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neoplatinum · 7 months

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we meet again | huh 'jennifer' yunjin

summary: yunjin and reader go on their non-refundable anniversary trip...as exes

pairing: ex gf!yunjin x ex!reader

themes: exes to lovers, miscommunication, discussions of needs, angst, fluff, suggestive-ish, paris!, sprinkles of humor here and there

wc: 4.5k

you stare into your cup of coffee as you wait for your plane to be ready to take off, the warm coffee is a nice contrast from the coldness you can feel from the woman next to you: your ex of four months yunjin.

she's been all frowny and defensive ever since you picked her up for the trip. her huffing and puffing and crossed arms and legs as she looks away from you.

you haven't spoken to her in months until you got an email that the trip you planned for your anniversary with yunjin sent a reminder email. you cursed your old self for setting up an auto-email service to notify her of the trip too.

then she texted you:

jennifer huh (ex): did you plan an anniversary trip for us?

you call her immediately, knowing you have to explain what happened.

"hi jen, and yes i did plan this as an anniversary trip." you begin rubbing your forehead as you try and weasel your way out of this awkward conversation.

"okay...it says here it's non-refundable." yunjin has always been quick at reading between the lines and you practically prayed for her to miss that portion.

"ah yes, well it is non-refundable." you fiddle around with a stress ball as she talks.

"so are we going?" yunjin cuts you off.

"what?" you sputter out, the stress ball that's been in your hand turning being smashed as small as possible. you begin pacing back and forth and even end up stubbing your toe. "fuck!"

"are you okay?" yunjin stops in the middle of her explanation when you curse through the phone. you mutter a quick yes and she continues, "well its my ticket, and i want to go. were you planning on going with anyone else?" yunjin goes silent.

"well no, maybe my sister but you would still have to transfer the ticket." you explain and sit back down, damn that pinky toe hurts so much.

"so it is my ticket." yunjin continues and you nod through the phone, "okay, i am going then." you groan out loud and yunjin begins calling you dramatic.

"whatever yunjin, i'll pick you up for the airport, i'll talk to you later."

leading to you both now sitting by the airport benches, both of your luggage separating you by a seat. all around you are families or couples headed for paris, when all you can think about is how soon this will be over.

yunjin is sporting her long leather jacket and her newly dyed red hair, which if you were being honest scared you when you first saw her. now all you can do is stare at how well it works for her, even near cursing her for still making your heartbeat after dumping you.

"stupid red." you mutter to yourself as you swirl your cup.

"what was that?" yunjin takes off one side of her headphones and leans into you.

"oh, just nice red hair." she nods at that and turns back to her music, plugging her headphones in. you scoff at the audacity of her. with that you turn back to watching planes, and hope that this three day trip ends quickly.

you're settling into your seat and ready to plug your earbuds in for this flight when you notice the couple next to you giggling loudly while cuddling each other, rolling your eyes at them two.

the girl looks at you and yunjin who has taken the window seat, "are you guys going to paris for your honeymoon?" she asks you while the guy nods excitedly at you.

"uhh, no we're not." you let out a nervous chuckle as the two begin going on a long conversation (very one-sided by the way) about how in love they are, and how they're going to paris for their honeymoon/anniversary. all you can do is sheepishly smile along and hope their monologue ends soon (it doesn't). yunjin chuckles next to you and you kick her subtly to get her to stop.

while you suffer through the long monologue of how they met, how many cats they raise and even drama about their friends, yunjin finds it hilarious yet sad, because honestly, you two could've been that couple, had you two not broken up.

-- day 1

"gosh! they talked my ear off, you know i downloaded like five different movies and a bunch of playlists for that flight, only to not watch a SINGLE movie." you begin venting about the couple to which yunjin finds amusing and pokes fun at you.

"that's on you for not knowing how to exit a conversation." she smiles as you both get a cab to the hotel.

once you've placed your luggage into the trunk and set off, you continue, "listen, i've always been horrible at exiting those situations, didn't help that they were both so enthusiastic."

"i know, it's how i got your number, remember?" yunjin says and you stop for a second, thinking about the first time you met. It was at a concert where she was next to you, talking your ear off about how much she loved the artist. she came alone because none of her friends listened to the artist. you, being the kind soul you were, let her talk to you through the whole concert, even letting her talk through your favorite song.

"yeah, i guess so." you turn away from yunjin in the cab, with the rest of the ride turning quiet.

"roses on the bed, and a single king bed?" yunjin questions as you enter the hotel suite. you begin to heat up, remembering how you specifically requested rose petals in the shape of a heart and champagne in an ice bath, along with towels folded into swans facing each other and kissing. god, the things you do when you're in love.

"ah! well, it was for our anniversary so i made a special request." you say really hoping she couldn't hear you.

"well, i'm glad i came, now that i can see this, i can make fun of you for being so cheesy," she says as she grabs the champagne from the metal bucket. "damn, champagne's expensive too. how much did you spend on this trip?"

she pops the champagne cork and starts pouring the golden liquid into two champagne flutes. passing one of the flutes to you.

"too much, had to dip into my savings," you say as you think about the credit card bill, a full body shiver running up your spine just at the thought.

she laughs and smiles at you, "well, consider me lucky."

you cough and try not to think about how different this trip would've been had you two not separated.

"i'm going to go wash up." yunjin puts her flute down and starts digging through her suitcase. you nod settle into one of the armchairs and turn on the hotel tv.

the shower turns on and with that you try to quiet your heart, constantly reassuring yourself that you will get through this trip and be able to be back at home away from an ex you're still in love with.

"what did i get myself into?" you groan and close your eyes, letting the sleep overtake you.

"hey...hey wake up." yunjin gently shakes your arm as you wake up from your nap. you groan and mumble incoherent thoughts.

"how long have i been asleep?" the grogginess is still settling into your bones, you open your eyes to the sight of yunjin wearing more casual clothes but still looking effortlessly beautiful with her wavy red hair and adorable glasses perched on her nose.

"long enough, i'm hungry, let's get dinner." she says and you nod, feeling the hunger from not eating on the plane and immediately falling asleep in the hotel.

outside, the sun has started to set, people are chatting and bright lights are adorning the streets. people are lively and there's even buskers playing violin and guitars, enticing the people to spare a few coins for their astounding performance.

you trail behind yunjin, watching the way she absorbs into the parisian night, with her film camera in hand and a smile adorning her face. it makes you yearn, yearn for another universe where you're hers once more. but to also yearn for answers of why she dumped you all those months ago.

"let's go in this one." she turns around and you're snapped out of your thoughts, she points at the restaurant and you follow her in. the smell of delicious food and the warm atmosphere is making you more hungry.

"right this way." your server brings you to your booth. and you seat yourself in front of yunjin, honestly something you haven't done in so long, that it's like you're falling in love all over again. the warm yellow lamp hanging over the booth makes her skin glow, and not to mention just her in general has your knees weak.

instead of staring at her like a fool, you try to focus on the menu in front of you. it works well because after a few glances at the mostly french menu, you're beyond confused with what to order. eyebrows furrowing and biting your nails at the french words.

"are you ready to order?" the waiter stands before you and before you can get out a word asking what these dishes are yunjin is quickly ordering her dinner in french and you sit there anxious.

"and for you?" the waiter turns to you.

"uh, this one?" you point at the menu and show him, he nods taking quick note of the orders before leaving.

you're back to the awkwardness of not having a menu in front of you to distract you from the beauty that is yunjin.

"so....how are you doing? dating anyone?" you start, trying to break the ice. you fiddle with your thumbs and avoid her gaze as she processes the questions you have thrown at her.

"are you kidding me? that's how you are going to start the conversation?" she scoffs at your lame attempt at having a serious conversation.

"what? i think those are reasonable questions." you mumble to yourself, feeling embarrassed you start drinking the water next to you.

"fine. i am doing fine and no, i am not dating anyone." she crosses her arms and glares at you from across the table.

"cool cool...." you trail off, trying to watch other people and feeling a little giddy when yunjin said she wasn't dating anyone.

the waiter returns with a basket of bread and butter, also refilling water cups and smiling at you both before leaving quickly. it doesn't go unnoticed that he keeps eyeing yunjin and smiling at her throughout the interaction.

"what about you?" yunjin starts with a slice of bread in her mouth.

"oh me, no not dating anymore, of course not." you let the words tumble out of your mouth, forgetting how you are trying to keep your walls up around yunjin.

"what do you mean by 'of course not'?" she questions as she spreads more butter onto her baguette.

you also grab a slice of bread and start smearing it with butter, thinking of ways to exit this topic as smoothly as possible, "just you know...not there."

she nods and you can see that she wants to prod more into why, but the waiter shows up with both your dishes in hand.

"for you madam," he places her beef bourguignon in front of her. meanwhile placing your seafood pasta in front of you. "and for you."

"shit..." you mumble as you stare at your dish, yunjin sighs but lets out an amused smile at the sight.

"of course you managed to order a seafood dish because you didn't understand french." she laughs at you, and all you can do is feel even more embarrassed from how this trip is going. "let's switch."

yunjin trades plates with you, your heart warms when she remembers your seafood allergy. you thank her sheepishly and begin digging into your dish. "jen! this is delicious!" you exclaim with a piece of beef in your mouth.

she smiles at you warmly and takes a quick photo of you, making your cheeks warm at the sentiment, remembering her habit of taking photos of you when she found you cute.

the waiter returns this time, but you look at him confused because you haven't ordered anything else.

"hello madam," he starts while leaning on the booth by yunjin's side, showing off his pearly white smile and trying to be suave, "how are you enjoying paris?"

"it's lovely here, thank you for asking." yunjin starts, you can only watch as the two engage in conversation, making you more and more quiet as time passes.

they speak about parisian culture and even share a few phrases in french that you definitely could not understand. you end up only focusing on your dish until he leaves much later. yunjin looks back at you and is confused by the switch in your demeanor.

yunjin goes quiet at the sight of you so down, so she also begins quietly eating her (your) seafood pasta, and as the time dwindles to the end. the waiter returns with the bill and a napkin that he slips to yunjin, it doesn't take a genius to understand what he gave her.

you huff angrily as you pay for the dinner. and yunjin follows you out of the restaurant and disposes of the napkin in front of you. she turns to you with her hand open and waiting for yours. you take it as you both stroll down the streets of paris with full bellies and a noticeably happier mood.

-- day 2

yunjin has managed to convince you (you really don't know how) to go and get caricatures of the both of you for "memories". you groaned at the idea, but there you sat in the small ratty chair in front of the french artist, and waited for this quick drawing. after a few quick minutes, the artist hands you the drawing, showcasing a funny imagery of yunjin stomping your head to the ground as your relationship.

"hey! you can't draw that!" you exclaim as you go over the painting, you can't lie though, the guy was talented.

yunjin just laughs and drops euros into his hand before dragging you away from the chairs. "don't take it too seriously, it's just a drawing." she takes the drawing from your hands before stuffing it into her purse and folding her arms with yours.

"so, what should we do today?" she says to steer you away from thinking about the drawing.

"well actually, i had an itinerary ready for this trip," fishing your phone out of your pocket, you begin listing places that you wanted to take yunjin to. "the louvre?"

she stops her feets and her jaw drops and you can see her happiness just overflowing.

"yes yes yes! you know me too well, lifelong dream to see the mona lisa." she says and you smile, remembering that's why you put it on your itinerary, and soon you're flagging down a cab to head to the louvre.

god, you're never getting over her at this point. you try not to dwell on that thought and instead let things come as they are.

she's busy capturing photos of the mona lisa and other pieces, while you are capturing memories of her in your mind. taking slow steps behind her as she reads through the description of each piece that intrigues her.

she's gorgeous in her dark green leather coat, red hair flowing down her back with her trusty film camera looped around her wrist. she looks like she belongs in an art museum and you're left wondering if you can ask the art curators to put a picture of her as a piece.

once you reach the end of the museum, you begin to realize there really hasn't been any piece that has intrigued you to look at, even when yunjin was admiring the mona lisa, all you could focus on were her gorgeous eyes.

that day, you hope that you can always make her happy, even if she no longer is yours.

"of course we have to go to see the eiffel tower, i don't care that it's cheesy and cliche, we HAVE to go." she explains to you as she's touching up her makeup again. the two of you returned to the hotel after a long day of exploring local attractions, but now yunjin is explaining that you two definitely need to go despite how tired you are.

while she goes on and on about the importance of a paris trip including eiffel tower pictures, you try to keep your eyes open. the warmth of the jacket that you still have on, swallowing you.

"okay okay, we should go." you get up and start rubbing at your eyes, even letting out loud yawns as you put on your shoes. yunjin finally takes a look at you and starts to feel bad for pushing you to do so much today.

"you look tired, we can go another time?" she starts, feeling embarrassed.

you grab a hold of the wall as you tuck the back of the shoe over your sock, "not at all, let's go!"

you look tired, eyes lower than usual. with a stretch and a neck crack, you look more energized and ready to take on the night.

"let's go!" you exclaim, opening your palm for her to hold onto. she can only smile and think about how sweet it is that you are trying to do activities that she wants to do.

"okay, let's go." she responds, your hand wraps around hers tightly as you both get out of the car and walk through the crowd to get closer to the eiffel tower.

while yunjin stares at the little lights adorning the eiffel tower, sparkling like the stars in the sky, you try and take discreet photos of her. thinking about how you are basically in an alternate universe that exists only you and yunjin, and soon reality will return with you alone and single. these photos will remain to remind you that this trip wasn't a dream, what little you have to cling onto.

she's enjoying the night breeze and the liveliness of the people around her, but you're focused on her. she's also capturing photos of the eiffel tower but taking time to snap photos of the people around her. until her camera lands on you, snapping a photo of you, taking a photo of her.

then you both move away from your cameras and look at each other, and time feels like it stops when you both just admire each other. her eyes become glossy and tears are flowing down her cheek.

you make a quick dash to hug her, holding her tightly. you feel her lay her head on your shoulder and you can feel her body wrack into yours, with quiet sobs and she wraps around you like she'll lose you too.

it feels like the world is crashing around you two, with her grabbing onto your jacket and pinching it so hard. you start rubbing her hair in the motion that you know will bring her comfort, as it has done many times before.

you must've been there for a long time, because people are looking at you two in sympathy, a traveling florist even hands you a free rose to cheer you up. you immediately slip the rose into her pocket. and she stops hugging onto you to see the rose in her breast pocket. she smiles a little, and with a shaky voice, "let's go back to the hotel please."

you nod and hold her hand as you two take the long way back. her hand is still very much holding onto yours tightly. and by the time that you two are back in the room, she drops onto the bed and taps the be urging you to join.

you slip off your shoes and jacket and settle on the bed, facing yunjin. she twirls the rose between her fingers and finally looks at you.

"do you know why i broke up with you?" she whispers, and your body has frozen up, yunjin kept the break up very simple. a single 'let's break up.' over coffee and then she left.

"i don't." you whisper back.

"do you want to know?" she whispers back.

"yes, i really do." you sit up and watch her thinking for a while.

"i broke up with you because i didn't feel like you loved me anymore. whenever we hung out it never felt like you cared anymore, you were even inconsiderate at times and i think, no, i believed that you fell out of love with me."

you nod, but each word cracks your heart a little more, thinking about how wrong each word feels. it simply wasn't true, you never stopped loving her and the guilt of making her feel this way makes you want to vomit.

"this whole trip, i feel like i saw the old you again, the you that fell in love with me and showered me with attention." she continues her monologue and breathes harder at the emotions that were being kept at bay. "earlier, when you were taking photos of me and i caught you, it was exactly like our first date, it hurt so bad..." and by now she's sobbing and you're sobbing and it's all just a big mess.

"it hurts so bad that now i know you never fell out of love with me. that i made a mistake by breaking up with you and we've been months apart when we could've had this happy anniversary together." she continues with tears in her eyes and she's holding you close. alternating between crying and talking.

you take in the words openly, understanding the position that you've put her in and how hurt she was by your lack of attention. you can't even deny it either, those last weeks before the breakup felt like a rift between the two of you, neither knowing how to go forward. with yunjin making the final and unfortunate decision of dumping you.

"jen, you mean everything to me, and i'm so beyond sorry if it feels as if i never prioritized you." you are also trembling in her hold as she listens to you, nodding to your words every so often. "i never and mean never fell out of love with you. i'm sorry that it took a vacation to figure this out too."

she stops completely and holds your face in her hands as she completely dives herself into a passionate kiss. searing her lips against yours and pushing you into the bed more.

"you're mine." yunjin speaks in between kisses.

"yours." you move your hands into her hair and pull her close, bodies molding into one as the night goes on.

-- day 3

three quick knocks disturb you from your sleep, you rub your eyes and open them to the harsh rays of the windows.

"cleaning service!" you could hear outside the room, and you examine yourself. naked as ever and clothes all sprawled around, yunjin dead asleep on the other side of the bed.

"shit!" you run to the closet and grab a bathrobe and quickly tie it around yourself as you rush to the door. finally giving one glance at the bird's nest of hair, you pat down the hair as much as you can before opening the door slightly.

"hi! um, we don't need cleaning right now, maybe later?" you ask worriedly, the lady eyes your bathrobe and your hair and gives a smirk before walking away to the next room. you cringe at the idea that she knows exactly what you have been up to and close the door quickly.

"phew." you are relieved that they didn't walk into you and yunjin butt naked for cleaning service. meanwhile, yunjin has approached you from behind and wrapped her arms around you.

"hi, come back to bed." she pulls at your robe and pulls you towards her.

"oh okay..."you're confused but let her pull you back to bed. cuddling with her feels nice and reminds you of the days you spent lounging in each other's place.

"jen! i cannot believe you!" you stand on the far end away from her, backing yourself into a corner.

"what? i didn't do anything wrong." she stalks towards you with a devious smile as she watches you examine yourself in the mirror.

"you mauled my neck!" you exclaim as you claw at your neck looking left and right at the damage she's done. yunjin rather looks proud of her handiwork and instead pulls you onto her lap.

"okay no need to be a big baby about it, let me touch it up." she pulls out her concealer and starts going to town on the many hickeys she's left littered across your neck.

you huff and complain while yunjin lets you drone on while applying concealer until you're satisfied. she doesn't mention the new marks she's dug into your back, quite happy that only she can see them.

you both set out for a much chiller day outside, leisurely walking in parks and chatting while enjoying the parisian weather. you reach a quiet spot in the park, pulling out a blanket and your picnic basket.

yunjin doesn't comment on the humongous scarf that you have wrapped around your neck, but it does make her laugh a bit to see it.

you two are enjoying the nice breeze, when you hear smacking sounds nearby. looking around, you don't spot anything unusual until you notice a couple practically eating each other's mouths off. a closer look and you realize you recognize the two as the couple from the plane into paris.

you immediately turn your head to yunjin, "pss, the couple from the plane is at my six."

she quickly whips her head around and lo and behold the couple is still loudly eating each other's faces off. she laughs at the sight before capturing your lips with hers. "we should beat them."

"jen noooooo." you groan and turn away from her, uninterested at the idea of attracting their attention. she simply laughs and continues to enjoy the picnic. the rest of the trip goes well, often sharing little tidbits of your lives in the past couple months without each other.

after enjoying your "anniversary" trip in paris, you both get ready to go home. holding hands and kissing through the cab ride, plane ride and even through baggage claim.

you spot your sister out front of the pick-up terminal with a big sign "welcome back lovers!" you groan at the sign, of course she would show up with a poster plastering you and yunjin's photos to pick you up.

"she knows we're back together?" yunjin comments in confusion.

"i didn't even tell her, she just kept saying she knew we would get back together when the trip was over." you hold yunjin's luggage as your sister tackles yunjin into a hug, spilling about how much she missed her.

"i'm here too you know...your actual sister." your sister simply swats you away and enthusiastically asks about your trip to yunjin.

you drive off with yunjin's hand in yours and a warm smile as yunjin talks about the trip to your sister.

a/n: i apologize if there's any inaccuracies about paris, i've never been 😭 this post was inspired by a fic i read a longggg time ago. stay safe and stay healthy everyone!

#huh yunjin #huh yunjin x reader #huh yunjin x you #jennifer huh #le sserafim #le sserafim x reader #le sserafim yunjin #yunjin #yunjin x reader #yunjin x you #neoplatinum

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joyoushyuck · 7 months

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(minors dni)

requested

19:34

The last bits of your coherence are stripped off of you when Jeno thrusts a vibrator into your wet folds. Your cries of pleasure drown out his low grunts as he drags a veiny hand through the length of his red, pulsating cock.

Your hands are tied to the headboard with Jeno’s belt. The delicious pressure created every time you attempt to tug your hands free borders painful, your arms aching from the lack of movement. Your lips are swollen, bitten raw and absolutely destroyed, chin shining with saliva and cum. A splendid brown bruise sits right above your pulse point, visible for the world to see and know whom you belong to.

Jeno pulls the vibrator out again, moving it on your inner thighs where he knows you are sensitive. The hand stroking his cock switches to teasing your clit instead. Jeno looks so good like this, with his hair mussed up and lips plump, beads of sweat rolling down his face. You want those lips to suck your clit. Jeno has a way of driving you crazy.

When he pushes the vibrator into your hole again, a jolt of pleasure washes over you because it is that spot. And from Jeno’s smug smirk, he damn sure knows what he's doing. He's been edging you for so long, you don't think you'll last long if he doesn't move that toy from your hypersensitive bundle of nerves.

“So good, doll,” he praises. The nickname steals an obscene moan out of you. “So pliant and obedient, all for me.”

“Jeno,” you whine. He's so attractive. The mere sight of him is enough to make you cum. “Please let me cum, please.”

“Not just yet, doll, gotta be patient,” and he says that right before rocking the vibrator on your g-spot. A lone drop of tear slides down your temple because the desperation is bordering insanity now. Your head falls back on the plush pillow, the knot on your stomach tightening with every press of thumb on clit, of toy on sweet spot. It's tortuous. You love it.

You are so close to snapping, nonsensical babbles of “Jeno, Jen, please, please let me come. Baby please, ‘m so close’’ prompting a good laugh out of said man.

Oh! The humiliation. You think that's your final straw, that you're going to break, so close to the edge-

Jeno abruptly pulls the toy out.

The emptiness frustrates you enough to trigger a pathetic sob. Your chest heaves, nipples hard and unattended, eyes brimming with more unshed tears.

“Baby, you are so beautiful,” Jeno murmurs. His eyes have glazed over like he's drunk. The thought that he's drunk on you placates the raging fire in you just the slightest bit. “I love you.”

And he's kissing you sweetly. So sweetly that you almost forget that he has you tied up in your room, edging you for what feels like an eternity. His hand tips your chin back for better access, tongue licking the roof of your mouth.

Your timid “Love you too, Jen,” is what seems to break the sudden spell of serenity.

He presses one last kiss to the corner of your lips, running his thumb over your smudged lipstick and pressing it into your mouth for you to taste yourself, before the hand settles around your neck in a firm grip.

He's applying just the right amount of pressure to knock the air out of your lungs and make you light-headed. “Jeno, please,” you attempt to say, but it's reduced to incomprehensible gasps.

Your arms feel sore too. They tingle all over in a way that warns you that when all this is over, you aren't going to be able to as much as lift a pen. You aren't bothered by it all that much.

Jeno lines his cock in your entrance and pushes in slowly. A guttural moan escapes his throat, his facade of nonchalance finally breaking now that he's buried deep inside you, your tight walls clenching around him. “Babe, you are so good for me, so tight, my pretty girl,” it's his turn to babble. You aren't capable of forming a response at all, just high pitched whines turning into breathy sounds.

He thrusts into you sloppily, eyes zeroed out on the way your hole takes him in effortlessly. The stretch is just perfect. When he leans down to kiss you - a mess of tongue and saliva more than anything - your eyes roll back and you black out momentarily.

“Doll, you need to stay with me,” Jeno slightly taps your cheek. “Tell me if it is too much, okay?”

You shake your head at that with a little too much vigor. Again, his features morph into one filled with fondness.

It's when Jeno brings the vibrator to your clit that the knot in your stomach snaps. You come undone, the orgasm washing over you in waves and bringing bouts of inexplicable pleasure. Jeno isn't far behind because he’s pulling out to come on your stomach soon after.

He's left you thoroughly drained. He unties the belt and cleans your body with a warm cloth. The moment he tugs you into his chest, you are out like light.

Note

1k of pure filth. I really tried. Hope the anon who requested likes it:)

Requests, thoughts, questions are welcomed. My inbox is open!

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ghoststyles · 3 months

Text

Missed Connections

Harry X YN WC: 6K

No smut in this one. Didn't feel right! Hopefully you like this as much as I do :)

______________________________________________________________

New York City, 1998

This dive bar is abysmal.

Your Coach shoulder bag is sticking to the bar top while a ZZ Top-esque biker gang member chain smokes in the corner, blowing the smoke straight into your face, as One Headlight by the Wallflowers plays at a volume far too loud for your liking.

The bartender places a poorly laminated menu, riddled with ring stains from the thousands of beers and simple cocktails poured over them. You’d be shocked if the vinyl seats don’t carry some sort of venereal disease, making you pull your jean skirt down, minimizing the direct contact with your skin.

It’s a Thursday, your long days in the office, and the start of your best friend, Marcie’s, bachelorette party weekend. When did bachelorette parties turn into a weekend affair, anyway?

You suppose it’s because you’re the only single girl in the group; the only one to actually leave your suburban, central New Jersey upbringing to attend college and build a career in New York City.

This is how you found yourself hosting 4 girls in your 550 square foot apartment for 3 days. Chickie’s the one with the fabulous life in Manhattan, why don’t we visit her! And who are you to say no? If it weren’t for her sister, you’d be Marcie’s Maid of Honor, so an unmitigated amount of guilt fell on your shoulders as the long distance bridesmaid.

“Smile, Chickie, you look miserable. That’s not gonna get you a boyfriend any time soon,” Jenny teases you as she sits on the stool between you and the biker, her nose crinkling as she smells the vapor of the Marlboro reds.

Jenny is the powerhouse of the group; the loud mouthed, opinionated friend who takes pleasure in picking on the other girls. You never pay her any mind. You thought for sure she’d eventually phase out after high school, but here she is nagging you, as usual. Even worse, she used your childhood nickname.

“I’m good, Jen. It’s not looking like my husband is going to walk through the door, anyway,” you laugh exasperatedly, looking around at the empty bar room illuminated by red lights and tons of novelty beer branded mirrors. The biker man leans back on his stool, furrowing his brows at you.

Jen laughs, lighting up her own cigarette and taking a long inhale. “You know, Andrew and I can set you up with any of his colleagues. Most of them are divorced once or twice, but, still good looking.”

Your lips purse out in preparation of a smart comeback, but your eyes divert to the door, where a group of late twenty and thirty something men walk through the door, taking seats at the corner of the bar. They huddle around one another, blocking your view of their faces.

By this point, your girlfriends have changed the music and begin to dance on the tiny checkerboard dance floor, garnering the looks of everyone in the crowded space. Marcie is sloshing her drink around, the miniature veil in her hair slipping down as she moves.

The biker man, your only ally for the evening, is now on a stool by the dartboard, dozing off as he nurses his umpteenth Budweiser. The bartender has refilled your gin & tonic a few times already, to which you place a few bills in his jar to your left.

Marcie and Grace are now twirling around to You’re Still the One by Shania Twain, narrowly bumping into the group of men who walked in earlier. Marcie’s veil is barely grappling onto the top of her head, sending the two into a laughing fit.

You smile gently, still feeling the wave of exhaustion from your day in the office. In your own little bubble, your pocket of peace is disturbed when the stool next to you scrapes across the cement floors, sending an unstoppable shiver up your spine.

“I’ll have a Budweiser, and whatever she’s having,” the new character quietly says to the bartender. Your head whips around to the gentle, but domineering tone, to find he’s not even looking at you. He fishes a twenty dollar bill from his wallet, sliding it in the direction of the barman. His brown, curly hair is unkempt, slightly hanging in his eyes as he looks down at you.

“Thanks, but I can take care of it myself,” you brush him off, immediately turned off by the lack of eye contact.

“You’re the only one in here matching my energy tonight,” he chuckles, before turning his head to the biker in the corner. “Well, except for that guy.”

“I’m sure he’d love a drink,” you smirk, thumb picking at the laminated drink menu in front of you.

The stranger takes a swig of his beer, before placing it gently on the coaster. He finally turns to look at you, and you have to stop yourself from gawking. His striking eyes and perfectly chiseled jaw is the first thing to stand out. Looking down, his sleeves are rolled up to reveal a few sparse tattoos around his wrist and forearm.

“You’re the most miserable bridesmaid, and I’m the most miserable Best Man.”

You scoff, taking a sip of your cocktail before meeting his eyes over the rim of your glass. You place the cup down, jiggling the ice with it.

“Bold of you to make any assumptions about me. I’m just here minding my own business.”

He purses his lips, now fully turning to face you on the stool next to him. “I’ve been here 30 minutes. You’ve only given blank stares to everyone in here, and exchanged glances with the motorcycle guy over there in whatever morse code you two have developed.”

About ready to hop off the stool and storm out, you’re intrigued at the next sentence out of his mouth.

“I’m serious. We might as well get through this night together," he leans on the bar top, fist now supporting his chin. "How about we play 20 questions while your girls take shots and my boys stand there awkwardly watching.”

You scoff indignantly, unbelieving whether or not this twenty-something (thirty something?) man really wants to play 20 questions in the middle of a dive bar on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. Laughing to yourself, you turn to face him.

“I’ll go first. Break the ice a little,” he licks his lips, placing his bottle down on the disintegrating coaster on the worn bar top. “Most traumatic childhood memory?”

As the question pours out of his mouth, you take a sip of your watery G&T, eyes bulging at the blatant bold question.

“That—That, is what you start with? What about the name of my first pet? Name of my elementary school?”

“Who am I, your bank?”

A smile finally— finally, makes its way to your lips. The tattooed stranger you met 35 minutes ago doesn’t seem so scary anymore.

From the dance floor, Marcie shoots you a knowing smile before pursing her lips and gyrating, taunting you, since you’re the notoriously modest friend.

You roll your eyes before meeting his — Blue? Green? You can’t really tell in the dim lighting. The Rolling Rocks neon sign is casting a hue over the left side of his face, a smile makes its way onto his face while he awaits your answer.

“My mom left me at a Walmart and didn’t realize for about thirty minutes. I stood with the old man who greets everyone at the door until she came back. Then he bought me a bouncy ball out of the machine in the vestibule so I’d stop hyperventilating.”

He sucks his lip in, clearly trying to stifle a laugh. Hesitating, he speaks again. Reaching for your hands folded neatly in your lap, he places his grotesquely large ones over them, staring into your eyes earnestly.

“I’m so sorry that happened to you,” his voice dripping with sarcasm and mirth.

Balling up your fists, you shake his hands off of yours. “You asked! I was only 7. It took me months to go back to Walmart, let alone look that poor 75-year old greeter in the eye.”

He chuckles, taking another swig of his beer. “Okay, next question—” he starts, before you interrupt.

“Wait, I don’t get to ask a question?”

He hums, pretending to ponder it.

“Mmmm, nope. I got some good ones,” he replies, gently tapping his temple with his middle finger. He sighs, taking another drink of his beer.

“Is the hokey pokey really what it’s all about?” He slightly tilts his head in your direction, shrugging.

You don’t know if you want to laugh or cry. What higher power above sent this creature over to talk to you? Your lip juts out into a pout as your eye contact cuts over to your safe haven — biker man. He seems to have more to worry about, like not falling asleep in the bar.

Recognizing the shock that washes over your face, the man recoups, “Shit, I know — I know, that was so bad.”

It’s the gin. The giggles pour out of you, sending a sharp pain to your stomach. You grab his bicep so you don’t fall off the stool, squeezing the solid muscle there. He snorts, tilting his head back. Your kitten heels scrape the metal bar at the foot of the counter, barely giving you anything to grip on to.

“I’m gonna pee my pants,” tears are fully flowing from your eyes at this point. “I can’t, I can’t.”

The man cackles, placing a hand on your lower back. Now, your group of girls gravitate to your corner of the bar, bumping into one another and spilling their cosmos. His boys have now gained their liquid courage to morph the two groups together. You’re the only single one, but you won’t ruin anyone’s fun.

“And I don’t wanna miss a thing! Even when I dream of you…” Marcie belts out Aerosmith into her pretend microphone. “The sweetest dream will never do, cause I miss you, babe, and I don’t wanna miss a thing!”

In that moment, Christina strides over to the two of you with her disposable camera, ushering you to get in frame with him. He smiles down at you — how tall is this guy? Even sitting down he has at least a foot on you. You smile gently, leaning into him as the disposable’s flash goes off.

“So cute!”

You break the tension by latching onto his built body. He’s standing now, making sure not to block you from view of your friends. With just a few minutes from midnight, you finally feel loose and that you could actually have a good time with this guy. His hand hasn’t left your lower back, so he presses you into him before staring down at you.

“Chickie! Come to the bathroom with me,” Grace slurs, grabbing your hand. “It’s upstairs and I don’t think my legs will carry me.”

You inhale through your nose, trying to find a moment of patience for your friend and her unpleasant interruption to the moment you’re sharing with this stranger. You glance up at him, unsure if you should go. The comfort his large frame is intoxicating on its own.

“It’s okay, Chickie. I’ll be here,” he gently touches your lower back.

You nod, smiling up at him gently, allowing Grace to pull you toward the small staircase leading to the bathrooms. The walls of the corridor are riddled with graffiti, old dollar bills and questionable amounts of gum.

Grace pulls you past and inconspicuous second bar (what kind of dive bar has a second floor? Who do they think they are, Le Cirque?) and through the crowd to the bathroom.

The alcohol never feels like it hits until you come face to face with yourself in the dingy bathroom mirror. Despite your long history with drinking, (hellloooo football games in 10th grade drinking Burnett’s from the bottle) every heavy drinking night feels like the first time. You wait for Grace to finish up before hovering yourself over the toilet, unwilling to touch skin to porcelain.

You both wash up, taking a moment to sniff each other’s pits, fluff each other’s hair and dab a damp paper towel on the backs of your necks to cool you off.

The burst of hot air upon opening the bathroom door is enough to knock you out, but, nevertheless, the two of you persist through the throng of bodies that appeared out of nowhere. You’re the blind leading the blind at this point, but you drag Grace’s half-limp body to the top of the steps, peering out over the crowd in hopes of spotting your guy.

You trudge down the stairs, the pounding of the wood reverberating straight to your brain, heartbeat picking up when you don’t spot him towering over the group anymore. You situate Grace on a stool next to biker man, silently nodding at him to watch over your friend before finding Jen, Christina and Marcie.

“Jen, where did that group of guys go?” You tried to keep cool, not wanting to fall victim to her taunting, even if she’s inebriated.

“Mmmm, who? OH! The bachelor party. They left.”

Your heart drops, cursing yourself for letting your guard down. Of course it was only a love connection on your end. As a last ditch effort, you look over the crowd, only to find biker man exiting the bar into the night.

“O-oh, um, did the — did the taller guy say anything before they went?”

“No, the groom was pretty fucked up. They basically carried him out. Sorry, Chickie.”

Marcie suddenly bursts between the two of them, placing her arms around their shoulders.

“I’m ready for some McDonald’s!”

Why the fuck are you at the internet cafe?

It’s 1:30 PM on a Wednesday, and your boss thinks you’re on a lunch break. After being talked off the ledge by your girlfriends while flipping through the Sunday Times after draining a bottle of cabernet, you decided to take matters into your own hands.

Your mystery man from the bar hasn’t left your mind all week. Replaying the initial interaction — a bit cold, on both of your parts. But, the way he so easily opened you up and turned your night around kept you hooked.

In a city of 7 million, the odds of finding him again were slim to none, so you assessed your options:

Going back to Mick’s.

Recruiting biker man to scour the city with you Ghostbusters style. He gave you his business card for exactly that purpose.

Or writing a missed connections ad on Craigslist.

So, here you are, sat between a high schooler instant messaging on AOL and an old man using Ask Jeeves to diagnose a very personal medical issue. Taking a deep breath, you start the ad.

Every stroke of the keyboard was painful. This is so insanely out of your comfort zone, but the longing in your chest is too strong to ignore. The ad is the perfect mixture of nondescript and casual, but gives enough context that even if he were as dense as his friend group, he’d know it was him.

Pressing post, you immediately exit the window, paying your $0.75 for internet time and a print out and fly out the door, a bell jingling in the path of your haste. You shove the ad in in the book in your purse and stomp down the street. The old man makes eye contact with you through the window, snarling a bit at your startling movement. It makes you want to yell at him through the window to go see a fucking doctor!

The heels you have on were not made for walking; exactly the opposite of what that insufferable Carrie Bradshaw promotes on that new show. It’ll be off the air soon enough. Reluctantly, you call a cab and head back to the office in hopes of taking your mind off the possibilities — a happy ending, or heartbreak.

The nervous tapping of your foot echos across the marble floor of Effie’s Café. Arriving 20 minutes early, you rotated back and forth between the wicker chairs at this clearly 4 person table. Should you face the door? He’ll see you in the daylight and make a run for it. How about your back to the door? No, he could actually be a murderer and attack you from behind. From the side? No, these are standing jeans only.

Sigh. You decide to push your anxieties aside and order a glass of white wine, sitting with your back to the door to play up the mystery a bit more. One glass turns into two, and now you’re slightly sloshed for a Thursday at lunch time, hoping and praying you unlock the sweet, cool-girl personality you left him a taste of.

The café starts to pick up for the lunch rush, so you don’t immediately recognize the familiar deep voice of someone is trying to get your attention from behind you.

“Ladybug, is that you?”

Ladybug?

Slowly shifting your head to look over your right shoulder, your heart flutters at the tattooed forearm attached to the hand gripping the back of your chair. Only this time, the arm is attached to a tall, clean-shaven, blonde man.

You look up, making contact with his blue eyes. Now you’re certain that mystery man had green eyes. The man in front of you smiles down at you as he pulls his chair out to sit. It’s like he’s not even recognizing everything wrong about this situation.

He’s the wrong guy. You’re the wrong girl. Ladybug is the wrong nickname.

“Um, hi. I’m no—

“It’s nice to meet you, officially. I’m Garrett,” he extends his hand to shake yours. You stare at it, dumbfounded and scheming your next move.

“I think there may be a misunderstanding. I was trying to contact someone —.”

“No misunderstanding. You sounded like a sweet girl in the ad. I’m just lucky my impression matches you physically. You’re stunning”

No. Nope. Absolutely not. It’s not an honest mistake. He didn’t happen to speak to a girl in a dive bar with a silly nickname and tell stupid jokes just to get them to smile. This is the epitome of all of the warnings your parents gave you on computer safety. Sucking in a sharp breath, you locate the nearest exit, and look around in the most subtle way possible to flag down an employee.

“So, tell me about yourself. What do you do for work?”

“I think I need to leave, this was a mistake —.”

“Mm, I don’t think so,” Garrett fakes interest in your unsettled body language. “You asked for this.”

You finally spot your server, grabbing crumpled bills from your purse to give to her on your way out. Garrett grabs your wrist firmly, preventing you from reaching your wallet. “I’d like to get to know you. We just got here.”

Panic. A feeling you’ve felt everyday since you could remember. Whether it’s being forgotten at a superstore, or sending an incorrect document, destroying the contract for your largest client, panic claws its way out of your central nervous system at any opportunity.

You look down at your shaking hands, trying to conjure up a plan. Do you run? Scream? Throw your wine at him as a distraction? This man, while he hasn’t intimidated you physically, he’s loud and clear with his intentions.

“Hi! Welcome to Effie’s. I’m Alannah. Can I start you off with any drinks?”

Garrett smiles up at the young girl sweetly, opening his mouth to speak. You decide to play it cool for another few minutes to minimize the risk of retaliation.

“I’ll have an iced coffee — black. and the lady will have a green tea with lemon.”

You scowl, as if you’re more concerned about what he ordered for you than the fact that you feel threatened by his presence all together. Luckily, you still had your glass of wine from when you thought you would find mystery man.

“Great, I’ll be right back. Let me know if you have any questions about the menu,” Alannah smiles at both of you before spinning on her heel, ponytail flinging over her shoulder.

Your jaw is tight, unwilling to make eye contact with your dining partner. Your heartbeat has steadies out tremendously as more people filter into the café. Remaining casual, you begin to unroll the silverware placed neatly on the teal plate. You place the napkin on your lap, lining up the two forks and knife on the table.

Garrett has been talking this entire time, unbeknownst to you as you gather the courage to carry out your plan. You smile tightly, nodding to give some semblance that everything this okay. Glancing at your fork, you lock your eyes on his left hand sitting limply on the table, moving every so often as he drones on.

You send him one last sickeningly sweet smile before grabbing the fork nonchalantly. Twisting it around in your fingers, you inhale deeply and swiftly sink the salad fork into the flesh of his hand and shoot out of your chair, purse in hand. The chair scoots across the floor and ultimately tumbles to the side of you bringing on some stares from other diners. Alannah screams, dropping the drinks and covering her mouth, staring at the fork sticking out of his forehand. Adrenaline pumping through your blood stream, you waste no time taking your platform sandals off and making a run for it. Disgusting New York City streets be damned.

Garrett is red in the face, gritting his teeth as he screams after you, a death grip on his now injured hand. Diners and workers of the café gather around him, giving you an extra few seconds to escape.

Flying down 96th street, you expertly weave through the Upper West Side lunch crowd, feeling every wad of gum and broken beer bottle under your feet. Eventually, as your adrenaline-induced track meet is quickly dying out, so you stop on the corner between the flower shop and laundromat.

The street looks familiar. The bodega with the yellow awning illuminated by the red ‘Bar’ sign to its right. The sounds of the city are drowned out by your heavy breathing, but you’re certain your heart stops beating for a moment.

Mick’s Bar.

Look at it this way — a full circle moment. You can wash away the utter shit show of a day and raise one last glass to close the chapter of pining over the mystery man. Somber mood and slightly sweating, you bow your head and head down the clump of 3 steps to the street-level establishment.

The smell of stale beer and popcorn infiltrate your senses, sending you straight back to that night. Retracing your steps to the end stool, you sigh, pulling it toward you with your still bare feet. You’ll find a way to soak them in acid later.

The same bartender acknowledges you, most likely not even remembering your previous interactions. You're glad he doesn’t think you’re some pathetic woman trying to chase after a man. You are, but he doesn’t need to know that.

The barman places a coaster in front of you, silently waiting for your order.

“Gin and tonic, please. A double. With lime.”

He nods, ducking down to tend to his well, filling up a pint glass with ice and heavy-pouring the gin. You sigh again, gently grabbing the back of your neck and rubbing the muscle, willing away the inevitable tension headache coming later.

There aren’t many people in here; Just a few couriers and other non-office workers. You’re slightly envious of them being able to spend their days outside of a beige and cold office building. Quiet chatter amongst them stops when the bell chimes above the door.

Like straight out of a movie, Biker man stumbles through the door, his leather vest swiping the handle of the door. The bartender snickers and shakes his head as he pushes your drink towards you, indicating he wants your credit card. You nod, handing over your MasterCard, expecting no other interactions in return.

He looks at Biker man. Then you. Then back to Biker man, nodding his head knowingly. You’re not sure what this means, but you're trying to erase the last 2 hours from your memory.

Biker man’s thick, heavy boots thunder across the wood plank floors, sending the rickety stools into a rattling chorus of squeaks. He coughs up what sounds like a lung and waits for his beer, not even acknowledging the bartender. He’s now a stool over from you, staring at the screen portraying some sort of horse race.

Taking one long gulp of your drink, you turn to face him, the liquid courage hitting you immediately.

“Sir? Hi, I’m so sorry to interrupt. I’m not sure if you remember me—” you trail off when he doesn’t even face you, his salt and pepper beard making it hard to read his face.

Waving slightly, you confirm you’re in fact talking to him, so now his bloodshot eyes make contact with yours over the frame of his sunglasses.

“I, um, I was here with a few of my girlfriends, um, the other night. A-and I met a man—”

“Tall fella? Came in with a group of guys and they drug one out of here like a corpse?”

“Yes! Yes, oh my goodness, I can’t believe you remember.”

“My bar sweetie, I need to remember who comes in.”

“You’re Mick?” you choke out in disbelief. You want to laugh, because the imaginary life you made up for biker man did not live up to reality.

For your whole life, you tended to grasp onto little moments with strangers that others wouldn’t think twice about.

You still remember the Walmart greeter that waited with you until your mom came back to get you. You remember your sixth grade bus driver who pulled you aside to give you a pep talk when the older girls picked on you. You remember the woman next to you on a plane who held your hand during turbulence. You grow attached, dreaming up scenarios that are probably so far from the truth. It's harmless fun for you.

It’s why you’re clinging onto your mystery man. There are alarm bells going off in your brain you've never felt before, refusing to let it be a fleeting moment.

“I’ve owned this place for 35 years. Seen everything you can imagine happen here. Celebrations of life, death, marriage. Lots of heartbreak.”

You’re not sure if you’re too tipsy, but his words make you want to cry. What is he trying to say?

“Teddy, two rounds here, please,” Mick signals the barman who promptly whips up four… lemon drop shots? Biker man — Mick— didn’t strike you as the type to take shots like a sorority girl.

He shrugs, pushing two shots over to you. You clink your tiny shot glasses together, tossing your head back and licking the sugar on the rim.

Both of you push your glasses toward Teddy and reach for the second, as the bell jingles above the door. With the bar being street level, the sun reflects off the cars outside, slightly blinding you as someone walks in, footsteps thumping.

You and Mick continue on, throwing back your next shot. You wince, this one slightly more lemony than the previous. Mick exhales loudly, shaking his head.

“Careful, Chickie. It’s too early to be having this much fun.”

You freeze, unwilling to believe this is happening. It has to be an alcohol induced hallucination.

“Uhm, ah, hi,” you stutter, looking between the three men staring at you. You feel like you’re on an episode of Maury.

“Sweetheart, he’s been in here every day at the same time to ask Teddy if you’ve stopped in to try and find him, too. The shots were just to ease your anxiety since I knew he’d be in on his lunch hour.”

Due to a short circuit in your brain, you can’t decide who you’re more mad at — Mick, or Teddy. They could’ve told you mystery man has been searching for you, too.

The mystery man blushes, sticking his hands in the pockets of his pleated khakis, staring down at his worn Dockers loafers. His striped rugby shirt reminds you of Steve from Blue’s Clues, but you're willing to over look that.

“We’ll leave you to it,” Teddy smiles gently, ushering Mick to the office.

The man sits on the stool previously occupied by Mick, and as he sits, he uses his ankle to pull your stool closer to him.

“I’m Harry. Nice to officially meet you,” he smiles, making two dimples you didn’t previously notice appear.

“Chick—Y/N. I’m Y/N,” you giddily grab his massive hand, shaking it gently.

He sighs, taking a swig of his Budweiser, “So, let’s get this out in the open. How pathetic am I for coming back here every day for a week straight to ask about you?”

Cackling softly, you shake your head, ducking down to retrieve your bag from the hook under the bar. You pull out your copy of A Beautiful Mind, pulling the slip of paper out from the slightly worn pages.

“Not as pathetic as this,” You hand it to him, waiting for him to open it. “You ever read the Missed Connections ads on Craigslist?”

Harry smiles, reading the ad. He’s glad you remember the small details of that night like he does. He’s not making it up in his head.

“I don’t have a computer. But, they usually print these in the Times on Sundays. I would’ve seen it, but about a week late,” he giggles, his green eyes meeting yours when he looks up.

“Well, I’m glad this nightmare has a happy ending. I went to the café, and a random man showed up pretending he was you! I ran out of there so fast. I’m scared to think about what would’ve happened if I stayed.”

Harry grabs your lower back, the light touch comforting you as you recount the horrors.

“Chickie, I’m so sorry that happened. The internet is scary. I’m honestly terrified of what it’ll be like in 30 years.”

“And to make it worse, he called me Ladybug. Ladybug! I’m clearly a Chickie,” you giggle. “I’ve been dying to hear another one of your terrible jokes.”

Instead of opening his mouth, he leans in to place a chaste kiss on your dried lips.

The alcohol is hitting you much harder than it should be, so you kiss back, forgetting about the entire audience in the bar. You can’t even begin to care that you’ll be two hours late returning to work, drunk as a skunk.

You’ll blame it on fate.

~ New York City, 2000

“I wish I could travel back in time to prevent us from signing a lease on a 5th floor walk-up,” you sigh, plopping down with your boyfriend on the red bean bag he got from Sears. He’s out of breath, having just carried up 3 boxes while you followed behind him clutching lamps, hangers and basically anything you could get your small hands on.

Harry kisses your slightly sweaty hair, petting any of the strays out of your eyes.

“You’ll have a really toned butt by Christmas. Not a bad investment on my end,” Harry laughs as he dodges your sharp elbow digging into his side.

“I can’t even fathom getting groceries and making dinner. Okay if we order in?”

“You don’t want to meet our new bodega guy?”

“He’ll see me at my worst soon enough. Let’s leave him wondering a little longer. I do love a bacon, egg and cheese on a bagel when I’m hungover,” you giggle, inhaling Harry’s natural scent. If you weren’t so exhausted, you’d hop into bed (your bare mattress on the floor of your 800 square foot apartment) right now.

“Sure, baby. We can order in,” he pats your thigh, signaling you to let him stand up. He stretches, examining the room.

His heart swells at the perfect mix of the two of of you in your first apartment together. Your excessive shoe collection. His beloved Gibson guitar that he serenaded you with your favorite song on one of your early dates. He sang Lady by the Styx, not realizing you meant Lady by the Commodores. But, you didn’t have the heart to tell him until your first anniversary.

Now you’re here, two years later and stronger than ever. He spots a film strip hanging on the fridge from Marcie’s wedding. You hogged the booth for well over 15 minutes, kissing, touching, exploring.

You begged for a plus one at the last second, forcing her to tell her uncle he can’t bring a date. Neither of you feel bad. Next to that film strip is the photo Christina took of the two of you the night you met, held up by a Mick's Bar magnet. She didn't get the film developed until weeks after the bachelorette.

The photo would've helped your search efforts!

The empty walls are begging to be filled with canvases, knick knacks and music posters. You learned Harry works at a music recording studio as a fill-in guitarist and a part-time artist. His art style itches something in your brain you can’t describe — falling in love with every piece he comes home with.

The boxes will consume you for a few weeks, but he’s excited to be taking this next step with you.

Harry tosses the Sunday Times at you, “Why don’t you read me the missed connections from this week while I put some stuff away. You did a lot to organize the closet this morning, so I don’t want you to move for the rest of the night.”

Harry putters with the dishes, praying they’re clean enough to go in the cupboard. He's haphazardly putting things away, trying to calm his nerves.

“Ooh, yes. I missed last week,” you flip to the section, adjusting the paper in your hands so you can see better. Clearing your throat, you read aloud.

“I was reading a book on the Q train, you were the cute woman sitting next to whom I assume was your mom, but you get kept sending glances my way when she wasn’t looking. I get it, no matter what your age, it’s weird to flirt with your mom next to you. I got off at Atlantic and you shot me a smile. Dunno why I’m even posting here lol almost zero chance of you seeing this. Oh well, gotta try at least.”

Harry smiles, glancing at you as you peruse the page. He can’t pretend to be busy for much longer. You giggle before starting the next one.

“Did you lose an entire ham? It's a bone-in ham, not sure it's obvious from the photo. It's been eaten on some parts, but there's definitely some serious meat left on it. Looks like it was pretty tasty in its day.”

He laughs, his leg anxiously bouncing against the lower cabinet. He leans on the counter for support, gently swiping over his sweat pant pocket. Closing his eyes, he waits.

Scanning the page, you gasp.

You drop the paper in your lap, watching your boyfriend leave your tiny kitchen with the black and white checker floor tile to kneel in front of you on your ratty bean bag chair. Your hands cover your mouth as some tears threaten to spill over your eyes. It’s like everything is in slow motion.

Harry’s tearing up, too, as he pulls a velvet box from his pocket, opening it slowly to reveal an emerald cut diamond ring on a simple gold band. Elegant and timeless, like you.

He swallows thickly, finding the courage to speak.

“I could’ve gone on and on in the ad, but I figured I’d save it for now,” he laughs nervously. You still have your hands in front of your face, scared to move them in case this is a dream.

“Since the night we met, I knew we were meant for each other. I haven’t had many moments in life where I’ve made the right decision, but I can say with my whole heart that I love you and want you to be my wife.”

You sob slightly, still donning a wide grin. You let him finish.

“I would’ve married you the day we found each other again at Mick’s. But, I didn’t want to scare you,” he laughs again, a small tear escaping.

“Chickie, will you marry me?”

“Oh, Harry,” you blubber, jumping to your knees to wrap your arms around his neck. “Of course! Yes, yes, please.”

Pushing him to the ground, you lay across him, peppering kisses on his face and neck.

When you’ve both calmed down, you’re laying in between his legs, leaned back against the bean bag, basking in the moment. You haven’t even called any friends or family, yet. There’s an uncorked bottle of wine on the floor that you’ve been taking swigs of, absolutely over the moon and tipsy.

"Why did you let me read the one about a ham before asking me the most important question of your life?"

He kisses you to shut you up. You sigh contently, thinking about your future.

After some silence, Harry quietly asks, “Do you think we can force Mick to become an ordained minister?”

You cackle, turning your head to look back at him.

“That was the first thing that came to my mind.”

________________

EEEEEE! I HOPE YOU LIKED IT :))))))) IT WAS SO FUN TO WRITE ABOUT OLD REFERENCES EVEN THO I WAS A BB DURING THAT TIME

Pls let me know what you think <3

ALSO BIKER MAN IS THE REAL MVP I WAS SO HYPE TO KEEP REFERENCING HIM LOL

#harry #harry styles #harry edward styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles fan #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles concept #harry styles one shot #imagine #concept #harry styles writing #harry styles oneshot #dom!harry #fluff

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wileys-russo · 9 months

Note

Please would you be able to write an awfc x teen!reader fic based on the photos of the girls playing Aussie rules today in training? Maybe a bit of annoying younger sister energy (kind of like kyra)! I love you stuff thank you for all of it :)

not completelyy happy with this but it was something different to try! drop kick II awfc x teen!r

"oh you're not bringing that are you?" steph sighed as you stretched over to grab the bright red ball from her back seat. "yeah! why not?" you grinned as the two of you stepped out of her car.

"well because we don't play afl we play football." steph shook her head, though she knew better than to even try and argue the case knowing all too well how stubborn you were.

"then it'll be a fun learning experience for the girls! wheres your australian spirit steffy?" you gave her a toothy grin, the older girl clearing her throat as you spun around. "forgetting something?" steph raised her eyebrow and subtly nodded to your bag.

"oh! yeah that might help." you grinned, jogging back and grabbing it, kissing stephs cheek in thanks who pushed you off with an amused roll of her eyes.

"all this time off and she's forgotten what sport we play!" caitlin teased watching you stuff the ball with some difficulty into your gym bag but eventually succeeding, ruffling your hair as you smacked her hand away.

"sorry hard launch i couldn't hear you over the massive closet of your latest relationship?" you cupped a hand over your ear as steph snickered and you grinned, though catching the look which flashed across caitlins face you wasted no time sprinting off.

"ya could have four legs and i'd still outpace you foordy!" you yelled over your shoulder as she gave up chasing you, pausing to fall back into step with steph and flipping you the finger.

"i'll get you later skippy just you wait! i know where you live!" caitlin yelled menacingly after you, and of course she would considering you bounced between her place and stephs, not allowed to get your own as much as you'd begged and pleaded.

you were so busy gloating you didn't watch where you were going and wheezed as your body slammed into someone elses. "speed racers back in town then! who we runnin from now?" jen grinned, hauling you up and over her shoulder.

"i've missed these delightful walks of ours jb." you patted her back affectionately feeling her body vibrate with laughter as you flipped caitlin the bird before jen turned a corner, earning yourself a disappointed look from steph.

"lee!" you called out happily as the two of you entered the change rooms and you spotted her sitting at her cubby dressed for training, the blonde looking up from her phone as jen put you down. "you're back training properly??" the taller girl stumbled a little at the speed in which you crashed into her for a hug.

"much as i can be. missed you skippy!" the blonde ruffled your hair, kissing your cheek and shoving you over toward lia who seemingly appeared out of nowhere, wrapping you in another tight hug.

"hi wally! happy new year." you mumbled into her shoulder making her laugh. "happy new year winzig, did you have a nice break?" the swiss woman walked you toward your cubby which was between kyra and vics.

"yes! god i miss australia so much already. the beaches, the tan, the food, my family. its cruel that i come from warm sunny beautiful summer to this, english winter fucking sucks!" you huffed unhappily, wincing as a hand collected the back of your head.

"language little miss. thats a fiver!" beth wagged her finger at you with a stern look as you rolled your eyes and hugged her girlfriend instead causing her to scoff. "what? you know i am her favourite." viv shrugged as beth made a noise of disbelief and you sent her a smug smile.

you hadn't even separated from the pair for more than five seconds before a body hurtled into you sending you flying, kyras body latched onto you as stina hurried to grab you, stopping you from hitting the floor.

"get off me you rat!" you wrenched off the girls hands and sent stina a grateful look who gave the pair of you an amused smile, turning back to her conversation with amanda.

"rat! you're the little rat, did you forget about the pictures of-" kyra started as your eyes widened and you hastily covered her mouth. "you swore on calvins life you would take that to the grave." you growled quietly, pulling your hand away in disgust as kyra licked it, wiping it on her jersey.

"but i'm the child? grow up cooney-cross." you scoffed, letting out a yell as again kyra leapt onto you, this time successfully taking you down to the ground as the two of you rolled around wrestling until you were seperated by leah and steph.

most of the girls having filed out toward the pitch and steph impatiently tapping her foot in waiting you hurried to get your boots on, grabbing the afl ball out afterward.

"you can't bring it to training." "why not?" "well-" "see, you can't even think of a good reason stephanie."

and with that you tucked it under your arm and strode out of the change rooms as steph groaned. "can you see any greys jenny? she's been back for three days and its already falling out from the stress!" steph huffed gesturing to her hair as the tall scottish woman chuckled and slung an arm over her should.

"what is that!" vic pulled a face as you appeared with the foreign looking ball. "aussie rules ball!" you beamed, kicking it at kyra who dove to catch it, earning yourself the attention of a few more of the girls who looked on curiously.

"right i'm game. give us a go then skippy!" leah clapped as you tossed her the ball and explained how to hold and position it to be drop kicked. "yeah yeah its a ball, i'm an athlete. i got it!" she brushed you off as you held your hands up and took a few steps back.

you slumped into lotte who appeared by your side, pulling you into a hug and kissing the top of your head. "go on lee while some of us are still young, kimmy might have to retire by the time you kick this thing." you grinned cheekily, hiding behind lotte at the look sent your way by your captain across the pitch.

"oh brilliant! she's a natural." you threw your head back with a laugh as leah completely missed, nearly kneeing herself in the face as the ball bounced away. "shut up!" the blonde warned you with a glare, hurrying to grab the ball again.

"show me again." leah demanded firmly as lotte let you go and you grabbed the ball. "oi ireland!" you yelled, katie looking up from her conversation with gio and grinning as you held up the ball and she readied herself to catch.

"like this." you huffed as you kicked the ball with all your might, the red leather sailing up into the air and right into katies awaiting arms. "you know i might need to recruit you to take some of my goal kicks. how much do you really like being a striker?" manu messed up your hair with a gloved hand as you pushed her away with a smile.

"how the fu-" leah shook her head as katie booted the ball toward caitlin perfectly. "its cause she's got a bit of aussie in her, literally." you smirked quietly, leah turning to you with wide shocked eyes at the comment.

"i'm telling steph to wash that filthy little mouth out with soap tonight skippy."

you barely heard her as you were already taking off racing toward kyra who was trying to teach gio how to kick, your body hurtling into hers. "tackle!" you cheered as kyra groaned from beneath you and you plucked the ball from her hand and took off again.

"they don't tackle in afl you little shit thats nrl!"

"nope!" you were suddenly off the ground again as caitlins arms wrapped around your waist and took you down to the ground, tossing the ball to katie and getting off of you.

"piggy in the middle!" you cheered happily jumping to your feet and racing off toward an unsuspecting cloe who was merely holding the ball, the blondes eyes widening as she hurried to toss the ball toward sabs who frowned in confusion before your body hurtled into hers.

"hey steph." the defender looked up from where she was watching you as jen appeared by her side.

"yeah mate, i can see those greys now."

#woso #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso blurbs #woso community #awfc x reader #arsenal women #awfc

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kirayaykimura · 1 year

Text

live fast die young

It wasn’t unusual for Shirayuki to see a stray spray of blood she wasn’t expecting in one of the back areas of Izana’s club, but the amount of blood she encountered upon rounding the corner to her office gave her pause. The bodies littering the floor gave her another.

“Hello?” she called. When she received no response, she quickly scanned the hallway, finding a mix of familiar and unfamiliar faces. The darkest part of her was relieved to find no one she was incredibly close with. There were a few security guards she passed by on a semi-regular basis and a woman on the finance team.

Shaking off the thought, she stepped into a puddle of blood next to the closest man - one of the unfamiliar faces; young enough that his cheeks stubbornly clung to their baby fat - and bent down to feel for a pulse. When she found none, she sighed softly.

“May you find peace in the next life,” she told him, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze before moving on to the next.

In total, she found only one with a steady heartbeat. Torou, thankfully, had pulled through. Though Shirayuki had never been very close to Torou, she had been dreading having to pass along the bad news to Obi. With a bullet in her shoulder and a through and through in her calf, Torou wasn’t doing spectacularly, but she’d make it. All she needed to do was survive Shirayuki hauling her off to the medical office a few feet away. At the first tug, Torou let out a faint, pained moan.

“Good,” Shirayuki said. “You’re still with me.”

As soon as she said this, Torou gave a sharp cry of pain before fainting completely. Alright then. At least she wouldn't need to be careful anymore. Though Torou was not a large woman, dead weight was always a challenge. Usually she had help, but help was not a luxury Shirayuki could afford to wait for at the moment. She needed to get Torou somewhere safe and somewhere without a bunch of unknown blood around an open wound. Through sheer force of will and the muscles she’d gained hauling soil to and from her tiny garden at home, she managed to get them both into the safety of her office with minimal issue. Then, she quietly locked the door and did a sweep of the room. At first, it seemed as if they were in the clear, but then a hand raised up over the desk in a clear sign of surrender, causing Shirayuki to jump.

“Hey,” Obi croaked a moment later when it was clear no weapons were going to make their way to his face. “What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?”

He peeked over the desk at Shirayuki, and even in the dim lighting she could tell he was pale. With the cabinet behind him open, she could only assume he’d been shot as well and was attempting to stitch himself back up. She was about to scold him for trying to fix himself again when she was right there with actual training to be able to do what he was attempting when his eyes fell on Torou at her feet. Impossibly, he went more pale.

“She was out there?” he asked.

“You didn’t know?” Shirayuki asked.

Obi shook his head. “I was dealing with a few guys in the front, then a couple more in Zen’s office. After that, I took the back way in here to avoid bleeding all over the nice carpet.”

Shirayuki wanted to tell him he deserved to bleed wherever he needed to bleed, but that was never going to come out right and she did have more pressing matters at hand. Namely, seeing if she could dig the bullet out of Torou’s shoulder before either it migrated or she woke up. It was so much nicer to do surgery on people who weren’t awake and screaming in her face.

She set Torou’s feet down and rounded the desk to find her suture kit open on the floor beside Obi, everything still neatly in its place. The only evidence it had been tampered with at all was the streak of blood along the edge of the kit and the needle and thread Obi was currently holding.

“It’s like I knew you were coming,” he said, holding out the needle and thread to her. The needle was unthreaded. He was likely shaking too hard to thread it, judging by the way his hands jumped in hers when she took everything from him. Even if he could patch up the giant gash in his thigh, the steadily oozing wound in his side would be too awkward to reach by himself, especially in his current state.

“Did you cauterize this?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

“As the poet M.I.A. once said, live fast, die young.”

She took a lighter out of the kit and lit the nearest candle. It would be nice if she got to light them when people weren’t bleeding out on her floor, but she supposed she knew what she was getting into when she agreed to work for Izana.

“You need to sterilize things before you stick them inside yourself,” she said.

“I was kind of working on borrowed time, miss. Wasn’t exactly thinking straight.”

Shirayuki just gave him a look that said, I know but I’m not accepting that excuse, as she held the needle over the open flame for a few more seconds. She’d do a quick patch up of Torou’s leg before diving into her shoulder.

“I’ll do you next,” Shirayuki told Obi. Since he was alert and nothing appeared to be currently lodged in any part of his body, he’d have to wait for her to circle back to him.

His lips twitched the way they did before he was about to tell a joke, and then he suddenly went still. A moment later, she understood why. Footsteps and faint whispers echoed from down the hall.

“Hey,” Obi said, voice softer than usual. “Shirayuki? Can you do me a favor and run? Fast as you can.”

Shirayuki’s fingertips went numb. Faintly, she said, “You called me Shirayuki.” It was not the part of the situation she should have been focusing on. She should have focused on the way his smile slipped deeper into a grimace the longer she looked at him, or the way he was less leaning against the desk than letting the desk keep him upright. There were clearly more pressing issues to be worried about, but what came out of her mouth was that.

He shrugged through a grimace. “I’m selfish like that. Now go.”

Well, that certainly wasn’t happening. Not when things were so dire here. Not when he was saying nonsensical things like her name and losing blood and being serious. No. She went into the medical profession to be able to save people. There was no way she was going to walk away and let Obi fight a battle he clearly didn’t think he would win.

“Give me your gun,” she said, mind made up.

“Miss-”

“Give me,” she said, holding out her hand expectantly, “your gun. Please.”

“You should go. Save yourself.”

She simply stared at him, palm open and waiting.

Obi caved first. He always caved first. Especially when she put what he called her no nonsense face to good use. With a sigh that was, concerningly, much less dramatic than normal, he said, “I don’t have a gun.” He gestured to the bloody tear in his side that meant something had clipped him at a very high speed as he flipped a knife up and out of his pocket with his free hand. “Brought a knife to a gun fight like a rookie.”

“Well, don’t do that next time.”

Obi snorted, then winced. Right. Not the time to make completely valid statements she knew he would take as jokes.

“Do you know where we could get a gun?” Shirayuki asked. She crawled over to press an ear up against the door and heard a faint thump, followed by a less faint, “Goddammit.” Under her breath, she said, “We could probably use one pretty quickly.”

“Are they outside?” Obi asked just as quietly, leaning around the desk to eye the door like watching it would keep whoever was on the other side out.

“Do you have a gun stashed anywhere in here?” Shirayuki whispered. Though Obi’s weapon of choice was a knife, she knew for a fact that he still stashed guns for other workers in various locations throughout the place. She’d never accidentally found the one in this room, though, so he must have hidden it pretty well.

“I don’t have one.”

At her look, he said, “Honestly. None of us keep a gun in here.”

“Why?”

“It’s dangerous.”

“We’re actively being shot at now. This whole line of work is dangerous.”

“And I was trying to make it less so. Not having surprise guns around was part of that process.”

“We’ll talk about this later. Do you think Torou has one?”

“Probably not. If she-”

Shirayuki skimmed her hands along Torou’s legs and found a small one strapped to her inner thigh. She rolled Torou safely into a corner before deftly removing the gun, checking to make sure it was loaded, then aiming it at the door. It was lighter than anything she’d ever handled before. Hopefully it wouldn’t take her too many practice shots to figure out how to compensate for the difference. There was no telling how many people were outside, and surprise could only give her so much of an edge.

“Whoa,” Obi said, watching her test the gun’s weight against her palm. “You look pretty comfortable there, Annie Oakley.”

“My grandpa started teaching me how to shoot when I was about five. It’s been years, but I think the muscle memory is still there.”

“You’re gonna protect me?”

Shirayuki didn’t take her eyes off the door as she said, “Of course.”

This turned out to be the right call because the person behind the door chose that moment to kick the door in. It took them a couple of tries, door frame splintering under the force, and then Shirayuki was face to face with someone she had seen once. Only once.

She shot him in the knee.

It had not been a good first impression. She was determined to leave a worse second impression.

The man howled in pain and dropped to the floor. She made quick work of the other two, giving them all non-fatal injuries. Well, non-fatal if the injuries were treated soon enough. That was up to them, though.

“Are you going to try to shoot us again?” Shirayuki asked, kicking away everyone’s visible weapons. She didn’t drop her guard, though. She still had one bullet left in her gun and it was going in the head of anyone who tried her again. She only received pitiful moans, but no one reached for anything hidden so she was counting it as a win.

Just as she was trying to decide how to tie them up before tending to, well, everyone bleeding out in her office, she heard the frantic steps of someone not trying to sneak up on her.

“I know that run,” Obi said. In her periphery, she watched as he finally succumbed to everything and fainted while Zen rounded the corner, stopping just long enough to breathe a sigh of relief that she was okay. She, in turn, breathed a sigh of relief that Mitsuhide and Kiki weren’t far behind him. Finally, some help moving bodies.

____

Hours later, once everyone had been stitched up and declared stable, once everyone who had tried to break in had been sent off to be dealt with the way club owners dealt with these events, once Shirayuki had at least cleaned her hands and changed her clothes (though her shoes were a lost cause; that’s what she got for wearing white Keds to work), she sat next to Obi and said, “Next time you want to call me by my name, just call me by my name. You don’t need to die for it.”

Obi was silent for a long moment before he said, “Okay.”

#obiyuki #obiyukimadness23 #you called me x #if you think to yourself 'hey what is this?' don't! it's a trap! just vibe babyyyyyyy #snow white with the red hair #my fic #jen i hope you're proud of me that after a year of posting for events i've finally remembered to title my works without prompting #did you all know 'concerningly' isn't recognized as a word?#i used it anyway #english is nothing but a bastardization of like 14 different languages #i'm just doing what my forefathers taught me

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