#this ended up being way sadder and also way more political than i thought it would

[vaguely-concerned]

I listened to the first episode of vows and vengeance and... god. god forget waiting for veilguard, how the fuck am I going to survive the wait between each episode of this???? tl;dr: I loved it, I love dragon age, I love audio dramas, I love voice acting and music, I love thedas, I am IMMEDIATELY painfully invested. if nadia doesn't get her sweet fancy lad back whole and unharmed by the end of this I am killing everyone in tevinter and then myself.

more thoughts under the cut! not a lot of deep analysis just flailing and feelings today haha

I hadn't realized that elio would be a magister! idk if it was in any marketing beforehand, but if so I didn't pay enough attention to remember it lol. he sounds like he might be prime lucerni-material politically, so I'm a little sad we didn't get even a subtle dorian or maevaris easter egg in there, as far as I could tell, but hey, you can't have everything. (honestly unless BIG changes are upon us (which tbf they probably are) it might be just as well that this went down as it did, b/c I'm not sure how long elio would survive in the magisterium that we've heard tell of, he's quite -- either soft and shortsighted, or politically reckless, I think nadia was right there.)

I found nadia, elio and their dynamic very effectively introduced -- the fact that they haven't quite figured out how to be good to each other yet but so clearly both desperately want to be and are willing to work for that is a smart place to start the story. it makes it feel all the sadder if they never get the chance to work it all out, because I think they could have every chance to, given the time.

The voice actors for the central characters are all wonderful (orin's was. fine! doing a good enough job with a slightly more thankless role, let's call it that.) also so nice to hear people humming the tavern songs we heard in inquisition. god I love thedas I'm so glad we're getting to go right back in there soon

The episode was longer than I thought they would get, and it was all the better for it! I'm so happy it seems they'll get the space they need to tell this story, especially since nadia appears to be setting out on quite a continent-spanning odyssey here (I'm so sorry about your life nadia)

SOLAS solas solas! solas. solas!!!! he is such a BITCH and I love him so much. he is being aggressively himself and I didn't realize just how much I'd missed him. no one gets me frustrated quite like you baby you know better than this I KNOW you could know better than this why do you never learn a single thing I know you have the capacity somewhere in there. patron saint of endlessly fucking up. WHERE do you get off being condescending to nadia when all your ~*brilliant*~ plans backfire catastrophically on you every single time solas. yeah of course you're sorry, and you fucking better be, if she stabbed you I'd be sad but also like 'yeah I mean you had that one coming sorry ¯\_(ツ)_/¯' about it!!! what the fuck. come home please

such a weird feeling to have him be an ominous stranger on the road to elio and nadia while I was standing there with my arms crossed and my foot tapping irritably like 'oh so now he shows his face, there he is. my husband. my ex-husb -- my nemesis and poor little meo -- it's complicated alright. he's in the dog house, but the dog house he's in is still mine'. I do adore how unstoppably solas clearly wants to be a teacher, he works so hard to be mysterious and aloof but the lonely insufferable chatterbox knowitall jumps out at every turn.

neve trying and almost succeeding in freezing the whole bay I'm

like. okay then! much to think about

the only thing I'm not a big fan of is the characters calling out in-game spells in sort of a self-indulgent way, but hell if I know how else you'd communicate exactly what's going down magically in an audio format like this so y'know. very easily forgiven from my side honestly

[plethomacademia]

hi bestie thoughts about maeve, how did she appear to you when you first started thinking about a bg3 oc? which details came first? her appearance? her personality? her romances?

Hello! Oh I love this question. I'm going to cut bc it's long and also I might use this as an excuse to post her original version from guild wars 2 :)

I have a few character types that I tend to recycle and reinvent for different games and Maeve is a direct descendant of one of my Guild Wars 2 characters. In that game, she was a noble woman who had been disowned by her family for her necromancy, not because of the necromancy as much as her specialty in flesh golem magic. She was a thin ghost of a woman who cared about her appearance and used her skills to work in a noble house, where she ended up marrying the lord and being an absolute villain in social scenes.

I knew I wanted to do a dark urge that was a bard because I found the idea of a charismatic cult leader to be fascinating. I knew I wanted someone who could slip into social situations and be undetectable, so a common race at an average height. From there I kind of clicked around in the character creator and ended up with an elf version of Aglaeca with some tweaks (Ag has no freckles and green eyes, Maeve is freckled to hell and has silver eyes, Ag wears plain makeup and Maeve wears a sharp eyeliner and red lips).

The things that are the same and are kind of the core to this character I keep remaking are the ideas of social situations as combat, the idea of womanhood and performance being interlinked, and the idea of a ice queen that is hiding a soft gooey interior at all costs.

Maeve's personality shifted a lot as I started to write her but had solidified before I began to post. The first thing I wrote about her was this chapter in the long fic where she meets Gortash. This is a very Aglaeca scene: masks on masks, polite conversation used in a combative nature, and that hint of something more. I would say though that the chapter where she leads her cult was kind of where what makes her Maeve clicked: the theatricality, the manipulation and love bombing, the use of her sexuality and desire to attract and the use of violence to keep in line. Maeve is a lot more direct than Aglaeca or any other version of this character.

I will say and this is critical to me, I did not write a single word for this character until I had finished her playthrough. If I had written my original version of Maeve, she would have been a lot colder, a lot more put together, a lot more Aglaeca. When I started her romance, I knew Astarion could turn a character into a vampire and I thought she might like that, but the romance kind of sideways swiped me and the softness of it, the echo between redeemed dark urge and spawn Astarion, it really changed what she ended up being. They are very similar and so they fell into each others orbit in a way that made her story a lot sadder, a lot more tender, a lot more full of doubt and anxiety and just trying to exist as an independent person.

And then there's Gortash.

Y'all, I didn't go in planning that one. At all. Not a bit. Maeve was my second playthrough and I was like Gortash is fine, sure. It wasn't until I started reading others' works, especially @mightymizora, that I took a moment to think about well what would it for them to have worked together? And here we are, me fully Gort pilled. Their relationship was less transformative than Astarion's but really important because he was her first attempt to break out. She can't remember it, but I do think that her almost escape is in her brain somewhere, deep in there, and the fact that she can't remember is what lets her try it again, this time more successfully. Gortash would have put her in a new cage and instead she finally freed herself.

And for those of you still here, this is Aglaeca, my first roleplay character ever, my beloved bitch noble, ice queen of my heart.

The family resemblance (aka I like goth girls)

[gurleend287]

Barefoot Gen (sub)

RATING: ★★★★

A very disturbing but necessary film to watch, Barefoot Gen is a Japanese animated film based on the semi-autobiographical comic book series, Hadashi no Gen, written by Keiji Nakazawa. The film is a powerful anti-war piece that shows the devastating effects of the atomic bombing of Hiroshima in 1945. The story follows the life of a young boy named Gen and his family, who lived through the bombing and its aftermath.

At the start of the film, we see the society living in extreme poverty as a result of the government’s war effort. Food is running low, rations are small, and people are starving. Everyone is on edge as air raid sirens keep going off and they have to continuously hide in bomb shelters until an all-clear is announced. The film does a great job of showing the audience what it was really like to live in a war-torn city.

The bomb was dropped, and the impact was instantaneous. Hundreds of thousands of people were killed, buildings and land were destroyed, and there was smoke, ash, and fire everywhere. The visuals in the film do not hold back in illustrating the calamity that followed the bombing of the city of Hiroshima. We are offered several minutes of a sequence that shows the broad range of victims of the attack, creating a moment of realization that no groups were spared.

Throughout the film, we see the survivors trying to cope with what has happened to them, their friends and family, and those around them, while simultaneously trying to learn how to survive in such harsh conditions. The story emphasizes the ways in which war affects everyday people. A lot of times, when we hear about tragic things that happen, whether it be wars or bombings, it is easy to dissociate from those events, not focusing on the way that it affects the individual, and instead focusing on what it means globally and politically.

The film also features scientific background information that plays over some of the scenes, painting a horrifying picture of the facts that we've heard time and time again but never really thought deeply about. Watching people die from drinking the water, not knowing that it had radioactive substances in it, was heart-wrenching. It showed how soldiers treated the bodies of the victims, as if they were never alive, which was disturbing to watch.

The story of Gen and his family is heart-wrenching. Gen tries his best to take care of his family, both before and after the bombing. One scene that was incredibly saddening was when the bomb first hit, and we watched people melt away and shrivel to dust. The film also portrayed the survivors of the bombing as zombies, which was very disturbing. The fact that Gen's baby sister did end up dying made everything so much sadder.

Barefoot Gen is a very important piece of history that shows us how destructive and devastating war can be, and how it affects innocent people. It serves as a reminder to be grateful for what we have and to never take it for granted. Although it was a difficult watch, I think it is important to watch things like this to really understand that casualty statistics are more than just numbers; they account for the individual life, with dreams and hopes, of a human being.

[an0nymous12735]

BNHA x Poc! Reader

Ok so this is the first writing i've posted and it was done from a request i found on tumblr that another author had politely declined.I don't remember who requested it cause i copy/pasted it instead of screenshotting it cause i'm just soooooo smart like that but i thought it was interesting and its two of my favorite pieces of fiction so i thought i’d write something based on this request. So to the person that requested this, I hope you end up seeing this and I hope you enjoy it!! 

This is also posted on my Quotev Account @Honeybeewritesstories AND this is split up into multiple different parts for each character!!!!!!

ALSO, IMPORTANT TO NOTE THAT ALTHOUGH I AM A PERSON OF COLOR, I’M NOT BLACK SO I DON’T KNOW THE EXACT PERSPECTIVE OF A BLACK PERSON ON THIS TOPIC. THEREFORE, IT WILL BE WRITTEN A LITTLE MORE BASED ON MY EXPERIENCES WITH RACISM!!!

Even in an age where everyone looked different, where people looked less than human and more like animals and other unknown creatures. There was still the same prejudice and hatred for those of color that there had been from centuries ago. You had been an exchange student from the US and transferred to UA. SInce moving you hadn’t had to worry as much about racists meddling with you and trying to bring you harm, but the threat was still there. It just wasn’t as obvious. So you kept it on the down low, not bringing the cruel treatment to light with those around you. It wasn’t until you had kids of your own that you realized that this wasn’t something to keep to yourself. Sure you knew that you’d have to have the talk with them eventually it was practically mandatory in order to try and keep your children alive. You just wished you didn’t have to do it, that you didn’t have to worry about your kids getting killed on the street because of the color of their skin. Despite that, here you sat at your dining room table with your son and daughter on each side of you, preparing them for their inevitable future, just as your own father had done before you. 

Deku:

Deku had been taking a much needed nap on his day off from work. He had strained himself the previous day keeping a building from crushing bystanders in a villain attack and it caused him to be extremely sore. You being the loving partner that you were had offered to stay with the kids. To which he had been eternally grateful, but he wasn’t expecting to hear your somber voice as he drowsily made his way down the hallway to the kitchen to get something to eat. He peered into the dining room and saw you and your two kids sitting in silence at the dining room table. Having missed the first part of what you said he had been confused, especially since he could feel the tension in the air. Just as he was about to make himself known you had started talking once again, taking a deep breath you began to cast eyes down at the table before looking between the two green haired children in front of you.

“Now, when it happens don’t act mad. You gotta look calm. Answer their questions but don’t tell them nothin’ extra”. Midoriya stood there confused at your words. To him it had sounded like you were telling your children something about heroes and how to act around villains. It made sense considering you both were pro heroes, but as you kept talking he realized the topic was much sadder and much more sinister than he was expecting. 

“You drop something’ you leave that shit where it’s at… Now, one day y’all are gonna be with me, and you best bet that we’re gonna get pulled over. That doesn't mean I did something wrong. Maybe I just made a mistake driving or maybe I didn’t do anything at all” Izuku continued, staring in confusion. Why would you be talking to your kids about getting pulled over? He didn’t understand why you were telling them about this until he saw you place your hands down on the table palms down… and then he remembered. It had happened only once, back when you both were in highschool. Izuku had just gotten his license and had taken you out for a drive. Despite his usual intelligence he had gotten too excited and was driving above the speed limit. As expected you both got pulled over. He recalled seeing your eyes widen in fear and your breathing quicken as he pulled to a stop in front of the patrol car. Your long locs whipping around as you turned to look through the back window at the approaching officer. Although Izuku was scared himself he had been more confused by your behavior than the possibility of getting a ticket. In an attempt to calm you he had tried to hold your hand only for you to slap it away and place your hands palms down on the dashboard, urging him to do the same. After the encounter Izuku had made a point to ask you about your sudden nervousness and reaction to the police officer. However, the only response he had gotten was that it was “ something you were taught to do around the police when you were a kid”. It finally dawned on him what you meant nearly 15 years later now that you were teaching the same things to your own kids. 

“You're gonna see me with my hands like this. On the dashboard. Come on now” You had stated firmly, getting your kids to do the same. “Now, you keep your hands posted. Because moving makes the police nervous.” As you stopped to take a deep breath Izuku could feel himself tearing up at the sight. He knew you were adamant about black people and people of color being treated fairly and with justice. But he didn’t know that in order to just survive what to him would be a civil interaction with someone of authority you had to change your entire person. He didn’t want his family to have to deal with this type of discrimination let alone anyone else. Despite him wanting to rush in and engulf you all in a huge hug he stayed put, his breathing labored as he held back tears, and let you finish your speech. 

“If i’m not with you then you ask for me. It can get really dangerous so don’t argue with them… but keep your hands where they can see them and announce your movements when you gotta do something. This is how you're gonna act ok?” You waited in silence as your two kids nodded after looking at one another. Your own breathing had begun to stutter but you continued to hold yourself high and some would even say in a stoic manner. Izuku had taken in the faces of each of you, seeing the uncertainty and fear in your children's eyes and your own tense posture. Deciding enough was enough he made his way in the room and stood behind you placing his hands on your shoulders and kissing your head. Glancing up at him you smiled and kissed him before looking back towards the tense 9 and 10 year olds in front of you. Their palms still face down on the table. Reaching back you grabbed your loving husbands hand that resided on your shoulder and continued your speech. 

“Now, just because we gotta deal with this mess…” you sighed heavily and squeezed Izuku's hand for support. “Don’t you ever forget that being black is an honor, cause you come from greatness. This Black Panther Ten-point program is our own Bill of Rights understood?” Unknowing of what you were talking about, Izuku squeezed your shoulder once more, a silent signal of his confusion. Ignoring him, opting to hand him a paper you had given the kids with the ten-point program listed out you continued once more. “Now I want you to learn it, cause I'm gonna quiz y'all on it, understood?...Know your rights, know your worth” Izuku had given a sad smile to your kids before taking your hand and pulling you to your shared bedroom. Quickly shutting the door before wrapping his arms around you and sobbing. 

“Izu honey what’s wrong?” you had asked, holding him tightly rubbing his back as he cried into your shoulder. 

“I- I’m so sorry that you have to do that, You and the kids shouldn’t be forced to do that in order to survive… I knew police brutality was a thing and that prejudice against black people existed but i’ve never had to see it up close or see what goes into you just having to stay alive” He said stuttering as he ran his hands through your locs, which had gotten considerably longer since highschool. You didn’t know what to say to help him process his feelings, so you stayed quiet and instead pulled him to your bed and laid down with him. Running your hands through his fluffy green hair, grazing over his undercut and trailing down his back in a soft comforting motion. Lulling him to sleep once more. 

[gukyi]

forever and a night | jjk

⇒ summary: the werewolf in the forest isn’t dangerous, you told them, he’s just a boy with beautiful eyes and a heart of gold.

⇒ werewolf!au

⇒ pairing: jungkook x female reader

⇒ word count: 7k (whoops)

⇒ genre: fluff, angst

⇒ warning: graphic depictions of violence, death

⇒ a/n: to the anon that didn’t want angst: i’m sorry!

part 2 of my fear is forever series. sequel to fear in your eyes. 

It’s as if the breath gets sucked out of your lungs all at once, leaving you empty and weak, because that’s how you feel under his piercing gaze, those dark eyes suddenly a lot more frightening than they appeared five minutes ago. Scared, that’s what you are. Scared, alone, and good as dead.

“It’s true?” You somehow manage to utter out, your mouth likely working on autopilot at this point, brain still frazzled. “What they say is true?”

“She speaks,” Jungkook muses, voice honeyed, letting those lips of his curl upwards into a smile. He looks like he’s waiting for the realization to hit you, letting the thought sink in and the dust settle before he pounces, bites.

“You’re a werewolf?” You ask, and you don’t need him to confirm before you’re wrestling your wrist from his hold, tugging free and holding up that stick in your other hand out in front of you, guarding yourself.

“Ding ding,” Jungkook says, and—as if you need any more proof other than the way he seems to growl with every word he utters—he flashes you a grin, and you get a very good look at those teeth of his, sharp and canine and stained red. “It’s a shame you had to find out this way, but you did want the truth. Happy?”

“Less so,” you tentatively speak, slowly stepping backwards, each movement bringing you closer to the forest edge, the clearing that leads to your cottage, safe and warm. But Jungkook knows what you’re doing, smirks with every step you take, and doesn’t hesitate to move towards you every time you inch further from him. He’s played this game before. How many other innocent lives has he taken?

“Now, unfortunately for you, our brief exchange ends here,” he says, cracking his neck and his knuckles, preparing for something (likely your demise). Perhaps, if he’s feeling generous, he won’t string it out, torture you slowly as the life is sucked out of you. Maybe it’ll be quick, like you’d always hoped your death would be. Faster than the blink of an eye. “But even though you’ll forget me, I won’t forget you.”

“Don’t come any closer,” you order, and your voice wavers but you stand tall, holding out the sharper end of the stick right at his throat. “I’m not afraid of you.”

“Well,” Jungkook says, emitting a hum of surprise, “that’ll be a first. I’m impressed with you, dearie. You’re not like the other ones.”

“Because I won’t bend to your every beck and call?” You ask, scoffing a little.

“No,” Jungkook says, moving closer. He lets that end of the stick press into the skin of his neck, ever so close to rupturing his trachea. “You aren’t scared.” With that, he grabs the middle of the stick roughly, snapping it in half and letting it drop to the forest floor, scaring the wits right out of you. You jump at the action, shocked by his sheer strength as you stand, defenseless against him. Well, so much for that. You’re half-prepared for death to welcome you with open arms, the Grim Reaper practically staring you down, when he opens his mouth ever so slightly, baring those teeth of his. “Run,” he growls, and you don’t think twice before you drop the other end of the stick and dash, leaving him far behind.

You’re out of breath by the time you reach the clearing, panting and heaving as you place your hands on your thighs, leaning over to catch the air that has left your lungs. A quick glance behind you tells you that Jungkook hasn’t followed you to the forest edge, though that isn’t to say he’s not lurking in the shadows, waiting for you to be caught off guard so he can attack. Better move now than later. Even though you feel like you’ll collapse if you take another step, you keep running, all the way until you’re securely in the comfort of your room, doors locked and windows bolted.

The night comes rushing back to you all at once, making you nearly topple over onto the hardwood floor of your bedroom. You drop to the ground almost instantly, still sufficiently shaken by the events, letting the whirling in your brain steadily come to a halt before you regain your senses. The way the memories flood back is similar to the way you imagine a life flashes before someone’s eyes, when they’re on the brink of death and look back at everything they’ve done throughout their measly time on Earth. The image of the moon, the peaceful forest, then the sound of a twig snapping. Jungkook’s face, flirty, smug, and secretive, drawing you in like he’s probably done with other unsuspecting girls in that forest. The feeling of him whispering against your ear like he’s murmuring sweet nothings, dirty talk. His teeth, and how deep the color of the blood that tints them is. His voice, enticing and tempting and frightening, terrifying.

It’s, frankly, alarming how easy it is to fall into the trap he sets. Like he’s done this before. A thousand times. There were always rumors of a werewolf in the forest behind your cottage, but there was never any reason for you to believe them. Until now, when you’re panting on the floor of your cottage, having just narrowly escaped death from the hands—or should you say, paws—of the beast himself. When you thought of werewolf, you thought of a monster, disfigured and emotionless, one that isn’t human, can’t distinguish between want and need, acts upon its desires. Instead, you got exactly the opposite, a beautiful human, with a charming smile and attractive looks, but a devil behind that grin of his. You don’t know which is worse, but you’re leaning towards the latter.

The townspeople were right, you suppose. Imagine how they will react to the fact that you lived to reveal your encounter with the werewolf. Imagine how they will worry, fear for you, fear that he will strike again. Imagine how they will revere you, the person who finally lived. The one who will bring him down.

It’s past one in the morning when you finally climb into bed, dreaming of nothing except pearly whites stained with scarlet.

The next morning is disorienting, to say the least. You wake up with your head in a daze, still reeling, mind half-convinced that what happened last night was nothing but a nightmare, a figment of your imagination. But the way your windows are screwed tightly shut, even on a warm night like last’s, and how there are faint scratches on your wrist from where he held onto it proves otherwise. You topple out of bed, having seemingly lost all awareness of your movements.

Strangely enough, there’s something in the corner of your mind that’s telling you to go back, see him again, but why on Earth would you?

You eventually head out to the marketplace, needing subsistence for breakfast since your refrigerator is sufficiently lacking in all things food. On your journey, you’re always tossing your head behind you, seeing if perhaps Jungkook is still following you, tracking your every move to decipher the perfect time to pounce, but the coast is clear, and perhaps you’re just a bit on edge.

The townspeople seem to take notice of your stupefied expression, the way you’re practically tumbling over with each step as you browse around for some fruit.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” They ask you, hand placed gently on your upper arm, as if they’re steadying you. “You seem sick.”

“I’m fine,” you insist, picking up an apple and holding it out, signifying that you’d like to purchase it. “Really, just had a rough night last night.”

“Oh,” the lady says, looking sympathetic. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you insist.

A young boy—not older than ten, it seems—gasps, making his mother stop in the middle of the marketplace, right next to you. “Maybe she saw the werewolf.”

Murmurs erupt throughout the building as the words set in, everyone around you finding the werewolf a very plausible explanation for your behavior. But even though you saw him, you don’t know if you want to reveal that to them.

“She’d be dead if she did,” an older man grumbles. “No one sees the werewolf and lives.”

Maybe you should tell them that there’s a werewolf, if you’re breathing evidence that you can, in fact, have a hearty (albeit nerve-wracking) conversation with the werewolf and survive. Maybe they will stop being so frightened, stop whispering about you behind your back every time you step outside the confines of your home.

“I did,” you say before you can stop yourself, and there are melodramatic screams that sound throughout the marketplace. “He’s there.”

“And you’re-you’re alive?” The fruit shopkeeper asks, eyes wide. “Did he do something to you? Bite you? Will you hurt us?”

“I’m perfectly fine,” you insist as everyone backs away from you, the mother pulling her son closer to her torso. You hold out your arms. “See, no marks. I am werewolf-free.”

“Is she lying?” the little boy whispers.

“Wouldn’t you all have heard me if I was bitten? Hear my screams, my cries?,” you ask, reminding them that this is a small town, after all. Surely, if they can hear a wolf howling from that forest of yours, they would have heard your shrieks.

“She’s got a point,” an older woman says, and she’s the revered elder in the town, the one people come to for advice. When she sides with you, everyone else seems to calm down slightly.

“See? The werewolf means no harm. I’m okay,” you insist. “Don’t worry.” With that, you pay for your apple and keep walking, like nothing’s changed, picking up groceries as if it’s another casual day.

You almost don’t go back to the forest. Almost.

Why should you, if the last time you did had you on your knees, knocking on Death’s door? What’s the appeal of the forest when there’s a werewolf lurking among the leaves, one that found you excellent prey? Do you really want to tempt fate again?

But it’s the middle of the day. It’s the middle of the day and there isn’t a cloud in the sky, and if you look into the forest from the right angle you can see the opposite end of it. There’s nowhere to hide in a forest like that at this hour. He even said he doesn’t normally come out during the daytime.

If worse comes to worst, you’ll bolt. Scramble out of the woods as fast as you can, because the daytime gives you the advantage of light, of being seen. Why should a werewolf keep you from lounging the forest like you always had before? If he had seen you before last night, you’d already be dead.

The pros outweigh the cons and the positive experiences greatly outnumber the negative ones, and by the time you decide that there’s no point in staying away, you’re already out the back door, slowly creeping up to the forest. It looks the same as it always has, peaceful, quiet, serene. Like it doesn’t hide a killer in the branches, a safe haven for you and your thoughts. The first step you take onto the forest grounds spells out no danger, the birds are chirping, flowers growing, leaves rustling. You’re hesitant, sure, but the forest feels the same as it always has.

It’s good to get away and clear your mind for a bit, even if the very thing you’re trying to forget resides within the confines of the woods, but daytime is your first security measure, and hopefully your only one.

Even like this the forest is beautiful. It’s always been, when you think about it, and that must be one of the reasons why you keep returning. There’s something mystical, enchanting about a forest like this, the way the fog sometimes lingers for a little bit near the treetops, how the dew glimmers on the blades of grass in the early morning. The woodland creatures that seem to acknowledge your constant presence, go about their lives like you’re not even there because they know you won’t disturb them. The wildflowers that grow in the patches of the grass, little white and yellow ones that dot the landscape. It’s astounding that the townspeople don’t see beauty like this, in its natural form rather than the construction of manmade prettiness of today’s society. It’s amazing that they can’t take things for what they are. Even with a werewolf looming amongst the leaves, sometimes beauty is worth the fear.

“I didn’t think you’d come back.”

You whip your head around to see him leaning against the trunk of one of the larger trees in the forest, a sturdy oak that’s likely lived there longer than your entire town. He’s got a hand stuffed into one of the pockets of his dirtied old jeans, a devious grin to his face. There’s no stick to save you now, but you have a feeling that Jungkook won’t attack today. At least, not right now. Even so, you hold your hands up to protect your face.

“Just because you’re here doesn’t mean I should stop coming to my forest,” you say.

Jungkook smirks, staggering over to you, footsteps heavy and threatening. “Aren’t you afraid?” He mutters quietly. “Afraid I’ll hurt you? Bite you? Kill you?” He asks, placing a surprisingly soft hand around your wrist and lowering it.

“If you say you’ve lived here as long as I assume you have, then you would have already done it by now,” you declare, and even though he’s got a grip on your wrist you won’t allow yourself to falter under his gaze. “I know you’ve seen me when I walk.”

“Smart and fearless,” Jungkook comments, letting your wrist go as he leans back on his heels. Almost immediately, you bring your hand back up. “I’ve never met a girl like you before.”

“And how many girls have you had the pleasure of speaking to before you rip them to shreds, hmm?” You ask, a single eyebrow raised. You expect him to say some sort of sleazy response, something like “a couple, but they weren’t nearly as pretty as you”, a shitty half-assed compliment that you could get from a drunk boy at a bar.

“None, actually,” he tells you, and it makes your guard waver a little bit, that comment does.

“Liar.”

“Werewolves don’t eat humans,” he continues. “They bite them if they’re desperate, but biting a human is like taking a drag of a cigarette. Able to stave off hunger temporarily, but never enough to satisfy it entirely. Not worth it, in my opinion. Not with all of the other animals for me to eat in this forest.”

You’re rendered speechless, mouth wide with some snarky retort on the tip of your tongue, but nothing comes out. Instead, you close and open your mouth like a damn fish before finally stuttering out, “You don’t?”

Jungkook chuckles at your reaction. “Bet you didn’t think that, did you?” He asks, walking circles around you. “Small town girl with big dreams, hung up on stereotypes without actually finding the truth for herself. You think I don’t know why you people are scared of me? Think I don’t know what you think of me?”

“I—”

“You think you’re so smart, different from the rest of your town,” Jungkook says, gesticulating wildly, “but you’re not. Just because you get teased for living near the werewolf doesn’t make you any different than them. What’d you think when I spoke to you last night? Thought I was gonna murder you, bite the flesh right off of your body. You thought that I’d killed people from your town ever since you were born. That’s what you thought,” he tells you, pointing an accusing finger at your chest, “because you never once bothered to step into my shoes.”

To say that Jungkook has left you a little taken aback would be a massive understatement. He’s got you pressed up against a tree trunk, unable to mutter out some sort of defensive statement, mind reeling.

“Looks like I finally got the fearless girl scared,” Jungkook comments to himself, humming softly as he backs away from you. “What are you gonna do now, hmm?”

“I’m not scared,” you say, finally gathering up some of your resolve.

“Not?”

“No,” you declare, fixing your posture to stand tall. “You don’t harm humans. Why should I be?”

“I don’t know, I thought the dent in your ego might leave a mark,” he jokes. “People are normally frightened of me.”

“Well,” you say, and this time you’re the one to step towards him, “if you can prove to me otherwise, then what’s stopping you?”

For the first time since you’ve met him, Jungkook smiles, not cockily, not smugly, not devilishly, he just grins, those canines of his showing amongst his pearly whites. He smiles, and he looks just like a boy, instead of a beast.

You never thought you’d meet someone who knows the forest better than you do, but there’s a first time for everything. Maybe you’ve visited the forest almost daily your entire life, but Jungkook’s lived it, breathed it, known it. He’s found places you’d never imagined would be hiding out in this forest of yours, secret rivers and underground caves and wildflower clearings.

“What’s your name, Forest Girl?” He asks as you stroll through the woods together. “In all the time we’ve spent together, I don’t think I’ve ever gotten it.”

“Y/N,” you tell him.

“Y/N,” he repeats, letting your name roll of his tongue. “A pretty name for a pretty girl.”

It’s dizzying, seeing him in his element like this. The sun reflects caramel streaks in his dark brown eyes, and magic isn’t real but he certainly is. Werewolves were supposed to be murderous creatures, dark and demonic and deadly, but Jungkook is beautiful and strange and wonderful. He leads you through the woods with his hand wrapped loosely around your wrist, traipsing through the fallen branches and grass, smile ever present on his face.

“I didn’t even know this was here,” you admit as he takes you to a tiny little creek near the forest edge, one that empties into a watering hole not far from where you’re standing.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” He asks, letting go of your wrist as he settles on a rock nearby. “I like sitting here, listening to the moving water.”

“It’s so quiet,” you say, staring down into the creek, peering at your reflection in the water, watching it warp with the current. “How can you hear it?”

“The forest is quiet,” Jungkook says softly, “when no one visits it.”

His words make you wonder, how long has it been like this? How long has he been alone in these woods, feared by people who don’t even know he exists? You speak up. “I do.”

“I know.”

“Have you seen me?”

“Silhouettes, yes,” Jungkook says, cracking a small smile. “I see glimpses of you, sometimes. A bit of your hair, the edge those Converse sneakers that you always wear when you walk around here. Your shadow against the forest floor, but never you.”

“And you didn’t say anything?”

“I didn’t really think you’d, um, be very open to speaking to a werewolf alone in a forest,” Jungkook says, chuckling awkwardly to himself. He’s reached a hand to the nape of his neck, scratching it like a nervous schoolboy. “And I was right.”

“You try getting jumpscared by someone in a forest at midnight,” you say. “I’m speaking to you now, you know. Alone in a forest, too.”

“And how’s it working out for you?”

You shrug, like you’re genuinely trying to come up with an answer. “I’d say not bad.”

Eventually, you let yourself settle down on the rock alongside Jungkook, swinging your legs up and down in front of you as you both watch the creek, minds somehow buzzing and empty at the same time.

Your visits to the forest have become even more exciting, now that you know Jungkook will be waiting for you at the entrance near your cottage, ready to guide you through the woods like you’ve never seen it before, a new world to discover. There’s something about him that keeps drawing you back, to the point where you’re meeting up with him amongst the rustle of the leaves daily, always making time to spend even as little as an hour together, playing in the leaves.

It makes you feel like a child, nonetheless, the way you traipse through the forest like you own it, even if you have yet to explore it. Jungkook brings a wonder back to the woods that you thought you had long outgrown, and it’s refreshing and nostalgic and charming all at once.

It’s mid-afternoon when you visit him this time, locking your back door with a click to see him standing lazily against a tree at the forest entrance, watching you from above with a fond grin on his face. He’s started to come greet you recently, waiting at the forest edge for the sound of you leaving that little cottage of yours, the metal snap of your door locking as you close it. You send him a wave, and he pulls his hand out of the pockets of those terribly worn jeans to wave back. You meet him at the tree he leans against, rocking back and forth on your toes.

“Hello again,” you say. “What do you have planned for us today?”

“I don’t have anything to show you today, but we can go wherever you want,” Jungkook says, holding out his hand for you to take. It’s become a common occurrence, really, for you to interlock fingers in a totally (alright, mostly) non-romantic way as you scamper through the forest. “So, your call.”

“Are you sure you don’t have anything to show me?” You ask, pouting. It’s always an adventure when Jungkook’s got a place to take you, a hidden nook or cranny of the forest you’ve never seen before. You poke his chest, “A waterfall?” Another poke on his arm, “A treetop?” A final one on the tip of his nose, making him scrunch it up ever so slightly. “A bird’s nest?”

Jungkook giggles at your touch, the simple action knocking that barrier of tough-werewolf-boy right down. “Alright, I might have one final place to show you.”

“Only one?” You ask. “What’s happened to our journeys? Our forest travels?”

“Don’t push it, this place is special to me,” Jungkook chides, grabbing ahold of your hand and tugging you along.

He leads through a path in the forest that you’ve never noticed before, one that ends right before a clearing littered with purple and blue wildflowers. The sight makes your breath catch in your throat as Jungkook stops right in front of it, letting your interlocked hands linger by your sides. How can so much beauty be right under your nose without you even aware of it?

“I didn’t even know this was here,” you say, practically speechless as you let go of his hand to wander through the tall grass, letting your fingers gloss over each flower that rests in your path. “How long has it been here?” You ask, turning back to Jungkook with awe lacing your features.

He’s watching you with something akin to fondness, amazement, perhaps, eyes soft and lips pink. “I discovered it a couple of years ago,” he tells you, joining up with your footsteps. “It’s my favorite place in this forest.”

“It’s beautiful,” you murmur, letting your eyes jump from petal to petal.

“It is, isn’t it?” He hums in response. “I’ve never really… shown people this place before. You’re the first one.”

“I’m the first for a lot of things in this forest, aren’t I?” You muse, looking at him. “I’m honored.”

Jungkook sighs, settling down in a patch of grass. “I’d show you the world if I could.”

You both end up lying on your backs amongst the flowers, letting their stems reach over your heads and dance in the breeze.

“What does your wolf look like?” You wonder aloud. “I’ve never seen it.”

“Do you want to?” Jungkook asks, sitting up straight and looking down at you, his bangs flowing in the breeze.

“Can you change at will?” You ask excitedly, eyebrows raised.

Jungkook nods enthusiastically, pushing himself off of the grass and dusting off the dirt that’s settled on his shirt. You allow yourself to sit up to watch the transformation, leaning back on your hands as your palms dig into the forest floor.

“Ready?” Jungkook asks, and you nod, waiting. Jungkook gets on his hands and knees in front of you, and before your eyes, he turns into a wolf. The boy you had known is gone, and in his place is a majestic creature, dark chocolate fur coat that flutters in the wind. You almost wouldn’t recognize him, if you saw him like this, if it weren’t for the gleam in his eyes, the same one that permanently resides in his human form, like he’s got magic in the palm of his hand.

You know Jungkook can’t talk in this form, restricted to barks and growls and hums of appreciation, but he can hear you. “You’re beautiful,” you whisper, reaching over to pet his fur.

Jungkook’s ears flatten at the words, and it must mean that he’s flattered, because pretty soon you’ve got him rolling around in the dirt as you rub his stomach. Wolves are just big dogs, really. Big dogs with pretty eyes.

“Can you do tricks?”

Jungkook growls.

“Alright, no tricks. What can you do as a werewolf, then?” You ask, an eyebrow raised in curiosity.

It’s a poor choice of question, because without another moment to spare Jungkook is playfully pouncing on you, knocking you to the forest floor with a gasp as he pretends to tackle you, biting down on the hem of your dress as you giggle, shrieking about how “It tickles! Jungkook, it tickles!” You’re beside yourself with laughter, and when Jungkook thinks enough damage is done, he shifts back into human form, towering above you with a mischievous grin on his face. There’s a solid tear out of the bottom of your dress, a good chunk torn off and discarded on the grass from when he bite into it.

The position sucks the breath right from your lungs as you take in how close the both of your bodies are to each other, his eyes right above yours as he hovers over you, hands placed on either side of your arms. He looks at a bit of a loss for words as well, mouth slightly open with a retort likely resting on the tip of his tongue, but nothing comes out as he climbs off of you.

“Look at what you did!” You exclaim, grabbing onto the fabric from your dress and holding it out in front of you. “I liked this dress.”

“My bad,” Jungkook says, clearly not sorry. “I didn’t know your dress was so fragile.”

“Asshole,” you mutter, but you don’t really mind about the dress, not as he settles down next to you with a quiet sigh, clearly tired, and certainly not as you take the plunge and move your head to fit in the crook of his neck, watching the clouds above.

You make it back to your cottage before the night is in full swing, thank God, because you need to drop by the marketplace before it shuts down for the day. Jungkook bids you goodbye at the forest edge, because every time you try to convince him to join you for dinner he declines, telling you that the forest is the only place he should be. Today, the adventure ends with a soft smile that lingers on his lips, one that you feel like you should kiss right off, but you restrain yourself, only allowing a light peck on his cheek that has it blooming red once you pull away with a toothy grin.

“See you again tomorrow?” You ask, already knowing the answer.

“Tomorrow, right here, like we always do,” he confirms, and with that you wave goodbye, walking down the hill towards the back door of your cottage, turning around every now and then to see Jungkook’s eyes still following you home.

You manage to drop into the marketplace in the last fifteen minutes that it’s open, just in the nick of time for you to pick up a couple of things. The townspeople have treated you differently ever since you revealed that you had seen the werewolf several weeks ago, like they don’t trust the fact that you came back unharmed and unchanged, like you’re hiding something beneath the innocent exterior you give off. Like you’ll bite them one day. But they have no proof of that, no proof that you’ll do anything to harm them, and so they are forced to serve you the same as they always have.

“Have you been okay recently, Y/N?” One of the shopkeepers ask you as you approach their table, eyeing the vegetables in baskets placed on top.

“Me? Yes, why?” You ask mindlessly.

“Your dress is horribly ripped.”

You look down at your clothes, only remembering then that you had forgotten to change when you got back to your house after being with Jungkook. The tear is pretty horrifically noticeable, you realize, a huge chunk torn from the fabric without a neat edge in sight.

“Oh, this old thing? Yeah, I got it caught on something earlier,” you fib, not wanting to cause a commotion.

“Awfully big for it to just get caught on something,” another person chimes in from across the way, making you whip your head around and sneer. “Looks like something took a huge bite right out of it.”

You already know what everyone’s thinking.

“Like the werewolf,” the resident Old Man says.

“You’ve seen him, haven’t you? He’s real?” The shopkeeper asks.

“Well, yes, but he means no harm,” you insist.

“Did he do that to you? Bite your dress? Rip it apart?” A woman asks, approaching you carefully and placing a hand on your shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you say, pulling yourself away from her touch. “He didn’t do anything to me. Things just, fall apart, I guess,” you say, holding up the skirt of your dress where it’s torn. Suddenly, you don’t really need vegetables anymore. “The werewolf means no harm,” you repeat, backing out of the marketplace oddly faster than you originally thought you would. “I’m fine.”

The next day, you meet Jungkook earlier than you normally do, the sun not even completely up in the sky when you leave the little white cottage. He’s waiting there, nonetheless, like he just knew you’d be coming around soon. Werewolf powers, you suppose.

He waves wildly from where he’s standing at the forest edge, like you don’t already see him crystal clear, but you greet him back anyway, scurrying up to him quicker than usual.

“Hey there, stranger,” Jungkook jokes.

“Hi, Jungkook,” you respond. “You’re here early.”

“You’re the highlight of my day,” he says, and he doesn’t say it like he’s flirting, teasing you. He says it because he means it, and makes your heart skip a beat (or two, or ten).

“Can we go back to that clearing?” You ask him, and even though there’s several clearings in this forest of yours, you both know which one you’re talking about. “I loved it.”

“Anything you want,” he muses, taking your hand like it’s a natural thing to do and taking you there.

The flowers look different in the morning light. Less vibrant, less bright, like they did mid-afternoon when he first showed them to you. No, in the morning light, when the sun is peeking through the tree branches rather than shining right above them, they’re a softer color. The white in them, bleeding through the blues and the purples, it’s more visible at this time, letting them give off a pastel color reminiscent of spring. It’s a break from the muggy weather of the end of summer that it is right now, and for some reason, walking into that clearing makes you think it’s spring to begin with.

“What do you want to do here?” He asks, reaching down to pluck a dying flower from its stem. He snaps it off right near the tip and looks towards you, placing it above your ear.

“I don’t know,” you admit sheepishly, feeling your face heat up from the simple interaction. “I just wanted to come here.”

“Geez, you sound like me,” he jokes. “I love it here.”

“I love it here, too.”

“Well, what should we do the pass the time until you have to be off?”

“Is there an activity you had in mind?” You ask, letting go of his hand and beginning to slowly make your way through the garden. “Because I just like talking, to be honest.”

“Talking it is.”

And so, you settle down in that same patch of only grass in the middle of the flower garden, and you talk. Jungkook is easily one of the most enjoyable friends you’ve ever had, and the feeling of being near him, with him, is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. It’s frighteningly new, but you like it.

“I’m sorry I thought you ate humans,” you tell him, staring up at the clouds and making shapes with them in your mind.

“It’s okay,” Jungkook says, chuckling. Clearly, he’s not too bothered by it anymore, but you still feel bad. “You didn’t know any better.”

“But I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions,” you say. “You were right, I shouldn’t have assumed thing so quickly just because that’s what other people say.”

“If I were you, I would have been scared too,” Jungkook admits. “No big. I mean, you’re still here, aren’t you?”

You turn to look at him, and he’s got his eyes wide open with an innocent smile dancing across his lips, like it doesn’t matter how you first met, because first impressions aren’t always the only ones. Certainly not in this scenario, especially. And once again, he’s right. The boy’s wise beyond his years, years of solitude in this beautiful forest making him knowledgeable and intelligent.

“I guess I am.”

“Tell me something about you, then,” Jungkook says, changing the topic. “You’re always asking for my life story. What have you got to say about yourself?”

“I love this forest,” you breathe out, and the sentence makes Jungkook laugh.

“I already knew that,” he says, swatting you playfully. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“I love this forest,” you repeat. “I grew up in it, like you did, because I didn’t have many friends and thought that this was my only escape. This forest is as peaceful as it is welcoming.”

“You really love this place, don’t you?” He asks. “You’ve got some sort of bond with it.”

“I want to be buried in this forest,” you admit. “I want it to be my first and last home.”

“It’ll be mine,” Jungkook jokes.

“That reminds me,” you say, the thought popping into your head. “Why don’t you leave the forest? You never want to come to my house for dinner.”

“I’m bound to it,” Jungkook says. “I can’t leave it, the forest won’t let me.”

“You’re bound to it?” You ask, sitting up and looking at him in shock. “You’re stuck here?”

“You make that sound like it’s a bad thing,” Jungkook says, laughing as he grabs the flower that fell from your ear when you shot up, putting it back in its rightful place when he sits up next to you. “It’s not. I was born here, and I’ll die here. Wolves have a stronger sense of home that humans do. They can’t just move from place to place like them. This place is my home, and I’ll stay here for as long as I live.”

“But don’t you want to see the world?”

“Why would I need to see the world when you’re right in front of me?”

Your eyes widen when he says that, but he doesn’t give you any time to say anything before he’s leaning over and pressing his lips firmly against yours, making you squeak out a noise of surprise before melting into the kiss. Again with the assumptions, but you had pictured kissing a werewolf to be a bit different than kissing a human, but his lips are just as soft and the only thing that’s any different is how your tongue grazes over those canines of his, but it’s hardly noticeable when it mixes with the thumping in your chest and the blood rushing to your brain. Kissing him is like nothing you’ve ever felt before. Kissing him is like magic. Jungkook takes your reaction positively, pressing deeper into the kiss as he opens his mouth ever so slightly, slipping in a little bit of his own tongue before the two of you break apart, heaving.

“I’ve wanted to do that for forever,” Jungkook admits, and his cheeks are flushed a deep red color as he catches his breath.

“Me too,” you tell him.

“You make me feel normal, Y/N,” Jungkook tells you. “I don’t feel like a beast when I’m with you.”

“You’re not a beast, Jungkook,” you tell him, connecting your lips for a brief moment again. It breaks your heart to know that he thinks of himself as a monster. “You’re just a boy.”

Jungkook smiles, and it is as warm and bright as the sun, as all of the stars that light up the night sky. “I love you.”

You hum, resting your forehead against his. “I love you too.”

Somewhere along there, you fall asleep in the grass, head resting on Jungkook’s chest as he softly lulls you to sleep. You don’t know how on earth you managed to take a midday nap, but it’s not much of a midday nap as it is genuine sleep, because when Jungkook violently jolts you away, it’s dark outside.

“Jungkook?” You ask, but you don’t see him anywhere near you. Instead, you catch a glimpse of a furry tail bounding off somewhere, and you quickly scramble up to follow him.

Jungkook’s fast, but his cautiousness slows him down, so you catch up to him with relative ease as he makes his way to the edge of the flower garden.

“Jungkook, what is going—” You ask him, looking down at the wolf before you direct your eyes to where he’s watching a sufficiently angry mob of townspeople, your townspeople, heading right for you. You gasp at the sight of them, a hand coming up to cover your mouth as Jungkook growls beside you. “Jungkook, don’t—”

But it’s too late. Another couple of steps and the townspeople are practically right in front of you, and their weapons glimmer in the light of the moon, silver guns and polished knives in their hands. This is no pitchfork gathering. The townspeople are here for one reason and one reason only, and you have a sinking feeling that you already know what it is. Jungkook’s howling at his point, baring all of his teeth as he shakes with rage.

“Jungkook, please—” You beg, trying to get him to calm down, to see straight, because maybe you can talk them out of it, maybe you can all get home safe and secure, but he won’t listen to you. Not in wolf form. “Please, Jungkook, let me do this. Please,” you say, grabbing onto his muzzle and forcing him to look at you. Even behind all that anger, all that fear, his eyes are still his eyes, Jungkook’s eyes, and so he stays back, still growling, but he doesn’t move.

“What are you doing here?”

“I told you she was a wolf!”

“We’re not here for her, we’re here for him.”

“No, please,” you say, standing up and facing the herd. “He means no harm, I swear. Don’t hurt him.”

“Why shouldn’t we?” One man sneers. “He’s terrorized this town long enough.”

“He hasn’t done a thing,” you insist, guarding Jungkook with your body. “You’re just scared.”

“Scared of him?” Another man asks, like it’s a joke. “We aren’t scared of him. He’s a dog.”

“He’s just a boy,” you plead.

“So? He’s a monster,” the same man goes.

“He’s not a monster,” you say, bewildered that they won’t see what you see, that they won’t hear you out. “He won’t hurt you.”

“Us, huh? What about you?”

“What about me?” You ask defensively.

“You trust him,” another spits. “He’s tricked you, somehow. You’re under his curse.”

“I’m not under a curse,” you declare. “He hasn’t done a thing to me.”

“What about when you came to the marketplace yesterday? With that tear in your dress?”

“I got it caught on something. How dare you accuse him,” You say, repeating what you had said at the marketplace. Clearly, no one believed you.

“He’s dangerous,” the first man hisses. “And we don’t want dangerous things in this town.”

“Don’t do anything to him!” You shout, arms out and guarding Jungkook.

But the man just spits in your face, knocking you down onto the forest floor with the butt of his gun, pushing the air right out of your lungs as you hit the dirt. Without you to reason with him, guard him, Jungkook absolutely fucking loses it at the sight of the men hurting you. He’s jumping on them before you can tell him to stop, to keep calm, roaring and howling as he bites at them. It’s a mistake, and you know it, because Jungkook won’t stand a damn chance against those guns, and even if he gets a couple of them down the rest won’t cease.

“Jungkook, no!” You shout futilely, already knowing he’s jumped into a death trap the second he moved towards them. “Stop! Stop hurting him!”

Bang!

Jungkook flies backwards, hitting the ground with a thud, crushing the beautiful purple and blue flowers that surround the two of you. You scramble over to him, on your hands and knees, and watch him shift into his human form beneath you. It’s only then that you see the wound, a dark red spot right in his abdomen, one you know he won’t recover from. He’s coughing up blood now, letting it tumble out of his mouth and hit the grass next to you.

“Jungkook, are you crazy?” You ask, smiling, like it’ll make everything better. “I told you that I could handle it.”

“I couldn’t stand seeing you hurt,” he says hoarsely, losing his voice with every breath he takes, short and quick. “You don’t deserve that.”

“Look at you, Jungkook,” you say, desperately scrounging around for something to block the bleeding from his stomach, staunch the flow of blood. “You’re hurt.”

“I’ll be fine,” he promises. “I had to protect you.”

“You shouldn’t have,” you say, running your hands through his messy hair. “I can protect myself.”

“Guess I know that now,” he jokes, cracking a final smile, bloody and red, but beautiful nonetheless. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” He asks, and the words make a tear fall from your watery eyes.

“Jungkook, no—”

“I love you,” he whispers, and there’s not enough time, not enough time, not enough time, and his eyes are closing and his breath is stopping and his heart is slowing and all you can do is cry, smiling through your sobs as you drag your fingers through his hair, his body turning cold the second the blood stops moving.

“I love you,” you murmur back.

“You love him.”

You turn around to see one of the men staring at you.

“Is there anything wrong with that?” You ask, looking desperately at the crowd in front of you before switching your eyes to the boy next to you. Even in death, he is gorgeous. “Is there anything wrong with learning to love someone like him?”

“Yes,” the man says, and that’s when you see his gun being raised, pointed straight at your chest. “Everything.”

You had always wanted to be buried in this forest, amongst the purple and blue flowers that change colors throughout the day. Next to the boy you grew to love. Perhaps, you will get your wish.

Bang!

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[iheartlexihoward]

vulnerable (pt 1) // fez

*･゜ﾟ･* summary: fez turns up at your window not wanting to talk about some "fucked up shit" that just happened, and you're the only person he could even think of being with right now.

*･゜ﾟ･* pairing: fez x reader

*･゜ﾟ･* cws: drug addiction, rue being a mess, regular euphoria type shite

this is part 1 of this series! find the rest of the parts in my masterlist

ok so i set out to write a fez blurb that was super chill and like 500 words but i ended up feeling very inspired so now i have an outline for a whole fic ... i thought this was kinda a good place to leave it bc it sets everything up for the characters so pls let me know ur thoughts! i haven't posted my writing in literally about 4 years so this is makin me kinda nervous

also i just came up w the title last minute but now it's making me think of tinashe's vulnerable so... maybe demon time inspired by that song is on the way

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

It was gone midnight when your attention was taken from the soft glow of the TV by the persistent bzz bzz of your phone. From the sounds of it, you’d gotten at least 3 texts. Furrowing your brow, you stretched and grabbed it, tapping the screen to wake the device up.

From: fez :)

Hey

You up?

Some real fucked up shit just happened

Can I come over

To: fez :)

is everything okay??

what happened

and yeah of course, where are you?

From: fez :)

It’s ok now don’t worry

Outside to be honest wit you lol

You shot up and straightened yourself out slightly. It wasn’t like Fez hadn’t seen you in worse states than cozied up in sweats and a white tank top — God, far from it — but somehow, knowing he was right outside your house made you nervous. You made your way over to the window and slightly pulled back the curtain, giving the boy a wave and tight smile when he immediately looked upwards.

You’d met Fez years before. Your little sister was best friends with Lexi Howard, and in turn you’d met Rue through her. Then Fezco through Rue. Although, it wasn’t really for the first time.

It was almost funny how it all went down, really. After Rue’s dad passed, Lexi and your sister were becoming painfully aware of her mounting drug issues; she was high at school, high in front of parents, near passing out in other people’s bathrooms. It hurt your soul to see your baby sister and Lexi, who you’d come to view like one, constantly in tears fretting over if their best friend was going to take it too far.

But what hurt even more was seeing the state in which Rue was. You cared about her. You knew how much fun the three of them had together, hearing them laughing downstairs at a movie long after they should have been asleep or FaceTiming one another after school. Even when they were over doing homework together, you could hear them nonstop giggling and goofing around. They made each other happy, and Rue’s addiction was tearing the dynamic apart. It was tearing Rue apart.

That’s why you made the decision to find out who the fuck was selling her the drugs, walk down there and very sternly tell them they had no choice but to cut her off — that you were the only older figure who knew, and that you weren’t going to take no for an answer.

But of course it was fucking Fezco.

You’d known him for an extremely long time. He was in your grade during elementary and some of middle school, until he seemingly disappeared off the face of the Earth for a little bit. Kids made all sorts of stupid rumors; that he’d moved to Ireland, that he’d died in a tragic car accident, that he’d been removed and sent to some kind of military boarding school. The truth was a lot sadder, and not fully explained to you until years later.

You always knew all of that shit wasn’t true, anyway. Fez was never unpopular, everyone liked him, but he just didn’t associate himself with the hierarchy and politics crap that festered in every school. That’s why you had the courage to speak to him in the first place. You were never technically friends, but you knew him. He was the only person you’d let cheat off of you in History. He was modest, but he had an air of wisdom about him even as a kid. He was smart, too smart for his own good — smart in a way where he couldn’t fully grasp it. And he was so goddamn kind.

It started getting out a few months after Fez left school that he was dealing drugs. You didn’t remember ever being particularly shocked. When you knew him, it always seemed like he wasn’t telling something. You never held it against him, despite the D.A.R.E. programs, despite every adult in your life telling you that drugs were the devil. You knew he must have had his reasons.

You didn’t see him again until the day you strode down to his store, mustering every ounce of confidence and poise you had to give.

Well… technically you had seen him, in the literal sense. You weren’t a recluse — you went to parties, and he’d usually be standing outside or smoking on a couch somewhere. You gave it your utmost to steer clear of him, to keep his current presence in your life a flash of blue eyes or a rumble of his voice from across the room. You didn’t really know why you felt such intense need to avoid him. It was like you wanted to keep him as nothing but an urban legend, memories of the young boy you once knew tucked away.

That’s why it made it all the more difficult.

The second you walked up to the cash desk and he looked up, face hardened from too-young years of doing what he did but with a tenderness so familiar to you, you softened. Every intention of storming up and giving him the telling-off of the century (which, in hindsight, would have looked ridiculous anyway seeing as you were the same age) went flying out the window.

“Hey.” His voice was deeper than you could have imagined from the snippets of conversation you’d heard him in. “What can I get you?”

“Um…” you began, trying to silently compose yourself. “Actually, I don’t need anything from here.”

“Aight… then… what you here for?”

“It’s about Rue.”

He looked down and slightly furrowed his brow, as if he already knew what was coming.

“Listen, I know what she’s been doing,” you continued. “My sister’s friends with her and Lexi. We’re all really fucking worried about her, and I know I’m the only one who’s going to come down here and say anything.”

Fez didn’t respond, just flitted his eyes slowly, avoiding eye contact.

“She’s not my fucking sister or whatever but I think we all know what’s coming, and I don’t want to have to watch it. She means the world to those two, and none of us want to have to see her… you know… like… overdose or some shit.”

He still didn’t say anything, the silence driving you to yammer on anxiously.

“So, yeah… what I’m saying is, I want you to cut her off. Like, for real.”

A beat passed before Fezco spoke. He looked up, scrunching one eye slightly at you. “Didn’t we go to school together?”

“Fez, what the fuck does that have to do with anything?”

He blew air out through his nose, avoiding eye contact once more. “You know my name. So yeah… we did.”

“Fez, you’re like the number one dealer in the fucking area. A lot of people know your name. I’m talking about serious shit right now.”

“I remember you,” he continued, as if you hadn’t said anything. But he wasn’t ignoring you — he’d carefully waited until you were done, taking in your words. “When you came up in here, thought I recognized your face.”

You were visibly almost flabbergasted, the way he listened to your worries yet disregarded them in the same breath getting deep under your skin, earlier fire returning. “Okay?”

He took a deep breath, pulling a pre-rolled joint out and placing it between his lips.

“Listen, man…” Fezco lit up and inhaled deeply. “Thing is with Rue… I care about her too.”

“Then why the hell do you—“ you gestured wildly, Fez cutting you off before you could finish.

“I know she fucks around. But if she doesn’t get her shit from me, she’ll get it from somewhere else… know what I’m sayin’?”

You quieted down, absorbing his words.

“And I know these people. I deal with these people every fuckin’ day. And they not the type of people I want Rue gettin’ her shit from… you understand?”

You swallowed, somewhat embarrassed at your earlier outburst. “Yeah.”

“Listen… I understand you gettin’ upset about it and wantin’ to come talk to me, but I’m just tryna' look out for her. Just like you. These other people… you don’t know what the fuck’s in their shit. I’m not tryna’ watch her die. Just like you.”

Your lungs filled deeply with air. He was right. It seemed so one-track earlier… but then it hit you. Rue was an addict. And if an addict can’t get something from one place, they’ll get it from another. At least with Fezco, they both knew what it was she was getting.

And in that moment, you understood him.

Maybe that’s why you and Fez grew closer over the next couple of years. Mutual understanding. You bonded over your care for Rue initially, but it grew into something different. Not a relationship — neither of you wanted to push any boundaries — but you knew that the connection you shared was special.

You knew the way you’d call each other in the middle of the night, spewing any bullshit excuse to hear each other’s voice, was something else. Or the way you’d get tipsy and latch onto him at parties, pretending you just wanted to smoke and ending up way too high because you couldn’t keep up. Or the way that one time, on one of the latter occasions where you’d tried to out-smoke him and ended up hearing colors, you leaned into him, held his hand and told him he was the prettiest boy you’d ever seen.

He’d just blushed and muttered something along the lines of, ‘you high as fuck right now chill’, but the situation left a warm feeling in your heart and a fluttering in your stomach.

Maybe all of it is why in that moment, where Fezco felt his most vulnerable, you were the only person he wanted to be with.

[rivendellsstuff]

𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ━━━ 𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐈 𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍

𝐀𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮 | ❝In despair, he condemns his desires. Regretted, he know the consequences would be eternal and all he wanted was you. Your fiery personality, bright lips and soft skin.❞

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2310;

Genre: friends to lovers;

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: Mentions of canon-typical violence. The first chapter is set before the events of the first season. Friends with benefits — so, it'll be eventual smut (like, a lot!)

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: English isn't my natives language, so if you spot a misspelled word or anything else, feel free to let me know.

━━━━ 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑

Some men's whish the glory, others crawl like snakes by power and there is those who live like rats in the system. However, there is a exception — and his names is Levi Ackerman. Emerged from the underground, by dust and blood, forged as a weapon at an early age and steeped in pride, he raised as humanity's strongest soldier. He carries a doctrine, imbedded in his bones: he serves to humanity, the balance and the freedom of mankind. If there is a threat, he is the man who can fight against it, ranging from cruel people to evil titans.

He was born in cruel times and did his best to survive in the Underground. He found a glory he wasn't looking for. Something many wish to through their lives, but which, for him, was irrelevant. They all bleed, they all are stuck on the Walls and share the same ended chapter: the death. The final outcome is not defined by possessions, achievements or privileges in life. The only difference was that could get death any easier and painless. Levi was not a hypocrite: he would rather a peaceful death, lying on his bed, instead of being eaten by a titan.

He rather — and is all what it is. It wasn't like if he had any choice. The Ackerman's family were designed to protect the people and to fight. They were cursed with a power. Some people could say it is a miracle in dark times. Others would argue that mans were corrupted, cruel and too ambitious to deal with that awakened power. Well, Levi knows, that no everyone were worthy to possess such ability — Kenny, that asshole, was one of them.

However, there was kind strange situation. An only exception, an affliction that hung over through the heart and maddened his mind: you.

Desire wasn't a word enough to define how he feels close to you, a fearless female warrior, who destroy each barrier he has built over the years, causing delirium with the thought of you hurt. Levi knew he would have taken a checkmate just by desiring you.

But when it all starts? He couldn't say with sure. Maybe, when he, Farlan and Isabel were recruited by the Survey Corps, and you were the only one who spoke to them without undriveable mock and trial. You, besides Erwin, didn't seem to care where they came from. As deeply loyal as you were to your comrades, you didn't depend on your interactions with them for take a direction — you were content to follow your own passions and desires without input from anyone else.

Maybe it started when he saw you in battle or an a argue with a member of Military Police Regiment. Fear is not in yours's vocabulary when you are on the battlefield or when you are speaking her mind to others.

As their partnership grew, he'd find some similarities between you, but also many differences.

You, just like him, has little patience for any form of prose or riddles when you are communicating with others. You speak bluntly and without pretense, and expects others to do the same, prefers to get to the point and doesn’t seek to romanticize your expectations or intentions. You also are focused on the present issues and what role you can play in protecting the people that you love, what can prevent you from seeing the future results of your present actions and, unlike him, does result in some impulsive and risky — yet brave— actions.

All these little things over the years, made him fall in love with you, and Levi had ways to say it without saying "I love you".

Like that night.

He wasn't hiding his disgust face when handed you a cup full of that steaming, black liquid; the simply smelling coffee could make your stomach turn, but still, he prepares a cup for you every night.

As the second in the command, you have spent several evenings together conducting the next advances of the squadron. So, there you are, sitting next to him, eyes focused on the paper, turning the pen between your fingers and... biting your lower lip.

Occasionally, almost instinctively Levi raises his eyes to you. Being so close of you was it's a unique feeling. The smell of your perfume as stunning, and his throat closes around the words he would like to say. The tension that has been brought in was too dangerous for someone like him.

Fucking woman, fucking lips. Fuck you!

''Is there a problem?'', you inquired making eye contact for the first time that night. He couldn't say if there was perversion when you wet your own lips, but Levi felt his muscles become tense and contracted when you made it.

Levi responded with a faint whimper before observed: ''You shouldn't be drinking so much coffee at this time. You look like shit when don't get sleep''.

Lie. Fucking hell, you're always beautiful, but no way he'd say what he thought.

You rolled your eyes. ''It's you who did'', you put forth.

''I wasn't in the mood to put up with a brat attitude from you.''

''Brat? You know that we have about the same age, don't you?'', your gaze traveled from the figure sat in front of you to the window, confused as to why you would be embarrassed about his presence. You took in a breath before adding: ''Anyway, don't want sleep.''

There was a pause for a few seconds. You and he eyed each other.

''Why?'', he asks, authoritative one.

You shrugged and shook your head firmly. ''It doesn't matter.''

''If it doesn't matter, why would I have asked that?''

"Cause you're snooper”, you smirked.

''I'm not a snooper, brat."

He felt his heart begin to quicken when you carried the pen to your lips and start biting.

"Yes, you are a horrible snooper old man, bossy and with an astonishing mania for cleanliness."

"Old? You know we have about the same age”; he repeats. His eyes drifted back to your face, noticing your gaze had shifted again to the woods beyond the window. "And you're avoiding the question", he softly says (at least as softy as he could be), interrupting your rampant thoughts. "Are you alright?"

Levi watches in silence as you'd shoulders slump.

"I can't sleep. My mind has the scary capability of being evil, although I always thought that one day it'd get better", you're voice was low and flat, quiet and a little sad as you spoke to Levi, who seemed to know what are you exactly referred to and only nodded at your words. "I feel guilty. All the time."

Even in the darkness the room held, your eyes find his greys one like the starlight's.

''Are you afraid of your dreams, too?'', you asked, never expecting the humanity strongest soldier to have any fears.

'Yes'', he said quietly.

You nodded with hesitation, his words repainting in your head as you struggled to forma a sentence to answered.

Levi was used to such sadness, he had month's — no, years — to griever over the deaths of his mother and friends. Death was not uncommon thing in his life. His childhood who should be carefree, playing in the sun, was like a living nightmare, learning to fight in the darkness of Underground. Later, when he left the place to join the Survey Corps, he accepted to live in that never ending tragedy that people had sadly grown used to. Death was more common in that job than anything else, and he knows how badly it fuck with his mind.

“I’m beginning to think we’re a lot alike… you and me. We’re both strange cast, who’ve learned to fight when we’re backed into a corner'', you began weakly.

''Well, we’re backed into a corner now. Two fucking insomniacs”, he shook his head, thinking about your words. He didn't seem to like the way your voice sounded sadder. You raised your eyes to him again as he slowly spoke: ''You're not alone''

You answered a tiny smile onto your lips. Levi felt his cheeks burn and opposite glanced to your empty coffee cup, thinking that he'll able to always tolerate your strange addiction.

A few second later you both went back to work, and Levi was left with words stuck, temptation planted in the mind and a sure thing for him: the insomniac nights would become better by you.

【 ━━ 】

Inside Wall Sheena, guests were arriving, among them five members of the Scout Regiment - consisting mostly of commanders - walked through the gates, exuding self-confidence, bitter to participate in that boring and stupid meeting.

Little lies, little social sacrifices to feed what kept the Scout Regiment going: funding.

It was not necessary to be an expert in politics to see beyond the traditional veil of those events, to perceive the intentions of certain parliamentarians, very sadistic. Knowing it was part of your job to relate to these kinds of people annoyed you.

For one minute, you saw out of the corner of your eyes, the first on your command. The man of grey eyes used a black suit that fits perfectly. Be present in an event with so many politics didn't seem to his liking. Was kind of hard for all of you play nice one with all this tension in the air.

You've never felt the feeling of fear and tension like that inside the Walls before.

''Stop frowning before you break your face''

'It would be so sad, and you would cry for being depriving of that beautiful face''

''Oh, fuck yourself'', he says, angrily.

''If you watch''

You smirched at his expression as he looks up to you, after seeing your face, he turns away.

''Watch your words, brat''

''Or what, old man? What will you do to me?''

He looks back up at you.

''I could break you habit of drinking coffee, put you to clean all the HQ or even to help Hange with the experiments. The three together seems good, by the way''

You roll your eyes.

''You're mean''

'You're annoying'', he replied. ''And you know, if you keep rolling your eyes one day their going to get stuck like that''

''Are you trying to be funny?''

His little grin showed up making you roll eyes into a smile. He was terribly bossy and annoying, but you like that about him.

You took the glass of wine to your lips and raised your eyes to hit his. Levi hovered over you, making you felt that flame into your heart once more. Your eyes tailed down to Levi's lips then back to his eyes. You could feel your heart beating recklessly.

Fucking grey eyes, fucking black suit. Fuck you!

You felt a thumb on your cheeks, making them burn.

''You look...'', he started whispered and slightly caress your cheeks. Your body started to get hot under his soft touch. ''... beautiful. You look beautiful''

You were speechless.

You liked the sudden ardor, of the dangerous attraction, of folly and frivolous with provocative sins. Liked and thought how the taste of his lips would be: the indomitable, the irresistible, the powerful and sin.

He slowly dragged his hand down to my thorax wrapping his hands around it. A soft gasp escaped of your lips.

''You know... If you want dance, it'll not rude to ask'', you try to say. ''The song is awful, but I'm not a demanding partner''

''Only if you don’t step on my foot''

His prepotency make you smile.

''Don’t be a bad partner and there will be no mistakes'', you retorted, making him raised one of the eyebrows. ''That's how a men should behave next to a woman''

He took you in his arms, abruptly, making the bodies collide with intensity. You gasped, very close to Levi's ears, who felt the hairs stand on the back of his neck. Leading you through music, in no second was the look averted, in a battle for unknown control.

You and Levi explored a unique experience.

He stares burned deep into your body. His touch on your skin made your body tingle.

Fuck, control yourself. Don't get turned on by him!

He didn't say anything, just left you hold into him. You could feel your body burning around him. What was he doing to you? It felt like a spell. The effect of sin, of desire. You should get rid of that, all you needed least were distractions in the workplace and ruin the friendship, trust and partnership that you two took so long to build.

However, both keep looking to each other longer than friends should. Longer than friends should...

He could saw you lost inside your mind. Slowly, he pulled down his fingers, lazily touching the skin of your exposed back by the dress. Levi's vision was blinded by the desire his image represented. The surroundings smelled wine and fruits, intoxicating his sense. The ears, doomed to hear the political bullshit. His tact could burn by touching you. His taste? It was dangerous, because wanted to discover the taste of your lips and body.

But not now, not here.

You are his friend — the only who was left. In despair, he condemns his desires. Regretted, he knew the consequences would be eternal and all he wanted was you. Your fiery personality, bright lips and soft skin.

To hell all of that. When you both got back, he'll fucked you, every way that he can thinking off. He wants to pound into you, slammed into you and give the best night that you ever have. He wants to kiss every inch of your skin.

''Good girl'', he whispers next to your ears. ''But I'll show you how true men should behave next to a woman when we get back''

[wroteasongabouther]

can’t stand to see you lonely: part 2

a/n: thank you all so so sooooo much for the love on the first part of cstsyl ❤️ i hope you guys like part 2 just as much, and please reblog/leave me any feedback if you can as if really just makes me smile and helps with the engagement and blah blah blah u know the drill lol

and thank you to the lovely jill @havethetimeofyourstyles​​, jess @arrogantstyles​ and wendy @bookwormandtea​ for beta reading for me!

word count: 15k

warnings: mentions of death, couples fighting, awkward silence in elevators, and addicting candy cane pretzels.

fic page // let’s chat! // cstsyl playlist

They were fighting again. Y/N’s voice was booming through the walls, her boyfriend’s echoing after hers. Harry tries his best to focus on anything but their voices, but he can’t. It doesn’t make him feel all that great listening to the girl he had only seen smile and had been making laugh over the past two weeks, now yelling on the other side of the wall between them.

Harry plucks a soft melody on his guitar as he lounges on his couch. His hands absentmindedly playing the four chords that have been stuck in his head all morning while he attempts to write lyrics to the melody. Only, he was having a bit of trouble doing so as he listened to Y/N’s voice again.  

“Honestly, Mark! Really?” Y/N’s shouting is muffled, but Harry hears her still. “You really think that it doesn’t bother…” The rest of her words are a bit harder to hear as she quiets her voice. Harry never imagined he’d hear her raise her voice like that. That soft, sweet and gentle tone that he has spent dreaming about for weeks now.

Harry’s still plucking the chords he’s grown obsessed with, humming along while zoning out on the blank tv in front of him. He feels selfish, and rather ridiculous too, not wanting to imagine Y/N with another man. But he also feels selfish that he’s not upset over the fact they’re fighting for the third time in two days. Harry shakes his head and scolds himself for the thought. Regardless of his feelings, he shouldn't want Y/N to feel this way. He can tell these couple days must’ve been hard on her, working all day and then coming home to only end up in a yelling match with her prick of a boyfriend. 

Harry rolls his eyes and notices that the shouting has stopped. The silence of his apartment, aside from his guitar, only makes him feel a bit sadder. 

“I’m selfish, I know,” Harry sings, “but I don’t ever want to see you with him.” 

Suddenly, his phone chimes from where it’s sat on the table, signalling an incoming phone call from Mitch. A picture of the two of them together in the studio last spring shows on the screen, Mitch tucked under Harry’s arm as they’re both slouching into the couch they sat on. Harry reaches for his phone and swipes his finger across the screen to accept his call. 

“Hey,” Harry mutters into the phone, focusing on getting together his notebook and cleaning up the few torn crumpled pieces of paper littering his coffee table.

“Hey, you leaving your place soon?” Mitch asks. Harry can hear traffic in the background, meaning that he had already left his place that's located much closer to the studio than his own apartment is. Moving his shoulder up a little, he holds his phone between his ear and shoulder in order to use both hands as he sets his guitar into the open case that’s sitting on the chaise lounge of his couch. Then scrambling around to gather the scrap paper and glass of water he had, standing up with his trash in hand to throw away and glass in the other to put in the sink.

“Just about to,” Harry answers honestly, making his way into his kitchen to clean up. He sighs after clearing his hands and returns his phone to his left hand to hold now.

“You get busy with that neighbour of yours again. Got a new crush, H?” Mitch teases him. Rolling his eyes, Harry brushes a hand on his light wash jeans before patting his pocket to make sure his thin wallet was still there. 

“No,” he mutters, obviously lying to his best mate - which Mitch is very aware of as he hums in response. “I’ll be there in, like, 20 if the tube isn’t a horror show.” 

“You’ve lived here for nearly 3 years now, think you can call it the subway yet?” 

“Nope,” Harry sighs. There were a few things his British instincts kicked in for; many different phrases and words he knew would stick in his vocabulary despite how many years he’s been in the U.S. Harry’s grabbing his green winter coat and slipping on his boots as he holds the phone between his shoulder and ear again. “Should I grab the gang some coffee on my way? Seeing as I’ll probably be the last to arrive,” Harry says in a tight voice, his annoyance from hearing Y/N and her boyfriend still clear even in his phone call with his mate. 

“Don’t count on it. Tom hasn't answered his phone all morning, so something tells me he’s preoccupied,” Mitch suggests. Harry recalls the text he had gotten from his friend Tom, saying that he and the Missus were planning to celebrate their anniversary early this year. Mitch seems to be hinting that their celebrations have fallen into the morning too. Harry bets that Tom being MIA was because of his two children. The two of them knew how to gang up on their dad already at a young age—he couldn't imagine how they’d be when they grew up. 

“He’s a dad, Mitch, that's probably what he’s preoccupied with,” Harry states. After putting on his coat, he walks over to clasp the case for his guitar closed and heaves it up before heading for the door. 

“Point being, don’t bother with coffee. I’m in line at Starbucks anyways. Did you want anything?” Mitch asks.

“A slice or two of the banana loaf, please,” Harry requests, his stomach growling at the thought of food. Time had slipped by him this morning, listening to Y/N and her boyfriend argue, and he hadn’t eaten more than an apple for breakfast. 

Harry double checks the lights are off in his apartment before shutting the door behind him, setting his guitar down to rest on the wall to his left, and locking it quickly. Mitch is complaining in his ear about some Karen at the front of the line. Harry chuckles at his friends colourful words and picks up his guitar, not sparing a glance at Y/N’s door as he walks to the elevator and hits the down button to call it to his floor. Not even a ten seconds go by and he hears someone exiting their apartment behind him. Harry doesn’t want to look over his shoulder to check, not wanting to see Mark and Y/N walking hand in hand towards him. So, he keeps his eyes trained up on the red numbers rising above the elevator doors, signalling it’s arrival, soon hopefully. 

“Hey, Harry right?” Mark questions, pointing a finger at Harry as him and Y/N stepped up to the elevator. Y/N tries her best not to frown. She hates the way Harry doesn’t smile at her first before meeting Mark’s eyes and nodding. 

“Hey,” Harry says. He turns his head and catches Y/N’s gaze. “What are you guys up to?” 

Y/N knows he’s simply being polite, something Mark wouldn’t care to be - seeing as he’s already got his phone out of his pocket, and is staring at the screen as he answers. “Y/N’s driving me to the airport,” he states. 

Harry looks at Mark, anger bubbling inside of him as he clutches the guitar case in his hand. The elevator doors open then, a light bing! coming from inside. Mark enters first, not even bothering to look at Y/N or Harry, but then Harry waves his free hand in motion to let Y/N walk in before him. She smiles and tucks a piece of hair behind her ear as she walks into the small space and stands beside Mark. 

“Thanks,” she says in a soft voice as Harry hits the button for the lobby. She takes note of the guitar case in his hand. “Are you heading to the studio?” She asks, pointing to the bulky item he’s carrying. 

Harry looks down at his guitar case, “yeah, last day before everyone gets their break.” 

“No more counting down the days then, huh?” She asks, mentioning their previous discussion about how people typically countdown the days till they have time off - her included this year. But Harry had mentioned that he wasn’t looking forward to his days away from the studio. He didn’t think she’d remember that. 

“Counting the days till I’m back in the studio now,” Harry says. Y/N smiles and Harry’s heart bursts at the sight. Having heard her raised voice earlier today, being sure a scowl was etched on her face, he was glad to see her lips turned upward. Mark clears his throat then, causing both Y/N and Harry to quit looking into each other's eyes and step back into reality - her boyfriend was right beside them. 

“Studio? What are you, a singer or something?” Mark asks Harry. His eyes catch sight of Mark’s arm snaking around Y/N’s back, resting lazily on her left hip as they stood there. Harry licked his lips and almost nodded, but was quick to catch himself and shook his head instead. “What kind of studio then? Movies?” Mark continues to question him. 

“A music studio, I’m just a musician,” Harry answers. 

“Oh,” Mark says, “cool,” he adds with a shrug. The elevator doors open and Mark guides him and Y/N out of the small space. “Well, see ya around, ‘Arry,” Mark says with a smug look, trying to mimic his accent. But he butchers it, of course, sounding more like Hagrid from Harry Potter. Mark then waves and turns himself and Y/N to the right of the lobby that leads to the stairwell that went down to the underground parking lot. 

Y/N only gets to give Harry a quick smile before Mark turns her away. She wants to apologize for Mark’s ridiculous behaviour, feeling embarrassed by it. She also wanted to say that Harry wasn't just a musician, he was a songwriter too, which therefore meant he was a storyteller, and in her eyes songwriters were some of the most creative and talented people. Y/N wanted to shut Mark up and start bragging about Harry, like he was her boyfriend and Mark was just some dumb prick. 

Y/N rolls her lips into her mouth and licks them, glancing quickly over her shoulder before getting to the door. Her eyes meet Harry’s intense stare, him looking over his shoulder at her too, and her stomach erupts with butterflies. But then it flips and flops with nerves and her hands suddenly being tugged on by her boyfriend, holding open the door with his hip as he walks them through the doorway and out of Harry’s sight. 

Harry finds himself thinking about Y/N the whole way to the studio—as if he hasn’t stopped thinking about her and her boyfriend over the past couple days anyways. Did she ever mention being in a relationship, even in the most subtle way? Did he misinterpret her kindness for flirting like an absolute idiot? These questions were on a loop inside of his head until he walked into the studio, flashed the front desk his ID badge, and headed to studio B where he and his mates would be working today. 

“And he’s made it,” Mitch announces as Harry pushes closed the door and walks the few steps to his left where the brown leather couch was against the wall. Adam is sitting on the couch, the phone in his hand chimes as he types on it quickly, merely giving Harry a quick smile before looking back at the screen. Mitch is standing by the switch board, leaning back against it as he stares Harry down. Next to him is Tom, sitting in his chair and facing his many computer screens as he gets everything up and going for the day. 

“And I see we were both wrong and Tom beat me,” Harry states. He sets his guitar down, leaning it against the side of the couch before sitting himself down beside Adam.

“I wasn’t answering my phone because I was already on my way over here way before any of you slowpokes, and then I turned off my ringer once I got in here,” Tom explains, leaning back in his chair while his eyes stay on the screen. But then he twirls around, facing Harry and Adam, and gives Adam a bored look. “Like we all agreed to do, right Adam?” 

“Relax, I’ll do it after I send this last text,” Adam says. 

“Sure,” Tom mutters, swivelling his chair back around and grabbing the mouse to continue his set up.  

“Jeez, Tommy,” Mitch chuckles, “did you not get any last night or something? What’s got your panties in a knot?” 

Harry’s eyebrows pull down as he takes in his friends stiff posture as Mitch’s words seem to sink in. “Wasn’t it your anniversary date last night?” He questions, keeping his voice light and not as daunting as Mitch’s had been. 

Tom turns back around to face the boys and makes a big show of rolling his eyes. “Yeah, it was supposed to be, but then our babysitter called and was all freaked out and of course Jenny got all freaked out too. I tried to tell her it wasn’t that big of a deal and they could handle it, but we still ended up leaving our hotel room at nine o’clock and dealt with our two crying children who just missed their mommy. I was in bed by eleven.” Tom explains his night, ending with rubbing a hand up and down his face as he was clearly annoyed by the whole situation. 

“That’s just life as a parent, man,” Adam states. “Emi and I didn’t have a single date night till Spike was five,” he adds with a shrug. 

“Yeah, I get it but it’s just upsetting to have this whole night planned and then it not happen,” Tom says. Harry knew that feeling; he may have not had a full anniversary night away planned like Tom did, but the other day he was racking up things to do with Y/N before he was introduced to her boyfriend. 

Harry zones out, eyes glued on the coffee table in front of him as he sighs softly, leaning back into the couch as he was getting wrapped up in his thought of Y/N, again. I could still be her friend, he thinks. Even though it’d hurt to see her with her boyfriend, to hear about a date night or see them kiss. The ache already begins in Harry’s chest as the mere thought of it, and he finds himself bringing a hand up and rubbing over his heart subconsciously. 

“Harry,” Mitch calls, forcing Harry to snap out of his thoughts and look up at where he stood. He raises his eyebrows, making Harry think that he had said his name more than once but was ignored. 

“What’s going on?” Tom asks Harry. 

“He’s probably thinking about his latest little crush,” Mitch smirks, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Who is it this time?” Adam asks in a monotone voice.

“His new neighbour. Supposedly, she’s rather beautiful in Harry’s eyes,” Mitch teases. 

“Not just in my eyes,” Harry mumbles, looking at his lap and picking off an invisible piece of lint. 

“What do you mean?” Tom questions. 

Harry hears Tom’s chair squeak suddenly, making Harry assume that he must be leaning back in it again. Harry looks up to see he’s right - Tom’s got his arms crossed at his chest like Mitch while they’re both staring him down. Harry lets out a sigh and shakes his head, leaning further into the back of the couch while he licks his lips and looks anywhere but at his friends’ faces - not wanting to see their taunting looks when he tells them. 

“She’s got a boyfriend,” Harry says in a low voice. 

Mitch inhales a sharp breath, hissing through his teeth as he walks over and clamps a hand down on Harry’s shoulder. “That’s tough man,” he says. 

Harry shakes his head again and sits up, causing Mitch’s hand to fall off his shoulder. “It’s not just tough. I get I have these crushes on people a lot, but I don’t know, there was just something different between us. We really clicked and I just thought we’d at least get to go out a few times,” he speaks softly into the quiet room,the support of some of his closest mates surrounding him.

“Have you written about how you’re feeling?” Tom asks. Harry nods and reaches for his guitar without a second thought, taking it out of the case and positioning the instrument in his lap. 

“This is gonna be good,” Mitch nods his head and rolls over the second chair that occupied the room. Harry shakes his head at his friends comment. 

“I’ve just had this tune in my head for a couple days now, and I’ve only come up with a few lyrics really, so I don’t know how good it will be,” he explains. 

Harry plays the song he’s been playing all morning for the other three in the room. The soft acoustic guitar fills the silence, the twang from his guitar strings echoing off the walls. Harry shuts his eyes and lets his voice build up as he sings the two lines he’s been thinking about for a few days now. He feels it deep in his chest, the truth behind his words. Suddenly, more lyrics filter out of his mouth that hadn’t come up before. 

“I’m selfish I know,” he sings, “I’d tell you but I know you’d never listen.”

It’s not entirely the truth, because he’s sure that Y/N would listen to anything he had to say. He’s also sure that if he walked up to her right now, ran out of this studio and back to the apartment and waited outside her door, begging for her to break up with him, that she wouldn’t listen. Harry believes that she’s a better person than that - that regardless if she felt what he had over their past few encounters, she wouldn’t listen to what he wanted and would figure things out herself. 

“I hope you can see, the shape that I’m in,” Tom suddenly sings along to the tune that Harry’s still playing. Harry opens his eyes in a flash and looks at his friend, but Tom’s back is already to him as he’s facing his computer again. “I have the perfect piano and drums mix for this. I’ve had it kind of hidden away for the right time and I think this is it.” 

And that’s when the magic happens. Harry puts down his guitar and gets right into the lyrics, pouring himself into yet another song. He lets his feelings out about the situation he’s gotten himself into with Y/N, and mixes it with some poetry he’s written previously in his journal. You flower, you feast, is something he’s had for quite some time but had never felt it really fit into any of his other songs. And yet somehow in this song full of duck noises, a guitar solo, and many lalalala’s, it somehow found its place. 

Not to mention that Mitch absolutely murders the guitar solo. His long hair acts as a curtain as he sways to the music and lets himself go. Nearly every time that Mitch goes in for a solo, he doesn’t remember what he plays because he’s in such a trance, so Tom has to play it back for him if he needs to fix anything up. Overall, the song inspired by Y/N and her shit boyfriend is pretty great. 

“Anything else you’ve got to bring to the table, Harry?” Tom asks after nearly six hours of working on perfecting their new song ‘Woman’ - named solely because of the repeating of the word in the course, which was chosen because he felt like he was calling out to Y/N in this song. Saying woman over and over again at her in hopes to get her attention. He simply shrugs and stretches back into the couch, sprawling his legs out in front of him while staring down at his journal that’s sitting in his lap. 

“I’ve been writing this one based off a man I see everyday during my breakfast at the cafe down the street from my apartment,” he says. Harry clears his throat and sort of talk-sings what his idea of the melody is with the lyrics he’s got. “Nine in the morning, man drops his kids off at school. And he’s thinking of you, like all of us do. Sends his assistant for coffee in the afternoon, around one thirty two.” 

“Alright, I like it,” Adam nods his head.

“Who’s he thinking of?” Mitch teases, “like all of us do,” he adds with a smirk. His lips then wrap around the straw that was in the can of Pepsi he had gotten from the mini fridge a while ago. Harry rolls his eyes and kicks out his foot in order to nudge Mitch’s leg from where he’s sitting in the desk chair he’s gotten comfortable in. 

“Shut up,” Harry grumbles. Adam, Mitch and Tom all chuckle at their friend’s pout, which just makes him smile. He knew that coming into the studio and writing and making music about his situation with Y/N would ultimately make it feel even a little bit better. During the making of their newest song, his friends did give him some advice. 

“If it’s meant to be, it’ll work out, H,” Adam had said with a smile. 

But there’s no way of knowing how he’ll feel when he bumps into her again, whether she’s with her boyfriend or not. 

It’s been a tough few days for Y/N. Not only has work been crazy because not one, but two interns got sick with a stomach bug; meaning she was currently filling their job on top of her own and running around the city - but she hasn’t been able to stop thinking about Harry. 

She is in her own head again as she walks into the Gucci store on Fifth Ave. for the third time in two days. As Greg approaches her, she appreciates his light pink suit with a white ruffled shirt underneath. His bald head shines under the lights of the store, but that smile was much brighter and obviously, professionally whiten. Greg gives her a kiss on the cheek, saying they are a bit behind with her packages since it’s such a busy time for them as well. Y/N just nods and gives him a smile, accepting the flute of champagne as she takes a seat and waits. This is honestly the first time she’s gotten a chance to sit all day, but of course, she spends it zoning out on a sparkly dress hung up a few feet away from her as her mind begins to think of anything but work. 

Mark and her started dating only a mere four months ago. After meeting at a bar in the Upper East Side, he practically stalked her - which isn't too hard considering her social media following - and sent her flowers to work for three days straight till she agreed to go on a date with him. Turned out that he wasn’t just some business man out on the town with some work buddies, but an heir to one of the country's biggest companies. Therefore, meaning that when the gossip started of the two of them seeing each other, Y/N’s mom was the first person to call. 

“You hit the jackpot, baby!” She basically screamed into Y/N’s ear. 

Y/N only rolled her eyes at her mothers words. Her mother was the typical New Jersey girl that grew up with big dreams of pinning down a wealthy New York City man - and kudos to her for doing it. Her dad, bless his heart, was an older naive man who somehow managed to fertilize her mother’s gold digging eggs and voila, Y/N was born. But with that being said, Y/N was lucky enough to have family money, so she never felt the need to be in a relationship just because a man had more in his bank account. She also had better morals than her mother, and knew that money wasn’t a factor when you really loved someone. So no, Mark was not the jackpot because of his bank account. Y/N just thought he was really nice and attractive too, so she agreed to be his girlfriend those four months ago. But it wasn’t till a month ago that that nice streak ended. 

All of a sudden Y/N’s cell phone is ringing. She blinks out of her daze to realize she’s finished her glass of champagne while so deep in thought. Pulling out her phone, she looks at the screen to see it’s Mark calling. His ears must be burning, Y/N thinks.

“Hey,” Y/N answers softly, crossing a leg over the other and resting her elbow on her knee as she holds the phone to her ear. 

“Hey, babe,” Mark sighs. Y/N knows right away what he’s about to tell her, all by the tone of his voice and the use of that nickname. He used it when he asked her to drive him to the airport yesterday, which he forgot to mention he needed her to do till an hour before he had to leave - resulting in Y/N being very behind on work for the day.

“How’s Arizona?” Y/N asks politely anyway, mentioning the state he was in for business this time around. He was always traveling for work; his father wants him to know all the branch executives, so therefore he’s been to pretty much every state in the country over the course of six months. The moment they started to date Y/N knew he’d be working a lot, but she didn’t expect him to be working all over the country. She’s lucky if she gets a weekend with him, and honestly, she was looking forward to the almost two weeks work free they’d be getting together. But something told her that was not going to happen. 

“It’s good, hot,” he says, seeming distracted by something in the background to which he moves the phone away from his mouth to respond to someone around him. “No, no, not those, the red ones,” he orders. 

“Mark?” Y/N questions, keeping her voice down as Greg and one of his associates come from the backroom then with a few boxes in hand. “I’m just a bit busy with work, was there a reason for you calling, hun?” 

“Right…Well, unfortunately my time at the Arizona office will be extended. So, I’m not going to make it back to New York before Christmas,” Mark explains. Y/N frowns at his words even though it’s just as she imagined when she answered his call.

“When will you be back?” She asks, her eyebrows pulled together and lip pouting out slightly. 

“That’s the thing, there’s really no point in me flying back to the East Coast so close to the holidays when I’ve got to be in Los Angeles for my family’s big festivities.”

“Oh,” Y/N says. She’s only sad for a moment, noticing that Mark is distracted by something in the background once again as his voice is muffled. “So when exactly are you planning to come back to the city, Mark?” She asks as she sits up and projects her voice louder into her phone. Greg and his associate seem to notice Y/N demeanour change, his baby blue eyes widening slightly as he sets the boxes down on the couch beside her.

“I don’t know-”

Y/N doesn’t let him speak, though, her anger getting the best of her for what feels like the millionth time since she began dating Mark. It’s so unlike her, she thinks. She shakes her head and says, “you don’t plan to come back to New York and spend any part of the holidays with your girlfriend? Your girlfriend who very much loves the holidays, by the way.”

“I’m aware of your love for the holidays, Y/N, little hard to not know when your apartment looks like a four year old decorated it with all that crap,” Mark huffs into the phone, his voice matching her tone. 

“Oh my god, whatever, Mark,” Y/N snaps in a low voice, having to take a deep breath as she stares down at the floor. “Just go and have fun on the West Coast, don’t worry one bit about me ‘cause it seems you haven’t bothered to to begin with,” Y/N finds herself seething into the phone, keeping her voice low before pulling her phone away from her ear and hanging up before he can say one more thing to upset her. 

She shuts her eyes and takes a deep breath. Focusing on making her heart beat slow down and her hands to stop shaking. Did she just break up with him? No, no I didn’t say the words, I didn’t say it’s over and maybe I should have, Y/N thinks while letting out another short breath through her nose. She did not deserve this and she knew she didn’t, and yet she keeps putting up with his extended work trips and him disrespecting her opinions. Mark wanted a woman like Y/N’s mother. One that didn’t have her own hobbies and her own dreams, and who just wanted to be on his arm and live with whatever he put them through. Or did she even give him a real chance? That little voice in the back of her head, the one that was planted by her own mother, asks her. 

“You look like you need another glass, mi amor,” Greg says softly, bringing her to open her eyes once more and realize that she did in fact just have a fight with her boyfriend over the phone in public. In front of a supplier too. Her cheeks heat up with embarrassment. Thankfully, she thought of Greg as more of a friend than in a professional view. She smiles at him, forcing it, while he holds up the bottle of champagne and fills her glass. 

“Thank you,” she says quietly. 

“You’re welcome,” he nods, turning to his left to grab the second tall glass and fills it as well. Y/N chuckles as he brings it to his own mouth and has a sip. “What? The holidays are stressful, I deserve a glass too every once in a while.” Y/N only laughs again and raises her flute, Greg lifts his own to cheers her before they both take a sip. “Did you want to talk about it?” He asks after a beat of silence. 

Y/N licks her lips, tasting the expensive champagne all over again. “It’s just,” Y/N sighs and runs a hand through her hair before she continues, “I thought that Mark was different when I first met him. He sent flowers to my work and took me to nice restaurants. He seemed to be really into me, and now, he’s really into his work and he thinks my love for the holidays is childish, and that my opinions and my time don’t matter. So, I’m starting to think I jumped into this relationship, maybe a bit too fast all because my mom approved of his last name and Sammy thought he was hot.” Y/N rants in a rush of words, bringing her flute to her lips afterwards for another sip.

Greg doesn’t respond right away, instead he too sips his champagne and looks around the room they sat in. He sighs and brings a hand down on Y/N’s thigh, causing her to look at him. He smiles and gives her a comforting pat. 

“You are a young woman in New York City who’s really got her shit together, you know your worth, Y/N,” Greg says. Y/N mirrors his smile, feeling the back of her eyes threaten with tears at his sweet words. “You’ll know what to do about this man,” he adds with a wink. Greg removes his hand and lifts his flute to finish off his champagne. “Plus, men are trash anyways,” he mutters as his eyes wander around the room that’s quickly filling up with customers. 

Y/N laughs, “yes, Greg, they can be.” She agrees. But there’s one man that comes to her mind. One with enchanting green eyes, beautiful dimples, a contagious laugh, and a certain swoon worthy accent. 

And yet, Y/N is not surprised when her thoughts drift off to Harry again. In fact, she thinks about him the entire way back to her office, the few boxes from Greg in her arms as she travels on the subway and walks carefully on the slushy shovelled snow that covers the sidewalks. What is he up to today? She thinks, knowing that he must’ve gotten home from the studio late yesterday - maybe even this morning. She worked late on emails last night, only having her Christmas playlist playing softly from her TV, and she didn’t hear him get home. She wonders if he sleeps in when he does that, or if he still manages to get up early and do whatever it is he does every day. She doesn’t know his daily routine, but she admits to herself that she’s curious.

Having done the errands that were needed for the day, Y/N ends up sitting at her desk for the remaining three hours of her work day. Her and Amanda go over new interns to hire, seeing as Y/N’s boss doesn’t want her away from the office doing intern work forever. And then she and Sammy are walking out of the building together at five o’clock sharp. They endured yet another eleven hour work day today. And this was one of the easiest days this week, since it was spent shopping around and organizing the office. Tomorrow there would be two A-list clients coming in for their last styling of the year, both finalizing their outfits for the upcoming Grammy awards too.

“You seem off today,” Sammy says as they walk down the stairs to the subway. 

“I, um,” Y/N licks her lips and narrows her eyes at the screen that reads when the next stop would be. She looks at her friend and sighs. “I got into a fight with Mark earlier,” she states. 

“Another one?” Sammy questions, raising a brow and giving her a look that said ‘really?’.

“Yup,” Y/N says, rolling her lips into her mouth and nodding. “He’s too busy with work to come back to the city for the rest of the month, said he doesn’t see the point in coming back even for a day before he has to go back home to the West Coast. So, I ended up yelling at him in the middle of the Gucci store.” 

“Are you for real?” Sammy asks in shock, his eyes widening as Y/N explains what her boyfriend had told her earlier. 

“Yup,” she repeats, nodding her head again too. “Oh, and he said my apartment looked like a four year old decorated it and it looked like crap,” Y/N chuckles, realizing now how stupid Mark’s fighting words were. 

“Y/N,” Sammy sighs, “dump him,” he says while placing a hand on her shoulder and giving her a sympathetic smile. “I get that you wanted to give this guy a chance, but all you guys ever do is fight and I don’t want to say it but I’m going to,” he sighs again dramatically, “I’ve seen you smile over that new neighbour of yours more than Mark in the past few weeks. That’s a sign.”

“But what if I didn’t give Mark a real chance? And what if I’m just playing Harry up in my head-”

“No, none of that,” Sammy shakes his head and stares deep into Y/N’s eyes. “You are the most polite and sweetest person I’ve ever met. There’s no way in hell you didn’t give Mark a chance, hell you gave him a million chances, let’s face it. And as for Harry, you’ll never know unless you get to know him.” 

Y/N rolls her eyes as Sammy drops his hand and tilts his head to the side. She notices the platform getting busier and louder then, as the subway makes way towards them from the North. This was her ride, while Sammy had to wait another ten minutes for the one that went to Brooklyn. Y/N thinks about what Sammy had said. Maybe she did give Mark plenty of chances and maybe their time was up, but that doesn’t mean she feels comfortable jumping right back into the game of dating with Harry. Plus, how bad would that make her look. Harry would probably think she didn’t care about relationships and typically shuffled around boys, which was so far from her case. In fact it was why she was so hesitant to date Mark in the first place - she didn’t like to give her time and love to just anyone. It’s just too bad she didn’t realize that Mark wasn’t worth it sooner. 

“If I’m just getting out of this relationship with Mark, I can’t just start dating Harry,” Y/N exclaims to Sammy.

“I didn’t say date him right away, I said get to know him,” Sammy states, “hang out, be his friend, and if things happen then they happen. The world works in funny ways,” Sammy says matter of factly, pointing a finger at her while she starts taking a few steps towards the subway that’s coming to a stop. “We’ll talk later! Dump the fucking guy though!” Sammy shouts as Y/N just shakes her head and rolls her eyes while getting into the mass of people cramming on the subway. 

“Yeah, dump the son of a bitch,” a croaky voice startles Y/N as she gets through the door. An elderly woman is smiling back at her, her yellow teeth contrasting against her dark skin as she smiles wickedly at Y/N. She chuckles awkwardly and nods, walking across the space to an open seat. 

Opening her purse, she finds her Airpods and puts them into her ears. They connect to her phone automatically and she begins to tap on her phone, deciding on which playlist she wants to listen to on her way home. Once she clicks shuffle on her ‘girl freaking power’ playlist, she turns it all the way up and lets the anger in Halsey’s voice fuel her own anger towards her shit boyfriend. She thinks of their fights that have happened recently the whole ride on the subway, then she thinks if it’d be too cruel of her to break up with him over the phone as she walks the few blocks to her apartment building. If he broke up with me over the phone I’d be a little upset, Y/N thinks with a frown as she walks across the lobby to the elevator. 

Y/N, who was so in her own world with her music still turned up all the way as a new song by Olivia O’Brien, doesn’t even realize when Harry walks up beside her. He can hear her music blasting through her earphones. He leans forwards a bit, hoping to get in her line of sight. But she is still focused on the elevator doors, nodding her head to whatever song she’s got playing. Harry’s lips tug up into a smile. When he first saw her standing there when he entered the building he got a little nervous, unsure how this interaction between them would go. Should he apologize right away for not knowing she had a boyfriend and asking her for dinner?

“Hello?” Harry sings. “Y/N?” He calls in a normal voice. This time she seems to notice that someone is beside her. She jumps slightly, placing a hand over her heart and reaches up with the other to take out an Airpod which causes her music to stop completely. 

“You scared me,” she breathes out. 

“Sorry,” Harry says, giving her a timid smile. “I tried getting your attention a few times, it must be a good song.” 

She looks down at the earphone in her hand and nods, “uh, yeah, just really into empowering female music today.” She states. 

Harry hums and nods, then the elevator opens, revealing a few people inside which causes Y/N to step towards him as they move out of the way. If he hadn’t taken a step back fast enough she'd practically be right up against him. He breathes in and smells her perfume, the intoxicating scent of rose filling his nostrils with her being so close. Y/N gives a quick ‘you’re welcome’ to the people who step out as they thank them for moving before they both step into the elevator together. Harry was too busy thinking about how close Y/N had been to step up and hit the number six button before he could. He gives her a smile in thanks.

The elevator begins to ascend as the space falls into silence between them. They’re both overthinking. What should I say? Is what is on both their minds as they pass the first floor, and then the second. Harry lets out a short breath through his nose before leaning his back against the railing. 

“I’m sorry for being so clueless,” he states, pausing when Y/N’s head whips up and her eyes meet his. “I didn’t think you’d have a boyfriend and I just didn’t think twice before asking you if you wanted to get dinner,” he says, finally getting the thought off his chest. 

Y/N furrows her brows, “and why did you think I wouldn’t have a boyfriend?” She asks, teasing him, but Harry’s face falls and he stands straight once again, bringing both his hands up and waves them in front of himself as if in surrender. 

“Not that you’re like not pretty enough for a boyfriend, or nice enough, cause to be quite honest I would be surprised if you didn’t have a boyfriend cause you are like the prettiest girl I’ve ever met and not to mention really nice and super cool too-” 

“I was just teasing you, Harry,” Y/N stops him. But his words had caused quite the feeling inside her stomach, butterflies were multiplying like it was nobody's business while she swore she felt her heartbeat in the soles of her feet. 

“Oh,” he breathes out, “right. Well, still, I’m sorry.” He casts his eyes down to the floor, feeling his cheeks warm up from embarrassment. The elevator sounds a quiet bing! as the doors open for them on the sixth floor. Harry lifts his eyes to meet Y/N’s once more, motioning with his hand for her to exit first. She smiles and walks out with him right behind her. 

Y/N doesn’t say anything till she’s at her apartment door, her key in the lock, and she notices Harry is at his door a few feet away. She sighs and stops twisting the key, letting her shoulder sag as she looks over at Harry. 

“I’m sorry too, by the way,” she says. Harry looks up at the sound of her voice, thinking she was simply going to take in her apology and go about her merry life with Mark. He watches her tongue dart out and wet her lips as she leans into her door. “I should have mentioned Mark, even just in a quick comment, but honestly our relationship is sort of new and even a little non-existent at times, it seems, so I guess I was just enjoying making a new friend. I didn’t even think about it,” Y/N explains herself. 

Harry takes in her words; that her relationship is new, and non-existent? He wonders what she means by that. But he can’t help but smile at her mentioning that she enjoyed becoming his friend. Harry nods his head and let’s his smile grow wider, knowing his dimples would show. 

“I’d like to keep being your friend,” Y/N adds, “if that’s okay?” 

“It’s totally okay,” Harry nods. Y/N smiles and nods back. 

“Okay,” she says softly. 

Harry fits his key into the lock without looking, keeping his eyes on Y/N’s as he notices her cheeks glowing a shade of pink. “How about a movie night? Tomorrow? If you’re not busy, of course,” Harry suggests, twisting his key and unlocking the door. 

“I think I’m free. It’ll have to be Christmas themed, of course,” Y/N says, narrowing her eyes as if to challenge Harry to fight her on it - like Mark would. 

“Well, yeah,” Harry scoffs, eyebrows pulled together and head shaking in faux disbelief. “Wouldn’t have it any other way during the month of December,” he adds. 

Why couldn’t I have moved in like six months ago? Y/N thinks to herself as she smiles at Harry. She finds herself liking him more with every word that comes out of that pretty mouth of his. If only she had met him before she met Mark. Things would be easier, that’s for sure.

The two of them agree on a time for tomorrow, six in the evening, before saying their goodbyes and walking into their homes that were side by side. After Y/N takes off her shoes and coat, she walks towards her bedroom to get changed into some workout clothes for a quick at home video before she ate dinner. Just as she’s changing she hears the muffled sounds of Harry’s guitar - something she’s grown fond of hearing through their shared wall. Maybe she’ll get him to play her something tomorrow, she thinks with a smile. 

Y/N makes her way back into her living room and starts up her workout video. She does some jumping jacks to get her warmed up, but honestly, her heart is already pounding in her chest from her interaction with Harry and the plans they have made. Without a doubt she knows she’ll be counting down the hours during her work day tomorrow till six o’clock.

Elf or Polar Express? Both were very different Christmas movies, and they were the two she was torn between taking over to Harry’s. They hadn’t talked about who’s apartment they would hang out in, but as it was ten minutes to six, she hoped to get out the door and knock on his first, in order to get the chance to ask him to play his guitar for her maybe. But that’s not how it’s going to work out because Y/N’s too busy being stuck between two of her favourite movies when suddenly, there’s a knock at her door. She frowns knowing that it’s Harry and wouldn’t get to hear him play guitar, but gets up from where she was sitting crossed legged on the floor to answer the door. 

Her fuzzy socks pad across the hardwood floor as she walks to her door, peering through the peephole quickly to double check to see it was Harry. She smiles at the sight of his floppy brown hair and unlocks her door before swinging it open. Harry looks up as she opens the door, meeting her gaze for only a moment before he watches her take in his apparel. 

He had thought about it for way too long, what he was to wear to hangout and watch movies with the girl he liked, but ended up staying dressed down as he was all day. Y/N liked how the plain white shirt he wore fit him, only a small brand logo that was over his heart, but she really liked the pastel rainbow coloured sweatpants he wore too. He looks comfy and ready to lay back and relax for a few hours with her. He’s not wearing any shoes though, which makes Y/N furrows her brows for a second. 

“I didn’t really see any point in putting on shoes for the few feet out of my apartment,” Harry states quickly to let her know. Y/N nods, chuckling under her breath, but understanding what he means. She steps back and lets him into her home. 

Harry takes in the atmosphere of Y/N’s apartment for the second time now. The glow from her many Christmas lights makes him feel warm inside, and her Christmas tree was the focal point of it all. He likes the odd ornaments that are littered among the branches, and he can’t quite make out what they all are, but something tells him that they each hold a special meaning to Y/N. Maybe some from her childhood, others from some trips she’s had - he could see her collecting them from anywhere she’s travelled to. Harry makes a mental note to ask her at one point. 

“I was thinking of making some hot chocolate, and I have a bag of, like, this candy cane and white chocolate pretzels that I’ve been obsessed with lately and was going to munch on that during the movie, but I have a bunch of other snacks too, honestly,” Y/N starts to explain to Harry. He turns on his heels to see she’s already locked her door and is now moving into the kitchen. 

“I’m cool with some hot chocolate,” Harry nods, “and I’ll give the pretzels a try, they sound good.” 

“They are so good, oh my god,” she moans at the mere thought of eating them. Bending down to open her bottom drawer, she reveals a well organized array of munchies that looked like a stoner's heaven. 

As she’s ruffling through the drawer Harry takes in her outfit. She’s got on a pair of Christmas themed pajama bottoms with little snowflakes scattered along the dark blue material that matched with her plain dark blue shirt. Her hair was thrown up into a messy bun, wispy hairs falling around her face as it looks as though it’s been up all day and she hasn’t cared to fix it. Overall, she looks comfortable and at ease - as she should be in her own home. He had wondered if she ever dressed down, seeing as he had only ever seen her after a day of work dressed in trendy high fashion, but somehow casual clothing. Christmas pajamas suit her, he thinks with a smile.

Y/N gets a hold of the bag of pretzels she’s talking about and opens it, taking one out for herself right away to bite down on before turning to Harry who’s standing in her kitchen. She smiles at the pretzel and lifts the bag to him. Harry takes a few steps towards her before reaching into the bag and grabbing one for himself. He brings it to his mouth and Y/N watches for his reaction. His jaw flexes as he chews down on the sweet yet salty treat. 

Harry hums and nods, reaching into the bag again, “not bad,” he says before chewing on another one. Y/N smiles and passes him the bag all together, turning towards the stove top to turn on the kettle already filled with water. 

“Can you find two mugs in that cabinet?” Y/N asks Harry as she looks to her left and sees him standing in front of the cabinet that held her many mugs and glasses. She points to it and Harry nods. He puts the bag of pretzels down after sneaking one last one into his mouth, and opens the cabinet door to reveal Y/N’s collection of mugs. He goes for the two at the front, which were Christmas themed, of course; one shaped like the Grinch and the other like Santa. As he sets them down on the counter in front of him, beside the bag of pretzels that he sticks his hand into again, he notices a glass container full of brown powder that he assumes is her hot chocolate mix. 

“Is this your hot chocolate mix?” He asks, just to be sure.

“Yes,” Y/N nods, “I honestly make myself a cup almost every night during the colder seasons.” 

“Are you a coffee or tea person?” Harry asks, keeping his eyes on the container as he twists it open and sees a metal teaspoon measuring cup inside already. He starts to scoop some into each mug as he waits for Y/N’s answer. Although he is very aware of her possibly liking coffee, considering how he’s seen her with many Starbucks cups before. 

“Yeah, I enjoy both too. I have way too much coffee during my work days, and tea reminds me of the days at my grandparents,” she explains, watching Harry scoop her preferred amount of mix into each mug without even asking. She smiles softly, seeing him reach for yet another pretzel too. 

“Are you saying tea is for old people?” Harry questions, raising a brow as he peers at Y/N in the corner of his eye. Y/N rolls her eyes, a smile still on her lips. Her kettle begins to squeal into the air, but she’s quick to turn and take it off the heat. She turns off the stove and uses a tea towel to bring it over to the mugs - Harry steps back out of her way, but not before grabbing the bag of pretzels. 

“Old people and the British too, of course,” Y/N teases. 

Harry chuckles, “of course,” he says in agreement. He waits till Y/N fills the mugs and sets the kettle back down on the stovetop before he steps back to the counter and wraps a hand around the handle of the Grinch mug. Y/N is quick, stepping towards him and gently slapping his hand. 

Harry flinches his hand away and raises a brow at Y/N, jokingly taken back by her action. Y/N bites down on her bottom lip to prevent herself from giggling over how cute that look on his face was. 

“I have whipped cream that’s in a can, but it’s still good,” Y/N states, giving him a look that said ‘back off and let me do this’. Harry only chuckles again and nods. “Also slow down on the pretzels, if I don’t get any during the movie I’ll be very upset.”

“They’re addicting, sorry,” Harry mumbles through his mouth full of pretzels, a smile tugging at his mouth. 

“Trust me, I know. That’s like my fourth bag this week, I swear,” she states with a chuckle. 

As Y/N walks to her fridge Harry steps up to the mugs once more and takes a chance on the drawer directly under them for a spoon. His instincts are right as he pulls the drawer open to see her utensils; he grabs a teaspoon in order to stir the hot chocolate. Y/N turns back from the fridge with the whipped cream can in hand, turning around to see Harry focused on the mugs. She smiles, tilting her head as she watches him nudge the drawer closed with his hip, and begin to stir the contents of them till the powder was all mixed in with the water. Look at them being all domestic, she thinks. Licking her lips, she shakes her head a little and walks up to Harry, shaking the can of whipped cream and waits for him to finish stirring. He sets the spoon in the sink and watches as Y/N tops off the mugs with a heap of whipped cream. 

“You better actually eat the whipped topping this time,” Harry says to her teasingly, referring to when they had hot chocolate in the park, and she let her whipped cream melt. Y/N chuckles and brings the tip of the whipped cream can to her open mouth. 

She puts pressure on the top again and makes the sweet cream pile into her mouth as she tips her head back, the aerosol can is the only noise in the room as Harry watches her do it. His breath catches in his throat and he blinks several times as he imagines an entirely different scenario with this whipped cream can and her mouth. Y/N brings the whipped cream away from her mouth and swallows, watching Harry do the same thing - did she make him feel uncomfortable? She thinks to herself as she licks her lips and looks down at the ground. Don’t overthink it, don’t overthink it, she thinks while walking back to the fridge to return the whipped cream to the shelf. When she turns back, she sees that Harry has both mugs in his hands. 

“Maybe I should just have both of these, since you’re probably full from that mouth full of whipped cream,” Harry teases her, bringing both mugs to his lips, acting as if he’s going to slurp up the whipped topping that’s nearly flowing over the side.

“Absolutely not,” Y/N gasps, reaching forward quickly for the Grinch mug, but Harry moves it out of her grasp faster. 

“I want the Grinch one,” he says with a slight whine to his voice. Y/N can’t stop the giggle this time, blushing afterwards as she thinks of how freaking adorable he is. 

“Fine,” she sighs and takes the Santa mug from him instead.  

Harry grins and lets her lead the way back into her living room, the bag of pretzels in his other hand. Y/N sets her mug down on the coaster on the coffee table, just like she had with her glass of wine the last time Harry was over. He watches as she sits cross legged on the floor in front of her tv stand. Y/N grabs the two movies she was debating over earlier in each hand and lifts them up for Harry to see. He loves them both of course. 

“Which one? I can’t decide,” Y/N states. Harry hums and lifts his mug to his lip to slurp up some whipped cream. 

“Elf,” Harry answers, “I’m in a Will Ferrel comedy kind of mood,” he adds. 

“Alright,” Y/N chuckles under her breath and turns away from Harry to open her DVD player and then open the case for Elf. He liked that she had the movies on physical DVD, not just clicking away on a streaming app. She places the DVD in the player and then closes it again before standing up quickly and skipping over to the couch, plopping down excitedly but gently that Harry isn’t even scared that he’ll spill his hot chocolate. 

“We can watch the other one next time,” Harry suggests, feeling brave in the moment as the trailers start to play softly on the screen and Y/N is reaching for the remote that sat on the coffee table. She looks at him and smiles.

“‘kay, yeah, next time,” she pauses but then points the remote at Harry. “But next time you’re hosting, I feel like we should switch it up sometimes,” she adds and waits to see Harry nod with a smile before she turns to the TV and gets to the main menu of the movie.

“Fair, I just think my place lacks the holiday cheer that we would want,” Harry explains. Y/N stops her from hitting play right away and leans back into the couch, flopping her head to the side to look at Harry. He’s still holding his mug, which reminds her that her own is sitting there untouched, so she sits up again and grabs it.

“Well you know what would fix that?” She questions, bringing the mug to her lips and slurping up some of the whipped cream that was in fact already melting. Harry watches her as her eyes are glued to her mug, focused on not spilling it over the sides it seems. 

“Decorations?” He asks, still watching her. He smiles as she licks her upper lip that’s covered in melting whipped cream.

“Exactly,” she nods enthusiastically. She takes another few sips of her hot chocolate before leaning back into her couch once again, getting all snuggled up before lifting the remote to the TV and hitting play.

“I’m not really good with decorating - my sister and mom did my apartment to be honest,” Harry admits. Y/N watches the opening scene of one of her favourite Christmas movies, feeling all giddy inside as it’s the first time she’s watching it this holiday season. She gets like this every year with every holiday movie.

“Well, I can help you out. Maybe we can do a little trip to Target before our next movie night. Then do a quick set up and then watch the movie after,” Y/N suggests, nervously peering over at Harry over the rim of her mug after. She doesn’t know if she’s crossing a line or anything. She just wants to spend more time with him, even if it’s just as friends. 

Harry gives Y/N a half smile, one of his dimples making an appearance as he looks into her eyes. He would love that, honestly. The idea of them wandering through the Christmas isles at Target as she gives him advice on what decorations would go together and fit his apartment style; they would set up the decorations after and he’d watch her be in her element. Maybe he’d put on some Christmas music and hope she would dance around. Harry gives Y/N a short nod. 

“I like that plan,” Harry tells her. 

Y/N smiles and nods back at him. “Then it’s a deal, we’ll set a time after the movie. It’s about to get good,” she says, looking back at the TV screen again as Will Ferrel’s character makes his appearance. 

“The whole movie is good,” Harry states. 

“Shh,” Y/N hushes him, taking another sip of her drink and keeping her eyes on the movie. Harry smiles and watches her watch Elf. He notices her hand gently tapping the cushion between them after a moment. Harry chuckles under his breath and nudges the bag of pretzels open, taking a few for himself before facing the bag her way. Once she’s got one between her teeth she feels completely content. 

She’s got a cup of yummy hot chocolate, her favourite snack, Christmas lights are twinkling around her, one of her favourite Christmas movies is playing, and she’s with good company too. In fact, she finds herself not once thinking of Mark the rest of the night. Even in her dreams, it’s Harry, again. 

They exchanged phone numbers. It’s not a big deal, Harry thinks to himself as he gets a third text from his newest contact in his phone. But it felt like a big deal; it was an easy way to get a hold of her whenever he needed to or wanted to even. Not that he would just bother her for no good reason. As much as he’d like to text with her all day, he knows that they really just exchanged phone numbers in order to plan to hangout easily. Like for today, Y/N had a long work day, but still wanted to take Harry Christmas decor shopping, so she was asking him if he could just meet her at the closest Target. 

There’s one a few blocks away from the apartment, I’ll send you the location, are you able to meet me there? She texts along with a Google Maps link to the store. Harry tapped out a response right away, letting his focus sway away from the TV show he had on when her name lit up his screen. 

Sounds good to me, what time? Harry hits send and notices the bubble with three dots pop up right away. She must have a moment at work right now; he checks the time to see it’s just past noon, assuming she’s on her lunch break. 

I should be leaving the office by 3pm today, then it’s like a 15 minutes subway ride and 5 minute walk to get there for me. So like 3:30ish, is that okay with you? Wait. Are you busy today? I didn’t even ask if you were working too, sorry. She sends the texts in a few separate bubbles, realizing that she didn’t even ask if Harry was working or not today. Y/N has no idea what the schedule of a songwriter was like. Harry chuckles at her little panic and types out his response. 

Super busy…. Watching mindless TV shows on Netflix. He adds a laughing emoji for good measure, to which Y/N replies with some of her own laughing emojis before saying God I wish that was how my day was going. 

Y/N ends up texting Harry her whole lunch break. He asks about what she’s been doing today, his responses seeming very interested in the adventures she has had in the office being a stand in model since her measurements were close to a clients. She then asks what show he’s watching, to which he tells her about this Netflix baking show called Sugar Rush and he tells her about the challenge the contestants on the most recent episode endured. Y/N finds herself smiling at her screen, nearly forgetting to even eat her lunch. Sammy clears his throat just a few minutes before their time is up and causes her to look up at him, raising her eyebrows at his own. 

“What?” She asks, stabbing her fork into the salad she had Sammy pick up for her earlier. 

“Nothing,” Sammy hums, Y/N rolls her eyes. “Just noticed you’ve been quite busy on that phone of yours for the past, oh, I don’t know, twenty five minutes,” Sammy teases her, eyes widening slightly and motioning his hands in the air with his words. He did that a lot, talking with his hands, that is. 

“So?” Y/N tries to brush off her friend's pushy behaviour. 

“So? Really? We’re just going to act as if you’re not giggling at your phone screen like a little school girl?” Sammy questions. 

“I am not doing that,” Y/N huffs. 

“Yeah, sure, sweetie and I’m straight,” Sammy rolls his eyes dramatically and then pouts while shaking his body in his seat. Y/N furrows her brows at his behaviour. “I live off your love life. Please give me something, anything. Please just tell me that you’re talking to that hot neighbour of yours and let me continue on my merry little day knowing that your love life is about to be thriving while mine is dead.” 

Y/N sighs and tries to ignore as her phone vibrates again, signalling that Harry had texted her back. She sits back in her chair and crosses her arms over his chest, covering the deep v-cut of her black body suit that she was wearing with a pair of red slim legged slacks, and a matching red blazer that was currently laying over the back of the chair she sat in. Amanda didn’t have any sort of dress code for work, merely to come in looking professional and stylish, which for Y/N, meant a good pant suit moment every once in a while. But with still keeping it sexy and young by pairing it with a bodysuit. 

“Fine, I’m texting Harry,” Y/N tells Sammy, feeding into his gossip need for the day. “We actually hung out two night ago, he came over for a movie night-”

“What?! Why am I just hearing about this now?” Sammy questions, sitting up quickly and throwing his hands in the air. “What happened? Touching? Did you kiss? Oh my lord, tell me what his peni-”

“Sammy! Oh my god, relax, please,” Y/N cuts him off, putting a hand up to stop him from talking. “Nothing happened. Sorry to disappoint, but I am still in a relationship with Mark. Harry just came over, we made some hot chocolate and polished off a bag of those delicious candy cane pretzels.”

“Those pretzels are good,” Sammy nods in agreement.

“Yeah,” Y/N nods, “but anyways, nothing happened, and nothing is going to happen. We’re just friends, and I enjoy being around him a lot. So, today after work we’re going to Target to buy his apartment some decorations, then we’ll probably order in some food and watch another movie.” 

“Sounds pretty couple-y to me,” Sammy says in a high pitched tone. Y/N just shakes her head and rolls her eyes at her friend again. 

Y/N couldn’t lie, though. The few hours later in Target, they looked like a couple. Harry pushes the cart down the aisle while she tilts her head and debates which tinsel really fit Harry’s aesthetic. She brings the Starbucks cup to her lips and sips the warm caramel flavoured latte. Y/N was pleasantly surprised when she saw Harry walking up to her outside the Target with two Starbucks holiday cups in his hand. He gave her a timid smile and explained what both of the drinks were, saying he hadn’t tasted either and wanted to see what she wanted first before taking the other for himself. It was unexpected and ridiculously sweet of him to do. 

“I think red would look really nice around your apartment, kind of spice up the place a little,” Y/N explains, her free hand skimming over the many different tinsels that were hanging up before her. Harry agrees, red would look nice in his apartment and spice things up a lot, except his mind is thinking of this red pant suit she’s wearing right now. He thinks it would look rather nice on his bedroom floor.

When she walked up to him and he took in her outfit, he nearly tripped over his own feet and spilled the two coffees he brought with him. But he kept himself together, well, sort of. He stumbled over his words, rambled like a fool about why he got the two coffees for her, but they finally got into the store, which now, he’s just been checking her out as they walked to the Christmas section. Get it together, Harry thinks to himself. 

“Red’s nice,” Harry says, his voice cracking slightly. So, he clears his throat and steps away from the cart to pick up a piece of tinsel that Y/N was looking at. “I like the bit of silver mixed in too,” he comments. 

“I was thinking the same thing,” she says with a smile before grabbing four more of the same one and adding it to the cart. Harry does the same with the one in his hand and then puts his hands on the cart once more, pushing it back and forth just a few inches. Harry can’t stop himself from admiring that suit once more as she bends down to check out the many different boxes of tree ornaments. 

“Which ones?” Y/N asks, quickly turning her body. Y/N catches his gaze on her body, but Harry blinks quickly and meets her stare. The corner of her lips tug up into a smug smile at the thought of Harry checking her out. 

“The ones in your, uh, your right hand,” Harry answers her questions, clearing his throat again and watching as she stands straight before putting the ornaments into the cart. 

They continue their way through Target, still looking very much like a couple as they grab a few bags of the candy cane pretzels that Y/N got Harry hooked on the other night before heading to the check out. Harry insists on paying for the few little items of Y/N’s in the cart, telling her over and over again that it wasn’t a huge deal. He almost doesn’t let her carry a single thing, but she quickly gets a hold of a standing Santa decoration that was too big for a bag and hugs it to her chest their whole walk home. 

Harry unlocks his apartment door for them, noticing how their neighbour Mr Matthers is opening his at the same time to peer out and see who’s in the hallway. Harry holds open the door for Y/N, she thanks him in a small voice and smiles at him. Looking back out into the hallway, Harry waves at Mr Matthers, who simply returns it with a scowl on his face before Harry steps inside and shuts the door behind him. Suppose their neighbour is a bit jealous of Harry, he’s seen the way he looks at Y/N. Hell, especially today in that suit, everyone on the street was looking at Y/N with wide eyes and big smiles - Harry felt like quite the lucky guy, little did everyone know they were in fact not together. Just friends, Harry reminds himself for the millionth time. 

“Oh, I love the tree,” Y/N states, her voice bringing Harry back to Earth as he locks the door and walks over to his coffee table to set down the many bags in his arms. Y/N is still holding the Santa decoration to her chest, looking at the fake Christmas tree he had purchased on Amazon yesterday on a whim. He was thinking about them decorating together again, and thought that it wouldn’t feel right if he didn't have a tree too. It’s a good thing he told Y/N over text, otherwise they wouldn’t have gotten ornaments or anything for it. 

“Yeah, I just got the first one that included lights on Amazon, to be honest,” Harry tells her. Y/N chuckles and walks over, setting the Santa decoration just beside the tree gently. 

She brushes a hand over the tree and smiles, “it’s wonderful, really pulls the whole festive look together in my opinion.”

“I agree,” Harry nods. He grabs for the TV remote and turns it on, quickly turning the volume down before he sets it up to the music channels - clicking on the Christmas tunes without a second thought. Y/N watches Harry, her heart hammering in her chest as the soft sounds of Michael Buble fills the room. Mark would never do any of this - he wouldn’t voluntarily put on Christmas music, ever. In fact, he shut off the station in her car on the way to the airport. And he definitely wouldn’t decorate with her either, seeing as he thinks that her apartment looks childish. She pouts at the thought of her and Mark’s phone call the other day. He hasn’t called or texted her since.

“Did you not want to listen to Christmas music?” Harry asks suddenly, snapping Y/N out of her thoughts and turns to look at him. He’s taking off his jacket, revealing a white shirt underneath with a bumble bee and some blue writing around it, paired with his purple trousers and a pair of white socks on his feet after slipping out of his shoes too. Y/N loves his simple yet not basic style.

“No, no,” Y/N assures him, finally unbuttoning her blazer now and taking off the mittens and beanie she had worn in the cold. She stuffs them into the blazer pocket and slips out of it. “I love Christmas music so much, honestly maybe a little too much, Mark hates it,” she admits. 

A shiver falls over her body as she realizes then she’s simply in the rather thin bodysuit that also dipped very low in the front. Y/N doesn’t look at Harry as she feels her nipples harder from the coolness of his apartment, embarrassed as she didn’t prepare for her attire after going out. Harry suddenly lifts up a hand, his pointer finger up as if to say ‘one second’, then he’s walking down the hallways and returns not even a minute later with a black sweater in hand. 

“It’s clean, just washed today, I promise,” Harry tells her, holding out one of his favourite jumpers for her. He had been given a few merchandising pieces from the label over the years and this plain black jumper that read ‘Columbia’ on the front in white has been in his possession for a couple years now. In his opinion, it was very comfortable due to how much he’s worn it.

“Thank you,” Y/N says softly while taking it from him. 

She puts it on and is immediately warmer. Her hands cover completely because of how long the sleeves are and it falls down past her bum too, due to the large size. She looks good, Harry thinks as he takes in her wearing his clothing. Y/N smiles and turns to grab things from the Target bags they had just brought in. 

“Okay, let’s begin with the tree then,” she says excitedly, trying to clap her hands together but just ends up smacking the sleeves of Harry’s hoodie together.

It’s just as Harry imagined it. The soft lights from the Christmas tree glow over the shadows of Y/N’s face as she wraps the red tinsel around the base of it before passing it to Harry in order for him to reach the taller portion of the tree. She dances when Jingle Bell Rock plays on the TV, his jumper swaying around her body because of how big it is on her. They’re both smiling and singing along to the music, jokingly of course. Harry wasn’t about to show her all his little secrets and start belting out White Christmas along with the singers of Wham!

“Can you pass me a couple of the silver balls?” Y/N asks Harry, her eyes on the tree as she put the last red ball ornament she had grabbed onto a branch. Harry raises his eyebrows in a joking manner. 

“The what?” He questions, but still making his way to where the array of different coloured ball ornaments laid on the couch. 

“Like two of the balls,” she says again. Harry laughs, his eyes crinkling up and his dimples fully showing as he does. Y/N furrows her brows, but then gets why he’s laughing. “You’re a child,” she scolds him playfully. 

“I couldn’t help myself,” Harry states, grabbing two of the ornaments she’s asking for and passing them to her. 

“Thank you for the balls, Harry,” she says. They both end up laughing this time, she can’t help it. His laughter is contagious with how his eyes squint up and his dimple somehow deepens, not to mention the little vocal ‘aha’ he does before laughing. It makes Y/N’s stomach ache, not from laughing too, but with the butterflies. Those stupid little butterflies that have made a home inside of her stomach since meeting this kind, handsome, British man. 

Once the tree is done, Y/N beats Harry to ordering them food. They decide on getting sushi, which is something she could never order with Mark since he has this personal vendetta against seafood for some reason. But Mark isn’t on her mind for long. It’s all Harry, all the freaking time. She likes how he beams a winning smile at the delivery guy and thanks him three times in the sixty seconds he’s at his door, and how he barely pays his phone any attention the whole night besides when it chimes with a few texts that he explains is his workmates group chat. Now, she can’t stop watching him chew his food; how his jaw flexes with each bite and how his eyebrows furrow when he can’t get the chopsticks to grab the California roll he wanted. Why do I find him eating so attractive? Y/N shakes her head slightly and forces herself to look back at the TV that’s playing the Sugar Rush show on Netflix that Harry was texting her about earlier. 

Harry collects their take out containers after a few moments to ensure that Y/N is done, asking her just to be sure she doesn’t want the two pieces that are left over. She thanks him, but says no, and he manages to grab all five containers in one trip to the kitchen. His mom most definitely raised him well, Y/N thinks as she lays back on his couch and watches the TV show. It suddenly hits Y/N, his brows pulling together as she pushes herself to sit up and turns her body to look behind her through the open concept to look at Harry. 

“Are you going home for Christmas?” She asks him. Y/N assumed home was England, besides obvious factors, but she remembers him telling her about driving in London once. Harry brushes his hands on a tea towel that's hanging off his stove before turning to walk back into the living room. 

“Um, no, not this year,” Harry says. 

“Oh, do you typically go home and visit your family? You mentioned your mom and sister had decorated this place though, do they live here?” She throws the other questions his way as he walks around the couch and sits in his spot again. 

“They all live in England, yeah,” he nods, “my mom, my step dad, older sister and her boyfriend all flew out here with me to help me settle in the few years back when I got my job. But I do usually go home for holidays, or just casually during the summer. Earlier this year I had to make an unexpected trip,” Harry pauses and clears his throat as he looks away from Y/N as he feels that familiar pain in his chest, “my step dad passed away. So it just took a bit of money out of my account, I decided not to fork out the money for expensive flights during the holidays.”

Hearing that Harry had lost his step dad recently torn Y/N’s heart in two. She frowns, taking a deep breath before reaching over and placing a hand over Harry’s that rested folded in his lap. Harry looks at where their skin touched, it felt like his hands were vibrating under her touch. She swipes her thumb over his knuckles, the touch so soft like a feather just barely skimming over his skin. Harry has to stop himself from flipping his hand over slowly and intertwining their fingers together. She has a boyfriend, she’s just being a good person and comforting a friend. 

“I’m very sorry to hear about your step dad, Harry,” she soft and gentle voice, rubbing the pad of her thumb over his knuckle again as she watches him inhale deeply through his nose. 

Harry clears his throat of the threatening tears and shakes his head slightly, a piece of his hair falling onto his forehead as he does. He takes one of his hands and lays it over Y/N’s, giving it a few pats. Tonight had been good

and fun, and he didn’t want to go ruining the mood with his tears. So, he lifts his head and looks at Y/N, finding her somber eyes staring at him already. He forces a smile, licking his lips before clearing his throat again. 

“Thank you,” he says, “I don’t want to make this good night all emotional now, so yeah, the short answer is I’m not leaving the city for the holidays this year. I do have a trip planned in March to see my mum for mothers day though,” Harry explains, rubbing Y/N’s hand that’s between his. 

Y/N mirrors his smile, although it’s not as full as usual, a bit sad still as she thinks about what Harry and his family must’ve gone through this year - and that his mother won’t see her son her first Christmas without her husband to top it all off. Maybe she could buy his flights? But no, no she couldn’t, she thinks sadly. They sit there like that for another moment, her hand between his much larger once, and they stare at each other. Finally, Y/N lets out a sigh and tries to get out of her head before she ends up crying. Harry lets go of her hand slowly, and she brings both hands to her face to brush back her hair. Harry does the same to get the strand of hair that had fallen on his forehead back into place. 

“Well I’m glad you can go see your mom for mothers day, at least,” Y/N says, looking at the positive. Harry nods and then leans back, throwing an arm over the back of the couch to stretch out.

“Yeah, me too,” he agrees, “she’s already telling me all about the plans she’s made for my trip and talks my ear right off as if it’s happening tomorrow.” Harry tells Y/N with a chuckle.

Hearing his little laugh brings a real smile to her face this time. “I’m sure she’s counting the days till you fly in,” Y/N says. She is starting to feel a little tired as she lays back on the couch, laying her legs out on the chaise. Harry watches as she pulls the sleeves of his jumper back down, she had rolled them up while eating so they didn’t get in the way, but he likes the sweater paw look on her as she snuggles into the couch. 

“Do you spend Christmas at home still?” Harry asks her, keeping his voice soft as he realizes it’s gotten late and both their eyelids are getting heavy. 

“My parents have something on Christmas Eve, sometimes I spend the night, other times I make my way home,” she exclaims vaguely. 

Y/N doesn’t love her times at home anymore; she finds her parents ‘I’m too rich for anything' attitude to be tiresome. As she grew up into her own person, she realized the privilege she had with the wealth she grew up with. She started to see how pointless some parties her mother threw, and how little she would have to try to just coast through life. Y/N didn’t want to grow up like every other bratty kid on the Upper East Side, so she moved out right after graduation, got into fashion school, focused on herself, and earned her own money - all while learning of how to use her privilege for good, like donating her time and money to good causes. Something her parents only did to look good within their social circle. 

So, going back home for over the top holiday parties, getting gifted a new car every year, and seeing her parents throw their money at whatever, really only bothered her more than anything. Y/N would simply stop in for Christmas Eve, enjoy a few hours with family and then go home to her own world again. 

A yawn slips past Y/N’s mouth as she’s deep in thought, which then makes Harry yawn as the both of them bring their hands to cover their mouth and then letting out soft laughter afterwards. Y/N sits up and stretches both arms above her head. “I guess I should head home,” she says before standing up slowly. 

“Yeah, you’ve got a long way to go,” Harry jokes. 

“Oh yeah, it’ll take me ages,” Y/N adds onto the joke with a smile. “Thank you for having me over, I really enjoyed it,” she says. 

Harry nods, “well thank you for helping me with all this,” he says, motioning to the decorating they had done. They both glance around the room then at their work. The red and silver decor matched Harry’s aesthetic perfectly, just as Y/N thought it would. 

“We didn’t watch Polar Express,” Y/N realizes suddenly, pouting. 

“Next time, Y/N,” Harry chuckles. She huffs and lets out a sigh, muttering a quiet ‘fine’ before making her way towards his front door. Harry follows behind her, planning to lock the door and listen till she gets into her own apartment before getting ready for bed. 

“Should I text you when I’m home safe? It’s just so far away,” Y/N continues to joke around, causing Harry to smile as he watches her grab her blazer and slip into her shoes. 

“You never know, Mr Matthers across the hall could intercept you on the way home and kidnap you. I wouldn’t sleep till I got that text knowing you got home safely,” Harry says, half joking. Cause you never know with Mr Matthers, he thinks. Y/N laughs and hugs her blazer to her stomach while standing beside the door, reaching for the handle but keeping her gaze on him.

“Mr Matthers is harmless,” Y/N says. 

“He’s obsessed with you,” Harry counters back. Y/N just rolls her eyes and unlocks the door before swinging it open. 

“Goodnight Harry,” she says sweetly. 

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Harry says back with a smile. She mirrors his smile and then walks off into the hallway. Harry watches the door shut behind her and walks over to lock it before turning off the few lights in the living room and entryway. As he is turning off his TV his phone buzzes with an incoming text. 

Made it home safely and in bed! Sweet dreams read Y/N’s text sent seconds ago. Harry breathes out a chuckle as he walks down the hallway to his bathroom to begin his nightly routine. As he turns on the light for his bathroom he types back a response. Cheeky.. Sweet dreams Y/N. He turns off the screen before he stands there and waits for her to reply with anything, his heart would even flutter over an emoji.

He was so far gone for this girl, he couldn’t stop himself from falling any longer - but it had felt inevitable from the moment his eyes had met hers in the elevator.  

>> part three <<

thanks for reading, please reblog/leave some feedback if you enjoyed it! until next week 😘

*like this post if you’d like to be added to the cstsyl taglist!*

[akabane-yum]

OTP Asks - All Of Them (9-16) <- Part One

For @toorumochi assass :P

For the Angst

9. Have they made each other cry?

Short answer: Yes

Long answer:

Karma knew that Gakushuu would be a difficult person to live with and that he was sensitive despite his hard exterior, but that didn’t mean he didn’t get annoyed too sometimes.

That night they were arguing about who knows what, saying things they didn’t mean, when the insults became half truths and eventually full truths that became insults. Karma said something along the lines of “Oh, and it’s not my fault your dad didn’t raise you right but it your fault that you’re becoming exactly like him, don’t ask me why I’ll need therapy more than twice a week after this.”

If it hadn’t already clicked to Gakushuu that they were fighting fighting before then, now he got the message. He ran out of the room without another word and Karma had to pace to cool down. Karma decided to sleep on the couch that night and only realized Shuu went off crying the next morning, when the air was cold and rigid and Shuu had tear stains under his eyes. Karma didn’t say anything though, he didn’t really know how to fix it. They ended up spending that whole day apart and eventually had a long talk.

———————

Gakushuu made Karma cry when he told him they’d probably end up breaking up. Karma was joking about meeting Shuu’s mom and Shuu just laughed saying he didn’t think they’d make it that far. That messed with Karma’s perception of permanence and what he thought they were. He thought they were gonna get married some day and that they were going to live together and... what? He tried to ask Gakushuu why he thought they wouldn’t make it and Shuu seemed unbothered. He said something about how they were incompatible in many ways and how they were both handfuls and how life would get harder and how Karma probably wouldn’t be able to handle all the weird changes in Gakushuu’s life because of how the businesses was booming. They said goodnight after that and Karma found himself outside at 3am taking a walk. He didn’t realize he was crying till he came home and Shuu asked him why he was crying. His first instinct was to say he was doing drugs but that would get them nowhere. Instead he said he didn’t want to talk about it, and they went to bed. He could think about permanence another day. And he did, they talked about both that and their insecurities going forward to try to salvage their relationship. (I can imagine that this is a few years into their relationship.)

10. Write a ~300 word argument scene for them.

In another post !

11. What causes them to fight?

The lighthearted answer would be: anything and everything. They fight over how many pillows they need but always laugh about it in the end.

Another answer would be: the fact that at the beginning of their relationship they were insecure about themselves. You know you really shouldn’t get into a relationship until you love yourself enough, at least in most cases. But for them I’m guessing that the mutual attraction was enough for them to get together, which isn’t always bad b u t for them they had a lot to unpack. It’s surprising and maybe even kinda toxic that they stayed together after the first part of their relationship but now they’re happy. I can imagine that they’re happier as adults at least, and that they still do fight over small things like the TV volume but those fights don’t even count as fights. It’s just a little conversation to keep them going yknow?

12. Do they have differing political opinions?

Kinda? Gakushuu is a businessman and probably took a course called “creating capitalism” so we can assume he’s pro capitalism, and on the other hand Karma joined the bureaucracy in Japan (and Japan is, if I’m not mistaken, a socialist country) so he’s probably at least pro socialism.

I just want to comment on how this is cool because Gakushuu being pro capitalism is a solo player as the CEO with the most shares of his corporation. Whereas Karma who we assume is pro socialism works as a bureaucrat for the government. Which is cool because capitalism is more about individuals climbing the corporate ladder and whatnot whereas socialism is more of a government intervention thing where the government has control and places limitations. (There’s way more to it but I tried to badly summarize.) So they’re both doing very well in their respective economies. That being said, we could go into the capitalist tendencies in Japan but we won’t! AHEM THE MAIN QUESTION WAS ABOUT POLITICS BUT I WARPED IT SORRY THEYRE PROBABLY BOTH MORE LIBERAL BUT I WONT GO INTO THAT.

Anyways to finish off explaining the “kinda” I answered with, I said kinda because I don’t think they feel strongly enough about their own (preferred) economies to argue about it. Though maybe Karma will complain about some of the disparity in wealth he sees between Gakushuu and others but honestly I don’t see them caring much, since they have the luxury of living in their own bubble of karushuu happy fun. I hope this blurb made sense.

13. Name something they would never do for the other person

Gakushuu would never give up his ambitions to be with Karma. Sounds sad but after letting go of some of those insecurities that were there at first, he’s found his self worth and won’t give up all his hard work for anyone. Is that selfish? Personally I don’t think so, because it would be selfish for someone to ask him to let go of his dreams for them. Karma would never do that anyway, so. By give up his ambitions for Karma I mean like if Karma were to ask Gakushuu to drop his work or him, he’d be dropping Karma.

Karma would never settle down entirely because Gakushuu asked him to. This is similar to the first one but I don’t think he wants to calm down and live in another tropical country and retire young just because they have enough money you know? Not like Gakushuu would ever ask him to slow down but if he did then Karma would still probably work a few jobs because of how boring life would be without something to do. This is basically like Gakushuu’s but I feel like Karma’s is less intense and he wouldn’t break up with Gakushuu right away because of this.

Take that as you will ^^

14. What would be a dealbreaker

This is the same as the last one I think. Telling the other to slow down and pick between their passions (for work lmao) or them. Since it’s the same ish for both of them I don’t think there would be that much of an issue though. Maybe if Karma killed Shuu’s cat then that would be a dealbreaker, who knows.

15. What are traits they dislike in one another?

Karma dislikes how Gakushuu is a workaholic and Gakushuu hates how Karma is taller than him :P also how quick he is at making impulsive decisions. HmMm maybe also how Karma snores- that’s not even a trait i- anywayyyyssss

16. If they broke up, what would be their opinions of each other.

Oh boy. I’ve thought about this for not karushuu things too so here’s my take on this:

Karma would consider Gakushuu as an addition to the toxic people in his life. First his parents, then some of his teachers, and now his first boyfriend. He’d remember the happy moments they had together but quickly try to replace them with the sadder memories. He’d try his best to paint Gakushuu is the worst lighting, he’d villainize (not a word but shh) him so he could go on thinking he didn’t do anything wrong and it was Gakuhsuu’s toxicness that tore them apart.

Gakushuu wouldn’t think of Karma. Not after a bit of time, not because Karma never came to mind again after the breakup, but because any thoughts of Karma would be illegal. Honestly I can see him thinking that his time with Karma was an era of weakness. He can’t go back to that weak state, not even in his memories, so he doesn’t. (Well maybe in the middle of the night some days he does but he’d never admit to that.) I hope my grammar here was bearable lmao.

I’m sorry I’m tired lmao I can’t proofread but yk :))) next part up soon!

[egyptsblackrose]

Dancing with Strangers

There will be one more part to this story after this then I think this story is complete. I have other projects in the works and other passions I want to devote some time to. Hope your all doing well and please enjoy.

No actual smut in this one, but reference to intimacy probably still 18+ though so minors please do not read

Part 4- https://egyptsblackrose.tumblr.com/post/652018121062989824/dancing-with-strangers-more-filth-for-this-story

Part 5-

Your senses slowly brought you out of your peaceful, heavy slumber, though your mind was not ready to open your eyes just yet. First thing you felt was comfort, soft, warm, heavy sheets keeping you safe and cozy. When you focused more, however, you realised that part of your arm that was not in your little cocoon, was radiating the kind of heat only the sunlight could bring. So it was clearly day time, maybe even afternoon. No matter, you did’t have any classes today, that was why you agreed to going out to the clubs with your friends.

Your friends… You gasped and sat up with a jolt, only to groan and hiss. Rubbing your lower stomach and back.

Oh… right… you had gone home with not just one but TWO strangers and had a THREESOME!

Your cheeks set on fire as the events of last night played out in your head. The pleasure, the desire. More had happened after they had each taken a turn with you. Kakashi had been painfully hard again watching your brains get fucked out by Gojo, so you had rolled over and sucked him off lazily, taking your time to tease. That had lead to the boys getting revenge, Satoru holding your hands hostage as he fucked your mouth, while Hatake ravaged you again, harder and more forceful till you squirted for him as well.

Then you had been carried to the shower, Kakashi tenderly, lovingly holding you bridal style in the walk in shower as Gojo massaged your entire body with wonderful smelling shower gel. Only your moans had turned the men on again. Gojo took you this time, having you pressed against the wall with him on his knees, Hatake standing and receiving another blow job from you. Kakashi had to wash your face and hair when he tried to pull out too late, but you had been quick to defend him when Satoru’s teasing went too far.

By the time you were all dried, your legs had stopped working and you could barely keep your eyes open, the sun was peaking through the curtains gently to hint as the beginning of sunrise, and you all settled into bed. Never before had you been so comfortable, resting your head against someone’s chest while being spooned from behind, wearing a really comfy large hoodie and boxer shorts for bed while the two men only wore old shorts.

But glancing around at the bed, you found your companions gone and the bed cold. Nibbling on your bottom lip in thought, you quickly did a body check. Toes were wiggling; but it took effort and there was still a little pain, your stomach felt a little uncomfortable and sore but nothing you couldn’t handle. You smelled good- to your relief- though you needed to brush your teeth immediately. Your hair felt smooth and smelled great as well, your make up had clearly been removed, your cloths were at the end of the bed; freshly washed and folded.

You had clearly been well taken care of, their after care game was obviously on par with their A game. And yet the niggling doubt set into your mind.

Why take such good care of you and then leave you alone? And there was no sounds in the whole apartment from what you could hear. Had they left? There was no note from what you could see. Maybe they’d gone out or to work and hoped you’d be gone by the time they got back. Why else leave your cloths close by, in obvious view and clean to wear. This was their hint to get out. They’d had their fun, so had you, now it was time to leave.

The thought made you a lot sadder than you would like to admit. But then again, the two men were clearly experienced, your friends had even said so last night, that’s why they encouraged you to go through with it. You were not the first girl they did this too, and chances are you weren’t the last. How many other girls out there had woken up exactly like this? With a pout and painful groan, you slipped out of bed and started getting changed on wobbly legs.

This was for the best anyway, you told yourself. They were policemen, they were successful men, there was TWO of them. And you were just a Uni student, you weren’t even half way through your final year, you had yet to successfully land an interview. You didn’t even know if you wanted to stay in Japan after you graduated, if you wanted to graduate here or go back home to your family… There was still so much you needed to figure out, you were just beginning. And successful men like that would want a successful woman, or women rather.

Once presentable, borrowing some mouth wash from the bathroom seen as you did not have your own toothbrush, you took a few deep breaths to sike yourself up. The fact that not just one, but TWO god level men had chosen you to spend the night with them meant something, even if it was short lived. THEY had picked YOU, called you beautiful, whispered sweet nothings into your ear, taken care of you. And now it would be a nice memory, and you could wear this win like a badge of honour as you leave. Just think of how many women would kill to be you.

Opening the bedroom door, your heart sank a little more at not seeing even one of the handsome men. A little part of you had hoped that maybe they were up, and that little part of you made your eyes scan the living room and kitchen desperately for a note or a sign that you hadn’t been left behind. But all you found was a clock above the cooker that read 10:20 am.

Hu… earlier than you thought, but not an unpleasant surprise.

Thankfully the door was unlock-able from the inside, but you weren’t sure about the elevator, seen as they had used a key card to activate it last night. It seemed luck was on your side, however, because pressing the down button meant the elevator was automatically called to you, opened, and a frigging bell boy was waiting with a smile and a polite nod. How rich are these guys?!

“Ground floor Miss?” The young man asked. You nodded numbly, stepping in and moved to the back of the elevator. It seemed the new face could tell you didn’t want to talk, so the journey down was gratefully a silent one as you stared at the floor. How many young women has this man escorted down and out of the building for these two men?

You frowned at yourself. Why were you so hung up on that? You had no right to the answer and no right to even ask the question. They weren’t yours. You weren’t theirs. And it didn’t even matter. But you couldn’t free yourself from the feeling of being used.

Raising your head at the ding, as soon as the doors started opening you dashed out, wanting to quickly get away from this place and move on. The quicker this…mind blowing experience became a fond memory, the better.

Following your memory from last night of being in the taxi, you knew that you had passed your street on the way, and it didn’t seem like such a long ways away. You started walking without hesitation, head down as you messaged your friends that you were on the way home. They replied excitedly, clearly wanting to talk about the events of last night, but you quickly shut them down. Miku seemed to get the hint immediately that you weren’t feeling like yourself and something was wrong, promising movies and home made goodies from her mum who was visiting.

The thought made you smile. Miku and Sakura’s parents had basically adopted you as soon as you got back to Japan, all four insisting on introducing you to as many of their friends and neighbours as possible, promising you and your worried parents that they were only a call away. Miku’s mother was particularly affectionate, a little unusual for Japanese culture, but she often cured your home sickness with gentle hugs and head pats, pinching your cheeks and promising a nice warm home cooked meal and a few wise words. And such parental affections was too good to pass up right now.

Raising your head with slightly watery eyes, you quickened your pace. Only for your wrist to be grabbed in a unyielding hold.

“Y/N!”

“Beautiful?”

The voices made to freeze, eyes widening as you slowly turned and gasped. It was them.

“Kakashi? Gojo?” Your voice was nothing but a whisper from how surprised you were.

“Baby, why are you leaving already?” Hatake asked worriedly, frown in place.

Satoru wagged a disapproving figure at you. “I thought I said we were staying in bed today to have fun.”

“But…” Swallowing thickly, you turned more towards them, wide eyed and confused. “I woke up in bed alone, you were both gone, my cloths were clean and folded beside me…I thought you wanted to me to go…”

“What?!” Gojo yelled in an exaggerated tone, quickly moving to wrap his arms around you from behind and rubbing his face into your hair. “What a silly little head our beautiful girl has Kakashi!”

“Y/N…” Hatake soothed quickly, seeing you frown at Gojo. “Baby I wasn’t there when you woke up because I left to do a little shop of things me and Gojo were out of, and also pick you up a toothbrush for when you woke up. And our idiot here wasn’t with you because I sent him to pick up some breakfast for us all. You said at the club that your favourite thing to wake up to was _____, so we thought we’d treat you. We both went so we could be back as fast as possible, we didn’t think you would wake up so soon, let alone think we wanted you to go. So imagine our surprise when we pull into our usual parking spot across the street and see a figure and outfit all to familiar walking away from us? We were worried you decided that YOU wanted to go.”

The words sunk in slowly and made your eyes water more, especially when you heard Kakashi use the term ‘OUR idiot’ when referring to Gojo. He was including you in their bond. “So… you weren’t trying to give me the hint to leave so you wouldn’t have to see me?”

“Beautiful, are you stupid?” Kakashi sent a glare to Gojo, but the other white haired male continued. “Last night was amazing, and I said that this was the beginning. Do I seem the type to lie to you beautiful? I don’t just say that to anyone, in fact I don’t think I’ve ever said it before. Me and Kakashi want to do so much more to you, with you, and not just in the bedroom…and not just sexual things either.”

The clear implication and teasing was not lost on you, making your cheeks light up a rosy pink. Hatake chuckled sweetly, stroking your cheek as he stepped a little closer. “There’s that blush we love. Y/N, I won’t lie to you. We have had one night stands before, we have had times where we either take the girl home or ask her personally to leave, but neither me or Gojo want this to be one of those times. We don’t want a one night stand with you, your different, special. We actually like you, as a person, and we’d like to see if this…if WE could be something.”

Your mouth fell open in shock. Where…where they SERIOUS? These beautiful, amazing men wanted you in their lives? “But why?”

Kakashi frowned. “Why?”

“Yeah. Why? Why me?”

Gojo chuckled, nuzzling your neck to draw your attention back to him. “Because Kakashi’s right, your different. Most women are flirty with us cause they want some fun. YOU were flirty with us cause WE were fun. You listened to us, you didn’t try to be something or someone your not, you were very real. And the real you is awesome. And we want to know that real you more.”

“Y/N,” Hatake’s hand, that was still on your wrist, moved down to take your hand, stroking the back of it soothingly. “Gojo and I have a strange relationship, we know that. We are more like brothers than friends, and there’s never been any attraction between us. But we have only ever had a functioning, healthy relationship when the two of us put in the effort. We are not perfect, but together we are. And for a long time we have looked for someone who can complete us, who can make us both happy. It’s too early to tell if that’s you, but surely even you had to feel how RIGHT everything felt last night.”

Flashes of charming smiles from the club took over your mind, how easy the flow of conversation was, how natural it felt to have both their hands on you. You had been saddened so much to think that something so good was already over. But here they were, telling you it didn’t have to be. Looking into those amazing dark grey and blue eyes of the two white haired men, you could see how they desperately did not want you to go.

“Ok… we can see where this goes. But, I want to try do this properly, and I want this to be open between the three of us.” Both men looked at each other in confusion, so you continued. “If something happened with just one of you while the other is away, I don’t want it causing fights, I also want to spend time with you, and not just doing…intimate stuff. Dates, together as a three or just as a duo, actually getting to know one another, honesty, proper communication. All of it.” You said firmly. “When I devote myself to a relationship, I do it whole heartedly, and I expect the same from my partner. Just because there’s two of you, doesn’t mean you can put in half the effort. I’m mostly looking at you Satoru.”

The blue eyed man gasped on horror, hand over his heart like it was clutching a fatal wound. “Beautiful, you think I wont treat you like a princess?”

“I don’t want to be treat like a princess.” You shot back firmly, but smiled softly. “I want you to treat me as your equal, like your friend, like your partner, because to me, that’s what a relationship is. I don’t want to be babied or spoilt, I just want to be treat fairly and honestly. And if I find out either of you cheated on me…just remember that BOTH my parents are amazing lawyers and I have another country I can easily move to.” The three of you laughed easily, smiling at each other with warm smiles as you each earliest that this was the start of something. Something beautiful.

Part 6- https://egyptsblackrose.tumblr.com/post/655347185273241600/dancing-with-strangers-this-is-by-far-the-longest

[supercantaloupe]

on Aelwyn Abernant, the Reformed Villain Squad, and redeeming teenage antagonists

an analysis on antagonist character development in Fantasy High. spoilers through sophomore year and (mildly so) the most recent roll20 oneshot. essay under the cut bc i am very long winded

the turnaround with Aelwyn in s2 is handled so well  i cant get over it. she was such a major antagonist in the first season and just. despicable. she had no pathos. we hated this bitchy older sister who tried to kill Adaine and her friends and raise an evil dragon, and when she gets knocked on her ass and thrown in jail, we cheer.

and then s2 fucking starts saying “hey she’s in jail still if you’d like to look into that” and pursuing that thread ends up being almost as comedic an idea as it is a reluctant one; it’s also quickly shunted to the background as soon as more pressing leads present themselves, to the point where we almost forget about her until Adaine is kidnapped and then the first time you see her it’s just. viscerally upsetting.

she’s bad. she did evil. she got what she deserved.

but she already got what she deserved. last season.

she got her ass handed to her by a bunch of 14 year olds including her little sister (how embarrassing!). her plans were thwarted. she got punched in the face and made fun of. she already got her punishment.

it just……immediately registers as over-the-top Wrong to be told “hey, remember that antagonist you beat last season? she’s still being punished for that, except it’s way worse than just going to mumple.”

and there’s that reminder that like…this is a teenager. a child. who has been manipulated and abused. which is a really fascinating look at this character we used to see pretty much unilaterally as a one dimensional bitchy villain.

i mean we got a more in depth look at Penelope’s and Biz’s motivations in s1 (Penelope being the popular rich girl sorceress obviously hungry for power and the alllure of the high school clout that is being prom queen, but also we know that her having to turn on her best friend Sam Nightingale as part of the scheme was something she was reluctant and not happy to do; and Biz being that predatory incel creeper type dude besides just a nerd with computers and a lack of social graces). and they were as much willingly active in the plot as Aelwyn was. yet in s1 they really never do bother to explore Aelwyn’s motivations. i remember after watching s1 but before s2 that was one of my biggest lingering questions: why tf was Aelwyn involved?

well. she was manipulated and abused. her terrible parents raised her in an awful environment that conditioned her to Listen and Obey and Behave and Be Perfect, and then Kalina helped cinch the noose around her neck with threats and coersion into the KVS Kaper and the NMK crown debacle. she doesn’t freely choose any of it; she’s coerced, manipulated, abused.

and she already got justifiably punished for her bad actions in s1. the torture is almost literal overkill. it’s just……there’s this immediate turnaround in sympathy and view of the character. on first watch, it’s viscerally upsetting to see her getting so brutally punished for actions she already faced consequences for, and on rewatch, it makes your skin crawl to know she’s being tortured for terrible things she had little choice in carrying out. and tortured by some of the very same people who coerced her to behave terribly in the first place, to add insult to injury.

and it’s still fucking frustrating when they rescue her and her memory gets reset and she goes back to her parents because it’s like “well shit, she’s evil again, and we just wasted all that effort for nothing” but it’s also sad cause we know she’s running back to her abusers and she isn’t happy about it but doesn’t feel like she has a choice. and it’s sadder still that what eventually inevitably gets her to turn to good for good (i.e. away from her parents) is just. a full dissociative mental breakdown.

(but then she survives and it’s gonna be good!!! until Adaine dies in her fucking arms. which is. almost funny. she’s been through so much shit and that isn’t something that Brennan would have just. preplanned. like a written in plot point. no, that was just an unpredictable consequence of the battle. what a juicy fucking moment. she’s been through All That Shit™️ and has finally turned to fight for good and her sister just fully dies in front of her. yeowch)

and she turns out okay in the end. she comes out the other side alive and whole and supported by her sister and her friends, with the hope of a future and recovery. there is an acknowledgement that A) she can and will grow from her mistakes and damage, B) it’s going to be really hard, and C) the post-s2 one shots both prove that she’s doing okay now. hell, she has a whole squad now of other former-teenage-villains-turned-good-guys. she has friends now, Ragh and Zayn, with common ground, and a secret handshake and everything. they’ve all grown from the mistakes of their past into better, happier, healthier people

and about Zayn and Ragh. we’ve seen a lot of characters, protagonist and antagonist, teenage and adult, PC and NPC do some really fucked up shit and get punished for it. but why do they get happy endings? why are Aelwyn, Ragh, and Zayn the only members of the RVS and not someone else like Biz or Penelope or Dayne? 

well, the latter two are dead by then; but then again, Biz and Ragh were also killed by the Bad Kids in s1, and subsequently resurrected. (Zayn died too, but was neither killed nor revived at the Bad Kids’ hands, so i’ll get to him in a sec.) and there are plenty of adult antagonists the Bad Kids face who are killed and left that way by the Bad Kids without second thought: Johnny Spells, Coach Daybreak, Captain Wicklaw, the Abernant parents (presuming Arianwen doesn’t survive in the forest for very long, which i doubt). why do some characters get second chances while others don’t?

in the case of Zayn, his death was pretty much out of the Bad Kids’ hands, and they later found out he was manipulated by Daybreak into being bad anyway because of his sad living situation. he was a pretty minor antagonist in the scheme of things, and when we re-meet him as a ghost in the s1 epilogue, he’s pretty obviously remorseful for his actions. and dying seems like a steep enough punishment to me for the shit he did to contribute to the KVX caper; returning as a ghost, free from the trappings of his unfortunate living life, he now has the room and freedom to grow into a better person.

in the cases of Daybreak, Spells, Wicklaw, and the Abernant parents: these are bad people who should know better. these are fully grown adults who actively choose to do evil. whether they think it’s the right thing to do or not (in Daybreak’s case), whether they think it will benefit them and don’t care about anyone else (in the Abernants’ case), or whether they don’t care much at all and are just doing shit because they feel like it (in the cases of Spells and Wicklaw), these are all adults who consciously make the decision to do terrible things and hurt other people. of course Johnny Spells, who is generally a punk thief and thug, is not on the same level of bad as Angwyn, who kidnaps and tortures his own daughters for political gain, but the point remains. these fuckers should know better. they’re grown ups. they had their chances to be good and they chose not to heed them. their minds are set on bad actions and they are a continued danger to other people as long as they are alive. when they die, the Bad Kids do their damndest to make sure it stays that way.

now, in the cases of Penelope and Dayne: these are teenagers who actively chose to participate in an evil plot. Penelope, Dayne, and Biz were all fully cognizant of what they were doing trying to raise KVX back to his former power. why? well, to some extent, we can only speculate. i suspect Penelope was just one of those Regina George bitches who is rich and popular and powerful and obsessed with power and popularity within high school as if that’s the end-all-be-all of existence (which, like, when you’re currently in high school, is a somewhat understandable worldview i think). Dayne being her boyfriend and a musclehead jock probably falls into a similar line of thinking. they are actively and willingly trying to cause harm, and teenager or not, must be stopped. they’re killed, anyway, during the Climactic Battle™️ anyhow; it’s not like the Bad Kids were going to gain anything at that point by keeping them alive.

now, Biz: Biz is the creepy Nice Guy incel type, sees woman as a prize he deserves to win, yadda yadda. he does, like Penelope and Dayne, actively choose to help KVX. there might be something to be said about his motivation the Bad Kids discover after the arcade battle by detecting his thoughts (that being to upload the captured maidens from the palimpsests to “call the shots” himself) is an altered memory; whether this was his original motivation from the start or not, i’m not sure. but the Bad Kids do kill him – and then resurrect him for important, time-sensitive information. and they beat it out of him – he gets two of his fucking fingers blown off. and Riz reattaches them once they have their info, and they realize his memory is altered. of course, the Bad Kids don’t know at this point that the altered memory was something he, Penelope, and Aelwyn had planned and agreed on and done to themselves, but this points to something important in my opinion: the Bad Kids, and the narrative/show as a whole by extension, acknowledge that external manipulation affects how guilty someone is in a crime.

which brings us to Ragh. Ragh, introduced from episode 1 as the meathead jock. Ragh the archetypical one-dimensional high school bully. Ragh who works with the harvestmen in effort to (ostensibly) end the world/provoke international war. Ragh, whose low intelligence but high loyalty and internalized homophobia led him to be fully swayed and blindly led by his coach and captain, who have actively chosen to do evil. Ragh who is killed in combat by the Bad Kids and resurrected for information, not Daybreak. Ragh, who the Bad Kids realize was probably not aware of exactly what he was being made to do and how bad it really was. Ragh, who by their kindness in sparing his life and directing him on a better path, becomes a well-rounded character and an active ally to the Bad Kids during and after prom, an invaluable companion during their quest in sophomore year, and overall a really good friend and person. 

(it might also be worth considering the case of Jawbone here, too, who started out a very minor antagonist in a fight but ended up becoming a major NPC because the Bad Kids talked to him, found out he came from an unfortunate situation and set of circumstances, and showed him kindness in offering the school guidance counselor position, a kindness that isn’t really owed but given anyway and ends up changing his entire life for good.)

and then, Aelwyn, whose case is already discussed above. so, why is the RVS what it is, why them but not others?

if you’re familiar with Avatar: the Last Airbender, you’re probably familiar with Zuko’s character arc, and how it’s often lauded as a masterful example of developing a villain into a hero over the course of a narrative. what makes Zuko’s arc so well done and exceptional is that he starts out as a kid in a bad situation under the influence of bad adults seeking to do bad deeds, but he later realizes the error of those ways, actively removes himself from that situation despite the difficulty and danger in doing so, goes through a lot of shit and reflects on his past mistakes and learns from them, and then actively chooses to fight for good in the end with the help of close, trusted friends, found family. 

this, i believe, is the same in the case of Fantasy High and its treatment of the RVS. its members, like Zuko, are all teenagers who came from shitty situations and were manipulated by evil adults to do bad. they are punished for their bad actions, and they learn from their errors and mistakes. with the kindness and help of good people, friends and chosen family, they are able to escape their abusers and bad situations and grow into their own people. and they actively choose to improve themselves with that help and fight for good.

Fantasy High, through the arcs of Jawbone, Zayn, Ragh, and especially Aelwyn, asserts that it is not your fault if you come from a bad situation and are forced to behave badly as a result. it does not pretend that you are absolved of any responsibility for those actions; quite the opposite, as even though they were externally manipulated into their evil actions, all of those mentioned characters face tangible consequences for their actions and later express remorse for their mistakes. but Fantasy High also asserts that even if you have made great mistakes in your past, even if you came from a bad situation beyond your control, even if you were manipulated and abused, with care and love and support and a hell of a lot of work and effort, you can improve your situation and find good, happiness, peace, you can thrive. evil adults who should know better don’t get redeemed. teenagers who aren’t coerced but actively choose evil don’t get redeemed. but abused kids deserve another shot at happiness. with enough work, and some love and help along the way, they can get there, even from the lowest imaginable point, from rock fucking buttom. it’s possible. 

[oddlyhale]

I really feel like CRWBY interacts too much with its fans in a way that I never see the crews of other similarly sized or bigger media productions doing. Honestly I think there’s been some extreme irresponsibility with the things the crew has said. I think it’s totally fine that Barb and Arryn love bees, but I genuinely think that BB wasn’t planned from the start and that CRWBY was kind of forced to go with it because of the things Barb and Arryn were constantly posting without clarifying that their statements weren’t canon, which is why Blake’s relationship and development with Sun was just dropped completely like it never happened and why BB development has been so slow and awkward, giving us just crumbs for years. Because they don’t know what they’re doing and it wasn’t planned but they realized during v5 that fans so earnestly believed it’d be canon that they couldn’t NOT do BB without severe backlash. Thoughts?

This is what I've always wondered about if RT has a backbone or not. Do they just bend over to any demands in hopes that it'll please the crowd of fans that'll still demand more things?

The thing with fandoms is that you give them an inch and they'll take a mile. Not just with the RWBY fndm, but fandoms in general. You have to ultimately create a healthy distance between creator and fan, you can't always be every fans' friend, but that's not the creator's fault. If a fan thinks you're an asshole for never talking with them, or just giving them small talk, it's still not the creator's fault.

I remember (back in my day) when creators were practically untouchable, unreachable. You forget half the time they even exist. With such close contacts, we have now with the internet, I feel as though every creator should practice distancing themselves from needy fans. Any fan that's trying to pry into their business. Quite honestly, as much as fans love you, they have no reason to be prying into production and changes, unless it's absolutely necessary. But other than that, creators should take what fans say with a hefty grain of salt.

If RWBY was truly "planned from the beginning," there should be no need for the obvious fanservice fodder that they've been feeding viewers. It'll bump the flow or just unnecessarily twist the story. I still believe nothing was planned from the beginning, the clues of that become clear over time when you watch the show itself.

I do see what you mean when using BB as an example. This ship is the embodiment of "give them an inch, they'll take a mile." I feel like this ship had a manufactural setup, rather than being organic and true to a normal relationship. An organic relationship growth was BlackSun, no contest. It was setup, it was aimed to become something more, but then the manufactured BB ship came along and things began to look bleak for BlackSun.

Not saying I am a fan of BlackSun or BB. Honestly, Blake doesn't deserve either sun, haha. She's become too aggressively moody, it mucks up positivity that these two radiated (or Yang used to). These sunny dragons deserve a better outlet in their lives.

Now, I do know that it happens a lot within production crews: how they happen to have a favourite pairing from the show they're working on, and they'd like to express it online. That's fine! They're entitled to show that! But also, they shouldn't shove it on the creators to make it canon. While they're free to ship whatever, whoever they want, in no way should they demand the creators to make it happen.

I feel as though that's where RT should've grown a backbone. It's dumb to even force a ship to become canon when the real focus should be about the story and characters. And if they have an established ship (BlackSun,) and they were aiming for that to become a thing then, by all means, they should've buckled down and kept that route ongoing.

They wouldn't even have to be mean about it. Demeaning fans for liking a ship won't solve anything. All you can do is politely, but firmly, ask that the fndm respects all ships, respect what someone ships, and please respect canonical ships. That's really all you can do. It's not the creator's fault if the fans want to throw a fit until they get what they want. Continue with the canonical ships and be done with it.

Sometimes you can't fight fire with fire, because somebody's going to get burned in the end.

How they went about deconstructing BlackSun was more of a stain of Blake's character. She's nasty to Sun, something I seriously won't forgive the writers for. Not because it's Sun, but because Blake shows a terrible side of being an abuser. Using this horrendous writing as a way to spit on BlackSun to please the BB fans was a slap to the face.

I've got better ways of how BlackSun could've been put down, but the point is, RT has the backbone structure of a noodle. They just twist and bend to whatever fans want and push aside the criticism that they get for doing so.

I also don't think RT knows what they're doing with BB. It's just been a very awkward trek to make them an official pairing. There's nothing wrong with liking BB, but I do wish the fans of this ship would've been given better representation than just scraping for whatever they see. Then again, aggressive BB fans that demanded this ship and were influenced by Barb and Arryn's shipping should always be ignored. You don't want to give the spoiled kids what they want. Because again, you give them an inch and they'll take a mile.

Now it seems like Yang and Blake are paying the price in the writing. Yang is terribly moody and Blake just stands in the corner being sad. They don't have any motivation, other than to be each others' girlfriend. I don't know about you, but that's a really sad existence. It's even sadder when the fans don't seem to notice or realize it, they're just also in the narrow mindset of "oh all they need is a girlfriend and they'll be happy."

[ick25]

Rockman.EXE Axess 16 Review. Part 1.

So it has come to this, I’m just so bored that I decided to review another episode from Axess, my least favorite season. This is actually a request from a Tumblr follower and I accepted it because I actually liked this episode, probably because there is no Cross Fusion in it.

Episode Title: Cute Demon!

Not that one, in fact, I’m not sure if they are referring to Aquaman or Shuko. Let’s find out!

The episode starts with an ugly and boring poster outside of Higureya. Inside, Higure is telling Netto, Meiru and Tohru along with Mariko-sensei, Chisao and Rush for some reason, about a Net Battle competition to help the shopping district.

The episode is just starting and I’m already hating on this poster. XD

Apparently, nobody entered the competition because of the prize which is one week worth of rice.

What are you talking about? Do you know how many things you can eat with a side of rice? That’s good enough for me, but At least get four more bags, you cheapskate!

Since Higure is desperate to get people to enter the competition, he obviously called Netto and his friends so they that they would compete, and he does this by grabbing and shaking a literal child!

Stranger Danger!

The animation is so bad that even the voice actor seems a little lost in his dialogue, there is no such thing as lip synching. Also, what’s with Netto’s face?

A man comes running into the store and tells Higure that “she” is back. But who is “she” and why is a siren being heard as if there was an incoming missile headed for the town?

The missile is actually a sad looking girl name Shuko Kido and everyone close their shops to avoid her like she had Coro... I mean, the plague or something.

Geez, never thought I’d see someone trying to look sadder than Tohru’s N-1 Grand Prix picture and failing at it.

After the title card we see a picture of Shuko standing on some kind of pentagram as Netto tells us why she is being feared.

That’s just rude, and I like how she just give up her standing pose right before the end.

The group is spying on her from inside Higureya and when she sees them and smiles, they get scared and hide back inside. According to Higure, Shuko is a kind girl, but bad things happen when she is around because of her terrible luck, going as far as to blame her for every bad thing that happens to people.

He doesn’t even explain the third image, what does Shuko have to do with some random kid getting a 0 on his test? Was she the substitute teacher or something? Because that happens in the game.

Shuko walks by Higureya and sees the ugly poster for the Net Battle competition and is overjoyed to see that the prize is a week worth of rice.

How poor are you if you can’t afford one bag of rice? That rice is gonna go bad if you keep it in the fridge for too long.

Hearing that Shuko is gonna enter the competition makes Higure start to panic, but suddenly Netto says he is gonna enter, followed by Meiru and Tohru who say they will too.

I want to point out that in the English dub, Rockman calls Chisao a Goofball, not important but I just think it’s funny the way they make the always polite Rockman call people names in the dub.

Rockman explains that what Netto really wants is to fight a strong opponent, which doesn’t really make any sense because no one said anything about her being a Net Battler, let alone a good one. And also, that explains Netto, but not why Meiru too, is she just simping over Netto? Because she immediately says “me too” after Netto tells Higure he will enter. I’m watching you Meiru!

Netto goes out to tell Shuko that he wants them to fight as equals, but she is already too far to hear him. The others come out too and notice that all the other shops are closed.

Then why the frig did you guys hide too?!

Higure tells Mariko that Shuko herself says that she is the evil little girl. Hold on, am I suppose to feel sorry for her? Because it just looks like she is craving attention. 

The next scene is the day of the competition and its raining, so no one came except for Higure, Netto, Meiru and Tohru.

I don’t care. 

You expect me to worry about two characters that have no reason to even be in this episode or in the show in general?

Shuko appears out of nowhere giving everyone a scare, and Netto offers to let her borrow his umbrella to cover her form the rain.

Okay, do you hate yourself Shuko? Because you don’t seem to be wanting any charity from others so I guess its not for the attention.

Higure has enough of Shuko’s self loathing and decides to start and end the competition ASAP by making it a Battle Royal!

Everyone plugs in their Navis, Shuko thinks all their Navis look strong but then motivates herself to go on after seeing the price that is now three bags of rice?

Did Higure put the rice in three paper bags? Why? I mean, it looks pretty, but is it even practical?

Shuko plugs in her Navi who is today’s Navified Robot Master Spoutman AKA Aquaman.EXE! Drum roll please!

OMG ITS SO CUTE!

Wait, I feel something’s wrong here.

Nope, just my imagination I guess.

Apparently, Aquaman.EXE is so cute that the Navis are afraid of hurting it.

So is Iceman, and that didn’t stop you from slamming him against a wall. Just do what you did in the manga.

My bad, that was Dark Rockman.

Anyway, Higure just wants to end the battle so he decides to attack Aquaman, followed by Netto who attempts to send a Zeus Hammer chip!

Wasn’t that your intention?

Numberman throws his Dice Bomb, but to everyone's surprise, it lands like this.

Et tu, Meiru? Don’t tell me you believe in that too.

Shuko sees an opportunity and Aquaman starts to move, making this the funniest Net Battle I ever seen.

Yep, with each step Aquaman.EXE takes, the whole group takes a step back until they all fall out of the ring, making Shuko win by default.

Are you? Because it didn’t seem like you were trying that hard, Rockman.

So Shuko is declared the winner and is finally smiling, thinking that her luck might be changing after all.

THANK YOU! I’m glad I’m not the only one who finds Shuko’s pessimism very irritating. Unfortunately, her happiness doesn’t last long for she just remembered that her rice cooker is broken, BECAUSE SHE IS SOOOOO UNLUCKY!

I better end part 1 here before I start to consider strangling Shuko an option. Please tell me what you think so far with a comment.

[space-girl-and-droids-art]

A New Dawn- Book Review

(Nobody asked for this review, but here it is. This is spoiler free but it does contain minor spoilers for Star Wars: Rebels and some key events from the prequel movies. I’m not a book expert and I don’t even know how to speak in English to begin with, so excuse my poor grammar.)

“A New Dawn” is canon novel written by John Jackson Miller that focuses on how Hera Syndulla and Kanan Jarrus met and the beginning of the rebellion against the Galactic Empire. This book is a prequel to the TV series “Star Wars: Rebels.” But it contains more adult and deep themes than the tv series itself because it focus on the lives of two adults that have been through a lot already. This book is also after the events of the “Kanan Jarrus: the last padawan” comics, but it’s not necessary to read the comics to understand what’s going on in the book.

This book starts in the mining planet Gorse, a planet where the empire is mining a material used to fabricate Star Destroyers and under the control of the cyborg Count Vidian. But what starts being an inspection ends up generating chaos around the planet. There’s not much more I can talk about the plot of the book without making heavy spoilers, but you are going to enjoy it. The plot feels like a Star Wars movie.

If you are a Star Wars rebels’ fan and you want to get to know more about Hera Syndulla and Kanan Jarrus before their arrival to Lothal, this book is a must read. Even if you are not really into rebels, if you like stories about rebellions this is going to be an enjoyable read. Being focused on different characters perspective (third person, so it’s not that confusing), you get to know a lot about the trauma that jedi carry after Order 66, their relationship with the force in a galaxy that is no longer welcoming of those who use it, and what was the perception the regular people had of the empire, and at the same time you get to understand the cruelty behind the empire, what were their motives, etc.

This novel also does wonders for Kanan Jarrus character development and after reading it, his attitude towards Ezra at the beginning of rebels makes more sense. Often we forget that Kanan had a different coping and survival mechanism than Obi-Wan Kenobi and other jedis that survived Order 66, and this book let us know how deep this trauma affects him and how it drives him as a person.

The characters of this book felt real, and that’s something I always enjoy when reading. Even when sometimes I didn’t agree with them, I could understand why they were doing what they were doing. I understood their motives. Example being the antagonist, Count Vidian. Everytime he was even mentioned I wanted to throw him out of the nearest window. But not because the character was badly written, on the contrary, he was such a well-written villain.

This being said, I thought since I am a rebel’s fan I would end up having either Kanan or Hera as my favourite character of the novel, but I was wrong. I love them, with all my heart, but the secondary characters stole the show for me. Specially Skelly, one of Kanan’s co workers at the mines. I feel the whole crew of this story represents the different parts of being a rebel in a unique way.

The story and it’s plot constantly kept me guessing what was going to happen next. It has a little mystery aspect to it that I really enjoyed and kept me hooked from beginning to end. The beginning was slow paced for me , because it introduces us to new characters, but after the characters are properly introduced and you get to know what their routine is , their whole world is flipped upside down and it gets really fast paced but not rushed. I liked it a lot.

My favourite part of the book is for sure every fight they have against the empire. The author does a good job making characters real, and even better at doing battles. I felt like I was in the ship with them. The other scenes I liked where the ones that showed how each of the characters belief system changed. You get to see why they are against the empire, except for Hera, which is expected since her father was already involved with the rebellion of Ryloth since the Clone Wars.

We do get to understand why the rebellion is important to here nevertheless.

The book made me both laugh and cry. I felt almost every emotion while reading it. Such a rollercoaster. It also made me want to watch the show again, and made the season four ten times sadder.

This novel got me hooked from page one and kept me turning pages until I finished it.

I did miss ma boi Chopper. The droid isn’t on the book, but I get it because during the story they are flying mostly in other ships and not on the Ghost.

Kanan at the beginning was such an asshole, which makes sense considering his background, but I really wanted to punch him. His character develops a lot in the book and, considering the rebel series, I have to admit that Kanan is one of the most well-developed characters in all Star Wars and I’ll die on this hill.

I wish the book focused a bit more on Hera because I really felt like out of the crew, she was the least developed while being the most important at the same time. Sadly,since the book focused more on Kanan, she was viewed from his view and clearly from a male gaze that wasn’t present in the show. This changes when Kanan’s perspective does .She was still a badass pilot and fighter and portrayed as such.

Overall, this is a great book. I would recommend this book to rebel’s fans, people who have Rogue One as their comfort movie, Rebellion story lovers, people who likes reading about sabotage, people that want to know more about the technical aspects of leading the empire, Kanera shippers, People who still cry about Order 66 and isn’t ready to see it again in the bad batch, readers eager to know a cruel villain you abstolutely won’t root for and Kanan Jarru’s simps.

If you are more interested in politics and love themed stories, this one isn’t for you. Also, if you are looking for more young adult novels, maybe this isn’t the story you should begin with. If you are looking for force users stories this also may be a little disappointing for you because Kanan doesn’t really use the force a lot until rebels. Also if bombs or bomb attacks are triggering to you in some way you should know that they are featured quite a lot. I will be reviewing more Star Wars book in the future and I have done more reviews already that you can check on my tumblr page if you want to read a different book.

It’s not a mandatory read to understand the lore of Star Wars or Star Wars: rebels, but I heavily recommend it and it’s a good stand alone book.

I hope you find this review useful and give this book a chance if you are interested.

[absentlyabbie]

a family and (mis)fortune fic

on ao3

moments growing up in the life of tommy merlyn, part-time wayne foster child. (eight)

—————

Tommy wasn’t his dad. He couldn’t keep up the cold shoulder long, and it hadn’t worked anyways. His dad could go ice all over and ignore you until you were apologizing for anything you could think of that might have made him mad, hoping you’d get the right one eventually, and realizing as you went down the list how much you’d deserved the punishment.

Bruce and Alfred just politely left him alone and went about their business. Tommy didn’t know what he’d expected, really. He’d only been here days, and he was nobody, really. What did they care if he was quieter than before?

Dick, though, was like Ollie at his most obnoxious but times a hundred. If Tommy’s cold shoulder worked on him, it was only because he was the same as Ollie and didn’t like being deprived of attention. And just like Ollie, mad was still attention and he had just as much fun being a jerk as being friends.

Tommy felt like such a pushover that it worked on him, every time. He wasn’t any better, really. Being the focus of somebody’s attention was always an opportunity not to be passed up. He never knew when it might happen next.

And unlike Ollie, Dick had a way of making you feel like his attention was all about you. And Tommy knew it made Oliver sound bad, and he wasn’t, he really wasn’t. He couldn’t help the way things just sort of revolved around him most of the time.

(That was at least a little bit Tommy’s fault, too. It was always easier when it was about Ollie. It was awkward and just… too much when they made things about Tommy for too long.)

Tommy at least appreciated that Dick knew what buttons not to push once Tommy had stopped giving him the silent treatment. He seemed mostly determined for them to just pick up where they’d been before, getting to know each other, kind of, almost getting to be friends.

(Even though Tommy was still kind of mad at, well… everyone, but he couldn’t help thinking how Dick was still his favorite part about being stuck here.)

Dick was homeschooling this year, apparently, so they did homework together in the library sometimes. Tommy wasn’t going for-real back to school—in Starling, at least—until January, but he still had to do all his reading and assignments and tests. Dick even helped him with math, Tommy’s mortal enemy. He was disgustingly good at it.

It just sort of… all fell apart like that. Dick just wore him down with a direct assault of annoyingness, finishing him off with a Mortal Kombat-style friendship fatality. Alfred just sort of. Snuck in there. Tommy wasn’t even sure when he stopped giving Alfred the cold shoulder, only that he didn’t think he meant to. He just kind of realized all of a sudden that he and Alfred were normal again (or whatever “normal” was after only a week) and had been for a couple days.

Bruce was easier, a little. He just… let Tommy keep giving him the cold shoulder until he gave up. And after a few more days, it just seemed silly to aim it at just Bruce when he’d already forfeited like a sucker with Dick and Alfred. But nobody made him talk about it, or punished him for it, or called him a brat, or anything. It was just weird.

So much here was weird. Like, Gotham was super weird. Sometimes Bruce would have the news on at night and they’d talk about Batman—who was cool, but still weird—or about the insane criminals blowing things up or trying to poison the water or bombing a whole city block with laughing gas. Tommy doubted he’d ever get used to it.

All of a sudden, Tommy looked up and realized it was Thursday and he’d been in Gotham for nearly two weeks. Two weeks of a completely foreign city, too much unfamiliar house with too few also unfamiliar people in it. Two weeks since he’d been allowed to talk to Ollie, because the adults all agreed that Tommy needed time to “settle in” without unnecessary reminders making him more homesick.

He’d expected the time to drag on like torture, and while there were stretches it had felt that way, for the most part it all just kind of rushed past him.

Of course, now that he’d realized he only had a few more days of the best-friend-phone-call embargo, he was sure every minute would feel like three hours.

Except, for once, something broke Tommy’s way.

The phone ringing didn’t make Tommy look up from the kitchen table where he was doing a worksheet on the water cycle. The phone rang all the time here. Bruce was apparently very popular, for some reason.

Tommy ignored it as Alfred left the pot of soup bubbling gently on the stove to pick up the kitchen line, his low, polite British voice just pleasant background noise.

Until he said Tommy’s name.

Tommy’s head snapped up so hard his neck twinged, but he just stared at the back of Alfred’s neatly pressed shirt, his head bent as he listened to the caller talk.

“Yes, he’s right here, in fact. Of course. One moment, if you please.”

Tommy was all but vibrating.

Alfred, finally, turned around. His expression was all mild pleasantness as always, but there was sparkle in his eye, and Tommy almost thought his mouth was trying not to smile. “Master Tommy, you have a phone call.”

Tommy leaned so far forward in his seat the edge of the table bit at his chest. “For me? But… I thought…”

Alfred lowered his chin and raised one eyebrow. “Indeed. Now do come take the phone, it’s rude to leave someone waiting, and I’ll need to rescue the soup in another second.”

Tommy stood up so fast his chair screeched on the linoleum. Wincing, he rubbed suddenly sweaty hands down his jeans and tried to make himself walk calmly to the phone—

what if it wasn’t Oliver, what if it was someone he didn’t know, what if they asked him things he didn’t want to answer

—which only last for about three steps, the last few a scramble with hands already reaching and an excited grin busting across his face.

Alfred handed over the receiver with a wink, already headed back to the stove as Tommy shoved his face against it. “Hello?”

A beat of silence that could have been years. A beat where his heart didn’t.

And then: “Toooommmyyyyy!!”

Tommy jumped in place with a delighted whoop, then answered, “Oooollllllliiiee!!”

Finally. Finally. With Oliver’s voice in his ear, things felt just a little more right again.

—

Bruce stood in the kitchen entryway, shoulder leaned against the doorjamb, one ankle crossed over the other and his hands in his pockets. He couldn’t help but smile as he watched Tommy, oblivious to his presence, show more energy and animation than Bruce had seen since Starling.

He had agreed with Moira and Robert—though he suspected Moira was the main driver of the decision—that it could be most helpful to Tommy to keep the boys from calling until Tommy had a couple of weeks to adjust to Gotham, to adjust to being away from everything he knew. It had made sense to Bruce that the reminder of Oliver, couple with the distance, might only make being away more painful.

But after watching Tommy react to something with that front of coldness and silence over an explosive anger and some hurt Bruce could only guess at, he had buckled. He was doing enough to Tommy, taking him even part-time away from the only life he’d ever had. He still truly believed it was better for him than any other alternative, but now, he couldn’t see a way that letting Tommy drift through these halls without feeling connected to anything would be anything other than harmful.

So he had called Robert. Moira, of course, would have been a harder sell, and while Bruce expected he could have negotiated her down, the idea of negotiating for the smallest piece of Tommy’s happiness felt… distasteful.

Robert Queen was a disaster of a husband and father, and a mess of a CEO, but he did genuinely seem to care for Tommy. After a short conversation, Robert had ended up suggesting the early phone call himself.

Watching Tommy now, Bruce knew they’d made the right decision. He could even hear Oliver from here, all the way across the kitchen, as the boys talked a mile-minute at high volume, half the time running over each other in their excitement. Tommy seemed practically lit from within.

Bruce didn’t quite understand the connection between the boys. Dick had teased him about growing up without other children, but he’d been right, really. Bruce hadn’t had siblings, hadn’t known his cousins, and little about his life had positioned him for close friendships. But his understanding was irrelevant. There was so little good in Tommy’s life, so little genuine, healthy connection of any kind. Bruce would be damned if he severed this one.

At the stove, Alfred shot him a knowing look—and an approving smile. Bruce ducked his head gratefully.

Abruptly, something changed in the light, bright atmosphere built by Tommy’s enthusiasm, and Bruce zeroed back in.

“Wow!” His tone had gone brassy, the excitement and happiness ringing with a false note. “Seriously, the premiere? For Pagemaster? It’s not even out yet! That’s… oh. Cool. I mean, yeah! I’m, I’m glad it’s good. Yeah, I’m sure I’ll see it eventually.” A hollow laugh; Bruce winced. “Hey, no spoilers. No, no it’s cool. We’ll just… we’ll talk about it later. Right. Sure. Yeah, I know. I wish we could’ve gone together, too.”

Bruce and Alfred shared another look as the conversation began to wind down from there, this one sadder and more concerned. Tommy had deflated at the mention of the movie. The first missed experience he and Oliver would have otherwise shared. That it would only be the first seemed to be settling around Tommy’s shoulders like a leaden cloak.

In the bargain Bruce had struck with the Queens, he had sought, ultimately, to achieve minimal disruption to the healthy parts of Tommy’s life. School. His key friendships. He knew, of course, that it would be far from a seamless transition, and that it wouldn’t be easy to make the initial adjustment. But strategically calculating the cost-benefit balance of a child’s loneliness and unhappiness was a far different thing than watching it live and breathe in front of you.

Bruce watched solemnly as Tommy said his much quieter goodbyes. He pulled the phone from his ear and simply, stared at for a second, lost and at a loss. Bruce couldn’t see his face from this vantage, but he saw as Tommy’s shoulders twitched back and rose with a deep breath before he set the receiver firmly in the cradle.

When Tommy turned around, he startled to see Bruce in the doorway.

Bruce tried a smile for him. “Good call?”

“Yeah.” Tommy pushed the word a little too hard, but what followed was a little more relaxed. A little truer. “I’m really glad I got to talk to Ollie. I… I miss him.”

Bruce pretended not to notice the break in Tommy’s voice, and Tommy looked away with a sniff. Turning his head, unfortunately, didn’t hide the shine of tears filming his eyes.

In his chest, Bruce’s heart squeezed like a fist.

He would blame this odd pain for what happened next.

Putting on a warmth and brightness of his own, Bruce asked, “So what was that movie you two were talking about? Anything good?”

Tommy’s eyes cut up to him surprised before dropping back to the floor, one shoulder shrugging. “Uh. I guess. I haven’t seen it yet, it’s not even out yet. Ollie’s dad knows somebody who works with somebody or something and he got them tickets to the premiere yesterday. I mean. I guess Ollie liked it.”

Bruce hummed thoughtfully. “What movie?”

Another of those jerky little shrugs. “The Pagemaster. It’s got the Home Alone kid in it and monsters or something. Part of it’s cartoon, like that old Roger Rabbit movie.” He scuffed his toe over an invisible spot on the tile. “We saw the previews a couple months ago. We… we thought we were gonna see it together.”

That damn pain again.

“I could take you.”

It was out of Bruce’s mouth before it registered in his brain, an appalling anomaly. At the stove, Alfred’s head came up in alarm, his eyes wide and unabashedly questioning Bruce’s sanity.

But Tommy, in front of him, had raised his head, some uncertain, dubious hope pinching at the corners of his eyes. “Take me?”

In for a penny. Bruce cleared his throat. “To see the movie. You and Dick, of course. When is it in theaters?”

Tommy’s eyes were slowly rounding, a new light in his face. “Next week. Like, Thanksgiving Day, actually. You’re really gonna see a movie with us? Can we go then? And I can call Ollie after?”

Shit.

Bruce had hoped to salvage this offer by taking Dick and Tommy to the movie and trusting Dick to be responsible for an hour or two in the actual theater. There was no backing down to that now without denting Tommy’s burgeoning joy.

His voice rasped a little on the way out as he said, “Yes. On Thanksgiving. And you can call Oliver after.”

“Thank you!” Tommy shouted, throwing himself abruptly forward to wrap his arms around Bruce’s middle.

It lasted only a second, and Tommy didn’t even seem to register he’d done it as he was already running out the door, yelling Dick’s name.

“You’re welcome,” Bruce murmured belatedly.

Alfred cleared his throat loudly and Bruce turned to him with a grimace. “I know.”

“Do you?” Alfred asked sternly, brows raised and eyelids half lowered. That damn look still managed to make Bruce feel about four feet tall. “Or have you perhaps taken leave of your considerable senses?”

Bruce sighed and slumped harder against the doorframe. “You saw the look on his face. I can’t take it back, Alfred.”

Alfred’s sigh was much more dignified. “But can you go back? Can you truly?”

Bruce tensed, the hands still in his pockets tightening into fists. “We’re not going there.”

Alfred waited until Bruce looked him in the eye. “Will that matter?”

Bruce straightened, freeing one hand to rub at the tension in his neck. “It will have to. He needs this. And I need to give that to him. I owe him this much.”

Setting the soup pot on a cold eye of the stove, Alfred patted his hands on the front of his apron and stepped towards Bruce, grave understanding darkening his gaze. “It is a kind, good thing you are trying to do for that boy. Even if he may never know the value of this particular gesture.”

“He doesn’t have to,” Bruce insisted, with perhaps a bit too much heat. “It’s not about being grateful. He has been more than grateful enough for too long. Let him take this one for granted.”

Alfred considered him for a long moment before, finally, gracing him with an approving nod.

It was the right thing to do. It was still the right thing to do. Bruce hadn’t stormed down to Starling out of the blue and bulldozed the Queens and the child welfare system to take Tommy in without knowing it would be hard. He wasn’t afraid of hard.

This was why he had done it. Why he had been unable to simply go about his life after knowing Rebecca’s son, that frightened, lonely, small boy at her funeral, cringing from his father’s displeasure, was orphaned and alone in the world.

Tommy deserved, for just a moment, to be a child. To be only a child. Not a chameleon, adapting to every expectation that confronted him. Not a castoff, unwanted, a burden to be shuffled from unwilling hand to reluctant hand.

A child.

For almost any cost, Bruce would give him that.

It was the very least he deserved, and what he had been denied for much too long.

—————

@memcjo @klaus-hargreeves-katz @its-a-pygmy-puffle @keabbs @princesssarcastia @obscure-sentimentalist @icannotbelieveiamhere @p0cketw0tch @andyouweremine @storiesofimagination @acheaptrickandacheesyoneline @cronusamporaofficial @batsonthebrain​ @adeusminhacolombina @nothinglikeweplanned​

[gale-gentlepenguin]

Gale Reacts: Masters of the universe: Revelation episode 4

-Spoilers below

-So Orko speaking creepy nursery rhymes

-Orko and Evil-lyn ended up in the same place.

-Orko just killed two birds by accident. Remember when his mess ups were harmless?

-You cannot call her Lyn.

-Beastman worried about Evil-lyn

-Roboto sensors are not fooled.

-So creepy skull man. who is not skelator. (Its Skullglow. Lol)

-Oh wow Skullglow is creepy, i love it.

-The he wants her fear... okay.

-And the cliché 'I fear nothing'. Just show him the fear.

-I wonder what the fear will be.

-Ooo fear well.

-Orko sees the dry fountain and that everyone he knows is dead. Damn.

-Orko's not his real name.

-Orko's real name was Oracle.

-Orko's sad backstory. He is gonna die soon. I can feel it.

-Evil-lyn actually encouraging Orko.

-SHE ADMITS SHE ADDED THE EVIL PART TO HER NAME!

-Orko and Lyn bonding moment is cute.

-SHADOW GREMLINS!

-SHADOW GIANT TROLL THING!

-And they have no magic lol

-and worst fear revealed to be evil He-man.

-But I bet it represents something else.

-ZOMBIE KILLING!

-oh neat! roboto looks cool. He is polite.

-Andra is afraid of zombies. The shadowbeasts take form of your fear.

-OH THE GIANT IS A GIANT BEASTMAN!

-Okay, teela's weapon is cool. it can change.

-So she is afraid of being alone? What a reasonable and realistic fear. She felt that by lying everyone was isolating her which is why she left. Okay it wasnt handled the best but hey, this at least grounds her a bit more making it so she is relatable. Good to see they are trying to fix things

-Wait... she is afraid of her fate? Okay, I think what its saying is that she is afraid of her fate in things and feels like she has no will of her own. Also a reasonable fear and actually makes more sense then my first thought. This explains that she was actually hella stressed with expectations and then having her friends and family lie to her was the straw that broke the camel's back. It is more realistic and this can be explored.

-No I was wrong Her fear was that she was too awesome... That seems like a cop out. It would have been better if it was being alone. Cause then it would have played into her insecurity with the secrets. But no.... cant have her be vulnerable. (I hate when they do the I am too awesome thing with all characters. Its lame.) Well at least the animation for it was cool.

-To be fair this is not the worst example of this. But its the most generic version of it.

-I am too awesome. and that is my fear so. And I am owning it now.... Okay.

-Cue hint secret power because she is 'Special'

-I do like the way the other people handled their situations tho.

-So she got the sword.

-So one half down. But now they got some magic. They can find the other half of the sword.

-Cool gate spell. Way to go Not so Evil lyn

-Preternia looks boss.

-He! The villain aint done yet. And he is currently my favorite villain so far.

-Orko coming in clutch!

-MAGIC FIGHT!!! Orko stepping up!

-And now Orko is going to die. But he goes out taking out this punk ass skeleton.

-And he died in an explosion. Welp I predicted that would happen.

-I want to feel sadder but... I saw this coming a mile away. Like that seems to be the trends with these deaths. They either happen so suddenly or are just trying to make ya feel bad.

-WOW TEELA CALM DOWN. Like yeesh.

-ADAM!

__________________________________________________________

5.5/10

Orko's scene was cool but like, It was really predictable he was going to die.

And Adam being in heaven basically.

Some things felt like cop outs.

Now the scenes with Orko should make me feel sad. But like its so clear they are TRYING to make you feel bad. Like Orko was tripping so many OBVIOUS death flags to make his death extra tragic. I get it, i love angst. But they could have been more subtle. Or at least had him alive for more than an episode before they kill him. But hey at least it was a cool way to go.