books make is so engraved in Harry’s brain he knows it’s her after just a couple of steps.

“Fuck.” Harry hears the unmistakable sound of her keys, and how she’s clearly struggling to fit them inside the lock. After a loud banging sound and what sounds like her sliding down the door, he starts worrying about her and how she’s probably not going to make it inside her apartment without a little help. So he steps outside after sliding his old white vans on to find her on the floor leaning against her door, legs bent and elbows resting on either knee supporting her head.

“Y/N?” He calls her in a whisper. She shoots her head up immediately making her insides turn, and with unfocused eyes, she looks up at him and smiles fondly.

“Hey, pretty boy.” She greets him with a soft smile, eyes closing and opening again slowly and Harry feels his stomach erupt in a thousand butterflies. Did she just call him pretty boy?

“You need help?”

“Please.” Harry’s red cheeks don’t go unnoticed by her the moment she lifts her hand to give him her keys and she honestly thinks he might explode. He helps her get up and guides her inside her home with such gentle movements she could melt in his hold, and that’s when she decides (drunk out of her mind) she wants him to hold her again, soon. And while sober.

He lays her down in her bed and announces he’s going to take her shoes off, giving her enough time to object. “I always catch you staring, you know?” Her thoughts slip off her lips unannounced, but she doesn’t really care. Harry, on the other hand, freezes in his spot, one of her shoes still in hand and with wide eyes he connects their gazes for the second time that night.

“I- I… I’m sorry- I don’t mean to be c-creepy or anything I j-just-“

“Shh.” She cuts him off, his stuttering making its first appearance of the night. “Didn’t say I don’t like it.” She confesses and wiggles her feet so he can resume his actions. Harry’s brain is betraying him more than usual right now. His thoughts are everywhere, not a single coherent answer coming to mind, so he doesn’t do anything but finish helping her out of her shoes in silence.

“Goodn-night, Y/N.” Harry left her apartment that night after carefully placing a soft blanket over her body and making sure she had a glass of water on her nightstand (he didn’t want to snoop around her apartment for some pills for her hangover, so he just left her with the duty of doing that herself in the morning) and laid in bed with so many thoughts running through his head he barely got an hour of sleep that night.

And that went on for a week. Knowing she was sleeping on the other side of the wall makes him more nervous than before now that he knows Y/N is aware of his constant staring – but who would blame him? She really is a sight for sore eyes. Y/N knocks on his door the following Saturday, and he opens it surprised to find her on the other side, mainly because she’s usually out with her friends by now every Saturday (not that he’s constantly waiting to hear her walk on their hallway, but he truly is always sitting on his living room and the thin walls of their apartment complex don’t provide them much privacy).

“Harry, hi.” She offers him the sweetest smile, but there’s a shy and nervous undertone to it this time. “I just wanted to thank you, for helping me the other night.” She clasps her hands together in front of her and nods with a tight lipped smile. “But I also want to apologize, I know I probably made you uncomfortable with uh, some comments I made.” She slightly scrunches her nose, waiting for his reply.

But Harry is, in simple words, speechless. He can’t believe there’s a sober Y/N who just knocked on his door willingly talking to him. Her voice sounds so melodic and Harry just wants to cuddle her and the giant, soft looking green sweater she’s wearing isn’t helping him ease his thoughts. He wants Y/N to hold him while she talks to him with that sweet voice of hers, he wants to hold her small hands and fill her cheeks and mouth with kisses along with every inch of her body -not that she’d ever let him, Harry thought, but a boy can dream-, but most importantly, he wants to learn every single detail about her. How she likes her coffee in the mornings, or if she prefers tea. In which position she sleeps the most comfortable in and if there’s any TV shows she re-watches just because it brings her comfort. He has so many questions he wants to ask her he completely forgets they’d been standing in his threshold for long minutes, with him just staring at her.

“It���s ok, don’t worry.” He says barely above a whisper, and they stay in their positions for a while, again with no words spoken between them, until he finally gains enough courage to ask, “Do you want to come in?” He opens his door a bit wider with a wary look on his face. Y/N nods, her smile widens and makes her eyes sparkle with that glow Harry is still fascinated by.

They sit in the couch with a long distance between them; farther away from the other than any of them like. Y/N does most of the talking, but she truly doesn’t mind – she talks animatedly about this new show Bridgerton she binge watched last night, Harry making mental notes about most things she says. He wants to remember everything, from the way her voice slightly sharpens when she mentions something she suddenly remembers to the way she moves her hands to accompany her speech; he already loves how expressive she is with her face features, and only confirms how he’d listen to her speak for the rest of his life.

Y/N manages to get more words out of him than she expected, and asks for his opinion or thoughts on most things she mentions. She hates making conversation purely about herself, she wants to know about Harry as much as she can. She wishes he would initiate conversation or switch topics with no shame, but she knows she’s asking for too much. This night alone they interacted more than the last three months combined, and Y/N is grateful for it.

Three chapters of FRIENDS had passed when she finds herself scooting a bit closer to him, carefully trying to read his body language. When he stiffens in his position, she turns her head to look at him. His cheeks are tinted a cute shade of pink, and he’s blinking a lot more than he usually does. He places both hands on his thighs and runs them up and down to get rid of the sweat accumulating on them, and he can’t help but gasp when their thighs touch, meaning she scooted even closer. As if that isn’t enough to kill him, she softly rests her head on his shoulder.

“Is this ok?” Y/N whispers, and he forces himself to turn his head to find her eyes, which are already looking up at him. He slowly nods and makes the dumb mistake of looking down at her lips. He feels the hot embarrassment run up his neck and quickly turns to face his TV again, planning on pretending nothing ever happened.

That is, until he feels the soft skin of her palm and gentle fingers grab his jaw, forcing his gaze back on her. That touch alone makes him feel more than any other human has made him feel in his entire life – but it doesn’t compare to the eruption of jitteriness washing through him when her eyes look down at his lips.

“Can I kiss you?” Harry freezes in his spot. He wonders if he heard her correctly, not believing his senses when around her, the possibility of her wanting to kiss him are too low, he thinks, and when he doesn’t respond, she slowly begins to remove her hand from his face, taking a guess on his unspoken rejection. He, for once, reacts quickly enough; he grabs her by her wrist, placing her hand back again in its spot on his jaw, and works enough courage to just go for it. Harry lowers his face to gently envelope her top lip between his own. It’s quick but sweet (just like she had expected their first kiss to be, if she’d ever got lucky enough to experience it) and when he moves away just enough to separate her lips, she wastes no time in connecting them again. This time, the kiss is longer and with more determination than before, and when Harry feels Y/N melt into him, he gains enough confidence to grab her face with both of his hands, deepening the kiss.

They stay enveloped in each other for a while, mouths molding and moving in sync with so many unspoken emotions it feels overwhelming for both – they barely know each other, they’re very aware of it, but the undeniable infatuation they both feel is stronger than they’d ever admit. Y/N feels on her face the long exhale that leaves through Harry’s nose when she softly traces his bottom lip with the tip of her tongue, and when he meets her tongue with his, the mood that was settled between them switches drastically – from sweet and innocent to needy and passionate.

Harry isn’t very experienced with kissing, let alone with anything past first base. He’d only made out with a girl all the way back in high school during his senior prom, and the girl was so harsh and desperate Harry knew that moment he wouldn’t ever share an intimate moment with anyone again unless he truly felt something for them. Now, he knows it might seem like he’s rushing things in his heart, but he’d do anything with and for Y/N – but he knows he’s not ready just yet.

His nervousness consumes him again when she moves to straddle his lap, making him whimper at the new position. He shakily places his hands next to her legs on the couch, not sure what is too much and what is ok to do. She runs her hands from his jaw down to his shoulders, and moves them all the way down his arms to his hands, giving them a soft squeeze before placing them on her waist and sliding her own back up again towards his neck, never breaking the kiss.

He unintentionally lets a second whimper leave his mouth when she sits herself down on his lap, creating some friction between their groins. He knows he’s hard – he felt his dick grow in his pants the second she touched his jaw, but knowing Y/N could feel it now put him a tad on edge. He separates their lips; their agitated breathing mixing in between them.

“I- I’ve never…” Harry begins, but he’s having a hard time finding the correct words. Y/N understands almost immediately – she’s not proud to admit she had figured he was unexperienced, feeding the stereotype of shy-ergo-virgin, even though she was correct this time.

“We won’t do anything you don’t want to,” Y/N gives him a soft peck and continues, “you can say no, but I’d love to make you feel good, if you’d let me. We can keep our clothes on.” Y/N suggests. If she has to be honest, she hasn’t dry-humped anyone since high school, but the thought of doing it with Harry lights her insides in animalistic flames.

When Harry timidly nods, she shakes her head with her eyebrows raised in a disapproving look, “Use your words, H.”

“I- I want you to- to do it. I- I trust you.” His stuttering makes Y/N’s insides warm, the fact that she makes him nervous amuses her – she’s certain she’s never made anyone this nervous before, but it is the fact that Harry admitted he trusts her what sends shivers down her spine. All she does in response is roll her hips against his – and when he closes his eyes with a pleasured groan leaving his lips, she does it again. Harry’s grip on her waist lowers to her hips, squeezing the flesh that was subtly beginning to get exposed from all the movement, and when he throws his head back Y/N takes advantage of his exposed neck to finally attach her lips to it. Her hold on one side of his face moves to grip his jaw, turning his head slightly to the side so she can suck on the sweet spot behind his ear still rolling her hips on his, and when she pokes the spot with her tongue to soothe the pleasuring sting, he unconsciously thrusts his hips up to meet hers; Y/N can’t help but smile and leave a trail of sweet, wet kisses from his new deepening bruise to the place where his neck meets his shoulders, repeating her actions there to leave a second bruise.

Harry feels his cock twitch in his pants when Y/N rolls her hips with more pressure, and they both know he’s close - his inexperience making him not last longer than a couple of minutes. “Are you going to cum for me?” Y/N asks him, holding his jaw tightly to keep his gaze on hers, and when he shyly nods she adds, “I want you to look at me when you do it.”

Harry can’t believe what’s going on – he has the most beautiful woman in the word on top of him about to make him cum, and he’s sure he’s going to come so hard he’ll probably have to throw his briefs into the trash. Her gaze staring so intensely into his eyes is what makes his insides finally explode, his eyes seeing white for a moment – with his mouth open ajar and glossy eyes he feels the large amount of cum spurting from his cock, making a mess inside his pants. The pleasure and fullness he feels during this moment is something he has never experienced before, never thinking he would surrender this fast over someone else’s actions. Y/N slows her movements but doesn’t stop for a while, allowing him to empty his insides until he hisses at the friction. Harry hugs her lower back to pull her closer to him, and Y/N lets her head drop to his shoulder so they can both catch their breaths.

They stay like that for a while, hugging each other with Y/N running her hand softly through his chocolate curls and Harry tracing small circles on the small of her back.

“You saved me from a car accident, a year or so ago.” Harry confesses – the pure bliss he’s feeling makes him dizzy and unaware of his words.

“I know. I remember.” Y/N confesses herself, and when Harry’s soft caresses stop at her back, she removes her head from the warm spot on his neck to look at him in the eyes, finding a confused frown in his eyebrows and lips in a small pout – she kisses him soft and quickly, not being able to contain herself. “I figured you either didn’t remember or didn’t bring it up for a reason, so I chose to not mention it.” She shudders and gives him a soft smile.

“Was embarrassed, still am.” Harry whispers with red cheeks, and Y/N’s laugh resonates through his living room, and if he wasn’t already obsessed with her, her laugh completes his way there.

“So cute.” She pecks his lips. “Can’t believe it took us this long to… talk.” Another peck. A knowing look on her face knowing damn well they did more than talking.

“You are too pretty. And intimidating. Can’t even walk in front of you without tripping over my own feet.” Y/N giggles at his confession, finding him even more amusing.

“Do you want to go on a date tomorrow?” Y/N asked, not being able to wait another day to ask. Harry feels his cheeks hurting from all the smiling, but he is too content in this moment.

“I’d love to.”

x

As always, feedback is truly appreciated,

love, Joey.

[tu-sugar-mami]

You're an exchange student part 2:

You can read the first part here

You sit awkwardly on a gigantic chair while holding a lukewarm, barely touched cup of tea with both of your hands. Your back is straight and your shoulders are tense. You're starting to feel a bit sore after being still for a long time but you can't bring yourself to move.

After the incident with the first cultist —or what you still think is a cultist, the redhead girl— the tall lady took away your bug repelent and lighter along with your backpack, putting them on the top row of a nearby shelf where she was sure your little hands wouldn't reach.

If you're honest, you're not sure how you ended up sitting in the chair in front of the gigantic fireplace with many heavy comforters on you providing much needed warmth, feeling like an unexpected but not unwelcomed guest instead of the next sacrifice, but truly you're not complaining. This is thousand times better than to die outside from the cold.

As you sit there innocently waiting for the next important thing to happen, you can see that the two young women who arrived after you are exchanging a few words with Miss Tall Lady while taking off their coats to reveal several layers of winter clothes underneath. It's strange to you, but you pay it no mind. Every person takes different to the cold, after all.

The tall lady starts pacing back and forth in front of you heatedly talking, glancing at you once or twicce, and it's not hard for you to notice the strain and exasperation in her tone. Whatever she's saying sounds serious, but you can only make out a few words like 'offering' 'wrong' and 'mistake'.

Not knowing what to respond your find yourself distracted by the decor. Your eyes roaming every detail of the chiseled fireplace, taking in the most fine of the details. Then, is the stairwell that catches you attention and you can't help but to think it would be a great place to slide on a cardboard box.

"Are you listening to me?" A commanding voice and a snap of fingers brings your wandering mind down from the clouds and your neck snaps to face the woman. Her eyes are a beautiful golden, and you can't believe you didn't notice before.

"Your eyes are mesemerizing..." You say in your language, breathless, the words slipping past your lips almost as in a trance. Your gaze goes a bit down and your fingers twitch with a sudden desire to run them over those blood-red lips and feel for yourself if they are as soft as they look.

Miss Tall Lady looks thrown off by the foreign accent in your voice. It's definitely one she hadn't have the pleasure of hearing before and somehow makes her pause. Her mind might be playing tricks on her but why did whatever you said felt like some kind of compliment?

"Mother?" One of the young women from before asks tentatively. You don't know if you're right but you think the girls are the woman's daughters.

"Take this one to the library. I will follow shortly." Miss Tall Lady says before hurriedly walking away, though without losing her lady-like grace. Your eyes follow an hypnothic sway of hips going up the stairs before you sense a hand being extended towards you, expecting.

"Teacup, please." A blonde, very polite-looking young lady says. You jump a bit in your seat and inevitably blush, thinking for a moment you were caught in your respecful percieving, but to your relief the woman in front of you didn't seem to notice that.

"Uh..." You're not sure what Miss Blonde wants, but judging by the look she's giving you, you suppose she wants to greet you formally, so you do what any other civilized person would do. "Hi, it's a pleasure to meet you, miss." You say as you properly position the teacup in your left hand and with your right you shake hers. She's taken aback, but after a second of hesitation a smile breaks and graces her face.

A pair of loud laughs sound from behind the blonde. The young woman with the dark hair approaches you both from the side with an amused grin. "I like this one, Bels."

"An odd one indeed." Miss Blonde replies.

The last one of the unusual trio approaches on the other side of the blonde, the redhead you knocked out earlier. She looks at you intently. "Just so you know, no one besides mother sends me to sleep without consecuenses, little one." and punctuates her statement with a boop to your nose.

"Yes, yes, you'll get your revenge later, Daniela. Let's not keep Mother waiting." You're hoisted up by the hand. The warm comforters falling off your back and piling on the big chair, instantly making you shiver with the lack of heat. The three women walk away and you have no other option than to follow them.

The door is opened and inside you find yourelf gaping at the amount of books stacked on the big shelves. You can count with one hand the times you've been in a house that has its own library, but this one by far takes the cake. "Can i grab a book?" You ask to Miss Dark Hair, pointing to one of the nearestt bookshelves while giving your trademark Puppy Eyes.

"What? You want to read?"

"Book." You say, pointing again insistently to the bottom row of antique books.

"Sure, go have your fun while Mother arrives." Miss Blonde nods and you waste no time to grab the fattest, heaviest book of them all and sit on the floor with your legs crossed, only to sigh in dissapointment as the book is in a language you yet again can't understand. But as you flip the pages you can see that it has very depicting images of old eras that you find fascinating.

You don't notice the time passing as you 'read' undisturbingly, until a big hand is placed on your shoulder and you almost jump out of yor skin, closing the book with a snap, effectively losing the page where the images told you the process to make soap.

"Someone's been studying, i see." The Tall Lady from before stands before you in all her height and you cand help but to rake your gaze all over that goddess until you reach her eyes, not without your flushed face at the end. "So, i brought you here for a reason." She says while her hand motions you to stand. "Here at the Dimitrescu Castle we are in possesion of many doors to knowledge, which does include many books that offer some insight about other countries along with their tongues." You're nodding along whatever she's saying, not a single word ringing a bell in your understanding but to you it would be impolite to leave her hanging. Tall Lady stops in her tracks, in front of a very dusty bookshelf with even older books. Her hand goes from side to side selecting several books which she then hands to you.

You eye the books curiously and you notice that they're a vast collections of translating dictionaries, all varying in length and language. You kneel and start looking through them, being mindful of the most antique and delicate ones. You spot a thin one but with a very familiar dialect and you look up to give Tall Lady a toothy smile. "This one is! Uh... Wait, let's see." You open the book and look through the content searching for words. You stand and motion the lady to lean a bit and start pointing words.

'Student.'

'Cold.'

'Lost'

'Thankful."

As you keep making sense with the few words you're provided, the expression on the lady's face changes to a one of understanding and pity. She pulls out a very fancy-looking pair of glasses out from who knows where and takes the book from your hands, flipping through it's pages, looking for words of her own.

'Stay.'

'Dinner.'

'Sleep.'

'Rest.'

She points word by word and you get the hint. You nod eagerly and smile. Tall Lady smiles back at you and for a second there you feel your heart paralize. You could have sworn you saw a pair of unusually long canines on that pearly white smile. But surely you're just tired, right?

"Daniela, please take our guest to one of the spare rooms." The lady says gesturing to the red-haired young woman.

"Yes, Mother." And the next thing you know your being lead by the arm out of the room.

Once you're gone the tall lady's whole demeanor changes to one of anger and she let's out a frustrated sigh. "The nerve of those villagers. To send a foreigner as the monthly offering! No wonder why the man-thing you brought was insisting it was a mistake."

"They're not respecting the deal, Mother. Should i make them understand who they're dealing with?"

The Tall Lady's pointer finger rests on her lips as she thinks. "No. I'd like to have a word with the leader." She put the book on a the nearrest table with a bit too much force, snapping the poor table in half. "Bela, bring him to me."

---------

Part two is up. Less comedy, more plot. This isn't planned to be long so maybe this will only have one or two more chapters.

@thejennystuttle

[pascalpanic]

Fixer Upper PART ONE (Frankie Morales x f!Reader)

Summary: Nothing seems to go right in your new house. When yet another thing breaks, a certain handyman comes to your rescue.

W/C: 2k ish

Warnings: language, joking mentions of a house being cursed (it isn’t), reader has dirty thoughts bc it’s Frankie and he’s hot

A/N: this one goes out to my anons who’ve been sending me stuff about frankie as a repairman! I loved the idea and I thought it would be super fun to write! This will be part ONE of three-ish! ps idk if any references to reader’s gender are in this part but there certainly will be some in the future so.

It’s been a while that you’ve lived in this house. Since that day you hauled in the cardboard boxes, you’ve been feeling that your life is the epitome of Murphy’s law. Or rather, this damned house is.

Nothing ever goes right. The heat breaks in the winter and the air conditioning breaks in the summer. The plumbing needs work when you need it to work, and the oven only ever breaks halfway through cooking something. Seriously, you swear this place is cursed by some hex determined to pester you out of living here.

You’ve never exactly been the handy type. You don’t know much about mechanics, heating or cooling, the electricity and wiring in your house, any of it. By now, you wish you’d taken the time to learn it at some point rather than hiring someone every time.

The first sign was that the June heat seemed inescapable. You’d been outside all day, and you figured it was just your body taking its time to adjust to the cooler, indoor temperature. Then you never cooled down. When you stepped out of the bathroom after a shower and found the air to be nearly as muggy as that of the steamed bathroom, you realized that the air conditioning must be off.

Well, it was on. The problem was that it wasn’t working. You opened all the windows, and figured the night breeze would cool you, then you became worried about serial killers and crimes and promptly shut and locked all of them again. With the fan in your bedroom on, the air at least moved, but was still thick and heavy.

In the morning, when you wake with no blankets on and sweaty sheets, you dial the repair company as fast as you can. You inform them of the situation, and they tell you they’ll send someone out your way in the next hour or two.

The air is still somewhat cool outside, so you give the front porch a shot once you get changed out of your pajamas and take yet another cool shower. The heavy dew is an indicator of just how humid the air is, and you relish every little breeze that passes by and cools you down. You conduct your morning business outside, hoping to have this problem fixed before the sun reaches a height where the temperatures will rise exponentially.

About an hour after the call, the repair van rolls up into your driveway and parks. “Thank God,” you murmur to yourself.

Your focus returns to your computer, but you hear the door slam shut and look up to find the repairman there. He wears khaki cargo pants and a gray t-shirt, complete with a ball cap on top, with dark brown curls peeking out from the bottom. He fastens his tool belt around his waist as he walks up to the porch. “Hey there. I’m Frankie. I’ll be taking care of you today,” he informs you, a kind smile on his face. You already like him. “I got the basics from the boss, but can you tell me more about the problem?”

Looking up at him from the seated position you’re in, you give an awkward smile. Suddenly, you wish you’re better dressed, fixed up and looking nice. Even in work clothes, this man is beautiful. It makes you a little nervous, you in your pajamas and him looking like a god even in cargo pants. “I wish I could, but I don’t know anything about the air conditioner and how it works other than how to change the settings. All I know is that it isn’t working.”

He gives a good-natured chuckle, a soft bounce of his chest beneath the shirt. He looks down at his tool belt and his scruff brushes against the collar of the gray. “Well, let’s go give it a shot. I’ll need you to show me around, show me the control panel and the main system.” God, he’s handsome.

“Oh, of course,” you nod and stand, leaving your laptop on the small table. “Well, right this way. And please, you don’t need to take your boots off. Those look complicated,” you laugh as you look at the heavy tan boots at the bottom of his body.

Frankie nods and looks around as you lead him through the house. He doesn’t take his boots off, since you insisted, but he does give them a generous wipe on the doormat, careful not to track anything in. “It’s a beautiful place,” he tells you honestly, with a half-smile that just tugs at one of the corners of his ridiculously soft-looking lips.

“Thanks,” you shrug and show him to the control panel. “I try. Okay, here’s the button thingy.”

“The button thingy?” he teases, which leads to laughter from the both of you.

“If I knew what it was called, you wouldn’t be here,” you tease him back and shake your head.

Frankie uses the tools from his belt to take off the casing. You lean against the wall as he works, admiring the way his hands nimbly check the wires and paneling behind it. He holds a small flashlight between his teeth to look into the wall cavity.

“I can hold that for you,” you offer, and he moves his mouth for you to take it from him.

“Thanks,” he says, popping his jaw slightly to adjust from the awkward angle of holding it between his teeth. “You don’t have to. I’m just here to fix it.”

You point it at the same spot. “I might as well be some help, considering I don’t know shit about my own house.”

Frankie laughs at that, stealing a glance your way that makes your face warm before his gaze returns to the electrical situation. “Well,” he declares after a few seconds. “The wiring must not be the problem here. This all is working fine, so it must be with the actual system.”

“Great,” you groan. “The part I know even less about.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” he chuckles and screws the panel back into place on your wall, making sure everything works properly and he didn’t mess with any functions.

Leading Frankie to your basement, you show him the cluttered laundry room and the central air conditioning unit. He’s already analyzing the system, and you back off to let him work. He looks focused. “Holler if you need me,” you tell him as he gets on his knees to look at something, daring to gently pat his shoulder. It’s strong, muscular beneath your palm.

Heading back to the kitchen, you open the fridge and sigh. For a moment, you allow yourself to close your eyes and just enjoy the cold air it produces. Hopefully, your house will be the same soon enough. Grabbing two tall glasses, you fill each with ice before pouring half sweet tea and half lemonade into the glasses.

You stand in the kitchen with the freezer open, sighing at the cool air it provides. Not sure how long he’ll take, you scroll through your phone. It’s surprisingly quick, you find.

“Hey, I found it!” Frankie calls from the basement.

Carrying the two glasses, you return to the laundry room to find him reorganizing his tool belt. “Here,” you tell him with a smile as you hold out the drink. “Least I could do. It’s unbearable in here.”

“Thanks,” he smiles and lifts the glass to you in a miniature salute before taking a sip. Frankie then launches into a detailed explanation of the issue with the A/C unit, using all kinds of terms you don’t understand and mentioning parts you didn’t even know were included in the machine. “I got it all fixed up, though, and it shouldn’t take long before it’s working just as good as normal.”

You sigh in relief, swallowing the sweet drink and smiling at him. “God, thank you so much. You don’t even know how awful it was in here.”

“If it’s anything like right now, I do,” he chuckles. The man takes the hem of his t-shirt and lifts it to wipe his face, revealing a muscular but soft body beneath it, with a beautiful little trail of dark hair leading to beneath his belt. Is it terrible that your first thought is that you want to lick it?

You force the image from your mind with another swig of the drink. “Yeah, just about. Well, how much do I owe you?” You ask the man, leading him out of the laundry room and into the basement that’s already feeling cooler.

“Oh, nothing right now,” he shakes his head as you lead him upstairs and to the kitchen. “I just tweaked some things for you, didn’t need any parts or anything, so it’s just gonna be labor.” He seems to remember something. “Ah, shit. I gotta have you sign something. I’ll grab the paper from the van and be right back,” he tells you and leaves his drink on the counter, half-jogging outside.

While he’s outside, you lean against the cool kitchen counter and let yourself daydream. This Frankie guy certainly is attractive, and his personality is definitely something you’re interested in. What if the situation right now played out like a porno, and he fucked you on the countertop? You certainly wouldn’t complain. You noticed his hands and feet are large. Certainly he must be big somewhere else too. “Oh Jesus Christ,” you murmur to yourself. Why did my mind have to go there? And why is the thought so hot? He’s a sweet man too, clearly goofy and sweet. Why is your mind going there then? Really, upon further pondering, you just want to hug the man, admire his strong body pressed to yours in an intimate but innocent gesture.

“Sorry, what was that?” Frankie calls out as he walks into the house again.

His voice snaps you from your daydreaming. “Oh, just talking to myself,” you say quickly and cheerfully, taking the paper from him. The top is printed with repairman name: Francisco Morales. Francisco. That makes you smile. What a cute name. The rest is filled with the details of what he did to the machine to fix it, and you sign and date at the bottom. “Here you go, Francisco.”

His tanned skin turns a little pinker on the cheeks. “Great,” Frankie smiles and takes it back.

“Before you leave,” you tell him quickly, darting to grab your purse from the entryway, “here.”

Frankie walks to you and you hand him a generous cash tip, with a stupid smile stuck to your face. “Thank you, wow,” he says, voice honest in its surprise as he notices the total of the money.

“Of course. I really can’t thank you enough. God, it’s been painfully hot in here and I really just can’t stand the heat,” you ramble, your voice speeding up. “And… yeah. Thank you. For your company, too.”

“Just doing my job,” he tells you with a smile, putting his hands in his pockets. “Oh, here.”

From his pocket, he pulls a little rectangle of paper with his name and company on it. “The shop number is on here; if anything changes, just call and ask for Catfish.”

“Catfish?” You ask with a smile, puzzled.

“My old military nickname. It’s what the guys around there call me,” he shrugs, shy at the nickname.

It makes you laugh a little, and you tuck the card in your purse. “Well, Catfish, thank you. I’ll be sure to use this next time I have some stupid thing I can’t repair myself.”

“Please do,” he chuckles, a shy smile on his face. “I’ll see you around.”

“Thanks!” You call again and cringe. That’s, what, the ninth time you’ve said that now? He walks to the van and you give him a wave before retreating back inside. God, now you can’t wait for this shitty house to need another repair. You’ll certainly be asking for Catfish.

-

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[enrax]

After doing the dinner dishes, Junji went on a run. He stopped to say hello to the old man who owned the fruit and veg grocery by the station. The old man was the first person to show him a considerable kindness when Junji moved to Agdoeg, and he tried to pay him a visit whenever he could.

“Oh! It’s good to see you, my son,” said the old man, as he always did whenever the necromancer came around. “Let me make some tea.”

“No, that’s okay,” said Junji, approaching the counter and catching his breath. “I’m just passing through.” 

The old man smiled, and his face was enveloped in deep, genial wrinkles. He’d been reading a novel - something about the Silla Dynasty - when the necromancer walked in, but he abandoned the book face down on a nearby stool and scuttled around the counter to greet him. Time and hard labor had put a crook in the old man’s back, and though he might have been taller in his youth, now he hardly came up to Junji’s chest. 

“It’s actually very fortuitous that you happened to stop by, son,” The old man then shuffled toward the small back room. He was wearing slippers. “You won’t believe what I found among the broccoli sprouts this morning!”

When the old man returned, he was carrying a cardboard shoebox, cradling it in his arms as though it were something precious. Junji looked inside the box. A grey kitten no bigger than his closed fist was curled up amid an old dishrag. Its eyes were two large spheres of smokey quartz, too big for its face, and it blinked curiously up at the necromancer. 

“I’m much too old to care for her,” said the old man, “But I know how fond you are of these creatures. I thought maybe you could take her.” 

Junji wanted to say no. He knew that a single man with two cats was already borderline embarrassing, and he was certain that three would tip the scales. And he knew that if he released his inhibitions - even this once - he was liable to pick up every stray cat he encountered. But... the grey kitten stood on tiny wobbly legs, mewling faintly and goggling up at Junji with big, wanting eyes. Junji reached down and ran a couple of fingers down the kitten’s velvety back.

The old man smiled knowingly. “What are you going to call her?”

“Mei,” said Junji. 芽依. Sprout.  

[darklightacademias]

Decorate your room in the Dark Academia Aesthetic

I have seen few posts about how to decorate with the dark academia style that say anything except “get a dark wood desk”, thus here is a guide by moi. The main idea is to emulate classical interiors, like an eccentric Victorian collectionist or a passionate Naturalist in the 1800s. Dark Acedemia is all about being and looking cultured so include bookshelves with books and slightly off kilter collections, among other things.

Here is a list of the elements of a Dark Academia room:

Candles, candles, candles. Candles of all types. Scented. In glass. Pillar candles, long candles, short candles. Round candles. Definitely get candelabras in brass or cristal or mercury glass, and limit yourself to bone white or black (if you are specially dramatic). Make the candles drip.

Make yourself a reading nook with a big armchair with a classical or mid century sillhoute. I would place the chair in a corner with a small table at its side to place a cup of coffee or tea while u read (and a candle). Put a velvet pillow and a blanket at the back to make it look cozier and used. Also get a floor lamp to put next to the chair as you read long into the night.

The walls should be ivory or stone (like in a castle) or wallpapered in dark colors, like a dark emerald green with some mysterious shapes to it. Maybe paint a wall dark gray or black for moodiness.

Get art. Art of all types. Prints from famous painters, like Rembrandt, or da Vinci. You can also frame things that are not typically framed, like yellowed music sheets of a French lullaby (I recommend Le Long Berceaux, it is absolutely haunting), or book pages or quotes. Also watercolors you found from an artist in Prague. Prints from your artist friends. Botanical or anatomical posters. Something you did yourself. A carbon sketch of your lover, etc. Art is essential.

You can also frame letters, postcards, recipe cards, photo strips with your friends and pictures (extra points for black and white polaroids and photo strips.) I recommend you frame in float mount because it looks more elegant. Frame degrees and certificates that show your successes. You can also make your sillhoute in black and white cardboard and frame it.

Frame maps (I love the black and gold scratch off maps). Star maps. City maps. All the maps.

Frame said art in gilded and elaborate frames, either gold, silver or black.

Mirrors in fancy frames. Oval or round mirrors are best.

Get a white bust that looks like a Greek statue.

Get a globe and an astrolabe.

Old tabletop clocks.

Get a human skull. I wanted to get this but my mom said no dead people bones in the house. Downer. However, if your family is not inclined to such silly rules, then get a human skull.

You could also get a human skeleton model and nickname it.

Get a bookshelf and put books in it, as well as some picture frames and the human skull and bust.

Get so many books.

A trick is to take the ugly book jackets off your books because they look more classical or make book jackets that look more cohesive, look at juniper books for inspiration. Also a collection of newer and vintage books looks great. Have a system to organize your books.

In terms of lamps, get Art Deco or mirrored ones.

Your desk should be one you like, and bonus points if it is imposing. Have a magnifier glass, a letter opener, and a wax seal set on it. Also a feather quilt.

Get a comfortable desk chair because you will spend a longgggg time sitting on it.

On terms of bed frames and head boards, either something metal or wood. Headboards inspired on channel and covered in belted are ideal.

Get linen or silk sheets in white, gray or black.

Get a coverlet or duvet cover in a dark complimentary color, or in grey. An idea, if you like Harry Potter, is to get a cover in your house color.

Your nightstands should have at least a book, a diary and a black pen on them. Bonus points if it is a fountain pen. Also a delicate catch all, a mysterious wood or leather box, a vase of flowers and a lamp.

Have black wood boxes with postcards, keepsakes and love letters in them.

Flower vases and plants. My favorite flowers are yellow daffodils, pink and white peonies (the cusp of dark academia flora, in my opinion) and orchids.

Dried flowers if you like that.

Chess set in marble or wood. I prefer marble. I love chess even if I am incompetent at it right now so definitely have a set and a table where you can play.

Persian rugs. That’s it. Persian rugs.

White silky curtains or heavy velvet ones. Or both.

A fireplace is the most perfect thing but not everyone can have them.

Swords are acceptable room decoration. Also daggers. Ancient tapestries. I live near Toledo and they have the best swords.

Over all make it seem like you are living or just moved from a palace, ideally.