#daily fix magazine | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shawnxstyles · 9 months

Text

the only one

DATE: JANUARY 2, 2024

summary: you go on your first date with peter, and it ends even better than you could have ever expected. ;)

request: yes!

words: 6.3k

warnings: SMUT (f-receiving [oral, fingering, multiple orgasms], protected sex, dirty talk), language, and the most gentlemanly man.

note: i cannot believe i’m finally writing another gyno!peter after all this time… anyway, this is NOT an actual series, simply just more situations/scenes of these two together!

gynecologist!peter x patient!y/n

–

Every date that you’ve been on in the past never made you this nervous. You didn’t spend two hours just deciding on what to wear and taking an extra hour to prepare yourself. You worked for a fashion magazine, editing and reviewing comments and critiques. You were surrounded by clothes and creativity all day, but struggled to pick a “first-date look” from your closet. You swore you read something about that before…

You never thought first dates were anything more than a simple introduction, a first impression of another human being. It was one of the foundations of the question, “Could I get along well enough with this person to go on a second date?”.

You had only been on two first dates: one with your ex, who you were with for four months, and recently with that guy from your work. The second one was mainly just a hook-up, and the first one obviously led to some type of relationship that didn’t work out in the end. Maybe you didn’t have enough experience in the dating world to be wondering if the amount of nerves you had right now was healthy.

Your hands were clammy as you strapped on your black heels. You noticed you were swallowing more frequently than normal, and you didn’t understand why. When you looked in the mirror, your hands flattened out your black dress more times than you could count, ridding wrinkles that aren’t even there.

After your appointment a few weeks ago, you had texted Peter. More specifically, you texted him the next day. Immediately after simply saying hello and your name, you thought of how many other people he may have given his phone number to. Or worse, how many people he had fingered in his office… You started worrying if you shouldn’t have texted him at all because he was a doctor. He was probably too busy for anything. It was just a nice gesture, maybe?

But an hour later, in the evening, he had texted you back with a short apology. He was working a little past the clock in order to get more doctor stuff done. Even his texts were sweet with a dab of charm. How do women control themselves around him?

Or maybe it was just you, and you were a fucking weirdo.

Yeah it could be that.

Peter and you went on to texting every now and then to texting daily. Texting him was something to look forward to after a long day at work. It also became pretty clear that he wasn’t texting anyone else because well, he was working throughout the day doing doctor stuff while you were doing editor stuff. He would even text you during his lunch break and that always made your heart skip to see his message in the middle of the day.

One night in particular, you were complaining to Peter (yes, you had gotten to the point where you could complain about little inconveniences) about your sink malfunctioning. Instead of asking you to send pictures of the pipes under the sink, he had you FaceTime him. It was the first time you guys have ever called and the second time you’ve ever seen his face, so your heart was a little race-y. But when that charming, wide grin flashed on your screen, he easily slipped into conversation. Peter helped you fix your sink with a little wrench movement along with replacing a broken screw through the phone.

It wasn’t awkward. It was relieving.

You didn’t have to force a certain personality in order to engage in a conversation with him. You felt more yourself than you ever have when talking to him, flowing easily like two streams into one. You hadn’t even realized how late it was by the time you guys ended the call until he was gone. The serenity of your place felt a little more emptier than usual without the sound of his beautiful accent from your speaker. It was nearly midnight by the time you went to bed, wondering how things would be if you and Peter took your friendship a bit further.

Would talking always be this simple? Would he always be this charming?

After that night, you would make excuses to call him. He never denied you, even after he told you he had a long day at the hospital. You guys were not only texting now, but calling daily. You would get excited for his texts and calls, looking forward to talking to him. That’s when you realized you wanted more with him. It felt like you knew each other forever, but it had merely been a few weeks. You wanted to go on a date with him, wanted to be with him in person again. And of course, your mind wandered to the thought of how he is in bed.

If he was that good with just his quick fingers, then how good was he with more space and time? You began to dream about it.

Then he finally asked you. It was so sudden, you honestly didn’t expect it.

You were debriefing your plans for the week and what you had to do at work.

“Sometimes, I feel like my life is on repeat,” You chuckle, but it sounds tired.

“You’re always doing the same thing every week?” Peter questions. He found that he loves just listening to you talk for hours about whatever. He prompts you with questions, and you always answer thoroughly. It’s like an unspoken routine for you two.

“I mean, it feels like that. I never have time to go out and do anything. And when I do, I don’t go out,” You half-smile to yourself as you look down at your lap. You sounded kind of lame, so you were trying not to cringe at yourself.

“You told me your agenda for this week, but what about Saturday and Sunday?”

“Oh, well, you know I don’t work on the weekends. Sometimes, I get extra stuff done at home, but only because I’m bored. I watch TV…” You squint your eyes, trying to think of things you do on the weekend when you’re not busy. “You know, I’m listening to what I’m saying, and I am so lame. God, I need a life outside of work.”

“You’re not lame. Just busy. Give yourself some credit,” he waves off your dig at yourself, and you don’t stop yourself from smiling. He’s just too nice. You can’t take your eyes off him through the small screen as he watches you back.

“Yeah, yeah. Enough about me. What are your weekend plans?” You definitely talk too much, so you always attempt to ask him questions back.

“Well, I was thinking of taking you out,” he very casually says, nonchalantly staring at you through the camera. “Unless you’re busy watching TV.”

“W-What?” Heat crawled up your neck and ears, skin flaming off of his quick words. He’s always charming and always confident with you, so why are you surprised he’s this smooth? You wonder if he’s been thinking about it for a while or if he just got the idea randomly. “Are you serious?”

“Yes. Unless you don’t want to. In that case, I am joking…”

“I want to, Peter,” You smile with the words. It feels impossible to lower your cheek muscles because of the giddiness coursing through you. “If I’m honest, I’ve kind of been waiting for you to ask me.”

“I was a little slow, yeah?”

“Yeah, both the turtle and the hare beat you to the finish line,” His wonderful laugh echoes through the speaker of your phone, and it fills you with warmth.

While other people have belittled you and forced you to be one way, Peter naturally allows you to be yourself. Your wit flourishes, and your insecurities fade into unique parts of you. Whether you two are friends or more, you need more people like Peter in your life.

After you two had confirmed the plans for Saturday, you two both went to bed when the call ended. When your head hits the pillow, it’s instantly filled with scenarios of you and Peter. Mostly how your first date might go. Is he the type to pull out a chair for you? Definitely. Would he pay without a second glance? Probably, knowing he has that doctor paycheck. Would he kiss you after walking you back to your door? Maybe, maybe not.

But he did finger-fuck you in his office, so nothing is really that impossible.

So, you let your mind wander for the rest of the night while you sleep peacefully. Yes, you had some great dreams.

–

Instead of texting you that he’s here, Peter knocks on your door. The sound itself made your heart accelerate instantly as you stride quickly to answer it. You’ve been overthinking all the ways that this day could go bad, seriously hoping that it doesn’t.

“Hey,” Peter says, clearly eyeing you up and down. He sounds slightly breathless, but not as if he just ran to your door. No, more like he’s speechless. But you could just be overanalyzing every little detail.

“Hey,” As you repeat the word back, you’re both silent for a second. It’s not awkward as it is tense. You’re both just observing and taking in the appearance of the other, appreciating the time and effort in the looks. Peter’s wearing a navy button-up with black slacks. The first two buttons are undone, giving you a peek at his seemingly smooth chest. He’s not wearing a jacket, so you get a view of his arms. From the way the rich fabric stretches around his muscles, it’s obvious that he works out. He just keeps getting better. He continues to check more of your boxes. “Let me just go grab my purse really quick.”

You snatch your bag off of the coffee table after checking you have everything. What if his one flaw is that he won’t pay for at least half the dinner? You must prepare for all the possible outcomes.

“You look brilliant,” You can see him swallow before his compliment, and you wonder if he’s as nervous as you are. He never makes it a point to look even the slightest bit unsure, which you admire. He’s very charming, which takes a lot of confidence, and he’s very good at it. When he asked you out in his office, you saw that persona slip just a tad, enough for you to see that he is human and that he gets nervous too. You found him adorable. You still do.

“You as well,” You blush as you shut the door behind you. The two of you walk to his car, and of course, he opens the door for you. You can’t stop blushing. “Seriously, how do you make such a simple outfit look so good?”

“Unbutton it,” he answers before gently shutting your door closed. Your mind instantly went to places that it shouldn’t have, making your skin burn. You thought about unbuttoning his shirt slowly and sensually until it fell down his bulky arms. You thought about unbuttoning his slacks and palming his cock. He would be so hard for you, and you didn’t hesitate to get on your knees. God, you wished it was real because you truly would not hesitate for this man.

You shake your head, attempting to rid yourself of those dirty thoughts, so you can have a peaceful date. A first date with Peter.

–

When you guys get to the restaurant, that small voice in the back of your head expects it to be awkward the second you sit down. But once again, you were proven incorrect.

Peter instantly engages in a smooth conversation, asking how your week was overall. You told him all about work and the papers you’re reviewing, and he told you about some of his patients. Every time he mentions anything doctor related, it just makes you swoon. It’s impressive how intelligent he is, and even more so how hard he works. It’s obvious he loves what he does, and you never realized that loving one’s passion was a must-have in your partner checklist.

You also just love the way he talks. His accent makes your skin hot and your spine tingle. Your mind wanders to places it shouldn’t more often than not. And his gaze never leaves yours, only when talking to the waiter when ordering.

There is never a dull moment. Even as you were patiently waiting for your food, you still found things to talk about.

“What do you think they’re celebrating?” he asks, observing two people in the back corner with smiles on their faces.

“They’re dressed nicely, and they’re holding hands too much to be together for that long. I’m going to guess the three or four month anniversary.”

“What about them?” he nudges his head in the direction of the people not too far from you two, sitting with straight faces.

“Oh, they’re not celebrating. Probably breaking up.”

“Who goes to such a nice restaurant for a break-up?”

“I don’t know. Sounds like rich people problems to me,” You joke, and you both share a chuckle. It feels nice to casually chat and people watch with somebody else. When your food arrives, you both eat with more adding silence, slipping in words slowly.

“Did I tell you you look really good tonight?” Peter changes the topic, eyes fixating back onto you.

“Yes… Thank you,” You feel yourself blushing all over your body. You use your napkin to wipe your lips, but you’re really using it to protect your face. It was so obvious what his words did to you, that’s probably why he said them. Suddenly, the room feels a little too hot, even just in your dress. “Took me a while to find out what to wear.”

“You could have worn a garbage bag and still looked great,” Peter says, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Oh, stop it. You’re such a charmer. What’s your game? What do you want?” Your words are playful, but the look in Peter’s eye seems more serious. More powerful and heated. Eyes you haven’t seen for a long time in another person, and it freezes you still. The only thing that’s countering the lust circling his irises is the uprising smirk on his lips.

“To take you home.”

Boy, was he a charmer.

“Don’t ask if I’m kidding because I’m not,” he adds, setting down his napkin on the table. He leans over, a curl falling onto his forehead. A hand reaches halfway across the white cloth and rests delicately on your hand. Even his touch was warm and soft, not forceful in any way. “If you want, I’d like to.”

“I…” You were speechless. You knew what your answer would be, but you were just starstruck. How can one person be so gentlemanly yet hot? Cocky yet so sweet? God really didn’t give anyone a chance when making Peter. “Yes, I would like that a lot.”

Your thumb rubs reassuring circles on his thumb while you smile like a fool. Peter’s smirk only got bigger as the night went on.

–

You talked. You laughed. You smiled.

But as he drove you to his house, you got nervous again. Maybe you guys would do something as normal as watch a movie. Maybe even cuddle a bit. But you really, really hoped it was more. Especially after your first meeting, you knew Peter wasn’t too shy about sexual matters. However, maybe he didn’t want to do that with you yet and just wanted to take things slow.

But his office…

When his hand was on yours on the table, your memory was brought back right to the moment of his fingers inside of you in the chair. You remembered the feeling of him pushing his digit in and out repeatedly and how good it felt when he removed his latex gloves. Your core rumbled with lust, getting off on the mere fantasy of it all.

When you arrive at his house, you both silently get out of the car. Besides the sound of nature, you could only hear your racing heart and how it was racking against your ribcage in intense beats. He unlocks his door, keying jingling while the breeze flows past. You’re hyper-aware of every noise as if Peter could hear your choppy breath. When he finally opens the door, he lets you in first and you smile, trying to not let your obvious nerves surface.

But you clearly fail when he points it out.

“What are you thinkin’ about?” Your eyes lock on his hands as he rests his key on his door side table and feet as he casually slips off his dress shoes. Everything about him was mesmerizing. You swear you could just watch a documentary of a regular day in his life and you could be starry-eyed.

“Bunch of things.” But it was really just one thing.

“Care to share?” Peter shifts to the kitchen and you follow him like a helpless dog, clutching your bag for dear life.

“I keep thinking about…the last time we were together,” the words fall from your mouth as you round the counter. You felt like you needed to create some distance between you two if you were going to admit something like that.

“What about it?” Peter’s knack to ask questions right now is making your face burn from embarrassment under his bright kitchen lights. He grabs two glasses and fills them up with fridge water without even asking if you wanted some.

“You know, the fun part,” You round the counter to reach the water, slowly taking a sip. When you set the glass down, your eyes don’t leave his chest. You’re too afraid to look into his eyes.

“I thought it was all pretty fun,” he says, placing down his own glass and taking one large step towards you “Especially the part where you came all over my hand.”

Your skin flames, eyes peering at him for a moment before dashing away. His finger slides beneath your chin to turn your face back to him. He could feel your radiating heat and could see the widening of your pupils under the luminous lights.

“Were you thinking of that?” His finger directs your chin upwards, forcing you to look at him. His voice was low and husky, only for you to hear. “Because I haven’t stopped since the day I walked out of that room.”

“Peter…”

“Just say the word, honey, and I’ll kiss you right now.”

You could just melt into a puddle on the floor of his kitchen. His words are so sensual, there is no way you could ever say no to this man. He’s irresistible without trying too hard.

“Please,” You mustered out seemingly breathless while your eyes were locked into his surely.

He doesn’t miss the beat. His head turns as his lips crash against yours. Your lower back hits the island of the counter of marble, but you don’t flinch. His lips electrocute yours, sending jolts of energy coursing through your body like a shock. Your hands naturally find his neat yet messy styled hair on his nape, fingers rummaging through the curly ends. One of his hands holds your waist down from moving as if he already knows you’re antsy to grind on him. His other caresses your jaw in a stable position, the type of dominance you’ve been craving since that day in his office.

His hand goes underneath your thigh, leading you to wrapping your legs around his waist. You thought he was going to sit you on the counter, but he walked all the way to a bedroom without breaking the kiss.

Peter gently lays you on the bed, causing you to depart from the kiss. He wordlessly goes to unbutton his shirt, but you quickly sit up to do it. You’ve been thinking about doing it since he picked you up, so it only seems right that your fantasy comes true, right?

Just like you imagined, you slowly flicked off the buttons and delicately removed the fabric until it was a bundle of cloth on the floor. On the edge of the bed on your knees, you stare up at Peter with a lustful glint in your eye. That glowy look caused Peter to kiss you again, hungrier than before. His force makes you fall onto the mattress again, making you gasp. He trails down your neck in sloppy kisses, touching every inch of your neck and chest with his lips.

“Where did you get this dress?” You didn’t expect him to ask you that while he was groping your breasts through the material. You moan at the feeling of his rough thumbs on your nipples. It’s very distracting while you try to remember where you got the dress that is currently in the way.

“Um Zara? I-I don’t remember,” You moan loudly, not having time to conceal it as he suckles a mark on your neck.

“Do you like it?”

“What?”

“The dress.”

“S-Sure, yeah. It’s-It’s not my favorite, though,” His tousled hair tickles your face as he gets closer to your boobs.

“Maybe you should have worn a garbage bag.”

“Why?” You pull back a little, moving his head up so you can see his face. You thought maybe you would see some expression of disgust, but he only has pure enjoyment. His soft smile turns into a smirk that you’re growing really fond of. It means he’s about to do something hot.

“Because then I wouldn’t feel so bad about ripping it off of you.”

Just like that, the thin straps are easily snapped from his large hands while he yanks the long dress down your body and onto the floor. His mouth instantly went onto your nipple, sucking until he was satisfied with the raw peak of it. He repeated the same movement the opposite one until you were a panting mess, huffing and puffing from just his mouth on your chest.

You can tell he knows how to do this. Yes, he works in gynecology so it’s a benefit that he knows the female body inside and out. But he’s actually skilled in his technique. Although he is hungry and nearly primal, he takes his time with certain areas, making your body want him more and more each time. It’s incredibly smart, and you’re wondering why every man doesn’t know how to properly treat a woman.

You don’t even know your body the way he seems to know it.

His mouth is at your panties before you could even process it. Right when you think he’s about to widen your legs like you so desperately want him to, he stops when his hands rest on your knees gently. He had been going at a fast pace, but now, he’s slow and controlled. Taunting in a way. Torturing.

“I’m going to remove these now, yeah?” He knows you want it now because he has you in his bed right where you want to be. His tone is not as shy as it had been in the office. It’s more controlling yet still soft. “Words, Y/N.”

That demand was all too similar to his words back in the chair with his hands on your waist. He was about to pull off your underwear then for professional reasons, and now, he’s going to yank them off for selfish ones.

“Please take them off,” Just like you had then, you clenched around nothing. Just his sensual words that make you spiral into horny oblivion. Your wavering tone makes him smile as he tugs down the thin material from your legs, tossing them somewhere in the room.

Then he finally widens your legs, facing your aching pussy that hasn’t forgotten about him since all those weeks ago. You were throbbing and leaking to the damn bed sheets, but you couldn’t give a fuck less. You wanted his fingers, his mouth, his cock–anything that he was willing to give you.

“That day,” he starts, “I really wanted to taste you. You were dripping all over my fingers. It was so hard to stay professional.”

He leans down and gets really close to your cunt, inches away from doing what he really wants to do.

“You’ll let me taste you, right?” he asks in an innocent kind of way, but there’s hints of taunt in there. It makes your core burn, and you almost moan at the way his breath hits your center.

“Yes, please. Do whatever you want,” You say that because it’s true–he can do whatever he wants to you, and you would be grateful.

“So polite. So eager,” he kisses your thigh, dangerously close to you now, “And so, so wet.”

“Peter, please,” You were begging now, but you didn’t care. You would beg all night for Peter to touch you the way he did in his office. You’ve tried to replicate it, but it’s no use. You’ve been craving that feeling for weeks now, and he seems to be the only one who can get you there.

“So polite. Good girl.”

To your luck, he doesn’t say another word. He finally puts his mouth on your pussy by slurping up all of your juices. You immediately moan, just by the mere knowledge that his mouth is on you. His tongue slips through your folds all the way up to your clit. Peter suckles on it, feeling it throb in his mouth.

“Taste even better than I imagined,” You don’t know if his whispered words were meant to be heard by you, but you heard them. They caused you to clench right as his tongue slotted inside of you, desperate to taste more of you.

His large hands are pressed against the insides of your thighs, forcing you to stay spread for him. You can feel them ache, but nothing feels as prominent as his tongue inside of you. And then, just when it starts to feel good, he makes it feel even better. One of his digits finds your clit, circling pressure until you’re a moaning mess.

“Fuck, Peter. That’s… so good.”

His mouth pops off of you for a second to catch a breath. But he could honestly drown in the taste of you. He smoothly slides a finger to replace where his mouth was, filling you up just like in his office. Now, his mouth is sucking on your clit, needing to make it throb. You feel that feeling you’ve been chasing for the past few weeks building up in your stomach, and you know it’s not going to be long at all until you achieve it.

“Come. Show me what only I can make you do,” Peter grumbles, his words cascading over your body. The deep rumble of his voice tips you over the edge, causing you to come all over his fingers again. After cleaning up some of your orgasm, he lifts his mouth, but doesn’t remove his fingers. He continues to pump them in and out, even though you’re sensitive.

“So fuckin’ tight, and I haven’t even given you a second finger,” one of his fingers taps of your clit, causing you to gasp at how sensitive you are. “Can you give me another?”

“A-Another one?” You’re panting and sweating from just one, but he wants to give you another? Who is this man, and where has he been all your life? “I can’t.”

“Oh, but you can. The body is an amazing thing,” he inserts another finger into your cunt and increases his intensity on your nerves. You gasp again, moaning without caring how loud you are. “See, your clit makes you do that. And I love that.”

“Oh, Peter,” You helplessly whimpered. As he thrusts his fingers inside of you with that charming smile and a hint of a smirk, you already feel your high approaching you again. The sight and the feel of him was just too overwhelming. With each thrust of his fingers, his arms bulged, forearm veins popping deliciously. He was a sight for sore eyes.

“C’mon, baby. Give me another. Want to feel you clench around my fingers. Imagine it’s my cock. Imagine how big my cock is going to feel in your little, tight cunt.”

His words oozed sex. So it only made sense that you came not long after. Your release coated his skilled hand once again, and this time, he seemed satisfied with your two orgasms.

When you could finally catch your breath, you didn’t see him reaching for his belt like most men do. But you really, really wanted him to reach for his belt.

“Are you tired? How do you feel?” The tone in his voice was soft. He was easily able to change from sex Peter to caring Peter. Your heart melted at his concern.

“Tired, but good tired. I’ve only ever had three orgasms, and you just gave me two of them,” You laughed breathlessly while he chuckled. “Would I be selfish to ask for more?”

That made him laugh. It was wholehearted and deep, echoing throughout the room. “Not at all.”

And then he reaches for his belt. You feel your organs twist in that lustful, horny way that they do when he does anything. When all his clothes are discarded and you’re faced with his raging cock, you’re practically drooling. He was right when he said he was big; thick and veiny all along the sides. It seemed unfair, really.

He reaches over to the nightstand and grabs a condom, ripping it and rolling it on easily. You continue to watch him in awe as he strokes himself a few times over the condom. Truth be told, he’s already incredibly hard. The second he slips inside of you he fears he will come on the spot because of how tight you are.

But he leans over your body, elbows holding himself up. You can smell his fresh scent, full of pine and wood.

“Did I tell you you look beautiful tonight?” he whispers next to your ear, his warm breath hitting your skin, which gives you the shivers. Your hands trail up over his body until they’re resting on his broad shoulders. You can feel his tensed muscles working to hold him up right, even though it looks like an effortless task to him.

“Oh shush. But thank you,” His comment makes your face warm, like a candle right next to your cheek.

“You look especially pretty under me,” his cock brushes your cunt, sliding delicately through the folds. You’re not shy of gasping, trying to mentally prepare yourself for his impeccable size.

When he finally pushes the head in, you take a deep breath and release it in a small whimper. You know you’re tight because you haven’t been with anyone in a few weeks. The most you’ve taken are Peter’s fingers, which are nothing compared to his cock.

He waits a few moments before moving again, giving you time to adjust. But you don’t think you’ll ever be able to fully settle with his size. It seems like he’ll always be stretching you out, no matter how many times you take him.

“Breathe, baby,” his words are breathy and wavering, but so sweet. The small nickname gives you the butterflies you haven’t felt for a while. Not the nervous butterflies, but that tingling, excited feeling of fondness. It’s one of your favorite feelings, and you’re so glad Peter gives you them.

You listen to him, taking deep breaths. He takes the opportunity to push himself a bit further until he’s fully inside of you. He stays still, looking at your face as you grow more comfortable. He watches as your expression contorts into desperation, which is what he’s been waiting for.

“You’re so tight, honey. But you’re taking all of me. Knew you could,” Peter reassures you, even as you clench snuggly around him. It’s embarrassingly hard for him to stay still, given how warm you feel wrapping him.

“Please move. Fuck, I need to feel you.”

Slowly, Peter removes himself and then slots in again. You remember to breathe as his movements become less languid and more fluidly quick. Soon, his thrusts have a bit of speed, causing you to scratch his shoulders at the intensity.

“You’re so big… so deep,” Your moan bounces off the walls of the room, making Peter smirk as he continues to move. His cock pins your hips, shutting down your squirming.

“No one’s ever fucked you like this? Never been this good, baby?” A small huff of his breath hit your skin and you were awed. His words alone could get you off, and then he’s pumping himself perfecting inside of you too, just making you go insane. He knows where all the right spots are, lifting up one of your legs with ease to get a better angle. You love that you can just let him take over you without having to work for your orgasm like you’re used to. You’re used to being on top, but it’s evident that Peter just wants to take care of you. He wants you to be satisfied for once, and you’ve never felt so seen. You’ve never felt so… good.

“Y-You’re the only one,” You sigh as you bite your lip, loving the way he's speaking to you. He’s all sultry in tone and even sexier with his words. You believe he has no flaws that are worth noticing.

“S’right. I’m the only one who can make you feel this good. You can only take my cock like this, deep in your cunt,” All you can do is moan and shake as you feel your next orgasm approaching.

Just when you go to reach down to your clit to push yourself even further, he reads your mind and does it for you. His thick finger circles the throbbing bud until you’re arching your back. Your fingers play with the pebbled nipples on your chest as your insides grow more tight. You haven’t had an orgasm feel this intense yet, so it’s hard to anticipate the feeling.

“Gonna come, baby? Come all over my cock, I need to see it. Need to know I’m the only one who can make you feel this way.”

With one entire pump inside of you, you’re coming over Peter’s cock and showing him that he’s the only one. All you can see is his charming, fatigued smile surrounded by stars. His brown hair is tousled and a dash of sweat is above his eyebrows, but God, he’s never looked so fucking hot.

It’s not long after that he’s coming after you, his release filling the condom completely. Peter was trying his best to hold himself for as long as possible. But with you, he discovered it was very difficult. Like he thought, the second he was inside of you, he could’ve come. You’re so slick and warm, just so alluring.

He gets up from the bed to discard the condom in done trash while you lay there in naked awe. You already know that you’re going to be sore tomorrow like the day after the gym.

As Peter comes back, he has a wipe that he uses to clean you up.

“What are you doing?” You ask before he starts to wipe you.

“Cleaning you up. You know, like aftercare. You can go to the bathroom and even take a bath if you’d like,” Peter answers while you sit straight up dumbfounded. “May I?”

“Yeah, yeah go ahead,” You allow him to soothingly clean you while you just accept it. Your mind is still whirling with confusion. Are all guys supposed to do this? Or is he really just that great? “Thank you. I… No one’s ever done that before.”

“Really? God, you were really with some twats, Y/N,” he shakes his head and walks back to the bathroom while you chuckle. It’s funny that you had to go through those two guys in order to get to Peter. Third time’s the charm. “Want to take a bath?”

You ponder for a second. You were tired, but not like you would drown in the tub. Maybe if you had better stamina you would ask Peter to join you, but for now, maybe you just need to sit and think about what’s happening alone. Peter is too good to be true. He’s such a gentleman, he never misses a beat. You hope you’re not overstepping by accepting.

“Can I? Or is it too much—”

“Nonsense, I want you to be comfortable. Now, do you like the right or left side of the bed?” You stare at him in confusion. One, because that was a random question. And two, because when did he put on boxers?

“What?”

“Which side do you sleep on?” You felt your cheeks burn for some reason, and then you realize you’re still naked while he’s semi-dressed.

“Um right, I think. Why?”

“So you can sleep there. You are staying, aren’t you?” Peter’s cheeks tint rosy red, that peek of nervousness shining through. It made you smile because even if he seems too good to be true, there is a little human in there who’s just like you.

“Yes, of course,” You can visibly see his tenseness fade as a small smile grows on his lips.

“I’ll start the bath then get you some clothes then, or else you’ll keep me hard all night.”

Your skin burns, but you feel like that’s not the last time that will happen to you. Not with Peter. No, you know.

—

thank you all for being patient!! i also think this is the longest taglist i’ve ever had, so thank you again!! 💞

taglist:

-> @motheroffae @noa217 @nelly-belly97 @spidermanffh3000 @httpscomexe @mysticdaisy21 @emilyparkerholland @deathst9r @ellenita98 @ellabellabus07 @mrstealuregirl @bisexual-desi @sherlockstrangewolf @madsttx @graywrites20 @bradtomlovesya @princesspannnn @sageisswaggg @purplerose291 @girlbossnancy @lockwood-lover @marzipaanz @eatshitanddiee @invisibletrolleyson-jeremy @lnmp89 @crybabyddl @pretty-npeach @marine-mayday @aerangi @justanotherpasserby-blog @tinafuentes @moniffazictress11 @eywaheardyou @alwaysclassyeagle @raajali3 @likeapplejuicenpeach @winuvs

crossed out= not able to tag

#shawnstyles #tom holland #peter parker #tom holland smut #peter parker smut #tom holland x you #peter parker x you #tom holland x reader #peter parker x reader #tom holland fan fics #peter parker fan fics #tom holland fan fiction #peter parker fan fiction

948 notes · View notes

stellarsagittarius · 1 year

Text

How would you meet your future husband / wife - Based on Jupiter/Venus Persona Chart Pt. 1

[P.s. Please follow me on Instagram and Tiktok @/Stellar_Sagittarius I post even more astrology content on it and it's a business I'm trying to grow. Your presence means a lot to me ❤️.]

Masterlist: All my astrology posts at one place

(If you are looking for a man, check your Jupiter Persona Chart. If you are looking for a woman, check your Venus Persona Chart)

(Disclaimer: Don't be fixed on this reading! Always have an open mind because the Universe works the best when you have trusted and let go of expectations! Also, the chart won't tell you the exact place or time or how you would feel about something, no one can do that. What it WILL tell is the theme that can be the most prevalent during that event, and how the event can play out.)

Step 1 - Go to Astro.com -> Horoscopes drawing and data -> Extended chart selection -> Select chart type 'Persona Chart' -> Click on 'Additional Objects -> Manual entry '1585'.

Asteroid 1585 is the Union asteroid. It can show how you can "meet" or "come together" with someone.

Fun fact: I checked this Union asteroid in my composite charts with my friends, siblings, my mobile phone, colleagues, and everything fit so well like puzzle peices.

What we will look in the Jupiter/Venus Persona Chart is the Union asteroid, it's sign, house, and the placement of the ruler of it's sign.

For example, in the composite chart of my phone and I, Union is in the 7th house of Aries, and the ruler of Aries (Mars) is in the 6th house of Pisces. When I went to buy my current phone it was an impulse decision, I was with my father. We were returning from my college (he picks me up everyday, so it's our little routine (6th house)). We were driving (Mars theme) and I was with someone (7th house). He said, "Why not let's go and get you the new phone?" Very unusual of my father because he is very slow and thoughtful person. And just then we went to buy it. It was an impulse buy.

And this is just one of the many examples.

Let's get into reading the Union Asteroid in your Jupiter/Venus Persona Chart.

Union Asteroid Through The Houses

Union in the 1st House -

The first house is all about "yourself". So think of you initiating something. Perhaps you approach this person, or you are the one who initiates the conversation. You could be the center of attention, or you catch the attention of your partner, whether it's your looks or personality. "You" are the focus. This is related to a place where you would stand out or play an important role with your mindset/ideas. They could even approach you, simply because they are interested in getting to know you. If Union asteroid in your chart has a 11th or 3rd or 9th house connection, then they could come across your "profile" on social media.

Union in the 2nd house -

The second house rules our values, possessions, beliefs, our body language, resources, personal finances, etc. There are plenty of situations related to this, going for shopping, while making a purchase, at a restaurant, taking part in some workshop to improve your skills etc. This is a situation where you are focused on your resources, and your skills. This could also be at a bank or shopping centers. Maybe this person changes your beliefs in your first meeting, or perhaps you meet them because you saw their car, and you absolutely loved it so you wanted to ask what model it was. You could have made some changes to your body when you met them.

Union in the 3rd house -

3rd house rules communication, locality, processing information, short distances, siblings, it rules personal communication and also the "media" part of social media. So you could first come across them on social media, like seeing them for the first time. You can meet through siblings or in your local areas. You can meet in high school as well. Some places are news stations, broadcasting companies, daily newspaper/magazine supplier, a bookstore, stationery, elementary school, through blogging or vlogging, through writing. Perhaps they write you letters or leave you notes. Or since you met them, you both talk nonstop/sharing information 24/7.

Union in the 4th house -

Our 4th house is all about home, privacy, security, comfort, our deeper emotions, family, the part of ourselves that we don't show to just anyone, could also depict the people very close to us. So think of meeting this person "through the comfort of your home", good for introverts! This is giving social media, because you don't have to go out somewhere. They just slide into your DMs or your slide into theirs ;) . Internet is a good example because we can use it at our comfort. We can do so much by just being at our home through the internet. Other examples is meeting through your family, perhaps your mom introduces you to them. Or maybe they are a delivery person, an electrician or a service worker who comes to your house to like fix the AC or something! This meeting would feel very cozy. Perhaps getting to talk with each other takes some time!

I have this in the composite chart with one of my best friends. Union in Aries 4th House. She is extremely introverted and shy. We met through the internet, she just randomly slide in my DMs. I was at home chilling in my PJs, and received her message. She had this "other account" through which she messaged me, due to her "privacy reasons". But she just overcame her overthinking and made the first move (Aries energy). Lol I still wonder how brave of her was to text me, she is super introverted! Oh, and also, the ruler of our 4th house is Mars, in 12th house. So the account that she texted me on, was an account that didn't have my real name or picture, it was a little self care niche account. Plus her own pfp was of only her eyes. So kinda sus energy lol with the 12th house.

Union in the 5th house -

Fifth house is all about creativity, pleasure, joy, having fun doing this or that, sex, hobbies, children etc. Places associated with the 5th house are amusement parks, art schools, cinemas, theme parks, movie sets, waterparks, nightclubs as well, etc. Think of pursuing a hobby or doing something solely for the pleasure it brings you, you could meet this person through that. This is also giving collaboration, for a creative project. Shared interests and hobbies! It could also start off as a one night stand or perhaps you both are very flirty with each other from the start. Every couple flirts ofc, but yours is emphasised! So think of teasing or being very playful with each other! Could indicate meeting through children! Perhaps you met at a kindergarten, aww!

Union in the 6th house -

6th house is ✨️That Girl✨️ house. It rules, routines, organization, health, fitness, pets, work ethic, the physical self care, the material realm, getting your life in order, etc. Think of going to run errands or going to the gym and bumping into this person. Perhaps you are out taking your dog for a walk, or going for a run, and you meet this person. This house rules all the mundane, daily life stuff. Perhaps they ask you for the directions when you meet them. This also rules parking lots, roads, vehicles, hospitals, daycare, salon, the vet. This is very routined. Perhaps this is someone you see everyday while going to work, but never got the chance to say hi.

Union in the 7th house -

The 7th house is all about others. It is more one on one, than a group. So think, when you meet them, the focus will completely be on getting to know the other person. Like completely immersed in the conversation, totally focused on each other's company. Someone else can introduce you both. This is like the definition of "meeting". You met, and now you both are genuinely interested in each other. The places could be anywhere you would directly approach them, instead of seeing them here and there or having something else as a focus. Dating apps is a good example, but only if your focus is on them, rather than other people on it.

This is in the composite chart of my bestie and I. I was talking to a friend, and my bestie just approached me. And we got to know each other just like that. It was in high school, about 5 years ago. We just became friends right away!

Union in the 8th house -

8th house is about what you share with someone else, transformation, secrets, bonds, joint resources, marriage, sex (as in bonding with someone, and not necessarily pleasure), other people's stuff, etc. The places associated with the 8th house could be banks, someone else's house, private clubs/bars, private offices, VIP lounges, etc. Someone else could play a part in this meeting or you can meet through some sort of joint collaboration. This is also giving, "Oh you left your diary at that coffee table a week ago, I had to give it back to you!" Somebody or something will help you come together. You could also bond with each other pretty quickly! Wingwoman/wingman energy!

Union in the 9th house -

9th house represents travel, long distances, foreign, higher education, other cultures, languages, adventure, universities, philosophy, spirituality & religion (the philosophical/moral/practical aspect of it), etc. So meeting your s/o through travel or while you are exploring something. Perhaps while you are in college/university. Meeting them through religion or shared spiritual interests. Perhaps a course where you are learning about other cultures or languages. Classic travel meeting. Could meet on an airplane or a long distance train. The relationship itself could start out as long distance. If this has 4th house or Gemini/Cancer connections, then meeting online/at your comfort, but being long distance!

Union in the 10th house -

10th house rules our public image, our career, the part of ourselves that shines the most. It rules buildings, workplaces, companies, public parks or public places. This could also represent our public profiles online, such as for work or businesses. So yes, meeting through your work is significant. Could be a business meeting at first. If there are relations to 5th and 8th houses then it could be to collab on something creative! You could meet through your boss. And keeping the work aspect aside, if you are someone with a public profile online just because you want it so, it's also a 10th house thing. An aspect of your public image will be highlighted! Your work and career will be significant.

Union in the 11th house -

This is the classic friends to lovers placement, no matter how slow or fast it is. 11th house rules communities, friendships, social groups, hope and ideals, long term plans/visions, "social" part of social media, being an influencer or having an audience, networking, building your career, etc. This is a very social house and this meeting will have a focus on networking, becoming friends etc. Perhaps this is a meeting through friends, or meeting at a networking party. They could see you online or be intrigued at the work you do. Perhaps they want to work with you.

Union in the 12th house -

Twelfth house is the house of unconscious, mysteries, theories, conspiracies, hidden, mystical, fantasies, imagination etc. Everything to do with the mind, and not the things that are practical or "material" enough. This is the spiritual realm, the realm of unseen. This also rules isolation, mental health, heavy contemplative states. It rules prisons or hospitals (in a way that you are isolated). Meditation retreats are ruled by 12th house as well. Places that are far away and where we take the journey alone. So yes, meeting when you are alone, or even an account messaging you where the owner is hidden (not saying talk to strangers, but you get my point). This meeting could start out as a secret or won't be apparent to other people. You both could meet at a place where you both are alone, etc. You both could connect over the matters of spirituality and mysticism.

This is it!

You can book a reading with me, text me, I'll respond. I just made this blog so I'm yet to create an official post regarding booking readings!

Stay tuned for the next part!! ✈️✨️

#jupiter #persona chart #future spouse #union persona chart #astrology #astrology husband #venus persona chart #jupiter persona chart

1K notes · View notes

sunboki · 1 year

Text

— WHEN THINGS WERE SIMPLE a Lee Minho fiction

⭐️ : Lee Minho(Leeknow) x fem. reader

TROPE. school romance, 90’s romance, bestfriends to lovers, online au, strangers to lovers, highschool au, small town au

WORD COUNT. 7.7k ☆ 37 minute read

WARNINGS. light cursing, deep conversation, two teenagers being madly in love(lmao), bankruptcy, anonymous online chatting between strangers — this is in no way recommending anyone to join anonymous chat rooms nor meet up with strangers irl!

AUG'S NOTES. this fic was heavily inspired by “Twenty Five Twenty One” (one of my favorite kdrama!!) and was based around the 90’s when today’s technology was just beginning, i hope you find this piece to your satisfaction! if so, please leave some feedback, thanks :)

PLAYLIST.

SYNOPSIS. Lee Minho, the newest resident in your small town, has already established a reputation as the Class President despite moving only a week ago. You, on the other hand, don’t really see the appeal, or maybe your schedule is too jam-packed to consider the prospect of boys. In the meantime, you join an anonymous chat room with this so-called "lino98," and eventually, the stranger recommends that you meet holding a yellow tulip and wait- is that who you think it is?

or alternatively :

Whoever you’ve been talking to in that chat room was definitely not who you thought would be standing in Marronnier Park with a yellow tulip in hand.

1999.

“Hey! The sign says no throwing!” You scold, rushing to fix the arm to the statue as the tires on the boy’s bike screech to a halt.

And suddenly, it feels like everything’s in slow motion when the perfectly kept head of brown hair swivels back to face you, sharp jawline and piercing eyes belonging to a model-looking stranger you’d never seen before.

Thursday morning was when you first met Minho. Although, you didn’t know his name then, nor that this interaction－the daily magazine breaking your statue’s arm－would change your life.

His expression drops, looking rather bored despite your obviously frazzled (and flustered) state.

“How much?” The bewilderingly attractive boy asks, and it takes you a moment to register what he said, repeatedly glancing from the statue back to him like he was speaking a foreign language.

“It’s.. It’s priceless.” You huff, regarding the stranger with a hard glare as if he’d broken some holy vase or something.

He didn’t.

In fact, the only reason you felt so worked up was because once your parents saw the statue, you’d be grounded in an instant. You, on the other hand, could care less about the stupid piece of marble.

Something about his gaze sets you off, not to mention when he flashes a cheeky grin screaming nothing but trouble.

“Is that so? Then I guess it’s especially priceless now, huh.” He shrugged, kicking the kickstand up and hiking his leg over the seat.

You freeze in your spot, equally stunned with both shock and confusion.

Huh? Where is he going.

Is this guy serious!?

“What’re you- hold on- you can’t just leave!” Racing after him while he positively sped ahead of you on bike, you endlessly shout, slowing down to a halt after a few minutes to watch his silhouette disappear below the winding road traveling down to the village.

Hunched over to catch your breath, you mumble silent curses, dragging heavy footsteps up the small arrangement of stairs to try hiding the broken part behind the statue the best you can.

Brushing off your clothes and adjusting the straps to your bag, you start down the same way he left, stomping and groveling in your misery similar to that of a child denied their favorite toy. It’s quite a sight.

Tomorrow, you’ll give that attractive-Mail-Boy-whose-name-unknown a piece of your mind. You’re sure of it.

Entering the classroom, the first thing piquing your ears wasn’t Soyeon and Hyomin’s daily bickering match about the most random topics (the two you and Yuqi are certain are going to marry one day), but hushed whispering amongst each other.

So, accepting your role as a certified nosy person, you crouch across Yuqi’s desk, craning to make out her way-too-fast-to-be-normal conversation with Rei.

“Psst, Rei, what’s going on?” Blabbering on about whatever the school had been gossiping about, the girl swiftly turned to you, face alight with excitement.

“Have you seen the new guy? He’s an actor, I’m sure of it!”

…Of course. You should’ve known.

Nothing would have Taeyang High School falling over itself faster than a new handsome face.

How disappointing.

Not that you don’t appreciate a good looking person when you see one, but seriously, it could’ve been the upcoming volume of Full House or a class barbecue, something you deemed much more swoon worthy than a boy.

Yet, the transfer student who opened the door mere seconds later looked eerily familiar.

The Mail boy who mutilated your statue this morning is standing there, or are your eyes playing tricks on you? Maybe you’re sleeping at home and this is all a dream. Please be a dream please be a dream please be a dream- Ow!

Pinching yourself did hurt , you were awake, and it was Mail Boy at the front of the class introducing himself.

This week was already off to a great start.

Snapping out of your nightmare to notice him walking in your direction past giggling, lovestruck students to find a seat, you frantically shield either side of your face with your hands. Behind you, Han Jisung, your second best friend to Yuqi, cocks a brow as the boy fortunately takes a seat two rows ahead of you.

It feels like your heart is thundering in your chest with every breath you take, shaking your skull with it’s deafening beating. Any second now he could turn around, and you don’t know why, but the thought of that critiquing stare landing on you again gives you incessant goosebumps.

Sitting through homeroom has never been so suffocating-ly awful, and Jisung can tell when he comes over after class ends, plopping backwards in the chair in front of you to wince at the face you’re pulling.

“I’m cursed, Jisung—“ You childishly squirm, flopping around like some self-acclaimed grub.

Your classmate huffs a humorless chuckle, helping fix a messy strand of your hair before raising from his spot.

“Don’t worry, It’ll only get worse from here. ‘Want a Banana milk?”

Shitty Han Jisung and his shitty personality. Way to lift your spirits, asshole.

“You suck.”

“Two Banana milks it is!” He slaps the wood surface of your desk, breaking into an unaffected smile while hurrying off to the vending machines. Perhaps you’ll just mope till next class, brainstorm the easiest way to glue your statue back together and leave the country while you’re at it.

Abruptly, the minimal view of the classroom from where your head’s wedged between your arms is invaded by a green color, slowly peeking out only to be met with dollar bills waved in front of your face.

Now this had to be a dream. Han Jisung is never fast when it comes to vending machines, usually ogling at options the latest one installed in the cafeteria offers.

Also, for the record, he’s dirt poor like most of the students here.

“Fifty dollars for the damage.”

Damn it!

Still not a dream, because the crisp cash held out to you is none other than Mail Boys’ (a.k.a. Minho’s), staring down at you like you were some insect scurrying near his polished shoes... Or maybe that’s your interpretation of how he’s looking at you.

“This should cover any fees for fixing the statue, I don’t want to deal with you hunting me down every morning when I pass by.” He grumbles, patting the money next to your hand.

You gawk, amazed that he considered at all. What left you more amazed? How he had this amount of money in the first place as a student. Applying for a delivery job may not be so bad after all. That or he does own polished shoes, fancy clothes and a suit with his picture-ready hair and all.

He might as well scream in everyone’s face that he’s rich waving those dollar bills around.

“Keep it. It’s already bad enough it’s broken but it’ll be worse if I have money. Unlike you, I pride myself in being poor.”

There’s that terrifying, critiquing stink-eye again.

“..but my parents don’t, and they would think I stole something.” You quietly add, and Minho almost snorts, appearing to be having a difficult time withholding his bubbling laugh.

Before he can respond though, Jisung steps through the door, stopping in his tracks upon noticing what's going on, beverages in hand.

Noticing the elephant in the room, Minho slides the money closer your way and walks out, leaving you with awkward silence, fifty dollars, and too many questions.

Well, until both Banana milks slam down and your friend snatches the bills with a loud gasp, boba eyes round as saucers.

“Holy shit! I haven’t seen fifty dollars in like, four years. Is that Minho guy your secret boyfriend? Was that why you were acting so weird earlier?”

Not helping with the too many questions part, Jisung. And a secret boyfriend? Does this guy even know you?

“Absolutely not,” You cross your arms, being sure he sees your excessive eye-roll. “He broke my statue.”

In those few seconds of silence you swore he went through at least eight phases of contemplation trying to figure out the context attached to what you said, deciding to just blankly squint till you spilled your guts.

“So you’re telling me,” He points his finger at some imaginary diagram on the desk, focus flickering in every direction trying to connect the dots. “That Mail Boy, no, Lee Minho, threw the newspaper, broke your statue and ran off? This morning?”

There’s a doubtful lilt to his voice while you hurriedly nod, praying the boy will believe you despite how insane it sounds—despite how insane it really was.

“And this isn’t because he’s attractive?”

You cough.

“I mean, he’s attractive, but-“Aha! Finally! A prospect! Looks like my lovely Y/n won’t die alone after all.” Jisung places an over dramatic hand over his heart and you open your mouth, ready to tell him off before the bell rings and all hope of earning any sympathy flies out the window.

Nonetheless, confessing your grievances to the ferociously blunt Yuqi and expecting the newest volume of Full House after school wasn't usually the highlight of your day, but you've come to accept anything away from Mail Boy should be counted as a highlight at this point.

Come to think of it, you haven’t seen the god forbidden statue-killer since morning class.

Eh. He’s probably massacring some more neighborhood statues. He seems like he’d have weird hobbies anyway.

“Sounds a bit like you’re into him if you ask me,” She chews her sandwich, and you might’ve thrown up in your mouth a little bit.

Absolutely not. Your education is far too important to be interrupted by this transfer student. Plus, he also seems uninterested in love, right? It works out .. totally.

“C’mon Yuqi, you know me. The only thing I’m into is good grades and college admission.” You slump against the bench, absentmindedly stealing a few grapes from the girl.

Seriously though, falling in love is not on your roster for high school. At least not for now.

Nope. Take it back. No love. None. Nope.

Yuqi gasping like someone stabbed her seems to pull you from your loophole headspace, grabbing your arm excitedly.

“Oh my gosh! Doesn’t Volume Eleven come out today?” She says, and you might’ve just ascended to heaven.

Ah. Forget good grades and college admission, you’re in love with Full House. Save the boys for later.

She didn’t need to say anymore, because in the blink of an eye you were full sprinting out the gates, mind trained on one thing and one thing only.

Practically singing to yourself with glee, you swing open the door of Myeongjin DVD store, calling out an equally singsong, “Sir— did you save the newest release for m-…”

Huh.

You know those scenes in movies where all the music stops and everything seems to just freeze? Yeah, this was one of those moments.

“Hm?” Is what he responds with.

What Lee Minho responds with, working behind the front desk sorting through rentals.

Come to think of it, this is the first time you’re calling him by his actual name and not Mail Boy.

Strange.

“Ah.. Ahem .. The new volume of Full House, is it saved for me?” You gradually pique, bouncing back and forth on your heels.

Things should be settled by now between you two after he paid you back and all, but you just couldn’t seem to shake the awkwardness compiling in your gut. Like this strange boy that showed up (literally) on your doorstep would get you into trouble.

Placing the book he’d been checking down, he picks up a bulletin board, finger scouring the titles before glancing at you.

“Full House? Nope, we’re all out.”

“Thanks- WHAT?! Look, you might not know, but I’m pretty much the owner’s daughter,” You explain matter-a-factly, cocking your brows expectantly. What kind of stunt you were pulling you didn’t know. Either way, you’d use the many years you lived here before him to the utmost advantage.

Turns out, you definitely should’ve remembered how Lee Minho earned his reputation in the first place.

“So sorry, he didn’t say anything about his beloved daughter paying a visit today.” The man in front of you leans forward, head tilted in a conniving manner.

What. A. Prick.

Jesus he looks good right now.

Opening your mouth to bite back, deja vú plows through like a bus when he cuts you off, light smirk gracing the edges of his lips. Mocking, like when you first met. Mocking.

“But, I’ll be sure to tell you when more are in stock. Deal?”

Oh how you want to beat his stupidly handsome face in.

“Deal.”

Settling down into your chair and repeatedly clicking the cream colored mouse, you watch the blue background fill the screen along with the other person’s username.

Only on stressful nights would you log back into the anonymous chat rooms. Except today wasn’t necessarily stressful, more just leaving you in denial without Volume eleven in hand.

Somehow, these conversations were thrilling in their own, odd ways. Not knowing if the person is your best friend or your worst enemy made the experience all the more fun.

Recently, you'd begun chatting with Lino98, a kind person who apparently moved not too long ago. They gave you the best advice and would always joke around like friends while you talked about love, grades, and anything at all.

In a sense, they were your friend.

YOU: Lino98?

LINO98: Hm?

YOU: What do you want to do in the future? Now that we’re getting older, I’ve been thinking about it a lot

LINO98: Well that’s a random question

YOU: Shhh just answer

LINO98: Okay okay, mine is way out there and pretty unrealistic for a student, but

LINO98: I want to be a dancer

YOU: Wowー dancer? As in, dancing on stage?

LINO98: What else would a dancer do ㅎㅎ

YOU: You know what I mean!! But being a dancer is a good dream. You’ll have to work hard, but it’s your passion, so I shouldn’t be one to judge

LINO98: You’re sweet, saying that

YOU: Hey hey don’t get all sappy

LINO98: I mean it ㅋㅋㅋ

You smile, fingers rapidly typing to keep up with the replies. They had a wild dream, sure, but Lino98 had their own aspirations, and you wondered if maybe in the future you’d see them on TV.

See them in real life. Now that was a thought. Heck, you didn’t even know if they were a boy or girl.

Oh god, what if Lino98 was one of your classmates? Worst case scenario it’d be Minho.

Although, that would never happen, the chances were too slim.

Too slim.. but not impossible. In fact, very much possible because no matter how small the chance is it could always become realit- “Y/n!”

You jump, reaching to turn off the old monitor.

There’s a shuffle outside of your door, the woman’s head peering in momentarily. You have an idea of what she's going to say next seeing you in front of the computer.

“You’d better not be on those chat rooms, I told you they’re dangerous. Also, could you run to the market? I’m missing bean sprouts.”

Bingo.

Patting the doorframe, she disappears once more.

You know she’s right. Sure it could pose a threat, but you’re a student, and adult things like being worried about safety could come later.

However, running into Mail Boy there could also come later, and you debated on turning around before he noticed you. That was, until you remembered the unfortunate errand you’d made the trip for in the first place.

The last person he expected to find at Ahyeon Market was you, looking equally as shocked with his appearance here as well. Still clad in uniform, he motions from his place on the outdoor bench, patting the spot next to him.

If gears could literally be seen turning in someone’s head he's certain he would have witnessed an entire mechanical process by now, rather amusedly analyzing your angel and devil conversation with cat-like observation.

“I don’t bite y’know,” Breaking the quiet lull, he clicks his tongue, earning a suspicious look.

“And how am I supposed to believe you.” Question rhetorical (he assumes), you approach him slowly, testing, like he’d pounce at one wrong move. The tempting urge to jump and scare you briefly crosses his mind.

“Because,” He bites back a grin. “Our Volume eleven pact, remember?”

Almost instantly, the tense atmosphere dissolves and you plop down beside him followed by hushed “Yeah, yeah”'s muttered under your breath. Barely twenty seconds pass though before you’re bolting to upward (and ironically scaring him instead), glancing left and right.

“I’ll get some Banana milk.” You bolt to the small fridge unit, lips focusedly pursed cashing in your coins.

Minho can’t help but smile to himself at your unbothered-ness, your easiness. You’re kind, not to mention brutally honest on occasions. It’s reassuring being around you, like he doesn’t have to worry about anything. Like, in some sense, his youth is returning to him. Piece by piece.

“Here.” Your voice has his head swiveling, holding a small cartridge for him to take.

“So.. Why’d you transfer here?”

He stares at the drink for a while, though your eyes never stray from his, observing him contemplating, thinking. Cat-like, you agree. Minho greatly resembles a feline.

“You like this stuff, huh.”

“Jisung got me hooked on it, you don’t want it?” Knitting your brows and greedily pulling the drink to yourself, he’s quick to reach forward, grabbing your hand in his.

You hesitate, both frantically searching each other's face before Minho snatches the Banana milk from you, tone suddenly doused in nervousness.

“No- I do, thanks.”

Liar. He hates Banana milk, but he’ll drink it. For you he will.

There’s that feeling again, blooming in his chest and warming up his entire body.

Weird.

It’s like he’s a three year old crushing on his classmate again, awkward and young. In love.

Anyone unlucky enough to witness this obvious pining deserves a written letter of apology.

“Mm..” You hum quietly, aggressively poking your straw through the paper lid.

Minho’s lips form a tight line, fixating on the rotation of his own straw as he aimlessly moves the drink in his hand from side to side.

“My family went bankrupt. That’s why I moved.”

Pausing your movement, you nod quickly and he feels a pang of guilt strike his chest. He shouldn’t have told you that, should’ve kept the comfort and ignored the question. Way to ruin it, jerk.

“What was your first impression of me?” Changing the subject, he clears his throat from the chilling air. So long for the summer heat.

“First impression?” You mimic, appearing deep in thought for a reason he couldn’t help but feel nervous about. Nervous for what, he couldn’t name.

There were lots of things he “couldn’t” when it came to you. It makes things interesting, makes you interesting. Life isn’t boring when with you, something he realizes the longer you accompany him, vice versa.

He can’t make sense of the feeling, ironically enough. Another “can’t”.

“Well, If you want me to be honest,” Glancing over at him from your earlier focus on a neon road sign, you lift your brows, awaiting his signal to go on.

“I thought you were cold, rude, not to mention a pain in the butt. Also, I’m not kidding when I say I was convinced you were a rich and spoiled brat-“ Rapid waving of his hands in front of you stops your train of thought.

“Are- are you being serious or just insulting me.” He interrupts, deadpanning while sending you a rather confused, nonsensical look.

“Dead serious. You wanted the truth after all.” You shrug your shoulders and Minho chokes a laugh, shaking his head in disbelief.

Unbelievable. Absolutely, unforgivably, unbelievable.

“And what about now?”

More thinking.

“You’re nice to be around, but still a pain in the butt.” Shuffling on the pavement, you pull your coat tighter around yourself, gaze flitting to the crack of smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

With the streetlights automatically turning on, without response, simply a soft look from the boy, he steps forward and wordlessly beckons for you to follow.

Walk home with me, an inaudible invitation, and you tag along accordingly.

He doesn’t want to go home, but he won’t tell you that. In fact, he dreads going home to a silent house. He won’t tell you that either.

Truth being, Minho hadn’t been this happy in ages, and being by you, talking to you, getting to know you and everything in between has brilliant shades of color decorating his black and white world. If only he could muster up the courage to tell you that.

“Shoot!”

Panickedly facing you, surprise lay evident on his usually unwavering features.

“I forgot bean sprouts! Hold on, I’ll be right back.” You pronounce, disappearing inside the Market with the boy right on your heels.

Arriving at the register, he places his wallet on the counter before you could fetch cash from your pocket. Turning to him, you poke an accusing finger against his chest, fixing your attractive friend with a hard stare.

“Minho, I told you rich people paying for poor people isn’t ‘nice’, it just makes us look pitiful.” You pout, and the boy resists the overbearing urge to coo not only from how unfairly adorable you look right now but hearing his name come out of your mouth for the first time as well.

Adorable. What was he thinking using a word like that anyway? He meant something else .. another, descriptive word for something cute… Nevermind.

“Think of it as me paying you back for the Banana Milk.” Giving in the tiniest bit, he lands a small nudge against your side, earning an equally playful shove back.

Laughter envelops the both of you, walking from the store with bean sprouts in clutch and pink hues decorating your cheeks whether from giggling or something else. Swinging the bag beside you, a fleeting thought of holding it for you crosses Minho’s mind. Should he? What if you say no and things become awkward again?

God, why is he complicating things so much recently. Just do it, Minho. It’s not that difficult.

“You know how much I gave the cashier for those drinks?”

Quickly pulling his hand away from where it reached for the plastic, his grimace becomes instantly replaced with feigned curiosity in hopes you didn’t notice.

Holding eye contact has never been difficult for Minho. In fact, he’s a pro at it …with everyone but you. So when you study him with those brilliant eyes, he can feel his ears burning bright red.

“Yeah? How much?” He mischievously replied, watching you light up.

You have a particular smile, the one that transforms your face so prettily, the one that makes his heart thunder in his chest. He really likes that smile.

“Ten dollars. Can you believe it? I could buy a mansion with that money.” You hum sarcastically, tumbling all over the sidewalk while being kindly beckoned away from the road by the concerned boy.

“Hey Minho?”

He turns to you.

“What do you wanna do when you grow up? Y’know, after High school and University.”

Opening his mouth to respond, he can’t help but find the question eerily familiar.

“Since I was a kid I wanted to be a Dancer. I actually auditioned a few days ago, but I probably won’t make it.” The dark haired man humorlessly laughs, actively avoiding your attention.

You frown, he doesn’t notice.

“You don’t know that. I don’t know what I want to do, but riding in a sports car sounds nice. It doesn’t have to be realistic, we’re young.”

There it is. This was the easiness he was thinking of, your unbothered-ness. All of the things he finds himself smiling about. The things he looks forward to dropping off your mail in the morning to see.

“..A sports car?”

Once comfortable silence interrupted by his snickering, you wack his arm for the nth time that night, sending him a faux glare.

“Oh look! It’s my stop!” You interject, hiking up the stairs to turn around and see him looking up at you, eyes crinkled with a small smile adorning his face.

“I’ll see you tomorrow! Goodnight, Minho.”

Minho thinks you're very, very cute.

“Goodnight, Y/n.”

Minho hopes you think he’s cute too.

Days go by, some long, some short, with August feeling extremely drawn-out and uncomfortable—leaves gradually beginning to brown for autumn.

As for September, you’re still waiting for Volume eleven from Minho, incessantly dropping by the DVD store to annoy him into leaking some info about when the next batch will be shipped.

“It’ll be next week”, “It’ll be next week”, “It’ll be next week,” is what he always says every week until you’re quite certain next week has happened four times already.

On a different note other than your Full House dilemma and impending exams, Minho had been elected Class President, Soyeon and Hyomin are getting closer to officially dating (from you and Yuqi’s observations), and Jisung is currently keeping count of how many girls confess to Mail Boy each semester.

Don’t ask about the last one.

Expecting someone like Yuqi to be running up to you so early on your walk through the school gates, you blink twice to realize it’s Minho instead, something in hand and positively glowing with cheerfulness.

“Y/n!”

Spinning around, you mirror his overwhelming energy and narrowly dodge getting run over in the process.

“Guess what.” He grins, looking scarily enthusiastic compared to usual.

“What?” You ask, already lost in the way his caramel globes for eyes seem to practically sparkle.

“I got accepted! I’m going to be a trainee!” Shoving the acceptance paper in your face, you scream, covering your mouth in disbelief.

To say you both jumped is an understatement, basically frolicking around the courtyard like lunatics. Well, before you realized the entire jumping and frolicking thing and hurriedly returned to your normal, stiff high school selves.

“Also, the Full House shipment came in this morning.”

…

He’s kidding. You’re kidding.

Oh my god you could kiss him right now. Good thing you didn’t say that out loud.

Running as fast as you possibly could with the boy yelling for you to slow down, you mercilessly slam the door open, manically searching through boxes until the beloved, astounded, mystifying book rests peacefully in hand.

Heaven’s gates should’ve opened up by now.

Taking his sweet time as if this wasn’t one of the greatest moments in life, your counterpart casually strolls up to the register, appearing to check out the rental despite holding your precious book hostage after scanning the barcode.

“You don’t care about me making the cut, do you?” He pouts, lip pitifully jutting out.

Mouth left agape, you swiftly bite back what you’d planned to say about the deal, stumbling over sentences to find an excuse.

“I do! I swear! Now give me the book.. please?” Sporting the most genuine tone you could manage, you snatch the book he begrudging lowered down, hugging the prized possession close to your chest.

“Fine, liar.”

Yikes, talk about a grumpy face. He looked like a kicked puppy. You didn’t even think that expression was possible for Lee Minho.

However, you also didn’t think it was possible to feel sort of upset about it. Not his grumpy face, no, but him getting accepted. Wasn’t this a happy occasion? Volume eleven was released and finally in your possession and your friend was now going to be a trainee, now going to chase his dream of becoming a dancer.

So why did you feel sad walking back to school?

It felt wrong, you felt wrong, and the disgusting feeling only grew worse as the day went on. Heck, looking through pages and squealing with Yuqi—an activity that normally helped lift your spirits—didn't feel as reviving.

Later that day you asked him when he’d be leaving to train, leaving for Seoul, far from here. You dreaded the question, but at least it gave you time to prepare in a sense.

“January,” he replied, eating his apple as if it wasn’t the end of September, as if your heart wasn’t splintering into a billion tiny pieces.

Perhaps somewhere, hidden in his unaffected façade, he felt a tad bit upset like you did.

‘It doesn’t have to be realistic, we’re young.’ You recalled assuring him at Ahyeon Supermarket back in August, thinking it wasn’t going to be real, believing it wasn’t going to become reality.

If only you had known.

Adult things were climbing from the busy city into your small town. You weren’t ready.

So when life becomes increasingly overbearing, you log back in.

YOU: Today has been so draining.. I want to wake up and everything to be a dream

LINO98: Need to vent?

YOU: I thought you’d never ask ㅠㅠ

LINO98: Alright alright, go on

YOU: Well I have a friend, and he’s getting to do something he’s always wanted, but it means he’ll have to go away for a while and I can’t help but feel sad

LINO98: Feeling sad is normal, there’s nothing wrong with that

LINO98: It makes you feel like everything you’ve done with them was taken for granted, don’t you think?

YOU: That’s exactly what it’s like

YOU: If you're okay with it, could we meet up and talk? I mean, we’ve been talking for a while now and I just thought

LINO98: Would Marronnier Park work?

YOU: Didn't think you’d be so willing

LINO98: What can I say, we work well together

YOU: How will we find each other though?

LINO98: Hm.. theres that flower shop nearby, right? Bring a yellow tulip and I will too, good?

YOU: Tomorrow at noon?

LINO98: I’ll be there

Yellow tulip, noon, tomorrow. You sigh a stretching grin, clicking the small exit button before flopping onto your bed.

Only downside of this would have to be your inability to sleep, mind unable to calm itself down as you lay awake. Tomorrow you meet Lino98, someone truly cherished for all their help and kindness.

Eyes slowly drifting closed, you can’t help but hope meeting them in real life will ease some of your troubles. Even just a tad.

Springing from bed that morning, you make your daily stop at Myeongjin DVD store, attempting to drag Minho outside to grab dessert with you while he complains of having plans.

You grumble, growling to him you’ll enjoy the sweet treat more by yourself, his saccharine farewell fading into the distance as you close the door behind you.

Luckily, there wasn’t anything that could truly damage your happiness today(despite really wanting to get desserts with Minho) while picking up a yellow tulip on your way to the meeting location.

Gosh, your stomach was doing backflips right now.

Locating the park’s sign, you stopped and patted yourself down for a moment.

Alright. Now time to start guessing. Would they be a girl? Be a boy? Maybe they’d be Yuqi. That would be hysterical. You mean, you’re soulmates at this point, it’d make plenty of sense.

Venturing inside, you shuffle between people in search of the same flower being in someone else’s grip till finally spotting it, hidden between two people in front of you.

If they would just scoot over a little bit.. there! Now you can see ...them.

Oh.

Making eye contact, you watch them realize, beginning to back up.

You don’t know why you run away, you don’t know why your legs won’t stop and why the person keeps calling out behind you.

Funny that the slim chance you mentioned turned out to be true.

Today you met Lino98, someone you'd truly cherished for all their help and kindness prior to learning who they were.

Today you met Lino98 at Marrionner Park holding a yellow tulip, but the person in front of you was Lee Minho, flower in hand and staring directly back at you.

December gradually rolls around, and usually you’re ecstatic seeing all the lights and festivals Taeyang High hosts as Christmas and new years approaches, especially with next year marking a new millennium.

After the news of Minho’s departure though, it’s hard enjoying the holidays knowing he’ll be leaving only a week or so into January.

No. You should soak up your last month or so. This is the most important part, you can’t be miserable when he hasn’t even left yet.

Despite how badly you want to see him all the time, nothing came easy with his identity revealed.

You weren’t angry nor embarrassed. And initially, you didn’t feel anything, you just stared at him across the park, wondering if all of these coincidences were dreams, your loneliness causing hallucinations of a sort.

Regarding the running away part, that was more of a “need to get my thoughts together” reflex, a desperate and last resort you now deeply regretted holed up in your room with Yuqi’s voice ringing through the home phone.

Yes, you’d like to say you dealt with the matter like a responsible almost-adult.

You didn’t.

“Yuqi… I’m ruining my own life and I can’t do anything to stop it..” You hiccup, loud sobs echoing through the empty household.

She clicks her tongue, once patient and understanding persona instantaneously snapping.

“Yah!” The girl shouts, and you flinch on the other side of the line. “Keep saying stuff like that and you really will ruin your own life! I know no one warned you that falling in love with him would be like this, but seriously, I am not letting you waste this last month avoiding each other!!”

In spite of her reprimanding you, her intentions are clearly aimed towards wanting the best for the both of you, and you know you should be grateful in return.

“I’m not in love with.. My god I am in love with him, what do I do—“ You drag out, dissolving into more cries.

It’s true, both her point and the fact that you’re unabashedly in love with him. All of it. From first meeting him, avoiding him, making up, becoming close and convincing yourself you weren’t looking for a relationship, and now avoiding him again. You’ve always had that feeling, that lingering affection teetering back and forth between the line of friends and lovers.

Although, your friend’s sigh suddenly gets cut off by another person, and you briefly wonder if her younger brother took it before making out the name Yuqi yelled in the distance.

“Yeesh you sound ugly when you cry.”

Is that.. Jisung?

“Han Jisung, give me back the phone!”

Jisung over at Yuqi’s house. Weird.

“Just one seconds this is important~” He whines, and from the sounds of it is also currently running away from what you assume to be a raging Yuqi.

“Okay so Yuqi, Soyeon, Hyomin and I are planning the craziest new years bash ev-“HAN JISUNG!” Phone finally finding its way back to the original holder, you can hear sly giggles echoing in the background.

She audibly groans and you can easily imagine her hands threading through long blonde locks of hair, probably visibly resisting the urge to bury her companion. You can’t help but smile.

Just so you know, only Jisung and I are here so don’t worry about the public humiliatio- aw shit there's thirty seconds left on the call- anyways, be sure to stop by my place on the 31st, we have a surprise for you!” Time limit ending without another word, you take the time to connect the dots with Jisung’s “new years bash” and Yuqi’s “surprise”, to expect a small party of some kind.

With those two arranging it, you don’t know what to expect.

Why not? The reasons to say no are basically nonexistent.

Christmas break officially starting, students clambering from school grounds, and your daily “avoiding Minho” schedule on hold now that you’re out till the end of January, the anticipation of this upcoming party creeps closer. That, and how you plan to talk to Minho.

You aren’t stupid, and you didn’t ignore what Yuqi had said about avoiding each other either, fully aware of how essential coming to terms was for the sake of your friendship, and at least for you, for the sake of your love too.

The real question was when, something you’re still trying to figure out on the 30th of December. Way to procrastinate.

Before tonight you’d never hesitated talking to Lino98 (Minho), deleting your message at least a dozen times before clicking the send button and preparing to hide under your comforter for the rest of the night. Keyword: preparing. Because when you anxiously peered between your fingers to see a response beneath your message, you might have just jumped out of your skin.

YOU: Hey, can we talk?

LINO98: I thought you’d never ask

YOU: About meeting up.. I want you to know I’m really not mad at you

LINO98: You can be honest, Y/n

YOU: I am, promise

YOU: It’s so much easier talking online than in person, but I really want to see you

LINO98: Same, but I doubt I’ll be able to say the same things in person

YOU: I think that’s something we can both agree on

LINO98: Hm

YOU: I’m busy tomorrow, but maybe the next day?

LINO98: Seems we still work well together

YOU: Don't say that, I’ll get PTSD..

LINO98: Sorry sorry ㅜㅜ

Little did you know you were both busy doing the same thing after nobody mentioned Minho would be at the party as well, too stunned to speak seeing him sit around the enormous pile of snacks and drinks laying in the middle of the floor.

However, you found it in yourself, not only because of the minimal time you had left but also because of your conversation last night, to move past the tension.

Like adults.

What a bizarre phrase coming from you.

And it looked as if he felt the same too.

Lively conversation filled up the small space, and six kids, six adults, sat around an army of junk food and held a pitiful excuse for a party while using this time together to forget, if just for a moment, about life outside the room.

You couldn’t have had more fun talking and catching up, not to mention the curdling screaming when Hyomin and Soyeon announced that they were officially dating, bouncing around whilst stuck in Yuqi’s bone-crushing hug of delight.

The clock ticked on the wall, and after hours of bringing back old memories and suggesting new ones, a few attendees began to slip away, gradually leaving only you, Minho, and Yuqi to occupy her living room.

She yawned beside you, half-lidded eyes making her sleepiness rather apparent. Patting your shoulder, the girl rose up, trudging toward the door.

“Alright I’m tapping out, see you guys next year.” She quietly mused and you cracked a sarcastic laugh, both wishing her good night before the sound of the knob clicked shut behind her.

It’s just you two now, watching the live broadcast in a numbing peacefulness. It stays like that for a long time, basking in the presence you’d been deprived of after that fateful day.

You stifle a chuckle.

“It wasn’t my intention to fall in love with you, but I guess I couldn’t help it.” You wistfully smile, back leaning against the wall clad in your heavy sweater and socks.

You hear him take a deep breath.

“I could say the same,” He whispers, eyes trained on the celebration airing on TV. “I bet you were upset that I’m Lino98.”

You pull your knees closer to yourself, listening to the two minute warning the reporter announces.

The room once busied becomes quiet apart from television chatter and your hushed talking. In a few minutes it’ll be a new Millennium, the 2000’s.

You should feel happy, knowing you’ll graduate soon, knowing that a new year is beginning. You’ve tried, truly, but you can’t find it in yourself, not with the circumstances.

“I’m not upset. I was just being selfish because I didn’t want it to be any harder seeing you leave.”

The circumstances seem to steal everything away. Minho must know that much better than you do.

Except you have this moment right here, right now, that the circumstances haven’t taken away yet.

He utters a pained sound, a sound that feels like crying. You don’t dare say anything.

“Don’t people,” He stops, waiting for you to look to your right, look at him and his glossy eyes. You’ve never seen Minho emotional, and you wish you never had. It feels cruel. Immeasurably cruel.

“As I speak, we have ten seconds till 2000.”

He opens his mouth again.

“Kiss on new years?”

You can hear the countdown begin.

“Ten!”

Minho has a wistful smile, dancing from your eyes to your lips.

“Nine!”

Should you take the chance?

“Eight!”

Will this hurt you?

“Seven!”

Haven’t you been hurting enough?

“Six!”

He’s leaving in a few days.

“Five!”

It’s now or never.

“Four!”

You lean forward, lips softly connecting with his. They’re soft, his lips, and he angles your head from side to side with a gentle touch, palms enveloping your cheeks, holding you close. Your skin feels like it’s on fire. Everything feels like it’s on fire. Ferociously alight and blazing.

“Three!”

He whispers something between your lips, you can’t hear it.

“Two!”

Partially, you feel grateful you couldn’t.

“One!”

Fireworks burst in your peripheral, littering the screen with a bountiful assortment of lights and cheers.

The new year had begun, and so had a different chapter in everyone’s lives. Both your classmates, and especially yours and Minho’s.

“Let’s welcome the year 2000!”

2000.

LINO98: Don’t get too excited, but I’m outside your house, come quick

YOU: Didn’t we see each other yesterday?

LINO98: Are you saying you’d rather stay in? I thought you loved me

YOU: Fine you big baby, but I’m going back to sleep after this

LINO98: Sounds good to me〜

You groan, dragging yourself out of your covers at the speed of a turtle to organize the unruly chaos ensuing in your disheveled hair and pull on your shoes.

In all honesty, you can’t even remember how you got home last night, only recalling that Minho tasted like Coca cola and that you had a roaring headache.

Minho tasted like Coca cola. You kissed Minho.

Wow.

Maybe the adrenaline had taken over last night considering how your face erupted red merely thinking about it the next morning.

A honk sounds outside and you jump slightly, mind sifting through ideas of what exactly the boy had gotten himself into this time. With Han Jisung’s influence yesterday, you wouldn’t be surprised if he was in a fancy sports car or something.

Scratch that, he was in a fancy sports car, and you had to blink repeatedly to check if you were awake.

Did he have a license? Wait, nevermind, since when did he own a car?

“What is this, you may ask?” He gestures to the bright red convertible Mustang, tipping down the sunglasses perched on his nose with a cock of his brow. “Well, since I‘m getting to do what I wanted when I got older, I thought it was only fair you got to do what you wanted to too. Sports car, right? Hop in.”

Oh. My. God.

You just keep falling in love with Minho over and over again.

Breathing a laugh of disbelief, shock, and every other emotion making a pit stop while standing in your pajamas, you cross your arms, sending him a suspicious stare.

“And might I ask how you got your hands on this thing?” Smile threatening to appear, you stave down the urge, struggling to maintain your unconvinced poise under his watchful eye.

“Let’s just say I know a friend who knows a friend-“Y/n! What happened to our statue?!” Your mothers shouts from up the stairs and you practically leap into the passenger seat, frantically urging him to step on the gas.

“Only took her a few months,” Your personal driver huffs amusedly, quickly putting the vehicle in reverse to flee the scene. Ah.. You’re not looking forward to the trip home.

Luckily, you’re not home, and you hope you won’t be for a while. Instead, you’re driving through side roads with Minho and his stupidly attractive sunglass-clad self, and it feels like you’ve just started high school again.

Minutes pass, maybe hours. You wouldn’t have been able to tell, too caught up enjoying it. The sights, the smells, the sounds, all of it. Enjoying everything.

Slowing down to pull into a small alcove overlooking the ocean, the boy leans his seat back and you do the same, warm sun baking down on the dark interior. You reach a hand forward, fingers tangling with his.

“Can we stay like this forever?”

He smiles.

“Forever it is.”

2009.

Scooting the metal chair to the side, Minho takes a seat, adjusting the collar of his shirt that earns a few screams here and there alongside the merciless flash of camera shutters swarming in every direction. Today marks his first fansign as a group, as a member of Stray Kids by the stage name Lee Know.

Exhilarating, perhaps. Terrifying, also perhaps.

Initially, he was anxious, worried he’d come off as cold and rigid followed by the other lovely assortment of offensive adjectives you used to describe him standing outside of school that day in August.

Life was different then, just as it is now. Although, he’s not unhappy with how things turned out, nor how life changed since high school.

Tonight you’d text him (like you did every night since he first left) about the fansign, asking if he found anyone cute (the answer would always be you) and telling him about your day, your changed life.

He’d listen, give his most-always teasing input, smile at your equally teasing retort and tell you to eat well and take care of yourself.

“Good morning Minho— ah, wait, I should call you Lee Know now, shouldn’t I?”

A voice stirs from in front of him and he’s certain he’s officially going insane. But no, it does belong to you, in the flesh, mesmerizing eyes disappearing as you grinned while plopping down onto the stool below.

“Do me a favor and act really obsessed with me for a minute, I want to make your fans jealous,” You giggle, leaning closer to whisper the petty request.

In the midst of his shock he scoffs, appearing profusely offended.

“And you still suck at introductions. Not even a congratulations, ouch.” The brown-haired now-Idol frowns, behaving more like a child than ever before.

His status as a normal person might’ve developed (Minho was never a normal person), but he still retained the maturity of a twelve year old.

“Oh, dearest apologies my beloved Lee Know.” Basically gagging, you balance your chin on your hand, once teasing expression replaced with a smile that makes his heart downright ache.

“Congratulations on becoming a dancer, Minho. I missed you.”

sunboki, may 2022 ©

FIC TAGLIST. @dorisnumber1fan @mal-lunar-28 @httphans @virluna148 @bettybeako @grannyindehouse @minhaurloml @ylixbok @inkelea @luna585 @hyunbae-35

437 notes · View notes

angstasff · 5 months

Text

Remember Me Pt.1

🕸an: I'm backk, and what if I told you this came to be when speaking to a Peter Parker Ai Bot... anyways! Part 2 is in the works already, and tbh I don't know how many parts this may be. also gif creds to @mercurysstars

🕸Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

🕸Genre: ANGST, fluff (later)

🕸CW: parent death, no way home ending, kinda not exactlycanon I think

🕸Word Count: 2K

🕸Summary: After Dr. Strange did his memory erasing," the estranged daughter of Tony Stark, discovers she's the only one who remembers Peter Parker. In an attempt to restore their friend's memory of Peter, Peter and Y/n grow closer, but how long can her memory of him really last?

∘․‧₊˚✩彡🕸🕷🕸彡✩∘․‧₊˚∘․‧₊˚✩彡🕸🕷🕸彡✩∘․‧₊˚∘․‧₊˚✩彡

In the heart of New York City, amidst the hustle and bustle of daily life, there was a small diner tucked away in a quiet corner of the city. It was a place where the aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the scent of sizzling bacon, and where the clatter of dishes and the hum of conversation filled the air.

It was here, in this unassuming diner, that y/n had started working as a waitress, weaving her way through the crowded tables every weekend. She had started working there part-time, while in high school, to help pay for her hopeful future at MIT, taking orders and serving up plates of comfort food to the weary souls who found solace in the diner's welcoming embrace.

It was minutes before she could clock out, and y/n had been wiping down the counter, lost in her own thoughts when the door swung open and a familiar figure stepped inside.

Tony Stark, billionaire playboy and renowned inventor, sauntered into the diner with all the confidence and composure of a man who owned the world. He was clad in a sleek suit that cost more than most people's monthly rent, his dark hair tousled and his eyes sparkling with mischief.

Y/n was confused and nervous. She had seen Tony Stark in the headlines countless times, his face plastered across magazine covers and news articles, but she had never imagined she would encounter him in person, let alone in a place like this.

Tony approached the counter with purposeful strides, his gaze fixed on y/n with a piercing intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. "You must be Y/n," he said, his voice smooth and commanding. "I've heard good things about you."

Y/n blinked in surprise, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

"I, uh, yes, that's me," y/n stammered, her cheeks flushing with heat. "What can I get for you, Mr. Stark?"

Tony flashed her a curt smile, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Just Tony is fine," he said, leaning against the counter with casual ease. "I'm here on business, actually. I've been keeping an eye on you, y/n. You're smart, you're capable, and you've got a gift that most people can only dream of."

Y/n's brow furrowed in confusion, her mind racing to catch up with the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside her. "What do you mean?" she asked, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

Tony's smile faded, replaced by a steely resolve that sent a shiver down y/n's spine. "I want to offer you a job," he said, his voice low and intense. "A job at Stark Industries, working alongside some of the brightest minds in the world. You'll have access to resources and opportunities that most people can only dream of."

Y/n's eyes widened in disbelief, her heart pounding in her chest. A job at Stark Industries? It was an offer she couldn't refuse, a chance to escape the drudgery of her mundane existence and step into a world of limitless possibilities. But what about MIT?

But as she stared into Tony's piercing gaze, a nagging thought tugged at the edges of her consciousness—a question she had been too afraid to ask, too afraid to confront.

"I have been saving up for months to be able to get into MIT, Why me, Why now?" she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.

Tony's expression softened, a hint of sadness flickering behind his eyes. "Because you're special, Y/n," he said simply. "More special than you realize."

And with those words hanging in the air between them, Tony reached into his pocket and pulled out a small envelope, sealed with the emblem of Stark Industries. He placed it gently in y/n's outstretched hand, his touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary.

"Think about it, Y/n," he said, his voice soft but firm. "And when you're ready, give me a call. I'll be waiting."

And with that, Tony Stark turned and strode out of the diner, leaving y/n standing there in stunned silence, clutching the envelope in her trembling hands.

When she got home later that night, when y/n was alone in her apartment, she mustered the courage to open the envelope and read the letter inside. And as she poured over the words on the page, her heart pounding with excitement and trepidation, she realized the truth that had been staring her in the face all along.

Tony Stark was her father.

The revelation hit her like a thunderbolt, shaking her to her core as she struggled to come to terms with the enormity of it all. Her born from accidental pregnancy? She had always wondered who her father was but could have never imagined she was the daughter of the legendary Tony Stark.

But as she stared down at the letter in her hands, the pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place. The strange sensations that had plagued her for years, the memories that seemed to linger just beyond the edges of her consciousness—they all made sense now.

∘․‧₊˚✩彡🕸🕷🕸彡✩∘․‧₊˚∘․‧₊˚✩彡🕸🕷🕸彡✩∘․‧₊˚∘․‧₊˚✩彡

Y/n Stark stood before the towering window of her penthouse apartment, the panoramic view of New York City sprawled out before her like a glittering tapestry. The fading rays of the setting sun bathed the skyline in a warm, golden light, casting long shadows across the urban landscape. From her vantage point high above the bustling streets, y/n could see the city pulsating with life, the steady flow of traffic like blood coursing through the veins of a living organism. It has been two years since Tony died, and she is still left with so many questions about herself unanswered.

Before Tony had died, he confessed to her, her real lineage. Her mother was not her mother. Her mother is dead and died when she was little. Tony revealed who your mother was. It was all too much. Of course, y/n believed him so he showed her. An image of her mother, and in an instant memories resurfaced.

In the faded image, y/n saw herself as a young child, cradled in the arms of a woman whose face was obscured by the passage of time. But it wasn't the identity of the woman that caught y/n's attention—it was the glint of recognition in her own eyes, a spark of familiarity that sent a shiver down her spine.

She remembered a time when she had been just a young girl, no older than five or six, playing alone in the sprawling gardens of the Stark mansion. The sun had been shining, casting dappled patterns of light and shadow across the lush greenery, and y/n had been lost in a world of her own imagination.

But then, out of the corner of her eye, she had seen something—a flash of movement, a figure lurking in the shadows. Intrigued, she had followed the mysterious presence, her curiosity leading her deeper into the labyrinthine maze of hedges and shrubbery.

And that's when she had found her—her mother, standing amidst a grove of ancient trees, her hands outstretched toward the heavens as if invoking some unseen power. Y/n had watched in awe as her mother's form seemed to blur and shimmer as if she were weaving a spell of magic that transcended the boundaries of reality itself.

At that moment, y/n had felt a surge of energy course through her veins, a tingling sensation that left her feeling both exhilarated and afraid. It was as if her very essence had been infused with the power of the universe, awakening something dormant and long-forgotten within her soul.

And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the moment had passed. Her mother had turned to face her, her eyes shining with a mixture of love and sorrow, before fading away like a wisp of smoke on the wind.

But the memory had lingered, etched into the fabric of y/n's consciousness like a scar on her soul.

Hours were spent conducting experiments and research, exploring the limits of y/n's abilities, and pushing the boundaries of what was possible. But as the days turned into weeks, and Tony became increasingly preoccupied with other matters, their investigations were pushed to the side, left unfinished and unresolved.

And now, with Tony Stark gone and y/n left to grapple with the truth on her own, she was faced with more questions than answers. What was the true extent of her powers? How had she come to possess them in the first place? And what did it all mean for her future?

The truth is that it didn’t matter. Tony was gone, and she now was accepted into MIT, she had other things to worry about now. Well, at least that's what she thought until the “shift happened”.

It was morning, a week into winter break when she felt it—a strange, disorienting sensation that washed over her like a sudden gust of wind. It was as if the very air around her had shifted, leaving her feeling unmoored and adrift in a sea of uncertainty.

At first, y/n had dismissed it as nothing more than a trick of the mind, a fleeting moment of vertigo brought on by exhaustion or stress. But as days went by she knew something was terribly wrong.

It all started when she turned on the TV and the channel "The Daily Fix" hosted by the nosy and annoying J. Jonah Jameson was on. Y/n didn’t care for the usual news but kept it on as she made her morning coffee. She was mid-coffee pour when she heard Jameson criticizing Spider-Man once again, claiming he was a coward for hiding his identity. But that didn’t make sense because he was just the one outing Peter Parker as Spider-Man, so how could his identity be hidden? It didn’t make sense, but honestly, she was too happy about her acceptance to look into it. In fact, that reminded her that she meant to gush to MJ about it.

Y/n called MJ, and they expressed their secret excitement for MIT.

"Ugh, the fall is going to be so fun, MJ. I literally can’t wait. Did you ever find out if Ned and Peter got in?"

"Oh yeah, Ned got in, but uh, who’s Peter?"

"Ha ha, very funny, MJ. Did you guys get in a fight or something?"

"No, what, Y/n?"

"Peter. Peter Parker. The nerdy guy you are like totally in love with…"

"Y/n, I don’t know what you are talking about, but I have to go. I’ll see you later. Be safe!"

"Uh, okay, bye, see you later."

Why is MJ acting like she doesn't know Peter? Y/n dialed Ned's number, her mind racing with questions and confusion. As the phone rang, she couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at the edges of her consciousness.

"Hey, Y/n, what's up?" Ned's voice crackled over the line, filled with warmth and familiarity.

"Ned, it's me," Y/n began, her words tumbling out in a rush. "I just talked to MJ, and she acted like she didn't know who Peter was. She said she doesn't remember him at all. Do you know what's going on?"

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line.

“Peter?”

Y/n felt her heart drop.

“Ned, is this some kind of prank that you two are pulling on me? Cause it’s not funny, everything has been all weird lately and-”

“Y/n, I have no reason to prank you, I have no idea who Peter is.”

“Oh- Okay pretend I never asked, also congrats on MIT, I have to go but ill see you soon.”

“Okay see ya, I hope things get better!”

As y/n hung up the phone, her mind raced with a whirlwind of questions and confusion. Why did MJ and Ned act like they didn't know Peter? And what was going on with the strange shift she had felt in the air lately? The pieces of the puzzle refused to fit together, leaving her feeling more lost and bewildered than before. But amidst the chaos of her thoughts, one thing remained clear—she needed answers. And the only person who could provide them was Peter Parker himself.

∘․‧₊˚✩彡🕸🕷🕸彡✩∘․‧₊˚∘․‧₊˚✩彡🕸🕷🕸彡✩∘․‧₊˚∘․‧₊˚✩

#peter parker x reader #peter parker #peter parker x you #peter parker angst #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagine #peter parker x y/n #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x y/n #peter parker x stark!reader

107 notes · View notes

saey707 · 11 months

Note

Oh I got a good request how about a heartsteel sett request where reader being his gf/designer for heartsteel.

✿ Prompt: You and Sett collaborate! ✿

♡ champion focus: sett ♡ tw: none! ♡ Female reader

Author's Note: Cute idea, anon! ₊˚ʚ₍ᐢ. ̫.ᐢ₎₊˚✧ ﾟ. These will be on the shorter side (I failed to realize how many requests are coming in daily... ^^;) However, I hope you like my headcanons nonetheless!

You and Sett met in a sewing class not too many years before he became a renowned musical sensation! Given he was masterful in the art of sewing, whereas you specialized in design, the both of you were paired on a little project together.

The two of you didn't quite see eye to eye throughout the design process, but eventually, Sett came around! He admired your solid opinions and prowess in designing intricately complex pieces.

You admired how focused Sett was on the little details. Given design wasn't always perfect, you appreciated how he could seamlessly fix the little flaws while still making your vision come to life! You liked how he was able to make the pieces flow!

There is no doubt the two of you have designed and crafted matching outfits to wear out and in your everyday lives. Not only did it get your name out there as a designer, but it opened up opportunities for you as well! For Sett, it put him in the books for being one of the US and Korea's most fashionable men!

It took time to convince Sett to wear sleeves for magazine photoshoots, but eventually, he came around. It seemed like you always knew what was best, and he didn't intend to argue with you!

Galas were always a joy! You loved following the fun, fancy themes and always made sure to make Sett and his band the talk of the party! There was no way you would allow Heartsteel to walk around in boring, plain tuxedos, oh no, not with you!

Sett loves to participate in TikTok challenges. One day, he made you the seamstress while he handled the design... It didn't turn out as well as he thought it would. Sett doesn't have an eye for style and tends to make everything a bit too... gaudy.

Fabric shopping qualifies as a weekend date for the two of you!

The two of you get seriously competitive during the holidays, especially during group dress-up contests. In fact, you and Sett have won your group Halloween costume contests for 3 consecutive years so far! Beat that Candy Kayn!!

There is always someone to touch up ripped seams at any time! The two of you carry your own travel sewing kits. Upon stitching your ensemble up, Sett has poked you with the needle more times than he'd like to admit...

#saeybaewrites #request #headcanons #heartsteel sett #sett #heartsteel sett x reader #heartsteel x reader #sett lol #x reader #sett league of legends x reader #sett lol x reader #sett league of legends #lol x reader #league of legends x reader

178 notes · View notes

sagethegaywitch · 5 months

Text

Yandere Pomefiore Headcanons

GN reader

TW: yandere behavior, stalking, poisoning mentioned

Genre: yandere

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

Vil Schoenheit:

No matter how well you take care of yourself, compared to Vil, you’re no match. He’d probably notice you in the hallways between classes and either take note of your disheveled appearance or your poor attempt at beauty. Either way, he sees potential in you and his interest is peaked.

Will manipulate you into allowing him to take control of your beauty regiment. He’d probably make a daily comment about how you used the wrong face wash or that you shouldn’t eat too much fried stuff because it causes you to break out. Eventually, you’d get fed up and snap at him, claiming that he couldn’t do much better than you could.

Will give you a sly smile claiming he can before whisking you away to his dorm to start the beauty training.

He spends hours every morning and every night completing specific skincare routines, and will force you to wake up early and go to sleep early to match him.

He invites you to stay over at the Pomefiore dorms when he starts your training. Later, when he realizes that he’s giving you so much attention, he brushes it off as helping a poor person in need.

He has no sense of boundaries and will be constantly touching your face to fix your makeup or adjusting your outfit.

He first started feeling affection for you after a week or two of letting him do your skincare and makeup. Your skin has cleared up and looks very bright and healthy, and the minimal makeup he applies gives you a natural beauty. He never believed that he could love someone else’s beauty more than his, but looking at you has him changing his mind.

Since he’s also an avid influencer on Magicam, expect to be in many of his posts. From posts about spa days to rating products, he likes to have you by his side as a comforting presence. He also loves to do your makeup for any streams he might hold, loving that he gets to show off your beautiful face.

Will force you on a diet, but will be more lenient with you compared to himself. If you plead with him, he might spoil you every so often just because he loves the face you make when you get to eat your favorite foods.

Loves to spoil you with fancy designer and brand name items, ranging from makeup to clothing. He has scheduled days when you two go shopping, and he will buy anything that you stare at for a little too long despite your protests. He’ll keep all your new outfits in his luxurious closet as just another excuse to force you to visit him.

If he’s not doing your makeup, he spends the rest of his time with you playing dress up. He wants to see you in all of the outfits he’s had to model for in his side job, and he takes pictures of them to put in his little scrapbook of you. He has pages full of cut out pictures from magazines of him modeling the clothing for a brand, and another picture of you next to him, matching his clothing, makeup, and pose.

He’d love it if you were able to get a role in one of his TV shows or movies. He’d probably bargain with the producer and his manager to get you either a background character role or maybe even his character’s love interest.

Not easily jealous because he knows he’s far superior compared to any other competition he may have. He has the looks, the wealth, and great magic capability, so why would you ever choose anyone else over him?

While he’s not the jealous type, he will have Rook stalk you almost 24/7. He prefers to not do such lowly work, and he trusts Rook to keep you safe and update him on your activities every hour or so.

If he had to get rid of any competition, he would use his unique magic because it’s such an easy and effective method. He’d use a simple curse, one that makes the victim ugly or force them to act a certain way, because they’re not worth his magic's true potential.

Overall, he may act like a bully when he talks about your physical appearance and how you present yourself, but he’s just not sure how to speak to you. You have so much potential in his eyes, and he just wants to help you achieve it. He has a Danger Level of 5/10 because he’d only ever lightly curse someone if they posed a real threat to your relationship. He is prepared to spoil you with expensive gifts and lots of kisses, but only if you let him dress you up like his little doll and play along with him.

Rook Hunt:

Similar to the Leech twins, you’ve caught his interest during the Dark Mirror incident at the beginning of the year. He has the tendency to hyperfixate on what peaks his curiosity, so prepare to see him out of the corner of your eyes throughout the day.

Because he’s notoriously known for appearing at random times and stalking students, you’re always on edge, waiting for him to pop out of nowhere, ready to make a comment about your beauty.

He's usually always following you around and he only lets you see him when he wants to be seen. After years of training his hunting abilities, he’s very careful when stalking others and never makes mistakes.

Similar to how he fawns over Vil’s beauty, he does the same to you. He’s a very open guy, but he gets a bit shy around you, so he’ll always compliment you in French, leaving you confused when he makes a swift getaway.

Loves to have long conversations with you during lunch and after school. He knows that he tends to be very talkative, and that will not change around you. Just to be in your presence for longer will have him dragging out the conversation for more than it has to be.

While he is the second member of Neige's fan club, he’s the first in the private club he made for your appreciation. He holds weekly meetings in his room where he just appreciates the pictures he took of you when tracking you around school. He would love to display them on the walls of his room, but because of his dorm’s neat reputation, he has to resort to taping them inside his closet.

Writes you poetry and signs it with a pen name so you’d never know it was him. Most of them are about your beauty, comparing you to a god/goddess, and others are love poems so sickly sweet with romantic confessions you can’t help but think this person is a just a bit obsessive.

Has written some love songs for you in French, which he sings parts to you sometimes when you pass each other in the halls.

Is a moderately jealous man compared to the other yanderes at the school. He’s always watching from afar, so he doesn’t get jealous when he sees you hanging out with friends and such. He’d only feel threatened if someone were tainting your beauty with their dirty hands.

Absolutely will not tolerate people touching your pretty skin. Whether it be hand shakes, high-fives, and especially hugs, he will pop out of nowhere and literally push you two apart before smiling and walking away. He’s odd like that, but other people soon get the message.

Would only lash out if someone were to get too handsy with you. He’s not violent in nature, but he has some wickedly good archery skills that everyone is aware of. To ward off any rivals, he stalks them similar to how he stalks you, just with more nefarious intentions. He’ll always appear out of the corner of their eye, but when they turn around, he’s gone. He does this on purpose to scare them and remind them that he’s always watching.

Most people get the message and stop touching you or leave you alone, but the ones that don’t get hunted down. He loves a challenge so he’d probably isolate them and let them try to run away, giving them the illusion of escape, only for him to shoot them in a nonlethal area of the body like the leg or shoulder. They’d end up in the hospital wing, and they’d be too shaken and traumatized to approach you again.

Overall, Rook shows his love in very interesting ways, from borderline creepy stalking to handwritten poetry, he knows all the ways to serenade you. He has a Danger Level of 7/10 because he has the potential to hurt someone, but he’d never kill them because he likes scaring them each time they think they are good enough for you. With Rook around you’re never lacking a protective guardian or a person to just talk to, and maybe you’ll have to learn French to finally understand all of the little phrases and nicknames he uses on you.

Epel Felmier:

Although he hates being considered adorable, he’s given you the special privilege of calling him cute. He’ll brush it off and say “no, I’m not”, but the bright red blush of his cheeks tells a different story.

Love it when you do his hair and makeup. He enjoys how you brush and style his hair, it's so rhythmic and calming that he almost falls asleep again. You know that he prefers being more masculine, so he appreciates that you use minimal makeup on him, only doing the necessary amount to please Vil.

Since he grew up around a lot of elderly people, he doesn't really know how to act around people his age, so he will baby you a bit. Whether you be taller, shorter, older, or younger than him, he’s still going to use simplified words with you and speak in a slow and clear manner.

When he gets more accustomed to hanging around people his age, he’ll adapt his speech to match theirs. Even though he’s fixing his speech, he’ll still use the baby-like talk around you because he loves to be in the caregiver role.

Will gift you the apples that his family sends him every so often. He always feels guilty that they send him good apples that could be sold and used to support the farm, he’s a little happy inside because he gets to show you his pride and joy.

Will invite you to his dorm to make desserts with the apples. Ranging from warm apple cider in the colder seasons to apple pie sorbet in the summer, he’s confident that his apples can make any dessert taste better.

If any of the apples got bruised from delivery, he’d put them aside to use for his apple carving hobby. He will start off small, carving an animal to give to you first, but then he’ll get bolder and start carving your portrait into the delicate skin of the fruit. He appreciates that you try to keep them for as long as possible, but he knows that they do rot and you have to throw them away eventually.

Is definitely the jealous type because of how self conscious he is of his figure. If you hang out with people like Jack and other classmates who are more fit, he gets all upset because he can see that you favor someone who has muscles rather than a cute face.

His mood will be ruined for the rest of the day, and he will be all grumpy around you. You need him to help you carry some things? Why don’t you ask Leona since he’s so much stronger. He won’t relent until you reassure him that you value his friendship and that you see him just as strong, if not stronger than the others even though he’s not built like them.

Will use his cuteness to persuade you to cuddle with him, pouting so pretty saying he feels lonely and wants a hug from you. When he does this in front of rivals, he smirks behind your back at them just to piss them off further.

He isn’t really into stalking you because he trusts you to stay away from bad influences. If he’s really concerned about who you hang out with, he’d shyly ask Rook to keep an eye on you. Of course Rook will make a big deal out of it, exclaiming to Epel that he must like you, and when he approaches you sometimes, he’ll even tell you that Epel sent him.

If any rivals were to appear to try and take you away from him, he knows that threatening or blackmail will never work because many other students believe him to be weak and just another pretty face. He’d probably resort to poisoning food to get them to back off. He’s had much practice with making potions because it’s his lifelong dream to make a potion that’ll strengthen weak apple trees to help out back home.

At best, his victims might get a bad stomach ache and Epel will take the opportunity to approach them and give them a warning. At worst, his victims would die a slow and painful death, watching as Epel gives them a cruel smile before leaving them to waste away. He would quickly get rid of the evidence, but since the poison he uses is so common, it’s hard to trace it back to him anyways.

Overall, he’s going to lean into his cute factor to make you give him all your attention, but what you don’t know is that he can also be very deadly. He has a Danger Level of 7/10 because of his jealous personality, but he’d never resort to murder first. He’d always give his victims a simple illness like a bad headache or make them more sensitive to common allergies as a warning before moving on to killing if they committed a second offense. Poison aside, even though he’s smaller he’s ready to be your protector and has the methods to get the job done, and he’s also ready to give you all his love and apples.

#male reader #female reader #gn reader #yandere #twisted wonderland #pomefiore #vil schoenheit #rook hunt #epel felmier #xreader #headcanons

74 notes · View notes

arliedraws · 6 months

Text

Okay, I’m feeling the pull of James Potter and Slytherin!Sirius Black again. Verrryyyy short drabble below. It’s just sexual tension.

—

a good little errand boy

James was twenty-six when he became an Auror. He avoided it for years, ignoring the whisper in the back of his head that the only way he would put Sirius Black in Azkaban was to put the chains on Black himself.

He denied it. He promised himself that he could be satisfied hiding with Lily and Harry until Harry turned eleven, but the damned stories in The Daily Prophet and magazine covers that lauded the most eligible bachelor in the country persisted in mocking him until he finally gave up and told Lily he was getting a job.

By that time, Lily was already working from home as a freelance enchanter, fixing and strengthening charms on magical objects for a repair shop in Diagon Alley. She told him with a cheeky grin to get his lazy bum out of the house.

It took several brutal years of training to become an Auror, and he quickly understood why so few people were admitted to the program. But James was clever and his experience with the Order of the Phoenix propelled him to success; he was satisfied that each agonizing trial and stage of his education brought him closer to bringing Sirius Black to justice. The obsession drove him to wake up early and study before Lily stirred; it compelled him to stay late in Frank Longbottom’s cubicle, rifling through old files and cases, memorizing the history of the department until he knew better than anyone how dark wizards came to power. He traced Black’s long history from his great grandparents to his involvement with two Ministers for Magic and a little-known scandal with a witch from The Daily Prophet who claimed Black tried to pay her off when she dug too deep into his business. She eventually retracted her accusation and left her career as a journalist and refused to talk to James about it when he found her.

Before he was an apprentice, he thought he would have to hunt for Sirius Black once he became a fully qualified Auror. He imagined chasing him through seedy clubs or breaking into old country houses, but it became very clear that Black would eventually come to him.

Black was a frequent visitor to the Ministry. He slithered into the offices of department heads, spilling Galleons from his palms into the hands of tired bureaucrats who simply wished for the whole war to end so they could go back to delegating instead of handling one disaster after another. Black eased their troubles. He was so generous and helpful with his robust understanding of wizarding politics and clever insight.

James recalled seeing Black in action for the first time when he stumbled upon a very pleased Sirius Black shaking Wilmot Blevins’ hand the day after Blevins was made head of the Department of Magical Transportation. Black had turned to James, his smile broadening with delight.

“James Potter,” said Black. There was a feral look to him that made James too furious to consider its implications.

“What are you doing here?” James demanded, looking between Black and Blevins.

“Mr. Black is very kindly congratulating me on my new position,” said Blevins. His long, face appeared dizzy with admiration and he was perspiring slightly beneath his shining fringe of blond hair. “I was telling Mr. Black that I look forward to working with our most prominent families to ensure I serve our community to the best of my ability. Input from exceptional wizards like Mr. Black keeps our fine institution functioning.”

“It was a well-deserved promotion,” added Black. “Don’t you think, Potter? Mr. Blevins has proven to be an incredibly valuable and cooperative component of this governing body. Wouldn’t you agree?”

James wanted the pale, colorless eyes to turn elsewhere but they were observing him with keen interest.

“Yes. Congratulations, Mr. Blevins,” said James, gritting his teeth. Of course, he did not think so at all. Blevins was a half-blood who desperately pretended his mother’s pure blood made up for his father’s muggle heritage. No doubt Black was falsely promising a place for the greedy Blevins among the notable families.

At this, Black smiled again, but somehow, his teeth appeared sharper and whiter.

“Was there something you needed, Potter?” said Black.

“A signature,” said James, locking eyes with Blevins. “It’s about—well, Auror Moody should have sent a request this morning about the matter. I’ve come to confirm your approval.”

Blevins looked uncomfortable as Black’s expression slipped into something neutral.

“Er—well, I’m afraid, Potter, I won’t be signing that just yet.’

“Oh,” said James. “Er—why not? I mean—er—is there a reason? I apologize, sir, I mean, what should I tell Auror Moody? He was expecting this to be signed—”

“Tell him I have not had adequate time to investigate whether or not an entire Knight Bus is necessary for this sort of thing,” said Blevins. His eyes shifted from Black back to James. Assured by a flickered look from Black, he straightened and looked down his nose at James. “Assure Auror Moody I am taking the matter very seriously. The trouble is, as much as I would like to help, I’m afraid my hands are tied. I will do my best, but I can’t make any promises.”

James heard the dismissal in his voice. “Thank you, Mr. Blevins. I’ll let him know.”

He left, avoiding the smirk on Black’s aristocratic face, hoping the humiliation wasn’t evident on his own. He left quickly, hearing Blevins apologize to Black for the interruption. Had he heard the clink of gold exchanged? Maybe he’d imagined it: Black wasn’t that brazen.

Moody would be livid—he’d warned everyone that Blevins was trouble, but James insisted he could get Blevins to approve their request, and now he was returning to his department with his tail between his legs. It was Black’s fault.

He waited for the lift, breathing deeply. Lily told him to count to ten whenever he had a run-in with Sirius Black. Now that they were no longer in school and James was an Auror, the consequence of James attacking Black would not be detention and points from Gryffindor. It would be foolish to blow all that he had done to become an Auror.

“What a good little errand boy. So polite and obedient.”

James went rigid.

“Three years of training, a year of apprenticeship, months of excruciating exams…” said Black. “All that so you can obey the petty commands of an old codger who should have died twenty years ago. I’d be disappointed if I were you.”

James gripped the unsigned, rolled-up parchment as Black made a pitying sound beside him. Don’t look—don’t dignify that with a response. Just do your duty. Ignore him, Potter.

Black sighed. “I suppose you must regret rejecting all of those recruiters for Quidditch teams while we were at school, don’t you? Imagine—you nearly played for Puddlemere United. I don’t doubt you would have been made Captain, and I reckon you might’ve even played for England in the World Cup this summer. Personally, I find it rather disappointing that you didn’t. I would have liked to buy kit with your name on it.”

“What were you doing in Blevins’ office?”

“Welcoming him to his new position.”

“I’m surprised you weren’t on your knees.”

To his surprise, Black laughed. “No need for that with Blevins. He was practically foaming at the mouth when I came in. I suppose we’re lucky you didn’t catch him on his knees.”

“Blevins would suck off anyone with pure blood.”

“Yeah, reckon he might.” Black bent forward, trying to catch James’s gaze. “He’s not propositioned you, has he, Potter?”

James nearly responded with a quip he knew would make Black laugh again, but he bit the inside of his cheek instead. It made him furious. Although they hadn’t spoken in years, there was an ease between them that was almost irresistible.

“Of course,” Black went on when James was silent, “I wouldn’t expect you to take him up on the offer. Ugly bloke, isn’t he? Bit of a downgrade from what you’ve already got at home.”

“What?” James snapped his gaze to him.

Black grinned. “Oh, I meant, I am sure you would much prefer to watch Evans and her pretty little mouth suck you off than Blevins’ ugly mug.”

The lift doors opened suddenly and Black slipped inside, disappearing amongst the throng of passengers.

It was full of people, so much so that James had to squeeze his arms to his sides to wedge himself between them. Like everyone in the lift, he turned and faced the doors, gripping the handle overhead as he quelled the waves of rage that were slamming down on him. Black loved to taunt James about Lily—he’d always done that, long before Lily admitted she had feelings for James.

The lift took off, and James, distracted by his fury, lost his grip and stumbled backward. A strong pair of hands squeezed his hips, steadying him.

“Easy, Potter.”

The shock of Black’s hands on him, carefully keeping him from falling over, dispelled rationality. His mind scrambling, James lurched with the lift, still unable to find his footing; he felt Black curl fingers over his wrist to guide James’s hand back to grip the handle above him.

“Don’t touch me,” James hissed.

The damned lift jerked to a halt, and he staggered again into Black’s hard body. There was a low rumble of laughter in his ear as the doors opened, and people streamed in and out, all of them oblivious to the way his heart palpitated so loudly, the sound of it lost to the shuffle of feet and murmured greetings. He felt like a complete idiot. He was not some bumbling fool, but Black was directly behind him, breathing down his neck, the smell of tobacco leaves and bergamot suffocating and intoxicating all at once, and when the lift doors closed and more people pressed inside, James was shoved firmly against Black.

Heat pooled in his face as he stared at the back of a witch’s coarse, silvery head, pretending he did not notice or care that he could feel Black’s body flush with his. Around them, memos fluttered aloft, and people gazed dully at the lift doors, waiting for their turn to get out. Everything was so ordinary. This was simply another day at work. James pretended to feel the same even though Black’s heart was thudding against his spine.

It felt like provocation even though Black said nothing at all. Hatred and excitement were welling inside of James as he felt Black’s chest expand and release. Something about the soft, warm breath skimming the damp sweat above his collar made James tighten his fingers on the handle overhead. The body behind him was a comforting threat. It electrified him.

When at last the doors opened to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, James wriggled out between people, eager to leave the stifling lift behind. As he cleared the throng of people, he chanced a surreptitious glance at Black.

Black slid his gaze to him from beneath eyelids that seemed a heavy burden to raise as if looking upon James was an arduous chore. His clear, pale eyes swept over him with disinterest. Then the lift doors closed, and James hurried to find Moody and tell him the bad news, desperately trying to forget the brush of Black’s breath against his neck.

#sirius black #james potter #slytherin!sirius black #my fics #prongsfoot #bambibelle

62 notes · View notes

veritas-scribblings · 2 months

Text

essential - @jegulus-microfic - words: 500

Regulus has a favourite mug. He’s strangely fussy like that. The mug is sky-blue with a faded raincloud on the front. An appropriate size for a single cup of tea, and the handle, according to Regulus, is perfectly shaped to fit comfortably in his hand. It’s the only mug of its kind in all of the kitchen. It lives in the righthand corner of the second-row shelf. There are no twins or partners for this mug. It is not part of a greater set. In fact, it looks a little out of place a the kitchen which has exactly two complete matching dining sets. Regulus (the little proper, high-society pureblood wizard) is generally so particular about having complete dining sets. Only heathens, he will say, eat using mis-matched dinnerware.

James, unfortunately, grew up a heathen and maintains that a floral dinner plate and a geometrically-patterned side plate serve him just as well as two plates of a kind.

And who the fuck even needs a side plate?

In the morning, James brews Regulus’s tea in this sky-blue mug. He makes crumpets and places a warming charm on them, and he sits at the bench in the kitchen with the most recent copy of the The Daily Prophet, flipping to the sports section.

At 8.15am as usual, Regulus stumbles down the stairs still half-asleep. He scowls as he does every morning, simultaneously prickly and cranky about waking up alone. All warm and blurry from sleep. It is so ‘Regulus Black’ of him that it fills James’s heart with fondness. As he does every day, Regulus makes a beeline for the mug of tea waiting in its usual place on the kitchen bench. Holding the cup in both hands, eyelids still weighed down from sleepiness, he sips at the brew ever-so-slowly.

“Good morning,” James says, “I love you.”

Regulus makes a grumpy, disgruntled sound, his tea sloshing a little bit from how easily he folds into James’s arms. He mumbles something into his mug that could be an “I love you” in return, but James can’t be sure.

James always kisses Regulus good morning. He kisses him when he leaves for work. When he arrives home from work. Before they go to bed. On Friday evenings when they’re curled up on the couch with a book or a magazine and James will happily indulge Regulus who just really loves kissing.

James has learnt, over the years, that he will never know if he will get another chance for a kiss. Or to tell Regulus he loves him. To say, “good morning.” To say, “I’ll see you after work.” To say, “good night, dream of happy things,” because Regulus’s dreams are not always happy and it hurts James that he cannot fix that.

James never knows if it will be the last time, so he makes sure that he never misses a chance. At the end of everything, when James’s life is replaying before his eyes, he wants to have no regrets.

#harry potter #fanfiction #microfics #myfanfiction #regulus black #james potter #jegulus #starchaser #sunseeker #myjegulusmicrofics

51 notes · View notes

reputationbarbie · 9 months

Text

❝the thunder❞

A/N: thank you to everyone for sticking beside me and my foolishness this past month. i just had to see it through. I've had this idea for a while of a tandem read with two of my fics so here you are. This fic starts 4 months before all-american bitch and there will be crossover chapters and characters once they're on the same timeline. this also isn’t edited so ignore any mistakes. enjoy ★ ˙ᵕ˙ liv

Chapter Summary: welcome to new york.

Chapter Warnings: sexual assault & r@pe (mentioned), revenge porn (mentioned), language, alcohol and drugs (there's a party), symptoms of anxiety, depression, and body dysmorphia.

Key Tags: frat boy harry styles, fratrry x college f!oc, harry styles x f!oc, frat boy x sorority girl, fake dating, revenge, fish out of water - f!oc, ugly duckling - f!oc, golden retriever x black cat, instalove, fluff, flirting, angst, friendship, eventual established relationship, eventual smut, original character, no y/n.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ series masterlist, harry masterlist ⋆ Spotify Playlist. ˖ ݁ 𖥔.

⋆ word count: 6.5k ⋆

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay at the penthouse?” my mother murmurs disappointingly as our butler, Joseph, fluffs the pillows on top of my new mattress for the next 10 months.

I shake my head before putting my hand on Joseph’s arm. His kneading halts and takes his leave. “No, Mom,” I repeat. This woman has been trying to get me to live at home with her since I accepted my offer. “I need to have the full college experience,” I remind her.

She sighs and the click of her heels fills the room as she walks over to me. “You can have the college experience down the hall where we can keep an eye on you,” she pleads with puppy dog eyes.

“Exactly,” I tell her with a smirk. How am I going to get into shit if my parents are within earshot? After all, that’s why I’m moving away. They didn’t get me the justice I deserved originally. “This is my first taste of freedom. Aren’t you guys glad that I live 10 minutes away instead of jaunting around the country?” I bring up the fate of my best friend, two years my senior.

My mother licks her scarlet-painted lips. “I still don’t know how she does it,” she sighs as if it’s displeasing to her.

Just when I’m about to scold my mom for judging Libby, I feel my back pocket vibrating. “Speaking of the devil,” I hold my phone towards my mom, displaying her contact poster on the screen. “You can go, mom. I just need to get acclimated, alone,” I gesture to my perfectly decorated room.

My mother made sure to get the keys days before moving in, only allowing me to pay the deposit when the room was renovated to her liking. I wouldn’t be surprised if she brought a whole inspector crew in here before I even saw the building.

She bites her lip and I pray she doesn’t start crying. “Okay. Don’t be afraid to come home if it doesn’t work out, Rowan,” my mother gently reminds me before pulling me in for a hug.

I allow her to squeeze me before she pulls back, fixing my tossed hair. Although my casual appearance today sends my mother up the wall, she’s grateful that my hair is at least brushed. “Got it,” I tell her, not having the strength to argue this topic once more.

I press the green accept button on my screen, waving to my mom as she exits into the bustling hallway. “Hey,” I answer.

“Hey, freshman. How are things?” Libby pokes at me. If it weren’t for her mother’s campaign, she’d be on campus with me. But she’s taking online classes while making her daily TV appearances.

Now that I think about it, it’s been months since I walked past a newsstand without Libby on the cover of a magazine. “Oh, fuck off. You’re only two years older than me,” I quip.

Libby cackles before adding, “And wise beyond my years. How’s room two?”

Room two is the biggest double on each floor and the bathroom doesn’t have to be shared with another room. I pace around the spacious space, before responding, “Perfect, thanks for suggesting it.”

The room is covered in lavender with a fluffy duvet and decorations that are far too girly for my liking. Not a singular band poster transferred over from my room at home, so although the space is cute, it lacks my personality.

“Of course, it’s the least I could do after…” she trails off and I’m assuming she doesn’t want to bring up my past. Even she wants to remind me that I shouldn’t have gone without her.

I feel frozen, teetering a fine line of retraumatization. I take a deep breath before changing the subject. “Anyways. How’s the campaign?” I ask.

“It’s fine. Mom’s working me to death, for free of course. But hey, if she loses I’ll be right back at Columbia with you by November 6th,” She jokes and I feel bad for wishing that was her outcome.

This would just be so much easier with her. “Dear god, please. I don’t know how I’m going to go through with this,” I confess, feeling anxiety brew in my stomach.

“We talked about this, you have a plan. Just stick to it,” Libby reminds me.

She’s right, Rowan. Step 1. Join a sorority, Step 2. Become president of the sorority and a part of the “Machine,” Step 3. Ruin each and every one of their lives.

Libby clears her throat, snapping me back into reality. “Have you met your roommate yet?” she asks.

“Oh my gosh. Hi!” I hear someone chirply squeal behind me as if she spoke them into existence.

My body quickly turns to face the mystery voice and I mentally prepare myself for a long year ahead. I’m met with a pearly white smile, straight blonde hair, and blue eyes. She looks like a perfect Barbie, and I feel a pang of jealousy in my stomach.

Her front collides with mine, and she wraps her arms around my body. “Hey, Libby. I’ll call you later,” I grumble into the receiver before I hear my best friend end the call.

The stranger drops me like a hot pocket. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. Where are my manners?” she rhetorically asks, extending her hand for me to shake. “Audrey Koch,” she chirpily introduces herself.

At the mention of that name, my mouth twists. The Kochs are a wealthy republican family and have nearly the same values as mine. But since I don’t follow my family’s political views, I hope she doesn’t as well.

I lock my hands with hers, shaking it lightly to not break the goodie two shoes. “Rowan Bouvier,” I politely return the greeting.

Her eyes snap down to my hand, twisting it around. The black ink almost glows on my skin. “Cool tattoo,” she compliments the large snake.

“Thanks,” I blush before pulling my hand back. I don’t want to get off on the wrong foot with this girl. I’ve only known her for two seconds and we still have 9 months together. “Koch as in The Koch Brothers?” I lightly dig.

She smiles and nods quickly. “Yeah, they’re my great grandparents,” she bashfully admits. “But don’t worry. I use everyone as my personal paypigs,” she states nonchalantly.

My head tilts listening to her rant as she pauses to take a deep breath. “I only talk to my cousins. They’re the only ones who aren’t racist,” she defends herself. Oh, thank god she has a brain.

I peer behind her at the residential aides pushing 4 carts full of belongings into the room. We’re only permitted one, but she doesn’t seem like the person to be told no. “Well, do you need any help unpacking?” I offer.

She turns around, looking at the heap of her belongings before waving them off. “Later. I heard there’s a party tonight and I have nothing to wear. Let’s go shopping,” She suggests, bouncing over to her white Hermes Birkin.

She plucks it off the top of the pile, before turning to face me. “Coming?” she asks, looking up and down at me frozen in place.

My gaze drifts down to my fishnet tights and a tattered band tee. “Umm, maybe I should change first,” I think out loud.

“No way. You look great!” She compliments, dramatically holding her arms open.

Scarlet creeps onto my cheeks and I nod, grabbing my purse. A party is arguably step one since I need to get intel and this girl seems like she’d dress me in the perfect sorority image. “Shopping it is,” I conceded.

“What’s your favorite color?” Audrey asks as we shift through a clothing rack.

My brown eyes meet her ice-blue ones and I respond, “Purple. Yours?” before returning to the array of textured fabric.

“Pink! That’s so great. Every pink friend needs a purple best friend,” she beams and I smile. I feel like I’ve known Audrey my whole life and it’s only been an hour. Her personality draws you in like a magnet and you never want to leave her side.

I’m about to pull a dress from the rack when I remember, I don’t know what I’m shopping for. I haven’t been to a party since the incident, not that I could bring myself to go if I wanted to. I’m pretty sure the only way I’m able to go tonight is because Audrey will be with me.

I groan, releasing the metal hanger. “This is useless. I haven’t been to a party since high school. I don’t even know what to wear,” I complain over the rack to Audrey.

The corners of Audrey’s lips twitch and she leans forward slightly. “Do you want my help?” she asks excitedly and I know I’ve woken a demon.

I nod and within seconds, she’s on my side with an arm full of clothes. She begins rapidly holding things up toward my torso and I wonder if she’s utilizing her fashion expertise. She should be a business major or a fashion designer the way she’s quickly categorizing what she’d like me to try on.

After she’s got a pile of garments for me, she starts putting the discards back in their place. As I watch her, I decide to ask her, “Hey, Aud. What are you studying?”

“Poli sci. What about you?” She returns as she walks back over to me. Her blonde hair cascades perfectly down her back and I admire this woman on a mission with a bow in her head.

Political science makes sense considering her family’s background. It’s practically in her DNA. “Bio,” I tell her. My eyebrow raises as I watch her begin to grab some of the clothes from the pile. “Please tell me you’re trying something on too,” I hint.

I take some items from her hand, lightening the load. “Of course, I am. I just want to put your stuff down first,” she snickers before turning towards the dressing rooms.

We pick the biggest room, hanging my stuff on the wall hooks. “Be right back,” Audrey says, pulling the curtain closed behind her.

My body turns to face the mirror slowly and I realize I haven’t seen myself since this morning. My appearance is fine, but I have been avoidant of mirrors for a while. The sight of myself has my stomach gurgling and an unpleasant feeling washing through my bones.

My feet carry me backward, away from the staring contest with the monster in my reflection. I reach down and pull my shirt over my body before quickly peeling off my tights until I’m left standing in my underwear.

The first outfit is on my body before Audrey comes back, but I’m met with instant disapproval. “I don’t like that one. Next,” she commands, pointing towards another outfit.

I follow her lead and she joins me, trying on her first outfit. The pink dress she’s picked has ruffles and it screams Audrey, but it’s a bit too dressy for the occasion. “What do you think?” she asks, striking a pose.

Stepping into the mini skirt, I pull it over my thick thighs. “I haven’t been to one of these in a while but would you be mad if someone spilled beer on that?” I ask.

Her lips purse and she nods, reaching for the spaghetti straps. “Yes,” she answers while shedding it.

Once I have the next set on, I slowly spin with my arms out for Audrey. “Am I pretty yet?” I half-joke.

Audrey takes a shirt off the hanger, preparing to try it on. “You’re always gorgeous, but that outfit doesn’t scream hot party freshman,” she observes.

My head falls back and I let a groan slip through my throat. “Audrey, I’m trying to scream hot sorority girl, not hot party freshman,” I cry.

Audrey’s jaw drops and she gasps, “Oh my god, you’re rushing?”

Audrey’s completely frozen in place and she looks like she’s processing the information. “Yes,” I deadpan.

Audrey giggles before resuming her movements. “I’m sorry, you just don’t seem like the type,” she apologizes.

My whole body suddenly feels heavy recalling the reasoning behind joining a sorority. I succumb to the feeling, collapsing onto the velvet green bench. “Yeah, it’s not for the reason you think,” I breadcrumb her.

Audrey’s forehead creases. “What reason is it for?” she digs.

I nervously pick at my fingers. “I have a plan, erm. It’s a lot to go into now,” I start, not wanting to bring down the mood during our bonding session.

Audrey sets her top down next to me before joining me on the bench. “Well, I’m pretty sure this is the only time we’ll be alone all year. You might as well now while we don’t have ears,” she foretells.

My brown eyes meet her blue ones and I grab her hands. “Okay, this stays between us,” I emphasize, hoping I can trust her.

Her hand slides under mine and she locks her pinky with mine. “Roommate pinky promise,” she wears.

I nod before taking a deep breath. “Okay. A couple of years ago I was at Heron and I was dating this guy I liked. His name is William. He invited me to a party with some of his friends while my best friend was out of town, so I went alone thinking it would be chill. Will told me he would take care of me the whole night and make sure nothing happened to me. Little did I know the bad thing that would happen would be him,” I explain my story.

Audrey’s eyes sparked with fear. “What did he do?” she asks.

“Will gave me a red solo cup and dared me to chug it. The rest of the night is fuzzy. He took me upstairs and took my virginity before letting his friends have a turn,” I explain, feeling the retraumatization run through my veins.

I subconsciously squeeze Audrey’s hand, using her as a grounding force to Earth. “Oh, Rowan. I’m so sorry that happened to you,” she apologizes profusely.

I shake my head. It’s not her apology to give. “It’s fine. It’s not fine, but you know what I mean. They’re going to get what they deserve. I’m going to rush, become a part of the machine, and ruin all of their lives once everyone is on my side,” I tell her.

“Whatever I can do to help you, I’ll do it. We’re roommates now,” she urges and I smile.

Her words spark an idea in my brain. For this to work, I need to be perfect to them. I’m not currently stereotypically sorority pretty right now. “Give me a makeover. Make me perfect to their image,” I blurt out.

Audrey releases my hands and raises her brow. “Are you sure?” she asks.

I nod with fear that if I don’t commit, I’ll go back on my word. “Positive,” I say.

“Then try that on,” Audrey demands, pointing to a purple lace set.

I pick it up, examining the fabric. “Are you sure it’s the vibe?” I skeptically question her choice.

“Yes, try it on,” she pushes me towards the mirror. I follow her directions, shedding my current outfit and quickly dressing myself in the purple garments.

I slowly turn around, allowing Audrey to get a good view of the outfit. “You look like the next Regina George. The entire study body is going to eat you up,” she predicts kindly.

I silently thank her with a tight hug, squeezing the life out of her. Once we’ve repeated the same steps with her outfit and we’re both dressed, I ask her, “What’s next?”

Audrey leads us toward the checkout counter, stopping in her tracks to look at jewelry. “Shoes. You need to look like the brunette Sabrina Carpenter,” she asserts.

My fingers brush against the gold rings. “I’m not going to pretend to know who that is,” I mutter under my breath.

I’m nearly knocked over as a group of people rush past me, up the steps of the dimly lit brownstone. As Audrey and I ascend the stairs at 11:30 pm sharp, I can literally feel the railing vibrating. When we reach the halfway point I immediately see that the house is crowded.

We stand in line as a man not much older than me acts as a bootleg bodyguard, stamping people in one by one. With each being that stands in his presence, he scans their body, quickly determining their worth. Some girls are turned away and sent down the steps in tears.

My eyes narrow as I watch the cutthroat process and my grip on Audrey’s hand tightens. “It doesn’t hurt but you’re sweaty,” Audrey leans over and murmurs owly so only I can hear.

“Sorry,” I quickly apologize, releasing her hand and wiping it on my mini skirt. I haven’t been this nervous since graduation.

“You’re fine. You look great. Just hold your head high and fake it until we’re inside, at least,” she advises as we get closer and closer to the front of the line.

My legs begin to wobble each inch closer to the large wooden doors. When we get to the front, I plaster on my most flirty smile, courtesy of Libby’s training. As if I’m a robot, my arm raises for the man to put a stamp on my hand.

His jaw drops and I can’t decipher if he’s stunned by my appearance or my confidence. He answers my question the moment his skin caresses over mine. “Girls like you don’t have to wait in line, gorgeous,” he flirts through his menacing grin.

He applies the stamp right next to the head of my snake tattoo. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time,” I flirt back, shoving the sensation of vomiting back down my throat.

Audrey steps forward, putting her hand out in the same manner. After stamping her pale skin, the man lingers for a bit keeping her close to him. “I hope I’ll see you in there later,” he smirks before bringing her hand up to kiss the back of it.

Oh hell no. We haven’t even gotten inside and creepy men are proving the exact reason for my revenge plot. My arm slides underneath Audrey’s, looping around her bicep. “Come on. I need a drink!” I quickly blurt the excuse, pulling her towards the door.

When we enter the house, you wouldn’t be able to tell a party was happening if the floor wasn’t shaking with every beat of the music. We follow the movement of the crowd through the basement door, passing several drunk patrons as we descend the steps.

As soon as my heels touch the concrete floor, I have to sidestep out of the way to avoid getting smacked in the face by a football. The music is so loud that I can’t focus, let alone hear my own thoughts. I guess this is what college parties are like.

I’m whisked through the hoards of students, straight toward the dance floor. My senses are so overwhelmed that I’ve forgotten why I’m here. Make it known that I’m the number-one pick for rush this year.

Audrey picks a spot smack dab in the middle with a spotlight practically beaming on us. “We’ll dance for 3 songs so everyone will see you in here, then shots in the kitchen so everyone will see you in there,” she explains.

My head subconsciously shakes, no. “I don’t think I can do shots,” I confess, already feeling uneasy from the sea of red solo cups. The room feels like it’s swallowing me whole and now, I empathize with Libby’s claustrophobia.

Audrey smiles, seemingly unphased before spinning me dramatically. “Don’t worry, I brought shooters,” she informs me once we’re facing each other again. She spins herself under my arm, lightly shaking her bottom to show off two tiny bottles sticking out of her back pockets.

My shoulders relax and I begin vibing to the music again. “You’re a real girls girl, you know that?” I shout over the bass.

She wraps her hand on my waist, pulling me closer. “I try,” she suavely husks and my head falls back with a giggle. I haven’t laughed this hard since Libby left and even then, it didn’t feel genuine. I was just trying to make sure she didn’t keep me on suicide watch with my family.

We sway and lose ourselves in the beat, matching each other’s energy. The UV lighting covers the room, highlighting the beautiful streaks of gold in Audrey’s hair. I reach out, twirling a soft piece around my finger before slowly swirling my hips. I definitely needed this.

Once our allotted number of songs pass, Audrey leads me towards the kitchen. As soon as we’re in the small space, I’m hit with a cloud of weed smoke. I fight the urge to swat the thick smog away from my nostrils, quickly moving through the puff-puff-pass session.

Audrey finds an empty spot on the island and she reaches into her back pocket, cracking open the shooter with her teeth. I cringe at the sound, watching her methodically prepare the beverages.

She passes me a shooter before clinking her plastic bottle with mine. “Cheers to 4 years together,” she loudly announces and I lift my shot of tequila to my lips.

The Don Julio doesn’t burn as it goes down, but it makes me feel warm and fuzzy. I search the counter for a lime to get rid of the sour sensation in my mouth. Once I find one, I bite down on the lime letting the juice seep onto my tongue.

I don’t miss the feeling of a billion eyes staring a black hole into my head. Audrey warned me that once I became the it girl, people would watch me like a hawk. But I had no idea it would be this bad.

My eyes slowly scan the room, silently connecting with every individual to ensure they remember me. Every single pair darts away after a few seconds, but one sends chills up my spine.

The moss green irises cut through the lavender haze, silently observing me. My skin crawls when a feeling of nakedness washes over me. I feel completely bare to this individual who’s looking right through my skin and into my soul.

As if my body was made of glass, I allowed the emeralds to crack me with each flicker of movement. My spine begins to squirm and I finally allow myself to break the gaze to assess the face of my distant admirer.

My eyes drink the tall man in. He’s dressed casually with his tattoos on full display and a headband holds his unruly curls away from his forehead, showing off his pristine face.

Fuck me. God took his time making this one. I want to drag him into an empty room and ride him until I’m sore. I want to lick him from his abs up to his neck. I want to see his tattooed hand wrapped around my throat while he fucks me.

Okay so, sex drive is still in tact I see. “Let him come to you,” Audrey whispers, interrupting our staring contest. My eyes dart down to the still-empty shooter in my hand, now crushed by grip.

I abandon the plastic on the countertop, unable to bring myself to find a waste bin now that my legs are jello. “I don’t think he’s interested,” I admit. There’s a plethora of girls in here and a majority of them look better than me, including Audrey.

Audrey’s brows knit in disbelief. Okay, so she felt the vibes too. “I know it wasn’t the plan but, I don’t think a little flirting would send us completely off track,” she hints, nudging me with her elbow.

I open my mouth to decline again when the words get caught in my throat. Behind Audrey appears the handsome man who was across the kitchen just moments ago. “Off track for what?” the stranger asks.

My breathing hitches and I allow his gaze to rip my heart out without even touching me. I know that if I lie, he’ll see right through me. My hand lightly smacks Audrey, hoping she’ll understand and step in. She coughs lightly before muttering, “Ummm, studying.”

Nice fucking save, Audrey. My eyes dart around the room for anything to ground me and I tuck a stray piece of hair behind my ear. “Gorgeous and smart. I have to know your name,” I hear the stranger flirt and I don’t miss his British accent. He could read me a bedtime story and I’d be asleep in seconds.

Audrey clears her throat and my eyes snap up to meet his again. Oh shit, he was talking to me. My body turns to mush as I extend my hand, trying to patch up my ego. “Rowan,” I introduce myself.

His soft hands slide beneath mine, gripping it lightly to shake. “Harry,” he smirks and I almost droll. I could write mathematical theories based on his dimples and plump lips.

Instead of letting my hand go, he lowers it, stepping closer to me. He smells of tobacco and vanilla, and I want to bury my nose in his body and inhale his scent. Before I do, Audrey speaks up, “Audrey, who needs water,” she tells Harry like he’s nothing but a servant.

I stuff a snicker down my throat as Harry lets go of my hand, quickly taking a couple of steps toward the water bottles. He picks one up, handing it to Audrey gently. “Nice to meet you both,” he charms before turning back towards me. “Haven’t seen you around. You a freshman?” he asks.

I nod before replying, “Mhmm, you?”

He shakes his head, shifting on his leg. “Junior,” he answers.

Disgust brews in my stomach. I haven’t been here for long, but I know what goes on in this frat house. And I also know that this is the frat my targets joined. “And you’re in Sig Nu?” I explore.

Harry frowns and I feel like a boulder dropped in my stomach. I don’t ever want to see him make that face again if I can help it. “God, no. They’ve got two active title ix’s. Sig EP,” he hisses.

I nod, gnawing on my lip out of nervousness. “Oh,” I grumble.

“But it sounded like you were disgusted,” Harry inquires, taking a step closer to let a partygoer pass behind him.

“No, it’s not. I’m sorry. I just mean, you have an accent. What’s so appealing about Greek life?” I stammer glancing ever so slightly behind me at Audrey moving around the kitchen like a perfect social butterfly.

“Oh good, I thought you were judging me,” Harry chuckles and I smile. He runs his hands through his hair, tugging at the roots and shifting his headband a bit. Suddenly, I have the urge to reach up and fix it for him. “My roommate frat rushed freshman year and I joined for shits and giggles. Little did I know, as president, I can’t leave,” he continues.

When the words president slips through his lips, my jaw drops. “You’re president?” I clarify.

He nods, eyes glistening in the dim light of the room. “Mmhm. Brownstone’s close by if you want to see,” he suggests, tilting his head towards the door.

I nearly choke on my spit realizing what he’s just hinted at. He wants to fuck me. Am I ready for that? I don’t think I’m ready for that. You’ve been silent for too long, Rowan. Say something! “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I just met you,” I choke out.

Harry’s eyes widen in surprise and he puts his hands up. “Oh no, that’s not — I wasn’t trying to hook up with you. You just seem on edge here. I was giving you an out, darling,” he suavely rephrased.

He seems sincere and I feel safe enough to hold my own alone with him. On top of that, he’s perfect and he fits seamlessly with my plan. We’d be the hottest power couple at Columbia, and I should be making that happen. Just go for it, Rowan. What’s the worst that can happen? The worst that can happen already happened. Twice in one lifetime is rare.

I smile before replying, “Oh, oh. Well, in that case lead the —”

“Harry!” a high-pitched voice interrupts me and I watch as manicured nails slide across Harry’s chest. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” a short brunette girl flirts with my green-eyed crush.

His hand wraps around her wrist and he lowers it away from his body. “Gabe. Didn’t know you were coming tonight,” he returns a greeting disappointingly.

Gabe scoffs, putting her hand on her hip. “Of course, I am, silly. I missed you this summer,” she flirts.

My eyes flicker back and forth between the two of them and my suspicions are confirmed. They’ve fucked and have arguably been fucking before the summer break. The last thing I need to ruin my plans is a love triangle. “Okay well, thanks for the offer, Harry. I’ve got to go,” I excuse myself.

I stand on my tiptoes, searching for Audrey. After a couple of moments, Harry finally notices my plans to leave and he says, “No, wait. She’s not my—”

His explanation fades into the background as soon as I find Audrey. “I don’t care. Enjoy the party, it was nice meeting you,” I cut him off before turning on my toes to reach my friend.

Getting over to her feels like I’m in the Triwizard Maze; ducking and dodging joints and blow being passed around. “What just happened?” Audrey instantly asks once I’m in earshot.

“Nothing. He has a girlfriend,” I respond, feeling slightly dejected. When will it be my turn to have a hot green-eyed hunk?

Her brows knit and confusion washes over her face. “Gabrielle?” she asks and I nod. “That’s not his girlfriend. They fucked once and she’s hooked,” she continues.

My eyes drift back over to the two I thought were a couple. Every time Gabrielle tries to touch Harry, he leans back ever so slightly to dodge the contact. “How do you know that?” I ask Audrey, unable to peel my eyes from them.

“You can see it all over her body,” Audrey states, motioning towards them with her palm open. “And while you were busy flirting, I was getting intel,” she snips.

Harry exits the kitchen in a fury with Gabrielle trailing behind him. Her words cause a lightbulb to go off in my brain and my focus is back on her. “Intel?” I inquire.

“Yeah. On who to mingle with; the top people in the top houses,” she explains and I nod.

“So what did you find out?” I press her to spill the beans.

Audrey links her arm with mine before we begin walking out of the kitchen. “Well, Theta is the top house, followed by DG. Gabrielle is the president of Sig Delt so you’re definitely not getting in there after tonight. But that doesn’t matter because the president of Theta is primed and ready for you,” Audrey begins to reveal.

I allow my friend to lead us up the creaky steps and we silently pass far too many drunk girls. I hope they’ll wake up in their own beds tomorrow. “Primed and ready?” I ask once we’re at the top of the stairwell.

We open the door, returning to the main level of the brownstone. The polarity between the party downstairs and the chill ambiance upstairs is jarring, and I find myself rapidly blinking. “She’s looking for someone to replace her,” Audrey elaborates and I jump hearing the door slam behind us.

Audrey pulls us down a hall towards a sitting room area full of people. Sitting in a circle are Harry, Gabrielle, and about 8 other strangers. They all seem extremely familiar with each other, occasionally laughing in between sips of their drinks. “See that girl over there?” Audrey asks, pointing towards a beautiful brunette with beautiful doe eyes.

“Mmmhm,” I confirm.

Audrey leans against the wall, still out of sight of the group. “That’s D.Q. Vanderbilt, President of Theta. The girl sitting next to her is her little and president of recruit, Olivia Astor. They’re both super rich and have hella influence,” she recites.

I take a step back, abandoning my stalker-ish gaze on the girl. “Okay, so why can’t Olivia replace her?” I ask Audrey.

“Rowan, look at her,” Audrey grabs my face, turning it back in the direction of Harry before releasing it.

I watch as Olivia awkwardly slinks down into the leather couch. She looks like she’d rather be anywhere but here, talking to people. “Felt,” I empathize with her. I hate socializing too.

Audrey smacks my bicep with the back of her hand. “That’s not the spirit of someone who wants revenge,” she scolds, with her hand on her hip.

My eyes look her up and down sassily before stating, “You’re right, it’s go time.”

“That’s the spirit!” Audrey whisper-cheers. I grab her hand, pulling her from the safety of the shadows. “Wait, what are you doing?” she frets.

My heels click against the hardwood floor that looks like it’s never been renovated. “You’re coming with me,” I demand.

Before she has time to protest, I’m standing right next to the curly brunette boy who stole my heart 5 minutes ago. “Hey Harry, I was wondering if I could still take you up on that offer?” I lean down and ask him loud enough for the group to hear.

Gabrielle leans closer to Harry, attempting to claim her man. “What offer? Who is she?” she snaps.

“Mind your business, Gabe,” a freckle-faced girl adds and I silently thank her for defending me.

A blonde girl leans forward, plucking her cup from the table with two fingers before asking, “But seriously, Harry. Who is she?”

An attractive young man bounces his leg excitedly. “You brought us pretty fresh meat?” he articulates every syllable like a vampire.

“Fuck off,” Harry grumbles, still focused on getting away from Gabrielle. When he seemingly realizes there’s no more space, he awkwardly clears his throat while standing from the couch.

Harry slides behind me and Audrey, using us as human shields. “I’m Rowan and this is my roommate, Audrey,” I answer the blonde.

Audrey murmurs a hello to the group before taking a step back with Harry, leaving me at the front lines of battle.

“I’m D.Q., that’s Liv, Gabe, Kier, Em, Parker, Sienna, Connie, and looks like you already know Harry,” D.Q runs through the names of each group member, adding a little spice to Harry’s name.

My brain starts doing backflips, repeating each of their names in my head. “Don’t worry, it took me forever to get all the names down,” Kier seductively flirts across the circle.

“Rowan… last name?” Em asks and I curse myself for not waiting until they’re drunk to introduce myself.

I take a deep breath before sighing, “Bouvier.”

“Bouvier, where are you from?” Parker fires off a follow-up question and I have to keep myself from staring at her pristine pearl necklace sitting high on her chest.

“New York, born and raised,” I say with a smile. I feel like I’m tap dancing for a hello right now.

“Bouvier… as in the Kennedy’s Bouvier?” Connie asks a follow-up to Em’s question.

I nod, ready to break the news that will have them looking at me differently. “Yeah, Jacqueline Kennedy is my grandmother,” I boast.

This is the first time I’ve ever brought up the relation and now I know why. Every single face in the room twists, each with a different reaction. “Holy shit, you’re New York royalty,” Sienna finally points out.

I may be New York royalty, but they’re interested in what I have to offer politically. I haven’t been involved in politics in years, not that I could give a shit. But, I might as well lean into it. “Yeah, I just got off the phone with Liberty Washington. She’s my best friend,” I name-drop the presidential candidate’s daughter.

Olivia gasps, leaning forward. “Oh my gosh, she’s so cool. I saw she was front row at the Dior show during fashion week. What’s she like?” she presses.

I smile, casually stepping over Gabrielle’s outstretched legs to sit next to Olivia. “She’s a great friend. We talk 24/7,” I tell her as I sit.

Olivia smiles, scooting a bit closer to me. “You’ll have to bring her to meet your new friends sometime,” she says, gesturing to the group.

I nod, seeing another way to solidify my place in the group. “She’d love that! As long as I can bring Audrey,” I attempt to include my roommate who is now deep in a conversation with Harry and Kier, but mostly Kier.

“Yeah!” Olivia beams before asking the question I hoped one of them would inquire about, “Are you rushing Greek?”

I purse my lips, adjusting in my seat a bit as if I’m unsure of my answer. “I was thinking about it. Only if Audrey does it with me,” I smoothly articulate. Hell yeah, Rowan. That was totally believable.

Olivia nods excitedly and D.Q. joins the conversation, “Well you should, and not to toot our horn but Theta is the best.”

“No dirty rushing,” Gabrielle leans over and interjects.

D.Q. rolls her eyes, sitting back on the couch. “We’re not dirty rushing by stating facts, Gabe,” she scoffs.

I like these girls already and can definitely see myself calling Theta home if the rest of them are like this. “Yeah well, we have to go,” I murmur before standing. My skin sticks to the leather seat, causing me to scratch my thighs while turning around. “It was nice meeting you all,” I say to the group.

Kier pouts, taking a strand of Audrey’s golden locks between his fingers. “But, I was just getting to know all about my beloved’s favorite book,” he grumbles.

After inhaling deeply, he releases her hair, letting it flow back down in place. Audrey turns maroon and she looks like she’s about to faint.

“Fuckin hell, you’re dramatic, mate,” Harry bellows, smacking his friend on the shoulder.

I shake my head at the boy’s antics before Harry steps toe to toe with me. “Can I have your number?” he shakily requests.

My eyes search Harry’s to find nothing but burning desire. I nod, stepping towards Audrey to grab my phone that she’s been holding in her pocket all night. I unlock it before passing it to Harry.

He takes it from my hand, quickly typing his contact in before passing it back to me. “You’ll text me?” he asks with a tone of insecurity.

Tucking my phone in my back in Audrey's back pocket. “I think that’s the point of me getting your number,” I jest, lacing my fingers with my friend’s to tug her away. “Bye, Harry,” I say over my shoulder.

Audrey stumbles over her feet behind me, calling over her shoulder, “It was nice meeting you, Kiernan!”

“Farewell, my love,” he sweetly returns the goodbye. I’ll never understand love at first sight, but those two clearly have it.

Once we’re outside on the sidewalk, I begin swinging our linked hands as we make the short walk back to the dorms. “Did you get everything you needed?” Audrey voices lowly.

I nod with a smile, even though it feels taboo. I know I shouldn’t like revenge, but god does it already taste so sweet. “Yup. Day two starts tomorrow,” I inform her of our plans.

“Good,” she responds as we turn right into the courtyard.

But what the hell have I gotten myself into?

lets try something! if you want to be on the taglist, comment your reaction to the chapter + "add me to the taglist please!" and I'll put your name below. thanks again for all the support!

taglist:

53 notes · View notes

brf-rumortrackinganon · 6 months

Text

Timeline: Part 9 - December 1-10 2017

For earlier timeline posts: click here or here.

December starts out strong with a daily bombardment of tons of stories about Meghan and/or Harry. Their PR backs off in the middle of the month, but only barely. Luckily for us, there is salvation: Meghan gets her first, second, third, and fourth dose of royal criticism.

Like I mentioned in the November 2017 timeline, this month sees Meghan pulling her support from Star Magazine, US Weekly, and E Online. People Magazine begins to earn her loyalty instead.

Ok, apparently I exceeded the limit of links that can be in a Tumblr post. the December edition is going to be split up into smaller segments. I've got a solution for how to fix this going forward, but it's going to take some time to figure out how to implement it.

12/1/2017: Fleet Street has a fever and the solution is more Harkle coverage.

Doria is papped at a laundromat in California.

Another story about Ninaki's photos of Meghan.

Can Kate cope with Meghan Mania?

Harry and Meghan make their first appearance together at a royal engagement.

Meghan and Pippa look alike.

Meghan and Harry's engagement is straight from Love Actually.

Meghan's old men's magazine photoshoot resurfaces.

Replica of Meghan's ring is an instant bestseller.

Meghan merches her outfit.

Meghan's 1993 Nick at Nite appearance reserfaces.

Meghan is Best Dressed of the Week.

Meghan's resume will seriously surprise us.

Anything Kate can do, Meghan can do better: First Royal Engagement edition.

Meghan's royal style vs her old Suits style.

Meghan leaks intent to visit US and Canada after the wedding in her first official foreign royal tour.

12/2/2017: Meghan's "draw your own box" essay goes viral again, as does her old Larry King Show interview. The Markles sell more pictures of Meghan, Meghan once tried to hook up with Ashley Cole but failed, and she makes a dig at William and Kate with a story about her and Harry holding hands.

12/3/2017: Meghan merches the Botswana camp again. The Times writes about Meghan's old instagram account and Bogart and leads speculation about bridesmaids and pageboys. Et tu, Times?!

Note: December 2 is a Saturday and December 3 is a Sunday. How nice Meghan's PR gave us a break for the weekend. But don't worry...the bombardment is back!

12/4/2017: Harkle Mania continues

About Meghan's ring

Meghan once auditioned for Shakira

All about Thomas Markle

Meghan leaks her expectations of marital bliss.

Meghan leaks that Harry has asked William to his best man. (Note, in Spare, Harry argues that this leak came from Kensington Palace but the source is US Weekly...Meghan's magazine.)

Wedding dress designer predictions

Meghan Markle Under Fire: Why is the Future Princess the Subject of So Much Scrutiny? (From E News, a Meghan affiliate)

Let the Misogynistic Public Shaming of Meghan Markle Now Commence (From Vogue, part of the CondeNast empire, to which People Magazine also belongs...Meghan affiliate)

Meghan Markle the garden influencer

Meghan's photoshoot charity work in Rwanda resurfaces.

What's with Prince Harry, Meghan Markle, and Bananas? (I kid you not, that's the title of the article.)

Will Meghan's wedding be like Pippas?

Meghan and Harry love bananas some more - they merch a banana cake.

12/5/2017: New day, same shit. Senior royals attend the Diplomatic Reception at Buckingham Palace but Meghan and Harry skip it to attend the Henry van Straubenzee Memorial Fund carol concert (pssh...like they were even invited to the Diplomatic Reception in the first place).

Daily Mail promotes Suits

Meghan's style inspiration is Carolyn Bessette-Kennedy.

Meghan merches clothes from when she was a teenager.

Harry appears on Top Gear.

Meet Meghan's celebrity doppelganger.

Meghan wants to wear the Spencer tiara for the wedding.

Meghan merches her engagement ring again.

Meghan the beauty icon.

12/6/2017: (le sigh...)

Who does Meghan curtsey to?

Meghan manifests The Lover's Knots Tiara for the wedding.

Nobody told Meghan she was pretty as a kid. (But did they ask her if she was OK?)

Meghan leaks about Ninaki's betrayal.

Harry attends the London Fire Brigade Carol Service alone, and so does his ex, Cressida. Meghan is upset and leaks that she is in LA visiting her mother.

Meghan merches Strathberry.

Can Meghan rewrite the royal fairytale?

Meghan the fashion influencer

12/7/2017: Another story about Misha Nonoo being the royal matchmaker. Thomas Markle does a papwalk. Meghan merches a pilates workout and is "incredibly moved" by how much people love her.

12/8/2017: The Crown Season 2 is released on Netflix

Meghan's old home video of her driving around LA resurfaces.

How Meghan won over Harry's friends.

Doria gets papped in LA.

Meghan leaks that she and Harry are staying with William and Kate at Anmer Hall for Sandringham Christmas.

Meghan leaks that William is planning Harry's stag party.

Meghan manifests for Selena Gomez to play her on The Crown.

World Vision promotes Meghan's charity work again.

All about Nottingham Cottage and Meghan's interior design style

Kate takes style inspiration from Meghan

12/9/2017: Meghan merches her Toronto rental. Harry quits smoking.

12/10/2017:

Meghan's old Tig article waxing poetic on Ivanka Trump resurfaces.

Harry goes to Germany with friends for a hunting party.

Doria does a papwalk.

Kensington Palace announces that Meghan will attend Sandringham Christmas and that she is expected to attend the Windsor Christmas luncheon at Buckingham Palace.

Old photos from a 2009 TV appearance Meghan did resurface.

William and Harry choose a sculptor for Diana's Kensington Palace statue.

Meghan hailed as a royal fashion asset.

#brf #timeline #sussexes #pr shenanigans

34 notes · View notes

altocat · 8 months

Note

Not having a great day today. Can I ask for cute, soft sephgen hc, pretty please

Hope you're feeling better, Anon!

Sephiroth and Genesis are best friends when they're not competing. And this naturally involves the two of them simply enjoying each other's company from time to time.

Every now and then, Genesis simply invites himself into Sephiroth's apartment. Not for any particular nefarious reason. Simply to hang out. Genesis and Angeal are the only ones permitted to enter Sephiroth's place of dwelling, so even if Sephiroth is away, Genesis has free reign over the place. Sephiroth will come back to Genesis lounging on his furniture, reading his books, maybe even playing with his tiny collection of trophies and medals. Sephiroth always grunts, unimpressed, ignoring Gen's smug smile as he pretends to be busy with other things. Genesis doesn't mind, lounging about, sharing the sofa with him as they casually sit together and pretend to be interested in anything OTHER than each other's presences.

Genesis will put the TV on for them while Sephiroth does the daily SOLDIER crossword. Sephiroth will complain that the volume is too high and that if they're going to watch anything, he would rather it NOT be one of Genesis' insufferable soap operas. Genesis pointedly replies that they're not watching the news, if that's what he's requesting--Sephiroth IS the news. So they sit like that for a bit, Genesis gradually getting more invested, shaking Sephiroth's shoulder whenever something particularly dramatic happens. Sephiroth will pretend not to be interested, but will make offhand comments as he peers over his magazine from time to time.

Eventually, it gets later in the evening. Rather than address the elephant in the room that typically goes hand in hand with two closely bonded men being uncomfortably domestic with each other in one's private apartment, Genesis will coax Sephiroth out for a bit of drinking. Sephiroth huffs and puffs and makes a big show about how they have early drills tomorrow, but Genesis just laughs and tugs him along anyway. They get completely sloshed and end up breaking into Rufus Shinra's private rooftop pool, spending the next several hours paddling challengingly around each other, always close to fighting but never quite close to saying how they feel. They end up overlooking the city together from the railing of the poolside, staring down at the bright lights below, at the Upper Plate's brightly reflected spectacle against the moonlight.

Genesis glances at Sephiroth only once, regarding him thoughtfully. He feels the uncomfortable swirl of conflict in his chest. His hands move hesitantly before relenting, falling back at his side. Sephiroth's green eyes are luminous in the dark. He looks like a walking constellation, pale skin glowing like starlight. He senses Gen's eyes but says nothing, his gaze fixed forward, jaw clenching. They just stand in silence for a while. Just long enough before the night guards catch them and they have to clumsily make a run for it.

#asks #ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #crisis core #sephcanons #sephiroth #genesis rhapsodos #sephgen #genseph #sephesis

37 notes · View notes

mostlysignssomeportents · 1 year

Text

Down in the (link)dumps

On September 27, I'll be at Chevalier's Books in Los Angeles with Brian Merchant for a joint launch for my new book The Internet Con and his new book, Blood in the Machine. On October 2, I'll be in Boise to host an event with VE Schwab.

Back when I was writing on Boing Boing, I'd slam out 10-15 blog posts every day, short hits that served as signpost and public notebook, but I rarely got into longer analysis of the sort I do daily now on Pluralistic. Both modes are very useful for organizing one's thoughts, and indeed, they complement each other:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/09/the-memex-method/

The problem is that when you write long, synthetic essays, they crowd out the quick hits. Back in May 2022, I started including three short links with each edition of Pluralistic, in a section called "Hey look at this" (thanks to Mitch Wagner for suggesting it!):

https://pluralistic.net/2022/03/01/reit-modernization-act/#linkdump

But even with that daily linkdump, I still manage to accumulate link-debt, as interesting things pile up, not rising to the level of a long blog-post, but not so disposable as to be easy to flush. When the pile gets big enough, I put out a Saturday Linkdump:

https://pluralistic.net/tag/linkdump/

All of which is to say, it's Saturday, and I've got a linkdump!

First up, a musical interlude. I've been listening to DJ Earworm's amazing mashups since 2005 and while I've got dozens of tracks that shuffle in and out of my daily playlist, the one that makes me wanna get up and dance every time is "No One Takes Your Freedom," a wildly improbable banger composed of equal parts Aretha Franklin, The Beatles, George Michael and Scissor Sisters:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JaboIeW1A_4

I defy you to play that one without bopping a little. I think it's the French horn from "For No One" that really kills it, the world's least expected intro to a heavy dance beat.

Moving swiftly on: let's talk about fonts. I remember when Wired magazine first showed up at the bookstores I was working at in Toronto, and my bosses – younger men than I am now! – complained that the tiny, decorative fonts, rendered in silver foil on a purple background, was illegible. I laughed at them, batting my young eyes and devouring the promise of a better future with ease, even in dim light.

Now it's thirty years later and I'm half-blind. Both my my decaying, aging eyes are filmed with cataracts that I'm too busy to get removed (though my doc promises permanent 20:20, perfect night-vision, and implanted bifocals when I can spare a month from touring with new books to get 'em fixed).

Which is to say: I spend a lot more time thinking about legibility now than I did in the early 1990s, and I've got a lot more sympathy for those booksellers' complaints about Wired's aggressively low-contrast design today. I'm forever on the hunt for fonts designed for high legibility.

This week, Kottke linked to B612, a free/open font family "designed for aircraft cockpit screens," commissioned by Airbus. It's got all the bells and whistles (e.g. hinting) and comes in variable and monospace faces:

https://b612-font.com/

B612 arrived at a fortuitous moment, coinciding with a major UI overhaul in Thunderbird, the app I spend the second-most time in (I spend more time in Gedit, the bare-bones text-editor that comes with Ubuntu, the flavor of GNU/Linux I use). A previous Thunderbird UI experiment had made all the UI text effectively unreadable for me, causing me to dive deep into the infinitely configurable settings to sub in my own fonts:

http://kb.mozillazine.org/UserChrome.css

The new UI is much better, but it broke all my old tweaks, so I went back into those settings and switched everything to B612, and it's amazeballs. I tried doing the same in Gedit, but B612 mono was too light for my shitty eyes, so I went back to Jetbrains Mono, another free/open font that has 8 weights to choose from:

https://www.jetbrains.com/lp/mono/

Love me a new, legible font! Meanwhile, a note for all you designers: the received wisdom that black on white type is "hard on the eyes" is a harmful myth. Stop with the grey-on-white type, for the love of all that is holy. This isn't 1992, you aren't laying out type for Wired Issue 1.0. Contrast is good, actually.

Continuing on the subject of software updates: Mastodon, the free, open, federated social media platform that anyone can host and that lets you hop between one server and another with just a couple clicks, has released a major update, focusing on usability, especially for people unfamiliar with its conventions:

https://blog.joinmastodon.org/2023/09/mastodon-4.2/

Included in this fix: a major overhaul to how you interact with posts on servers other than your home server. This was both confusing and clunky, and the fix makes it much better. They've also changed how sign-up flow works, making things simpler for newbies, and they've cleaned up the UI, tweaking threads, web previews and other parts of the daily experience.

There's also a lot of changes to search, but search still remains less than ideal, with multi-server search limited to hashtags. This is bad, actually. Thankfully, we don't have to wait for Mastodon devs to decide to fix it, because Mastodon is free and open, which means anyone with the skills to code a change, or the money to pay techies to do it, or the moral force to convince them to do it, can effect that change themselves:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/23/semipermeable-membranes/

Case in point: Mastoreader, a great new thread reader for Mastodon:

https://mastoreader.io/

Every time that guy who owns Twitter breaks it even worse, a new cohort of users sign up. Not all of them stay, but the growth is steady and the trendline is solid:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/11/of-course-mastodon-lost-users/

It's the right call: while there are other services that promise that they will be federated someday, promises are easy, and there's world of difference between "federateable" and "federated." As GW Bush told us, "Fool me twice, we don't get fooled again":

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/06/fool-me-twice-we-dont-get-fooled-again/

One big difference between the kind of blogging I used to do in my Boing Boing days and the long-form work I do today is the graphics. When you're posting 10-15 times/day, you can't make each graphic a standout (or at least, I can't). But I can (and do) devote substantial time to making a single collage out of public domain and Creative Commons graphics every day:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/25/a-year-in-illustration/

I am not a visual person – literally, I can barely see! – but my daily art practice has slowly made me a less-terrible illustrator. I got in some good licks this week, like this graphic for the UAW's new "Eight-and-Skate" work-to-rule program:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/21/eight-and-skate/#strike-to-rule

That graphic was fun because all the elements were from the public domain, or fair use. I love it when that happens. I've spent years amassing a bulging folder of public domain clip art ganked from the web and this week, it got a major infusion, thanks to the Bergen Public Library's Flickr album of high-rez scans of antique book endpapers. 86 public domain textures? Yes please! (Also, the fact that Flickr has one-click download of all the hi-rez versions of every image in a photoset is another way that it stands out as a remnant of the old, good web, not so much a superannuated relic as an elegant weapon of a more civilized age):

https://www.flickr.com/photos/bergen_public_library/albums/72157633827993925

Speaking of strikes: there are strikes! Everygoddamnedwhere! After 40 years in a Reagan-induced coma, labor is back, baby. The Cornells School of Industrial and Labor Relations' Labor Action Tracker is your go-to, real-time observation post as hot labor summer turns into the permanent revolution. As of this writing, it's listing 968 labor actions in 1491 locations:

https://striketracker.ilr.cornell.edu

There's no war but class war and it was ever thus. Brian Merchant's forthcoming book Blood In the Machine is a history of the Luddites, revisiting that much-maligned labor uprising, which has been rewritten as a fight between technophobes and the inevitable forces of progress:

https://www.littlebrown.com/titles/brian-merchant/blood-in-the-machine/9780316487740/

The book unearths the true history of the Ludds: they were skilled technologists who were outraged by capital's commitment to immiseration, child slavery, and foisting inferior goods on a helpless public. You can get a long preview of the book in Fast Company:

https://www.fastcompany.com/90949827/what-the-luddites-can-teach-us-about-standing-up-to-big-tech

Merchant also talked with Roman Mars about the book on the 99 Percent Invisible podcast:

https://99percentinvisible.org/episode/blood-in-the-machine/transcript/

If that's piqued your interest and if you can make it to Los Angeles, come by Chevalier's Books this Wednesday, where Brian and I are having a joint book-launch (I've just published The Internet Con, my Luddite-adjacent "Big Tech Disassembly Manual"):

https://www.eventbrite.com/o/chevaliers-books-8495362156

Where is all this labor unrest coming from? Well as Stein's Law has it, "anything that can't go on forever will eventually stop." 40 years of corporate-friendly political economy has lit the world on fire and immiserated billions, and we've hit bottom and started the long, slow climb to a world that prioritizes human thriving over billionaire power.

One of the most tangible expressions of that vibe shift is the rise and rise of antitrust. The big news right now is the (first) trial of the century, Google's antitrust trial. What's that? You say you haven't heard anything about it? Well, perhaps that has to do with the judge banning recording and livestreaming and not making transcripts available. Don't worry, he's also locking observers out of his courtroom for hours at a time during closed testimony. Oh, and also? The DoJ just agreed that it won't post its exhibits from the trial online anymore. You can follow what dribbles of information as are emerging from our famously open court system at US v Google:

https://usvgoogle.org/trial-update-9-22

If the impoverished trickle of Google antitrust news has you down, don't despair, there's more coming, because the FTC is apparently set to drop its long-awaited suit against Amazon:

https://finance.yahoo.com/news/ftc-poised-sue-amazon-antitrust-163432081.html

Amazon spent years blowing hundreds of millions of dollars of its investors' cash, selling goods below cost and buying up rivals until it became the most important channel for every kind of manufacturer to reach their customers. Now, Amazon is turning the screws. A new report from the Institute for Local Self-Reliance details the 45% Amazon Tax that every merchant pays to reach you:

https://ilsr.org/AmazonMonopolyTollbooth-2023/

That 45% tax is passed on to you – whether or not you shop at Amazon. Amazon's secretive most favored nation terms mean that if a seller raises their price on Amazon, they have to raise it everywhere else, which means you're paying more at WalMart and Target because of Amazon's policies.

Those taxes are bad for us, but they're good for Amazon's investors. This year, the company stands to make $185 billion from junk-fees charged to platform sellers. As David Dayen points out, Amazon charges so much to ship third-party sellers' goods that it fully subsidizes Amazon's own shipping:

https://prospect.org/power/2023-09-21-amazons-185-billion-pay-to-play-system/

That's right: as Stacy Mitchell writes in the report, "Amazon doesn’t have to build warehousing and shipping costs into the price of its own products, because it’s found a way to get smaller online sellers to pay those costs."

Now, one of the amazing things about antitrust coming back from the grave is that just the threat of antitrust enforcement can moderate even the most vicious bully's conduct. Faced with the looming FTC case, Amazon just canceled its plan to charge even more junk fees:

https://www.reuters.com/legal/amazon-drops-planned-merchant-fee-ftc-lawsuit-looms-bloomberg-news-2023-09-20/

But despite this win, Amazon is still speedrunning the enshittification cycle. The latest? Unskippable ads in Prime Video:

https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2023-09-22/amazon-prime-video-content-to-include-ads-staring-early-2024

Remember when Amazon promised you ad-free video if you'd lock yourself into shopping with them by pre-paying for a year's shipping with Prime? The company has fully embraced the Darth Vader MBA: "I am altering the deal. Pray I don't alter it further."

That FTC case can't come a moment too soon.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/23/salmagundi/#dewey-102

#pluralistic

54 notes · View notes