#so might have to edit this post in the morning lol

[jefferythejelly]

btw just posting this before i go to bed but i made a separate sideblog for qsmp shit -> @kingofthecapybaras

just testing it out for now bc the past couple of weeks i've felt Weird about being mostly dteam and co and the occasional foosh qsmp post (that hardly gets any attention here anyways cuz 90% of my followers are dtblr)

so just saying for the like 5 people who still wanna see that stuff that's where most of it will be for now. still gonna post non qsmp related foolish stuff here so ur good if u still want that too👍

[ittybittyfanblog]

Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition) – Pt. 6

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus and a (!) player. That’s it, that’s the plot. Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, self-aware!au, strong language, you get your very own samantha from her (2013) lol, time skips as a plot device!, this has an arc i promise, if anybody here plays disco elysium you’ll find that i took concepts of “the pale” as inspo at some points in this chapter lmao A/N: Oof this one’s a little longer than any of the previous chapters. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it! <3 (and just a heads up, this might be the last chapter I post before I kick it off for the holidays. advance happy holidays! if you guys celebrate that sort of thing.) 

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 - Pt. 5 - Pt 6 - Pt. 7 - Pt. 8

There’s a quiet stillness brought by the morning after that makes the problems of a heavier night seem like a fairly distant memory. 

For at least a few minutes past the moment you blink away the stubborn grit in your eyes—you don’t remember the last time you’ve been this well-rested in ages—you lie, listless, on the soft powder-blue bedding of your twin-size mattress, watching specks of dander and dust drift from the amber sunlight that filters through the cracked panes of the casement window. 

It floats aimlessly; unhurried. Much like you.

The echo of last night’s events return to you in sporadic flashes—fragmented and unsteady. The whispered exchanges, the playful banter between you and your unlikely conversation partner play back in your mind, like some half-finished supercut. 

And the more you recall, the more awake you feel, chipping away the last traces of daytime lethargy weighing you down. 

“So, what happens now?”

The sound of a car backfiring breaks through from the outside, like a starting pistol signalling the beginning of another day. A familiar, heavy weight presses against your side, and you thread your fingers through the scraggly fur of the purring feline who’s taken the empty space on your left, just above the covers. 

You breathe in deeply, closing your eyes. 

“I wish I had an answer—I’m still trying to figure that out myself.”

You realize how many questions still linger, a lot more left unanswered. Far more than what you were able to glean, at least. From what little you’ve learned, an entirely new moral dilemma emerges—one you never imagined you'd have to contend with. 

There’s a lot of things you’ve never expected to happen. Yet here you are. 

“Seems we’re at an impasse.” 

It’s an odd thing in itself. You keep waiting for the disbelief to catch up, for a shred of sanity to surface and make you reject the situation you’ve found yourself entangled in. You should be feeling the same, pesky feelings that pulled you sharply out of your flight of fancy last night; a sense of trepidation for what lies ahead in this tenuous game of two. 

But instead, you’re here. Now fully awake, and already looking forward to the day with wary acceptance. Looking forward to resuming where you’ve left off with that charming anomaly who’s upended your world, and left you suspended in an exhilarating limbo of uncertainty and excitement.

“...Indeed.”

You crave it—like the first stirrings of a neophyte druggie teetering on the edge of an irreversible habit. 

You need another hit. 

“Why the long face, little dove?”

Because if desire could manifest into being, it would’ve been Sylus. 

“We can figure this out together, can’t we?” 

You pick up your phone. 

––––

“You’re here? Make yourself at home.” 

You look at him, deadpan. He looks back at you serenely. 

Your voice takes on a dry monotone when you respond, “Keep talking like that, I’m about to cum.” 

There’s a shocked silence; then––

Sylus barks out a surprised laugh, immediately breaking character. 

You snort. “Good morning to you too, I guess.” 

He meets your gaze with a look of scandalized amusement, his smile wide enough to flash teeth. 

"Good morning, indeed."

––––

You two fall into a natural rhythm even before the day comes to a close. Perceptive as he is, Sylus hasn’t let you linger in the unease left over from last night any longer than necessary—which to say, should be left buried and forgotten, past its provenance. 

“So you could, like–hypothetically, top up my ascension materials… indefinitely?” There’s a manic shine to your eyes when you confront him back at the home screen, gleeful and triumphant after you boost almost all the 5-star cards you have of him up to max level. “Like an infinite glitch?” 

He’s content to just simply listen to your excited chatter from his languid perch on the seat, one palm resting against the side of his face as he watches you—half-lidded and relaxed. Utterly entertained by your antics.

The slight twitching of his mouth, the subtle tilt of his head… each minute shift in his expression makes a whole world of difference from the version you’ve known him longest—almost a lifetime ago. 

Now he acts so human, so alive, that it’s almost unreal. 

(It’s almost imperceptible, but you swear the air also feels different; like the pixelated space around him is bending, stretching, to accommodate this newer him.) 

“Sure,” he shrugs, lips quirking up into a half-smile as he notices the deep crease forming between your brows. 

He knows the question you’re about to ask—curious thing that you are.

“How, though? Like, what are ‘materials’ to you?” You make air quotes with your fingers, making you appear all the more endearing to him look at, in your process to make sense of a world that’s unfamiliar to you.

“Think of it as upgrades,” Sylus explains patiently. “You place the order to modify the equipment I use, in whichever situation calls for it.”

“And Memory Cards?”

“... A video reel, maybe. Or a restricted case file—locked until you’ve got enough to trade for the information you want.”

“And I suppose the dealer in question here is you?”

He arches an eyebrow. “Who else?”

“Huh,” you say, considering. “So, Deepspace Trials. That’s something you do on the daily? Because I… make you?”

“More or less.”

“And you never thought to question that?” 

“Mm, maybe I’ll start charging for my services this time around.”

You roll your eyes, already accepting his analogy for what it is. “Oh, please. With the amount of money I’ve spent on this game, consider yourself paid in full.” 

––––

You were right about your earlier prediction—this new Sylus in combat mode is something else. 

For starters, he’s a lot chattier.

“Ouch, kitten– don’t charge in like that.”

“Why are you using a sword? Don’t you like the guns I’ve given you specifically for this?” 

“What are you waiting for? Make her resonate with me now.” 

And, instead of sticking to his lines and responding to whatever the MC’s programmed to say during battle, he focuses on whatever you’re fussing over—no matter how… moronic it is.

“Ah, fuck! I hate that spinning thing!” 

“Move, then. Let me handle it.” 

“Block it, block it!”

“I would, if you weren’t halfway across the field. Stick closer to your partner next time, yeah?” 

He doesn’t say any of his usual lines. Nothing from his scripted prompts. When all Wanderers are defeated, there’s no post-battle banter between him and the MC. 

“Goddamn, you’re strong!” You whoop giddily, completely energized by straight winning almost twelve Orbit trials in a row. I guess that’s what a fully awakened Solar pair gets you, huh? 

Sylus lets out a chuckle, infected by your enthusiasm. He doesn’t sound the least bit winded, despite all the damned fighting you’ve put him through.

“We make a good team,” he allows. And because he likes the little nose scrunch you do when you’re annoyed— “Although your dodging really needs more practice, sweetie.” 

Before you could think of a comeback, the pop-up window for the next stage comes up. Ass.

––––

Come Monday morning and you’re once again swamped with work. 

You barely have enough time to scrounge something up for lunch—if it weren’t for the persistent reminders from Sylus, chiming in every five minutes once the digital clock on your phone had hit eleven-thirty, you’d probably skip eating altogether.

And make something else than just boiling a pot of instant ramen, sweetheart. You’re on track for an early grave at this rate. 

“I could… add an egg?” You suggest, unsure. “Maybe cut up some tofu, make it gourmet?”  

He doesn’t even dignify the egg suggestion with a response. Tofu’s a good start. Now, what else do you have in your pantry that has nutritional value? 

“I despise that,” you mutter, but start rifling through the cupboards anyway. 

After amassing enough ingredients—or what looks more like a sad pile—that might, with some effort, turn into something healthier than your usual go-to fix, you start Googling recipes online.

‘tofu easy lunch recipe’

‘10 mins tofu recipes’   

‘begginer recipe using tofu frozen dory mixed veg—’ Ping!

… Really, kitten? 

You don’t even have to see him to know he’s giving you that look, the one that’s practically dripping with judgment over your dubious life choices. 

(You know it all too well. Personally, in fact. You see it on some relatives' faces at the family get-togethers you’re always required to attend.) 

Great. Heat creeps up your face as you mumble defensively, “Stop. Not everyone’s a culinary genius, okay?”

After that, he lets you be – something you’re thankful for, really. He’s being too distracting anyway. 

Swallowing down the–stubborn and suffocating–embarrassment that's now stuck in your throat, you keep scrolling through Tasty dot co, praying you can whip up something edible with what (little) you have. You’re fully aware that you’re a grown-ass woman who can’t manage a basic life skill and that you’re probably about to burn down your kitchen—

Another notification pops up.

Pull up your tabs, sweetie. I think you’ll find something there that we could put together easily.

Confused, you do as he says. Sure enough, four tofu-related recipes are neatly grouped together in your Chrome browser, ready to be tried and tested.  

Your eyes widen. “Wait—you did this? How?”

He doesn’t answer your question. He does, however, offer: Want me to coach you through it? Cooking’s more fun done with a partner, I’d say. 

-

-

In the end, you manage to make something that tasted way better than you thought you could do by yourself. You have him to thank for that.

“You happy with it?” Sylus asks, grinning at the satisfied look on your face.

“Mhm!” you hum around a mouthful of food. “Fanks, Sy.”

“Anytime, darling.”

––––

“Do you really have to call me ‘kitten’? You sound like a Discord mod.” 

Sylus has no idea what a Discord mod is, but judging by the contempt in your voice, it’s clear that you’re not giving him a compliment.

"What do you prefer, then? Princess? Poppet? Sweet thing?" He pauses, tilting his head. "Baby?"

You blush and look away. "... Ugh, whatever. Kitten's fine."

––––

Your routine with Sylus settles into a seamless, effortless flow as the days go by; it’s almost second nature, talking to him. So much so that you’d think nothing could faze you anymore.

Well. Almost nothing. 

A message bubble from an unknown number appears on your lock screen: Hi, sweetheart. X

You almost ignore it—brushing it off as some dumb prank from a bored rando—when, not even five seconds later, another text pops up. 

+0063-XXXXXX: Its Sylus.

… Huh? 

“Is someone fucking with me right now, or…” 

+0063-XXXXXX: Nobodys ‘fucking with you,’ kitten. 

Then–

+0063-XXXXXX: Send a reply so I can see how it shows up on my end.

Your jaw drops. “Holy shit—you can text?? How are you doing that?” and, “Did you just cuss...?” 

+0063-XXXXXX: 👍

+0063-XXXXXX: And Ill let you know if you text me the question 🙄

So you do. You tack on a now spill?? at the end for good measure. 

You watch the “typing…” bubble appear, holding your breath.

+0063-XXXXXX: Its a complex mix of technical code and harnessing the energy from a dormant protofield Ive discovered, just south of Vagrants Land.  

+0063-XXXXXX: The energy I got from it felt different somehow from your normal protofield. I figured I could put it to good use. 

+0063-XXXXXX: Oddly enough, theres an… indescribable effect to oneself when youre nearing the centre of disturbance, shall we say. 

+0063-XXXXXX: I can only decrypt the waveforms by the rarefield border surrounding the AoR. Any further and Im afraid the adverse effects may do more harm than good.

+0063-XXXXXX: But if amplified, it seems responsive to the filament of what connects your signal from deep space to this planet.

+0063-XXXXXX: Who knew it could act as a transmitter to send you something as rudimentary as a telegraph? 

… Sometimes you forget how smart Sylus really is. 

You: that’s pretty amazing ?? wtf sylus  

+0063-XXXXXX: I get by OK. 

You could practically feel his smugness radiating from those four words. You scoff, shaking your head in a mix of awe and begrudging admiration.

He sends two more messages. 

+0063-XXXXXX: Im just glad we can communicate through other means, sweetie. 

Sy-Sy (??): Now save my number. Sy Sy will suffice 😉

––––

Since your latest discovery that Sylus can now text (!!), you’ve been talking to him outside the game non-stop. It’s like talking to a very active friend who never leaves you on read, and you couldn’t be more ecstatic. 

You: so no one else in ur universe knows anything abt ur situation?

You: no one else acting funny or sumn ? >.>

Sy-Sy (??): None that I know of, no. I prefer to keep it under wraps. 

Sy-Sy (??): Now that you mention it, Mephisto has been acting quite suspicious lately. 

You: ?? suspicious-suspicious or just reg suspicious??

Sy-Sy (??): Hes with his other crow friends now. They might be attempting a murder. 

You: ………. is that…. supposed 2 be a joke……….

Sy-Sy (??): Im running on 3 hours of sleep, give me a break.   

Sy-Sy (??): Also your textspeak is horrendous, sweetie. 

"Um, hello—?" 

Your gaze snaps back to the–very real, very present–person sitting across from you at the table, sporting box-dyed blue hair and a frown. You're at the Annex House; a sleek, new-age Japandi-style bar downtown, just an easy five stations away from your place. You both decided to try it for their infamous Rotten Apple cocktail and, of course, your weekly catch-up.

Khol, your friend of eight years since college, is currently giving you a mildly annoyed look.

Oops. 

They point at you accusingly while complaining, "Ugh, we don’t use our phones when we’re hanging out! That’s the rule!"

You smile at them, sheepish, pocketing your phone as discreetly as you could. “I know, I know. Sorry.” 

Then, puffing out your cheeks, you meekly ask, “You were talking about Anna...?”

They roll their eyes but go over the gossip a second time, much to your benefit. Phew.

Your phone vibrates. Twice. 

…

You sneak a quick, final peek.

Sy-Sy (??): Enjoy your night out, darling ❤️ 

Sy-Sy (??): You let me know when youre back home, OK? 

Biting back a grin, you send out one last text in reply. 

You: will do !:9 

Sy-Sy (??): Good girl. 

––––

"Um–so this is my cat, Maru," you say by way of introduction, holding the plump, orange tabby in front of your phone that’s propped up against a carton of Koko Krunch. There’s a slight struggle in lifting his left paw between your fingers to wave at the man on the other side of the screen. "Say hi, Maru."

“Hello, Maru,” Sylus greets amicably in return, watching the both of you with clear amusement in his eyes. “Care to tell me the origin of this proud beast?” 

You recount the story where you’ve first seen Maru five years ago, nothing more than a scraggly little runt at the time, hiding in the gap between a dumpster and the interstice of a cragged wall. You were walking home from a night out drinking with your uni buddies, when you heard the incessant meowing. 

It drew you in like a siren’s call. If the siren in question had the vocal prowess of a warbling whale on the brink of death.

Upon closer inspection, the grimy fluffball revealed a stubby, crooked tail and wide, beady eyes. In your alcohol-fueled haze, you briefly wondered if you were staring at a tiny ginger rat.

“Well, it’s definitely all cat,” your friend Bee declared by noon the following day, calmly retracting a scratched and bloodied hand from the disgruntled feline, which promptly hissed and darted right back under the bed.

You hummed in agreement, passing her a wad of tissue. 

"I couldn’t decide between Nospurratu and Catpin Meow," you say matter-of-factly, giving your capricious son a scritch under his chin. "Bee suggested I stick to something simpler, like Maru. Hence the name."

Your explanation is punctuated by an offended nip on your pointer finger. 

Sylus is covering his mouth, but nods solemnly. “I think Maru is a nice name.” 

There’s a moment where the two seem locked in a silent standoff, neither breaking eye contact nor making any sort of outward reaction. Just as you’re about to step in and interrupt the bizarre staring contest, Maru gives a slow, deliberate blink.

Sylus takes it as a sign of victory—or perhaps a ceremonial seal of approval.

 With a faint smirk on his lips, he offers the cat a small bow in respect.

––––

You’ve practically emptied the entire arcade of plushies—enough to put it out of business if it were actually, you know, real—and you’re bored to tears. 

“Another round of Kitty Cards, perhaps?” Sylus suggests, but a single glance at your face is enough to let him know that you’d rather gnaw off your own hand. Or his. He might just let you.

Sighing dramatically, you complain about the limited playability of the “mini-games” in-game.

“There’s literally nothing else to do. Same old shit, over and over again.” There’s a pout on your face that Sylus wants to nibble on, not that you’re aware of the forming thoughts in his head. “No new banners. I’m stuck between Kitty Cards and the claw machines... I’m bored, Syyyyy,” you whine, stretching the last syllable for effect.  

To be fair, he has tried to make it a bit more challenging for you. He stopped fucking around during Kitty Cards—no more extra two cards in exchange for one of yours, no longer placing different colored kitties deliberately in the wrong cups. 

After six straight losses, your frustration is palpable. The fun is gone.

He makes audible commentaries during each of your six tries at the claw machine. Every time you manage to snag a plushie, he praises you for a job well done (It flusters you—not that he needs to know that). When your luck runs out and you grab onto nothing but air, he wryly points it out through some slight ribbing, but nothing that’s actually hurtful (This flusters you too—again, not that he needs to know any of this).   

There’s nothing else to do. It’s like you’ve exhausted all you could in this small, curated window of his that you’re privy to. If only there’s a way to leave the mini-games behind, to do something new, perhaps outside of what the game has to offer…

Oh, wait. 

“Hey, Sy,” you call the man to attention. “Wanna try something out?” 

-

-

You beat him at Words with Friends by a small margin.

“Ha! That’s thirty-nine points, buddy.” You crow proudly, after putting down Devotees in a straight column.

He eviscerates you at Zynga Poker. 

“... How are you so good at this??” 

“Comes with the package, sweetie,” he says with faux-modesty after revealing (yet another!!) full house, winking like he hasn’t just wiped the floor with you.

By the end of it, both of you are in high spirits—except, maybe, for your bruised ego.

––––

“Say my name, say my name… If no one is around you, say baby I love you…”

“It’s nice to know that we have another thing in common, little dove.”

 

It takes you a moment to process what he’s implying. 

You stop singing, affronted. “Wh—how dare you.” 

––––

“Are you having fun?” Sylus asks, his tone droll as he stands there, hands on his hips and a small scowl on his face. You’re too busy spinning him around, thoroughly entertained by the number of outfits and accessories you’ve forced upon your slightly reluctant model in the photoshoot that's currently taking place.

It’s more amusing, knowing that he’s fully-aware of what’s happening. And that you know he’s aware of what’s happening. 

He’s like your personal, sentient Ken doll—if Ken had ashy grey hair, red eyes, and a mercurial attitude.

“I am, actually,” you shoot back, grinning as you plop a tomato stuffie on top of his head. “Look, you two match!” 

He exhales a long-suffering sigh, shaking his head in mock exasperation.

Not that it stops you. Fluffy bunny ears, a fish headband, an uncharacteristic halo—you’re relentless. “Hey, can you try a different pose?”

“That depends on the pose… and how nicely you ask.”

“Dear Sylus,” you sing, jutting your bottom lip forward and fluttering your eyelashes exaggeratedly, “could you please, pretty please, flip the camera off?”

He snorts but obliges, raising his hand to deliver the most effortlessly cool middle finger you’ve ever seen. “Happy?”

Woah. That’s… hot. “Oh! Uh. Yeah. Yeah, that’s—”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by your reaction. You giggle nervously. “You look… hot.”

“Mm?” His smirk grows, teasing and predatory. “What was that?”

“Nothing!” you blurt out, but the pinking of your cheeks betrays you. He’s definitely enjoying this now.

“I could be convinced to do another one,” he murmurs, voice pitching a little lower.

You bite the inside of your cheek, fighting the urge to say the first thing that comes to mind. Stop, you whore. 

Your nerves get the best of you. Without thinking, you switch to putting the MC back on screen. 

Sylus blinks, red eyes narrowing as he looks at you, perplexed. 

“Uh,” you shift your gaze between her frozen stance and his idle figure. The sudden silence hangs a little heavy in the air. “Would–would you like to do poses? With her?”

He opens his mouth, an automatic response—but he stops, expression flickering into something unreadable. Confusion? Hesitation? 

His brows knit together, and for a short while, he just studies you, the space between you thick with unspoken questions. 

“Do you want me to?” he asks finally, his voice quieter, almost careful.

No–I don’t want you to— To pose with someone who looks so-–

perfectperfectperfect by your side—I only want to see you—

I want to see you––

Why do I care–?

I don’t care––I care, I care so much–– 

“Why not?” you choke out, the forced cheer in your voice grating even to your own ears. You shrug, nonchalant in all the ways you’re not. “I’ll dress her up real nice, and then—” You slap a pink bow onto his head. “You can try to keep up.” 

He doesn’t move, not paying the offending accessory any attention. His gaze is solely locked onto yours. 

I don’t care. I don’t. 

You take the first shot. 

____

“What’s the song you’re playing?”

You pause mid-mop, cocking your head to the side in slight surprise. 

“Uhh—Pedestal,” you answer unsurely. “By Portishead. You like it?” 

He hums, eyes glinting with interest. “I do. Play the rest.” 

And just like that, you’re introducing Sylus to modern twenty-first century music—and to Spotify.

____

From that point on, Sylus begins using your Spotify account to discover a whole new world of music—quite literally, in his case. Sometimes he steals the control from you, overriding what you’re currently listening to, just to hear the most random track play from your speakers.

In the middle of a mundane afternoon while you're completely locked in at work—hyperpop synths blaring in your ears—you’re suddenly jolted by the sound of heavy mandolins as an honest-to-god Russian military march blasts through your headphones, shattering your focus like a damn rhino in a china shop. 

And so with the level of patience that could put the Virgin Mary to shame, you painstakingly explain to your friend the courtesy of not stealing the proverbial AUX cord from the “driver,” especially when it’s their turn on the radio. 

The two of you reach a compromise, and thus the birth of your “shared” playlist. Sylus reluctantly agrees to explore on his own time—when you’re not using the app. Like when you’re busy with other things. Or when you're asleep. 

-

-

-

You wake up to the first strings of a Muse song. One of your favorites, in fact. 

Sy-Sy (??): Good morning, sweetie. 

Sy-Sy (??): Last night was enlightening. I have you to thank for that.

Sy-Sy (??): Oh, and I hope you could indulge me. I added some songs to our playlist. I think youll like them. We both seem to have a thing for alt-rock.

Sy-Sy (??): Give me time and Im sure Ill acquire a taste for electronic music too. Be patient. 

You huff out a laugh, lazily rolling over as you check your shared playlist. Sure enough, there’s twelve new songs on it.   

You: awe that’s great sy :)) and these songz r rly good !! u got sum of my faves here

You: based on what u like maybe u can try looking up sum david bowie, probz massive attack idk 

You: i’ll add stuff later for u to listen 2!!! <2

You: <3* 

Sy-Sy (??): Alright, sweetheart. Im looking forward to it. 

Sy-Sy (??): ♥️

____

From the outside, the studio is just another unit among endless rows of dull grey—small and unassuming. Tucked away on the sixth floor of a nondescript building, it’s built as unremarkable as the rest.

Through a window stained with a mix of corrosive ochre and burnt sienna, there’s a quiet hum—the presence of something that wasn’t there a week ago. Life has shifted, ever so subtly, from an oppressive achroma to a much warmer vibrancy.  

There’s a faint hint of movement. Inside, the young woman wears an almost-permanent smile, her phone an extension of her hand as she taps away with no semblance of rhyme nor rhythm—only in a continuous staccato. Her eyes are locked on the screen, as if drawn by an invisible force.

It’s elusive; this connection—something beyond. Supranatural. It weaves through the room like whispered secrets shared in the dead of the night, beneath a city blanketed in deep ultramarine. Soft, like a wind brushing through a still everglade. 

The apartment, once steeped in a self-inflicted solitude—one that went by unnoticed for a long period of time—comes alive as an intangible presence fills its nooks and crannies with the steady warmth of companionship. There’s a gentle heat to the space now, like the glow of an invisible hearth. 

The flickering of the string lights, the muted laughter shared with a voice through the tinny speakers of a handheld device, a slight signal interference… all feel like the genesis of an impossible story.

Outside, the evening sky is fading into twilight.

And as one looks out onto the street below from the sixth floor window, it’s almost as if the world outside doesn’t quite matter anymore. 

Inside, the air is full of life, in ways it has never been. 

____

“Come to me, just in a dream

Come on and rescue me

Yes, I know I can be wrong

And maybe you’re too headstrong

Our love is––”

Tagging: @xxfaithlynxx @beewilko @browneyedgirl22 @yournextdoorhousewitch @sunsethw4 @stxrrielle @mangooes @hrts4hanniehae @buggs-1 @michiluvddr @ssetsuka @i2sannie @imm0rtalbutterfly @the-golden-jhope @slyfoxtsu @beomluvrr @milkandstarlight @bookfreakk @ally-the-artistic-turtle @tinyweebsstuff @sapphic-daze @sarahthemage @cchiiwinkle @madam8 @slownoise @raendarkfaerie @sylusdarling @luminaaaz @greeenbeean

(if..... for some damn reason..... the tags still don't work i rly don't know what i'm doing wrong T_T i'm posting this from a macbook is that it, is the ghost of steve jobs fucking with me rn)

[harrywritingsbyme]

The Sweetest Case

a/n: hey y’all, long time no see, lol. I caught the writing bug that included follow-through with writing, editing, and posting. I just had this random idea pop into my head at 3am one night and figured I’d give it a stab. This one is so cute and will be a two-parter and potentially a mini-series. Also, the characters are down horrendous for each other. The second part is going to have my world-famous smut lol, so don’t worry lol. I’ve just been in a fluffy, very cutesy vibe for a long time, and idk if y’all were into that, given my normally smut-heavy writing. Anyway, I hope u like it…enjoy 🫶🏾😗

a baker!Harry au

pinterest mood board ♡

summary: an attorney’s structured life is turned upside down when a charming café owner shows her that love might just be the sweetest case she’ll ever take on.

word count ~ 6.2k words

Not even in your wildest dreams would you have thought that your late commute into the office on a random Tuesday morning would bring you and the man of your dreams together. You knew that casually stumbling across the love of your life wasn’t completely farfetched. But since it’d been confined solely to the pages of the books you’d read on the train to and from work, you were a bit weary of its potential.

But you were in for a rude awakening when you stumbled into the café a block from your office. You were already running late due to your choice of snoozing your alarm three times that morning, so you couldn’t stop at your regular coffee shop on your way to the train. However, no matter how late you were, you would never skip your morning latte. Maybe you’re a creature of habit, or perhaps you have a serious caffeine addiction; regardless, you were going to stop for your morning fix.

You’d seen the quaint shop on the corner on your walks to work, never stopping in, merely eyeing the pastries and deserts through the window as you walked by. You hated the coffee in your office, so there was no other option but to grab a coffee from the charming shop. You stepped underneath the pale green and white awning, pulling open the surprisingly heavy door with curly letters spelling out Sugar Bowl Bakery & Café. When you step inside, you’re immediately enveloped by the warm air and delicious smell of freshly baked goods circulating through the room.

Upon stepping up to the counter, you’re face to face with a pretty handsome barista in what you assumed to be the standard issue pale green apron for the shop and a name tag with Harry scrawled across it clipped to the top.

“What can I get for you this morning?” Harry rasps from behind the counter, a smile forming on his lips as you break from your thoughts at the sound of his voice.

“Oh- um…” You stammer, breaking away from your inner thoughts. “Could I get a vanilla latte, please?” You rush out, a little flustered at your noticed staring. “And a croissant, please!” You quickly add.

“Of course.” Harry chuckles softly, adding the haphazard croissant to your order. “Can I get a name for the order?” He adds, despite you being the only order at the moment.

“Y/n”

“Thanks, that’ll be $8.34.” ‘Pretty,’ Harry thinks as he replies, biting his lip to stop himself from beaming down at you. It only worsens for him as he watches you maneuver into your purse through your jacket, fishing through your things to find your wallet. At that moment, Harry’s wracking his brain to know if he’s seen anyone as beautiful and adorable as you were at this moment. And he comes up short.

“Here ya go.” You smile, handing over the $10 bill you’d pulled from your wallet. He quickly pulls your change from the register along with your receipt.

“Your order will be ready in a couple of minutes.” Harry carefully hands you the receipt and change, his fingers lightly brushing against your palm.

“Thanks.” You whisper back with a small smile, dropping the change in the tip jar and stepping away from the counter. You weren’t sure if you were just imagining things or if you felt a shock of electricity run through your hand when he touched yours. And you weren’t imagining things; Harry could feel it too, not that either of you could confirm or deny at that moment anyway. You were so caught up in the whirlwind that was Harry that you weren’t even stressed about being late for work.

After waiting a couple moments, Harry calls your name with your order in hand.

“Have a good one.” He says, his eyes locking on yours as a bright smile spreads across his lips.

“Thanks, you too.” You reply with a smile, taking the items from his hands. Again, your hands brush against him, and you feel a jolt of electricity flow through your hands. So no, you weren’t just imagining it the first time. You quickly turn and walk out of the shop, desperately trying to shake off the butterflies starting to attack your stomach.

As you walked away, Harry’s eyes never left you, following your every move until you were out of his sight. It was as if you and he were sharing one feeling. A feeling of excitement and hope to see each other again and simply be in one another’s presence. It was overwhelming but in a good way. A feeling that both of you wanted to feel again and neither of you wanted to forget.

While you walked toward your office, you finally took a sip of the hot drink in your hand. You didn’t know if you were biased towards the man making it, but this had to be the best latte you’d ever had. Either way, you were planning on becoming a regular at the establishment.

❃❃❃❃❃

And a regular you were. For a month or so straight, you came in every morning on your way to work, stopping in for your regular vanilla latte and croissant and your daily chats with Harry. You both secretly wished you could sit down and become properly acquainted, but the morning rush in the shop had other plans. Either way, you two appreciated the small interactions. In fact, they stayed on your minds all day long and kept you both afloat until the next morning when you got to do it all over again.

There was one morning, though, where there was absolutely no way you two could even say good morning to each other, as the place was just about packed to the brim. Even though the place was already popular, the muffins randomly went viral, and everyone flooded into the bakery to get their hands on them. In your head, you were patting yourself on the back for being ahead of the muffin curve. The shop was so packed that the only interaction you two had was a glance and smile when he turned at the sound of your voice as you placed your order. Yes, he remembered your voice. It’d be kind of hard to not remember your voice as he replayed it in his head nearly every chance he got. Not only did he remember your voice, he remembered your smile, your laugh, your presumably unorganized purse, given the way you always had to fish around for your wallet, and your bright yet soft aura that undoubtedly flooded the room and his being whenever you walked in.

Because of this incessant need for Harry to be around you, he decided to take the leap and unofficially ask you out. When your name was called to pick up your order, you grabbed the cup and bag and shuffled through the crowd and out the door. Only when you stepped onto the elevator of your office building did you see the note Harry had written on the bag. ‘Sorry, we couldn’t have our usual chat this morning. Stop by around lunchtime, I’ve heard our lunch menu is the best around. H.’ If there weren’t three other people in the elevator, you would’ve squealed from excitement. For the rest of the morning, you couldn’t stop yourself from glancing at the clock, hoping it’d strike noon already so you could dash out of the office and back to the café. 

When the time was finally on your side, you shot up from your desk, grabbing your jacket and purse before dashing out of the office. You stopped in the bathroom to straighten out your clothes and hair before taking the elevator down to the lobby. On your short walk to the shop, you tried your hardest to slow your breathing and heart rate, which was extremely elevated from excitement and nerves. It’s not like it was an official date. Right? Either way, your efforts were in vain because the moment you stepped into the warm establishment, your eyes met Harry’s, and your heart was ready to explode out of your chest all over again.

He’s leaning against the ledge behind the counter, waiting for your arrival. For the past 15 minutes before you came in, he kept an eye on the door, his head tilting up every time he heard the small bell on the door ring. Harry was doing his best to keep cool, trying his best to avoid thoughts of you not showing up or not being into him the way he was into you. Harry and yourself would’ve thought that at your age, you’d be calmer and less anxious about someone you were romantically interested in. But even though you could’ve kicked yourselves for being so infatuated with the other, neither of you cared to fight it much because, deep down, you both had a feeling that it’d be worth it.

“I was told that this place has an excellent lunch menu.” You hum, unwrapping your scarf that was bundled up around your neck.

“I’d have to agree with that.” He chuckles, beaming down at you from across the counter. “What can I get you, love?” He adds with a smile, making your heart flutter a bit.

“I’ll have whatever you recommend.” You reply, putting the choice for lunch in his hands.

“Alright, any allergies I should know about?” He continues.

“Nope.” You pop back, reaching into your purse for your wallet to pay. When he sees you going to pay, he quickly stops you in your tracks.

“No need, it’s on the house.” Harry quickly rushes out. He hadn’t even put the order into the system.

“You sure?” You shoot a questioning pout in his direction, weary of him picking up your tab.

“Yes. Now, how about you go and pick a seat, and I’ll bring the food to you? " he lightheartedly instructs, sending you on your way while he heads towards the kitchen in the back.

When you’re out of his sight, you drop the cash you would’ve spent in the tip jar and turn to find a seat in the tranquil café. You pick an able that’s in a corner by the window and make yourself comfortable while you wait.

In what seemed like no time at all, in the corner of your eye, you see Harry coming in your direction with a tray of food in hand.

“Alright, I picked some of my favorites off the menu.” He says, strategically placing everything down so it could fit onto the small café table before sitting in front of you.

“Everything looks amazing.”You whisper, taking in everything he’d placed before you. You were a little curious, though, as to how he could have possibly known that you were the type to have two beverages, with a cup of tea and a glass of ice water on the table for you. You were even more curious about why he hung around with you. “Why are you sitting? I’m not gonna be the one to get you in trouble with your boss, Harry.” You pointedly add.

“Love, it’s kind of hard to get in trouble with the boss when you own the place,” Harry smirks, sending a slight wink your way before making up his tea.

“You’ve been the owner this entire time?!” You whisper-shout across the table, a little shocked at the revelation.

Harry then goes on to explain that he’d opened this second location for his bakery almost two years ago, a little while before you started at your firm, and often frequented to help out a bit. He also explained how he wasn’t even supposed to be there the morning you first came in and that he was only in to help a bit since some of the staff were sick. Maybe it was meant to be, after all. Especially since you were running late for work and needed a quick coffee in the area that morning. 

For the next half hour or so, you two talked and ate, discussing almost everything from your families to your jobs and hobbies. He told you about how he’d recently become an uncle (which he was beaming about from across the table) and how he’s a shop owner professionally, but his passion is baking. He developed just about every recipe for every item sold in the café. Harry also brought up how he was working on a cookbook and creating new recipes, which led him to his favorite show, ironically enough, The Great British Bakeoff. Which also explained the accent.

Conversely, you told him that you were an attorney, which he was thoroughly impressed by, but not so impressed that he asked you everything you could possibly imagine about your job, which was refreshing, believe it or not. You went on about how you related to him about being close with your mom and how you enjoyed cooking from time to time. You were also similar in the way your favorite shows matched your profession in some way, your show being tied between Suits and Law & Order.

The two of you could’ve kept talking all afternoon long had it not been time for you to return to the office.

“Thanks for lunch, Harry. I think it may just be the best lunch around.” You smile, biting the inside of your lip as you stand from the table. “And I’m serious about being a taste tester for your cookbook. I’m never going to turn down a sweet treat.” You remind him, bundling yourself up again to brave the cool air outside.

“Well, since you’re going to be my taste tester, I think that warrants getting your phone number. So that I can keep you up to date on recipe developments.” He rations, standing up from the table as well.

“Yeah, I wanna be developed on all things recipes.” You counter, fighting back the giggle that was bubbling in your throat. You pull your phone out from your jacket pocket and hand it over for him to put his number in. “The Handsome Baker? That’s what you’re going with?” You laugh, staring down at the new contact.

“Well I mean, do you disagree?” He cocks his head to the side with a wide smirk spread across his face.

“I plead the fifth.” This time, fully biting your lip to conceal your dopey smile. You quickly shrug on your coat and slide your purse onto your shoulder before stopping directly in front of Harry. “I‘ll text you later…” You softly hum up to him, lightly tapping his chest. “About the recipes.” You add with a closed smile before making your way out of the door and back to work.

His eyes follow you as you walk toward your office until you’re out of sight. As he cleans up the table, his mind is solely on you. He replays the entire conversation with you repeatedly for the rest of the day and the next morning when he sees you again. You decided to toy with him a bit and text him until the next morning, getting the sense that he was waiting for your message. You were completely correct about it because he texted you back less than 5 minutes after you’d sent the initial message. 

For the next week or so, the two of you kept up the same morning coffee and light lunches routine. The conversation flowed continuously; if you two had it your way, you’d never leave your designated table in the corner by the window. Of the 6 lunches you two had, he only let you pay for two. In between, you two would be texting back and forth almost nonstop. And there was only one mention of the recipes you signed up to taste test for.

❃❃❃❃❃

One day, though, you were unable to make your regularly scheduled lunch “date.” Your firm had just brought on a new client, and you were tasked with writing up a legal brief. This meant you’d be glued to your desk until at least 3 p.m. and unable to take your standard hour lunch.

You: hey, i won’t be able to make it for lunch today…boss dropped a project on my desk :(

The Handsome Baker : No worries :)

Now get back to work! Don’t wanting you getting in trouble with the boss. ;)

You couldn’t stop a smile from forming on your lips before turning your phone over and getting back to work. Believe it or not, you could completely lock in and focus on your work for the next hour. That is, until your desk phone rang, breaking you out of your work-related daze.

“Hey Emma.” You greet the receptionist through the phone, cradling it between your ear and shoulder as you went back to typing on your desktop.

“Hey, Y/n. Sorry to interrupt, but security just called up saying that you had a delivery in the lobby.” The receptionist replied in her usual chipper voice.

“Thanks, I’m heading down now.” You had a history of forgetting what you ordered online but wouldn’t have anything delivered to your job. But you figured stretching your legs couldn’t hurt, so you slipped your heels back on and made your way to the elevator and down to the lobby.

When you stepped off the elevator and rounded the corner, any confusion you had completely melted away. You were greeted with a smiling Harry standing at the security desk with a brown paper bag and what you presumed to be your go-to latte order in his hands.

On the flip side, Harry could feel his entire body warm when he saw you walking in his direction. He’d seen you dressed in your usual office attire (minus the glasses), but seeing you walking towards him as Y/n, the attorney, was an entirely different sight. It was like every other noise around him faded into nothing; only your heels clicking against the ground and your cheery voice as you closed in on him met his ears.

“Thanks, Andrew.” You greet the security guard as you push past the turnstiles, standing fully before Harry. “I could get used to the personal delivery.” You smirk, trying to conceal the millions of butterflies swarming around your stomach and chest at the sweet gesture.

“Well, you have to eat, and your favorite restaurant closes at 6pm. Plus I figured you could use a caffeinated pick me up.” He slightly tilts his head to the side, giving you a little smile.

“Who sad it was my favorite?” You poke back, mirroring his head tilt.

“Judging by the way I’ve seen you every morning and afternoon for almost two months, it’s safe to say you’re a big fan.” He grins, knowing he got you there.

“I guess so. But it’s only because I’ve heard the owner is kinda cute, can bake a great pastry, and makes a mean vanilla latte.” You whisper back, fully beaming up at Harry now.

Harry’s mind scrambles at your comment, his heart threatening to explode out of his chest and onto the glimmering floor. His mind only races further when your hands brush against his to take the cup and bag from him.

“Thanks for lunch. I’ll text you later.” You reach up to leave a small peck on his cheek before returning to the elevators. As you turn the corner, you sneak a glance back in Harry’s direction to find him still standing there with his eyes solely on you. He hated to admit it, but as good it was to see you coming, it was even better to see you going.

As if you were telepathically linked, as soon as you were out of each other's sight, you both took a deep breath, your brains completely wracked from your interaction. The both of you were stunned at the gall on both of your parts in that small timeframe. For the rest of the day, it's all either of you could think about; thankfully, you were in the final stretch of your brief. Harry had brought you your favorite sandwich on the menu, a pastry he knew you loved, and a cupcake from a recipe he was testing out. You were his designated taste tester, after all. And you made sure to let him know, declaring it the best thing he's ever baked in his entire life over text.

That night, after all those unofficial lunch dates and secretly (quite obviously actually) pining for one another, especially after that afternoon, Harry finally made an official move.

The Handsome Baker: What’s your favorite dish?

You: spaghetti carbonara??

 are you going to make a carbonara flavored cupcake for the cookbook??

  i’ll try it but i'm not sure about that one…

The Handsome Baker: Not quite.

I thought we could make it together in the café kitchen this Friday around 8pm?

You: sounds like a date!

And just like that, you and Harry had your first official date scheduled for Friday night. Let’s just say you both were giggling and kicking your feet as you went to bed that night.

❃❃❃❃❃

Friday night couldn’t have come sooner; you two only had to wait two days, by the way. But to be fair, you hadn’t seen each other since Harry brought you lunch earlier in the week. The universe decided it’d be great to completely inundate you both with work the week of your first official date. Harry was busy at his other café location on the completely opposite side of town, and you were in meeting after meeting with clients and dissecting contracts page after page. But again, the only thing keeping Harry and yourself going was your date.

The day finally arrives, and a cocktail of nerves and excitement runs through your veins. While you’ve dated and done the first date thing plenty of times, you’d never had as good of a feeling about them as you did about the upcoming date with Harry. You couldn’t articulate it yet, but something was different this time.

Before you even pick out what you're wearing to work in the morning, you plan your outfit for that night. Up until now, Harry had only ever seen you in a suit or suit adjacent. You always felt confident, strong, and smart in your suits and workwear. But now you just wanted to feel soft and pretty. So, for almost an hour, you flipped through just about your entire closet, eventually settling on the perfect dress. It's not too dressy or too casual, but just right. After finally nailing down what you were going to wear, all the way through to the accessories and how you would do your hair, you finally got yourself dressed and out of the door to work. 

While you were playing dress up and running late for work, Harry was flying around town picking up items for that evening. He picked up all the ingredients for dinner, stopping at three different grocery stores to get the best ingredients. He also grabbed your favorite bottle of wine, which he only knew to get since you’d sent a picture of the label a couple weeks ago after he mentioned wanting to try it. Along with the groceries and wine, Harry hauled his stand mixer and its fifty million attachments from his home kitchen to the café, stashing everything away into its proper places until he needed them later.

For the rest of the day, you two were locked into your work. You were almost certain you were typing and reading faster than normal, intent on walking out of the office at 5pm on the dot. Harry started the next day's prep work earlier than normal, making sure that he could send everyone home earlier to have the kitchen to himself. And right on schedule, you were heading home to get ready, and Harry had done the last bit of cleaning before sending his staff home early for the evening.

At that point, the countdown had begun. You were taking your precious time getting ready and refusing to account for Friday night traffic. Harry was practically in an episode of the amazing race, trying to get home to shower and change, stop by the florist before they closed to pick up a small flower arrangement, and set up the kitchen all before you arrived. While he may have appeared to be going mad and doing the absolute most, he wouldn’t have had it any other way. Because similarly to how you felt, Harry had this gut feeling about you. While there was still so much more for you two to learn about each other, he thought that you already knew him so well. You two just clicked. The last thing he wanted to do was scare you off, but Harry was in love. And he was ready to say it whenever you were. He was just praying you felt the same way. 

❃❃❃❃❃

The Beautiful Attorney: i’m outside :)

As soon as he saw your message, Harry rushed up from his table in the seating area of the café to the door to let you in, on the way, drying his sweaty palms on his pants. He could see your shoes tapping on the ground outside the door window, and a smile instantly made all his nerves disappear. When the door swings open, your eyes immediately meet, and your arms pull each other into a tight and long-awaited embrace. His arms snake around your waist while yours glide around his neck. You two whisper small ‘hi’s’ into each other’s ears. Upon pulling away from the embrace, Harry closes and locks the shop door, shutting out the cold air. He then helps you out of your coat, draping it over the table he once sat at, and leads you into the kitchen.

“So this is where the magic happens.” You hum, taking in the well lit kitchen. Your heart swelled at the sight of the full bouquet of flowers sitting on the counter.

“Indeed it is…” Harry chuckles. “Now put this on,” He continues, handing you a green and white striped apron to put on. Once you slip the apron around your neck, Harry reaches around you to tightly wind the ties around your waist to tie them together in the front. “Don’t your pretty dress getting dirty,” He mutters, intently tying them into a bow. When he’s done, Harry absentmindedly cups your hips, giving them a small pat before rounding the counter.

At that moment, all you wanted him to do was pull you against his chest and give you one of the best kisses of your life. Knock the air out of your lungs and officially claim you as his. You thought good things come to those who wait as you moved next to him.

“So I figured we could make everything from scratch.” Harry grins, starting to set up the stand mixer.

“I thought so…I hope that doesn’t include the wine though. I’m not a crushing grapes with my feet kind of girl.” You joke.

“Your favorite bottle is in the fridge, " he chuckles, watching you giddily skip over to the fridge in response. And could you grab the shopping bag in there, too?” You follow his orders. You sit the heavy bag of groceries on the counter before abandoning it to focus on opening the chilled bottle. Harry watches in amusement as you concentrate on maneuvering the cork out of the bottle.

“I had a long week okay.” You justify, eventually prying the cork out.

“Why don’t you tell me about it.” He offers, placing two wine glasses in front of you to fill.

You then go on to tell him about your week, every once in a whileawhile he’ll interject to know if the person you’re talking about is the same one you mentioned in previous conversations. You were impressed at how he remembered the little things you’d mentioned previously.

For the next hour the two of you cook, laugh and dance around the kitchen. Harry shows you how to make the absolute perfect pasta from scratch, somehow managing to make you want to cook more instead of just ordering out. After dropping the flour covered pasta into the boiling water, instead of prepping for the next step, Harry grabs you by your waist and spins you around the kitchen to the beat of the music playing out of his phone.

You two wouldn't have stopped if it hadn’t been for the stupid timer. While you were mixing the eggs and cheese for the pasta sauce, Harry was telling you about a potential new recipe for his cookbook. However, all you could think about was how he still hadn’t kissed you despite there being at least two open windows this night alone. You’re only broken out of your thoughts when you see Harry turn away from the stove towards you for your thoughts. You brush off your thoughts, telling him that the recipe sounded good.

Not long after, you two finish cooking dinner. Harry let you sit at the stainless island while he plated the food before taking a seat as well. Your aprons were removed, and you two were finally digging into your creation. It had to have been the best meal you’d ever had, and you weren’t saying that just because you were hungry or because it was Harry who helped make it. You two continued chatting over dinner about your families, shows you were watching, and everything else under the sun.

“I really hope we don’t have to make dessert too. I’m in a bit of a food coma.” You huff, pushing your cleaned plate towards the middle of the island.

“Don’t worry, I already took care of that for you.” Harry chuckles, standing up from the island. He places your dishes into the sink before opening the fridge to grab a small brown box filled with your favorite sweet treat. “I know it’s your favorite.” He grins, sliding the box towards you. When you look into the box, your eyes immediately light up at what’s inside. The cupcakes Harry had you try two weeks ago were sitting in the box just for you. And you waste no time flipping the clear lid off and popping one of the cakes out. You’re so engrossed in the delicious cupcake that you don’t even notice Harry intently watching you as he leaned against the counter next to you. That is, until you set the cupcake down on the counter to take a breath and pace yourself.

“Want a bite?” You motion down to the half eaten cupcake.

“I’m good love.” Harry smiles.

“You sure, it’s a really good cupcake.” You ask again, now looking up at him.

“Positive” He snickers, noticing you had a little frosting on the tip of your nose. But before he could even swipe it away, you were already standing in front of him with the other side of the cupcake waiting for him to take a bite.

“You have to taste your work.” You insist, your smirk becoming a grin when he takes a bite. “Good, right?” You add, to which Harry nods in response.

“But you already knew that since you have frosting all over your face.” He jokes, finally wiping away the frosting from your nose with his thumb. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, from the gesture.

At that moment, Harry couldn’t take his eyes off of you, and you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. His hand still rests against your face, shifting slightly to fully cup your cheek. Both of your hearts were racing, your stomach inundated with butterflies, and your chests rising and falling quicker than before. You shift slightly towards him, with your hands coming up to rest softly against his chest, nonverbally giving him the green light. The millionth one of you were being completely honest. However, this time, he got the memo loud and clear.

His free hand goes to your hip, gliding around to the small of your back to press you further into him. And without any further delay, Harry finally and firmly plants his lips on yours. It’s as if your entire body takes a big sigh of relief, instantly relaxing into his touch. In that moment, you two are perfectly in sync, his lips slotted with yours as he guided your movements. After a few more seconds, his lips separate from yours, allowing you both to come up for air. The both of you were panting messes, your warm breaths fanning across your faces.

“Took you long enough.” You lightly laugh as you nudge your nose against his, reaching up to wind your fingers around the short hairs at the nape of his neck.

“Well, allow me to make up for lost time.” Harry hums, smashing his lips back onto yours. He was now standing completely straight, holding you firmly against him. While his grip on you was firm, his hold was still gentle. Despite his fervent kisses, like your lips were the oxygen he needed to survive, his touch was delicate. His passion for you wasn’t overpowering; it was perfect. When you parted your lips, granting his tongue access to your mouth, he didn’t rush to cram it practically down your throat (like others in the past had). He took his time and was gentle. And all you could do was contently sigh against his lips from how absolutely perfect the moment was.

Eventually, you two flipped places with your back being now against the island. Only this time, you were being lifted up to sit on the cool steel counter. You slowly pull away from his lips, playfully snagging his bottom lip between your teeth a little as you pulled back.

“I wouldn’t want to defile your kitchen any further.” You whisper to Harry, your hands coming around from his neck back to their original spot on his chest. “Plus, I don’t intend on breaking any more of my dating rules with you tonight.” You assert. You weren’t a kiss on the first date, girl, let alone an entire make-out session like the one you enjoyed not even a minute ago.

“I’ll have you know that I’m a proper gentleman.” Harry pokes back proudly, moving back further to get a better look at you while planting his palms firmly onto the counter on either side of where you’re sitting.

“I’ll be the judge of that.” You smirk, lightly poking a finger at his chest.

“And I intend to prove it to you.” He smiles, pecking your cheek.

“Are you asking me out on another date.” Because if he was, you were definitely saying yes.

“I’m asking you out on as many as you’ll have me.” He counters, a dopey smile falling onto his face as he took your features in. Yeah, it was official…Harry was in love.

You couldn’t stop yourself from pulling your bottom lip between your teeth, giddy with the prospect of going on more dates with him in the future. Hopefully forever.

After begging Harry to let you help him with the dishes and him standing firmly in his answer of absolutely not, you were finally heading back home. And, of course, he called you an Uber back home and made sure you arrived home safely. For the rest of the night, while you were getting ready for bed and while Harry was closing the kitchen, there was a permanent smile etched onto your faces as you replayed the night's events over and over again. You both wanted to relive it in your heads as many times as possible until the next time when you two got to do it all over again.

You: i had a great time with you tonight. can’t wait to do it again soon. <3

And almost instantly you got a response back.

The Handsome Baker: I had a wonderful time as well.

Just got in.

Sleep well, and I can’t wait to see you again. <3

Seeing him mirror your little heart made it nearly impossible for you to go to bed, but you managed to eventually fall asleep. And you indeed slept well. The both of you did. And you were pleasantly greeted the next morning with a text from Harry.

The Handsome Baker: Good morning beautiful.

You should stop by the café so I can kiss you again, and again.

After rereading the text at least 100 times, you fall back into your plush pillows, staring up at the ceiling in pure bliss. Yeah, this was shaping up to be the sweetest case you’d ever take on.

❃❃❃❃❃

i hope y'all liked it ♡

[the-winter-spider]

Say Don't Go | Part Two

Pairings: College!Hockey Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: Drinking

A/N: I KNOW the poll said yall wanted the next part to Invisible first but i already had this edited! The next part of invisible will be posted in a couple hours 🫶🏻 i just need to edit it! We about to angsttyyy dick head bucky sooon, so enjoy the bliss of this filler chapter and sweet bucky NEXT chapter before hes a prick lol

------

Once in the quiet of your dorm, you pull out your phone and text Steve, letting him know you made it back safely. But as you sit on the edge of your bed, Bucky’s words echo in your mind, his touch lingering like a warm memory.

You open the door to your dorm as quietly as you can, hoping not to wake Wanda, your roommate and one of the few girls on campus who’s genuinely kind to you. But when you slip inside, you see her sitting at her desk, textbooks open and highlighter in hand, a soft smile spreading across her face as she spots you.

“I don’t know whether to say you’re home early or late,” she teases, glancing at the clock and then back at you. Then her eyes zero in on the jacket draped over your arm, and her eyebrows raise. “Is that his jacket?”

You shrug, trying to act casual. “He was just walking me home.”

Wanda rolls her eyes, setting down her highlighter with a grin. “Please. You two are playing one of the most drawn-out games of cat and mouse I’ve ever seen.” She tilts her head thoughtfully. “For somebody who can body-check a grown man into a sideboard, I don’t know why he’s so nervous to go after you.”

You feel a blush rise to your cheeks and set the jacket on your desk, avoiding her gaze. “Maybe he’s just…embarrassed.”

Wanda lets out a little laugh and lightly slaps her arms in exasperation. “He is definitely not embarrassed. You’re one of the most beautiful girls on campus, you know.”

“Stop it, Wanda,” you mumble, trying to hide your smile as your cheeks heat up even more. “You’re making me blush.”

She laughs, leaning back in her chair. “Fine, fine. But I’m serious.” She stretches, rubbing her eyes. “Anyway, I have to get back to studying. If the light bothers you, just throw a pillow at me or something.”

“Don’t worry,” you reply, stifling a yawn as you settle into bed. “I can sleep through anything.”

Wanda grins, putting on her headphones and returning to her notes. You close your eyes, snuggling under the covers, and let out a sigh, replaying the events of the night in your mind. Bucky’s words, his touch, and the warmth of his jacket linger, making it hard to keep the giddy smile off your face.

Just as you’re drifting off, your phone vibrates on the nightstand. You reach for it, and your heart does a little flip when you see Bucky’s name on the screen. His text is simple, but it’s enough to make your night: Can’t wait to see you tomorrow.

With a smile, you type back: You’re a hopeless flirt, Barnes. Then you set your phone down with a soft sigh. Wrapped in his jacket’s comforting scent, you fall asleep, already looking forward to whatever tomorrow—and that party—might bring.

The next morning, your alarm jolts you awake at 10:00 a.m., and you groan, fumbling to turn it off. Blinking against the light, you see a handful of notifications: three texts from Steve, one from Wanda, and one from Bucky. Starting with Steve’s, you open it and grin at his messages:

S: Hey sleepyhead, how is it I’m the one up late and you’re still in bed?

S: We have brunch plans!!! Don’t stand up the captain of your undefeated hockey team ;)

S: Alright, Bee, I’ll be at Rosie’s at 11:00 a.m. sharp. If you’re late, you’re buying.

You can’t help but laugh at the nickname, Bee. A nickname that only Steve called you because every time you would drink you would brag to the world, or anyone that would listen that you've gone your whole life without being stung by a bee and that was your superpower mainly it was because you would run for the hills if you even heard a buzz, nothing scared you more than the unknown pain of a bee sting. You texted back: Im up, Im up....and starving, can't wait to be ON TIME and order the whole menu, since its your turn to pay <3

Next, you open Wanda’s text:

Wanda: You snore a lot… and I think you may sleep-talk, too. Don’t worry, I won’t tell a soul… especially Bucky ;)

You groan, shaking your head, not even sure what you might’ve said in your sleep, but with Bucky on your mind last night, you wouldn’t put it past yourself. Finally, you open Bucky’s text, and your heart skips a beat at his reply from last night: Hopeless for you

The words sink in, leaving a warm, fluttery feeling in your chest that you try to brush off as you get ready.

When you arrive at Rosie’s Café, Steve is already at a booth by the window, grinning as he watches you through the glass. He dramatically waves, like he’s greeting some long-lost friend, and you roll your eyes, laughing as you slide into the booth across from him.

“Five minutes late,” he says, raising an eyebrow. “I was betting on ten.”

You stick your tongue out at him, snagging the coffee cup he’s already ordered for you. “Please, I’m practically early.”

Steve snorts, taking a sip of his coffee. “Whatever you say, Bee.”

“So,” Steve says, leaning forward with a mischievous grin, “I heard from a reliable source that Buck walked you home last night. Left Tiffany all high and dry.”

You roll your eyes, trying to play it cool. “We were just walking home. Bucky was being… Bucky.”

“Right,” Steve says, drawing out the word with a smirk. “Because ‘just walking home’ means wearing his jacket, right?”

You feel your cheeks warm. “It’s not like that. Honestly, it’s just harmless flirting. Bucky and I—we’re friends, because of you i might add...that’s all.” you shrug

Steve’s expression softens, his teasing fading. “Bee, it’s never just ‘nothing’ with you. Look, I’m only saying this because I’m looking out for you. You’re my best friend, and I don’t want to see you get hurt.” He pauses, taking a sip of his coffee before adding, “Bucky’s a great guy. But he… he’s got a way of being uncertain. He doesn’t always know what he wants.”

His words settle heavily in your chest, and for a second, you feel your heart dip. But you push away any sign of that, meeting his gaze with a smile. “It’s fine, Stevie. I’m a big girl. I know how to take care of myself.”

He sighs, nodding, though he doesn’t seem fully convinced. “I know you do. Just… remember, i've always got your back, alright? No matter what.”

You reach across the table, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “I know. Thanks, Steve.” And as he smiles, you can’t help but feel a little more grounded, even as the thought of Bucky lingers in the back of your mind, stirring a mess of hope and caution.

Just as you’re about to respond, the server arrives with plates of food, sliding them onto the table with a cheerful “Enjoy!” You raise an eyebrow at Steve as he grins, looking ridiculously proud of himself.

“Of course you already ordered for me,” you say, picking up your fork. “Couldn’t resist, huh?”

Steve shrugs, stuffing a forkful of food into his mouth. “I know you too well, Bee,” he says through a mouthful, barely managing not to laugh.

You lean back, giving him a playful side-eye. “Alright, so who’s this ‘reliable source’ that’s apparently got all the gossip on my night?”

Steve smirks, pausing just long enough for dramatic effect. “From the man himself.”

You blink, surprised. “Bucky told you he walked me home?”

“Yup,” he replies, scrolling through his phone before holding it up so you can see the text. “Got a message from him last night saying he made sure you got back safe and sound or whatever. Real gentleman, right?”

You glance at the screen, reading the short message from Bucky: Walked her home. All safe and sound.

You look back at Steve, trying to ignore the warmth spreading through your chest. “Well, that was nice of him. Good to know he’s updating the Captain on his whereabouts.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but there’s a hint of a smile in them. “Come on, don’t act like you’re not a little flattered. He doesn’t do this for just anyone.”

You laugh, stabbing a piece of pancake with your fork to cover up your blush. “He’s just looking out for me. Like you said, he’s a good guy.”

Steve just shakes his head knowingly. “Keep telling yourself that, Bee.”

You shift the conversation quickly, hoping to steer attention away from you and Bucky. “Anyway, how’s Natasha?”

Steve raises an eyebrow, smirking a bit. “I don’t kiss and tell.”

You snort, rolling your eyes. “Since when?”

Steve’s cheeks turn a little red, but before he can respond, a couple of college guys pass by the table, giving him a friendly pat on the shoulder. “Hey, Rogers! Great game last night, man. You killed it!”

Steve flashes them a grin. “Thanks, man. Appreciate it.”

As they walk off, he turns back to you, clearing his throat and regaining his composure. “Well…maybe this time feels different,” he admits, a bit shyly. “I really like her. I’m actually thinking of asking her out on a real date.”

You break into a smile. “Congratulations, Stevie. I’m happy for you. She seems like a great girl.”

He gives you a hopeful look. “So you approve?”

Laughing, you shake your head. “I don’t have to approve anyone you want to be with, Steve.”

“Yeah, you do,” he says, his voice soft but sincere. “You’re my best friend. Your opinion matters to me.”

You soften, feeling a pang of affection for him. “Of course I approve. She’s beautiful, confident, and she’s a genuinely nice person.”

Steve’s face lights up. “I think you two would actually be great friends. You and Natasha? I can totally see it.”

You nod, a warm feeling spreading through you at his happiness. “I think so too.”

As brunch winds down, Steve leans back, watching you with a small smile. “So… ready for the party tonight? I hear everyone’s going to be there, even Bucky’s going all out.”

You try to play it cool, shrugging. “Yeah, should be fun. I mean, it’s not every day the undefeated hockey team throws a party.”

Steve chuckles, clearly amused. “Yeah, well, Bucky might have mentioned a few times how he’s hoping to see you there.”

Your cheeks heat up, but you try to play it off with a casual smile. “Well, I’ll make sure to look my best then.”

Steve raises an eyebrow, giving you a knowing look. “Don’t worry too much, Bee. Pretty sure you already do... Are you gonna wear that?" He gestures to Bucky varsity jacket folded beside you nicely

You sigh, glancing down at Bucky’s jacket folded neatly beside you. “Probably not. But I’ll bring it to give it back to him.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “Give it back? Why? Looks good on you.”

You shake your head, laughing a little. “Come on, Stevie. I can’t just show up wearing something like this—that would make it seem like we’re… you know, together.” You can’t help but feel a pang of regret as you say it, but you push it down. “And we’re absolutely not together.”

Steve gives you a look, one of those perceptive, big-brother looks that only he can pull off. “You sure that’s all there is to it? Maybe he likes seeing you in it.”

You roll your eyes, shrugging to hide your own uncertainty. “I just want to give it back. It’s his jacket.”

Steve snorts, folding his arms. “Right. Well, if you change your mind, don’t overthink it. You never know—maybe he’d like seeing you show up wearing it.”

You give him a playful shove. “I think I’ll survive without making a grand entrance in his jacket, thanks.”

Steve laughs, shaking his head. “Suit yourself, Bee. Just know I’ll be watching out for you, especially if Bucky tries anything you dont want him to tonight.”

You grin, feeling a bit more at ease. “I’d expect nothing less from the captain himself.”

Steve stands, throwing a few bills on the table for the check. “So, I’ll pick you up at eight, yeah?” he says casually, grabbing his jacket. “Just gotta swing by Natasha’s place off-campus first and pick her up—if that’s cool with you.”

You nod, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Of course. I’ll be ready. And hey, don’t keep her waiting too long,” you tease, nudging him.

Steve’s cheeks flush, but he grins back. “Don’t worry. I’d never hear the end of it if I did.”

As you head for the door together, he pauses, giving you one last look, his expression softening. “You sure you’re all good for tonight? No nerves?”

You wave him off, rolling your eyes. “I’m fine, Stevie. It’s just a party. And I’ll have you and Nat there, so what’s there to worry about?”

He chuckles, pulling you into a quick hug. “Alright, alright. Just checking. See you at eight, Bee.”

You wave as he heads off, and you can’t help but feel the familiar flutters of excitement—and maybe a hint of nerves. Tonight’s party feels a little different, like there’s something more hanging in the air.

With a deep breath, you pick up Bucky’s jacket from the booth and walk out, wondering if you’ll actually find the nerve to wear it tonight after all. You tell yourself it’s just a jacket, but a part of you wonders if wearing it tonight would mean something more, even if it’s just between you and Bucky.

---

As you finish getting ready, you smooth down the little black dress that hugs you in all the right places, still debating the jacket. It’s hanging off the edge of your bed, and every time you look at it, your heart flutters. You know what wearing it could imply.

Just as you let out a sigh, your phone pings twice. The first message is from Steve: I’m five minutes away.

You quickly tap out a response, letting him know you’re ready. But then you notice the second message from Bucky. You hesitate, fingers hovering over the screen, heart pounding. When you finally open it, the message is short, but it’s enough to make you grin--

BB: You better be wearing my coat… see u soon, doll.

A smile tugs at your lips as you grab the jacket, pulling it on. Somehow, it feels like a shield, giving you a rush of confidence. Right on time, your phone lights up again with a message from Steve saying he’s outside.

You hurry downstairs, and Steve’s already out of the car, holding the door open for you like the gentleman he is. As you slide into the back seat, Natasha looks over her shoulder, letting out a low whistle.

“Wow, you look hot,” she says with a grin, nudging Steve. “Doesn’t she look hot?”

You laugh as Steve’s cheeks turn pink. “I… I mean, I can’t… I don’t… I can’t say that about her.”

Natasha rolls her eyes with a laugh, and Steve clears his throat, finally managing, “You look very pretty.”

“Thanks, Stevie,” you say with a smile, adjusting Bucky’s jacket around your shoulders.

He eyes it with a smirk. “So, I see you decided to wear the jacket, huh?”

You shrug, trying to sound casual. “Well, I’ve gotta give it back to him eventually. And it’s a little chilly, so… win-win.”

Steve gives you a knowing look through the rearview mirror. “Mhm. Sure.”

Natasha stifles a laugh, clearly amused as Steve starts the car, pulling away. You settle back into the seat, your heart racing a little faster with each passing minute as you all head toward the party.

The party is already in full swing when the three of you step inside, music thumping and lights casting a hazy glow over the packed room. Steve has his arm slung around Natasha’s waist, his face beaming as people shout greetings his way, clapping him on the back. The undefeated hockey team’s star has arrived, and he fits right in, like he was born for this spotlight.

You follow closely, but it doesn’t take long to feel a bit adrift, like you’re walking in his shadow. Steve keeps glancing back, making sure you’re close, but you hate that he feels the need to check on you. It’s supposed to be his night, his chance to relax and enjoy himself, not to worry about you.

You start to feel the weight of the jacket on your shoulders, like it’s putting a target on your back. Bucky’s name stitched across it draws eyes in every direction—curious, judgmental, some downright hostile. You catch a couple of girls whispering and shooting you cold, jealous stares. A pang of anxiety twists in your stomach as you force yourself to look away, hoping your face doesn’t betray the flush of self-consciousness rising in you.

Suddenly, it’s too much, and you reach forward, grabbing Steve’s arm. He turns, looking concerned, and you lean in, speaking loud enough to be heard over the music.

“I’m gonna go grab a drink and hit the bathroom,” you say, offering a quick smile to reassure him.

Natasha, noticing the exchange, leans closer. “Want me to come with you?”

You shake your head, forcing yourself to sound confident. “No, you two go have fun. I’ll find you in a bit.”

Steve searches your face, worry lingering in his eyes. “You sure?”

“Of course,” you insist, giving him a playful nudge. “I’m a big girl, Stevie. Go, enjoy yourself!"

He nods, squeezing your shoulder before turning back to Natasha, who’s already pulling him further into the crowd. You watch them disappear, his arm still draped protectively around her, and as they blend into the sea of people, you feel a hollowness settle in your chest.

Alone now, you wrap Bucky’s jacket tighter around yourself, but it’s no longer a comforting weight; instead, it feels heavy, like armor you don’t feel quite strong enough to wear. The flashes of familiar faces and snippets of conversation around you only deepen your sense of isolation. You feel small, like a forgotten piece of someone else’s story, swallowed by the loud music, the swirling lights, and the press of bodies.

[accio-victuuri]

October CPNs round-up 🔴🟡🟢

• xiao zhan as woody and yibo as buzz

• yibo’s wechat reminder setup

• bjyx being on top of entertainment weibo hot search in the early morning of xz’s bday

• xz birthday cpns compilation / part two / part three / part four / part five

• can we appreciate this “selfie” from ETU? aside from it being so cool and such a wang yibo selfie — i love how the bone necklace is front and center. we are definitely imagining him sending this to xz!

being like, look what im doing right now and showing off to his gege but also keeping that necklace visible. plus those arms 👀 hello!

coupled with some more of him being on the phone and taking selfies — sure, he might as well be sharing this to his circle of friends or for memories sake. but we are clowns in here sooooo…..

• related to gg singing that line about “goodnight”. i saw OP share an alleged screenshot from WYB’s posts on his “friend” circle in the early days and the other one is on weibo. basically implying he is someone who loves to post and it being a “goodnight”.

• a new au pairing is born 😂😂😂 i love this edit. and because gg’s character is eating — related that to baili’s love for tasting food and giving his evaluation. they will get along i guess?

• yibo spots a bjyx related phone case

• yibo GT race clowning that xz was there + him caressing lol the 🦴 necklace

• this sleeping pose 😂😂😂 and that deep V!

• hmmmmm interesting suitcase. it’s a coincidence. wdym this is a popular model! 👀

• coffee lovers xz and wyb! i’m lovin how their interests almost always overlap 😂😂😂😂

• they have been in the same city for some time, and then wyb goes to barcelona on 10/27 with an outfit that looks like he is cosplaying xz. v interesting.

everything wyb is wearing in this airport photo even the bag, shoes and hat are all loewe so the choice of top could might as well be BECAUSE it’s loewe. however, i feel like they have alot of other clothes he can wear — and the similarity with gg’s style is very noticeable. maybe someone else helped in picking out his clothes? 😌

• a new perspective on this video! look at yibo’s face!

<<< previous month

[egg-but-with-style]

HEADCANONS WITH THE BOYSSSS!!!!

My last post did pretty well, and if people like it, I figured I might as well try my hand at some more!!!!

Gaz

This guy literally has the best skin in the world, it's like looking at something carved from marble, everytime you ask about his skincare routine, he just says genetics.

He detests anything made with cinnamon, his older sister once made him try a pie she made, and by the time he was done eating it, he was literally coughing up cinnamon. Didn't say anything though, couldn't be mean to his sister like that.

HE CANNOT SIT STILL!! Gaz and soap are literally the most energetic people on base. Except Price finds Gaz charming and soap less so...

Also I for some reason think he smells like oranges and mangos???

(edited after I saw a tiktok about climate change) GAZ IS SUPER VOCAL ABOUT CLIMATE CHANGE, all of the boys care to some degree (get it?) but Gaz brings hard facts and evidence everytime he talks about it, Price is now worried for Gaz's mental health

Price

Where to start? Maybe with the fact he has duplicates of his hats he keeps in his office drawer. Ghost went in there one time to give Price a report and saw Price open his Hat Drawer. Ghost had never seen so many hats

If some of y'all didn't know, if you have a low tolerance to cigars and breathe in too much of the smoke, you'll get sick. So, Price keeps a puking trash can just for the people that come into his office. Is he gonna stop smoking to prevent people from losing their lunch? Never.

When he's not on duty he wears the stupid Hawaiian shirts that middle aged dads wear on vacation. Also cargo shorts. Cause they're tactical

Soap

Again, he cannot sit still. He'll wake up in the middle of the night and you'll find him in the armory tinkering with an explosive, and even then he gets up every couple minutes just to pace around

He is very meticulous about his hair. Every morning he wakes up just a little bit earlier then everyone else and hair gels that baby into place. It does not move. It could probably be as effective as a military grade helmet at that point.

THIS MAN DRAWS PORN AND POSTS IT ON TWITTER!!! He uses an alias of course, and a very well hidden drawing tablet when he's on duty. Just ignore the fact that alot of the men he draws look just a tad bit like ghost. Just a little.

Also, while all of the COD men love a woman (or man) with meat on their bones, soap is feral. Chubby chaser all the way. There's also something really hot about a person being around his height and not taking his shit.

Ghost

He has horrible acne under that mask. It's actually awful how much he goes through just to keep it on. He's done skincare, moisturizing, pimple patches, everything, and nothing work. The worst part is, he thinks the mask is so cool it's worth it

This man is an actual dork. (Idea by @ghouljams) this guy definitely makes those little miniatures. The little details he puts into every bit of his work, whether it's wood grain, the look of water, he just does it all with such skill. The plus side is that it keeps his brain at bay, not thinking and more focused on what's in front of him. He also likes DND. Go figure.

I also do like the idea of trans ghost. He understands what it was like before he transitioned and feeling ashamed of his size when he used to be forced into the stereotype of what a woman should look like. So when people fuck with you about your size, he's right behind you like he's gonna kill them.

Authors note: the only thing I'm afraid of as I start writing is 1. The fan fic author curse, and 2. People actually paying attention to me, my anxiety is gonna kill me, lol. Anyway, hope y'all are having a great day!!! Bye!!!

[sunnys-out]

I've loved you for so long (1) | Lucy Bronze

A/N: Hello! I haven't written in so long but here is something that I have been working on since the WC (she's a short one I know). I didn't post it earlier because I was moving and starting a new job but everything has calmed down and I had time to edit it. Please let me know what y'all think and hopefully, I can post the 2nd part soon! If you like my writing maybe through in a suggestion and I'll try my best! :D

Content: Angst, Fluff if you squint

{Word Count: 2004}

______________________________________________________________

I've loved you for so long

Oh, I'd forgotten how it feels

Feelings come back strong

'I've Loved You For So Long - The Aces'

Lucy and I had met, informally, in 2015 in Canada, we never played against each other in that World Cup but that didn’t stop us from bumping into each other at Tim Hortons. The couple of times that we ran into each other at the World Cup caused small conversations and laughs that left me wanting more. God, even just her smile left me wanting. 

I didn’t message her throughout our respective seasons right after the World Cup but sometimes I’d click on her Instagram profile and just scroll and see her thrive in Manchester City. Well I did drum up the courage to message once.

‘It’d probably be weird if I messaged her out of the blue right?... I mean it has been weeks  since Canada?’ I told myself as I lay on my small apartment couch in Portland.  

My thumb hovered over the send button with a slight tremble.

“Fuck it” My thumb harshly hit the screen and the quick ‘Wanted to say that you had an amazing tournament. Shame we never played against each other ♥️That goal against Canada was a banger meant to send that in Canada lol!”  message was delivered.

 I swear I threw my phone onto the other side of my couch and took a shower not expecting to see two notifications sent five minutes after me.

‘Lucy Bronze liked your message’

‘Lucy Bronze: ‘means a lot. Hope to see you again soon, miss world champion ⭐️⭐️⭐️’

I didn’t notice the smile growing as I looked at the notifications on the screen. I probably read it 20 times, setting the phone down on my coffee table and pacing the room debating whether I should respond or what I even should respond with. 

“Lucy is funny, maybe I can joke about how it’s been long or maybe just a ‘feeling is mutual’” I said aloud to myself.

‘Why am I getting worked up about this?” My hair is now messy by how many times I redid my ponytail pacing the room for 13 minutes. I kept procrastinating and just settled with getting ready for bed.

‘I’ll just respond tomorrow,’ I said, confidently,  plugging in my phone and placing it on my nightstand. That sentiment lasted about 2 minutes before I walked quickly back into my room picking up my phone, opening the message, and liking Lucy’s before responding. 

Y/N: I would love to see you again! I hope it's somewhere other than Tim Hortons even though I loved that place lol 🙂

My phone immediately locked as I got into bed and turned away from my phone. I closed my eyes tightly trying to go to sleep quickly so that in the rare probability that Lucy would continue the conversation, I could deal with it tomorrow morning, maybe ask Klingenburg for advice. Though she might scold me for fraternizing with the enemy, jokingly of course. Defenders knew other defenders right? Kling would find it funny that a right winger is flirting with a right back.

My thoughts were interrupted by one vibration and then two more in succession. My body slowly turned over to see my phone lit up still and then slowly dimming. My hand, subconsciously, went over, picked up my phone, and opened the messages seeing Lucy liking my message.

Lucy: Let me buy you a cup whenever you’re in Manchester; there are some cafes you’d like here.

Lucy: I would love to show you around 🙂 

I smiled at the messages and immediately replied without a second thought

Y/N: I will let you know because I do need a vacation 🥲

Y/N: And I would love to give you a tour of Portland, the coffee capital of the world. Worth it.

I stared at the messages until I saw a little heart appear on my last message. The little dots of a message incoming made me nervously tap the side of my phone. 

Lucy Bronze: I’ll take that as a promise 😉

Y/N: And I expect that cup of coffee in Manchester is a promise too ☺️

Lucy would only like the message and I would promptly go to sleep after waiting 15 minutes for a message that never came. I tried my best to not think about it but the feeling that came from reading her messages and the smile that would creep onto my face…I wouldn’t forget. 

Hayley Raso came into my life slowly after that. Glances turned to long stares. The lingering touches throughout practice became more than a pat on the back for a job well done. The smiles and laughs echoed off the walls of Providence Park as we walked to our cars until it was just to my car.

The weekly movie nights at my place turned into watching a show and cuddling together after practice for days on end. Another toothbrush appeared in the bathroom and suddenly my queen-sized bed wasn’t as empty. 

Mornings were met with a quick kiss, a hug from behind, and sweet nothings whispered in each other's ear.

Going to practice wasn’t done alone anymore and it was nice to have someone waiting on you if you had to stay behind to see the physio.

It was easy since we were both playing for Portland at the time and the team weren’t surprised when we told them.

 Little by little the Australian would appear in my Instagram photos and I in hers. 

The one that “broke the internet” was Hayley’s post of her kissing me on the cheek at the end of a game when the USWNT and Australia had a friendly. The one that sealed the deal for everyone was my Christmas post of photos of the party I had at my apartment. One, a particular one at the end, Hayley was in my lap while I kissed her. 

Something, however, nagged at me every time I saw a certain person's name pop up “Lucy Bronze liked your post” but I ignored it. I now know it was the feeling of the “what if” and “what could have been”. 

‘Did Lucy not want this with me? Maybe that’s why she never followed up. I probably said something to scare her away. Hayley didn’t run away’ I remember thinking to myself and as if on cue two arms snake their way around my waist. 

“Everything alright babe?” Hayley said into my back, I, immediately, felt my shoulders relax at the sound of Hayley’s voice.

I whispered, “I'm alright, just read some rude comments. You know how some people get”. I lied to Hayley; I was happy in our relationship and shouldn’t be wondering about the “what could have been” with someone that wasn’t her.  

Hayley would then go on to say that she’s told me to never look at the comments because when have the mean ones ever done something for us? She’d led me back to the bedroom to get ready for bed as we had an early practice but not after she promised to take my mind off the “negative comments”...it worked. 

______________________________________________________________

She Believes Cup March 6th, 2016, 

Lucy Bronze’s POV

We hadn’t played the United States in Canada which is a shame to not be able to play the future World Champions. Once, we had heard that we would be playing them in the She Believes Cup. I was excited for multiple reasons.

The US call up was released and I would be playing against (y/n). Since the World Cup, (Y/N) was making a name for herself as a strong right winger and playmaker for Portland and the National team.

On the pitch, she seemed cold and intimidating, but I met her as the complete opposite. 

I was able to just watch her tap her lip with her finger with her US cap on backward as she decided which pastry she wanted with her coffee at that Tim Hortons. She whistled quietly as she waited her turn and then adorably, fumbled through her order. Then humming to herself happily as she waited on the side with her warm croissant covered by a napkin.  

I was in awe of her. I had seen her play before and was always impressed by what I’d seen but never played against her. 

As I went up to order my own coffee and pastry I noticed her scrolling through her phone, laughing to herself. (y/n’s) eyes crinkle when she laughs or smiles really big. She hadn’t noticed me when I stood next to her, also waiting for my drink, there I took notice that she was at least three inches above me and that she sticks out her tongue when she is reading something. 

I breathed in and said loud enough for her to hear as she read, “I won’t tell your trainer if you don’t tell mine” I shook my little bag containing the coffee cake I had just ordered. I chuckled at the little jump she gave when she noticed me.

“Shit, sorry you scared me” a nervous laugh leaving her mouth

I extended my hand, “Sorry bout that. I’m Lucy, Lucy Bronze with England”  

She completed the handshake, “(y/n) (l/n) with the US…obviously” She pointed to her hat that had USA stitched on the back.

The conversation had good enough banter that we both remained at a table for about 2 hours talking about life and football. I could tell you that I fell for the way she looked at me with her gentle (y/e/c) eyes as she described the antics of her new golden retriever puppy named Chili she had adopted when she went to Portland.

I never really was intimidated or made nervous by any American player, especially on the pitch but watching her warm up with an icy cold expression during the She Believes Cup match made me question if the person I met at Tim Horton’s was the same person. 

I don’t think I was nervous but I lost count of how many times I would try to get a glimpse of her as she warmed up. Every time I did I’d feel the blush on my cheeks as I remembered the short text conversation that we had shortly after the World Cup. 

I regretted so much for not following up immediately; I got scared. If (y/n) asked me today why I didn’t respond, I wouldn’t have known what to say to be honest. Lack of courage was what Jill had told me as Jordan patted my back while reading the messages.  

The moment that I finally gained the courage to message (y/n) on Instagram to invite her to Manchester for a visit, was the day when I saw the picture of Hayley Raso kissing her cheek at a friendly. It was the first thing I saw when I opened the app to message her.

I remember my stomach dropping like the feeling when you don’t feel the bottom of a pool. 

I had it all planned in my head that she’d accept and I had a mini itinerary in my head of things she would’ve enjoyed and sightseeing spots. But the photo of her with her face buried in Hayley’s neck as she hugged her made the feeling worse.

Raso had beat me to (y/n) and she didn’t even know it. I kicked myself for not being brave. I would’ve had her in my arms sooner. I tell her all the time that I fell for her immediately and from meeting her I wanted more of her every passing day. 

Just seeing her across the field filled me with the tucked away feelings I had for her. I remember thinking…What I would have given to be there again talking about the most mundane things over coffee. Hearing her try her hardest to tell a joke but failing as she laughs remembering the punch line or even unconsciously speaking with an English accent when we spoke… God, I really loved her for so long.

[melancholy-of-nadia]

love u lately (m) #1 | myg/knj/pjm

title: love u lately​ chapter title: #1 - lavender haze​ pairing: yoongi x f. reader, namjoon x f. reader, jimin x f. reader (yoonminjoon x f. reader) rating/genre: m (18+) ; smut ; college/university au , pseudo frat! bts; best friends! yoonminjoon friends to lovers; summary: In the midst of your college journey, life takes an unexpected turn when you find yourself moving into a "pseudo frat" house with your childhood best friends Namjoon, Yoongi, and Jimin. The college experience you envisioned seems promising, but as Namjoon and Jimin get caught up in flings, their focus shifts away from you, Yoongi, and everyone else in the house. The strong bond you once shared starts to feel strained, leaving you to question your feelings and changing dynamics. Though, the haze of a single night at a party sets off a chain reaction of emotions that leaves you grappling with a question you never thought you'd ask—could you be in love with all three of them? warnings: pwp, swearing, making out, subtle body worship, penetration, cunnilingus, CONSENSUAL!! sex, nipple play, breast play, overstimulation, mutual orgasm, touch of aftercare, frustration bc guys are dumb sometimes note: thank u to @daegudrama (as always) for beta reading and editing my fics. much appreiciated. this is the first fic series i have written in 10 years (i used to be in the anime/pokemon fandoms lol) so i apologized if it isn't that great, but i will keep improving! note 2: this is also for the yoonminjoon stans !! such an underrated subunit! total word count: 8.3k drop date: august 29th, 2023, 1:00pm pst cross posted on AO3 here | Series Masterlist | #2 →

-

October 4 (Thursday)

The morning sun streams through the blinds, gently coaxing you awake. You catch the aroma of sizzling bacon wafting from the kitchen as you continue to fight the urge to sleep in longer.

With a quick stride, you open your door to find your close friends, Yoongi and Jimin, seated at the dining table, enjoying breakfast. Their subtle waves are met with your ecstatic waving. You glance at Namjoon standing near the stove wearing a tank top and basketball shorts. He tends to the bacon in the pan as it sizzles and pops. 

"Joon, could you set aside two pieces for me?" you call out, causing him to jolt as he hadn't noticed your presence in the room due to him being in zen focus trying not to burn everyone’s breakfast.

He sighs, shoulders slumping. "You better hurry and brush your teeth, or I might let Jungkook have the rest once he's out of the shower in a few minutes."

Nodding, you hurry to the second bathroom in your home to prepare for the day, aiming to grab some fresh homemade breakfast before your noon class.

This spacious house has been your shared sanctuary with your childhood best friends – Kim Namjoon, Min Yoongi, and Park Jimin – since the start of your second year of college in September. Last year, some older guy friends from your hometown who went to the same college as you lived at the house originally. Then over the summer, your best friends moved in with them to take summer courses and on-campus internships. You got added to the mix when you were desperately trying to find housing as the university waitlisted you in favor of the 29,000 new freshmen they admitted to the campus who they prioritized housing for. After looking at expensive off-campus apartments and sketchy leases, the boys couldn’t bear seeing you struggle and potentially homeless, so they let you live with them in their 4 bedroom home. Your housemate Seokjin gave up his single room, with a bit of hesitation, so you could live comfortably. The rest of the boys share rooms with each other. 

With eight people living together, the house unofficially earns the nickname "Beta Tau Sigma," or the “pseudo frat”, as some people around campus called it. While not officially recognized as a fraternity due to various complicated reasons, the BTS house still became known for its "poppin’ house parties” hosted by your lovely housemate Jung Hoseok last year. 

Your friendship with Namjoon, Yoongi, and Jimin goes back to a little over a decade ago. Namjoon became your next door neighbor as a kid, eventually he introduced you to Yoongi who was a family friend of his, and finally, you all befriended Jimin when he transferred to your middle school. You all remained close during high school. Namjoon and Yoongi, being a year older than you and Jimin, graduated and went to college. Eventually you and Jimin graduated, and the two of you got into the same college a few hours away from your hometown as them and attended together. 

However, moving in with a bunch of men was something you prefer that people didn’t know about you. You wanted to avoid any rumors being created, especially considering the guys living with you are popular among the girls at your campus. If there is something that you don’t miss from high school, it is the petty drama and baseless rumors people make to tear others down. For now, people assume you are living in the dorms with your only female friend: Hwasa. You always think that it’s for the best things are this way. You decide not to think too much beyond that, despite the probability that a few people are catching on to the fact that you probably do live with these guys platonically.

After washing up, you enter the kitchen again, taking a seat next to Yoongi who is engrossed in his Twitter feed. He finally acknowledges your presence.

"Took you long enough, huh? Don't you have Stats at 10?" He quips.

You scrunch your eyebrows at him. “Good morning to you too, Yoongs?” You retort playfully. “No stats today. It’s Thursday so I have Finance at noon!"” You exclaim loudly to the room. 

Groans resonate through the kitchen. Yoongi's teasing backfires, much to his chagrin. Taehyung descends from upstairs, puzzled by the commotion in the room.

“What’s wrong with her finance class?” He asks innocently. 

"There’s nothing wrong with the class, but it's the classmate in that class!" Namjoon sighs, leaning on the counter after placing your bacon and avocado toast plate on the table.

"Lim Jaebeom," Jimin snickers, promptly earning a discreet kick from you under the table. "Ow! Hey! No need to resort to violence! Hey! I’m only speaking facts!” He winces as he holds his knee up and rubs the pain away.

Lim Jaebeom, also known by everyone as JB, is the cute guy you met in your Macroeconomics class last year. He is popular as a member of a real fraternity, Gamma Omega Tau and the professional frat, Kappa Psi Pi (or JYP, as some called it?). Part of both fraternities, he radiates talent as a business major and an underground SoundCloud artist on the side. While your interactions remain class-related, he greets you often outside of class even after the course finished, much to your best friends’ annoyance.

Over spring semester of last year and the initial weeks of the current fall semester, you’ve developed a small crush on Jaebeom. Though when it comes to your love life, it’s been a few years since you’ve had some kind of thing going on. There’s only been two people so far: Wonwoo, captain of the Men’s varsity volleyball team who you slept with once when you boldly asked him if he would take your v-card. You and your best friends were going through an experimental era during your junior year of high school. They teased you a lot about being “innocent” but were left speechless when you told them what you’ve done. They said that was the end of the experimental era. Later on you also found out he’s your housemate Jungkook’s cousin. 

The second guy is Yeonjun. You don’t like to talk about him much, but he was in the same year and you guys talked often (much to Namjoon’s dismay). He was your fake date at your housemate Seokjin's brother's wedding the summer after you graduated high school. One thing led to another and you were sneaky links for a while. It didn’t end well though.

"She's got eyes for JB, but is too scared to make a move," Jimin teases, earning him another kick under the table to which he dodges.

"In case you forgot, it took you a month to see Irene Bae wanted you so badly," Taehyung rolls his eyes while a hint of a smile tugs your lips as you struggle to suppress your laughter seeing him call out Jimin.

The Jimin and Irene power couple relationship goes back to spring semester last year. Taehyung needed Jimin to go on a double date with him to the Psi Gamma Epsilon Formal, which is the co-ed fraternity that Taehyung’s girlfriend Jennie is in. While you have many mixed opinions about Taehyung’s tastes when it comes to women, you hate that he influenced some of those tastes on Jimin. Thus, Jennie introduced Jimin to her friend, Irene (the Sigma Mu Epsilon Campus President) and the rest is history. 

Though, you weren't aware that they were dating until a month ago when they had already been dating for three months. You are not sure how they managed to hide it from people for a while.

“Ya!! How was I supposed to know that getting asked to eat ramen together on a Friday night meant anything BUT eating ramen.” Jimin sighs as he gets up from his chair. “Maybe you should ask Jaebeom out for some ramen.” He playfully suggests, emphasizing Jaebeom's name, sending your face into a blush.

"I'm not interested in sleeping with him!" you protest, cheeks burning. In Korean slang, sharing ramen implies spending the night together. You’d rather romantically share ramen like the spaghetti eating scene in “Lady & the Tramp” than fuck him and ruin your friendship.

“Isn’t that what he’s known for? Sleeping with girls, taking sex polaroids, and plastering them on his frat bedroom wall? Taehyung butts in, since he too, knows of Jaebeom’s lifestyle like everyone else on this campus does. You, of course, are aware of it too, which is why you haven’t bothered to try your chance with him. 

“Exactly why I’m okay being the nice friend saying hi from across campus when he says hi instead of becoming a faceless polaroid in his room of him giving me backshots.” You cross your arms as you roll your eyes at him.

“Please don’t give me mental images of that.” Yoongi finally speaks up, groaning at your words again. You playfully elbow his side at your remark. He covers his face immediately as he feels himself blushing at these thoughts.

“Well, when you decide to get the balls to do something, I shall be here to give you advice. Just let me know.” Jimin says as he grabs his bag from the couch and heads to class with Taehyung, leaving you with Namjoon and Yoongi. 

“Wow, can you believe him? He thinks he can talk big now that he’s dating little Miss Sigma Mu Epsilon’s President Irene.” You let out an annoyed sigh as you take a bite out of the avocado toast Namjoon gave you.

At first you were excited for one of your guy best friends to be in a relationship again after years, but that excitement was short-lived as you noticed Jimins’ absence in the house became more evident. He would either be at his dance club, studying in the library, or spending the rest of his freetime with Irene. Maybe doing all of the above with her. 

When you and your best friends were in relationships or flings in the past, they promised that they would never leave or ignore the group to prioritize those other people first.  And they were always true to their word.

But as of lately, not anymore. While you once were used to having Jimin at home or at the dorm common area with the guys for Friday Night Game Night, this sight was slowly becoming a memory. It’s hard to admit how these subtle changes of seeing Jimin prefer to do other activities saddens you. You eventually decided to bottle up your feelings of sadness, not wanting them to see, and focus on other things filling up your plate.

Namjoon wasn’t paying attention to what you said as he uncontrollably smiles at his phone with a Kakao talk chat with someone pulled up, making your eyes narrow at him. 

“O-Oh, sorry. I was texting Jihyo.” he admits blatantly, before widening his eyes at what he just said. “What did you say?” Namoon glances at you briefly.

“Park Jihyo? Your group project partner slash sex–?” Yoongi narrows his gaze at Namjoon, before he quickly launches to cover Yoongi’s mouth. 

What? Is this seriously another sudden revelation incoming this early in the morning? You didn’t think you’d spiral into a pool of further questioning the future of your friendship with your guy best friends. Especially when it comes to Namjoon dating the campus’ kindest angel, Jihyo. Compared to Irene, you don’t have anything snarky to say about Jihyo. You admit she is better in hundreds of different ways than you. You wonder if your friends’ recent dating or fling escapades are a sign of a bigger issue in your friendship with them. You wonder if Yoongi’s also hiding someone away from your sight.

"So you’re also seeing someone?" Your pout is playful, but a hint of disappointment peeks through. "Don't tell me you're bailing on Friday Night Game Nights just like Jimin…"

Namjoon's response carries a weight of hesitation as he takes a thoughtful pause, considering his next words carefully. "Well, kind of…" His words hang in the air for a moment, a sense of complexity in his tone. "It's complicated... and no, I won't be skipping Friday Night Game Night every time like Jimin... except for this week."

The curiosity in your expression is mirrored by Yoongi's raised eyebrow. “What’s the excuse that you so kindly will be telling Yoongi and I?” you ask, the intrigue evident in your voice.

“Well actually, I may need to borrow the house so I was wondering if you guys could have Friday Night Game Night somewhere else.”

“Why should we go somewhere--” As you begin to protest, an epiphany interrupts your words, causing them to taper off. A realization dawns, connecting the dots between Yoongi's earlier comments and the direction this conversation is taking. “Wait what!? KIM NAMJOON YOU-!” 

“You’re seriously going to sexile everyone in this house?” Yoongi's words burst forth interrupting yours, his laced with a mixture of genuine surprise and a hint of humor. His widened eyes are concealed behind a hand that covers his mouth, almost as if he's trying to stifle his amusement at the sudden request.

Namjoon lets out a chuckle, his expression playful as he confirms, "Potentially! But I'm not sure yet. I might go back to her place, but I wanted to keep my options open so we could..."

Your voice cuts in before Namjoon can elaborate further, a mix of jest and sincerity in your tone, "Okay, okay, okay, I get it! We'll move game night somewhere else then!" The words rush out of you as you shield yourself from whatever details might follow that your ears weren't prepared for. You shoot Yoongi a look, seeking affirmation. "We’ll figure it out..right, Yoongi?"

Yoongi doesn't miss a beat as he follows up with a response laced with dry humor, “Right. I really don’t want to hear my best friend fucking while I’m trying to relax at the end of a stressful week.”

A blush creeps onto your cheeks, and you playfully reprimand Yoongi, your palm meeting your face in an exaggerated facepalm, "Yoongi, please spare us from any more visual details." Your laughter mingles with a hint of embarrassment, but you quickly regain your composure. "But thank you for letting us know, Namjoon..."

Namjoon's easy smile returns, and he jests, "Have fun without me, though. I know Jin and Jungkook will keep things lively without me or even Jimin there."

Even without any truly scandalous events transpiring, an air of awkwardness hangs over the conversation. The remainder of your breakfast passes in silence, each of you lost in your own thoughts. Eventually, you rise from the table, making your way back to your room to prepare for class, which looms just an hour away.

❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊

By the time you come out of your room again, only Yoongi and Jungkook are in the living room doing last minute assignments. You assume Namjoon already left for class with Hoseok and also figure Seokjin left even before that. He’s the only person in this house taking 8am classes. 

This is the norm. On Thursdays, you walk with Yoongi to class, as his class is in the same building as yours. Sometimes, Jungkook joins you guys when he procrastinates the hour before class to finish assignments. 

“Are you ready to go? Jungkook’s done now.” Yoongi gets up from the couch already expecting your response to be yes. Jungkook looks up from his textbook to give you a thumbs up.

“Yep, all ready to go.”

The three of you step out onto campus, engaging in conversation that weaves between the events of the week and the anticipation of the impending game night. As you discuss plans, you consider the limited guests—Namjoon engaged with his "complicated" fuck buddy situation, Jimin on his weekend outings with Irene—leaving only you, Yoongi, Jungkook, Hoseok, Jin, and Taehyung for the upcoming Friday Night Game Night. At least you thought it was just the 6 of you.

Jungkook interjects, scratching his head apologetically. "Oh, by the way, I forgot to mention earlier, but Taehyung and I are going out bowling and drinking with the Woogas on Friday..." His voice trails off with a sheepish smile, his plea for forgiveness evident in his gesture. The Woogas were a group of grad students who were close to Taehyung.

Surveying the group left, you pose a question, preempting any plans that would end up getting canceled. "Anybody else have plans?"

Jungkook takes a bit to contemplate, his mutterings finally clarifying the situation. "I remember Jin hyung texting the gc that he has a Kappa Psi Pi chapter till 9:30 tomorrow—pledging's keeping him busy. He might go out with his frat brothers afterward for drinks. Hoseok is out of town tonight for a competitive dance tournament with the uni dance club."

A collective sigh of resignation hangs in the air as you and Yoongi register the inevitability—it's just the two of you for the upcoming Friday night. Your expressions communicate mutual understanding, as if exchanging an unspoken acknowledgment that it won't be just this one time moving forward.

You bid farewell to Jungkook as he heads off to his own class, then turn to Yoongi with a hopeful glint in your eyes, silently urging him to weave his magic and devise a plan to fill the void left by your absent friends.

"Maybe we could hit that popular bar downtown? What's it called...Arena?" Yoongi suggests, a hint of excitement lacing his words.

A shake of your head expresses your skepticism. "On a Friday night? I heard too many weirdos go at that time, Yoongs.” 

“Then, why don’t we go house party hopping? We haven’t done that since freshman year.” He smirks, as he adds the nostalgic suggestion.

The words "house party hopping" elicit a mix of memories, both good and not-so-good. It's a ritual familiar to college freshmen to excessively drink and dance at multiple parties in one night, but it gets too difficult to do through the rest of undergrad. You, however, have only done this activity of going to multiple different parties in one night, twice. 

The first time, things went smoothly when Yoongi, Namjoon, and Jimin went to five different house parties on the frat house row. The second time was not so smooth. Contrary to popular belief of Beta Tau Sigma, everyone at the house are light-weights when it comes to drinking, with Yoongi, Jungkook and Taehyung probably being the strongest drinkers of the bunch. That night of house party hopping ended with Namjoon and Jimin getting drunk and losing their student access cards at one of the five houses you went to. Because they couldn’t get into their dorm, you and Yoongi had to carry them back to your dorm and have them to stay at the dorm’s study lounge for the night. At some point, you all almost got caught by the dorm RA making their nightly rounds to make sure everything is good. Yoongi quickly excused all of you being cramped in the small room as “studying for an accounting midterm”, to which the RA didn’t question anything further after hearing the words “accounting” and left you alone for the rest of the night.

Based on that experience, you are reluctant to even try doing that again. However this time, it is just going to be you and Yoongi, the most mature ones in the overall friend group. Or at least you like to think so.

"Well, considering how the last time went..." Your voice trails off, your narrowed eyes revealing your internal debate. "I'll think about it more and let you know."

Yoongi nods at your response and you both say goodbye as you part ways to class.

❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊

Entering your finance class, You secure a seat near the door and the front board, a vantage point that lets you observe the classroom's dynamics. Today, however, your routine is disrupted when someone unexpectedly occupies the seat next to you. 

As you set up your notebook, your gaze lifts, revealing Jaebeom sitting beside you. A faint flutter tugs at your heart, a pulse of anticipation racing through your veins. A steady stream of thoughts races through your mind, echoing, "This is definitely sus." You've consumed enough romance novels and coming-of-age stories to recognize when circumstances take a pointed turn. You've shared casual conversations and greetings with Jaebeom, but sitting next to each other is unprecedented—there's surely more to it.

A subtle "Ahem" draws your attention, and Jaebeom turns to face you, his eyes meeting yours. "Hey, Y/N… do you mind if I sit here today? I left my glasses behind, and I can't really see from my usual spot."

Your reassurance carries a softness as you reply, "Hi, Jaebeom! Of course, no problem." A smile graces your lips, and he returns it, dispelling the suspicions you had entertained. So you guess there’s no special reason for sitting next to you. 

The rest of class goes by smoothly, but you can’t help but to think that Jaebeom has something else to ask you about. The overthinking from your wild imagination is getting to you. As the class concludes, you hurriedly pack your belongings, eager to continue with your day. Yet, before you can make your exit, Jaebeom's voice halts you in your tracks.

"Hey! I've been meaning to ask," his words are loud, receiving attention from your peers, "Do you have any plans for tomorrow? The Gammas are hosting a party, and I was wondering if you'd be interested in coming."

Bingo. This is exactly what you’ve been waiting for. Not an invite to a party per se, BUT now you suddenly have something to do with Yoongi tomorrow night after being ditched by everyone else. 

“I’m down to go! I actually changed plans with a few friends so I don’t have anything to do tomorrow night.”

Jaebeom's response brings an even wider smile to your face. “Then I’ll see you there! You can bring a friend with you if you’d like.” And with that, you and Yoongi are definitely booked for tomorrow night.

With those words, your plans for tomorrow night are sealed. The newfound excitement has you beginning to wonder whether it’s actually alright to go considering Yoongi feels indifferent towards Jaebeom. You decide to call him about the plan on your way to the library for your daily fix of iced tea.

Dialing Yoongi's number, you initiate the conversation. "You and me, Gamma Omega Tau house party," you declare, your voice laced with anticipation.

His response holds a curious tone. "...So, I'll take that as a yes to house party hopping."

Chuckling, you clarify, maintaining your stance. "Well, we could do that if you're set on it," You explain, continuing your lowkey refusal to repeat that experience. “...but I actually got personally invited to the GOT party by Jaebeom.”

Yoongi's groan resonates through the line, conveying his reluctance but also a willingness to compromise. "If there's free booze and a chance to catch up with some other friends, then count me in."

“That’s perfect!” Excitement in your voice is clear to Yoongi as you both finalize plans for tomorrow night. Perhaps it’ll end up being a fun night for the both of you compared to what everyone else was doing instead. The upset feeling from all the sudden changes continues to linger in your chest, but you brush it away with the hopes of getting wasted on Friday.

❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊ October 5 - (Friday)

Friday comes by like a quick breeze. The day passes in a blur of classes, assignments, and hanging out with Yoongi and the rest of your friends. Evening comes around, and you find yourself getting ready for the Gamma Omega Tau party. You choose a cute yet comfortable outfit consisting of a revealing v-bar black tube top and ripped boyfriend jeans, hoping to strike a balance between looking good and feeling at ease. After a bit of makeup and fixing your hair, you are ready to head out.

You walk over to knock on Yoongi’s bedroom door. He opens the door revealing his outfit: a black tank top, acid-washed ripped jeans, and a black leather jacket to top it off. It definitely makes him exude his signature nonchalant charm. As he greets you with a nod, you can’t help but feel a flutter of excitement for the night ahead. You guys look so hot and would definitely make the other guys jealous of your totally awesome alternative Friday night plans if they were here.

The two of you make your way to the party a couple blocks away on frat row, the streets buzzing with energy as students get ready to party for the weekend. The Gamma Omega Tau house is alive with music, laughter, and the glow of colorful lights. You both enter the party, and immediately the atmosphere hits you—a mix of pulsating music, chatter, and the distinct scent of alcohol.

Yoongi heads to the makeshift bar in the kitchen to get drinks, while you decide to explore the party on your own. You bump into a couple of familiar faces from classes, exchanging greetings and catching up briefly. Some of these faces included Hwasa, your only dear female best friend who you haven’t seen much since moving out of your shared dorm freshman year. She is a little busy taking shots with who seems to be your old dorm floor neighbors Soyoon and Jieun. But overall, the night is young, and the anticipation of what it could bring is building up inside you.

A little while later, Yoongi returns with drinks in hand—something colorful and sweet for you, and something stronger for himself. You clink your cups together before taking a sip. The music is loud, and bodies are moving to the rhythm all around you. It was a sight to behold—the carefree spirit of college life on full display.

As the night progresses, you find yourself playing various party games, dancing a little with Hwasa, and meeting new people she introduces you to. Yoongi seems to be enjoying himself from a distance, laughing and chatting with a group of guys from his music class. He occasionally watches you from afar to make sure you don’t get lost or that something even worse doesn’t happen. Frat parties can be dangerous after all. It makes you feel a little happy that he does these little things and shows how much he cares about you. More than you thought before. However, there’s a sudden moment in the lively ambience when you start to feel a pang of loneliness. A sense of being adrift in a sea of unfamiliar faces.

Time seems to slip away as you’re lost in the lights, and before you know it, you are on your third drink. The alcohol is starting to take its effect, making you feel warm and a bit more uninhibited. Maybe this wasn’t the best choice. Maybe partying is not what you needed tonight to get your mind off of things. 

And these thoughts are only amplified with the next thing you see. In the corner of the crowded kitchen, you catch Namjoon and Jihyo making out, and your heart races. You suddenly excuse yourself from the group you are chatting with and head towards the front door, seeking some space to clear your head. 

However you stop yourself from bursting out of the open door. Instead, you lean against the wall, trying to steady your breathing. The noise and chaos of the party feel overwhelming now rather than numbing your thoughts from earlier. You clutch your cup as you look around, feeling like an outsider in your own surroundings. It’s in this moment of vulnerability that someone bumps into you, spilling their red jungle juice all over your clothes. You look down at your stained jeans emotionless.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" the girl exclaims, looking genuinely apologetic as she hands you some napkins. Your vision is blurring and you can’t tell if you know her or not. Her voice sounds familiar though.

Though, you manage a weak nod letting her know it was fine. It is in that unfortunate moment that you see your crush, JB, appearing out of nowhere walking in your direction. In the several hours you’ve been here this is when he decides to show up?! Your heart continues to race faster as he approaches, his eyes locking onto yours. Not right now, you plead to the gods internally that he isn’t coming towards you. But he does.

"Hey, Y/N, are you okay?" JB asks, his concern evident in his voice as he looks you over.

You feel a lump forming in your throat, not wanting him to see you in this state of vulnerability. Your eyes well up, and you fight to hold back tears. This isn't how you want him to see you, at your lowest point, struggling to keep it together.

Just as you are about to break down, a strong hand gently takes hold of your left arm, pulling you away from JB. You are led into the dimly lit hallway, away from the noise of the party. Not many people looming in this area. The door to the bathroom opens as someone leaves, and the person guides you inside before locking the door behind you.

Your visions starts to focus fully again. And you see…

It’s Yoongi.

His presence is a lifeline you forgot that you needed moments before.

"Y-Yoongi!" The exclamation trembles in the air, a mixture of surprise, relief, and the weight of your unraveling emotions.

In the dimly lit bathroom, you finally let your guard down, the tears streaming down your cheeks. Yoongi is momentarily taken aback by the intensity of your reaction, but swiftly recovers. He extends a napkin from his pocket, offering it as a gesture of support. His features, though, oscillate between concern and puzzlement, his brows slightly furrowed.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he asks softly, his voice a comforting presence in the midst of your turmoil.

You take a shuddering breath, trying to gather your thoughts. The alcohol is making it hard to articulate your feelings, but you manage to explain how seeing Namjoon and Jihyo had triggered a sense of loneliness and panic within you. Jimin dating Irene in what seemed to be a serious relationship also has you spiraling. It all makes you question the stability of your friendships and fear that you are slowly losing the people who once meant the most to you. 

Yoongi listens intently, his gaze unwavering as he lets you pour out your feelings. When you are done, he leans against the sink, his expression thoughtful.

"I get it," he says, his voice soft but steady. "Change is hard, and sometimes it feels like everything is slipping away. But you know, life just keeps moving forward, and people change, I guess. But it doesn’t mean Namjoon or Jimin are leaving you behind."

You nod, sniffing as you wipe away your tears. "I know, but... it's just overwhelming seeing everything unfold."

He reaches out and gently tilts your chin up, meeting your gaze with his warm eyes. "You're not alone in this, Y/N. We're here for you, and we're all figuring things out as we go along."

His words strike a chord within you, a sense of comfort washing over you in the midst of your emotional storm. Yoongi's presence feels like an anchor, grounding you when everything feels chaotic.

Then, without warning, he looks at you intensely and asks, “Since we’re having this conversation, I’m questioning whether you like Jimin based on what you just said…"

You blink, caught off guard by the sudden change in topic. "What? No! Jimin's like a brother to me. A reliable brother who understands me pretty well…” You pause a bit and mumble, “Well at least he used to."

He nods, his gaze unrelenting yet thoughtful, as if he's trying to read between the lines of your response. But then he asks another question that left you momentarily speechless.

"What about Namjoon?"

You hesitate, your mind racing. Your feelings for Namjoon have always been a bit more complex, and you aren't sure how to put them into words. Namjoon was your first friend out of the trio of him, Yoongi, and Jimin. He was 7 when he moved in next door from Korea as his dad got a new job working as a Chemical Engineer for an energy company in the US. You got along well with him as kids who both played Pokemon games and he was the only person you could trade with. He’s also the one who gave you his shiny purple Wailmer from his Pokemon Emerald. Eventually as you got older, you both came to enjoy reading books and art history. What does he mean to you?

Before you can muster a response to that, Yoongi suddenly adds another question, his voice gentle yet persistent. “What about me?”

Your gaze flickers to him, and you find yourself locking eyes with him. Then you quickly look away, focusing on the purple lighting in the bathroom. 

This questions starts to add new thoughts that you hadn’t really considered due to your worries about Namjoon and Jimin. However now, the intensity of this current moment is almost overwhelming, and you feel a swirling mix of emotions within you. Yoongi's proximity, his unwavering gaze, and the weight of his questions are all converging, pulling you into a realm of introspection and vulnerability.

Yoongi seems to sense your uncertainty, your inner struggle. He steps closer, his presence enveloping you. His gaze remains fixed on yours, his face just inches away from yours. The air between you is charged, heavy with unspoken words and unexplored emotions. "You can tell me," he urges softly, his voice a gentle whisper that brushes against your skin.

As you look into his eyes again, your heart races. The alcohol has lowered your inhibitions, and in this moment, everything feels so intense, so raw. You try to form words, but they fail you. Instead, you let your gaze speak for you, letting your emotions flow through the unspoken connection between you. Suddenly Namjoon and Jimin are blurring away to only afterimages in your current state of mind. All you see in great focus is Yoongi right now.

Without another word, Yoongi closes the distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a gentle, tentative kiss. The world around you fades away, and all that matters is the warmth of his touch, the taste of his lips, and the rush of emotions that swirls between you.

The kiss is a silent confession, a release of feelings that have been building up for far too long. When Yoongi finally pulls away, his forehead rests against yours, his breath slightly uneven.

"Y-Yoongi..," you whisper, a mix of surprise and wonder in your voice.

Yoongi chuckles softly, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "Sometimes, things don't need to be said. They just need to be felt."

As you stand there, locked in each other's gaze, you realize that this unexpected turn of events has brought you closer to Yoongi in ways you didn’t anticipate. It’s a new chapter, a chance to explore something deeper and more meaningful between you.

With a gentle smile, he leans in to kiss you again, and this time, there is no hesitation, no uncertainty—just the promise of a connection that has been there all along, waiting to be acknowledged.

And so, in the dimly colored bathroom of the Gamma Omega Tau house, amid the sounds of distant laughter and music, you and Yoongi quickly unite lips once again.

As the intensity between you and Yoongi grows, the bathroom seems to shrink around you, leaving only the two of you enveloped in a bubble of shared emotion. His lips press against yours with a newfound urgency, a hunger that mirrors the feelings you have both kept hidden for so long. The taste of him is intoxicating, a blend of sweetness and warmth that sends shivers down your spine.

His hands find their way to your waist, pulling you closer to him. The touch of his fingertips against your skin sends a wave of electricity through your body, igniting a fire deep within you. Your own hands instinctively move to his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your palms.

The kiss deepens, a passionate dance of lips and tongues that leaves no room for doubts or reservations. Yoongi's fingers trail up your back, the sensation making your breath hitch. The world outside that bathroom seems distant, irrelevant, as your focus narrows down to the connection between your bodies and the raw emotion that flows between you.

A soft moan escapes your lips, a sound that seems to fuel the fire burning between you. Yoongi's lips leave yours, trailing a path of heated kisses down your jawline, his warm breath sending shivers across your skin. His hands move to your hips, pulling you against him, and you can feel his own desire pressing against your abdomen.

With a mix of urgency and tenderness, he captures your lips once more, pouring every unspoken word and hidden longing into the kiss. Your fingers thread through his hair, tugging lightly as his lips explore your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears, each touch, each sensation sending ripples of pleasure through your body.

The soft fabric of your clothes seems like an obstacle now, an unnecessary barrier between your skin and his. Yoongi's fingers deftly work at the buttons of your tube top, his touch leaving a trail of fire along your exposed skin. Your breath hitches as his lips find the sensitive curve of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin gently, causing a shiver to course through you.

In a moment of boldness, your hands move to the hem of his shirt, pulling it up to reveal his bare chest. Your fingers trace the contours of his muscles, feeling the rise and fall of his breath beneath your touch. His lips find yours once again, a hungry, fervent kiss that speaks of the intensity of your emotions.

With a skillful touch, Yoongi lifts you up onto the bathroom counter, the cool surface sending a shock through your body. He stands between your legs, his hands moving to cup your face, thumbs brushing over your cheeks as he gazes into your eyes.

"I've wanted this for so long," he murmurs, his voice rough with desire.

You can only respond with a breathless nod before his lips crash against yours again. Not fully understanding the words that just left his mouth. The kiss deepens, a mixture of passion and tenderness that leaves you dizzy with sensation. His hands explore every curve of your body, memorizing the feel of your skin beneath his fingertips.

Your own hands aren't idle either, roaming his chest and back, reveling in the sensation of his skin against yours. The heat between you was undeniable, a magnetic pull that draws you closer with every passing second. And in that bathroom, amid the swirling emotions and the touch of your lips, you feel an unspoken promise taking root—a promise of something more, something real and beautiful.

The outside world fades into insignificance. The party, the noise, the worries about Namjoon and Jimin and everyone else—all of it melts away, leaving only the two of you and the intensity of this moment. As you hold onto each other, lost in the depths of your feelings, you know that this is a turning point that will permanently alter your friendship with Yoongi.

As the kisses between you and Yoongi continue, the electricity in the air grows stronger, pulling you both further into the depths of your shared desire. Every touch, every caress is a testament to the unspoken connection that has been building between you for so long. It’s as if the universe has finally aligned, allowing you to explore the feelings that have been simmering beneath the surface.

A soft, almost desperate, sound escapes Yoongi's lips as he reluctantly pulls away from the kiss, his forehead resting against yours as he tries to catch his breath. His eyes, dark and intense, lock onto yours, and you can see the raw emotions swirling within them.

"We should... we should get out of here," he murmurs, his voice rough with a mixture of longing and uncertainty.

You nod in agreement, feeling a rush of excitement and nerves course through you. This is a pivotal moment, a decision that could potentially change the course of your relationship. With a shared understanding, you both turn away from the party scene and make your way through the crowd towards the exit.

The cool night air hits you as you step outside, a welcome contrast to the heated intensity of the party. Yoongi's hand finds yours, his fingers intertwining with yours as you walk side by side down the dimly lit streets. The silence between you is charged with anticipation, every step bringing you closer to a new chapter in your story.

When you finally arrive back at the house, the atmosphere is different—quieter, more intimate. Namjoon didn’t come use the house like he said he would yesterday, you briefly recall. Maybe that’s a good thing. The GOT party is still in full swing, he is there with Jihyo, but you and Yoongi are in your own world here with no one to stop what is happening. The journey up the stairs to your shared house feels like a blur, your heart racing in anticipation of what is to come.

Once inside, you both head straight to your bedroom. The air is thick with tension, the unspoken yet silly question hangs in the air: Is this really happening? As you close the door locking it behind you, the outside world fades away, leaving only the two of you in the cocoon of your own space.

Yoongi turns to you, his gaze searching yours for reassurance. Without a word, you step closer, closing the distance between you. His hands find their way to your waist, pulling you gently against him. The touch of his body against yours sends a shiver of electricity through you, a reminder of the desire that has been building between you.

His lips find yours again, a kiss that holds all the pent-up longing and emotion that have been simmering beneath the surface. The taste of him, the feel of his lips moving against yours, is intoxicating. His hands roam your body with a reverence that sends waves of pleasure coursing through you.

With each kiss, each touch, the world around you fades away, leaving only the intensity of the moment. The bed is just a few steps away, an inviting sanctuary where you could explore the depths of your connection in private. Without breaking the kiss, you take his hand and lead him towards the bed, your heart pounding in anticipation.

As you stand at the edge of the bed, your eyes meet Yoongi's, a silent agreement passing between you. With a mixture of urgency and tenderness, you begin to undress each other, the air heavy with the weight of your shared desire. Yoongi's touch is gentle, his fingers tracing every curve of your body as he reveals the skin beneath your clothes.

Soon, you are both standing before each other, bare and vulnerable, yet completely unburdened by the weight of your emotions. You shyly stare down at Yoongi’s dick, admiring its pink, veiny appearance. It looks very girthy, potentially filling to the core. You're embarrassed to admit you might have imagined Yoongi naked before. When you were a middle schooler curiously imagining bodily differences between you and your male friends. But now seeing his beautiful body before you brings some excitement to your soft skin, some heat rushing through your core and nearly down your thighs, onto the floor. Your mouth suddenly dries and you feel self-conscious that your expression may be as plain and eager as it might be. He clears his throat, but that makes him more embarrassed. You bite your bottom lip, unsure of what to do.

He takes your hand and leads you to the bed. Yoongi's lips find yours once more, a kiss that speaks of promises and possibilities. With a gentle push, he guides you onto the bed, his body following yours as the kiss deepens.

The softness of the sheets beneath you, the heat of Yoongi's body against yours—it is a sensory overload, a symphony of sensations that leaves you breathless. You feel the cold sweat of his skin on yours as your bodies press together. His lips are against your jaw and your hands are exploring his body as much as you can with your legs around his hips. He climbs down to your mound and opens his mouth letting his warm, wet tongue lap over your clit. One of Yoongi's hands finds purchase on your hip to help you move with him while the long fingers of his other hand tease your enterance before pushing inside. His hot breath on your clit and his fingers inside you makes you want to beg for more. But the sensation is so intense it has rendered you speechless, the only noise to leave your mouth is a choked, muffled groan that only urges him further.

His tongue on you feels too good and you can only let him explore. You are enjoying the sensation and the way his fingers play your body like an instrument. You let out a loud gasp when you cum, your whole body arching towards him as pleasure washed over you, your thighs tightening around to his back. You feel your insides clench and throb as your orgasm washed over you in waves.

Yoongi smirks at you for a second as he lifts his head, removing his fingers from inside you. He climbs up your body until he reaches your lips. Your hand wraps around the back of his neck and you kiss him with fervor. You taste yourself in his mouth and it makes you hungry for more. You feel the pressure in your abdomen again, desperate for more. His body is hard, but not to the point of being uncomfortable. It’s a gentle pressure, a delicious tension that makes you want more. 

"Y-Yoongi... I need more.." You whimper against his mouth, your tongue running over his bottom lip before you pull away and look into his eyes. "Please, I need more..."

"I've got you, angel." He whispers reassuringly before he moves away briefly to retrieve the condom he keeps handy in his wallet in case he ever needs it. The new nickname catches you off guard as he usually tends to call you Sunshine unless you’re having a serious conversation, like earlier. However you kind of like this name.

He opens the package with his teeth and rolls the rubber on himself. You whimper when you feel the head of his cock press against you. He slowly pushes inside, but it’s enough to make your head spin. His length fills you perfectly and you can feel yourself pulsate around him. He makes his way slowly inside you, pushing deeper until he is completely inside you. He then rests his forehead against yours. You look into each other's eyes and the intensity of his gaze is almost enough to make you cum right then and there.

"You're doing so well for me," He speaks softly, his voice hoarse with arousal. His praises pull a moan from your lips you can't supress.

He slowly pulls out then pushes back in watching as his cock disapears inside you. He pulls out again and does the same thing. His thrusts become faster with each time he pushes back inside. As your moans become louder, his thrusts become more eager. He adjusts himself until he finds a position that has his cock hitting your g-spot with each thrust, your legs lifting over his hips and your hands roaming his body to keep yourself grounded.

Yoongi's leaves small kisses along your neck and down to your breasts as he continues to fuck you. He acts carefully with each action he takes, and makes a point to watch your reaction for the slightest sign of discomfort. He never stops praising you, whispering how good you were for him and how much he loves having you like this, taking all of him. His sultry low voice is making you even more sensitive and it’s a bit overwhelming, but it somehow helps make your depressing thoughts from earlier at the party disappear. With him, you felt safe and cared for.

His hands come to cup your breast and you cry out as your body arches towards him. He keeps one hand cupping your breast and takes your nipple between his fingers and gently pinches it, eliciting a softer whimper from you. 

You pull Yoongi against you closing the gap between your bodies, your fingers grip his hair tightly as you cry out, your insides clenching around him. Your back arches off the bed as your orgasm washed over you once again. He fucks you through your orgasm, and when your legs relaxed over his hips, he keeps pushing inside you. The sensation makes you want to cry from overstimulation, but at the same time you beg for more. His cock inside you feels too good, the pleasure is too much. You don't know what to do with your body or if you should be doing something at all. Your hands find their way up his forearms and hold on to them tightly.

"Do it," You whisper intimately. "Cum for me, Yoongi..."

Your words are added motivation for him to do just that. As he moves, his thrusts pushing deeper inside you, a cascade of sensations courses through both your bodies. Your back arches instinctively, a testament to the overwhelming pleasure that envelops you. He responds by lowering himself, his forehead meeting yours in an exquisite intimacy that intensifies the connection between you two.

Amidst the whirlwind of ecstasy, a thought flits through your consciousness—a moment of profound gratitude for the intoxicating sound of Yoongi's moans. It's a melody you never envisioned hearing, a symphony of vulnerability and shared pleasure that resonates deep within you. This unexpected harmony adds a new layer to your connection, stoking the flames of desire and amazement that consume every inch of your being. It leaves you feeling content and relaxed.

Yoongi's body shudders against yours, his moans gradually subsiding into contented sighs. With a gentle sigh of satisfaction, he slides his cock out and shifts on the bed, rolling over to lay beside you. Your chests rise and fall in tandem, the rhythm of your breaths slowly synchronizing as you find yourselves tangled in the aftermath of passion.

You both move again, laying side by side. Both of you catch your breath, the world around you receding into a hazy background as your gazes lock. Eyes that have seen each other's vulnerabilities, laughter, and shared moments now reflect a new layer of intimacy that words could never capture. 

The lingering cocoons you both in a silence that speaks volumes. It's Yoongi who takes the initiative to pierce through the quiet, his voice carrying a breathless quality that mirrors the aftermath of your passion.

"How are you feeling now?" His words hang in the air, delicate yet heavy with unspoken meaning. His eyes hold a mixture of curiosity and concern, a testament to his attentiveness even in the midst of his own unraveling.

A playful smile tugs at your lips, your voice laced with a hint of mischievousness as you respond to his inquiry. "Never better," you answer, your words bathed in the soft notes of a giggle that dances between you.

His laughter echoes yours, a harmonious symphony of shared joy that envelops the space between you. It's a sound that transcends the physical, a connection that binds you beyond the realm of touch. In his laughter, you sense a quiet affirmation—a declaration that the bond you've nurtured extends beyond the passionate moments, into the realm of comfort, friendship, and a connection that defies categorization.

As the night wears on and the intensity of your connection slowly ebbs away, you find yourselves wrapped in each other's arms, your bodies intertwined in a tender embrace. Yoongi's touch is reassuring, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your skin as you lay together in the quiet darkness.

"I want you to know," Yoongi's voice was soft, his breath tickling your ear, "that no matter what happens, I'll always be here for you. You mean a lot to me, and I don't want you to ever doubt that."

His words warm your heart, a balm to the insecurities that have been lingering in the back of your mind. In his arms, you felt safe, cherished, and valued—emotions that have been elusive for so long.

"I feel the same way," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "You've always been there for me, Yoongi, and I'm grateful for that."

The quiet moment between you is filled with unspoken understanding. It is a pact, a promise to stand by each other's side no matter what challenges lay ahead. In this moment, the weight of your fears seemed to be lifted, replaced by a sense of comfort and reassurance.

But the hours drift by, and as the night grows deeper and the two of you grow more sober, the lingering consequences of your actions begin to cast a shadow over your thoughts. The warmth of Yoongi's embrace can't dispel the nagging worry that what you’ve done could have far-reaching ramifications.

It was the alcohol that further fueled your doubts, the liquid courage dulling your ability to rationalize. In the haze of your tipsy stupor, you begin to wonder if the intensity of the night is a result of the moment, the shared emotions, or simply the effect of alcohol clouding your judgment.

Despite Yoongi's assurances, the fear of what could come next gnaws at you. What if this changes everything? What if it ruins the friendship that has been the foundation of your relationship? The questions spiral in your mind, a whirlwind of doubt and uncertainty that refuses to be silenced.

In an attempt to push those thoughts away, you cuddle closer into Yoongi's chest. It is a fleeting distraction, a way to drown out the voices of doubt that echoed in the back of your mind. The feeling of Yoongi’s warmth becomes a welcome distraction from the complex emotions that threaten to overwhelm you.

-

-

A/N: HELLO! Did you like the first chapter?! would it be crazy if i told you I had been planning this fic since 2021 but never got the chance to really delve into it until right now?? Well that's exactly what happened. I'd love to hear your feedback on this fic! pls reblog and like if you enjoyed! I am currently working on chapter 2 and bits of chapter 3, so I hope to get it done by early/mid-September, so please look forward to it!

[cedarwoodtears]

Could u do any mattjess (friendship and romantic) hcs? Thanks!

YES ANON YESS BRO THEYRE SO CUTE TOGETHER!!!!!! MY HEART!!!! MY FAVORITE STRAIGHT COUPLE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AHHHHHHHHHHH

• matt has tried to get jessica more into sports but she gets a lot of the terms mixed up…like when someone makes a shot in basketball she’ll yell, “TOUCHDOWN!!!!” matt appreciates her spirit even if it’s wrong, he doesn’t have to heart to tell her…

• they have a samoyed that jess absolutely SPOILSS the amount of treats and bones he gets. his name is milo. she even got matt to knit him a cute little beige sweater that jess puts on milo during the winter. and also he gets a pup cup every monday and friday. to start him off good the week and to end good as well. when matt goes jogging in the mornings he also brings milo with him, they spend a lot of time together outdoors TEEHEE

• jess tends to cheat off matt’s homework for her classes but ESPECIALLY math. that’s a subject she cannot wrap her brain around…i mean she’s got a pretty bad grade in that class because matt is pretty much the same in math so they both get it wrong LMAOOOOO matt doesn’t like it when she does that, insisting that, “it’s better to learn it on your own” but she gives those puppy dog eyes and he can’t refuse…

• they send each other tik toks all the time. matt sends her at least 50 tik toks a day and half of them are completely illegible to her (his brainrot level is so severe). the other half is cute relationship posts but it’s always a 50/50 opening a tik tok from him. jess sends him edits of her favorite animes (she secretly LOVES anime it’s canon) and then also those “us?” posts…

• matt could literally be freezing to death and he’d still give jess his coat if she even had so much of a shiver. jess really appreciates his kindness and generosity but she also feels bad for him sometimes bc she doesn’t want him going without something either…matt is still working on not being a people pleaser but he tends to put jess before himself in everything

• jess normally cooks for them (and matt LOVES it everytime) but on special occasions like birthdays or an anniversary or something else matt will make her something! normally it’s um. not the best but jess appreciates him for his effort and eats it all…one time he accidentally charred the chicken beyond belief and she still had a little. it was a bite and she spit it out right after LMAOO

• they go on a lot of dates, whether it be to the park, or a museum, or a restaurant, or a theater, staying at home, THEY LOVE DATES!!! both their camera rolls are full of photos of each other when they go out…matt likes taking .5 angles of jess and she’s like “MATTT STOP IT IM LITERALLY GONNA KILL YOU THATS SUCH A BAD ANGLE” and he’s like “It’s great” jess says they make her look like a stupid drooling baby…he agrees sometimes LOL

• matt is a big knitter (shocker) and he loves working on stuff for her!! almost anything jess asks he’ll make….he’s an absolute unit when it comes to knitting bro he does NOT mess around..he can beat all the 80 year old white women EASILY!!! (exaggeration but he’s still pretty good) right now he’s in the process of making silly milo themed socks shhhh don’t tell jess it’s a surprise…

• jess is the big spoon. she might be 6 inches shorter than him but that means NOTHING!! she’s more than happy to hold him by the waist and so is he…jess does have a tendency to drool a lot in her sleep though so matt tells her to keep her head further back so he doesn’t wake up and turn his head back and BOOM drool. matt snores though so he can’t get annoyed with her over that. and it’s not quiet. sounds like a lawn mower might wanna get that checked out matt…

• jess loves stealing his clothes like half her closet is matt’s old/semi-recent stuff that he gave up hehe especially hoodies. she likes how they’re a lot looser on her and he gets really good quality hoodies too so it keeps her plenty warm compared to most of the women’s ones she owns. sometimes his boxers too like he’ll go to put on one and it’s missing and he’s like “jess took it didn’t she….” he can’t get mad though jess looks good in it….

[necroangelz]

　　　 ˖ 　✦　　𓌔　　i want you to die for, for you to die for my love

in the night your heart is full, and by the morning empty　　　　 ˖ 　✦　　𓌔

♡　　personal rentry 　❀ 𓈒　 tag guide　⟡

ᛝ　keep reading for　𝜗｡　blog info 。。⠀₎₎

🕊️﹒　◟ fetching credits . . .

— CREDITS: Account layout　﹕　Heart divider used in pinned　﹕　K-Angel replycons made by 🎀 anon　﹕　Dividers

🪩﹒　◟ opening blog_info_tldr.docx . . .

🎐 — DNI: Basic DNI　﹕　Radqueer　﹕　TransID　﹕　Against anything related to my identity (kin, mogai, etc.)

💌 — BLOG NOTES: Edit posts are slow.　﹕　I don't edit with GIFs. 　﹕　I do not take requests anymore.　﹕　I don't know much about most discourse that's commonly discussed online and I don't care.　﹕　I often speak untranslated Tagalog here.　﹕　I use a typing quirk. (You = uu)

🎐 — SIDE ACCOUNTS: @xxxnecrotica ; rants, fandom reblogs, & others　﹕　@necroangelz-archive ; archive　﹕　@necroheavenz ; layout testing

🍥﹒　◟ opening extended_intro.pdf . . .

haiiii wsg my name is moonlightttt but also commonly called angelllll.... what u just read above is some important info for my blog. as u may have guessed i'm just your average tumblr user on editblr!

my (main) pronouns are SHI/MUSE/KILL (i use like so much pronouns though lmao) i am a GIRLTHING LESBIAN and a MINOR (older than 14. u won't be told my age) living in the PHILIPPINES. go ahead and d0xx me now (FOR LEGAL REASONS THAT'S A JOKE! :3) since I'm filipino, i can speak tagalog as well! I'm not the best at it but i try.

i am a fictionkin!!!!!! that means i am multiple fictional characters and i have past lives as some/most of them!! they are embedded into my identity and who i am as a person and i will bring up such topics frequently. <3 i usually theme my profile after my kins, and currently it's k-angel (again. i think it might be k-angel forever. you can't fight the k-angel unfortunately. being fictionkin is really important to me so if you think fictionkin are lesser than irls/fictives, hate on us and think we're "insane" etc. please get away from me <3

I'm not very social so i don't interact with others often.... i tend to silently follow people and like all their posts without talking to them LOL. but I'd be more than happy if people reached out to me first ^_^

[daddy-dins-girl]

First Date: Frankie Morales

HAPPY FRANKIE FRIDAY Y'ALL!

Masterlist

AO3 link

Frankie Morales x f!Reader

Summary: Based on this tumblr Ask. A full one-shot based on a quick little headcanon drabble I wrote about what a first date with Frankie Morales might look like. There's a little of backstory for Reader because it's me and you know I just can't help myself.

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: 18+ MDNI. Fluff and smut (because we like to strike a delicate balance here). Porn with a sprinkle of plot (again, delicate balance). Cuteness overload during your date with Frankie (sign me up for this date please). Heavy makeout session. Mutual masturbation. Fooling around in the back of Frankie's truck because of uh... reasons. Read to find out! I think that's it for warnings. As far as my stuff goes I'd say this is pretty tame? lol. But if I missed anything lmk!

Notes: I hope there aren't any glaring mistakes here. If I find any I'll come back and edit. Tbh I wrote 99% of it on my phone because our wifi was down for THREE DAYS here (RIP me!). It finally came back this morning just in time for me to post this for Frankie Friday ❤️

You tap your phone’s screen to illuminate it and check the time for probably the fifteenth time in as many minutes to make sure you’re not running late yet as you stand over the bathroom counter putting the final touches on your appearance, wanting to look perfect for tonight. Nerves flutter in your tummy like butterflies and you have to constantly remind yourself to calm down, take it easy.

“It’s just Fish, nothing to get yourself all worked up about” Benny had offered earlier, unhelpfully.

Sure, to your cousins Benny and Will it was just their longtime friend and military buddy, but to you it was the very cute, though very shy, sweet guy that you had met for the first time only recently since you came to “temporarily” crash at your cousins place.

Temporarily had turned into three months far faster than you anticipated. You needed a fresh start, to get out of a not great situation and it was actually your Aunt who had suggested the move to you during your phone call to her on her birthday. Your mother had already been filling her ear with your personal drama it seemed and though she didn’t want to pry, she did want to help and she suggested getting away for even a couple of weeks, that her sons had lots of room at their place and would be happy to have you for a while. After a few phone calls with both Will and Benny they had settled any doubts you might’ve had and welcomed you with open arms when you showed up at their doorstep with little more than a single roller suitcase and a small potted plant under your arm. It was about all the possessions you had left after the less than amicable split with your ex that left you couch surfing at your friends for months before the transition to Will and Benny’s.

So now here you stand, in the bathroom of the guest bedroom you have been calling your own for three months, getting ready for a date with the painstakingly handsome pilot himself, Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales.

You know how badly your cousins have been teasing you about the date, you can’t even begin to imagine the ribbing Frankie must have been taking from them since he’d asked you out last Sunday at a barbecue Will and Benny had been hosting and they’d somehow gotten wind of it. You’re surprised Frankie even kept the date, to be honest. Your cousins, you love them with all your heart, but they can be… a lot. You’re very glad Frankie didn’t back down to the pressure though. You’d seen him a fair bit in your few months here and have been dying for him to finally ask you out. You’d flirted enough and though he’d been quiet and shy in the beginning, the more you got to know each other, the more he seemed to come out of his shell around you.

So now here you were, moments before Frankie was due to show up at your door and you silently cursed yourself for not being as ready as you should be. You wanted to be ready and standing outside by now so that Will and Benny couldn’t get any more jabs in to poor sweet Frankie if he had to stand at the door waiting for you, but as you pull on the short, light denim jacket over your sundress you hear a bark of laughter from Benny and already you know you’re too late.

You quickly press some lip gloss on, run your hands through your hair to make sure it’s falling exactly how you want it to and then take a deep breath in the mirror and quickly scurry out of the bedroom to hopefully save the man that is standing outside on the porch.

“No keeping her out past curfew, no drinkin’ and drivin’, no crazy parties or gettin’ too handsy on the first date”

Benny is listing things off on his fingers to poor Frankie like he’s your father scalding your prom date and you can’t help but roll your eyes.

“Will, you said you’d both be nice” you complain out loud to the older of the two brothers. Will wasn’t much better, but sometimes talking to Benny was like talking to a toddler amped up on a pack of Skittles, there was no getting through when he got over excited about something.

The most ridiculous part about it was that you and Benny were about the same age so it was a little comical, though sweet in his own way, how he tried to ‘big brother’ you.

“Ah c’mon Ace, we were just joshin’ him a bit” Will replies, bright white smile gleaming at you with a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes.

Ace of course being the nickname they had stuck you with since you were old enough to remember. Any family event you’d ever attended whenever there was any sort of game or sport going on the two boys always ensured you were on their team, likely because you were the only one close in age to them but you liked to tell yourself that it was also because the three of you always had fun together. They have always been so competitive and any time they won (largely due to their own efforts) they were sure to tell everyone that it was all because of you, that you were ‘the ace up their sleeve’ even when you barely did anything. Hell most softball games you preferred to sit in the grass picking flowers while they ran circles around you like pro athletes, but it was sweet how they always made sure to include you and make you feel good about yourself.

“Well we agreed you two goons wouldn’t scare him away” you remind them with a playful roll of your eyes and a swat to Benny’s shoulder when you finally reach the doorway.

You can see Frankie’s appreciative gaze roam over you from head to toe and as he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and nervously adjusts his ball cap you know he’s itching to say something to you but probably weighing the pros and cons in his head about the two extra sets of ears hearing what’s meant only for you and so you decide for him. You shove past your two cousins, quickly tell them you love them and not to wait up and push them far enough back in the house so you can slam the door shut, finally leaving you on the porch with just Frankie.

“Hi” you breathe out, a smile spreading across your lips. He looks casual but deliciously handsome in a pair of dark tan khaki pants and an untucked light blue button down with the sleeves rolled up, putting his tanned and muscular forearms on display. He still has his infamous Standard Oil hat on, hints of chocolate brown curls peeking out from underneath it. You don’t think you’ve actually ever seen him without it, come to think of it. You try to picture him without it and an image just doesn’t come.

“You look beautiful” he tells you, a hint of shyness in his tone and a blush rises in your cheeks that didn’t come from a makeup stick.

“Thank you. I’m sorry about tweedle-dee and tweedle-A-D-D in there” you joke, gesturing a thumb over your shoulder at your two cousins who are currently fighting each other over who gets to look through the small pane of glass next to the door to watch your interactions with Frankie on the front step.

“Unfortunately I’m very used to it” he quips, giving you a warm smile. “Shall we?” He asks, sweeping an arm out towards his truck idling at the curb and you nod your head and lead the way.

Before you reach the truck however Frankie jogs up behind you to brush past and ensures he reaches the passenger door handle before you do and opens it wide, offering you a hand to help you up and inside. You both decide to ignore the whooping yells and hands slamming on the glass next to the door at the top of the walkway behind you.

“Let’s get the hell out of here, shall we?” You offer once Frankie’s climbed into the driver's seat next to you and he chuckles but nods his head.

“With pleasure” he agrees and pulls the truck away from the curb.

You’re driving for nearly an hour. Frankie had apologized already on several occasions, admonishing himself for not preparing you beforehand to make sure you wouldn’t be too hungry when he picked you up. You tell him it's fine countless times but he still admits he should’ve discussed his plan with you ahead of time.

“Hey, if what you say is true and these really are the best tacos I’ve ever had, you’ll not only be forgiven but I’ll be glad I was ravenous by the time we get there” you tell him and finally he seems to accept it and offers you a small smile, hand going to the dial on the radio to turn the classic rock tunes up just a little bit for the last few minutes of your drive.

The drive is nice. The ocean follows along in your journey when you look out your window and the way the sun sits in the sky you know it’ll be threatening to set not long after you arrive at your destination. Truth be told you were a little nervous when you first started driving and Frankie mentioned how long the trip would be. You worried that you wouldn’t have much to chat about or that it might get awkward but it had been anything but. Besides Frankie’s little bouts of anxiety about whether or not he should’ve mentioned to you what time you’d actually be eating, everything was going better than you had expected. The conversation seemed to flow easily between the two of you. You had enough jumping off points, with both of you having more than your fair share of stories or anecdotes about Will and Benny. You shared stories of your youths while Frankie caught you up on some of the more recent goings-on with them that you hadn’t been privy to since, before recently, you obviously spent a lot less time with them in your adult years versus the childhood ones. Before long the conversations shifted more to yourselves and your own personal lives and before you knew it Frankie was pulling the truck into a crowded parking lot in front of the beach.

You make your way through the throngs of people on the boardwalk, Frankie’s warm hand on your lower back a steadying presence as he guides you through the crowds towards the brightly painted green and yellow food truck off in the not-too-far distance. Your mouth is watering already and you’re not sure whether it’s for the tacos or the man on your left with the broad shoulders and thick arms but a gentle, calming touch.

If you had to venture a guess, it would be for the latter.

Frankie, to his credit, was absolutely right about the tacos. You’re halfway through your third one when you finally tap out and call it quits, unable to possibly stomach another bite - despite how delicious they are.

“I can’t. I want to, but I can’t” you admit defeat to what’s left of your dinner, tossing your napkin on top of your paper plate and holding your hands up in surrender and the corner of Frankie’s mouth curls up into a smirk.

“They’re good right?” He grins at you from across the picnic table while he stuffs the last bite of his own into his mouth and you roll your eyes dramatically at how good in fact they were.

“They were amazing, seriously. Well worth the drive and the wait” you tell him sincerely and then before you can talk yourself out of it you reach across the table to place your hand on top of his and give a little squeeze with your fingers.

“Thank you for dinner. I’m um… really glad you asked me out tonight”

That confession earns you an ear to ear grin from Frankie who swallows down the last bit of his dinner and then turns his hand palm-up so he can hold your fingers in his grasp.

“Me too. But, the night’s not over” he offers with a playful quirk of his eyebrow.

“There’s more?” Your brow line lifts to your forehead. “I’m going to need a few minutes to digest first” you laugh, placing a hand over your stomach and Frankie chuckles but nods his head in agreement.

“Take all the time you need,” he tells you.

The sun is beginning its descent from the sky as you sit at the table a while longer, happily chatting about everything and nothing. You ask Frankie more about his young daughter and can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips the way his face lights up when he speaks about her or shows you his favourite pictures or videos of her on his phone.

With your food finally settled you’re back to wandering the boardwalk again with Frankie leading the way. He stops you at an ice cream truck and you groan at the idea of having to shove more food into your stomach but the childish grin and teasing nudge to your side with his elbow convinces you to take him up on his offer anyway and you ask for small scoop of the bright orange Tiger Stripe flavour in a dish while Frankie opts for a waffle cone of classic Mint Chocolate Chip.

With no small effort you manage to finish the sweet dessert and toss your garbage into a nearby receptacle and Frankie nudges your shoulder with his and gestures with an outstretched arm towards the beach.

“Wanna go walk it off?” He suggests and you give him an easy smile, more than excited about taking a romantic walk down the beach at sunset with him.

The warm sand squishes between your toes as you walk the length of the beach. Frankie had insisted on carrying your shoes for you when you opted to take them off; the strappy sandals hanging from the fingertips of his right hand while his left brushes experimentally against the back of your right and you turn your palm towards him and he wastes no time taking hold, your fingers interlacing. You smile and press a little closer into his shoulder.

“This is perfect” you sigh as soft waves lap at your feet and the sun bids it’s final adieu for the evening, disappearing just past the horizon on the other side of the ocean.

“So I did good?” Frankie smirks at you and you let out a little laugh, nodding your head.

“Ten out of ten would recommend” you answer without hesitation.

“Recommend to who? If you think I’m taking Benny on a date next you’re poorly mistaken” he jokes and it earns an outburst of laughter from you as you grab onto his forearm with your free hand and lean further in still.

“You guys could make a pretty cute couple” you tease and he rolls his eyes, shaking his head in laughter.

“Already got the prettiest Miller on my arm, thank you very much” he affirms and your giggles die down as the blush re-emerges and you turn your gaze down to the sand at your feet and squeeze his arm just a little tighter as a thank you to his easy compliment.

You walk a little while longer, your fingers still entwined and your free hand wrapped around his arm that’s holding your hand, snuggling as close as possible while you continue to chat and joke and tease each other.

Being with Frankie seems so easy. Normally you were so nervous during first dates and it’s been so long since you’ve actually been on one you could barely remember what it normally feels like but you’re certain it’s never felt like this. You felt comfortable. And maybe a lot of that had to do with the fact that you’ve already met with and hung out with him on numerous occasions now there was less to be nervous about. But you think it’s mostly him. He’s so easy going and calm to be around; he just puts you at ease with one upward curve of his lips or the way his soft brown gaze seemingly bores into your very soul with a single look.

Besides that, you knew he must be a pretty decent guy or Will and Benny would’ve had something (aside from friendly teasing) to say about it. They were the big brothers you never had growing up, always looking out for you until your lives took you all down very separate paths and if they trusted Frankie with you, you knew you were in good hands.

Hands that were currently, mind you, smoothing up and down your sides as Frankie pressed you into the passenger door of his pickup as you stood on the street outside your temporary home saying your goodnights.

“Kiss me” you breathe into the limited space between your two bodies that are thrumming with unspent energy.

Not bothering with a verbal response, Frankie closes the distance between you, his lips capturing yours finally for that first kiss you’ve been craving since he picked you up hours ago. He tastes like mint and chocolate, and although normally it would be one of the last options you go for at the ice cream shop, the way it tastes on Frankie’s tongue instantly makes it your new favourite.

The energy in the cab of his truck the whole ride back had been tangible, his right hand on your thigh, yours trying not to dig into the plush material of the seats as you tried to focus your mind on anything other than ordering him to pull the truck into park so you could crawl into his lap and thank him properly, the way you wanted to so badly.

“Hermosa,” Frankie groans, his mouth trailing now from your lips down your jaw and to the side of your throat as his hands grip your hips. The scruff of his beard brushes the delicate skin of your neck when he nuzzles further into you and heat instantly pools in the lower part of your belly, causing a little moan to slip out. You feel your breath quicken, heart rate speeding up to keep pace with Frankie’s that you can feel through your clothes with how closely he’s pressed against you. Your arms raise to wrap around his neck, hands playing with the soft curls at the back of his head, running your fingers through them (something you’d been dying to do since the first time you met him, if you’re being honest with yourself).

“Should’ve taken me back to yours” you whisper against his ear as he continues to nip, lick and kiss at your throat.

“Santi’s on my goddamn couch” he groans, annoyed.

You remembered, now that he’s said it. Santiago, another military buddy of your cousins that you’d met a few times and one of Frankie’s best friends, had been having problems with his girlfriend and a week ago she had actually kicked him out of their shared apartment and with you taking up residence in Will and Benny’s guest room, that left Frankie’s couch.

“Shit” you mutter. You don’t dare take him inside to your room. Though the house looks dark and the boys are probably asleep, that’s not something you’re going to chance. At least not on a first date. You don’t need their judgment, nor do you need Frankie holding anything back from you due to the unfortunate circumstances.

His mouth is back on yours, unable to stay away from it for long it seems. His tongue pushes inside and strokes alongside yours, causing a little shiver to run down your spine. He licks into your mouth, exploring every cavern and swallowing all your little whimpers and whines. Frankie was an amazing kisser. You can’t help but wonder how talented his tongue may be elsewhere; the thought alone sending a fresh wave of arousal through you and causing another moan to slip out which Frankie responds to with one of his own. His right hand leaves your hip and goes to your thigh next, gently raising your leg off the ground to wrap around him and a gasp escapes you when his hand slips under the hem of your dress and trails upwards towards your hip.

“Fuck, Frankie” you breathe, pulling back just enough so you can start peppering kisses to his strong jawline.

“Tell me to stop, fuck, you need to tell me stop” Frankie pleads. You can feel his obvious desire for you pressed into your stomach as his left hand moves down to grope your ass and pull you even closer against him.

“Mmm, don’t want to” you hum into his throat and he groans in desperation, rocking his hips into you and causing a delicious bit of friction where you need it most. Your whole body is tingling, feeling like you could combust at any moment. Your muscles are tense, hands fighting for purchase on any part of him they can grab onto, eager to keep him from convincing himself to pull away from you.

Just when you feel him begin to pull back you do the only thing that comes to mind and turn in his grasp and reach for the back passenger door of the crew cab, swinging it open and pulling him back towards you by the collar of his shirt.

“Fuck, Sweetheart” he stops dead in his tracks, feet outside on the ground still while your ass hits the back seat so you’re seated sideways on the seat, facing him.

“Look, I might not be up for Gentleman of the Year Award or anything, but I’m not… I can’t have our first time be in the back of my truck. You deserve so much better than that”

Your brain doesn’t miss how he says ‘first time’ like it implies that there will be more times, and god you hope there is. And while you don’t disagree with him that fucking in his car like teenagers isn’t maybe the most romantic way to do this, you still need something and you don’t want this night to be over yet.

“Just… come fool around with me a little bit” you shrug, coy little grin tugging at the corners of your lips and you see on his adorable face the moment his resolve crumbles. He’s hopping up into the truck in a flash, slamming the door shut behind him. He pushes you back onto the bench seat so you’re flat on your back and finally rips his hat off his head and tosses it carelessly somewhere to the floor and you’re in a fit of giggles at the playfulness of it all. The laughter dies on your lips however when he’s kneeled before your spread legs and drags your knees up to his hips and presses himself down on top of you, capturing your mouth in a heated kiss while his lower half grinds into yours.

“Is this OK?” He murmurs into the side of your face as his kisses trail towards your throat.

“Mmm hmm” you nod frantically. “More than OK” you promise.

He hums into your throat and brings his right hand to your breast, his large hand covering the mound and gently massaging the soft flesh, kneading and squeezing just right as your little moans and the way your back arches to push your chest further into his touch encourages him.

“Fuck,” he growls before shoving the front of your dress and cups of your bra down so he can get his mouth on bare skin.

He pulls away from your throat and shuffles down slightly, leaning down to swirl the tip of his tongue around the pert bud and then gently pull it into his mouth. He alternates between sucking it into his mouth and teasing with quick flicks of his tongue while nimble fingers pay the other equal attention and you writhe underneath him, grinding into his leg, desperate for any friction you can create.

“Perfect tits” he mumbles into your skin before his mouth switches sides. Your hands are in his hair, gently tugging and scratching over his scalp and the way he occasionally groans and grunts at your actions you know he likes it. You wish you weren’t shoved inside the back of his pickup right now. Oh the things you would let his mouth do to you if you weren’t…

After long minutes of attention spent on your breasts his mouth is finally back on yours. He moans into you when his tongue wraps around yours again and you decide to play a little dirty yourself and wrap your lips around his tongue and suck it into your mouth, just for a moment and then you release. You feel his hardened cock twitch against your hip when he grinds it into you.

“Tell me what you want, Baby” he asks between ragged breaths as his lips create a hot trail of open mouthed kisses down to your collarbone.

You decide to show him, rather than tell him, and reach for his right hand and bring it underneath your dress to the aching need between your thighs and he practically growls into your throat when he feels the damp spot that’s already formed on your panties.

“Oh my god” he groans, taking his first two fingers and rubbing your lower lips over the soft, soaked lace.

“Oh fuck, Frankie, you feel so good” you whine, not caring how wrecked you sound already.

His mouth covers yours again, his kiss hungry and needy as his fingers bravely dip under the waistline of your panties to finally touch your naked sex and push through the warm slick folds.

“Oh my god, make me come baby, please. Fuck.” You beg, your hands wrapping around his neck again and grabbing on for dear life. It’s been far too long and Frankie is quickly unraveling you into a mewling desperate mess.

“I’ve got you, Hermosa” Frankie promises, his breath hot against your ear now and you don’t doubt that he does. His skilled digits are already driving you crazy and he’s barely begun. Maybe it’s because it’s been a while, or maybe Frankie just really knows his way around a pussy.

He plunges two fingers inside of you and you cry out at the welcomed intrusion, whimpering into his shoulder at how he’s nearly got you undone already.

“God you feel fucking amazing” he groans into your heated flesh.

“Fuck Frankie, don’t stop, please” you whimper.

He doesn’t. His fingers continue their torturous assault, pumping in and out of you and occasionally coming out to rub tight little circles around your small bundle of nerves that causes your arm to shoot up in the air, palm of your hand pushing hard against the ceiling of the truck cab as your impending orgasm lingers threateningly.

“Let me touch you, please” you beg and Frankie growls in response before his free hand goes to his pants and nearly rips them open so he can push them down to his thighs and your hand immediately wraps around his throbbing length.

“Holy shit” you breathe. Your fingers failing to quite reach all the way around his impressive girth. He’s warm and heavy in your hand, precum steadily leaking from the head that you gather in your hand to use to coat down the rest of his length.

“Christ” Frankie grunts, unable to stop himself from thrusting his hips once to fuck into your hand. “Shit I’m sorry it’s um, been a while” he confesses shyly and you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“For me too” you tell him, easing his nerves. “God Frankie, I’m so close”

With that he pulls his hand away from you for only a moment, bringing it to his mouth to wet his fingers with his tongue and then they’re back on your clit, experimenting between rubbing and circling and pressing and even lightly pinching until he finds out exactly what makes you squirm under him and he doubles his efforts, working you faster and faster with the pads of his fingertips until you’re coming hard and fast with his name on your lips as you rock into his hand to chase the pressure of his touch.

“Oh fuck, that’s it” Frankie groans into the hollow of your throat, his fingers sticky and slick with your release. “God you’re so beautiful” he praises, pressing kisses to every inch of flesh he can reach.

His fingers continue to languidly stroke through your folds, easing you down from your high while his own breathing picks up at your continued actions below; practiced strokes of your hand wrapped around him while your thumb occasionally ghosts over his slit, gathering the evidence of his arousal and smearing it all over the thick and sensitive head.

“Fuck, I’m close” he warns, eyes screwed shut in concentration, his forehead now resting against yours. “Fuck!” He curses again and then quickly sits up on his knees, causing your hand to fall away from him and he takes himself in hand to finish himself off, not wanting to make a mess all over you or your pretty dress. Not having much option he yanks his shirt up instead and coats his own stomach with white hot ropes of his release until he’s left heaving and panting on his knees before you, free hand clutched tight on your knee beside him, fingers digging in deep enough you think they’ll leave bruises.

You’ll wear them like a badge of honor.

“Shit,” he breathes and then huffs out a little laugh. His eyes dart around for a moment and then he reaches into the little pocket on the back of the front passengers seat and pulls out a somewhat squished little pack of wet wipes (one of the conveniences of having a small child you presume, always lots of supplies around that adults might not otherwise think of keeping handy) and grabs a couple sheets and wipes up the mess he made of himself before shoving the wipes back into the pocket. You’re staring up at him, tip of your pointer finger between your teeth and a coy grin playing on your lips.

That was by far the absolute hottest make out session you’d ever had. Where has Frankie Morales been all your life, and what had you done to deserve him now?

“Are you still OK? That was… OK?” He asks and it’s sweet how he doesn’t even know how badly he just rocked your whole world.

“Ten out of ten would recommend” you retort teasingly, lifting your foot to push gently at his hip and he rolls his eyes playfully and lands a little swat to your thigh.

“Smartass. Maybe I oughta trade you in for Benny after all” he quips. “Get a lot less lip I bet”

“Hmm, but probably a lot less tongue too” you tease right back and he groans as you yank him down on top of you by his collar once more.

You’re not quite finished with Frankie Morales just yet.

Taglist: @yorksgirl @chronically-ghosted @rav3n-pascal22 @suzdin @boliv-jenta @senaar-ika @nerdieforpedro @theywhowriteandknowthings @within-the-depths @axshadows @iamasaddie @macabremads @prolix-yuy @vickywallace @survivingandenduring

If you'd like to be added, lmk!

[midnightsnyx]

girl at home | mat barzal | part 5

pairing: mat barzal x fem!reader summary: you’re eighteen when you find yourself pregnant after Mat leaves for hockey. nearly eight years later, Mat finds out about your daughter and you have to deal with the consequences of not telling him about her.

warnings: swearing, angst, food, fluff, not edited word count: 2.3k authors note: it's my bday tmw and i am going out of town for the weekend so i wanted to get this posted!! also, i have no idea how pr management works so i def got everything wrong so pls don't yell at me lol i feel like this chapter is just like a roller-coaster that went off the tracks and blew up and someones trying to put it back together with tape from the dollar store so im sorry but i hope yall like it anyway and don't hate me pls <3 send your thoughts or come yell at me about this story bc I LOVE hearing from you guys!! It feeds my writing soul. thank u all for the love on this story so far and lmk if you wanna be added to my taglist. also thinking about doing some smau for this fic and wondering if you guys have any ideas or suggestions?

if you asked to be added to the taglist and didn't get tagged it's cause you didn't show up when i searched for you! so shoot me a msg and we can figure it out. also if you want to be added or taken off the taglist please let me know <3

requests are open. masterpost masterlist taglist form ask box

You didn’t think the situation with Mat’s statement could get any worse. You were already being pestered by your mom, your friends and even other parents at the day camps Nora attended. Mostly everyone knew that it was true that Mat was her father at that point so the statement caused questions to rise. Ignoring everybody’s opinions about it was easy but six simple words from Nora were what broke you. 

“I thought Mat was my daddy,” she said softly while eating breakfast one morning. She had been quiet since the day before but it continued when she woke up the next morning. You thought maybe she was just moody and tired but it ended up being much more than that.

It took you a minute to answer, trying to figure out where she might have heard or been told that. It wasn’t that surprising that she might have gotten the impression that he was her dad considering how much time Mat had been spending with the two of you or she overheard a conversation. Kids are very perceptive but you couldn’t see how anyone would directly tell her about the public statement and you had been very careful about what you said around Nora and told everyone else to do the same. 

Apparently someone didn’t get the memo. 

You had two options. You could lie to Nora about what was going on or you could explain it in the best way you could to her. Lying to your daughter was the last thing you wanted to do but figuring out the easiest way to explain it so she would understand was hard. How were you supposed to explain that yes, Mat is her daddy but he was a fucking idiot and told the world that she’s not even though he said he wanted to be in her life. It would have been so simple to take the easy way out but it wouldn’t have been fair to Nora so after she finished her breakfast, you sat her down. 

“You’re feeling a little confused, huh?” you asked, watching her fiddle with a loose string on her sweater. 

She nodded, still not looking up at you and not offering her thoughts. It was a bit alarming because she was usually a chatterbox, even when she was upset about something. She would let you know exactly what was wrong. 

“Who told you Mat was your daddy?” 

She finally looked up at you, and the tears threatening to spill from her eyes made you both angry and upset. You were ready to find whoever told her and scream at them but her answer stunned you.

“I heard you talking to Jaxy,” she whispered. “I wasn’t trying to listen but I was coming out to get some water and you said that you were mad at Mat.” 

She didn’t elaborate on what else she may have heard which was unnerving because you probably said a lot of things about Mat that night when Jax came over to talk to you about it. You hoped she didn’t stay long enough for your breakdown where you had cried for thirty straight minutes. 

She sniffled, wiping a couple tears away. “I don’t understand.”

Your heart broke but you still struggled with how to explain everything to her. Telling her in the beginning was probably a better idea but you were so caught up in your own thoughts and feelings, you ignored the person who should have been your number one priority the entire time. 

“Mat is your daddy, baby,” you said. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

I’m sorry I kept you a secret.

“How come everyone is saying he’s not?” 

Mat should have been the one to answer this question because it was his doing, but you hadn’t spoken to him since the night he was at your apartment and the two of you argued. He had texted you the day after but you ignored it because you didn’t know what you would say when given the chance.

“Well, sometimes people make mistakes and Mat said something he shouldn’t have,” you explained, hoping it was enough and it seemed to be enough at first but then she hugged you tightly.

“I love you mama,” she said and before you could reply, she quietly asked, “Do you think Mat loves me?” 

“I’m sure he does,” you told her and it took everything in you not to cry. 

. . .

Liana: dinner at our place @ 6. bring nora and don’t be late!!!

You’re tempted to decline the request and just stay home but you’ve been promising Liana and Nadia that you would actually visit instead of dropping Nora off and leaving like you’ve been doing. Avoiding Mat is becoming increasingly difficult. It’s been two weeks since he released the statement and a week since your conversion with Nora. She’s been asking a lot of questions, ones that you didn’t plan on having to answer so soon. You expected her to be angry with you for not telling her but she took your confirmation that Mat’s her dad with ease. 

So it didn’t come as a surprise when her first question was whether Mat would be at the Barzal household for this dinner. You hadn’t bothered to ask Liana, mainly because you knew it would definitely impact your decision to agree to go. 

“Did you know that Zoe’s mom and dad aren’t together either?” She says during the drive to the Barzal’s. 

You do know this but you humor her. “Really?”

“Yup. Zoe said she spends weekends with her dad and stays with her mommy during the week,” she explains and then moves on to a different topic. You’re a little curious why she would talk about her friends’ living arrangements but when you finally pull into the driveway, your question is answered. 

“Do I have to stay at Mat’s on the weekend?” She asks and if you hadn’t already parked the car, you would have hit the brakes. 

“No,” you say a little too quickly and sharply because she frowns. 

“How come?”

You don’t answer her question right away, getting out of the car and walking around to the other side. She’s already unbuckling her seatbelt by the time you open the door and she’s still frowning. 

“Just no, Nora.”

“But Zoe does!”

You can’t explain custody agreements to a seven-year-old so you say the first excuse you can think of. 

“He doesn’t live here,” you say, taking her hand and begin walking towards the house. She’s dragging her feet, clearly not happy with your response. 

“Do I have to call him dad?” 

“No.”

“Why?”

“Just ‘cause,” you say, stopping at the door and turning to her. Her arms are crossed and she’s giving you the look that says she won’t let up until you give her an answer she wants.

“Do you want to call him dad?” 

She pauses, looking down at the ground and frowning. After a moment she shakes her head. 

“No, but Miss. Jones says you’re not supposed to call your mommy and daddy by their first names ‘cause it’s disrespectful.” 

“It’s not up to Miss. Jones,” you say gently. “This is new, and you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

After a moment, she mutters a quiet “okay,” and then: “do you think Nadia has ice-cream for dessert?”

“Guess we’ll have to go inside and ask,” you reply and raise your fist to knock on the door but it swings open before you can. Liana is waiting on the other side with a big smile on her face. Nora runs straight to her and giggles when the older girl picks her up and swings her around. 

“C’mon in,” Liana says, ushering you inside. So far there’s no sign of Mat so some of the tension leaves your body. After putting both yours and Nora’s shoes aside, you make your way to the kitchen. Nadia is puttering around, juggling a million things but she still smiles softly when she sees you. 

“Can I help with anything?” 

“You can keep me company,” she says and points to a chair. “Sit down and update me on what you’ve been up to.”

You know that you can’t argue with her so you sit and chat idly with her. She doesn’t bring up anything to do with Mat and you’re not sure what to think about it. You almost slip up and ask if he’s going to be here for dinner but decide not to. You haven’t seen him around since you arrived, so he’s probably out. Maybe with a girl. 

Not that you care, obviously. 

Mike eventually pokes his head in the kitchen to greet you and ask how you’ve been. He offers to set the table but Nadia shoos him out of the kitchen, rolling her eyes fondly. 

“Don’t get married, they’re nothing but trouble,” she jokes but there’s a smile on her face that lingers even after her husband leaves. You always admired their relationship, and were certain that you and Mat would be like it some day but it wasn’t in the cards. 

Soon, Nadia calls everyone to dinner. Nora immediately asks why Mat isn’t here and there’s an awkward silence until Liana breaks it.

“He’s busy,” she tells Nora and that must be enough because she just nods and starts eating dinner. Nothing else is said about Mat but just as you’re all finishing dessert, you hear the door open and close and there’s only one person you figure it will be.  

Mat walks into the dining room, clearly caught off guard by your presence. Nora hops off her chair and darts over to him, wrapping her arms around his legs and starts chatting excitedly. He’s trying to give her all his attention but his eyes keep flickering to you. 

When Nadia and Mike get up to start clearing the table and Liana asks Nora if she wants to go watch a movie, you realize that the three of them planned this. It’s almost like you’re kids again, fighting about something stupid and needing his parents to help fix the problem. 

Mat looks at you a little helplessly when the room clears and it’s just the two of you. There’s no way you can yell at him with his family and Nora in the next room and you realize that was also probably planned. 

“Can we talk?” he asks and you really don’t want to, but you realize that eventually you’re going to have to talk to him so you nod. You follow him out the back door and the two of you sit on the porch steps in silence until you finally break it.

“Why didn’t you come to me about what PR wanted to do? We could have figured out something together.”

He shrugs, looking at the ground. “I didn’t think to ask you about it. I just wanted to fix everything before it got complicated. I wasn’t thinking.” 

“Yeah, no shit,” you mutter. “That’s something you’re great at. You don’t think before you do anything.” 

You jump when he stands up suddenly and turns to face you. He’s angry but so are you.

“No, fuck that. You can’t just expect me to do everything right, when a month ago, all I had to worry about was hockey. I can’t be number one dad overnight! You didn’t even tell me about her for six years!” 

You’re a bit taken off guard by his sudden outburst but you can do anger too.

“That is the exact reason I didn’t tell you about her, Mat. Hockey is always going to come first in your life,” you snap. “And I didn’t ask you to be a number one dad, all I asked was that you be sure you wanted to be in her life before you committed to anything because this is exactly what I was worried about.” 

He falters a little, probably not expecting you to return the anger. 

“I didn’t want to post what they asked me to,” he says, sounding defeated. “But I didn’t know how to say no. When PR tells you to jump, you jump.”

You’ve no idea how public relations in hockey works, it’s possible that they would have posted the statement without asking Mat but you’re so damn angry. You’re angry but you don’t know who you’re even supposed to be mad at now. 

“You should have come to me,” you say again. “That’s how co-parenting works, you know.”

His mouth twitches. “That’s what we were doing?”

You can feel the anger slowly dissipating. Mat’s shoulders aren’t as tense and he plops back down on the steps so you sit next to him, letting your shoulders and knees knock against his.

“Well, you are her dad,” you admit. “And she is very concerned about her future living arrangements.”

He looks at you a little confused but there’s a small smile spreading across his face. 

“Does she know?”

“Yeah,” you tell him. “She’s smarter than you expect sometimes.”

“She gets that from you,” he says, poking your arm.

You roll your eyes fondly. “Well she had to get her brains from someone.”

He huffs but it sounds more like a laugh. You watch him look at the ground, brows furrowed and deep in thought.

“I fucked up, didn’t I?”

Here’s the thing that a lot of people don’t know about Mat: he doesn’t forgive himself easily. It’s something you learned the hard way when you were younger and dating. 

So you know he will beat himself up over this until you forgive him. 

“Yeah, but we both did.” You bump your knee against his until he looks up at you. “We can fix it, but we have to do it together.”

He holds out his pinky finger. ”Co-parenting, right?”  

You hook your finger around his and nod, letting yourself relax for the first time in weeks. It’s going to take time, hard work, and you’re both going to have to learn how to trust and communicate better again but you're sure you’ll get there.

“Together,” you agree.

tag list: @literatureluster @dasiysthings @barzyblogbabe @diary-of-jj @heatherawoowoo @fallinallincurls @topguncultleader @shadowsndaisies @lovinbarzal @whatthepuckisgoingon @alilstressyandlotdepressy @teapartydreams @keiva1000

[zolo-san]

I read all your tags and I’d like to suggest that in bed Zoro and Sanji also sleep this way. Sanji’s side of the bed being the left and Zoro’s the right because they trust each other to cover their blind spots.

I could write a fic about this ong

Okay, okay yes!!!! I agree!!!! But also might I add a bit from my hc that I discussed in this post I made about the Straw Hats' sleeping arrangements where I mentioned that I think that Zoro would choose the one of the beds closest to the door partly because he's inherently a protector (there are studies that show that people who choose to sleep closets to the door/facing the door do so because they want to protect/defend while those who sleep furthest from the door tend to want to be protected and hide or run) But from the way I hc their sleeping arrangements and how that would change/be affected by relationships, I had Zoro opting to sleep in Sanji's bunk and while I never said it, I always imagined Sanji sleeping to the left of Zoro, partly because Zoro would insist on sleeping closest to the door and party because I think that (whether Sanji realizes it or not) Sanji doesn't like to feel vulnerable when sleeping so he would sleep better with Zoro on his right and closer to the door And I think that they are not really aware that they do this and that they're not consciously protecting each other, they just do it inherently I also think that Zoro sleeps a little better too, knowing that he can trust Sanji to protect him on his more vulnerable side But I also think a contributing factor to Zoro preferring Sanji to be on his left would have to do a bit with Zoro always wanting to know when Sanji is awake/gotten out of bed They originally would have swapped bunks because Zoro hated being woken up by Sanji in the morning, but I think that even after they swapped Zoro was still woken up anyways (I have a whole other hc about how and why I think that Zoro is actually a really light sleeper) because he'd sense any movement in the room and automatically wake up a little bit, but this doesn't really bother him because he likes to know where everyone is, for safety reasons (and let's face it, he can instantly fall asleep after lol) Once him and Sanji start sleeping in the same bed I think that they'd be further along in their relationship (I'm currently working on a timeline for when and how I think their relationship would develop) and Zoro might have a bit more anxiety around Sanji's safety because even though he knows that Sanji can easily handle himself, I think that Sanji's self-sacrificial tendencies would honestly really affect Zoro if he admitted it or not But yeah...I'm very normal about this hc so normal about the intrinsic trust these two have in each other and how easily and naturally they are combat partners without ever discussing anything, they just know~ I'm incredibly normal about how quick they are to know when the other needs help and how they don't hesitate to help each other and trust that the other will always be there when they need them and when they need protection yup yup...very normal I too could write a whole fic on this concept~ Edit: to anyone wondering what post this is referring to, it's this one with my long ass tags on it

[areyougonnabe]

I know nothing about polar exploration! Or Shackleton! But you seem excited about it!

Have a favourite fact you'd like to share?!?

well my two favorite facts have already been shared which are the cautionary tale of the toxic polar polycule and the story of the antarctic lovebirds !!!

but here is a contender for #3... the tale of jessamine.

let's start with our homies Deb (left) and Griff (right), aka Frank Debenham and T. Griffith Taylor, the geologists of terra nova's cape evans shore party:

they would both later go onto impressive careers in academia, start families, basically be well-liked hard-working guys (also participants in 20th century imperialism but let's take that as given based on our starting point of this expedition lol)

BUT we are meeting them here, in antarctica, aged 27 and 30, "Early Career Researchers" as we might call them now. trying to keep busy with SCIENCE during the long antarctic winter night of 1911!!!!!

these guys go way back btw. Deb was born and raised in Australia and and Griff moved to Australia when he was a kid, and they both attended the fancy-schmancy King's School near Sydney, the Australian equivalent of british public school (e.g. Eton). according to griff they were family friends at that time although they would have been a few years apart at school.

later around 1908 they both studied at the University of Sydney under leading geologist Sir Edgeworth David, who had been on Shackleton's Nimrod expedition and reached the South Magnetic Pole with Mawson. They both ended up being hired onto Scott's expedition through university connections, Deb via Professor David and Griff through a scholarship to Cambridge where he met Wilson.

okay. backstory established. now one thing you need to know about Griff is that he was a total freak. like Racovitza, he was a Poster before there were online platforms to Post on. if you had that kind of brain back then, and no access to adderall, you had to just sit around inventing new kinds of science instead of deep-frying spongebob screencaps. he was a consummate edwardian memelord who would read a novel per day and still have time to write 20 pages of diary in which he would floridly record the silliest things that happened since the morning, the various quirks and quotes of expedition members, and then complain about captain scott in shorthand.

to say nothing of his passion for CREATIVE WRITING! vitally, Griff was one of the main contributors to the Cape Evans hut magazine, the South Polar Times edited by Apsley Cherry-Garrard. there were 3 issues of this during the winter of 1911 and 1 issue during the winter of 1912, the latter of which included much material written/submitted during 1911 before the polar party met with tragedy.

Griff was a versatile writer, and his pieces (which would sometimes cumulatively make up nearly half an issue of the SPT by page count) ran the gamut from expository nonfiction to speculative poetry to comedic epistolary to magazine pastiche. he had certain motifs that he frequently returned to—none as compelling, in my opinion, as that of Jessamine. or Jasmine, or Jessie, or Jessica, as the case may be...

it all began, according to Griff's diary, early in the austral winter of 1911, when Deb was "christened Jasmine by Titus [Oates]."

where this nickname came from is unclear—many of the men had picked up female nicknames on the voyage down (see "Jane" Atkinson, "Marie" Nelson, "Penelope" Pennell) but Deb had not been on the voyage down because he had gotten picked up in Australia, so this may have been a belated attempt to correct that omission. Griff wrote in his book about the expedition, "We were short of female society—which lack also accounts for Jessie Debenham as an alternative to Deb."

in any case, the name clearly caught on: on midwinter day, a little under two months after the nickname's debut, Griff recorded that during the gift exchange after dinner "Every second present or so was a necklace or earrings for Miss Jessie Debenham."

(deb and titus at midwinter dinner)

THIS GOT REALLY LONG SO CLICK READ MORE IF YOU ARE INTERESTED!!

in the second SPT issue of 1911, Griff's 17-page narrative "The Bipes" describes the inhabitants of the Cape Evans hut from the perspective of a rabbit who lives in the stables. you can read the whole thing here and please do!!! (you'll need a VPN outside the US) BUT here is the relevant bit dealing with Deb:

U. PULCHERRIMA. This Bipe inhabits a strongly defended Bungkh in the Ubdug burrow. It is supported by mighty baulks of timber and can only be reached by means of a dangerous ladder. The Bungkh is supplied with heavy hammers, piles of stones and other offensive weapons. These precautions are, I believe, necessary in the Bipe courtship, for she is often called upon to repel members of other burrows who approach her balcony with blandishments. Her time is chiefly occupied with a primitive quern or handmill, and at this she grinds for long hours every day. I judge that this merely satisfies some primitive habit, for no flour seems to be produced. But it is pleasant to see how strong is the feminine instinct.

the species name "Pulcherrima" is also the species name of the pointsetta flower, and can be translated to "beautiful woman" (i think??)

here's the illustration produced by Bill Wilson (based on Griff's sketch) to accompany the above - yes that's a portrait of Griff in her bunk and Birdie below attempting to woo her:

it must be noted that Meares, nicknamed "Mother," also gets cast in a female role in the Bipes piece, but does not receive the privilege of being drawn in a skirt, rip.

anyway, the next issue of the SPT, vol 3 issue III, is the last one to be produced before the end of winter. Griff decided to one-up himself and write a piece in which Jessamine takes center stage. The Ladies Letter is a pitch-perfect parody of the "Ladies Column" sections that appeared in many periodicals of the era—full of french fashion terms and simpering style suggestions. Griff brilliantly adapts the format for a pastiche on the subject of Antarctic fashion; not free, naturally, from general whiffs of period-typical misogyny, but as those being mocked in specific are fellow expedition members and not any actual women i forgive him.

written in the form of a letter from Jessamine to her absent friend Cynthia (whose identity i'm unsure of BUT i'm tempted to say is supposed to be Priestley, away at Cape Adare), the piece again features multiple expedition members in female roles, including Silas as "American" Sally Wright, Cherry as "Madame Chérie - that dear delightful person - who builds her beautiful creations on strictly scientific principles of hygiene and aesthetics" and Birdie as Madame Berdé, who "finds that for well developed figures it is most distinctive to use a cross-gartering well above the ankle. She herself is naturally a consistent exponent of this latter fashion."

and then of course there is Jessamine's star turn. she is wearing the newest fashion, "a modification of last year's 'tube skirt' [which] even more closely swathes the lower limbs, and it is necessary that the wearer should be rolled along by her maid."

Jessamine reveals that she is planning to induce Titus Oates to bring her a proposal of marriage through the clever use of themed charms on her chatelaine.

All the smartest girls have wreathed chains of mascots around the skirt, and a pretty idea, which I commend to you, is to have silver model made of those articles which interest THE ONLY MAN WHO COUNTS. Breathe this to no one! But Mappin & Webb are making me such a choice set. The cutest little pony; a horse snowshoe (this is very lucky); a dead rabbit; a popgun; and a silver blazon PER MARE PER TERRAM PRO TITO; this will be attached to my 'tube', and then I really do expect to bring him to a proposal.

this scenario was illustrated hilariously by Bill, complete with Jessamine being rolled along, and Titus ignoring her as could be expected, in favor of a pony (Christopher?):

now, Deb is on record saying that Titus was his best friend on the expedition, but it may well be a classic case of "you are not your best friend's best friend," because per other accounts Oates was much closer to Meares and Atch than he was to Deb. that's just an observation to add a little flavor to Jessamine's desperate pursuit as portrayed here...

and not to look a gift horse (ha) in the mouth, but i do feel that Bill's illustrations don't quiiiiiite do the genderfuckery of Griff's text justice—Jessamine describes herself as wearing a frock inspired by the aurora, but Bill instead draws Deb in normal sledging gear plus some non-dress-shaped colorful streamers. a missed opportunity...

also, lest you think that Griff was the only one partaking in the Jessamine joke in the SPT, there is also a sneaky reference in the anonymous feature "My Favorite Book":

(J-SS-- [JESSIE]: "Not like other girls")

BUT WAIT. THERE'S EVEN MORE.

viewing the handwritten drafts of the SPT held at the SPRI (because all of this is going to be an actual academic paper someday hopefully lol), i learned that there were a fair handful of references omitted from the final version, presumably thanks to Cherry's editorial oversight.

one "answer to correspondents" written by "Marie" Nelson went as follows:

Jessica: A single lady cannot be too careful about the respectability of her lodgings or the character of her companions.

(referencing Deb bunking with Griff and Gran, two of the more annoying/messy people in the hut)

and an unused entry in "Songs And Their Singers" by Teddy Evans was:

Oh What’s Womans Duty - Jasmin

lastly, and most importantly, the drafts contained the one instance i could find of deb firing back about this whole thing.

vol IV of the SPT consisted of one issue released during winter 1912, when a lot of people had gone home (including Griff), and everyone left behind knew the polar party was dead and they'd have to go look for their bodies in the spring. it was not a fun time. vol IV contained a lot of material written the previous year but not included, since for obvious reasons folks weren't really up to being silly. one of those pieces was "A Day's Doings, Told By Our Diarist," written during winter 1911 by Deb as a parody of Griff. it's pretty funny in published form (p. 72 of this pdf)—Deb is on-point mocking Griff's dislike of eating ("Breakfast is an unintellectual meal, so gave it a miss. Better a bit more bunk than a bite more breakfast.") and his never-ending theorizing ("Thought out a new theory as to the origin of debris cones: yesterday’s wasn’t good enough").

however, the draft is exponentially more hilarious. Cherry, damn him, cut the absolute BEST BIT:

Made a genre sketch of Jasmine brushing her (his) hair – it’s a fool nickname anyways, mixes up the genders. 

knowing Deb—quiet, patient, chronically non-confrontational—that's about as explicit as he was willing to get, as far as revealing how he felt about the nickname. writing Griff realizing that it's a bit silly, he reveals to some degree his own discomfort. now, was it a "protest too much" situation or had he genuinely gotten fed up with being the Designated Girl Of The Hut? we shall never know!!!!!!!!

however the draft of the piece ends thusly: "[I] got paralysed at chess by the wily Jasmine, it’s a mud game, if ever there was one. Hinc illae lacrimae!"

so despite all the aspersions cast on her honor, and the failure of Titus Oates to accept her proposal, Jessie still triumphs in the end :)))

[vanishedinvain]

𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐩

summary: the night before anthony and simon's duel from benedict's perspective.

warnings: angst, anxiety

a/n: wc: 546. this is a cut scene from ch. ii. of perfect all-american bitch, my benedict bridgerton x reader series where benedict becomes the viscount, but can be read as a standalone since this is a flashback sequence! despite how long the chapters already are, that's after i've spent a full day editing them lol, so i'm thinking of posting scenes that i've cut/would've liked to include in the main story but wasn't super relevant to the plot (like this one)

Benedict and Colin exited the study feeling about a decade older than when they walked in. Anthony had provided them grimly detailed instructions on what to do in both of the worst case scenarios. The two younger brothers congregated in Benedict’s bedchamber to go over the logistics one last time. 

Colin was to remain on guard at the home. He would arrange for a hired hack to be at the house to transport Anthony to either the docks or the hospital. He needed to keep Daphne from interfering, their other siblings away from any violent sights, and their mother calm.

Benedict needed to contact the solicitor to secure their financials. They would need to give notice of either death or disappearance to the people of Aubrey village and to Parliament. They might have the Bow Street Runners called on them in a few days time. Benedict might have to arrange for the funeral and a casket and—

Oh dear, the room was spinning.

Benedict had been running through the list in his head for the past few hours, his cursed version of counting sheep. Colin was snoring on the bench at the foot of the bed, occasionally bumping against the frame. 

Colin seemed a great deal calmer than Benedict. He seemed quite sure that the duke would yield, or that they would both fire their pistols wide. Perhaps, he was truly that optimistic, if a bit naive. But perhaps, he was only putting up a front. Because when Benedict suggested Colin go back to his own bedchamber once they were through, his younger brother had insisted he was too comfortable to move.

It was a bald-faced lie if he ever saw one. Colin was taller than Benedict, which meant his legs were scrunched up when he was horizontal on the bench. But he managed to fall asleep anyway, and Benedict draped a spare blanket over him before retiring to bed himself. 

And truthfully, Benedict did not want to be alone either. If this was their last night of normality, he would rather spend it together than apart. He laid staring at the ceiling until the first streams of sunlight threatened to breach the inky sky.

It was time.

They made their way down to Anthony’s study. This would be Colin’s post; close enough to the main entrance to execute his tasks, but hidden away from the staff, and more importantly, their mother.

Benedict clasped a hand on Colin’s shoulder; he hoped the gesture came across strong and reassuring, but Benedict felt more like he was grasping onto a life-jacket.

Colin was still boyish, the baby fat not quite melted off his face, and looked entirely too young to be dealing with this. He mirrored his brother, also grabbing Benedict’s shoulder. “This whole affair will all be over in a few short hours,” Colin said with a small smile.

Benedict couldn’t bring himself to agree as it would be disingenuous. There was something peculiar in the air this morning, as hokey as that sounded. Something just wasn’t sitting right with him, but he couldn’t put doubts in Colin’s head. 

He was the older one, so act like it. “The only way out is through,” he said with the solemn resolve to bring this business to an end.

why was this cut? as much as i liked exploring the relationship between colin and benedict (tbh i love getting the chance to explore any bridgerton sibling relationship hence why beneloise got a whole prologue), but 1. i was approaching a ridiculous word count and 2. it didn't entirely make sense for benedict to start the story from the night before.

taglist: @daddy-obrien @noirrose21-blog @loviyysev1045 @giuseppeverd1 @chauchirem @camilalexa93 @books-with-se @alexlovesfiction @dreamssfyre @czarinera @chris9683 @g4ns3y @kindbearqueen @mattelbaby @witchyvoman @ayidipinursue @fairyellieee @78-bratz-doll @simbaaas-stuff @starcollector13 @bonitoflakes071 @dallamdoll @2005priness @mythixlly @sickmarriedandying @takemeoutrose @boojaynaqueen @amaliarosewood @everybodys-favorite516 @abrose11 @bluelittleblackgirl @guppypuppy84 @mayalopes @how2besalty @reginageorje @aprilthearcher @5hundreddaysofsummer @niniackerman @bonjour28 @thebazil3 @answrr @quadrisl @livingvicariously1 @bitchyally @renintheszn @napollya @bitchfuckdotcom @imagandom @bugg06 @my-queen-rhaenyra-targaryen @cassiejpg @mrspotterlupinblack @jinx53 @naclara98421 @themeanestlittlewitch @dpaccione @rainybabe25 @mysticenvy @crazymar15 @scooper-trooper @universal-s1ut @fairyfelicitysmoak @tittiemama @rr1tualz @giulssmediobolud4 @pastelpunkpercy @ladybird-666 @sparky2020sworld @radstrangerdinosaur @lillyrosenight

if you weren’t tagged, check your privacy settings!

[kitagal]

5 things I do 2 cheer myself up

fall/winter edition.. bcs seasonal depression .. :(

heyyy ! another silly little post to help anyone whos been struggling to get out of the dumps like me :,3 hope this helps !

first thing i do when i wake up in the morning is MAKE MY DAMN BED !!!! its so nice coming home to a neat comfy bed that you get to MESS ALL UP when you take that delicious evening nap youve been looking forward to all day :3

im obsessed with putting on cuticle oil and cuticle cream ... idk about you guys but i look at my nails like, a bajillion times a day .. so when i look at them and theyre all hydrated and shiny it just feels goooood .

if im feelin all poopy (bcs its just one of those days) i put on a few spritz of perfume !!! (i use miim.miic no. 52) makes me feel a little less like a little ogre who just rolled out of bed LOL

feeling overwhelmed? disorganized? out of control? take a breather and clean yo damn phone out ! i have folders on my google drive where i save important photos id like to keep, so i upload those and then delete the rest out of my gallery. i have so many accidental screenshots in my gallery that its kind of embarrassing ..

i love to assemble an amazon wishlist :P ! online shopping soothes the soul. truly. plus then you got it if someone asks what ya want for your bday or christmas or something !!!

thats all for this post .. but i might make another if this gets enough luv ... we shall see >:3c hope this helped at least one of yall ! have a good day !