#bc I’ve only changed it on here and dating apps

[manhattan-gamestop]

Sometimes— and unfortunately— events do be Eventing

[ianr36]

I will miss all of you but I think I’ve come to the conclusion that most here are bots. I really don’t get it! lol I will be deleting this app, and going old school face to face.

I’ve been nailed with requests for money looking over the fact that I’m looking for something real.

I feel sorry for all the fat short hairy guys with the little dicks that fall for this shit. You are the ones that are crying about being scammed so get to know them a bit -& ask some basic questions.

Also think with your head not your D. Not your ego. Be comfortable in your own skin. Have some discernment. The first question should be if most people in middle school have cell phones. Why do you not?

Q-Why don’t you have a mobile?

A-it broke, got stolen and the best one is it doesn’t matter. Lmfao!

(My kids have had one since 8?)

-I love you!

(Oh really? Even though we’ve never spoke)

-I’m not like the other girls.

(Yet you use the same script?) Holy wow!

Damn I imagine there are multiple call centers and as a business man I can respect that but as a human I cannot. So I cannot participate in this $hit! This is slavery and I can’t do it!

Both sides are being fed lies (bot, hooker or John) and it’s a shame that a platform that has the possibility to facilitate real change to occur, is being bulldozed by losers that don’t care about human lives.

Before you reply- please look at my previous posts regarding this and at a minimum let’s have some adult discourse

If you’ve gotten thus far, then you realize that I love humans I don’t care what gender you are. I fought for you in war multiple times.

You can say whatever you want whenever you want and I will always fight for that right for everyone.

Just don’t lie and try to play people that you don’t know- that this is a charade. it’s so easily identifiable.

Furthermore, why would you not want somebody to care for you? That’s intelligent enough to identify it if you were actually real? That’s a reasonable question right?

Let’s hear it? I want to think that a lot of you want true love, just cause I’ve been hurt before doesn’t mean I will be hurt again. That’s like someone trying to say that I tried to go in a business once and it didn’t work so I just gave up and went to slutting myself out.

If you just wanna slut yourself out there and treat yourself as a used tire-to each their own I’m all about that! Do what you do! I’m not a KIA.

But if you think for a moment that a guy who signed up to die for his country & opens doors for people and loves everyone no matter what can turn off the desire for wanting to spoil a special human, then please readiness that. Ffor anyone that is real on here and realizes that I am an open book and we could probably learn a lot from one another and grow together. I’m game for that conversation.. I feel so bad, but maybe I’m the one who needs to read more books! I’m game to talk for the next 24 hrs before I delete this app

But I have to be very upfront that I only like feminine women and that doesn’t matter what gender you were assigned to when you were born I don’t care bc I’ve dated models that are boring and numb and some girls that are amazing but I’m not desperate and I know my girl is out there.

(Sorry a lot of this was voice to text so if you have questions ask)

[scoutofmymind]

The LM support community on this app is bursting into flames (not funny bc of his situation but these ppl are making me laugh) and I find it so endearing that you’re just chilling over here like “someone dare me to write hasan piker x Luigi 🔫”

Lmaooo I love you professor scout, you unproblematic, talented queen!! Never change!!

(Don’t feel the need to respond to this if you don’t want! I just wanted to let you know that nothing you do on your blog is wrong and you’re only aiding in keeping his name at the forefront of people’s minds!! Everything people post helps so dont let any policers/haters/weirdos get to you! And you’re doing it all by using a god given talent! Love u down mama)

To be REAL, I have a hard time interacting with any ‘Stans’ in any fandom I’ve been in, (though, I wouldn’t call this a fandom, this is wayyyy more nuanced; community is a much better word in this instance.) it seems people often find it difficult to draw lines. I do not at all consider myself to have a parasocial relationship with Luigi, I don’t believe he’s in love with me in any capacity, and I am not, have not, and do not plan to deep dive on his personal life — especially his personal DATING life. I saw a few people in the fic tag talking about his exes and this girl from Colombia? Like my god.. Would you please take a breath and re-focus??

I’ve moved very carefully here especially. I’ve wanted to ruffle feathers in the past (like two days ago) but I’ve realized quickly it wasn’t worth my time, nor is it helpful. I could also read this whole community to filth and clear the goddamn room because some of these people are out of their minds 😭

I love you! I also want to add that I’m very grateful to have received NOTHING but overwhelming support and love on my work. I’ve seen a few writers get their assess chewed out by little weirdo fun police trying to shame them for genuinely writing fiction.

Fr though.. Somebody dare me to write Hasan x Luigi

Loving you, anon ❣️💋

[neutron-stars-collision]

Deadlines & Commitments

Neil x F!Reader

Chapter 4 - North Greenwich Underground Station

Masterlist; Chapter 3 Summary: Neil's brief disappearance does nothing to extinguish the sparks. As he returns, you make a series of discoveries about each other and grow ever so much closer. Warnings: Swearing, E-rated language, ridiculous amounts of flirting as per usual. Buckle up bc we're amping the pace a little... ;) Author's Notes: Well... that was a long break between the chapters 🙈 My apologies, turns out that having a job takes away the little joys in life like writing silly stories. Anyways, here we are, at last. With another 10.7k. And this one's packed with many good, fun things ;))) Some of those scenes had been months in the making (if not years, considering I first mentioned this AU to Shet in like 2021? I think?). So, yeah. They had it long time coming. More cameos, more nonsensical POV changes and, above all, more certified idiocy by them two kids. Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think? 💕 Taglist: @hollandorks, @kristevstewart, @stargirl25 (let me know if you want to be added)

What Neil’s departure from London did not do was change the way things worked between you. Although you only had meagre information about his whereabouts (such as that he was within the same time zone but in a different country), there was no sense of a breach building in the space of that strange yet solid connection. With the anxieties surrounding the imminent ‘Don Quixote’ premiere keeping your blood pressure high daily, you more than enjoyed being able to pick up your phone and message him whenever possible.

He did not always respond immediately, but it was not a must. What mattered was that Neil eventually got back to you. Never disclosing any information about his work trip, apart from the fact that it was warm there even in mid-October, he still made the effort to keep up with your antics. In that sense, the insanity of the date you had risked changed absolutely nothing.

But it also changed everything.

It was as if your free will chose to conspire with the soul’s desires to get what they wanted. Namely – Neil. Because as soon as you had even begun considering breaching the line separating friendship from every other kind of relationship, your brain decided it was done.

Being his girlfriend was not on the list of priorities or wants, but getting in his pants definitely was. It was almost freeing to admit.

The only question left after all that soul-searching was whether Neil wanted you like that, too. Sometimes there were no doubts about that, either.

Almost a week in, with the ballet previews looming on the horizon and no chance of sleep anytime soon, you huffed an annoyed sigh and picked up the phone from your bedside table. Bleary eyes registered the hour (five past midnight) as you opened apps randomly, already giving up on the promise of sleep. It took you another few minutes to make up your mind, open the texts and stare at the conversation with Neil. It had been a few hours since the last exchange concerning the warmth of the climate wherever he was. You had been (fruitlessly) trying to make Neil send you a picture. Of himself. Not necessarily without clothes, but that was the dream. And a girl was allowed to dream, right?

Squinting at the screen, you hesitated for another millisecond before typing out the simple question:

/ 🏹, 00:15 am/ Are you missing me yet?

Neil did not make you wait for long.

/✝️, 00:26 am/ Obviously.

/✝️, 00:26 am/ I’m barely coping here, sunshine.

/ 🏹, 00:29 am/ Gee, you’re making it too easy.

/✝️, 00:30 am/ Making what too easy?

/ 🏹, 00:33 am/ Missing you.

/ 🏹, 00:34 am/ See, I thought my cheeky line would get a lukewarm response, so I was prepared to tease you further.

/ 🏹, 00:34 am/ And now I’ve no quips to offer.

/✝️, 00:39 am/ Apologies. I’ll do better next time.

/ 🏹, 00:40 am/ I’ll make sure of that.

/✝️, 00:42 am/ And what punishment do you propose?

/ 🏹, 00:43 am/ I’ve always wondered what you’d sound like if you begged.

/✝️, 00:44 am/ It could probably be arranged.

/✝️, 00:45 am/ I’ve no qualms about getting on my knees for a beautiful woman.

/✝️, 00:45 am/ But that would hardly be a punishment.

/ 🏹, 00:48 am/ Yeah, but if I let you have that and then left you… on your knees, so painfully hard with no release… How would that feel?

/✝️, 00:51 am/ You win this one.

/✝️, 00:52 am/ And yes, I’m blushing. Fiercely.

/ 🏹, 00:59 am/ Good, I was hoping you are. Goodnight, Neil.

As you hit send on the last message, your head hit the pillows with an audible ‘oof’. Your cheeks burned; the blush invisible in the dark yet still very much there. That was the problem with Neil and your chats. It was impossible to say when they would turn in that direction. When you would both lose control and follow a line of conversation that probably never should have happened. Not that you were complaining.

It was good to know what you could expect from Neil. If things happened the way you wished, they would. Admittedly, he’d look good on his knees. That was a fact.

That night you only got five hours of sleep, but who counted it anyway. What mattered was that you had some excellent dreams. Dreams that you hoped would end up prophetic.

On other days, your conversations were a little more serious. Like that early afternoon when you just finished the final in-costume run of the Cupid variation and exited the ROH to wander the streets of Soho. Whenever you felt close to losing your sanity, the walk around those familiar spots always did the trick. It was easier to breathe, to hope that you would not fuck it all up when the curtain call came. To believe that imposter syndrome was nothing more than a vile bitch.

Sighing against the thoughts muddling your brain, you took out the phone and immediately noticed the new message:

/✝️, 1:49 pm/ How’s the garden of the Dryads coming along?

/✝️, 1:50 pm/ It probably goes without saying that you’re my favourite ballerina.

/ 🏹, 2:06 pm/ Damn, that’s high praise. Especially considering that I’m the only ballerina you know.

/ 🏹, 2:06 pm/ I think the garden is coming along nicely. Not so sure about Cupid, tho.

/✝️, 2:08 pm/ I call bullshit on that.

/✝️, 2:09 pm/ I just know that you’re brilliant.

/ 🏹, 2:12 pm/ Doubt, she said.

/ 🏹, 2:12 pm/ ‘Cause like… How do you deal with the overwhelming weight of expectations?

/✝️, 2:18 pm/ I mean, I panic and lose it instantly, but generally speaking, I think you just sort of… ignore it and trust you are good enough.

/✝️, 2:19 pm/ I know that you are, Cupid. This role was made for you.

/ 🏹, 2:22 pm/ Elaborate, please. I need my ego stroked.

/✝️, 2:23 pm/ Well, she sorts of saunters onto the stage and has a minute to dazzle everyone, yeah?

/✝️, 2:24 pm/ Which is exactly what you did to me.

/✝️, 2:24 pm/ You’ve got this.

/ 🏹, 2:26 pm/ God, you’re irreconcilable. Better come back so I can force you to sit through this.

/✝️, 2:27 pm/ Working on it as we speak.

A smile painted itself on your face with an inerasable stroke of brush. Neil’s constant support and cheerleading were a welcome surprise. Sometimes, your meeting almost felt like a divine intervention. That is if you believed in such things. Because the odds of gaining both a fascinating man to pursue and a friend were quite low. And yet.

As you looped your steps back towards Covent Garden, you made the mental note to visit the box office and add a request for the guest list. It was a rare enough event to have someone you could invite to the performance. And have the right to believe they would come. You were not going to squander that sort of chance.

***

The whirring ceiling fan was starting to get on his nerves with its endless sputtering. And it was not even working, as far as Neil was concerned. The sweat still clung to his skin and trickled down his back to a point where he seriously contemplated ditching the shirt. And that rarely happened. Especially not on the job, with the whole squad confined to a medium-sized safehouse.

The bustle of the city streamed through the windows, cracked open so they could let in fresh air while still having a chance of keeping them safe from snipers and the like. Granted, one could never be fully prepared for an inverted shot, but it was worth trying not to get killed. Especially during a mission that technically was just a recon. Though Neil knew better than to believe The Protagonist when the man claimed something was perfectly safe. He meant well, sure. But despite the appearances, he did not know everything.

So, the windows cracked open three inches had to do. Neil sighed, annoyance digging deep beneath his skin to stay there for a little longer. It was another one of those boring, yet technically productive afternoons in the safehouse. Today, the task was to plan a hypothetical pincer movement. Just in case, they said. Well, Neil sure did hope the case never came to be.

He glanced at the blacked-out screen of his phone, the muscle memory betraying him as he picked up the device almost mindlessly and opened the conversation with Cupid. It had been a few hours since the last chat, which was pretty usual. They did not need to talk all the time. Neil knew that. He also knew that it was probably better they did not talk constantly. Considering that 3 out of 5 conversations always ended up dirty, up to the point where he was blushing like an idiot. And, sometimes disappeared in the bathroom to deal with some troublesome effects of those chats.

Yes, considering all that, Neil knew it was best they took some breaks. But also-

“Blondie, can you give us a hand with this?” the yell from further inside the apartment acted like a bucket of cold water tipped over his head unceremoniously.

Neil whipped his head up, glaring at the open doorway. Unfortunately, being referred to as ‘blondie’ was becoming more frequent. The petulant nature urged him to ignore it, but he knew that was hardly the last one. With another long-suffering sigh, he heaved himself out of the armchair and called back:

“I said I’m coming,” granted, that was over fifteen minutes ago, but everyone could get distracted. Right? “Would it hurt you to ask nicer?” he stalked down the corridor toward the living area with an arched eyebrow.

It was not surprising to meet a mirroring expression on the faces of Ives, Wheeler, and Jeremy sitting in a trifecta of judgment. Neil had no doubts about his place in that makeshift courtroom.

“Yes, when you’re slacking,” Wheeler dropped the disapproving glare with all the air of nonchalance and pointedly glanced at the table covered with maps and blueprints.

Neil had no choice but to sit down in the remaining chair and offer an apologetic pout to anyone willing to hear him out:

“I’m not slacking. I’m just-” whatever excuse he could whip out on a whim got interrupted prematurely.

“Otherwise occupied with your girlfriend. Yes, we know,” Wheeler raised her head once more with a dismissive wave of hand, making Neil consider the possibility that she was close to losing it right there and then.

That possibility was always worrisome, for no anger could compare to that of his friend. Especially when she was pissed off.

But that careful consideration was nothing in the face of the two realisations brought forward by that simple assumption. Firstly - Cupid was decidedly not his girlfriend. Secondly – fucking Ives.

Neil glared at the man in question, hoping his eyes would reveal the murderous intents hidden underneath as his clarifying statement broke the awkward silence:

“She’s not-” he never finished that sentence (perhaps for the better), for the harsh sound of his ringtone filled the room with cacophonic clamour. Neil scrambled to pick up the phone without as much as glancing at the screen, “Hello?” the tentative opener sounded ridiculous even to his ears.

Soon, it was clear he should have checked the caller before picking up.

“Hi, Neil,” Cupid’s silky tone caressed his ear through the device.

Neil knew she did that purposefully, solely inspired to make the idiot inside him blush and giggle like a loser. Make no mistake; Neil was certainly a loser. And an idiot.

Once he felt the shock pass enough to ensure he would not drop the phone he repeated the greeting.

“Umm, hi,” from the corner of his eye, Neil could see the accompanying trio stare at him without trying to be covert about it. Absolute assholes “You’ve never called me before” trust him to state the obvious.

For a second, Neil considered faceplanting onto the table. Equally, the idea of jumping out of the window sounded appealing. The thoughts of potential demise were interrupted by Cupid’s reply:

“I know. I just thought it might be fun to spice things up,” she was definitely enjoying this and the damage she has caused. It was audible in the lightness of her voice, the vowels curled by a cheeky smile he could hear as she asked, “How’s your day?”

No longer happy to ignore his audience, Neil turned towards them with another glare. All three stared back, with Ives going as far as shooting him a knowing smile.

“It’s fine, except for my team being desperate to berate me,” Neil directed the venom in his voice at the trio as Wheeler casually got up from the table and put the kettle on.

The light chuckle from the phone almost made him feel better about it.

“That’s rude,” her remark contrasted with the laughter he could hear in her voice. Yet it was too late to raise the alarm or prepare for what would follow, “Would it be better if I reminded you what a good boy you are?” as soon as Cupid finished the question, Neil felt the full-body reaction she wanted.

A shudder ran through his spine as his face flushed pink. On a last conscious thought, Neil leapt up from the chair and paced towards the window, hiding from the group. A half-swallowed groan broke through his mouth as he tightened his fist, hopelessly trying to forget how those two words sounded on her lips. It was pathetic.

The more tragic outcome was that now Cupid had even more blackmailing material in her arsenal.

“Jesus Christ, you’re evil,” Neil knew he still sounded wrecked.

There was no way of hiding that. Of making her forget this had just happened and the conclusions she could draw from it. Neil barely resisted the urge to smash his head into the window.

“Oh, so it would help,” as expected, Cupid sounded delighted by what had transpired. The cheeky smile he liked way too much was undoubtedly present on her face as she added, “Not so dully noted” may he rest in pieces, apparently, “When are you coming back?” the question sounded almost out of place.

Yet even in his muddled mind, Neil knew it was genuine. That she wanted to know. If that fact meant anything at all, he did not know. And he tried his hardest not to think about it too much.

“Why? You miss me?” ignoring the chorus of ‘awws’ behind his back, Neil allowed himself to ask.

Even if only for emotional validation. Because while she has hinted at it before, Neil was never tired of being reminded. The whole thing with her might have been hopeless, but it did not change how he worked. How his heart ticked and what beat it chose. Tragically, romanticism was tricky to get rid of. Neil experienced that first-hand.

“You know that I do,” Cupid did not mind humouring his whims as she offered a simple admission without a fight.

With all his predictability, Neil could not hold back the idiotic grin from making an appearance. Sure, it had no future, but that did not make him less eager to play along. What’s the worst thing that could happen? Famous last words and all. Probably.

“I should be back in a week. More or less,” that was the hope, anyway.

The few stray thoughts that had somehow escaped the web spun by Cupid, and her attention reminded him about the work still left to be done. Like the fucking pincer movement plan. With threebastards taunting him mercilessly. So much fun.

“Fab. I got you a great seat for the premiere, so… You know what to do,” the hopeful note in her voice was worth the future pain.

He had no doubts about it. The fact was that Neil was looking forward to the ballet. The hazy memories of seeing ‘Swan Lake’, aged six, hardly compared to the Royal Ballet company. It was a good enough reason to attend. The other excellent reason was Cupid herself, but that was best unsaid. And unthought. Somehow.

“Got you,” ignoring the ridiculous thoughts, Neil offered her a smile she could not see and a silent prayer cast into the heavens that he was not lying unknowingly.

“I know you do. You’re a good boy, Neil,” Cupid’s strike came with no warning.

Yet again, she dropped her tone a notch and whispered the damned two words with a breathy sigh. The metaphorical nail to the coffin this time was how she said his name, almost caressing the letters. And yes, this time it worked, too.

Neil had the mind to faceplant into the window and groan with frustration. The inescapable blush warmed up his cheeks as his body shivered. Some… particular parts of his physique also showed interest in what was happening, eternally oh so eager to betray his wish to stay unbothered.

“For fuck’s-” the choked curse got swallowed by the mightiest effort on his side as Neil took a steadying breath and asked, “Why?”

As if happy to punish him, Cupid laughed.

“Because it’s fun,” the unspoken duh made him both more annoyed and more bewitched by her, “I’ll let you work now, but…” as did the carrot dangled in front of his face like the sweetest of baits.

Always the idiot, Neil could not possibly ignore it.

“Yeah?” he could hear her take a deep breath as if steeling herself for a difficult admission.

“I’m glad we’ve met,” Cupid whispered the confession without as much as a pause between the words.

“Me too,” his reply got lost in the static as she hung up.

Letting out the breath he did not know he was holding, Neil lowered the phone onto the windowsill and stared at the city outside. Well then. The call would take a while to process; that was unquestionable.

“Aw, aren’t you two cute?” Ives’ teasing threw Neil out of that pleasantly fuzzy mind space with all the grace of an elephant.

He turned around with the glower at the ready. This time, he could not bite back the curse:

“Shut the fuck up,” on an afterthought, Neil added, “Please,” noticing the soldier open his mouth for a quip, he dropped his tone to a warning timbre. That called for a final caution, “Unless you want to start looking for a new physicist,” his glare slipped over the trio before Neil settled at the table and unfolded the blueprints without another word.

***

When that awaited text from Neil came, bearing the information that he was back in London and happy to meet you whenever you did not jump for joy. Definitely not. What you did do was grin and discuss the possible rendezvous immediately. When that Tuesday afternoon arrived, with the glory of a decent rehearsal and a good coffee in your paper cup, you happily bypassed the crowds at Green Park and skipped the steps down to the correct platform.

That twenty-minute walk to the station was a blessing, just as much as a curse. When Neil proposed the time you could meet on the train, you did not correct him about your location that day. Or that grabbing the Jubilee line would be entirely off the quickest route back home. You just accepted the time and place and ignored the voice at the back of your head reminding you that this was not how you usually behaved.

It could go fuck itself.

Once you settled on the platform, one glance at the watch told you the next train would be the right one. The strange giddiness sparked in your veins, but you blamed it on the three-week gap between the meetings. It was just that, nothing more. Obviously.

The autopilot carried you through the motions until you had boarded the carriage and came face to face with the cause of all this idiocy. Neil smiled, instantly clocking you before you had even placed both feet inside. It was impossible to keep your face neutral, returning the grin and manoeuvring around the commuters to sit next to him on the three plastic chairs facing the sliding doors.

Then, as if seized by insanity, you propelled your body forward with the arms coming up around Neil’s neck to embrace him tightly. His freeze took approximately twenty seconds to thaw as he returned the hug with equal strength. You could feel the warmth of his breath hitting the crook of your neck and making you fight back a shiver that would not do. Instead, you let yourself breathe him in, rest in the moment that was potentially a mistake. Still, you were not going to treat it like one. Not when the warmth of his hands seeped through the clothes as they rested on your waist.

When the lurch of the train reminded you of reality and all its flaws, you ruefully disentangled from Neil and met his wary gaze. His blue eyes scanned your face as if looking for clues towards the reasons for the madness you just allowed yourself. When that offered no answers, Neil broke the silence with a careful observation:

“I didn’t know that we’re doing hugs,” his impassive face offered no clues either, triggering a wave of uncertainty you had to smother.

Because what if you went too far? What if that was not what Neil wanted?

“We are now,” the confidence was missing from the statement, making you add a crucial question, “Is that okay?” you could hear the insecurity in your voice, betraying the worries.

They disappeared the moment Neil flashed you a smile, his hand lightly patting your knee as a complement to the simple reassurance:

“Sure is,” lowering his gaze to catch yours, Neil winked.

Thank fuck. It surely made life much easier. Or the plans you might or might have not made regarding him. Now that the crisis had passed, you shifted in the seat to find a more comfortable position and allowed yourself a selfish look, measuring him up as usual. The slight tan line revealed by the rolled-up sleeves confirmed what you did know about his disappearance. The minor tiredness in how he carried his body strengthened your guesses. The rest of him blinded you as always.

Especially the three buttons left undone, revealing a strip of his chest. And inspiring ungodly thoughts in your head. Ignoring that what could not be addressed. Especially not right now in a carriage full of people. You switched your attention to the other crucial topic. Everything was better than being arrested for public indecency. At least you did hope so.

“How was the trip?” you noted the shift in Neil’s posture.

How he strengthened in the seat, the mask back in place. Although his mystery had fallen into the background over the acceleration of your dynamic, it was still very much present. You had to figure him out. Had to crack the case. Even if it killed you.

For now, though, simply asking mundane questions had to be enough.

“Well… it was fine. The usual” the answer did not help much, however.

Neil looked as if he knew how enigmatic it sounded but could not do anything about it. Upon your questioning look, he only shrugged and offered no further details. This time, you could not let the moment pass without a comment. You rolled your eyes, a frustrated huff interrupting the silence with petulance:

“God, you couldn’t be any less mysterious if you tried,” although anger was not one of the present emotions, you knew Neil would understand the message as you glared at him without heat.

He winced as if admitting to the guilt you hinted at and turned to you with a more open expression on his face:

“Sorry, it’s uh… maybe one day,” Neil met your gaze meaningfully, making you keener to believe him.

You held his gaze for a beat, even if only to have an excuse to look into his eyes and see Neil without the veil of pretence. It was easy to hope one day he would tell you more. That there was one day, somewhere along the line, waiting for you. That whatever was happening would not burn to a cinder in two weeks and leave you bereft. As things like this tended to do.

“I’ll hold you to that,” before breaking the eye contact, you reached for his hand.

It was another insane reflex that was difficult to explain, even to yourself. Yet, still, Neil went willingly. His long fingers tangled with yours without resistance and allowed you to rest your joined palms between the seats, almost like a beacon to whoever was curious about your meeting. And you could see the nosy stares, the inquisitive grandmas eager to judge and label everything and everyone existing within their vicinity.

You used the warmth of your connected hands to anchor you in the present as Neil asked:

“How’s the imposter syndrome? Did it fuck off at last?” the softness in his eyes could undoubtedly be fatal.

As was the way he knew what to ask and hit the jackpot without even trying. Because, of course, the feeling of not being good enough did not disappear. Of course, you still got up every morning with the vague desire to approach the ballet director and tell her you are giving up. That you cannot do this. It almost seemed like Neil could sense your thoughts.

Which was both terrifying and appealing, if you were to be honest. It would make your job easier if he knew exactly what you were thinking. About him.

“I wish,” the suffering sigh was a cheap trick, but viable in your books, “I still think I’m going to embarrass myself, but well,” not willing to give up the comfortable weight of his hand in yours, you offered Neil a one-sided shrug “Can’t exactly capitulate now” the desperate edge to that sentence did not escape his attention.

Sure, you would not actually give up, but that did not mean you were not half-heartedly wishing it happened anyway. Ideally, in the form of someone else doing the job for you. Pathetic, innit?

Neil squeezed your hand, capturing your attention without needing to try at all. The frown was still present on your face, its force turning the corners of your mouth downwards. As always, Neil seemed to see through all that you were not saying. He met your gaze (which was a feat considering you were happy to look anywhere but at him) and spoke:

“I wouldn’t let you,” there was an edge to his voice, a steely resolve that told you the conversation was gaining another layer.

A different destination to the one you had expected at first. Although, with how your chats recently played out, it was to be anticipated. Probably.

Without giving yourself the time to overthink, you leaned closer to Neil and placed a hand on his thigh. You could see his eyes widen upon the move, the pupils blowing up in the quickest form of flattery a man could give you. Sharpening your smile to the perfectly saccharine variant, you delivered the prepared lines:

“Oh yeah?” his thigh muscles tensed underneath your hand as Neil’s mouth fell agape without him being fully in control of the reaction. It was adorable. And an ideally ripe ground to lay the final strike, “You’d force me? Have your way with me?” the sparks in his eyes were a pretty addition to the already gorgeous picture.

At that moment, you knew that you had missed this. No texting could ever replace the real thing. The back and forth with the arresting strength of his eye contact and the unpredictable suspense of what would come next. Like the sudden softening of Neil’s features and an unexpectedly tentative counter to your bold questions:

“If you’d let me,” he swallowed hard as if desperately trying to get rid of the thoughts in his head and simultaneously unable to shake them off.

As if ripping the thread connecting him to you and shortening it at an alarming rate was causing Neil physical pain. The revelation acted like a hot poker pressed against the tender skin of your palm. It was difficult to shrug it off as if it was nothing. It nagged and prodded until you could do nothing but stare dumbly at him, feeling every passing second like a wasted beat of time you would never get back.

Before you could get your shit together in any way, it was too late. Neil had already jumped to conclusions, as you worried he might. His brows furrowed as his teeth nibbled on the chapped bottom lip in a familiar nervous tic. Slowly, as if navigating a mined battlefield, he shifted in the seat, widening the space between you by a fraction. You noticed it anyway.

“You don’t mind that this sort of thing keeps happening?” the question was completed with a vague gesture, slashing the air between you awkwardly.

The inflexion offered no space for doubt. Neil concluded that you very much did mind. That somehow you were not an active and eager participant in the heavy flirting and mutual teasing. Neil was an idiot.

And you had to put that point across instantly.

“Why would I mind?” without thinking, you let your fingers repeatedly stroke his forearm as you leaned back into his orbit to confess what ought to have been obvious, “I mean every word I say to you. Including all that post-Watershed talk” it was delightful to see your favourite smile disrupt his frown.

At the same time, it was nice to have it out in the open, no longer unsaid and implied. Because you did mean it. And you did want it. Whatever Neil would offer, be it a friendship or more. The choice was his.

You could pinpoint when the weight lifted off his shoulders and let him breathe deeper. You stared as Neil absorbed and processed the information, his blue eyes showing a spectrum of emotions. Some were unreadable. Other more obvious, like the devilish sparks that always guaranteed the conversation would take a curious turn. Or the cautious hope, making him look so much younger and innocent. Your unoccupied hand itched with the desire to brush his golden locks from his forehead, so you tightened it into a fist hidden in the coat pocket.

Just like you hid everything that had no place in your life.

At the periphery of your attention, you could register the called stations. Or the fact that your stop was mercilessly getting closer. Only one question could make you forget the reality altogether:

“So, what would you do if I kissed you?” when Neil asked, you were glad you had never forced yourself to look away from him.

That hesitant hope was still there, lightening up his eyes. You let it pull you in, as there was no need to search your heart for an answer. It was fair to assume Neil knew that, too. The question was only a preliminary. But it was still admirable he asked. People rarely did.

You shrugged, highlighting the evident conclusion he hopefully had already reached. It would have been easy to close the gap and let that be the answer. Too easy. It was enough that you could hardly ever look away from him, constantly drawn and arrested by his eyes.

Forcing yourself to break the spell, you met his gaze and offered him an impassive smile. If only to keep up the façade for a little longer.

“There’s only one way to find out, Neil,” you hoped that was enough, that he would understand the ball was back in his court to do as he pleased.

You also hoped Neil came to the right solution. Sadly, that did not seem to come to be just yet. One glance outside the window alarmed you about the surroundings and that you were arriving at your station. The frown twisted your mouth downwards as you risked a glance at Neil. The disappointment in his eyes told you he already caught up.

Two choices were waiting at your disposal. You could either stay, miss your stop to find out what would happen next. Or you could choose cowardice and leave the carriage, delaying the fateful moment a little longer. Definitely not forever.

It was hard to say why you chose the second option. Why you stood up without as much as a look at Neil and feigned a cheery farewell that felt foreign on your tongue. Later, you were keen to pretend it was just the influence of the moment. A sudden spell of insanity.

“Oops, that’s me. See you soon,” it was a miracle that you did not trip in the haste to get out.

You barely registered the surroundings as you bolted towards the sliding door and stepped onto the platform, missing the gap by mere millimetres. It was pure luck that you did not walk into any poor soul as you attempted to get away from the train as fast as possible.

You did not get the time to flee. All because you did not consider one thing – Neil had a choice, too.

When you felt a hand take yours and pull you back, there was that split second of panic. Your disoriented mind rapidly flicked through at least ten different disastrous scenarios, starting at a random appearance of Liam and ending at a violent assault you were about to be subjected to. Only then, at the very end, your brain pushed forward another observation. There was something familiar about that handhold.

Before you had a second to follow that thought, the interrupter pulled at your hand, making you whirl around to face them. Your widened gaze fell upon the undone tortoiseshell shirt buttons and wandered up the neck to land on Neil’s blue eyes, patiently staring back at you. It took you another second to understand what happened. And another one to begin processing what it could mean. Why he did it.

Without being aware of the movement of your body, you stepped closer to Neil, tightening the bubble you both had created in the middle of the platform. People bypassed you as they rushed to the train with the beeping doors hastening their steps. But that hardly mattered. It was just white noise. Unimportant and ignorable.

Unlike Neil, who closed the gap between your bodies to mere millimetres, and wordlessly repeated the question from before. The answer did not change. You offered him a tiny nod, not feeling the need to speak. The surrealism of the moment could not be labelled anyhow.

From the second you had tasted Neil’s lips, you knew it would not be something you could forget. That the feel of him would burn into the cortex of your brain and stay there to haunt you for eternity. You were right.

Your eyes snapped shut as soon as he closed the distance and covered your mouth with his in a soft kiss. His gentle and pliant lips caressed yours attentively without effort, making you cling even closer to him. Your arms came around Neil’s neck as your fingers toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck. It took another second, a blissful beat of existence, to make you kiss him back. Just as carefully. Just like you never kissed anyone before.

Neil’s relief came through in a short gasp, let out into your opening mouth, and the warm weight of his palms came up to rest on your waist beneath the open coat. Following the logic you did not understand, you tilted your head and allowed his prying tongue to lick into your mouth. The liquid heat traversed your veins, warming up your skin as Neil took his time to map out the inside of your mouth. Suddenly, the instant connection you felt made sense. Things clicked into place as you breathed the taste of him and breathed out the uncertainty. It felt right. Good. Unforgettable, even.

It felt like no first kisses and endless one-night stands ever did. And that made no sense.

Soon, that first kiss evolved into another and then the next. The platform, the people and the noise faded into the background as you swapped kisses, barely interrupted by quiet groans and swallowed gasps. On its own accord, your hand ventured up to tangle in his hair, grabbing a fistful of the golden locks and tugging in time with a particularly hungry nip taken out of Neil’s bottom lip. The reward of a barely stifled moan was more than worth it.

As was how Neil held you close and returned your kisses with equal zeal. He matched your energy and pushed you further until the remaining part of your conscience worried about being arrested for public indecency.

When the burn of your lungs excelled that of your soul, you placed a palm over the centre of his chest and pushed Neil back. Just a fraction. Just to catch your breath. His answering whine felt like another spark of pride, making your eyes glow with self-satisfaction. That was better than any other form of gratification you could think of.

When you finally forced yourself to blink your eyes open and look at Neil, you were met with kiss-bruised lips and darkened blue eyes, showing nothing else but hunger. At least ten increasingly ridiculous religious metaphors battled for leadership in your mind, but you pushed them all aside. The most accurate comment went to two simple words, pushed forward by the strength of your soul’s crudeness. Fucking hell. In the best of meanings, that is.

Following deeply rooted instincts, your tongue darted out to thoroughly trace the expanse of your bottom lip. And get remains of his taste, that you had already started missing. As far as kisses had gone, this one was pretty damn spectacular.

Neil seemed frozen, his eyes fixed on your mouth as if that was the only thing he could do. Admittedly, it was adorable. Yet, still, you decided to break the spell, the only way you could think of:

“I think your train has left,” you glanced over his shoulder, noting the expectedly empty platform.

Only now, when the haze of the kiss (or rather a whole make-out session) had begun to lift, you could understand what had transpired. And that Neil was keen to delay his return home for the price of a kiss. Or for the hope of a kiss, for clearly, he did not think he would get that far. Idiot.

You could see it now, back on his face. The slight disorientation and confusion suggested Neil could barely believe that what just happened was real. He blinked twice, then again, as if forcing himself to wake up and met your gaze with wide eyes. Without thinking, you allowed the hand you had pressed flat to his chest to venture up, stopping when your fingers started grazing over his neck. That was the trigger Neil needed to return to reality. He seized your adventurous fingers in a loose hold and placed your joined hands back over his heart. You could feel it racing.

“I’ll wait for the next one,” Neil offered you a half-smile, the uncertainty shining through the tentative joy in his eyes.

It was not something you were used to. Usually, after a kiss like that (never even preceded with a question, because who the fuck still asked for kisses?), you only ever got smugness. And an attempt at a smooth transition to sex, which did or did not succeed, depending on the participating party). Never uncertainty. Never shyness. Never contentment with what happened without pushing you for more.

You didn’t know what to do with any of it.

“No regrets?” the question was also one that you never asked before.

Not after something as trivial as a first kiss. But then, nothing was the way it usually went with Neil. That much was quite clear.

“Not really. You?” as if sensing your growing uncertainty, Neil did not hesitate before answering the question.

He squeezed your fingers, still wrapped in his palm and met your gaze with something almost resembling confidence. Somehow, that was enough. You took a fortifying breath to gather courage and discard the doubts. There would be more than enough time to deal with them later. Hopefully.

For now, there were other things to do and say. Like answering Neil’s question and reclaiming the conversation from its sombre paths. Especially since no cell in your body regretted the kiss. Or any other thing you had ever said or hinted at to him. It is just that somehow, somewhere along the line, your normal confidence had been wiped off the table. And it felt like it was never to be seen again. Not like before.

You hoped to ignore that bit of revelation, too.

“Nope. I’d offer a coffee at mine, but… I think some things need a better build-up,” you hoped the chaos in your head was not easily seen as you dropped the line with an attempt at the usual smoothness and met Neil’s eyes with remaining poise.

You meant that, too. A part of you, the same that had difficulties ending the kiss, wanted to continue it wherever it may lead you. You were quite sure you knew where it was going. And you certainly wanted that. But, at the same time, rushing into it seemed… wrong. As if the fact that you also wanted to be friends with Neil needed a little more respect. A little more time.

You could tell he understood from the way Neil nodded, his eyes still blown out by the darkened pupils.

“Agreed,” he shook his head slightly as if trying to clear it before glancing at the timing screen over your heads. Whatever the impact those 7 minutes of waiting had, the next thing Neil did was to heave a sigh and set his weary eyes on you, “Actually, I might walk back home. Should probably clear my head,” a small smile lifted the corner of his mouth.

Without overthinking the act, you seized his hand and started for the stairs. Just because you were not yet taking him home did not mean you could not drag out the goodbye. Right?

Right.

***

Although the kiss was not forgotten and only added to the general restlessness, you never mentioned it again. It was another layer added to the sprinkled, complex mess that was your relationship. A tiered cake that had so many flavours it was impossible to label it using a concise, less than five-word description. It just did not get discussed.

That was both a blessing and a curse, considering that with mere days left till the public Don Quixote premiere you could barely handle one type of stress and uncertainty. Let alone two. The reality check deadline crept up on you without warning, catching you pacing the flat for over an hour the evening before the official pre-premiere. The event always happened at least a night before the opening soiree and was reserved for the press, Royal Ballet directory and special guests of honour. It also meant that every detail of the performance had to be up to par if one wanted to continue advancing the career in the company. Which you did want. Desperately. It was just bloody unfortunate that the usual insanity of anxiety now was interlaced with something else.

Something that made you stop the pacing and pick up the phone only to open the messages and stare at the text conversation with Neil. It had been a few hours, and considering the 9 pm on the clock, you had a fair right to believe that he might be asleep. Maybe. But that could hardly deter the part of your brain that tended to get ahead of itself. Especially fuelled by stress and anxiety.

Without letting yourself falter, you typed the question:

/ 🏹, 9:04 pm/ Are you still up?

Luckily, you only had to hold your breath for an answer (or a lack of it) for less than 5 minutes. For that, your lungs were eternally thankful.

/✝️, 9:08 pm/ Is this the moment you ask me for dick pics?

A ridiculous guffaw broke the silence of your flat, along with that necessary intake of oxygen. Conversations like those still happened daily and only increased the want you could not get rid of if you tried.

And you didn’t try. There was no point to it.

/ 🏹, 9:09 pm/ Nah. Not yet.

You were having fun, chatting the shit on the daily with someone who seemed more than eager to keep the ball going. That was partially why you reached out on a whim, desperate to get out of the flat even for a little while. After all, asking Neil offered a fifty-fifty chance of an entertaining evening. All other intentions did not have to be disclosed. Even in your mind.

/✝️, 9:10 pm/ That’s a relief.

/✝️, 9:10 pm/ How can I be of service, my lady?

/ 🏹, 9:11 pm/ You’ve no idea, babe.

/ 🏹, 9:12 pm/ I was thinking of going to the dance studio, that’s open till midnight. Do you want to come?

/ 🏹, 9:12 pm/ You’ve said you wanted to see me dance so…

After sending the third message, you put down the phone and exhaled. That nervousness residing in your bones was new. It was almost as if it mattered what Neil’s answer would be. As if you cared whether he would say yes to the tentative proposition. None of that had ever happened before.

The urge to faceplant into the pillow was derailed by the buzz of an incoming message. With embarrassing speed of reaction, you read the texts:

/✝️, 9:15 pm/ Happily.

/✝️, 9:15 pm/ When and where do we meet?

You grinned. As you copied and pasted the location pin into the message, you could already feel a different type of nervousness enter your system. It was time for Neil to see you dance. You would also see him for the first time since the kiss. It was high time someone covered this topic on wikiHow. Or, at least, you thought so.

***

Although the Royal Ballet had more than good enough facilities at the Covent Garden building, the company could also use a studio by the Southwark Underground Station whenever you felt like it. Conveniently, that alternative place was open till midnight on weeknights, offering a one-in-a-million chance to run over the choreography for a billion times more before the pre-premiere. Without an audience of your fellow ballet dancers and their critical eyes, at that.

The other perk to the external studio was that nothing stopped you from bringing someone from the outside along. Nothing except for maybe the deeply rooted fear of showing Neil what you could do. Or couldn’t do.

That fear had not left through the Uber drive from your flat, growing in force from the moment you set your eyes upon Neil waiting outside the studio with a smile on his face. You exchanged the usual niceties, bypassing the awkward tint to the interaction with an avoided hug and nonsensical commentary from your side.

The nerves seemed to reach the peak as you left Neil in the main ballet studio room, the space lit up sparsely to maintain the strangely surreal atmosphere of those late autumn nights in London when nothing seems to be tangible and real. Having left the house in a pre-planned rehearsal outfit, you only took off the unnecessary layers, leaving you in a simple bodice and a wrap mid-thigh skirt and pulled on the woollen leg warmers to keep the chill at bay.

Luckily for your racing heart, the ritual of putting on and lacing up the pointe shoes always did its magic, allowing you to centre yourself and take a couple of deep breaths. Until there was nothing left but to march out of the changing room and connect your phone to the speaker, the right track ready for you to press play.

But before you could go that far, you made the mistake of locating Neil in the room. He had settled on the floor opposite you, his back pressed to the mirror-covered walls of the studio. He stared as you entered the invisible stage and offered you an encouraging smile. A slow, gentle warm-up was a valid opportunity to falter. A necessary step you had to take while also admitting that it was convenient. Although, Neil’s attentive gaze following your every move was much less convenient.

Once you had run out of all other options, you started the music, put down the phone and took up position. Desperate to rehearse as much as possible, you chose to go through the entire dream sequence at the end of Act 2. As always, the Minkus score did its magic, helping you settle into the movement and almost forget about everything else.

You followed the steps with practised ease, hearing the dull thud of pointe shoes hitting the hardwood floors with each landing between the orchestral notes. When the cue to finish was near you were almost out of breath. The pearls of sweat clung to your temples as the sweetness of exertion burned through your muscles and tendons. When those final notes rang off in the quiet studio, you held the finishing pose and waited for the music to end. The resulting silence was deafening.

Slowly, as if pained to do it, you opened your eyes. Neil was right where you had left him; his gaze seemingly never trailed away. But the exact look on his face was different. Instead of the ease and unbothered nonchalance he tried to emit earlier, Neil was now speechless. Dazed. His mouth was still agape, and he had to remind himself to close it before swallowing hard. You tried your hardest not to let that get into your head. You failed.

“So… what do you think?” unable to keep quiet for much longer, you released the question into the ether with a permanent frown and a minimal level of conviction.

It seemed to be what Neil needed to wake up from the stupor. He shifted, pulled up his knees to his chin and eyed you with a bright gaze. The desire to look away rose with every minute, but you tried to endure it. Somehow.

“You’re brilliant. Do you know that?” the matter-of-fact tone threw you off kilter, bringing out an automatic (albeit manic) grin from its hiding back onto your face.

Neil mirrored the expression instantly, only widening your smile in the process. Feeling the need to move again, you flexed your calves, completing a set of rapid changements. Only once that was done you could attempt to answer the question.

“Maybe,” you shrugged, unwilling to stray onto that sort of honest territory just yet, “It doesn’t hurt to hear it again, though,” unable to ignore that one voice at the back of your head that had not been convinced, you asked, “Was it actually… good?” the emphasis on the word was automatic.

You could tell Neil saw right through your faux nonchalance as he smiled, a different type of fondness shining in his eyes. That, too, was best left alone for now. The observation was shelved among others of its kind in the darkest cavern of your brain. Ideally left alone for good, never to be touched or thought of again. Just in case.

Neil’s gaze never strayed from yours as he offered you an answer without a hint of exasperation:

“As far as my virgin eyes could tell, it was perfect,” the corner of his mouth rose in the makings of a familiar smirk.

It eradicated any illusions that he did not know what he was saying. Or the effect the sentence would have. You closed your eyes against the sight, hopelessly willing the inconvenient feelings to disappear.

By now, it was painfully clear that Neil could be a bastard when he wanted to. It was just another thing that you liked about him. Perhaps too much.

For a second, you debated following the easy way out he had offered. It would have been effortless to take up the tone and turn the conversation into yet another pleasant back-and-forth that could potentially lead you past the talking. Past that one kiss, that had lowkey driven you insane with the promise of potential.

But the doubts were still there. They still clouded your mind like a flock of hungry birds of prey hunting for a bite of flesh. And Neil was the only person you could talk to and know he would listen. That he would care. For some reason, it was a crucial thing to share. An important topic to raise. Here and now.

“Allow me to ignore that double entendre potential for a second,” your apologetic frown was accepted with a subtle nod and meaningful glance.

“You’re excused, Cupid,” Neil grinned, evidently taking pleasure from the nickname you became fond of.

Especially because it was him, who bestowed it on you.

“Thank you,” shaking off the sudden rush of affection, you completed the gratitude with a cheeky addition, returning Neil’s smirk, “Sir,” only once noted his answering blush, it was safe to delve into what you really wanted to tell him. You took a deep breath, completing half a pirouette to face the mirrors on the wall and asked, “Do you ever feel like you’re just constantly pretending? Like the whole ‘fake it till you make it’ deal, except you never stop faking it?” training your gaze on the hardwood floors, you stared at the tips of your pointe shoes.

The worn-out, ragged edges caught your attention for a split second. You took a mental note to break in the brand-new pair and prepare them for tomorrow’s show. On the periphery of your vision, you could see Neil’s reflection. You could feel him staring, the intense gazing boring holes in the back of your head. But not even that could make you turn and face him.

“Pretty much every day,” Neil’s reply made you look up, meeting his eyes in the reflection. That was not an answer you had expected, “I’ve found that sometimes, if you’re lucky, all that pretending can fool the brain, too,” he signed off the addition with another reassuring smile.

Still, the scepticism reigned free as an unbidden scoff tore from your throat, forcing you to swallow down the sudden desire to retreat from the conversation. Years of practice did not seem to share Neil’s thesis. Things never got easier. You doubted they ever would.

“I’d hope so. Except that, I’m not sure I am that lucky,” that was a given, an undeniable fact of life like the laws of physics or the ignorance of the Tories. Unchangeable. The familiar wave of frustration threatened to pull you down as you allowed the insecurities to speak their part,“I may appear as a fucking cool cat, confident and all, but… I’m not,” hearing the broken note in your voice, you swallowed hard, unable to look at Neil anymore. There was only one final thing to add, “And I wish I could be,”

There. The curtain has fallen, revealing the truth underneath. Now, it was clear Neil had no illusions left about you. No reason to think of you highly. Somehow, you felt lighter. Sure, still unable to meet his gaze, even in the reflection, but it was better that way. Now, when you did disappoint him somewhere along the line, for whatever reason, it would be much less surprising.

You had no doubts whether that moment of disappointment would happen. It always did.

“You have every right to be. Because you are” when Neil spoke, at first, you did not register it. His words flew right over your head before being caught by your heart, desperate to find anything to hold on to. Only then did you hear what he said. You looked up in time to see the remains of the fading blush on his cheeks, “If that even makes sense,” he shook his head slightly as if scolding himself over the awkward reassurance and stood up. The tense shoulders betrayed the lightness he still tried to emit, “Trust me when I say I feel useless and stupid every minute of every day,” the weariness in his voice clashed with the disbelief you felt when hearing what he said.

That made no sense. The turmoil made you turn around in a half-pirouette and face Neil with wide eyes and mouth agape. Your brain was experiencing severe computing issues, the smoke almost sizzling out through your open lips.

He was none of those things. You barely resisted the urge to close the miles between you and shake him by the shoulders, all the while screaming at him to stop saying such bullshit. You did not do any of those things.

“But you’re… you,” instead, you gestured vaguely towards him, armed with words that were not enough.

No words seemed to be apt to describe him. Neil was just… impossible. Ineffable in his wonderfulness. Much better than anyone you had ever known. But that was something you could not say. Not now.

“In my books, that’s not necessarily a good thing,” Neil glanced at you with tired eyes, kicking around at nothing as he slid across the parquet in his socks.

When you entered the studio, he started unlacing his shoes before you could protest. Said something about not wanting the cleaner to have more work. The comment made you smile too brightly before you excused yourself into the changing room and hid your face in the palms of your hands. That state didn’t seem to have passed.

In an effort not to do anything stupid, you backed away till you could feel the barre against your back. Only then you met his searching gaze and made sure to show Neil the extent of earnestness on your face:

“It is. I’ve never met anyone like you, Neil,” the admission was met with a surprised double-take, so you decided to soften the tone with a stupid addition, “The hottest priest in London and whatnot,” you did mean that one, too.

Neil’s huff of laughter felt like a dodged bullet.

“Funny,” the bright sparks in his eyes confirmed the praise with doubled force, making you turn back towards the mirror to avoid being blinded by the strength of his affection. That stuff could be dangerous, “You’re the hottest ballerina in London, so we’re even,” once you registered Neil’s words, the silky tone of his voice that had not been there just a second ago, you knew that trouble was coming.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him close the gap. The warmth settled in your cheeks as you felt the comfortable heat spread around your body. That pleasant anticipation ignited in your bones with every step Neil took. Somewhere, at the edges of reason and logic, you knew you still had a choice. You knew that whatever he had envisioned in his mind, could easily be stopped with one word from your side. What was the problem?

Mainly that you didn’t want him to stop. Did not want to cut short the moment slowly blooming into something crucial. You could feel it buzz beneath your skin as Neil took the final steps towards you and leaned in. His hands came to rest upon the barre, millimetres from yours. Not quite touching but enough so you could not ignore his presence. You could feel the heat from his body as Neil pressed his chest to your back and whispered into your ear:

“A cool cat,” in normal circumstances, the call-back to your rant would have made you laugh.

But those weren’t normal circumstances. Not with Neil’s proximity, his hands slowly tracing invisible lines up your arms. You could feel his breath on the nape of your neck, creating goosebumps effortlessly. And the thing was �� this wasn’t anything new. It was far from the first time someone had done this. Far from the first time you had been tempted by someone who desired you. But it was the first time they seemed to take their time for it.

Your head felt dizzy with the revelation as Neil’s fingers lightly brushed the neckline of your bodice and journeyed down. It was a first in the fact that he did not even try touching your breasts, instead respectfully settling over your ribs and tapping a vague rhythm over your heated skin. Without searching your heart, you knew that you did not mind it. Not one bit.

You covered one of his palms with yours, firmly pressing it against your waist and raised your head to seek Neil’s gaze. He was already looking back at you, the blue eyes of his eyes dark and consumed with something you wanted to call hunger. The same feeling could be easily found on your face.

“Are you trying to seduce me?” you frowned at the hoarseness of your voice and the breathless tint to the question.

For the first time, it was impossible to fake your reaction. Impossible to pretend you were not affected. Neil’s answering smile, full of confidence and mischief, made that discovery seem fine. Not troubling at all.

“Is it working?” the warmth in his eyes made you feel safe, not threatened by the potential of what could happen.

Not viable to the pains of consequences. That seemed enough.

Enough to make you gently tug at his hand, asking for the freedom of movement to turn around and face him. Only then, with Neil’s curious gaze beaming down on you like a desirable spotlight, you placed his palm back on your waist and offered an honest reply:

“I think you already know,” as proof, you picked up his other hand and guided it to press against your chest, feeling the rapid heartbeat.

The wolfish grin you received in return was worth any leftover sense of shame and embarrassment. Neil leaned in, and just as you were about to close your eyes, awaiting another life-changing kiss, he left a promising peck on the edge of your jaw. On its own accord, your hand tightened over the wooden railing as you exposed your throat for his use.

Neil wasted no time leaving a trail of kisses down the slope of your neck, only just being careful enough not to leave marks. Each kiss felt like a hot poker pressed against the tender skin of your neck, blazing hot and impossible to shake off. You closed your eyes, letting the sense take in the sensation of his tender care. Of the contrasting burn of stubble, scratching at your skin with a delicious sting.

Every kiss took time, only then to be sealed with a lick of his tongue, eliciting your quiet gasps and barely kept in groans of pleasure. The wave of insanity rose, threatening to take over your brain, save for one consistent thought. One revelation.

No one had cared this much before.

Letting go of his hand, you tangled your fingers in his golden strands, lightly tugging to gain his attention. The answering groan was sure to enter the library of sounds and images you liked to relieve in private. But before you could attempt to formulate the desire painted across your face, the door to the studio creaked, disrupting the silence.

You gasped in shock as Neil took half a step back, warily eyeing the doorway. A thousand curses lodged themselves in your throat as a silhouette of an older man, armed with a bucket and a mop, peered inside the room with a scowl. Fucking Rich, the Janitor.

The older man scanned you both from head to toe and sighed.

“It’s closing time, kids. Go home,” his gravelly voice acted like the much-needed bucket of cold water.

As he turned back towards the darkness of the corridor, you met Neil’s eyes. The depths of exasperation visible there told you this business was far from over. You certainly hoped so.

[iman-92]

I was talking to a guy from Somaliland (born here)- first time I was talking to someone from there. We started speaking last year and he started ignoring so we only spoke for a couple of weeks. He popped up again recently and we met that same week, spoke for another week but he got a bit sensitive over something minor and stopped messaging. I popped a few days later sending the thinking emoji and he has ignored since. It’s been a couple of weeks now. I was thinking of messaging him saying don’t pop up again next year but just thinking to leave it. Part of me wishes he would pop up but I feel like if I did he’d think I’ll always be around for him type of thing. He mentioned having depression before but didn’t get into it, and I feel like contextualise this kind of behaviour but he has changed his whatsapp dp and back on the dating app.

There’s a somali guy at work I have a crush on (different guy) but he seems a lot more religious, he does warmly smile when he sees me but I don’t encounter him often because I’m not based there. Someone mentioned he rejected shaking a colleagues hand because of his religion. I’m not sure how to go about this crush 🥲 I’ve been on a lunch with him before with a group of people but it’s always so hard to speak to him.

personally i’d leave guy 1. context might explain the behaviour but doesn’t excuse it and I feel like the poor communication should be enough reason to not continue on. he very well might pop up again but will likely be more of the same.

guy 2 you said he *seems* religious - idk I would ask around a bit more to get an understanding of what he’s like. if he’s not the type to pursue a woman bc of his beliefs you either have to be direct (if you want to get to know him seriously in a halal way) or just wait patiently for opportunities to talk more and get to know each other over time. no need to rush lol

[occluminary]

hi ok this is like. soo embarrassing but. do u…have dating app advice? from a nonbinary person wondering which apps are most queer/nonbianry friendly, and also just in general. i’ve been wanting to try it for ages but i was so terrified of someone i know irl seeing me on there but i really want someone to flirt with n kiss :(( am desperate atp im willing to risk it lmao

hi!!! not embarrassing at all, i'm more than happy to share my experience and advice! this got reeeeally long so i'm going to put a cut, so sorry😔😔😔😔

first thing: you can't change your name after you set it, so if it's your dead name, you are stuck with it and im quite frustrated bc i don't want to have to delete my accounts and start over but alas....

i have used tinder, hinge, and the app her (which sucks i would not recommend) and i prefer hinge out of all of them although i will say the free version is limiting so sometimes i'll treat myself to whatever half off special they run and pay $10 for a month of premium and then cancel it so i can get more swipes but that's only if i have money to burn which is not often. tinder and hinge have similar prompts to answer but i like the features of hinge better because you can send comments when you swipe, this helps get responses back instead of the dreaded no one messages first.

i think getting over the concern of how others were going to perceive me was the hardest part about setting up my profile because im my harshest critic so i look at everything from every angle and try to be the perfect person for everyone. well that's not realistic lol so i changed my approach and decided that i was going to present as authentically myself as i could because i don't want to be trying to date someone who doesn't accept me for who i am. i live in a large city so i don't have many people i know show up on dating apps, but (for example) if you have it set for women only, you are only going to be shown other women who have their preferences set up to show nonbinary folx, so if you were worried about Jim Bob down the street seeing you on an app, he probably won't because you aren't compatible through the algorithm. idk if that eases your nerves at all, but i hope so!!!

i am not interested in cis men so i don't have that turned on for my profile, but in general i don't think cis men on dating apps are the safest for trans/enby folx so i always advise turning off men because it also increases the amount of other-gender options.

the other thing i do is make my bio full of a wide range information about me so other people have a pretty good vision of who i am/why we would be a good match. things like hobbies/special interests/other facts about me that lead into an easy conversation of getting to know someone. i always like seeing someone have two truths and a lie because that's an easy in to a conversation once we match. nothing is worse than an empty profile! i will never swipe on someone no matter how attractive they are if they don't tell me at least a little bit about them in their bio. also, any time i get really excited about someone else's profile, i make note of what i liked and tweak my profile slightly so it's always improving.

here's the most important but the hardest part to actually do: you have to interact first. and i know! it sucks!! but generally you won't get any messages once you match bc no one is willing to make that first move. the way i think about it is that im making a respectful move to someone who also swiped on me, so there's already a mutual attraction. and if they don't want to respond, there's no pressure and no harm done. but if they do respond?? now you are cooking with gas!! and it only happens if you just are brave for 5 seconds to send a message asking how their day was or commenting on something from their profile.

if you are comfortable coming off anon, you can send me a message and ill share some of my profile with you for inspo and if you need help coming up with some things, it's my favorite part but it always takes me some time lol

[uncloseted]

How can I start exploring my sexuality once I get out of a relationship with a man (I’m a woman btw)

I’ve always identified as bisexual and I look straight for the most part (I dress pretty feminine and nothing about me really screams gay). However, lately I’ve had suspicions that maybe I don’t really like men, but I want to gain some experience with women later once my boyfriend and I break up (that’s a whole other thing. we’re only together rn bc we’re in a lease). Anyway, how can I start looking / acting more gay? Where do I find other gay girls?? I’ve never even done anything to a girl sexually (they’ve done things to me but yeah). Please help

I think the best thing you can do is start spending time in queer spaces, either online or in person. How you do this will depend a bit on how old you are and where in the world you're located. If you have an LGBT+ center near you, that could be a good place to start. A lot of towns and cities have LGBT+ meetup groups or queer events that are open to everyone. A lot of campuses, both high school and college/university, will have LGBT+ organizations of some sort, so if you're in school, that's a great way to meet people. If the nearest city to you has a Pride parade, that's a great way to find out which organizations are active in your area and to meet some cool people. If your town/city has a regular midnight showing of Rocky Horror Picture Show or Hedwig and the Angry Inch, that's typically a great place to meet other queer people. You could get involved with LGBT+ volunteer organizations or outreach groups. If you happen to live near a lesbian bar (and are of legal drinking age), that's a perfect way to meet queer women, but they're few and far between these days. Basically, the more queer people you know, the more friendships you'll build organically, and the more likely it is that you'll find someone you might be interested in spending time with romantically or sexually. Having queer friends also makes it more likely that someone will introduce you to a person they think you'll like.

I wouldn't worry too much about "looking gay" or "acting gay". I know it can be tempting to try and signal to other people that you fit into their community, but in my view, coming out is a process of self-acceptance. And so I think that if you're trying to change yourself to seem gayer, that's kind of counterproductive to the goal of coming out, which is to live as authentically as you can. That's not to say that you shouldn't, like, buy a pair of Doc Martens or shave your head, but more just to say that your queerness is valid regardless of how you present yourself, and you don't need to fit yourself into a box of what a lesbian "looks like" or "acts like" in order to be accepted. When you're in community with people who share your same interests and experiences, they'll accept you as yourself, no changes needed.

If you are interested in jumping into dating right away, dating apps are probably the way to go. There's an app called Her that's specifically focused on WLW relationships, and I know some people who have had luck on Bumble and Hinge as well. There are some good guides to dating as a newly-out lesbian here, here, and here that I would check out. I think with apps, the most important thing is to be open and honest about where you are in your journey and what you're looking for. I think too often, people try to be as widely palatable as possible on dating apps, and then they end up being disappointed when what they want doesn't align with what the other person wants. If you're specific, you'll find someone who's on the same page as you, and it's less likely that you'll have a bad experience.

[11271976-07142023]

I was about 1/2 a mile away from this little beauty.. was w a passenger.. I said aloud, i spy a classic impala… so I sped up a bit & yes it was ☺️ I thought it was a ‘64 but close enough lol idk what/if there are differences on the ‘63/‘64, you’d know♥️ but I asked, do you mind if I get a picture? Bc I was driving lol he didn’t mind, and I thanked him & said my late husband was a huge car enthusiast, & I had to show you, on your blog♥️ his demeanor changed a bit. Was down, I didn’t mean it. Um, well his wasn’t the only one. I was very happy. Having a good day. And that wave hit lol instant low. I began crying under my mask. I hid it. I think he knew somehow tho. I didn’t mean for it. But it did. He left & I broke down for a good 2 minutes bc it’s all I had before my next passenger. Which was amazing!!!!!! Bc he’s from your hometown!!!!!!! UHGH good ride. Told me to stop the app and go party lol uhmmmm I gotta stack this lechuga, homie lolll they rolled. I was like, it’s good having family in the car! ‘We prob are’ you know it lolll uhgh was nice. I need to seriously pee omfg. But charging. I’m overwhelmed KURT! You know I hate doing weekends. But I’ve been very social too. Ohhh I pulled a Kurt bc I haaaad to roll my window down & tell the impala driver that his ride was nice &&& other Tesla driver smoking we’d & it’s coming into my car! I’m literally sick to my stomach w this shit being legal. The smell just makes me sick to my fucking stomach already. Uhghuhhghh. Yesss I just put my air on recirculate lol I have a date tonight! Yes I’m a dork lol heyyyyy it works. He’s kind. He gives me his time. He’s nice. Eh. Idk Kurt. Life is .. life. I love you Kurtis. I miss you lots lots. Have a smol dilemma tonight. Date is set at midnight, okay? Welllll I met this really sweet young couple w cats & they waht me getting them from the drake concert. Sparky would 100% be okay w me getting them etc, but personally, I feel it would take something away, ya know? I made a smol commitment. I intend to keep it. Ya know? Bc that is what I am about. I want to keep my commitments with ppl. I did not 100% commit to the concert ppl. Besides, I’ve been working all day. I need 6 more rides until quest is completed. Which.. I’d be telling him this lol he likes me bugging him.

That’s Keva. His new doggie. Well new to me. She’s been around for a bit. I dunno Kurtis. Ya know? I dunno. I’m just trying to life. Whatever that means. I still have one. — yeah. I notice being happier when I talk to him. Idk what brought this, whatever it is, it just happened. On Valentine’s Day. Just sudden. He asked if he could call. Okay. Ya know? Just, okay. Why not. I dunno. I wish you were here to talk to. You’re right. I am worthy. I’m extremely worthy. I never knew you could be worth too much to somebody. Ya know? Like, oh I can’t be messed w bc I’m worth too much. That’s my new perspective on that matter. Eh. I’m still around tho. You know me. I Ned to pee. Think I’m going home for it lol Ik ik ikkkk lolll

[butteryunlikelylady]

Okay well since I can’t find my OWN POST I have to post screenshots of it that I luckily took. I want to note the progress I’ve made so far on these guidelines I set for myself.

🖤 My dating apps have been paused and I haven’t unpaused them 🙏🏾 no urge to

🖤 I find that I don’t have that “maybe I will find romance today” feeling every time I leave the house. Maybe it’s me being numb to life rn but I just go about my day and mind my business and I’m not falling hopelessly in love with any man I speak to throughout my day or daydreaming endlessly about love anymore. Ofc I dream about romantic love but I recognize I don’t really want it rn or need it. Fuck men

🖤 I have been journaling more although I could try to be more consistent with it

🖤 I meditated for like 2 nights then fell off lol. I am kind of failing at this, at letting my mind wander, but I’ve also been super busy with my pt job, not much time to just sit and stare at the wall

🖤 I still need to work on sharing less at work but I’ve made it a point to not share what I’m doing when I take time off. ✌🏾

🖤 I have definitely fallen short in the scrolling less department. Much to be desired here…

🖤 I haven’t had much time lately to watch television but when I did, I tried to be fully present (as opposed to watching and scrolling) and watched however many episodes I wanted

🖤 I’ve certainly been reading more consistently. Even if it’s not 10 pages every night, I might get 5-7 pages in, but at least I’m reading instead of scrolling before bed

🖤 I did secure a second part time job!! It’s only seasonal, which may be a blessing, but hopefully the paychecks will be worth it. I’m tired 😪

🖤 can confirm I’ve taken a short day trip recently. And planning to visit a friend in Boston in January. We’re going places 🚗

🖤 definitely did daily walks when I had the time, now I get my steps in at my pt job 🥲 I haven’t properly been outside in a little while

🖤 always love connecting with and making time for my friends. Had my weekly wine night with a friend last night!!

🖤 my spending habits haven’t changed too much but I am trying to give myself what I want especially if it’s a seriously reasonable desire (like getting pizza last night or scheduling a blowout bc I felt pretty when my hair was straight) and I have the money for it. Life is short and I love myself, ofc I’m getting her whatever she wants (within the budget)

🖤 I am still steeped in grief and discontent but whenever a strong wave of sadness washes over me and I spend a few hours crying, I notice I am mostly able to bounce out of it by the next day as opposed to weeks/months ago when I’d spend days on end having been knocked over by my feelings. I’m still grieving but I’m healing even if it doesn’t feel like it. I’m allowing each day with its feelings to move through me and trying not to judge myself based on that

🖤 I’ve been doing slightly better on speaking sweetly to myself but could 100% do more to combat negative self talk and be nice to myself

[chronic-invisibility]

I stopped coming on here for like almost a month i think bc i added some tags onto a post i reblogged and the op called me out and said i completely misunderstood everything (except they misunderstood what i was trying to say so fuck me ig) and i got upset and dipped. In the meantime, lots of stuff has happened, but also not much.

I went back to university, the semester started last Thursday and it’s going well so far, I’m majoring in Museum Studies bc I am a big nerd, and it’s a 100% online program so I’m still working and I don’t have to like, move to Arizona, which is good.

Work is meh, we’re starting vaccine clinics again soon so I’ll be doing that again with this season’s flu and covid shots, and maybe other vaccines as well I’m not sure what the regulations are now. We still only have one pharmacist on staff so we’re stuck with a rotating cast of floaters, some of whom are more helpful than others. And the customers are still horrible, that hasn’t changed. I got yelled at for 10 minutes today by someone who’s doctor called in over a dozen prescriptions and then faxed us and cancelled all of them so we put them all back, which was a mistake apparently and then after we finally got it sorted and got them called in again, we were supposed to close in 10 minutes so it was physically impossible to fill 15 prescriptions for one person, and she wanted us to stay open late just for her, which legally we can’t do and also no, we want to go home and she was being so rude we didn’t really want to help her at all. So yeah, work is work

In good news, I’ve been talking to someone i matched with on a dating app (my intro that they messaged me about was mcr related, so you know they’re a keeper) and we’ve been on 2 dates and text a lot and we’re planning on hanging out again this Tuesday. They’re a special ed teacher and they have adhd so they get how my brain works and they work with kids whose brains work similarly to both of ours, and they’re really funny and cool and smart and nice and pretty, I really hope this keeps going well bc I really like them.

I watched the newest season of Heartstopper twice in a row after it came out, reread all the comics that are out (Alice Oseman is still publishing them, too, so that’s nice) and then rewatched both seasons in a row. It’s so cute and so good and i can feel the hyperfixation building. I’ve watched it enough that I keep slipping into a british accent when I talk, which is entirely unintentional but not the worst thing. I can also do it on purpose, but i tend to pick up accents from people I hear talk a lot, which is maybe the only fun side effect of masking my whole life

I’ve seen a few really good plays and musicals recently, I know I saw The Sign in Sidney Brustein’s Window before i stopped posting on here, but that was really good, and then I saw Kimberly Akimbo the other day, it was INCREDIBLE. The music and the writing are amazing, obviously, and the actors were all so good, again obviously. They won 5 Tony’s last season, including for Best Musical and Best Featured Actress in a musical and Best Lead Actress in a musical, which were so well-deserved, I seriously cannot hype this show up enough. There’s so many good shows on Broadway right now and I wish I could see them all, there were a bunch I wanted to see but closed before I got the chance, too, including Prima Facie starring Jody Comer, but I bought the script for that one.

In less fun news, I think i might need to put a read more here bc there be triggers coming

Between my chronic GI issues (trying to see a specialist about it again but there’s a whole mess of problems with that i just don’t feel like typing) and watching season 2 of Heartstopper and also rereading it and seeing Charlie struggling with his eating disorder, I’ve lapsed pretty hard with my own. I can’t really call it a relapse bc I was never really actually trying to recover, but I was trying for a while to eat a little more normally, but that’s basically out the window now. Thanks brain, so helpful of you to see a person struggling with a similar mental illness to mine and say “well they’re sicker than you so you suck and also you need to work harder at being sick like them” like FUCK OFF that’s not helpful and also Charlie is literally a fictional character and most of the storyline is about how he’s trying to get help for his ed and how awful they are, and his ed and mine aren’t the same, nor are our reasons for being disordered. So that’s not been fun.

I also realized (after watching a video by a therapist reacting to the scene when Ben assaults Charlie in Heartstopper and then going and obsessively researching legal definitions) that what happened to me in the summer of 2019 would probably be classified as a rape, not just a sexual assault. Which it also was, but what happened falls under the legal definition of rape, not just assault. So I’ve been spiraling about that, even though I still remember almost none of it and once again my garbage brain has decided that I’m somehow not allowed to be that upset or say I’m traumatized bc I don’t experience two of the most common symptoms of ptsd (flashbacks and nightmares) so clearly, this is all me being dramatic, even though basically everything else fits. And those aren’t required to be diagnosed with ptsd. Not that I WANT ptsd, but for whatever reason I feel like i’m not allowed to even say i’m a little bit traumatized by what happened bc of that. Again, stupid brain. I also realized after talking to the person I’ve been talking to (idk if we’re officially dating, maybe i should ask) about boundaries and what we’re both comfortable with, that the last person who I’ve had any “romantic” physical contact with was the person who raped me, and also the only sexual contact I’ve ever had (unless i’ve blocked out more than just the one assault I know happened) was with that same person, so now i’m extremely anxious about doing anything with the person i’m sort of maybe dating, even though neither of us are interested in just jumping right to physical intimacy, they’ve also experienced similar situations so they’re anxious about it too, and also they’re a nice person who i’d trust to not push it if i wasn’t comfortable with something, but idk how to say “i’m anxious about kissing you even though i like you and i want to kiss you bc the last person i kissed was the person who raped me over 4 years ago”

I’m working on finding a new therapist now that i’m done with my IOP and i know that’s going to be one of the (far too many) things i need to deal with in therapy, as well as all the other trauma from that summer, and from my previous university experience, and my whole fucking childhood, and also my other issues that aren’t necessarily trauma related, although most of them probably are to a certain extent bc being an undiagnosed audhd person who also doesn’t realize they’re trans until they’re an adult is inherently traumatic.

I don’t know if there’s any other big stuff I want to/feel like I need to say that’s been going on, not that anybody will probably read all or any of this. But yeah, a lot is going on, but also not much is actively going on. This was a lot longer than I thought it would be. Oops.

[aspacetobe]

i’m feeling very overwhelmed at this very moment with emotions and the future and having to figure out income and make life moves and just ya know, life.

i know what i have to do. i just haven’t done it and i don’t know why i’m resistant? because then change will happen? yes, change will happen. i’ve had so much change that someone mentioned they feel unsettled with all the travel they’re doing and i felt it. like i literally felt it in my bones. and then started feeling more unsettled in my body.

and then they also said they love traveling more than anything else in the world and i was like me too. and they feel lucky they get to do it with their husband and then i felt envious of that. like i want a significant other to travel with. i love traveling with my girlfriends. i will always want that in my life. but to have a partner who loves to travel…. fun. sounds fun.

and i’m happy i’m single right now. like i didn’t want to be attached to anyone while in europe and there was a reason and i’m happy it ended up the way it did. (even tho, as hard as it is for me to admit here, i very much tried for the opposite. & unintentionally successfully failed.)

i also feel i am in my last ~era~ being single. i don’t know why but it’s just this feeling that my autonomous life / anonymity will be coming to an end. i’ve had this feeling since the beginning of the year or end of last year. that i will no longer just belong to me.

and maybe that’s why this trip had to happen now. that this trip is the beginning of the end. the end of many things, not just on the topic of love (or lack thereof). it is also the beginning of a whole new version of myself. again i don’t know why but i felt it. and still do.

and if i’m honest i don’t feel like trying to find someone. i mean who does want to try? (i guess try not out of desperation, i’ve definitely tried out of desperation… probably my entire life. and i don’t want to desperately try anymore. i don’t even want to try try.) i don’t even know what came over me in February to go on hinge for legit less than a week. i did. and then i gave a few people my number. deleted the app. i just didn’t want to be on that app trying. bc again it was probably more out of desperation during fucking valentines day season. and i thought i was going on the app to have fun before europe. date around. but that quickly failed on me. not only bc it felt like work texting people, the opposite of fun, i also got attached. bc i didn’t really know how to love myself first. i didn’t know how to not be anxiously attached. i didn’t know where i fit in in my own life. i didn’t know how to be independent. i didn’t know how to not self-abandon. i didn’t know how to live my own life and love my own life and love myself without anyone else telling me so. but i wanted to learn how. and i got a crash course in all of the above. and i will humbly say it wasn’t easy. i mean humbly? why am i admitting all this? to prove to myself that i “made it” to the other side? no. more to admit the truth of where i stood in life and to see for myself and be so proud of myself that i am here. i am on the other side of all that. it was fucking hard to look within myself and admit to myself that’s where i stood. that was what i did for my entire 20s and maybe even my entire life. that i am, primarily, at fault for how my life went. i can’t blame anyone. it is all me and my decisions. my decision to say, hey, i don’t like myself that much… why? oh it’s because i was told not to like myself. and didn’t question it. assumed they knew better than me. oh it’s because i rely on others to tell me i’m a good person. because i assumed they knew better than me. oh it’s because i’m not willing to take responsibility over my decisions bc i don’t want to admit my life isn’t how i want it to be. so i blame others and say, i thought they knew better than me. etc etc etc etc. change is hard dude. and change is hard when it’s all internal. because it’s very easy to place a band aid or a trip or an international move or a domestic move or a person over all of it. and pretend. pretend life just is. blame others. blame yourself. and pretend you can’t do anything about it. or ignore the fact that you can. because we have fucking control over our lives whether we admit it or not.

and love…

i always wanted to find someone irl. a magical meet cute moment. but now i just don’t fucking care. because it does feel like my single hood is coming to an end and whoever is on the other side of this will be who they’ll be. i’ll be who i am. and it’ll be easy. it’ll be this feeling of, yup, with a smile on one’s face. and right now, i just want to live within my life. bc my life, right this moment, is pretty unique and pretty special and i’m proud of myself for taking control of my life. despite the fear.

and there are a lot of weird things that have happened on this trip that confirm most of the above. i’ll write about it one day.

i’m gonna eat left over pasta for lunch now.

xx

sms

13:51

31.jul.23

[ofmermaidstories]

the other day you said something something love triangle but the real question is who would YOU choose

no polyam, someone's heart has to break

Ok ur ON.

First thing’s first: what’s our perimeters? What flavour of Love Triangle? Bakugou vs. Deku? Bakugou vs. Kiri? Deku vs. Kiri? Do we exclude Bakugou because I have an obvious bias? Add a different character for the fun of it? Shinsou vs. Monoma? Iida vs. Sero? Iida vs. Bakugou??? (Sorry, I just really like Bakugou 🥹) Do you guys want a little Villain action??? Dabi vs. Shiggy??? Dabi vs. Aizawa???? Aizawa vs. Hawks?????

And THEN—pretending we narrow that down, which Merms do we want in the ring? Are we talking true-to-life Merms (lazy, self-destructive, holds massive grudges)? Or Palatable Fic-ified Merms (stubborn about asking for help, passionate, loyal)? Do we treat this like I’ve always been apart of their world, or is this a isekai situation where I’m armed with meta-knowledge about them? (that seems a bit rude tbh…. going in knowing intimate things about them that someone else mightn’t 🥺)

This is my proposed scenario, just so we have something to answer with, but feel free to send more challenging ones lmfao:

Palatable Fic-ified Merms, always apart of the BNHA world, and it’s between Bakugou and Deku (because I’m currently writing them).

We’ll go with my usual m.o. as a set-up: civvie, not apart of the Pro Hero world (bc id rather die lmfao), maybe in some kind of service-based industry to facilitate a meeting! I’m fairly good at people-focused jobs, and I don’t date/use dating apps, so to get into a relationship with me you’re either going to need to literally bang on my door, or we see enough of each other to form some kind of polite relationship that eventually ramps up.

Okay, so we’ll pretend we have that all done: what’s our inciting event? Do I get to know one of them before the other? Even if you had both Deku and Bakugou coming into [workplace] together, Deku is so much more of a people-person—he’s going to be the one that talks, that introduces the both of them—the one that anyone is going to get to know first. And since fic!Merms is me, I feel confident enough to say that that dumb bitch would be like “omg 🥺” about Deku immediately. He’s such a sweetheart! A people-collector! You end up in his orbit whether you want it or not! It would be so easy to get swept up by his goodness, I think, especially if you’re a tiny bit vulnerable (stubborn about asking for help).

Just to make things interesting, let’s give fic!Merms one of my greatest flaws—boop 🪄✨! now she’s insecure! So here’s this shiny, good-boy superhero who is like, how are you, how are things, we missed you the other week—and fic!Merms is just like, wow, he’s so nice, i will never indicate any interest ever :)

But uh-oh! Kacchan’s there! Kacchan who has Sneaky Introvert Syndrome—who notices everything!!! Because he’s watching!!! Silently!!!! Like a creep!!!! Kacchan’s not a dumbass—he’s going to clock immediately that fic!Merms has a crush on Mr. Oblivious Greatest Hero there. And tbh I think he’d just kind of roll his eyes about it (idiot extras, he thinks, unkindly)—until, uh-oh, something happens! The crush either gets us into an embarrassing situation, or a dangerous one (there’s an attack, and Deku shouts for us to get down, or something, but we hesitate because he’s hurt—and Kacchan has to barrel in and get us out of the way!). Afterwards, Kacchan tells us bluntly, “Either get over it, or pick your balls up from the ground and tell ‘im.”

“And what am I meant to do with them later on?” We ask, mulish. “Put them in the same purse as yours?”

“Drop ‘em again, since you’re so good at being a pussy,” Kacchan would say, unimpressed.

This doesn’t change a thing! 😌 We resolve to ignore him—only it’s a little bit hard to, sometimes, when Deku sweeps by with his easy smile and sunshine-yellow cape, and Bakugou’s beside him, flinty-eyed. 🥺 Ruining the view!!!

(“Tell him,” Bakugou says one day, stopping by without Deku. “‘M sick of your stupid moony face.”

“Shut up!” We hiss—this is embarrassing!!!

“Tell him,” he says, louder. “Or I’m gonna do it for yer.”)

It’s a nightmare! Sometimes a girl just wants a harmless little crush to waste time with, an indulgent lil daydream, and now we have this ASSHOLE stomping around demanding we ruin that for ourselves by doing something as stupid as confessing our feelings! Hateful!!! Why would anyone do something that dumb!!!

While that torment is happening, we end up eating out with them—Deku and Bakugou, and a couple of their friends. Crammed in some tiny bar, eating chicken skewers and grilled okra and holding giant glasses of cheap beer. And it’s easy. We’re wedged between Deku and Bakugou and their friends are friendly and curious and have funny stories—and it’s a good night! We don’t worry about our stupid crush being Revealed, or even meaning anything. Not until Deku turns to listen to us as we’re explaining, too excited, some personal project (something fun and dumb we do in our quiet time, alone) to one of the others—and he’s smiling because he’s glad we’re having fun and we fumble with our words because oh, oh no, he’s really close and it’s unnerving and we forget the point of what we were talking about—

“Yeah, and?” Bakugou prompts, annoyed, passing us a plate of more skewers. “Don’t just end it there, dumbass—explain it.”

(We launch back into our explanation—and completely miss the confused look Deku gives Kacchan, who’s determinedly not looking at him)

Oh but Merms, you say, this is too easy—Bakugou’s winning!

Nope! Wrong! Because while Bakugou was being a grade-school asshole, Deku was doing what Deku does best—being his shiny good-boy self! Stubborn about asking for help—one day after work (or during! sometimes you just gotta have it out!) Deku finds us, idk, crying or something.

“What’s wrong?” He asks with all this maddening concern, like he really cares (he probably does). “Are you alright? I’m here—it’ll be okay.”

Sometimes all you need is the right person to ask the right question at the right time—we blab it ALL. Whatever our [insert problem here] is, he hears it ALL. Traumadump! He’s probably a little baffled, but I think a few years of being a Pro Hero means he’s seen the worst of it, and then some—he stays with us. Accompanies us home, afterwards. Maybe we detour to grab dinner, and it ends up involving more venting, more reassurances—we have an emotional hangover when he leaves that night but!! Then our phone pings!!! It’s Deku, saying that he’s asked [insert another Pro here] who has a Quirk that can help/experience in [problem here], and that if it’s okay, they’ll [insert beginning of solution here].

It’s so—reliving. Overwhelming. When we see Bakugou next, sans Deku, and he decides to be Rude about our crush we’re a little harsher than usual, sharper, in telling him to shut up. And Bakugou’s not a dumbass—he knows immediately that something’s shifted. He drops it, his mouth tightening, and we are chilly to him (we’re chilly to each other) for weeks afterwards.

But how is this a triangle, Merms? You ask! Where is the choice when someone is just so good?

Haha! You walked right into it! Because while Deku is the overwhelming good, the outreached hand promising it’s okay, I’ve got you, I will fix this, Bakugou is smoulder, the force that pushes us into being something better, because we have to, because we always had it. Problems will generally get worse before they get better—ours snowballs, the help Deku wrangled in exacerbating the issue. We explode! Remember, we gave our Mermie stand-in some passion—so BOOM! We can’t hold it anymore! We unleash and it’s Bakugou who appears, during the wreckage—with his giant Sneaky Introvert Ears, and his stupid Sneaky Introvert face, watching us warily—carefully.

“C’mon,” he says. “You can lose y’re shit, but ain’t any use in giving up.”

(He’s right, of course, as much as we don’t want to admit it. But we get back up, and when it comes time to patching everything together he’s there—Mr. Sneaky Introvert Stand-by, who grumbles but doesn’t leave.)

Have you ever been caught between two people? And maybe they’re so different from each other, and you, on the outside—but on the inside they’re both made of the same golden soul, the same strength and determination and you want that for yourself, in yourself? So you try to match it: you try to prove that you can help yourself, that you can be just as brave and as wonderful. You try to prove to Deku that his kindness doesn’t exist in a vacuum—that it can be returned, even in small things (you help others; you have lunch waiting for him, sometimes. you reach out a hand to him when he’s having a bad day, an ugly day, a day that shuts him down and drains him out). You try to prove to Bakugou that you’re made of the same firepower he is—that you can wield it, just like he can (you stick up for yourself; you show up for others, without them asking. You grin at him when he walks in, unwavering. Unflickering).

Things always come to a head, though. Best Friends isn’t a term either would use for the other—they both save that for other relationships, formative ones that built them up in ways neither of them were equipped to do for each other at the time. It isn’t enough to describe what they are to each other. What they have been. It doesn’t describe how they know each other like the ins and outs of their own souls, and how that means they can see it when the other eases in your presence. When one of them laughs too easily (Deku), or grins too sharp—sudden and bright and unexpected, like lightning (Bakugou). They don’t talk about it. It’s almost a kindness… until something goes terribly, terribly wrong (a massive villain fight, upending half the city and leaving it in embers), and one of them is caught in the blaze of a building, trying evacuate it—the other bleeding out in the middle of the battle-field, their latest threat curling over them, gloating.

We’re about to lose them both! But facing this, seeing this, one thing is clear—the worry for them, for them both, is hot and sickly and awful, but there’s one face we think of first, when it happens.

[shotorozu]

HELLO, ok so I saw ur reqs are open so I zoomed, do you know that trend on tiktok where it goes ‘he was big and strong and his eyes are flaming glow’ LIKE BAKUGOU, KIRISHIMA AND TODOROKI’S S/O FORCING THEM TO DO IT FOR CLOUT bcs they’re beefed asf, and how their s/o would react too + the comments BAHDHJAH I HOPE THAT WASNT CONFUSING 😭😭 anyways take ur time and stay safe <33

big and strong

(tiktok trend)

character(s) : kirishima eijirou, bakugou katsuki, todoroki shouto

legend : [Y/N = your name] quirk not mentioned, they/them pronouns used

headcanon type : fluff and the mildest of spice ?? not nsfw and not overly spicy!!

note(s) : I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE‼️ kirishima would literally own this trend?? i saw an animation of kiri doing this and i PASSED AWAY—

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

kirishima eijirou

you hate using your relationship for clout on social media but,, you shall make exceptions

you saw this trend going around— and it’s literally the male equivalent of the ‘small waist, pretty face with a BIG BANK’ trend

and your mind immediately thought of your boyfriend, who would probably rock this challenge no pun intended

so you immediately rushed to eijirou, who was just chilling in his room— and you asked him kindly to do the trend

and he was like “oh, what trend—” then he saw the trend and went 🤠 I’LL DO IT WITH OR WITHOUT THE CHECK

no hesitation here.

so he does the challenge, and you’re like Σ੧(❛□❛✿) my boyfriend’s too hot wtf

he literally murdered the challenge, and he delivered so well. when i say murder, i mean blood everywhere

hand in marriage now! you’re just fawning over him for a good minute— bc you’re totally distracted.

then you upload the video, and you honestly thought it wouldn’t get any more than 50k on tiktok bc tiktok’s reach is just something else

but you open the app the next day, and it’s EXPLODING with hundreds of thousands of notifications from that one video

harboring 500k likes :0

and the comments are just like “is your boyfriend single?” “i have no words” “YOU’RE DATING HIM??” “he’s HOT and RESPECTFUL!!”

you show kiri the result of the video all excited like“you’re tiktok famous!!”

kiri’s just in awe. like.. people think he’s manly omg.

but he doesn’t look at the simp comments because he literally looked at one comment and ran 🏃‍♂️💨

“i appreciate those comments but i’m dating you, Y/N!” we love kirishima in this house.

bakugou katsuki

declined when you first asked him 😔

“wtf no, that’s weird.”

again, man is NOT on tiktok, and you cannot change my mind otherwise.

okay but don’t get me wrong, he’ll eventually do it— but you just need to bug him about it.

but then katsuki thought about it for a bit, and he thought about how you’d react— and then how you’d literally be all over him for a while

and he just went “okay, fine. i’ll do it just for that.”

he’ll tell you that he’ll do it, and you’re just so EXCITED 🤩

katsuki made you promise that you’ll only have it up for 5 days though :,) because he didn’t want it to be up on the internet FOREVER

but don’t get me wrong, you can keep the video.

you sit in the back, watching him film the tiktok— and you’re just experiencing some major WHIPLASH from the entire experience.

when he finished filming, you’re just there totally appalled— sitting there in silence 😳

he did it despite his conscience telling him not to, but at least he got a clingy Y/N for a while (he’ll say he hates it but omg he loves it.)

you upload it, and the next day IT BLOWS UP like— it really blows up.

i’d say maybe 750k likes and nearly 900k views.

the comments were mostly like “IS YOUR BOYFRIEND SINGLE??” and “WHERE DID YOU BUY HIM??”

bakugou being petty, responded to a simp comment with a video of him kissing your cheek lol. (that video got some attention too)

“i did that stupid challenge for you.” he’ll roll his eyes— “and i’m yours. so don’t think that those silly ass comments matter to me.”

when you privated the video, it had like 4.0m views 😔

todoroki shouto

you’re reluctant to ask him because again— shouto isn’t the most socially aware person??

and he’s not on tiktok either

but you figured that you should at least ask him, just so you could know if he hates the idea or not.

you ask him, and shouto’s response was just

kinda confused?? but he can— quite literally, see the shimmer in your eyes when you look at him

so he accepts

“..promise me you’ll give me lots of hugs and kisses afterwards.”

and an exchange was made

he’ll do it, and moments before the video ends— he’ll make a point to pull you into the frame and hug you, showing everyone that he’s taken

as he should

he still did the challenge though, and BOY did he execute it better than expected??

your face is buried in his chest like “my boyfriend’s so hot wtf” and shouto’s in heaven rn, don’t interrupt him.

you’ll upload the video before you go to sleep, and you’ll just let it sit, not thinking too much about it

then you wake up to 1M likes like.. wtf?? your notifications 💀

the comments are like “HE’S HOT!! but he has an s/o 😔” “the fact that he’s hot, and manages to look at them like that is.. BENXKALZ” “what store do they sell boyfriends like that?? i want one rn.”

and you show shouto like “!! you’re famous!!”

shouto doesn’t really care that much about being famous, and he just presses his face against you— mumbling something like “are you proud of me?”

ofcourse i am, shouto

shouto doesn’t really get the simp comments because he’s dating you?? why would he be flattered by compliments that aren’t from you?

“i’m glad you’re happy, love.” he smiles just watching you replay the tiktok over and over again “however, i can definitely show you more.”

oh

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei. i only own the writing, and i do not profit off of my hobby.

do not plagiarize, reupload, translate, and use my work for audio readings without my permission :))

[ruffboijuliaburnsides]

Soooooo there’s a new romcom up on Netflix which is actually probably the first i’ve seen of the 2021 christmas romcoms hashem help us all BUT the point is that what I can tell of the plot from the trailers looks kinda cute (for that “we are accepting that things in romcoms would often be horrible red flags in real life but are cute here” kind of cute)

so it seems to be Girl has horrible dating life, matches with hot guy, he's also smart and funny so she goes to surprise him for christmas aaaaaand she was catfished by a nerdy asian guy of average attractiveness (with a really hot condescending brother) who'd had his profile up for a year and not matched with anyone, so he changed his photos to a guy he knows in his town.

but the girl (it looks like bc the brother was such an asshole) agreed to stay for christmas and play his girlfriend in return for him setting her up with the actual guy in the photos. who seems nice but is like... active outdoorsy adventurous (and she really isn't) and it is suffering but he’s hot and nice, so she’s trying with OG guy’s help and support and encouragement.

And, it appears, she ultimately realizes that other than his face, the guy she'd met on the app was still the guy she'd fallen in love with and she ends up with him after all.

NOT your average romcom, bc the guy isn’t ugly but he’s... average. Kinda receeding hairline, short, not particularly buff or “cool”. Like, in comedies you can have an average looking guy (tho usually only if he’s white) getting a hot girl, but in ROMcoms, these are meant for a female audience, the female lead can be a little average, but not the love interest, and i find that interesting which is why i’m gonna watch it.

BUT THAT’S NOT ACTUALLY MY POINT

My point is that holy shit this would make an absolutely AMAZING fucking fanfic AU premise. Like, you’ve got LAYERS going on, of fake dating and real dating and true love being right in front of you all along and some cyrano-esqe shenanigans, and I LOVE IT i want to read like fifty of these fics in various fandoms RIGHT NOW.

[watchmegetobsessed]

VALERIE - Part V. (Harry Styles)

happy sunday loves!! part 5 is here, buckle up bc we are getting down to business here!! thank you so much for the nice feedbacks, it’s always so moving and inspiring to read your thoughts, so please keep them coming! even if it’s just some gibberish rambling, those are the best haha! now let’s jump right into part 5, we are heading into the christmas mood and im so excited for yall to read this part!! enjoy!

word count: 6.1k

SERIES MASTERPOST

masterlist

By the time November nears its end you officially become a couple with Marcus. It happens gradually, two more dates follow your first one, and then on the third one you agree to test the waters of the possibilities between the two of you exclusively. 

Marcus is a great guy. He is funny, caring and smart, always listens to you and cares for even the smallest details about you when you’re talking. He is great company and never fails to make you feel appreciated and wanted. Exactly what you’ve been looking for in a guy, Rosa really hit the nail on the head this time. 

You easily fall into a habit with him. Fridays are for date nights, sometimes you go for little trips outside the city on Sundays and he never misses a chance to send you flowers throughout the week. He is just the type of guy that’s always there to cheer you up with something whenever the days start to weigh down on your shoulders. 

You even have dinner together with Rosa and Steven one Saturday evening, Rosa keeps giving you those ‘I told you so’ eyes whenever Marcus kisses you shortly or places his hand to your waist. You mostly just roll your eyes at her, not wanting to make a big deal out of the two of you, but Rosa knows how long you’ve been trying to find someone. 

What’s a surprising turn is that you start seeing Harry more. Intentionally. You have no idea how it happens, but it does and you’re not mad about it. Some days you grab lunch together whenever he is in the neighborhood, some days you go shopping with him when his sister doesn’t have the time. Harry is a problematic shopper, he takes a long time to decide on clothes so usually you are the one that forces him to choose and finish before all shops close. 

When he has had a rough week and you happened to call him for whatever reason, the two of you agree to meet up for drinks at his place, then end up playing UNO for hours, slowly emptying out two bottles of wine.

It’s starting to get harder to imagine what it was like when things weren’t like this with him. When you were getting anxiety from just the thought of seeing him or having to talk to him. It’s like the both of you are showing a different version of yourselves to each other and you have to admit you enjoy being friends with him. 

He keeps his habit of teasing you and making jokes about you though, but you don’t mind it. He is not doing it in a mean way with the attempt to piss you off, but to make you laugh and start a playful war where you both throw insults at each other until one of you runs out of it and just starts laughing. You feel a kind of dynamic building between you and him that has a way better effect on you than the continuous killing you were doing before.

You can tell Rosa is thankful for the change as well. Whenever she sees you interact with Harry without making a grimace or have that face that screams how badly you want to hit him, she is relieved that she has one less thing to worry about and Valerie will have two amazing godparents who even like each other.

Christmas is always a big parade in your family. Your mom and your aunts always want to celebrate together so in the past few years it has become a tradition to rent a place out that has enough space for the whole extended family and spend three days there from the 23rd to the 25th. This year your dad found a huge cabin in the woods with ten bedrooms and seven bathrooms, just the perfect size for you all. It’s gonna be your parents, Rosa and Steven with Valerie, Aunt Monica, Aunt Teresa with Uncle Andrew, your cousin Etta, her husband Joe and their two kids, your other cousin Lily with her husband Jeremy and their daughter, and lastly you and Harry.  Though your mom urged you to invite Marcus along as well, he could join you for longer than a dinner, since he was already set to fly home to his family.

“You sure he can’t stay for at least the first night?” you mom asks on the phone one evening. You’re stirring the sauce in the pan. holding the phone to your ear with your shoulder so you have both of your hands free.

“Yes, I’m sure. It’s fine, he can come for dinner and then leave later.”

“I get it, but it would have been fun if he stayed,” she sighs, clearly disappointed that she couldn’t change what’s already set. If you’re being honest you don’t mind that Marcus is not staying for the night. You haven’t been dating for that long, you feel like it would be a little uncomfortable to have him there the whole time. A dinner is perfectly fine as a starter, since he hasn’t met anyone else from your family other than Rosa and Steven.

“Anyway,” she sighs moving on, “Have you figured it out how you’re gonna get there?”

“I don’t know, I guess I’ll tag along with someone.”

“Well, I think you should ask Harry. Everyone else is pretty packed already. Rosa and Steven won’t have any extra space with Valerie this year.”

You nod, even though she can’t see you. These past years Rosa always offered you a ride for the holidays, but even when they brought her over for just one night their car was jam-packed. No way you’re gonna fit in there so you are left with Harry since Marcus can only come in the afternoon.

“Sure, I’ll ask him.”

You shoot him a text that day and he replies right away that you’re welcomed in his car, though he won’t be able to take you back since he is leaving early in the morning on the 25th since he is flying back to the UK to his family. It’s fine, you think, you’ll just probably just tag along with aunt Monica back to the city, she always gets her a car for these occasions. Though it’s not your ideal option, she is not the best partner for rides, because she is a fan of smoking in the car, but you don’t have much of a choice. 

“I’ll call you when I leave, okay?” Marcus tells you on the morning of the 23rd. It’s early, barely seven, but he is up because he needs to work a little today and you are finishing up packing since Harry will be here in an hour to pick you up.

“Sure. Drive safe,” you huff sitting on the edge of the bed, staring down at your suitcase that’s still not closed, clothes are sticking out on the side and you’re sure you’ll have to sit on it to pull the zipper.

“See you later,” Marcus says before you end the call. 

It’s rather comical how you try to close the suitcase but you only care about the fact that you eventually succeed. Only minutes before eight you are packed and ready so when you get Harry’s text that he is outside you can leave right away.

Seeing you with your big suitcase he hops out of the car and rushes to help you.

“How long are you planning to stay, Y/N?” he chuckles lifting the bag up and you just shrug your shoulders with a smirk. You’ve alway been a heavy packer, no need to try to cover it up.

Harry throws your stuff into the back of the car as you take the passenger seat. His phone is hooked to the car, a playlist of his own playing gently through the speakers and you’re surprised to catch on the Christmas feeling in the songs.

“Are you in the spirit?” you ask when he gets into the car.

“Like to set the mood ahead,” he chuckles starting the car and off you go. 

Ridiculous to think about it, but it’s actually the first time you sit in the same car with Harry or see him drive even. The way you two used to be was not quite ideal to have you locked up in such a small place as a car. But now you have nothing against spending the almost hour long drive with him. 

“Can you pull out the navigation when I leave the highway? I’m not sure where exactly I need to head,” he asks you, eyes fixed on the road ahead of him and nodding you open the app on your phone so his can keep on playing the music without the voice of the navigation interrupting it. 

“Excited to spend your first Christmas with us?” you ask. Though Harry was there at several family events, it’s his first Christmas since becoming Valerie’s godfather. 

“I am,” he chuckles, nodding, hands gripping the wheel gently. He is a natural driver, easily working the car, the kind you feel completely safe next to. As Baby It’s Cold Outside comes on a smile stretches across your lips as you start gently bop your head to the song. “I’ve heard crazy stuff about Christmases at your family,” he adds glancing in your way for a second.

“Like what?”

“I remember when Steven told me about his first Christmas with your family. You remember that?”

Searching in your memories you tried to remember when was the first time Rosa brought Steven along. They dated for two years before they got married so it’s been about five years since then, but as you think hard the memory of that specific year pops into your head making you laugh as you nod.

“Oh, yes. The year Aunt Monica almost burned the Airbnb down,” you sigh grinning at the memory. She brought some special kind of cigars that year that were told to be curiosities from somewhere fancy, but they ended up the literal worst quality, flaming bits were falling out them all the time when she would smoke one, almost making the rug catch on fire wherever she went. Best thing is that she was already drunk on the liquor so she didn’t even notice, there was always a person on Aunt Monica duty, following her around, making sure nothing burnt down. 

“Steven said he had a moment when he thought about bailing,” Harry tells you and you gasp, because that’s new information.

“Really?”

“Yeah, but like only for a split second after your dad walked in on him naked in the bathroom. That was kind of the last straw. Luckily Rosa could convince him to stay. Guess it all worked out at the end.” Harry smiles as he stares ahead of him.

You can’t imagine a version where Rosa and Steven don’t end up together. They met through a mutual friend not long after Rosa had a nasty breakup with her scumbag ex. Steven was there to put her back together and be her partner as she found herself again. The change and positive impact he had on her could be seen every day and you were so thankful to him for helping your sister find her way out of such a dark place in her life. It didn’t take them too long to start dating and he proposed a little more than a year later. You still remember how Rosa was screaming in the phone when she called you that evening telling you that Steven proposed. They are quite literally a match made in heaven. It’s been your goal in life to find this person in your life though you haven’t had much luck with men so far. Ironically, if you were in a room with every man you were ever involved with in any kind of way, Harry would be the only one you’d want to talk with. If you had to make this exact same choice just months ago you would have chosen to run out screaming. 

“Maybe this year it’s your turn to get horrified from us,” you laugh, sinking down a little in your seat as you adjust the seat belt. You’re still quite far away from the cabin, you might as well make yourself comfortable. 

“I think there’s not much that I haven’t witnessed yet. I was walked in on at the bathroom once too, but it was your cousin, Etta.”

“When did that happen?” you ask with a heartfelt laugh.

“I think it was last summer at one of your nieces’ birthday party. Luckily everything was already tucked away when she basically barged in.”

“She didn’t miss much,” you tease him with a smirk and your witty comment catches him by surprise.

“Are you saying my dick is not imposing enough to be worthy of peeking?” he asks with raised eyebrows and you’re happy he is driving. His intimidating look would already burn right into your skin by now, but he is forced to watch the road instead. 

“I mean, if you want to put it that way…” you continue, but a laugh escapes your lips.

“Take that back, Y/N,” he orders, sneaking a hard look at you before turning back ahead, but you can see the small smile hiding on his lips. 

“Or what?”

“Or you might find yourself in a war you don’t want to be involved in,” he warns you, but his words don’t quite have the effect on you he wanted. Because in a heartbeat you find yourself feeling… excited? Thrilled? Even curious about his means behind his words. 

“Wouldn’t want to lie, so…” Pretending like you’re sorry you shrug your shoulders as Harry gives you a look that makes your stomach churn. Now either you are gonna have some fun teasing each other or… you just threw yourself into the arms of the Devil himself. Either way, you’re certain Harry won’t leave it in that.

Turning your head to your window you can’t keep your smile contained as you think of the fact that how big of a lie it was. Harry is surely not a guy who should ever worry about any aspect of his manhood. You’re talking from experience. 

***

The cabin is absolutely gorgeous, just the perfect place for a cozy family holiday. Hidden from the busy roads with a secure gate and tall trees on both sides, the back of it is facing a majestic view of the valley and the evergreen covered hill in the distance. With an interior straight from the pages of a magazine, you need just a few moments to adjust to your surroundings upon arriving.

“I saved a nice room for you, Harry!” your mother gushes the moment she sees the two of you walk through the front door. You huff in annoyance.

“And what about me?” 

Harry chuckles giving you a smug grin. “Guess you’re just second after me.”

“It’s his first Christmas with us, he deserves the better room,” your mom shushes at you, making your eyes roll instantly. It’s still hard to believe Harry has this kind of charm over most people.

After greeting everyone who is already there, your dad, Aunt Teresa and Etta with her family, your mom walks the two of you down one of the hallways that leads to several bedrooms. She stops at the last door with an excited grin on her face as she opens it revealing the bedroom behind it. 

You instantly understand why she thought this is the best one. The view is absolutely breathtaking, the gentle noon light is flowing into the room through the floor to ceiling windows, the king sized bed facing them so when you wake up in the morning the first thing you see is the endless sea of evergreens on the side of the hill. Not to mention the room has its own bathroom, not many of the other rooms are blessed with that. There’s a spacious shower that has enough space for at least three people in there and it’s one of those fancy ones that can make you feel like you’re having a shower in the middle of a jungle, mood lights and bluetooth speakers attached to it.

“No fucking way Harry is getting this room!” you gasp as you look around, taking in the luxure your mother is willing to hand over to him.

“Jealous, much?” he smirks, throwing his sports bag to the bed already ruining the neatly made sheets. He does not deserve this.

“Mom!” you huff turning to her, but she has made her mind up already.

“Your room is nice too, don’t worry Honey. Let Harry have this one!”

“I really can’t believe you are taking his side,” you grumble under your breath, folding your arms on your chest as you take one last look at the stunning view. 

“Come on, Y/N. He is a guest!”

“He is not! You said it yourself he is family now!” you retort and Harry just laughs behind you, so you shoot him a murderous look over your shoulder, that just fuels his entertainment.

“Don’t be silly. Your room is the second one on the right from here,” she smiles at you. “We are gonna take a walk around once everyone arrives, so get settled by then!” she informs you before walking out. 

“Hey,” Harry’s soft voice makes you turn around. “You can have the room if you want.”

Your eyebrows rise at the kind gesture, it’s very not like him, even now in your friendly state, so it’s quite odd that he is willing to switch rooms with you.

“No need,” you shake your head grabbing the handle of your suitcase that you abandoned at the door.

“You sure? It doesn’t matter where I’m sleeping, really.”

“I’m not gonna deal with my mother’s scolding if she finds out I took your room, so you can totally stay.” 

Harry chuckles as you head out, but stop at the door to have one last word with him. “Though I might occupy your bathroom, that shower looks nice.”

“All yours,” he grins before you walk out.

***

By 11 am everyone arrives and the once quiet cabin is now buzzing from life, children running around, Valerie’s babbling shoots through the spacious living area where Rosa set her crib up, your mother is already making preparations for dinner while most of the men are circled around the pool table having a beer since no one has to drive for the rest of the day. 

“When is Marcus arriving?” Rosa asks, eyes on Valerie who is absolutely destroying something that once were an elephant maybe, but she’s been ruthless with the poor animal, chewing and throwing it around all the time, so it’s not just a grey, fuzzy mess.

“Sometime before dinner. He has some work to finish,” you tell her pulling your legs under yourself on the comfy couch.

“And explain again, why isn’t he staying for the night?” she turns to you with a puzzled look.

“Because he is going home to his family early in the morning tomorrow.”

“Okay, but he could have just left from here, didn’t he?”

“It’s… complicated. It’s better if he just goes back home tonight and then leaves from there in the morning.”

What you leave out of the whole explanation is that you didn’t really invite him to stay the night as well. Sounds horrible and ridiculous but you didn’t think you’d have felt comfortable with him staying. You’ve been dating for only barely more than a month and though things are going well, you felt like starting with just a dinner would be a better idea. Marcus didn’t question why you didn’t offer him to stay, it seemed like he was fine with just coming and then going after dinner. 

Does this make you a bad girlfriend? Maybe, but you value your comfort and feelings more than to ruin your favorite holiday with your family. 

Just as you mom said, once everyone is settled in their rooms for the upcoming three days, the whole gang dresses up to have a walk around taking the welcoming little path that runs around the cabin and is smooth enough for Valerie’s carriage as well. Your nieces and nephew are quick to surround Harry and nag him to join them at the front, exploring the woods surrounding the path. It seems like he doesn’t mind it and gladly takes part in the adventure, also secretly looking after them so their parents can have a break and enjoy the stroll in hopes the walk tires the kids out enough that they’ll willingly go to bed in the evening instead of whining to stay up late. 

You’re walking with Etta next to you as she tells you about Hannah’s latest dance competition when you spot that Harry and Oliver, your nephew, Etta’s other kid are suspiciously whispering around pointing in your direction. At last Olly nods and runs up to you showing a quite thick piece of wood into your hand. You look down at him confused.

“Thank you?” you tell him a little unsure what it’s all about.

“I found it in a bush, I want to take it home. Harry said you’ll keep it for me because you have a good hand for thick and hard sticks.”

You almost choke on your own breath, as Olly just carelessly runs back ahead to join his sister. You immediately look over to Etta in fear that she heard what Harry told Oliver, but luckily she was talking with Joe turning back, not really paying attention to the conversation you just had with her son. If she did, Harry probably wouldn’t live by now.

Speaking of the devil, you look in his way and that annoying, smug grin is right there as he nods in your way saluting before he shows his hands into his pockets and turns back around to catch up with the kids. 

That disgusting piece of shit really went into the depth of teaching something secretly dirty to your nephew as a way of payback for your comment in the car earlier. He surely wasn't just joking when he said you’d pay for what you said. And you have a feeling he is just getting started. 

***

Aunt Monica is like a legend in your family. She is the oldest between your mom and her sisters, already in her sixties, but in the heart she still feels like she has just turned twenty. She never married, but had several men in her life, love affairs, short flings, but none of them lasted for more than a year. 

“Why would I settle when there’s so many fish in the sea?” she once told you, her iconic Chanel sunglasses sat on her nose as she sipped on her martini. 

She has worked many jobs throughout her life, she was once a dancer, she waited tables and even worked as a TV host at one point in the ‘80s. She was the true free spirit of the family, her sisters often questioned her sanity, but you think there’s nothing wrong with how she lived her life, enjoying it to the last bit. In the early ‘90s she was seeing a millionaire, probably the only man she would have given her lifestyle up for. Unfortunately, they never married, the man passed away due to his heart problems, however, since he had little to zero family he left basically everything to Aunt Monica. Money, house, cars, business, everything. Being the smart woman that she is, she handed over the business into professional hands but she is still the owner, so the money is still flowing even though she could have lived happily on the money she inherited without ever having to work a day. 

She seems a little odd in your family, but she has always been a loving aunt to you, a caring sister and she never fails to take care of her loved ones. She is the one to pay for all these Christmas getaways, otherwise you wouldn’t be able to stay in places this nice.

“What’s all the money for if I don’t spend it on my family?” she always says when someone questions if she is fine with paying for everything. Your mom and Teresa have tried to convince her to let them at least pay for part of it but she wouldn’t even listen to them. 

She likes to have her own, sometimes odd ways in life. She definitely has a drinking problem, but not in a dangerous way. You have never seen her completely wasted, she just likes to keep things buzzing and always have a drink on her whenever she needs the extra fun. Because of her past she has the greatest stories about meeting famous people back in the days or how soldiers used to try to win her over when she was just a teenager.

“Oh, those things happened,” your mom told you when one day you questioned if you could believe all the crazy stories Aunt Monica tells you. “She was like… the star of the show. Used to hate living in her shadow, but I can’t blame her for enjoying life and doing the things I was too afraid to do myself.”

Now you’re sitting in the sunroom that faces the amazing view behind the cabin, the Christmas tree is standing tall in the corner, beautifully decorated in white and beige. Valerie is snuggled up to your chest as you gently rub her back and you listen to Aunt Monica tell you about how a literal captain once proposed to her after just three days of knowing each other.

“He was a gentleman, but a beast in the bed, Y/N. I’m telling you, men in uniform are just a different level of satisfaction.”

She sighs deep, taking a sip from her margarita that’s definitely not her first drink, and you just laugh nodding.

“He was begging for me to go to Italy with him.”

“And why didn’t you?”

“Who said I didn’t?” she asks with a pretentious hurt look turning to you and you just laugh. You should have known the story would go this way. “I accepted the offer, only turned down his proposal when we sailed off and then we parted as soon as I stepped onto the land of Italy. Broke his heart into pieces, but I was too busy enjoying the Italian summer.”

Harry comes in and hands you a bottle filled with juice that probably Rosa sent for Valerie.

“Thank you,” you smile at him shortly as you adjust the little girl in your arms and hand her the bottle.

“Young boy, have you ever proposed to someone?” Aunt Monica asks Harry who stops in his way as he was already about to head out, but now he walks back to the sofa where she is sitting.

“No, not yet,” he shakes his head.

“And how do you think you would if the time came?”

You watch Harry think to himself at the odd and quite random question. It’s not really something you would have ever asked him, but now that there’s the chance to hear his answer you are listening curiously. 

“Depends on the woman I’m proposing to,” he replies after a few seconds.

“How would you propose to Y/N?”

Your eyes widen as you turn to your aunt with shock all over your face. You definitely didn’t want yourself dragged into this.

“Aunt Monica, that’s--”

“Shush! I’m just asking theoretically. Wanna hear his answer.”

Harry’s eyes wander over to your sitting figure on the sofa as he leans onto the back of the one in front of him. You can feel the heat crawling up on your neck to your cheeks under his burning look and you just know he enjoys how nervous you got from this simple question that wasn’t even asked from you. 

Licking his lips he moves his eyes from you over to Aunt Monica who is still waiting for his answer.

“Something romantic, but not too grandiose, I know she doesn’t like being in the center of the attention that much. Maybe…” Tapping on his chin you listen to his words and without even realizing you hold your breath. “Maybe on a hike with a nice view. She would be admiring the view when I get down on one knee and as she turns around I pop the lid on the box.”

What bugs you is that it’s an awfully accurate description of how you’d imagined your proposal. He was right about many aspects, like how you don’t like being in the center of attention. No idea how he nailed so easily, but he did. 

Glancing down you pretend to be busy with Valerie who is still peacefully drinking her juice, eyes wandering around the room relentlessly.

“So you really look to satisfy her deepest fantasies, careful about even the smallest details. Women appreciate it,” Aunt Monica nods, completely oblivious to how uncomfortable she just made you feel.

“Thank you, I do like to satisfy women,” Harry cheekily answers with a smirk, eyes locking with yours for a moment as Aunt Monica lets out a laugh at the dirty comment. Before you could bite your tongue a retort slips out of your mouth.

“What a shame you don’t always succeed.”

Harry’s eyes turn from playful to dark pretty quickly and you enjoy the victory over him. Your comment in the car earlier already wounded his manhood, now it’s another stab right into his… crotch. It’s the least he deserves after what he taught poor Olly.

“That I don’t believe. He seems like an absolute pleaser.” Aunt Monica winks in Harry’s way who just smiles at her shyly, but you can tell your comment is still bugging him. 

“I think Y/N knows that too herself, am I right?” He tilts his head to the side and you stand your ground with holding his gaze and not looking away.

“Don’t be so sure about that,” you simply say, just when you hear your mom calling out for you. “Would you take her please?” you innocently ask walking up to Harry, holding Valerie out for him. You can tell he is looking for a witty comeback, but he has nothing just yet, so he is stuck with keeping his mouth shut as he takes baby Valerie from you. You gift him with a sweet, but definitely spikey smile before leaving him there with Aunt Monica. 

***

Dinner is already almost ready, you’re helping your mom and Aunt Teresa in the kitchen with the finishing touches, Joe and Harry packing out the wine bottles from the rack Jeremy brought them in, the two of them examining the bottles with such professionalism you almost believe they have the slightest idea about what to look for in a good wine. 

“Should we open some red or white ones for tonight’s dinner?” Joe asks your mom who is the master chef when it comes to the dinner.

“Red would suit better,” she answers. “Are they sweet?”

“Some, yeah,” Harry nods holding up a bottle and checking the label.

“Great. Monica loves that too,” Teresa chuckles as she adds some salt to the mashed potato. 

“And Y/N too,” Harry adds, not even looking up, but he successfully attracts your mom’s attention with his comment.

“She does?” Harry looks up and sees your boiling anger plastered all over your face, so of course he chooses to take it further.

“Oh, yeah. She can drink like a gallon. Wine drunk Y/N is like a whole different person.”

“I told you so many times not to get drunk, Y/N. It’s not too ladylike. When was the last time you saw her drunk?”

“There were plenty of occasions,” Harry exaggerates and you could kill him right there. “Though last time it was the tequila that got her wildin’.”

That damned smirk of his is making your hands curl into fists and for a moment you tell yourself it’s okay to punch him in front of your mother even if she’ll probably disown you for such behavior. 

“Y/N! I have told you a million times that you need to know where your limits lie!” she huffs shaking her head at you while you clench your jaw. Back at it with the lessons about getting drunk. She’ll never get over it, not even when you’ll be forty. Why does it matter to her so much? Sometimes she is the one to get you started, but then she gives you the dirtiest looks when you have one too many. She should just get used to it now. 

“She surely likes to have fun when she has had a few drinks,” Harry continues smugly. “Remember how much fun you had at Rosa and Steven’s wedding?”

“Oh, God! I remember how drunk you were that evening, I could have killed you!” your mother growls and you roll your eyes at her.

“It wasn’t that bad. There were a lot more people who got way more wasted than me,” you try to defend yourself folding your arms on your chest. 

“That doesn’t change that you were too,” she says with a hard look. Great, now she is mad at you for something that happened literally years ago. Kudos to Harry for ruining her mood.

“She wasn’t that bad,” Harry adds and you look in his way with suspicion. “She was a delight when it was time to get her to bed.”

Your mouth almost hangs open, but it seems like you’re the only one understanding what he really meant by that. Luckily, beside you and him, Rosa and Steven are the only people who knows what happened between you and Harry that night, so it’s no surprise no one else catches on the hint.

“You were the one who took her up to her room? Sorry if she was a burden,” your mother sighs and right at that moment you wish the floor would just open up and you could disappear forever. Harry’s satisfied grin is the evidence that he just won another round of this nasty war.

Just as you open your mouth to try and move the conversation to another field you see a pair of headlights pull up to the driveway. Everyone turns to the window as Marcus’ car parks down last in the line. As you step away from the counter you see the confusion in Harry’s eyes about the new guest.

“Oh, amazing! He is here!” your mom cheers, seemingly instantly forgetting about how she was dragging you just a minute ago.

“Who’s here?” you hear Harry ask, but you’re already out of there, heading to the front door to greet Marcus.

Just as you walk out into the cold evening air you see him get out with a warm smile on his lips. You wait for him at the door, arms wrapped around yourself and as he reaches you he places a soft kiss to your lips. 

“Hey, how was the drive?” you ask him.

“It was fine. I didn’t arrive too late, right?”

“No, we were just about to set the table. Come on in, I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

He takes your hand in his as the two of you walk inside, all eyes immediately turning your way at the arrival of your boyfriend.

“Everyone, I want you all to meet my boyfriend, Marcus. He is staying for dinner.”

Your family members walk up to the two of you, shaking hands and introducing themselves to Marcus who smiles at everyone politely, trying his best to remember all the names and information that’s thrown at him all of a sudden. Everyone seems delighted to have him for dinner, the kids instantly make him promise he’ll play a card game with them after dinner and he happily says yes to the invitation. 

You can tell your mom is proud that finally both of her daughters are spending Christmas with a man by their side and you’re almost certain your dad took a liking to Marcus the moment he mentioned he is into fishing.

Everyone seems excited and happy for Marcus, there’s just one face that doesn’t fit in the line of joyful smiles. Harry stands quite far from the two of you and only gets closer when he shakes hands with Marcus. His cocky grin is long gone from his face as he keeps his hard look on your boyfriend who is chatting with everyone. Standing next to Marcus, your hand still holding his, your eyes lock with Harry’s and there’s an unknown, burning feeling in your gut when his hard gaze holds yours. The sudden change and cold act gets you wondering what’s really going on in his mind. He is the first one to look away and you watch him walk into the kitchen and disappear from your sight before you force a smile on your lips and turn back to Marcus.

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[maxbernini]

I haven't seen any other skamfr season aside of Maya's, and maybe this is a stupid question but Jo, as a character, it's supposed to be seen as fun and quirky? Because if that was the goal they really failed...

i’m obsessed with every part of this ask, from not finding jo funny to only watching maya’s season. like not even s6. just s9. VALID. unfortunately yes jo is supposed to be the Main Comedic Relief 💔 personally i’ve only found jo to be funny one (1) time in five seasons and it was more of a half smile than a laugh and it wasn’t even her, she just said the line that prompted the thing i found funny shsjsksks.

i think #my issue with jo’s brand of humor is that so much of it is like repetitive exaggerated in-your-face comedy? and one that involves a streak of what is basically mean spiritedness? and so much of that being successful relies on a) you thinking she’s charming and likeable to begin with, and b) genuine character growth or specific moments of tenderness to counterbalance it. sometimes it feels like they just don’t know when to stop with her though like immediately the clip where she and maya are scrolling thru the dating app comes to mind. it goes on for soooo long and it’s not even funny, it’s just one joke about the terribleness of parisian wlw dating profiles drawn out forever, and what isn’t that one joke is then just her making fun of maya’s profile (so again, it’s basically the same joke). like okay we get it let’s move on!!! don’t get me started on the intersection of her humor + jol*al bc i’ll be here all day lol. but it’s one of the biggest reasons their relationship was a flop for me

also in s9 they tried to use her as like a fandom AND writers insert if that makes sense?? and all of it was so conflicting?? 😭 she’d go from telling maya to get back with lola asap to saying to put herself first and have fun sleeping around to being excited she then slept with lola bc that meant they were getting back together and to then turning into a Serious Relationships Expert who advises maya to treasure the memories but move on like WHAT is her stance at all bc it changes clip to clip?? and that constant tonal shift (again. seen in jol*al’s relationship) is one reason the moments of counterbalancing tenderness also fail for me.