#I've made this in one afternoon that's why it looks so...

[kiwiana-writes]

WIP Wednesday

Thanks @stellarmeadow @onthewaytosomewhere and @suseagull04 for the tags this evening! I've been pretty focused on the subscriber shindig fics this week, and also final edits on the podfic I recorded for @aroyallybigbangrwrb which is posting REALLY FUCKING SOON, so I haven't made a lot of progress on bigger WIPs. However, I DO actually have something to share, because I had one of those 'imagining a little snippet and had to get it down into my Notes app before it disappeared' moments this afternoon, and in the absence of any other unpublished writing lately, that's what you get! This is another new WIP and definitely won't see the light of day for a while, but after decades (months at most) of being brutally bullied and harangued (mildly affectionately teased) by @rmd-writes about the state of my WIP folder... she forced me to add one (said 'ooh I want that' in response to a joke I made). Nothing has ever been my fault in my entire life, actually.

Anyway, y'all know the drill by now. Not into it? Scrolling is a free action.

“Are you going to tell me why you’re actually so worked up about this?” “Because.” Alex runs his finger around the edge of the glass, something to focus on that isn’t Nora’s too-knowing gaze. “Falling for him—it’s a cliché, isn’t it?” Nora hums thoughtfully. “Him falling for you is a cliché. You falling for him is just your inner contrarian coming to the surface.”  “Shut the fuck up.” He scrunches a napkin into a ball before flicking it across the table, but she bats it away easily.  “Look.” Nora picks up her mimosa, taking a sip. “You like him. He, for some inexplicable reason, likes you. You’re both going into this with your eyes open. It doesn’t actually have to be more complicated than that.”

Tagging @agame-writes @affectionatelyrs @anincompletelist @blueeyedgrlwrites @cactusdragon517

@cha-melodius @clottedcreamfudge @cricketnationrise @dumbpeachjuice @everwitch-magiks

@firenati0n @getmehighonmagic @happiness-of-the-pursuit @heysweetheart-writes @hgejfmw-hgejhsf

@indestructibleheart @inexplicablymine @jellibuns @junebugclaremontdiaz @leaves-of-laurelin

@littlemisskittentoes @lizzie-bennetdarcy @matherines @myheartalivewrites @ninzied

@nocoastposts @nontoxic-writes @notspecialbabe @orchidscript @piratefalls

@read-and-write- @rmd-writes @sherryvalli @sparklepocalypse @stereopticons

@thesleepyskipper @tintagel-or-cockleshells @welcometololaland @whimsymanaged and, as always, anyone who wants to play! (If you take the open tag please tag me so I can see!!)

[tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors]

May i ask why are none of your stories readable anymore? I was looking to read some since my friends have been recommending you so often. But me and now them can't seem to find almost any of your stories for sandersides. 😅 I hope this message finds you well tho, have a good day, and if I don't hear back from you good afternoon, good evening, and good night. 🫶

hello! im so sorry you've been having trouble! unfortunately all of my fics have been removed from tumblr, and on ao3 they have been made available only to logged in users. i feel terrible for the people this prevents from seeing them, and am happy to give you one of my available invites if you DM me!

i've done this to prevent AI scraping of my content (and im not any happier about it than yall are - its cut my responses about in half which is super demotivating)

as for why all the links on the pages on my blog are still up its because i've had SAD brain the past few months and keep forgetting. so sorry!!

[goth-mami-writer]

Hi there! So here's my idea. The reader (medic officer) and leon just come out as a new couple and they're happy until one day they get draft for a mission and there meet the one and only Ada Wong that they have to cooperate for the mission. Leon is paying way more attention and all over Ada that he almost disregard the reader. She tries to be understanding and softly communicate with Leon but it turns into an argument. The reader gets upset and misunderstand Leon that he is very not much over with his "the one that got away". Leon regrets the things he said and tries to talk to her but she proceeds to avoid Leon at all costs. Que the enemies attack their base and the reader sees that the enemy is aiming to shoot Ada and at the last minute takes the critical hit for her while thinking that Leon would be heartbroken if Ada dies. Reader flatline a couple of times. I would like to know how Leon would react to this. Let's end it with a happy note ^^

▪︎~ Wildflower ~▪︎

~(AU) Leon Kennedy × f!Reader angst/jealousy work @bat-yo-us ♡

《 You stood there beside him outside of the artillery bunker that afternoon and felt your lip quivering with heartbreak. You stiffened up your trembling mouth, knowing any second you'd be blurting out the words you once thought you'd never say to his face even with a gun to your head.

But you were ready.

“Listen-” Leon began knowing just by the look on your face that you were making decisions that he couldn't change your mind on no matter what he had to say about it,

“I know I've been saying and doing things here lately that…have made you think-”

“Made me think?” You asked him, laughing with tears in your eyes at the audacity he had.

“No, not made me think. More like: made me know- made me fucking realize-”

You put your head in your hands, laughing more at the thought of your once pure, dumb hope that this would ever work after the turmoil of the past few weeks.

“And I'm done.” You said finitely until suddenly the base's sirens rang with their whirring, metallic urgency that filled the air overhead all at once. You looked in the distance to see enemy vehicles piling into the dirt lot after surging through the gated barricade by force.

“Get inside.” Leon said, watching the dirt spin away from their tires with a charging speed, and together, you both ran towards the closest underground bunker that was already flooded with the officers and personnel directing the others inside.

You heard your chief director calling for all on the unit to line in for roll call and your heart was racing trying to prepare yourself for the many casualties and injuries that might result from an enemy raid right now. The medical staff was short handed to begin with and you knew your work wouldn't be done for well into the morning with this.

“How many on unit?” One of the deputies called that oversaw the emergency protocol.

“Sixty.” One of the lesser privates answered and then called out the count that made your bones chill.

“Fifty nine present.”

Leon looked around with the others, trying to find who was missing and you did the same. You thought of your other medics and the doctors onboard the base too. All were here, you reached out to touch their hands to somehow guarantee your racing mind that they were in fact safe. But you stopped.

Ada. It was Ada.

“Wong!!” The chief director said, making the emergency officer call out the same to try and find where in the lineup Ada was. But only you and Leon knew.

He turned to you, asking if Ada ever came out of the artillery bunker and you shook your head in terror. You knew exactly why she didn't hear the raid sirens and you said to Leon gravely with fear in your voice,

“She's down in the stronghold. It's concrete. She can't hear a thing down there.”

Leon’s eyes went wide knowing that the downstairs of the artillery bunker would be one of the first things to be potentially raided due to its vast supply of weaponry and ammunition. He turned, not knowing who to tell first that Ada was still out there and someone would have to go out amid this enemy storm to get her back to safety.

You watched Leon's chest rise and fall with the thought of Ada being in danger and you felt that was the only image to prompt what needed to happen next. She was special and there just wasn't a way for you to argue it anymore. You swallowed the hot, heavy lump in your throat and your feet took flight against the ground to get you back upstairs.

Leon had already turned, preparing to tell the emergency staff of Ada's whereabouts but seeing you flee frantically to escape back to the surface was enough to make him charge forward. He screamed your name as you raced upstairs, now tapping your badge to the entry scanner to allow you outside and your feet pounded to the dirt.

This was insane. Here you were racing to save your boyfriend's ex from trouble. But it was more than that wasn't it?, you thought as you heard gunfire and enemy commands to detain anyone onsight. Ada made Leon happy. As much as you hated it. She was different from you and it was that simple.

You didn't want to be a hero that brought her back to safety. You just Leon to be happy knowing someone he cared about was free from danger.

~2 weeks prior.

~3 miles north, southbound enclave.

“Kennedy- tell your girl that we got a few wounded up here that we'll need looked at when we make camp.” Your chief directorate radioed in over the comms placed inside the military jeep taking you both south to the neighboring base located outside of Racoon City.

You had met in the months prior, doing recon in the city and around the outskirts. In the few times Leon himself had been wounded, you were always his favorite on the med staff and he knew right away that he liked you. After trying his luck, you two had decided to commit and come out as official even amid the ongoing chaos of a fallen city.

“10-4.” Leon said into the comms and looked at you smiling in the passenger seat.

You weren't used to being called his girl yet and it was still an instant feeling of giddiness that always made your lips turn up in a grin.

Leon looked over to see you basking in your little moment of bliss and he questioned with a chuckle although it was something he already knew the answer,

“What are you smirking at over there?”

“I'm not…smirking.” You said with a shake to your head as he drove, watching his gloved hands wrap around the steering wheel.

“Sorry-” He said shifting gears without even a glance downwards,

“Guess a shit-eating grin is better to call it, huh?”

You slapped his arm, watching as he clearly enjoyed the playful banter as well as you did. He teased you more with comments that you could never admit to enjoying and finally you said flirtatiously across the seat, watching as the neighboring base appeared on the horizon.

“You know, I've got a little syringe in my bag that could fix that mouth of yours?”

“You wouldn't-” He said looking over with a grin.

“You think I wouldn't?” You said slyly, “Why's that?”

“Cause I'm the one driving.” He joked cockily, slowing down as the guards from the front gates held up their hands for the car to stop for inspection before being given clearance. You laughed loudly as he showed your IDs and then sighed in love that this was your new normal.

When you both received clearance and met after the hours of menial work patching wounds and giving injections, you found him again inside one of the supply tents, well into a conversation with someone you couldn't make out from their obscured view behind others passing through. But when you got close enough, your heart dropped to see Ada Wong.

Leon in the past had mentioned her and their falling out when escaping the now ruins of Racoon City. You quickly became confused as to why and how you were seeing them together this way and you approached cautiously.

When you became close enough, Leon turned and introduced you to the woman who warmed you with a smile. Immediately, from what you'd heard, her warm, kindred way of smiling seemed venomous to you but here infront of Leon, you swallowed the distrust you had.

“I'm Ada. Very nice to meet you. She is pretty, Leon. You were right.”

You brushed away that compliment just for now and watched the way that Leon smiled when he graced her with a moment more of conversation. Ada stated that she was working with some of the higher-ups into getting more federal help with providing aid and medicine and that she'd be around often.

“Well, I certainly won't talk your ear off, Leon. We'll catch up later.” She mentioned with another half smile that just felt artificial to you somehow and prowled away as she began reading from notes gathered in her hands.

You looked to Leon whose gaze seemed to linger as she made her exit and you watched too for another moment. There was a voice in your head telling you that now that you'd met Ada, you understood why Leon almost never brought her up. It was more than likely to protect your feelings.

She walked like the earth was made for her perfect feet. She was slender with hardly an ounce of curve in the wrong spot. It was an exterior that money couldn't buy and God could only make once. There just wasn't a flaw even if you were only looking for them.

You looked up to Leon, hoping to snap him back to the present and you mentioned with a false tone of curiosity,

“So, I guess you two…are made up? After she pointed a gun at you?”

Leon picked up quickly that you weren't pleased by the sight of him chatting with Ada so casually after the events that had befallen them previously and he mentioned, trying nicely to ease your concern,

“She wasn't going to shoot me.”

“Hm-” You said full of doubt to that assumption you thought was a rather poor one,

“I think it's the intention that counts.”

Leon paused, telling you with words that he knew he needed to choose wisely given the delicate situation,

“You don't need to worry about Ada. That…that part of our story is done. It's..completely different now.”

You nodded, wanting with all of yourself to believe it. Leon had given you no reason not to trust him in the past so you gave him the benefit of the doubt, deciding that the past was indeed past. Feelings change and people certainly do as well. You shared kinder, more soft words before parting for the night and decided to rest the issue.

In that next week, it was normal for you to find Leon grouped up with Ada somehow, either coming back from recons or loading supplies out onto the GPW's for runs to the other bases. It was hard to find even yourself talking to Leon with how much you had on your plate. This was one of the more populated bases near the city so you always had something to finish or begin yourself.

One day, you were crouched down preparing a suture on an officer that was sleeping peacefully with a sedative and your hair kept falling into your face messily as you worked with sterile gloves. Your back ached from having to lean over in this process and you felt as two small hands brushed back your choppy bangs in a gentle comb of their fingers.

You flinched to the first touch but felt even more on edge realizing that it was Ada that stood over you now. She whispered, not knowing how strong the man's anesthesia was exactly and mentioned in her soft tone,

“Let me pull your hair out of your eyes, girlfriend. Don't mind me.”

You felt as her fingers brushed back your tangles to comb them gently into place and she fastened your top bun back into the elastic you were using. After making sure the officer's sutures were secure on his leg wound, you unsurely thanked her. Not exactly certain why she would perform an act so kind when she hardly knew you.

“I wanted to tell you that we are phoning in for more staff upstate and we should be doubling our medical help by the end of the month. You work too hard and I'm tired of seeing you run so ragged to help these people.” Ada mentioned, crouching down beside you as you made a dressing for the man's completed stitches.

You could only look at her peripherally as you worked but you mentioned quietly amid the wrapping and unrolling of the white gauze,

“I- I appreciate that, I guess. I mean, the help would be nice. For sure.”

Ada nodded, knowing that's not all of what she wanted to say when she found you and then said more discreetly with her voice lowering due to the nature of her next words,

“I..also hope that it doesn't bother you that Leon and I are friends. Well..friends trying to work out our differences.”

You looked away for the first time since she'd appeared beside you and finally you said a little more brave, trying to shake away the nerves of what you thought to be insecurity,

“I'm not….bothered. I just don't…”

You lost your words and Ada nodded, knowing somehow exactly how you felt in case you were finding trouble in explaining it. She assured you that herself and Leon were platonic and that you needed to worry about absolutely nothing fishy between them.

Goddammit, you thought to yourself.

This is exactly what you didn't need. She could at least be a bitch- Or act like you didn't exist or hell just sleep with Leon and boast about it behind your back to justify your sense of distrust. But she was kind. And compassionate to your feelings. And here you were, jealous of nothing more than an assumption.

Who was the bitch now? You thought.

After a joke and a smile, you parted ways with a gentle wave before you moved to the next tent.

Maybe you were overthinking everything.

It had been a slow day for you the day that Ada walked up to you in the medical tent. She wanted help gathering a list of inventory for the medical surplus for her list being sent upstate and you obliged with a smile.

“Most of your unused stock is in the stronghold right?” She asked for clarification as you finished preparing an injection. You nodded saying that anything unused would always be down in the concrete stronghold below ground.

“Good deal.” She said checking her watch,

“You wanna meet me over there in thirty? We'll grab a bite after, you and me, if you want?”

Why was she being so nice? You wondered, making your guard come up once again but you agreed, trying your hardest to remember that you had put her past grievances behind you.

You hadn't seen Leon in atleast three days but weirdly after all that you'd thought about, the absence wasn't as critical as you thought. He was busy doing recon of course but it felt like you were teaching him a lesson in a subconscious way. You wanted to see how long it'd take for him to approach to ask you to see him.

When you arrived at the artillery bunker, you noticed some of the GPWs parked outside, meaning that Leon's unit had actually returned early which was surprising. You thought of trying to find him after nipping this task with Ada but you opened the door to realize he'd already been found.

Leon stood there, smiling mid conversation with her as she held her mouth with that alluring laugh that made your skin crawl. He'd forget everything in the years you'd spend with him but how would he ever forget the way her eyes lit up during that laugh that could change a room.

You wanted to make your presence known so you kicked over an empty box to let the clatter interrupt them quietly.

“There you are.” Leon said with his gaze shooting over and you could only glare when he approached, leaving Ada behind.

“I'll be down in the stronghold whenever you're ready, girlfriend.”

You only stared into him coldly, pursing your lips together to avoid saying something confrontational to Ada who was in fact above you in rank and Leon then asked seeing the heated look in your eye,

“Honey, what's wrong? We were just joking-”

“I'm so fucking sick of finding you with her, Leon. I've not seen you in days but conveniently you find Ada before me? You’re still in fucking love with her!” You said fearless, feeling as your hands shook from the adrenaline of finally addressing what had been on your mind for days. Leon scoffed before looking away, telling you somewhat guilt-less as he denied your accusation,

“Look, we were just talking. It's not like you just found us….fucking around or something?”

Your eyes widened and you nodded before turning to leave with a heavy footfalls that stomped your way outside,

“How about this? You can go fuck yourself.”

You felt invalidated completely now. As if you were blowing this whole thing out of proportion once again. You hadn't seen him in days, not only due to the tension but also due to his schedule and the first person he seems to reunite with is Ada. It felt insulting.

Leon chased behind you now, telling you stop so you could both work this out and you faced him outside the front doors. Unbeknownst to you both, Ada had only pretended to go downstairs. She watched as you two stopped outside the glass doors to the bunker, arguing about what undoubtedly had to be her influence on Leon. When she heard the raid sirens begin in the moments after, she was calm and calculated as she made her way to the reinforced stronghold.

Waiting to meet her armed associates when they arrived.

~~~

~During the Raid

“Ada!” You shouted from the top of the stairs after somehow slipping through the enemy fire. She turned around wide-eyed as she loaded her gun and found you in the shambles you sounded to be as you raced down the stairs.

“What are you doing?” She called out in disbelief as she saw your shadow moving through the pallets of supplies and ammunition towards her.

All you wanted was for Leon to be happy and tears streamed down your face as you told her that you were here to take her back to the main bunker and she shook her head, never thinking that anyone would actually risk their life to come down here and save her. She knew the people conducting this raid and knew you'd be killed on sight if they found you.

“You need to go, sweetie. I'm-”

“Ada, please. We can make it.” You begged before hearing thuds on the steel door at the top of the stairs. Ada told you again, more hushed and with emphasis that you needed to get out of there and fast but you refused.

Getting her out was all that you wanted. If it's what Leon wanted, it was your main priority. Even if you just weren't his.

You heard the footsteps coming down the stairs but you only saw the tactical flashlight burning into your eyes.

Ada can't die, you thought as you saw them pointing their weapons, bracing their trigger fingers to fire, Leon will never be the same.

You saw the muzzle flash of the bullet when they fired. But only Ada heard the shot.

You saw the ground next as your torso felt warm, then wet when you became still. Ada screamed to retrieve you but your body was numb to stop her from crying. Only your shaking hand rose as she knelt down next to you, pulling at you to get up, demanding that you hold on. But you held her instead.

In the minutes later, amid the booming of battering rams and defense teams making their lines of fire, you laid on a medical gurney with the doctors you worked beside rushing to keep you stable. Somehow. Leon was called inside the tent but told to stay out of the way of those maneuvering to save your life.

“We're losing pupillary!” One of the working medics called as they shined a small light into your retinas to gauge the failing response of your eyes in the light.

“Pulse is dropping!” One of the others cried as they watched your life slip away by the second on their wrist watch.

Leon's eyes watered and his hands met his head and defeat when he heard them scream for a defibrillator. He watched the paddles being pressed into your chest, your body surging in an upwards jump from the charge with no response. He held his mouth with the back of his hand, not knowing if he could watch any longer but he tried to get closer.

He stepped further into the tent, yelling between the chaos for you to come back and one of the med team pushed him back, begging him to clear the walkway but he was violent with his shove in pushing them away, telling you again to live with gravel in his shaking voice.

In that moment between your life being reduced to a flat, stagnant line on a screen, he wasn't sure if regretting the last few days would even suffice. He wanted to regret ever existing instead as his face was washed in tears.

Ada walked by the tent at that moment during the evacuation of the higher up staff. She looked into the tent, seeing you staring out with a glaze over your lifeless eyes but she kept walking after realizing that there wasn't hope. This was another stop on her way to finding her truth of Racoon City. Saying goodbye to Leon would be a mistake so silently she made her way forward, moving through the crowd that still surged in the presets of active turmoil. Of course a life lost was never the price she thought she'd pay but people change.

Even you knew that.

You fell into a coma when finally you were revived by some miracle that surprised them all. And Leon stayed by your side as you rested in the quiet ward set aside at one of the remaining medical centers closer to the heart of the city's defense. His nights were long and restless as he waited for you to be with him again. In his heart he knew that it was the very, very least he could do since you'd waited for him to wake up too in these last few days.

It was his turn now for patience, and his wait to see you once again had begun. 》

Loved writing this!! Send me more asks and I'd love to work with your ideas. ✌️🫶

[zoennes]

GELUKKIGE VERJAARDAG, ZOË LOOCKX 𒀭 15 FEBRUARI, 2003

[hyunverse]

wherever you are ☆ hwang hyunjin.

hyunjin x fem!reader. childhood best friends to lovers. slowburn, pining. fluff, angst. suggestive. a hyunjin birthday special.

wc: 12.9k words.

warnings: reader often referred to as "girl," suggestive. mentions of sex.

note: this fic is my baby. it might be one of my favourite things i've ever written so far, please treat it well <3 feedbacks are very much appreciated.

playlist.

Hyunjin promised you that he'll be wherever you are. What do you do when your best friend of years — the only person you've ever loved disappears without saying goodbye? Especially when you've spent your entire life with Hyunjin, you didn't know of life without him.

one.

“Happy Birthday, Hyunjin.”

It was Hyunjin’s 10th birthday. 

Despite already singing him a happy birthday song, you muttered the wish once again in the comfort of his tree house. He sat adjacent to you, feet dangling over the platform, the large leaves hovering over the tree house’s roof providing shelter from the blinding sunlight. 

He hummed in gratitude, eyes busy watching Kkami running around below the tree house. Afternoons with Hyunjin were often spent like this — hanging out in the tree house as Kkami played around on the grass, its barks mirroring its happiness. For years, you’ve spent enjoying the fact that your afternoons were spent like this — were spent with Hyunjin, in childish innocence. 

After letting the silence take over for a while, Hyunjin turned his head towards you, a little surprised once he saw that you were already looking at him. He tried his best to not let his surprise show. 

“Why did you want to come up here? I thought you were enjoying the party inside.” 

Indeed, you were enjoying the birthday party, a little too much for Hyunjin’s liking. The boys from Hyunjin’s school came to the party, and you seemed to get along with them quickly, despite being the only girl at the party. Hyunjin hates to admit it but he was a little envious. He told himself that he’s jealous because he’s your number one best friend, so you should pay more attention to him. It was true, but only partially — he was jealous because they were all boys. Not that he would ever admit that to himself.

To Hyunjin’s question, you responded by extending your arms to him, revealing a white box in your palm. He took it, quickly recognizing it as a jewellery box. He’s received one of them after purchasing a Mother’s Day gift. Quietly, he examined the engravings on the box, and the pristine look of it. Honestly, he was impressed by how clean you have kept it. You had always been one to dirty your white clothes. 

“What’s this?” he asked, answering his own enquiry by opening the box with you sitting close, peering over his hands.

Hyunjin’s heart skipped a beat.

In the box laid two necklaces, black strings with Lego pieces as pendants. They were matching necklaces. The Lego piece of each necklace formed a heart when joined together. His brown eyes widened, in disbelief of the gift. He’s never received something like this — something matching. It made his heart flutter — no, it beat faster than it does while playing soccer. Hyunjin turned to look into your eyes, and it was as though he had found a new revelation in yours. The more Hyunjin looked at you, the more the realization seeped in, until it overtook his senses.

You’re a girl. 

You weren’t just the kid from next door, you weren’t like his other friends — you’re a girl. You like Disney princesses, you have a pretty face, you like Sanrio characters, you have soft hair, you like painting nails, you have pink lips from your strawberry lip balm, you like matching necklaces — you’re a girl. 

A very pretty girl.

It felt like a revelation after having been friends with you for over five years. As though the necklaces in the box held some sort of power to snap one from a trance. Hyunjin realized that you were different from his other friends. For one, you have softer hands. Moreover, you’re someone he can develop a crush on — or whatever girls call it. 

His finger traced the pendants, feeling the bumps of the Lego pieces. He smiled, one that reached his ears. You felt yourself releasing the breath you didn’t realize you were holding. 

“I love it soooo much. Thank you.”

Unlike other boys (the stinky ones from your school), Hyunjin didn’t cringe at the gift. The way he gently examined the necklaces mirrored the appreciation he felt towards it. If he was any other boy, he would’ve probably laughed at the gift, then poked fun at you. 

Then again, Hyunjin had never been like the other boys you knew.

He was different in the way he spoke softly to you (softer than he would to his guy friends), and how he would let you change the TV channel from Snoopy to Totally Spies. He had always been different, that being the reason why you were so fond of him. 

“You like it? Really?” you queried, staring at him. You watched his expressions carefully, trying to sense for any lies.

“Really! Which one do you want?” he answered, absolutely no hesitations. He wasn’t lying.

Hyunjin panned the box towards you, prompting you to pick which necklace. One was in black, the other in white. As always, he gave in to you, letting you be the one to choose. 

“White!”

The sun was setting when you both swayed your legs, wearing the matching necklaces. Hyunjin was genuinely happy, one of his hands wouldn’t stop fiddling with the pendant. The party was still lively inside, but he much preferred sitting with you — his one and only best friend. 

“Yn,” your best friend’s voice broke you from your trance. “What do you want for your birthday?” 

“Hm,” you pondered, tapping your pointer on your chin in a cartoonish manner.

He was looking at you, an expectant expression on his face. You pulled up your legs to cross them as you thought. 

“I think…” your voice trailed, “I want to be the best ballerina in the world and move to Paris!” 

Hyunjin rolled his eyes, “at least make it something I could give you!”

You pouted, “but that’s what I want!” 

The boy sighed, laying back on the rough surface of the tree house. He looked up, observing the little glow-in-the-dark stars plastered onto the tree house ceiling. He recalled putting them up with you. You were impossible to deal with. Hyunjin desperately wanted to know your wish — something he could give you for your birthday. Your gift to him made him really happy, and he wished to return the favour. 

“Then, I’ll be the best artist in the world and move to Paris with you.” 

It was such an innocent, child-like answer — straight from a 10-year-old’s desire. Untainted by the boulevard of broken dreams. As if anything in the world was possible, and that the universe was kind all the time. 

“Really?” you chirped, looking at him with disbelief in your eyes. You giggled in glee and plopped yourself down beside him. “Really really? You really really really mean it, Hyunnie?” 

At that point, Hyunjin could only giggle and nod. “Of course! I’ll be wherever you are.”

The manner in which you hugged him expressed your excitement. You were practically suffocating him, wrapping your legs around his waist and squeezing tightly. 

“You’re my best friend in the world!” 

Hyunjin felt like he could die. 

His heart continued beating rapidly, worsened by you nuzzling your face into his neck. Hyunjin knew, it was just you being your usual self. However, the revelation he experienced minutes earlier made the tips of his ears turn red. 

“Hyunjin! Come down here! Your friends are about to leave!”

At that very moment, Hyunjin silently thanked his mother for saving him.

two.    

“What do you want to be when you grow up?”

A question which had you staring into space — the walls of Hyunjin’s bedroom for a while. The blue walls were plastered with posters of numerous musicians and self-made artworks.

It wasn’t that you didn’t know the answer. You knew. Ballet had been a part of your life since small, it was your everything. It wasn’t that you were unsure if you wanted to do ballet, you were unsure if you should be doing ballet. 

Uneasiness settled into your stomach, but you tried to keep them in. You were in no mood to be going through an identity crisis.

“Ballerina,” you stated, matter-of-factly. Your eyebrows furrowed when Hyunjin chuckled.

“What?”

“Your answer hasn’t changed,” Hyunjin laughed, but not in a humorous way. Rather, it was in an expectant way, as if he knew that’s what you would answer. 

You straightened your posture and tilted your head. Hyunjin laughed even more, making a comment that you looked like Kkami.

“Have you asked me the same thing before?”

He nodded, “sort of? Kind of. On my tenth birthday, I asked you what you wanted.” Hyunjin cleared his throat and took a deep breath, mimicking the voice of younger you. “I want to be the best ballerina in the world and move to Paris!”

“Oh, shut up!” you rumbled, hitting him with his bolster repeatedly. “That’s not how I sounded like!”

“It so was!” 

Truthfully, you couldn’t quite recall the memory. You didn’t doubt Hyunjin though, it did sound like something you would’ve said. 

You queried again.

“What did you answer then?” 

Hyunjin turned silent. He didn’t like where this was going, not fond of recalling the cheesy answer he gave you. As he looked away from your gaze, you pressed him further. Even threatened to dog-nap Kkami.

“Fine. I said… I said I’ll be the best artist in the world and move to Paris too…” his voice trailed, getting smaller, “said I’ll be wherever you are…”

Your eyebrows raised, scooting closer to him in mock confusion. “Sorry? Didn’t hear you.” 

A pillow hit your head, and you burst out into peals of laughter. It was hilarious, the cheesy answer little Hyunjin gave, but what amused you even more was his face turning red. 

Touches of laughter echoed in the room, and Hyunjin found himself praying the moment would last forever. The conversation quickly escalated into a pillow fight, ending up in Hyunjin leaning against his headboard, exhausted, and you laying on his lap. 

You looked up at him, eyes fleeting to the stubble growing. Mindlessly, you grazed his cheek, feeling his sideburns prickling against your thumb. 

He was growing, you realized it then. You were growing too. Neither of you were little kids anymore.

A fact you didn't want to accept.

It’s the softness of your fingers that froze Hyunjin in his tracks. He held his breath, as if you would stop if he moved. He didn’t want you to, wanted to let your fingers linger, to etch the sensation into his memories. 

In a soft tone, you spoke, “Did you really mean it?”

“Hm?”

“Would you be wherever I am?”

Hyunjin’s breath hitched, a lump growing in his throat. If he spoke, he feared his feelings would become too real. For as long as he could, he wanted to bury his feelings deep down. Life was already risky as it is, he didn’t want to take any more.

It’s platonic. It’s platonic. It’s platonic.

They repeated in his brain like a mantra. Maybe if he chanted it, it’ll manifest to life.

“Yeah,” Hyunjin swallowed, “of course I will. You’re my best friend.” 

Like magic, your worries about the future disappeared into thin air. Would it be foolish to trust Hyunjin so much, that you believed life would be fine as long as he was with you? 

Dear universe, be good to me.

You smiled, one that Hyunjin swore could light up the entire sky. The stars must envy you, for the way you could brighten up darkness effortlessly. 

“I’ll be wherever you are too.”

Yeah, Hyunjin would love it if time froze.

three.  

Don’t be a coward. 

Four words Hyunjin told his reflection as he got ready. He was dressed in a basic tee and a pair of jeans, hair slicked back like the one time you told him it looked good. He spritzed his cologne behind his ears, on his neck, and on his wrist before repeating the four words again. This time, he whispered it, letting it soak into his brain, in hopes his heart would have courage. 

It’s been too long. The feelings he harboured for you piled overtime, the crush he once thought was temporary transforming into fondness. It was becoming too much for Hyunjin’s heart to bear, he needed to let it out. If he didn’t, he felt like his heart could burst. And if it did, it would be confetti-shaped memories of you. 

Chatters echoed outside your ballet academy, Hyunjin watched through the lowered window for your face among the sea of people. He had a plan in mind — he’d open the door for you, put the seatbelt on for you, and tell you about his feelings. In front of your academy wasn’t the most ideal place for a confession, he knew, but God — he couldn’t bear sitting in silence with you as a storm raged in his head. He couldn’t do it. He wanted to say it as soon as he could. 

Hyunjin’s eyes were still busy looking for you when suddenly, your face came in his peripheral vision, along with another face. The other person was lean, jet black hair with bangs and puppy-like eyes. The boy opened the door for you before Hyunjin could. 

Okay, step number one failed. 

“Hey, Hyunnie!” your voice chirped, getting into the car. Your hand moved to buckle your seatbelt before Hyunjin could. He was too busy analysing the stranger in front of the door.

“Hey,” Hyunjin replied nonchalantly, looking at the boy from head to toe. “And this is…?”

“Seungmin. And you?” the boy said, tilting his head. To Hyunjin, he was being challenged. Seungmin’s tone was more daring than he liked, so he felt an urge to one-up the guy.

“Hyunjin. Been friends with Yn since were in diapers.” he replied, the extra detail a pathetic attempt at one-upping Seungmin. 

Seungmin furrowed his eyebrows, nodding as he shut your door, “Uh. Cool? Bye, Yn. And the friend since diapers.” 

Oh, Hyunjin really didn’t like him. 

“Wait, Seungminnie!” you called out just as Seungmin was walking away. He looked back at the car, raising an eyebrow. You turned to Hyunjin with puppy eyes. “Can you give Seungminnie a ride? He takes the bus and I think the next one’s in an hour.”

Hyunjin clenched his jaw, eyes fluttering from your pleading eyes to Seungmin’s figure outside the car. If it was all up to him, he would probably run the guy over. But God knew how much he cherished you, how he would rather cut his tongue than tell you “no,” so he agreed.

“Mm. Sure,” he replied, swallowing back a scoff. 

Your eyes brightened, “Seungminnie! Come, we’ll give you a ride!” you yelled, tempting Hyunjin to mock the nickname you’d given him.

It was going to be a car ride straight out of hell. 

Hyunjin’s knuckles were white against the steering as he pulled up to Seungmin’s residence complex. The building standing in front of him definitely belonged in a gated community, ritzy and luxurious. Somehow, that pissed Hyunjin off even more. He glanced at the unwanted guest sitting in the back seat through the rear-view mirror.

“Want me to drive you to the lobby, or what?”

Seungmin looked back into the mirror, peering at the reflection through his bangs. “Nah. They don’t let random cars in. Here’s just fine,” he mumbled, unbuckling the seatbelt. “Thanks, dude. Appreciate it.” 

The car door closed behind Seungmin, leaving the two of you in the car. Hyunjin sighed, feeling the nerves creeping up him again. Now that it was only the two of you, it was time for Hyunjin to confess his feelings.

Before he could, you spoke, “Seungmin’s my friend in the academy. He’s really smart,” your eyes didn’t leave the crossroad before you, watching as Seungmin walked. 

Hyunjin had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. He tapped on your thigh, trying to gain your attention. It worked as you looked at him, batting your eyelashes. “Hm?”

He licked his lower lip, mustering all the courage in him. It was now, or never. “Look, I have something to tell you.” 

“Yeah?”

You shuffled in your seat, tilting your body slightly towards his way. Now that you had your full attention on him, Hyunjin felt even more nervous. He scratched the skin around his thumb, tongue-tied as his brain tried to form coherent words. He’s never done this before, always made fun of his friends for struggling to express their feelings but now that he was in the same place, he wished he could take back all the insults. The brown eyes looking deeply (and anxiously) into yours were profusely blinking, as though he was at the brink of tears. You grew worried.

“Hyunjin, what’s up?”

He scratched at the back of his neck. Why did his tongue feel so numb? Why did his brain feel empty yet so full at the same time? His heartbeats were so fast, he couldn’t quite catch up. Hyunjin was on a rollercoaster — you were waiting at the end of the ride.

Finally, he managed to muster words. “Look, I’ve pondered over —”

Two knocks on the window at the back. They’re followed by the door opening, an exasperated Seungmin popping his head into the car. Immediately, you both looked back, utterly bewildered. 

“Sorry. I left my bag. Thank God you’re still here,” Seungmin said, grabbing his messenger bag and slipping it onto his shoulder. “Thanks and sorry!”

The door closed, thus silence blanketed the atmosphere once again. This time, with unresolved tension. You looked back at Hyunjin, tilting your head in curiosity.

“You were saying?” 

Dazed, the raven looked at you. His face was a mixture of exasperation and confusion. His head? There was a storm raging, along with curse words aimed at Seungmin. 

“Um…” He licked his lower lip, racking his brain to find back the words he wanted to say. They were all lost. He was already at the end of the rollercoaster, the bumps along the way forgotten, and the thrill subsided. All that’s left was the remnants of anxiety. He couldn’t do it anymore, not when he’s forgotten the things he wanted to say, and the moment disturbed by your dear friend Seungmin.

So, he put the gear on to drive. He shook his head and made up a white lie.

“I think I want to try a new ice cream place today.”

four.  

The taste of cookies and cream could not beat the bitterness on Hyunjin’s tongue. 

It may be because the bitterness has seeped into his head. 

“I’m going to your room,” you announced, swinging the front door of his house open. “Hi, Mrs Hwang!” you cheered, running up the stairs after. 

“I’m going to talk to my mom a little bit,” Hyunjin said, hanging both your coats on the coat hanger. 

Nothing could’ve prepared Hyunjin for what was to happen next. 

Both his parents were crowding the kitchen countertop when he walked in, skimming through a piece of paper. They were beaming, eyes crinkled as they smiled. A reminder that Hyunjin resembled both his parents. He blinked in confusion as to why his parents looked so happy. He didn’t think he'd seen them this happy before.

“What’s going on?” he questioned, peering over their figures to look at the paper. 

On the paper were words he’d only seen in his dreams. Never in a million years he would’ve thought it’d manifest to life. His heart skipped a beat as he read the words over, and over. 

“You made it, sweetheart,” his mother’s soft voice spoke, confirming his suspicion. “You got accepted. Beaux-Arts de Paris.”

“Eomma,” he mumbled, as if he was pleading. Pleading for this dream to stop. Somebody’s got to wake him up from this nightmare of a day. “There’s no way.” 

Hyunjin picked up the letter, inspecting it closer. As though if he looked any closer, the words on the pristine white paper would change. Reject him. Or maybe, the logo of the prestigious school would magically transform into a logo of a school in Seoul. Anything, anything, that would keep him here. In Seoul. With you. 

“You did it, sweetheart. Your dreams are coming true,” his mother keenly said, pulling him into a side hug. “I’m so proud of you.”

His dream? It was his dream, and, yours. No, scratch that — it wasn’t truly his dream. It was yours. His dream had always been to be wherever you are. 

He didn’t think he would be accepted. When you told him you were rejected from the Paris Ballet School, he told you that he was rejected, too. He didn’t tell you that he was waitlisted, under the impression that he was never getting out of the waitlist. What was he to tell you now? 

Hyunjin hid his sadness, wanting to make his parents proud, “Yeah. I did it. I’m so happy, eomma, appa.” 

A series of praises left his parents, and he allowed for them to engulf him in a hug. 

“Don’t tell Yn, ‘kay?” he muttered, before excusing himself to go upstairs. The acceptance letter was neatly folded, tucked into his pocket.  

When he swung his bedroom door open, you were standing in front of his full-length mirror. Clad in only his t-shirt, you inspected yourself. 

“Hey, Hwang Hyunjin,” you muttered, turning your body. “Your clothes are bigger than me now. You used to be so small.”

You looked at him, mock dismay in your face. “I was so much taller than you before. You were a dwarf.” 

How was he meant to tell you about Paris?

“I was never a dwarf. You were just too busy looking down on me.”

Giggles left both of you. Silently, he observed the way you were examining yourself. You had the mannerisms of a ballerina, each gesture as gracious as your dance. Hyunjin adored the curves of your body, but God knew he loved that of your smile even more. 

Later, you were both laying on his bed, you in a starfish position. Hyunjin was at the edge of his bed, trying his best to not fall. 

“Ballet was so hard today,” you sighed. You turned your body sideways, burying your face into Hyunjin’s chest. He could smell you in this closeness.

“Are you wearing my deodorant?” he queried, bowing to clasp his nose onto your shoulder. It felt like a kiss to him. “This is literally the smell of my deodorant.” 

You shrugged. “Yeah? What about it? You should’ve gotten used to me taking your things by now, Hwang Hyunjin. I’ve been doing this our whole lives.” 

Touché. The boy sighed, letting you fill in the silence with your babbles. Wordlessly, he listened to your words, letting it be the white noise to his thoughts. 

His head was clearly not there. Unbeknownst to him, you knew of this. He’d been off all day. You’ve picked up on each signal, knowing him like the back of your hand. As much as you wanted to know what was wrong, you knew not to pry. You resorted to comfort instead. 

Your fingertips met at the back of his neck, pulling him into a tight hug. He was never one for physical touch but sometimes, it helped. You leaned your head into his neck. 

Gingerly, you whispered the words you thought he would need. 

“You’re always here, around me. You don’t know how much that means to me.”

The exact words he did not need to hear that day.

How was he meant to tell you of his feelings now? 

Especially when he was leaving — oceans away. 

five.  

Hyunjin had always loved soccer.

Whether it be being in the bleachers, or playing in the field. He loved doing both. There was something about the thrill of watching people play, and the adrenaline as he chased around the field. 

Sitting in the bleachers, Hyunjin watched as his soccer team played. The sounds of his teammates laughing made the blazing sun a little more bearable. He lowered his cap to prevent the sunlight from getting in his eyes, chuckling when he saw Beomgyu falling face-first onto the grass.

He loved his soccer team. Every time he observed them play, Hyunjin’s heart always got overwhelmed with pride and joy. At that moment, he felt melancholy taking space too — the thought of not being able to play with them anymore hurting him more than he thought it would. 

Hyunjin allowed for the melancholy to take space, allowed himself to feel — so much so that he didn’t feel Minho’s presence. Not until the older cleared his throat. 

Minho sat beside him, “Why the long face, Hwang Hyunjin?” 

“Huh?” startled, he looked up, face softening when he saw Minho. “Oh. Nothing. You’re not playing?”

“Nah,” Minho replied curtly. He silently analyzed the younger’s facial expressions before speaking up again. “For someone who’s going to Paris in two weeks, you sure don’t look too happy.”

Of course, Minho out of all people would notice the change in his mannerisms. Always the analyzing one, quick to notice changes in demeanour. There was no point in lying, not with Minho — so he let out the sigh he didn’t realize he was holding. 

“It’s bittersweet, you know?” he mumbled, fiddling with his fingers.

“It’s Yn, isn’t it?” 

“Huh?”

“You don’t want to part ways with her. It’s what’s holding you back.” 

Right on. It was as though Minho was a mind-reader. A heavy weight pulled on Hyunjin’s heartstrings, made his heart even heavier than a few minutes prior.

“Yeah,” he didn’t lie, again. He looked at Minho, and the older could clearly see the uneasiness written all over his face. “If you were me… would you tell her about your feelings?”

“The fact that you like her?”

“Yeah.”

Minho fell silent. He pondered over the question, looking at the sight before him. The sun was setting, orange hues painting the sky. Hyunjin wondered if Paris sunsets would look the same.

“I think…” Minho turned towards the younger. He shook his head. “I wouldn’t tell her.” 

“Why?”

“Won’t benefit you, I don’t think.” Hyunjin raised an eyebrow. “Listen. If you were to tell her, and she accepted, do you think you could get into a relationship with her?”

“I mean —”

Minho cut him, “Realistically, do you think the relationship would succeed? I mean, the time zone between Seoul and Paris is pretty big. The distance, too. I don’t think it would work out. And that’ll be bad, you know? You’ll both be left wondering what could have been.”

The truth hurt. The distance, the time — none of them were on Hyunjin’s side. 

“And, if, God forbid, if she were to reject you… do you really want your last memory with her to be the hurt you’ll feel?”

Hyunjin shook his head. The other sighed, and patted him on the back. 

“There are things better left unsaid. You should take her out. Spend your last time with her nicely.”

Despite Hyunjin’s stubbornness, he took Minho’s advice. It took him a lot of contemplating (and crying), but he followed it anyway. Whether he liked it or not, Minho’s advice had a lot of truth in it. 

Bitter truths, but true regardless.

six.

“Where are we going?” you whined, trailing behind your dear friend. The sun was setting in two hours, orange hues were beginning to paint the sky. “Hyunnie, if you don’t tell me where we’re —”

“Please, stay patient. Will you?”

Hyunjin looked behind. He was wearing a blue knitted vest. In one hand, he held a picnic basket. The other, is your handbag. You never have to carry your own with him.

“But we’re literally in the middle of nowhere!” 

“Please just trust me,” he pleaded. One hand was stretched towards you, a silent offer to hold his. “Come. If you’re too tired, I’ll give you a piggyback ride.”

Ever the opportunist, you took up on the offer. Alas, Hyunjin was left walking the remaining distance, you happily singing road trip songs while clinging onto his back. To butter him up, you told him that he must’ve been a blessing sent to you by God. Although he groaned at the remark, you couldn’t see the small smile on his face.

After a few minutes, you understood why Hyunjin was adamant about going out that day. Before you, green plains stretched as far as your eyes could see. Scattered across viridian shades were wildflowers. Some yellow, some pink. 

Hyunjin had brought you to a flower field.

The picnic basket, and the Polaroid camera finally made sense. 

Without any more words, you jumped off his back and ran into the field. The yellow sundress you wore matched that of the wildflowers. In Hyunjin’s eyes, you blended right in. 

You were as pretty as the flowers. 

“Careful, Yn! Don’t fall!” He called out, his voice echoing in the space. He watched you from afar. There was an urge to run among the flowers too, but he was much more content with watching you. 

From a distance, in silence, he observed your every move. He couldn’t help the giggles that left his lips. The smile that lingered on his lips. He wanted this memory to last, to be ingrained in his brain forever. Soon, he wouldn’t be able to witness your happiness. 

“Hyunnie, you need to come here! It’s so nice!”

Chuckling, he carefully placed the picnic basket on the ground. Hyunjin was done with setting up the picnic spot. He ran towards you, lifted you off the ground and twirled you around. You broke out into giggles and held onto his arms. 

Among the flowers, two silhouettes danced with each other. Swaying to the same melody as the peonies. Despite being a ballerina, you kept stumbling onto Hyunjin’s feet, giggling each time he elicited an “ow.” 

Like a scene from a movie.

Like he wasn’t going away soon.

Before the sun could set, Hyunjin convinced you to sit on the picnic blanket. He wished to dance with you longer, but alas, time awaits for no mortal. 

“How do you want me to pose?” you asked. You were facing him, legs tucked sideways.

Hyunjin scooted closer to you, and wiped breadcrumbs off your lips. He commented on you eating messily. “You can pose however you want.”

You nodded, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Okay. Make sure you get my good angles, yeah?”

“You look good from any angle.” 

Crimson crept up your face. You hadn’t expected that remark. You hoped he wouldn’t see you blush, you would just tell him it’s the sun then. 

“Okay…”

Two clicks, then a flash went off. Your eyes widened, caught off-guard.

“You didn’t even count to three!” 

Your whines were responded to with a giggle. The camera whirled, apprising you of a Polaroid developing. Hyunjin took it, fanning the Polaroid with a grin. He was excited to see it.

“I wasn’t ready!”

“Candid photos are better,” he sighed. “Don’t you know? Everything’s prettier when it’s genuine.”

“So you’re calling me pretty?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “Have I ever said you’re ugly?”

Right. He has never. 

You prayed to God the heat on your face was from the sun and not from blushing.

Once the Polaroid fully developed, Hyunjin made sure he was the first to see it. To your dismay, he held it close to his face, shielding it from you. His cheeks dimpled, illustrating his happiness. You looked so pretty, the sunlight on your face giving you an angelic glow. If he looked closer, he was sure he’d see a halo. 

Hyunjin wanted to keep this forever. 

If he couldn’t freeze the time, he figured he’d trap the memories in photographs.

“Let me see!” you whined. “It’s a picture of me! I have the right to see it.”

Scampering towards him, you waved your hands, trying to get the photograph off his hand. To no avail, Hyunjin had quick reflexes much thanks to his soccer experience. 

“No! You can’t — it’s for my eyes only!”

“Ridiculous! That’s my face, Hyunnie!”

“It’s my camera film. So it’s mine!”

Neither one of you would let up, legs entangling against each other as you fought over the photograph. He was determined to not let you even see the picture. One of your palms pressed against the picnic blanket, the other reaching up towards his hand. Hyunjin used his free hand to push you gently but alas, he underestimated his own strength. In one swift move, you lost your balance, toppling over him. 

“Ow,” he fell back and winced in pain. He looked up, and all the back pain was suddenly replaced by shyness. There you were, on his lap — face just as flushed as his. 

Hyunjin didn’t know what to do now. 

Pathetically, he just stared into your eyes, finding himself getting caught in them. He could feel your hitched breaths against his chest, he was very aware of your trembling fingers on his arms. There was a strong urge to kiss you as his eyes fell onto your lips. He wondered how they’d feel on his lips. He imagined it in his head — missing the way your eyes stared at his lips too. 

If you were a flower, Hyunjin would be a bee. He desired you, eyes tracing the shape of your lips. Over, and over. If he kissed you, would your lips taste like honey? 

He ought to find out. Hesitantly, he inched his head closer to yours. The warmth of your breath against his skin marked the closeness between you.

Numerous scenarios flashed in Hyunjin’s mind. Of him kissing you senseless, then whispering a love confession in your ear. Of your cold fingers pressing into his skin as he tells you each perk of yours that he loved endlessly. The more he imagined, the closer he was. You shut your eyes, waiting for his lips to finally press onto yours. 

Paris. The one-way plane ticket to Paris.

Against his heart’s desire, his fingers cupped your chin instead. Subtly, he pulled back, eyes trailing back up to your eyes. He ignored the look of confusion in your eyes.

Reaching down, he pocketed the photograph. His heart clenched as he spoke, but he did anyway. 

“I win.”

The two words pulled you from your trance — they tore off your heart like paper. You blinked, watching the playful smirk that graced Hyunjin’s porcelain face. 

“Oh.”

The whole journey home, bitterness sat on Hyunjin’s tongue like the aftertaste of tangerine pulp. Did you want the kiss too, or had his libido fabricated things? 

Nevertheless, he couldn’t kiss you. Not when he had suitcases packed for Beaux-Art de Paris. Not when it’s all his parents could talk about. 

Minho’s words played in Hyunjin’s mind like a broken record. They served as a reminder of what could not be. For the sake of his heart, he told himself that it had all been a figment of his imagination.

Tension cloaked the front door of your house. Neither of you made a noise, save for the jingling keys in your carabiner. You observed Hyunjin, who was busy looking at his shoes. Once again, his mind wasn’t in his head. It had been that way for a few weeks. 

“See you soon?” you mumbled. 

Hyunjin looked up, nodding at your words. He pulled you into a hug, one that almost crushed your bones. Shakingly, he nuzzled his head into your neck, burying his face into the skin like you would dissolve if he didn't. It must’ve hurt his back but you made no comment, instead you wrapped your arms around his neck, in hopes it'll give him solace. By the front door you held him, so tight that it was as though the two of you were one, the curves of his fingers burning through your skin.

You didn’t know that it was a goodbye. It had to stay that way. 

Once more, his heart clenched in his chest. Two hands cupped your cheeks, as gentle as he could be, like you would break. He engraved this version of you into his memory — kind eyes boring into his with a soft smile plastered across the face he'd grown to adore. He vowed to always remember this face. 

Deeply, he inhaled his breath. Preparing the next words — lies to say to you, no matter how tight his chest felt.

“Yeah, see you soon.”

The last words Hwang Hyunjin muttered to you. 

seven.  

One day before your birthday. 

It had been two days since Hyunjin brought you to the meadow. You hadn’t seen him much, just glimpses of him as he played around with Kkami in his backyard. You figured that he was busy.

“Hello, I’m home!” you said in a sing-song voice as you stepped into the Hwang household. Kkami who’d usually greet you wasn’t in his usual spot, so you trudged straight to the kitchen, where Hyunjin’s mother was sitting. “Hi, Mrs Hwang.” 

She looked up, lips twitching into a smile, a cookie-cutter of Hyunjin’s. Under the kitchen light, you don’t miss the dried tears by her eyes. You pursed your lips, wondering if she was watching a sad drama. Hyunjin inherited his trait of easily crying from his mother, after all. 

“Hi, sweet girl,” she looked at your outfit from head to toe. “Why are you all dressed up?”

“Oh,” you muttered, giving her a little twirl. “My birthday outfit! Is it pretty?”

“Of course.”

You smiled at her, fiddling with the hem of your blouse. Keenly, you looked around the kitchen for any traces of Hyunjin. You realized that the house seemed much quieter than usual, emptier than normal. 

“Where’s Hyunjin?” you asked. The reason why you’d come over was to show your best friend your birthday outfit. Now that you were there, he was nowhere to be seen. “Is he home?”

Sympathy materialized in the mother’s old eyes. She tilted her head at you, lips pursing as she thought of the correct words to say. 

“My girl, did he not tell you?”

Confusion would be an understatement. Hyunjin told you everything, everything — from pointless thoughts to his deepest, darkest secrets. You were his secret keeper, his companion — there was nothing he wouldn’t tell you.

Was there? 

It had to be something unimportant, right? Perhaps he was off to an art workshop and forgot to tell you. But looking at his mother, it felt like something big. You grew anxious under her sympathetic gaze. 

“Tell me what?” you questioned, letting out a nervous chuckle.

“We just came back from Incheon Airport. He’s on a plane to Paris,” the lady replied. She stood up, inching closer towards your trembling figure. “Did he not tell you, Yn? I thought he did.”

“Paris?” you asked, blinking. “Like. For a vacation?”

“No, sweetheart. Beaux-Arts de Paris. He got into the school.”

The words felt like bullets on skin, penetrating and chagrining you deeply. It felt unreal — a hoax.

You scoffed, “What? He wouldn’t go without telling me.” Your eyes searched for humour in his mother’s eyes. “Is this like, a birthday prank?”

Her eyes saddened even more. “No, sweetheart. He really went.”

Another betrayal came in the form of tears cascading down your eyes without warning. The emotions hit you faster than your brain could process things. Speechless, you took steps back from his mother, before running up the staircase to his room. 

He had to be there. Sitting in his swivel chair and laughing at your face. He’ll tell you it was a prank and wipe away your tears. 

Hyunjin was your best friend of a lifetime. He wouldn’t do this to you. He had to be there.

When the door to his room swung open, a sob was knocked out of your mouth. 

All traces of life in the bedroom were gone, save for the soft purrs of Kkami sleeping on the bed. The bed was stripped of its bedsheets, and the towels hanging behind the door were gone. The laundry bag was empty. 

All traces of Hyunjin were gone. 

The realization hit harder than his mother’s words. If the words hurt like bullets on skin, the sight of Hyunjin’s lifeless room felt like a knife twisted in your gut. It felt like sanguine dripping from wounds, and Hyunjin’s holding the knife. It felt like a betrayal. 

“Hyunjin,” his name slipped from your lips like a plea. “Hyunjin.” 

More choked sobs escaped your windpipes as you searched around the room. First, it was his wardrobe. The oak material was practically empty, all that remained were a couple of sleep tees and the shirts you’ve left over the years. You rummaged through the hangers, finding that he had brought one of your sweatshirts along. 

The confirmation of his departure was the emptiness of his study table. Each nook and cranny of his table used to feel like Hyunjin, from the stacks of sketchbooks to eraser dust. Everything was Hyunjin — but at that moment, there was nothing. There was only a void — that of his desk and your heart. 

Your best friend was truly gone. 

“Hyunjin,” the name wrestled its way past your lips again. This time, it was out of longing. “Hyunjin.” 

The manner in which you walked to his bed echoed your feelings. Quivering, like a toddler’s first time walking. Your body fell onto the bed, earning a soft whine from Kkami. Gently, you held Kkami in your arms, letting a stream of tears cascade down your cheeks. For the first time in a while, you allowed yourself to cry, to feel, to mourn. 

If someone were to tell you that Hyunjin out of all people would make you cry that much, you would’ve laughed. Never in a million years, you’d say. The only times he had made you cry were from laughter. 

“Kkami,” you cried. The chihuahua nuzzled its head into your arms, as though it could feel your sorrow. Perhaps it could. “I miss Hyunjin.”

The dog whined. It looked up to you, placing its paw onto your arm. You cried even more. 

“I wanted to tell him about how I feel today,” through sobs, you managed to speak. “How could he make me feel so many things in one day and disappear the other? He didn't even say goodbye.”

It felt like the chihuahua was mourning with you — the way it nudged its head onto your arm, letting out soft whimpers. As though it was telling you that things will be okay. 

You weren’t sure that it would. You spent your whole life with Hyunjin by your side, you had never known life without him. Now that he was ripped from your grasp, you didn’t know how to go on. No — he voluntarily released himself from your grasp, without warning. It was worse. 

Physical traces of Hyunjin in his room were gone. There was only his scent — the smell of his shampoo, and his cologne. It lingered in the room, mocking you.

In your melancholic state of mind, you could only weep.

eight. 

“Coffee, or tea?”

A female voice broke Hyunjin from his trance. He looked up at the stewardess standing by his seat, the sweatshirt doused in your scent crumpling in his tight grip. 

“I want to get off this plane,” sat on his tongue and dissolved. He took a deep breath. 

“Um,” he looked at the cart, “Plain water, please?”

Coffee would only force Hyunjin to stay awake, forcing him to listen to his own brain’s torments for 14 hours straight. Tea reminded him too much of you, of the times when you were little and would make him play tea party with you. He’ll think about the times you’d cheekily kiss his cheek, an attempt to woo him into playing with you. It worked each time. 

The stewardess nodded, handing him a water bottle branded with the aeroplane’s logo. He muttered a thank you, yet the stewardess still didn’t walk away. She looked nice, her eyes analyzing Hyunjin told him that he must’ve looked like the epitome of a wreck.  

“First time flying?” she questioned. It wasn’t his first time, having gone on many vacations before yet he nodded. “I see. It’ll be fine, just sit back and relax.”

The woman, whose name tag said Chaewon flashed Hyunjin a hospitality smile — one he didn’t think he deserved — then walked away. Hyunjin pursed his lips, wishing that she hadn’t walked away. He didn’t want to be left alone with his thoughts, he didn’t want to be awake, he didn’t want to be in this plane — there were a lot of things he didn’t want to do, but had to do. 

Hyunjin wanted to turn back.

Silently, he looked out the window, watching as the landscapes of Seoul grew smaller, slowly becoming covered with clouds. He desperately wished to get out, praying to God that the plane would miraculously turn back and the tableau of Seoul would become bigger. Had he told the stewardess named Chaewon he wanted to get off, would they have let him? Had he told his parents he didn’t want to go to Paris, would they have understood?

If he tells you he’s sorry, would you forgive him? 

Regrets and memories clouded his mind, tears making their way down his cheeks. Each thought strangled his heart, and he could feel it physically aching. In a melancholic state of mind he sat, clinging onto your sweatshirt like it was his lifeline, allowing slumber to slowly take over. 

The break from his own thoughts did not last long enough.

Seven hours later, Hyunjin woke up to dried tears on his cheeks. He straightened his posture and glanced at the window, feeling a wave of emotions at the change of landscapes. Hyunjin wasn’t sure in which city they were flying over, but he could say with certainty that it did not look like Seoul. It did not feel like home, it did not feel like you. 

Unable to fall back to sleep, he couldn’t help the thoughts that poisoned his mind. Looking over the landscapes, he came to a realization much too painful for his heart to bear. 

You and him — you were the Sun, and he was the Moon. Two people of different circumstances, who’ll never meet, ripped away from the merciless hands of time. For your timezones were different — horizons even more. 

As a wave of new tears descended, Hyunjin wondered if he would ever forget about you.

The answer came to him one afternoon three years later, as he laid on the couch in his Parisian apartment. 

No, he’d never forget about you. At least not in three years. Maybe not even in five. 

Sunlight seeped in through the balcony, providing Hyunjin the warmth he wasn’t able to receive from a person. His roommate was a French guy who was always out and about, leaving Hyunjin to soak in his own company for hours on end. Sometimes, for days. Hyunjin loved and hated it at the same time. 

His limbs stretched across the burgundy couch, a yawn eliciting past his lips. Brown eyes stared at the canvas in front of him, black and white hues scattered on white, forming a half-finished painting of you. 

Years later, and you remained at the back of his mind — his muse.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

nine.  

There are five stages of grief. 

Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, then acceptance. Denial was the hardest for you, having spent your entire birthday staring at the front door of your house, praying Hyunjin would walk in. When your friends sang you a Happy Birthday, it sounded like a morose ballad playing from a broken record. Without Hyunjin, gloom sat at the centre of even the happiest things. 

Then came a sixth stage — one that seemed to exist for you.

Motivation.

After coming to acceptance that your best friend had gone, without any farewell, you spent many hours a day in the ballet studio. Pirouette, arabesque, plié — you managed to polish each move with the amount of time you spent cooped up in the studio. You weren’t born with ballet feet, but the times spent in pointe shoes had somehow moulded you into having them. 

Perhaps, it was distraction, disguised as motivation.

Nevertheless, the tireless hours of practice granted you a position in the Paris Ballet School.

Paris felt bittersweet when you first landed. It was the city of your dreams, but the reminiscence of the person it took from you made you loathe it. 

Withal, life had to go on. To cope with the Parisian lifestyle, you managed to get a job at a cafe near your academy — Desir Cafe. You worked night shifts as a kitchen crew but if traffic was overwhelming in the afternoons, your shitty excuse of a boss would make you come in anyway.

Unfortunately for you, it was one of those days. Clinks and sizzles reverberated in the kitchen, the peg board overwhelmed with sticky notes of orders. You were everywhere in the kitchen, from piping icing on cupcakes to sprinkling chocolate rice on pastries. 

“Yn,” the main baker yelled, “Tell Double C’s we can’t stock up on macarons! We’re out of almond flour!” 

The Double C’s — Charlotte, and Colette. They were a duo who worked as waitresses, always gossiping. Birds of the same feather, attached by the hip. 

Exasperated, you headed to the front, swinging the kitchen door open to see the duo gossiping. Charlotte was leaning in towards Colette, whispering into her ear, earning giggles from the other. You sighed, wondering what the topic was that afternoon. Curious as to who they were gossiping about, you looked towards the direction they were looking. 

Seated alone at the corner of the cafe was a guy, blonde hair gleaming golden from the sunlight seeping through the big window. His utmost focus was on the sketchbook in front of him, frail fingers dancing across paper, entrancing any eyes which fell upon him. You couldn’t help but stare, your face gradually contorting into disbelief.

He resembled too much like Hyunjin — your Hyunjin. 

Your gaze lingered on the man, analyzing each crease of his face, matching it with the one you had in mind. He looked just like Hyunjin, from the shape of his nose to the mole under his eye. The only difference was the hair. Hyunjin’s hair was raven black, but the person in the cafe had golden blonde hair. You felt your throat tighten. If the man sitting at the corner was him, then time had done good on him. He was beautiful, face sculptured beautifully by time’s gentle hands.

“Ooh, look who’s ogling!” a high-pitched voice interrupted you. You looked up to see the Double C’s looking at you, wiggling their eyebrows mischievously. Charlotte smirked, “Think the guy’s cute?”

“Huh? What guy?” you lied, feeling your cheeks heat up. 

Colette rolled her eyes. “The dude over there! Don’t lie, you think he’s cute.” The brunette wiggled her eyebrows even more, subtly pointing at the man. 

You didn’t say anything else, but your eyes travelled back to the familiar silhouette. The sense of familiarity tugged on fragile heartstrings the more you looked at him. Colette could sense your curiosity, so she parted her lips to speak.

“That’s Hyunjin. He’s a student in Beaux-Arts de Paris,” she muttered, unbeknownst to her the mixed emotions that dawned upon you. “He comes here almost every afternoon. Maybe that’s why you’ve never seen him before. He’s cute, isn’t he?”

Excitedly, Charlotte nodded her head. “A total heart-throb, honestly.”

“I mean…” your voice trailed, “He’s quite alright.”

How were you supposed to react to finally seeing the one who got away? Were you supposed to feel excited, or upset? It was like the moon had suddenly dropped down onto your lap. 

You were confused.

Charlotte continued speaking, not realizing the mixture of emotions in your face. “Sometimes, the students have exhibitions about ten minutes from here. His artworks always make it to the exhibitions. I’ve seen them, and they’re really beautiful.”

You turned towards her, “Exhibitions?”

She nodded, still naive as to your shift in behaviour. “I think the school has an exhibition every three months or so.”

Unfaltering, your eyes bored holes in Hyunjin’s back. He was in his own little world, evidently absorbed in whatever piece he was working on. Just like that, the memories you spent years suppressing came rushing back. 

It was unfair, the impact he had on you. There he was, lounging in a corner while your heart grappled in your chest. He looked older, better — and you were still the little girl in the tree house. Swaying your feet as they dangled, as though you had all the time in the world.

Charlotte and Colette exchanged looks as you stared at him. To them, you were simply developing a crush on a stranger. They wouldn’t understand the conflict brewing in you, they wouldn’t be able to comprehend the ache that stirred in the depths of your heart.

“What? You’re interested in him?” Charlotte spoke, breaking you off your trance. You looked at her, blinking. “Don’t even try. I’ve tried. I think he’s gay.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

“He’s not gay — oh my god, Lottie!” it was Colette’s turn to speak. Playfully, she smacked the other’s arm. “I asked that guy he’s always with, the songwriter — Felix. Cute guy, that one. Felix told me that he’s got a secret lover or something.”

“Secret lover?”

“Yeah. Apparently, he likes to draw this one girl. His sketchbook’s filled with her,” Colette murmured, glancing at Hyunjin. “Felix asked her who she was, and he said it’s a girl of his dreams.”

Your heart dropped. You weren’t sure to which news you should react first, either Charlotte hitting up on your Hyunjin, or that he has a secret lover. Either way, it made you pathetically jealous. Your heartstrings thrummed in anger as you imagined a beautiful French girl spread out on his bed, and Charlotte hitting up on your Hyunjin.

How could he go on with his life when you spent years mourning him?

Crimson tainted your lip as you bit on it hard, the taste of metal at the tip of your tongue. 

Perhaps, you never made it past the anger stage of your grief.

ten.

You truly tried to be happy for Hyunjin.

For days, weeks — you spent convincing yourself that you had to be happy for him. Sure, he hurt you three years ago. Sure, you spent years in agony, regretting not telling him how you felt earlier, wondering what could’ve been. Sure, you hoped that you’d see him in Paris and he’d tell you that he’s in love with you and kiss you senseless — but those were just desperate prayers, weren’t they? Those were simply hopeful scenarios. You hadn’t expected them to come true, had you?

Hyunjin was your best friend of years. He deserved happiness, even when you didn’t feel happy. You had to let things go. You had to be happy for him.

Clearly, you failed at convincing yourself.

In front of a building you stood, the sound of people walking past becoming white noise. You stared at the banner standing in front of you, the words Autumn Exhibition displayed, with the logo of Beaux-Arts de Paris at the top. You swallowed the lump forming in your throat.

A week ago, Charlotte told you that the university would be holding another exhibition, and Hyunjin’s artworks most likely made it into the exhibition. You knew then, that you had to go. If you didn’t get to see him, then you at least wanted to see his pieces. To not be a part of his life was devastating, you wished to at least witness glimpses of it. 

9:45 p.m. was displayed on your screen, people were beginning to leave the exhibition. There weren’t many people around, which was what you were hoping for. Visiting the exhibition in daylight meant potentially bumping into Hyunjin, and you weren’t sure if you were ready for that.

One day you ought to meet him, but not today. Not when the fragments of your heart have yet to be mended.

After taking a deep breath, you willed yourself to step into the exhibition. A gust of wind hit your face, and you shivered, clutching your coat tight. The art display seemed to be painting-themed, the way frames of canvases were scattered around the building. Baroque paintings were displayed all over, each piece as beautiful as skies at dusk.

The tapping of your heels against the ceramic tiles sounded as you walked, the romantic lighting of the room providing you with a sense of comfort. Wildly, your eyes observed each piece, letting your heart be swayed by the beauty. 

They were all beautiful — but they didn’t feel like Hyunjin. 

Until your eyes trailed to a certain piece.

It was the centrepiece, the piece — little bulbs of lights were installed above the frame, making the piece feel alive. The moment your gaze fell on the artwork, you couldn’t help but feel drawn in, taking hurried steps towards it. You stared, unable to take your eyes off the hues on the canvas.

There weren’t many hues, just black and white. It depicted two figures on swings. You couldn’t see the figures clearly but you could tell they looked happy. You could see through the strokes of paint that they were happy — though the artist not so. There was a certain sadness in the painting, one that screamed nostalgia. 

The longer you looked at the piece, the more you realized. 

It was a fragment of your memory. 

Your breath hitched. In came a memory of you and Hyunjin — running around the park before playing on swings. It was a particularly memorable day, you could recall falling off the swing and Hyunjin kneeling in front of you, kissing the bruises on your knees with the tenderness of a feather. It was the first time you felt so protected, and so loved. 

A rush of emotions overcame you, you wondered if that was how Hyunjin felt when he painted it. Had he thought of you, and wept by his easel? Had he stained his cheeks with charcoal as he wiped stray tears off his face? 

You wondered, so much so that you failed to realize a silhouette entering the display. 

Hyunjin didn’t enjoy art exhibitions in daylight. They felt pompous. The people who visited the exhibitions would usually walk around casually, and took photos. They didn’t harbour any sort of deep appreciation towards art, they didn’t sit and admire.

Therefore, Hyunjin loved revisiting exhibitions in the comfort of twilight. When the expositions were empty, he enjoyed revisiting them, taking his sweet time to admire each piece. 

When he spotted a figure standing before his piece — his most vulnerable piece, he felt his heart drop. He watched from afar as this person observed the artwork, body as still as a mannequin. He had never witnessed someone admire a piece this intensely, especially with it being one of his pieces. He felt flattered, his heart swelling in pride and joy. 

Silently, Hyunjin approached the figure. Usually, he was shy, not the type to approach people first but somehow, he felt the strong urge to this time. Fate was pulling him by his heartstrings.

“That’s my painting,” Hyunjin spoke, ensuring his voice was as soft as possible. 

The sudden voice startled you. You whipped your head towards the source of the noise, eyes widened in shock. They widened even more at the sight before you. 

Hyunjin’s breath hitched. His heartbeats escalated, taking in the figure standing in front of him. His fingers dug into the skin of his thumb, lips quivering. Brown doe eyes mirrored yours.

“Wh — what?” he spoke again, breathless. “Yn?”

A few steps were taken, inching closer towards you. His eyes scanned your face, lips quivering even more when he realized that it was you — you were real, and you were standing in front of him. You looked the same as you did three years ago, except more beautiful. How’d you get more beautiful? The passage of time had seemingly been good to you, the way it had carved your face into one Hyunjin could imagine himself filling his canvases with.

“Hyunjin,” you willed yourself to speak. You ignored the way your eyes watered. “It’s you.”

“It’s you, too. You’re here.”

Another few, brave steps were taken. You, on the other hand, didn’t move an inch. 

“I hate you,” the words spilt past sanguine mouth before you could stop them, its venom contrasting the hushed tone of your voice. They crushed Hyunjin’s heart, though he knew he deserved them. “But I missed you.”

“I’m sorry,” was all that he could say. Hyunjin meant it. He really was sorry. He was sorry as he sent you back from the meadow, too cowardly to bid you goodbye. He was sorry when he packed his bags, stealing one of your sweatshirts for solace. He was sorry when he was on the plane, wishing he could turn back time. He was sorry when he painted numerous portraits of you. He was sorry as he stood before you, watching tears flow down your cheeks because it was the least he could do — a form of punishment for what he had done to you.

You shook your head, palms rushing towards your face to wipe away tears. 

“It’s not enough, I know,” he mumbled, moving closer towards you to wipe your tears, like it was instinct, feeling his heart clench when you took steps back. “But I truly am sorry.”

“You didn’t even say goodbye,” you sobbed, vision blurry. “You didn’t even contact me.”

“I know, Yn, I know — I’m sorry. I wanted to call you, but I couldn’t,” he rambled, cupping your cheeks and rubbing on the skin. You allowed him to. “I swear, I wanted to write to you, but I was too embarrassed, and by the time I had enough courage it was already too late.”

Sobs wrestled their way past your lips, barely able to form coherent words. You kept shaking your head, blurting out the words you’ve kept for years.

“You just left me, Hyunjin — you left me. A day before my birthday,” your whimpers got louder, “I wanted to tell you I’m in love with you, on my birthday. Hell, three years later and I’m still in love with you.”

Hyunjin’s face paled. He had expected curses, and cries — but he hadn’t expected that. Anything, but that. His limbs moved before his brain could process things, lifting your chin to meet eyes. Your eyes were tinted with tears, but you were still beautiful. You’re always beautiful.

“What?” he squeezed your cheeks, “Yn, what?”

“You heard me. I’m not saying it again. It's fucking pathetic.”

“Fuck,” he exhaled. Hyunjin knew he was supposed to feel remorse, but God — his heart bloomed at the words you had whispered to him. You’re in love with him. You’re in love with him, the same way he was in love with you. “Fuck, Yn. You can't just say shit like that.”

Feather-like touches grazed your lips. There was a certain look in Hyunjin's eyes, one that you couldn't quite figure out — they were a look of longing. How could you know it was longing when you had never bear witness to them? You could feel his breath against your face, warm like his fingertips.

“You have no fucking idea how long I've been in love with you. You have no idea how much I missed you. Fuck, I think about you every fucking day,” he whispered, “You have no idea how much I regret getting on that plane.”

At that moment, all you could feel was Hyunjin. His deep, brown eyes staring into yours and his thumb pressing onto your lip.

“Kiss me,” you whispered back, “Kiss me, Hwang Hyunjin.”

And kiss you, he did. His lips crashed against yours with fervour, moving his lips to the same beat as his racing heart. You kissed back in the same manner, letting out the emotions you had bottled up. 

I love you, I love you — each movement of his lips was a love confession, etching his adoration onto the curves of your lips. You caressed his cheeks akin to holding stars in your palms — careful, precious.

Finally, you pulled apart to catch your breaths, bodies heaving against each other. 

“Please, give me a second chance.”

It’s odd the way human minds work, because at that very moment, you were reminded of Colette's words. Ones that mentioned a rumoured secret lover.

“But,” you felt silly for saying it, “Your secret lover?”

“My secret lover?” the boy's eyebrows furrowed. He then chuckled upon realization. The rumour must've spread to you. “Ah, that secret lover. It's you, idiot.” 

He smiled. You didn’t think anyone could look as beautiful as he did.

“It's always been you.”

eleven.  

“Careful — come on, get under here.”

Giggles echoed in the alleyways as two shadows lingered in the darkness of midnight. It was raining, the pavements darkening with wetness and the wind howling a sweet melody. At that particular hour, under the moonlight, Paris looked like the city of love. 

You rushed out of the exposition hall, getting under Hyunjin’s leather jacket. He’d promised you the date of your lifetime that night, and he wasn’t one to break his promises. 

Hyunjin’s back was damp from the rain, but it didn’t matter as long as not a droplet landed on your body. It only took a few minutes (and a lot of giggles in between) to reach Hyunjin’s so-called secret spot. 

Streetlights shone on a bench, and clusters of flowers surrounded a little pond. The spot overlooked the city, you could see the city lights from all the way up here. You gasped in awe, it’s no wonder Hyunjin insisted on coming here.

“So beautiful,” you whispered. Hyunjin smiled softly, moving closer towards you on the bench and wrapped an arm around your waist.

While fondly looking at your visage, he muttered. “Yeah, it’s pretty.”

“How’d you find this place?”

“I found it while I was walking one night,” he explained, resting his head on yours. You could smell his shampoo in this closeness. “I was sad. This garden reminded me of the one we used to go to when we were kids.”

Your heart swelled at the confession. 

“It does resemble that one a lot.”

The skies were still drizzling rain, but you were both a little sheltered much thanks to the oak tree above you. Only droplets dripped, falling onto your head but it was a nice sensation. Besides, you couldn’t feel the cold when you’re nuzzled in Hyunjin’s arm, blanketed in his familiar warmth. You allowed silence to third-wheel you, eyes busied with observing the sight. Silence was always comfortable with Hyunjin. The time spent apart hadn’t changed that. 

He wouldn’t leave you alone, his skin constantly touching yours. It burned against you. You didn’t mind it. Instead, you basked in his love, listening to the sounds of his heartbeats as your head rested on his chest. He intertwined your fingers together, his thumb rubbing against yours. He wouldn’t let go of you, not even when he bent down to pluck a flower, slipping the daffodil onto your ear. 

“I missed you,” he murmured. You weren’t sure how much he’d repeated that phrase but you liked it. “I truly did.”

For the thousandth time that night, you responded. “I missed you too.”

The conversation changed into one about your lives, catching up on each other’s shenanigans. It was comfortable, being with Hyunjin. Topics changed seamlessly. You didn’t have to put much effort into talking to him, you just had to be there.

Softly, his hands moved towards your feet, taking off one of your shoes. He held onto your ankle, tracing his pointer across your sole. You giggled, the feather-like touches tickled. 

“You still have the feet of a ballerina.”

“Of course, silly,” you scoffed, “I am one after all.”

“I’m so glad that your dreams came true,” he whispered, putting your leg down. He cupped your cheek, showcasing a fond smile that stretched to his ears. “I’m really happy that you’re here.”

“Of course,” you repeated. “You told me you’d be wherever I am. It’s only fair I returned the favour.”

The words knocked out Hyunjin’s breath, and it filled his soul with so much adoration, he felt like he could burst. A pleading expression was written all over his porcelain visage, the way in which he squeezed your hand expressing his feelings even more.

“Please,” he pleaded. “I need to be yours.”

You kissed him, for the second time that night.

“I’m already yours, Hyunnie.”

twelve.  

Things with Hyunjin had been going exceptionally well. 

After the fated night, you carried on with so much happiness that you practically beamed everywhere you went. One time when you clocked into work, the Double C’s made kissy noises at you, and Charlotte had whispered, “You must’ve had crazy good sex last night.”

You couldn’t deny it, of course.

Date nights with Hyunjin happened thrice a week, with coffee runs in between classes. The Paris Ballet School and Beaux-Arts de Paris weren’t that far from each other, allowing you to sneak lunches together almost daily. Though you had to admit that even if the universities were far, Hyunjin definitely wouldn’t mind spending extra time just to see you. Sometimes, he’d watch you dance, and sometimes, you’d watch him paint. 

It was like you were both making up for the lack of each other the past three years.

After just two weeks of your relationship, you were acquainted with the comfort of Hyunjin’s home. His roommate was barely home, so you felt comfortable with coming over often. Most weekends, you’d spend the night over. 

Morning birds chirped a jolly ballad, waking you from your slumber. You stretched, feeling the heat of Hyunjin’s skin against yours. You couldn’t help the smile that grazed your face when you looked at him, fast asleep under the duvets beside you. Sleepily, you pressed a kiss onto his bare shoulder, then traced the memories of last night, tattooed on his skin in the form of bruises. It pulled a whine from him, moving under the duvet to press himself impossibly closer towards you.

“Flower,” he mumbled, morning voice husky, “I'm cold.”

“Then come cuddle.”

He did as told, wrapping strong arms around you. You felt his fingers ghost against your naked spine, sending heat straight to your core. You couldn't help the whimper that left you, earning a playful grin from your boyfriend. 

“It's too early to get in the mood, no? Baby?”

Flushed, you smacked his arm. “Shut up.”

Hyunjin giggled, leaning towards you to press kisses onto your face. Mornings with him were often spent like this — limbs entangled, as if you were one. 

“Need to shower, baby,” he sighed, “Have an exhibition today.”

To your dismay, he slowly pulled away from you, missing the warmth of his body. 

“You coming to the exposition?”

“Of course,” you hummed. “Go shower. Can I borrow your laptop while you're in the shower?”

“Yeah, baby. The password's your birthday.”

He got up from the bed, and you flushed as you looked at his bare body. Unluckily for you, your boyfriend quickly noticed your flushed face, taking it as an opportunity to throw a pillow at you and call you a pervert. You rolled your eyes, watching him enter the bathroom before getting up, wrapping the duvet around your naked body. 

You walked towards his study to retrieve his laptop, smiling at the artworks displayed on his peg board. One was of you — a painting of the Polaroid he took of you back in the meadow. The Polaroid itself sat at the back of his phone case. He had never taken it out since the first time he put it in back then.

Whilst humming to a melody, you kicked in the digits of your birthday. The laptop unlocked, showcasing the unclosed tabs. 

Your eyes widened at the words written on the screen.

Congratulations, you've been chosen for a student exchange programme to Rome.

Your heart skipped a beat. Repeatedly, your eyes skimmed the words on the screen. You didn't mean to pry but you scrolled through the email, feeling your heart sink upon seeing the date it was sent.

Over a week ago. 

Yet Hyunjin hadn't told you anything. 

After all these years, he was still keeping secrets from you. You couldn't handle it, and so for the sake of your heart you exited the tab, and shut down the laptop. Careful as to not make much noise, you got dressed. 

“Hyunjin,” you knocked on the bathroom door. “Need to be at the academy now. Bye.”

You needed to be away from him — you needed to clear your head.

thirteen.

You hadn't seen Hyunjin for a week.

The texts from him you didn't avoid, responding each time he sent a message. However, you'd been dodging his requests of meeting, under the guise of practice when in truth, you hadn’t gone for classes in a week. You spent your days moping in your apartment. 

Perhaps it was a little childish of you to do, but you couldn't bear the thought of going through what you did before. You'd tasted a life without Hyunjin, and you were certain you didn't want to live through it again. This was your way of mentally preparing for that life again. 

Your limbs lazily stretched across the cotton duvet as a vinyl played in the background. A melodramatic song played, matching the current tune of your heart. You weren't entirely sure what time it was, but the sound of the apartment bell ringing hinted that it was afternoon. It must be the takeout your roommate ordered.

“Reine,” a familiar voice reverberated in your apartment. “Where's Yn?”

“In her bedroom,” your roommate, Reine replied in her thick French accent. “She's been in there moping all week.”

Damn you, Reine. 

Quickly, you buried yourself in your duvet, anticipating the footsteps which approached your room. Soon, your door swung open, and you could smell the white gardenia in his cologne.

“My flower,” his voice tempted you to look, “What’s going on, sweet girl?”

It didn’t help that each syllable that slipped past his lips felt like honey.

You felt his hands pull down your duvet before you came face to face with your boyfriend. He stood before you, hair slicked back and the white blouse he wore accentuated his shoulders. In his hands was a bouquet of flowers, patches of peonies and daffodils peeking from the wrapper. 

You didn’t utter any words, simply looking at him with watery doe eyes. He didn’t miss the glint of tears, immediately setting the bouquet on your nightstand to get onto the bed. Tenderly, he pulled you onto his lap.

“You look so sad,” he mumbled, “Can my sweet girl please tell me why she’s so sad?”

Damn, him. How were you supposed to stand a chance when he was so ridiculously handsome and sweet?

Trembling, you parted your lips to speak. 

“You’re hiding things from me.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What things, baby?”

Your eyes shot daggers at him, bottom lip forming into a pout. Hyunjin had to stop himself from leaning in and biting it.

“You got offered to an exchange student programme,” you finally bit the bullet. “You’re planning on keeping it a secret and just leaving me again, aren’t you?”

Ah.

Hyunjin’s eyes softened. He sighed, caressing your cheek in his hand. He shook his head as his free hand rested on your thigh, massaging the supple skin.

“No, I’m rejecting it,” he answered. “I didn’t tell you because I thought there was no point in telling you if I didn’t even want to go.”

“What?” you responded, voice a little higher than you intended it to be. Your eyes scanned his for any lies. “Hyunjin — it’s a good opportunity.”

“What, you don’t want me here anymore?” he joked, raising an eyebrow at you. “Baby, Paris is already enough for me. I don’t really want to move again.”

You nodded at his words. A huge part of you felt relieved — and you felt awful for feeling that way. 

Love, sometimes, is about being selfish after all.

“Were you sad because you thought I was going?” your boyfriend queried, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

You shrugged. “A little. I was more mad that you didn’t tell me.”

“Oh,” he nodded, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to keep it a secret, I just didn’t mention it because it felt insignificant.”

“I want you to tell me things,” you mumbled, wrapping your arms around his neck. It left goosebumps in its wake. “I want to know these things.”

“Okay," he mumbled. Something about his compliance made you feel fonder of him. "I'll start telling you these things."

A sigh of relief left your lips. You had known Hyunjin for years, but being with him was different. A good kind of difference. It would take you a while to adjust to these changes — but it was the kind of changes you'd want to adjust to.

Hyunjin's fingers trailed to your hips, ghosting over your skin until they reached your thighs. He traced the stretch marks there, leaving goosebumps in its wake. You couldn't help the whine that left your mouth, and the heat that arose, tainting the tips of your ears in crimson. Hyunjin enjoyed this — flustering you with his ministrations. He allowed you to nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, whimpering as he felt your lips litter kisses on his most sensitive spots.

"I love you," he confessed, like honey dripping from lips. "Promise I'll be wherever you are."

disclaimer — © 2024 hyunverse on tumblr. all rights reserved. authors works are protected under the copyright law. do not plagiarize or translate my works. tumblr is my only platform.

taglist: @zoe8stay , @starlostseungmin , @starlostlaiba , @hwajin , @sleepyleeji , @skizzel-reblogs, @jdopes-recorder , @sherryblossom , @cb97whoree , @alyszaen , @aaliyahxsx , @jeonginsyoungestsibling , @hyunluvxo , @bokk-minnie , @ghostyycat7 , @fortunatelyhertragedy @yongbokkari @ameliesaysshoo @seoli-16 @jisungsdaydreamer @soobnny @seolboba @in2heartz @jehhskz @astraystayyh @mnwrld

[comicallylargemango]

🥭 : teeheeheehee author here, I've been having major Francis brainrot so now I gotta show the world :3 (I can now proudly call myself one of the first few people to write a Francis X reader)

Genre: Fluff

Pairing: Francis Mosses/Milkman x DDD! Gen! Reader

Other: some swearing, shit talking, mentions of injuries, reader is using crutches (caused by the injuries), reference to the red handed doppelganger.

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

It had been a long day at work, there were more doppelgangers than usual and it really took a toll on you. A doppelganger even started, about how all this was useless and blah blah blah they'd win anyway. It even fought back, and boy did it put on a fight.

You limped on your bandaged leg as you mainly used your crutches to walk, not your first time to have been injured so badly you had to use crutches. You sighed exhaustedly and you imagined your Husband lightly reprimanding you for being so careless once he got home, you quickly brushed that thought away and went back to focusing on getting home.

As you got to the door man's window, you painstakingly take out your ID and entrance request, the Doorman raised a worried eyebrow at your state.

"Bad day at work?" She asked while examining your ID and entrance request.

"Tell me about it." You only sighed and leaned on the small counter Infront of the window to give your (working) leg a break.

"Everything seems good..." She murmured, "you're good to go."

"Thanks." You thanked her and started walking.

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

You made your way to your shared apartment, letting out a sigh of relief as you jammed the key into the keyhole, twisting to doorknob.

Imagine the shock as your eyes land on your Husband sitting on the couch watching TV, he's usually home late in the afternoon. His head turns to look at you with a slight glimmer in his tired eyes.

You smile softly as he makes his way towards you at the doorway, making notice of your crutches and bandaged leg. The cuts, scratches, and dirt on your clothes and skin didn't go unnoticed either.

"What happened this time..?" Francis asked worriedly. Guiding you to the bathroom to change.

You took your dirtied shirt off as Francis looked away blushing slightly, making his way to the bedroom to get you some clothes.

He arrived soon, still looking away until you gently turned his face to meet you.

Sighing exasperatedly, you softly kissed him on the nose while taking the clothes from his hands, smiling tenderly as you see the ring on his finger.

"I'll tell you after I'm done, thank you Fran."

He simply hummed and looked you up and down, making you smile as a blush tinted your cheeks.

you had a hard time taking your pants and bandages off, that's when you noticed Francis still looking at you, leaning on the doorway with a concerned look on his face.

"Do you... Need any help?" He spoke up, standing up straight and rubbing the back of his neck.

Your eyes softened as you nodded. He made his way over to you to help you stand up, taking care in taking off the rest of your clothing.

His eyes roamed your body, growing more anxious as he takes note of every single scratch and cut. Meanwhile you were nearly falling asleep from his hands gingerly tending to you.

You only woke up from your half asleep state when you heard him speak again.

"Why don't you take a break for a day?" Asked as he turned you around to peck you on the lips, setting you down on the bathtub as he twisted the handle. Checking the temperature and adjusting it according to your liking.

You, once again dozing off. Absentmindedly muttered your answer.

"I should be asking you that." You chuckled softly, turning to look at Francis as he took off his clothes to join you. "Looking good Fran." He blushed.

He scoffed light heartedly as he took a seat behind you so in that way you were sat right in-between his legs with your back facing him.

"Seriously though, you've almost worried me to death. I can't handle seeing you like this, all..." He gestured to your leg as he sighed, applying a good amount of shampoo into your hair and massaging it into your scalp.

"Mmm, don't worry. I've been put on leave for a few weeks. Besides, This isn't the worst I've ever been." You leaned back into him, relishing the touch.

"Why didn't they just send you to stay at the hospital anyway? You would've been better there."

"Because I requested to be sent home, sweetie. I wasn't gonna spend two weeks at the hospital when I could be fine at home."

He washed off your hair and started applying the conditioner, "that's sweet, darling. But you really need to be more careful next time." He kissed the crook of your neck, enjoying the shiver that came from you.

"Hey it's not my fault my job is dangerous." You crossed your arms and exhaled.

"It kinda is, you applied for it after all."

"Fair enough."

He washed the conditioner off then dried your hair using the towels, helping you get out the Bathtub and handing you the towel to wrap yourself in. Doing the same for himself with another towel.

He walked to the bedroom to get himself clothes while you changed in the bathroom with the prepared clothes.

He returned soon after to help you out on the remaining clothes, wrapping some fresh bandages around your wounded leg. Also making sure to compliment your "Magical Ass" along the way.

you two made your way to the bedroom to rest, you immediately flopped down onto the bed which worried Francis. He had barely ever seen you this tired, he was exhausted himself but he can't imagine how tiring your day must've been to have completely drained you of energy.

"You gonna come over here or nah?" You snapped him out of his thoughts. he unfurrowed his eyebrows, not knowing he even did so. Mumbling a quick "sorry" before getting into bed with you.

You immediately grab him and snuggle him much like a child would sleep with their plushie. Despite being injured and all, you we're still very strong. As expected from the lead officer of DDD. he laughed through his nose as he turned to look at you and smiled softly. Kissing your forehead.

"Mind telling me what happened now?" He said, wrapping his arms around you to pull you impossibly closer. Burying his head into your chest. (Y'all can't tell me he ain't a chest man)

You sighed, recounting the events of today.

"We were called for another extermination, thought nothing of it until the stupid thing started talking about how this was useless and they'd just end up 'victorious' anyway." You hugged Francis tighter, letting out a huff of frustration as he hummed to let you know he was listening.

"It ended up getting it's hands on a piece of broken glass and I'm sure you can tell what happened next." You gestured to your leg.

"We called for backup a buncha times but they refused to send more people because apparently I'm a veteran officer and that somehow means everything is fine."

You yawned as you mumbled the last sentence. "Can you believe it Fran?"

"Sounds like the higher ups were being a dick." He replied, enjoying the sensation of your fingers drawing circles and shapes on his back.

"They were." You kissed the top of his head, Francis returned the favour by looking up and kissing the tip of your nose.

"Enough about my day, what about yours?"

Francis hummed, "yknow just the usual, Mara being the massive stick up my ass."

Mara, or Maratha. Was a daily customer Francis wouldn't mind losing, she was really a stinky old bitch, always complaining about nothing and everything at the same time. One of her usual complaints being that "the milk was more watered down than usual!".

"I don't even know why she's saying it to me as if I'm the one milking the cows, I'm just the one delivering it. Say it to my boss why don't ya?"

You snorted, "normal Mara behaviour."

"Normal Mara behaviour." He sighed. "And, there was this girl in that newly renovated building across the road who tried hitting on me?"

"What..?"

"Yeah, i don't even know her name. Told her I was married too but she wouldn't back off. She said something along the lines of 'marriages don't even last long. watch, she'll leave you in a few years.'. " He visibly cringed at the memory.

You laughed at his facial expression, "just because your parents are split doesn't mean others will too."

Francis started laughing with you, wrinkles forming at the edge of his tired eyes. "She didn't even buy milk, saying how they were 'putting microchips and chemicals into the milk.', ridiculous."

As the laughing died down, a comfortable silence settled in the air. Only the sound of your breaths and the occasional beep of a car, the sound of your heartbeat and rustling of the the trees outside.

If only it could stay this way forever, unfortunately though you may not have work, Francis does.

"What a shame, huh? I asked to get sent home instead of the hospital just for you to be at work most of the day. To think there's even some girl hitting on you while I'm not there." You said, eyes slowly closing.

"Mhm, I'll try and ask my boss for a day off tomorrow." He started dozing off, "and if he refuses Ill just put you on the phone."

You smiled triumphantly as you remember that time you had a meeting with his boss.

He looked so Nervous in agreeing for a day off for your husband that it made you wonder what would've been the outcome of you weren't a DDD officer.

"He'll have to accept then huh? Unless he wants to discuss the matter face to face with totally amazing and wonderful me." You joked sarcastically

Francis laughed through his nose, "you got that right dear." he smiled, eyes closed. "Hey, honey?"

"Yes Fran?" You whispered.

"I love you." He slurred, finally falling asleep.

"I love you more." You gave him one last kiss on the head before turning off the lamp and joining him in Dreamland.

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

Should I make a part two?

A/N: eat up pookies

[cupid-styles]

only angel (tattoo artist/plug harry)

in which harry owns a tattoo shop, sells weed on the side, and has a big crush on y/n, a shy virgin who's very much enamored by him.

here is part one of tattoo/plug harry!!! I hope you like it :) please lmk if you'd like more from them <3

word count: 10.2k (!!!!)

content warnings: y/n's parents being unkind people, comments and discussions about weight/disordered eating, fainting (caused by a piercing), smut! (y/n's first time being fingered, dirty talk, harry being a soft dom)

masterlist | talk to me

part two

. . .

Y/N doesn't know why she's here.

If the glares from the employees of the tattoo and piercing shop are anything to go off of, they don't know why she's here either. And it all makes this whole thing even more embarrassing.

In reality, she does have a reason to be here. Mai, one of the few friends she's made in her grad school program, asked if she would drive her down to The Village for a tattoo appointment she had.

Y/N's eyes nearly bulged out of her skull when she asked, especially when she pressed for more details about this tattoo she was getting (it was a strawberry just above her hip, which Y/N didn't quite understand considering she thought tattoos were supposed to be meaningful). But, ever the pushover, Mai ended up convincing her, going as far as getting her to come inside — the one boundary she had — and wait while she got it done.

(Thankfully, her parents had some benefit charity thing going on today, so they weren't concerned with Y/N's whereabouts or where she was taking the car they bought her on a Saturday afternoon.)

The shop, called St. Mark's Place Social Club (aptly named, she supposes, considering it's located on St. Mark's Place), is nice. Unlike what she imagined tattoo parlors would look like in her brain, the spot Mai chose to get tattooed at seems sanitary and actually quite trendy.

It's not wildly crowded with customers hustling and bustling around, but there's a few artists at work at their own small stations. The walls are painted a cozy forest green, all donning frames upon frames of, what Y/N assumes are, sheets of tattoo designs. The receptionist who checked Mai in even offered them some water, which Y/N thinks was very nice.

"Are you nervous at all?" Y/N asks quietly as they sit in the rattan chairs in the waiting area. Mai's filling out some questionnaire on an iPad, but she shakes her head at her question, crossing her legs. 

"No, not really," she murmurs nonchalantly, "I have a few tattoos already and I've been here before. The artist that's doing it is really cool and he's so hot."

Y/N's mouth forms around an oh as Mai quickly taps her signature into the tablet. She stands from the rickety chair and walks back over to return it to the front, her heeled boots clacking against the wood floor as she does. 

Y/N has her gaze set low in her lap, eyes passing over her fresh manicure (her mother has a standing weekly appointment for her). She doesn't even notice that someone's standing over her — more so, towering over her — until the figure clears his throat, her head snapping up to address them. Assuming she's done something wrong (what it is, she isn't sure), she goes to apologize immediately, but the long haired man in front of her cuts her off.

"You have an appointment?" 

Instantly, she flounders. Her mouth drops open as she stumbles over an answer: "I— um, no, I'm not— no, no appointment."

"So you're a walk-in, then?"

"N-no," she shakes her head quickly, his all-black outfit forming a blur in front of her eyes, "No, I'm not getting a tattoo."

The man laughs. He actually laughs at her, and Y/N doesn't know whether she should be embarrassed or pleased that she's made this very attractive man smile.

"You're sitting in a tattoo shop. You know that, right?" the stranger crosses his heavily tattooed arms over his chest, and Y/N's eyes fly to the swirls of black ink covering his skin. They're everywhere; all different fonts and images and numbers and... she wonders if he even knows what they all mean or how many he has. 

"Yes," she finally manages out, folding her hands neatly in her lap. It's the default body language she goes to when she's nervous — when she was a teenager, her parents paid for her to go to social etiquette classes, and the instructor told her that this was a good way to show that she was in control of her actions, even if underneath her pastel pink turtleneck, her chest was covered in hives. "No, I'm not getting a tattoo. I'm here with someone getting one."

Thankfully (though Y/N would've preferred it happening about two minutes earlier), Mai walks back over to them, a grin taking over her features when she spots the man talking to her.

"Harry!" she greets excitedly, and Y/N watches as his eyes flicker over to her, flashing a tight smile in her direction.

"Ah. This is who you're here with." he — Harry, apparently — says to Y/N. She doesn't know what she's supposed to say to that (if she's supposed to say anything), but any response is once again cut off. "Hey. You ready?"

She only now notices the gum wedged between his teeth, his jaw moving in a hypnotizing way. His tone appears to be far more clipped with Mai, but Y/N is fast to chalk it up to some fluke. Maybe the other employees mentioned something to Harry and they thought she was in the wrong place or something. That would make sense, she thinks.

"Yeah, all good. I'll see you in a bit, Y/N," Mai nods, swinging her bag over her shoulder, focusing her attention to Harry, "So listen, I'm going to a show in midtown tonight, I was thinking maybe after we finish up here we can—"

"Are you coming back with us?" Harry's eyes fall back onto Y/N, and it's only then that she realizes he's talking to her again.

"Uh... am I allowed to?"

He smirks. Y/N's chest feels like it may concave in simply from the sight.

"I own this place, so yeah, you're allowed to."

Mai's tapping her foot impatiently now, her hip popped out slightly with her arms crossed over her chest. "My appointment started a few minutes ago, Harry—"

"Okay," he says curtly, turning on his heel to face her, "Go in the back and get ready then. You know where my station is."

Both Mai's and Y/N's jaws drop at that, his snappy tone clearly not one to fight back on. Surprisingly, Mai does just that, turning around and walking back to where Harry has his things set up. 

"You coming, then? Y/N, right?" 

The teasing smirk is still painted over his features, as if he finds humor in outwardly rejecting Mai's advances. Y/N doesn't know why her heart beats a little bit faster at that, warmth spreading from her chest to the rest of her body as he continues gazing down at her.

"Y-yeah," she answers, grabbing her purse and standing up. "If it's not too big of a deal."

"Course not. C'mon, you can follow me."

. . .

Mai's tattoo comes out beautiful.

However, Y/N can hardly focus on the artistry and apparent talent because she's far too busy staring at Harry, who also looks beautiful while he works.

It's distracting, embarrassingly so, that she barely even registers when he's finished wrapping her new tattoo in some sort of clear wrap, sending her back up to pay. Quickly, Y/N scrambles to grab her things, realizing that she's once again left alone with Harry.

"What, running away so soon?" He asks as he cleans up his work station, spinning around to face her in his chair. He has that smirk on his face again — the one that simultaneously intimidates her and makes her entire body burst into flames — and anxiety begins to eat away at her, nervous of saying the wrong thing.

"I just— you're done. So I was gonna go."

"How do you know Mai?" 

It bothers her somewhat that he ignores her, but being the subject of his intense glint, she shifts her stance from foot to foot, shrugging her shoulders.

"We're in the same grad program. We've had a few classes together." she answers obediently, clutching the strap of her purse closer to her shoulder. 

"Mm," he hums, tossing some paper towels in the trash, "You sure you didn't want any tattoos today?"

Y/N's face erupts into a hot flush for the thousandth time today and she instantly begins to shake her head. "No. No, thank you, I mean. My parents would kill me."

"Your parents?" Harry asks, a slightly stupefied expression on his face. "You're in grad school. Surely you don't make decisions on your appearance based off of them."

He punctuates his sentence by giving her a once-over and she feels nervous under his gaze. She's never particularly felt good about her appearance. She's always just felt... neutral. She grew up with a mother who was constantly dieting, imparting weight loss tips on her every chance she got. When Y/N hit puberty, her father made comments about how grateful he was to finally see her drop the "baby weight". Even now, her mother critiqued her, making comments about how important it was to maintain a good figure; that she'd never find someone to spend her life with if she didn't take care of her looks.

So, all in all, it was safe to say that tattoos were extremely off the table for Y/N. 

"It's complicated," she finally replies vaguely. She knows that most people in their mid-20s aren't as deep under the thumb of their parents as she is, but she wasn't lying when she said this — the circumstances weren't as black and white as she wished they were.

However, there was something she'd always been curious about, and she had seen the piercing rates out in the front of the shop.

"But, um— do you guys do piercings?" she follows up before Harry has a chance to question her parents any further. 

"We do," he replies slowly, "Well, yeah, I do. Why, are you thinking about getting something pierced?"

She swears his eyes quickly glance to her chest, but just as quickly as she notices it, they're focused back on her face. She clears her throat, willing herself to have an ounce of self-confidence. 

"I was wondering if I could get my ears pierced."

Harry quirks an eyebrow and stands from his chair. Her heart rate speeds up tenfold when he walks over to her, his hand reaching outward. 

"May I?" he asks, pausing before he makes any movements. She nods, hoping he misses the way her throat bobs in nervousness. Gently, he pushes some of her hair behind her ear, taking a look at the lobe. He does it to the other one and she wonders if he can sense that she's holding her breath. 

"Hm, you really don't have them pierced," he mumbles lowly, eyes flitting back to her face. "Yeah, we could do that if you'd like. You sure daddy won't get too pissed?"

He says it with a simper though she's not entirely sure why; she thinks if he understood the dynamic between her and her parents, he'd be more concerned than teasing. Nevertheless, she shakes her head. 

"Like you said," she says softly, blinking as they stare back at one another, "I shouldn't make decisions on my appearance based on what they want."

His smirk breaks into a grin, and for the first time, Y/N feels like she's doing something right.

. . .

Y/N didn't think she would be this nervous to get her first piercing, but between the gorgeous man invading her space with a needle and the fact that Mai definitely won't want to be her friend anymore, she's feeling a little tense.

Before getting situated in the chair, Y/N said that she needed to tell Mai she'd be a bit longer, but Harry waved her off and told her he'd take care of it. Apparently, that just meant peeking his head out from his work station and yelling out to Mai that Y/N was busy and wouldn't be driving her home. (Y/N thinks she heard Mai practically stomp out of the shop.)

So now, she's spending her Saturday the last way she thought she would: With her eyes squeezed shot, anxiety making her heart thump far too fast in her chest, with a long-haired tattoo artist hunched over her body. He's so close that she can smell the woody fragrance of his cologne, and she has to resist breathing it in as she inhales deeply in an effort to calm her heart rate.

"Alright, you ready?" Harry asks lowly, his tone a groveled murmur that sends tingles down her spine. She nods, feeling particularly speechless from his closeness and her nerves. "'kay, I'm gonna count to three. Take a deep breath."

Y/N imagines he looks especially gorgeous right now, but she's too scared to open her eyes and see the needle he's about to puncture her skin with. Instead, she simply nods her head again, mentally preparing herself for the countdown. 

"Breathe, dove," he says calmly. Her stomach jumps at the pet name but does as he says. "Good. Okay... 1, 2, 3."

She jumps from the bite of pain that stings her earlobe, instantly wedging her bottom lip between her teeth as he shushes her. 

"It's alright, that was it," he murmurs, though she can still feel him at her side, carefully wiggling the earring into the newly formed hole. "Y/N? You okay?"

She blinks her teary eyes open and opens her mouth, willing her throat to push out a yes. Instead, Harry's face goes blurry as the images in front of her get hazy. In a panic, she tries to stand, the ringing in her ears sending loud alarms to her brain. She thinks she hears Harry tell her to sit down, his strong arms taking a hold of her own — but that's when everything goes dark. 

. . .

Harry's known this girl for all of two hours, and he's never felt panic ravish his body the way it did when she passed out a few minutes ago. 

Thankfully, she comes to less than two minutes later (he counted), but he remains by her side the entire time, gently stroking her hair back. As a professional tattoo artist and piercer, he's of course had people faint under the needle, but it's never happened from just a standard ear piercing. 

He supposes he maybe should've prepared himself for this. The sweet girl who accompanied Mai didn't look like she belonged at St. Mark's Social Club, but the moment his eyes zeroed in on her, he felt pulled to her. From the pastel pink top that stretched over her chest to the white ribbon tied in her hair, she was the opposite of any girl he's ever been attracted to — and yet, all he wanted was to tuck her under his arm, pull her into his chest, and spend the rest of his life protecting her.

Harry tells himself he's being stupid; some lovesick nerd that just needs to get his cock touched, but as he watches her slowly nurse a cup of water, warmth returning to her complexion, every doubt is thrown out the window. 

"I'm so sorry," Y/N pouts, lifting a hand to run through her hair, "I'm... I feel so stupid, I'm so sorry, Harry."

"Why are you apologizing?" he asks through furrowed brows. "It's not your fault. People pass out all the time here, you have nothing to be sorry about."

"Y-yeah, but this is annoying... you probably have another appointment coming up and—"

"I don't."

"Yeah, but—"

"Y/N?"

"What?"

"Stop it."

She huffs, but the apologies stop after that. With his arms crossed over his chest, leaning back against the wall, he watches to make sure she finishes her water. He can tell she's still feeling embarrassed and it bothers him that she thinks of herself as something to feel sorry about.

"Y'know, kinda looked like some kind of badass Sleeping Beauty while you were passed out," Harry says with a smirk, making her eyes widen, "Pretty cute, if you ask me."

Y/N's face warms and he chuckles, deciding that making this girl blush is his new favorite past time. 

"You're being silly." she mumbles, finishing off the water with a final swig. He shakes his head and takes the empty cup from her hand, tossing it in the garbage can behind her. 

"Would never lie to you, dove. We're going on what, three hours of knowing each other? I wouldn't even dream of it."

"Harry," she whines and it makes him immediately grin, especially as she pushes her bottom lip out in a slight pout, "Shush, stop it."

"Think I should just call you princess from now on, hm? Such a pretty face coming in here, think I got lucky having you pass out on me."

He laughs loudly when her lips part, her jaw slack from the compliment. She doesn't have a comeback for that one, but he assumed as much. He turns to face the cabinets behind him and grabs a paper towel and a pen, quickly scrawling out his number on it before handing it to her.

"This is my number. I'm not gonna do your second piercing today 'cos that sounds like a recipe for disaster, but I want you to text me when you wanna come in and get it done," he explains, "I only work here on the weekend, but I'll come by any day you're free, princess."

She shuffles her feet before nodding her head, stuffing the paper towel in her bag. "O-okay. That sounds good."

"Good," Harry breathes, reaching out to for her hand to help her up, "Do you need a ride home?"

"No!" her eyes dart away from his face, blinking quickly as she focuses on the dark green walls. "Um, no, thank you. You've done enough for me today. I appreciate it, Harry."

"Sure," he says slowly, narrowing his eyes at her, "Okay, well... get home safe for me, alright?"

"I will." she nods and punctuates her sentence with a harsh swallow. "Can I... is it okay if I text you when I get home?" 

A gentle smile wiggles its way onto Harry's face, warmth filling his body once again. 

"You took the words right out of my mouth, princess."

. . .

To: Harry (St. Mark's Social Club)

hi, im home!! im so sorry again for what happened but thank you sm for making sure i was okay. hope it wasn't too inconvenient! 

Y/N's never texted a boy she has a crush on (well, except for Jason Saunders in the 8th grade, but her dad found out within the hour and made her delete his number as he watched). She thinks she must still be lightheaded from fainting because there's no way she can seriously have a crush on someone she barely knows, but nonetheless, she pushes herself to message him to at least thank him for everything he did for her. 

She sighs as she throws her phone in her purse and climbs out of her Range Rover. Locking the doors, she crosses her fingers as she walks up the stairs and to the elevator of the luxury garage, pressing the penthouse button on the panel. She hopes her parents are still out — if they're home, she'll be on the receiving end of their badgering for the rest of the evening, and she still wants to work on a paper she has due later next week.

When the sleek elevator doors open, she's met with silence — the only telltale sign that she's alone, with the exception of her parents' private chef and maid. Relief floods her body as she steps out and into the apartment, toeing her shoes off in the entryway and taking quiet steps to her bedroom. 

She's exhausted from the day, flopping down on her bed with a sigh. Mindlessly, she feels for her phone in her bag, pulling it out to scroll through Instagram before she commits to doing work for the rest of the night. Instead, she's met with not one, but two texts from Harry.

Remember what I said about apologizing, princess?

Glad you made it home safely. Don't forget to text me about your second piercing — just name the day and I'm there. xx

She wants to let out a squeal, even if there's a large part of her brain that's constantly reminding her to limit her excitement. He's probably just being polite, she says to herself. 

Still, it doesn't stop her from replying a mere moment later, promising to restrain her apologies and message him when she's ready to get her other ear pierced. 

. . .

"Where were you yesterday?" 

Y/N blinks at her father as she sets down the spatula, shifting her attention from the buckwheat pancakes she's currently cooking. 

"Studying on campus," she replies easily, even if she had to coach herself all night to lie. She's never one to fib, let alone to her parents — she's always felt some type of fear when it comes to her father, but she knows he never would have approved if she gave him some vague answer about taking a friend to an appointment. 

He lets out a noncommittal humph. "You know there's no reason for you to be getting a masters degree when you'll just work at the company when you graduate."

Her stomach tightens. It's a frequent area of contention between she and her parents — their dream for her has always been to work at their jewelry company as soon as she graduated college, but she somehow managed to convince them to entertain her wish to go to graduate school for an English degree. They told her she could do it as long as she starts at their office as soon as graduation comes around.

She hasn't quite yet figured out how she's getting out of that one. If she even can.

"I know, father," Y/N forces out, redirecting her attention to flipping the pancakes on the pan. "It's just important that I get good grades."

"I can't imagine it's very difficult. You speak the language."

She bites her tongue. Her parents have never understood her love for books, always scolding her for having her head in the clouds from a young age. If she's being honest, books have served as a way for her to escape, always wishing she could be the girl getting whisked away by her romantic interest. 

Things always worked out in her books. Potentially having a happy ending like the ones she reads about is the only thing that keeps her going sometimes. 

Her mother, looking pristine as always even at 9 in the morning, enters the kitchen just as Y/N's sitting down to her eat. Turning stiffly, her eyes narrow at her daughter. 

"Those better not be full fat, Y/N." she says, jabbing her pointer finger at her plate. 

"They're not." Y/N says softly.

In response, she simply hums. "I don't understand why you don't just have Freya make you food. She's there for a reason."

Y/N quickly stuffs a bite of pancake into her mouth, shrugging her shoulders as she slowly chews. She's never felt comfortable requesting their chef make her anything to eat when she was perfectly capable of doing it herself. 

"Don't shrug. It's not ladylike," she scolds, Y/N's posture immediately straightening, "We have a lunch meeting with the Franklin family today. If you're available, you should come. You need to start learning the business."

"I have to work on a paper," the lie rolls off her tongue, knowing full well that she nearly finished it last night, "Finals are coming up. School is getting very busy."

"You know, Y/N, you're lucky we grant you all this freedom." her mother spits, the high heels of her Louboutin shoes clacking against the marbled flooring. "One day, you're not going to have this much of a choice in how you spend your time."

Despite only eating half a pancake, Y/N no longer feels hungry. Instead, she just nods her head and rolls her lips into her mouth. 

"You're right. Thank you for everything you do for me." 

She clears her dishes and goes back to her bedroom before her parents have a chance to see the tears streaming down her cheeks.

. . .

Y/N spends the better part of Sunday crying in her bedroom. 

She's so exhausted of this cycle. Her parents work so hard to tear her down all the time, never once taking into account what her dreams and aspirations are. She feels like she can't do anything right, as if nothing she'll do will ever please them. 

In her fit of anger and sadness, she decides she needs to leave Harry behind. He's just a pipe dream, a tiny little sliver of what her life could be if she had less restrictive parents. That night, when she's laying awake in bed, she decides that in the morning, she'll take the fresh piercing out and throw the earring away, delete his number, apologize to Mai, and pretend like this weekend never even happened.

That is the plan, anyway.

Until she wakes up to her alarm at 8 am and she has an unopened text from him, and her heart beats in a way that she's never truly felt before. She doesn't think she's ever smiled this wide after just waking up, the mere appearance of his name on her screen sending waves of hope and happiness throughout her body. 

From: Harry (St. Mark's Social Club)

How's the piercing holding up? 

After getting home on Saturday, he texted her a series of care instructions for the piercing, instructing her to clean it twice a day, twist the earring, and let him know if anything felt off. She wasn't sure what it was, but she felt particularly giddy when he told her what to do. 

To: Harry (St. Mark's Social Club)

good!! no pain or anything and ive been doing what you told me to :)

She has a class at 10 this morning and she knows she should follow her typical routine of a shower, breakfast, and getting ready, but instead, she just lays back in the fluffy tufts of her bedding, smiling to herself as she waits for Harry to text back. A minute or so later, her phone vibrates.

Good girl.

Think you'll come in for your second anytime soon?

Her stomach twists in a delicious way but she's not sure why. There's nothing inherently sexual about what he's messaged her, but it has her craving more, a steady heartbeat forming somewhere deep in her core. 

Her eyes read over his question and she bites her lip. She knows that less than 10 hours ago, she was planning to forget Harry, but the feeling he gives her is addictive. She doesn't want to stay away — so she won't.

yeah, if you don't mind doing it :)) maybe today? 

In reality, she doesn't want to go under the needle again so soon, but she's craving to see him. He did say he'd come in any day for her.

Harry: I'd love to. What time are you free?

Y/N: i have classes from 10 to 1 today.. would 1:30 work? i can come by on my way home from campus

Harry: How about I meet you at your last class and we walk to the shop together?

Y/N swears her heart is going to beat right out of her chest. Her parents have never allowed her to hang out with a guy outside of anyone they approved of — over the years, they've attempted setting her up with other men of their same financial and social stature, but Y/N was never interested. As a result, they all grew bored of her by the second date, and her parents would yell at her for not being appealing enough. 

She doesn't know if Harry will be bothered by the same thing, but she wants — no, she needs — to find out.

Y/N: okay:) 

Harry: Great. Can't wait to see you. x

. . .

Harry knows he's pushing it.

This girl may as well have wealthy virgin tattooed across her forehead, but he just can't get himself to stay away. It doesn't seem like she wants him to either, which just makes it harder. And as he's waiting for her outside of her lecture hall on a campus he's never even step foot on, he realizes that they're from very, very different universes. 

That doesn't really bother him. He can see the obvious differences — he wears all black, has over 70 tattoos (most of which were impulsive or practice while he was apprenticing), and gives people tattoos and piercings for a living. Y/N is smart and soft; an English major in graduate school, lives with her parents, and drives a car that costs more than his yearly rent. 

He's not blind. Although, if he was blind to pretty, innocent girls, he probably could stop walking around with a permanent boner from thinking about how gorgeous she'd look in his bed.

The only thing that can tear him from his thoughts is the sight of her. He watches as she walks through the doors of the building, a slight pep in her step when she notices him, waving her hand with a smile. He licks his lips absently, willing the arousal pooling deep in his stomach to go away. 

"Hi," she greets as she approaches him, "How're you?"

"I'm good." he answers, trying his best not to let his eyes wander over her outfit, "How was class?"

"'s okay. Kind of boring. Almost fell asleep once or twice."

"Yeah?" Harry chuckles as they begin to walk towards the nearest campus exit. "Gotta stay awake in those smarty pants classes of yours, princess."

He already knows she's blushing before he turns his head to see the familiar flush flower over her skin. He points to the bag over her shoulder, pausing his steps. "Lemme carry that for you."

"Oh— no, you don't have to, I don't want to be annoying—"

"Why would that be annoying?" he asks with a quirked brow. She swallows, shrugging her shoulders. "I don't have to if it makes you uncomfortable."

"N-no, it wouldn't," she shakes her head and he nods, keeping his arm stretched out. She pushes the strap down her shoulder and hands the bag to him. "Thank you. That's very kind of you, Harry."

"What d'you have in here, a ton of bricks?" he asks teasingly as he slips the pink tote over his own shoulder. 

"No! I have to bring books to campus every day so we can discuss certain passages and stuff. I guess I've been doing it for so long I didn't notice how heavy it is."

"It's very heavy, Y/N," Harry says, stuffing his hands into the front pocket of his sweatshirt, "No wonder you're falling asleep in class, you're basically doing an upper body workout on your way there."

"It's not that big a deal," she replies nonchalantly. "It's just— it's what my professors want, so."

He continues grumbling, annoyed that anyone would ask this girl to shuttle all this weight to campus every day. 

"Can you start parking closer to your lecture halls, then? I don't wanna find out you dislocated your shoulder one day."

She shakes her head. "I don't drive to campus."

"Oh, is parking that bad?"

Y/N begins to fidget, wringing her hands out in front of her as they walk. Harry glances at her from his peripherals, soaking in the nervousness written all over her face. 

"No... my parents don't let me drive to campus, that's all."

He hums, attempting to stay unbiased, even if everything he's learned about her so-called parents has only made anger rise in his chest. 

"Do they have a lot of limits on things you can and can't do?" 

"Kind of. I don't know."

"Is... is that something that bothers you?"

She worries her bottom lip between her teeth as they stop at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to turn. He shifts his body to face her. 

"I've never really told anyone about how they are, but... well, they take care of me. They always have. They just have a very clear vision of what they want for me."

"Right," Harry nods, "Just because they care for you or pay for certain things doesn't mean they're good, though. I'm not saying they aren't— I just don't want you to confuse the two."

"I guess."

He decides to leave it at that, mainly because he can she's growing uncomfortable, but also because they're approaching the shop. He pushes the door open and holds it for Y/N, who sheepishly walks in, Harry close behind. 

He doesn't acknowledge anyone as she follows him to his station, but she supposes it's not out of the ordinary for him to do these things since he's the owner. Once they're safely sheltered by the walls of his space, Y/N lets out a breath, sitting down in the chair she was in on Saturday.

After setting her bag down, he washes his hands at the sink. A long-haired guy pops his head in, grinning when he sees Y/N. 

"Hey, H," he greets, "Didn't know you'd be here today."

Harry's tone is gruffer towards the man, even though he seems friendly. "Yeah. What's up?"

"I need a favor. I have an appointment that looks like it's gonna take a little longer than anticipated — last minute changes and all that to the design, but Jude is coming in to pickup at 2. You mind dealing with him?"

He glares at the man before assuming what Y/N is starting to call his signature pose — arms crossed over his broad chest, leaning back against some surface in his station (today, it's the tattoo bed).

"None of the other idiots can do it? Kinda busy."

"It's your off day, figured you could handle him," he shrugs, "Unless you'd like to introduce me—"

"Shut up." Harry replies, clenching his jaw. A spark zips up Y/N's body, though she's not sure why he seems to take offense to the man's words. "Yeah, I'll deal with it. What does he want?"

"Just some edibles and a few grams of bud. Nothing crazy."

Again, Y/N doesn't miss the way Harry shoots a glare at him, who simply raises his hands in mock defense. As if speaking through some sort of secret language, he backs out of the room, his Adidas sneakers sounding crisply against the wooden floors as he walks away.

"Sorry," Harry mumbles.

"Oh. It's okay."

He turns back around to look at Y/N, who somehow looks even smaller in the chair since they arrived.

"You have no idea what that was about, do you?"

She shrugs, though it's clear that Harry's right. She doesn't often like showcasing her naive nature, like it's some sort of party trick for people to laugh at. It makes her feel sad, a reminder of the "normal" years she could have had if not for her parents.

He sighs and lifts a hand to run through his messy hair. "A few of us sell weed on the side here. It's not really a big deal, but we just do it for some extra cash on the side. I would've rather told you on my own time, though."

Y/N's palms find her thighs, plucking at the hem of her skirt as she swallows, digesting the information. Weed? Her parents had always taught her that all drugs were bad. In their minds, weed was just as bad as heroin, but when Y/N read about states legalizing the former, she didn't quite understand how that made sense. 

"I hope that doesn't make you think any differently of me," he continues. "I'm sorry."

She keeps her eyes set in her lap, "Is weed... bad?"

She's expecting him to laugh at her but instead, when she looks up, she's met with a small, adoring smile on his lips. His eyes twinkle just a bit as he shakes his head.

"No, it's not bad, dove. What do you know about it?"

"Nothing, really. I know it's legal in some places but my parents always told me to stay away from any drugs."

"I think a lot of parents do that," Harry replies with a nod, "But it can actually be really helpful for people. Mentally, physically. And others just like it, they enjoy the feeling of being high."

She swallows before biting her lip. "Do you... do you like it?"

"I do." he says. "Is that okay?"

She thinks he could tell her he's a serial killer and she would be okay with it.

"Yeah. 's okay."

His grin widens. "Alright. Lemme get you settled with this other piercing. I'll have to step out to sell to Jude at 2, but after that, do you wanna grab something to eat?"

She nods so fast she feels like a bobblehead. A chuckle — the warmest, most melodic thing Y/N thinks she's ever heard — sounds from his mouth.

"Just don't pass out again on me, Sleeping Beauty."

. . .

Y/N takes her second piercing much better than her first. 

(And by that, she means she only teared up a little bit, and no fainting occurred.) 

She's actually more nervous about the whole weed... thing. She feels torn. There's a half of her that feels intimidated by it; the part that still has a foot stuck in her parents' world, she supposes, where they taught her to never even look at people like Harry. The other half of her is intrigued to see what happens. Fascinated by him, maybe, and the way she feels when she's around him, and she doesn't know whether that's a good thing or not.

"Harry!" 

Someone calls his name from the main room as he's cleaning up and he peeks his head out. 

"Yeah?"

"Jude's here!"

He looks a lot less flighty about it than she assumes he would. Instead, he simply walks back into his station and unlocks a bottom cabinet to reveal a safe inside. 

"Know you're watching, princess," he says, turning his head to flash a toothy smirk in her direction. She looks away, blinking nervously. "Don't reveal any of my grand weed secrets to anyone, hm?"

"I'm not," she huffs, making him chuckle, "I'm just... curious."

Harry hums, pulling contents out from the safe. When he's done, he doesn't even bother concealing any of the weed he's just taken out, instead just rising to his feet. 

"I'll be right back. We can talk about the curiosity in a second."

Y/N's not snappy enough to come up with a response so she simply watches him walk away. She's only seen drug deals go down in movies and TV shows, where they're dramatic and part of the mob and guns are a necessity. She doesn't think this is one of those drug deals, but who is she to assume?

Surprisingly, Harry returns less than two minutes later with a small wad of cash in his hand. He pockets it, smiling at her when he sees she's still sitting there, the same perplexed look on her face. 

"Steal any of my bud while I was gone?"

"Harry!" 

He cackles and shakes his head. "Alright, dovie, c'mere."

Hesitantly, she stands, shuffling over to where Harry is back to kneeling on the floor. He looks up at her with an expectant expression, a wordless command to do the same. She does.

"Okay. You said you were curious?"

She nods.

"I've always found that the best solution to curiosity is knowledge. This doesn't mean you have to do anything, but it's good to know about things that may intimidate you," he explains. "So, weed can be found in a few different forms. I only sell flower, which are these little buds," he pulls out a container, showing her the small green nuggets. "And edibles, which is just candy or chocolate, stuff like that, with different levels of potency." 

"Oh." Y/N furrows her eyebrows, a small wrinkle forming between them. "That's it?"

He chuckles, "Mhm. That's it."

"And what does it do?"

"Like how does it make me feel?"

She nods.

"It's different for everyone and strains — like, the types of weed — will affect people differently, too. For me, it just makes me a little more relaxed and giggly, more touchy and less in my head. It's nice."

"That does sound nice." she says softly. He hums as he pushes the container back into the safe, locking it back up in the cabinet. "Do you think I would like it?"

It's a question that kind of blurts out without thinking about it. When he turns to look at her, eyes serious and thoughtful, she feels small; the way everyone her age or older has always made her feel. She swallows harshly, immediately regretting it.

"I don't know the answer to that, but if you ever want to try, you can tell me. I'll make sure you have a safe experience."

It's not the answer she's expecting, but instead maybe the one that only exists in her wildest dreams. She looks down to hide her blush and he smiles to himself, ducking down to catch her eyes. 

"You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you're a blushy little thing."

Her jaw snaps closed, wiggling uncomfortably at his blatant call out. Her mother always told her that her emotions were easy to read — she said it made her weak, though. 

"I like it," Harry quickly amends, throat bobbing, "I like it a lot." 

She thinks she notices his eyes zip to her lips, but just as quickly as they dart down, they're back up to her eyes. She swallows when she realizes they've somehow gotten closer, the distance slowly closing between them in millimeters. She doesn't know who's moving in — if it's him or her or both — but suddenly, she's looking up and his face is hovering over hers, blinking in silent permission. When she doesn't grant it because she's too nervous to speak, his tongue peeks out, licking over his raspberry lips. 

"Is this okay?" He asks, minty breath ghosting over her mouth. "Can I do this?"

She nods, because she thinks any noise that would come out of her mouth would be just that — a sad excuse of a squeal. Her heart is pulsing in her ears, her hands trembling over her thighs, and then it happens — he presses his lips to hers, so gently it's almost like they aren't even there. The last time Y/N kissed someone, it was in ninth grade in the locker room after school, and she doubts it even qualified as a real kiss. This is different, though. This is Harry. 

He feels the nervousness radiating off of her so he breaks away, despite the already addictive taste of her mouth. He's gone too quickly and it makes Y/N's heart rate quicken even faster. 

"Need you to relax, princess." He says with his forehead pressed against hers. "Just follow my lead, okay? Promise it's not hard."

Embarrassed, she nods again, willing him to close the gap for a second time. This time, his lips are quick to move against hers, and it initially takes her by surprise. But she does what he told her to, mimicking his movements in tentative paces. With each passing moment, he's kissing her more and more breathless, and she lifts a shaking hand to the back of his neck, pulling him closer. It's a bold move for her and she swears she feels his signature smirk form into their kiss. 

Time doesn't feel like it moves much when Y/N's mouth is on Harry's, but she knows it is because she needs a break to breathe. With panting lungs, she pulls away, watching as Harry's eyes flicker open. His lips are pinker somehow and swollen with spit. The image makes her core throb. 

"Y'okay?" He asks. Y/N notices his pupils are darkened and he shifts from his seat on the floor, adjusting his lower half. 

"Y-yeah," she nods, "Needed to, um, breathe."

He chuckles. "Yeah? Get a little dizzy there?"

"A little bit." 

"Cute," he murmurs, lifting his thumb to swipe a bit of spit away from her bottom lip. Instinctively, her mouth opens, and she watches as his eyes flicker to hers. Through labored breath, he slowly moves his thumb along her plushy lip, resisting the urge to sink it inside. She's not sure why something as small as this is stirring her insides, but her eyes widen when he breaks away, pushing the finger into his own mouth. 

"Oh." She breathes out. 

"I don't wanna scare you," Harry whispers, "But I'm completely fucked when it comes to you, dove. If you don't want this... want me, I need you to go now." 

She swallows. Slowly, she rises to her knees and inches towards him, closing the small gap that formed between their bodies. She's hesitant in her movements but pushes herself to straddle him, gently sinking her ass down into his lap. His eyes widen. 

"I want this. I want you." She says. 

"Good," Harry mumbles, brushing his lips against hers for the third time that afternoon, "Good." 

. . .

Y/N thinks she could go pro at lying to her parents.

A month ago, she had to spend hours preparing the perfect fib, coaching herself on how to articulate it just casually enough so it didn't seem fabricated. These days, they come out like nothing. 

I'll be home late, I have a group project to work on in the library.

I'm going to a tutoring session for one of my classes, I probably won't be home until dinnertime.

I'm spending some extra time on campus today so I can get a head start on a paper.

In all truthfulness, school couldn't be the furthest thing on her mind right now. Harry is.

Ever since that day they kissed at his shop, they haven't been able to spend more than a day apart. Mostly, they follow the same routine from that very afternoon, where he'll pick her up from her last class of the day and they'll walk back to St. Mark's together. Sometimes, Harry will have deals to do so they sit and talk in the downtime. Other days, he'll have actual work to tend to, accounting and whatever it is he does as a business owner, so she'll do some homework, enjoying the silent companionship. Y/N never stays too late into the evening, not wanting to push her luck with her parents, but Harry always sends her off with a kiss that leaves her breathless, making her promise to text him when she gets home.

And the kissing... yeah. 

Y/N likes to think she's gotten better at it from all the practicing they've been doing. She still gets a bit flustered, but it's one of her favorite things to do with him. The second they shuffle into his station, Harry closes the door so they're finally in private, and it's like a switch is turned on. Within seconds, they're wrapped up in each others arms, mouths wet and hot against one another. She's discovered that her favorite place to be is seated in his lap while his tongue explores her mouth, breathy pants parting her lips. He loves to squeeze her ass over the pleats of her skirt, knowing that it riles her up in the smallest forms of contact — tiny rolls of her hips, nails being pressed into his skin, a slight pull of his hair. 

She doesn't think things could get much better with Harry until today, during their typical makeout-and-grinding session, when he ducks beneath her jaw, pressing messy kisses to her soft skin. It's then that the words leave his lips. 

"Can I feel you under here, dove?"

His hand is fisting the hem of her skirt and the low tone of his voice makes lightning zip through her body. She doesn't know how to reply — she wants to say yes, but her mouth is dry from immediate anxiety. 

"N-no one's ever touched me there," she whispers, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Harry hums, unbothered, kissing her jaw once more before backing away slightly.

"Don't have to do if you don't want to. We can just keep doing what we've been doing if you'd prefer." he replies nonchalantly, his lips swollen. She swallows nervously, perturbed by his frank nature.

"I— I do want you to feel me," Y/N mumbles. It's not a lie — yes, she's a virgin who knows next to nothing about her body besides its reproductive process, but sometimes, when she goes home in the evening, she thinks about what it would like to keep going. She's seen movies and TV shows, but those have only made her even more curious. Sometimes the guy takes it slow and makes it romantic, other times it's painful and uncomfortable. She can only hope Harry would take care of her.

"Where, princess?"

Well, she can only hope that Harry would take care of her in his typical teasing ways.

Huffing, she shakes her head. "I can't say that, H."

"Can't touch you if I don't know where you want it," he murmurs, kissing her cheek lightly. "Wanna hear you say it. Ask me."

"Harry," she whines. "Please? You know... where."

"Here?" he asks, pressing his the warmth of his hand to her thigh. "This where you want me?"

"No."

"Hmm, how about here?" he moves his hand up just a bit further, inching underneath the fabric of her mini skirt to the crease of her thigh. Again, she shakes her head. 

"Dunno where you want me then, dove. Thought you were my good girl."

"H-higher." she mumbles, attempting to push her body closer so he gets the hint.

"Higher?" he echoes with a smirk, "Here?"

This time, his fingertips have found the waistband of her panties. It immediately feels wrong, but not because of who's touching her, but rather the act of it. She takes a deep breath and tries to ignore the voice in her head. Slowly, in an act of false confidence, she bunches the fabric of her skirt up at her hips, watching as Harry's eyes widen. They instantly dart down to the small wet patch between her thighs and it makes him groan softly.

"Jesus," he mutters, forgetting about his little game. He gently thumbs at her clit through the material and she jumps. Using his other hand to squeeze her hip, he tries to keep her steady, mumbling out an apology. "Am I allowed to see this cute little pussy?"

She clenches at his question, surprising herself with how turned on she feels from just a few words. 

"Yes," she nods, "Please."

"'Please'? Aren't you just the sweetest wet dream, hm?" Harry murmurs. He pushes the width of the fabric to the side, making Y/N shiver from the sudden exposure and being under his gaze. "Are you always this polite or is this just for me, princess?"

She licks over her lips when he parts her pussy with his ring and middle fingers. He hums, dipping a fingertip into her crease and lifting it to his mouth. He looks at her expectantly and she realizes she hasn't answered him yet.

"J-just for you." 

"Pretty, swollen pussy just begging for attention. Do you always get this needy when we kiss?" 

She nods, her eyelashes fluttering as he runs the tip of his pointer finger through her wetness. 

A poor excuse for an answer sounds through her lips, the affirmative tone being the only thing that gives him an idea of what she said. He snickers boyishly, Y/N's jaw dropping when they both feel her pussy pulsate. 

"I think my girl is a bit naughtier than I thought," he breathes, moving his finger back up to her clit to form slow, small circles. She gasps from the intensity, a new sensation of overwhelming pleasure that she's never received before. "Is that the truth, dovie? Do you wanna be my naughty girl instead of my polite one? Tell me." 

"Harry," she mewls, arching her back to press deeper into his touch, "P-please— feels really good."

"Yeah?" he smirks, a mocking tone to his voice that makes Y/N squeeze her eyes shut. "Yeah, does it feel really good?"

"You're— you're being mean—"

"Oh, I don't think so, dove. I think I'm letting you use my fingers to get off, petting this pretty little clit until you cum all over my hand. I don't think that's mean, do you?"

He stops stroking at her and her eyes snap open. She can feel how warm her face has gotten under his touch, quiet puffs of breath ghosting over his lips as his eyes twinkle, knowing what he's done.

"Why'd you stop?" she asks in a small voice.

"You said I was being mean," Harry replies with a shrug, "If I were really mean, I'd leave you here high and dry. Do you want to learn about edging today, Y/N?"

She shakes her head, her bottom lip pushed out in a pout. He hums and lifts his hand to his mouth, his pink tongue darting out to swirl around the fingers that were just caressing her. She watches him with wide eyes. She doesn't think she's ever been this turned on in her life.

"Do you like when I tease you?" he asks lowly. They both know the answer — her body couldn't lie even if she wanted to, and Harry noticed it the second he felt her pussy clench against nothing at his mocking tone.

"Y-yes." she whispers.

"Dirty girl," he murmurs, moving both his hands down to her hips to give them a squeeze. He tightens his hold on her and gently moves her up to the tattoo bed, helping her lay down. "We have all the time in the world to learn about what makes your pussy wet, but right now, I wanna make her cum. Can I do that, dovie?"

Y/N nods, allowing him to adjust her body however he wants. He smiles at how pliant she is for him, sticking to her good girl demeanor. 

"Need you to tell me if I go too far or if something doesn't feel right, okay?" he reminds her as he fits himself between her thighs, "At any point, you say stop and we do, no questions asked." 

"Yeah. Okay."

It's apparent to her that Harry is experienced, because it takes no time for him to wiggle his fingers back to their initial position. His thumb is applying the smallest bit of pressure to her clit, still sensitive from when he was playing with it before, but now he's circling over her hole with one of his larger fingers. She gasps at the slight intrusion. 

"Have you ever put your finger in here, princess?" 

She shakes her head. "N-no."

"Do you want me to?" he asks, though he can already feel the way her hole is all but sucking him in, "It won't hurt. Promise."

She trusts him — maybe foolishly, because she knows her parents would disown her if they knew the position she was in right now — but she pushes the thought to the back of her head, instead simply answering his question with a nod. He keeps his eyes on hers as he slowly pushes in, a gasp instantly falling from her plushy lips. Her immediate reaction is discomfort, but as he starts to stroke at something towards the back of her walls, it feels... good. Overwhelmingly good. So good that a loud moan frees itself from deep in her chest and he jumps up, gently pressing his other hand over her mouth. He ducks down and presses a kiss to the shell of her ear.

"Know I'm making your little hole feel so good, but there's other people here. I wanna keep those moans just for myself, okay?" 

Her eyes roll back as he continues to pump his finger inside of her, the assault on the magic little spot never stopping. She can sense the smirk that's likely formed on his face but she can't find it in her to care because she's never, ever felt this good before. She whimpers against his palm and he groans quietly, the sight of his gorgeous girl writhing beneath him nearly too much to handle. He wills his own raging hard-on away, instead focusing on Y/N's need to cum before he can even consider getting himself off. 

"H-harry," she sounds beautiful mewling his name even when it's muffled by his hand, "I feel— I'm—"

"I know, dove, I know," he coos, quickening the loops around her clit. She's growing increasingly sensitive from his touch as her hole throbs around his finger. "Let go for me. Let go for daddy, lemme see that pretty pussy soak me."

Realistically, he would've preferred introducing her to the whole daddy kink thing on different terms, but he's instantly reminded of how insanely lucky he is when those are the words that push her over the edge. His jaw drops as he watches her squirm underneath his hands, riding out her orgasm and squeezing him in the most delicious way. 

"Fuck, you're so fuckin' beautiful," he groans, unable to stop himself from lightly grinding his covered cock against her inner thigh. He can feel the warmth radiating off of her core and his desperation to feel her grows by the second. 

When her orgasm finally subsides, she's panting heavily and he swallows, palming himself over his pants. 

"Is this okay?" he asks breathily. Y/N raises up onto her elbows, her eyes growing a bit wide when she sees what he's doing. Despite how exhausted she is, she still nods, the curiosity of what he looks like when he comes steadily building inside her. "'s not gonna take me long — that was the prettiest thing I've ever fuckin' see. Jesus."

She blushes but he doesn't notice as he pulls his cock out from under his pants and boxers. He spits into his palm and starts to stroke himself, his gaze glued to the swollen mess between her legs. 

In college, Y/N watched porn once. It was with her roommate and her friends, who found out she was a virgin and asked if she knew anything about sex. She didn't, so they had some sort of debauched education night for her, which was really just an excuse to giggle and make fun of the way guys moan in porn. It made her feel weird, watching this couple have sex on camera, but what she does remember is the girl encouraging him to cum. Once she started begging, it pushed him to her orgasm, and Y/N was pretty impressed with that.

So, she swallows her self-conscious nature and gazes up at Harry as the slick pumps over his length grow clumsy. She can see the pre-cum bubbling at the tip and the way he gathers it with each stroke, using it to further lubricate himself. 

"Want you to cum for me," she breathes out, the words sounding foreign when they leave her lungs, "Please. Wanna see it."

Harry's eyes nearly bulge out of his head and she assumes she's done something right by the way he quickly squeezes them shut, a quiet fuck falling from his lips. 

"Please cum for me, daddy."

Much like it was for her, the use of his honorific is what finally pushes him to his finish. His jaw goes slack and his chest vibrates with muffled groans as spurts of cum rain down on Y/N's mound, eliciting a small gasp as the feeling. It's messy, but she's enamored by how gorgeous Harry looks when he comes: swollen lips, clenched abs, flushed cheeks, his large hand fisted around his length. 

"Shit," he mutters, reaching up with his clean hand to push his curls out of his face, "Are you alright? Was that okay?"

She nods far too quickly for her own good. She'd be lying if she says she isn't slightly overwhelmed, but she wouldn't take any of it back. She never wants to forget how good he made her feel, while the knowledge that she's the one that turned him on like that is a boost to her confidence. 

"Lemme clean you up, hold on," he says breathily, reaching over to grab one of the folded hand towels in the cabinet. Gently, he runs the fabric over her sensitive bottom half, shushing her softly. He does the same thing for himself and then helps her shimmy her panties back up. "You sure you feel alright, dove? You're being quiet." 

"'m okay. Just tired." She replies truthfully, sitting up to lean back against the wall. 

"Yeah? One little orgasm and you're ready for a nap?" 

She giggles and buries her head into his shoulder,  her limbs feeling particularly jelly-like. He wraps a loose arm around her shoulders and pulls her closer, chuckling as he presses a kiss to her hair. 

"That's alright. I'm happy to take care of you however you need, princess." 

. . .

"When were you planning on telling me the bookstore is hiring?"

Harry's eyes widen at Y/N's unusually bold demeanor. He glances down at her, following her gaze to where she's staring at the small bookstore across the street. Sure enough, there's a help wanted sign in the window. 

"I didn't know you were looking for a job, dove," he replies with a shrug. In all honesty, he's never really paid attention to the business across the street from his own. 

"Well... I'm not really, but I do want to start making my own money." she says softly, biting her lip. 

He raises his eyebrows, "Yeah? You wanna go see if you can fill out an application?"

Despite her nerves, she still nods her head. Harry smiles and intertwines their fingers together, guiding her across the way to the bookstore. He holds the door open for her and she swallows anxiously, stepping inside the quaint store. With his hand pressed to the small of her back, he gently ushers her to the cashier. 

"Hi," she says shakily, "I saw you're hiring people and I was wondering if I could apply." 

The woman at the front grins, immediately launching into a conversation with Y/N about how excited she is that someone's interested in working for them. As she pulls a paper application out from a drawer on the side, Harry smoothes his hand over her back, rubbing it gently. He's so proud of her, his heart feels like it could burst. 

It's only when she's finishing up filling out her information that someone says her name. They both turn, Y/N's eyebrows instantly furrowing in confusion. 

"Y/N," the woman hisses, and Harry glances down to watch his girl's face crumble, "What are you doing?"

"Y/N... who is this?" Harry asks, his possessive instincts immediately taking over. 

She swallows harshly, tugging at the sleeves of her sweater. 

"Um... this is my mom."

read part two here!

[moonstruckme]

Hey !

So I've just come out of a week with an absolutely awful cold where I lost my voice and it was absolutely exhausting.

So, if you'd like I wanted to request a poly!marauders x sick reader with fluff and coddling when reader lost her voice and they're being overprotective and soft . Maybe emt!marauders? As you'd like ✨️

Thank you 💕 🌸

Ugh hope you feel better soon my love <3

modern au

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 915 words

Sirius’ thumb draws circles into the fat of your hip, your head heavy against his chest. You’re letting your cheek smush against the material of his shirt, your entire body lax with lethargy. You really feel mostly fine, but it’s difficult not to indulge in some self-pity when your boyfriends are treating you so tenderly. 

“Are you tired, love?” Remus’ voice is low and dulcet, his eyes honey-colored in the afternoon light spilling through the window as he watches you from his chair. 

“No,” you rasp. His eyebrows stitch together compassionately. “Just comfortable.” 

You can very nearly feel the smugness emanating from Sirius at that. He kisses the top of your head, and Remus rolls his eyes at whatever face he’s made that you can’t see. 

“Do you want to try to gargle some saltwater before you have your tea?” Remus asks. 

You sigh, sinking further into Sirius’ side. “Maybe later.” 

“Oh, sweetheart, please stop.” James hisses through his teeth as he carries in a steaming cup of tea. “It hurts me when you talk, you sound so awful.” 

You shoot him a wry look—thanks—and Sirius grins. 

“I think you sound dead sexy,” he whispers conspiratorially. 

You laugh, and even that sounds warped and awful. “Yeah?” you say, reaching up for the tea as James passes it to you. Your voice squeaks, cracking horrifically. “Just like this?” 

“Prick.” James sits down beside you on the couch, kicking halfheartedly at Sirius’ leg. “Don’t encourage her.” 

You have to quell your giggling before you trust yourself to take a sip of your tea. It’s so sweet you think it might be half honey, not that you’re complaining; the effect is immediate relief for your raw throat. Remus unpauses the film you were watching, and James pulls one of your feet into his lap, massaging it like a stress ball through the material of your fuzzy sock. Sirius is still drawing heavy circles into your hip, and despite your claims of alertness, you’re well on your way to actually falling asleep when you notice Remus has turned subtly away from the TV and appears to be scrutinizing you. 

“What?” you ask. 

“Sweetheart,” James begs, his fingers tensing around your foot, “please.” 

“You really won’t let me check your throat for strep?” Remus asks. 

For James’ sake, you confine your response to a shake of your head. 

“Why not?” he presses, fully turning his back on the film. “If it was strep, we could get you some medicine. I don’t like seeing you sick, dove.” 

You send him a sorry little smile, but your answer hasn’t changed. 

“Why don’t you let him just have a look?” James coaxes. Sirius’ free hand comes up, laying flat over your forehead as he checks again for a fever. 

“Because it’s gross,” you say, and James winces but doesn’t complain, “and I think my breath must be awful. It’s only been a couple of days anyway.” 

“It could be a lot longer if it is strep throat and you don’t treat it,” Remus points out.

James leans closer to you, beckoning. “Give me a breath, and I’ll let you know if it’s horrid.” 

“No!” you lean away from him, laughing. 

“Why not?” 

“Bec—” Sirius takes the opportunity to get his index finger in your mouth, wedging it between your teeth. 

“Sirius!” you squeak, all the s’s of his name reduced to vague shushing sounds. “What are you doing?” 

James and Remus snicker at your lisping, but Sirius is the picture of cool composure, watching you steadily as you wrap your hand around his wrist. You give a tug, but he curls his finger around the inside of your bottom teeth and holds fast. 

“I could sit like this all day,” he says, disgustingly proud of himself, “or you could let Remus check your throat for pesky little spots.” 

You stare him down. The problem with Sirius is, he stares right back, and it’s difficult to feel very intimidating when you’ve got his finger sticking out of your mouth. He drops one eyelid in a wink. You’re loath to give into his smugness, but after a few seconds you roll your eyes. James takes your tea from you as Remus comes forward, getting out his phone light and stooping over you, and you allow Sirius to tip your mouth open. 

“Ugh, rank!” he jokes, immune to the glare you send his way. Remus ignores you both, steadying himself with a hand at your jaw as he peers inside your mouth. 

“Stick your tongue out, dove?” he requests, and you do, heat creeping up your neck. James squeezes your foot sympathetically. 

“I think,” Remus says softly, brows furrowing as he looks a moment longer, “you’re in the clear.” 

You let out a little cough, curling towards your chest as he steps away and James and Sirius cheer. 

“Told you,” you can’t help but say, voice scraping. 

“You were right, angel,” James indulges you, squeezing up the length of your calf. “So what does this mean?” 

Remus shrugs. “That it’s probably not strep throat. Could be anything else, we likely won’t know unless it gets worse.” 

“Steady diet of tea and honey?” Sirius asks gravely. 

“Certainly,” James answers in the same serious tone. “And rest. Lots of rest. Probably shouldn’t move on her own.” 

“So, business as usual,” you joke. Remus chuckles as Sirius stamps a kiss on the crown of your head. 

“Smart girl,” he praises. “Glad the fever’s not gone to your head yet.” 

[chrisdr3]

"Ignorant" ~ OP81

Fluff

Oscar x Introvert!Reader

Summary: Y/n gets hateful comments about her appearance and for being "ignorant", whilst Oscar tries to understand what's going on with her feelings.

You never really liked to talk much, you always were shy and tended to hide your emotions. You were more on the introverted side, like Oscar. When you were together, Oscar did most of the talking, especially when you were infront of fans, reporters and team members unknown to you.

That's the main reason the hate started. Most of it, at least. Every day, you were recieving hateful messages and comments on your social media. Everywhere you went, several fans that recognised you said things about you. Because of that, you started staying at home and you stopped posting stuff on your social. The worst part is that you distanced yourself slowly from relatives and friends.

At the last few races, you went on McLaren's hospitality from the back, avoiding fans as much as you could and avoided places of the garage that had cameras and media. You took your headset and hid in lonely corners or in Oscar's driver room, where nobody could reach you, and stayed there, sometimes crying and others just sitting and thinking. Feeling hideous and snub.

As the time passed, you started distancing yourself from Oscar slowly, thinking he hated you just like the "fans". He wasn't talking much either, so that's what you thought. You didn't really hug or cuddle him, you ate and showered alone, you spent hours locked up in your office room, reading books, and didn't sleep well at night, staring at the ceiling, trying not to cry. Long story short, you started avoiding him, too.

The fist days, Oscar thought you had to study for uni. Then a week passed and Oscar started to get worried. He wanted to help you, he wanted to talk to you, to find what's going on. He was cooking your favourite meals, bringing them to your door, tried to understand if you had a certain time of going out to shower, but you didn't.

One day, he checked your social media, just in case he found why were you acting like that. He checked them that same afternoon he came up with the idea and scrolled through your accounts, every comment he saw made him even angrier. He then posted something in response.

"I've repeatedly seen hateful actions and comments about Y/n and I want people to know that she's not ignorant or rude, she's an introverted person. So, I'm requesting from everyone to respect her. If there are still people out there, still hating on her through internet or irl, they'll stop being considered "fans" by me and will be reported. Thank you." That's what the post said.

He then waited till you got out to shower and stranded waiting in the doorframe if the closed bathroom door. When you got out, he moved infront of you and pulled you into a warm, bone crushing hug. "Why are you so distant lately, sweetheart?"

Tears escaped from your eyes, and you cried silently in Oscar's arms, staining his shirt with them. He didn't move, he rubbed your back gently. "That's it, let it out princess." You continued crying till you hadn't any more tears to shed, holding the towel around your body tightly, afraid it will fall.

Oscar cupped your face and kissed your forehead. "It's okay baby, I'm here for you." He whispered. "Talk to me, what took you away from me?" You looked at him, your face tear stained, sad. "Promise n-not to get angry?" You mumbled. "Of course, I can't get angry that easily, especially from you." He replied, caressing your hair.

You didn't leave his arms, snuggled in their warmth instead. "D-do you hate me?" You mumbled, looking at your feet. "Why would I hate you baby?" He responded, not getting his arms off you. "Because I'm"ignorant" and "rude" and "snub"." Oscar looked at you and smiled sadly. "It's the comments, huh?" You raised your head, a questioning expression in your face.

"I know about the hate you get. I saw it on your social and you don't know how many times I've heard "fans" talk to me or to other people about you when in races or downtown." He explained, ruffling yor hair. "Oh..."

"I'm here for you baby, I know you are shy and stuff but I believe in you. You can ignore them and you have the words to confront them." He smiled. "Can you try that? For me?" "I'll try..." You whispered. "Thanks, sweetheart." You kissed his cheek, adjusting your towel. Oscar noticed, he then grabbed your hand and led you to your shared bedroom. "Let's get you dressed, princess."

Taglist: @pinkswaet @dilemmaontwolegs @changetyre @thef1diary @f1driverszona

[dizscreams]

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT81ra4ov/

Hii! I've been binge reading most of ur fics, especially ur Hobie Brown ones :)) I was wondering if you could pls write one based off this tiktok, idk I feel like he'd give the most comforting hugs 😭 maybe the readers having a bad day and Hobie has to put up with it for the most part and she realizes how bad she's acting up and feels awful about it

STOP THIS TREND IS SO SWEET :(

MY BABY !

— Hobie Brown ★

PAIRING: Hobie Brown x GN!Reader

A/N: this helped me w my motivation hdjshfh

“Hey love, you alright?” Your boyfriend, who was sitting on your bed, greeted you as you entered your bedroom. You looked upset and angry as you flopped down on the bed. “ ‘M fine, Hobie,” you grumbled your reply as you put your face into your pillow.

“You don’t look fine.” He put his hand on your back and rubbed soothing circles on it before you swatted his hand away. “I’m fine,” you told him sternly, “I just want to take a nap.”

“You want me to take one with ya?”

“No, I want to be alone.”

You said the last part quite harshly and Hobie raised an eyebrow. He got up off of the bed and left the room muttering a ‘fine then’. He went into the living room and slumped down on the couch. Hobie bounced his foot up and down as he searched for something to watch on the TV.

He didn’t want to leave you alone, he wanted to comfort you. The fact that you didn’t want him around you hurt, but he also understood you just needed to calm down a bit. So, for half of the afternoon he sat on the couch while on his phone and half watching the tv.

That didn’t stop him from looking at your bedroom door and quietly going in the room to check on you every now and then, though. At one point you had finally come out of the room but you barely even looked at Hobie and when he tried to make conversation you brushed him off.

“Hungry?” He asked as he watched you rummage through the refrigerator.

“Yep.”

Hobie stood up and walked towards you. “Want me to make you somethin?” He asked, stretching.

“I’m fine, Hobie.” You slammed the refrigerator door and went back into your room. Hobie tilted his head back and let out a sigh as he walked back to the couch and sat on it. He wanted to know what was the matter with you but he didn’t want to risk making you even more mad.

The only reason he was being patient was because he knew you. He knew you’d come around.. eventually! He debated going back to his own dimension a couple thousand times while he was waiting but he didn’t want to leave you.

Eventually ended up being in the evening when Hobie was about to doze off on the couch.

You on the other hand couldn’t sleep. You hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the way you had treated your boyfriend. So, you slowly got up and opened your bedroom door to take a peak into the living room. You saw him sprawled out on the couch looking half awake.

You left the bedroom completely and walked over to the couch. “Hobie,” you asked quietly as you slightly shook him, “You awake?” He opened his eyes all the way and nodded, “Yeah, ‘M awake doll.” You smiled softly and sat at the end of the couch. “I’m sorry I’ve been a dick today.” You gave him a sad look and he gave you a small smile in return. “C’mere,” he said as he shifted his position to sit back against the couch instead of laying across it. You made your way over to him and sat right next to him, leaning into his side.

You put your head on his shoulder and he put his arms around your middle. “I’m sorry, Hobie.” He chuckled, “t’s alright, love. Promise.” You shook your head, “It’s not.” You hugged him tighter and his smile only grew. “It is.”

You littered small kisses across his jaw and neck. “I really am sorry, baby. You’re too good to me,” you said against his skin. He shook his head and kissed the top of yours. “You wanna talk about why you’ve been in a mood all day?”

You smiled. and ranted to him while he traced shapes along your back.

[pia-nor481]

She…what? Chapter One

Lando norris x reader (hints at Daniel ricciardo x reader

1.7k words | Series Masterlist

"Pardon?" Lando exasperated, looking towards his friend. They were sat in his hotel room, even now, no longer teammates, they made a point to go out together, or at least see each other every week. "I'm serious." Daniel replied, unsure as to why his friend reacted in such a way. "I'm not doubting you, I'm having issue comprehending what you've said." Lando spoke quietly, taking a sip of his drink. "She gives the best blow jobs." Daniel stated simply, looking at Lando's raised eyebrow. "Good for you man, but why are you telling me this?" He stood up quickly, to retrieve another drink, and hide his slightly red face. "Come on, I know you've not been laid for a while, plus I think you'd quite like her." Lando was at a loss for words, he walked back towards the bed as slow as possible, it wasn't strange for them to talk about their most recent hook up, but it was never like this. "I'm sorry, you're asking me to fuck some girl you're seeing?" Daniel's immediate response was to roll his eyes, not understanding Lando's struggle. "No, well I'm not seeing her per say. It's a little agreement of sorts."

"So she's a hooker?" Lando said, sounding slightly disappointed, not that he wouldn't be up for it, he was just expecting something different. "No, god no. She's a girl I've been sleeping with? yes. Do I pay for it? No. But it's not a relationship either. It's kind of hard to explain." Lando was sipping his drink throughout Daniel's small speech, he gained a small amount of clarity.

So here Lando was, currently hungover, after a night in a club post race, it was four in the afternoon and he was panicking slightly. Daniel had given him a room number and said that he'd understand everything when he was through the door, but it took a while for him to knock. Realistically, what was he supposed to say? His whole body was filled with a mix of emotions that made it hard to function, he was nervous, shy, and slightly embarrassed. He'd never spoken to anyone with in this context before, so to say he was struggling would be an understatement. The shuffling behind the door got louder and louder until he was met with a beautiful woman. "Hello?" Lando was stunned, she was truly enticing, especially when she spoke. "And who are you?" She said with a warm and sweet tone, a light smile adorning her face. "Lando." He struggled to get his words out, he could see why Daniel would not stop speaking about her. "You're Daniel's friend?" She turned away from him, walking further into the hotel room. It was only now Lando was able to see her fully; She adorned a silk robe, one that framed her so well. She poured him a glass of wine that he took, but chose not to drink. "Yes, I am."

"So, Lando, What did he tell you?" She emphasised his name, making eye contact with him, sipping her drink slowly. "To be honest not much." He looked almost bashful as the words left his mouth. "What would you like to know?" she practically whispered, moving closer, then placing her hand on his knee. She pursed her lips slightly as she began to run her hand further up his leg, making it harder for Lando to think. "What this really is, or what it will be." In all honesty, he didn't know how to act, or what to say. "Whatever you want, well, with in reason....Just not tonight." She jumped up rather quickly, swaying her hips as she walked to the other side of the room, pouring another drink. "Why?" Desperation laced his voice, eyes wide. "There is a lot of things we must sort first, and that will take quite some time." While her back was turned, Lando took this as an opportunity to look around the room. Claiming it was vast would be an understatement. Filled with the hotel's finest furniture with the lights set to a dim, sensual level would be the best way to describe it. But, this coupled with just the sight on her, was slowly turning Lando on. "What do we need to sort out?" His patience was wearing thin, but he was yearning for her already. She paused for a moment, but Lando was too focused on the mirror on the ceiling. "I have to learn about what you like, and you about my limits... You will also have to sign an NDA, no matter your decision." He was surprised with her proposition. 

"NDA?" Lando needed her to elucidate, why would she need him to sign such a thing, and not just the other way around. "You are not the only one with things to lose." She stopped speaking again, and walked into another room, leaving Lando to his thoughts; He had no right to ask about her personal life at this moment in time, however, that didn't stop his curiosity. What did she have to lose? How did she get into this situation? All those questions would go unanswered for a long while. He began to hear her footsteps once again, this time there was a paper in her grasp. "I'll give you a while to read through it." Lando had never read something so fast in all of his life, and so, was quick to reach for a pen. He was feeling warm, but not as dizzy as before, he was certain in is sobriety.  "So....Where do we start?" the driver had never asked so many questions in one day, but he just couldn't help it. He tried not to asked closed questions as he wanted o hear her seraphic voice. "Tell me about what you like, Lando, I promise I wont judge." She winked as she sat beside him again, keeping her body closer than before. He knew what she was asking but he just could not form a coherent response. His brain became foggy, but she waited for a while, trying to coerce him into relaxing slightly. "Let's start simple, do you have any kinks that you have? Or would like to try? It can only be a few for now." She tried not to overwhelm him, knowing this can be quite the stressful situation. With how personal this is, she knew that no matter how confident or extroverted the person was, it would still be very hard. His nerves were overt, so she began to run her hand over his arm and shoulder, waiting for a response. "Um...I like blindfolds...and...mirrors." He was hesitant, but as soon as he saw the smile on her face, his shoulders lowered slightly. "Well, isn't that convenient." 

Lando pulled her closer, practically forcing her into his lap, not that she wasn't pleased with the gesture; happy with his confidence back, she let him speak. "Anything I need to know about you?" His hands slowly danced up her back, trailing along her vertebrae. "A few things, I don't have many hard NOs. But you'll get to find out about that at a later date. I will say, I use the traffic light system. I'm guessing you're familiar with it?" His hands travel back down, groping her ass. "Yeah...Woah, you are responsive." He could feel her shifting in his lap more frequently now. "So, hows this supposed to work?" Lando began to move his hips slightly meeting hers. "I call you, or you call me, and if I'm not busy, you will have my room number, and we go from there." Lando smiled ear to ear, squeezing her thighs slightly rough, testing the waters. "If you're not busy?" He said in jest. "Yes Lando, I'm in very high demand." She laughed lightly, grinding harder. "Oh, so I'm one of the lucky few?" Lando's lips met her neck rather quickly, he began kissing and sucking lightly. "Exactly....Knew I'd like you." He laughed into her skin, waiting for another statement, but it never came. 

She pulled away from him, and he was once again dumbfounded. Lando licked his lips as his eyes raked over her body, he was so excited. But doesn't like to be teased. "Oh come on Sweetheart. Don't do this to me." He stood up, walking towards her, but she just backed away, walking towards the actual bedroom. "Oh Lando, I can't give you everything now, then nothing will be bring you back." She giggled, eyeing him up, she was excited to play with him. But it would be better if she made him wait. "Such a tease, I'll be punishing you for that." He threatened her with an opposing tone. Lando reached for his phone resting on the table as she spoke. "I look forward to it." She said in a sultry tone, backing away from his view. Lando walked towards the hotel door, feeling his phone buzz in his hand. 

"Considering how long you've been, I'd say you liked her" -Daniel 

Lando chuckled, choosing to leave his friend on read, the walk to his hotel room was short, it was only now that he noticed how close her and Daniel's rooms were. Lando continued to ponder until he was met with the number 303. He knocked lightly, knowing his friend was waiting. "So... What happened?" Daniel said, ushering him into the hotel room. Lando was hesitant to say, he was unaware of what happened with them, and didn't want to either say something he's not supposed to, or upset Daniel in anyway. It was a sensitive topic, and although he signed the non-disclosure agreement stating that he could discuss this with Daniel, it all felt a little strange. "We discussed a few things, and she had me sign an NDA. But other than that, not much." Daniel smirked, looking back towards Lando, offering him another drink. "That's good, you were gone for quite some time, so I'm guessing you liked her." Lando nodded, looking away for a brief moment, "Yeah, we uh...made out a little bit." He didn't know how to feel, so many emotions were running through his body, it was making it hard to focus, his hands were shaking slightly, and his eyes unfocused. Lando felt almost intoxicated with her. "Just wait until you're in her mouth." 

Chapter Two

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

I've had a bit of brainrot today and have to share so I can get it out of my head (maybe) so feel free to ignore lol I've been thinking of 141 having a civilian spouse (separately, just in case there was confusion) that only ever refers to them by their call sign/rank during an emergency situation. Using it just immediately sets off sirens and they see red. - 🐍

Yesss. Got a bit carried away with this one, lol. Only did 141 specifically, lmk if you'd like to see anyone else! Also tried my best to make this GN!😊

141 With Reader Who Uses Their Callsign in Emergency Situation

Warnings: mentions of guns, violence, unwanted advances/touching, stalking, swearing, injury, crying--- I promise it has a good ending😅

Simon Ghost Riley-

"Golly, aren't you a fine looking thing." You heard a voice say behind you, as you were standing at the bar getting you and Simon another drink. Simon had just gone to the bathroom, so you knew you were on your own for this.

You turned around and were met with a man double your size, a sickening smile making its way on his face.

"Oh, thank you." You mustered a small smile before turning back to the bar, praying the man would take the hint and leave you alone.

"No, I mean it. I could take that little ass of yours home right now." The man came closer, and you could just start to feel his breath on your neck, making you cringe.

"I have a boyfriend, I'm sorry." You tried softly. You were desperate at this point, your eyes searching for Simon.

"I don't see him anywhere." The man smiled, his teeth were yellow, and his breath reeked of cheap booze.

"He just went to the restroom." You mumbled.

You felt a hand grope your ass slightly, squeezing at the flesh there. "Mmhmm, if I were your boyfriend, I'd never leave you unattended like this."

You cried out, moving to swat the guys hand away, to no avail. Nobody around you seemed to notice your predicament, and you were starting to grow scared.

The man pushed you up against the counter, his hand now gripping your waist. "Be a good little pet and come with me, okay?"

You struggled against his hold and screamed out, "Ghost!"

Simon, who had just exited the restroom, heard the wail and immediately started to run to you. What he saw had him seeing red.

He forced himself between you and the man and grabbed his hand roughly. "Who the fuck do you think you are touching them."

The man looked as if he was about to piss himself, as Simon was nearly a half foot taller and twice as bulky. "Sorry, man, they acted like they wanted it."

Simon seethed and twisted the man's wrist with such force that you swore you heard bones cracking. "Get. The. Fuck. Out. Of. Here. Before I decide to do something that'll end with me in jail."

The man let out a small whimper, grabbed his now bruised hand and ran for the door.

Simon watched as he fled, then turned his attention to you, his eyes softening. "Y/N? Sweetheart, are you okay?"

Your eyes filled with tears as you threw yourself into Simon's chest. "Thank you, Si."

"You don't have to thank me. That's what I'm here for, yeah? Why won't we go home, I'll draw you a bath." He pulled away and cupped your cheeks, carefully pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

You nodded your head slowly and let Simon lead you out of the bar, not expecting him to crouch down on the ground once you made it outside. "Si?"

"Cmon, get on my back. Long way to the car." He gestured to his back and helped you on it, holding your legs tightly as he walked you to his car. He'd be damned if he ever let anything like that happen again to his person.

Kyle Gaz Garrick-

You were walking around your local department store one afternoon with Kyle, looking to find him some new dress shirts. The two of you had a friends wedding to attend that weekend, and Kyle didn't have many outfits to pick from.

"What about this one?" You picked out a light blue stripped dress shirt, holding it up for Kyle to see.

"I'll look like a grandpa with that one, babe." He joked, waiving away the shirt.

"You'd be a hot grandpa." You countered, putting the shirt back.

"Oh hush. I gotta run to the restroom, I'll be right back." He chuckled as he gave your arm a squeeze. You watched him walk away with a small smile before returning to the racks in front of you.

Unbeknownst to you, there was a gentleman who'd been following you and Kyle around the store for some time now, and now that Kyle was gone, it was the perfect opportunity to strike.

You were just rounding the next row of racks when the man came up behind you and started to pull on your purse. You cried out, trying to pull back, but the man was too strong. He yanked with one mighty tug, ripping the purse from your arm, and shoved you backward, sending you toppling into the racks behind you.

"GAZ!" You screamed, as the man stared at you, frozen, before turning the other way and running.

Kyle was walking toward you when he heard you scream, and his blood ran cold. He immediately sprinted in your direction, running right into the man with your purse. The man fell backward, and Kyle looked down to see him clutching your purse.

He put his foot on the man's stomach and pushed down hard. "Give me the fucking purse, asshole."

The man refused and tightened his grip on your bag. Kyle saw red and promptly punched the man square in the jaw, knocking him out cold. He grabbed your purse as a few workers finally came to check on the commotion.

Kyle looked to see you clutching your head in pain. He ran over to you, sliding to a crouch position once he got to you. "Baby! Are you okay?"

Your bottom lip trembled as a strangled cry escaped your throat, and Kyle grabbed you, pulling you to his chest. He had to talk himself down from going and giving the man another few punches.

He tucked his arm underneath your legs and lifted you up bridal style. "I'm so sorry, babe. I've got you. Let's go home. Yeah?"

Kyle spent the rest of the night watching over you and icing the bruise that formed on your head. He made a silent vow that day, that he'd beat the ever loving shit out of anyone who dared touch his baby again.

John Price-

BANG!

You looked up from your computer in your home office at the sound of the loud noise. It was late at night, and John was asleep, so you were concerned as to what caused the sound. You grabbed the pocket knife out of your drawer and made your way quietly to investigate.

Peeking your head around the doorway, you saw a large man making his way through your shared home with your husband. It appeared he'd somehow broken in through the front door.

You let out a small whimper, the confidence you had before now fading. John was fast asleep upstairs, and you had no way to get to him without revealing yourself.

You watched silently as the man started to rummage in your drawers, trying to find anything valuable he could take.

He started to draw closer to where you were, and as you slowly crept backward, the floorboards creaked underneath you.

The man was immediately notified of your presence and caught a glimpse of you as you tried to hide around the corner.

"Hey! You!" He shouted, immediately running toward you.

You sprinted in the other direction, narrowly missing his outstretched hand. You ran into the bathroom in the hallway and tried to close the door before a hand came out to stop it.

"Nowhere to run now." He said, a terrifying smile lining his face.

"PRICE!" You screeched, your heart beating rapidly.

John's eyes flew open at the sound of your terrified cry. With adrenaline coarsing through his veins, he flung himself out of bed and grabbed his handgun from his bedside table. He slowly crept down the stairs and took in his surroundings.

He saw you right away, crouched in terror before a man, who had you at gunpoint. John swiftly made his way behind the man before hitting him hard on the back of his head with the butt of his gun.

The man fell limply to the floor, and you let out a strangled sob. "John."

"Hey love, it's alright. I'm here." He approached you slowly, his hands raised up to show you he meant no harm. You held your arms out to him, and he pulled you into him, holding you tight. "I've got you. Nobody's going to hurt you."

He pulled away for just a moment to call the cops but held a grip firm on your waist, letting you know he wasn't ever going to let anything happen to you.

Johnny Soap MacTavish-

"Alright, babe, I'll run and grab the stuff at the bottom half of the list. You grab top?" Johnny asked, eyeing your fairly large grocery list.

"Sounds good, thanks, love." You smiled at him and tore the list in half, sending him on his way after a quick peck.

You watched as he strolled away, basket in hand, and made for the toiletry section of the store.

You were comparing toothpastes when you felt two men staring at you. You subtly turned your head in their direction, and they quickly looked anywhere but your direction.

You felt a slight sinking feeling in your belly and quickly threw one of the toothpastes in your cart. You made for the next aisle, looking around deoderant for you and Johnny, when the same two men appeared again, walking slowly down the aisle toward you.

Trying to brush off the occurrence as a coincidence, you threw what you needed in the cart and started to make your way to the shampoo aisle. Your resolve quickly crumbled when you now realized the men were following you.

The store was rather empty, so there was nobody close by for you to turn to. You sped your cart up and headed in the direction you thought Johnny might be. The men were hot on your tail, making it clear they were trying to get to you.

You felt one of their hands touch your back, and you let out a cry. "SOAP!"

Johnny was just finishing up his portion of the list when he heard your scream. His heart was beating rapidly as he dropped the basket and ran to you.

"Y/N?" He called out and was met with a horrifying sight. You were cornered in one of the aisles by two men and were crying, your hands up in a defensive motion as you crouched on the floor.

Johnny immediately approached. "Leave my partner the fuck alone."

The two men whipped their heads in his direction, rubbing their hands together. It was clear they were looking for a fight. Johnny lifted his shirt slightly, revealing his sidearm strapped to his waist. "Try it, I fucking dare you. You won't like the outcome."

The men clearly knew better than to create such a scene in a store and decided to flee.

Johnny watched as they ran and crouched down to your level. "Baby. Are you okay?"

You choked out a sob and wrapped your arms around your husband. "I was so scared, Johnny."

Johnny gritted his teeth in anger, he hated that anyone made you feel this way. It took everything in him not to go chasing after those bastards.

"I know, baby. I'm here now, though. Why don't we quickly finish up this trip and grab some takeout, yeah? I'm not really feeling up to cooking anymore." He pulled your face away gently and stroked your tears away. "I've got you, always, okay?"

You nod slowly and let him help you up. He grabbed your hand, lacing his fingers with yours, not letting go until you both reached the car.

[earthtooz]

x : DON'T GO :*+ﾟ

in which: blade has always felt cold, but even more so without you.

warnings: 1.9k words, HURT/COMFORT with a sprinkle of angst, gn!reader who calls blade 'ren' once, mention of blood, ooc!vulnerable!blade, he's like a kicked puppy in this one

a/n: perhaps the most intimate piece i've wrote to date, this is nothing but pure yearning and longing on blade's behalf, and a nice fix-it fic with the most vulnerable i think blade could ever be. enjoy!!

in his new life, blade has always felt cold.

he is not spared from the constant feeling of goosebumps prickling his skin, not even for a second as the cold bites the tip of his fingers and sink their teeth into him to send shivers up his spine. but he has never felt colder than he does right now. 

your side of the bed is untouched, perfectly made, and devoid of any indication that you had been there. the blankets and mattress are cool to touch, with hardly any wrinkles in the sheets, and an ache declares itself home in blade’s chest.

the sun spills on his bare skin when he kicks the covers off, illuminating his scar-ridden chest as he gazes around the room, as if waiting for an sign that you were still here, and that he wasn’t too late. however, an immediate soreness tickles his throat that causes him to wince, serving as a reminder of the unpleasant discourse you had last night. 

it was hardly over anything of importance, but blade, a man of pride and relentlessness, had refused to back down, and you went to bed angry that night. he did too but woke regretful and cold under the covers, your warmth taken with you.

today was the day you had to leave for a mission, and although he knows you have a strict schedule to follow, he just wonders why you couldn’t have woken him up to say goodbye, especially after everything. 

he didn’t even get to say sorry or try to at least make amends. the swordsman only hopes you didn’t leave furious with him, and that you at least had something to eat before leaving.

to distract himself from the heartache, blade forgoes lying around and decides to start his day before the absence you left overwhelms him and the only thing his mind can do is think about you. 

not that he’s successful, because despite dedicating a monotonous afternoon of drilling sword techniques, the rampant thoughts about you did not decrease. rather, with each swing and sway of the cracked blade, his mind finds more and more to think about, with you at the epicentre of all of them.

it’s sometime around sunset when blade receives update on your status.

the swordsman is sat on a stone ledge, gold rays from the sun spilling on his skin as he waits for the sweat and fatigue to roll off. blade thinks of how you’d normally be seated nearby, watching him train to supply water and energy bars. although he never used to like the company or the doting, it doesn’t feel the same without you beside him, he misses you and wonders when you’ll return. 

“how long have you been here?” a raspy, female voice asks, breaking blade’s train of thoughts.

“since noon,” he responds merely. he doesn’t need to look up to see that it’s kafka talking to him.

“right. makes sense. i thought you’d be lonely since y/n’s gone.”

“need you remind me?” he huffs, voice teetering a threatening gruffness that would make ordinary people shudder, but does nothing to kafka.

“oh, spicy today, aren’t we?” she coos, ignoring the immense pressure radiating off blade effortlessly before taking a seat beside him. “what’s up? is there trouble in paradise?” a scoff comes from the swordsman. “i was only joking, did something really happen between you two?”

“none of your business.” 

kafka shrugs before her phone begins vibrating violently. when she reads the notifications, her face pulls the closest expression to concern that blade has ever seen her wear. 

“y/n got ambushed.”

his world freezes over.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

the sunlight is gentle in blade’s eyes when he wakes up.

clothes are strewn on the floor, bedsheets are half off the bed, ceramics lie in pieces along the cracks of the planks, and despite the mess blade has made of your shared space, he is the most crumpled of them all. a kaleidoscope of volcanic anger, tsunamic worry, and mountainous yearning, the only place that has remained untouched by blade’s destructive touch is your side of the bed, lest your scent disappears. 

it’s been five days since anyone has received a live update from you, only hanging on to tracking notifications of your spaceship as any indication that you were fine. for the duration of it, nothing has been able to calm him, with kafka and silver wolf needing to stun him before he could do anything brash, like running off into the infinite cosmos to find you.

elio’s promises had never felt emptier, his constant claims of how you’d return very soon turning into dust in blade’s ears because how could he hold on to hope when you are alone amongst the stars? 

his texts are left delivered, but never read. in fact, it has been five days since your contact displayed to be online, and he finds himself staring at it in case that the circle will illuminate green, that you’ll give him some sort of update on your liveliness. 

so that you’ll see how sorry he is and all he wants for you is to return home. 

he doesn’t remember when he became so dependent, but perhaps this is another cruel punishment from fate with another inconceivable price of repentance.

for someone as unforgivable and despicable as blade to love means to mutilate the universe with aftershocks that tear through boundaries of what’s possible. for a man like blade to rebel, it means that the consequences will return tenfold.

and there is no crueller damnation than tearing you away from him. 

he turns on his side, arms reaching over to where you would normally lie, and dozes off again, feeling colder than ever.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

blade wakes up a second time. the sun is no longer the thing that awakens him, but rather, the sound of footsteps that echo outside the bedroom. disgruntled and still trying to gather his bearings, he shoots awake at the sound of your door opening.

you stand on the other side.

is this a dream?

“oh,” you breathe. you sound winded, caught off guard by the sight of your lover who stares at you like a bewildered deer. “i’m sorry, i didn’t think you would be here.”

he doesn’t say anything, just merely looks at you, unnervingly unresponsive.

you look miserable. fatigue clings to your skin like a second skin, your eyes lack the brightness they usually have, and you are, evidently, very battered and bruised, blood staining your ruined clothes. 

but you are like sunlight, and blade thinks he can breathe again. 

“i guess i’ll leave,” you murmur, interrupting blade’s momentary assessment.

“don’t.”

turning back around, the swordsman is now slowly stalking towards you, seemingly teleported from the bed to halfway across the room in the blink of an eye. 

“is something wrong?” you ask and he holds back a scoff from the irony of your question. he’s the one that should be asking that, not you. 

but yes, there is something wrong; you left him alone. you went somewhere he couldn’t and then made him feel helpless because he didn’t know whether or not you were going to come back, stranded in the cosmos forever. 

stopping before you, his hands gravitate upwards with the magnetic need to touch you, to ensure that you were real and not some figment of his hazy imagination. blade raises a hesitant hand to sit on the back of your neck and the frostiness of his fingertips causes a shiver to run up your spine. gently, he presses you for a pulse and visibly gulps when he finds it, suffocating you in the tense silence that has occupied the air (you’re real, and you’re okay, delivered back to him in one piece).

then, he looks at you with the saddest expression you have ever seen him wear before engulfing you in his embrace. the stellaron hunter is hesitant with his touch, hovering around you in fear of overstepping, for blade would never forgive himself if he were to scare you off again. 

because you’re finally back where he can reach, and he never wants you to leave. 

“ren?” you pause, gently wrapping your arms around his waist and closing the gap he left, meeting him halfway. the little action floods him with endless relief. “what’s the matter?”

he shakes his head against you and his hold tightens mercilessly, squeezing all air out of your lungs. 

“you had me worried,” he confesses, no louder than a whisper because otherwise he would crack under the weight of his own words. the constant fear that has plagued him for the last few days would finally break him and he’d be in shambles in your arms, making a mess of something gorgeous with something hideous. 

so instead, he will continue simply holding onto you where you are safe. in his arms, you cannot leave, you cannot go places that danger you, and you cannot break his heart and choke him with the emptiness of your presence.

“i’m sorry,” you say, rubbing his back and he tugs you closer. “i didn’t mean to worry you, everything jus-”

“-you left without saying goodbye.”

you’re silent and guilty, but so beautiful. “i thought you didn’t want to see me. we were pretty mean to each other before i left,” you say after a second of contemplation. “i didn’t know where we stood, i wasn’t sure if you still wanted me.”

whatever is left of his heart breaks, crumbling into shambles that ring at your feet. there are a multitude of things that blade wants to say, yet no words come to fruition, to his dismay. he wants to offer you the comfort and promises you want to hear, and he wants to express the overwhelming relief he feels, but he can’t, and he curses his own inability to be heartfelt. 

instead, his grip around you tightens, like you’ll slip away otherwise and have him search for you throughout the cosmos. 

“don’t do any of that again,” he pleads instead, hoping that you’ll understand. “i beg of you.”

“okay,” you breathe. “i won’t.”

“don’t leave like that,” he tugs at your ruined shirt, grasp gentle and careful in fear of scaring you away with the intensity of his emotions that are hanging on by a thread

“i wont.” 

“please don’t go.”

“i’m here, aren’t i?”

blade sighs, nodding. you smile at him and it feels like a warmth powerful enough to drive the cold away. 

“but first, i need a bath,” you murmur, placing your hands on his chest to push him away. “please, keep your distance, i’m pretty sure i reek.”

he doesn’t say anything and clearly doesn’t listen, because instead of letting go, he simply leads you to the bathroom without ever unwrapping his arms. soon, the bath begins to run, and the sound of water streaming down ceramic echoes off the tiles, but the warmth of your laughter and tired words overpower it. blade sits at the edge, nothing but an oversized shadow that watches as you relax in the water, frowning when he catches the frequent bruise or fresh scar. 

afterwards, you both stumble onto the bed (careful to avoid the mess that blade as made, which you scolded him for, and he listened dejectedly before promising to clean it all up), and blade reaches over to your side, chest warming when he finds your figure to tug close. 

you fall asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow. your lover, on the other hand, stays awake for a few moments longer, simply trying to commit you to memory. 

“don’t go,” he repeats, tugging at your shirt as the evenness of your heartbeat lulls him to sleep.

he doesn’t feel cold anymore. 

© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[tonyspank]

WH0 R U???

Warnings: Professor!Reader, Tara eye-fucking you, and that’s all I believe.

Summary: Tara’s attractive Professor comes to the rescue.

A/N: I’ll be doing a part 2 soon w smut 🥲

part 2

Several years of school, scholarly work, and teaching experience led you here.

To Blackmore University. You were younger than the average professor, but your dedication and passion for education set you apart.

You were professional and not one to be pushed around. That much was clear when you set foot inside your literature classroom for the first time.

English was always your favorite subject, and you excelled in it throughout your academic journey. So, why wouldn't you pursue a career in teaching English at the university level?

However, for the next few months, you won't be teaching literature. Instead, you'll be filling in for your co-worker Laura, who's away on FML, taking on the role of teaching film study.

While you may not have much experience teaching film, Laura was desperate for someone to cover her classes, and you were willing to help out. She's been nothing but sweet to you. Plus, how hard could it be? You've watched movies before.

When you walked into the classroom on your first day, late in the afternoon, you were greeted by a bunch of drama kids who were honestly confused; you could see it in their faces.

They were expecting Laura, their experienced film study teacher, but instead they got you, someone with little to no teaching experience in film.

"Professor Y/LN?" Jason Carvey, a student from your previous class, asked with a puzzled expression.

"What happened to Laura? We were really looking forward to her class."

You took a deep breath, placing your belongings on the desk at the front of the classroom.

"Unfortunately, Laura had an unexpected personal matter to attend to and won't be able to teach this semester. But don't worry, I may not have much teaching experience in film, but I'll try my best."

You reassured the students, hoping to alleviate their disappointment. "Professor Crane provided me with some materials and resources to help guide us through the semester. Additionally, I've been doing my own research to ensure that we have a fulfilling learning experience in this class."

You give the class a tight-lipped smile before opening your briefcase.

"Well, shall we get started?"

Tara didn't know exactly what it was about you that made her eyes widen and her heart begin racing. Sure, anyone could see you were attractive, young, and obviously confident, but there was something more captivating about your presence.

Was it your voice? Was it how you commanded the room with your words? Or perhaps it was the way you'd lean back against the desk, crossing your built arms as your eyes scanned the room, exuding an air of authority.

Tara found herself drawn to you like a magnet, unable to tear her gaze away. She was intrigued by the air of mystery that surrounded you, wondering what secrets lay behind your confident façade.

As class went on, Tara's dark brown eyes scanned over you like a predator assessing its prey. From your perfectly styled hair to your amazingly kept eyebrows, your enchanting y/e/c eyes, to your sultry lips—don't get her started on your sculpted jawline.

You were a sight to take in, captivating and commanding attention without even trying. You presented yourself with an effortless grace that made it impossible for anyone to look away.

Your white button-up shirt was crisp and tailored, hugging your form in all the right places, and your black slacks were perfectly pressed, accentuating the length and strength of your legs.

Tara's stare flew back up, staring at the bulge in your pants, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment and desire—

"—Tara, is it? What do you think?" Tara quickly snapped out of her momentary distraction, her cheeks still flushed.

She cleared her throat and tried to regain her composure before responding, "Oh, I'm sorry. Could you please repeat the question?"

You smile, showcasing your charming dimples and perfect smile. While Tara was in her trance, you found yourself relaxing into the class's discussion, feeling like you no longer needed to put on your strict professor persona.

You leaned back, crossing your legs. "How do you think directors like Quentin Tarantino push the boundaries of traditional storytelling in their films? Do you believe their unique approaches have a lasting impact on the film industry?"

Tara nods, playing with the pencil that sits in front of her. "Yeah, I think directors like Tarantino definitely push the boundaries of traditional storytelling, especially with their unique approaches that challenge the audience's expectations and keep them engaged. Like Kill Bill and Pulp Fiction, for example, and how he used non-linear narrative structure and unconventional use of violence to create a distinct cinematic experience that stands out from the mainstream. Peak cinema at its finest."

You raise an eyebrow, impressed. "You surely know your film." The freckled-faced girl giggles in response, dropping her gaze to her hands.

At the end of the lecture, Tara approaches you with a small smile on her face. You look up from your notes, which Laura had given you, and it also confuses the fuck out of you. With a quirked eyebrow, you meet Tara's gaze, your face softening.

"Oh, Tara. Need something?" Tara hesitates for a moment before speaking. "Actually, I was wondering if you'd accept my late work. Professor Crane gave me extra time to complete it, but I still couldn't finish on time. I understand if you can't, but I thought it was worth asking."

You bite on your lower lip, not noticing how quickly Tara's eyes drop to the action. "Uh, sure." You rip out a piece of paper from your notebook and write down a quick note.

"Here's my number. I lost the login to my email, so this will have to do. Send me your late work, and I'll make sure it gets to Professor Crane. Just make sure to include your name and the assignment details in the text so there's no confusion. I'll do my best to help you out."

Tara's eyes light up with relief as she thanks you profusely. "I really appreciate it, thank you so much." You nod, giving her a tight-lipped smile before focusing back on your notes.

A few days later, you're home alone, eating a bowl of ice cream while you watch the movie Stab. Suddenly, your phone buzzes with a new message. Your eyes fight to tear away from the screen, and you reluctantly pick up your phone to check the message.

+1 (347) 871-1921: wh0 r u???

You squint at the unfamiliar number, puzzled by the message. After a moment of hesitation, you reply.

You: I'm sorry, but I think you have the wrong number. Who are you trying to reach?

+1 (347) 871-1921: profdsser y/ln

You furrow your brow, trying to decipher the cryptic message. It doesn't make any sense to you. Curiosity getting the better of you, you decide to respond one more time. You: I'm sorry, but I don't understand what you're saying. Can you please clarify?

+1 (347) 871-1921: rolling eyes emoji

+1 (347) 871-1921: three ht poreffesor whofilling for ms crane?

Was this Tara? You put down your bowl of ice cream; this had to be Tara. And she had to be drunk. You take a deep breath before responding again.

You: Tara, is that you? Are you okay? It seems like you're drunk.

+1 (347) 871-1921: ummmmmmmmm

+1 (347) 871-1921: busted

You: Tara, I'm really concerned about you. Is everything alright? Please let me know if there's anything I can do to help.

Tara: iamat the frt house

Tara: canyoucum pik me up, pleas?

You twist your lips, concerned about Tara's well-being and the fact that she is asking for a ride. Surely she had friends with her. You didn't want to leave her stranded, but you also didn't want to be the professor driving their students home from a wild party. However, you take a moment to gather yourself before responding.

You: Of course, Tara. I'll be there to pick you up. Just send me the address, and I'll be on my way.

Tara has started sharing their location with you.

You see the location pop up on your phone, quickly checking the estimated time of arrival, and mentally prepare yourself to pick up your drunk student.

[marcsburnerphone]

Wish I never came

Captain john price x f!reader

Summary: being johns wife has been full of security and safety and you never thought he’d be the one to taint that.

Warnings: angst(why doesn’t anyone write about how scary price can be when hes angry peepaw is cra), hurt/comfort, 141 task force loves you, price is fucking scary.

Part 2 out now!

—-------------------

Every first friday of the month you bring the boys and your husband a homemade meal to base. It’s been tradition for almost two years now since the first time you did it on a whim, John begged you for a good roast so you surprised him with some and since there was so much you’d brought the rest for his task.

Today you've perfected the dish gaz asked for, they decided rotations on requests now because it became unfair when soap requested meals only he liked 4 months in a row.

You packed all 4 meals in airtight thermal containers and put them in the car before heading towards base about 2 hours away. The military police men greeted you by first name when you arrived and buzzed you in.

“I've never been happier to see someone in my life.” soap rushes you and traps you in a hug while gaz takes the two bags from your hands.

“Good afternoon, wheres simon and john?” you greet both of them with smiles something that was relieving to see in a place like this. The common area was empty during this time of day so it was clear they weren't here.

Before they could answer simon came in, eyes looking more exhausted than usual. He gives a weak attempt at an ‘hello love’ a common and yet sweet name they’d picked up for you.

“I honestly wouldn't go into his office right now hes a little um on edge i’d say.” he grabs his thermal bowl from the bag its always the black one, this way they dont fight over which bowl has more.

“Nonsense simon he’s my husband, im just going to bring him this and be on my way.” simon shook his head turning a satisfied groan at the taste of real food in his mouth to a disapproving one at your persistence.

“love maybe listen he’s under a lot of pressure right now, its really not the time.” gaz interrupts simons beginning of a sentence.

Without another word you just grab his bowl and a fork setting off torwars his office which at this point you could get to blind.

“Are we just going to let her do that.” gaz looks to the two men.

“We warned and she’s right thats her husband i mean worst he’ll do is ignore her, loves her too much to hurt her.” ghost grumbles.

—

The air is tense on your way down the hall but you approach his door regardless as the familiar scent of a lit cigar fills your senses. You give two knocks before walking in.

“Hey just brought you some lunch.” you say quietly as you walk in observing the splay of files on the floor and desk.

He grunts and doesn't even spare you a look which yeah it stings but it was expected.

“Okay then can I leave it right here?” you point at a spot on a coffee table thats somewhat clear.

“Do whatever you want with it, mm not hungry.” he says lowly while taking another drag from his cigar letting the ash fall freely.

“So should i just leave it in the kitchen, i can just-.” you didn't know why you were rambling or nervous even john had only ever made you feel safe. 

“I fuckin said do what you please with it, I’m busy.” the tone made you shiver, and yes maybe you should've just left it and talked to him later but this wasn't a behavior from him you've ever experienced.

“John I-” 

“Jesus fucking christ take the food, leave the food I dont fucking care but get the fuck out of here as soon as you can thankyou!” His voice makes you flinch as he throws a stack of papers on the floor with an unneeded force, he yelled at you for the first time ever and you couldn't even process it. Was time bending or had the air become thin, you didn't know but you took a few weary steps back towards the door and left the food by the entrance on the floor finally closing it, once you were back in the hallway air found it’s way to your lungs as you took a deep breath.

“Hey its okay come on.” gaz was there gently caressing your arm along with the two others catching up behind him in the distance.

They never thought hed talk to you like that but right when they heard that deep threatening drawl boom from the common area gaz was the first one up and out. He was always overly protective of you.

You weren't crying, no but you wanted to. You just closed your eyes for what felt like ages and whispered an ‘I’m okay’ and left without another word.

Once you reached the comfort of your own car your heart caught up with the speed of your brain and tears poured, the last time you’d cried like this had been in childhood. Without another second you sped around the lot and out of the exiting gates wishing you'd never entered them in the first place.

You got a call not so long into your way home, maybe five minutes if you estimated correctly and you almost gagged at the picture of you and john that popped up as he rang you.

The boys were the ones to call next but you just dazed out on the long road ahead, disassociated from the outside world around you. You stopped at a cafe you particularly enjoyed in a town near your home needing to clear your thoughts. 

Price had waited and even started counting seconds to see if you'd pop up on the ring camera he installed to keep an eye on you, it brought him comfort especially when you'd make cute gestures at it or talk to him through it as you brought groceries inside. But now you should've been home an hour ago at most and still no sign of you.

He had not comprehended how loud he could get and he really only snapped out of it when soap appeared in his office with a very disapproving look. Then he finally noticed the look of fear in your eyes or how the sweet smile you always wore was a frown and then his gaze made it to the container he’d grown so familiar with by the door.

“FUCK!” he could cry grown man tears, he spoke to you how he sometimes speaks to his soldiers and the strings in his heart felt like they were on the verge of combusting.

“You fucked up captain.” soap added to the fuel before leaving his office.

—----------------

Anyone feel that chest pain.

Re-blogs and feedback are appreciated 🫶

[barcaatthemoon]

caught || jenni hermoso x reader ||

you and jenni get caught breaking one the team's "no hotel sex" rule.

minors dni, 18+, smut ahead

jenni was going to be the death of you. nobody could know about the two of you, especially not alexia. it was easier to sneak around after trading room assignments to bunk with jenni, but you had indirectly put yourself directly next to alexia's room. you knew that alexia and jenni were on good terms after their breakup, but you also knew that she'd probably flip shit if she found out the two of you were together.

alexia had always been like a big sister to you. she had taken you under her wing whenever the two of you were growing up together. you were just as much a part of her family as her actual sister. alexia and alba had looked out for you like nobody else was willing to. they saw past your troublesome last name and turbulent family life, and for that, you'd never be able to repay her. and you knew that sleeping with her ex was not a good start.

"jenni, stop," you hissed as you pushed jenni away from you. the two of you had been away from each other for quite some time. jenni's transfer to pachuca had come as a bit of a shock to you, despite her having brought it up. the two of you hadn't been serious then, but jenni had confessed that she loved you enough to make the distance work.

"why? i have waited so long to have you in my arms again. must you be so cruel as to make me wait even longer?" jenni asked dramatically. you rolled your eyes as you pulled yourself out of her grip. it was hard on you too, but it would be even harder for you if alexia heard the two of you through the walls.

"i know that look in your eyes jenni. we have to be quiet, and that look means nothing but trouble." you understood now why alexia had a tendency to be a bit stressed. jenni may have been older than you, but the woman was a lot more carefree than you were capable of. the team occasionally teased you about it, claiming that you could be worse than alexia was about being so strict.

"relax, mi amor, there's no reason for you to be so wound up," jenni told you. she sat up on her knees on the bed in front of you. you sighed longingly as she pulled her shirt off and tossed it onto the ground. "see? you want me too, so please just come back over here."

"jenni, you have to keep your hands to yourself," you told her. she nodded as she sat back on the bed. you didn't trust her to keep her word, but you still came over and joined her on her bed.

impressively, jenni did manage to keep her word. you had made her promise you to keep her hands to herself, but had said absolutely nothing about her mouth. jenni's mouth littered kisses and little bites all over your neck. you were in the process of telling her to back away a bit when a moan replaced the words on the tip of your tongue. that noise ended up being the catalyst to jenni completely losing her composure.

she pinned you down onto the bed, grinding herself against your thigh as she pushed the bottom of your shirt up. you could feel the heat from jenni's core against your thigh as she started to get herself off. jenni wouldn't finish that way, but she knew how easily it worked you up to know how turned on jenni was. you wanted to pretend that it wasn't working, but jenni knew better.

"i want to feel you," jenni said, her lips pressed against yours. you pushed her off of your body just enough to allow your clothes to easily come off. jenni could have ripped them off of you, you were certain of it, but that would have raised a lot of questions. you had practice later in the afternoon and would need your kit then.

jenni let out an appreciative hum as her eyes settled on your body. she took in every inch of bare skin and defined muscle. her hands groped at your breasts as her lips met yours in one more heated kiss. after the kiss was broken, jenni spread open your legs and settled in between them.

"i've wanted this for so long," jenni said as she placed a couple of playful bites to the inside of your thighs. you jumped at the sensation with small yelps. jenni was smirking as she ran her fingers through your folds, spreading the wetness from your entrance. jenni withdrew her finger and pushed it past her lips to suck your arousal off of it.

"don't tease, and i believe that i said to keep your hands to yourself," you chastised. jenni took that as a challenge as she put her hands behind her back. you knew that jenni didn't need her hands, and if anything, she'd be even more ruthless with you for the sass. jenni didn't take your brattiness lightly, but you had never really gone far enough to warrant any sort of punishment before.

"you can cover your own mouth then," jenni said smugly. you knew from the new and very dangerous look in her eye that you were fucked. jenni was going to have you screaming out her name, and she was highly unlikely to stop until you were actually doing so.

jenni opted out of any softness or teasing, instead choosing to get right to things by running her tongue against your clit. she knew that even without her hands, she could have you cumming within minutes. it was unfair sometimes how easily jenni hid her dominance in the bedroom around people. you had gone into the relationship expecting her to be all smiles and jokes like she was everywhere else, only to be fucked within an inch of your sanity when you started hooking up with each other.

"you taste so good, mi amor," jenni told you. the small break was not nearly enough for you to collect your bearings. jenni's tongue work had your head spinning in the same little circles it was making. your hips bucked wildly as you ground yourself against jenni's mouth. every bit of the situation made you feel a little pathetic, but you knew that jenni loved it. she loved hearing the breathy little noises that you made as the air was forced out of your lungs. she loved the way that you rode her face with such a devout desperation.

"jenni, please. jenni, i'm gonna cum. jenni!" you were screaming at the top of your lungs. there was no way that alexia and mapi didn't both hear you through the walls. there was also no way that they didn't know exactly what was going on. you were doubtful that the entire floor didn't just find out you and jenni were together from that. even jenni looked a little sheepish when she rose up from between your legs. "fuck."

"hey, don't worry mi vida, it's okay," jenni muttered as she moved to lay beside you. she pulled you into her arms, holding you tightly until the two of you were interrupted by loud knocking. jenni was wearing the most clothing, so she was the one to go over to the door while you got yourself redressed. "ale, what a surprise. can i do something for you, capitana?"

"where is (y/n)?" alexia asked. you scrambled to finish putting on your clothes before opening up the door the rest of the way. alexia looked between the two of you, a slight frown on her face.

"what's the matter ale?" you asked. alexia reached out and grabbed the bottom hem of your shirt, which definitely wasn't one that belonged to you. "ale, i can explain."

"don't worry, there is nothing to explain, i understand what is going on here. that is why jenni has to pack her things and go room with mapi for the rest of camp. you both know the rules, and that we have them for a reason." alexia sent an accusatory glare towards jenni. you had heard rumors about how the rule had been put in place, and as you looked between the exes, you realized that they were true.

"i'll see you later mi amor," jenni said as she pressed a kiss to your cheek. you sighed as you watched her pack up her things. alexia stood by the door until jenni was gone before she came fully inside and set her bag on the bed where your things were laying.

"hey, that one's mine!" you argued. alexia sent you a knowing look, having once been in your position before. "fine, this one smells like jenni anyway."

"i'm sure it smells like a lot of things," alexia grumbled under her breath.