#I feel like I just read a nonexistent online thing

[givemebishies]

Preordered the revised ABM ebook AND the physical copy so I can actually read the ebook and but also display the physical book on my shelf to prove that I read a real book lol

[finelinefae]

bambi [ceo!h x shy!reader]

synopsis: y/n tries a dating app and meets the CEO of Pleasing

word count: 8.6k

contains: ceo!harry x assitant!y/n, deer!reader vibes, dating app, online dating, deer!reader, first date, first kiss, fluff, age gap (9 years)

a/n: this is the first part of a new series. as usual the first part is a lil slow to set things up but I'm excited for what's to come of this one. there's going to be a lot of cuteness and all the things i love writing about in this one so i can't wait to share more !

. . .

Most of the time Y/N didn’t want to be in control of things. 

From a young age, she had to be in charge of everything. She had three younger brothers and was born to a single mother who worked hard to keep everything afloat in their tiny, townhouse. So inevitably she became an adult before she could even buy a lottery ticket. 

Her life wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t easy. With the constant nagging from her much younger siblings and the dampened sleeve of her t-shirt—evidence of the hours she spent comforting her mother through tears—Y/N had just had enough.

Her life had become an abundance of things she was struggling to keep up with. She had no reprieve throughout her daily life, no way of stopping or just letting go. 

She worked six-hour shifts at the supermarket, studied marketing at university, did the school run in the mornings, and often in the evenings too, if her mother was too tired to get off the couch. She tutored her youngest brother, who was falling behind in math, and kept the house in order while all three of them stayed glued to the television.

Even worse, her social life was practically nonexistent.. She was twenty-one and spent her Friday nights making dino nuggets and catching up on an incessant amount of laundry from the past week. 

Y/N wasn’t sure where her life was heading. The loneliness and stress was so overwhelming she could barely breathe. 

One night, the weight of it all brought her to tears as she thought about her future after graduation. Most of the girls she knew were planning gap years, travelling to places like Brazil or Italy. She tried to picture herself boarding a plane, but the only thing she could imagine was her mother calling mid-flight, asking her to pick up one of the boys from school.

She pulled open her phone eyes blotchy and nose stuffy from crying. Her loneliness was hitting her hard and she was desperate to feel some kind of connection, even if it was five minutes of conversation. So, she opened the only dating app she had on her phone, one that she’d installed many moons ago when she wanted to open herself up to meeting new people. 

She barely used it after realising she wasn’t the best at small talk and whenever a guy would ask for a date, her introverted self would refuse to step foot out of the house. But on occasion she’d find herself wondering, searching for someone to take her mind off of everything. 

Y/N swiped past copious images of men, seemingly unphased by all of them. She swiped through so many, that they almost began to look the same - 5’9, tanned, shirtless or lifting weights trying to show some kind of strength that proved to women they were most definitely ‘manly’. 

When she started to believe all hope was lost, she paused when her eyes settled on a man who didn’t look much like the others. He was tall, with brunette curls and green eyes that crinkled when he smiled. He wore rings on his hands in every single picture and in one of them he wore a shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal a sleeve of tattoos. In most of his pictures he wore comfy sweaters and knitted cardigans with grey or black trousers. In one of them he wore a pair of blue jeans and had a small, battered copy of The Catcher in the Rye in his back pocket. 

She read his bio beneath. 

‘Harry, 30

Likes: scrabble, food, cats, books, cardigans

Dislikes: loud chewing, music played too low, emails, wearing sunglasses indoors at dinner is absolutely criminal’

She clicked the heart on his profile, eyes widening when the words ‘MATCH’ appeared on the screen in big bubble writing. He hadn’t sent her a message but clearly he had liked her own profile which was surprising considering she had barely anything on it. 

As she was mulling over what to say to start the conversation, three bubbles quickly appeared then disappeared, replaced by a message. She held her breath, reading the words. 

Harry: Hey, pretty dress

She frowned, wondering what he meant by that but then remembered she had a picture of her on her profile, showcasing one of her favourite dresses. It was a baby pink slip dress she had made out of silk fabric. 

Y/N: Thank you, I made it! :) 

Harry: You did? Wow! Looks better than most of the ones I’ve seen in my own store.

Y/N: Do you own a clothing store?

Harry: Something along those lines

Harry: Although they don’t sell pretty dresses like yours 

Y/N: They’re probably a lot better, I use cheap materials 

She cringed at her message, hoping she didn’t sound broke or not put together by saying she used something cheap.

Harry: I’m even more impressed

She smiled, watching him type a new message. 

Harry: What brings you here?

She tried to sum up how she was feeling without making herself seem like a weirdo. She didn’t want to sound like a recluse looking for human interaction no matter how much she felt like it. 

Y/N: I’m tired of everything, just want someone to keep me company 

Harry: I get that. Should I be worried? Are you okay? 

Her heart warmed, she couldn’t remember the last time someone asked her if she was okay. 

Y/N: I’m okay now, thank you for asking !! it’s just everyday life stuff.

Harry: Of course. Just let me know if there’s anything you want to talk about. I’m right here to listen… or read 

Y/N: thank you, that truly means a lot!! xx

Harry: No problem, love x

Y/N’s heart flickered at the name he had placed on the end. 

They texted for hours, well into the middle of the night. Y/N was giddy, rolling around on her bed, smiling so hard her cheeks ached. They had so much in common—both preferred quiet nights in, were family-oriented, loved literature and art and even fashion. He was funny and sweet, always checking in to make sure she was comfortable and that he wasn’t overstepping with his questions. Despite how much they had in common, they had a lot of differences too.

Y/N: Is it raining where you are? Xx

Harry: Hm, just checked outside and I think the clouds are coming over. I don’t mind though autumn happens to be my favourite season.

Y/N: omg really? 

Harry: What? You don’t agree?

Y/N: No omg are you kidding? I’m much more into spring. I like that it’s sunny with a slight breeze so it’s warm but not too warm so you can still wear a sweater

Harry: Ahhh I see, you do give spring I must say

Y/N: You think so?

Harry: Even from looking at your pictures, you look like a tulip or something. 

Harry: Or the little deer from that movie

Harry: What was it?

Harry: Bambi!

Harry: Maybe that should be your name - Bambi 

Y/N: That’s one of my favourite movies !! 

Y/N: I happened to think Bambi is a very pretty name 

Harry: Then I’ll call you Bambi 

Y/N: Well what should I call you?

Harry: Anything you like, Bambi 

. . . 

Y/N was working her shift at the supermarket. She was already entering her final hour, her stomach rumbling as she packed frozen pizzas onto the shelves. Although she had been working hard to get things done so she could go home on time, her mind was constantly wandering. 

It had been a full week of talking to Harry. They had converted to messaging on WhatsApp after exchanging numbers and every day Y/N would wake up to a morning text message from him telling her to have a good day and that he would be right there in her pocket if she ever needed anything. In the evenings, he would make sure she wasn’t going to sleep with anything heavy on her mind. He’d ask her questions about what she ate and if she had any time to herself in the day. For the first time in a long time, Y/N felt a little less lonely. She went about her day with a little pep in her step feeling the excitement of texting the man she had only just met. She didn’t know what it was about him but a part of her felt safe with him. Maybe it was the fact he was nine years older than her and knew what it was like to be under stress with so many things but he understood her in a way no one else did. 

And Bambi.

Every day, it was Bambi this and Bambi that, and every time, she’d swoon or smile at the nickname he had given her. It was silly, maybe even a little ridiculous, how much it affected her. But she couldn’t help it—every time he said it, a bubble of excitement grew inside her. She liked someone for the first time in a long time, and it brought something new, something light, into her overwhelming life.

After days of just simply texting, Y/N had asked him if he wanted to video call tonight. It would be her first time hearing what he sounded like and part of her was nervous. What if he came across differently from how he was over text? What if he didn’t look the way he did in the numerous pictures he had sent her? What if after calling tonight, he didn’t like her anymore?

Hours later, Y/N was tucked up in bed readying herself to call him. She had showered and blow-dried her hair, wearing her comfiest pink pyjamas with her body wrapped up in her duvet. Her thumb hovered over the call button, gnawing on her bottom lip as thoughts raced through her mind.

She gasped when Harry’s face appeared on her screen just seconds after she pressed call. It was their first time ever talking like this, and her heart raced as she took in the sight of him. He was sitting in a desk chair, a large framed artwork hanging on the wall behind him. His shirt was slightly rumpled, his tie loosened around the collar, and his curls fell lazily across his forehead. He looked so effortlessly handsome, it almost didn’t seem real.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice breaking the stillness of her bedroom. It carried a warmth, soft and steady, like the glow of a campfire, and she felt herself melt under its gentle heat.

“H-Hi,” she squeaked, her cheeks immediately flushing with warmth. Her nerves bubbled up as she realized she was staring at him, trying to comprehend that this was actually happening. Surely she was dreaming, she pinched herself to make sure. 

Harry’s eyes softened when he heard her shaky greeting. “You alright?” he asked, the corner of his mouth lifting in a small, amused smile. His tone was gentle, almost teasing, but there was something deeper there—like he was studying her reaction and enjoying every second of it.

She nodded quickly, fumbling with the hem of her pyjama shirt. “I’m good! Just… surprised you answered so fast.” She giggled nervously, her voice high-pitched and sweet, like she couldn’t quite believe this was happening. “I thought it’d take a few rings at least.” Her blush deepened as she tucked her knees up to her chest.

He chuckled softly, the sound rich and warm, making her heart flutter. “I was waiting for you to call,” he admitted, a soft smirk tugging at his lips. 

Her heart skipped a beat, and she shyly glanced up at him through her lashes. “Really?” she asked, her voice soft and a little disbelieving. 

He smiled, a slow, adoring smile that made her stomach flip. “Yeah, really. I’ve been thinking about it all day.” His voice had that low, confident tone, but his gaze was gentle, like he wanted to make sure she knew he meant it. “The only thing getting me through work.”

“You’re still at work? It’s nine-thirty!” she exclaimed, glancing at the clock in disbelief.

Harry’s lips curled into a playful smirk. “Is it past your bedtime, Bambi?” he teased, leaning back in his chair as he glanced at her through the screen.

Her heart stuttered hearing that nickname come from his own mouth. She felt like if the camera wasn’t on, she’d be floating around her room like a bright pink orb of light, “N-No,” she stammered, her cheeks flushing a soft pink. “But shouldn’t you be going home by now? You’ve been working all day.”

He let out a small chuckle, shrugging as he glanced down at the papers scattered across his desk. “Got a lot to catch up on. Too many late nights spent talking to you.” His voice was warm, laced with affection despite his teasing.

Her heart sank for a moment, guilt creeping in. They’d been texting non-stop for weeks, and she hadn’t once thought about how it might be affecting his workload. He’d told her before that he worked for a clothing company, and it suddenly hit her how busy he must be.

Noticing the shift in her expression, Harry’s voice softened. “Y’thinking too much in that little head of yours?” he asked, cutting through her thoughts.

“Maybe a little,” she admitted quietly, biting her lip.

He shook his head, eyes never leaving hers. “You know I didn’t mean it as a bad thing, right? I love talking to you, Y/N. I think... I might even be a little obsessed with you,” he confessed, his smirk turning into a softer smile.

Her breath caught in her throat, and for a second, all she could do was stare at him, her heart thudding in her chest. “I-I think I’m obsessed with you too,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. 

“Yeah?” His voice was full of warmth, a hint of disbelief in it, like he hadn’t expected her to say it back. She nodded shyly, clutching her pillow tighter against her chest, her heart racing.

Harry huffed out a breath, rubbing a hand over his face to hide the wide grin that had taken over. “God, you’re even cuter than I imagined,” he murmured, his words full of adoration.

They talked for hours, diving into everything and anything that crossed their minds. It was the longest conversation they’d had since they started talking, and Y/N found herself more captivated by Harry than she thought was possible. The way he laughed, the way he listened—it all just pulled her in deeper.

In the middle of her sentence, she noticed Harry looking at her with an unusually soft expression, his eyes filled with something she couldn’t quite place. He suddenly spoke, cutting her off mid-thought. “Can I take you on a date?” His voice was gentle but firm, catching her completely off guard.

“O-Oh,” she stammered, blinking in surprise. She hadn’t expected him to want to meet her so soon, but her heart leapt at the thought. “I’d like that,” she replied, a soft smile spreading across her face. “Very much.”

His own smile widened, a mix of relief and excitement in his eyes. “How about Saturday evening? I could pick you up.”

“But wouldn’t that be too long of a drive?” she asked, biting her lip. She knew he lived in the city, about forty minutes away without traffic, and she didn’t want to inconvenience him.

Harry’s expression didn’t falter. “It’s not too far at all. Trust me, I don’t mind,” he said confidently. “I’ll pick you up at 8, sound good?”

Y/N’s heart fluttered, the idea of seeing him in person making her pulse race. She nodded shyly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Mhm, that sounds perfect.”

Harry’s grin grew, his eyes twinkling, “Can you wear the pretty dress you made?”

Y/N blushed, “You don’t want me to wear something a little more sophisticated?” 

“Y’ can wear whatever makes you comfortable, I don’t mind but I think I’d like to see that little dress y’ made.” 

She nodded, stifling a yawn as it slipped out. It was getting late, and Harry was still at his office, working. “Y’tired, lovie?” His voice softened.

“A little,” she lied, knowing full well she was more than exhausted. But the thought of ending the call made her chest tighten—she wanted to keep him on the line, even just for a few more minutes.

Harry chuckled softly as if he could see right through her. “Why don’t you rest those pretty eyes for me, yeah?” he murmured, his voice low and soothing, the gentle authority in his words making her entire body relax. She practically melted at the sound, her heart skipping a beat.

“M’kay,” she whispered, her eyelids already heavy as she let herself sink deeper into the comfort of his voice.

“I’ll be right here, alright?” he reassured her, his tone gentle and full of warmth.

She managed a soft smile, her words barely audible as her exhaustion overtook her. “Promise?”

“Promise Bambi,” he whispered, his voice the last thing she heard before sleep pulled her under.

. . .

“Mr. Styles?”

Harry looked up from his computer, peering over the rims of his glasses. His receptionist, Lindsey, stood in the doorway. “The samples for the newest collection have arrived. Would you like me to bring them in?” she asked, her voice polite but efficient, as always.

“Yes, please, Lindsey,” he replied with a sigh, signing off another email before hitting send. The endless stream of tasks had him feeling drained.

Though Harry wasn’t usually the type to show much warmth towards his employees, Lindsey was different. She’d been with him for years—long enough to earn not just his respect, but his trust. She was one of the very few people he relied on within his company. 

Harry was the CEO of Pleasing, a major fashion company he had built from the ground up. His first line had been designed in a small studio, crafted with his own hands and the help of a few close friends who still worked by his side. Now, it was a global brand. He was on Forbes 30 under 30 and had features in magazines like GQ. He was even in Time magazine for most influential people. 

Despite all the success, his day-to-day life had become an endless loop of emails, business meetings, and deadlines. Time for anything outside of work was a luxury he couldn’t afford. Lately, though, something, or rather someone, had started to make him reconsider how he spent his time.

He checked his phone once more having only picked it up a minute ago for the same reason. He hoped to see a message from Y/N, in fact he was eager to. Ever since he had messaged her on the only dating app he used, he hadn’t thought of anyone else but her. 

It had been a spur-of-the-moment decision, one born out of the loneliness that weighed heavier than ever that night. Harry sat in his dimly lit office, the silence around him almost suffocating. He hadn’t dated in over a year, not since his last relationship, which had ended on a bitter note. That girl had taken advantage of him, using his desire of the relationship he wanted to manipulate him. She had drained his bank accounts, maxed out his credit cards on shopping sprees and lavish holidays with her friends, leaving him both financially and emotionally exhausted. After that, he’d grown wary of trusting anyone.

When he joined the website, he wasn’t exactly hopeful. The chance of finding someone who truly understood his career and mirrored his desires in a relationship seemed slim.

But then he met his Bambi. 

He hadn’t been searching for anything specific that day, just scrolling aimlessly, but something about Y/N’s profile made him pause. There was a warmth to her, a genuine spark that went beyond her pictures. She didn’t seem to realise just how captivating she was, and that drew him in even more. It wasn’t just her beauty—though she was stunning—it was the way she spoke about the things she loved. Her messages were full of passion, filled with rambles about her favourite books, little moments in her day, or random thoughts that popped into her head. 

Y/N had ignited something within him. He was excited for this newfound thing they had going on, a spark he hadn’t felt in years. Every message from her left him smiling at his phone, wondering what she’d say next. It was the kind of excitement that made the day feel a little brighter, knowing she was just a text away. He found himself looking forward to the simplest things—her daily updates, the way she’d ramble about something she’d seen or read, and even the photo updates she’d send him of things she was doing.

For the first time in a long time, he found himself imagining what it would be like to share his life with someone, instead of the quiet solitude he’d grown so used to. He couldn’t shake the thought of Y/N being that person—the one to bring warmth into the corners of his once-lonely home. He pictured what it would be like to have someone in his space, their presence adding a new kind of lightness. Someone to be there in the small, everyday moments and to keep him company after a long day at the office. 

He couldn’t wait to meet her in real life, hold her in his hands and kiss the lips he spent nights dreaming about. 

Harry snapped out of his daze when Lindsey opened the door and the manufacturers entered the room behind her, holding the fabric samples in their hands. They greeted him timidly, laying the samples on the table by the large floor-to-ceiling windows. 

He walked over, black polished shoes clicking against the mahogany wood floor. He sighed when he took in the samples, he didn’t need to feel them to know they weren’t good enough. Uncapping the red pen, he drew a cross beside each sample, the men behind him releasing a shaky breath. 

“Come back when you have what I want,” He murmured, dismissing them with a wave of his hand. 

He checked the time on his watch and cursed. Today was his niece’s birthday and he promised his sister he’d visit in time for her birthday party this afternoon. “Lindsey,” He called, hearing her shoes against the floor before she opened the door to his office. 

He pulled on his blazer, “I’ve got to leave, did you wrap that gift I gave you the other day?” 

Lindsey frowned, “It’s under my desk but what about your meetings this afternoon?” 

“Cancel them.” He shrugged.

His Porsche was parked out front by the time he stepped out of the building. He put the gift into the passenger seat and made a mental note to stop somewhere to buy a birthday card. 

He glanced at his phone when a text came through.

Bambi: Half way through my shift. It’s been pretty rough, sorry for the late reply xx

His heart leapt when Y/N’s name appeared. He took his phone when he reached a red light and typed in a reply.

Harry: it’s okay lovie, call me when you finish yeah? x

He was desperate to speak to her even if it were just for a mere few seconds. 

Making a left turn, he pulled into the parking lot of a small supermarket on the highway. It looked run down and old but there wasn’t anywhere else he could go to before he reached his sister's house.

People sat outside, smoking cigarettes and drinking out of beer cans. He ignored the glances they made towards him and his car. 

He stepped inside and walked along the aisles, pausing when he noticed someone stacking things onto a shelf. His heart skipped a beat when he saw her. She was wearing blue jeans and a fuzzy white sweater, her hair was braided and fastened with pink, silk bows. She wore wired earbuds, her pink ballerina flats tapping against the laminate flooring. 

She must have felt his gaze because her head lifted, eyes widening as they met his. Her soft, pink lips parted slightly, and in that instant, it was as if the world shifted—everything falling perfectly into place between them, as though they were always meant to find each other naturally. 

Harry hadn’t noticed the sugar spilling from the bag she was holding until the store manager stormed over. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” The sharp tone made Y/N jump, her body snapping upright as she stood frozen in front of her manager, fear flashing across her face.

“I-I’m s-sorry, I—” Y/N stammered, her voice trembling.

“How many times do I have to hear the same excuse from you?” her manager snapped. “Stupid, useless girl, costing me the whole damn shop.”

Y/N’s bottom lip quivered, her eyes welling up with unshed tears. “I-I know... I promised it wouldn’t happen again. It was an accident, really,” she whispered, her voice barely holding steady.

Harry’s frown deepened. Again? This had happened before?

From the way Y/N stood there, trying so hard not to cry, it was painfully clear—this wasn’t the first time her boss had spoken to her like this.

Harry’s jaw tightened as he watched the exchange, a surge of protectiveness rising in him. He had only known Y/N recently, but seeing her like this—small, vulnerable, and clearly hurt—stirred something deep within him. He couldn’t just stand there and let it happen.

“Excuse me,” Harry spoke up, his voice calm but firm, stepping closer. The store manager turned to him, annoyance flashing across his face.

“This doesn’t concern you,” the manager spat, his glare shifting to Harry.

“Actually, I think it does,” Harry replied, his eyes steady on the man. “You don’t need to speak to her like that.”

The manager scoffed. “And who the hell are you?”

Harry didn’t blink, his voice lowering. “Someone who knows when respect is lacking.”

Y/N looked up at Harry, wide-eyed, as if she couldn’t believe he was stepping in. Her heart raced, a mix of relief and anxiety bubbling inside her. She wasn’t used to anyone standing up for her like this.

“Y/N, why don’t you take a minute?” Harry said softly, glancing over at her, his voice now gentle and reassuring. The tears in her eyes made his chest physically hurt. He’d be quick with this useless piece of shit so he could give her all his attention.

She hesitated but then nodded, her gaze flicking between Harry and her boss. She quickly turned, slipping away from the confrontation, her hands shaking as she tried to compose herself.

Harry turned back to the manager, his calm exterior masking the frustration brewing underneath. “Speak to her like that again, and I won’t hesitate to have this place torn down, brick by brick, and replaced with a building I own. Then you’ll know firsthand what it’s like to deal with a real fucking manager.” 

With that, he turned on his heel, already making a mental note to have his team look into this place. It was clearly lacking in more ways than one—enough to warrant being shut down for good he hoped. 

Y/N stood behind the building, her back to him, shoulders trembling as she cried into her sleeve. Harry’s heart clenched at the sight. “Hey, hey, hey,” he murmured softly, stepping forward and gently pulling her into his chest. “Tha’s enough now, Bambi. Don’t waste your tears on him,” he whispered, his large hand rubbing soothing circles on her back. Holding her close felt unexpectedly right, as if this was exactly where she belonged, even if the circumstances weren’t ideal.

“I’m so embarrassed,” she sniffled, her voice small. “This isn’t how I wanted you to see me for the first time.”

His eyes softened with affection as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a handkerchief. Carefully, he wiped her tear-stained, blotchy cheeks, his touch tender. “You’ve got nothing to be embarrassed about, sweetheart,” he whispered, “S’alright now, y’ don’t have to go back in there.” He cupped the back of her head, feeling how soft and silky her hair was. He couldn’t seem to fathom that he was actually holding her after days of imagining what she would feel like.

She pulled away and for the first time Harry could get a proper look at her. He didn’t think it possible for her to be even more beautiful than the pictures he had of her on her phone but she was. Her features were soft, cheeks permanently pink like the colour of tulips on a spring day, her lips were the perfect shape, so delicate like two petals pressed together. She was a walking angel. 

“Hey stranger,” He grinned, those perfect cheeks turning pink. If Harry had one goal in his life it was to make her all flustery and blushy. 

“Hi,” She peeped, hands fiddling in front of her.

Her eyes widened when she saw the tear stains on his shirt, the damp spots revealing the tiniest hint of the tattoos on his torso. “I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin your shirt,” She cringed.

“Hey no need to apologise, ‘s not even ruined and I’d rather you were okay than some easily replaceable shirt.” He assured her. “Are y’ sure you’re okay? Don’t need to go in there and beat him up or anything,”

She smiled at that and the sight made his heart sing, “No it’s okay. I-I’m okay, thank you for looking out for me. I don’t normally have people doing that very often.”

He frowned. He didn’t like how often she spoke about how little help she got from other people. If anything, it made him want to take care of her even more than he already did. 

“I should probably head back in. I still have three more hours of my shift,” she huffed, clearly reluctant. It was the last thing she wanted to do.

Harry’s expression softened, but his tone remained firm. “You don’t have to,” he said, his gaze holding hers, protective and unwavering.

Y/N frowned, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. “But I need the job, Harry,” she whispered, her voice shaky. “I can’t just leave.”

His jaw tightened at her words. He hated seeing her stuck in a place that didn’t value her, where she wasn’t respected. “I know you need the job,” he replied, gentler now, trying to ease her worry. “But no job is worth being treated like that. Not by him.”

She bit her lip, glancing back at the store, anxiety clearly weighing on her. “What am I supposed to do, then? I can’t afford to lose it.”

Harry stepped closer, his hand finding its way to her cheek, thumb brushing away a stray tear. “You’re not going to lose anything,” he said softly. “Let me take care of it. Of you.”

Y/N blinked up at him, her heart pounding. “Take care of me?”

“Come work with me,” He offered. 

There weren’t many positions available at Pleasing, but Harry didn’t care. He’d make something work—anything to keep her from going back into that place and dealing with the jerk inside.

“In the city? I... I can’t do that, Harry. I still have school, and my brothers...”

“You can work around it,” he said quickly, eager to find a solution. “I’ll pay for your gas to and from the city, or I’ll have someone drive you. Hell, I’ll drive you myself if it makes you feel better. Whatever you need. Just don’t stay here.”

He sighed softly, taking her small hand in his larger one, her warmth a comfort even as doubt flickered between them. “Just... think about it, yeah?” His thumb traced gentle circles on the back of her hand, trying to ease the tension.

Y/N hesitated but nodded slowly. “Okay,” she whispered, her voice barely above a murmur.

A grin spread across Harry’s face, his relief palpable. “Thank you Bambi.” He swore he saw her pupils carve into love hearts at his words. 

. . . 

Y/N hadn’t returned to her job at the store just as she promised Harry. It wasn’t only because Harry was insistent she didn’t go back but her manager had been pretty verbally abusive for quite some time now and she thought better than to go back and work for someone who was just plain mean. 

A few days had passed and Saturday rolled around quickly. Y/N was giddy with excitement, preparing everything in time for Harry to pick her up to take her on their very first date this evening. She had arranged a babysitter to look after her brothers since her mother wouldn’t be home until late. It wasn’t often they splurged cash on hiring a babysitter but Y/N wasn’t going to rearrange her date with Harry for anything.

She’d made a list of everything she needed to do: wash and blow dry her hair, shave every inch of her body, and paint her nails with the glazed pink polish she’d ordered online. Her hair was in curlers as she carefully laid out her outfit for the evening—a pink satin slip dress she’d made herself, paired with white kitten heels that matched perfectly. With the season shifting into autumn, she added a thin white cardigan to keep her warm in case the night turned chilly on the way home.

She wanted to look perfect. Especially after the fiasco the other day when he had rescued her from her mean manager. 

Everything seemed to move in slow motion the moment she laid eyes on the man from her phone. He was even more perfect than she had imagined—taller too. It still hadn’t sunk in that she was about to go on a date with this man—the one who wore a black suit to work and had saved her from cruel, terrifying managers.

And the way he spoke to her afterwards, comforting her with his big, heavy hands around her. She wanted him to pick her up and take her wherever he went. 

Y/N sighed blissfully in front of her vanity. As Y/N finished her makeup, her phone buzzed with a message from Harry. 

Harry: Just outside x

She peeked through the window, catching sight of him standing by a sleek black car, leaning casually against the door. He looked breathtaking in a fitted black suit, hands in his pockets as he scanned the street. Her nerves fluttered, a mixture of excitement and anticipation bubbling up. She took a deep breath, smoothed down her dress, and grabbed her cardigan before heading out the door. 

The moment she stepped outside, Harry’s gaze snapped to her, dark and intense. He straightened up, eyes travelling over her form, taking in every detail of her appearance. The way he looked at her sent a shiver down her spine.

“Y’ look stunning, Bambi,” he murmured, his deep voice sending shivers down her spine. He took a step closer, his large hand cupping her cheek, thumb grazing her soft skin. “All this f’ me?”

Y/N blushed, biting her bottom lip nervously. “I-I wore the dress you wanted,” she mumbled shyly, looking up at him through her lashes, “Do you like it?” 

“‘S perfect,” He murmured lowly. 

“Ready to go, sweetheart?” He opened the car door for her, watching as she slid into the passenger seat, her delicate form contrasting with the dark interior of his Porshe. Harry’s eyes lingered on her legs for a moment before he shut the door and walked around to his side.

Once inside, he reached over, resting his hand on her thigh, the warmth of his touch comforting her immediately. “You nervous?” he asked, glancing at her with a small smile, though the look in his eyes held a trace of dominance.

“A little,” Y/N admitted, her voice soft and shy.

Harry gave her thigh a gentle squeeze. “Y’ don’t have to be nervous around me, love, promise ‘m not scary. Least of all t’ you.” 

Y/N smiled, loving how he made it clear she was different, that he treated her in a way no one else could. It warmed her to feel special, especially when that feeling was rare for her.

As they drove, their conversation flowed easily. Y/N found herself opening up more and more, rambling about anything that came to mind. Harry listened intently, his smile soft as he asked questions, showing genuine interest in everything she said. Her eyes sparkled in the dim light of the car, and each time she answered bashfully, his lips curved. 

Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed as they drove deeper into the city. The lights grew brighter, illuminating a part of town she rarely found herself in—where the wealthy lived, with towering apartment complexes and upscale restaurants lining the streets. Harry pulled over in front of a sleek Italian restaurant, where a man stood waiting by the curb.

“Are we allowed to park here?” Y/N asked, her face bathed in the glow of the restaurant’s lights.

Harry suppressed a grin at her confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Well… I just assumed we weren’t eating here, which is totally fine! You don’t need to impress me with a fancy restaurant.” Her cheeks flushed pink as she tried to clarify.

Harry’s lips curled into a teasing smirk. “What if I told you we are eating here?”

Y/N’s eyes widened in disbelief. “A-are we?”

Without answering, Harry reached for her hand, brushing his lips over the back of it. “Y’ too cute,” he murmured. “Come on, they’re waiting for us.” He stepped out of the car, passing his keys to the valet standing nearby, before adjusting his blazer and moving to open the door for her, his hand stretched out toward her for her to grab onto. 

Y/N hesitated, her mind reeling. There was no way they were eating at this restaurant—the kind with a year-long reservation list and three Michelin stars. She’d heard rumours that a single course here could cost more than her entire paycheck for the week. But as she took his hand and stepped out, it felt impossible to believe this was really happening.

Harry intertwined their fingers, offering a brief nod to the waiter who opened the door for them. “Harry… are you sure? They probably don’t have any tables for people just walking in,” she whispered.

He chuckled softly. “Don’t worry, love. I made some arrangements.”

Her brows furrowed in surprise. “Arrangements? How?”

Stopping at the ‘Please Wait to Be Seated’ sign, Harry finally turned to her with a playful twinkle in his eye. “I own the restaurant.”

Y/N’s mouth fell open as a waiter approached, menus tucked neatly under his arm. “Good evening, Mr. Styles. Your table is ready.”

Feeling like she was in a dream, Y/N walked hand-in-hand with Harry to a private table near the large glass windows at the back. The breathtaking view of the city’s skyline stretched out before them, and the table, set for two, was tucked away to offer them some privacy. 

As they were seated, Y/N couldn’t help but notice the quiet stares and murmurs from other guests. She knew Harry owned a clothing business, but… just how successful was he?

The waiter laid the menus out in front of them and left them to decide what they wanted to order. Y/N hadn’t even noticed as her wide eyes gazed around the room at the glowing chandeliers. 

Harry reached for her hand beneath the table, “Are y’ okay love?” He asked. Y/N’s gaze snapped towards him, “I hope ‘s not too much.”

“H-Harry, I really appreciate you bringing me here, I mean even stepping inside is a dream come true, but… I c-can’t afford this.” She felt awful saying it but it was true and it was better to tell him now than when she’d finished her meal, she wouldn’t want him thinking she was out for his money.

Harry frowned, “Bambi, this is a date. Y’ don’t have to pay for anything.”

“B-but I can’t use your money.” She told him. 

She couldn’t hear it but Harry’s heart was singing in his chest. She was exactly what he was looking for someone totally opposite to all the women he had dated in his past. 

He cupped her cheek in his hand, “Look at me Y/N,” Big, doe eyes gazed into his, “Please stop worrying and let me take care of you. I know y’ haven’t been given that in the past but ‘m here now and I want this. I wanted to bring y’ here and I want y’ to be spoiled and I want to treat you in the way you deserve. So can you pick something from the menu and let me look after you Bambi baby, please? Think you can do that?”

Her lips parted, slowly nodding her head but she quickly said one last thing, “You don’t have to take me to fancy places to make me feel spoiled Harry. I already feel spoiled enough just getting to be with you.”

He smiled, eyes glistening under the low light of the chandelier. He placed a hand on her thigh and squeezed as a small thank you. “Have you decided what you’re going to eat?”

"Hmmm," Harry grinned, watching Y/N's pouted lips as she studied the menu with intense concentration. "I can't decide between the truffle pasta or the smoked salmon!" she huffed, clearly torn.

"How about this," he offered with a shrug, "I’ll get the smoked salmon, you get the truffle pasta, and we can share? That way you can try both."

She glanced up at him, her brow furrowing slightly. “You don’t want something else?”

He had been planning on ordering the steak and potatoes, but seeing how much this small decision seemed to weigh on her, he didn’t mind changing his mind. The smoked salmon was one of his favourite dishes anyway.

When the waiter came over, Harry confidently placed the order for both of them, which made Y/N visibly relax. She hated the pressure of ordering her own food, so the simple act of him taking charge made her feel instantly at ease.

“We’ll make sure to have your order as a priority, Mr. Styles,” the waiter nodded respectfully before walking away.

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise. “Wow. They must really like you here.”

Harry chuckled softly, leaning back in his chair. “Didn’t I mention I owned a clothing business?”

“Mhm,” she nodded, “But I thought it was just a boutique or something.” She shrugged, clearly unaware of the scale.

Harry laughed a warm, deep sound that made her stomach flip. “Bambi,” he said, pulling her gently into his side until their cheeks were almost touching, “See that guy’s sweater? That woman’s hat? And that lady’s dress over there?” She nodded everytime he pointed towards them, her heart skipping a beat at their closeness. “We made all of those.”

Her eyes widened in shock. “W-wait, you own Pleasing?”

Harry nodded, a small, proud smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Y/N couldn’t even count how many times she had opened the Pleasing website, scrolling through pages of clothes she desperately wanted but couldn’t afford. And now, she was sitting across from its owner—no, she was on a date with him.

“Mhm,” he hummed, pulling away slightly to gauge her reaction. "Which reminds me, have you given any more thought to the job?"

She had, actually. The idea had been rolling around in her mind ever since he’d mentioned it. "What's the role again?" she asked, trying to sound casual.

"My assistant," Harry replied smoothly. "You’d help with emails, scheduling meetings, running errands—nothing too complicated. Just being my right hand.”

“Wouldn’t that be awkward, though? Since we’re, y’know... dating?”

Harry smirked, catching the implication. "So, there’s going to be a second date?" His teasing tone made her blush. “And if anything, it makes it better. I’d get to see you every day instead of just texting."

“But what about school?” Y/N asked, trying to think practically.

“We’ll figure it out,” he said easily. “Whatever you need. We can make it work.”

“Shouldn’t there be an interview or something?” she quipped, trying to lighten the moment, though her heart was racing.

Harry sighed dramatically, playing along. “Alright. Hello, Miss Y/L/N. Welcome to your official interview for the position of Mr. Styles’ personal assistant.”

Y/N giggled, her nerves easing as she followed his lead. “Well, hello Mr. Styles. Thank you for having me.”

Harry’s lips curled into a smile, his eyes twinkling as he played along. “First question,” he said, leaning closer, their faces now just inches apart. “How do you feel about spending every day with me? Answer carefully—it’s a tough one.”

Y/N couldn’t help but giggle, her cheeks flushing a soft pink. “Well, Mr. Styles, I think I could manage that.”

“Good answer,” he praised, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down her spine. “Next question: Can you handle a man who’s very particular about his coffee?”

She tilted her head, raising an eyebrow in playful suspicion. “Are we talking normal particular, or... like, twelve-steps-to-make-a-single-cup particular?”

Harry chuckled, his dimples deepening. “Maybe somewhere in between. But don’t worry, I can teach you.”

Y/N laughed softly, her nerves easing even more. Being around him was easy, natural—like slipping into something familiar and warm. “I think I could handle that.”

"One last question," Harry murmured, leaning in even closer. His gaze flickered to her lips for a brief second before locking back onto her eyes. "How do you feel about sneaking around with your boss?"

Her laughter died down, a trace of seriousness replacing it. She knew the risks—things had to stay professional, no hint of their relationship could slip through especially since Harry would not only be her boss but was the Senior Director and had to have the respect of everyone.  But still, she couldn’t resist.

“I think it could be fun,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“Good,” He murmured, “I think you’ve passed the test, Bambi,” Y/N noticed how close his lips were to hers, if she moved her face forward they’d be touching, “Any questions?”

. . . 

Harry pulled the car up to the curb just outside Y/N’s house, the gentle hum of the engine fading as he switched it off. The street was quiet, the only light coming from the street lamps casting long shadows on the pavement. Inside her house, the windows were dark, and she silently hoped her brothers were already asleep, sparing her the awkwardness of explaining why she wasn’t rushing inside.

The silence between them felt comfortable yet charged, neither making a move to leave. It was as if both of them knew the night shouldn’t end yet, even though it had to at some point. Y/N looked down at her hands, nervously tracing the edge of her coat, stealing glances at Harry every few moments. He seemed deep in thought, his fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel, but the same hesitation hung in the air between them.

“Thanks for dinner,” she said softly, her voice breaking the silence.

He turned to her, his expression soft but intent, as if weighing every word. “Don’t need t’ thank me Bambi,” he replied, his eyes lingering on her face a moment longer than necessary. 

“I wish I didn’t have to go home,” She huffed, looking down at her fingers on her lap.

Harry’s lips curved into a small smile, but there was a seriousness in his eyes. He leaned back in his seat, turning his body slightly toward her. “Y’ want to go back to mine?”

She wanted nothing more, the pain of saying no physically paining her, “M-my brothers... they have school,” she murmured.

“S okay,” He smiled. 

The air between them felt thick with unspoken feelings, and she could feel her heart race as the weight of his gaze settled on her. He reached over, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, his touch soft.

“Bambi,” he said quietly, his voice suddenly more intimate, like he was laying something important on the table.

She turned to face him fully, her breath catching as his fingers brushed against her cheek, lingering just long enough to make her pulse race. The space between them seemed to vanish, and suddenly, all she could think about was the way his lips would feel against hers.

Neither of them spoke. The tension that had been simmering all evening finally boiled over. Harry’s hand cupped her cheek, and in that quiet moment under the dim streetlights, he leaned in.

The kiss was gentle at first, tentative, like they were both testing the waters. But as soon as their lips touched, a wave of emotion flooded over her, and she couldn’t help but respond. Her hand found its way to the back of his neck, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened, slow and lingering. It wasn’t rushed or hurried—just soft, warm, and full of everything Y/N had been dreaming about for longer than she cared to admit. 

When they finally pulled apart, Harry rested his forehead against hers, both of them catching their breath, their lips still tingling from the kiss. His hand lingered on her cheek, as though neither of them was ready to let the moment slip away just yet.

Y/N opened her mouth to say something, maybe to break the silence or make a joke about how long they’d waited for this. But before she could speak, a loud thud startled her. She turned her head, eyes widening as the lights in her house flickered on. And there they were—her brothers, pressed against the living room window, grinning like fools and making exaggerated kissy faces at them.

“Oh my God,” Y/N groaned, mortified. Her face flushed a deep shade of red as she fumbled with her seatbelt. "This is so embarrassing."

She pushed the door open and scrambled out of her seat, grabbing her purse in a flurry of panic. “I am so sorry, Harry. I-I have to go,” she stammered, her words tumbling out in a rush as she awkwardly tried to regain her composure. “Thank you for dinner, a-and the kiss! Oh, and the job too!”

In her haste, her heel caught on a paving stone, and she stumbled slightly, her purse nearly slipping from her hand as she made her way toward the front door.

Harry watched her, his mouth half open, caught between amusement and disbelief. She was flustered, rambling, and absolutely adorable. He couldn't stop the soft chuckle that escaped him as he leaned back in his seat, shaking his head.

"Bambi!" he called out the car window, grinning. “I'll take that as a yes on the job?”

Y/N turned back briefly, her face flushed but her smile shy and genuine. “Yes! Definitely yes!” she called over her shoulder, before hurrying inside, her brothers still laughing from the window.

As she disappeared through the door, Harry chuckled to himself, the warmth from their kiss still lingering. He turned the ignition on, shaking his head in disbelief at how the night had unfolded. It was far from the graceful goodbye he had imagined, but somehow, it felt perfect. He couldn’t stop smiling as he pulled away from the curb. 

Yeah, he thought to himself, that definitely meant she was taking the job.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

So I’m a minor (16 to be specific) and I frequently watch and read stuff with explicit sexual or 18+ content in it. I live in an extremely conservative Christian household and things like explicit fanfic are pretty much the only option I have for learning about sex that isn’t abstinence only. I do feel bad about it, especially when I see adults online say stuff like “oh i watched lots of inappropriate things as a teen that i really shouldn’t have” and it makes me feel like I’m ruining myself in a way that I won’t realize until I’m an adult? Right now I don’t see what the big deal is but i get the feeling that when i’m 24 or something I’ll wake up one day and be ashamed of this for some reason i’m not mature enough to know yet. Should I just stop and wait until I’m 18 to continue or what?

hi anon,

okay. I'm gonna hit you with something:

turning 18 does not actually change the way you feel about porn or sex or anything. the difference between being seventeen and 364 days and being 18 is nonexistent. there's not a magical switch that changes you as a person; that comes from lived experience. if you're 18 and your experience is still that porn and smut and what have you i something that you should feel bad about, it's still going to feel that way and a birthday won't change that.

look, the whole notion of "I saw [x] that I shouldn't have when I was young" is like. okay. so you saw something that was a little mature for you that you didn't quite get? awesome. did you die? no. most people's hangups about sexuality don't come from seeing a rogue titty when they were a teenager, they come from the culture that person was raised in that made seeing a rogue titty feel like something to be ashamed of instead of a completely natural part of life.

story time! when I teach my 4th-6th grade OWL classes (Our Whole Lives, great human development program) I always start by holding a meeting with the kids' parents. I've been doing this for seven years, and every time without fail some of the parents will recall seeing porn for the first time as a kid. these guys were kids when printed porn magazines were still a thing, so they were discovering them in all kinds of places - the bedrooms of their parents or their friends' parents, at bus stops, in the woods, once even stowed in some farm equipment. and they remember it feeling illicit and exciting, sure, and possibly making them confused or even horny for the first time in their young lives, but like... that's it. none of these people are irreparably damaged by seeing porn. in fact, they've grown up to be the kind of people who go out of their way to make sure their young kids are enrolled in a queer-friendly, body-positive, diversity-embracing sex ed class to counter stereotypes and misinformation they might receive elsewhere.

looking at things that arouse you is morally neutral. it can be a great way to help you learn about what turns you on, and even if it's not the best source of factual, realistic depictions of sex, it can still help you discover things - hell, I only figured out what the clitoris was by reading Young Justice fanfic (shout out Snaibsel).

you can't ruin yourself, at any age, with the media you like to consume. what makes you uncomfortable and anxious is the attitude you've been taught to have about that media, which is something that has to be actively unlearned, because it's certainly not going to just disappear on its own when you become a legal adult.

tl;dr obviously no one is making you watch porn and you shouldn't if it makes you uncomfortable, but if you drop it right now and come back when you're 18 don't expect to feel any different if you haven't done any more unpacking re: the conservative Christianity of it all.

[orphudice]

i domt even know what or who i am anymore?.??

[butch-reidentified]

why do y'all have to make it a misogyny issue whenever dysphoric or trans ppl are disgusted at pussy obsession (not in a sexuality way of course) in relation to their womanhood. like i mean screaming and chanting about their vagina. it's just unsettling, i fully respect womens autonomy, that part is always untouched.

Why are you asking me this? I *am* a dysphoric person, did you even read my bio lmao

All of female anatomy and physiology has been demonized and mystified for hundreds of years. I'm only in my 20s and I grew up knowing nearly nothing about the vulva, as did most people my age. I grew up hearing about the "myth of the female orgasm" and being told pee came out the clit (or that the clit was inside the vagina, or nonexistent). I didn't know the word "labia" until I was 17. In high school, I was taught what the vas deferens was and about the male refractory period, but to this day I see arguments online about how common squirting is or if there's pee involved or not. There are MULTIPLE subreddits devoted to sharing screenshots of incorrect discussion of women's anatomy and physiology, with seemingly endless content, but nobody stops to wonder why we don't see equivalent misinformation about male bodies?? Have you tried critical thinking?

So yes, when women seek to educate, demystify, and normalize our anatomy and its functions, and to fight the shame girls and women are taught from birth to feel about their bodies and especially their genitalia, it's not "obsession," and calling it such or feeling disgusted by it is misogyny at its most basic core definition-based level. Why do you think things like the Vagina Monologues came to be? Why do you think men will spam women with dick pics but nothing is more humiliating to a woman than having her nudes leaked? Too many of yall have lost touch with reality and history.

Men never shut up about dicks and balls and fucking and fapping and nutting, even though they have no actual reason to go on about it, and nobody ever has a problem with that. But if I want to fight back against the stigma, shame, and misinformation surrounding female bodies and sexuality, it's "disgusting," "unsettling," and an "obsession." The fact that you even need to ask this question is so telling. Log off, go outside, and start paying attention to the way male vs female bodies, genitalia, and sexuality are talked about and generally viewed in society.

If "big dick energy" isn't unsettling to you but "pussy power" is, maybe try asking yourself why.

[mars-and-the-theoi]

Low energy Devotional Acts for when you don’t have a lot of energy (or time, or money, etc.) pt. 9

🔥Hestia🔥

- put on one of those fireplace videos, or light a candle, or if able light your own fire in the fireplace (or have a bonfire)

- listen to a devotional playlist for Her

- if able do some cooking/baking

- if unable to do that gather some recipes either online or in any cookbooks you may have!

- watch a cooking/baking show

- try your hand at making bread

- watch home renovating, decorating, etc. shows/videos

- if able do some cleaning- doesn’t have to be anything huge just something small like maybe just picking some socks up off the floor or something

- enjoy a hot drink (tea, coffee, hot cocoa)

- watch your comfort movie/show

- if able learn how to knit, crochet, etc. or do some if you know how and are able

- if unable watch knitting or crocheting videos/tutorials

- if able (in every sense of the word here) spend some time with your family or text/call them can be your blood family or chosen family or even your good friends! (Family can be anything you want it to be imo)

- look up important home keeping skills! And watch videos or tutorials on them if you don’t know them (like mending clothes, ironing, etc.) which are all good skills to have ((I add this one because I know at least in America home ec classes have been cut and are pretty much nonexistent like I went through it in middle school but then they got rid of it once I went to high school and in hs it wasn’t mandatory like it was in middle school))

- read up on how to be a good host or guest

- if you like hosting events plan your next gathering

- go through photo albums or pictures and reminisce on the happy, funny, and joyful moments

- if able donate to a food bank (I personally go through my kitchen about 6 times a year-I do a lot of the kitchen work/organizing in my family as I do the cooking so y’know I’m already there so I may as well-and whatever I haven’t used or no longer have plans for I donate! Ofc make sure it’s not expired first and also if able include things like a manual can opener and such! So even though I don’t have too much money myself this system enables me to still be able to help which personally makes me feel good as I grew up utilizing those things so it’s nice to help!)

- if you have pets spend some time with them! They’re important family members as well! Maybe spoil them with their favorite treat and/or activity! Cuddle with them! Just let them know they’re valued and loved family members as well

- be kind to the homeless (yes, even the “bad” ones they’re ppl too and unnecessarily cruelty isn’t helping anything)

- look up ways to help the homeless and if you’re able help out or volunteer or donate (I might make a separate post on stuff to donate as there’s a lot of stuff some folks don’t think about when it comes to giving donates and such)

- hell you could even volunteer or donate to an animal shelter! If that’s more for you and something you’re more comfortable with! They’re homeless too are they not? (I do some volunteer work at the animal shelter myself so I’m very passionate about this)

(and if you have to utilize anything like food banks or government assistance in any capacity work on not feeling bad for needing those things. I know, easier said than done trust me I know again I grew up using those things. But you’re simply getting what you need to survive. And there’s nothing wrong with that. You’re not bad, you haven’t failed, you’re not a leech, etc. you’re just someone trying to survive and there’s no shame in that. There’s no shame in needing help. And not only is that a great devotional act in itself, it’s also just great in general. I do a lot of activist work and such and trust that there’s people who care and people who-again, like me-get it. You’re okay. You’re still a good person. And still deserving of good things.)

[here4kpopfics]

Tangle Free | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x reader (could be gn if you’d like)

Genre: just tooth decaying fluff

AU: established relationship

Wordcount: 1,617

Summary: Bad days lead to you needing your boyfriend for comfort, specifically by playing with his hair.

Warnings:  Language. Ooey Gooey Love and Affection. Jungkook’s a little handsy but it’s not much.

Rating: PG15? 

AN: I had a shitty day. Jungkook did that damn video for Jimin’s birthday. I wanna play with his hair. I miss my Love Bug couple. Boom. The end. Thank you to the ever so beautiful @playmetheclassics for beta-reading and making the banner and divider @classicseffects. i love you

and as usual, please leave feedback. Either with a reblog or send me an ask. It’s greatly appreciated. 💜

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Taglist | AskBox | Coffee?

Today is a shitty day. One of those days where nothing seems to go accordingly. It’s not even major things going wrong. It’s the smallest detail being off or the wrong sentence leading to an unnecessary argument. Getting the wrong milk in your coffee or putting on different colored socks. Or it’s the extra two minutes it takes to find your keys getting you stuck in traffic and being twenty minutes late to work when you would’ve been five minutes early. 

So again: today is a shitty day. You rush home the second you’re off work, shoes flying off the second your door is opened, and you rip off your clothes on the way to the room, barely acknowledging your boyfriend on the couch. You change from form fitting office attire to Jungkook’s baggy shirt and a pair of his biggest sweatpants. You want to feel small and nonexistent, which is the fastest way to do it. Thankfully, he loves you in his clothes. 

Is it a turn on? 

Absolutely. But it’s really more how much he loves you that you think of him and his clothes as your safety blanket. That after a shitty day, all you want to do is be smothered in the scent and feel of him. Or you can drown in his clothes and pretend he’s holding you if he's away. He completely and totally loves the love you have for him. 

You quickly put your hair up in a ponytail, wipe off your makeup, wash your face and brush your teeth, making yourself ready for bed at 7 PM. 

Finally, you exit your room to greet Jungkook, playing an online multiplayer game with his friends. He’s wearing Bluetooth earbuds instead of the hefty priced headphones you bought him for Christmas, but you don’t hold it against him. He doesn’t want to mess up his hair. 

You grab a bottle of wine, two glasses and some random snacks, not caring if it pairs well with the wine, and head for the couch. You quietly sneak your way onto the couch, staying silent while he yells at whoever’s on the other end for their bad decision-making skills. 

There’s a brief loading screen where he looks at you with the bottle of wine in hand and a raised eyebrow, silently asking if he wants some. He nods, quickly taking in your appearance in confusion. 

After you hand him his glass, the game resumes, he takes two sips, handing you the glass back to put on the coffee table. He raises his arm, not letting go of the controller as you crawl underneath, perfectly curling up against his side. 

Your legs drape over his thigh, settling between his spread ones, and your hand slips into his hoodie’s front pocket, gently rubbing his stomach through the fabric. His head is just a few inches away from your head, placing quiet kisses in between rounds. 

You stay silent in his arms for about forty-five minutes, listening to him strategize with his friends, celebrate when they won, or groan in frustration when they would lose. It’s one of your favorite ways to spend time after a long day; him unwinding with his video games and friends, and you with just him and his proximity. 

You’re slipping into dreamland when you can suddenly feel hands moving your body around. You open your eyes to find the television off, the controller on the coffee table, and your boyfriend’s hand on your legs, lightly massaging them. 

“There you are. Come up, Love Bug, I’m all yours now.” He whispers against your scalp that’s received many kisses already tonight. You stretch your legs out as you move off him, only to crawl back on him, straddling him with legs on either side of his. His hands find their place on your hips, just above your ass, and you reach for his glasses he had you pick out for him, placing them on the couch next to you. Your hands eventually find their way into his long hair that you had begged him to keep growing out. 

You lean your forehead to his, eyes closed as you finally take your first deep breath today, shakingly letting it out with a small smile. Finally, letting the stress of the shitty day leave your mind so you can focus solely on your beautiful boyfriend that you love. 

“Hey,” he bumps your nose with his, gaining your attention back. You smile in response, bumping his nose back. 

“Everything okay, Bug? Do I need to fight someone? You know I will. Just give me a name and a place, and I’ll knock them out for you.” 

You finally let out a noise, a faint chuckle as your fingers continue running through his hair, tugging at the roots every so often. 

“I’m okay. Weird shitty day. Just needed to be near you to make it better.” You finally say, calming his worries that he’d have to fight someone. You pull your face away from him, kissing his forehead briefly. 

“And is it? Making it better?” You nod, staring at his long black hair. He has naturally straight hair, but the longer it gets, the more it starts to wave and right now, it’s at this perfectly awkward length that it wisps outward where his bangs end, and you love it. You can’t stop yourself from playing with it any chance you get. 

“So much better… ” your voice trails off as you start parting his hair, brushing it with your fingers. You bring the top half back, pinning it in place with your fingers and letting his wispy bangs flow freely. 

“Can I play with your hair, Koo?” You already know it’s a yes; he loves it just as much as you do, often falling asleep while you play because it feels so nice. “Anything you want, Bug, have at it.”

Grinning, you pull your hair out of the ponytail and place the hair tie on your wrist. He hands you the one already on his own wrist and leans forward, so you have better access to the back of the head. 

The fun thing about Jungkook’s hair is how easy it is to manipulate. To make it curl a specific way or to part it differently than what it’s used to. It adapts relatively well, and you enjoy it so much because it gives you more opportunity to play. First, you put the top half in a ponytail the way he usually has it, giggling at his little hair sprout. Then you give him pigtails, telling him he’d be adorable in a schoolgirl’s outfit. 

“I think I’d be sexy, not adorable.” You smirk at his complaint, curling the hair around your finger and holding it for a second before letting a very loose, barely there curl fall from it. 

“Hmm. Maybe adorably sexy.” You murmur, focusing on the other pigtail. He hums in response, hands sliding down to your ass and giving a squeeze as a warning. You smile, leaning back to admire the adorable pigtails, booping his nose quickly before taking the hair ties out again. 

You run your fingers through his soft locks again, admiring his healthy hair and how he relaxes further into the couch at your touch. 

“Can I try braiding it again?” 

“You have to ask?” He asks, eyes shut and a sleepy smile on his face. 

“It’s the polite thing to do.” You quip, grabbing any section you can and trying to braid any amount of hair you can. It’s still too short, but you’re silently hoping one day you can make it go past his chin. 

There was a time Jungkook hated people touching his hair. He hated the sensation of it and it took a long time for him to adjust to hair stylists constantly touching it and his friends jokingly messing it up. But even then, he only let people he trusted to touch his hair. 

After a few dates with you, you had mentioned in passing how much you loved playing with your roommate’s hair. Saying it was therapeutic to you that instead of talking about it, you could get lost in braiding his hair, tying various knots, and doing whatever you wanted with it. 

Although Jungkook knew full well there was never going to be anything between you and Danny, and ignoring that you two had only been on a handful of dates and you were still skittish about physical affection, his stupid jealousy kicked in. Jungkook wanted someone to play with his hair for the first time in his life. He specifically wanted you to run your fingers through it. 

And it quickly became a thing you only ever did with him. It was your thing together, your way of quietly reassuring each other of how much you loved and trusted one another.

Giving up on the braids, you run through his hair again, letting it settle naturally back to its original placement. He lets out a subtle whine at the loss of your fingers, making you giggle when you lean down to kiss him. 

“Thank you, Koo.” you tilt up to kiss his nose.

 “I love you.”

He hums, hands still on your lower half, pulling you forward to keep you as close as possible. 

“I love you too, Bug. We should go to bed.” You nod as he pulls you into a hug, your arms wrapping tight around him when he scoots forward, hands finding a new spot on the back of your thighs as he stands up, letting you quickly wrap your legs around his waist. You tuck your face into his neck, leaving butterfly kisses as he walks you both to bed.

I just missed them, I hope you enjoyed 💜

[klug]

do you recommend puzzle pop? i keep really wanting to play it but i do not want to get apple arcade just for that. but i dont know of any other way to get it... so i keep waffling back and forth. i guess im mostly wondering if you think its worth it, i know youve been posting about it but i blocked spoilers so idk what your thoughts are fully

Hi anon :) This is a very good question and gives me a chance to talk about the game

So for starters: You can technically get a free trial of Apple Arcade for a month and this is honestly enough time to just play through for the story modes. I think there are free Apple Arcade trials offered through Best Buy and stuff if you've already used a trial though. If you have an Apple device I feel like it's good to just go for it and try it out?

My short answer is: Yes if you want to play for story and collectibles! Especially if you're mostly interested in the Fever characters! But no if you are more focused on online multiplayer or the Madou characters. The suzuran group actually get a decent amount of content in this game, especially Ecolo in their main story.

I can't really say if I recommend it because everyone in the fandom has really different tastes honestly? Like, if you care mostly about the Madou Monogatari characters, I don't know if you'll like it because the story focus is heavy on Sig and Amitie…and it raises more questions than anything. So I'll just put a personal pros/cons list.

Pros:

The game looks really nice for an Apple Arcade game. Yeah the models are reused, but they use the expressions/motions to their full potential and the cel-shading is great. I also love the environment design. It also isn't live service so you can play it without an internet connection.

The main story, overall, is really good. There are a few standout side stories too IMO! My favorites are Feli, Witch's, Risukuma's, Ally's and Rafisol's.

So many collectibles. The Puyo Card feature, a customizable ID card you can unlock stuff for, is probably the most fun thing they've added to this game.

There's not a lot of new songs but the new ones are very good.

The inclusion of Nazo Puyo-style puzzles in story mode is a lot of fun, but they're skippable if you're bad at them.

Photo mode is fun. Basically you have a diorama where you can pose the characters however you want, but I haven't used it much.

Cons:

Yes the models and animations are reused, most other stuff in the game is new though!

The main story starts out really strong but does feel a bit anticlimactic in the last act. If you have already read the novel Sig's Secret you most likely won't get anything out of the story, which was the case for me. I've known a lot of people who haven't and cried at the ending though.

Some of the side stories for certain characters are really whatever to me but this is subjective.

The translation can be really weird in places -- I think Suketoudara's side story is where it was at its worst, but there are random errors scattered throughout the English translation...

The music selection is a bit weird to me. Like, Rafisol's theme isn't in the game but the Color Tower theme is? It's just a weird selection.

The challenge dungeons for unlockables can feel really tedious since you're not guaranteed to get characters' special items. If you have a grind mindset and really enjoy Puyo Puyo gameplay though, this is probably fine.

The online is terrible and nonexistent. This kind of renders the Puyo Card moot if you really care about showing it off.

You will need a controller for some of the harder stages. The touch controls are fine if you just want to get through the story, but you'll need a bluetooth controller for more precise inputs.

I basically do think it was well-constructed at the start, but most likely Yoshino (the writer) ran out of space or time for the last story in the game.

[verysium]

what do you read in your spare time? you’re one of the most eloquent users i know, id love to hear how you find the media you consume and what your favorites are

omg ei 😊 welcome back to the inbox! thank you for your sweet words although i'm probably not qualified enough to be considered the full definition of eloquent. i am going to preface this post by saying that i definitely don't read as much as i should, so this list is not going to be comprehensive whatsoever. the last time i even visited an in-person library was like half a decade ago, and since then my spare time has been nonexistent lmao. anyways, here are some of my favorite/most recent reads as listed by author:

POETRY

richard siken: i think siken is already well-known both in the literary world and in whatever booktok deems is popular culture. if you don't already know him though, he is best known for his poetry collection crush, which delves into themes of obsession, gay love, and violent eroticism. i actually read this chapbook unknowingly. as in i was hounding sketchy pdf download sites at 3 AM and saw a man with bloodied lips on the cover and decided to read it. he basically became my summer fever dream after that. the way he juxtaposes images is seamless, smoother than water. only richard siken can talk about violence without making it sound violent. i also enjoyed his other poetry collection war of the foxes, especially "portrait of fryderyk in shifting light." i think light is a common motif throughout most of his poems, and he manipulates it effortlessly. the most recent piece i read from him is "piano lesson." i have nothing left to say that he didn't already say, so i would just recommend reading it for yourself. he is the og big brain when it comes to word play.

ocean vuong: he's unforgettable, and i mean that literally because nobody forgets a person named ocean. time is a mother was exactly what the name suggests: an exploration of grief, loss, and the rewind of time after his mother's death. some of the poems are almost cinematic in quality. "künstlerroman" is my favorite because it feels exactly like watching a video tape in reverse. i think his most famous work is "someday i'll love ocean vuong." it was the first piece i ever read from him, and to this day, it remains my comfort poem.

silas denver melvin: i only recently discovered him through his chapbook grit. i think he's also on tumblr @/sweatermuppet. he writes a lot on the trans experience, and his work gives me a mix of southern gothic and country vibes. would definitely read his other publications if i had the time.

chen chen: one thing about chen chen is that he always comes to devour. my favorite works from him are "self-portrait as so much potential" and "song of the anti-sisyphus." you have to put on your thinking cap for some of his poems, but once you grasp the meaning, everything makes sense all at once.

franny choi: "disaster means without a star" was the entire inspiration behind my first rin fic. i relate to her more personally in regards to the diaspora experience, but her collections are worth reading in general because of the sheer quality.

pages matam: his poem "piñata" was what got me into slam poetry. his work mostly consists of political commentary which i feel is particularly relevant in today's social climate. "on learning america's english" also resonates with people who have encountered the entire losing/learning immigrant tongues experience.

laura lamb brown-lavolie: i've only read one spoken word poem from her, and tbh i only needed to read one. "on this the 100th anniversary of the sinking of the titanic, we reconsider the buoyancy of the human heart" is my two-headed calf poem. one day i will get this tattooed.

brendan constantine: once again, this was the result of me being chronically online coupled with the boredom of an august heat wave. i found "the opposites game" through TED. honestly, i was a bit unsure about it at first, but it's a cute little poem that makes you really delve into the intricacies of craft.

TEEN POETRY & PROSE

yasmeen khan: she could mouth her words onto every square inch of my body, and i would still be coming back for more. ingraining them into flesh is not enough. "movie stars" is by far my favorite work from her. she writes about femininity and womanhood so profoundly. it's tragic, but really i wouldn't have it end any other way.

kaya dierks: her writing is basically middle-of-nowhere small town stoner teenage life but personified. "crushed" is my favorite piece from her. the soundtrack for this work was definitely by ethel cain, and you cannot convince me otherwise.

FICTION

madeline miller: i was first introduced to her when i read the song of achilles. let's just say that book had me nonverbal for the greater half of three months. it was my metaphorical hatchet. i buried it once, and i never want to dig it up again. i read circe a few years later. the first time was during the blue hour at an airport, right between one red-eye flight and another transfer. i don't even remember that experience because i was heavily sleep-deprived. i read it again recently for a literature course, this time for academic analysis. overall, i enjoy the the heroine-centric narrative. typically, i'm a bit wary of novels with heavy feminist themes because they either project their agenda too strongly or they run the risk of misrepresentation. circe doesn't exactly have that problem. it was more about empowerment and less about exercising power over others.

charlotte brontë: as a historical figure, brontë was questionable, but jane eyre most certainly was not. that book rewired my brain, and that is saying something because i have never read any classic by choice. and it is so important to me that jane was the ugliest, plainest girl you could ever imagine. also cus i unironically enjoy angst, and this book was full of dramatic misunderstandings.

yoko ogawa: i love japanese literature, so there is no reason not to include this one here. "a peddler of tears" is one of my favorite short stories. i did not expect the ending at all, but it was welcome. something about violence, body gore, and dismemberment being framed as romantic and semi-erotic just gets to me. sign me the hell up. hotel iris is a hit-or-miss with some people. either you like the fact that art makes you uncomfortable or you shut it down completely. for me, i was alright with exploring some of its darker themes, but read at your own discretion.

NONFICTION

ross gay: he lives up to his name both in optimism and in carefree joy. probably one of my favorite creative nonfiction authors simply based off the accessibility of his writing style. easy to read and understand but still hits you with the full force of a semi-truck. i would recommend his book inciting joy. it's a collection of essays that delve into grief, but since this is ross gay, he makes it seem like a quintessential part of life.

paul kalanithi: sixteen-year-old me was mind blown by him cus before that doctors were shrewish old men with bald spots and sterile coats, not poetic surgeons who dissected the anatomy of word and recited t.s. eliot in the most heart-wrenching way possible. he is everything i want to become in both life and death. when breath becomes air literally does take your breath away.

[yuukei-yikes]

takane's awesome for a million reasons but one of them is that she's the only one to basically... condition?? morph?? her own power as she pleases. opening eyes is technically the eye power version of a "teleportation" power. it projects your spirit somewhere else without PHYSICALLY taking u there. takane just uses it... exclusively through technology?? for some damn reason??? this is so funny bc it also exists within conditions bc she cant go anywhere with no internet and can't feel where her body is😭

azami and mary used opening to be in other places at once through projecting their spirits there (including technology), but they don't lose consciousness when they do it. we could say since takane's 100% human she can't do so much at once like them but... no other eye power has that sorta thing? everyone's able to do everything. haruka's snake can REGENERATE HIS BODY if he gets hurt like i think takane should be able to get a pass to be facetiming everywhere at once. sorry haruka and takane are fucking creatures. everyone else's eye powers don't require that much physical involvement at all. it's almost as if haruka and takane's whole thing was particularly their physical bodies getting involved as a price to pay..🤨..... the came back wrong of it all... ok sorry im getting sidetracked i was talking abt takane

BASICALLY. i truly do believe takane doesnt even know how to use opening eyes. she never read the nonexistent instructions so she made up her own way of doing it and after she gets her body back she's just been doing it that way for so long she just..yeah❤️

and also takanes the only one who had their power in Constant Activity. with that i mean takane existed through opening eyes alone for TWO YEARS. she had that shit On all the time. she had no choice bc she didn't know where her body was, she is a little stupid but this was mostly out of making the most of her situation. i think post str she should learn how to use it❤️ but can't. so she gets frustrated she can't ❤️ erm erm erm. something something haruka and takane are the only ones who cant entirely master their powers. takane uses it with these conditions (loses consciousness/exclusively online) and for haruka awakening is keeping his heart healthy but Doesnt provide Any extra strength.

anyways. all of that so i could say: au where azami lives post str and she sees the way takane uses opening and she's like. Wtf. and tries to coach her on how to use it properly but they can't understand each other and keep clashing. sorry for being cringe i like azami she should live. erm. whoa when did i write all this.

[cloudwhisper23]

Yet another day gone! It still counts as Grumbo even if one of the characters doesn't actively show up in the fic, right? Thanks again to @grow-bettah for creating this event!

Day 10: Mail

He’d heard the rumors from everyone else using the mail service. How Grian would probably overfill his mailbox with nonsensical things, obsessing over him.

What they didn’t realize, of course, was that Grian hadn’t sent him a thing yet.

Mumbo glanced at his freshly installed mailbox for the eighteenth time that day. Still no mail.

Of course, Grian was probably awfully busy with that permit office he’d created, and now that he had the prismarine permit, he was probably focused on making a farm for that as well.

Still, there was that itch. That ache in Mumbo’s heart. He hadn’t seen much of Grian in ages.

“Surely it wouldn’t hurt to send him a message?” Mumbo asked the open air.

He got no response. Not that he was expecting one, of course. Not that he was expecting an avian to chime in and call him something silly.

Or rather, an avian-fish hybrid? Mumbo knew that the shapeshifting capabilities he’d discovered in season 8 were still with him, but he hadn’t realized that sharing a soul with Grian would do anything to impact him. Certainly nothing on this scale.

Maybe Grian wanted the distance to get back to being himself again. Mumbo couldn’t blame him for that.

Writing out a message and sending it off was the best he could do, really. Except, when Mumbo went to fetch a stamp for Grian, he realized he didn’t have one. Odd.

Shaking his head, Mumbo put the letter in his pocket. There was a post office. Maybe he could just drop it off there for them to handle.

Pearl smiled at him when he arrived. “Well, hello there Mumbo!”

“Hi, Pearl. As postmaster, I’m guessing you know which mailboxes have been set up and which ones haven’t, right?”

“Certainly. What can I help you with?”

“I wanted to send Grian a letter.” Mumbo pulled the paper from his inventory, setting it on the counter in front of Pearl.

She examined it, but she did not unfold it. “I see. Well, Grian is one of the people who hasn’t asked for a mailbox yet. But I can definitely make sure this gets to him!”

“Thanks, Pearl. I appreciate it.”

“Of course, of course.” Pearl slipped the letter into her bag. “So, Mumbo. Just out of curiosity…”

“Yeah?”

“How has Grain been this season? You guys are neighbors, right?”

“Oh, erm. We are, sort of. I think he’s been okay? I mean, he’s certainly been busy, what with the fishing and the permit office.”

“The permit office! That’s right. I should ask him how that’s going when I deliver your letter.” Pearl nodded to herself. “Speaking of permits…”

“Yeah?” Mumbo looked at her, forcing himself to focus more intently on the conversation instead of the post office.

“I hear you and Grian have decided to share a permit?” Pearl pulled out a book, writing something down as she continued talking. “Wart blocks?”

“Oh! Yes, that’s right. I actually need to talk to him and discuss that, hence the letter.” Mumbo didn’t mean to lie to Pearl, but if he satiated her curiosity, she was probably less likely to read the letter and find out what Mumbo had actually written.

He didn’t want any other hermits to think he was desperate for Grian’s attention, after all.

“He’s always busy when you’re both online at the same time then, I’m guessing.”

“Just for a while, anyway.” Mumbo picked at a nonexistent seam on his jacket. “Well, it was nice talking with you, Pearl. But I really must be going.”

“Of course. Thanks for chatting with me, Mumbo. Feel free to stop in anytime!” Pearl waved him off cheerfully.

After Mumbo was out of earshot, Pearl laughed to herself.

“That man is down bad.”

[retiredficwriter]

me? being tagged by @jetsteelyourheart ?? what an honor!

just like the top 5 favorite characters: Make a poll with 5 of your favorite rarepairs/crackships. See which one is everyone's favorite!

i became too invested in this. some of these ships i haven't thought in years, so it was nice to relive the times i was obsessed with them. i narrowed it to one ship per media/fandom and just like my tag-buddy, I'll provide my questionable reasons/propaganda.

REASONS/PROPAGANDA

Sydney Sage/Trey Juarez:

so when i was first reading bloodlines, i read online that sydney gets a human boyfriend in book 2. i had heard about brayden but never in the context of HIM being the boyfriend, so i thought he was the random dude in book 1 (wasn't he, unironically, called hayden??) who asked sydney out. i was theorizing who that boyfriend would be until my brain went: "omg.... IS IT TREY??" and got soo hyped. i loved their interaction in book 1 and thought exploring them in a romantic setting would be so interesting, especially with the implication of trey having a major role. they are so similar (growing up in a cult, daddy issues, both being smart) and yet, trey has some adrian-like traits?? charming, popular in the dating pool, laidback... and it would create some tension between sydrian??? imagine adrian watching trey and sydney date and feeling discouraged because she found a human "version" of him?? and with trey being a warrior, he would try to get sydney to have the alchemist side with them and push the "moroi are evil" narrative, creating more doubts for sydney to rebel! BUT THEN SYDNEY HELPS TREY REBEL AGAINST THE WARRIORS!!

i love their friendship as is, and know for a fact they wouldn't last that long but man... i would have eat up their failed romance.

bonus point for an adrian/sydney/trey polycule

Rachel Berry/Sam Evans:

ah yes. my first ever rarepair. since that one episode in season 2 where she and finn helped sam with his young siblings, i fell in love with them. if you were in the glee fandom, you know every single couple was problematic one way or the other (this is the writers' fault). yet somehow, every relationship sam was in, it was the healthiest the woman he was with ever had. and i wanted that for rachel! i ate all the crumbs this show gave me, which were... almost nonexistent. the big difference between this rarepair and the others on this poll is that, in the show's final season, THEY BECAME CANON. I WAS SO HAPPY. they were very unpopular because it came out of nowhere and the writers only put them together to give rachel a love interest for the final season (and give the storyline they planned for finn to someone else), which... fair. but he was so caring, encouraging her to follow her dreams and telling her the tough truth about things she didn't want to hear. it was so good to see rachel heal from finn and her failed broadway dreams while with sam. (also she was less insufferable with him).

but then, ha... they broke up on the third to last episode of the series. so she could be with jesse who showed up out of nowhere on that same episode, after he "left" 4-3 seasons ago. don't get me wrong - i love st. berry! jonathan groff and lea michelle have chemistry! love ambitious broadway wannabes being a power couple! but why not, i don't know, put the storyline she had with sam with jesse instead so it could be more organic and avoid crushing my dreams???

i'm fine. not bitter at all. I'M FINE. I'M F-

Clarisse La Rue/Silena Beauregard (PJO):

this isn't a rarepair compared to the previous two, but within the pjo fandom, it isn't as popular (surprisingly?? at least in ao3. i'm so out of the loop). first time reading pjo, little old only thought of clarisse and silena as best friends. but as i got older and read more fan analysis of the series, i realized the tragedy of these two. either 1) clarisse had an unrequited crush 2) they dated and didn't work out 3) it was a failed situationship. the daughter of ares, the girl people in camp-half blood are so scared of because she is mean to everyone and can (and will) beat the shit out of them, had a wholesome friendship with the daughter of aphrodite, and one of the nicest people in the camp?? and this friendship appeared because silena helped clarisse with her "boy problems"??? and then clarisse basically protected and comforted silena after what happened with charlie?? no spoilers for those who haven't read the books, but they parallel a famous greek mythology couple and their ending hurts. still love silena/charlie, but god... poor clarisse...

can't wait to keep rereading the books and suffer once i get to their part!

Gary "Eggsy" Unwin/Roxy Morton (Kingsman)

everyone prefers hartwin and merlin/eggsy, but i can't help but love mortwin. i watched the first movie and loved their small moments. loved how they bonded over being the underdogs in the competition and, instead of becoming sworn enemies, they recognized each other as worthy opponents. their small fun, friendly-rivarly banter was cute. part of me was relieved they stayed as friends in the end... but i couldn't help but be soo disappointed. the chemistry? it was there!! even taron egerton said there was potential to explore a romance if given the chance! plus, i'm a sucker for well-developed friends-to-lovers.

never watched the sequel but after reading what the writers did to roxy, i'm glad i didn't and never will. i can now create my own sequel in my head and read fanfics of the story they deserve 😌

Bella Swan/Leah Clearwater (Twilight):

i want to thank this one brazilian fanfic i found years ago (and never wrote down the name and lost it 😔) for presenting me with this ship. everyone talks about bella/alice, bella/rosalie, bella/carlisle... but what about bella/leah??? think new moon, when bella has just been abandoned by edward, meeting the werewolves through jacob and therefore leah, who is still dealing with the whole paul/emily thing. they can still start out with leah hating bella but they can bond over being abandoned by their boyfriends and heal from it, and in the end realize they don't need them anymore - they can have each other!

i also love if edward still comes back and bella is conflicted, and it's a edward/bella/leah love triangle (apparently people ship edward/leah and how i never heard of it?! imagine the drama!!) i will take anything where jacob isn't involved

tagging @morocorra @forcebookish @artianaiolanthe @sydneysageivashkov + anyone who wants to do this!

[stardustshelb]

"If It Kills Me" - Jake One Shot

TW: Language. Your name (female) + Jake. 6,339 words.

The song "If It Kills Me" by Jason Mraz inspired me to write this story; each part of the story is inspired by a different part of the song.

Part One

"It would be such a beautiful moment to see the look on your face,

To know that I know that you know now.

And baby that's a case of my wishful thinking.

You know nothing." - JM

You’re sending me one-worded texts. You’re probably busy. At least that’s what I’m telling myself because why else would you be responding like you’re mad at me? I haven’t done anything to make you angry. If you knew I was spiraling and overthinking like this, you’d probably throw in an emoji, a gif, something to ease my mind. I decided to stop dwelling on the “ok” and “lol” replies and put my phone away. I’m clearly distracted and the last thing I need is Danny getting angry if I throw the tempo off again. 

“Let’s run through that one more time,” Josh said into the microphone. I normally am the serious one who takes control of our practices, but I wasn’t feeling it today. We were going on four hours of rehearsal for our upcoming tour. I was exhausted because I stayed up too late, but that’s the sacrifice you make when the love of your life lives in a different time zone. I listened to Danny count us in, “One, two, three, four,” and began playing my guitar. I tried to focus on the music but thoughts of you kept creeping in. 

When rehearsal finally ended, I checked my phone hoping to see your name on my screen. Nope. You left me on read. Thousands of notifications plague my screen but the one notification I was looking for was nonexistent. I started replaying the last parts of our conversation last night; if you were mad at me for something I said, I truly couldn’t remember. I put my phone in my back pocket and finished packing my stuff up for the day. We had to be back bright and early tomorrow, so thankfully I didn’t have to pack up all of my pedals and amps.

“What are you doing tonight?” Sam asked as he held out a ruby grapefruit White Claw to me. 

“It’s barely 2:00 in the afternoon, man,” I said as I waved his offer away. “Uh, I’m probably going to take it easy tonight and stay in.”

“That’s what you did last night,” Sam said as he shifted his weight to his other foot. He was clearly bummed that I wasn’t up for hanging out.

“Yeah, well, I’m trying to savor my nights at home before I spend them all on the road,” I said with a shrug. I loved touring and playing music more than anything, but I also loved sleeping in my own bed. I just wished you were here to share it with me.

“If you change your mind, call me,” he said as he placed the unopened White Claw down near my boot. He walked away before I could respond. I stared at the can and then grabbed it before walking out to the parking lot. 

When I got home, I took a quick shower and laid on the couch scrolling through the pictures in my camera roll. Our social media team has made several remarks lately that my Instagram was too “dry” and our fans were begging for more content from me. I never really pay much attention to the demands of keeping up an online presence on social media. I scrolled back to March of this year and smiled as I looked at the pictures from our quick trip to the beach. It was the last time we were able to spend time together as just the two of us. We spent four days secluded from the outside world in a condo in Santa Barbara. It was the highlight of my year. I found a picture you took of me when I was staring out into the sunset. My jeans were rolled up to my shins to keep from getting wet as the waves rolled in. I remember the water was so cold I thought my toes were going to turn black. You don’t smoke anymore, but you took a hit (or two) on the joint hanging out of my mouth. I didn’t know you took the picture of me at the time, but I’m thankful you did. If only you knew that at that moment I was cursing the sun for leaving and robbing us of another day together. 

The night passed by quickly. I still hadn’t heard from you and I was trying not to worry. It wasn’t like we were always in constant contact with our busy work schedules, but you should have texted me by now. I was fighting my eyelids to stay awake. I knew you had been working night shifts at the hospital recently, but I knew you were off. Our three-hour time difference really made things difficult for my sleep schedule. While it was almost 2 a.m. for me, I knew you would be awake and scrolling through your plethora of social media apps before getting ready for bed. 

I had an idea that normally worked when I needed a desperate way to grab your attention. I opened my Instagram app for the first time in weeks and hit the plus sign to make a post. I scrolled back to the picture you took of me on the beach and typed the caption, “The fleeting daylight gave me liberation though I longed for staying a captive on the sand.” I hit send and waited for the trap I set to work. I knew you had my Instagram notifications turned on.

I chuckled as I read the comments from fans who always posted the most unhinged shit. Even though my motive was to get a response from you, I still enjoyed reading the interesting comments. And as if I knew you better than you knew yourself, I suddenly was on the receiving end of your FaceTime call. 

“Hey,” I said as I propped the phone up on the pillow next to me. I fought the urge to display a smug smile.

“You have a typo in your Instagram caption,” you said. You had a toothbrush hanging out the side of your mouth and your hair was wrapped up in a towel. 

“Do I?” I asked, playing dumb. Any time I needed a response from you, posting a typo on social media worked 9 times out of 10. Josh just thinks I’m an idiot at this point.

“It doesn’t even make sense,” you said as you leaned down to spit off camera. 

“Fine, I’ll fix it,” I said as I reopened the app to make an edit to the caption. 

“You could have at least given me photographer credits,” you said. I fixed the typo and opened your FaceTime back so I could see your beautiful face full screen. You weren’t paying me any attention as you were doing your nighttime skincare routine. I didn’t care because I was still able to admire you. 

“You and I both know the insanity that would ensue if I tagged you in anything,” I said with a sigh. 

“That’s true,” you said.

“I miss the beach,” I said but fought to replace beach with the word you. Though, you would have seen it all over my face if you were looking at me. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t talk much today,” you said.

“I was beginning to think you were mad at me,” I admitted. 

“Why would I be mad at you?” you asked as you suddenly stopped rubbing moisturizer into your skin. You stopped looking at yourself in the mirror and stared at your phone–stared at me. I tried to remember what I was saying.

“I–uh–well, you know, you didn’t respond for hours, and uh, when you did, it was um–” I knew I was tripping over my words. I felt my face getting warm because I was flustered.

“I’m not mad at you, Jake. At least not at the moment,” you said with a wink. 

“You know I get into my head sometimes,” I said as I smoothed my hair back.

“Better than anyone. Ok, well, I wanted to pop on real quick to tell you good night,” you said. I could tell you were about to wrap up the call. I hated saying goodbye but I needed to sleep too. 

“Good night, y/n” I said as I watched you finish drying your hair.

“Good night, Jake,” you said before hanging up.

“I love you,” remained silently on my lips. 

Part Two

"Well you and I,

Why, we go carrying on for hours on end.

We get along much better,

Than you and your boyfriend." - JM

“You look like shit,” Josh said. Once again, another sleepless night robbed me of any rest and relaxation before another full morning of rehearsal. Thoughts of you mixed with anticipation for the new tour had my mind racing.

“Yeah, well, we’re twins,” I said as I stirred my coffee. “So, I guess you look like shit too.” I was fighting the urge to add a little whiskey to it if this was how practice was going to go. 

“This is the last practice of the week, so let’s not fuck around and waste any time today,” he added.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I questioned. I didn’t like what he was implying.

“It means get your head out of your ass and finish your coffee so we can get started,” he said. I could sense Josh was angry about something, but there was no telling with him. The smallest inconvenience could set him off. I bit my tongue and let him have his moment of misdirected anger. I finished my cup of coffee and started to plug in my guitar.

“Yesterday we stopped after ‘Frozen Light’ so let’s move on through the rest of the set list,” I said.

“Well, then you’re plugging in the wrong guitar,” Josh said. Confused, I glanced at the taped setlist on my side of the stage and realized our B stage performance was next. 

“Oh, yeah,” I said.

“You would know that if you paid any attention yesterday,” Josh said under his breath.

“What the fuck is your problem this morning?” I asked.

“Guys,” Sam said as he stepped in to diffuse the situation. That’s what the three of us did. Whoever was the one outside of the conflict always stepped in to help calm the other two down. But truth be told, it was normally Sam who worked as the middle man. “I’m not acting as the rope for your game of tug-of-war today.” My heart strings pulled a little for my younger brother as I threw my cup of coffee in the trash.

Rehearsal went by a lot quicker today than it did yesterday. I’m sure it was because anger fueled me not to waste a single moment of time so I didn’t have to be here any longer than I had to be. I was looking forward to a couple days off. I wondered if I could make a quick trip to California to see you this weekend. 

“Hey,” I heard Josh’s voice from behind me. I continued to pack up my stuff instead of turning around to face him.

“I’m sorry, Jake,” he said. I stopped messing with my cords and sighed before turning around.

“It’s ok,” I said when I met his eyes.

“I’m stressed about the tour and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you,” he said. Any ounce of anger I had instantly evaporated. I could tell he needed a hug so I pulled him in. Normally he was the one to initiate physical contact, but I knew what he needed.

“Are you sticking around here for the weekend?” I asked as I let go of our embrace.

“I’m not sure. What about you?” Josh responded.

“I may explore the west coast for a couple days,” I said, rubbing my chin.

“Jake…” Josh’s voice sounded like a warning.

“What?” I asked. He sighed and shook his head, clearly not saying what he wanted to say.

“Tell y/n I said hi,” he said.

“I never said I was going to see her,” I said.

“You didn’t have to,” he added.

“It’s not a good weekend,” you said. Your words immediately broke my heart and I struggled to hold the phone in my hand. I called to see if I could come stay and visit because I hadn’t seen you in nearly three months.

“I thought you said you were off most of this week,” I said, trying to mask the sadness in my voice.

“I am,” you said.

“So why can’t I come? I miss the beach. I miss you,” the words escaped my mouth before I realized it.

“I have plans this weekend,” you said. I could tell you didn’t want to volunteer any more information and that I was going to have to ask to get any details.

“One day on the beach with me is all I ask,” I practically begged.

“Nathan and I are going out of town,” you said. There it was. The reason you were being so short and vague. You knew how I felt about him; I just wish you knew how I felt about you.

“He’s still around?” I asked.

“Jake, I’m not having this conversation again,” you said. I could hear the frustration in your voice.

“Where are you guys going?” I asked. I really didn’t want to know any details because I didn’t want to think about Nathan any more than I had to. I was struggling to play nice.

“He’s taking me to his parents’ house in Malibu,” you said. I felt my chest tighten.

“You’re meeting his parents?” I asked.

“Yes, Jake. Is that ok with you?” you asked sarcastically. 

“You know you don’t need my permission for anything. I can’t say the same for Nathan,” I added. I tasted the bitterness of my insult. You didn’t immediately respond so I knew my words made an impact. I then heard you speaking but I couldn’t tell what you were saying. The sound was muffled as if your hand was covering the phone.

“Hello?” I asked. I continued listening to the muffled conversation and realized he was currently there with you. I couldn’t make out what you two were saying but I was growing more and more frustrated by the second. “Y/n?” I asked again, hoping for a response, but I continued to sit on the metaphorical back burner.

“Sorry about that,” you said. “Hey, I’ve got to finish packing but I will call you tomorrow.”

“Sure, of course. I will talk to you tomorrow,” I said as you ended the call.

I made myself a drink and debated calling one of the guys to come over and hangout. It was only 8:00 p.m. but I felt the exhaustion from the last two days taking its toll on me. Well, the tequila in my drink probably didn’t help. I figured I should take advantage of some extra hours of sleep. I polished off my glass and slowly shuffled to my bedroom. I put my phone on the charger and collapsed into my bed. For once, I didn’t have to lie awake as I slowly sunk into the pillow.

Part Three

"How long, can I go on like this,

Wishing to kiss you

Before I rightly explode?

Well this double life I lead isn't healthy for me.

In fact, it makes me nervous.

If I get caught, I could be risking it all." - JM

I didn’t realize that I slept for over 14 hours when I rolled over to check the time on my phone. Both my body and my mind really needed to rest. I scrolled through the notifications on my screen with tired eyes until I spotted two missed calls from you. As if you were a shot of espresso, I was immediately awake. You didn’t leave me a voicemail but you had called me at what would be 1 a.m. your time. I sat up straight and nervously called you back.

“Hello?” you answered on the first ring. Your voice sounded strange.

“Hey, I’m sorry I missed your calls last night. What’s going on?” I asked.

“If you’re still wanting to come to California, I’m free,” you said.

“I’ll be on the next flight,” I said as I hurried to get out of bed. 

“Thanks, Jake,” you said. I could tell you were on the verge of tears, so I decided not to press for any details yet. We could talk it out once I got there.

I landed in Santa Barbara just after 7 p.m. and headed through the small California airport. It was surprisingly easy finding a last-minute flight, but it wasn’t easy getting through the airport. Even today, I am still taken aback by the attention I receive from fans. I texted you to find out where to meet you and made my way down the escalator. I was only staying for two nights so I threw everything I needed into my backpack. I can travel light. I waited outside and kept my head down until I saw your car rolling up. To my surprise, Nathan was in the passenger seat. I felt sick. You immediately jumped out of the car and ran straight to me. I wanted to pick you up and spin you around, but I knew that would not make a great first impression with your boyfriend.

“I’m so happy to see you!” you squealed as I lingered in your welcoming embrace. Everything I had planned to say to you was no longer relevant now that he was here. 

“I’m happy to be here,” I said as you finally let go. I could feel Nathan staring at us but I kept my eyes locked on your beautiful face. Your naturally long eyelashes fluttered and I swore I stopped breathing.

“Are you hungry?” you asked.

“Famished, actually,” I said, realizing all I’ve eaten today were the free snacks the airline gives you. 

“Good because I made lasagna,” you said as you stood on your tiptoes.

“Did you follow your famous recipe?” I asked.

“From a box?” you asked with a laugh.

“Shh, we pretend, remember?” I asked. Before you could respond, we both jumped at the sound of your car horn. Nathan’s impatience seemed to get the best of him. I grinded my teeth before taking a deep breath. So much for first impressions.

“Come on,” you said as you rolled your eyes and laughed. I relaxed my fingers, which I didn’t realize were balled up into a fist, before following you to your car. I slid into the backseat and channeled my inner Josh so I could act like I was excited about meeting Nathan.

“Hey, man. I’m Jake,” I said, sticking my arm out to shake his hand. He turned around and looked at me like I was covered in dirt. 

“Hello, Jake,” he said, finally grabbing my hand unenthusiastically. “I’m Dr. Turner.” Give me a break. You got into the car and smiled when you saw us shaking hands.

“Oh good, I didn’t have to do the introductions,” you said with a wink.

I learned your weekend trip to Malibu was canceled when Nathan–or Dr. Turner–found out he needed to be on call at the hospital last minute. I could tell you were disappointed, but I’m not sure if that was the reason you sounded like you were crying on the phone this morning. I made a mental note to ask you about it when we had some privacy. I knew Nathan was staying for dinner but I was praying to whatever God who was listening that he wouldn’t be staying the night as well. I needed alone time with you. 

When we got back to your place, I made my way to your guest room to put my backpack up. I checked in with the guys to let them know I had made it safely to your place. I guess news of me being in California was all over Twitter and Instagram because our social media manager sent me screenshots of some pictures I took with fans in the airport. I knew we’d have to lay low now that I was here to keep your identity hidden. The last thing you or I needed were pictures of us circulating online with rumors. I started to make my way out of the bedroom when I stopped in the doorway. I could hear you and Nathan having what sounded like an argument, and I didn’t want to interrupt. I leaned in closer to the hallway to eavesdrop.

“He can’t get a hotel room?” Nathan asked.

“I’m not making my best friend stay in a hotel,” you said as you closed the oven door.

“He can afford it,” he said with a scoff.

“I don’t concern myself with other people’s finances, Nathan. You know that. People could say the same thing about me dating a doctor,” you said. I rolled my eyes.

“I just don’t like the idea of another guy staying the night with you,” he said.

“He’s not staying with me. He’s sleeping in another room. Plus I’ve known Jake almost my entire life. It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve slept under the same roof,” you said.

“I would feel more comfortable if I were here too,” he said. I felt my blood start to boil. 

“Please trust me, Nathan. I’ve never given you a reason not to,” you said. I couldn’t handle listening any longer so I made my way out of the hallway and walked into the kitchen. When you saw me, you pulled away from Nathan. I’m not sure if you noticed–but both he and I did. I’m sure that unconscious movement only fueled his insecurities even more. 

Dinner went better than one would expect. It appears everyone–including myself–is a great actor. One would have never guessed Nathan didn’t want me there with the way he was asking me questions about my life with the band. If I didn’t know half of what I already knew about him, I’d think he was a pretty good guy. You beamed watching the two of us converse. I gazed at your full lips across the table as they broke into a smile. I wanted nothing more than to kiss them. 

“Nothing like a home-cooked meal,” you said with a laugh. I gave you a soft smile.

“Stouffer’s is a specialty with this one,” Nathan said, pulling you into a side hug. “I’m hoping she’ll learn her way around a kitchen eventually.”

“I will take anything that’s not fast food at this point,” I said. I stared at the glass mason jar of strawberry lemonade you so kindly made AKA mixed Crystal Light with water. I knew you had a busy schedule at the hospital and worked so hard as a nurse. And I knew you had to fend a lot for yourself growing up. I was just proud that you made a life for yourself and lived unapologetically. I didn’t care that you never took an interest in cooking. You never tried to be anyone but yourself and I loved that about you.

“Well, it would be nice to have something that wasn’t full of preservatives every once in a while,” Nathan said with a laugh. I looked up to meet his eyes and if looks could kill, he’d be a goner. You sensed my sudden change in mood and laughed at his joke–a laugh that you and I both knew was fake and forced.

“I’m a great cook, actually. What about you Nathan?” I said.

“A man’s place doesn’t belong in the kitchen. Plus, I’m too busy with surgeries and–” he was saying.

“The 1900s called. They want their sexist views back,” I joked. You let out a wild laugh, one that was so not fake. I watched Nathan squirm in his seat before forcing a smile. Before he could respond, the ringing of his work phone distracted us.

“Great,” he muttered before excusing himself from the table. When he was out of the room, you and I locked eyes and you started that wild laugh again.

“Jacob Thomas Kiszka, you are horrible,” you said. I loved when you used my full name.

“What kind of backwards ideology is that?” I asked. I wasn’t joking anymore.

“He was raised differently,” you said, smoothing the napkin in your lap. 

“Does he call his mom Mother? Be honest,” I said, biting my lip to keep from laughing.

“Jake…” you said.

“Holy shit, he does!” I exclaimed. We both were laughing hysterically when Nathan came back into the room.

“What’s so funny?” he asked.

“Jake just told me a funny story,” you said nervously.

“I like to laugh,” Nathan said as he joined us at the table.

“Do you have to leave, darling?” you asked. I could taste the bile in my throat after hearing you call him that.

“Yeah, here in a second. I want to hear this hilarious story first,” he said as he met my stare.

“It’s really an inside joke. You wouldn’t–” you started.

“I’m waiting,” Nathan said, not breaking my eye contact. Just then, I fantasized about stabbing him in the neck with the fork in my hand. 

“I was telling y/n the story about how Josh–that’s my brother–sometimes acts in his diva persona,” I was trying to come up with something on the fly. I’m sure anyone with a brain would know I was lying, but I kept going. “And when he’s this super bitch–his words–he makes life hell for us all.”

“And that’s…funny?” Nathan asked.

“If you knew him, yes,” I said. 

“Right. Well, I’ve been called in for surgery. Another with cirrhosis of the liver. They’re a dime a dozen nowadays,” Nathan said. It was hard to believe he was talking about another human life. I wouldn’t want someone who didn’t see value in another person’s soul operating on me. He wouldn’t give a shit if I lived or died. I’d be just another body on the operating table to him. “That’s why I’ve encouraged y/n to stop drinking. Nasty stuff. Jake, you should consider it too.”

“Thanks for the medical advice, doc,” I said.

“I’m serious. Alcohol is poison. But then again, so are all of the preservatives we consume in our instant lemonades and frozen lasagnas, so what the hell do I know?” he laughed. Nobody laughed along with him this time.

“I’ll walk you out,” you said as you pushed yourself away from the table. I wasn’t sure if you were needing a break from yet another one of his passive aggressive insults, or if you were trying to get him away from me before I did something that would put me behind bars for the rest of my life.

Part Four

"If I should be so bold,

I'd ask you to hold my heart in your hand.

I'd tell you from the start how I longed to be your man.

But I never said a word,

I guess I'm gonna miss my chance again." - JM

We spent the rest of the evening sitting on your couch and catching up. We talked every day but having this time with you in person felt completely different. You wanted to know everything about our new tour and I could feel the excitement radiating off of you. 

“Will you be there opening night?” I asked.

“You know I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you said. “I have a confession.”

“Oh?” I asked as I moved closer to you. 

“I have a bottle of tequila stashed in the cabinet above the refrigerator,” you whispered.

“You know how I feel about alcohol, and don’t even get me started on preservatives,” I said sarcastically. You threw a pillow at me before jumping up to grab it. I watched you climb on top of your kitchen counter to be able to reach your hidden contraband. You jumped down off the counter and ran back to join me on the couch with the forbidden bottle of tequila tucked under your arm.

“If you can guess my favorite song off the new album, I will take a shot. If you get it wrong, you have to take a shot,” you said, holding the bottle out to me. 

“So I have a 90% chance of taking a shot,” I said, raising an eyebrow.

“The odds are definitely in my favor,” you said with a laugh. I studied your face for a moment. I wanted to tell you how you were the inspiration for my most favorite song that I’ve ever written. Josh heard it once and knew it belonged on the album. I wanted to explain how my time on the beach with you earlier this year inspired the story behind the song. Every word, every line to the song “Waited All Your Life” was written about you. You were the song. But how could I ever admit that?

“Runway Blues?” I guessed. I knew it wouldn’t be it. And for a moment, I swear a look of disappointment flashed across your face for a brief moment.

“Nope! Take a shot!” you said as you proudly held the bottle to me.

“What was the right answer?” I asked as I unscrewed the lid. I put the bottle to my lips and wondered when it touched yours last. 

“‘Waited All Your Life’ is my favorite,” you said with a soft smile. I felt my chest tighten at your admission and took a shot of tequila straight from the bottle. 

“Mine too,” I said so quietly I wondered if you even heard me. “Hey, can we go to the beach tomorrow? Just the two of us?” 

“Yeah, that sounds perfect,” you said as you grabbed the bottle from me. You took a shot and I envied the bottle that got to kiss your lips. 

After talking and laughing for several hours on the couch, you got a text from Nathan that the surgery went well and he was headed home for the night. 

“Home as in…?” I asked.

“Home as in his own home. We don’t live together, Jake,” you said as you looked up at me under your lashes.

“I know, I know,” I said as I sighed with relief. You screwed the lid back on the bottle of tequila before climbing back up to stash it away for another time. When you came back into the living room, you stood at the end of the couch and yawned. Unfortunately, I knew what was coming.

“I think we should call it a night,” you said. I didn’t want this night to end. Carpe noctem.

“Yeah, I’m pretty tired,” I lied.

“Don’t set an alarm. Sleep in and we’ll go to the beach whenever we feel like it tomorrow,” you said. I didn’t want to sleep at all. I didn’t want to waste a single moment when I’m here with you.

“Ok, sounds like a plan,” I said as I stood up. I walked closer to you and I watched you suck in a breath.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” you said quietly.

“Me too,” I said as I wrapped my arms around you.

“Good night, Jake,” you said.

“Good night, y/n,” I whispered.

After my shower, I laid on the bed in the guest bedroom and stared at the ceiling fan for what felt like an eternity. Thoughts of you, thoughts of us, thoughts of Nathan, the beach, tequila, and your song clouded my mind. I wanted to get out of bed and knock on your bedroom door. I wanted to admit every thought and feeling I’ve hidden from you for years. I wanted to admit how I’ve kept this secret from you for so long and it kills me nearly every day. I wanted to cry and scream and then cry some more. I wanted to hold you. But I just laid there and stared at the ceiling fan as the blades moved in a perfect rotation. Maybe tomorrow I’d admit these things to you. Maybe when we’re on the beach I’d finally find courage amongst the waves. I closed my eyes and let the hope for tomorrow guide my dreams for tonight.

Part Five

"And all I really want to do is to feel you.

It's a feeling inside that keeps building.

I will find a way to you if it kills me.

If it kills me.

It might kill me." - JM

I helped unload your adirondack chairs from the back of your car when we found a spot on the beach that was secluded from both the locals and the tourists. There was a walk-up bar not too far from us, but still far enough away that we felt like we were the only two people on the beach. I kept my sunglasses on as I faced the ocean, admiring the sunlight reflecting off the water. I watched you apply your sunscreen and waited for you to ask me to help you apply it to your back and neck. 

“Do you mind helping?” you asked, turning away from me and moving your hair to the side. I grabbed the bottle and started to rub the lotion on your back. I took my time because I wanted to feel every inch of your soft skin. 

“Can I ask you a question?” I asked as I continued rubbing the sunscreen on your shoulders. I finally felt enough courage to ask about the phone call since I couldn’t see your eyes.

“Always,” you said.

“When I talked to you on the phone yesterday morning… You sounded like you were crying,” I quietly admitted. I waited for you to say something but the silence lingered in the air. 

“I was,” you said.

“Why?” I asked.

“I don’t really want to talk about it, Jake,” you said as you dropped your head. I stared at the back of your neck waiting for the right words to come to me.

“You know you can talk to me about anything,” I said.

“I know,” you said. I put my hands on your shoulders and pulled for you to turn to face me. When you met my eyes, I could see they were hiding something.

“Y/n, what’s bothering you?” I asked. You sighed as you put your sunglasses on, attempting to camouflage your emotions.

“Nathan and I got into an argument that night and I called you in the heat of the moment. But we worked it out by the time you called me back the next morning. I was still upset and just needed to see my best friend,” you said as you reached out to squeeze my hand. “I miss you so much.”

“Loving a music man ain’t always what it’s supposed to be,” I sang a line from one of your favorite Journey songs as I let your hand stay in mine. I knew what I had to do to make you smile.

“Oh, girl, you stand by me,” you sang playfully. You loved when I sang, especially when it was a song off of your comfort playlist.

“I’m forever yours,” I sang back to you, meaning every word I said.

“Faithfully,” you sang as you let go of my hand. I wanted the lyrics to be true for you like they were for me. You laid your head back on your chair and basked in the sunlight. 

“Y/n?” I asked.

“Mhm?” you replied, still sunbathing.

“I–” I began, but stopped speaking when your phone started ringing.

“Sorry, this is work,” you said as you fished your phone out of your tote bag. I watched your face turn to disappointment behind the sunglasses. “Hello?” you said as you answered. You got up and walked away to take the phone call. I turned my attention away from you and looked out toward the waves. I knew our time together was ending quicker than I wanted it to. I was supposed to fly back home first thing tomorrow morning, and we were supposed to spend the entire day together on the beach, but my gut told me those plans were about to change. Being a musician, I was no stranger to abrupt changes and I quickly learned how to adapt to the unexpected. Nothing in my life ever goes according to plan anymore. I glanced your direction and watched you pace back and forth, still talking to whoever it was on the phone. I turned back toward the water and savored what I knew would be my final moments here on the beach. Another chance I would never take washed away on the shore line. I wiped the tear that escaped my eye as you walked back toward your empty chair. You didn’t have to say it; I knew.

“I am so sorry, Jake,” you began.

“Do we need to go?” I asked.

“Yes,” you said with a sigh. Without another word, I stood up and helped grab the chairs to make our way back to your car.

“Please feel free to stay in my house until I get back. I only have to go in for a few hours to help locate and fix some medical charts that got mishandled. I don’t have to work a full shift tonight,” you said. 

“Sure, of course,” I lied. I’d be searching for the next flight out of California the second you walked out the door. I knew you would be upset that I planned to leave without a proper goodbye, but I left what I needed to say out on the beach. The waves carried my broken heart back to the ocean. My unspoken words would forever remain buried in the sand.

Eventually, I would find my way back there when you were ready to hear them.

It wasn’t our time, yet. And it kills me that maybe it never will be.

The End

[chayscribbles]

chayscribbles writing recap 2023!

i feel like tacky wordart kind of encapsulates how i've been feeling lately about my writing. if that makes any sense.

as you guys may or may not have noticed i've really been nonexistent around here lately. this past year has been really weird in terms of both my personal life and my creative life. i've been a lot more blocked than in the past few years and did not meet and at the point i am now it's easy to look at the past year and be disappointed. but i will force myself to see SOME positive, goddammit.

☆stats.

words written: 102 380

projects worked on: andromeda rogue, the gemini heist, and a few Secret Projects

accomplishments: finished the 2nd draft of andromeda rogue; sent said draft out for beta reading (which was fucking terrifying, btw); crocheted two sweaters (okay that's not writing but i'm really proud of them okay)

☆looking back on 2023 goals.

i dug out my recap post from last year and looked at the goals i had set at the beginning of the year (which i had completely forgot about tbh jkgfjksd), so let's see how they measured up:

to continue polishing up Andromeda Rogue (at least just the first book) with the goal of perhaps having some eyes on it by the end of the year👀 - well i certainly did get some eyes on it, so that was accomplished ✅

to continue working on The Gemini Heist, wherever that may lead me - okay so i didn't get nearly as far as i had hoped but i worked on it, didn't i? i'm checking it off ✅

to not pressure myself too much in my writing; to be kind to myself when i’m in a slump and to take regular breaks - LOL. still working on that.

to try new things and challenge myself - getting betas was challenging. not finding them but the actually making myself do it lol. let's go ahead and check that one off ✅

to have fun and be myself! 😀 - LMAO. yeah, sure, let's give that a check. ✅

☆setting new goals for 2024.

i'm gonna have only two goals but they're pretty big ones.

publish andromeda rogue by the end of the year, assuming editing through beta comments doesn't kill me first.

this isn't writing but i'd really like to open an online shop for my art, i think it would be an interesting venture. i got a cricut machine for christmas so there might be stickers in my future 👀

so that's all my rambling! hope you guys have a wonderful 2024!!! <3

general taglist:

@dgwriteblr @the-orangeauthor @onomatopiya @quilloftheclouds @ashen-crest @writeblrfantasy @celestepens @stardustspiral @pepperdee @extra-magichours @avi-why @lefttigerobservation @chazzawrites @bardolatrycore @innocentlymacabre

[thecoolerliauditore]

i don't get all the fuss about CCs reading fanfic. if you didn't want people to see it then why would you put it publicly online. like aren't you taught that if you don't want something to be seen you shouldn't put it on the internet?

i don't understand the people mad at tommyinnit for reading fanfic. like you have this space where you talk about this real person but *he's* not allowed to read it? wtf

anon this is so angrily worded are you okay lmao

i'm not really huge on fic writing myself (dabbled in it here and there but i have friends who are writers) and i care negative percent about the dee ess em pee side of things so I'm not really The Person to ask but I'll try my best to explain 👍

CCs reading fanfic is fine. They're allowed to lurk as much as everyone else is.

CCs reading fanfic in videos is exposing fic writers to their wider audience and mcyt fans have a history of harassing fandom creators into online nonexistence for any reason under the sun while simultaneously the CC themselves actively makes money off of the fic writer's work.

I ramble a bit more and it got kinda long but that's the main point. (more stuff under the cut)

Fics are "about" the cc, yes but they are often not made for the cc but rather for the writer and maybe a close group of friends. That means they're often a combination of the writer's love for the source material and a sprinkling of their own interests/experiences. This can go anywhere from smashing two interests together in crossover AUs to deeply personal stuff like using gay ships to explore their own experience as a queer person.

Straight CCs are Not Going To Understand the latter in the way that writer and their gay friends are going to enjoy it. They can read it but they're never gonna be able to look at it the way their fans will.

That's one of the more forward examples but this applies to everything. You will never have that degree of separation from the source material to be able to enjoy fic the way fans do, you're simply not the target audience.

What's more is (not talking about the thomas innit guy or whatever i genuinely don't know who he is lol) these reading fanfic videos tend to have more of an unfortunate.. point and laugh aspect to them? A lot of the time it's presented in this LOOK AT HOW WEIRD THIS THING IS! way that can be humiliating for the author and incite even more harassment because the audience gets introduced to the author not as a person but as entertainment. You can see how this is a bad combination when you consider the previous point about a lot of fanfic being personal, I hope. It all can feel just a bit exploitative.

It does Not take a lot for a CC to open the floodgates on harassment. Just earlier this year another youtuber followed one of his fan artists and that eventually lead to that artist being full-on doxxed. Regardless of anyone's opinions on that situation, whether the youtuber is to blame, etc. etc. it's a pretty blatant example of how CCs even just interacting with fan creators on social media can lead to people being unhinged if they don't like their work. Now imagine making a Whole Video.

and don't say "oh just don't write weird stuff you don't want them seeing" because:

a space where writers are afraid to share their more intimate experiences with taboo subjects like mental health, queerness, abuse, and so on is Not Healthy artistically. Less communication about these topics = less people finding others who are like them = more people feeling alone in the world. I don't want that just in a fandom because a youtuber (who is not forced to look at fic) doesn't want their cubito to kiss certain people.

people. will. find. things. weird. anyway. i've seen twitter call the most mundane, wholesome, coffee shop au fics PROBLEMATIC for daring to ship two characters who have a four or five year age gap. I've seen literally almost every ship you can think of get called incestuous at some point or another because Someone On Twitter said they have "sibling energy" and all of a sudden it's incest and the writer should Die I guess.

"weird stuff" is really hard to define in the first place.

CCs are not authority and we don't have to listen to or cater to them. Fic is never going to directly affect them.

this isn't even getting into character/cc divide and how it's different for everyone and a lot people don't like "writing about real people" so on so forth.

This is only tangentially related but there's this.. odd thing i've noticed where fic writers aren't "respected" in the way artists are in fandoms? I've noticed people are often "scared" to talk to artists and react to things like animatics with more awe than anything else ("this has no right to be as good as it is!") whereas with fanfics it's more like. WE'RE READING FANFIC?!?! 😳😳 (I GET MARRIED TO WHO?!?!?)

There's something to be said about how a skill gap in visual art is more immediately noticeable to your average person than in writing but anyway. anyway.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Hey! I love your work, and I think you get everything down to Alfie’s language to the fucking t! It’s so fucking good when I can literally hear him in my head while I’m reading! Sidenote—please don’t cut my head off, because I’m *genuinely* trying to understand. I’ve followed you for awhile and I’ve noticed you engaging in the discourse about readers and reblogs, likes, etc., so I thought maybe you would be a good person to try to help me understand why some writers seem to be so upset by some readers liking instead of reblogging. Again, I’m not trying to attack anyone, I promise, but even as a writer myself, I struggle to grasp why it matters so much. Like, of course, comments and/or reblogs with comments make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside! It makes my day hearing that someone has loved a thing I’ve put my time and effort into creating, but likes are called “likes” for a reason—to let someone know you liked what they posted. In my head, getting them is another way for people to let me know they enjoyed what I put out. I’m not saying that anyone is, but to me, it comes off a little entitled when people get upset at readers for not explicitly praising their work with comments and such. Yes, the site is free and we’re not getting paid to write fanfics, but nobody owes anyone anything. When I write a thing and post it, I don’t feel like readers are then obligated to give me feedback because putting it online is a decision that *I* made. If they take the time to comment on it, that’s fucking wonderful, but that doesn’t mean that people who don’t do that are in the wrong for using the like button as their way of telling writers “Hey, I like this!” if they’re uncomfortable interacting or don’t have anything specific in mind to say. I’ve seen people talk about just copy/pasting a comment, but I don’t get how having 100 comments that all say “I like this fic!” or whatever is any different than using the button that’s meant to indicate “I like this fic!”. If somebody’s going to say something about my work, I would rather it be because they genuinely wanted to comment, not because they feel obligated to do so. I really hope this doesn’t come off as rude and I’m so sorry if it does. I’m just confused because both interactions mean the same thing—the only difference is that some people are more comfortable sharing their thoughts in depth or socializing online. I don’t know, it sorta feels like some are trying to police what other people do/don’t do with their blogs when we’re all here for the same reason—to fuck around and fuck our favorite characters. (Or daydream about it, unfortunately lmao)

Okay, I will try and explain it for you, nonie.

The reason why we are frustrated over the lack of reblogs is very simple, and if you’ve been following me for a while I’m surprised that you haven’t noted the reason by now.

Essentially, it keeps the fandoms going. It spreads posts around, it gives them visibility since half the time, the tags don’t work (it’s hit and miss at best!) and the algorithms on this site are virtually nonexistent, so having our work shared is a vitally helpful way for us to reach more people.

This isn’t Instagram. The reblog button is there to be used as that’s the very ethos of the tumblr experience; you see something that you enjoy, you like it, you share it. You seem to be forgetting that and solely focusing on commentary, but let’s get to that, shall we?

You’re absolutely right, nobody is obligated to comment, but come on. It’s a tiny exertion of effort to reward an author. It’s interaction, it can help people feel like what they wrote is valued beyond the bare minimum. It’s a tiny expression of gratitude in a world were fast consumption of “content” is now the norm. It also helps people - new writers especially - feel like they’re not shouting into a void. It all also ties in the the community of fandoms, which seems to be dying because of this quick consumption trend.

If you are fine with none of the above happening, with no sense of community in your respective fandom, with people not offering comments - or the more important reblogs - great! But people aren’t wrong for wanting a little more from our audiences, especially when that little more takes seconds to participate in.

I hope that clears things up for you.